There nothing like getting a new shower gel to pour on your loofah, lather up and make yourself all clean and smellin' good. Except for when it backfires...
My aunt bought me some Twisted Peppermint shower gel and lotion for christmas. Smelled all minty fresh and nice.
So, yesterday morning I hopped in the shower with my new gel. As usual, I take scalding hot showers. I make the water as hot as my skin will allow before it starts melting and peeling off. I do my usual routine...
wash hair...check
wash face...check
put in conditioner...check
brush teeth...check
rinse out conditioner...check
Then comes the body. I lather an extra good amount of twisted peppermint shower gel on my loofah and start scrubbing at my trunk and appendages with a fury. (Hadn't taken a shower in two days...hey don't judge...I'm on vacation and I'm allowed to be stinky.) After I scrub the first layer of my skin off I start to rinse off.
That's when my left arm, which I had washed first, started to burn.
What the heck is going on?
I turn my body so my left arm was in the hot water but now it was starting to feel like it was freezing, even in the hot water. And, now it was spreading to the rest of my body.
AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.
Imagine that you have just emersed your body in the mintiest of mouthwashes. It is so cold that it burns.
There was nothing I could do but stand in the hot water and try to wash off the shower gel with regular soap. It finally did stop but I think that Bath and Body Works didn't name this gel twisted for nothing.
Join me on my journey into Happy Mayhem!
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
My public apology
Pam,
I feel that a public apology is needed for the label "Perfect Pamela". Perhaps it was a bit over the top extreme.
Let me try to explain myself and my Devin.
Devin has always been an energetic and somewhat uncoordinated fireball of energy from the second he came out of the womb. When he was still in the hospital he would stay awake for hours watching everybody who came to visit us.
During his first year of life, until he learned to run, on his own. He demanded that everybody walk/bounce him from room to room. This also continued into the night. He would wake up and cry for an hour or two until he was satisfied that my head would surely explode from lack of sleep and then I would have to shake his butt until he fell back asleep.
When he learned to walk at nine months old, he immediately set off to running everywhere. Very forest gump like. lol. Devin wouldn't walk anywhere, it was always at a dead set sprint while he would let his war cry deep belly laugh. He was also lucky enough to receive my clutzy gene. So, he would frequently fall and run into everything. I believe he is the only child at his daycare that had an incident report written up for running face first into a refridgerator. ha ha ha.
At the age of two, Devin became the school cannibal. He needed to be constantly shadowed so that he didn't eat the rest of the children. When Devin would get frustrated and could not bite anybody else, which was very frequently, he would bite himself. Sometimes to the point of drawing blood.
At two and a half, Nuby was born so Devin got to stay home with me for seven weeks and that was when we did potty training. Yeah, Devin then got to wear big boy underwear like Daddy! And, he got to meet his new brother and help out. It was a very exciting time.
When we finally returned to life. Devin was in a new classroom. He does not handle change/transition/ or anything that is out of his norm very well. He is sometimes "difficult" to deal with if you don't take the extra step he needs to understand him and why he does things.
Devin (as well as myself) went through a very rough two year period. It is just now getting better but we still have our days. When Devin transitioned to preschool, he LOVED his teacher and she LOVED him. I finally had someone who understood Devin. She cared deeply about him and I greatly appreciated that. It made life on me easier. It is so hard to know that people do not like your child because he is "annoying" and loud.
However, while his teacher adored him and went the extra mile every day, the assistant teacher did not. He would instantly become angry with Devin. There was one instance that I will never forget and it still breaks my heart. I was in my office and the preschool class was walking down the hallway. As usual, Devin got out of line to run and fell hitting his chin on the floor. Instead of helping him get up and reminding him about using his walking feet, he pointed and laughed. Devin just layed there on his stomach crying while all of his classmates followed the lead of the assistant teacher and pointed and laughed also. This sent Dev into an all out screaming fit (rightly so) which got him in trouble. I went and got Devin to talk to him and show my disapproval to the teacher. After a few more instances like that, the assistant teacher was let go.
Devin's preschool teacher then left us for a higher paying position and in the mean time I had given birth to Peyton. That was where Devin's quick downward spiral began. The teacher that took over did not like Devin. I know this because she told several of the other teachers who told me because they were concerned. I moved Devin to our second preschool location with one of our new teachers. She was wonderful but Devin was a mess. Too much change had happened and he did not know how to cope. She was trying her best and that was all I could ask for. That she truely wanted what was best for him even when he was being a little turd and that she was never mean just because he was on her nerves. When she put in her notice for something closer to home, I cried like I had lost my best friend.
That's when Yolanda came back, his original preschool teacher. It took Devin a while to get readjusted. But, it worked. Devin still has his days where they have to call me because he is completely out of control, but they are fewer and further between.
Let me also add that Devin has ongoing ear issues. At age three, he failed an impedence test at school. I was told not to worry that it might be a cold. Six weeks later, he failed again. I was referred to our pediatrician. I took him and was told that everything was fine. Months later, he failed yet another impedence test. I called his pediatrician again and was referred to an ear, nose and throat specialist. He had 30% hearing loss due to fluid in the ears. They put him on an antibiotic. I had him back to his pediatrician who said everything looked fine. But, I could tell that Devin was not hearing. He was having an increasingly hard time in school and at home. I called a different ear, nose, and throat doctor and took him in. He scheduled him for outpatient surgery to have tubes put in two weeks from then. That was last March. During the last month and a half I have noticed that Devin seems to not be hearing me again. When I talk, I notice that he watches my mouth. When I tell him anything, I have to make him repeat it back to me to ensure that he understands. I took him back to his ear, nose, throat doctor who put him on an antibiotic. But, once again, I don't notice anything getting better. Only worse. I called a different agency that specialized in pediatrics because his current doctor is "old school" He is scheduled for a full hearing eval this month.
And last I wanted to address how you stated that I was a child worker and the smack surprised you. I do not want you to think that this is how I conduct my centers. It is by far WAY easier to care for other people's children and their education. It is completely different to raise your own children. While, I never second guess how I do things with my younger two children, I am almost always at a lost with my Devin.
I love Devin in a way that is different than the other two. Not more or less, just different. He is my oldest and he was first. For awhile before Chris came into our lives, it was just me and Dev trying to figure out what to do with each other. I am very protective over him. While I try to stand back and let him figure things out for himself. He is SO darn obnoxious. Wether or not people do this, I feel like everyone is always judging my parenting skills because of the way Devin is. I also only leave Devin with a small few select people because I am always afraid that Devin will fly into one of his extreme-refuse-to-comply-with-anything-and-scream-bloody-murder fits and they will get angry and not know what to do except make it worse.
I am not a perfect parent as I am sure that nobody is. But, I do know that my child knows he is loved and I can assure you that he is not an abused child, although I have threatened to suck out his soul or ship him off to abudaubi.
So, maybe this will help you understand a little bit or to ease your mind.
I can not say that I know exactly how you feel and I certainly hope that I never do. I can only empathize and apologize deeply for your loss. I'm sure that what you had to endure has taken it's toll on you and I could see why Devin being smacked in the mouth would anger you.
I welcome all comments, the original one you left felt like I had been blind sided and left me reeling and wanting to counter attack. I apologize once more.
And, I added my email to my profile. I didn't realize it was not there.
Sincerely,
Jennie
I feel that a public apology is needed for the label "Perfect Pamela". Perhaps it was a bit over the top extreme.
Let me try to explain myself and my Devin.
Devin has always been an energetic and somewhat uncoordinated fireball of energy from the second he came out of the womb. When he was still in the hospital he would stay awake for hours watching everybody who came to visit us.
During his first year of life, until he learned to run, on his own. He demanded that everybody walk/bounce him from room to room. This also continued into the night. He would wake up and cry for an hour or two until he was satisfied that my head would surely explode from lack of sleep and then I would have to shake his butt until he fell back asleep.
When he learned to walk at nine months old, he immediately set off to running everywhere. Very forest gump like. lol. Devin wouldn't walk anywhere, it was always at a dead set sprint while he would let his war cry deep belly laugh. He was also lucky enough to receive my clutzy gene. So, he would frequently fall and run into everything. I believe he is the only child at his daycare that had an incident report written up for running face first into a refridgerator. ha ha ha.
At the age of two, Devin became the school cannibal. He needed to be constantly shadowed so that he didn't eat the rest of the children. When Devin would get frustrated and could not bite anybody else, which was very frequently, he would bite himself. Sometimes to the point of drawing blood.
At two and a half, Nuby was born so Devin got to stay home with me for seven weeks and that was when we did potty training. Yeah, Devin then got to wear big boy underwear like Daddy! And, he got to meet his new brother and help out. It was a very exciting time.
When we finally returned to life. Devin was in a new classroom. He does not handle change/transition/ or anything that is out of his norm very well. He is sometimes "difficult" to deal with if you don't take the extra step he needs to understand him and why he does things.
Devin (as well as myself) went through a very rough two year period. It is just now getting better but we still have our days. When Devin transitioned to preschool, he LOVED his teacher and she LOVED him. I finally had someone who understood Devin. She cared deeply about him and I greatly appreciated that. It made life on me easier. It is so hard to know that people do not like your child because he is "annoying" and loud.
However, while his teacher adored him and went the extra mile every day, the assistant teacher did not. He would instantly become angry with Devin. There was one instance that I will never forget and it still breaks my heart. I was in my office and the preschool class was walking down the hallway. As usual, Devin got out of line to run and fell hitting his chin on the floor. Instead of helping him get up and reminding him about using his walking feet, he pointed and laughed. Devin just layed there on his stomach crying while all of his classmates followed the lead of the assistant teacher and pointed and laughed also. This sent Dev into an all out screaming fit (rightly so) which got him in trouble. I went and got Devin to talk to him and show my disapproval to the teacher. After a few more instances like that, the assistant teacher was let go.
Devin's preschool teacher then left us for a higher paying position and in the mean time I had given birth to Peyton. That was where Devin's quick downward spiral began. The teacher that took over did not like Devin. I know this because she told several of the other teachers who told me because they were concerned. I moved Devin to our second preschool location with one of our new teachers. She was wonderful but Devin was a mess. Too much change had happened and he did not know how to cope. She was trying her best and that was all I could ask for. That she truely wanted what was best for him even when he was being a little turd and that she was never mean just because he was on her nerves. When she put in her notice for something closer to home, I cried like I had lost my best friend.
That's when Yolanda came back, his original preschool teacher. It took Devin a while to get readjusted. But, it worked. Devin still has his days where they have to call me because he is completely out of control, but they are fewer and further between.
Let me also add that Devin has ongoing ear issues. At age three, he failed an impedence test at school. I was told not to worry that it might be a cold. Six weeks later, he failed again. I was referred to our pediatrician. I took him and was told that everything was fine. Months later, he failed yet another impedence test. I called his pediatrician again and was referred to an ear, nose and throat specialist. He had 30% hearing loss due to fluid in the ears. They put him on an antibiotic. I had him back to his pediatrician who said everything looked fine. But, I could tell that Devin was not hearing. He was having an increasingly hard time in school and at home. I called a different ear, nose, and throat doctor and took him in. He scheduled him for outpatient surgery to have tubes put in two weeks from then. That was last March. During the last month and a half I have noticed that Devin seems to not be hearing me again. When I talk, I notice that he watches my mouth. When I tell him anything, I have to make him repeat it back to me to ensure that he understands. I took him back to his ear, nose, throat doctor who put him on an antibiotic. But, once again, I don't notice anything getting better. Only worse. I called a different agency that specialized in pediatrics because his current doctor is "old school" He is scheduled for a full hearing eval this month.
And last I wanted to address how you stated that I was a child worker and the smack surprised you. I do not want you to think that this is how I conduct my centers. It is by far WAY easier to care for other people's children and their education. It is completely different to raise your own children. While, I never second guess how I do things with my younger two children, I am almost always at a lost with my Devin.
I love Devin in a way that is different than the other two. Not more or less, just different. He is my oldest and he was first. For awhile before Chris came into our lives, it was just me and Dev trying to figure out what to do with each other. I am very protective over him. While I try to stand back and let him figure things out for himself. He is SO darn obnoxious. Wether or not people do this, I feel like everyone is always judging my parenting skills because of the way Devin is. I also only leave Devin with a small few select people because I am always afraid that Devin will fly into one of his extreme-refuse-to-comply-with-anything-and-scream-bloody-murder fits and they will get angry and not know what to do except make it worse.
I am not a perfect parent as I am sure that nobody is. But, I do know that my child knows he is loved and I can assure you that he is not an abused child, although I have threatened to suck out his soul or ship him off to abudaubi.
So, maybe this will help you understand a little bit or to ease your mind.
I can not say that I know exactly how you feel and I certainly hope that I never do. I can only empathize and apologize deeply for your loss. I'm sure that what you had to endure has taken it's toll on you and I could see why Devin being smacked in the mouth would anger you.
I welcome all comments, the original one you left felt like I had been blind sided and left me reeling and wanting to counter attack. I apologize once more.
And, I added my email to my profile. I didn't realize it was not there.
Sincerely,
Jennie
Monday, December 29, 2008
New/Old post
I posted an old post that I had found saved in my drafts. But, it posted back in November. It is titled poopy pants the sequel.
3 White Zinfandel's to the wind
Last night was a blast. I met my cousin's and my one aunt at Quaker Steak and Lube. www.quakersteakandlube.com. Chris didn't go because his dad came up from Florida, so him and his brother took there dad to Chili's.
I wasn't going to meet everybody out because I didn't want to ask anybody to watch the boys. Sometimes Devin can be a bit trying on people's nerves and three kids is alot when you are used to a calm life.
But, Manda www.mandasrandonness.blogspot.com to the rescue! She offered/insisted that I leave the boys to go have some quality time with the cousins. Well, twist my arm and shove me out the door, I'm gone. But only after Jason, Manda's husband, gave me the once over and said,
"I hope you're going to go home and change first and maybe like, brush your hair."
So, I went home brushed my hair, changed my oversized shirt and put some more deodorant on. So fresh and so clean.
I got there and was only going to stay long enough to drink my glass of wine and briefly meet my cousin Shannon's new boyfriend. When my drink was up and I was getting ready to go, they said to at least call and check on the boys to see if I was needed. As usual, Manda had things under control. Even with 9 kids at her house, she somehow managed to get my two younger ones to sleep at their normal time.
So, I sat and had two more glasses of wine. I could feel myself getting louder and there was nothing I could do to stop myself. The next thing I know my brother is telling me to tone it down before they slap a banished picture of me on every Quaker Steak and Lube. I guess they don't like it when you are calling/yelling about hooker's in the middle of the restaurant. But, in my defense, I was yelling at my 17 year old cousin for having sleazy pictures on facebook. I told her if she wants to be a hooker, then she should just whip it all off right there in the middle of the restaurant.
It was a good thing that Chris stopped in to say Hello on his way home, because I was way beyond the driving point. He drove me home, but I swear that the car was moving in all directions. We played some wii watched an episode of lost and fell asleep on the couch until 4:00 when I woke up thirstier than a cactus. We both chugged some ice water and went to bed.
And here I am today. Still chuggin the water and some cappuccino from Dunkin Donuts. What a combo.
I wasn't going to meet everybody out because I didn't want to ask anybody to watch the boys. Sometimes Devin can be a bit trying on people's nerves and three kids is alot when you are used to a calm life.
But, Manda www.mandasrandonness.blogspot.com to the rescue! She offered/insisted that I leave the boys to go have some quality time with the cousins. Well, twist my arm and shove me out the door, I'm gone. But only after Jason, Manda's husband, gave me the once over and said,
"I hope you're going to go home and change first and maybe like, brush your hair."
So, I went home brushed my hair, changed my oversized shirt and put some more deodorant on. So fresh and so clean.
I got there and was only going to stay long enough to drink my glass of wine and briefly meet my cousin Shannon's new boyfriend. When my drink was up and I was getting ready to go, they said to at least call and check on the boys to see if I was needed. As usual, Manda had things under control. Even with 9 kids at her house, she somehow managed to get my two younger ones to sleep at their normal time.
So, I sat and had two more glasses of wine. I could feel myself getting louder and there was nothing I could do to stop myself. The next thing I know my brother is telling me to tone it down before they slap a banished picture of me on every Quaker Steak and Lube. I guess they don't like it when you are calling/yelling about hooker's in the middle of the restaurant. But, in my defense, I was yelling at my 17 year old cousin for having sleazy pictures on facebook. I told her if she wants to be a hooker, then she should just whip it all off right there in the middle of the restaurant.
It was a good thing that Chris stopped in to say Hello on his way home, because I was way beyond the driving point. He drove me home, but I swear that the car was moving in all directions. We played some wii watched an episode of lost and fell asleep on the couch until 4:00 when I woke up thirstier than a cactus. We both chugged some ice water and went to bed.
And here I am today. Still chuggin the water and some cappuccino from Dunkin Donuts. What a combo.
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Hey Pamela, I'm calling you out...
This is in response to a comment left on my blog in response to when Devin was smacked in the chops for screaming bloody murder at his grandpa.
A women named Pamela, whose own blog is set to private so I could not view it or respond, left a comment stating, "No child deserves to be smacked. That is child abuse, plain and simple!"
Ok perfect Pamela, I am going to assume that you left this comment out of a general need to reach out and save a child. Or maybe to help me see the errors of my ways.
Because I know that you, Perfect Pamela, would never EVER assume that you know me, that you know my children, that you know my lifestyle, that you would judge my parenting or disciplinary techniques.
I know, Perfect Pamela, that you would never do these things because that would make you an idiot. And I know that you could never be an idiot perfect pam.
I do not need to answer to you or for you to judge or critique my life for me. That is not what I made this blog for. I made it to share some stories that I thought might be interesting or funny.
While your concern is duly noted you can keep it to yourself, Perfect Pamela. Thank you.
A women named Pamela, whose own blog is set to private so I could not view it or respond, left a comment stating, "No child deserves to be smacked. That is child abuse, plain and simple!"
Ok perfect Pamela, I am going to assume that you left this comment out of a general need to reach out and save a child. Or maybe to help me see the errors of my ways.
Because I know that you, Perfect Pamela, would never EVER assume that you know me, that you know my children, that you know my lifestyle, that you would judge my parenting or disciplinary techniques.
I know, Perfect Pamela, that you would never do these things because that would make you an idiot. And I know that you could never be an idiot perfect pam.
I do not need to answer to you or for you to judge or critique my life for me. That is not what I made this blog for. I made it to share some stories that I thought might be interesting or funny.
While your concern is duly noted you can keep it to yourself, Perfect Pamela. Thank you.
Monday, December 22, 2008
Sharing a meal
Yummy yum....gargle....burp....blech
Chris is asleep with a headache leaving me and the boys stranded with no dinner. Thoughs of you who know anything about me know that I do not cook anything that can not be microwaved or toaster ovened. And, I can even screw those up.
So, tonight we had what everybody wanted.
Polenta with butter and salt (Devin)
String cheese (Nuby)
Bananas (Peyton)
Salsa with melted cheese and scoops (Me)
Spinach artichoke dip from www.grandpascheesebarn.com and scoops (Me)
Chocolate milk (family drink)
Cheddar chex mix (left by coin)
I feel kind of sickly full. I just thought I would share our dinner.
Chris is asleep with a headache leaving me and the boys stranded with no dinner. Thoughs of you who know anything about me know that I do not cook anything that can not be microwaved or toaster ovened. And, I can even screw those up.
So, tonight we had what everybody wanted.
Polenta with butter and salt (Devin)
String cheese (Nuby)
Bananas (Peyton)
Salsa with melted cheese and scoops (Me)
Spinach artichoke dip from www.grandpascheesebarn.com and scoops (Me)
Chocolate milk (family drink)
Cheddar chex mix (left by coin)
I feel kind of sickly full. I just thought I would share our dinner.
Nuby strikes again.
Ok, I was reading and commenting on blogs and had left the laptop on the chair to make Devin some chocolate milk and change Peyton's stinky buns. Nuby took this opportunity to play on the laptop.
When I started writing my blog, the letters kept turning to that funky wing ding font. I kept deleting the words and re-writing them but every time I hit the space bar my word would change from english to some fucked up mumbo jumbo. After writing the word santa ten million times and watching it change to garble I was beyond furious. I was swearing and slamming the tiny little space bar key. I stood up and shook the laptop out in front of me wishing I could give it shaken laptop syndrome. Then I plopped it onto the chair and went to the kitchen to find a snack to calm me down.
After my halloween candy happiness, I came back and explored in the settings. That darn little Nuby had changed my font to Hindi. How does he do these things?
Another Nuby strikes again happened last week when Chris and I went to pick up Coin-O in Maumee. We got there fine and picked up Coin and Bo and were setting off to bring her here. No problem, right? We are adults who had driven there fine. We set our Garmin to home and set off. I was so excited. Chris sets off for the entrance to the highway and Coin says that this isn't the way that she usually went. We scoff at her...how could she possibly think that she knows better than Garmin. He is the ultimate navigation guy in our car. So, we ignore her. We ignore the person who has been driving this route for years. We start out in the direction the Garmin tells us dispite her warnings.
What the hell did that sign say?
We are headed for the wrong freaking state!
What the hell Garmin?
You lied to us?!?
I then remember Nuby the last trip we went on, Nuby was sitting with Garmin. I check the settings and realize that he has changed the home address to somewhere in Dayton, Ohio which is four hours away from where we live. I reset it and get us back on track. Sorry Coin. I will never trust Garmin over Coin again.
How does Nuby sneak and do these things?
When I started writing my blog, the letters kept turning to that funky wing ding font. I kept deleting the words and re-writing them but every time I hit the space bar my word would change from english to some fucked up mumbo jumbo. After writing the word santa ten million times and watching it change to garble I was beyond furious. I was swearing and slamming the tiny little space bar key. I stood up and shook the laptop out in front of me wishing I could give it shaken laptop syndrome. Then I plopped it onto the chair and went to the kitchen to find a snack to calm me down.
After my halloween candy happiness, I came back and explored in the settings. That darn little Nuby had changed my font to Hindi. How does he do these things?
Another Nuby strikes again happened last week when Chris and I went to pick up Coin-O in Maumee. We got there fine and picked up Coin and Bo and were setting off to bring her here. No problem, right? We are adults who had driven there fine. We set our Garmin to home and set off. I was so excited. Chris sets off for the entrance to the highway and Coin says that this isn't the way that she usually went. We scoff at her...how could she possibly think that she knows better than Garmin. He is the ultimate navigation guy in our car. So, we ignore her. We ignore the person who has been driving this route for years. We start out in the direction the Garmin tells us dispite her warnings.
What the hell did that sign say?
We are headed for the wrong freaking state!
What the hell Garmin?
You lied to us?!?
I then remember Nuby the last trip we went on, Nuby was sitting with Garmin. I check the settings and realize that he has changed the home address to somewhere in Dayton, Ohio which is four hours away from where we live. I reset it and get us back on track. Sorry Coin. I will never trust Garmin over Coin again.
How does Nuby sneak and do these things?
Saturday, December 13, 2008
The rest of the story
So, I get Devin up to the bathroom and try to peel his pants off without being too messy. OH NO FREAKING WAY...liquid poo is pouring out of his swishy pants and running down his legs. I get him on the potty and for the love of all that's holy, he has more farty splurging poo. I hand him the bucket and he is now dry heaving in the bucket while his butt is threatening to turn inside out.
There is poop all over the floor, the smell is overwhelming vicious, I am now gagging myself and the two younger boys are trying to navigate into the bathroom around the piles of poop. So, now I'm attempting to wipe Devin's butt while simultaneously not throwing up on my sick child and yelling at Nuby and Peyton to go play outside of the bathroom. I managed to get them out and shut the door, wipe Devin and clean up the mucusy liquid poop from the grout.
All in all Devin crapped his pants three times, projectile pooped in the toilet 5 times, puked in the bathtub twice and puked in random spots in the house throughout the day.
There is poop all over the floor, the smell is overwhelming vicious, I am now gagging myself and the two younger boys are trying to navigate into the bathroom around the piles of poop. So, now I'm attempting to wipe Devin's butt while simultaneously not throwing up on my sick child and yelling at Nuby and Peyton to go play outside of the bathroom. I managed to get them out and shut the door, wipe Devin and clean up the mucusy liquid poop from the grout.
All in all Devin crapped his pants three times, projectile pooped in the toilet 5 times, puked in the bathtub twice and puked in random spots in the house throughout the day.
Cleaning after the war
EXPLICIT WARNING: Not for the light stomach individuals.
Phew...yesterday was a rough day that I was ill prepared for. Never NEVER EVER in my life have I experienced such raw stankin horror.
Ok, let me start at the beginning. So, settle in and get a napkin in case you need to dry heave.
Peyton has a horrific cough that started after a 5 day stay Thanksgiving trip to my mom's house. It's not just a regular cough. He coughs until he gags and dry heaves. His little face turns beat red as he is trying to catch his breath. The doctor said it was probably just due to being in a smoking environment (my mom's). It is getting better now that we have a cool mist humidifier in his room at night. Night time is when most of the "attacks" occur.
So, Thursday I had a meeting in Columbus, which is where my mom lives. So, we took off before the butt crack of dawn for Columbus. Two and a half hours into the trip Peyton starts coughing until he throws up all over himself. Lovely. There is no exit in sight and I am not pulling over for fear of a speeding car hitting us as we are parked. I hand Devin a towel and like the good big brother he is, he goes to town cleaning the puke off of Peyton while Nuby is holding his nose yelling, "EW, Pey Pey stinks". Needless to say the car was smelly gross the whole 3 hour ride home that night too.
Before leaving for the night, we went out to eat with my mom and stepdad. Devin was an all out little shit head. Usually when with my mom he is an angel, but during one of my trips taking Peyton and Nuby to the restroom, Devin took it upon himself to throw his fork, slam his little fists on the table and blatantly refuse to obey anything. My stepdad took/carried him outside to recompose himself, where Devin decided to just scream at the top of his lungs. Grandpa smacked him in the mouth and apparently this was what he needed to regain control. They came back inside and Devin finished his meal with red pathetic puffy eyes.
We got on the road a little after 7:00 and Devin quickly zonked out. Him and Peyton slept the rest of the way home while Nuby chattered non-stop about motorcyles and dogs.
When we got home, Chris had all the bedtime supplies ready and we put the three boys in their beds.
This is where all hell breaks loose. Nuby likes to wander around in the middle of the night silently doing his own thing. I wake up to find him sitting in my bed in between me and Chris looking at pictures and talking to them. I fall back asleep to wake up to Peyton coughing and Nuby calling, "Daddy, Pey Pey's coughin, He wants you." Chris and I both get out of bed to handle the situation. We get them back to sleep.
We go back to sleep and I wake up to hear Devin shrieking. I find him standing in the hallway. I have to yell at him to get a response to why he is crying. "I pukeded". I send him into the bathroom to wait for me while I investigate. His stomach must have woken him up and he leaned over his top bunk and puked onto the floor. We have hard wood floors, so of course it splattered everywhere. On his way down the ladder he must have thrown up a second time and this is when I believe he started shrieking, because he probably did not know what the heck his little body was doing.
I get him and his room cleaned up and put him back to bed. 6:00 rolls around and I hear the splatter sound again. Clean again and put him in bed with me. Get up at 7:45 to call off work and get up with Peyton. Devin gets up and heads straight to the bathroom to throw up again.
I made him a little bed on the couch and wait to call my friend Lora was is far more experienced in the realm of throwing up than I am. Bad idea, I am jinxed. Everything she warns me of comes true. As she is warning me that diahrrea may accompany the puking, Devin asks me for new underwear. When I inquire to the whereabouts of his underwear, he says that he had an accident. I head up to the bathroom to find a toilet full of projectile diahrrea and his underwear must have taken the brunt of the force. Gagging, I clean it up the floor surrounding the toilet, seal the underwear in a bag and throw them away.
Devin is back on the couch in clean clothes and I put a bucket next to him with a towel under it. He poops/explodes two more times, thankfully, all in the toilet. I call Lora back to ask her what the hell I should do. She tells me to make sure he is staying hydrated and not to give him too much water at a time because it will make him throw up. So, I give him a sippy cup of water and tell him to drink slow. I head into the kitchen to clean up after breakfast. The other boys want some string cheese so, I ask Devin if he would like some cheese too (against Lora's advice of NO FOOD). Devin politely declines and leans over to start violently puking up the water. I pull his little body off of the couch to get closer to the bucker. He finished up (never cries once) and tells me the he poopeded, it was an accident and he is sorry. I tell him that he doesn't have to worry, he's sick and sometimes that these things happen when you are sick. He waddles up to the bathroom so I can clean him up.
To be continued...
Phew...yesterday was a rough day that I was ill prepared for. Never NEVER EVER in my life have I experienced such raw stankin horror.
Ok, let me start at the beginning. So, settle in and get a napkin in case you need to dry heave.
Peyton has a horrific cough that started after a 5 day stay Thanksgiving trip to my mom's house. It's not just a regular cough. He coughs until he gags and dry heaves. His little face turns beat red as he is trying to catch his breath. The doctor said it was probably just due to being in a smoking environment (my mom's). It is getting better now that we have a cool mist humidifier in his room at night. Night time is when most of the "attacks" occur.
So, Thursday I had a meeting in Columbus, which is where my mom lives. So, we took off before the butt crack of dawn for Columbus. Two and a half hours into the trip Peyton starts coughing until he throws up all over himself. Lovely. There is no exit in sight and I am not pulling over for fear of a speeding car hitting us as we are parked. I hand Devin a towel and like the good big brother he is, he goes to town cleaning the puke off of Peyton while Nuby is holding his nose yelling, "EW, Pey Pey stinks". Needless to say the car was smelly gross the whole 3 hour ride home that night too.
Before leaving for the night, we went out to eat with my mom and stepdad. Devin was an all out little shit head. Usually when with my mom he is an angel, but during one of my trips taking Peyton and Nuby to the restroom, Devin took it upon himself to throw his fork, slam his little fists on the table and blatantly refuse to obey anything. My stepdad took/carried him outside to recompose himself, where Devin decided to just scream at the top of his lungs. Grandpa smacked him in the mouth and apparently this was what he needed to regain control. They came back inside and Devin finished his meal with red pathetic puffy eyes.
We got on the road a little after 7:00 and Devin quickly zonked out. Him and Peyton slept the rest of the way home while Nuby chattered non-stop about motorcyles and dogs.
When we got home, Chris had all the bedtime supplies ready and we put the three boys in their beds.
This is where all hell breaks loose. Nuby likes to wander around in the middle of the night silently doing his own thing. I wake up to find him sitting in my bed in between me and Chris looking at pictures and talking to them. I fall back asleep to wake up to Peyton coughing and Nuby calling, "Daddy, Pey Pey's coughin, He wants you." Chris and I both get out of bed to handle the situation. We get them back to sleep.
We go back to sleep and I wake up to hear Devin shrieking. I find him standing in the hallway. I have to yell at him to get a response to why he is crying. "I pukeded". I send him into the bathroom to wait for me while I investigate. His stomach must have woken him up and he leaned over his top bunk and puked onto the floor. We have hard wood floors, so of course it splattered everywhere. On his way down the ladder he must have thrown up a second time and this is when I believe he started shrieking, because he probably did not know what the heck his little body was doing.
I get him and his room cleaned up and put him back to bed. 6:00 rolls around and I hear the splatter sound again. Clean again and put him in bed with me. Get up at 7:45 to call off work and get up with Peyton. Devin gets up and heads straight to the bathroom to throw up again.
I made him a little bed on the couch and wait to call my friend Lora was is far more experienced in the realm of throwing up than I am. Bad idea, I am jinxed. Everything she warns me of comes true. As she is warning me that diahrrea may accompany the puking, Devin asks me for new underwear. When I inquire to the whereabouts of his underwear, he says that he had an accident. I head up to the bathroom to find a toilet full of projectile diahrrea and his underwear must have taken the brunt of the force. Gagging, I clean it up the floor surrounding the toilet, seal the underwear in a bag and throw them away.
Devin is back on the couch in clean clothes and I put a bucket next to him with a towel under it. He poops/explodes two more times, thankfully, all in the toilet. I call Lora back to ask her what the hell I should do. She tells me to make sure he is staying hydrated and not to give him too much water at a time because it will make him throw up. So, I give him a sippy cup of water and tell him to drink slow. I head into the kitchen to clean up after breakfast. The other boys want some string cheese so, I ask Devin if he would like some cheese too (against Lora's advice of NO FOOD). Devin politely declines and leans over to start violently puking up the water. I pull his little body off of the couch to get closer to the bucker. He finished up (never cries once) and tells me the he poopeded, it was an accident and he is sorry. I tell him that he doesn't have to worry, he's sick and sometimes that these things happen when you are sick. He waddles up to the bathroom so I can clean him up.
To be continued...
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Lost and mortified
My life has been absolutely completely taken over by the tv series lost. We have now ordered 4 seasons and we are currently watching season 2. It is ALL we do. I dream about it every night and when I compare everyone I know, see or meet to the characters on lost. I LOVE LOST! With that said, I'm sure you know why I haven't been posting consistently. I've been watching episode after episode of lost.
I do have a few funny stories to share with you though...
Teeny tiny boobs and strange growing hair.
I have not bought new bras since before I began my three year stint of making babies, having babies and nursing babies. My boobs have been dramatically deformed from all of this. So, I finally decided it was time to go get some new bras. Me, Chris and Peyton took off for the mall because I had a wonderful $10 off coupon for Victoria's Secret. We get there and start browsing around and I pick out a few bras in "my size" and take them to the fitting room to try on.
On my way in, the lovely store lady asks me if I need sized. I kindly decline wondering to myself, "What the hell does that even mean? I don't want this little girl with her perfect hair, make-up and young body in here feeling me up and judging my two different sized boobs and my old lady stomach." So, I try on the first bra which doesn't quite fit right. I call out to chris to go and get me a different size. Him and Peyton go and find what I had requested and promptly bring it back. I try it on and it doesn't look right either. I try on the other bra I had brought in with me and that doesn't fit right either. So, again I send Chris and Peyton out to hunt down a different size. They bring it back and again it doesn't look right.
At this point, I start to think that maybe I don't even know what size I am any more. So, I regretfully press the little buzzer to call the lady. She comes to the door and asks me in her sickly sweet voice, "What'd ya need, hon?" I'm peeking out the crack in the door, standing in the bra that just won't fit right, and tell her that I think I need sized. No problem she says and comes on in with her measuring tape.
I now know that getting measured is not the violating process that I had imagined. Nobody comes in and starts grabbing your ta tas to check your bust size. They simply use a measuring tape and measure above your bust (or in my case, my lack of bust). She infoms me that I am a 32 A.
I am speechless..........
Where did they go? Did my children suck the life out of them while rootin for their milk?
Ok. Whatever. They're gone.
As she is measuring above my boobs, I am standing in the bra that is too big. Therefore, you can see right into it and her face is right above my bosom reading the numbers on the tape. Let me explain that while my mother is all Italian, I look completely like my welsh, irish, german father. But, my mother bestowed upon me the wonderful charm of Italian nipple hairs. Don't laugh. And of course, I had been out of town for the last week and severely busy the week before that, so I had not gotten to remove the little hairs from their home. So, she is face to face with the few dark coarse hairs that in my eyes are big enough to wrap around her neck and choke the life out of her.
I am mortified.
If she noticed, she did not say a word or let on that she even saw them waving out at her.
Anyways, I got two new bras and I'm happy that my little girls are now supported instead of just resting in their little mobile homes.
I do have a few funny stories to share with you though...
Teeny tiny boobs and strange growing hair.
I have not bought new bras since before I began my three year stint of making babies, having babies and nursing babies. My boobs have been dramatically deformed from all of this. So, I finally decided it was time to go get some new bras. Me, Chris and Peyton took off for the mall because I had a wonderful $10 off coupon for Victoria's Secret. We get there and start browsing around and I pick out a few bras in "my size" and take them to the fitting room to try on.
On my way in, the lovely store lady asks me if I need sized. I kindly decline wondering to myself, "What the hell does that even mean? I don't want this little girl with her perfect hair, make-up and young body in here feeling me up and judging my two different sized boobs and my old lady stomach." So, I try on the first bra which doesn't quite fit right. I call out to chris to go and get me a different size. Him and Peyton go and find what I had requested and promptly bring it back. I try it on and it doesn't look right either. I try on the other bra I had brought in with me and that doesn't fit right either. So, again I send Chris and Peyton out to hunt down a different size. They bring it back and again it doesn't look right.
At this point, I start to think that maybe I don't even know what size I am any more. So, I regretfully press the little buzzer to call the lady. She comes to the door and asks me in her sickly sweet voice, "What'd ya need, hon?" I'm peeking out the crack in the door, standing in the bra that just won't fit right, and tell her that I think I need sized. No problem she says and comes on in with her measuring tape.
I now know that getting measured is not the violating process that I had imagined. Nobody comes in and starts grabbing your ta tas to check your bust size. They simply use a measuring tape and measure above your bust (or in my case, my lack of bust). She infoms me that I am a 32 A.
I am speechless..........
Where did they go? Did my children suck the life out of them while rootin for their milk?
Ok. Whatever. They're gone.
As she is measuring above my boobs, I am standing in the bra that is too big. Therefore, you can see right into it and her face is right above my bosom reading the numbers on the tape. Let me explain that while my mother is all Italian, I look completely like my welsh, irish, german father. But, my mother bestowed upon me the wonderful charm of Italian nipple hairs. Don't laugh. And of course, I had been out of town for the last week and severely busy the week before that, so I had not gotten to remove the little hairs from their home. So, she is face to face with the few dark coarse hairs that in my eyes are big enough to wrap around her neck and choke the life out of her.
I am mortified.
If she noticed, she did not say a word or let on that she even saw them waving out at her.
Anyways, I got two new bras and I'm happy that my little girls are now supported instead of just resting in their little mobile homes.
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