Put Mim on the bus at 7:30. She's perfectly fine except for a minor clothing battle (she was not going to school in striped tights and a floral print summer dress. Not on my watch!)

Her bus drops her off about 8-ish.

8:15, the school calls, says Mim's in the office and she's sick. I do the nice mom "Oh dear", then ask (because I'm suspicious) "With what?"

She's complaining her stomach hurts. Great. One of her usual excuses (the other being her head hurts. You know, things that are hard to prove? Yeah, she's a smart one, our girl.) The secretary also says she looks a little peaked. Well, okay, since Collin did throw up Saturday night, maybe there's some truth to the stomach hurting.

Josh goes and gets her. He walks into the office and she pops right up and says "Hi Dad!" with a big smile. Comes into the house all smiles. Only gets sad when she hears that since she's "sick", she has to spend the day in bed reading. Miriam does love to read, so this isn't cruel and unusual torture. But I do believe she thought she was going to spend her day playing on the computer and watching cartoons while sucking down Sprite

Meanwhile, I'm praying she doesn't prove us wrong and throw up all over the place.

Monday, November 10, 2008 9:15:50 AM (Eastern Standard Time, UTC-05:00)    Comments [0] 

Okay, not quite.

I'm home with Vomit Boy Collin, who threw up last night.  Josh took other children to church.  Me, I'm having my own Sunday Service here, praying desperately to God that the plague that has entered our house will be confined to just Collin of the Weak Stomach.

Today, I am going to attempt to paint my dining room walls. I've been really trying to for the past two weeks.  I bought the paint a few months ago.  I've been planning this paint job since we moved in.

But two weeks ago I decided they needed to get done.  So I got out the paint, the supplies, started cleaning the crayon off the walls, when Mr. UPS Guy showed up with my new laptop.  The next day, I woke up with a massive head cold.  A few days ago, I decided to try again, now that I was feeling a bit better. 

Except some budding Picasso had colored on the walls.  Repeatedly.  And some lazy mother never bothered to clean off the crayon because she was just going to paint over it all anyway.  That was when the lazy mother was planning on painting the walls a darker color, instead of the barely there creamy yellow that she ultimately chose.

So this lazy mother has been cleaning crayon off the walls.  She was nearly there when her second Magic Eraser crumbled into tiny pieces.  Two more have been decimated today, on one wall alone.  Good thing I bought the four pack this time. 

Here's to prettier walls, new laptops and non-vomiting children!

Sunday, November 09, 2008 12:43:42 PM (Eastern Standard Time, UTC-05:00)    Comments [0] 

I'm watching some "mystery illness" show on Discovery Health.  At commercial breaks, they have a little "this person has these symptoms, what disease do they have?"

I'm getting most of them right.

Yep - between scouring the Internet trying to figure out what Maura has, and watching too many Discovery Health Channel shows on the hopes that some show might have an episode about a child just like Maura, I have learned about way too many rare disorders.

The four years of French I took?  Don't ask. 

Monday, October 27, 2008 12:15:13 AM (Eastern Standard Time, UTC-05:00)    Comments [0] 

Proving that indeed, this is genetic...

Collin was telling me how in his creative writing class, the students were being too noisy, so had to do a writing assignment as punishment.  Two paragraphs on how they'd change the world.

I asked him "What did you write it on?"

He said "Paper."

Little snot.

Wednesday, October 22, 2008 7:11:05 PM (Eastern Standard Time, UTC-05:00)    Comments [0] 

...is that it's so hard to catch up to everything once you return home.

We went to Ireland.  It was gorgeous.  As was the bacon in Ireland.  Yes, we liked the bacon.  It was good.  And the Bulmer's cider.  The roads could have been a wee bit wider.  But the grass indeed was green and there were cows and sheep on hillsides, rock walls, crumbling towers and castles.  We took too many pictures and I will be sharing them as soon as I get copies on my computer.

However, while we were in Ireland, my grandmother passed away.  She was a lovely woman, my grandmother.  A lovely, flighty, feisty woman.  We got back just in time to turn around, repack and head to Chicago for the funeral.  All my siblings were there and it once again reminded me that smart-ass-ness is indeed genetic in our family.

But we came back and dove straight back into Real Life.  Up at 6:30 am so we can get kids on the bus by 7:30 am.  Finding library books.  Oops, my band concert is tonight and I need a white shirt.  Doctor appointments. Dance classes.  Doo dah, doo dah. 

And Miriam decided yesterday she wants to be something different than we already planned for Halloween. 

Yep, we have returned to Real Life.

Wednesday, October 22, 2008 12:21:16 PM (Eastern Standard Time, UTC-05:00)    Comments [0] 

No, really.

I ordered pizza for dinner tonight, right before dropping the boys off at religious education, picked it up after dropping them off, fed the girls and myself, and went back to pick the boys up from religious education.  They were looking forward to pizza for dinner.

Except when we got home, it was discovered immediately that the dog ate more than half a large pizza + dragged the cheese bread across the floor.

I cursed at the dog as the boys got upset and Maura cried because everyone else was unhappy.  And then I ordered the boys another pizza.

It arrived in a very timely manner, with the nice courteous driver we get alot.  I paid him, wished him a good night, and shut the door.  Two minutes later, there was a knock.

I thought maybe I didn't give the guy enough cash.  But no.  He didn't need more money...he wanted to know if he could use my rake.

See, he locked his keys in his running car, but left the sunroof open.  He hoped he could reach the lock button with the rake the kids have left out on the porch today.

I suggested the hoe.

Neither worked, so I grabbed the broom.  Pizza guy tried in vain to reach buttons.  No luck.  He asked if I had a coat hanger maybe, but in a "No Wire Hangers" move, I got rid of them all.  (My brother one time cut his gum open with a wire hanger and the thought of that just squeams me out.)

I knew where pizza guy was going though - we needed something hooked.  I ran inside and grabbed a curtain rod.  He worked it in vain, but without luck.  I realized though that my hands were smaller and might fit through the cracked open sunroof, so offered to give it a try.

After five minutes of manipulation, I managed to get the curtain rod on the window button.  We both heard the sweet sound of a window going down and he ran over to the other side and reached through to unlock the door.

Pizza guy said next time he delivers a pizza at my house, he'll have to bring me a tip - LOL! 

Tuesday, September 30, 2008 7:59:19 PM (Eastern Standard Time, UTC-05:00)    Comments [0] 

Those are sounds to the soundtrack of my life - aka breaking glass.

I was the middle of five kids.  We broke glass.  There were the regular things of dropped drinking glasses and rogue baseballs.  But there were other more interesting times, like when I threw a baby rattle at my brother - I was 11, he was 14.  I still say it was his fault the glass front of the bookcase was broken.  If he hadn't moved, the rattle would have hit him, not the glass. 

Learning the best way to pick up glass was a regular life lesson, like doing laundry.  A lesson I have utilized over and over and over...

It's funny, I buy certain glasses because they are hard to break, and when they do break, they break in big chunks, not tiny shards.  Maura today broke a cereal bowl...it nicely broke in half, no shards, no chunks.  I picked up the two halves, placed them in the garbage, and went on with life.

But Maura wasn't over.  She decided to help out and dust the bookshelf I just moved.  I was eyeing it, realizing that the floor is crooked in that spot and we should probably attach it to the wall somehow.  And then, Maura rubbed the shelf more vigorously and I saw a picture frame wobble.  Before I could do anything, it hit the ground.

It's funny.  I've had that framed picture since I was 18.  It's gone back and forth from college several times, plus several moves both in state and out.  It made it from Chicago to Ohio to Arkansas to Michigan without a chip or crack.  Two minutes on a shelf with a five year old around and it is now history.

Such is life with kids.

Sunday, September 28, 2008 5:14:21 PM (Eastern Standard Time, UTC-05:00)    Comments [0]