sick eggs and magical elixer

elixer

Magical elixir… cures all sickness….unfortunately does nothing for wrinkles…..

 

 

We are sick over here. Of COURSE we are, because children live here…and children are germy little creatures.

It starts with Sammy usually, coughing, mucous, sneezing, fever, red nose, misery….. all the usual symptoms.

Last night we went to bed with Jenna feeling fine, and she woke up a few hours later barking like a seal.

Honestly, there is no point in trying to separate them when one gets sick…. you just have to wait for the inevitable to happen.

When the sickness hits, there are things we do. Routines we have. Requirements for the very survival of the sick person. These things include a liberal rubbing of Vicks onto the chest and back of the victim. Big vaporizer going full blast near the bed. Pillow to prop the head so there is less gurgly breathing as mucous pools during the night. Puke bucket always handy. Of course the necessary sick couch time, spent lounging in glassy-eyed misery, huddled under the special green blanket, cold rag on the head, watching movies on demand all day long.

Sprite, a.k.a. “Magical Elixer” is called for in mass quantities. Sick eggs and toast, without which, survival would be impossible.

So this is what we are having for breakfast today. Sick eggs, toast, sprite. Taking bites between blowing noses and discussing our percentage of feeling better. (Sammy reports 65 percent today….)

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Sick eggs and toast. guaranteed to keep you alive another day.

 

Breakfast surprise

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It was Saturday morning around 8am, and I heard chairs moving around downstairs in the kitchen, cabinets being opened, bags rustling.

Although it was a lot more commotion that it usually takes for the hubby to make his morning coffee, it just didn’t register to me that anything else might be going on.

I head downstairs with the three year old hanging on my back, and I get stopped at the bottom of the stairs. Husband is being used as a guard, I’m not allowed in the kitchen yet. Ok, I’ll go with it.

Sammy calls out finally, “don’t look!”

He comes and takes my hand, I must keep my eyes closed, and guides me to the kitchen. Being 5, he doesn’t take into account the various walls I might walk in to, but I only shoulder check one because I promise not to cheat and peek.

“Surprise!”

Sammy made us breakfast!

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A feast, of green bean crisps, pretzels, peanuts, pita chips, trail mix….oh, and those cute little cheese sandwich crackers from Trader Joe’s. Pretty much cleaned out the snacks…. We all got a heaping plate, and even a nice big glass (Oh geez, REAL glass!) of deliciously gritty iced tea, made with love and LOTS of powdered mix.

All of our places were set, and he waited indulgently for us to sit. Of course it was the most amazing breakfast ever!!

Me, Sammy, Jenna, and the hubby got the same thing. For some reason though, his big brother Jake got the supreme version full of whole granola bars, some fudge dipped, and LOTS of trail mix.

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breakfast of champions

 

Of course, we didn’t want to disappoint him, so I munched on that “breakfast” all day, and tossed what I could when he wasn’t looking. I did realize what a good amount of crap food we have….. and also how much I love pita chips….but mostly how much I love that little guy.

 

Taco salad can predict the future

Taco-Salad

I want a taco salad.

I don’t want to make one, I want one from taco bell. I don’t eat these very often, but today I want one.

I resisted the urge all day, but tonight it’s calling to me from across the road as I stir this delicious dinner of vegetables with green curry. I’m not being sarcastic here, it’s really good.

But it’s not a taco salad and so is not going to satisfy me.

I couldn’t get one for myself.  I was rushing with the kids to get them home and in bed, having just brought soup to my own mom who isn’t feeling well. She told me not to come, but I knew she would eat the soup… ended up driving home later than I thought, and although I pass taco bell, I just couldn’t justify wasting the time for myself.

Running upstairs to get them to bed, see the oldest sitting on her bed, hasn’t gone out with her friends yet. PERFECT.

“Please, can you get me a taco salad?”

I get a stare.

“You don’t need a taco salad. I’m doing you a favor”

I throw out another please but don’t have time to grovel as I start the bed time ritual for the two little ones.

Soon after, I hear her leave the house. I begin to think along the lines of “wow, she’s really getting it for me…. awwww, she didn’t have to, that’s so nice.”

But time passes, and she doesn’t come back. I notice a text on my phone. It’s from her, she’s going out with her friends. I’ve lost hope.

After this revelation… a little passive aggressive texting back and forth, me trying to ensure she feels guilty and suddenly realizes how much she loves and appreciates me, and how much I DO FOR HER… her focusing more on the fact that I seem to be upset about a taco salad, and not the meaning BEHIND IT….

Because this obviously means that I will end up in “a home”. Alone. Discarded as soon as I am no longer useful.

Currently working on a way of avoiding this, while also ensuring all remaining children find it impossible to say no to me for any reason.

 

 

 

 

The Christmas Bidet

bidet

It’s usually very predictable, what I get my dad for gifts.

He likes going to movies, he likes to read. He likes the leisure/sweatsuit look… preferable with a collar that can “pop”.

We’ve gotten him things to fit these well known and comfortable interests…. but this Christmas I went off the map. I strayed from the formula.

I told my sister first, “I got dad a bidet for Christmas.”

her response?

“Fabulous!”

I got him other stuff too. The token gift cards for dinner and a movie….an awesome and sentimental collage blanket….couple other small things. And the bidet. We have the same one in a couple of our bathrooms, super easy to install and use.

For some reason I really thought he’d think it was kind of cool, trendy…. finally, a gift he would never guess!

As he opened it, and looked at me with a puzzled frown, I tried to sell him on the finer points.

“You’ll save so much money on toilet paper!”

“It’s really hygienic!…..not that you aren’t hygienic…..er…. I wouldn’t know of course…….”

awkward.

loss of eye contact.

aaaaand moving on to other gifts…….. bidet sits lonely, possibly wondering why people are revolted at the thought of cleaning their behinds with its superior skills.

Probably didn’t help that I forgot the token movie/dinner gift cards in my car, and they are still sitting on the dash–waiting for their moment of appreciation.

So now dad, who is slightly paranoid, is no doubt wondering if he smells bad, or if I find him dirty, and looking for a hidden meaning behind my well intentioned gift.

I can’t wait to see him again and see if that uncomfortable chuckle keeps happening when we look at each other.

Lesson learned. Never, never buy things for your parents that might give them the impression that you suspect they have dirty butts. Even if you do suspect it…. it can never be mentioned.

Parent/child bond…. traumatized.

 

 

 

 

New things to fear

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We are going on vacation in a matter of days, flying away from here for a while. Looking forward to spending days together, it feels like it’s been forever!

Before we fly with the kids, I have all the normal stress of making sure the house is spotless, laundry all done, bills paid, bags packed, and making sure I have every possible problem figured out and solved before it happens.

But I find myself faced with a new concern, not sure it’s a problem yet, I hope it doesn’t become a problem….

I’ve been reading on various news sites about people who look suspicious, and by suspicious I mean dark complected and Arabic speaking…..who are reported by other passengers who are scared to fly with them. Just read about another instance today….. these people are detained, often miss their flights, are frisked and humiliated in front of others until ultimately they are let go, found to be not a risk after all.

The world is a crazy place right now. Will someone look at my husband, dark complected, Arabic…and think he poses a threat to them? Will they think by traveling with a white woman, he is trying to blend in, and make them more suspicious?

Will we make it on the plane?

I think we will, mostly. I do tend to think of worst case scenarios, if for no other reason than to just be prepared.

But it’s scary out there, for everyone.

We are all victims, and by “we”, I mean all of us, no matter what religion or nationality, who are not extremists. We, who are peace and family loving, no matter how we pray, or even if we pray. We who just want to live our lives, and let others live their own.

I pray for peace, for an end to the horrible things being done in the world by a group who has no business connecting themselves with Islam. And for an end to the horrible things being done to people who LOOK like they might be associated with a group that has no business connecting themselves with Islam…..

Until that day comes, I pray we can just get on that damn plane…..

 

Beyond clean…

dirty

It’s funny how different people can define a concept in so many unique ways.

Take the concept of clean, for example. As in “A clean room”.

To my teen, this is a very loose concept, a fluid term, can’t be pinned down to any rigid standard…. certainly not by any standards of mine that might include Windex or a vacuum cleaner.

No…

His clean is so unstructured, so free…. free of the materialistic burden of bedspreads and dirty socks, free of the narrow-minded idea that toothpaste on the sink could ever be “unclean”. Indeed, the toothpaste is clean. The sink is clean. Together, they can only be MORE clean.

He must be evolving, my small mind tries to understand.

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I struggle with it.

I’m sure it’s my own fault. My faulty reasoning, that of an adult whose only remaining dream is to walk into his room without being disgusted.

I cracked today. Vacuumed up things that didn’t seem to belong on the floor by my antiquated reasoning. Toenails, fingernails, I don’t know what that other stuff is…..

Felt a small measure of peace, probably destroyed an ecosystem he was painstakingly trying to create.

Oh, I’m sure I will remain an embarrassment. Not enlightened enough to see beyond my superficial concept of clean. I hope he can forgive me one day, and learn to somehow live with my primitive addiction to Pine-sol and Clorox wipes.

….not so evolved……

 

 

Looking for gift ideas?

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gift for the husband. Ssshhhhhh, don’t tell.

 

Ok, I’m going to do you a favor because I know you are realizing how close it’s getting to Christmas…. and are probably panicking about what to get for everyone. Right?

I’m in a collage blanket phase. I think it’s my go-to gift this year. If you’re on my list, chances are you are getting one. Hope you’re cold.

I found this site. Collage.com. Check it out!!!

I love it so much that I am shamelessly promoting them completely on my own. I am getting nothing out of this but the love of sharing a great idea.

Here is how it works. They have a link for over 60% off a fleece blanket, with your photos of choice, and free shipping!  It’s $45 out the door (50×60 size). You can do AMAZING things guys!! Amazing things!

Click here…. Do it!!

Choose your blanket size, choose how fluffy you want it. Then go to town. Super easy to upload pictures, and picture quality is great. Amazingly great. I’ve ordered about a zillion. And every time I order an new one, it’s even better than the last one I made.

I got the first couple in the mail already, and I will tell you that I will probably win best gift-giver of the year award, hands down. I am going to make people cry, and it will be great.

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Awwww. Best brothers.