Reality Check

I started off the day by being scared half to death. Or more specifically, scared half to Matthew's death. Matthew has just recently (like in the last several days) grown tall enough to grab things off the kitchen table. As you can imagine, this creates a whole new world of danger where food allergies are involved. Matthew finished his breakfast before the rest of us this morning, so he was playing while Daniel, Nathan and I finished our food. All of a sudden, Nathan informed me that Matthew had taken a milk soaked piece of Chex cereal off table and put it in his mouth. Before he even finished telling me, I could hear Matthew start to whimper and complain. My heart rate jumped up to about 500 beats a minute and I raced over to help Matthew. In just those few seconds, and in spite of the fact that he had spit the cereal out as soon as it hit his tongue, he was already starting to spit up mucus. I picked him up and ran to the sink, quickly washing his hands, face, and mouth. I even scrubbed his tongue with a paper towel and he didn't complain. That is an indication of how uncomfortable he was. He continued to spit up mucus, then gagged and threw up. I washed him again, gave him the Benadryl, and watched to make sure nothing else happened. Five minutes later, he was playing again.

Let me say that I am incredibly grateful that Matthew is smart enough to spit things out when they don't feel right. And I feel that we are very blessed that one of his body's first reactions is to create enough mucus to make him gag and throw up, thereby expelling the allergen.

This morning's episode scared Daniel and Nathan a little bit. Which is good. I don't usually like my children to be afraid, but they got a first hand look at what can really happen to Matthew if he has the wrong foods. Kev and I have seen it before, but this is a first for the big boys. They have been pretty good about helping us keep the kitchen clean and I am hoping that this morning's adventure will help them understand why we need their help so much. And why Kev and I make them vacuum if they get Goldfish crackers on the floor.

This morning definitely could have been a whole lot worse, but it still scared the pants off me. Which is a shame since they are my new pants, the ones that actually fit my body!

(In the aftermath of the allergy attack, Matthew doped up on Benadryl and Nathan snuggling his baby brother)

A Phase and a Fish

Matthew is going through a phase where he gets stuck in stuff. He got stuck again yesterday . . . twice. I know I am a mean mom for taking pictures instead of helping him get out of his predicaments right away, but it makes me laugh so hard that I can't help myself. Besides, when he grows up I want him to know how funny he was as baby. And by now he really should know better than to play with the VCR.


In addition, I really thought he had learned his lesson with this particular cupboard on Sunday. Apparently not.


I just can't figure out how he got himself shoved in there like a sardine.

Speaking of sardines, Nathan got a new fish yesterday. Actually, he got two new fish. After the whole flying fish fiasco, we went ahead and bought him a small tank to replace the bowl. I love that it costs $40 to get a home for 24 cents worth of fish. But Nathan loves it. And we came away from the pet store with yet another great story.

We went to Petco after I picked up Nathan from school, picked out the tank, and headed over to the check out to get someone to help us get our fish. The girl at the check out looked at the tank in our cart and asked if we were planning to buy the tank today. Umm, duh. But I didn't say that. I just very politely said yes. She then informed that that the tank has to be set up for 24 hours before the fish can go in so she couldn't sell me any fish today, come back tomorrow. I informed her that we already have a bowl and she told me that it has to be set up for 24 hours. By now I was starting to lose my patience. I informed her, in not quite as polite a voice, that the bowl is set up because the other fish had died only yesterday. Then she asked what kind of fish I wanted. I told her I wanted goldfish. And she started giving me this whole thing about how we couldn't put goldfish in that tank because one goldfish needs at least 12 gallons of water and that means that two goldfish need a minimum of 24 gallons of water and she has an 85 gallon tank with tons of goldfish (In my head I was doing math: according to her info, she can only have seven goldfish in her tank, not tons). That was about the point where I had lost all patience with this girl. I informed her, in a not very polite at all voice, that we had a goldfish in a bowl this big (I showed her with my hands. Our bowl only holds about two quarts.) and that the only reason the fish had died was because he jumped out of the bowl and dried out. So she asked which fish we wanted. Double duh. The goldfish, the 12 cent ones! She replied in a rather snotty tone that they don't come with any kind of a guarantee anyway so she would ask her manager about it. Which she did. And the manager immediately came out and sold me two 12 cent goldfish, which she thinks will do just fine in our little tank unless they get too big. Of course, the snotty girl rang up our purchase and as I was swiping my debit card informed me several times that it had to run as credit (even as I was punching in my pin number which it won't ask for if the card is trying to run as credit). Her last comment, in a supremely snotty voice, as the debit transaction was completed was, "I guess it liked it." Poor girl. There is probably a reason she is working at Petco in the middle of a weekday.

But all's well that ends well. And Nathan is thrilled.

Moby Dork

Nathan's goldfish is gone. I don't mean gone as in dead (although he is most certainly dead). I mean gone as in disappeared. Missing. Not in the bowl. When Nathan sat down to eat his breakfast this morning, he immediately exclaimed, "My fish is gone!" And he was. Several weeks ago the fish propelled himself out of the bowl, flopped across the table, and was lying on Nathan's place mat gasping when Kevin found him. So I assumed he had pulled another Houdini and began searching. We looked all over: on the table (including under the piles of junk that tend to accumulate because it is a flat surface), under the table, behind nearby furniture, in the shoes that live nearby, Daniel and Nathan even got out their flashlights and peered under the stove and the fridge even though I was sure the fish could not have flopped that far. But we could not find the fish.

Eventually we had to give up for a time in order to get everyone ready for church. I got dressed, the boys sat down to eat breakfast, and then Kev came home from his meetings. When he heard we had a rogue fish, he began researching everywhere in case I had missed something. I was pretty sure I wouldn't miss a dead fish, but I wouldn't bet the farm on it. As the clock kept on ticking, we again had to abandon the search. I was brushing my teeth and Kev was getting Matthew dressed when I heard Daniel yell, "Whoa!!! I found the fish!!!" And sure enough. There he was, stuck to the back of Daniel's bib (Daniel only wears a bib when he is eating in his Sunday shirt because he only has one white shirt and a stray bit of ketchup would ruin church for Mom). He had been sitting there wearing the fish the whole time! He admits quite freely that it kind of freaked him out.


Poor, dead, dried out fish. He must have flung himself out of his bowl sometime soon after being fed last night because he was completely crunchy. And not in a good fish stick way. Nathan asked Kev why we couldn't cut the fish. I think he is super curious about what a fish looks like inside because he asked me during the great search why we couldn't see fish bones and in my distraction I replied that we had no idea where the fish was so of course we couldn't see his bones. Poor, sad, bummed out Nathan. during his preschool birthday celebration on Wednesday, he counted the fish as a member of the family. So now we need a new fish. And a bigger bowl. With a lid. Perhaps a fishbowl by Tupperware.

In conclusion, please join me in a moment of silence in remembrance of Goldfish. May he rest in peace.



Stupid fish.

Stuck Again

And just as funny as the last one!

Trio

Three good things have happened to me today. The first involved shopping (which I generally abhor). Jeans were on sale and since I've resorted to iron on patches to keep my current jeans wearable, I figured I better just suffer the store and get a new pair. But here's the good part: I found a pair of jeans not only in my size, but in a petite! Yay, yay, yay! I don't have to roll up the legs and the waistband does not come up to my armpits! It was like a mini miracle in the Shopko.

The second good thing is that Nathan brought me flowers. As adults, we usually look out over the yard and let a few curses escape our lips over the weeds that blemish our less than perfect lawn. But to a four year old, a dandelion is nothing more than a beautiful flower to give to his mother.

The third good thing happened after lunch. I was washing the dishes when I heard Matthew complaining behind me. He wasn't shrieking in pain or anything, just complaining. So I turned around and saw this:


And thus was I blessed with the gift of laughter. This crazy kid of mine has a thing about shoes and has recently discovered that playing with the shoe rack is a super fun accompaniment to shoe-capades. So I couldn't help but laugh when he fell in the thing and got stuck!

I don't think it is a coincidence that two of my three good things came because of my children. In my crazy, stressed out life (and in spite of the fact that they contribute greatly to my crazy, stressed out life) my children bring me many "shining moments of joy and satisfaction." And yes, I laugh at them. I can't help it. You try to keep a straight face when your four year old son falls off his chair screaming because he bit his own finger while eating lunch.

How NOT To Eat Fried Worms

It's raining. On this particular occasion, rain reminds me of worms. Here's my train of thought: it rains, the sidewalk gets all wet, the worms crawl out and hang around all wiggly on the sidewalk. And worms remind me of a moment in my life, one that occurred when I was about four. For those of you who may be concerned, no actual worms were harmed in the making of this memory.

At the time, my family was living in the Philippines (my dad was in the navy). I was (and still am) a total girly girl. My older sister, not so much. The fundamental differences in our personalities can be aptly described by our choice of playthings at this particular point in our lives. I had a set of play pots and pans. They were plastic, multicolored and adorned with a variety of happy faces. I loved those pots. My sister Patti was much more intrigued by her bucket of slime. You could get slime with worms or without worms. Hers had worms because the slime with worms was purple. One this particular occasion, I was outside playing with my green pot. The green one was my favorite. I was around the side of the house where the garbage cans were stored. (Don't ask me why I was playing by the garbage cans. I don't remember. But I mention it because it is important later.) I was perfectly happy in my culinary world of make believe. Then Patti arrived. Without asking, she dumped the worms from her bucket of slime into my beloved green pot. Apparently she wanted slime without worms for awhile. Anyway, she dumped and was gone before I could even respond. So I calmly walked over to the garbage can and chucked her worms in because I did not want worms for dinner! I don't remember exactly what happened after that, but I do remember she was mad when she came back for her worms and they were gone.

So there you have it. The single best way to avoid eating worms is to immediately toss them in the trash!

Matthew Has Embraced the Soy Milk

Literally.

(I know it's blurry. Sorry.)

Got (Soy) Milk?

Yesterday Matthew learned how to blow bubbles in his milk . . . while drinking out of a sippy cup. He figured out that if he turns the cup so the spout is on the top rather than on the bottom, when he sucks on it air rushes in through the air-equalizing-valve, flows through the milk, and creates bubbles! He was laughing his head off during dinner last night and it took us a few minutes to figure out what was going on. I think he is too smart for his own good. Or maybe he is just too smart for MY own good. If all my kids are going to be smarter than me, I better take advantage of them now while they are still too inexperienced to know any better.

In spite of the fact that I usually tell my children not to play with their food, I couldn't resist a chuckle at Matthew's bubble discovery. And a huge sigh of relief. Until about three weeks ago, Matthew looked at soy milk with scorn. When we tried to get him to drink it, he acted like we were poisoning him. He got to the point where he wouldn't even drink water or juice (probably because he thought we were trying to give him soy milk again). Due to our extremely limited options, we were getting a bit stressed. So he can blow as many bubbles as he wants as long as he occasionally stops to actually drink the stuff!