Poor girl.

 

Being sick is tough business.

She didn’t even make it out of the bathroom.

These are the days. Some are harder than other.

For the last four days, my house has been a sick zone. Charlotte, Ruby, and Sterling have all lost their innards more times than I can count. Eden complained of a stomach ache but I have yet to see the same symptoms erupting from her. (Being sick might just be a good excuse to curl up with a good book, maybe?) I’ve done so much laundry that the house sounds eerily quiet when the machines stop whirling. It’s been a sad state of affairs, and while they are starting to act like life isn’t so bad anymore, we’re not out of the woods yet.

Charlie, poor girl, makes a very funny sick child. Her amazement over what she never knew her body could do has been ridiculously funny. That banana she ate and lost mere seconds later? It was the banana’s fault, and maybe she should try another one. She’s gotten really good at making it to the toilet. Sad thing to be good at.

Ruby just lounges around whining every so often and Sterling is so sad that his body has betrayed him this way. He is usually the one to stay well, and when asked if he needed anything, replied, “I just want to be done being sick!”. He’s determined he will never ever eat again, fearful of it’s repercussions.

Embarrassment.

I finally gave in and did my exercise video when my husband was home. Something about doing all sorts of strange body maneuvers while trying to keep up with the lady on the tv who is pretending to talk directly to you is just awkward. I’ve held off, not caring to be observed in this strange ritual, but, with limited time yesterday, I finally just did it. Feeling embarrassed despite my gracious husband’s eyes being glued to the computer screen because he knew I didn’t want to be laughed at, I was glad when it was done. I got ready to leave the house, and headed out the door with bags and coffee in hand.

The steps looked wet. They were. Under the water was ice. I know this because down I went, four concrete stairs down, landing on my backside. Everything in my hands stayed there, but my coffee went splashing and I looked like I’d peed my pants.

Blaine saw the whole thing.

How is it that the man stood by me for six births, has seen me do countless stupid things in the ten years we’ve been married, forgiven me for all my faults, and this is so stinking embarrassing?

Purex Crystals for Baby

Purex sent me a bottle of Purex Crystals for Baby to try, review, and give away. (I won’t give away my bottle. Actually, you can’t have it. But I’ll give away three coupons for a 28 oz bottle, free.)

I thought “baby” meant baby powder, pink baby lotion… you know. Not so much. I don’t think it smells anything like any of those – but it does smell really, really good. I’d read of making detergent with Borax and adding Purex Crystals, so I tried it. Oh yes, this is good stuff. The homemade detergent with Crystals doesn’t smell as strong as adding it directly to the wash, but I’m rather hoarding them. It just smells so good.

I’ve tried Purex Crystals before, and I haven’t been disappointed with any of them. Hello, clean laundry smell. No static - impressive, considering we heat with wood and can typically play the static shock game anytime we desire to be mean. Try it, you’ll like it. (The Crystals, I mean. The shock game is kind of fun too… but not so nice.)

Want to try your own? Comment here, like this post on Facebook, comment on Facebook, be sure you’ve liked my Facebook page and I’ll tally the entries on Friday and make some non-biased child pick three winners for a coupon of your very own.

Exciting stuff.

Pajama Crew

That Tonka truck has provided more hours of entertainment,

more races around the living room, more “rides” than even my stroller, I think.

Silly children.

Dirty reflections.

I’ve always considered myself to be a non-procrastinator. I hate having things hanging over me. But today, my mop water told me I’ve been lying to myself.

I’d only mopped half of the kitchen floor when I took that photo. Ugh. Stark realities.

Today in short stories.

Certain to speed things along: A two year old knocking on the (only) bathroom door, announcing her need to relieve herself, being told to wait, and then hearing her song.

“I’m waiting, I’m waiting, I’m waiting, I’m waiting to PEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!”

Oh dear.

Ruby asked Sterling if he’d like to play house with her.

“Sure. You can just pretend I’m the dad and I’m at work.”

He’s learned to cater to Ruby and get what he wants too. It’s a valuable skill.

Sterling just realized that all these reading lessons have been valuable. He’s finally picked up on the fact that he can read anything – not just his reading books. And the world was opened up…

My nine year old rephrased for me yesterday when I called a nakey (rash-healing) Pierce “Mr. No-Pants”. She called him “Mr. Anti-Pants”. When did she get old enough to figure that one out?

Charlie’s decided she doesn’t want to take naps anymore. I tell her each day she can skip her nap if she’s obedient and sweet. She’s never walked the line more carefully in her life than now. She’s turned into the most helpful child between the hours of 1 & 4 pm. After that, it’s anybody’s guess. It’s like she knows that the hours for napping are over and I won’t put her down later for fear of bedtime being a bust.

How on earth can one child who’s so bent on disobedience when it suits spend 14 minutes studying a picture, trying to decide if it’s raining, when all it needs is a story to describe it’s contents? How does one thing get so much concentration and the next is forgotten 32.4 seconds later?! These children act like children.

Pierce was told not to color in a book. Next thing I know he’s ripped a page out of the book and is coloring on it. While I realize removing the page means he’s not coloring in the book and is therefore, in some strange world, obeying, that isn’t exactly what I meant.