a few weeks ago, one of the bunco ladies offered up her daughter as a babysitter. ta-da!
m has a violin concert this week, so we thought this would be a great starting point. mm and i could go with m, and the little kids could stay here and play. or watch spongebob. we'd be right up the road, and not gone for long.
perfect. until i realized...
i'll have to clean our house! i mean, it's clean-ish, mostly, i just need to tweak it. uh yeah, tweak it.
i'm about halfway through the process, which has included two days of clearing out junk drawers, organizing under the sinks, cleaning off the top of the microwave, going through the kids' artwork, scrubbing the showers, polishing the kitchen sink with baking soda, oh, and going through k's winter clothes. why?!?
i am clearly deranged. i am cleaning our house for a babysitter. a 14-year-old babysitter. again, why?!?
because - i want her to like us! really, really, like us. (and obviously, clean junk drawers will help)
as a mom of elementary school kids, i've seen my fair share of crappy.library.books.
every week for four years, m has checked out a book. for two of those years, g has also checked out a book. that's a lot of books.
i'm not sure if their library is chock full of crappy books, or if my kids just gravitate toward the crappy book section.
we've read books highlighting - hamsters maine coon cats goldfish dwarf rabbits geckos cichlids lovebirds parakeets pugs chinchillas prairie dogs ferrets chameleons snakes turtles newts and salamanders mice (fill in the blank)osaurus rocks and gems (an encyclopedia) -this one has come home at least five times- rivers mountains volcanoes lightning etc.
i know i'm missing hundreds more, but you get the idea. crappy.
but then - last week, it happened!
g's selection - "carnivorous mushrooms lassoing their prey?"
"an eelworm wriggling through the soil finds itself attracted toward some curious tiny rings. these rings make a substance that the eelworm finds hard to resist. it decides to wriggle its way through a ring. it presses its body against the inside walls of the ring. suddenly, in just a tenth of a second, the ring tightens like a lasso! the eelworm is trapped."
"the rings belong to a fungus called arthrobotrys anchonia. it has many rings. each ring is made up of three cells. within a short time after capturing an eelworm, the arthrobotrys starts to grow into it. the fungus devours the eelworm from the inside."
well, now - that's more like it! minus the nightmares, obviously.
and may we all strive to avoid curious tiny rings.
m is old enough to participate. the paperwork is filled out. she is over-the-moon excited. like new outfit excited. there is however, one little problem - she's not coming to work with me. she's going with mm.
i don't know why this bothers me, but it does. way more than i thought. most possibly because i don't have a job. (or a "work")
i don't have a bus ride to offer. elevators to the 40+ floor, starbucks in the lobby, gyro salads for lunch, macy's down the street, or even a desk.
sure, i used to have these things, but that's hard to explain to an eight year old. who can't wait to order her hot chocolate.
i have laundry to wash, bathrooms to clean, carpets to vacuum, messes to clean, stains to remove, toys to sort, toilet paper rolls to change.
i also have groceries to buy, lunches to pack, dinners to make, homework to check, and breakfast dishes still on the table from the morning.
you'll say i have an important job, you'll say i'm doing great, you'll say i'll be happy with my choice someday.
but it won't make a difference to me today. because when it came down to it, she easily picked the bus ride.
(please stop reading now if you dislike vomit stories)
we took the kids to the movies for their awesome report cards. we shared a large popcorn. remember that for later.
about halfway through, k says her stomach hurts. she is sitting on my lap. because dragons are a little scary. but not too scary. do you need to go to the bathroom? i ask. no, she says.
a few minutes later she says i am squishing her belly. all this time, i'm not listening to the signs. the giant flashing neon signs. because it has been so long since our last pukefest. years, even. and k has never puked in her life. she is four.and.a.half. the thought did not cross my mind once. i ask her again if she needs to go to the bathroom. no, she says.
then, just as the giant dragon shows his face, she crawls up onto my shoulder, i think she is hiding her eyes, but no. she is puking. all.over.me.
i can honestly say that i have never been puked on. (even more impressive as i am a wvu graduate) until last night. and boy howdy did she make up for it. big time.
we went straight to the car, stripped down her clothes, and waited for the big kids and mm to finish the movie... ($40+ investment - i'm just saying)
my initial shock turned into worry, and a call to the doctor when we got home. then we spent the rest of the night watching her breathe, holding her, pulling back her hair, so she could empty her belly. (the sheer amount of popcorn was amazing, i'll not be eating it again for a while) she cried and cried that she missed the end of the movie. it was heartbreaking. then finally, around midnight, she slept.
i don't want to brag too much, but, dang, i was a freaking rockstar. i had puke in my hair, my sweatshirt, (like.inside.the.hood.) my eyelashes, jeans, socks, and shoes. k looked even worse. motherhood has apparently rescinded my gag reflex. i just jumped into the trenches and did my job. and i was glad to do it.
so does anyone know where i can pick up my "puke" badge? i'd like to iron it on now.
p.s. this morning, she is fine, and asking for candy. mm and i, however, are scarred for life.
the moment i stepped out of my car at my maw-maw's house in wv, it was love at first sight. "he's a stray," she said, "take him with you." the sweetest cat i have met in a long time. and it has been a long time. we were ready for a new kitty. so i brought you home with me. four hours in the car together. we bonded.
we named you huggy bear. you also answer to bear, hb, huggins, and buddy. the kids are in love with you too. we hope you feel the same way. like winning the kitty lottery?
welcome kitty buddy, to our crazy life. we think you will fit in just fine.
yes, it was me. (it was i?) i crushed your trash can(s). i was following a truck when the wind from its wake plus the breeze from our beautiful spring day combined to create a swirling vortex that lifted your trash can(s) into the road. right in front of my suv. there was nothing i could do but take it head-on. totally demolished. the sound was horrific. plastic was flying. i was terrified. so was k.
i called mm, and he was all, "dude, you drive a suv. you're fine."
and i was all, "dude, that was freaky scary. i'm shaking. should i offer to get them a new trash can(s)?" (i do not know for sure which house they came from)
and he was all, "nah, you're fine." (he may or may not have been in an important meeting)
so my day went on. and on. as usual. that part is not your fault. i'm just mentioning it here. for posterity. i forgot all about your trash can(s).
anyway, i thought you might be secretly happy to know that all the flying plastic - those tiny bits i thought belonged to your trash can(s)? well, upon further inspection, that plastic - was.actually.my.car. (yes, the indestructible suv)
and i'm willing to bet that the cost to replace that little strip of plastic is WAY more than the cost of a new trash can(s).
still, i do hope one day you can find it in your heart to forgive me. they say time heals all wounds. xo, pj
*there were in fact two trash cans. but in the blur, i'm not exactly 100% sure if i hit one or both. i think i may have blocked it out already. curious.