Having children is like trying to herd crickets. They're loud, they're jumpy and they don't respond well to being told what to do.
And if crickets got the stomach flu, then you'd pretty much have what we had here this past week. Oh, the joy! Nothing like being elbow deep in puke. And, just when things start to settle down, Geekster begins to feel lousy. He was laid up for most of today while I dashed after our little crickets as if it were a Monday. And, tomorrow being the actual Monday, I'm fortunate enough to get to do it all over again tomorrow!
It's impossible to sound happy about that no matter how hard I try.
So I received nothing on Valentines Day. He cooked for me, but we were so preoccupied with Vomitpalooza that going out to get chocolates or flowers was the last thing on his mind. I, on the other hand, stole him a gift in a last minute attempt to buy his and the children's love.
Picture it: I head to a bookstore at 8:30pm with Intrepid and Spawnling on the eve of the day of guilt, er, love. Everything there is hideously expensive; especially the things that are not book related. Hot chocolate and a mug for Gutsy. Candies and a mug for Intrepid. Insanely overpriced Robeez shoes for Spawnling. Espresso toffee bars for Geekster. Two packages of Valentines Day cards for Intrepid who decided to hand them out at the last minute (the were $13 for a package of 20 and I had to get two packages. I almost cried).
I get to the cash, pay and walk the two blocks back to the van (downtown parking isn't the most convenient thing), start the thing, load up the kids and... What's that on top of the stroller? Oh! It's the toffee! And it was sitting right there the entire time. I walked out with toffee.
No, I didn't go back. Go ahead, Christians. Boo me. Stone me. I'm okay with my dishonesty. I'm okay with it because it means my children and I didn't freeze our faces off walking back into the wind two blocks in the name of honesty. Instead, I justified it to myself by saying that I will make a contribution for that amount to their charity which buys books for needy children. Hah! See? I steal and I still come off as saintly.
Might I add that stole goodies taste even better than paid for ones? They just do. Something extra sinful about them.
Back to the story... The day after V-Day I wrote a proposal letter to a large, nationwide publication. I heard back within hours with the response of 'Love your idea, but can't use it for about six months. If you haven't sold it by then please resubmit because we want it'.
Not the perfect response of 'Love your idea. Will pay you $5000 for it, half up front, and will have our hot copy editor visit you with a latte and a big fat cheque.' But I'll take what I can get, you know?
So I excitedly told Geekster about how I didn't screw up my proposal letter and that I bet I could sell them other ideas in the meantime. However, I was worried that between running the Gremlin ranch, reading books for my university courses until my eyes bleed, and dealing with a screaming Spawnling every time I go near my computer desk, that I might not have time to write said articles for the next little while.
And with that, I apparently will be receiving my Valentines Day gift within 10 business days.
My husband deserves a metal as well as other things I can provide for him when he no longer has the stomach flu.
That little beauty is going to be a lifesaver. I can put it upstairs on the diningroom table and actually be able to not only read email, but respond to it. Respond! Wow. What a concept. And I'll be able to blog more often (whether or not that's a good thing is up for debate). I'll be able to write articles, essays and other things that will eventually bring some money and personal satisfaction. It's the gift that keeps on giving (and that we'll keep on paying for because Geekster didn't use cash).
Oh, and I'll be able to post more pictures. After I dosed up Spawnling with gripe water and Tylenol (couldn't figure out what was wrong so I figured a double shot was in order) and he fell asleep, I was able to update my Flickr page. So I'll end this post with a snapshot of what February has been like in Fort Maven:
Spawnling is freaking CUTE. Conceited? Hell yes. Biased? Absolutely. But come on. Look at him! That boy oozes sweetness (and other things that smell far worse, but thankfully you can't smell a picture).
I insisted that Geekster take a picture of us bathing the Spawn in the kitchen sink tonight in order to show how completely white trash we are. Nothing says Nothern Redneck like a baby in a stainless steel sink.
In our defense, I would like to point out that we have a fairly large corner tub that makes bathing a baby impossible unless one of us is in there with him. And at around 18lbs, Chunkalicious isn't a baby who easily fits in an infant bath anymore. So yeehaw, sink!
Now back to complete show-off mode. This is Spawnling standing up without assistance. He figured out how to grab on to the wires at the top and pull himself up to a standing position. He's been doing it or about two weeks now and keeps getting better. Note that my hand is still strategically placed beside him. He is only four months old, after all. Mama didn't raise no fool.
Spawnling, AKA Stunned, and Gutsy, AKA Stoned. Not the world's best picture, but I like seeing the sibling love. I know that comes from not thinking poor Intrepid would ever have any siblings. Now he has two little brothers who pull his hair, scratch his face, scream and throw things at him. I bet he loves the special gifts we gave him.
And here he is now, doing a leap of joy. Gutsy took this picture and I had to post it. It's so bad that it's artsy and so artsy that it's cool. Therefore Gutsy is cool and I am cool by association because I gave birth to him. Amazing how one picture taken by someone else could validate my entire existence.
This is Cock Sauce.
It's a seafood sauce named Cock.
I could not own a bottle of Cock Sauce and not take a picture of it. Sorry. I just couldn't.
I am so twelve.
Back to cute things. This is Gutsy decorating cookies for Valentines Day at school. He was supposed to share them with people he loves. He ended up eating all of them. Gutsy loves himself.
A lot.
And when I see pictures like this I really can't blame him. I'd eat all my cookies too if I looked like that.
Last but not least, this is what happens when you neglect your children by continuously saying 'Please go play downstairs for a little while'. They raid the Hallowe'en costume stash in the storage area and try to threaten some candy out of you with their plastic weapons.
I am an amazing mother.
Now imagine all the pictures I'll be posting when I get my new toy!
No, not another bottle of Cock Sauce. The laptop, pervert.
And if crickets got the stomach flu, then you'd pretty much have what we had here this past week. Oh, the joy! Nothing like being elbow deep in puke. And, just when things start to settle down, Geekster begins to feel lousy. He was laid up for most of today while I dashed after our little crickets as if it were a Monday. And, tomorrow being the actual Monday, I'm fortunate enough to get to do it all over again tomorrow!
It's impossible to sound happy about that no matter how hard I try.
So I received nothing on Valentines Day. He cooked for me, but we were so preoccupied with Vomitpalooza that going out to get chocolates or flowers was the last thing on his mind. I, on the other hand, stole him a gift in a last minute attempt to buy his and the children's love.
Picture it: I head to a bookstore at 8:30pm with Intrepid and Spawnling on the eve of the day of guilt, er, love. Everything there is hideously expensive; especially the things that are not book related. Hot chocolate and a mug for Gutsy. Candies and a mug for Intrepid. Insanely overpriced Robeez shoes for Spawnling. Espresso toffee bars for Geekster. Two packages of Valentines Day cards for Intrepid who decided to hand them out at the last minute (the were $13 for a package of 20 and I had to get two packages. I almost cried).
I get to the cash, pay and walk the two blocks back to the van (downtown parking isn't the most convenient thing), start the thing, load up the kids and... What's that on top of the stroller? Oh! It's the toffee! And it was sitting right there the entire time. I walked out with toffee.
No, I didn't go back. Go ahead, Christians. Boo me. Stone me. I'm okay with my dishonesty. I'm okay with it because it means my children and I didn't freeze our faces off walking back into the wind two blocks in the name of honesty. Instead, I justified it to myself by saying that I will make a contribution for that amount to their charity which buys books for needy children. Hah! See? I steal and I still come off as saintly.
Might I add that stole goodies taste even better than paid for ones? They just do. Something extra sinful about them.
Back to the story... The day after V-Day I wrote a proposal letter to a large, nationwide publication. I heard back within hours with the response of 'Love your idea, but can't use it for about six months. If you haven't sold it by then please resubmit because we want it'.
Not the perfect response of 'Love your idea. Will pay you $5000 for it, half up front, and will have our hot copy editor visit you with a latte and a big fat cheque.' But I'll take what I can get, you know?
So I excitedly told Geekster about how I didn't screw up my proposal letter and that I bet I could sell them other ideas in the meantime. However, I was worried that between running the Gremlin ranch, reading books for my university courses until my eyes bleed, and dealing with a screaming Spawnling every time I go near my computer desk, that I might not have time to write said articles for the next little while.
And with that, I apparently will be receiving my Valentines Day gift within 10 business days.
My husband deserves a metal as well as other things I can provide for him when he no longer has the stomach flu.
That little beauty is going to be a lifesaver. I can put it upstairs on the diningroom table and actually be able to not only read email, but respond to it. Respond! Wow. What a concept. And I'll be able to blog more often (whether or not that's a good thing is up for debate). I'll be able to write articles, essays and other things that will eventually bring some money and personal satisfaction. It's the gift that keeps on giving (and that we'll keep on paying for because Geekster didn't use cash).
Oh, and I'll be able to post more pictures. After I dosed up Spawnling with gripe water and Tylenol (couldn't figure out what was wrong so I figured a double shot was in order) and he fell asleep, I was able to update my Flickr page. So I'll end this post with a snapshot of what February has been like in Fort Maven:
Spawnling is freaking CUTE. Conceited? Hell yes. Biased? Absolutely. But come on. Look at him! That boy oozes sweetness (and other things that smell far worse, but thankfully you can't smell a picture).
I insisted that Geekster take a picture of us bathing the Spawn in the kitchen sink tonight in order to show how completely white trash we are. Nothing says Nothern Redneck like a baby in a stainless steel sink.
In our defense, I would like to point out that we have a fairly large corner tub that makes bathing a baby impossible unless one of us is in there with him. And at around 18lbs, Chunkalicious isn't a baby who easily fits in an infant bath anymore. So yeehaw, sink!
Now back to complete show-off mode. This is Spawnling standing up without assistance. He figured out how to grab on to the wires at the top and pull himself up to a standing position. He's been doing it or about two weeks now and keeps getting better. Note that my hand is still strategically placed beside him. He is only four months old, after all. Mama didn't raise no fool.
Spawnling, AKA Stunned, and Gutsy, AKA Stoned. Not the world's best picture, but I like seeing the sibling love. I know that comes from not thinking poor Intrepid would ever have any siblings. Now he has two little brothers who pull his hair, scratch his face, scream and throw things at him. I bet he loves the special gifts we gave him.
And here he is now, doing a leap of joy. Gutsy took this picture and I had to post it. It's so bad that it's artsy and so artsy that it's cool. Therefore Gutsy is cool and I am cool by association because I gave birth to him. Amazing how one picture taken by someone else could validate my entire existence.
This is Cock Sauce.
It's a seafood sauce named Cock.
I could not own a bottle of Cock Sauce and not take a picture of it. Sorry. I just couldn't.
I am so twelve.
Back to cute things. This is Gutsy decorating cookies for Valentines Day at school. He was supposed to share them with people he loves. He ended up eating all of them. Gutsy loves himself.
A lot.
And when I see pictures like this I really can't blame him. I'd eat all my cookies too if I looked like that.
Last but not least, this is what happens when you neglect your children by continuously saying 'Please go play downstairs for a little while'. They raid the Hallowe'en costume stash in the storage area and try to threaten some candy out of you with their plastic weapons.
I am an amazing mother.
Now imagine all the pictures I'll be posting when I get my new toy!
No, not another bottle of Cock Sauce. The laptop, pervert.