Hey, it's me, just back from my family's favourite vacation spot in the French city of Vomitte. I only stuck my head through the gate and turned around, but Spawnling stayed for almost three days and Gutsy has just rented a room in Hotel De La Barfe.
I will write more on this topic soon, but one way I know for sure that we're done having kids - other than that vasectomy thing my husband got over the summer - is that I can't fathom six of us going through an illness before it leaves our house. Making mad dashes through Casa Maven with The Puke Bowl(tm) in hand for three gremlins takes up the better part of a week. By the time the bowl is sanitized and put back up in that place where dishes are used for non-cooking puposes only, my mind has one foot through the disassociative door of insanity and it takes a fair bit of coaxing to get it to come back.
(As I was finishing that paragraph I had to break so I could wash out The Puke Bowl(tm) as Gutsy had just finished using it. Stomach flu: 2657. Maven: 0.)
This particular bug hasn't been the worst we've experienced, but it's knocked the life out of our weekend. I had to cancel four plans on Friday. Four fun plans involving things like coffee and sugar and kids to keep my kids busy so I can enjoy the first two things.
Tragic.
Last night I stayed home and sorted movies while I watched Dog The Bounty Hunter and Supernanny. Reality television on a Friday night instead of the usual meeting and lattes with my sponsee? So not cool.
I haven't felt much like blogging. In between feeling gross, caring for other people who feel gross, washing things and people that are in some state of grossness, and watching telelvision that makes me feel even more gross and more than a little white trash, my creative alter-ego has left the building at a run and wearing a biohazard mask.
Today, as Spawnling started to recover, we found a fun Super Why! game on PBSkids.org. When I realized he rocked the letter recognition more than I thought he would, I whipped out my camera and shot some footage.
If I can't feel creative, I might as well show off. I don't have much to brag about personaly, so I'll have my children realize my dreams for me.
That sounds healthy enough, and, now that I think about it, a great reason to have kids in the first place.
The Spawn is 28 months old in this video - that's nearly 2 1/2, for those who suck at math or who are not mothers and therefore can't automatically do the months-to-years toddler conversion. He's a smartypants. When he solves the world's hunger problems in his teen years you can thank my amazing genetics and extended breastfeeding.
And Geekster, a little.
And maybe brothers who like to teach him the alphabet. But I birthed them, too, so mostly thank me.
I will write more on this topic soon, but one way I know for sure that we're done having kids - other than that vasectomy thing my husband got over the summer - is that I can't fathom six of us going through an illness before it leaves our house. Making mad dashes through Casa Maven with The Puke Bowl(tm) in hand for three gremlins takes up the better part of a week. By the time the bowl is sanitized and put back up in that place where dishes are used for non-cooking puposes only, my mind has one foot through the disassociative door of insanity and it takes a fair bit of coaxing to get it to come back.
(As I was finishing that paragraph I had to break so I could wash out The Puke Bowl(tm) as Gutsy had just finished using it. Stomach flu: 2657. Maven: 0.)
This particular bug hasn't been the worst we've experienced, but it's knocked the life out of our weekend. I had to cancel four plans on Friday. Four fun plans involving things like coffee and sugar and kids to keep my kids busy so I can enjoy the first two things.
Tragic.
Last night I stayed home and sorted movies while I watched Dog The Bounty Hunter and Supernanny. Reality television on a Friday night instead of the usual meeting and lattes with my sponsee? So not cool.
I haven't felt much like blogging. In between feeling gross, caring for other people who feel gross, washing things and people that are in some state of grossness, and watching telelvision that makes me feel even more gross and more than a little white trash, my creative alter-ego has left the building at a run and wearing a biohazard mask.
Today, as Spawnling started to recover, we found a fun Super Why! game on PBSkids.org. When I realized he rocked the letter recognition more than I thought he would, I whipped out my camera and shot some footage.
If I can't feel creative, I might as well show off. I don't have much to brag about personaly, so I'll have my children realize my dreams for me.
That sounds healthy enough, and, now that I think about it, a great reason to have kids in the first place.
The Spawn is 28 months old in this video - that's nearly 2 1/2, for those who suck at math or who are not mothers and therefore can't automatically do the months-to-years toddler conversion. He's a smartypants. When he solves the world's hunger problems in his teen years you can thank my amazing genetics and extended breastfeeding.
And Geekster, a little.
And maybe brothers who like to teach him the alphabet. But I birthed them, too, so mostly thank me.