Sometimes A Toilet Beats Out Brad Pitt

"Mama I was having a really good dream and I accidentally wet the bed in my sleep."

What were you dreaming?

"I was dreaming about being on the toilet."

They Come By It Honestly

The cicadas are singing in the evening and that can only mean one thing. From somewhere deep in my psyche it signals to my brain that school is about to start. Whereas at the age of 11 or 12 this inspired a creeping sense of dread, at 38, it is music to my tired ears.

My ears can only take so much more of the whining.

How does everyone do this? How is it that I go to other people's houses and there are no crayons stuffed into the couch and dirty socks on the front steps. No naked Barbies lying about like tiny prostitutes on display for visiting sailors. No dirty laundry clumped in corners waiting for someone to harvest it. No clean laundry lying about in baskets praying for a home.

How do they manage to get it all cleaned up and still not have to listen to the whining? Or conversely manage fun and educational activities for three different age groups simultaneously without anyone being unsupervised outside where there are child molesters and werewolves and the Ice Cream Man and that weird guy with the beard that lives up the street?

The days that I am the official cruise director and everyone gets out of the house!!!? Everyone gets recommended exercise! Fresh air! FUN! Those days? Well let's just say my house looks worse for wear on those days.

Today I couldn't put it off any longer. The kitchen was no longer suitable for anything intended for human consumption. If I didn't do some laundry we'd all be naked soon and NOBODY wants to see that.

But my God. The horror! The whining!

And my children tell me if I don't stop whining they won't let me go with them to Kennywood.

Sippy Cups And Ink

Don't worry. I never let her smoke in public. Because I'm classy like that.

Things I've Learned This Past Week (And Didn't Necessarily Want To Know)

• Children can throw up faster than a speeding barf bucket.
• Strawberry Jell-O is SHOCKINGLY pink the second time around.
• Sick poops smell like Asiago cheese.
• I will never eat Asiago cheese again.
• The baby finds her big brother's sippy of water exceptionally appealing when he is sick.
• Eventually the baby will catch the stomach virus despite frequent hand washing and eternal optimism.
• I may never catch up on laundry.
• The amount of vomit and poop deposited on the couch is directly proportional to how new it is (Thank goodness it was cheap).
• My couch cushions are capable of being hosed down (Thank goodness it was cheap).
• I need to become more in touch with my inner Earth Mother who is infinitely more patient than my outer grouchy one.
• Sometimes it's nice to have a sick kid cuddle up on your lap and spend all day there.
• Snuggling with your sick kid(s) is more important than the dirty laundry, dirty kitchen, dirty bathroom.

He Has An Excellent Grasp Of The Laws Of Physics

Jamie for the umpteenth time today:

"Mama please pick me up."

Honey I can't right now I'm cleaning off the table.

"But Mama I can't pick up myself or else I'd fall down."

Coffee And Vomit. Hopefully Not At The Same Time.

Why does sick always happen at night?

What started with two whiny children yesterday, culminated in up-all-night-cleaning-up-bodily-fluids-of-the-disgusting-smelly-variety. Seriously, my house smells like we had a Bulimic Convention last night and someone passed out complimentary Ex-Lax and tongue depressors.

It doesn't help that when Sabrina needs to puke she simply stops in her tracks, wherever she is, and lets fly. She sees no reason to even attempt to reach a toilet or garbage can. My mother delights in telling me repeatedly that I was the same way as a child. I suppose this means someday I will laugh as I watch Sabrina scrub her child's vomit from the couch.

I am now the proud owner of two children that resemble wet noodles draped over my couch. If noodles could whine, that would be my kids. Wet washrags have more oomph than these two.

I'm surviving on caffeine and the hope that they will be done before tonight.

You may have noticed that's two children I mentioned being sick. I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Apparently I have three feet these days.

Unfortunately I still only have two hands. And one of them is firmly wrapped around a coffee mug.

Days Like These I Remember This Comment

"Mama are you sure you want to have another baby? Jamie's a real handful. And I am too sometimes."

Sage wisdom from Young Grasshopper.