Monday, February 23, 2009


Today I am attempting to embrace the boyness that is my son.

So far, I have pretended to be a giant, gotten shot with a foam dart gun, and used rocks as torpedoes to sink "boats" (small shells floating in a creek).

In other news ...

I've listed this beauty on Craigslist for a mere $20. But if you want me to save it for you, I will certainly keep it on my back porch for as long as is necessary. Because I LOVE the fact that it is on my back porch and that we don't yet have a replacement because the one we ordered got "stuck in GERMANY over the President's Day Holiday," according to the Tammy Wynette look-alike that sold it to me last weekend at Lowe's. LAST weekend. It works, but it's loud, inefficient, and older than me. Oddly enough, we've only had one caller interested in purchasing this gem.

But the new one! It's a Bosch. It's the quietest one on the market, and you can set it to start 3, 6, or 9 hours after you press "go." For me, it signifies a new level of adulthood: Excitement about New Appliances.

But don't bother to think that it'll be a quick install. Husband decided to save the $105 installation fee and do it himself. And that's all I have to say about that.

At this moment, Transformers: Transform & Roll Out is on, and all is quiet. I only had to stay home half a day today due to the viral-induced asthma issues. And that's enough about that too because don't even get me started.

Tomorrow is another day. Let's strive to move onward, upward, and sideways as usual.
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Sunday, February 22, 2009

Saturday, February 21, 2009

Friday, February 20, 2009

Maternals in Memphis

A belated thanks to Macy & G'Diddy for a lovely Valentine's Weekend away. While they put up with Wild Man in their suite, I was across the hall basking in the luxury of my private room wherein all manner of glorious, uninterrupted novel reading occurred. We didn't see Graceland, but I found my own.

Sunday, February 15, 2009


I'm more excited about this than walking or crawling.

Wednesday, February 11, 2009

So Far, So Good

We're making it without Flovent. We're doing Pulmicort A.M. and Xoponex P.M. and some alternative methods as well. And that's enough about that. Suffice it to say that I'm not afraid someone's going to get hurt anymore. There's still coughing at night and the occasional 30-minute-long night terror, but let's not be negative for once.

In other news, I am ready for Spring Break.

In Goosenews, one word: VOLCANOES. It all started with a dinosaur book that suggested dinosaurs may have disappeared from earth because of volcanic eruptions. Now, we discuss lava everyday.

In Kimmynews: Am I starting to vaguely resemble a platypus?

So we went to the library today in search of a (not long) book about volcanoes. And Mama made the mistake of walking through the Kids' Videos section first.

So, I'm looking for a volcano video, and Goose is looking for a "Max & Ruby Talk about Volcanoes" video. And he does find a Max & Ruby video. But then this other Big Boy who is there with his mom decides that what he really came for is Max & Ruby. And Big Boy happens to be a Snatcher.

Lots of drama ensues. It's that kind of drama where you think you're gonna be dealing with a Helicopter Mom, but really you are faced with someone who, like you, really just HATES crying. She hates it so much, you discover, that she will stand by mumbling euphemisms, like, "That's not nice, Aaron. We share." She's mumbling, yet she knows that she's not going to do a single thing about the injustice because more than anything: SHE HATES CRYING.

Now, I have to admit: I hate crying too. I nursed my child for 22 months largely because I really just wanted him to shut up and not get ear infections (Hello breastmilk enzymes? Ever hear of asthma? Yeah. Much worse than ear infections! Thanks for NOTHING!). But y'all, this woman, this Other Mother, hates crying so much that she stood there and did nothing while my kid went from tattletale mode to full-on crisis: Bemoaning in disbelief: "HE JERKED THE VIDEO OUT OF MY HAND! MOM! THAT WASN'T NICE AT ALL! HE'S NOT USING HIS MANNERS! HE'S NOT SHARING! HE'S NOT FOLLOWING THE GOLDEN RULE!" And all other manner of goody-two-shoes commentary.

Which, normally, you are just proud of.

But when the Other Mother just, um, Lets. It. Happen., you tend to lose sight of the teachable moment and you start embracing thoughts more akin to revenge.

But of course at the same time, you have your own kid's crying to deal with. Not just crying. Really loudawfulmistreated CRYING crying. The kind that takes more than just a kiss to relieve. The kind that is making the Magazine Readers put down their periodicals and glare.

So you retreat to the Kids Section, where hysterical crying isn't allowed, per se, but is at least better understood. Which is all you really need, right? Just a little love and understanding, right?


You need an ape tranquilizer.

You search your purse. None there.

Gum? Does he want gum? Really "special" gum that is really really good?

NO! He wants that Max & Ruby video which was unjustly yanked from his grasp and taken by a kid who with a mom who hates crying EVEN MORE THAN YOU DO. (Which is hard to believe. Wow. She REALLY hates crying.)

Finally, you succumb to it all and just hold him and let him cry. And things start to get better.

And then, you find a (not long) book about the wonders of volcanic ash.

And all is well.

And the moral of the story is that you can go to the library without ape tranquilizer and still emerge unscathed. Or something like that.

I think I just sprouted some gray hairs.

Good night.

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Wednesday, February 04, 2009

Alternative Medicine: Here. We. Come.

Tonight was awful. I am so done with that puffer of his. I am so done with forcing him to inhale these steroids that make him (and me) rage.

Tonight we had an all out war (while B was at Academy Sports shopping for new sweatpants) and then both collapsed into heaps of exhaustion and tears. As we surveyed the damage (most of which was inflicted by him on the back of his bedroom door), I made a commitment to him and myself to find a solution to this medical, mental, emotional problem. I refuse to make a choice between breathing and household peace.

All members of the Peanut Gallery, here's a tip: Please hold your tongue as we try chiropractors, alternative medicine, acupuncture, voodoo, psychics, and burnt offerings. We will not feed Flovent into his lungs ever again. So. Help. Me.
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