4 hours of labor

Like I said earlier, I got out of the trunk-or-treat madness at the kids' school.  How you ask?  Well, I'll tell you.

I went to the ER! 

Yup, it was time for another visit to the Emergency Room.  For #3, The Thing, aka Filth-magnet.  His second in the 3 short years he's been alive.

It all started on the ride home from daycare. 

'Momma by dose huwts. I cahnt bweafe.'

I closely inspected his face in the rearview mirror, and noted twin mud-streaks snaking out of his left nostril.  I assumed he had a gargantuan booger, and told him we'd blow his nose at the next light.  He blew, we continued home to pick up a costume and roust daddy.

Costume obtained and daddy rousted, we piled back into the car to head over to pick up the big boys from school, then on to nana's house.

'Momma, I gahdda wok in by dose.'

"Excuse me, WHAT?"

'A wok. In by dose. At schoowul.'

"SERIOUSLY?! Why would you stick a rock in your nose?  Mommy will check your nose when we get to the school"

Sure enough, there was a rock, chillin in his nostril just past the inferior turbinate.  And just far enough in to pose a problem.  Thankfully, I could see that he had airflow, as there were snot bubbles working overtime at the top of the rock.

We collected brothers and arrived at nana's house around the corner.  Daddy showed up and we proceeded to torture our kid attempt extraction.  Now, this isn't our first time with a foreign body up the nose.  With 3 boys, we've seen peas, carrot chunks, rice, my nieces' barbie shoe, cereals of all kinds, legos and fingers up the nose.  We've always been able to extract those things with a minimum of fuss at home.  Not so this time.  After 15 minutes or so of position changes, special lighting techniques and ever-increasing frustration on the part of Grumpasaur (who, BTW, has a fractured rib), we decided it was time to suck it up and head to the ER.

Where Thing became a celebrity of sorts.  I lost count of the number of ER staff who came by and asked to look up his nose.  He thought it was funny when I mentioned it, but that was before the guy who ended up being our nurse walked over and asked him if he could take a look. 
They tried plan A - grab it out with forceps.  FAIL.

• On to plan B - foley cath up the nose, inflate the balloon behind the rock & pop it out.  Monumental FAIL. (This required use of the backboard and straps - Thing was NOT A fan).
• Plan C - suction. Also strapped down. EPIC FAIL. 
• Plan D - suction to move the rock while inserting the foley. Wow - I can't even describe the screaming.
• Plan E - SEDATION.  YES!!! We have a winner Bob! 

Now, I have to mention that our nurse, G, was laughing at me because every time he suggested something, I was assuming the position before he completed his thought.  He finally looked at me and said 'This really isn't your first rodeo, is it?'  Seriously. That's what he said.  I was actually relieved to lay down for a while! 

Once the kid was doped up, we were able to wrap him up in a blanket and have the doctor use a speculum and forceps to pull the thing out.  The poor doc - his hands were shaking so bad!  But, it's done, it's over, we all survived, and we had a little fun messing with a dopey kid for a few hours.

Good times y'all.  Good times.

Actual nose.  Not actual size.

Actual rock.  Actual size.

The Halloween Headache

Why can't kids just pick a dang costume and be done with it?  I swear, the boys changed their minds eleventy thousand times before yesterday, and even after I said "Is that your Final Answer?" there were histrionics!

Thankfully, only Stanky took issue with his costume.  He elected to wear Drama's costume from last year.  But, that was before he realized there was no longer a mask to go with it.  And of course, this was not apparent until 30 minutes before trunk-or-treat at the school yesterday.

My costume has just been inspired by a trip down to the cafeteria.  I'm not going to give it up here, but, suffice to say, it's an original creation, and will make you laugh your butt off. 

I do have to say though, that I was spared the chaotic frenzy of the school trunk-or-treat.  It wasn't a great trade-off, but, thanks so much Mom & Dad for stepping in for us!

So, I'll be out with Spidey, Wolverine and Boba Fett tonight at the karate halloween party, and again on Halloween (and I'll be in costume!). 

Have fun, and BE SAFE!

Quit Shaking My Bed! Wait, why can't I pee here?

So, a few days ago, Central California had an earthquake.  It was only 5.3, and it was miles and miles and miles away from where we live, but, it was felt.  Not by me of course.  I was turning over in bed to keep the other half from seeing my phone screen light.  But, Stanky felt it.  So much that he was yelling in his sleep.  At me.

"Mama!!!! Stop shaking my bed! I'm tryin da sweep hewe! It's still nightime!"

Think my kids are used to me messing with them? 

And two nights ago, my filthy little meth-monkey wandered downstairs at 10 pm while I was making tea.  He stood and stared at me, holding his breath.  Then I realized, he came down to see me so I could watch him crap his pull-up.  Niiiice. 

We headed upstairs to clean him up.  Because of course, poo in the pull-up likes to superglue itself to the butt-cheeks.  Once I finally got him cleaned up, we turned the corner into his room, only to find Dramasaur standing next to MM's bed, poised to take a piss.

"NOOOOOOOOOO! You CAN'T PEE HERE!"

Slowly, the junk was put away, and sleepy, confused eyes were swiveled in my direction.

"Why not?"
"Um, because you can't pee in your brother's bed, that's why.  Here, lets go to the bathroom."

Once I'd quick-stepped him into the bathroom, he blinked blearily at the toilet, confusion etched on his face.

"What's that? Where am I?"

"That, my son, is a toilet.  You pee in it.  You are in the bathroom, because that's where we go to pee.  Finish up."

"Oh.  Ok."

Suffice to say, I had to intervene.  Little penises are apparently a lot like unattended firehoses when the owners are sleepwalking, and I really didn't want to have to sterilize the entire bathroom at 10 pm.  As it is, I'm NEVER using that toilet.  EVER.  Because once pee gets into that seat hinge, it's never. getting. out.

That's all.

Season of the Snot-Faucet

It's that time of year again.  Colds viruses are running rampant through my house, car, work and school.  It's inevitable that at some point, all of us will have a run-in with the cartoon boogers from the Mucinex commercials.

Right now, those sufferers are Grumpy and I, as well as PigPen.  Of course, us adults are more like pressurized tanks of snot, while Piggy is definitely a snot FAUCET. 

Can I just tell you how many absolutely horrifying images there are on the internet when you Google 'snot faucet', or pretty much anything to do with snot?  I threw up in my mouth a little bit.

I'll spare you the sharing, but I will share an absolutely INGENIOUS invention I ran across

I mean, seriously?!  My kids would have absolutely NO REASON to ask me for tissues, or where the tissue/toilet paper/napkins/shirts are, because it would be located on their head!. Sheer Genius I tell ya.

Grumps has been using the neti pot, at the direction of his physician.  Now, I can't quite bring myself to purposely shove liquid up my nose without panicking or otherwise losing my schmidt.  Because ITS NOT NATURAL.  It's like jumping in the pool without plugging your nose, then coming up for air with a 'WOW my sinuses feel great!'.  Not. Gonna. Happen.

Of course, we could always go the way of the PigPen and simply slime our shirts, moms pants (in the crotch area of course!), or just, well, slurp the snot.

Got any other bright ideas?

This is a RANT. Of the 'I'm already so over it" System. This is only a Rant

beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep!

This is a message from a former lover of holidays.  If this were a real emergency, I'd be telling you to go do something useful to save your skin and the skins of those you love.  Since it's obviously NOT an emergency, I'm telling you to

PLEASE STOP REMINDING ME HOW MANY DAYS THERE ARE UNTIL CHRISTMAS!!!

Can we please enjoy Fall, Halloween, and preferably Thanksgiving before we go bat-shizzle crazy?  I'd like to experience the change of seasons and the family togetherness of Thanksgiving before we all give in to the crazy selfish commercialization of Christmas.

Don't get me wrong.  I love Christmas.  And for a multitude of reasons.  Not the least of which is the fact that we are celebrating the birth of our Lord & Savior.  I'd just like to build the anticipation, you know?  I don't want to see a half-assed christmas lights display at the end of the Halloween costume aisle.  Just like I don't want to see swimsuits in January.  Or Valentines & Easter candy sharing shelf-space.  Is it just me?

And just in case you didn't know, this is where we stand as of, wait for it, one second, ok. NOW.

Christmas countdown at FlashBannerNow.com

Out of the mouths of babes

Lydia from RantsFromMommyland is over at Babble today, sharing about her littlests 'old soul'.  It got me thinking about PigPen (aka Thing), and his increasingly crotchety personality.  Like a few days ago:

Big Boys: WherewegoinWherewegoinIsitTargetIsitPizzaWherewegoinWherewegoin...
Me: GAH!  Shaddup and go.  Just, GO.  Get in the car or something.  You'll find out when we get there.
Big Boys: WherewegoinWherewegoinIsitIsitIsitWherewegoin...
Me: BOYS!  Get. In. The. CAR.
PigPen has been quietly watching this scene unfold as he kicks his feet away from my shoe-applying hands.  His patience is apparently wearing thin, as evidenced by his huffs and puffs of frustration every time my attention wavers to his brothers.

Me: How many times do I have to ASK?!
Big Boys: WherewegoinWherewegoinWherewegoin....
Pig Pen: interrupts above tirade, 'Shaddup.  We goin ta Nana's House DUMBASS. Now get inna dam cawr!'

Me: snort
Daddy: Did he just...?
Me: Yeah, he did.
Big Boys: MOOOOOOMMM!  Piggy said a swear! Piggy said a SWEAR!! AT ME! Ya neeta spank his bootie!
Pig Pen: Oh yeah?  Well I's gonna pank YOU tootie witta BEWLT an I make ewe CWY likeda wittdle guhrl! BABY.

Baby, you KNOW I'm right.

The End.

Stanky wishes to remain faceless.

My butt hurts.

No really.  And not in a gross way. 

Pigpen (#3's new nickname) did it.  He asked for a movie.  I shimmied behind the recliners to obtain said movie (since we have yet to come up with a storage solution for those ugly cases in the new house), and was juuust passing the window when he took a flying leap into the recliner, thereby shoving me, ass-first, into the corner of the windowsill.

I have a gash on my ass.  And irreparably torn favorite jammie pants.  It's no fun when you sit at a desk most of the day, and have a gashed ass being irritated by underwear elastic.  I don't recommend it.

Candy-crazed like a meth-head

I made the mistake of bringing home a box filled with a few different cookies and some yummy candy treats from work the other day.  Like a good mother, each child was given 1 cookie that day as snack, and, provided they ate their entire dinner without complaint (notice the caveat there? LOL)  a cookie OR piece of candy would be allowed for dessert.

Needless to say, all three acted like meth-monkeys during dinner, whined about NEVER getting candy/cookies/hugs/kisses/love/air/etc and basically drove me insane by asking every 0.001 seconds if they could be done. 

Um, I thought ENTIRE. DINNER. was more than clear.  If the plate wasn't clear (and BTW, they do get kid-sized portions, on salad-sized plates - I'm not a food-Nazi), there would be no dessert. 

#1 ate.  Asked for seconds.  Ate, asked to be excused, cleared his place and elected to wait a while before shoving a treat down his gullet.  He was reminded that no treats would be forthcoming after 7 pm due to bedtime, which he acknowledged.

#2, as usual, picked at his food, whined about what was on his plate, called everything nasty, and was, in general, a whiny hot mess pain in my patootie for six times as long as it took everyone else to eat and clear.  In the end, he ate his dinner and got his cookie.

#3.  Well, #3.  He took a bite, asked to be done.  Another bite, another question.  For 20 minutes.  I think more food fell out of his mouth during his cross than he actually got onto his fork.  But, he ate his dinner and cleared his place, therefore he got his cookie.

It's now pushing 8 pm.  #1 remembered that he has a cookie/treat order pending.  And proceeded to totally lose his schmidt when told he couldn't have it.  So he thought a better idea would be to try and sneak it the next morning.  Yeah.  Dude, you have two brothers who are more than happy to rat you out in the hopes of securing something tasty for themselves. 

The box has been around for 2 days now.  I've had 6 cookies and a KitKat bar. 

Mom: 7     Kids: 3     I think I won.  This time.  And Halloween is just around the corner (shudder).