WEEKEND SICKITY SICK SICK

I’m really being a big baby, because it COULD be so much worse. My nose is stuffy, but I can still breathe, and my throat is kind of coated with gunk, but it COULD be sore and raw and make eating impossible.

Really, I’m not that sick.

But I’m siiiiiiiick, waaaaaaah, I don’t wanna be siiiiiiick pout whine whimper moan.

WEEKEND IKEA

we decided to head to ikea Saturday afternoon, along with the rest of the world. On the way there, I had an epiphany. Jocelyn is old enough to go into the big kids child care area. YOu know, the one where you sign them in, they slap a sticker with their name on their back, then they hand you a buzzer and buzz you when it’s time to go get them. She’s now tall enough, the first criteria, and she’s potty trained, the second criteria.

However, her parents are still too dumb. Because in the bustle of taking shoes off, and filling out the forms, and getting them inside, all we said to her was, “You’re big enough for the big kids room!” with no other information whatsoever. Like that we’d be going, and we’d be BACK, and she can go play, etc etc etc. As I saw her walk in, all this occured to me and I paused to watch her for a minute, and she seemed fine. I SHOULD have just called her over to me, and told her exactly what was going to happen, “Me and daddy are going to go bye bye, and you and Ethan get to play here without us for a little while, and then we’ll be back to pick you up.” But I didn’t. She seemed fine, so we left, and then not 5 minutes later, the buzzer was buzzing, and I RAN back and she was sitting on the bottom step crying. Poor girl. You poor thing, you have the dumbest mommy alive, and now it’ll be very hard to try to do this the next time too. Ahh well.

We looked at stands to put a mythical new TV that may or may not be purchased this year (i can hear james in my head: “MAY? MAY NOT?!? IT WILL BE PURCHASED, WOMAN! IT! WILL!”), bought some plastic kid bowls (ours have all mysteriously disappeared), gathered up Ethan, and piled into the car to go home.

Nothing like using several gallons of gas to go buy $2.98 worth of plastic.

WEEKEND KID SICK

When we got home (after a pit stop at Target for milk and a globe) it became evident that Ethan had a fever. All curled up on the couch was he, woebegone and hot to the touch. The thermometer read 102.5, and he wanted his bed (with NO STORY, shocking I tell you, SHOCKING!) even though it was 6:50pm. He went right to sleep, and the fever came down (with the aid of tylenol) and stayed down the rest of the night. I kept checking him all day Sunday, but he was fine as a fiddle. Kooky. Maybe it was all the running around with the germ infested kids and toys at the Ikea Smaland and then a stuffy 40 minute ride home that did it, but we’re thankful it was temporary.

Fever or not, both kids are all snottified. If there were Snot Olympics, we’d have some gold medal champions right here. Jocelyn went to the doctor last week just to check up that her double ear infection she had before christmas had cleared up, and our pediatrician listened to me complain about Ethan’s ongoing snotty cold and checked his ears and throat for me (I love love love our doctor, she’s a saint). She said if he doesn’t improve in the next week or two to bring him in. We’re not even to the first week, and I am fighting the urge to bring him in. It looks very sinus infection-y to me, the poor kid can never breathe through his nose, even after he blows it.

Jocelyn is also all snotty, and even though James gave me a scoffing look, I’m blaming the mashed potatoes at school. She can’t have milk protein, and she was doing GREAT right after our holidays, and then got all snotty a day or so after mashed potatoes was on the school lunch menu. Call me suspicious, but I think those mashed potatoes are not cooked enough to break down that milk protein that causes her immune system to call in the snot troops and do BATTLE.

Some call me milk paranoid. But you know, when everyone is out to get you, paranoia is just good thinking!

THE END

I sometimes end blog posts with a plain old, ‘the end!’ because i’m done spewing out words, and yet the post doesn’t have any definitive end point in the narrative (narrative? you call this narrative? pshaw!) I’ve also found that I do this in real life. I’m telling a story to james, and let out a nice clear, “THE END!” I leave a message on my sister’s answering machine, “Just calling to say hi. Hi. THE END! *click*” I’ve grown very fond of ‘the end’. it says all the things that you can’t be bothered to find the words to wrap things up nicely.

and on that note,

the end.

-amy has more to say but she has to stop somewhere doesn’t she?