Ouch!

Monday was not a fun day around these parts.

At about 10:00 that morning, while I was teaching Reading, Charlie's preschool teacher walked into my room with my little guy. Charlie had a big gash on his forehead, which was bleeding profusely. His class had been playing on the playground, where Charlie somehow either walked into or fell into the bottom side of a metal stair tread. (No one actually saw it happen, and all Charlie will say is that he hit his head on the stairs).

I could tell right away he needed stitches (round 2 of stitches for Charlie-he is SUCH a boy!) so we zipped off to the pediatrician's office. While we were sitting in the waiting room, Charlie started to get very drowsy, and his pupils became dilated. As we were walking into the exam room, the nurse noticed that he was very wobbly, and walking like a drunk man. Dr. B looked him over, declared he needed three stitches, and that Charlie also had a mild concussion.

It was a tough session in the pediatrician's office for both Charlie and I, which included more than a few tears from both of us.

By dinner time that night, he was feeling a little more himself, and was loving showing off his cool flag band aid to Daddy.

Not to be outdone by his big brother, Sammy decided to get his own head injury tonight while we were playing outside. He had climbed up onto a lawn chair we had sitting on our front porch, and somehow made the chair tip backwards. It was one of those awful moments that move in slow motion. I saw it happen from across the lawn, but as fast as I ran, it happened before I got to him. Sam fell backwards from the front porch all the way onto the driveway, hitting the back of his head on the concrete. He has a huge purple goose egg on the back of his poor little noggin. After our brush with concussions on Monday, he is now under a lot of Mommy surveillance. I am now wanting to add a railing to the porch, and am ready to require my children to wear bubble wrap, safety goggles, and helmets at all times.

Lost

Have I ever told you about how stinkin' awful my sense of direction is? If not, let me sum it up in a nutshell. CLUELESS. Even though I have lived in Omaha all my life, it is still hard for me to find new things on my own the first time. I have to drive somewhere about 10 times before it really sticks in my brain and I can find it again without looking at the directions, especially if it is in an unfamiliar part of the city.

In fact, when I was minoring in Special Education in college, I took some type of a brain typing test, and I came up as learning impaired in the area of spatial sense. I was the special ed kid in special ed.

Thank goodness for me that I live in the age of the computer, internet, and Mapquest. Thank God I can put in an address and have my computer print out driving directions for me. Thanks to this not so little invention, we get most places we need to go without a hitch.

Every once in awhile though-it doesn't work. Unfortunately, tonight that collided with Evan's swim meet. It was located at a country club deep in the heart of old Millard, a place where they laid out the streets in the 1800s while walking behind a wandering cow. Streets disappear, end abruptly into alleyways, and turn suddenly into other roads. We drove and drove and drove for 45 minutes, trying to find a section of the street that was supposed to turn into Harry Anderson Drive, but sadly, old Harry never appeared.

Evan has learned over the past 10 1/2 years to be patient with this, so when I apologized over and over again he just said, "No problem Mom. You tried your best, and nobody's perfect." Gosh he's a great kid.

There's nothing so humbling as looking like a moron in front of your kids. What a gift to be forgiven by your child. I just hope he keeps this trend of forgiveness up as we move into the teen years.

My Guardian Angel Deserves a Raise

On Thursday we had Service One come out to the house to do their annual furnace inspection and cleaning. The technician found some interesting things.

Since we were at work while he was here, he left his note about the work he did on the kitchen counter. Next to the note was a pile of 6 bottles of acrylic paint, 4 paint brushes, a battery, and a plastic ball. He noted that he dug all of these nifty items out of the BURNER COMPARTMENT of our furnace. Now, I don't know about you, but the words BURNER COMPARTMENT bring to mind images of fire. Probably not a good place to store your paint bottles, eh?

I was especially impressed when I noted that on the sides of the bottles of paint, it said "Highly flammable. Do not store near open flame." All the more reason to STORE IT IN YOUR FURNACE!!!

My box of paints is stored in a box in the top shelf of our shelving units in the storage room, so I have no idea how they found themselves inside of the furnace. My guess is the cat. Or I suppose the herd of boys running around these here parts.

I can just see the look of disgust on my guardian angel's face. She's probably totally disgusted she ended up with me for an assignment. Living with boys equals living in a danger war zone.

Adventures with Vehicles

It's been a LOVELY 24 hours here at Casa de la Sole Woman, y'all. Monday on the way to school the check engine light came on in the van. We called our mechanic right away, but because of a car show here in the Big O, he couldn't fit us in until Friday. So, since the car was just a bit "chuggy" but otherwise fine, we decided to drive it until our appointment. I will just admit to all of you here and now that that decision was COMPLETELY stupid. And I paid for it.

Yesterday on the way home from swimming lessons, with all three of the kids along for the ride, the van completely stalled out. I was thankful I was at least able to coast through the intersection to get to the side of the road. Unable to get it running again, I had to call AAA. Big kudos to them for their customer service. The lady I was talking to heard Sammy shouting in the background, "MOMMY! GO CAR! GO HOME! MAKE THE CAR MOVE!!!" and she sweetly asked if I had any children with me. I told her I was toting three grumpy boys, and she said she would put a rush on the tow order since she didn't want them to have to wait in the cold, and she moved us to the top of the list. So everybody-the next time you have to call for a tow truck do not instruct your children to be quiet while you use the phone. Have them create a big ruckus and they will feel sorry for you.

After towing it home, and a big rescue from the side of the road by my awesome parents, we are pretty sure the fuel pump is out, to the tune of about $630. Swell! Hopefully things are fixed by Friday.

The rotten thing was that my dad had surgery today and he really wanted to make it to the family rosary last night for some prayers and encouragement, and because of our dumb decision, he missed out on that. I felt like a total heel. I would have loved to handle the whole thing ourselves, but we can't fit the kids in Jeff's car since it won't hold carseats in the back, and we definitely can't fit all of us in at the same time. I can't wait to get rid of the "bachelor car" as I not so affectionately call it, but a new vehicle is just not in the cards right now.

Here's to making smarter car decisions in the future. I definitely learned a hard one this time. Being stuck with three kids on the side of a dark road is not something I want to repeat!

Frazzled and Fried

Jeff left Sunday afternoon, and it has been nothing but chaos around here ever since.

Charlie woke up from his nap Sunday afternoon complaining that his right ear hurt. By Monday morning he was pretty miserable, so I called the doctor. We were lucky enough to get a 6:40 appointment, where they confirmed a raging infection, and sent us off to Walgreens with a prescription. When we had handed over the paper, the pharmacy tech smiled at me sweetly and said in a sugary tone that the wait would be 35-40 minutes. I am sure that smoke started pouring out my ears and I wanted to shout, "DON'T YOU SEE ME HERE ALL BY MYSELF WITH THREE BOYS?!!!!" But I just turned and walked the boys around the store for as long as they were good. After about 20 minutes they were pulling things off the shelves, so I sat us down in the waiting area, where Charlie and Sammy both launched into heartfelt temper tantrums. I totally understood their frustration-it was late (now about 7:45), they were out of patience, and Charlie was feeling sick. I did my best to comfort them, but stuck to the waiting room chairs. The pharmacy tech looked over at me with firm disapproval, but I just looked back at her with the same sugary sweet smile she had dosed me with earlier. Lo and behold, our prescription was done in about 5 minutes-the toad.

Meanwhile, I had known Monday morning that I was coming down with another of my bladder infections. I decided to be noble and take Charlie to the doctor first, so Tuesday afternoon found us at yet another doctor. Luckily for me my mom took the boys to her house so I could go by myself, as when I picked them up from daycare their teacher said that they hadn't napped all day. Not a good sign! It made the doctor appointment more peaceful, but it still meant we weren't home until around 7:00.

Today was spent taking Evan to choir practice after school, then racing to swimming lessons, and comforting Charlie who's ear still isn't feeling any better. And tomorrow-joy of joys-I have to do parent teacher conferences at school for a mere 13 hours straight. Does anyone know of a way to get Prozac in an IV drip? Cause I seriously need a little somethin' somethin' around here. Why does everything always happen when you are on your own with the kids?

The one redeeming point of today was when we were waiting in the narthex of the church for Evan to be done with choir. The toddlers were overcome by a well timed, yet totally unnatural fit of goodness and patience. They sat nicely together on a bench, holding hands, as calm as could be. An elderly gentleman walked past, and stopped to admire their breathtaking cuteness. "These are the cutest darn kids I've seen in a long time!" he stated. "Do they always have those shining halos over their heads?" Hardly ever, but I wanted to give him a great big smacking kiss on the lips for saying so. It made my day-and made up a little for the rest of the week. Maybe it was like a little hug from God coming right out of his mouth.

Now, if you all could just send me some energy, pep, happiness through the internet, maybe I can make it through tomorrow. And God, could you just make Jeff's plane land safely on Friday in time for him to help me with the trick or treating? It would be the best thing ever.

My Poor Lefty

Yesterday evening the boys and I sat down at the kitchen table to make our annual grandparent's Christmas present. We always color pictures which we send off to the "magic factory", (aka Makit Projects) where it is turned into a plate. Evan and Charlie were able to work more or less on their own, but I had Sam on my lap to help him color his picture, and not the table.

I was helping him to hold the marker in his right hand while we worked. Sammy kept trying his hardest to grab it with his left. I thought he was trying to take the marker cap off to chew on. We struggled along like this for about 10 minutes, both of us getting more and more frustrated, when it dawned on me. My kid is a lefty. Which I've known for awhile, but it didn't even occur to me to let him color with his left hand. As soon as I put the marker in the other hand, he sighed happily and got busy.

Poor kid has a door knob for a mother.

Running On Empty. Literally.

On the way home from school yesterday, I noticed out of the corner of my eye a blinking orange light on the dash. "Great!" I thought. "The check engine light is going off. Must be why the car is starting to shake a bit." But when I looked down I saw the little gas tank sign flashing at me. Crap. I looked at the gas gauge and to my horror saw that is was below the E. A range I have never been in before! I have no idea how this happened. I am obsessive about checking how much gas is left. I began to imagine the car stopping where it was. I imagined having to walk with three boys in tow to get a tank, and then haul it back. Double crap. I quickly thought back to the last time I had filled up...over a week ago, and...right before we went to Harlan. A trip to Harlan had happened on this tank? Triple crap!!! I began swearing in German, a bad habit I acquired from several of my friends in high school who took German, which actually really comes in handy when you are stressed around your kids.

Luckily, we were blocks from our neighborhood gas station. We rolled in on FUMES I tell you. We have what is supposedly a 16 gallon gas tank in the van (according to the manual). I put in 17.33 gallons.

Thank you God for getting us to the gas station, and please help me to keep my head on straight from here on out.

Guardian Angel

Today the 1st grade "crew" and I went out to lunch. On the way out to the parking lot, we were having a discussion about whose car to take. Somehow I won out, which I never do, so we headed over to the van.

Fitting all of us in meant that I had to take out a car seat. I picked Sam's because I thought there would be less fossilized poo underneath. When I reached around to unhook the sealt belt, I realized it wasn't buckled. I have no idea how this happened, but I feel SO THANKFUL that Sam and my's guardian angels were on duty today, guiding us to use my van, and pick his car seat.

THANK YOU LORD!