I know its nearly required that you do a post-BlogHer post, but something happened yesterday that was so goddanged funny that I just had to share it. And in my defense, it wasn't really funny at the time, but when I retold it to The Hubster and I knew my kids were tucked safely in their little beds, heads sweating and drool pooling on their pillows? I laughed until I cried.
So welcome new BlogHer friends. I only hope you don't think I'm too much of an arse.
Since getting home from my trip, my kids have been whiny to the Nth degree. Time without the structure only a Mommy can provide + time with Grandma + no naps while at the sitter's will do that to a kid. That and its super hot and humid here and we've recently gotten lots of rain, allowing the mosquitos to grow to prehistoric sizes to the point that they're all big and cocky and grunting "Which way to the gym?"
On the evenings when my hubby works, I'm not gonna lie, I don't usually cook. By the time I would get home with the kids it would be nearly 6:30 which roughly translated means the time my children would melt down further from lack of sustenance. So yesterday I opted for the McDonald's drive through.
The McDonald's near the sitter's house has a PlayLand, meaning I warded off threats of impending tantrums for not allowing them to play in said PlayLand with promises that we could eat outside on the deck at home. Twenty minutes later the kids were at their Little Tykes picnic table, happily munching on apples and fries. I finally got to my lukewarm Filet O'Fish once they were settled.
Will has allergies. He gets them from, well, both of us, as The Hubster and I are both allergic to just about everything that grows outside. This means that the pollen-laden muggy air made him miserable about three minutes into our meal. He sneezed and sneezed, swatting mosquitos from his already welted arms. When I watched a big wad of snot fly out of his nose and land on his upper lip? And then his little pudgy three-year-old fist rub that snot around his face? And into his eye? It was time to take the lad indoors, despite however much he might protest.
So I scooped the kid up and took him and his food indoors. I washed his face with a cool washcloth and got him settled at the kitchen table. Once he was happy, I left him be to go retreive my sandwich only to go back outdoors and realize that the damned dog has eaten my freakin' fish sandwich. Seriously?
I scooped Will up and gave him a piggy back ride to the house and convinced both boys that a bath was the most spectacular idea I'd ever had. I let the water run lukewarm to cool them down, and after scrubbing them from head to toe, I gave them every toy they asked for and enjoyed the fact that they were behaving and playing nicely.
At one point, Nick called out to me, "MOM! Can I have that green thing? You know...for breathing in the bathtub?" By that he meant the snorkel that used to have matching green goggles until we left them at the pool at the Y. Like I said, they were being good and getting clean and allowing Mommy a few minutes to do something other than work or take care of kids. Of course he could have it.
You see, he figured out that if you put the part that normally goes in your mouth under water you could blow into the top of the tube and it would sound like you were farting in the water.
They're smart, my kids.
At one point, I was sitting in the kitchen, tweeting away and looking through photos, listening to them laugh about fart noises, when suddenly I heard choking and realized my brilliant child has sucked water UP the snorkle.
I almost wiped out on the hard wood floors while running to the bathroom to save him.
I recovered from my near fall and saw my super skinny five year old, standing naked and dripping wet in the tub, coughing and gagging. His face was reddish purple, but he was breathing. Then his gags turned into retches and I helped him over the edge of the tub to the toilet just in case he threw up.
I was patting his still-wet back, holding him up so that he didn't slip on the tiles. I was simply stunned that my child had just surely had a near-death experience when he straightened up and said, "Whoa."
And climbed right back into the bath tub.
Uh, ok. You gotta get back on the horse, right? I took the snorkel away for good measure. I mean, you'd think he'd learn from that, but at that point in my day I didn't want to take any chances.
I had walked away when I heard Will start to whine and cry. "Iss my turn for da snerkel, Momma!" he shouted. "MY TURN!"
I argued with my boy for a few minutes before giving in to his pleas. My children should work at Gitmo. But I figured - how likely is it that the previous scene will repeat itself?
I pulled the plug and let them shout over the sounds of the water going down the drain.