I flusheded and flusheded and flusheded the toilet. Then the water all falled out!
I just discovered my oven was not made for real moms. It has this utterly ridiculous feature that causes the timer to shut off if it has been beeping for more than a minute. So hypothetically speaking, if you should have a child hanging off one boob and another refusing to take her nap when you happen to hear the timer in the background, by the time you would actually be free to retrieve your lunch the incessant beeping will have ceased causing you to completely forget about it.
I had the brilliant idea to skip buying the cheap, crappy paper Valentine cards this year in favor of creating our own for Stacia to take to school. This sounded like a great idea to use up the little plastic Stampin’ Up baggies I had leftover from a business and to get the way-too-tempting candy I bought during triple coupons out of the house.
She was supposed to bring a Valentine “mailbox” for collecting her classmates Valentine’s. I thought it would be great to use an oatmeal box, which required emptying the oatmeal. This, naturally, requires me to make No Bake Cookies. This all sounded like a great idea in my head before I had 4 kids (mine plus one) in the house all needing something from me at the same time.
Then there’s always option 2: dumping the box of oatmeal on the floor in an attempt to remove it from the pantry with a child on one shoulder and 3 in the next room covered in stamp ink. I did manage to stop the spillage with enough leftover for this recipe:
2 c sugar
1/2 c milk
1/2 stick margarine
1/4 c cocoa
1/2 c peanut butter
3 c oat
1 tsp vanilla
Boil first 4 ingredients for 1 full minute. Add vanilla and peanut butter until creamy. Stir in oats. Mix well then drop by spoonfuls onto wax or parchment paper.
‘Nuff said.
It’s been a real good news/bad news day:
The good news is the girls appear to be getting over their sore throats without a trip to the doctor. The bad news is I now have what they had. In spades.
The good news is a decent-sized check we were awaiting has arrived earlier than expected. The bad news is it still doesn’t make a dent in the medical bills we’ve accumulated.
The good news is my laptop replacement cord arrived today. The bad news is that is not the only problem-it’s still having trouble making a connection, but at least it powers up (for now).
The good news is Lorelai is once again sleeping through the night. The bad news is she is apparently making up the nutrition by nursing every 2 hours during the day.
I’m just going to veg out, attempt to take a nap and hope when I wake the good outweighs the bad.
Just when things were looking up—Brenia is finally better, Lorelai is beginning to sleep through the night, and Stacia is back at school after a seemingly endless winter break—it all starts over again.
Stacia came home from school yesterday, sick, with a tale of woe that was sure to be the highlight of every dinner conversation in the neighborhood—she threw up on the bus. A quick check determined she had no fever and the look I’ve seen a million times screamed sinus drainage. Such is life with allergies. She was fighting with her sister again by the time daddy came home so she’s at school today.
Brenia, on the other hand, is feeling crummy and home for the day. Not that she had big plans, but I was really looking forward to the start of the new session of my Bible study. I guess I’ll jump in next week. It wouldn’t have been much fun with Lorelai fussing all morning anyway. She’s pretty stuffy too, and, from the looks of things, will probably be dealing with allergies her entire life as well. It’s possible I can chalk hers up to teething since it is coupled with enough drool to fill a bucket, but I don’t have high hopes.
This was not supposed to happen, you know. I don’t let these kids gnaw on my boobs 10 times a day when they’re born to live a life of daily medication and regular trips to the doctor. I’m pretty sure when I got talked into this, I read somewhere that breastfed kids are healthier. What a crock of shit. This child has had exactly 12 ounces of formula her entire life, and always mixed with boobie milk. Nonetheless, she’s been sick twice now and she’s not even 3 months old.
Of course, with her utter lack of patience I don’t have a choice anyway. She’s very much into instant gratification. I can’t imagine listening to those screams while I dash off to prepare a bottle. Much easier to pop a boob into her mouth and move on with our lives. Have boobs, will travel. We won’t even discuss the ridiculous cost of formula—$11.99 for a small can of powder!—versus the free milk God gave me. I’m in this one for the long haul, allergies and all.
Me: Hi, honey. How was your nap?
Her: I wasn’t tired.
Me: You slept for two hours…
Her: But I wasn’t tired!
Me: That’s because you slept for two hours.
Her: My eyes are tired.
Me: Maybe you needed to sleep more than two hours.
Her: But I’m not tired!