The Pink Stuff

A little over a week ago, Bubba’s eyes started oozing what looked like snot at an alarming rate. After waiting it out as long as possible, we finally ended up at the urgent care place where they told us it was, in fact, snot coming out of his eyes. Apparently babies’ sinuses aren’t fully developed, so that stuff has to go somewhere. We were sent home with a prescription for the pink stuff.

But see, here’s the problem. Our kid doesn’t do medicine. Only a week or two earlier we had seen the doctor over a digestion issue. I’ll spare you those particular details, mostly because one day Bubba will be 15, and I don’t want to give him some sort of complex for talking about his business…literally. I digressed for the sake of a pun. Sorry.

Anyway, they sent us home with another pink medicine for the stomach issue and told us he needed to take 9mL a day. So 9mL doesn’t look like much in a graduated cylinder in my fourth grade science class, but that is a whole heck of a lot of medicine to plunge down your kid’s throat. And this particular medicine even comes with a warning that pretty much says it tastes so bad you better try to hide it in food.

Well we tried that. First we tried milk. When he refused, I took a big ol’ swig to see what the big deal was. He was right, and I couldn’t blame it for not taking it. Next we tried halving the dose and mixing it in baked beans, spaghetti-o’s, or yogurt. No luck. The kid, to this day, will still not eat spaghetti-o’s because of that mean trick that we played on him.
Finally, despite all the warnings, we just went for the syringe to the throat. When every last drop of it came back out the same way it went in, we threw in the towel. We’d just have to find another way to solve his problem. This pink stuff wasn’t happening. So far FiberOne bars, yogurt, and applesauce seem to be doing the trick. : )

So when we got the prescription this week to solve the snotty eye problem, we braced ourselves for another fight. Thankfully it was for a much smaller dose, but I nonetheless decided that this was a Daddy job. I have a friend who talks about how certain chores are her domain or her husband’s domain. In our house Mommy’s domain includes bath time, kids’ clothes, and nightly backpack checks, for example. Daddy’s domain is pretty big, but I had confidence that his load could take one more task.

Jay’s tried all sorts of trickery since Wednesday to get those 2 mL down. My favorite is the make-you-laugh-and-shoot-you-when-your-mouth-is-open trick, but it only works so many times. He has also tried brute force, but the jaws of a determined 14 month old are way stronger than you would ever imagine.

This morning I think Jay was going the brute force route, and he got about half of it in there before it started coming back up. When he went back for round two, a very peculiar thing happened. Bubba opened his little baby bird mouth like he actually wanted it. I know Jay was expecting a trick, but there was none. Bubba just let Jay give it to him. A miracle.
Well tonight as I picked up 152 magnetic letters off the floor for the 43rd time this week already, I heard the following (one sided) conversation taking place in the kitchen,

“Ok Bubba. I’m going to give you your medicine now. Remember this morning, you liked it. Let’s do that again, ok? You just open your mouth, and I’ll put it in. See, it’s yummy!”

I was sure Bubba had planned some elaborate scheme….one time of taking it willingly would leave us with false hope that he would do the same again. But I was wrong. He took the whole thing again tonight. No fight. What the what?

So this has left me pondering tonight. What took us so long to realize that he likes the flavor of it, but he just hates either the element of surprise or force? How many other tasks do I approach like a battle that could just as easily be a choice?

How about you? Are you prepping for any battles that you don’t even really need to fight?


It’s Friday night, and the moon is right.  Gonna have some fun, show you how it’s done, TGIF!*

So I can’t see the moon from my spot at the dining room table, but I do know that it’s finally Friday and “fun” for me is writing, so here I am.  I’ve gone round and round trying to think of any one thing I have to say, some way to wrap up this mishmash of unrelated thoughts.  It seems to be too late for that, so just watch out…a whole bunch of random comin’ at ya…

This week Bubba discovered that his nose has two holes.  And they are both approximately the same diameter as his pointer finger.  What a fantastic discovery.

I made a discovery of my own concerning Bubba this week too.  On top of the broken (read: decoy) printer sits the real printer.  Its shiny green power button attracts Bubba like a mosquito to one of those summertime zapper thingies.  He can’t help himself.  Well after several stern warnings and my best evil eye, he still didn’t get my message to stay away from it.  I warned him one final time that if he touched it, I would put him in the bed (a.k.a. prison).   Of course he touched it, so I carted him off to the crib, shut the door, and left him screaming.  Well guess what?!  Tonight when he tried for the 538th time to crawl under the baby gate and down the steps, all I had to say was the word bed and he stopped.  He fretted and pointed and STOPPED.  I’m sure there’s some sort of Parenting 101 rule that says not to use their bed as a punishment, just like a teacher’s not supposed to use silent reading as a consequence.  But it worked, so heck with the rules.

I broke another parenting rule today.  The one that says don’t send your kid off with someone you’ve never met.  Maybe it counts that my neighbor knew her, but probably not.  Chica went on a walk with a family from the next street over, and ended up at their house having hot chocolate.  When I asked Jay if he thought it was a bad idea that I let her go, his response was, “Ah…it’s ok, we’ve got another kid.”  Right.

I’m trying something new with my students called Flipping the Classroom.  Seriously…like I needed one more new thing in my life.  It’s been a huge adjustment, but I’ve had a moment or two where I look around and think, “This is IT!”  I’m just hoping for maybe three or four of those moments next week.

Oh…next week….I’m becoming a queen.  I get my crown on Monday.

Today Chica got in trouble for hitting another little girl in class.  Apparently she just made matters worse by trying to quote Paul.  “What I want to do, I do not do.  What I do not want to do, my hand just did anyway,” or something like that.  Then at dinner she quoted her teacher who says that all kids are just supposed to worry about themselves.  She was stuck on the fact that the little girl who told on her for hitting wasn’t just worrying about herself.  Oh Chica.  (That’s YOUR kid, Jay!)

So, I’m sure there was more I had to say, but I just realized I had dozed off while trying to think of what it was.  Friday night….gonna show you how it’s done, all right….in bed before 10:00.  Oh yeah.

*P.S.  If you recognized that little jingle, you might like this.  We laughed out loud over here.

A Toddler Might Live in Your House If…

sweeping toddlerAll of your trashcans are three feet off the ground.

75% of the doors in your house are closed 90% of the time.

You rehearse the names of body parts and animal sounds multiple times a day.

You speak in third person whenever you want someone to do something for you.  Ex.  “Tell Mommy where you hid that phone.  She really needs it.”

You have knock-down, drag-out fights over who gets to hold the spoon.

The most used toys are not toys at all, but instead household items like brooms, laundry baskets, whisks, etc.

You’ve ever used a hood as a handle.

You have to break through a fortress to use the stairs.

You slide everything on a table at least one foot away from the edge.

You consider any fall that doesn’t involve blood a successful landing, and each fall is followed by an enthusiastic, “Yaaaay!  You’re OK.  Get up!”

You leave dead electronics (ex. phones, remotes, printers) around to try to distract from the real ones.

You find yourself saying things you never thought you’d say like, “Don’t lick that pine cone.”

There’s a wholelotta love and a wholelotta crazy at the same time.

Deep (and Not So Deep) Thoughts on a Saturday

In no particular order…

All funny stories that begin with a hard-boiled egg usually end with an egg that wasn’t hard-boiled after all.

Grandmas are the only people that you can ask to watch your sick kids without a guilty conscience.

Well written eulogies for funny people (and most people, probably) require a delicate balance of humor and sincerity.  All three nailed it today.

If your kid calls you “Princess Demand-y Pants,” you should probably start calling her “Queen Sassy Britches.”

At some point bath time transitioned from a necessary chore to an easy way to keep the crazies entertained that doesn’t involve chasing anyone.  Why didn’t I figure this out sooner?

I’m not quite ready for the extra dose of potty humor that comes with having a boy.  Bubba giggles every time he finds his you-know-what while in the tub.  

“It’s okay for things to be good just for a time.”  I sounded like an old person today when I reminisced with a friend about the way things were before she moved away.  This was her eyeopening response.  

I really like the saying, “Shut the front door!”  I, apparently, need to take it quite literally, though.  Today I left for a walk to the park and came back to discover I had left the front door wide open.  Wednesday, after Chica’s dance class, I came back to my van (on 5th Street, no less) to find the sliding side door wide open.  Ah!

Kate Campbell was right.  Funeral food really does fill you up down to your toes.  I haven’t been hungry all evening.  Until now.

And one more borrowed deep thought (Thanks, David)….Many people teach us how to live.  Only a few people get to teach us how to die.  I have learned so much.

Bagel! (The Codeword You’ll Never Guess)

Mommy and Daddy have to create a united front. Divided we are easily conquered.

Jay and I try really hard not to change a decree that has already been made by the other parent. Even if, for example, I think three green beans instead of nine would be sufficient in order to get the all-important treat, I go with what he said. Because he said it first. Oh, and that time I had already agreed that Chica could wear the tutu for her day of running errands with Daddy. Though there was lots of mumbling involved initially, he went with it. Because I said it first. You have to at least make them think you are on the same page. Otherwise they’ll take you down. Fast.

Well lately we’ve had a few situations where it’s easy to see that the decision that was handed down was based solely on parental laziness. Like, “No, we’re not having omelets today because there’s not enough time.” What we actually meant was, “No, I’m not making one because cereal is just so much easier.” Or, “No, we’re not watching TV right now.” The real truth is, “I don’t feel like getting up from my warm spot in the kitchen to go all the way downstairs, turn it on for you, and wait for you to make up your mind about what to watch. So, no. No TV.”

Nine times out of ten, we still agree. Truthfully, neither one of us wants to make an omelet on a school morning or stand there while she thumbs through 17 episodes of My Little Pony on Netflix before finding just the right one. But then there’s that tenth time.

Take this morning, for example. Chica was all dressed except for shoes. Just like every other day for the last two weeks, she asked to wear her boots that Nana gave her for Christmas. “I can’t find my booooooots,” came her whiny voice from the bedroom.
Jay quickly shot back from the kitchen table, “Wear your tennis shoes.”

And so here I am in that weird place once again. Daddy has already said one thing, and that should be the final answer. But I know the rest of that sentence really is, “Wear your tennis shoes because I don’t know where your boots are, and I’m not planning on getting up from reading the newspaper in order to help you find them.” I knew the boots were in the living room next to the sofa. So part of me wants to tell her because I know the impending meltdown that’s about to occur over second-rate footwear. But the other part of me knows that what Daddy says goes, so I hold off.

Ok, so actually I just whisper to him that I know where they are, and he is able to edit his own decree. Win-win. But while she fetched her boots from downstairs, I started telling Jay that we need a code word for when this kind of thing happens again. Specifically when he makes a parenting decision and I want to say the opposite but I’m not sure if he’s really ok with that. He didn’t really get exactly what I was talking about, but he decided on a codeword, nonetheless. Bagel. He was really just humoring me I think, trying to get back to reading the newspaper.

Fast forward a few hours. Dinner has ended, and we are standing at the kitchen window admiring the massive amounts of snow suddenly falling. Chica asks if we can pull the blinds all the way up to get a better view. Jay says, “No, they’re fine where they are.” I read, “No…..I don’t really want to get up, so no.” I don’t mind pulling them up, so I guess you know what’s coming….


Except for he looks at me with the strangest look. He’s forgotten what his own codeword means. Classic.

So we get a good laugh, and I pull the blinds all the way up, and he’s fine with that. Just another successful day for Team Mom&Dad.

© WordRidden  | Flickr Creative Commons

The Weekend: Guest Post by Chica

Today Mommy told me she has a blog.  She said she writes stories to put on her blog for everyone in the Internet to read them.  She said that one time Bubba wrote a story on the blog, and this girl writes blogs, and she’s only two I think.  So if they can do it, I know I can.  I’m four.  I’m going to tell you the story of my weekend.

Saturdays are supposed to be family days, but sometimes we just end up going to boring places to do adult stuff.  This weekend we didn’t really do that.  We did family stuff.  In the morning we walked to the park.  At first there was no one there, but then all the kids must have knew we were there cause they all came.  Mommy said I was bossy to my new friend Emma, but I don’t think Mommy really knows how to play if you’re four.

I pretended the Splash Park was on and I let another kid babysit my baby while I played.  Bubba went down the slide.  Then Mommy got a phone call and we had to quick go to meet her friend.  I hate it really don’t like it when we have to leave playing.  Mommy says I can’t say that h word.  Other people say it.  It’s not the end of the world, Mom.

Oh, I forgot something.  Before we went to the park, Daddy was teasing me funny.  Me and Mommy were trying to make a dress for My Little Pony out of paper.  We keeped my door closed so Bubba won’t mess up my stuff.  Daddy and Bubba started rolling stuff under my door.  It was a marker.  We rolled it back, and he rolled it again, and then we changed the color of the marker.  Later we sent Daddy a note under the door to please give us a baggie so we could clean up some stickers.  Do you know what he did?  He gave us a bag that he cut out the bottom.  But I didn’t know it.  So I put the stickers in and they came out the other hole.  Daddy laughed real big, and I did too.  Eventually.  Then Mommy sent the tape and the bag back to Daddy under the door.  And Mommy laughed this time.

So when we got back from the park I played with my neighbor friend.  Mommy said I couldn’t write his name.  I don’t get the big deal.  It’s easy to spell.  On the way to the park I told Mommy that I am going to marry him.  Her eyes got real big, and she changed the subject.  Later we were playing in my room and she wouldn’t let me close my door.  I don’t know why.  She sighed real big.

Today I went to church.  Me and my Sunday School teacher played dress up.  He’s fun.  He told me about a girl whose daddy thought she was dead but she was just really sleeping.  She didn’t really die.  Jesus woke her up.

I went to Nana’s house like we always do after church.  I ate a lunch I didn’t really like and didn’t take a nap and I watched a movie.  Then I went with Nana to feed Casey the cat.  I didn’t really much get to play with her, but I got to give her food and water.  This was the first time she rubbed against my legs.  Casey is a girl name but Daddy says it can be both.  Here kitty, kitty!

Tonight we read another chapter in Little House on the Prairie.  We’re almost to the part with the Indians.  I like Indians.  And I think they are going to build a house, Laura and Mary and Pa and Ma.

When we were about to pray, Mommy told me that Mrs. Bulson went to heaven yesterday.  At first I was really worried that we didn’t get to show her the movie that my school made.  Mommy said she did show it to her, and she gave her a CD.  I asked, and Mommy said she didn’t take the CD with her.  I won’t get to see Mrs. Bulson again until I go there to heaven.  Heaven has lots of flowers and two fountains.  That’s what I picture with my eyes.  I told Mommy that.

I guess I have to go to bed now.  I tried to tell Mommy that I haven’t stayed up late yet while I’m four, but she said it was a school night.  I asked about tomorrow.  She said maybe Friday.  How many days is that?

Good Night.

Love, Chica

P.S.  Wanna know a secret?

Boogie Woogie Sunshine!

I Make Lists

The Only Things Bubba Won’t Throw Off His Tray
Spaghetti O’s
Mac & Cheese
Peanut Butter Captain Crunch (Thanks, Jay.)

Words I Think Bubba Said On Purpose Today

Fashion Advice I Received Before Tonight’s Event
Mother In Law–Wear the gold sweater.
Lori–Suck it up, and wear the heals.
Jay–Hurry up.


Accessories I Borrowed From Mother In Law For Tonight’s Event
Long, gold necklace
Matching earrings
A fancy watch that doesn’t work

Reason I Didn’t Wear Makeup Tonight
I couldn’t find it

Songs Stuck In My Head
Sweeter (Skip to 2:10)
Somewhere Over the Rainbow

Items Still On My Dresser
Box of band-aids
The tie to my robe
A bag of rocks
Almost empty tube of lotion
Jay’s Bible
A Tupperware container holding my jewelry
A top to some mysterious, missing tin

The Next Three Gifts On My List of 1000 (#22-25)
The kind of babysitter that makes you want to stay out a little later because you know your kid is having fun.
My students’ parents.

What I’m Praying For
More peace.