The Doctor Is In

When I went to bed Tuesday night I had the rest of my week all laid out. Little did I know that Wednesday morning would bring total chaos to my perfectly planned week? I woke up Wednesday morning to the sound of Carter crying and saying his throat hurt. My world was officially being “rocked” because Carter NEVER gets sick.

Carter has Mark’s genes in the “getting sick” category and the only thing Carter “catches” is a runny nose on occasion. His good genes are both a blessing and a curse. A blessing because he is rarely sick and a curse because when he is sick he thinks his world is coming to an end.

I called the doctors office first thing and was able to get an early appointment. Now I will be honest, I HATE taking my kids to the doctor. It’s not about the doctor as much as it is the germs! I do not consider myself a “germaphobe”, but I do like me some hand sanitizer and Clorox Wipes. I know this will sound bad, but when I walk in the door of the pediatricians’ office my suppressed obsessive compulsive disorder kicks in HIGH gear.

After an hour and a half of “don’t touch that Kate” and “that’s nasty Kate”, we left with a diagnosis of strep throat, a 3 day “leave” from school and an empty bottle of Purell.
Did I mention the 3 days at home? Technically, it is 5 days because of the weekend. Did I also mention how much Carter LOVES school and does not like to miss it? Praise God that Carter started feeling better on Thursday afternoon, but by Friday I was about to pull my hair out. The term “cabin fever” doesn’t even come close to an accurate description.

Luckily, tomorrow is Monday and Carter can return to his “happy place” also known as school and I can return to my “happy place” also known as Wal-Mart.

Beauty Sleep?

I am nursing a major pain in the neck today and I am not even referring to my children, at least not directly. I have no one else to blame, but myself. I broke one of the major rules of Casa de Crazy. I broke the rule that says you must guard your sleeping territory at all costs. I know that sounds strange, but let me explain.
When bedtime comes, we adhere to the “all for one, one for all” motto. Yes, we ALL sleep in the same bed! I know what some of you may be thinking, but desperate times call for desperate measures. When both Carter and Kate were babies, the ONLY way Mark and I could get any sleep was to let them sleep in the bed with us. Yes, that was over five years ago, but “old habits die hard”.
Over the years our sleeping “rules” have evolved so that everyone can get good nights sleep, except for maybe Mark.

Rule #1 When you get in the bed, stay in your spot (Do not ask to trade places)
Rule #2 Guard your territory at all costs (Go to the bathroom at your own risk)
Rule #3 Always keep your guard up (Literally, elbows can hit you in the face at any time)
Rule #4 Keep up with your blanket (If it makes it to the bottom of the bed, sorry)
Rule #5 The oldest person in the bed gets the least amount of assigned space (Sorry Mark)

I know that it is probably time to ship the kids off into there own bed, but somehow I don’t think that is going to be as easy as it sounds. I wouldn’t know what to do if I did not wake up in the middle of the night without Kate rubbing my ear lobes or Carter digging his toes into my back.

The time is going to come when Carter and Kate are both going to want to sleep in their own beds, but until then I think I’ll just stick to the rules and snuggle with my babies a little longer.

Is That A Kangaroo?

It has been an eventful last few days at Casa de Crazy. Mark found out last week that he has to go to Australia on business. I realize that most of you are saying “Cool!”, but that was not exactly Mark’s reaction to this little adventure.

Mark is not much of a travelin’ man. Especially when it involves an airplane. I’ll never forget our honeymoon. We flew to Disney World and it was only Mark’s second time on an airplane. We boarded the plane, got settled in as much as Mark could “settle”. Then we here the captain come over the intercom, he said “Good afternoon from the flight deck, we apologize for the delay. We are currently waiting for a minor repair to be completed on the aircraft. We should be cleared for takeoff shortly after. Thanks you for your patience.” I looked over at Mark and all the color had drained out of his face. I thought he was going to pass out or crawl out the side door.

The plane finally began to taxi down the runway and the conversation for the next 55 minutes went something like this…
Mark, “What was that noise?”
Me, “Wheels going up.”
10 minutes later…
Mark, “What’s that noise?”
Me, “Wing flaps shifting.”
15 minutes later…
Mark, “What’s that noise?”
Me, “It’s the beverage cart for Pete’s sake!”
15 minutes later…
Mark, “What’s THAT noise?”
Me, “Wheels going down, Mark.”
Mark, “Going down? Why? Why are they going down? Is something wrong?”
Me, “If you want to get back on solid ground, the wheels need to go down.”
Mark, “What? What do you mean?”
Me, “We are landing you big wimp!”

I feel so sorry for the poor soul sitting next to him on this trip. I am thinking that some medication may be required.

It's A Southern Thing

I was driving Carter to school this morning and we were listening to the radio when the D.J. came on the air with the “question of the day”. Today’s question was “What is your biggest pet peeve?” Immediately I thought of five, but what really got me was the first lady that called in with her peeve. She said that see was born and raised in the south, but she could not stand it when a stranger or even an acquaintance called her “honey” or “sweetheart”.

Seriously? I couldn’t believe it. The D.J. asked her again if she was sure she was from the south and the caller said yes, but she thought those “terms of endearment” were demeaning. Seriously? Not calling someone “honey” or “sweetheart” in the south is like not saying “bless her heart” before you start to say something not so nice about someone.

I am very well aware that I use too many “southern” expressions and I am really trying to cut back for the sake of my children’s future education…I’ll explain. A few weeks ago I had a conversation with Carter’s teacher and she began to tell me about Carter’s last trip to the library. Carter had picked out a book that did not have a bar code on it. He took the book over to the librarian and said “Excuse me ma’am, I really want to check this book out, but it does not have a "thingy ma jigger" on it.” Apparently, Carter’s choice of descriptive terms caused the librarian to almost shoot coffee out her nose.

Honey I have got to cut back!