life with WE

Good sport bad sport crying sport what kind of sport?

When the kids play outside, there are always accusations of cheating and not playing fair.  (Which are always defended by "no it's just a rule I hadn't told you yet.")  And I listen as Warren's voice reaches this awful pitch - he gets the pitch when he's fired up or frustrated.  I assure you, the voice is like nails on a chalkboard.  It's just plain awful.

Yesterday as I laid on sick island with Elaine, Warren played outside with the neighborhood kids.  And I heard them all calling each other cheaters, and yelling at each other.  I did not intercept because quite honestly, it's like talking to yourself.  None of them listen; nothing changes; and they need to work it out for their damn selves.  But Warren's voice continued to reach that pitch and the next thing you know he is crying.  Crying while still screaming at the kids in the middle of the street.

I freaking lost it.

I have no idea why that irks me so badly, but it does.  Mike too, so don't judge me.  Be a good sport.  Hell be a bad sport.  Just don't be the kid who stands there crying and screaming!  

So I open the door and calmly tell Warren to come inside.  Which of course means he gives me attitude, WHILE STILL SCREAMING AND CRYING IN THE MIDDLE OF THE STREET.  "Get in this house," I seethed through clenched teeth.  I told him to sit on the steps and I started to walk away to gather myself before unleashing a tirade.  Oh I planned on a small tirade, but I certainly needed to pull it together first.  But of course, his tude is out and he gives me the "why do I have to sit on the steps?  You're so mean!  UGH!" 

Dude really?  Really?

So I got to his level and ranted.  In a scary mean mom voice and it made him cry harder which made him cough more (hi swine flu side effect that lingers forever).  And I told him to not be that kid.  Don't be the crying kid.  Does the crying kid have people to play with, I asked.  The response was no.  I told him this was the situation as I saw it.  When you are playing with people and they cheat you have two choices.  You can

a - say "you're cheating.  I'm done," and walk away.  Go play something else with somebody else.

b - ignore the cheating and keep playing because you want to play the game.

There is no choice c - stand there screaming and crying.  You can't do that when you are seven years old.  Then, I waited for him to pull it together.  Which of course he did, but added an "you hurt my feelings" for good measure.  Ah but of course I did.  I told him he could go back out after he practiced being assertive and saying option a to me.  He laughed at me.  Um yeah, not kidding bud.

He practiced.  It sounded awful.  I made him say it deeper and more like he was just done.  He pulled it off. 

Now let's just see if he remembers.

I know I'm totally screwing up my kids...

The last one truly is the rotten egg

The last person to get sick in our house gets the shaft.

I mean I'm just mentally done.  Done with being sick.  Done with being stuck in the house.  Done done done.

So it was good that yesterday Elaine was so agreeable while fighting a temp of 102.  We stayed on sick island - my room, my bed.  But we played.  Beauty salon, school etc.  We colored pictures.  We read books.  Occassionally she let me change the channel from Nickelodeon to something else.  I could escape and go downstairs to make lunch, unload the dishwasher, switch the laundry.

But not so today.

We had one of those nights.  Her fever waged a battle and won - creeping to 104.  She tossed and turned and talked in her sleep and moaned and rarely slept.  Covers on covers off.  And while I should have been sympathetic, was I?  No.  Because I am a selfish pig and done with this pig flu all I could think was "I am freaking tired, let me sleep would you?"

Of course I never said it out loud.  I got up and got more motrin.  More cough syrup (which never worked).  More water.  More ice packs.  I let her lay all over me.  I snuggled, I told stories, I brushed her hair and scratched her back.

Today sucks. 

And when this pig flu is over perhaps I can find my positive attitude.  But for now, the only lesson I've learned is that you shouldn't be the last one sick in this house.  Cuz we're all out of patience for it.

Poor Lainey.

Let's distract ourselves from the h1n1 that runs rampant in my house.

Look!  School pictures!  Yea!

Although it is no surprise,

it is no less sucky.

Elaine is now sick.  But of course.

Another day on sick island.  Another day stuck in the house.  Another day of rescheduling things and shifting things around and having a pity party.

An open letter to h1n1

Dear H1N1,

Hi there.  Should I call you H1N1, or swine flu, or pig flu or what?  I know, I'll just call you a jerk.  Cuz that's what you are.

You first attacked my son who had to battle a temperature of 104 for four days.  Yeah.  That temp would only come down to 101 or 102 on meds.  That's it.  Do you know how freaking hot that is?  And how he was delirious and couldn't do anything?  Could barely drink fluids and when he did, sometimes it made him barf?  Of course you know you jerk.

Then, THEN, you attacked my hubby.  And I'm not sure if you know, but taking down a kid and a spouse at the same time is just shitty.  Plain old shitty.  And oh no, of course we can't have any tamiflu - that's for the elderly or the babies.  Oh wait - my neighbor can get some from her doc for herself.  Dangit! 

So from Sunday through Friday I was in charge of this house.  Nay, this infirmary.  Lysoling every surface repeatedly.  Washing sheets.  Taking temperatures.  I went to Walgreens like three days in a row stocking up on disinfectants, Gatorade, sprite, fever reducers, cough suppressants, you name it.  I germx'd my hands regularly.  Washed them repeatedly. 

And just when the boys started to get better, BAM.  Down I go like a ton of bricks.  On Friday.

Pig flu, you made me have a fever on Halloween.  That's just mean spirited.

I missed the trick-or-treating.  I missed the candy.  I couldn't help put on the costumes - nothing. 

And now, here I lay.  Typing, even though my head hurts.  Fever free, but likely temporarily.  No energy.  My head hurts.  I keep coughing.  And I'd sort of like to puke from the decongesting.

Swine flue, you suck.  Get out.  And don't come back.

I liked the regular old flu just fine thankyouverymuch.

Love, Jenny

The flu is still here...

My kids are off of school today and tomorrow.  We still have the swine flu in the house - Mike is still pretty sick and while Warren is getting better - finally - he's not the best yet.

So, I'm out for a few days.  I've got temperatures to take, laundry to do and lysol to spray.  May you all stay healthy and have a wonderful, safe Halloween.

Hope to be back soon!

Tell me a story Jenny. Tell me a story!

I could bore/scare you with stories of swine flu.  Like it's so horrible and my son's fever is so high that Mike and I practically high fived when we got his fever to a whopping 101.7 last night.  Yeah, that was with motrin (given around the clock, slightly early), ice packs on the head, and a cool bath.  And that was the most progress we have made and of course it went right back up but for a few minutes, it was heavenly.  And the moaning and whimpering and I'm pretty sure hallucinations stopped.  And the doc mentioned this fever - would go on for THREE DAYS.  And then he said, "no tamiflu" and I said, "whatthefook" but I didn't really.  The doc was so nonchalant and acted like swine flu shmine flu but I have a different story to tell.  Basically I hate H1N1 and whoever invented it and then hoarded the tamiflu and swineflu vaccines and no it is not a terrorist plot or a conspiracy, but I still hate it all.

ANYWHO, I said I wouldn't do that, so I won't.

Instead, I regale you with this tale.  (Did I just use regale right?  Because if so, I'm awarding myself 50 points for that.)

Back when I was a kid my mom was great about reading us stories or telling us stories before bed.  While pregnant with Warren, I cried in a bookstore because I found THE SAME Mother Goose book that my mom had read to me all those years.  It had a black checkerboard border and I was all, "boo hoo hoo we have to have that for our unborn child and I need a double cheeseburger" and Mike was all, "on it and on it.  Done."  (Because he was smart like that.  Give the preggers anything she wants.)  Again, back to the story at hand.  One of my favorite stories of all time my mom would tell us was the tale of the Three Billy Goats Gruff.  (Not a Mother Goose, but still good!)

Are you familiar with the tale?  To sum it up, three goats, all with the name of Gruff, eat all the grass off their hill.  They want more grass, naturally, but they only way to get to the nearest hill is to cross a bridge over the river.  Under said bridge lives a grump ass troll who wants to eat goats.  My mom told it as the three goats were all brothers - Littlest, Middle and Biggest.  The two younger stall the troll by offering the next largest brother, unbeknown to the brother.  By the time the big one crosses the bridge, the troll is HUNGRY and the big one rams the troll with his horns and sends him flying over the bridge where he floats down the river and is never heard from again.  (If you don't like my summary, see Wikipedia's - here.)

The best part of the story is when the teller talks about how the goats walk on the bridge.  The littlest goat walks like clip clop, clip clop, clip clop.  And you say it all nice and regular voiced.  Then the middle goat walks a little more CLIP CLOP, CLIP CLOP, CLIP CLOP.  And you say it louder.  But then, the biggest is the best because it walks more CLIP CLOP, CLIP CLOP, CLIP CLOP, which of course you are using your booming voice and then the giggles ensue.

Ohmygawd will she ever get to her point?

I told the story to my nieces when they were little.  I replaced the goats with their uncles.  Jon was the littlest, Rusty was the middle and Mike was the biggest.  And of course, it got a laugh, and is often still requested to this day.  I finally started telling my kids and wouldn't you know it?  Instant hit.  The last couple of times I told it, I brought it to the modern day and personalized the walks of the goats.  Elaine thinks I am a freaking genius (which I am) and telling the story always seems to silence her.  She stares at me with adoration as I detail the antics of Elaine, Warren and Jenny - the three billy goats.  Elaine goes across the bridge with a clip clop fallerina turn, clip clop, fallerina turn.  Warren?  Well he clops with his light saber.  So CLIP CLOP WANHN, CLIP CLOP WANHN.  (Wanhn is the best I could come up with for my light saber impression.  In real life, it is dead on.)  Me?  Of course, my walk is the LOUDEST, and it involves drinking coffee.  CLIP CLOP SLUUUUURP.  CLIP CLOP SLUUUUUURP.  The best part?  Mike is the troll.  Which is hilarious.  And when Mike the troll threatens to eat Jenny the biggest billy goat gruff, she responds with a bad ass, "Bring it."  And then she boop boop backs it up, lowers her horns and runs at ramming speed right into Mike's butt, sending him flying into the river.

So what is the conclusion?  #1 - some stories are classics and should be passed on through generations.  #2 - I am one tough mo fo billy goat.  #3 - Mike was very good to me when I was pregnant.  #4 - yesterday was a very long day and Warren and I are going to be stuck on the island of sickness (aka my bed) forever I'm afraid.  Send wine.  And beer.  And pills - lots of them!  (Kidding.  Or am I?)

Flu smackdown

And of course it finally hit us.  Warren is home today with what I'm assuming is the flu. 

He burst into tears yesterday when it suddenly dawned on him that he was getting sick.  "I hate being sick.  I don't feel good and I have to miss schoooooollllllllll."  Yeah buddy, I hate it to.

Expect posting to be sporadic (more sporadic than it has been lately).  Of course I could entertain you with minute to minute updates on his condition.  Oh wait, is that boring?

I think I'll use this flu to keep reading The Lost Symbol, which so far, so good!

And hopefully this means all will be well for trick or treating on Saturday...

Newsworthy?

I was a kid who personalized the news.  A story of a serial killer meant that one was coming for me and my family.  Animal cruelty stories meant that it was all on me to save those poor animals.  Everything worried me, got into my brain, and would overwhelm me.

Because Warren tends to be like me, I've chosen to basically shelter him from the news.  Which is not to say that he doesn't know what's going on in the world.  He does.  Ish.  I don't fill him in on every missing child.  Every shooting.  Every Afghanistan or Iraq update.  Heath care reform - um yeah, he's not really up to speed on that.  But Warren is like me, and personalizes everything.  There's no need for him to take on the world's issues.

I'd say I'm not sheltering him, but I guess in a way, I am.  The news now gives us so many more details and so much more sensationalism (is that a word?) then it did when I was a kid.  I'm afraid if something got into his head, it would never get out.  But I know that kids talk.  And I keep him up to speed on any major ongoings, past or present.  He knows basics about war, September 11th, the swine flu, kidnapped kids being returned home, the recession and job losses etc.  But I don't let him watch Law & Order with me, so why would I let him watch the news?

Talking about this with my neighbor yesterday, she mentioned that she has always let her kids watch the news.  To keep them informed to expose them, and at times to scare them.  I guess I can see that side of things too.

What do you do?  If you don't have kids, lets say mine were at your house.  Would you let them watch the news? 

Just curious.

So you're in an elevator...

Who would you most like to be stuck in an elevator with? Least like?

This was a writing prompt on my blog provider's main page.  And instantly, I knew who I would NOT want to be stuck in an elevator with.  And it's Hannibal Lecter.  Because duh, he'd totally try to eat my face and I'm thinking that hurts like a sunuvabeotch.  Don't you think?  Plus, if he's anything similar to the way he was portrayed by Sir Anthony Hopkins I'm going to crawl out of my skin because he was so freaky! 

Now who would I WANT to be stuck in an elevator with?  That's a good question.  Oprah?  Barack?  Brad Pitt?  I guess it depends on how long I'm going to be stuck in that elevator.  And if what happens in that elevator stays in that elevator?  (I think you know what I'm getting at.  wink wink.)

Today I'd say that I'd want to be stuck in an elevator with Mike.  And here's why:

• we don't get a lot of time together without the kiddos
• he knows I'm a freak and would not be bothered by me losing my mind and/or freaking out
• due to the above reason, he'd also be able to calm me down
• and if what happens in the elevator doesn't stay in the elevator, then of course, I'd have to choose my husband!  

Let's say Mike and I have had a lot of time together.  And that I'm not going to freak out because the elevator is stuck.   Instead, I'm going to use the time to chat it up with my fellow stuck person.  Well, then I choose Tina Fey.  She's my idol.  She's smart, talented and funny as all get out.  She can do it all.  I'd love to be her.  I'd settle for meeting her.  So she's who I would choose to get stuck in an elevator with if Mike's not available.

What about you?