It shouldn't be this hard to buy a bra.

Kids say the darnedest things and it's usually funny. Except when the darnedest things are coming from the mouth of your own babe in very public spot. The only place where this could have possibly been worse would have been in the middle of church.

The other day we went shopping. Jay needed a new pair of pants. So while he perused the men's section I decided to wander on over to the lingerie. After all I could use a new bra. Of course the children had to come with me. I'm not allowed out of CJ's site right now-even pushing him in the stroller. I guess WC thought where I was going would be more interesting then pants. Turns out he was right.

We weren't over there two minutes and they were pulling items off the rack. I correct them & go about attempting to find something that I like & in my size.  Two or three minutes later I notice WC wasn't next to me anymore. I call for him and he responds. I go in the direction of his voice and see him facing a mannequin that is modelling a matching bra and panty set, both of his hands up over his head- each hand cupping a plastic breast. "Stop touching the mannequin," I scold him. He smiles and says, "But it's slippery." he rubs the satin bra then looks around behind the mannequin and rubs it's bottom smiling at me. "Stop it and stay with me," I whisper angrily. We move on through through the rows. At one point they begin to giggle. I look down and both of them are each wearing a pair of panties as a hat. I snatch the panties and toss them back onto the table display. Somewhere a saleswoman hates us.

Who knows what goes on in the mind of a two year old. Is it that attempting to figure the world out and with everything bouncing around in there things just pop out at random times. CJ announced very loudly and very clearly, "Mommy has penis." Then without skipping a beat, WC replies just as loudly, "No, mommy doesn't have a penis. She pees out of that weird furry thing." The declaration echos bouncing off all four walls of the store. I imagine sales associates at the register in the front doubled over laughing until they cry. People peering around the racks to see if I would beat this child to within an inch of his life or perhaps just to see the woman with the weird furry thing.

O...M...G...please strike me with lightening and liquefy me into nothing. I want to announce that I am the nanny. But no one would believe me- even if WC didn't bear a striking resemblance. We then leave the lingerie department and return to Jay with one item.

"What's that," he asked.

"A bathrobe."

 

Mommy Brain

I don't know what happens to brains of women when we become pregnant. For my entire life before children I never once worried that something unimaginable would happen to myself or anyone that I loved. After reading the recent blog of my friend, Michele, where she has exhibited classic case of survivors guilt after the birth of twins. The worry over if her joy brings pain to someone else. I immediately understood. When I found out I was expecting CJ, I worried about telling her. I knew they wanted children so badly. I was so afraid that me getting to have another child would cause her pain. Of course she was overjoyed for me but I knew she wished it for her life as well. When I sent an email full of photos of my smiling happy children only to discover Nicholas had arrived the next day and not survived I was terrified of the pain it would cause her. But she wouldn't let me stop sending her photos. I knew she was happy for me but I still worried about the emotional impact. Ultimately we want the best for everyone.

She wonders in the same entry when it is considered a "success." Is it after the risk of SIDS, college, etc. The worries aren't limited to preemie babies in the NICU. My full term children I was terrified for weeks after I brought them home. WC wouldn't sleep well on his back so occasionally I'd put him to nap on his stomach then I'd sit there and watch him breathe the entire time he was asleep. Once I had to urinate so bad but I wouldn't move until my mom arrived and made her watch him breathe. I was only slightly less psychotic w/ the second one (luckily he slept on his back wonderfully). For the first time in my life I was utterly convinced because I loved this "thing" so much it would have to be taken away from me. For whatever reason I figured I didn't deserve something so wonderful.  Why is that? I began to contemplate these feelings that I am sure that all mother's have- whether or not they admit it. Unfortunately I've come to conclusion that the worry never goes away. Ever. Now we can't allow these irrational fears to rule forefront of our minds- we'd never be able to function. A friend recently confided to me that she was scared that a car would leave the road and drive through her daughters bedroom located on the front corner of the house. It isn't that she lives on a busy, main or particularly curvy/ hilly road. In fact the sheer physical mechanics of it would seem it highly improbable that could happen. Unless someone was intentionally aiming for it. Still the thought entered her mind one night as she lay down to sleep. You can imagine that it took a while to fall asleep with that thought bouncing around in the ole head. So, if you make through pregnancy and bring home a baby the worry doesn't stop it just changes to what you're worried about. An infant who can't move you worry about SIDS, developmental milestones, breast or bottle, cloth or disposable, co-sleep or not, gas or a serious intestinal issue. Then they start in with the mobility- rolling over & scooting. You've gotten used to leaving them on the couch or bed for a min to run and get something & you hear a thud- child on floor. Again new set of worries- both rational & irrational. I worry with every illness it's something far more serious and work hard to find the balance between over and under reacting.  As soon as you have one set figured out along come some new ones. As far as I can tell this pattern pretty much repeats itself for the rest of your life. I've learned from my MIL (mom of 4 kids) that graduation doesn't stop the worry. And the only thing your child getting married accomplishes is bringing a son/daughter in law into the picture to worry about. And then there's the grandchildren.

So, if you're taking this journey through parenthood with me- congratulations we will be crazy until the day we die.

And it just kept getting worse

The next day after WC's doctor visit, he stayed home with Cat and received his nebulizer treatment every four hours and to rest. This approach usually keeps his bronchial tubes open enough not to cause any additional health issues- infection or pneumonia. And Wednesday was to be business as usual. Then I awoke that morning unable to speak, my voice simply would not come out. And I really didn't think that I would be able to get out of bed. When did a mac truck drive through my house and run over me? My throat had been a little irritated and tender on Tuesday but it hadn't concerned me. Jay had a voice but didn't feel any better than I. Then Cat reported that she felt about like Jay did. But WC & CJ both seemed fine. Someone took WC to school- I honestly can't remember who. And no one felt well enough to take CJ to daycare. The rest of us stayed home. If I moved that day it was for CJ's basic care- food & diapers. We decided that the three of us probably had the same thing so we sent Jay to the clinic & if he had something that could be treated with meds then Cat & I would go too. He came back reporting a respiratory virus- sorry no drugs. His flue test was negative. About five minutes before two the school nurse called and said WC had a one hundred fever and we had to come get him. Now school is out at two. Jay went to pick him up. At home, he did not have a fever and acted completely fine. However, because the school nurse said he had a hundred he was not allowed to return to school the next day. The sun rose on Thursday with me still unable to communicate verbally, coughing my head off and CJ running a 101. He and I sat on the couch together and if he was awake he was crying. We slept on and off and I made an effort to force him to drink. The end of the day saw CJ's temp hit 103. I put him screaming into a cool bath. Friday saw everyone but CJ & myself return to normal activity. Again we spent the day on the couch together- everything I needed within arms reach- remotes, tissues, thermometer, ibuprofen and drinks. By that evening I swore the couch was grafting itself to my ass. If he was awake, he was crying chanting 'mommy' and/or 'blanket' which he had both and there was nothing I could do. I still couldn't speak and wanted to cry. I knew that we needed to go to the doctor but I honestly couldn't get off the couch and make that drive. Friday evening I was able to squeak out some semblance of a voice but only in short succinct spurts. It's really easy for them to ignore you if they can't hear you. Throwing things is a great way to get attention. My frustration level by the time I put CJ to bed Friday night was an all time high. Not that it was either of our faults. It was what it was. Saturday morning came and CJ still had a 101 and I did too. So it's off the doctor. My plan was to take him to the pediatrician then take him home and myself down to the clinic. We get there and I explain the best I could to the nurse but between the voice giving out and the fact it took all the energy in me to get there and sit upright I wasn't the best communicator. The doctor came in and we spoke briefly then she looked him over to make sure he was free of ear infection and his lungs were clear and announced she wanted to run a flu test on him. I didn't realize that the test was a long q-tip square up the nose. CJ didn't too kindly to this woman cramming this thing in his nose. He screams like someone has crushed his testicles and begins to throw himself around. The swab caused his nose to bleed and I am unsuccessfully at restraining him to pinch off the nose and stop the flow. He's screaming, throws himself back hits his head on the wall, twists himself and falls to floor blood from his nose is going everywhere. The only thing I can do is burst into tears. I am burning hot, sweating through my clothes already and now I'm sobbing my eyes out in front of this stranger. I'm mortified on the inside but I couldn't control it. The nurse lifts CJ off the floor and places him hissy fit an all on the exam table- restrains him and gets his nosebleed under control before returning him to my lap and leaving with the swab. I had about twenty minutes to compose myself before the doc returned. The flu test was positive. She also brought more great news being that it was only the first of September she felt this was the H1N1. OMG- Swine Flu? Seriously? Swine flu was just something I've seen on news like every other illness that gets highly publicized it happens to other people- not us. Then, as if she knew the next thought that popped into my head she asked about WC. He was fine only the asthma issue of a few days ago but no high fever like CJ & I. She pulled WC's chart and prescribed him the antiviral medication as a preventative. It was too late for medication for CJ or myself. She also recommended that CJ & I stay away from WC. I was not to tend to him. And Jay not to tend to CJ- not as if CJ allowed that anyway. I asked if she thought if I should go to the clinic and get tested too. The doc said from the way I looked (gee thanks) that she felt certain I had it too and I should just go home and stay there. I expressed that I needed to get back to work on Tues (Monday was Labor Day). She didn't feel that would happen. It didn't. I ended up having to go to the clinic anyway to get a note stating that I wasn't contagious before my work would allow me to come back on Thursday. The NP noted that I my blood pressure was high and asked if that was normal. No- I have never had high blood pressure except the day the CJ had to be delivered. But I wasn't surprised; I was already convinced I was having a nervous breakdown. I'd been sick at home cooped up with a sick crabby child for five days. I had been fever free for a couple of days but still wasn't back to normal. Even today my voice still sounds strained but the coughing has finally calmed down to a minimum. By Thursday CJ's fever was finally gone but he still slept a lot during the day so he went to my mom's on Friday. He returned Monday to daycare- which was much needed. The illness had upped his spoiled factor immensely. He began this thing where he would lay on the couch & wanted to be covered by his security blanket then he would sit up and immediately begin to cry "want blanket on." Wanting me to cover him up with his blanket. And I had to carry him all over the house- where ever I went- if he didn't have me and the blanket at all times he would scream. Then he threw up on blanket and I had to put it in the wash- he cried with out stopping the entire time that blanket was in the washer and dryer. During this time Rhi also began urinating behind the recliner in the living room. I cleaned what I could then piled a bunch of toys and a diaper box back there to keep her from accessing the area until I was better.

Things are slowly but surely returning to a "normal" healthy state. I've never been that sick before and don't ever want to be that sick again. And don't want either of the boys sick either. Now I'm a hand sanitizing, Lysol spraying fiend.

Flashback

It all began nearly three weeks ago. After the Saturday afternoon merriment of a giant inflatable water slide birthday party while on the drive home the cough that I dread...the croupy bark that I've come to despise reared its ugly head. It's the only thing that remains after five years of fighting like hell every time WC gets a cold to keep him out of the hospital. It's the cough that cannot be stopped. It means his asthma is acting up. The cough is his only symptom and over the years the episodes have gotten fewer and farther between and lack the urgency of those he had at aged two.

The thing I dreaded about kindergarten was having to get a whole new group of adults used to his symptoms-just because he coughs out phlegm doesn't mean he's contagious. The daycare/preschool people had become used to him over the past three years. I knew the school people would probably overreact. On Monday I give him his nebulizer treatment before he leaves for school and I was aware of his cough. I get a call from the school nurse at 8:20- he'd been in the clinic coughing uncontrollably for about ten minutes, his "oxygen saturation was low" and he couldn't return to class she needed someone to come pick him up. I call Cat to run over to the school & get him. I knew they'd overreact but this did seem a little much for me to send him home just for coughing. But then the oxygen saturation comment set in my mind for a few minutes. I flashed back to (after a long illness that kept getting worse) carrying my unconscious two year old through a parking garage towards the ER then the barrage of nurses, doctors, techs, tubes, IV, xrays. Being alone watching these strangers poke needles into my baby because Jay worked for a satellite office two hours away. Then sitting up all night next to the crib in CCU staring at the oxygen monitor praying, begging God to let that number rise. Sleep only happened when I dropped off with my head leaning on the crib rail. Xrays revealed he had pneumonia so bad they couldn't tell if it was viral or bacterial. They usually can tell by the way it looks in the xray. But his was so solid that they couldn't determine or see the area where his heart should have been. Over the next three days they ran an hour worth of antibiotics through his IV twice a day- two different antibiotics for 30 min each. Over the next three days I witnessed him come back to his old self. The day we were going to be discharged we were sitting in a chair in the room, he was watching cartoons on the tv and I could see down the hallway of the CCU. I noticed that one room down the hall had medical personnel rush into the room three times during the course of the morning and the last time the occupant of the room rushed out in a fury. When reality slammed me like a lead weight- We would be taking our baby home that day and not everyone around me would be afforded the luxury of taking their child home. The kid in the room next to us had a bandage wrapped around his head- brain surgery. I cried, ashamed that I had felt sorry for myself and complained. We were the luckiest people on the floor.

This was wandering around in my head all morning when I called WC's doctor and made an appointment that afternoon. His pediatrician made me feel better when she told me to take the results of the oxygen saturation with a grain of salt. The school would have used a portable oxygen monitor and those results aren't accurate. They wont even have one in their office because the sticker they place on the finger has to be the appropriate size and has to be fit on the finger perfectly- otherwise the results are skewed. WC was far too perky and alert to have low oxygen saturation- case in point his condition the day I took him to the hospital. It made sense. Now he was definitely having issues with his asthma and she prescribed him a new preventative medication. An inhaled steroid. He hasn't been on a preventative med in over a year because it didn't make any difference in the number or severity of episodes and at $1 a pill it has to make a marked difference before I will keep buying it. I'm happy with the inhaled steroid because unlike the liquid (which can't be used long term due to side effects) or another pill this is put directly where needed (lungs) and doesn't travel throughout the body and helps cut back on any possibility of side effects. She is well aware that I'm not into medication for a long term basis- if he only reacts four months out of twelve why stay on medication for the whole 12? She asked me to leave him on it up through spring and then decide because if he's fine why risk it by taking him off. My though though is that if he never reacts May-July then why? He's been on it now for two weeks and it takes a full two-four weeks to build up and get maximum benefits- so we shall see how this years cold season goes. And with the added threat of swine flu (they say attaches itself deeper in the lungs than traditional flu)- which has already entered our home- more an that later- we shall see. Fingers crossed and prayers said.

 

***Congratulations to Michele and Peter on the birth of beautiful twins, Bobby & Maya. You're in my thoughts & prayers. I love you guys!

It Has to Stop

I have officially had it with my cat (the feline, not my sister referred to as Cat). Now keep in mind as I begin this post that I do not in any way condone or approve of animal abuse. Please do not comment back to me about how horrible I am. I will not actually harm the cat. Months ago at the ripe old age of 13 she began to "go" outside of her litter box. I've had this animal since she was a mere couple weeks old and never once had she given me one iota of problem. Then one evening she waltzes into the middle of the living room and squats right in front of us. Naturally, we were very alarmed and I made an appointment with the vet because from that moment on she went anywhere and everywhere other than the box. One pissed off cat (pun intended) and three hundred dollars later she was diagnosed with feline diabetes and possible urinary tract infection. I have done everything the vet told me, I changed her to canned cat food. I ended up switching to Iams canned because the prescription canned food costs way too much- we simply can't afford it. And I crammed the pill down her throat everyday for two weeks for the infection. I exercised patience and understanding of her in her old age. But she still wouldnt return to the box. I ended up taking the lid off the box because I thought perhaps she was having difficultly making it into the hole or she was uncomfortable being closed in now (even though it was fine before). And after a thorough cleaning I introduced her back to her box. She seemed to go in there now except if there was something fabric left on a hard surfaced floor. She began to urinate all over bath mats and any towels or clothing left on a bathroom/kitchen floor. Or if there is a rag from the boys tub that falls into the tub she will jump into the tub specifically to urinate on it. It became necessary to remove all of this after each and every bath/shower- one slip up even for an hour would result in a urine soaked item. It was like she was waiting, saving it all up just to pee the second we left something available. I still scooped whatever was left in the box on a daily basis- hoping an ultra clean box would result in usage. And she seemed to begin to use the box exclusively once any other temptation was removed. Then the office, the room where the box has been housed, began to smell. And initially I thought it was simply the result of no lid which allowed more of the odor to escape. But I was still scooping every day and after a week, I just thought something wasnt right about how badly the room was smelling. It was permeating the house. I would sit on the couch and be able to detect cat urine odor. I had enough. I decided to completely wash out the box, again. This time, when I moved the box, I discovered the source of said horrendous odor. The cat was going in the box but then also going in the carpet next to the box. I had a fit. I could not believe it. I would see this cat go into her litter box while I was home, I'd hear her scratching around but it seems while we were out or our backs were turned she'd go in there & go next to the box. And her climbing tree had also been urinated all over the base. It had to be hauled out and dismantled. It was then we decided the box had to be removed from the room, she couldnt be allowed back in there. At this point I suggested that she become an outdoor cat but Jay didnt agree. But he wasnt the one steam cleaning the carpet either. I began to have fantasies about picking her up over my head and hurling her out the back door into the grass as hard as I could. We have no room for the box in our master bathroom, but it had to go in there. We began to close her up in the bathroom w/ the box when we were gone. So far I have cleaned the carpet in the office 4 times w/ a steam cleaning machine and it is better but still there. But the office door remains closed. It's ruined and will have to be replaced. Then she began going in the box again. And we began to give her freedom during the day. Occasionally I'd find a puddle in the kitchen floor- but on linoleum. While gross, still easier to clean than carpet. We still pick up all bath mats, etc. because she'd still urinate on them the first opportunity.

Then yesterday happened. I arrived home last night- she had been alone all day, My sister had gone out doing job hunting things and visiting friends. The bathroom floor around the box was soaked and pooled up under the box. I get everything cleaned up. The cat is nowhere to be found- which is standard after we discover her little "gifts."

And this morning we are getting ready to go. Need to be out the door. I was worried that WC is getting sick- he didnt eat dinner last night and didnt seem to feel well this morning and didnt eat breakfast. I took his temp and he was fine. He was complaining about his chest and I gave him a nebulizer treatment in the middle of everything else I am about to recount.

Jay is taking CJ to the daycare this morning (only his 2nd time at daycare- will blog about later) and I tell him that daddy is taking him & I will put him in the car. CJ collects his blanket, his treasured stuffed cookie monster and a little cookie monster figure (yes- two different cookie monster toys for the trip). I pick him up and out the door we go. By the time we get to the car my boob is wet. Now why is my...? Holy crap. Cookie Monster had been peed on! I have to rip the beloved toy from my crying sons hands. He doesnt understand why mommy is taking away cookie monster. Jay drives away. I can't figure out when the cat had access to urinate on this toy- it usually goes to bed w/ CJ. So I'm standing there holding a stinking soaking wet stuffed animal and my boob smells like pee.My only thought is that I have to save Cookie Monster (and change shirts & bra). Immediately Cookie, my shirt and bra get tossed into the washer & gentle cycle started. I dont know if I can machine wash that monster or not but it seems to my only hope. Luckily the cat wasnt in my line of sight when I entered the house or the kids would have orange and white furry mittens this winter.  I start WC on his nebulizer & Aunt Cat stays with him. I locate new work clothes and quickly gather my lunch and everything that I need to leave with. I leave Cat with instructions to get that Cookie Monster as dry as she can. On the drive in I get an idea, I call and tell her to put him inside a pillow case then into the dryer (one to cushion the hard eyes from slamming around as he gets tumbled). She tells me that she discovered one of their art tablets has also been victimized by the cat. I ask her to go around and pick up all the toys and make sure everything else is okay.

About 10:15 I received a text letting me know that Cookie Monster had been saved. I reply back: Thank God. The cat on the other hand...

The Visitor

Last night I'm closing up the house for the night. Like countless nights prior I open the door, reach out to hit the button to bring the door slowly down. The door jumps to start the decent when I heard a swoosh and out of the corner of my eye I get a glimpse of a brown outstretched wing- a large wing. In a split second my mind computes: large wing= large bird in my garage. In one fluid motion I jump back and slam the door closed yelling "Holy crap". For several beats I'm stunned and stand there motionless. I realize that both Jay & Cat are staring at me. "There's a giant bird in our garage."

They both stare at me. I can tell neither of them believe me.

"Now there's a giant bird trapped in our garage," Jay asks sceptically.

"Yes."

We need to open the garage door back but I'm not about to open the door to our house and risk whatever it is getting inside. I remember we have an extra door opener- a keychain version that we keep inside. I retrieve it and we all go out the front door & stand in the driveway. I hit the button.

The door opens- revealing our cars & other crap. No bird. Now I know what I saw. But I really started to doubt my sanity for a second.

Jay walks into the garage in between our automobiles. And we hear flapping- from the other side of his car up jumps something with wings. Jay high-tails it out of the garage.

"I told you there was a giant bird in there."

The creature lands on our lawn mower handle.

"OMG- It's a freakin' hawk," Jay declares.

Now we're all standing there staring at the hawk and it's staring right back at us.

"Now what?"

The next logical step when you have a large bird of prey in your garage is get the camera. Using my digital zoom to get in closer than I cared to I took several pictures. It sat there motionless watching me. The photo uploaded along w/ this blog was taken with my cell phone of a photo on the preview screen of my camera. My cell phone didnt zoom & the low light of the situation I knew it wouldnt take properly and I also knew I wouldnt uploaded the photos off my camera last night. I just had to share this. I put my camera away and we begin to discuss how to get him to leave. We decide to leave the door open and hope it would fly out on its own accord. An hour later I found it in the exact spot we left it in.

I went in and pulled up google- there's surprisingly little on hawk removal on the Internet.

Jay decides to get his car out of the garage- mumbling something about hawk poop and talon scratches in his paint (but my car's in there too). He slowly stepped into the garage and inched up the side of his car. When he was at the drivers side door and hawk lifted up its leg displaying it's talons at him. Jay quickly gets in and shuts the door. He starts the car and the hawk remains steadfast in his spot on the lawnmower handle. Once the car is out in the driveway we see blood and feathers that obviously dont belong to Mr. Hawk on the hood. I go in to try more Internet searches and Cat stays outside, cell phone in hand- just in case she needs to call emergency services for Jay. Again, I find nada. I decide to try to set off my car alarm to see if it would scare it out. Nope. Jay goes around to the side door of the garage to see if he can encourage the bird to fly out. Using a variety of tactics- one which involved a yard rake the only the we managed to do was to get the bird to fly to the top of the garage door and back to the mower and then eventually retreat to under our water heater. At this point we just resign ourselves- we'll have to leave it open all night. And joked about a would-be thief being attacked by the hawk in the middle of the night.

This morning I need to move CJ's car seat over to Cat's car. Confident the bird left in the middle of night but also cautious I decide to go back out the front. And there I find all of our things where we left them and Mr. Hawk sitting quietly on the lawn mower handle. He turns his head to look at me. "Why are you still here?" I say aloud.

The bird gave me the finger and turned his head away.

I go back in and announce that we have a problem.

Jay goes out to pull my car out of the garage- so I can move the car seat & so I can get WC in the car & off to school. But when he entered the garage he watched the hawk closely and he inched to the car. The hawk appeared nervous & glanced at the open side door. So he took a step closer to the hawk. The hawk looked back at the door. He stepped one closer and it flew out the side door. Jay ran over and hit the button to bring the door closed- scared the hawk wouild circle & fly back inside. Our visitor is gone. And I can say that I will not be leaving that garage door open again- anytime soon. I wonder if there's any "meaning" to this incident? Are hawks good luck or bad luck? I guess it depends if you're on their menu.

 

It All Started With the Frog

Friday afternoon- it was one of those afternoons. It started innocently enough with nothing out of the ordinary. CJ was fastened into his car seat carrying about 5 toys and his blanket. As usual he wants it all directly in his lap covering everything I need to see in order to get him buckled in properly. His favorite items in the whole world consist of rubber ducks, toy frogs, a stuffed Cookie Monster (gift from Aunt Michele & Uncle Peter) and the blue fluffy blanket- disgustingly dirty most of the time. Juggling all this I manage to get him securely strapped in and off we go. About three seconds after merging onto the interstate he drops a frog in between his seat & the door. His seat is located on the passengers side of the backseat- I can barely reach him, let alone that door. He screams for his frog and I have to tell him there is no way for me to get it right then. Well, you know what hit the fan. He proceeded to kick and scream the entire twenty mile journey in rush hour traffic to WC's school. I arrive at the school and retrieve the frog and give it to him. But no dice, he is so pissed off from frog deprivation that he continues his fit as I carry him into the gym. The fit continues as I write the check for next weeks after care. An employee attempts to console the raging toddler to no avail. While writing the check I explain the issue and offer to give him to the woman. She politely declines stating she has two grandchildren at home. WC sees us comes in and finally makes his way across the gym after retrieving his back pack. I carry CJ- who has begun to cough uncontrollably and I'm convinced he's about to vomit on himself. Back into the car we go w/ WC now in tow. Luckily, we're just a couple min from home at this point. At home I take CJ directly to their room and deposit him on WC's bed and close the door. I can't be around him at that moment. I go lay down on the couch. WC wanders in the house and asks what I did with CJ. I explain that CJ is in alone time in their room & I'm having alone time on the couch. CJ finagles the door knob until he is free and I can hear him sniffling and snotting all the way down the hall coming towards me. He climbs up on the couch and onto me. We just sit there.

WC enters the room with a jack in the box that came home from a weekend at my mom's with. He proceeded to get CJ interested in that. Then took CJ back to my room and put an Elmo video on for him and left me alone on the couch. I guess Toddler crack is good for something.

I had two thoughts that ran through my head at that moment. One was to start on the four beers in the fridge and the other was to try out one of the new work out dvd's that I'd recently purchased. Surprisingly enough the workout dvd won. It shocked me too. It was broken into "circuits" and you and choose to play the entire workout or pick & choose which "circuits" you do. I decided to choose a few of the 6 min circuits just to get my feet wet. I'm out of shape- seriously.

Later that night after CJ was tucked in bed I decided to go out for margarita supplies. I have to go to the next town over for a liquor store- about 7 miles. I believe I've blogged before on how driving at night relaxes me- so really it was more of an excuse to get to go out on a back two lane road with the windows down. The temp was in the 60's- no humidity. Beyond awesome for August in the south. I took a little detour and drove further out- to the battlefield. No one around. Quiet. Tranquil. I was decompressed enough that I really didnt feel the need for a margarita but since I was out and told Jay I was getting it. I went back to the liquor store- picked up a bottle of wine while too I was there. I think it was December the last time I've been  to a liquor store.

The next afternoon- I felt that ab workout from the video on Friday night. OMG.