The Lumberjack's Wife

Lately, I have noticed that I might be confusing some of you.

Perhaps I am not as thorough and concise as I believe to be?

If you are a newer reader of this blog, I most likely make no sense.  You have probably already stopped reading this blog.  You are probably not even reading this post. 

Such a shame.

And, so, I thought I would do a quick meet and greet.

Sounds fun, doesn’t it?
***

Hi!  My name is Taylor.  I am 29 years old.  I married David in July of 2000.

We were both 19 at the time.

Our first house was built in 1917 and was 700 square feet.  Together we ripped out all the flooring and discovered beautiful hardwood floors.  We refinished them, did some painting and other lovely fix ups.

We thought we were something else.

We were both going to college to become teachers and were working.  Instead of having children, we got ourselves two Golden Retrievers:  Jack and Mabel.

They were the world’s naughtiest dogs.

Awhile later, my husband decided that being a teacher was not his calling.

*gasp!*

This was the beginning of the end, dear readers.  The end of the David as I knew him.  You see, readers, David and I did everything together.  We shopped at the mall.  We both enjoyed The Gap (but could only afford Old Navy clearance), coffees, restaurants, and movie dates.

We both even, dare I say it, visited the tanning booth and highlighted our hairs.

Oh, yes.  WE did.

I had a dream, people.  I had a dream that my husband and I would teach at the same school.  We would both look hip and cool in our Gap clothing, highlighted hair, and bronzed skin.  After school, he, looking dapper, would walk down to my classroom to get me and we would go out to dinner and talk about our days.

But, no.  My dream died when David told me he wanted to be an electrician.

Starting out into that field is really hard because no one wants to hire anyone without experience.  His only offer was to work for this guy for $6 an hour.

Lucky for us, I had a sweet job, that required me to wear a hairnet, that made me about $9 an hour.  Yeah.  That’s right.  I was the money maker at one point in time.

Towards the end of my junior year in college, I found out I was pregnant.  It was our first month of trying “Natural Family Planning” and I had assured my husband I knew exactly what I was doing.

Oops.

I was debating about dropping out of school, but decided I would regret that for the rest of my life.  So, I soldiered on.  This was the year of student teaching . . . you know . . . where you go to  the school as the teacher but don’t get paid?

I was at the school Monday through Friday from 7am to 6pm.  In order to keep my health insurance at my sweet hair net job, I had to work every Saturday and Sunday from 530am to 2pm.  I was exhausted and did not have days off. 

Plus I was large.

But I did it!  And 11 days after I finished up student teaching, our daughter was born.

Going from a busy school and working schedule to staying at home full time was a hard transition for me.

David and I had a hard time adjusting as new parents.

He thought I was uptight.

But I still think it is unacceptable for anyone to suggest super gluing a baby’s mouth shut.

If that’s uptight, then fine.  I am uptight.

To be continued . . . .

(PS-If you are confused about something on this blog, just go ahead and ask me and I will try to answer it soon)

I trust you all had a good Mother’s Day, no?

Our Mother’s Days are always spent with extended family.  This year, my husband suggested that we should plan for Saturday to be my day to do whatever I want.

Does anyone else have a hard time with this whole “picking out something special to do” concept?

Oh, for the stress.

What is worthy enough to be called a special Mother’s Day activity? I spend more time fretting over what I might think would be fun.  And nothing sounds fun.  But staying home sounds lame.

The saddest part in all of this, is that, in the end, all of the plans centered around me getting my favorite ice cream cone:

Moose Tracks in a waffle cone.

Bear with me on this post.  I like to be sneaky-sneaky with my whereabouts so that no one knows where I am from.  But, I also like my friends, the “local readers” to know what I am talking about. I am sure you all find it annoying.  But let’s pretend, for kicks and grins, that you find me quirky and charming.

The best place to get this certain ice cream cone is on a certain river at a certain gas station. 

Nothing says Mother’s Day like a gas station.

There are also many hiking trails and such nearby, so I thought a hike and an ice cream cone sounded delightful.

Problems with river plan:

1.  It is 90 miles each way.

2.  Diesel is $4.19 a gallon.  We get 14 miles to the gallon.  That is too much math at this hour in the morning, but trust me, the answers are not favorable.

3.  There is most likely snow all over the hiking trails.

4.  It was raining.

5.  Handsome Dude had spent the morning dealing with a wicked stomach bug.

Perks to going to the River:

1.  I really, really, really like that ice cream cone.

So, we went with plan B.

We drove into the town from whence we moved from (remember . . . I am quirky and charming, not annoying).

Local Readers:  We went on a hike on that one hill that everyone from wherever it is we are from knows about.

Fun Fact:  That hill is like a couple of hundred feet from my old house.

But that is neither here nor there.

Ok.  As soon as we got out of the car, I kid you not, all of the rain clouds moved away.  Gorgeous blue skies came out.  We even, dare I say it, saw THE SUN.

Ok.  That was like the best shot out of like 10.  Do you know how hard it is to get four kids to cooperate?

And, yes.  Handsome Dude is not in the picture.

He was feeling a bit contrary. 

Does this surprise you?

Perhaps it was because he had a stomach bug and, yet, his parents were dragging him all around that darn hill.

But, what can you do?  3 out of 4 kids were feeling fine.  That’s about as good as it gets over here.

Speaking of Handsome Dude:

That boy will not stop growing.  He just recently got all those clothes.  And they are already looking too small.

Yes.  I am aware.  There is a hole in his jeans.  What else is new?

Yes.  I am aware.  His shoes are on the wrong feet.  What else is new?

He insists that shoes are more comfy that way.

We made it to the top!

Did you all remember that my one request for Mother’s Day was a Moose Tracks ice cream in a waffle cone?

Don’t lose heart!

Immediately after our hike we went out to ice cream!

Daisy Mae enjoying huckleberry ice cream.

I am full of too much bitterness towards huckleberry picking to enjoy the ice cream of the huckleberry nature.

Little Dude enjoying Moose Tracks.

When Little Dude eats ice cream, he holds the cone still and just shakes his head back and forth.

Cause he is a goober.

Check out my husband’s pants.  Those are his “hiking Carhartts.”

Ha!  Oh, I crack myself up.

No one probably thought that was funny.  But I did.

As soon as we sat down for ice cream, it started raining and hailing.  Our hike had impeccabble timing.

***

On Sunday, we went to church and then had David’s family and my family over.

And poor Little Dude developed a fiercer bug than Handsome Dude’s and spent the evening with a fever, vomitting, and having his loving relatives avoid him like the plague.

Poor baby.

***

Happy Mother’s Day to my Marmie.

Here is a fairly recent picture of me, Sister Meagan, and my mom.

My Marmie is tons of fun and I hope my kids have as lovely memories of their childhood as I do of mine.

Hmmm . . .

I wonder if my mom would have forced one of us to take a hike with a stomach bug?

Things to ponder.

Happy Monday!

There were 7 -ish deer in my yard this morning.

How do you like them apples?

***

You may or may not recall that Little Dude has a bunny.

And daily he recites:

“My bunny’s name is Screamer-I’m two-I’m this many!”

And he shows me 5 fingers.  He’s a confused lad.

Anyways.  Screamer is a little punk.  He has escaped about 4 times since we got him.

One time our neighbors found him and brought him back.

And I use the term “neighbors” quite loosely.

When Screamer goes missing, we don’t tell Little Dude.  This is something his frail little heart needs not to know.

Well, today the girls spotted Screamer happily hopping about.

Since Daisy Mae decided to take something out of her sister’s hands, throw her to the the ground, and start pummeling her, I needed to take full action and put the little miss in a time-out instead of sending her out on the bunny rescue mission.

Not that a child of mine would ever hit.

Perhaps she just needed a nap.

Sometimes I need a nap.

And, without further ado, here is Sweet Pea’s adventures in trying to capture Screamer.

Step 1:  Scatter lettuce on top of a table (?) in hopes of luring Screamer.

Step 2: Don your bestest blue headband with a flower and walk with a sense of determination and purpose.

Step 3:  Steal your dad’s fishing net.  Attempt to capture Screamer.

Fail.

Step 4: Cry and wail and mourn when Screamer scampers away.  Be comforted in the thought that you are wearing an uber cute headband.

Step 5:  Give up and go inside to play with Play-Do.

I hate when my kids want to play Play-Do.  It always turns into a disaster of epic proportions.  But since the poor chicky-babe had just been taken down in Daisy Mae’s fury and had to deal with Sneaky Screamer, I permitted it.

And, as a result of this weakness on my part, I have Play-Do ground into my floors and a broken camera.

You may ask, ‘Taylor!  How did your camera break?”

Well.  I don’t know.

But these were the last pictures taken on it.

GoshDarnIt, she’s cool.

Let us have a moment to mourn the loss of the camera.

And hope someone, somewhere, can fix it.

***

I wish everyone a Happy Mother’s Day.

Sir Lumberjack said I get the entire day tomorrow to do anything I want.

!

But . . . I don’t know what to pick.

?

It shall rain here, I assure you.  And I don’t want to do something alone.

Are you kidding, silly readers?!

I only get to see this hunk of burning love on evenings and weekends.

Yes.  It’s true.  I like him.

So.  What shall a family with 4 well-behaved children do on a Saturday?

Please Advise.

Happy Weekend!

This week has been one of the most busy weeks ever!  And since I use this blog to record our daily lives, I thought I would share with you all the exciting happenstances.

Lucky you!

Monday

On Monday, the kids and I drove into the big city to see a new opthamalogist for Handsome Dude.  His eyes just seem to be doing so much worse and I decided it was time for a new doctor.

My dad, of whom I oft make fun of on this here blog, met me there and waited in the waiting room with the three other children during the 2 1/2 hour appointment.

Holla, Dad!

You should have seen the look on my dad’s face when I gave him the instructions for how to take Little Dude to the bathroom.

Me:  Dad.  If dude has to go potty, you need to take his shoes off, his pants off, and his underwear off.  Try to convince him it is okay to leave his socks on.  He straddles the toilet backwards.  He likes to sing and rub things.  Do not be alarmed.  It’s all part of his process.  You may have to remind him that he is supposed to be peeing.  He likes to randomly flush.  This does not necessarily mean he is finished.  Be vigilent!  Make sure you are listening for the peepee!  Then he needs to get dressed.  And he will need help washing his hands.  Ok?

Dad:  *crickets chirping*

Me:  Perhaps you should just have one of the girls help him?

Dad:  That I can do.

Turns out Handsome Dude is extremely far sighted.  He has strabismus and whole bunch of other things that I fear I cannot spell.  The glasses he is currently wearing are not nearly as strong as they should be.  So, he will be getting new ones.

Again.

And I am sure nothing bad will ever happen to them.

Fun fact:  Handsome Dude has worn glasses since he was a mere lad.

Ah.  The glory days.  When he could not move. 

After the appointment, the kids and I took a picnic lunch to a park near the doctor’s office.

It was lovely. 

Tuesday

 Even though I homeschool, I take my girls in to get their state tests when all the other school children in our state need testing.  As I was practicing with Daisy Mae earlier in the week, she was not reading as many words per minute as she should have.

Daisy Mae stresses me out with reading.  She does odd things and I can’t figure out why.  She reads the word “then” as “when”, amongst other things that I shall not go into, because no one really cares.

But!  The point is I was a tad worried that I was failing the poor child and I did not know how to help her.  That is the bummer about homeschooling.  I’m all she’s got.

If she does not score high enough, then they will ask me to take her to a little class to help her get caught up in reading.

This was music to my ears.  I told David that I was relieved that she would be getting some help!

So, we went in for the tests.  And wouldn’t you now it, but that little punk read twice as fast for them and read above and beyond what she needed to.

So.  No extra class for her.  Poor me.

They gave the girls free kids meal coupons for Applebees.  And, since I am a glutton for punishment, I took all the kids BY MYSELF to the Applebees for lunch.

(Handsome Dude, in the spirit of Handsome Dude, was hiding)

Look at my sweet Daisy Mae!  When she heard she was going to town for a school test, she put on her fanciest, black velvet, Christmas dress.

Look at my Sweet Pea!  She is getting too cool for things such as coloring crayons and goofy smiles in pictures.

The kids, believe it or not, did great and were not rude, loud, or anything of that nature.

When we were walking into the restaurant, I was holding Handsome Dude.  He was feeling a tad contrary at the moment and was unwilling to walk.

Sometimes he finds walking to be inconvenient for him.

So, I was holding him.  And, out of nowhere, I just totally fall.  Like really bad.  And this older man came running and all I remember is seeing his arms just come over me, almost in slow motion,  and he lifted both me and Handsome Dude up in one big, graceful move.

He made quite the fuss over me.  It would appear as if I had a damsel in distress moment.

I couldn’t stop laughing.  It was pretty embarassing.  And now I have a big scrape on my leg.

And it hurts.  Poor me.

But-good news!  I decided I could say that we survived our first year of homeschooling and the girls are where they should be.

See!?  I’m not screwing them up after all!

Yet.

Wednesday

Wednesdays, if you remember, are our crazy busy days.

Leave the house by 8am.

Drop girls off at piano at 9am.

Do all my ad matching at the local Walmarts because I am being a faithful steward of my money.

Pick up girls at 10am.

Feed everyone a snack in the car.

Try to ignore the fact that the inside of my car is a disaster zone.

Hit the dollar store to kill time.

Handsome Dude has swim lessons at 11am.

Feel bad for the girls as they look longingly at the pool.

Handsome Dude done with swim at 12.

Rush to my parent’s house for lunch and naps.

Discover someone used an orange Sharpie on my mom’s counter.

Whoever invented Magic Erasers is a genius.

Nap time.

Hallelujah.

School work with girls.

Notice that Daisy Mae has become a casualty of Crazy Wednesday. 

Sister Meagan stops by.  She tells me to check out my dad’s computer set up downstairs.

And so I do.

I don’t know if you can see it very well, but he has his laptop propped up on the treadmill.

Sister Meagan and I found that to be fantastic.

Notice the pictures he can gaze at to his right whilst he is working up a sweat.

Oh, yes.

My senior pictures.  And a lone glamour shot of Sister Meagan.

And just ignore the random twig.  This is how Mother decorates.

Here is a trippy thought readers:

My dad could be on that very treadmill right now.  Reading this blog.  Reading about his treadmill and laptop while on his treadmill reading on his laptop.

See?  Trippy.

Alright.  Enough of that.

The kids had Awana and I had a meeting at the church.

My dad, of whom I just made fun of on this here blog, texted me this picture of Handsome Dude:

Lest any of you are confused, my parents are Awana leaders.

A)  Do not pretend you are not impressed with my dad:

1.  Knowing his phone could take pictures

2.  Taking a picture

3.  Texting me that picture

B)  My Handsome Dude was sick.

Poor baby.

And he is still sick.

Poor baby.

When he is sick, he is so sweet and quiet and sleepy and snuggly.

It’s a shame he doesn’t get sick more often.

I kid!  I jest!

Alright.  This post has gone on long enough.

Happy Thursday!

PS-I am thinking about exercising today.

I repeat.

I am only thinking about it. 

I’m joining in on Joyce’s Hodgepodge today.

Fun Fact:  Joyce is my “just-pretends” friend and we are playing Words with Friends together.

Joyce is a force to be reckoned with in the Words with Friends department.

She is kicking my hiney.

But that is neither here nor there.

Let’s move on to the questions, shall we?

1. Have you ever been served breakfast in bed? Do you enjoy that? If someone were serving you breakfast in bed this coming weekend what would you hope to see on the tray?

The only time I remember being served anything in bed was in the hospital after I had a baby.

I’ve always been a dainty eater.

I would like to submit that the hospital stay after having a baby is the best thing ever.  Especially when it is your 3rd or 4th baby.

I mean, who wants to go home?  Home is where dishes, dust, laundry, and other children exist.

No, sir.  Bring me my coffee, help me to the bathroom, and fetch me some food.  Yes.  The hospital life is for me.

Ideal breakfast for me?

I really, really love oatmeal.  A good bowl of oatmeal. 

2. What is one piece of advice you would give a new mother?

Do not be alarmed when you are given the ginormous pads and special gauze underwear when you are in the post partum rooms at the hospital.

Embrace them.

You have no other options.

3. When was the last time you wanted to scream? Explain.

Today.  And I’ll gladly explain:

I have been to town the last three days in a row.  This is excessive for a hermit, such as myself.  When I go to town, I have to make multiple trips to the bathroom with my precious boys.

You all know how well that goes.

Little Dude still has to get undressed.  And Little Dude still like to rub the toilet seats and all things toilet-ish while he attempts to make a successful elimination.

Then, Little Dude needs help getting dressed again.

While I am helping Little Dude put his pants back on, he is constantly rubbing my face and cheeks.

“I love my Mommy.  Mommy wee handsome.”

And while I appreciate the fact that the boy thinks I am handsome, I cannot help but wonder what on earth he is spreading onto my cheeks as he is praising my beauty.

It makes me want to scream.

4. Can you hula hoop?

Does this blog have a purpose?

 5. What is something people do in traffic that really bothers you?

I am a pretty relaxed kind of gal when it comes to the road.

My husband drives me INSANE though.

You have heard me mention his refusal of using 4 wheel drive before.

Guess what else he refuses to use?

Windshield wipers.

“But, Taylor.  They are just so annoying.  And I hate it when they make that screeching sound.”

I try to reason with him.  But it is no use.

“Taylor.  If you get going fast enough, the rain will just start flying off the windshield fast enough and you don’t need the wipers anyways!”

This is the man I chose to father my children.

I have only myself to blame.

 6. What do you do when people don’t admit they’re wrong?

I usually send the people I deal with to a time out and make them say that they are wrong.

7. What is the first thing that comes to mind when you hear the word ‘fun’?

Huckleberry picking . . .

If it was Opposite Day.

ha!

Fun=kids in bed, full bowl of popcorn, Diet Pepsi, my husband, and a funny tv show that my husband won’t fall asleep during.

8. Insert your own random thought here.

I was informed this week that there is a tradition on May 1st.  Apparently, boys are supposed to leave flowers on the door steps of the girls they like.

I would like to report that I am 29 and 3/4 and I have never received a flower on my door step on May 1st.

In fact, I don’t think I have ever received a flower on my door step on any day.

Perhaps my mom led me astray when she told me glamour shots were all the rage?

I think I need a flower.

Happy Wednesday!

I would like to welcome you back to the segment on this blog known as:

“It was bound to happen sooner or later.”

In our first edition, I showed you The Lumberjack’s new toy . . .

Today’s Edition:

Well, I’ll be darned.

  We’ve got ourselves a bona fide wood burning stove.

If you haven’t read this blog for awhile, The Lumberjack, who is, in fact, an electrician, loves to fall trees and chop wood and things of that nature.

But when we moved to Ruralville last summer, he was dismayed to discover there was no wood-burning stove.

When we moved here, a little something inside of him died.

And now, here are the pros and cons regarding the wood stove . . .

Pros:

*Our house reached temperatures in the 70s yesterday.  This was a far cry from our constant 62 degree temperatures we’ve maintained all winter long.

*The Lumberjack can now be a Lumberjack again.  His life is full of promise and purpose.

Cons:

*I shall have the duty of keeping the home fires burning again.

*I shall have sap in my hands and sap in my hair.

*I shall have to stack wood.  I shall get splinters. I shall hate it. I shall complain.

*And I most likely will whine.

Oh, well.  At least now if the power goes out, we will have warmth.  And perhaps I can learn to cook on it.

I know!

Just to further weird you all out, maybe I shall cook my homemade laundry soap atop my wood burning stove!

Yes.  That would be splendid.

***

My parents came over this weekend and we took a walk across our vast lands.

Little Dude and my mom.

Little Dude insisted upon wearing his helmet for the entire walk.

Made me proud.

Look at our beautiful “Lake of Shining Waters . . . “

100 (meaningless) points to anyone who can remember what this water really is.

Hint:  It’s nasty.

The Dudes.

They were fighting terribly over who got to hold their dad’s deer call.  But then as soon as I told them I was taking a picture, they struck a pose.

And then they promptly went back to fighting.

***

And, in the most exciting news of all, I have a new sister-in-law!

Alex, the Lumberjack’s older younger brother, got married this weekend!

Remember Alex?

And, yes.  That is Holly looking terrifed as to what she is getting into in the background.

Holly is now offiically a Maliblahblah.

Holly! What were you NOT thinking?

Gird up your loins, sista from a different mista!

(oh, yeah.  that was cool)

Here are some fun, Maliblahblah family moments you can look forward to participating in:

Applesauce making with the cheerful patriarch himself.

Applesauce making happens every year.

And you will do your share.  And you will like it.

But don’t even think you will look as snazzy as I do whilst making applesauce . . .

Holly.  You know Jason.  Everyone teases Jason endlessly.

Poor Jason.

Not me.  I never tease him.  I’m his favorite.

Rock sliding on garbage bags.

Good times.

Hiking numerous miles into mountain lakes.

Uphill.  Both ways.

Woodcutting:

Making fun of Jason’s idea of a beach towel:

Making fun of Jason for doing Jason-y things:

Parachute camping:

Alex almost killing us by collapsing the parachute:

Oh, goodness.

Such crazies.

And now, Holly, you are one of us.

It’s ok.  Time will ease the shock.

***

Alright!  I must go load up the bambinos and drive into the big city for Handsome Dude’s eye appointment.

I am sure no disaster will come my way.

Happy Monday!

Well.  It’s been a long week.  A long, dreadful week trapped in the trenches of homeschooling/stay at home parenting bliss.

And I use the term “bliss” quite loosely.

Quite.

Some weeks are good.

And some weeks leave you wondering how on earth your life ended up this way.

I mean, what kind of a life is spent picking up random socks, muttering nonsense to yourself, talking to a dog, attempting to teach math, wiping up crumbs, wiping up toilet seats, attempting to teach reading, folding laundry, skipping science because you’ve “had it”, and arguing with 2 year olds about the necessity of pants.

Then we had to argue over whether or not helmets were meant for sleeping in.

I mean, really.  How could that be comfortable?

Can I just say that I am really proud that we got teeth-brusing accomplished today? 

Who needs science anyways?

All year long Daisy Mae has had trouble understanding seasons.  Why?

I cannot be certain.

But I have been pounding it into her brain over and over, all the different characteristics of the seasons.

Now.  Spring started like forever ago.

Am I right or am I right?

Well, no wonder the lass is so confused.

Can you see it?  Can you see it?

Snow.  On April the 29th.

What does it MEAN?

Oh, bother.

I have nothing to talk about.  Can you tell?

It was just a bad, boring week following the unneccessary, yet eventful, ER trip.  Of which I am still emotionally recovering from.

In other equally riveting news, I baked my first loaf of bread.

I know what you are thinking:

“What CAN’T this girl do?!?”

(teach science)

I know.  I know. 

Would you like to learn my secrets?

1)  Realize you are almost 30 and you have never baked bread.

2)  Try to decide if you care.

3)  Remember your unhealthy fear of active dry yeast and recipes where water has to have a temperature.

4)  I don’t know how to take water’s tempterature.

5)  ?

6)  Remember somebody gave you a bread machine for your wedding.  11 years ago.  Of which you have never used.

7)  Decide that you are super rude and an ungrateful brat.

8)  Buy yeast.

9)  Find a recipe.  Dump stuff into bread machine.  Watch as nothing happens.

10)  Wait 2 hours and 35 minutes for the bread machine to do something.  Anything.

11)  Dump everything out.  Throw it away.  Scold yourself for thinking you could bake bread.  You should know better.

12)  Realize you never fully attached the something or other to the other important something or other.

13)  Gather up your courage and try again.

14)  Sha-Zam!

15)  Watch in horror as your four, apparently starving, children devour the loaf in 4.8 minutes.

16)  Shake your head and start your third loaf for the day.

17)  Decide this might not save you as much money as you had initially hoped.

In other news, I am making pork chops for dinner.  Nasty.

The boys are playing bubbles.  The girls are playing exericse.

I probably should join them.

But I won’t.

I shall leave you all with the joke that Daisy Mae made up today and has told me each hour on the hour.

What did the boy salt say to the girl salt?

Wait for it . . .

Wait for it . . .

Can I have a SALT-ine?

*giggle, giggle, chuckle, chuckle*

Feel free to steal it.

Happy Weekend!

Well.  I have to admit, I purchased an expensive, seemingly unnecessary cup of coffee while I was in town today.

But I guarantee you that by the end of this here post, I shall prove to you that it was worth every dime.

Oh, yes.  I will.

As a result of this past weekend’s glorious weather, I decided to clean out my winter clothes.

Foolish?  Yes.

Because this is what I woke up to:

When will it end?  Oh, the humanity.

So, I was inspired to get many things accomplished today, seeing as how I had an entire day at home.

Yet, while I was in the shower two of my children got into my purse.

Offender #1:

Offender #2:

Are we surprised?

No, we are not.

According to the dudes themselves, Little Dude found the Tylenol in my purse and ate:

 “Two!”

“No, four!”

“No, two!”

“No!  I eat ‘sebben!'”

Hmmm.  And Handsome Dude declared that he abstained from partaking of the Tylenol with Little Dude.  And we all know that Handsome Dude never tells a lie.

So, I had to call poison control.  And since I had no idea if and how many pills were consumed, and Tylenol is like, not a good plan for the youngsters, I had to load up the big rig and head to the Emergency Room.

When we arrived, they had to weigh the boys and get their vitals.  Little Dude was Mr. Charming and flirted with everyone who came his way, happily informing them that:

“My bunny’s name is Screamer.”

Handsome Dude, who was looking quite fetching with his bed hair and shoes on the wrong feet, screamed and hid in the fetal position when it came time to put on his name bracelet.

For we all know how horrific it is to get a bracelet put on.

So, we waited.  And waited.  Then my dearheart friend, Shelly, came and picked the girls up.

Holla, Shelly!

As a precaution, the doctor wanted the boys to drink charcoal.  I lied to them and told them it was a super special cherry soda.

Lying is permissible in these sorts of scenarios.

Then the nurse told them to have a race and see who could drink it the fastest.

Handsome Dude, the boy who writhed on the floor in agony at the sight of a bracelet, chugged that nastiness down faster than a speeding bullet.

And he cheered and cheered for his victory.

Little Dude had a bit of trouble with it.  But he got it down.  And both boys will forever have charcoal stained shirts and faces as a result of it, I am certain.

Apparently, one must wait 4 hours after the ingestion to take a blood test to see if the amount swallowed is a problem.  So, we waited and waited and then finally it was time to draw the blood.

Which went over well with both boys, as I am sure you can imagine.

Then we waited and waited and finally the doctor came in to give us the results.

“Well, Mom, I am not sure if either of them actually ate any Tylenol at all!  It didn’t show up at all in their blood levels!”

Wow.  That was a colossial waste of time and money.

Go, me!

But, what can you do?

So, then we went to the library.  Because we are gluttons for punishment.

While at the library, Handsome Dude was arguing with me about whether or not he could check out a magazine.

I said no because:

A)  He doesn’t read.

B)  He will rip it.

C)  The library will not allow it to be checked out.

Handsome Dude:  MOM!  I NEED this!

Me:  No.  You don’t.

HD:  I won’t rip it!

Me:  We aren’t getting it.

HD:  Yes we are!

Me:  No, we are not.

HD (loud for all the world to hear):  MOM!  I NEED THIS MAZ-A-GEEN FOR WHEN I POOP!  I NEED IT!  TO POOP!  POOP, MOM!  POOP!

Ah, joyous.

Finally, we had to use the bathroom before we left the library.  The bathroom routine for outings is getting a tad old.  I am with the boys in the same stall (lucky me).  Little Dude still needs to take off his shoes, pants, and underwear.  He still straddles the toilet backwards.  He still sings train songs.  And he still takes forever and a day to have a successful elimination.

Handsome Dude is a speedy little guy, yet his accuracy rate into the toilet is lacking.

I, myself, do quite well, and am a seasoned pro.

Well, this final bathroom run was about the 6th trip to the bathroom that day.  And I gotta admit, the excitment was wearing off.

So, as I got ready to go, Handsome Dude, my blessed son, shouted for all the world to hear:

“Look!  Here comes Mom’s big bum again!”

And that, my dear readers, is why I deserved that expensive coffee for the trip home.

Gas to and from town:

$40

ER trip for two well-behaved boys

$1,000,000,000,000

Wendy’s for lunch

$11

Having your son proclaim the largeness of your rear for all the world to hear:

Priceless.

Happy Tuesday!

PS-This is your friendly, safety reminder to make sure your kids cannot, I repeat, cannot find any medicines or other things they should not have.

PPS-Or else you might have to spend lots of money and worry on a snowy, Tuesday afternnon.

PPPS-And you might hear that you have a big bum.