Maybe if I had knocked on wood!

It's all my fault.  There's no getting around it.  I have no one else to blame.

A couple of weeks ago, someone asked me if we were all staying well this winter.

And I said something glib and light and CRAZY like "Yes, amazingly, we have had virtually no sickness this year!"

So as you can see, the sickness that has besieged our house is obviously because of this statement.

Last night, my oldest daughter succumbed to the creeping crud, as my mother-in-law would call it.  So, in various forms, this illness has a record of 3 for 7 so far.  I'm seriously hoping it doesn't run the house, but I didn't start this mothering thing yesterday.  There's absolutely no doubt all the kids are going to get it.

So I'm on day six of sweats and no makeup, having only left the house once since Friday morning.  My girls are watching Madagascar 3, which really is an amazing film (quite unlike Hop) and I am finally feeling well enough to knock out some much needed chores around this joint.

On a brighter note, the snow is coming down in huge flakes and it's beautiful outside - and I get to stay inside and enjoy the view.

I'm not feeling the love

While I was sick over the weekend, the kids watched the movie Hop.  Since I had absolutely no energy, I was held prisoner and forced to watch it too.  During one scene, the main character (who turns out to be the first human Easter bunny - this is an amazing film) is house sitting for his sister's boss.  She tells him to be very careful in the house, because her boss loves his house more than he loves his children.

I looked up at my eight year old and said, "Me too.  I love my house more than my children."

He smiled and said, "No you don't, Mom!"

I started to smile and was about to respond that nothing could ever be more important than my children, gush gush, love love, mush mush.  When he continued with, apparently seriously:

"Our house is way too messy."

That would be no. . .

I've been sick for the last four days.  As in, sitting in the recliner with aches, fever, cough and congestion.  My littlest babe is sick also, so we have been watching a lot of sprout, disney junior and pbs kids.  I'm about to lose my mind.

Tonight, I flipped the TV on, in search of something to entertain my brain - anything that didn't involve singing animals but that wouldn't scar the nearby children.  To my relief, I found The Brady Bunch.  Score!  And even better, it was the episode where all the Brady kids were singing to win money to pay for the silver platter!  You know this episode, right?  Jan got the math wrong on the engraving??

As I settled back into my chair, my six year old piped up, "Is this Downton Abbey?"

Bits and pieces of our family life

Two of my children just finished performing in the Wizard of Oz at our favorite local theater.  The show was great - I was so proud of them!  But one of my favorite parts of the experience was hearing my 3 year talk about it:  "I LOVED the Lizard of Oz, Mommy!", and "We're off to see the Lizard, the wonderful Lizard of Oz!"

As we began discussing with our children the Lenten discipline of sacrifice, we asked our six year old son if he would like to give something up too.  We suggested a few age appropriate things to see if he might like to try it this year.  Given his age, we weren't too sure if he would really grasp the concept fully.  He waffled for a bit, tossed aside our suggestions and decided to give up Sonic.  Then Tails (Sonic's yellow buddy).  Then all things yellow.  Yes, all things yellow.  The day after Ash Wednesday, we watched him as he held a Lego while playing, realized it was yellow and dropped it like a hot potato.  He then gingerly picked it up by the black edge.  Whew.  That was close!  Now, a week or so into Lent, it appears the yellow-less Lent has subsided.

Yesterday I suggested something to little K that she thought would be great.  She responded, smooth as silk, "That would be splendid, Mommy!"  She also has recently enjoyed using "washmouth" after brushing her teeth.

Overheard this week:

"Mom!  This dinner smells like dead tarantulas!"

"Mom!  When I get big can I wear an eyebrow like you?"  says she while holding up a bra.

"Son, you seem to have a problem with farting today," says I after hearing what seemed to be the 548th toot of the afternoon.
"Mom said fart!!!  Mom said fart!!!" replies the exuberant boy.

"Do we get to ride in the trunk??!" says my daughter with great joy.  Er, that's the Sportage. . .we haven't resorted to putting children in the trunk - yet.

"I know what I'm gonna give up for Lent!  Yellow!!" says the boy sincerely.

And one more zinger that is escaping me . . .I think I have about 17 brain cells left today.

You spin me right round, baby!

This morning I went to a spinning class at the Y.  For one hour, I pedaled my little heart out.  This may not sound like a big deal to you, but to me it was an accomplishment.  I have a love/hate relationship with working out, and by that I mean I love to hate it.  

I have belonged to the Y several times over the years, with mixed results.  Two times I have tried to attend classes regularly, only to have the children cry miserably whenever I left them there (and once one of the kids was bitten!).  SO!  I thought to myself those many years ago - I guess it's not meant to be!  The kids hate it!  I can't keep coming and traumatizing the children!  Must quit - too bad!

Another time I began attending, only to get pregnant and experience horrible morning (all day, of course) sickness.  Must quit again!  And also because pregnancy means a free ticket to eat whatever I want.  Shoot!  Working out just isn't going to work out for me!  Bummer!

This time, I carefully thought it through before signing on the dotted line.  I took sweet little K to the playroom to try it out.  She loved it so much she begged to stay.  I tried out the treadmill one day and a class today.  Both were good.  Perhaps the time has come when I can actually work out and maybe, just maybe, I will stick with it.  I'll keep ya posted.

A few times I thought my legs were going to collapse under me and I was going to cause a scene and embarrass myself (and my dear husband, who went to the class with me for moral support).  Miraculously they did not, and I persevered.  My butt, however, is in some serious pain.  I hear that will subside over time.  I sincerely hope so.

As I was spinning all those miles (because I must have ridden super far in an hour, right??), I recalled the last time I had ridden a bike such a distance.  Colorado, in the bike ride of (near) death.  While my legs were quite jelly-like today, nothing compares to that ride.  Score!

A little back and forth

Last Friday, someone pulled the fire alarm at our kids' school.  It was right at the end of the day, and it was the Big News as all the kids piled into the van at carline.  The kids knew who did it and were full of information, laughing about the craziness of it all.

Later that afternoon, I was discussing the situation with my son, just reiterating the importance of never touching the bright and shiny red handle, right at his eye level.  He agreed that he should never touch it, then embarked on this internal dialogue:

"I didn't pull it, right?"

"No, I didn't pull it!"  Big smile, head tipped to the side.

"No, I didn't pull it. . ."

The child did not pull the fire alarm.  But he is so eager to do the right thing that he second guesses himself all the time - to the point of having to remind himself that he was, in fact, innocent in this situation.  His impulse control does need some tweaking, no doubt about it.  But he really wants to be good.  

I love this kid!

Iron Deficiency

My older daughter has been asking me for days to iron something small she had made.  Finally, this morning, I went into the laundry room and dragged out the iron and a beach towel (who wants to mess with the cumbersome ironing board?)

My younger daughter, age 3 1/2, said, "What's that, Mommy?"

When I told her, she asked, "Is it loud?"

She has never seen this appliance.  What does that say about me?  And also the above admission that I wasn't about to get out the ironing board (buried behind the kids' laundry baskets next to the washer/dryer).  Does it say I'm a woman with a wrinkled family, or that I'm too lazy to buy clothes that are 100% cotton?   Or that I'm laid-back and carefree, preferring wash and wear textiles to fit our busy lifestyle?

Well, of course it means I'm carefree!  Not lazy in the slightest.  But you knew that already anyway, right?