What Were You Doing . . .

at 4:30 in the morning today? I was busy giving a stuffed duck a bath. Yep - at 4:30 in the morning when most normal people are snoring away in their warm beds.\

Lolli has been sick these past several days. Her runny drippy nose, hacking coughs, and ocassional fevers are punctuated with intermittent nosebleeds. The first nosebleed was the result of a two-year old's finger digging deep for the gold. The others have been the result of coughing or sneezing too hard. With all the saturated red on the bedsheets and crumpled up tissues in the trashcan, one would think we were filming an episode of "C.S.I." in our home.

Last night, Lolli woke up crying and asking for a hanky (to wipe her drippy nose). I could hear the congestion in her nose and asked if she wanted me to get the blue "ball sucker" to rid the wet contents in her nose. As usual, she refused with a cry. After mashing the once-clean hanky on her nose and smearing mucous all over, I finally saw in the very dim light of the early early morning - it was blood. Oh dear. Kiss that warm bed of mine good-bye.

Her little best friend, the yellow duck, look like it was also a C.S.I. victim. (Do I dare suggest "fowl play"?!) Air boss had to whip out the digital cam and capture the moment. One day when I figure out how to post photos, you'll be seeing the bloody duck.




bloody duckling, originally uploaded by radioflyer007.

Click on the picture to see another picture of the bloody duckling...

A Quiet Afternoon . . .

[WARNING: please do not read if you have a senstive stomach; graphic descriptions and unsettling details recorded below]

I thought I was in for a nice quiet afternoon and could get caught up on some much needed reading. Lolli was upstairs quiet and taking her afternoon nap. I brought a book to read by the front door as I waited for 'Shroom's bus to drop him off at home.

I waited. And waited. The bus was already 15 minutes late. Then I heard Lolli crying upstairs in her room. "Eh, I'll just let her cry. That's not so unusual," I thought to myself as I glanced at my watch. 'Shroom was officially 18 minutes late. Lolli's cries esclated to a pitch that was now a bit unusual. Still - I had to wait by the door since 'Shroom's bus could be showing up anytime now. Shrieks from upstairs. Uh oh.

I abandoned my post by the front door and went upstairs to see what was up with Lolli. She was a mess. No, let me rephrase that. She was a MESS! Vomit was everywhere - every flat surface, horizontal, vertical, sloped, crooked, you name it. The brown chunkage was all over her face and hair and to be honest, even now I don't know if she vomitted orally or through her nose (or both). She started heaving again and I grabbed a little flimsy (previously used, mind you) tissue that was discarded on the floor. Yup, I felt the warmth flow through my fingers.

All the while, as I was stripping her down and hosing her off in the shower, I thought, "If only this could be the day when the bus comes REALLY REALLY late." Lolli was still crying as she saw the mess and was violently shivering. The chunkage from her clothes and body was clogging up the tub drain and the murky water was lapping up against her body. I quickly transferred the clothes to the sink only to find to my dismay that the curdled cheese chunks (mozeralla string cheese will do it) got wedged between the drain stopper and the sink hole. Uggh.

As if that wasn't enough, mid-shower, the doorbell rang. I couldn't wrap Lolli up in a towel - she still had traces of vomit aftermath. I closed the shower curtain and hoped the heat would stay in the tub. I dashed down the stairs and make my way out. I see (and smell) that I have been smeared with the slimy ooze (extra greasy from the peanut butter sandwich).

"I can't come in the van to get him," I inform the bus driver. "I'm covered in vomit."

The driver's assistant, the one who rang the doorbell, was more than happy to keep me out of the van. She retrieved 'Shroom.

"We were waiting outside for you for 15 minutes," the driver accused.

"You couldn't have," I countered. I looked at my watch. Six minutes had elapsed since I left my post at the door. "I was waiting for you at the front door until 3:25."

Regardless, I apologized for making them wait and when they saw that I was truly covered in the gook, front and back (don't ask how it got on the back of my shirt), they didn't make a bigger deal. 15 minutes my butt.

Now, 45 minutes later, I have both kids in bed - one with still-wet hair and the other with still-wet eyes ('Shroom had seen his beloved wooden train with which Lolli had chosen to take a nap, covered in the foul-smelling peanut butter and cheese gook).

So much for my quiet afternoon.