Of course, this is better than tiny objects up the nose (if I had a nickel for every Lego I've removed from Matthew's nose... never mind the marshmallow incident...). Or at least I thought so, until I found out my son would have to go to the hospital and be sedated so they can remove a bead from his ear.
I can just imagine the waiting room now:
"My son is having tubes put in his ears."
"Mine is having having his tonsils out."
"Mine has a bead stuck in his ear..."
Oh well. I can record it in my Great Moments in Parenting, right next to the time I had to call Poison Control on Leah twice in one month ("Wild hyenas would be more qualified to raise children than you are, Mrs. Overly...") and the time Matthew and Leah both fell all the way down the stairs within two minutes of each other while I was standing, oblivious, ten feet away.
At least something in the ear canal won't migrate to his brain while we wait for Matthew's "procedure" this afternoon. And at least the bead can't go past the eardrum. (Come to think of it, maybe this is payback for the time Matthew jammed a q-tip through Leah's eardrum).
I don't know if it's because I am operating at Full Frazzle this week or what, but my kids seem to be on a mission to send me to the loony bin. My sweet, girly Leah -- when she wasn't sticking beads in her brother's ear -- peed on my lawn this week. Yes, you read that right. The only child with non-adjustable private parts peed on my lawn.
When she got in trouble for stripping off her panties and watering the grass, she wailed over the unfairness of it all. "But Michael and Matthew peed on the lawn and didn't get in trouble!"
Um, what?
"Matthew, did you pee on the lawn?"
"Yes."
"Michael, did you pee on the lawn?"
"No... well, not on the lawn. Just in the window well."
Oh good, because that's SO MUCH BETTER.
Really, I'm just telling you all this because I feel it justifies the fact that I ate nothing but pumpkin candies for dinner last night. Normally about three of those things is enough to send me into sugar shock, but it's just been that kind of week.
Don't judge.
I can just imagine the waiting room now:
"My son is having tubes put in his ears."
"Mine is having having his tonsils out."
"Mine has a bead stuck in his ear..."
Oh well. I can record it in my Great Moments in Parenting, right next to the time I had to call Poison Control on Leah twice in one month ("Wild hyenas would be more qualified to raise children than you are, Mrs. Overly...") and the time Matthew and Leah both fell all the way down the stairs within two minutes of each other while I was standing, oblivious, ten feet away.
At least something in the ear canal won't migrate to his brain while we wait for Matthew's "procedure" this afternoon. And at least the bead can't go past the eardrum. (Come to think of it, maybe this is payback for the time Matthew jammed a q-tip through Leah's eardrum).
I don't know if it's because I am operating at Full Frazzle this week or what, but my kids seem to be on a mission to send me to the loony bin. My sweet, girly Leah -- when she wasn't sticking beads in her brother's ear -- peed on my lawn this week. Yes, you read that right. The only child with non-adjustable private parts peed on my lawn.
When she got in trouble for stripping off her panties and watering the grass, she wailed over the unfairness of it all. "But Michael and Matthew peed on the lawn and didn't get in trouble!"
Um, what?
"Matthew, did you pee on the lawn?"
"Yes."
"Michael, did you pee on the lawn?"
"No... well, not on the lawn. Just in the window well."
Oh good, because that's SO MUCH BETTER.
Really, I'm just telling you all this because I feel it justifies the fact that I ate nothing but pumpkin candies for dinner last night. Normally about three of those things is enough to send me into sugar shock, but it's just been that kind of week.
Don't judge.
1 comment:
I love reading your blog, Bonnie! You've got such a way with words! As for the peeing on the lawn, my boys have peed in more places than I can even count. With my first son I was completely mortified. But the kids have worn me down, I tell ya! I don't even care anymore! As long as it isn't at a neighbors' (they hosed down the neighbors' trampoline together this summer . . . naked), in my garden or in public I just don't have it in me to care. The world is their urinal! It's sad, isn't it, that our kids reduce us to such a primitive state?
Post a Comment