Tuesday, April 22, 2014

X-Man has a fever. Despite Mac’s best efforts, cowbell is NOT helping. Cinco just turned a year old, which means it was this time a year ago that X-Man began trying to squeeze as many ear infections as possible into one month. Yet again, his nose is pouring and his breathing is uneven and his eyes are teary. I am wondering if the poor boy has the worst allergies ever.

I had to determine how high his fever was. I don’t like to give medication until it reaches a certain temperature, just because. I had to take his temperature under his arm. This isn’t my first choice, but as my thermometer that takes readings on the temple has grown legs and walked off. I don’t blame it. But I was reduced to shoving an old school--well not that old the read out is still digital--thermometer under his arm. X-Man denounced this violation of his human rights loudly and with prejudice. I considered informing him of another way to gauge his internal temperature, but the amount of effort he put into trying to remove the thermometer from his armpit convinced me to leave well enough alone.

The boy is sick and laying in my lap. Although he is not a small child, he is a snuggle bug….especially when not feeling well.

Ah Easter. The mix of candy and outside play seems like a good one. What better way to burn off the sugar? But it also brings interesting moments of dread. Like when you discover your potty training son’s dirty jeans on the floor of the bathroom. Covered in dirty, there was an alarming crusty, yucky something all over the seat of them. I cringed and investigated further, only to determine that X-Man had sat on and melted a large quantity of chocolate. My relief was quickly replaced by horror….”did he sit and ruin his chocolate rabbit? That was good quality chocolate there! What a waste!” At least I didn’t attempt to salvage any of the squished chocolate. Although it had been that kind of day.

Today I was THAT mom. My son walked into his swimming lessons wearing only his swimming trunks and rubber rain boots. Both were wise choices, he was going swimming and it was raining. However, that’s not typically the image I like to project to the general public. It wasn’t due to lack of trying. I told Mac to get ready for swimming. I was trying to get dinner prepped and kids settled and heard Mac head out to the car. I was pleased that he was down with the drill. I hopped in the car and took off. I strongly recommend checking your children’s appearance in the rearview mirror BEFORE pulling out of the driveway. Otherwise you find yourself walking into a public building with your son, bare chested with dinosaur rain boots on his feet. And I was surprisingly ambivalent about it.

Most parents were too busy caring for their own children to seem to notice. However one mother did cast a disapproving look my way. I met her eyes and said “It’s earth day. We’re reducing our laundry needs.

Go ahead. Judge me now.  

1 comment:

  1. That's how we go to swimming. Except we go barefoot.