The Snot Runneth Over

It’s a lovely image, isn’t it? Imagine living it. I’ve got a bean, a Miss 6 and a hubby all snott-ified. Snuffling, sniffing, barely sleeping. It’s a party a minute around here. I’m just waiting. I know my days are numbered. Despite frequent hand-washings (my hands are basically raw from it), it’s inescapable. The bean leaned in to give me a kiss the other day and there was no way I was going to turn away from that. She’s an open-mouth kisser too. What’s a mom to do?

Miss 6 almost missed Halloween entirely because she felt so crappy. We skipped karate and she came home and went straight to bed. A two-hour nap later she was bouncing off of the walls in her Clifford costume. Ready to go. So trick-or-treat we went, with Neighbor Jane and fam. I took a festive Halloween glass filled with red wine. When asked, I simply said, “I’m the neighborhood lush.” It went over pretty well. And I made it through an exhaustive day of over-celebrating and sugared-kid frenzy. Almost intact. (I don’t do costumes. ☺)

The funny thing was that I tried to go all Suzy Homemaker and actually make the frickin’ Halloween cookies for the class party. I had signed up for cupcakes and couldn’t wait to go straight to Breadworks to grab a couple dozen. I also eagerly signed up to help the kids get into their costumes for the school parade. But, as usual, I got shot down. “Uh, thanks for offering, but what we really need is for you to make cookies and monitor the food table.” Well sh**. If I had wanted to make cookies and monitor the food table during the party, I would have signed up for those tasks. But here’s what I said instead, “Okay!” So I ended up making some really sucky pumpkin cookies that no one ate and stuffing goodie bags while fending off kids who were insistent on picking their noses just before touching all of the food. Gag. Definitely not my idea of Halloween fun. But I guess you could call sticking a booger under the edge of the food table a pretty nifty trick. At least to the 6-year-old set.

Miss 6 was thrilled that I was there though. So who am I to complain? The other day she said, “Can you please come right after school and walk with me to karate and then stay the whole time?” I thought, “Here’s that full circle moment.” When I was a kid, I just wanted my mom to be home when I got home from school. Just once. And here I’ve created this whole work/life deal that I think works swimmingly well — and it’s still not quite enough. Even though I volunteer in the classroom every week and wipe down the entire classroom with Lysol after a class Halloween party. And stand in the rain, chasing Bean around the wet field, watching Miss 6 do soccer practice. There’s some hidden message on relativity here, but I can’t think that deeply on no sleep.

The week has been pretty good, all snot considered. I had a few things to do for work, including a write up for the Flotown artist I’m collaborating with. I also had to come up with a list of team building ideas for a corporate management group, complete with themes and give-aways. There were a couple of not-so-fun things too — but I’ll play it safe and not mention those. ☺

The hubby and I got out for a date night a couple of times. Which is so rare that I should probably frame this entry for posterity’s sake. We got to go to the most favorite restaurant in the world on Saturday night and last night we went to a viewing of the results of our family photo shoot. After weeding through and picking the best ones, etc., we headed to Centro for dinner and margs. They have grapefruit margs there that are so, so good. At least the spicy food put the hubby’s sinuses on notice. (You really can’t beat a spicy pork burrito with a fried egg on top. Really.)

And the parents are getting divorced. It was made close-to-official this week with a lawyer visit by mom. She’s on an apartment hunt (not signing a long-term lease, luckily) and will be ready to move out any day. At least as of our last conversation. My step-dad is not really saying or doing anything. And he still doesn’t return calls, so there you have it. Looks like I’ll be going back to the southland to help mom move and sort through her mountain of stuff. I think I’ll take Purse Girl. She loves finding treasures and my mom has a house full-to-overflowing with them. ☺

PART TWO
So since I never got around to posting this last week, I might as well add in a foot note before doing so this many days later…Miss 6 has pneumonia. No, not the walking kind like back in August. The real deal. I even have a chest x-ray to prove it.

The Story
I put a big dent in her plans by making her come straight home from soccer practice on Friday. Nanner’s parents were having everyone over for dinner and Miss 6 did not want to miss the fun. “I hate missing fun!” I hear ya, sister. I was just starting to feel like an over-protective ogre when Saturday morning rolled around. Little miss woke up looking like she forgot to. So, during the debate of “Last soccer game of the season versus no soccer game at all,” I whipped out the thermometer. A clear 101+ degrees. And that was with little miss wiggle squirm sliding the thing all around in her mouth. “No soccer game.” As soon as the words came out of my mouth, she all but crumpled. And stayed that way until yesterday. Give or take the bed full of upchuck while I was conveniently out having a massage. Yes, I took a bit and got out, thinking the family of sickos would be napping. Imagine my surprise when I called to check in on the drive home. “Remember that strawberry smoothy?” “Yea?” “Yea.” Oh. As guilty as I felt over leaving the hubby to fend for himself in his own state of illness, I can’t honestly say that I am sorry I missed that scene. Miss 6 had already been shampooed clean and her sheets were in the wash by the time I got home. The only reminder was the trashcan that she spent the next 24 hours hovering over in fear.

Come Sunday, things were not improving. Miss 6 was a whimpering mess. And I couldn’t decide if she was milking it or it was all for real. I finally decided the latter around 4 and called in the experts. “Oh yea. Her breathing is way too rapid. I’ll have the doc call you.” My heart sank. I thought she was breathing like that to get me to sit down with her and give her attention. I’m an idiot. They called back and sent us straight to the pediatric urgent care 25 minutes away. I went alone with Miss 6, leaving the hubby behind with bean. Four hours later, we had the x-ray and the diagnosis, “This is an impressive showing of pneumonia. She’s lucky she’s breathing as well as she is.” Sh**.

We got home around 10 and I’ve been doing the eagle eye over her and feeding my guilt over ignoring her symptoms by eating too much damn chocolate ever since. No wine. Just sugar. Straight up.

That’ll teach me.

TODAY’S THEME SONG: Loser. Beck. Soy un perdedor. I’m a loser baby so why don’t you kill me? (double-barrel buckshot) Either that, or just losing it. You be the judge.