It occurred to me that the very first time I blogged was actually years ago. I did it in “Notes” on Facebook. Do you even know what I’m talking about? I know, right? Embarassing. Now, brace yourself, those “notes” are still in your Facebook profile. Talk about a throw back. Lucky for me, my “note” from 2010 was still there in all its glory. After posting this, a few people told me how I should “blog” more. But, you know, I was really just waaaay too busy at the time going to law school with three kids. And, now, I really just have so much more time while I’m running a full-time law practice with four kids. So, here we go! *Full disclosure, I’ve edited it some. I mean, I had terrible use of commas and periods outside the quotation marks before I went to law school, so I could not stop myself. I mean, really, it would have killed me and ruined my reputation as an esteemed legal writer.
So, here is a reboot of my very first blog post. It’s definitely more about the #momlife and navigating the scary world of single parenting, which was my life back in the day. So, if this isn’t your jam, I promise the boozy posts will be back right away. Here it is, the blog post that I call, Spring Broken:
So, I had to chronicle my day in the life yesterday trying to send my kids off on their spring break trip with fun. Well, I’ll say it was memorable, at least.
The day started out with Kid #1 waking me up at 6:30 am. So much for sleeping in on the first day out (it’s my Spring Break too after all), but all’s well. I drug myself out of bed and made French Toast for breakfast. Fantastic start, right? Well, Kid #1 happened to mention her tummy was “kind of hurting,” but this is not an uncommon complaint of hers. She has a sensitive tummy and it kind of comes and goes. So, was it coming or going today? Keep reading.
Well, I had this fantastic idea that I would take my three kids and the guy I’m dating (in the original I called him “scared silly stud,” which is both endearing and so cheesy it’s embarrassing now, but you all know it’s Chace, so back to the story) to the Science Spectrum. You see, Chace likes science, I like Chace, my kids like science, so I fully believe this is the perfect outing to really show Chace that kids are so much fun and “really” not so crazy all the time, right? To be clear and give him a little credit, he’s great with my kids, spends time with them and they love him. But, the whole big outing thing and “how to herd them all” kind of scares him. Fair enough. Keep reading.
So, on we charged to the Science Spectrum! And, we saw dinosaurs and fire trucks and cool pendulum thingies and lizards and it’s all going well (except for when Kid #3 tried to climb on top of the fake cow with the milking machine connected to it). But, otherwise smooth considering, so we enter the Imax to see the Wild Ocean (which really should be named the show all about sardines and how the sardine supply is affecting the whole food chain and how sardines are the salt of the earth, or ocean, etc.). So, Kid #3 is even more restless and does the whole, sit next to me, climb on me, kick the ladies’ head in front of us, try to climb under the armrest between the seats and then stops, stares at me, and gives me that crazy-eyes look where he clinches his fists, grits his teeth and his whole body shakes. You parents out there know exactly what I’m talking about. Keep reading.
You may be wondering about Kid #2. See, she’s usually pretty skilled at maintaining her position as the center of attention, and I’ll come back to her, but for the most part of this day, she was delightful. As we walk out, I can’t help but notice that Kid #1 is looking pretty darn pale. I feel a little squeamish myself from the whole flying sensation that the Imax gives you, so I’m hoping upon hope that’s what she’s feeling as well. You already know where this is going, but just stay with me. We fortuitously turned to the right toward the back exit from the theater and she lets out one of those deep coughs.
You know exactly the one I’m talking about. The kind that comes from the depths that we don’t talk about.
So, quickly shifting to “mom in crisis” mode, I drop my purse and Kid #3 (don’t worry, he’s fine, more like set him down quick and Chace helpfully stepped in) and try to render aid to Kid #1. And because I’m absolutely brilliant, I try to “help” her by sticking my hands out, as if I could catch her puke in my hand. Instead, my hand was an incredible deflector that allowed the puke to bounce off and spread all across the floor. I mean it. It launched way further than it could have on its own.
I grabbed Kid #1, pulled her close, and began flying to the restroom. I’m pretty sure her feet hardly touched the ground and we pretty much ran over a lady who took one look at us and just slammed her own back against the wall to get out of the way. I zipped through the door and threw my child into a stall and she looked at me. “I’m done, Mom.” Of course, she was done. It was back scattered all over the floor thanks to my deflecting skills. So, I cleaned us up and grabbed several paper towels because I actually do believe in cleaning up our messes. You’d think that would be enough for this day, right? Keep reading.
So, after all of this excitement, Kid #3 has fallen asleep immediately in the car and all Kid #2 can think about is Taco Bueno (that’s how old this post is, we still had a Taco Bueno), of course, sounds great right about now, huh? By the time we arrived at home, Kid #3 wouldn’t stay asleep and did that whole lay down for a few seconds while I tip toe out of his room and then he starts to cry. Ugh. Kid #1 is resting in bed and hasn’t had any more episodes, but not feeling great at all. I decide it’s rest time for everybody and Chace runs some errands (can you blame him?) which included getting food for dinner, if anyone feels like eating by that point. Once again, keep reading.
Everyone is resting somewhere, well, sort of, anyway. Kid #3 is playing in his room, but he’s quiet. And, at this point it occurs to me, it’s a little too quiet. Right about that same time, I hear him calling to alert me that he’s wet. And, as I go to find him, I quickly agree. He’s wet, really wet. I start to take off his soaking clothes while I head up to his room for clothes and to discover what sink or bathtub he got into when the FIRE ALARM starts squealing. YEP, that’s right, fire alarm. Then, (and this is all a blur because it was a little overwhelming with that siren going off inside my house) in addition to the alarm sounding, I can hear water running somewhere, as if it’s going through pipes to, well, somewhere. Well, it was, it was running through the ceiling from Kid #3’s bathroom to the bottom floor.
You see, Kid #3 is fascinated with potty training at this time and thinks it’s super cool to flush things down the toilet, like a whole roll of toilet paper and a few toys to name some items of choice. At this moment, he has successfully overflowed his toilet into his entire bathroom floor. Obviously, the water needed somewhere to travel and it found its way through my fire alarm just below his room and leaked onto the floor in my office downstairs. Because the water caused the fire alarm to short circuit—go figure— it set ALL of my smoke detectors off. All of them. Wow. Those suckers are loud. Yep, you guessed it, keep reading.
As you can imagine, these loud fire alarms scare kids, especially my kids. Kid #3 is genuinely fearful and doesn’t know what the hell is going on, plus he’s naked at this point. Kid #2 is extremely disturbed by the gallon or more of water that has run straight through the ceiling and fire alarm on to the floor in front of her. Kid #1 just had her nausea come back in full force, probably from the stress of it all, and puked on the side of her bed, then ran to her bathroom to continue—yes, really—in the middle of the fire alarm sirens/toilet over flowing incident. Between throwing 20 towels on the floor both upstairs and downstairs, helping my puking child, reassuring my scared, naked child, and responding to my very concerned other child, it was a teensy bit stressful. Then, while the alarm was still going off, Chace called to get an earful of the chaos. Score a few for being single long term. Yep, there’s more, keep reading.
So, after cleaning up the mess and disconnecting the soaked fire alarm, chalking up the idea of my house being ridden with mold, and letting the single life thought settle in, I finally try to achieve another moment of rest for everyone, at which point, Kid #3 comes running back in with puke all over him. Not quite sure where he was when he puked exactly and didn’t find any around him, so thought he might have kept it all on himself (he did have a ton on him so I figured he was able to catch it all on his own clothes…. there is something to be said for that). Chace miraculously comes back and actually cooks dinner for those that feel like eating (could this guy be golden or what). I did see genuine relief on his face when I told him I couldn’t remember a day like this . . . at least, in recent memory, right?
So, the rest of the day goes a little bit better. Poor Kid #1 feels awful, but rests peacefully. Kid #3 continues to bounce off the walls regardless and then, we all settle down early after “Scared Silly Stud” departs the wet and ill smelling home. Kid #2 sweetly asks to sleep with me and I didn’t even have the energy to object at all, I mean, to her credit, she had lived through a lot with very little complaining today. Just as we are drifting off to sleep, she whispers to me “Momma, I think I just threw up a little bit in my mouth.”
Well, we lived through the night and the next morning, everyone is better. My spirits are good and I send the kids off happier and healthier than the day before. I sit down at the computer feeling like I need to blog it off—even though at this point, I had never blogged—this just seemed, well, blog worthy. Right about that time, I smell something. Yep, I found the location of Kid #3’s puking incident, on the floor under my desk. I think I just threw up a little bit in my mouth.
Our little group back in July of 2010, the same month we got engaged.