Rocket Science

I had to go out of town overnight this week and left Daddy flying solo with the three.  I left notes.  I instructed and lectured before I left.  I bought lunchables to make the lunchbox prep easier.  I thought I had all the bases covered.  After all, it was just one night.

I called home to check on everyone and was told by the nanny that Catherine wasn't feeling well.  She had pink eyes.  Was in a foul mood.  And she and William both had been put in time out at school.  So from three hours away I called the nurse to find out how we'd know if she truly had pink eye and what we should do about it.  I found out it's a simple diagnosis.  If she woke up and her eyes were glued together, it would be official.  In which case they'd call in some eye drops.  So I called Andy with instructions to watch out for Elmer eyes in the morning and call the Dr.  I'd deal with the time out issue later.  As for the foul mood....the point was????  Sounded like a typical day to me...

So the next morning I called early to check on her and Andy said the eyes were open and no sign of glue.  So she just had pink eyes...not pink eyes.  One crisis diverted.  He said he was off to do the morning routine and get everyone ready for school.  Knowing I'd left detailed instructions (and lunchables that surely could make it from the fridge into the bags) I wasn't worried.  But I wished him luck nevertheless.

I was walking into my breakfast meeting when my phone rang and I saw "home" flash on the screen.  I answered.  I heard weeping and wailing in the background.  Andy sounded desperate. 

"Can you talk to Catherine?  She wants to wear this little wrap shirt and bloomers to school."

"So?  Let her wear her Tinkerbell costume if she wants.  No one cares (something I've learned through great wisdom and experience)."

"No, not real bloomers.  They're more like panties.  She'd have on a shirt and panties."

"Hmmm.  Mmkay.  I see.  Put her on."

At this point I'm standing outside the door of the restaurant holding the phone to one ear and sticking my finger in the other ear to drown out the traffic.  I hear this sad little voice.

"Hey mama."

"Hey sweetie.  Listen, you need to do what Daddy tells you to do.  You need to wear what Daddy tells you to wear."

"Waaaaagggghhhh!  But I don't wanna...."

I cut her off.

"I'LL BRING YOU A BAG OF CANDY WHEN I GET HOME!!!!!!!"

"Okay.  Here, Daddy.  Talk to mama."

Daddy got back on the phone.

"Ok..." I announced, "She'll wear whatever you tell her to wear."

"How'd you do that?"

"Um, I just told her to do what you tell her to.  She minds me.  What can I say?"

I can't let him in on all my secrets.

But here's one I should have shared.  When I got home last night it was about 9:00.  Andy had let William and Catherine stay up to see me.  I was hugging on them and Andy said "Would you look at this?"  I followed him into the baby's room "This is what Stuart did until nearly 10:00 last night and he's doing it again!  I turn it off and he turns it back on and won't go to sleep!"

I looked into the room and sure enough, Stuart was reaching over next to the bed flipping the light switch on and off.  I walked up to the ceiling fan, pulled the cord to turn the light off from the fan as Andy's own light (the one in his head) came on at that point and he said "Ahhhhh." 

We're all adjusting.

One More Thing....

I have a footnote to the last post. Add this to things that just ain't right...

William had to go potty a while ago. The kind of potty where he stays in there a really long time and then hollers out "I'm finished now" and we're supposed to do something about it. Except that he's been told that five-year-olds should take care of their own business. So lately I just don't come running very fast when I hear him beckon from beyond the closed door.

So tonight he hollered out but it sounded different, so I DID go running. Only to open the door and have him ask me to hand him his newest prized possession. A tiny little plastic two cent pirate ring that he wears on his pinkie. It was lying on the bathroom counter and he needed it. Immediately. I rolled my eyes, held my nose and handed him the ring. And left to take care of my own business....washing dishes.

A minute or so later we hear a panicked, urgent call for help. I went running while Andy continued reading the paper, barely looking up. I opened the door and find William, still sitting there, peering into the pot with a forlorn look on his face. I didn't even have to ask. He looked down again, looked back up at me and whined, "Ma....ma! My ring!"

No. Friggin'. Way.

I closed the door, walked out to where Andy was still perusing the sports page and said, "William needs you."

Let's just say that Andy's now William's hero. Had something to do with a rubber glove....some bleach....hot water....not sure what all else. But when he came to kiss me goodnight, William was proudly wearing his ring once again.

Eeew.

The things we do for love.

Things That Just Ain't Right

A few weeks ago I was walking into my bedroom and looked over in the corner next to one of the french doors and saw a pile of....something. I got a little closer, somewhat comforted that there was no odor, but quite perplexed and mildly disturbed that someone or something had left a pile of indistinguishable YUCK in the corner of my room. I hollered at Andy and beckoned him over to view along with me and, very eloquently inquired, "What the CRAP is THIS?"

Upon further investigation and after opening the door and looking along the entire perimeter of the door and the outside adjourning patio, we discovered that there appeared to be a fungus among us.

So yesterday we took to removing the mess and, along with it, had to remove the door and portions of the wall, leaving a huge gaping hole in our bedroom. Very elgantly covered by a lovely plastic sheet held up by duct tape.

So today Andy is hopefully going to be able to hang the door because I'm not sure the visqueen is much of a crime deterrant. Luckily we don't get much crime in Mayberry. But you never know. There's always Mrs. Joann.

Oh, and to make this project even more fun, Catherine is sick. And I'm supposed to be leaving on Tuesday to be out of town the rest of the week. Oh, and my coffee pot is broken. And Stuart won't stop eating the dog food. And....and...I'm scared to think of what's next.

Of course then there's the election....

Sigh.