Patrick and the Noodles

Be forewarned - "bodily functions" post coming up!!

Patrick has a little cold.  His nose is a bit snotty, but so far that's it.  When this happens around here I like to hit it hard and not wait around to see if it is going to turn into something.  My kids don't often just get the "sniffles" so I like to nip it quickly and move on.  So, today he has had lots of supplements, oils, and green drinks.  Sometimes what I give them actually makes their noses run more and causes a detox reaction.

So, this afternoon when Graham came in and said Patrick's nose was bleeding, I wasn't too alarmed.  It wasn't really a "nose bleed" in the typical sense.  It was more like when he blew his nose, there was blood mixed in.  This has happened to all of us at one point or the other since we moved to Arizona.  The climate is just so dry and sinuses easily dry out and bleed a bit.

I got a tissue and told Patrick to blow.  He blows his nose better than any two year old I have ever seen!  I found it odd that though he blew really hard, nothing much came out.  So, I looked up his nose and one side looked clear, but in the other side I saw what appeared to be the largest booger I have ever seen.

Anyone who knows me knows that I don't do snot - even my own baby's snot.  I could throw up just thinking about slimy green runny noses.  Ugh.  But, I also can not stand to leave huge boogers in my kids noses.  I am kind of a "picker" that way.  So.....  I got more tissue and some saline.  I did find it a bit odd that he was lying perfectly still letting me spray saline up his nose and then he kept blowing and blowing.  Nothing was happening.  Weird.

I admit that I picked at it a little with my finger nail - and again found it very odd that he let me.  What I found even more odd was that when my fingernail touched the "booger" small bits of it got under my fingernail in pieces.  Very concise pieces, not slimy like a booger at all.  In fact, the pieces were kind of chunky and white - like....oh.my.goodness. JUST like the rice pasta he had for lunch.

You have got to be kidding me?!?!

This kid had stuffed pasta up his nose!?!?

"Patrick," I asked.  "What is this in your nose?  Is it pasta?"

**sheepish grin**

SERIOUSLY?!?!

Now, I am on a real mission.  I spray saline, he blows, I dig.....we are getting absolutely nowhere!!  There is no way he can breathe from that nostril at all.  There is no air passage at all and no end in sight to all the noodle stuffed up there.  By this time Graham has alerted all the other kids and Joshua has the idea to use the suction bulb that they give you in the hospital when babies are born.  Miracle, I still had one and even bigger miracle, I actually found it.

Now, I'm getting down to serious business.  I spray the saline and stick the "sucker" up there.  All this time, he is still lying quietly, hopefully contemplating the fact that this was a very very bad idea.  I notice that the chunk of noodle is getting closer, but I still can't reach it.  I keep pressing the bulb down and sucking again.  Finally, the first chunk attaches to the end of the bulb - it is too large to actually get sucked up in there.  

One out.

This happened two more times - each chunk bigger than the last.  Seriously, I don't know how he managed to get all that shoved up there.  Way more came out than I would ever have been capable of putting back in.

When the last, and largest, chunk came out he visibly took a deep breath.  Poor little guy, he definitely couldn't breathe through that side of his nose at all.

So, there you have it - just another day at our house.  Hopefully, he realized from the whole thing that noodles belong on the plate or in your mouth and not in other orifices.  Then again, he is only two.....so who knows what else I may be in for??  At least for today, we avoided an ER visit.

Go ahead and laugh, I did.  I don't see any other choice really.

Patrick, Potties, and Poop

How come all but one of my "A Day in Our Life" stories have to do with bodily functions??

Oh yeah, because we have a two year old in the house.  Enough said.

Today, I have to combine a couple of funny, or not so funny (depending on who is telling the story) things that have happened at our house in the past two days.  Really, I just don't want to forget these stories because you know I must have some embarrassing tales for Patrick's wedding day - and since I will definitely be a gray haired Mama by then - who am I kidding, I'm a gray haired Mama now - I might forget if I don't write it all down.

As I have said before on here, Patrick is in the midst of potty training.  Pretty much, he is potty trained, at least at home.  He knows where his potty is located and he never has an accident at home.  When we are out though, you just have to ask him often if he has to go because he is unfamiliar with where the toilet is located and he is busy playing and doesn't want to stop.  Typical two year old stuff.

Well, yesterday, he has just finished making his morning deposit in his potty, which is still located in our family room because - well, for no good reason, except he wants it there and I want him to stay dry, so there you have it.  He normally has his first #2 early in the morning and sure enough, there it was.  I was doing something on the computer, right next to him and I saw he had pooped.  I was planning to empty it as soon as I finished - maybe 1 minute.  Lyndsey had a painting she had completed sitting next to her on a chair nearby.  For whatever indiscernible reason, Patrick decided to run by and grab her painting.  She jumped up and took it from him.  He got mad, as evidenced by the purse of his lips and the crossing of his arms - his trademark "I'm really ticked at you" stance.  He didn't scream or make any noise at all, and I continued what I was doing and Lyndsey continued what she was doing.  She had her back to him, and I was sitting at the computer.  He walked quietly across the room, picked up his potty - which was still full - and began to "sneak" across the room, gingerly holding the sloshing mixture in front of him.  I noticed the movement in my peripheral vision and thankfully looked just in time to stop him from dumping the full potty on Lyndsey from behind.  She was one grateful girl!!!

Later in the day, Patrick got angry at me for disciplining him and he headed toward his potty again.  This time it had only pee in it (I promise y'all that I empty the thing, he had just done it).   He picked it up and I got to him in time to stop him from coming toward me with it, but some sloshed on the floor.  I had him wipe it up and then told him he must sit in time out while I mopped the floor.  He was not happy and started crying - but, miraculously, he stayed in the time out chair.  Anyway, after I mopped the floor I went in to talk to him.  I hugged him and told him I loved him but that he could not dump his potty out when he was angry.  I asked him to apologize to me.  He said, in his sweet little voice, "I sawry, Mom."  I asked him what he was sorry for (because as all of you with two year olds know, he is not really sorry at all, no matter how cute it sounds).  His response, "I sawry I was going dump potty on you head."  Yeah - NICE.

Fast forward to today.  I went with the girls to get a pedicure and Stan decided to take the little boys to the park.  They met another daddy there with his two little girls and they were flying a kite.  Patrick and Graham were thrilled to be able to have a turn.  Then, they all walked over to a nearby pavilion and Stan was having a conversation with the dad, a psychologist.  Apparently, a daddy's version of "watching" their children is different than a mommy's because somehow Stan missed Patrick pulling down his pants and depositing his daily #2 on the ground - "like the doggie does."  The little girl who was there with her dad said, "Look, he pooped" and Stan turned around to see a pretty large pile on the ground.  Needless to say, we didn't make any new friends today.  Stan and Graham used a doggie bag located at the park to pick it up and throw it away.  Maybe they should put pictures of little boys on those things!!

So, there you have it.  Just a couple of our many poop stories.  Don't cha' just LOVE two year olds?!?!

Family Pictures

Here comes your Christmas humor - get ready for it.

The neighborhood we live in has a monthly magazine in which they feature a family per month.  They have a lot of pictures and a nice interview style write up about each family.  I had the bright idea that since we need a new family picture made, that I would volunteer our family for the magazine because they send a professional photographer to your house and you don't have to pay a sitting fee.  (After all, you are doing them a favor, right?)

Getting a family of seven ready for family pictures is a feat all its own - add to that the fact that two of your family members are photographers themselves, with lots and lots of ideas of how we should dress and it is a recipe for STRESS.  Now, go figure that of course the only day that we could come up with to do these pictures is three days before Christmas.

So, today was the day.  Bryce will not allow us to be easy and wear jeans and white shirts - oh no, we have to be creative - and if Lyndsey is involved, we also have to be accessorized!! So, we had scarves, belts, and skinny jeans galore going on in our outfits.

The boys all wisely said, "Just tell me what to wear."

The nice photographer shows up at the door promptly at 4:15.  I opened the door to greet her and Patrick was close behind me, pulling her into the house and smiling as he screeches "my friend is here."  Everyone who enters is his "friend" and only here to see him.  Then Graham comes running by, barefooted.  I had already yelled to everyone that she was here, so we moved out the front door to find a spot.  Joshua meanders out, with Stan close behind him.  The lady begins to count in her head and when I said, "Would someone get the girls?" I think she knew it was going to be a long session.

She was a very nice older lady, and she had quality equipment, but I'm not sure photography is really her day job.  She was very soft spoken and didn't really know where or how she wanted us to stand, and she seemed kind of nervous.  We need our photographers to be a bit on the forceful side.  Enter our very own family photographers who kept hissing in my ear, "This is not the best lighting, mom."

Now, picture our family.  Patrick, cute as a button in a sweater vest and plaid shirt, but wiggly and curious as a two year old, continuously running in circles yelling "C H E E S E!" at the top of his voice.  Graham.  Well, enough said.  Barefoot, trying to make Patrick behave instead of worrying about himself, you get the picture.  The others were fine, just ready to be done, and Stan just stands and shakes his head - wondering how we ever get through the day.

This was the first round of photos in the front yard.  Then, we decide to try our luck out by the pool.  Now, the fun begins.  Our pool safety gate blocks the best entrance into the back yard, so you have to enter in a different spot and then climb over some rocks to get to the grassy area.  You can picture the poor photographer, with her photo bag and camera clamoring over large rocks in our backyard.  To top it off, I never ever go out in the backyard and the kids don't play out there much either (they mostly play in the driveway around the front of the house), and Stan probably hasn't been out there since we moved in.  So, needless to say, we didn't even think about the fact that the only one who is regularly in the backyard is - you guessed it - the dog.  Graham's job is "pooper scooper" but if you don't remind him he doesn't do it.  The fact that I don't remind him was painfully evidenced in the three million piles of dog poop dotted across the back yard, in the rocks around the pool, and under all the trees.  The photographer didn't say anything, and we all stepped high - all except Graham who at this time is still barefooted and he immediately stepped on a cactus.  To his credit, he didn't scream or throw a fit, he just left the spikes in his foot and balanced on one foot for the photo shoot.  Stan, who just isn't used to the antics of all of us in a situation like this, kept talking to Graham out of the side of his mouth, "Put your foot down Graham.  What are you doing?  Don't make a scene."  Finally, Graham loses it, "I have a cactus in my foot, Dad!"

Nice.  Stan now wants to crawl under the nearest rock - dog poop or no.

The lovely photographer got some really good shots, in spite of us.  Individual shots of Patrick and Graham in a tree.  Shots of just the girls and just the boys.  Several family shots that I hope to be able to use above our fireplace.

Once I announced that I thought she had what I wanted, she wished us a Merry Christmas and made her way back to her car.

Briskly.

I hope we didn't cause a pre-Christmas heart attack.

Border Patrol, Puke, and Lots of Laughs!

I never seem to have a picture when I need it, but you will just have to imagine this.  It won't be hard - think back to the parking garage story and the choking in the restaurant story.

My sister and her beautiful family are visiting us in Arizona.  We have really been cramming everything we can into the past eleven days.  We have hiked Walnut Canyon near Flagstaff and then endured a monsoon rainstorm nearby.  We have hiked at the Grand Canyon, been to the Bearazonia drive thru safari in Williams, Arizona, toured Sedona by Pink Jeep, and spent a day at Slide Rock.  That was the first four days.

The last four we spent in San Diego.  We got our price of admission out of the San Diego Zoo, logging a full twelve hours in the park.  We also spent several hours on Coronado Island, watching the kids splash in the cold Pacific.

Today was the day to make the drive home.  My husband, brother-in-law, my nephew, and Graham decided to leave bright and early and make it back to Phoenix for a Diamondbacks baseball game.  My sister and I decided to sleep in with the rest of the kids, eat a leisurely breakfast at a magnificent crepe place downtown and then make our way back across the desert.

We left the hotel and started back to Phoenix.  Anyone who has ever made this drive in the summer knows that it is barren between San Diego and Phoenix and the temperature gauge just gets higher and higher as you travel east.

Here is the picture you need in your head.  We are packed to the hilt with all the luggage, strollers, cooler, and miscellaneous other things that eleven people, including two toddlers, bring on vacation.  We forgot to get the movie case from the older boys, so the babies were on their third round of Hop (yes, my hair was getting thin) and some people in the car were crying for a bathroom stop.  In the midst of this, my sister and I are chatting it up in the front seat.  So much so, that the border patrol station kind of snuck up on us.  When we spotted it, my sister grabbed her camera because she wanted to show all of her NC friends the way we guard the border here in Arizona.  I am not sure how the border patrol feels about photographs.  Also, we were talking so much that I failed to see the sign directing cars in one direction and "larger" things like RVs and 18-wheelers in another.  Suddenly, I am wondering why all the cars are lined up to my left and me and a big ol' bus are the only ones on the right - with all those cones in the middle so I couldn't correct my mistake.  For some reason, this struck my sister and me as funny and we were laughing so hard when we arrived at the guard that I almost couldn't catch my breath.  I rolled down the window to greet the stoic man in a uniform and I was still laughing.  "Sorry," I gaffed, "I think I got in the wrong lane."

"It is fine ma'am.  Can you roll down the back window please?"  All this with just a little crack of a smile.  I guess he doesn't find his job funny at all.

I roll down the back window and the poor man is greeted by two toddlers in the middle and three teenagers crammed in the back.  I think I have already mentioned the miscellaneous garbage stuff you have when you travel with eleven people.  He pokes his head down and smiles a little at Patrick who just stares at him with his huge eyes.

"Are you all Americans?"

"Yes."

"Have a good day, and follow that bus, it will take you back to the interstate."  My being in the wrong lane had resulted in us exiting the interstate and having to take an access road back on.

As we drive away and I start to roll the window up, I am not exaggerating when I say it was less than twenty seconds and we heard this horrible gulping noise from the backseat.  Suddenly, Patrick begins to throw up the entire contents of his stomach - the egg and cheese crepe, the orange juice, the mango smoothie, yeah - you get the picture.  I slam on brakes and pull over to the side of the road.  He is staring with his huge eyes and he says softly, "I ok Mama."  This kid melts my heart!

We of course, have to pull him out, dig around in the packed out trunk, find clothes to change him into (ended up being a dirty pajama shirt, but whatever), locate paper towels, wipes, beach towels to soak the puke up out of the car seat, and find a blanket that he could sit on because the car seat smelled like - well, exactly what you can imagine it smelled like.  Meanwhile, the three teenagers in the car are gagging, grossing out, and all that stuff, all the while feeling pretty sorry for their brother who still had that confused look that babies get when they throw up.

Suddenly, we were once again struck in the funny bone by the thought of Patrick puking on the border patrol agent.  It wouldn't have really been funny of course, at least not for the poor agent, but we just could not stop imagining the whole scenario.  Somehow, it always ended up with us calling our husbands to explain why we were being detained by border patrol as they unloaded all the garbage from the car to search it.

We finally get Patrick to the point that he didn't have to actually sit in anything too gross and we book it the last two hours home.  Now, he is clean, his seat is clean, and the car is empty (though clean would be a stretch).  The very best news of all is that it appears that my baby boy was car sick because so far he has no fever, has eaten a great supper, been swimming twice, and is playing like normal.  Whew, I was not looking forward to a round of the stomach virus.  Thank you Jesus!!

Parking Garage Fun

I have decided I need a new blog label called A Day in Our Life.  Here is post #2 under that name. And here is your daily chuckle at my expense.

There is kind of a joke in our family and the kids circle of friends about me and parking garages.  I rarely get in and out of one without some kind of fiasco.  Several years ago, in Chattanooga, Tennessee, with all the kids and my mother in law we got in fine with our luggage topper on the car, but the exit was lower than the entrance....yeah, you get the picture.

Then, right after we moved to Arizona, one of the kid's friends was visiting and we went to eat near the Arizona State campus.  We parked in a parking garage and when it was time to leave, none of the exits would open without a ticket.  When we arrived, the gate was up and we had no ticket....yeah, again, you can picture the problem.

So, today my oldest two and one of their friends from Florida left to go to Summit Worldview camp in Colorado.  Their flight left at 12:20 and for once in my lifetime we were actually arrived at the airport 20 minutes earlier than I planned.  That had nothing to do with me, it was simply God who knew that I was going to have a blog worthy issue in the parking garage AND at the ticketing counter.

We just moved from our apartment into another rental home and so Joshua put the luggage carrier on top of the Suburban to help us move.  We decided to leave it there until we could take it to our new house tomorrow and store it in the garage.  I ALWAYS forget it is there and usually Joshua reminds me.  I guess he forgot this morning too because when I went zooming into the parking garage at the airport, I heard that horrible clunking sound that most of you are probably not familiar with.  It is the one that says, "Yeah, genius, you just hit this huge metal bar and raked it across the top of the luggage carrier.  Indicating that you may NOT enter the parking garage at risk of never getting out."

So....right there blocking the entry lane into the parking garage at the terminal of an airport in one of America's larges cities, Joshua and Riley jump out of the car and as quick as possible take the luggage carrier off the top of the car.  Now, these things are pretty large and with the luggage already in the back of the Suburban, it wouldn't fit.  These two had to carry the luggage topper up the ramp and into the parking garage, while I drove the car.  Bryce does have a picture of this on her phone, I will have to add it later. Once the luggage was emptied from the back, we put the topper into the car.

Then we headed into the terminal to check them in for their flight.  We arrive at the Untied counter with time to spare, thanks to our early arrival.  The next problem arises when after about 5 minutes of frantically searching for their reservation, we realize they are flying US Air!!

The situation was entirely my fault, of course, because I did not pull up their itinerary on my phone before we left.  I just knew that I booked them the 12:20 flight on United - and there was a 12:20 flight to their destination on United and I almost booked it because it was $20 cheaper than the 12:20 flight on US Air.  The problem is that it had a long layover in Dallas and the arrival time didn't work out.  All this came back to me when the lady behind the United counter looks at the itinerary that I handed her (once Bryce got it pulled up on her phone), points with her finger and says in a gruff voice, "Is it just me, or doesn't that say US Air?"

Oops!!


Now, I am about to panic, because our "time to spare" was pretty much gone.  She advised us to jump on the shuttle bus rather than try to drive to the next terminal.  We did.  We checked them in without further ado and they boarded their flight in plenty of time!!

I told you there was never a dull moment with us.  Go ahead and laugh.

The End

Our Daily Fiasco

I love to blog.  It is cheaper than therapy - which I desperately need much of the time.

Today's post will not be philosophical and in fact will be kind of gross, but if you have children (or even if you don't) you will likely get a chuckle out of it.  Maybe you will laugh because you can relate too well or maybe you will laugh and say you are glad it was me and not you.  Either way, go ahead - laughter is as good as therapy too sometimes and I don't mind a bit being the one you are laughing at.

Here is our fiasco of the day...

Some good friends of ours from Naples, inspired by our big move, decided to take a family vacation road trip out west.  They have been on the road for five days now and today we met them a couple of hours north for Joshua to join them on the Pink Jeep Tour in Sedona.  We arrived about an hour early and since all of my children have the middle name "hungry," we found a cute Mexican restaurant right out on the main street to grab a bite while we waited on our friends.

Unbeknownst to me, we also named Patrick "hungry" and he wants to eat any and everything that his brothers and sisters eat.  Hence, the fact that at two years old some of his favorite foods are almonds, popcorn, and corn chips.  Yes, I know they made the top five in the list of choking hazards for children - no, I don't give it much thought when he is chomping away on them.

Today, at the Mexican restaurant of course they served up some chips, salsa, and guacamole.  Patrick's favorites!  The spicier the better.  I'm serious.  Anyway, he was eating away for a good twenty minutes.

That's a lot of guac, y'all.

With a chip in his mouth, Patrick reaches for his water cup and takes a big slurp.  I guess he forgot he had the aforementioned chip already in there and tried to swallow it along with the water.  Probably why chips made the top of the choking hazard list, and why "good" moms don't feed them to their two year olds. The chip lodged in his throat and he was choking.  Like, seriously, couldn't breathe kind of choking.  I used to panic about choking and say in a squeaky, panicked voice to my husband, "Stan, Stan, the baby is choking!!"  Over and over and over.  Well, Stan wasn't there today, and I don't panic as easily as I used to.  So, calmly (if I do say so myself), I picked Patrick up out of his seat and was planning to do a little "baby heimlich."  Now, I have never actually had to do the heimlich on anyone, but I am confident I could pull it off, in some form or fashion, if I had to.  Anyway, about the time I picked him up, he coughed and I could tell he could breathe, but the chip was definitely still in there.  He was trying to cry, I imagine it was scratching his throat, and just then, he decided to take matters into his own hands and before I could stop him, he shoved his fingers down his throat.

You moms reading are starting to visualize what happened next, aren't you?  Yep, twenty minutes worth of guacamole projectiled out of his mouth and straight down the front of my v-neck t-shirt.  I had my back to the rest of the patrons of the restaurant, but all my kids saw it and in unison they all groaned, "Ewwww!"  Which of course drew the attention of the rest of the restaurant.

We were sitting mercifully close to the bathroom and I turned as quickly as I could to try to get in there.  However, apparently Patrick could still feel a piece of chip in his throat, or maybe just the scratchy feeling, but for whatever reason, he gagged again and - yep, you guessed it - another projectile flies over my shoulder and splats on the floor of the restaurant, right in the path from the tables to the kitchen.  The only thing that could have made it worse was if a server had exited the kitchen, slipped in the puddle, and well....you know, like a bad Disney movie.

I got in the bathroom to assess the damage.  Poor thing, Patrick was a little shaken up, but true to form, he didn't cry.  Just looked at me with those huge greenish brown eyes, surrounded by ridiculously long eyelashes that were sparkling with tears.  I kept kissing him and hugging him, which of course pressed all that guacamole filled puke into flattened chunks, which were all over both of us, down my shirt, pooled in my bra, and in my hair.  It was lovely indeed.

The girls ran in the bathroom, looked around, gagged, and then ran out.  Sticking their heads back in they asked, "Should we go buy you both a new shirt at the souvenir shop next door?"  Yes, yes you should.

A very kind waitress with two young children of her own came in, refrained from gagging, and gave me a washcloth.  Soon, the girls returned, Patrick and I washed up as best we could, and we changed our shirts.  When we got back to the table our food had arrived.  Like any mom of young children would do, I sat down and ate every bite.

Go ahead and laugh.  It is just another day in our life.

The End