Just Breathe

Waking up in the middle of an asthma attack is not terribly fun. I woke up gasping and wheezing at six o’clock in the morning and was unable to get back to sleep in a horizontal position. I ended up going downstairs and trying to sleep sitting up on the couch while waiting for the doctor’s office to open.

When I finally got through, though, the instructions were to go to the ER. I thought that might possibly be overkill, as I wasn’t turning blue yet–being oxygen-deprived is awfully inconvenient, but so is rounding up the kids, piling into the car, and having Matthew take me to the hospital for something that just needs an inhaler and a bit of time. Instead, I dug up a prescription for Albuterol that I had gotten this past November and Matthew ran out to CVS to get it filled.

So now I can breathe again. Breathing is very, very nice.

Angry Farts

After a very long day full of annoyances and disappointments, Marcus was rather cranky. He and Becca got into a row over toys, and I sent them both downstairs to undress for their bath–only by then, Marcus was so grumpy that he didn’t want a bath.

“No! I do not want a bath! I want to go to bed dirty,” he screamed as I carried him down the stairs. Not taking a bath was out of the question, as in the course of the afternoon he had played in the muddy backyard until it began raining again.

“No! I hate getting wet! I want my clothes on! You are a bad mother!,” he cried as I undressed him and lifted him (not a mean feat when he’s throwing a tantrum) into the tub where Becca was already arranging shampoo bottles.

“No! No! No! No! _No!_,” he fussed as I turned on the water.

“It is too hot! It is too cold! It is wet! I have soap in my eyes! I want a new mother!,” he complained vociferously as I bathed him. Becca had no complaints.

“I want cavities! I hate clean teeth! Mmph mmmph mmph!,” he screamed, even as he opened his mouth to let me brush his molars.

It was quite a tantrum, and it just kept getting sillier and more ridiculous as he went through his paces.

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Old Mother Hubbard

I’ve been under the weather lately, as spring has sprung with a vengeance. I’m not a big fan of pollen, as it tends to cause sinus issues that spark off migraines left and right. However, my children seem to have inherited none of my pollen issues, so they’ve been chomping at the bit to get outside and go places.

This morning, I woke up with a dreadful headache–but with library books coming due and two small twitchy kids, I didn’t have much of a choice. I took two Aleve and a Claritin, packed up the books in a backpack, and rounded up the children and their shoes and socks. We passed front lawns that were perfectly manicured, front lawns that were kind of shaggy, and front lawns full of violets, buttercups, and dandelions. Ours is definitely in the last category.

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“Mom, I dropped a screwdriver into the lint trap!”

“What? Oh!”

Three hours of moving the dryer and vacuuming and unplugging and unscrewing and Internet research and reaching past fan blades into places where hands shouldn’t be and screwing and replugging and moving things back into their approximate starting places…

…no more screwdriver in the lint trap. Lots of sneezes.

I have smited many dust bunnies and perhaps one or two dust gorillas this afternoon.


Marcus and Becca and I ate lunch at Panera Bakery while William and Maryanne did their thing at Borders. Maryanne and I bought coffee to drink once we got back to the house; it was grey and overcast outside, with a slight drizzle, so the hot coffee would be welcome after our short walk back to the house. I zipped and Velcro-ed and snapped the children into their raincoats, donned my own, and started herding them towards the door.

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