The expression, "All good things must come to an end," must have come from a mother with boys. She totally got the concept that boys find a way to turn anything into a dangerous toy. My kids should be toy testers because I swear they have given most things in our household a warning label.
The rain created such a slop fest outside that I decided to keep the kids inside for the morning. Inside. Just the thought makes my jaw tighten, my heart race, my forehead sweats and my ass checks clinch. If you've seen Toy Story 3, the daycare scene (the one in the caterpillar room) that is my house. Only there are just two kids who are distributing such a reign of terror. The paint, markers and Cheeto finger prints are smeared on cream colored sofas and khaki shorts (mine to be specific). The toys in the movies find ways to hide while my kids uncover toys I never knew we had. Snot and tears are a part of daily life and are sometimes coming from me and not the kids.
So back to being inside... The goal is always to occupy minds and hands with an activity. If I can keep them in the same space, I can intercept most bite marks and fist punches. The kids picked noodles, which is fine with me because usually noodles will entertain for at least a half an hour. I put down the blanket and pour out the dry noodles in a variety of shapes and sizes. Theses little Italian staples put my kids into a calming sensory coma of texture. I also notice the black eyed peas which I had thrown in there after a sorting activity. No big deal.
We're on the floor playing when something orange catches my eye. A freakin Cheeto! I don't even remember the last time we had puffy Cheetoes in my house. Is it possible for a crunchy Cheeto to somehow morph into its grander cousin given the heat and humidity of South Louisiana. Hmmm...let me just leave the scientific investigation to the garbage can.
"Ahhh choo!" Cameron starts sneezing...a lot. Did I give him his Claritin? When is the last time I even washed that blanket?
He walks into the kitchen with his nose pouring out snot and his eyes are tearing up. He's not crying which means little brother is innocent for now. He sneezes again and out comes a black eyed pea. Now my andrenaline starts pumping.
"How many peas did you swallow?"
"No, mama."
After further inspection it looks like an allergy attack. His eyes are starting to swell. Something told me to check his nose and there it was...the BLACK EYED PEA BOOGER. Dammit!!! I call my mom to come over since I'm pissed and panicking at the same time. After I've calmed down I decide to try blowing in his mouth to force that pea out. (Disclaimer: I had actually heard of people doing this before.) Sure enough I could see it so I used my surgical tools (a bobby pin) to carefully flick it out. (Disclaimer: medical professionals don't really endorse this.)
2pm: "Ahh choo!" Snot. Tears. You have got to be kidding me. Cameron was asleep enough for me to shine a flash light in there, and in his other nostril was the faint resemblance of a black eyed pea.
I tried as hard as I could to shoot that thing out but even my days of swimming breaststroke did not prepare my lungs for the kind of force needed to get that pea out. Luckily the ENT was kind enough to squeeze him in after hours. I had to take Jack with me who flashed a smile and in one swift movement pulled down all her clean, prepped tools. As they tumbled to the floor, I couldn't help but think I would rather be elsewhere. I'm sure the doctor thought the same thing.
She said I could either hold him or we could put him in a papoose. "Papoose!" She didn't even have to explain what it was. I didn't need to hesitate to know that I would not be able to hold this child down a second time today. So we strapped him down to a body board so that only his face was visible and she used an air compressor and a fancy bobby pin to retrieve the third and final black eyed pea.
5:30pm. Really?
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