The Black Eyed Peas!

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?
 

 

 

Blackmail: Cameron

Why we can't go back to the park

Clothes off in the comfort of our backyard.  Yes, we are on a golf course but I feel like the fence says "Mind your own business, please."

Running errands always starts with a bribe and usually ends with a bribe.  "You want to go to the park?"  Two kids sprint to the back door and wait for me to dress them from head to toe all the while screaming as though each second that passes one piece of playground equipment is destroyed.  I finally get them in the car and proceed with my errands.  With every stop it's the same, "We're going to the park after this."  My strategy though selfish is to run all my errands as far away from the park as possible so they fall asleep before we can ever get to the park thus avoid going to the park altogether.  Five minutes away and those heavy eyes close.  Success!!!  As I pass in front of the park smiling and secretly patting myself on the back, I damn near drive off the road as a shrill "PARK MAMA!!!  GO PARK!!!" echoes from the back seat.  Son of a...  Really?  

Okay so the park is a glorious place.  Jambalaya Park in Gonzales.  I love it.  Honest.  It had rained the night before, but the rubber surface drains really well so it's still a dry place to play.  I open the gate and release the hounds to run and climb freely all while I lounge on a park bench leisurely checking Facebook and strategically placing tiles on Words with Friends.  (In an ideal world)  What it really looks like is Cameron shouting at me "Mama watch this," "Mama, come on" all while I chase after Jack who is making a bee line toward the one swimming pool-sized mud puddle in the whole entire park.  I am on edge the entire time with worst-case scenarios playing out in my head.  Who is enjoying this?  Shit.  Cameron slides and then shouts, "Pants wet, Mama."  Praise Jesus it isn't diarrhea.  Okay really no big deal.  Pants are just slightly damp from the water droplets on the slide.  I pat him on his butt and send him on his way.  

Jack in the meantime, notices that the gate doesn't lock and there is a crystal clear fountain forty yards outside the park that is just sparkling in the afternoon sun.  As I blockade the gate, I notice Cameron sitting at the very top of the slide's entrance.  He stands up, "Hey Mama." "Cameron, pants!!"  The child has taken off his shorts, socks and shoes and then takes off running around the park in his T-Rex underwear.  Can't leave Jack unattended so I pick him up then try to chase Cameron who is laughing hysterically and Jack is in the uncontrollable laughter phase.  I gave up on chasing the kid and instead carried Jack up the jungle gym to retrieve Cameron's clothing.  I tried the walk away method and Cameron just calls after me, "Bye, Mama!"  Eventually he caved and chose to come home with us.  At least there he could take his shirt off too.