It's All Relative

Just now I pulled the kiddo out of his bath, snuggled him in a towel and asked him how I got so lucky to have a nice kid like him.

"Because you're a woman," he said.

Well, some women don't get a kid as nice as you.

"Yeah, some women get a kid that's nicer!"

Hee-hee...

*sigh*

Okay, can I just say...

Jim and Pam.

(doing very reserved happy dance so as not to jinx it)

:-)

Sick Sweetie

*sigh* The kiddo came back from spending most of yesterday and today with his dad, and is now coughing his head off. Poor thing. I gather he's just moving through the different phases of his cold, but the little guy is just feeling so bad. Not as bad as when he had (or almost had -- no one could tell for sure) pneumonia last winter/spring, but he's all bleary-eyed and obviously sick. It pains me when he's not feeling well. As soon as he came home, he headed for the couch and I gave him some Children's Tylen*l with cough medicine and an antihistamine, thinking he could at least go to sleep...which he did, although his sleep is still punctuated with coughs. Before he fell asleep, he hoarsely asked me for a few hugs and told me, "Thanks for all the great care, Mom." I know that sounds sickeningly sweet, but he's like that sometimes. He does balance it out by being ornery, like when I asked him for a cup of water when I was sick and he was indignant at having to "be a butler." That's six for you.

Yesterday morning before the kiddo went with his dad, I amused him with my impression of his immune system going all Kung Fu on his germs. I demonstrated the antibodies kicking the germs' asses, as well as the germs weakening and eventually falling down dead. The kiddo was giggling and enjoying the hijinks. Maybe with enough sleep, he'll be in a giggling mood tomorrow. I really hate it when my sweetie is sick.

Now I Need a Nap

Well, golly. I just called the doctor's office and the kiddo does not have strep throat, despite a temp. of 104 Wednesday and Thursday, and having been exposed to strep on the soccer field and at school. Guess he just has a cold. He's feeling noticeably better, and I'm glad to be wrong today.

Soccer Suckage

Oh, my goodness. I've been up for the past couple of hours with a sleepy, feverish (100.9 or so) kiddo who also has a stuffy nose. He finally dropped off to sleep after some Tylenol and some nose-blowing, but I guess I'll be keeping him home from school tomorrow (which is actually today).

On a different subject, can I just say I'm having all sorts of fun (not) with AYSO? So far, the parents are behaving fine at games and practices, unlike one especially unpleasant "gentleman" encountered by Lindsay of Suburban Turmoil. (Read that one for a prime example of a guy who needs a serious time-out.) First, we were locked out of our practice field at least five times. After yet again lifting my son over the fence (the coach and some parents had climbed the fence) and standing outside the gate with a few other moms, including one pregnant and one postpartum, I called the regional commissioner a third time and was given the combination to the gate lock. I thought my worries were over.

Wrong. Now I'm being slightly hounded by slightly zealous soccer moms. AYSO conducts candy sales each season and offers folks the opportunity to "buy out" if you don't want to sell candy. Frankly, since AYSO is supposed to be about youth fitness, it makes NO sense whatsoever that they push the candy sales. Why not sell wrapping paper, since we're drifting into the holiday season? Last I checked, gift wrap had zero trans fat.

My son's school conducts a fundraiser as well. The kids win prizes for selling cookie dough and other edibles; if they don't sell anything, there's no penalty. However, the way AYSO handles its fundraiser is it offers you the opportunity to "buy out" for $25 at the time of registration (and registration costs about $70). If you don't do this, you're expected to lay out $52 later for 52 candy bars -- then you sell them and presumably keep the money from sales.

Well, without going into too much detail, I had some questions about all this and was ultimately assisted by the program administrators. I thought the matter was handled, but now the team mom is contacting me, saying I owe $52 (I never received candy, so have nothing to pay for) and that I'm holding up the team pictures (?). I emailed the candy sales coordinator, and she won't email me directly or talk to the administrator I spoke with (I provided that information to her) to find out what's going on. Instead, she's putting pressure on the team mom, who's forwarding her emails to me, and I'm emailing the candy sales coordinator yet again to advise her to contact me directly if she has questions. I feel like I'm stuck in some kind of weird loop and the only thing that will break the cycle is my getting bitchy. *sigh* I hate to get bitchy. I just want to be friends with everyone.

(Pausing to see if the tiny cough I just heard from the kiddo's room will be followed by more...no. Phew.)

In a month, the candy sales silliness won't bother me. But right now it's a pain in the neck.

We are so looking into club soccer next year.

Who's the Grownup?

After snapping at each other off and on for the past two days, the situation reached critical mass this afternoon, when a seemingly benign and mutually agreed-upon tickle fight turned a little bit reckless and unpleasant. I sent the kiddo to sit on the stairs to think about why he's not supposed to kick Mommy, and I took a few minutes to compose myself while seeing stars and holding my knee. After about five minutes of watching Top Chef with the sound off (not being able to hear the show from around the corner being part of the kiddo's penalty -- yep, he loves Top Chef and all things competitive), I called him back over to the couch. He plopped himself down next to me and, to my surprise, put his hand on my back.

"What's wrong with us?" he asked.

That's my kid -- from 6 to 45 in a matter of minutes.

We Put It Out There

"____told me today his parents are getting divorced."

Oh? When?

"Actually, two weeks ago."

Ah, I see. Wow. [sigh] Well, a lot of kids' parents don't live together. You know that, right?

"Right. I told ____ my parents don't live together!"

And what did he say?

"He asked me if my parents are divorced."

And what did you say?

"I told him no! [laughing] I told him my parents were never married!"

You Know You're a Mom When...

...you are awakened at 3:00 a.m. by a sniffly,* cranky, hungry kiddo, get up to make him a slice of peanut butter toast and pour him a cup of milk (and help him blow his nose numerous times), snuggle the kiddo back to sleep, and feel happy that at least he did fall back to sleep...even if you can't sleep any more and just stay awake, playing Free Cell over and over.

* Prolly due to dust on the soccer field. I knew I should've given him a shower afterward, instead of waiting until morning. But no, I let him watch the baseball game. Oh well... :-)

Running the Numbers

Outside temperature: 107 degrees (F).

Power outage duration: 12 hours.

Number of six-year-olds in house: 1 (seems like 10).

Number of times said six-year-old woke up parental unit due to heat and fear and discomfort during the night, after said parental unit had struggled to fall asleep in the airless, sweltering house: 4.

Number of ants parental unit viewed (via flashlight) in the kitchen sink during power outage: 40.

Number of ants parental unit killed in the kitchen sink during power outage: 40.

Substance used: 409.

Time power initially went out: 5:00 p.m.

Time electric company estimated power would be restored: 8:00 p.m.

Revised estimate on power restoration: 10:00 p.m.

Revised estimate on power restoration: 6:42 a.m.

Time the electric company truck/crane rolled up right outside bedroom window, with work lights and beeps and shouting and grinding: 4:00 a.m.

Time six-year-old woke up for the day: 4:30 a.m.

Time power was restored: 5:15 a.m.

Number of happy dances performed by parental unit and six-year-old: 1.

Number of times six-year-old has cried and begged to be allowed to stay up tonight to watch the baseball game: 5.

Number of times parental unit has denied this request due to sleep deficit on part of six-year-old and parental unit: 5.

Number of times six-year-old has called parental unit mean and unfair, and demanded that parental unit "have some respect" and stop "ruining [his] life": 10.

Number of automatic garage doors yet to be reconnected following power outage: 1.

Number of times parental unit has scoured the Internet for instructions on this: 4.

Number of times parental unit has wondered why it is so much easier to disconnect the automatic garage door opener than it is to reconnect it: 87 (and counting).

Number of minutes until parental unit will be able to call it a day and go to sleep: 90 (unless six-year-old falls asleep sooner).

Number of editing projects parental unit put on hold due to power outage: 9.

Number of editing projects parental unit has yet to complete before bedtime: 6.

Number of editors who have called to inquire as to the whereabouts of a project: 1.

Okay then.

Ant-a-One, Ant-a-Two...

It's officially ant season. In my house. I naively thought I'd headed them off at the pass when I sprayed Bad Poison (is there any good poison?) all over my deck, but the little critters tricked me by coming in the kitchen window. Good one. Much easier to reach the kitchen trash that way. I don't want to spray poison in the house if I can avoid it, but I'm so not interested in a prolonged battle with these guys for one more summer. And if one more person tells me they're "just looking for water" or "trying to escape the heat," I may have to get violent. (Okay, maybe not really.) But still. There's a lake just a few yards away. Don't they know that? That's where the water is. Yet they insist on coming into the house at this time of year, and they turn up everywhere -- even on my desk (and, as a result, on my arms). What's so exciting about my desk? It's not even near the kitchen; it's upstairs! No food or water here! And they come in via the electrical outlet, which now has a liberal sprinkling of baby powder in and around it. Ant access is one of the reasons I haven't bothered to set up my son's bedroom in here. If I wouldn't want to sleep next to the ant portal, why would I let the kiddo sleep next to it?

Anyway, off to commence Operation Ant Abatement, which is much easier than writing about how lonely and crummy this weekend has been in general, with my son gone and all potential friends seemingly unavailable because they actually have husbands and kids who don't leave every weekend, and therefore are busy doing family things while I rent videos and count ants. This is not the life I signed up for, and yeah, today I'm feeling bitter. Oops, guess I sorta wrote about it. Back to the ants now...