Saturday, April 30, 2011

Eating solid foods!

Yeah, you thought I was talking about a baby, weren't you? Nope. I mean me. Remember when I talked about waterfall illnesses, as in illnesses that go through the whole dang household? Guess what? Stomach flu does that, too. And let me tell you, my friends, it is not awesome. Not even a little.

The night following the slumber party I let Philosopher Child have for his 7th birthday (and a big happy birthday to my little man), Viking Toddler came down with the nasty bug. The next morning, I came down with it. That afternoon, I had to send Husband to pick Philosopher Child up from school. A short while after getting home with him, Husband came down with it. Viking Toddler and Philosopher Child, who have never seen their father get sick in this way, thought it was a source of great entertainment.

Within two hours, Philosopher Child had it. He didn't think it was funny any more.

It was a rough week. The kids were ill for less than 24 hours each, but it hung on to Husband and I. It was two days before I could eat anything, and a full day before Husband could eat anything but crackers. It was close to a week before we felt decent and human.

But, we are all back now. Back to blogging. And the real world. And laundry. Whatever comes first.

Monday, April 11, 2011


Wakemare:noun. A dream that a child thinks happened and you can't convince him otherwise.

Lately, Viking Toddler has been having some really crazy, vivid dreams. He wakes up and tells me about them, but he talks like whatever he dreamed really happened. He's pointed to areas of his room where he left his new toy. Except, he doesn't *have* a new toy. He's recounted a trip he took that never happened. He talks about when he was sick the night before, only he wasn't. Right now, I'm working on helping him distinguish dream from reality. I've explained to him that dreams are just something your brain thinks about while you are asleep. If you have a better explanation than that, I'd love to hear it.

This morning, Viking Toddler told me all about me putting a tent over his head. I was more than a bit confused. He's been telling me about it all day, and I've been telling him all day that it didn't happen. He even said that I did it because he said a bad word. Again, I told him that I didn't put a tent over his head, nor would I do that. He doesn't seem convinced.

But I think there will be no more snacks before bed.

Thursday, April 7, 2011

Why baby names are not fun

First off, let me say that I have no idea what's going on with the font size below. I tried to fix it. And tried. And tried. Blogger is not listening to me, apparently.

I've got babies on the brain. I'm even dreaming about babies. It's confusing, so I will be asking my uterus in the next few days why it's sending the rest of my body baby signals, seeing as we've decided not to have any more kids.

But anyway...

So, you're pregnant. And you get the same freaking question for hundredth billionth time:

Have you picked a name yet???

Some people just say no, when they really mean, "Yes, but I'm not going to tell you because you won't like it and I really don't care if you like it in the first place, so HA!"

But when I was preggers with Viking Toddler, when Husband and I said, "No, we haven't picked a name yet," what we really meant was, "We've gone through just about every name in the freaking baby books and can't agree on ANYTHING."

I thought picking baby names was supposed to be some kind of awesome? Wasn't it supposed to be on of the most fun things you've ever done?

Well, whoever said this lied. We spent weeks. WEEKS. Finally, out of desperation, we called Husband's Mom. One of the first names that fell out her mouth made us say, "Yes! FINALLY!" Ok, maybe it wasn't quite so dramatic, but still.

But that was the male name that we had selected. We had decided on a girl's name long before that. Elsie. Her (if it turned out to be a her) would be named Elsie.

Until someone pointed out to us that the name sounded like the name of a cow. I don't mean a mean name for a large women. I mean a literal cow. We shortly thereafter changed it to Elise. Close enough.