Spiderman

We have been sick, sick, sick here.  How about you?

Ours is the upper respiratory cough, fever, stuffy nose.  I finally made it to the doctor for some meds.  I have asthma so this respiratory stuff goes straight to my lungs and takes forever to clear up.

My son, Sean, has been the most recent casualty.  He was home from school yesterday and I had daydreams that today I would go to the grocery store and get all kinds of house stuff done since he would be back at school today.  

Most moms, I think, are the boo-boo-ers.  The cuddly moms who are all snuggly and fuzzy when their kids are sick.  Not so much for me.  In the middle of the night, if you get sick, you wake up daddy.  And if you require more than one day of staying home, you had better hope like hell that Daddy is staying home too.

Sean is home today again.  My  husband is home too with weather being unpredictable and not feeling 100% either.  Is he out in the living room snuggling with the sicko kid?  Nope.  On the phone.  

That is just how it is at our house.  If you want to survive to adulthood you had better be the squeaky wheel.  Or else, listen to what I say the first time.  If you don't listen to me tell you that climbing on that thing is dangerous and get down, and you fall?  You are going to hear me tell you, "I told you so" long before you  hear me getting the keys to take you to the ER.

We have had one ER trip in our history.  My boys have been climbers and daredevils their whole lives. So much so that when they were in cribs I would walk out of the room to wash my hands and walk in exactly 60 seconds later to dismantled beds, mattresses propped up on the changing table and someone at the top of the homemade "slide" ready to yell "Cowabunga!!!"

The cribs had said on the box, "Easy to Assemble!!!"  "Needs no tools!!"  They should have read, "Can be dismantled by non-verbal toddlers quicker than you can go potty!"  I would have had a better understanding for what lie ahead.

So one night after we had finally removed the "Easy to Assemble!!!" cribs from the bedroom and were down to mattresses on the floor with a fitted sheet, I stepped out to potty.  I heard a scream and ran back in to blood.  Everywhere.

Okay. Not everywhere.  Just gushing from my youngest son's eyebrow.  I am looking around the room and there isn't a sharp corner in sight.  And asking him how he did it when he was so busy screaming and bleeding, was counter-productive.

To this day, I really have no idea how he cut his eyebrow.  There were just walls, carpet, mattresses, and fitted sheets in the room with his two brothers.  But we were off to the ER and came home with 3 handy-dandy little stitches in his eyebrow.  He will have the scar forever.

I think this may be one reason I am not so cuddly or hovering.  If I did, I would be MUCH grayer than I already color over.  These boys are determined to make this life interesting.  

We have moved on from the mattresses on the floor.  We decorated the room over the head-shaped hole in the wall.  We have big-kid beds.  There are stuffed animals and art on the walls.  

But one night, not that long ago, I went in after bedtime to see if everyone was out yet.  My oldest boy was perched, with his hands spread out against the wall like Spiderman, and standing on his tippy-toes on a 1 inch piece of trim at the top of a high chair rail we had installed.  Scooting.  Along.  The.  Wall.

Seriously.