Monday, September 12, 2011

Say Cheese, Eve!

It's the first day of school, Eve. Time for Mommy's last minute in front of the door picture!

Now, Eve, turn around.

No, seriously honey, your shoes are fabulous.

I swear, you're lookin' good!

Don't smile too big, now. Don't want anyone to think you're excited about going.

Again, I apologize that these are not sequined, high-heeled princess slippers. But there's no need to thrash about on the floor and mess up your hair.

No, you're right. Your life is totally over.

But I heard from the teacher that she really did have an excellent day, in spite of the 20-minute cry fest as Matt and I pinned her down and forced sneakers on her feet, and the additional 10 minutes of sobbing as we drove to school. You would have thought us bad parents to hear the way she wailed.

And you know I'm too busy Windexing my Mom of the Year trophy case to have time to make my kids cry on purpose.

Now the next day, as I prepared for another drama-filled morning at Eve's dance class, I was granted a reprieve from being the one to put tap shoes on her feet and forcing her into the studio. We got our first you gotta come pick up your kid, stat call from school.

I'm sure I would have gotten there quicker if my phone hadn't been on silent. But that's what sick rooms are for, for Daniel to wait in while I'm busy negotiating with Eve about how much chocolate she gets if she decides to participate AND leave her tap shoes on. Lucky for Dan (or the school nurse, depending on your perspective), Matt called me to let me know that they were threatening to revoke my 2011 Mom of the Year nomination if I didn't high-tail it up to school and pick up our son who got sick on the bus.

I think we all know what "got sick on the bus" means. It rhymes with womit.

So, being the quick thinker that I am, I finished negotiating with Eve, got myself some water, and then dropped her off at a friends house who agreed to take her to dance. It really takes years to get this good.

Then another twenty-five minutes in the opposite direction to school, all the while hoping that the nurse has at least changed Daniel's clothes so I don't have that sour smell in my van, because I'm pretty much maxed out on the sour smell after I finally discovered the missing beach towel that was left to dry underneath the bench in the back of the van, with two pieces of bread in various stages of decomposition, growing pretty strong strains of penicillin.

Had I not been allergic to penicillin, I may never have cleaned out the van.

When I get to the school, Daniel is sitting in the sick room grinning from ear to ear. He is still wearing the same clothes. Upon inspection, I cannot detect any womit.

Me: Daniel, did you get sick?
Dan: Yes. I had one vomit.
Me: Did you get it on your shoes or clothes?
Dan: Nope.
Me: Were you sitting next to anyone?
Dan: Yes.
Me: Did it get on the person next to you?
Dan: Yes, because I threw up on him. The bus driver put a towel over it and everyone was happy because we finally got to put down our windows and they went "Yay!"

Ok, so I would be lying if I told you I wish Dan were the pukee instead of the puker. I think you all agree with me even if you won't admit it. Kind of like that saying, It's better to be pissed off than pissed on.

Except for the fact that I needed to take him home and let him brush his teeth, I really could see no reason why I needed to bring him home. He did his thang, he was smiling, he had no fever and not a drop of mess on his shirt or shoes. Let's pretend this never happened.

But I brought him home, anyway.

He was absolutely fine. I think it was just a blip in the radar. As soon as we were home, Daniel opened up his lunch box and ate everything inside. Are you sure that's a good idea, buddy? You just puked on someone. "Yeah, that's why I'm so hungry, Mom."

As soon as Miss "I'm not putting on tap shoes and going back in there" Eve got back from dance, she and Dan bounced around the house all day long and I wondered if they'd let me sign him back in after lunch. Eve announced that she did, in fact, wear her tap shoes the whole time and stayed in class. Lesson here? If I want her to dance, I need to pick a sacrificial lamb for Dan to puke on every Thursday so I can drop Eve off at my friend's house who is apparently the Baby Whisperer.

Having Daniel at home, who eats little more than bread and butter, made me at least more productive at producing bread and butter.

Maybe it was all the germs in the air that helped create a nice spongy starter for my loaves.

I couldn't be expected to clean, not with two of them in the house. That's like shoveling your driveway during a blizzard. My only hope was to let them burn off steam in the backyard until the crushed up benadryl in their milk kicked in they were ready to have a little bit of calm.

I think they stopped running around by 8 pm. My plan worked, only eight hours later than expected.

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