My poor little boys.  One day I will feel well enough to get off this couch for more than a half hour at a time.  Erik asked me the other night, “How much longer are you going to feel like this?”  I think they’re all pretty done being forgiving and patient.  Well, I’m pretty done puking and feeling like crap all day every day and watching my whole family suffer because of it.  For whatever that’s worth.  Bleh.

The other morning I let myself get distracted responding to an email while Samuel played in the window and Owen explored the kitchen floor.  Then I noticed Owen go into the front room.  I also noticed Sam go to the bathroom, then come back.  But I was still distracted.  Several minutes later I realized I didn’t hear O any more, and figured I’d better go check on him — he knows how to get up onto the landing by the front door, and has been trying so so hard to go up the stairs.  But he wasn’t there.  Start the panic.  I glanced up the stairs, and told myself there was no way he could have made it all the way up.  I checked the corners of the front room and under the piano.  No Owen.  Panic is increasing.  I went back to the kitchen, looking very carefully under the table and between the chairs.  No Owen.  Definitely panicking now.  He’s got to be in the family room and somehow I missed it; he’s behind the sofa or something.  Nope.  No Owen!  Here comes the anxiety attack.  ”Sam!” I squeaked.  “Where’s Owen?”  Like he knew.  Like a 3 year old would be able to tell me where I misplaced my baby in my own home.  Not even looking up from his toys, Samuel replied so matter of factly, “He’s in the bathroom, Mom.”  What?  I turned towards the bathroom.  “Sam, how could he be in the bathroom?  The door is clooooooos . . . “  Click.  My brain just put it all together as Samuel continued explaining, “Owen came with me when I goed peepee in there.”  I sprinted to the bathroom and threw open the door. 

Oh Owen, my dear little Bubsy.

I can just imagine the smug look on Erik’s face that without words, will easily communicate, “That’s why I dont let you do these kind of things.”  Yeah, well that’s why I’m not telling him.  He’ll never know.  Until he comes home from work today and sees what I’ve done to our child.

In self defense, Samuel’s hair was bad news.  It was long, unruly, and driving me nuts.  I’ve been snipping at it for about a week now, and today decided to just pull out the clippers.  I could’ve sworn we always use the 3 to cut Sam’s hair, and then the 2 on back and sides.  So so sooooo wrong.  And not a whole lot of fixing I could do after making that first stripe from forehead to crown.  No going back then.  Crap crap crap.  At least Samuel isn’t quite old enough yet to hate me for making him look like an alien.  I’m more worried about the crap Erik is going to give me.  However, I did just find these pictures on the camera from last weekend when I was out of town.  So maybe Erik doesn’t have as much on me as I first thought.

Yep, he learned it from me.  The first time Sam said it was to the dogs at my parents’ house, “Move it stupid dog.”  Since then, Sam’s taken to calling our cat “Stupid kitty.”  And after watching Shrek say “Stupid donkey,” everything is now “STUPID!”  Today I’ve randomly heard stupid dinosaur, stupid table, and stupid truck.  I swear he can’t really know what he’s saying; it’s never in a mean way.  But that’s not stopping him from saying it, or me for feeling the guilt of a rotten example.  Mom’s learned her lesson. 

But sometimes it’s still almost funny.

Thankfully sometimes all it takes is a few cars, Curious George on the dvr, an overly squishy tummy for Sam to lean on, and a little snoozer for me.  I don’t know what my deal has been, but I’ve been pretty off the last little while.  Can you tell?

After capturing my omnipresent beauty, my sweet, understanding, and sympathetic hubbster took my place on the sofa and sent me into the kitchen to make dinner.

After tuna casserole, I bet you are dying to know what I fancied up for supper tonight.  Pancakes.  Are you so sad you don’t live in my magical Culinary Kingdom of Laziness?

In an act of desperation {on so many levels} I found myself gathering together pasta, peas, Ritz cracker crumbs, and a scrumptious can of tuna fish in hopes of making some semblance of a dinner.  Tonight’s menu: Tuna Casserole!

If my mother was dead she would be rolling over in her grave right now.  What deliciousness have I got in store for tomorrow night?  Something equally humbling, I’m sure. Velveeta and hot dogs, maybe.  Mmm, yummers.

So, we got Sam an early birthday present.  We went to Babies R Us to do more car seat research and saw the high chair we (“I”) wanted was on clearance for $30 off.  A high chair has been long overdue, so we snagged it.  So far, so good.  We are all enjoying the new perks: more room for Sam to make a mess, more comfort, better fit, more convenience, etc.  I think it makes Sam look so teeny tiny, though!  But still cute as can be!

On a more sour note, last night was probably my worst “Mommy Moment” so far.  I had put Samuel down with a cup of milk like usual.  I got on my computer for a few minutes, which is right next to Sam’s room, so I could hear him going to bed.  I went downstairs and started cleaning up, and realized I hadn’t turned on the monitor, so I turned it on.  Sam chatted for a few more minutes, but fell asleep pretty quickly.  About 2 1/2 hours later I started walking up to bed myself and smelled something funny in the front room.  As I walked upstairs it got stronger and stronger.  I went into Sam’s room and the smell was so strong I thought I would be sick.  It was a rancid, sour, yucky, awful smell and I thought there was no way that it could just be from a spilt cup of milk.  I went over to the crib and saw white chunky stuff all over the rail.  In a panic, I checked Sam (still breathing, phew) and ran down to get Erik.  He came up and noticed Sam was all wet.  We turned the lamp on and woke up Sam.  He was absolutely covered in throw up, and so were his sheets, his blankets, his bumper, his mattress, and the floor.  There were seriously at least 7 different barf spots in his crib alone, and I could have wrung out one of Sam’s blankets it was so soaked.  Erik changed Sam’s clothes and rocked him.  The little angel didn’t make one peep.  He just snuggled with his Dad as I changed all of the crib bedding.  I was quietly crying the whole time and insisted I be the one to get Sam back to sleep.  That sweet boy fell asleep without a single fuss!  When I laid him down in his crib, he peaked open his eyes, looked at me, then rolled over and went back to sleep.  I have never ever EVER felt like a worse mom, or human being for that matter!!  The only way for me not to have heard Sam must have been because I didn’t turn the monitor on right away.  I cannot believe my poor little boy was all alone when he obviously felt so yucky, and then I made him fall asleep in it.  What person lets that happen?!  At least my amazing little Samuel still liked me this morning, and greeted me with his usual bright eyes and delightful grin.

I am having a Bad Mom Day. Samuel was up all last night. He kept waking up unhappy, and I kept trying to get him to eat (he wouldn’t) and trying to get him to sleep (which he would for a short time). One of those times, I felt a little scratchy in my throat, and my nose was tickling. “Oh, please, no,” I thought. Sure enough, when Sam woke up at 7 this morning (which was waaaay to early for the little amount of sleep he and I got) I was full fledged SICK. I feel miserable. And I am making Sam suffer because of it. I haven’t done a darn thing today; for myself (wait, when do I EVER do anything for myself anymore?!) or for Sam. I let him watch TV this morning, which I swore to myself I would never ever do until he as at least 2 years old, but he was engrossed for a good 45 minutes while I slumped on the coach feeling sorry for myself. (I am SOOO good at that!!) Since then I have been swapping him from toy to toy while I do nothing. We haven’t walked, we haven’t read, we haven’t talked very much, nothing. So, what can I say? I’m just a bad mom today. But I’m not too worried about the Mother of the Year award. I’m pretty sure I wasn’t in the running anyway!!