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What’s bugging you?

Posted by Domestic Diva at 6:14 pm Uncategorized

May 142011

Friday the 13th started as most others did. The chipper chimes of my phone’s alarm annoyed me from my slumber. I begrudgingly turned on the shower and began the start of another day. This morning, in addition to being unlucky because of the date, would prove to be another busy day between schools, shopping, yard work (we expanded my garden an extra 5×20 ft), and doing some stuff for the website. At least today there were no volunteer hours or field trips which seem to take a valuable chunk of my day right out from under me.

As I lathered my hair, I thought about yesterday’s field trip to one of Delaware’s State Parks, which truth be told was more like a swamp, with Joey’s Kindergarten class. Although it was a rather short trip, just under three hours in all, the kids managed to squeeze in a lesson on the importance of trees, a quick craft, a walk through the nature center, a walk around a pond (swamp), followed a trail into the woods and finally grabbed a picnic style lunch.

When I dressed Joey that morning I put him in long pants even though the temperatures were forecast to climb in the afternoon. I choose similar attire, and as we walked through the woods and I spied patch after patch of poison ivy, I knew I made a smart decision as far as the apparel was concerned. Although, I did forget hats. Aside from the fact that ticks (and Lyme’s Disease) are prevalent here, I would have preferred an extra barrier between my head and any other creatures. I also skipped perfume and lotion, yet still managed to come come with no less that a dozen mosquito bites. I’m hoping not to be the state’s first confirmed case of West Nile Virus because I saw some of these massive blood suckers as they began feasting on my flesh. These winged beasts looked like something out of the Jurassic Period.

Anyway, I was ready to jump out of the shower when I remembered another day warm temperatures laid ahead so I broke out my shaving cream and razor and began shaving my stubbly legs. This daily shave (above the knee even) was really the only bad thing about warmer weather that I could come up with as I went up the back of my right leg and did a half turn to reach the upper part of my thigh. Just because it’s not an easy reach I looked back to be sure I covered the massive area. last thing I need is a tuft of leg hair sticking out of the back of my shorts (although it might camouflage the cellulite at least).

Ah, I had missed a spot and as the razor took the hair and cream away I saw a tiny black spot. I brushed the spot with my finger and it was smooth and slightly raised but didn’t come off. As I contorted further to inspect this freckle perhaps, it moved…and when I say it moved, I actually mean the spot crawled.

I opened my mouth to scream but no sound escaped. I then proceeded to leap into the air, however, with my body already oddly contorted I slipped and began falling out of the shower. I grasped at the liner which stopped me from tumbling out of the tub but it did tear right through the plastic where three of the rings were. That was the furthest thing from my mind though. I needed to find the creature that was on my leg. I calmed myself as best I could and tried to re-assume my previous position. I was too panicked to hold that twisted position so I quickly sat in the tub and flipped my leg over.

It was there, through the unrelenting spray of water still coming from my shower head, that I saw the tick positioned inside a dimple just south of my right ass cheek. Oh the horror! The tick had just begun to bite, and perhaps my fatty thigh, although most likely appeared delectable to the tick, was not as easy to grab so I was able to pull him off with little effort.

Being a large child trapped inside an old Mom’s body, my eyes welled with tears as I washed the tick down the drain to his watery grave. Oh, were they all over me? Where had it come from? My afro? Not caring about the time, I rinsed my hair and repeated my earlier wash. About half way through my wash I saw another on my arm. “I’m infested!!!” I cried out to no one.

This tick was even easier to remove and unlike his friend had not bitten me as of yet. “See you in hell,” I told the blood- sucker as I sent him to the same watery grave as his friend.

Needless to say, I’ve been freaking out for more than a day. My hands are constantly feeling my scalp for any abnormalities (I know, I know. The real abnormalities are beneath my scalp). I feel buggy. I feel gross. I have a growing hatred of nature. I’m left wondering what will kill me first- the Lyme’s Disease or the West Nile Virus? Then this morning I pulled a tick off of Jake who didn’t even attend the trip. It had bitten him right on middle of his chest. I’ll be checking his chest and my ass for redness and or red rings for the foreseeable future, and if this creepy crawly feeling doesn’t go away I may end up shaving my head.

Can you imagine what would happen if a bunch of bugs got into my mustache or worse yet, penetrated my afro?! It would be like a bug party and I'd have to shave it off and just start over. I may be posting bald pictures soon.

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Challenged

Posted by Domestic Diva at 7:23 pm Uncategorized

Apr 212011

This has been one of those weeks where I’m feeling like I’m being tested daily (and not just as a parent). There’s been no shortage of bloggable material, but to be perfectly honest, I just haven’t felt like sitting down and writing about it. Aside from this week being incredible busy with a ton of running around, I’m in some sort of allergy haze as there’s been an eruption of pollen in my area. So rather than doing multiple posts, here’s the week in review:

Saturday: Went to the beach even though it was raining and took the three kids outlet shoe shopping. No further explanation needed.

Sunday: Went to a park, played mini golf, went on the beach, ate an actual bucket of boardwalk fries, and nearly slipped into a coma.

Monday: With Easter less than a week away, I decided to get the stuff for the kid’s baskets while my husband took a quick break for lunch. This was a deliberate move because the store where I was headed was the same place Jake insulted an old lady, biker, and cashier with an unknown gender all in one trip. For the first time, I grabbed a cart because the “Easter Box” with all the baskets, grass, and plastic eggs I had saved from last year was swallowed by my basement. I also had other items to purchase as well, so I hurried around, filling the pharmacy’s cart. As I approached the front of the store the cashier placed both hands over her mouth and began to giggle. She’s worked there a while so I know who she is, and I’d say she was socially awkward to say the least (that’s not an official diagnosis, and I’d rather just not go there). Anyway, as I start unloading she loudly exclaims, “Your hair is like KAAAA-POOOOOW!” I smiled and agreed, after all I walk around like this every day; I know what my hair looks like.

And yet for some reason, she kept at it. For nearly six minutes she rang up my items, and stopped after almost every item scanned to comment on my hair. “Do you know it’s out there?” and “I don’t mean to say it like that, but it’s all like WOW!” and “What’s it like in the summer?” oh, and “Can you even fit it under a hat?” There was a man, in his early forties maybe that was behind me in line. He just kept repeating quietly, “Oh, my God, stop talking.” If it wasn’t for the 10% off I get with every purchase, it might not be worth it to face the slew of insults at my local Rite Aide.

Tuesday: Spent the morning on a farm with Joey’s class, and Jake was also there with his preschool group accompanied by my husband. I’m not real into touching livestock, getting intimate with my future food, or thrilled about ecoli, but the trip was really entertaining for the kids and only a couple of hours long. We managed to get out of there with only one) goof when I told Joey to listen to a man who was speaking to the kids about various seeds (wonder why he was not paying attention)? This particular “farmer” had a pretty thick accent and Joey yelled out, “I can’t understand him, Mom! He’s speaking Spanish!” (Except he was Indian and speaking English). The gentleman shot me a look and did not seem amused. Other than that it was a good trip.

The kids were then loaded back on the bus and taken to a local park where all 106 of them respectively (with some other park goers and a few siblings) played for several hours after enjoying their lunch at picnic tables. For the most part it was fine, but all those kids climbing on the equipment at the same time, some hanging out the sides of the “rocket” jungle gym 10 ft in the air, was almost too much for me to take. I would have added some rum to my coke or tried to get my hands on some Xanax or something had I know the absolute mayhem that was about to take place. Just too many kids, too large of an area, with too few adults. Aside from some minor arguing over prime playground territory, a few kids drinking out of a dog watering bowl, a couple tumbles, and a few rain drops, the kids had a blast. There were no missing children, compound fractures or catastrophic falls, so all in all a good day.

The giant Rocket Jungle Gym that nearly gave me an anxiety attack. Please picture 100+ kids ALL on this at once. It happened.

Wednesday: Just like the last few weeks, we’ve had one day that hits 80 degrees (before it drops down to 50 again). Worked in the garden all day, husband had an allergy attack after cutting the grass and his eyes almost swelled totally shut. Ran to the store, saw FIVE people I knew, spoke to all of them, came home, looked in the mirror and was surprised they didn’t give the same reaction as the lady from Rite Aide. Dirt on my face. Dirt on my shirt. Hair was like “KAAAAA-POOOOW!”

Thursday: Spring break started a day early for Joey. He woke up with red, swollen eyes and a bad headache. I spent the day trying to rid our house of all the pollen I let in yesterday when I had every window open. Dusted and cleaned furniture, windows, walls, floors. Dust rag was a yellowish green from pollen and I sneezed most of the day. Considering wearing Depends Adult Diapers while Cecilia, the former sweet and innocent baby turned curious and destructive toddler, is awake. Took two bathroom breaks and paid for my brief moment behind a closed door. Trip one into the bathroom she spilled both of her brother’s juice cups on the kitchen table and the kitchen floor. She then proceeded to empty a container of baby wipes in order to ~~spread~~ clean the mess up. Two cups of coffee and a couple hours later, I slipped in the bathroom unnoticed…or so I thought. I heard a gentle scratching sound at the door and called out “Who’s there!” to which Cecilia squealed in delight and ran down the hall. Upon leaving the bathroom I discovered the scratching was not a sound made by her hands but rather from a red crayon that was all over the bathroom door, front door and down the hallway.

As I mentioned today is the official start of Spring Break. Pray for me, people. Pray for me.

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Mommy Poppins

Posted by Domestic Diva at 9:00 pm Uncategorized

Apr 062011

Today was “Kite Day” with Joey’s Kindergarten class. Kite Day, in case you didn’t know, involves every child bringing in a kite and all of them running around in an open field flying them at the same time (or at least trying to). Kite Day, my friends, is even more fun than you’re imagining it is.

Today’s festivities were rescheduled from last week due to wind/rain/snow, and although it was a bit chilly the sun was shining, and there was a steady kite flying breeze. Thankfully, all of the kites had been assembled by the “Wednesday Mom” this morning, so all the kids had to do was get them in the air. Sounds simple enough.

Joey has an awesome kite. It was purchased from “The Kite Store” where the name says it all. This kite puts all other kites to shame. It is comprised of some aerodynamic fabric and developed by NASA. The color combination and design will leave you breathless as it soars through the air. That kite is in my parent’s garage at the beach house.

Today Joey’s kite, from family Dollar, cost all of $2.50 and was made of trash bag type plastic, two skinny wooden sticks, and a string roll on a cheap plastic handle. I thought it was going to take Jesus Christ himself to appear and make this piece of shit fly.

Kite flying, as you may or may not know, is all about location. Location, location, location. So as I surveyed the available space, did a quick assessment of the wind’s speed and direction, and saw where most of the children were clustered, I took the kite and my son over on a hill by the far end of the field. I was not hopeful as I position my son and the crappy kite, and I was completely shocked as the kite took flight with ease. Joey wanted to watch me fly the kite, and I was so excited that ours was one of the first in the air. This caused me to get a little cocky and let that p.o.s. soar higher and higher.

“Mom!!! It’s gonna go to Mars! It’s too high! You’re making me nervous!” Joey whined.

“Are you kidding me, Joey? Look around, you’re supposed to fly your kite as high as you can. Welcome to Kite Day, son.” I half scolded.

I made Joey hold the kite a few times, but he preferred to backseat kite fly and critique my technique.

“Joey, relax. Have fun. Isn’t this fun? Watch, I’m going to make it go higher!” I squealed.

And so it was for twenty minutes. Yes, for twenty minutes my Joey’s kite soared higher and higher. This kite flew longer than any other kite I had ever flown, and I was pretty pleased with myself. I hummed the “Let’s Go Fly a Kite” song from Mary Poppins and thought those musical Londoners had nothing me. Joey, although nervous, began to see my mad kite flying skillz for what they were, and I took the time to prep him on what he should say to my husband when we got home. He was never going to believe this. I was rocking this kite flying business and after twenty minutes I had that kite flying 50 feet in the air.

The thing with a kite being 50 feet in the air is that if the kite loses the wind and spirals back to the earth it has the potential to fall 50 feet in any direction. I’m sure many of you are thinking I crashed the kite into a group of five year olds, into the teacher, or smack on top of the principals head. I didn’t, thank you very much.

But when this Family Dollar airborne miracle lost the wind beneath it’s wings and came crashing down, I watched helplessly as it spiraled out of my control right into a line of 35-40ft pine trees. Fudge…only I didn’t say fudge.

Joey cried out and my brief moment as an ace kite flyer was over. “It’s in the tree, Mom! I told you it was too high! It’s Kite Day and my kite is in the tree!” Captain Obvious wailed.

And there, atop the might pine, my pride and joy was wedged. I struggled for a moment and the kite fell down a few feet. A swift breeze spun it round a branch and as I tugged I knew it was a lost cause. “It’s over, Joey. I should have listened; we (I) flew it too high.”

Joey has no poker face. He sulked and slumped over and I tried to keep him with me and help some of the other kids whose parents didn’t come for the fun. Joey helped me help his friends and he also made sure to point out the kite in the pine to anyone who would listen. I laughed it off, seemed typical enough for me, just the ending I’d expect, until Joey walked over to observe another boy’s kite high in the air, down in the field below. Joey congratulated him on flying his kite so high and then quickly pointed his finger at me and called me out to yet another parent, “Yeah, my Mom flew my kite right into a tree. My Mom broke Kite Day.” I apologized again to Joey, but the other boy’s father said he’d go take a look.

I tried to explain it was 35 feet in the air and there was no way it was coming down. The boy’s father continued over towards the trees and pushed away some branches at the bottom. As he looked up at the tree I could not believe it as I saw him place his feet on a branch and he began a precarious ascent up the sappy pine. “Oh my God!” I exclaimed, “That is so unnecessary! The kite cost $2.50 and we flew it for awhile, it’s not worth you breaking your leg(s) or neck!”

The boy’s father ignored me and continued up the tree. The branches crackled and made snapping noises as he made his way all the way up to the top of a tree. Perhaps he was a bear in a previous life, maybe a squirrel, or maybe they teach police officers these things at the academy now (he’s a state trooper). Either way, after what felt like a lifetime he reached the kite and made what felt like an even slower decent. I kept thinking of what I’d say to his child when he fell 35 feet from the tree, and how I’d pay for his inevitable medical bills. Could I somehow have this covered under my homeowners insurance? Doubtful.

As he handed me back the kite Joey and several other children erupted into cheers. I knew the real miracle of Kite Day was not my long and glorious flight, but rather it was that this every day hero didn’t break his neck rescuing my kid’s crappy $2.50 kite….cause that is also my kind of luck.

: Nice flying, Mom.

With 2.50 for paper and strings
You can have your own set of wings
With your feet on the ground
You’re a bird in a flight
With your fist holding tight
To the string of your kite

Oh, oh, oh!
Let’s go fly a kite
Up to the highest height!
Let’s go fly a kite and send it soaring
Up through the atmosphere
Up where the air is clear
Oh, let’s go fly a kite!

When you send it flyin’ up there
All at once you’re lighter than air
You can dance on the breeze
Over ‘Kindergartners and into trees
With your first ‘olding tight
To the string of your kite

Oh, oh, oh!
Let’s go fly a kite
Up to the highest height!
Let’s go fly a kite and send it soaring
Up through the atmosphere
Up where the air is clear
Let’s go fly a kite!

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Green with envy

Posted by Domestic Diva at 2:51 pm Uncategorized

Mar 302011

When you become someone’s mother your entire world changes. You feel things you never thought possible and you do things you never dreamed that you would do before…but I’m getting ahead of myself.

Have I ever told you that green is one of my favorite colors? Well, it’s one of them. My two favorites being red and green even though I have an borderline obsession with wearing black and white. Anyway, green is everywhere this time of year.

It’s in the grass….

It’s in the trees…

In the animals who slowly awake from their winter’s slumber…

So when Joey called me to come “look at the green,” my mind was focused on the color of the season. Did he draw a Spring Landscape? Was he admiring the greening grass? Perhaps our tree buds had burst open into leaves?

As I skipped, with a “spring” in my step, and rounded the corner, all hopes of a desirable Spring scene were shattered as I saw Joey, not peering out the window or coloring in his room, but standing bare-assed in the bathroom grinning at the toilet. I sighed a terrible sigh and swiftly made my way towards the boy.

“Are you sick, Joey? Do you feel okay? Do you have diarrhea?” I quickly question.

“No, Mom. I’m totally fine. It’s just a regular poop, buuuuuut look, Mom! Look how green it is! It looks like a group of green snakes sleeping in the toilet.” Joey giggled.

Almost afraid to look, I peered cautiously over the bowl and saw the greenest bunch of turds ever. Think neon green…

Actual green snakes

You didn’t think I’d post poop pictures did you? Come on! Give me a little credit!

Anyway, this is when I share one of those motherhood lessons I’ve learned that not too many people know. When I saw Joey’s otherwise normal turds,(and here’s where you do things as a Mom you never dreamed of doing) and saw the bright green neon color I didn’t panic. In fact, I told Joey to wipe, flush and wash his hands. The I went down stairs and finished some emails. Did I do that because I’m a bad Mom? Because I don’t care about my child’s health?

The simple answer is I’ve seen it before…panicked once before….called the doctor once before….and knew we had the same situation as before. You see, Joey had recently celebrated a friend’s birthday. In honor of the celebration they ate cake. Delicious chocolate and vanilla cake with blue icing (at least the Batman part of the cake). So Joey joyfully celebrated, ate and digested the birthday cake with blue icing. The blue icing, once it goes through the digestive system, actually comes out green. Really, really green.

So, Mamas, if your child ever poops a neon green poop that glows ominously at you from the toilet, and as your heart thumps anxiously and your mind races through different ailments to reach a diagnosis, try to think of any blue or purple food coloring/dye they may have consumed. It just might save you a panic attack, and don’t worry, they most like are not radioactive.

You’re welcome.

(And because some people actually need me to write this: This post and my opinion about your child’s crap is not a substitute for real medical advice. I am not now, nor have I ever been, a licensed physician. Sometimes poopy problems can be attributed to viruses, digestive conditions, allergies and more things I am not qualified to talk to you about. If you child has a poop which concerns you, please contact your pediatrician to discuss your shitty situation.)

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Anything but blue…

Posted by Domestic Diva at 7:45 pm Uncategorized

Jan 162011

Joey came to me Friday night while I was laying in bed watching TV with his normal, “Mom! I have something else to tell you about school.” He’s smart because he knows I want to hear what he did in school, but doesn’t spill the beans about what he did that day until after he’s supposed to be in bed. This happens every night. Even weekends.

Anyway, Friday he came in and told me what he learned about Martin Luther King, Jr. and the conversation went something like this:

Me: Come on, Joey. It’s been another long day. Get.to.bed.

Joey: But Mom, I have to tell you about school. It was totally serious today. I learned about Martin Luther King Jr.

Me: (Sigh) Okay, Joey. Tell me what you learned about Dr. King.

Joey: Okay, first do you know about Sybil Liberties?

Me: (Tries not to laugh thinking that all personalities should be treated equal). Do you mean Civil liberties?

Joey: That’s what I said.

Me: Okay, sorry. Yes, I know about Civil Liberties. What exactly did you discuss?

Joey: There was a woman who was on a bus and she sat on a white seat on the right side of the bus. Then she got arrested. Just for that, Mom. Can you believe that? Did you know that, Mom?

Me: Yes, Joey. I do know what you’re talking about (I think). You mean Rosa Parks? She was sitting in a seat on a bus and she refused to get up so a white person could sit down. They did arrest her for that and she became a very important part of the civil rights movement. Not really sure if it was the right or left side of the bus…

Joey: Oh, it was the right side and it was a white seat.

Me: No, Joey the seat wasn’t white. It was for a white person. Uh, what else did you learn?

Joey:No, the seat was white too, Mom.

Me: Okay, we’re losing the valuable parts of the story now, Joey.

Joey: Well, anyway Mom, she knew Martin Luther King, Jr. She would have round ups with him….

Me: Not round ups, rallies.

Joey: Yeah, rallies. And Martin Luther King, Jr. said we should all be treated the same and get along together. Then he was shot and he went right to heaven.

Me: Yes, Joey, Dr King did believe that we should all be treated equally. He thought that no matter who you were and what you looked like you should have the same rights and he was fighting against what we call racial discrimination. Did you talk about what that means?

Joey: Yes, we did. We read it in a book. He thought that no matter if you’re white, yellow, brown, black, red or purple with orange spots you should be treated the same. Except if you’re blue.

Me: Blue? Why blue? You can be white, yellow, brown, black, red or purple with orange spots, but you can’t be blue?

Joey: If you’re blue, you should probably go to the hospital.

Me: Go to bed.

I’ll cut the kid a break, he is only in Kindergarten and I do think he got the important parts of the message. I’ll try to reinforce the lesson tomorrow before bedtime.

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Sometimes my crystal ball ain’t so crystal clear

Posted by Domestic Diva at 1:49 pm Uncategorized

Jan 022011

I hate being right all the time. Seriously, I do. I wish that some of my “predictions” would not come true, especially those about how I would be spending my holiday. The week before Christmas is when my first premonition came to me. I was standing with my three year old in his preschool class, when another little boy wandered in the room, visible sick and tired. One of the teachers asked him if he was “awake yet” and his mother replied “he was up all night coughing.” It took a lot of will power to not a) smack this idiot parent in the face and b) not to take Jake by the hand and just leave. Instead, I said goodbye to Jake, said a silent prayer for good health, and walked down the hallway towards the exit listening to the echoing sounds of what I would have diagnosised as whooping cough. Two and a half days later Jake started with a cold, cough & fever. Cecilia followed late the weekend before Christmas, and Joey started coughing a few days before Christmas.

Jake ended up breaking his fever over the weekend, but in an effort not to share what he had, we kept him home to recoup (which meant he missed his Christmas party & festivities). Cecilia also broke her fever the Monday before Christmas, and Joey who was still “well” attended school the week before Christmas which was just Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday. I volunteered at school to help out all morning Monday & Tuesday during which several kids had to go home because they were still sick or had become sick. One child, who was puking all day Monday, returned, still sick and feverish Tuesday, was sent home before 10am and was back on Wednesday to spread his holiday cheer again. It’s cases like this, where the school’s policy is that the child must be fever free for 24 hours, that I think the school should be able to say, “Sorry! Take your sick kid home you horrible parent! We said 24 hours fever free! You think all these kids want to be puking on Christmas?!” Premonition #2 befell me Wednesday at Joey’s Christmas party as I observed him sitting in between two of the sick pukey kids from Monday & Tuesday trading & sharing snacks. Yum!

Christmas Eve we had no fevers (it had now been over a week after they started and only had mild-lingering cold symptoms), but as I packed my holiday diaper bag, I told my husband to take our spare trashcan and stick it in the back of the truck just in case someone needed it. As he was packing the food, presents, and kids, he mumbled something about me being a “weirdo” but still took the trashcan and placed it in the back of the truck anyway. My thought process here was that just two days before Joey was sharing snacks with his two barf-buddies, and we hadn’t quite cleared the “incubation” period.

As we pulled back in the driveway after a long but enjoyable Christmas Eve party, I was happy that my husband was right about me being such a “weirdo” and that the trashcan was still sitting in the trunk unused. Christmas morning was not quite as happy as I would have hoped, but after a late and exhausting evening, I assumed my cranky kids were just feeling the effects of the holiday.

Before we got back in the car that afternoon for another 40 mile trip (each way), Jake complained of a headache, so we gave him some Motrin and headed north. We had another fabulous party, and the gift exchanges were a hit again. Great food, good people, and did I mention the food? The kid’s palates are a little less refined and they enjoyed bowls of candies and seemingly unending cups of juice in combination with the excitement of so many gifts. Jake had been using his best “Oliver Twist/Puppy Dog Eyes” to get handfuls of M&M’s from various Aunts, Uncles & cousins, and after a sugar high, all the kids, including Jake, seemed to be finally winding down as we hit 157 miles of our 160 mile round trip Christmas 2010 bonanza. Expecting snow the next day, and with the car quiet, my husband pulled into a gas station about three miles from home just as Jake began to puke juice, M&M’s and Motrin all over himself.

Without a thought, he threw the car in park and ran and grabbed the trashcan from the back of the car that his weirdo-wife insisted on taking the night before just in time for me to jump in the back over the seat and catch “most” of what his body was rejecting into the can. It was moments like this, standing in someone else’s sick, facing backwards in the car, nearly home after the longest two days of my life, that I hated being right. My husband, the next day however, refused to admit I was right because he says I wanted the trashcan for the wrong kid and he was puking from 8lbs of candy and not from a virus. Give me a break! Sorry that my crystal ball ain’t so crystal clear. My mother’s intuition got most of it right…at least the important parts.

All the running around, excitement and junk took it’s toll on Jake though. After 9 days of a cold (which we’re told by doctor’s can last 7-14 days in kids), poor Jake developed a fever again and they advised me he had to be seen (in the snow storm) at a Urgent Care Center. After he and I spent four hours and what will undoubtedly be hundreds of dollars with the tests/X-Rays, Jake was diagnosed with walking pneumonia. The following day, just after the snow storm ended (and with 8″ of snow on the roads) Cecilia redeveloped a fever after 9 days of cold and earned herself her very first ear infection. My husband soon followed with an antibiotic, and Joey and I were the only two to come out un-medicated. So we spent the week battling secondary infections, running humidifiers, and finally were well for New Year’s Eve. I am now enjoying our third consecutive day of good health, before school starts back tomorrow. Anybody seen my bubble?

Hope you all had a Happy Holiday & Hope you all have a fabulous & happy New Year!

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State your purpose, son

Posted by Domestic Diva at 8:05 pm Uncategorized

Nov 152010

Parents often document their child’s first year in a baby book/calendar and some even record the child’s milestones through early adolescence. Each of my own children has a “First Five Years” book that catalogs all the milestones that happen from birth through Kindergarten. The beginning of each book is full of spaces and pages for the multitude of developmental hurdles that babies experience in the first twelve months or so of life like rolling over, crawling, walking, and first words. Years two through five contain a few less pages, however, there is one page that appears for each year that has a survey for the parent to complete detailing the child’s “favorites” for that particular year. Here is what I plan on filling in for Joey (age 5) this year:

Favorite Food: Pizza, chicken (only in nugget form), & pancakes
Favorite Book: Classic Curious George Stories, Where the Wild Things Are, First Encyclopedias (Sharks & Dinosaurs)
Favorite TV Show: Tom & Jerry, Curious George, Dino Dan, and any National Geographic Nature shows
Favorite Movie: Where the Wild Things Are, Up, Wall-E
Favorite Toy: Leapster
Favorite Game: Anything outdoors, Toy Story on Wii
Hobbies: Becoming an “Explorer; Using public toilets, and Embarrassing my Mom whenever she takes me out in public

Case in point, today, as with many days before, taking Joey out into the world proves to be an embarrassing task that leaves me with a certainty this child lives to humiliate me whenever possible.

Jake and I picked up Joey from school this morning for a quick trip to the doctor’s office for flu shots, and upon arrival, we saw another boy from Joey’s class with his brother and Mom also waiting for their flu shots. As I tried to calm Joey, who was now super excited to see a friend, I also tried to check in with Jake clinging to my leg. Jake, who was very upset to be at the doctor’s office for any reason, whimpered a bit and I hurried through the ridiculously long check-in process showing my photo id, insurance card, co-pays, w-2′s, copy of my and their birth certificates, and a copy of my deed for my house. Okay, it’s not quite that ridiculous, but it’s much longer than necessary (thanks HIPA). Anyway, Joeys’ friend asked Jake if he liked the Phillies since he was sporting a hat and jacket with their logo. Joey chimed in that they love the Phillies and the Wilmington Blue Rocks (Delaware’s minor league baseball team). I added that the boys got to a few Blue Rock’s games, but we never made it up to Philadelphia for a Phillies game this year. Joey then exclaims, “I loooooved the Blue Rocks games! I saw the baseball team and ate ice cream and I went to the bathroom at least two times at the last game. One time I peed in the bathroom and the other time I went back and I peed again but I got poop in there too.”

This other mother was laughing quietly while the receptionist was hysterical. I then explained that a year ago Joey would not use any public restroom and now everywhere we go that there is a bathroom, he needs to go and at least pee. Public bathrooms are a big deal now for some reason. I also added that I can no longer take him in public without this kind of random embarrassing banter. This kid’s sole purpose in life seems to be to embarrass me…or at the very least it’s a hobby of his. I suppose that Joey talking about his own pooping escapades is better than him talking about stranger’s weight, handicaps, or skin color.

That’s okay though. I’m saving all the embarrassing photos and videos in a special file just waiting for the first time he brings a girl home. Payback is a bitch…or at least it will be!

Joey, age 5, enjoys playing outside, eating cookies, reading and pooping in public toilets

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Monday? Are you sure? Feels like Hump Day…

Posted by Domestic Diva at 11:29 am Uncategorized

Sep 142010

After last week’s cricket incident at my local grocery store (read here if you missed it), I’ve been apprehensive about leaving the house. In fact, aside from working in the yard Saturday and cleaning Sunday, I didn’t do anything requiring me to leave the house the entire weekend.

As we pulled up to Joey’s school yesterday morning, I found myself scanning the faces of the other parents walking their children into the building. I live in a small town, any of these people could have seen me having a break down in the Acme parking lot. Any of these fathers could be the man who stuck his hand down my shirt. I put on my big dark “Jackie O” glasses, took Joey’s hand and walked him up the block and into school.

I managed to get in and out of school without seeing anyone from last week’s incident, and I began to relax as I took my first steps back outside and breathed in the crisp, cool morning air. Just as I started down the sidewalk, enjoying what would be my only peaceful moment of the day, I heard shouting off to my right and saw a flash of brown.

Before I knew what hit me, I flopped right out of one shoe and hopped out of control backwards into the grass. The morning dew was cold and unwelcome on my one barefoot, and as I struggled to regain balance I grabbed a hold of the brown mass that knocked me out of my momentary zen and back to reality.

My eyes must have shut instinctively, and it was actually the smell of wet dog that told my brain what must have thrust me from my intended path. As I began to push the brown mongrel off me, it became immediately clear that this (apparent) horse/dog hybrid was not actually jumping on me, but he had secured his front paws around my upper right thigh and was furiously humping my leg. The dog continued to go to town as I hobbled in the grass and the woman who evidently owns the beast reached us.

She pulled on his collar, commanding the beast to sit, however, “Captain” as she called him, was firm in his intent to make sweet love to my Old Navy Flirt jeans. Finally, she hooked his leash into his collar, and with one mighty pull she broke his hold on my leg.

As I awkwardly searched for my missing shoe, the woman, in her early twenties began to profusely apologize. She explained it was her brother’s dog who she was watching while he was out of town. She further explained that the dog, seeing something walk past the front door, actually ripped through her screen and her chase ensued.

I told her it was okay, as the memories of the last large loose dog incident washed over me, and I told “Captain” next time he should at least buy me dinner first. The dog, now sitting calmly, just looked at me with that “dumb-dog-look,” wagged his tail and panted loudly.

On my walk back to the car, I thanked God that Joey makes me stay and wait for him to hang his bag, find his chair, and color his picture before saying our farewell for the day. Otherwise there may have been more than two or three people who witnessed the event. I pondered whether or not I should get my own dog just to ward off these other unruly animals roaming my town.

My Monday continued to spiral downhill with a horrific looking bloody lip for Jake, a blood stain from Jake’s bloody lip on my second pair of pants for the day, a poopy diaper blow out for Cecilia resulting in scrubbing shit from her outfit and my carpet, and finally my crappy super heated Dell laptop being pulled from the couch to the floor and cracking the adapter plug (compromised by the extreme heat I imagine) and ultimately shutting down perhaps never to be turned on again (the battery died after 6 months).

As I finally ended my Monday, chewed some tums to settle the indigestion that came with only having had time to eat potato salad for dinner, and I had to laugh that being humped by that horny beast, was actually one of the better parts of my Wednesday Monday.

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Saved by the bell…well, almost.

Posted by Domestic Diva at 2:47 pm Uncategorized

Sep 032010

The alarm sounded and the butterflies in my stomach took flight. Upon standing I felt them fluttering around and I took a deep breath and reminded myself I needed to stay calm. I quickly dressed in the outfit I had laid out the night before and got to work taming my hair and applying enough make up to make me look human.

Just as I was putting the finishing touches on my hair, the early morning sun illuminated three or four hairs standing strong above my upper lip that I must have missed when waxing the day before. Upon further inspection they were on the lighter side, yet rather long (for those who don’t wax, you sometimes need to grow out the hair to effectively remove it). Plucking these Tom Selleck remnants would surely leave red spots that would not fade before I had to leave the house. The flurry of butterflies in my stomach reminded me I had to make haste.

Eureka! I found a tiny pair of nail scissors that would have to do the trick. Just as I placed my tongue under my lip to push out the hairy patch and leaned towards the mirror, scissors extended, Joey burst into the bathroom. “Mom! I need breakfast before Kindergarten! I can’t starve! Hey! Are those my new scissors?!”

“Holy shit, Joey!” I cried out, nearly stabbing myself in the face. “Of course these are not your new scissors! All of your supplies are in your book bag…can I even trim my mustache in peace?!”I cried out.

Before I could get a reply Joey was already out of my room and half way down the stairs to verify for himself that his new scissors were in fact in his book bag. This gave me a moment to snip my unwanted facial fuzz and finish readying myself for my oldest child’s first day of full day Kindergarten.

As we drove the 3/4 mile to Joey’s school a million thoughts raced threw my mind, and those butterflies felt like buzzards tearing apart the inside of my stomach. We arrived five minutes before the kids were allowed to go to their classrooms, so we found a place to stand in the hallway with the other walkers and car riders.

Looking around there were some children, and parents, who looked just as nervous as I was; Joey on the other hand, was bouncing up and down with excitement. There were a few tear stained faces and some other kids still whimpering quietly as we all waited for the bell to sound. One of the teacher’s assigned to corral the children until 8:20am, asked Joey if he was going to Kindergarten. He replied that he was, gave his name and his teachers name, and he got the attention of the crowd quietly waiting for the first day of school to begin.

Knowing Joey had an audience only heightened my anxiety, and that familiar sense of foreshadowing fell over me. It was then that the teacher, no doubt thrilled to see such a happy face on the first day of school, asked Joey if he remembered his lunch and school supplies. “Yes! I have a new lunch bag and I have two snacks! I have all my supplies in my bag…and I don’t need to worry, Mommy didn’t take my scissors.” he replied. I swallowed hard, smiled, and prayed that the bell would ring. Please dear God let the bell ring.

“Oh, well now that you’re in Kindergarten, you’re a big boy so you’ll get to use scissors and glue, and wait until you see the things you’ll do in art class!” she exclaimed. Joey, still fidgeting with excitement loudly burst out with, “Okay! See, Mom! I need my scissors! I need them for art projects; you can’t use them to cut your beard!”

“BRRRRRRRIIIIIIINNNNNNNGGGGGGG” the bell sounded, and my face reddened.

I would have thought that no one heard, except that he speaks 10 decibels above normal and there was quite a bit of parental giggling down the hall, sympathetic looks, and the teacher apologetically smiling in my direction.

Joey got settled in with no other issues, and as I said my goodbye and walked to the car, I knew I’d be the parent who had no secrets. I cried the whole near mile home in part because my “baby” is going into Kindergarten and I think it was just a release of anxiety and emotion building up the last week or so…and maybe a little cause I’m already the “mustache Mama” at a new school…on the very first day. Eff.

The Winds of Change…

Posted by Domestic Diva at 10:55 pm Uncategorized

Aug 242010

I stared out the window on the drive home from the beach at the miles of harvested corn fields when the reality of Joey starting full day Kindergarten came crashing down on me. Could he really be five already? After attending preschool, which was only two and a half hours long, was Joey ready to be gone from 8:30am-3:30pm everyday? Will he make friends? Will he like and listen to his teacher? Will he eat his lunch? Have I taught him well enough about stranger-danger? Will he poop at school? Oh, sweet baby, Jesus help me.

Joey is a very imaginative, happy, friendly and eager to please little boy, but sometimes he gets himself nervous and worried (I think in part to his active imagination). He’s a creature of habit, as are many young children, and I worry that throwing him into a new routine might create some anxiety. I want going to school to be a positive experience for him, and I also don’t want to send him out into the big bad world just yet. Okay, so maybe it’s more my anxiety right now…

Maybe Joey fits in fine but the teacher thinks I’m a bad Mom because Joey asks every overweight person he sees if they “ate too much pizza and got fat?” Or maybe he tells the teacher something like he told his preschool teachers last year, “Sometimes on the weekend, Mommy let’s me go down into the basement to see Pop-Pop. I love when I can visit with my Pop-Pop.” I had to explain to the teacher that I do not keep my father, who is not elderly or anything, locked in my basement. My father was helping my husband finish our basement, and came down on weekends, hence Joey visiting Pop-Pop in the basement on weekends. She laughed, and I jokingly told her that if she tells people I keep my Dad locked in the basement, I’ll just tell people what Joey told me about the bathroom at school. “Mom, they said if I have to pee that I have to go pee in the closet.” The “closet” was a bathroom stall that prior to preschool two years ago, Joey had never seen and/or used.

I’m going to also have to start making an effort to brush my teeth well before noon, and maybe even look presentable when I leave the house to drop off Joey at 8:30am, and then Jake, who will go three days a week to preschool, at 9am. I hope the other Moms like me too. I’m generally pretty tolerated most places I’ve been (school, work, etc.), but what if all this time away from adults causes me to finally lose the capacity to have an adult conversation. I’m telling you my friends, that day is coming. Just one more episode of the Wonder Pets, and SNAP! My brain finally turns to mush. Plus, I don’t want to look like I’m trying to hard and getting all dressed and presentable by 8am because that’s not me either. On the other hand I need to not kill everyone in a 10 foot radius with morning breath, so I’m thinking I might try for somewhere between “domestic diva” and “big hot mess” and see what I come up with…

I’m gonna go try to relax now…shave my mustache (we don’t need Tom Selleck showing up for the first day of school), take a bath, drink a glass of wine, and try to just let life happen…he’s a lot more ready some times than I think he is; earlier tonight he said, “Do you hear that, Mom? It’s the winds of change!” Now I have no idea which movie/cartoon he got it from, but I think he’s right…

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Monday? Are you sure? Feels like Hump Day…

Saved by the bell…well, almost.

The Winds of Change…

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