The Terrible Awful

Where did January go? Seriously. I don't even know. One minute it turned into January, then the entire family got sick and stayed sick and got better for a millisecond, got sick again, and now all of a sudden it's February.

Now, I know sick kids and viruses and vomiting aren't unique to me. I know all parents have been there and done that. But seriously? I had no idea. NO IDEA.

Avery's face says it all.

So it was a totally normal Wednesday. We had spaghetti for dinner. I told Alan to go to the gym after I put Owen down for the night, so I was getting Avery all ready for bed on my own. She got in bed and all of a sudden had to use the bathroom--the big potty, she specified. Not one to stand in the way of a potential potty break, we headed in. Then she started drooling ridiculous amounts. And before I knew it, she was vomiting and I was catching it with the toilet paper in my hand. I then grabbed her potty chair and she continued to heave into it.

Here's where I thought I was a total bad-ass for keeping all of the vomit contained.

So then Avery went to bed and I hear what I can only describe as a wet cough. And I knew. So I go in and there are pajamas that need changing and a kid that needs bathing and sheets that need changing and Alan is still not home. A couple of days later we hit up the doctor, who congratulates us on our ear infection. So we're sitting on the couch, Alan having gone to get her meds, and Avery says she puked. I didn't see puke anywhere...until it started shooting out of her face. It landed directly on Owen's back; he was crawling around on the floor. So nice job protecting the carpet, buddy. (Remember Disney World? I mean it.) My first thought? Alan somehow managing to skip puke No. 2.

Taking Mr. Head's temperature.

We proceed to have two full weeks of Avery not eating, feverish kids, ear infections and hell. No really, it was hell. I don't know how I survived it.  Any time it would appear that Avery was making a recovery, she'd be awful by the afternoon again. Turned out her first meds for her ears weren't strong enough, so she needed new antibiotics. Then we headed into the doctor for Owen, because he looked like the sickest sicko in all of the land. Ear infection for him too.

The saddest little sicko.

I got hit with it about the same time Owen was getting a little better, and I realized quickly why Avery didn't eat for a week and why she was content lying on the couch watching college basketball for two hours. I couldn't move. I had chills and a fever and aches and my face felt like it was smuggling a bowling ball I don't even know how a bowling ball could fit up there but it was there somewhere. I hit up the doctor when I finally came down with pink eye or some such nonsense that rendered my eye useless. A look in my ears also got me an antibiotic for an ear infection. And Alan? He made four for four ear infections in the house. IS THAT NOT RIDICULOUS?

Round 1 of the nonsense. Poor buddy.

It was* terrible awful.

We spent at least $200 on doctor visits and medications and chicken noodle soup.

So we were on the mend. But before I could publish this, Owen started vomiting like clockwork each night after dinner, starting Wednesday. Followed by me vomiting yesterday. His antibiotics for his ear aren't working either. I know. It sounds like a joke. It's not. It's terrible awful. Send saltines.

*is, still

Ham and Cheese

We went to a kids' play area the other day. Avery had a blast climbing and playing and pushing a shopping cart back and forth a million times. Here she is in all of her shopping cart glory. This girl is hilarious; I love the bounce in her step. She's clearly used to paparazzi.

Holiday Cheer

Because we're not coming home for Christmas, I thought I'd spread a little Christmas cheer via blog.

Jamming to Christmas tunes; I love how Avery takes a break mid-dance.



Jingle Bells and a brief sticker tragedy.



Jingle Bells, Ony Phony Sleigh, hey! Cracks me up.


Avery has recently been crazy for dolls, dressing and undressing, putting them to bed and feeding them. Now she's learned that we have a real live baby who, when she's not beating him up, also eats. Guess how messy it is when a 2-year-old feeds a 9-month-old?


Never mind that it looks like we live in an episode of Hoarders. We're putting in a backsplash and have our entire kitchen contents on the table.

And this one. Well, this one just makes me laugh because Avery is being inexplicably goofy. And drooly.
I swear, she wasn't even the slightest bit intoxicated. But I bet in about 19 years she'll be really fun to have a drink with!

Green Eggs and Ham

That Sam-I-am...when will he learn that we do not like green eggs and ham? We do not like them here or there...not with a mouse...we do not like them ANYWHERE.

9 Months and Change

Owen The Adorable.

Owen has now been in the outside world longer than he was in the inside world. Remember that ultrasound photo of him smiling? That pretty much sums up his personality. He's super laid back and a generally happy baby. The days that he's fussy I'm at a loss because—who are you and what did you do with Owen?

9 months and my first pair of shoes. I'm not even kidding.

I'm watching my neighbor's twins for a few hours a couple of afternoons a week while she goes to work in exchange for the same for Avery. Owen will be able to cash in many, many favors in the future for being so, so good while I've got three 2-year-olds running amok. And he doesn't even know it yet. (Owen, if you're reading this, seriously. Disney World? You're that good.)

If he wasn't so laid back, I wouldn't have been able to get to the vet for an appointment for Marti.

I could have done nothing else this day and would have considered it a success.

Considering how strong he was as a fetus and newborn, I'm surprised he's not yet crawling. But can I just say, THANK GOODNESS? Why parents are in a hurry to have a mobile child boggles my mind. Take your time, my late crawlers. Mommy needs a break. He is, however, rolling from here to there and everywhere. Every time I turn around, he's rolled to some new danger or item of disgust, like Marti's dog toys. Marti loves to share her germs.

After several months of lukewarm interest in lukewarm solid foods, he's suddenly developed an appetite. He also has developed opinions.

Mashed potatoes!? I AM SO OFFENDED.

Outta my way. Santa needs some Pawn Stars.

He's been super busy cutting teeth. Rocking up on all fours trying so hard to crawl but only scooting backwards. Saying Dada. Saying Mama when he's in distress. Putting everything in his mouth that he possibly can. Getting tougher by the day because of his big sister. And being an adorable, smiley little guy.

I'm practically full grown.

Cutest bedhead ever.

I dare you to meet this guy and not love him completely.

We were ready to celebrate Halloween this year when Sandy rolled in and ruined everything. Just kidding. We actually weren't ready for Halloween at all, and Sandy, well, yes, she did ruin way more than Halloween.

Halloween just didn't seem like the biggest deal while we were dealing with all of that craziness, and it helped that I'd procrastinated costume decisions. And honestly, I was going the "cheap and lazy" route anyway and had planned to do either a cat (Avery) and mouse (Owen, because I think I had a mouse costume somewhere...) or a ballerina for Aves and possibly a tap dancer for Owen. (That's for you, Nikki.)

Maybe the most serious cat ever.

Cheshire grin.

 Even though Halloween was postponed, postponed again, and then canceled, we didn't let that get in the way of our fun. Luckily we'd hit up a pumpkin patch recently (maybe I'll get that post up by Christmas) so we celebrated by doing a little pumpkin carving in the 55-degree house and eating copious amounts of candy (me, for warmth). 

Digging out the ooey gooey.

 

A cat-ballerina perchance?

Owen could go as a vampire, what with all of his teeth.

I'm thinking of going pro.

So I'd have lots more wit and banter for you but guess who is crying? The vampire. Off to appease!

Sandy? Darn Near Wrecked 'Em!

Sandy was a bully. A big bully who made Irene look gentle, even though Irene was no joke herself. If you want to go back to high school analogies, Irene was to Sandy as a whisper is to a scream. Or blowing out birthday candles is to, well, a freaking hurricane.

As was the case with Irene, we knew Sandy was on the way. So we bought flashlights and canned goods and water and waited to weather the storm. Owen, the future meteorologist, likes to look outside on a normal day, so the wind whipping the trees had him twisting in his high chair to check out the conditions.

Hurricane damage could even be seen inside.

 Note the PJs. He wears them for like four days straight. 

Before the worst of the storm even hit, our neighbors had tree limbs down, hitting the fence that lines our driveway. The storm itself was actually pretty nerve-wracking. Whereas storms in Kansas are sudden and severe, they pass fairly quickly. This lasted for hours. And hours. And hours. And although it wasn't constant, the roaring gusts had us wincing and bracing ourselves. When you're hearing racket and loud noises outside, falling limbs and trash cans blowing away, you're just waiting for the moment something comes crashing through the window. Gusts blew water into our back door, which we were able to MacGyver and fix. Our grill tipped over, landing like a puzzle piece on our patio table, which we'd turned over in preparation for the storm.

We finally decided enough with the wincing, and we headed to the basement to watch every second of storm coverage on TV and feel slightly safer. We held onto power longer than I thought we would, and I was able to make dinner Monday night, watching a tree out the kitchen window and ready to take cover if I saw it crash to the ground. Because the worst of the storm was yet to come, we decided to camp out in the basement (and a big yay for it being finished and way more comf than it was during Irene). We finally lost power at 9:34 p.m. (give or take) and crashed out as we listened to what sounded like jets flying overhead.

We woke up the next morning with limbs in our driveway and yard, but our neighbors got the damage. Their fence was smashed in places, a huge tree branch crushed their picnic table and patio set. They are set for years with firewood.

Right after some of this came down, I saw a poor, terrified squirrel hanging on for dear life. He finally, finally scurried away. 

The jungle in the driveway. As I charge my phone. Which eats battery like candy.

Alan was off work the entire week last week. After a couple of days of being at home, we ventured out. A grocery store 30 minutes away was running on generators, so we got a few new items.

  Where is Halloween and what do I have to do to get some milk around here? 

My phone-charging-in-the-car buddy.

Minus some leaf splatter, our house is unscathed. We were extremely lucky. Extremely. The loss of power and heat was nothing compared to the heartbreaking devastation that's just a stone's throw away from us, whole houses and neighborhoods lost, memory-filled boardwalks gone. Even today, there are still people in our town without power; our downtown, just blocks away, is mostly shut down because power isn't back on. The stoplights aren't working. Our polling place moved. In the days right after the storm, it was the rare block that didn't have a huge tree down. Trees pulling chunks of earth and sidewalk with them? Everywhere.

A block away from us.

Stop. There's a tree down.

Another block over, another massive tree.

I will also just say how surreal it is to see hours-long lines for gasoline because so many people were lining up with gas cans to power generators for their homes and so many gas stations didn't have power to pump gas. I was able to get gas today for the first time and I still had to wait 20 minutes. Also weird? Having almost no cell reception. It was just wiped out...I had to try a dozen times per text I sent out, and calls would drop before I even connected.

Luckily, we have a gas stove for cooking, but not having heat gets old quickly, especially when you have two kids to keep warm. Luckily Avery is a toaster, and her room is the most well-insulated, and she demands three blankets, so she stayed pretty cozy. Owen, on the other hand, wasn't as successful sleeping on his own in a 55-degree bedroom. (High maintenance!) So he napped strapped to us and snuggled with me at night. Having him, Marti, and Toaster Sr., Alan, I didn't have a problem staying warm overnight. It just really, really sucked to get out of bed in the morning. And showers? Ha. We barely even changed our clothes.

The positives? We did make memories, although two of us won't remember any of them.

Or will any of us remember them? 

Daddy/daughter fire building.

 Lots of reading and snuggling.

When power finally kicked back on on Friday night, I was so relieved. I didn't realize how stressful it was until I didn't have to fret about food and heat any more. It's one thing when it's you, but it's another when it's cute little kiddos whose hands get cold.

So there you have it. Sandy. I'll have more (hopefully soon) on the lack of Halloween and other fun stuff. Remain on the edge of your seats. And now Owen is crying, because "Where is MAMA?? She slept next to me for FOUR DAYS and now I cannot sleep without her!" So bye!