Sunday, December 25, 2011
Saturday, December 24, 2011
I took Curtis to Cookie Cutters today to deal with his hippie hair. To my surprise, he didn't freak out when we got there, which meant he didn't have to sit on my lap, which meant I didn't have to hold the kid thrashing in rage. And he wore his cape, which meant we didn't both have to get covered in hair, which in turn makes one of us even more upset. And he didn't move his head around like Stevie Wonder, causing the poor 18-year-old barber girl to do about as good a job as I could with my sideburn trimmer. Merry Christmas every one.
Friday, December 23, 2011
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
Paige had her school Christmas program today. She and her fellow kindergarteners sang Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer. She was pretty excited about singing such awesome echoes as "like a lightbulb." The real surprise came when the kids followed "you'll go down in history," with "like Justin Bieber!"
"Justin Bieber?" I asked.
"Yeah," she replied. "Because not everybody knows who Columbus is."
And there you have it. Bieber discovered America.
(And he was like "Baby, baby, baby, oh.")
Friday, December 16, 2011
Wednesday, December 14, 2011
Friday, December 09, 2011
I'm about as good at Words with Friends as I am at Fantasy Football (I told the commissioner I wasn't going to play after last year's 1-12 season. He said it had just been a "rebuilding year."). I generally lose to any opponent by 50-200 points.
My friend Brett always slaughters me. But this time was different. Four simple letters, J-O-Y-S, netted me 105 points, thanks to both a triple letter AND a triple word score. 105 points! I had to tell Traci. (And I wanted to tell everyone I know.)
I chose not to call it out to Brett. What kind of sore winner would I be if I did?
But then things started to change. Brett would throw out a 30-point word, and then a 35, and then a 50!
This was not looking good. My hands were starting to sweat.
And then he pulled away. The final score was 389-373, despite my 100-point word.
If only I had the letters to spell d-e-j-e-c-t-e-d.
Posted by su-tang 3000 at 10:55 AM
Monday, December 05, 2011
NURSE: Hi, Curtis. Can you put on these nice little jammies and socks?
NURSE: I've got this really cool coloring book. Do you want to color in it?
He throws it on the floor.
He kicked and screamed as the nurse tried to take his temperature and listen to his heart. He writhed and screamed as they gave him his medicine (a light sedative), and then quickly calmed down as it kicked in. Even drugged up, he wasn't about to put on that hospital gown and, refusing to ride in the little wagon to the Operating Room, had to be carried away (screaming) by anesthesiologist in just his diaper.
The doctor told us a tonsillectomy would be easy for him--about a 20 minute procedure--but hard for us, who would have to deal with an upset little guy for a couple of weeks.
As promised, the doctor appeared after only a few minutes to tell us that all had gone well.
"He was pretty worked up when he came into the O.R.," he said. "He threw his truck at us."
"But crying just makes you breathe deeper and it only took about two breaths before his sedative mask kicked in."
He was screaming again when he was delivered to us in the recovery area, which I'm sure didn't feel good on his sore throat. He looked like he'd been through the ringer, with scratches on his face where I'm sure he was trying to claw off his oxygen mask. It was pretty sad to see him with his little IV in his hand. Fortunately, a kid-sized Lortab knocked him back out and he spent the rest of day in a foggy haze.
The doctor was right about the recovery time. We had about 10 days where he didn't want to eat anything (not even the freezer full of popsicles and ice cream), woke up screaming (and often kicking) several times a night, and was generally miserable.
And then he was back to normal.
They don't take kids' tonsils out like they used to. Apparently, Curtis' were mega enough, and causing enough earaches and sore throats, that it warranted the procedure. The doctor also thought it would help Curtis get a more restful sleep each night.
For the kid who wakes up each morning in ornery mode, I thought this was going to be a life changer. I had convinced myself that all of his naughtiness was residing in those tonsils and when they came out, we'd have a brand new boy.
Nope. Still evil.
Sunday, December 04, 2011
Paige is such a considerate six-year-old. When she woke us up at one in the morning, she said, "I tried not to throw up on my bed." And she didn't. Instead she, from her top bunk, threw up over the side--and onto her little brother below. Fortunately, we were able to change Curtis' blankets without him even waking up.
The next night it was Curtis' turn to be sick. He didn't have anyone below him to throw up on, but he did manage to hit just about every surface in the house.
Vomit is a little bit like thinking you have lice. Once you smell it, you think everything smells like it. Traci was lying in the bed and said, "Do you still smell throw up somewhere?" Unable to locate the source, she reached over and grabbed the laptop next to the bed and started typing away. A few keystrokes in and there was some crunching in the keyboard.
I spent yesterday prying up the keys and digging out the dried vomit.
Too much information?