The Lovely Barf Cycle…..

I can’t believe I’m blogging about barf again. I’m so tired of barf. Cleaning barf. Hearing barf. Smelling barf. Enough with the barf yet? Be glad I didn’t find any suitable barf pictures to post.

With three children, the barfy bug incubation period is perfectly timed so that it plows through the family and, just when you think everyone is back in school and healthy, the primary infector is reinfected. I think our violin teacher must think I’m crazy because for about three weeks now at least one of my children has been sickly. I promise I’m not lying!  This one is truly a doozy!

I feel horrible for my poor babies. Their pale faces are drained and they have barely enough energy to plop down on the couch and moan for “sickie pop”. A sickie pop is a Pedialyte freezer pop.  My kids prefer them over drinking the liquid. This frozen pop goes down nice and slow, so if it isn’t going to stay down at least the volume of substance isn’t too overwhelming…. ugh.Â

The Lovely Barf Cycle…..

I can’t believe I’m blogging about barf again. I’m so tired of barf. Cleaning barf. Hearing barf. Smelling barf. Enough with the barf yet? Be glad I didn’t find any suitable barf pictures to post.

With three children, the barfy bug incubation period is perfectly timed so that it plows through the family and, just when you think everyone is back in school and healthy, the primary infector is reinfected. I think our violin teacher must think I’m crazy because for about three weeks now at least one of my children has been sickly. I promise I’m not lying!  This one is truly a doozy!

I feel horrible for my poor babies. Their pale faces are drained and they have barely enough energy to plop down on the couch and moan for “sickie pop”. A sickie pop is a Pedialyte freezer pop.  My kids prefer them over drinking the liquid. This frozen pop goes down nice and slow, so if it isn’t going to stay down at least the volume of substance isn’t too overwhelming…. ugh.Â

SuperGirl or POW?

This is my SuperGirl, otherwise known as Katherine.  With two older brothers and a doting Daddy she can, at times, be a “POW”.  No, not a “Prisoner of War”.  In the Bryan household POW stands for “Piece of Work”.  Yes, POW has had quite the week.  Beating up a best friend, using “poopie head” in almost every sentence, and destroying the plantation shutters in her bedroom, has kept her busy.  

I mention this because yesterday was a wee bit of a challenge for me, if you hadn’t guessed from my blog post.  I allowed myself a nice glass of wine at the end of the day, because let’s face it, I deserved it after the day I had had!  Looking back, it may have been more like two glasses of wine…. or so.

In any case, I woke up a little groggy this morning and heard the pitter patter of little feet.

“Momma, I barfed.”

I know that every mother out there has an instant flash of what the day will be like when they wake up to a declaration of barf.  This is exactly where I was at 8am this morning.

Why is it that preschool children always have to barf on the days they would normally be going to school?  

Why is it always on the day when the last drop of milk has been drunk and there are two slices of bread left?  

I won’t pretend I didn’t enjoy staying in my jammies with her.  This sweet child curled up in my lap and told me I was her “best Momma ever”.  I love the “best Momma” moments.  The fact that I am her only Momma is lost on me.  The images of yesterday wash away.  All of the things I had to do today can wait.  This child, my SuperGirl, is telling me a love story.  The kind of story I want to last forever.  This is totally worth being a barf Zamboni operator for.   

I want everyone to know that I am no longer Queen of the “meanie stupid heads”.  I am “best Momma ever”. 

For today anyway.

A Bit of Advice….

Today’s blog is in the form of important advice for those of you who may already have children.  Those of you who do not yet have children may want to store this one for later.  This one is an absolute GEM, so pay attention:

Banter about the "Third Child Syndrome" and one saintly husband.

So, today is Friday.  I’m really tired and this has been a very long short week.  After a very enjoyable and lazy winter break, the boys started school on Tuesday and Katherine started preschool on Wednesday.  I can’t seem to get through to my body that it actually has to get out of bed now that the kids are back in school.  My husband is a saint and has been getting Will and Henry up, fed and walked to school on his way to work.  Can you believe how big I scored with this man that asked me to marry him?  Not to mention that we have been married for almost 12 years and he is still absolutely, without a doubt, madly in love with me?  So much so that he is leaving me blissfully asleep in bed, making sure that the boys get to school on time???  PINCH ME PLEASE!!  Seriously, by the time he was stepping onto the lightrail to get downtown, I may have just been hopping out of bed to wake up three year old Katherine.  Let me just say, she doesn’t wake up well.  After being told, “Go away Mommy, I’m sleepy”, I run out of the room and hop back into my own bed for a few more minutes until she finally comes pattering into my room ready to start the day.  By this time it is about 8:15 and I really should leave the house at 8:40 to get her to preschool.  (WHY a city gal drives 20 minutes across town for a preschool is a story for another blog post).  We spend the next twenty five minutes discussing wardrobe choices, pouring a bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios on the floor, spilling a glass of OJ or two, arguing over the fact that Crocs are not appropriate footwear in winter (or frankly any time of year, but this is Colorado so even the girly girls are embracing their crunchy side), comb through the mass of blonde curls (here is where I’d insert a photo if I was blog savvy enough, but alas, this is only my 3rd post and I’m definitely not blog savvy!) and finally getting strapped into our super safe Britax carseat.  By the time I have Katherine at school it is at least 9:15.  Can I tell you that two children ago my blood pressure could not have handled this?  The shame in being 15 minutes late for anything would have KILLED me.  I would have had to go to confession, and I’m not even Catholic!  I was always the “together” person.  For as long as I can remember I arrived to appointments 5 minutes early, together and ready for whatever the task at hand may have been.  Even with two children I managed it.  The third child changes things, though.  It changes things exponentially!  Suddenly, being 15 minutes late for preschool is OK?  I mean seriously, these are the years we are supposed to be preparing our children for the routines and schedules of actual real school.  She only has 2 years before Kindergarten (Aug. baby) where, by the way, being 15 minutes late doesn’t happen even with the new relaxed me.  To be honest, I think I finally understand why I was destined to have three children.  To spend your whole life trying to be perfect is exhausting.  Not that my current state of discombobulation is less exhausting, but that I finally realize what is important and I’m not willing to waste energy on stressing over the extra sleep I stole this morning.  Being perfect is totally over rated and I’m so much happier being slightly imperfect.  My boys got to “real” school on time.  Now, a hair out of place, a missed homework assignment (Ok, I admit this one still stressed me out), being a few minutes late somewhere, all of these things just happen and I have to let them go because they just happen.  If I freaked over the stuff I freaked over before, I’d be institutionalized by now.  If these types of things happened every day I would definitely get a reputation for being flaky and late, and frankly, there isn’t much to be done about flaky and consistently late people.  Although, if ever you want an excuse you could have a third kid because it seems to have worked ok for me a few times lately.  (PLEASE don’t email me about that comment, I’m not serious.  I’m Bantering!)  I think that when a kind man can give you a few minutes of extra sleep you should take it, not feel guilty, and also, you should embrace the Third Child Syndrome when you need to.  You’ll be better of for it and your kids won’t become OCD, which doesn’t sound like much fun. My husband gave me time this morning as a gift, and I graciously accepted it and now I thank him with all my heart.  He is my partner, my lover, my soul mate, the father of my children.  If there is any man out there reading this blog, take the hint.  Letting your spouse sleep in for even a few minutes will bring you much appreciation.  So, next week I shall approach Monday fresh.  I shall get up at 6:45 when my alarm goes off, without pressing snooze 5 times.  I shall get dressed and make my children a nutritious breakfast and send them off to school with all hairs in place.  We’ll probably still be 15 minutes late for preschool but I’ll get to yoga class on time and once there I shall dedicate my practice to my beautiful third child who changed my life exponentially in so many wonderful ways, and to my husband who gave me an extra half hour of sleep this morning.  I love you honey!  As my dear friend Gita said to me this morning, Om out my friends….   

Shhhh…. Do You Hear That?

Shhhh!  Do you hear that?  Listen, what do you hear?  I hear the tick, tick of my kitchen clock, the hum of my fridge, and hmmm, what else?  NOTHING! HA, this is the glorious sound of NOTHING.  Winter break is over.  I’ve received several emails today saying “hope your break was great”.  Break?  Are you kidding me?  My break is now.  I actually got to go to the bathroom all by myself a minute ago.  No banging on the door, no little 3 year old making observations about my bodily functions in the bathroom.  When I had finished my peaceful potty break, I walked out to…. nothing.  Everything was just as it had been when I went into the bathroom a moment earlier!