very funny, indeed

These came in the mail about a week ago from my aunt.

And this was stuffed in my stocking from my mother.

Honestly, I was expecting one of those fuzzy cat toys, so chocolate was a pleasant surprise. Of course, maybe a fuzzy cat toy is just what I would have done because I'm evil.

In case you're just tuning in, catch the joke here and here.

the tired, i haz it

He wouldn't agree to sleep until he had the seventh and final vehicle, the school bus, firmly in his grasp.

merry christmas!

Enjoy a blessed celebration of the birth of our Savior!

OH NO YOU DIDN'T

This is the face of a boy who just received a brand-new copy of Mickey Mouse's Twice Upon a Christmas. We're talking uninterrupted BOYS! See, what I failed to mention in my last post about this really fun movie that we've watched 1, 267, 572 times now is that it's a little scuffed up.

So it would freeze right as they were sneaking into Santa's office, and again when they were racing into the workshop; this was exceptionally troublesome.

It came in a two-pack with a collection-type DVD with snippets from every single Disney character ever drawn in between. I snuck it in even though he requested, "Dis one." The first cartoon had the boys! And the last one had Scrooge! OH MY GOODNESS COULD THIS DAY GET ANY BETTER?????

Oh, did I say his two bestest friends J and L brought it TO HIS HOUSE? And did I say that he dumped out every single toy he owns in excitement of their arrival? Because he did.

because i have to pick my battles

This photo was taken the day Opa taught Punkin how to throw snowballs. So if you get hit, don't blame me. To be fair, though, he let us take turns as well. Now, Punkin's ability to throw a ball is limited. But put a pair of mittens on him and stick him in half a foot of snow wearing two feet of padding and we've got a serious problem. So he takes the snowball with two hands and twists his entire body as if he's throwing shotput at the Olympics and somehow HITS MY FATHER.

Miracles do happen.

I buy Punkin a hat every year, and every year he decides to wear one of the knit hats in his classroom instead. His teacher is nice enough to let us take them back and forth between school and home. There's two of them this year; the one in the photo above and another one. Opa picked him up from school one day; when I called him later he told me that he was surprised that Punkin insisted on keeping his hat on in the truck. "Was it that really awful pastel blue and yellow one with the ball on top?"

"YES! Oh my gosh. I wasn't gonna say anything. Why do you let him wear that?"

those little beady eyes

For my Facebook friends, I'm sorry you've had to hear about this mouse thing so much; it's just my way of coping. For those of you who don't know, I SAW MOUSE NUMBER FOUR SCURRY INTO MY LIVING ROOM on Saturday morning. Not the best way to perk up at 6:30 a.m. And you read that correctly, mouse #4 -- that means there were three that passed before it. Fortunately, they all met a sudden death in The Jaw (trap).

I received a number of suggestions ranging from sticky traps (which I will not do after seeing a mouse free himself from one minus a leg), adopting a cat, and watching Ratatouille in hopes of coming home to a gourmet meal.

As of now, #4 is still living it up over here in my apartment in the woods. And what's worse? I opened my closet Sunday night and a mouse scurried across the floor. (My bedroom closet, people. Remember, the place I assured Oma they wouldn't go; I slept in Punkin's bed that night, which is super comfy, by the way.) Then, tonight, I walked into the kitchen to find more mousetraps to mount my full-scale attack when a mouse RAN PAST MY FEET MY FEET MY FEET.

I may have screamed like a girl and stood on the ottoman for a solid five minutes before working up the courage to find my cell phone and text message my parents. Maybe. And at this point I don't know if I've seen #4 three times or if I've seen #4 and his 2 friends. GROSS. So Opa came over and set three more traps for me and

HOLY POOPBALLS IT'S DEAD. #4 IS DEAD. I HEARD THE SNAP.

I'm back. It was an old wooden trap. He was barely hanging on there, but definitely dead. I made a quick call to celebrate with Opa and another to my sister to help walk me through the disposal process, which consisted mostly of me wandering around the apartment, mumbling to myself while I looked for my mittens, boots, and some plastic bags. I finally grabbed a set of tongs, tossed the whole deal in a bag, and ran it out to the dumpster.

"Can't you reuse those traps?"
"Are YOU gonna come dig mouse out of a trap?"
"Well, do you have more traps set?"
"Yes."
"Okay, then."
This, from the girl who asks her neighbors to come kill spiders for her.
"That was simultaneously the grossest/coolest thing I've ever done."

hey, what is going on here?

Every year the holidays are more fun for me as Punkin becomes more aware of the festivities. This year he is very interested in the Christmas tree. He wanted so badly to help me string lights. Unfortunately, four year olds are not very good at UNtangling things; God gave them other talents, like making me laugh.

And he did make me laugh while we hung up the ornaments. Punkin hates spiky textures, but he LOVES that tree. You get the idea, right? I want to help hang these ornaments, but I have to do it without actually touching any of the needles. It was painstakingly funny to watch. His favorite ornament, besides the ones from school with his picture on them, was the Buzz and Woody one from my Aunt. I'm surprised he let me keep it on the tree, actually.

Every morning when he walks into the living room he says, "Hey, what is going on here da tree?" And then I prompt him to say, "Turn on the lights." And when it's time to go to school I unplug the lights and he says, "Bye-bye Christmas tree. See you later!"

For some reason he has always loved Christmas movies, and seems to take a special liking to them just as the weather turns chilly. Two years ago he was stuck on a collection of cartoons from the 50's (?). It was pretty awful. Last year he discovered The Polar Express and Mickeys Once Upon a Christmas; at least he alternated. And in 2009? He insists on watching one particular cartoon from Mickey's Twice Upon a Christmas. Not surprisingly, given his recent obsession with Duck Tales, it is the cartoon with Scrooge, Donald, and Huey, Dewey, and Luey.

Yesterday was a snow day. We watched "boys," as he calls it, at least 32 times. Now normally when I tell him to pick out a different movie because we're all done with the one he's "stuck" on, he whines for a minute and then chooses a new movie.

Oh no. Oh no. This is him. Finger on his chin, scanning the movies, "Hmmm. Hmmmm. Dis a one," pointing to Mickey.

"No, not a choice. All done Mickey."

"NOT A CHOICE!!!!"

"Pick a different one."

"Diffent one. Hmm. Hmm. Dis one (pointing to Polar Express). No. DIS ONE." He hands me Mickey.

"Not a choice. No more boys."

"Mom?"

"Yes?"

"Dis one?" He hands me Mickey.

"No," I put it up on the tv.

Tears. Snot. Tables and chairs flipped. Legos flying. "NOT A CHOICE!"

I picked him up, put him in his bed with his blanket, put in Toy Story, and waited.

Five minutes later, "Mom? I all done I get up?"

"Yes, you may get up." We watched it once, maybe only half of it, and went back to the boys.

the one where you get to read about poop

Well, Friday came but I can't say it was much better than the rest of the week. We attempted school, but Punkin's diaper exploded and we were promptly sent packing. We were spared any vomiting that night, but he puked Saturday right after he fell asleep. I would like to go into detail about how the vomit cascaded down the foot of his bed into a basket of balls and a toy house and finally oozed between the frame and the chest of drawers underneath, but who wants to read about that chunky mess? I mean, really?

Anyway, I called the doctor on call and we talked for a long time. He asked me numerous times whether or not Punkin had any stomach pain, and I wanted very much to tell him that asking me that was like asking me to tell him whether or not dogs really DO have an emergency barking system like in 101 Dalmations to alert each other to impending doom and call for aid.

In the end we decided that because his only real symptom was vomiting at night (the yucky diapers could be from a steady diet of crackers and popsicles and were followed by days of normal poos) to double his dose of Prevacid to twice a day. It seems to have done the trick, although Medicaid may have a fit when we run out of medication weeks earlier than we were supposed to. So that's that.


Now on to what I really need to share with you. If you follow me on Facebook, you may know that I have a visitor. You may also know that while Punkin has been sick I decided to join FarmVille on Facebook; this is highly addicting and only good for those who have lots of time to waste or trouble sleeping at night.


Anyway, here is my status update from yesterday: It's a sad day when I don't know whether I'm more upset about losing 3 FarmVille gifts or discovering that a mouse ate the edges of one of my Pampered Chef Mix 'n Scrapers. It was an old aqua one -- if it was cranberry, this would be war, mouse, WAR. Regardless, I hope you get out of my apartment and die a slow, silicone death.


So, just for future reference, you can bake a Pampered Chef Scraper in the oven, you can leave it in a pot of stir-fry, you can microwave it, and it is dishwasher safe, but it is definitely not mouse-proof. Just an FYI.

I inspected the cabinets, I cleaned the mouse poop, I put all open food in containers unless it looked contaminated (in which case it was tossed); I was fine. And then I heard it. And I was not fine. A fairly hilarious phone conversation with Oma ensued wherein I told her that I was totally ready to set the traps all by myself once I put on my gloves and boots. (Yes, gloves and boots to set a trap in the kitchen. You read that correctly.) Except I never got off the couch. In the end I almost made Opa come over despite near blizzard conditions and the fact that I live on a hill. But then I remembered


The Magical Maintenance Man Downstairs.


"You wanna help me catch a mouse?" *Sparkling smile.*
"Is he just running circles up there?" Jerk. =)
"He's in my cabinet. I can hear him."
He smiles. "I'll go get a trap."
He even offered to dispose of the body once it was caught.

After hearing a lot of tinkling and rustling in the cabinets, I retreated to my bedroom. Oma texted me, Are you going to be able to sleep? I responded, There's no food in the bedroom. He's after the food.

The logic made me feel better, anyway. This morning I've heard plenty of noise from the kitchen and I REALLY, REALLY wanted to go get The Magical Maintenance Man Downstairs to just grab the mouse in the act. But then there was silence, and about an hour later the Man came to check the trap and found a very dead mouse.

PHEW! Disaster over.

"I'll just put another trap out in case there's more."

WHAA?

if ever friday needed to come

So we had a good day at home Wednesday. Punkin filled up on fluids and even ate some crackers. He was in a great mood and by bedtime I felt confident that he'd be himself in the morning.

Until I gave him his bedtime medicine and he puked all over his bed. So that was nice. The sheer volume was impressive, really, so I think he should get points for that, but it undid all the good of the day.

So of course we stayed home today. And of course because he barfed up all of his melatonin, he didn't sleep past 4am. So at 4am, I'm trying to convince him that it's still "night-night time" and he's all "JUICE! POPCORN! JUICE! CRACKERS! SCROOGE!"

Did I mention I found Duck Tales DVDs through Oma's Disney Movie Club? Did I mention I don't know how much I like Duck Tales anymore? Anyway, he calls it Scrooge. SCOOGE!

Eventually the day officially began and it was fairly uneventful until we had to venture out for MY doctor's appointment. My left ear has been bugging me and my neurologist had some blood work done that she wanted me to go over with my regular doctor.

Well, my left ear is full of wax per usual and I refused to allow the nurses to clean it out because they suck at it, so now I don't know if it's infected or not. She gave me a prescription for my constant runny nose and orders to have the bloodwork redone in January. Basically I am deficient in Vitamin D and my white blood cell count is low, which is probably because I've been sick since the end of September.

Anyway, on to the interesting part. After spending an hour of my time WITH PUNKIN IN TOW and a $15 copay to learn nothing, I went out to my car and it didn't start. Lovely. Oma came and rescued me and we tried to come up with a plan, during which time I did a pretty terrible job reigning in the crabby. Eventually I went home and waited for Opa to call.

Once Opa came, we headed out and jumped my car. Opa and Punkin drove away in the truck. My car died before I hit reverse. Eventually Opa realized I wasn't behind him and he came back and jumped the car again. This time he followed me back to his house. On the way, we drove through one of the busiest intersections in the city -- where five streets come together.

Yep, you guessed it. I'm in the turn lane and the car dies. And stupid, panicky me PUTS THE CAR IN PARK. Who puts the car in park? So I get Opa's attention and he pulls some crazy MacGuiver move and suddenly his giant truck is facing me and he's jumping my car for the third time. And then it dies. So he jumps it again, whips around, and I make a break for it. The lady next to me is swearing, even though she saw the whole scene go down, and then cuts in front of me on the right. CUTS IN FRONT OF ME ON THE RIGHT.

Some people are jerks.

Those people are not my parents, though. Thanks for saving my butt, for fixing the "WAGON!!! " (which Punkin is currently sleeping with) and for not swearing at me when I put the car in park.

just a couple of things

1. I called the cable company and complained about my bill; they signed me up for an upgraded service for $30 less (with tax and all) a month. So now Punkin is watching WALL-E on our day off -- he threw up his dinner last night.

2. Oh, rewind. We both had the stomach virus from hell over Thanksgiving break. Mine struck Thursday afternoon, his Saturday. Since we both have acid reflux, it takes our tummies extra time to heal after really nasty bouts of the pukies. He went back to school Monday (mistake) and even Tuesday (he really was in a better mood). He barely ate anything either day until Tuesday night when he REALLY wanted Hamburger Helper Beef Noodles. He ate one helping, asked for more, got that look, and projectiled all over the bathroom.

3. So I called the doc and got him in today. I mean, what do I do? The doc concluded that he still has a sore tummy. DUH! He told me to take it easy with the foods, which we are, and let Punkin take the lead. Except Punkin asked for pizza, so no.

4. I also got a call from the psychologist that said that she and Punkin's BRILLIANT (!!!!!!!) social worker spoke on the phone and decided maybe he was just tired and frustrated last time, and so to satisfy the state, they'd give it one more try. No big deal, right? Just bring him in and we'll try it again! YEP. Same test. Do they really expect different results? I called her and left a message after I scheduled the appointment; I have a few suggestions this time, unless of course she likes getting hit with plastic blocks. Hey, I don't know her life.

5. I'm sorry, she really is a very nice woman. The person I'm angry with is his worker, who clearly understands nothing about my son, and the state that insists on torturing the both of us. I'm assuming this is because of the possibility that we are abusing the system? I don't know.

6. I'm also upset because up until this year we could have done all of this IQ testing at school. But now the school does no formal testing -- even for IEPs and special education placements. I can understand not doing them because another agency asked you, but to not do them to serve your own purposes just seems backwards.

7. And that's all.

*Update: She just called me back. Seriously, she is so sweet. She just wants to make sure the state can't come back and take anything away from Punkin. She agreed to nixing the table and chairs and trying to catch him in the morning if my work schedule allows. She also suggested I stay in the room this time. I explained that all of his previous testing had involved toys, so this test was not exactly appealing to him; I think she understood.