Super Bowl + Super Nachos = Super Fun

One of Mike's favorite days of the year is Superbowl Sunday. It's the one day out of the year where I let him go to the grocery store and I don't say anything when he brings home loads of processed foods, frozen novelties, and pretty much melts cheese on anything that will stand still. On the menu this year was Super Nachos (tortilla chips with chicken, lettuce, salsa, jalepenos, and of course cheese), Philly steak sandwiches, some sort of frozen snack (pizza rolls? mozzarella cheese sticks?) that was heated in the oven and consumed before I came into the room, and ribs. Henry and Georgie loved it, especially because they got to sit on the sofa and eat on paper plates. Mike slid the coffee table closer to the sofa and the 3 of them sat side-by-side eating their nachos and watching the game. Last night when we were driving to ski class Henry said, "Mom, I'm sad that football is over now. I loved our superbowl party." I asked him what his favorite part was and he said, "when Daddy slid the coffee table up to the coach and we got to eat on it!" Is our life really that boring that eating on the coffee table passes as excitement? Maybe we need to get out more.

Sweet treats

Uncle Doug, Aunt Meg, and Mimi came up for a visit this past weekend - Uncle Doug and Mike went ice fishing while the rest of us stayed warm and cozy indoors. We spent the time making sugar cookies for the Valentine's Day playgroup I hosted yesterday. Meg and I saw the movie "The Lovely Bones," which is one of my favorite books. The movie was good although there were a couple parts where I thought maybe someone slipped some drugs in my soda because it was a little out there. On the reading front, I am still trying plod my way through "Wicked" which is a great book but for some reason my brain has been lazy lately and issues of Martha Stewart Living, Redbook, and US Weekly have been my main source of reading material. (I'm not sure if I mentioned this, but Idid not renew my subscription to "Glamour" a few months ago and got "Redbook" instead - I think this means I'm officially my mother now.)

Things are looking up

Henry's feeling much, much better. And taking his medicine without complaint. I was concerned that one of us wasn't going to make it to the end of the 10-day amoxicylin regimen after our experience with the first couple of doses, but he's turned a corner.

Georgie's furniture arrived today! He's very excited about it but still wants to sleep in his crib, which is fine by me. So it's all set up in there for when he's ready to make the switch, but none of us are in a hurry.

You should Henry recite the "Our Father" prayer - this is why he received a "needs improvment" mark on his report card under Prayer Memorization. Let's just say the first part goes, "Our father, who art in Heaven, alien be thy name..."

Strep throat sucks

Henry was positive for strep. We got a prescription for amoxicylin. Spent 40 minutes trying to get amoxicylin into strep-throat infected child. Resorted to bribery parenting (M&Ms, ice cream, etc.) but Henry did not take the bait. Probably wasted 2-3 doses of amoxicylin chasing him around house. Threatened Henry with shot or suppository if he did not take medicine. Called my bluff. Grabbed keys and started dragging him out the door "to go to the hospital." Reluctantly took medicine but then threated to barf it up. Actually, was told IF YOU MAKE ME TAKE THAT YUCKY MEDICINE I'M GONNA BARF IT UP ALL OVER THE PLACE (spits at me). Told him GOD IS NOT HAPPY TO SEE YOU BEHAVING LIKE THIS RIGHT NOW. (Hey, you do what you gotta do.) This seemed to concern him. Antibiotics successfully in tummy for 2 hours now so I think we're in the clear. Sorry about fragmented sentences but too tired to compose complete sentences. Mommy needs a cocktail.

Sicko

Henry is home sick today. And this little story will make you all feel better about your own parenting.

I volunteered in Henry's classroom yesterday morning. As I was getting ready to leave, he came up to me and said, "Mommy, I'm really tired." Of course I thought he was faking and just saying that so I would take him home with me. "No, you're not, you're fine," I said. Fast forward to 3:40pm. Henry gets off the bus and starts crying. "I'm still really tired," he says. My first thought is that he is just trying to get out of going to skiing. But then I bring him inside and realize that he is pretty tired, and actually pretty warm too. I take his temp and it's 102 degrees. GUILT, GUILT, GUILT.

So last night he starts sporting a rash, and this morning I brought him over to our neighbor's house (she is the nicest pediatrician EVER) and she thinks it's probably strep. Niiiice. Looks like I'm not getting that Mother of the Year award again this year. Sigh.

The good news is that he is not acting sick, and he's eating and drinking fine and no longer running a fever. He just has the rash. He wants to go to school. Still, the guilt is there. He could probably get anything he wants out of me today, but don't tell him that.

Fun with boxes, and a major case of bedhead

Enjoy the picture of Georgie's hair post-nap the other day - I swear I wouldn't be able to get it like that again if I tried.

We've had a busy week around here and this week will be more of the same. I have rounded up all of the stuff I needed for licensure, got fingerprinted and background-checked, and I'm on my way to becoming licensed in the state of Wisconsin. I posted an ad on the UWEC job board for someone to watch Georgie one day per week and received over 25 responses in 3 days. I LOVE living in a town with tons of eager-beaver babysitters! Now I have to start weeding them out.

Georgie attended a birthday party on Saturday and had a ton of fun, although as usual I had to restrain him from blowing out the candles on the birthday boy's cake. Henry's school had a party on Saturday night kicking off Catholic Schools Week and Henry had an absolute blast. They had a DJ and one of those fun photo booths so I got a great little strip of photos of Henry and a classmate.

The big fun around here for the last week or so is "the box." Georgie's new nightstand arrived in a sturdy cardboard box which has been put to use in the Kid Pit for various activities. It's easily the most-played-with object in our house (more so than any of our toys) proving once again that kids don't need a ton of toys to play with, give them a big empty box, some pillows, and some blankets and they are good to go.

This and that

I forgot to mention that we had parent-teacher conferences for Henry last week. He got an excellent report, with the only negative comment being that he needs to slow down and do his work more neatly. I am amazed at how much he's learned this year, and it's only January!

In news about me (because I know you all check out the blog for news about yours truly, haaa) I was asked to help out a local school district in covering a maternity leave this spring. I'll just go in and work on Fridays, which is nice for me because I get out of the house and back into the school psych world a bit and nice for Georgie because he gets to spend time with his beloved babysitters (who are not Sports Illustrated models, but still very cute). The problem is that I am not licensed in Wisconsin, so I have been dealing with the red tape and BS that goes with the state licensing agencies. They have about a zillion frickin forms on their website for various certifications, but not a separate one for school psychs. So I have to fill out the teacher form, where half of the questions on the form do not apply to me. For example, I have to have my institution (Indiana Univ) certify that I completed their teacher training program. So I call the genius at the DPI and try to explain this to her, that IU will most certainly not certify that I completed their teacher training program BECAUSE I AM NOT A TEACHER. The lovely person at the DPI says, "well, we won't process your application without that form completed." So I say, "So should I just write "not applicable" on the form?" She says, "No, it must be certified that you completed their teacher education program." What the "*/#? So I'm dealing with that little gem and about 16 other things on the form that do not apply to me (e.g., "where did you complete your student teaching?) Um, I am nationally certified, have licenses in 2 other states, completed an APA and NASP approved PhD program in school psychology and a 1 year internship, and I am still jumping through hoops and dealing with complete idiots in state licensing bureaus. Oh, and I barely made the deadline where I don't have to take any classes. I asked the lady, "If I had to take them, where would I take these classes?" She said, "oh, the University of Wisconsin-Eau Claire has those classes." I was like, "Yeah, I know. I TEACH THOSE CLASSES." She was speechless. Fun times.

The Gone Fishin Game Sleeps with the Fishes

We have had this "Gone Fishin" game at our house for quite some time - I think we got it when we lived in Omaha. Anyway, the boys have always loved it. It cost like $5 at Target. They have never really played with it appropriately, but they loved it anyway. For those of you who are unfamiliar with this game, it involves the above plastic fish whirling around opening their mouths while the players try to "catch" them with little plastic fishing poles. The game stopped working the other day and after a battery replacement and an attempt at resusitation, I called time of death on it and brought it over to the trash. George wailed, "NOOOOO, I love that fishing game. Nooooo! It just needs batteries!" I tried explaining to thenm that there was no hope, but no, I'm the big bad meanie who threw away the fishing game. Now I keep stepping on all the silly plastic fish all over the place, apprently retribution for throwing out the mother ship (or pond, in this case). The little fish are never-ending! They are everywhere. I think they are multiplying.

Keep dreamin', Henry

Mike was looking through his latest issue of Sports Illustrated when he stopped on an ad for the upcoming swimsuit issue featuring the above photo. Henry was sitting next to him and asked, "Who is that girl?" Mike said, "Her name is Brooklyn Decker." Henry replied, "Oh. Can she be our babysitter?"