seeing red

motherhood.  it's not for the faint of heart.

we had just sat down for our sunday supper -- homemade white chicken chili and cornbread since it had only reached 33 degrees today -- when liam clutched his stomach.  "i don't feel right," he said.  i suggested he go upstairs and rest for a bit.  "i'll be sure to get the trash can from the bathroom," he said as he left, but i doubted he would need it.  i mean, how often do children complain about upset tummies and then a few minutes later they're fine?  all the time, right?

well, not all the time.  sometimes it turns into something more.  which i realized, as soon as i heard the scream.  "I'M THROWING UP, MOMMY!"

i dropped my spoon and sprinted upstairs, with chris on my heels.  we rounded the corner at the top of the stairwell to find liam standing, dazed, in the hallway, still vomiting.  i ran to him, almost engulfing him as i yanked him toward the bathroom, my shirt immediately soaked.

i will spare you the details, but just know that this continued, off and on, for three straight hours.*  just when we thought that SURELY he was done, that there was nothing left in his poor sick body, we'd hit yet another round.

the first chance i got to extract myself from the bathroom (and change my shirt), i assessed the damage.  it was like nothing i had ever seen before.  no surface was left untouched -- sheets, pillow, blanket, comforter, sham, bedframe, carpet, walls, hallway, sink, toilet, bathroom floor, bathtub.  if there were an olympic competition in retroperistalsis (confused?  this is one of the many things we've learned so far in 3rd grade science while studying the muscular system ... look here if interested), liam would surely be a gold medalist.

but wait -- as they say in infomericals -- there's more!  because not only was the majority of our upstairs now covered with vomit ... but it was BRIGHT RED vomit.  honestly -- and i'm not stretching the truth here even a little bit -- it looked like a crime scene.

this is probably about 5% of the total ... the other pictures would have totally grossed you out

my eyes widened as i took it all in.  a bright red bodily function normally means only one thing.  but before i got too far into my freaking-out mode, chris looked up from where he was scrubbing the carpet.  "it's not blood," he sighed.  "it's a red doughnut.  he had a freakin' red doughnut at Y Guides this afternoon."

it's still too early to call it, but i predict liam will be back to normal tomorrow.  he'll be staying home with me on another 33-degree day, finishing up his school project and undoubtedly ravenous since he completely emptied his stomach tonight.

but i guarantee you this: he won't be eating anything red.

our sweet firstborn, spending the night on the bathroom floor ... 
just in case

* edited on monday: make that seven hours, off and on, culminating in a totally soiled sleeping bag at 3 a.m.  "spot clean only" the label says.  i would have to laugh if it weren't so sad.

** edited on saturday: liam was kind enough to share the love.  i came down with it on wednesday morning, and spend 36 straight hours either vomiting or sleeping.  three words: worst. thanksgiving. ever.

halloween on the cheap

i make no bones about it: halloween ain't my bag.  the only thing i find remotely redeeming about the holiday (if you can even call it a holiday?) is the subsequent supply of free chocolate that's conveniently located in our breakfast room -- a mere 18 steps from my office.  it doesn't hurt that the candy and i are home alone all day while the rest of my family have vacated the premises.  i'm shocked i don't go into some sort of candy-induced coma from my sugar intake in early november.

but other than that, i typically find nothing at all to celebrate about all hallow's eve.  until this year.  turns out that halloween ranks up as the cheapest holiday (if you can even call it a holiday) of the year for the mann fam.

total spent on 2013 halloween costumes: zilch. 

in typical liam fashion, my eldest informed me he wanted to dress, yet again, as an athlete.  the boy doesn't stretch too far; in the past 5 years, he's been a soccer player twice and now a baseball player twice.  (his last foray as a dodger was in 2008 -- click here for a trip down memory lane if you're interested.)  we already owned every bit of his costume, all the way down to the way-too-short-but-i'm-glad-i've-kept-it polyester gray pants.

and susanna decided weeks ago that she was going to be a pop star.  we went round and round about this, since she and i apparently have vastly different ideas of exactly what a pop star wears; but in the end, practicality won out and she wore an outfit she already owned for school.  (to spice things up, we located some sparkly sunglasses and a pink feather boa from her dress-up supply.  add those accessories to some bright pink lipstick and hairspray, and a pop star was born.)

i really need to stop bashing halloween.  given the fact that we had not one trick-or-treater this year, i'm actually coming out way ahead financially.

suh-weet.

the pop star and the baseball player, striking a pose

liam required face paint (i have no idea if there's an actual term for this) in his quest to be as authentic a baseball player as possible.  "i know!" susanna exclaimed, her eyes bright with an idea.  "i've got dark eye shadow in that make-up kit i got for christmas last year that you never let me use!"  i knew there was a reason i hadn't tossed it

 i didn't mind her organizing her candy ... it was only once she started counting it that i started to worry.  i'm afraid my cover might be blown

she's a poet, and she knows it

i heaved susanna's Wednesday Folder out of her backpack, bracing myself for its contents.  i'm not exagerrating when i say that it can often take upwards of a half-hour to go through all the papers that are crammed in that thing.  not only are there important school communication items (fundraiser information, the weekly newsletter, scholastic book order forms, etc.) but also included are every paper she's written on in the last five school days.  and while most of it requires only a passing glance before heading straight into the recycling bin, there are always a few that i enjoy spending time going over, with her nestled next to me on the couch, pointing out every aspect of the assignment and answering my plethora of questions.  "how did you come up with such an interesting topic?" "did you figure out how to solve the problem all on your own?" "who was your partner on this one?"  and so on.

and every so often, on an exceptional wednesday, my eyes will land on something that i instantly know i want to keep in the "susanna - school" folder in my filing cabinet.  below is one such piece.  her only instruction was to write a cinquain poem.  it could have been about anyone, or anything.  she chose to write it about -- well, i'll let you take a look.

[i'm always worried that images won't show up clearly, so here's what it says just in case you can't read it:  Brother ~ Handsome, Strong ~ Playing, Reading, Eating ~ I love him lots ~ Liam]

i mean, really?  do all seven year-olds adore their older siblings in this way? no matter how much chris and i might be screwing up this parenting gig in every other area, at least in this regard, we've done something right.