I took a little break for Thanksgiving, but even with all of the eating and thinking about eating and preparing for eating and cleaning up from eating I managed to do a revision of THE COUSINS EXTRODANAIR vs. PRINCESS GUARGANTUAN AND THE MALEVELANT MUDSLINGING DINOSAUR TRUCK OF DOOM. I went through the story to make sure that each child had a moment to shine. I wanted the story to pause and admire each child in turn and to give him or her a chance to be the hero. I had all six kids doing stuff to further the story, but in the revision I made sure that each one was in the spotlight and that their talents were showcased for just a second. It will give them something unique during reading time, a time to give a shy smile and be the one to save the day. At least that is the goal. Well see how the whole thing actually turns out.
As many of you may have noticed, this week was Thanksgiving. Our family went over the mountains and through the rain to the west side of Washington where Grandma Judy and Grandpa Dave reside. At various points during the journey sweet boy #1 would exclaim how very exited he was to make gingerbread houses with Grandma Judy, how fun it would be, and how he even remembered doing it last year. It is a 2 hour and 15 minute trip if you don’t stop and we tacked on an additional 1 ½ hours to it by stopping to get gas and a cheeseburger for the big boys, so the longing comments about gingerbread houses and Grandma Judy were numerous and wholehearted. Finally, right after breakfast on Thanksgiving morning the time for gingerbread construction arrived. Grandma Judy even let sweet boy #1 talk her into starting before she curled her hair if we all made a pact, written in blood, not to take any pictures of her before she got a chance to beautify herself. And it was everything the boys had been anticipating. Lots of frosting and carelessly eaten materials and eventually glorious works of art composed of all edible items. Good times.
Parent Moment of the Week
I’m afraid it is a harrowing moment that gleams most brightly in my memories of this week. We were driving home from our Thanksgiving celebration with Grandma Judy and Grandpa Dave, a 2 hour and 15 minute trip if you will recall. Now sweet boy #2 (3 yrs old) has been struggling with a hurting tummy and diarrhea. We thought that he might have contracted some terrible disease from that time a few weeks ago when he drank out of the toilet, but our doctor said no that he might be lactose intolerant. So we tried some soy milk at Grandma Judy’s and he did have a hurting tummy after eating a bunch of whipped cream but other then that all was well. Until our trip home. We stopped to nurse and the hunky hubby took sweet boy #2 into Safeway to buy some provisions for our trip. They came back with many wonderful food items, one of which was vanilla yogurt which sweet boy #2 had chosen specifically. They ate the yogurt first. Sweet boy #2 ate his entire yogurt. Then we took off down I-5. Awhile later sweet boy #2 complained of a hurting tummy. We attempted to comfort him but kept on driving. Then sweet boy #2 declared that he needed to “go poop!” So we took the first exit off the highway and wildly drove all over a sodden and abandoned campground until we found an outhouse that was open. He couldn’t go. He did pee and had had a little accident, but no more pooping, sigh. We drove for another 15 to 30 minutes and then the panicky little voice from the back seat called out again. “I have to go poop!” So once again we took the first exit but this time we wandered in a vast wilderness of locked and taped off pick nick tables, thick claylike mud, random construction sites (without porta-potties), no trespassing signs, a Norwegian snowshoe park, enormous potholes (no really they were huge, spanned the entire width of the road), and damp dark woods. There was nowhere to go. So in a desperate moment we grabbed a McDonalds bag, some baby wipes, a sturdy stick and struck out into the woods. The hunky hubby dug a good sized hole with the stick and sweet boy #2 hovered over the whole in a vain attempt to relive himself. He went a miniscule amount which I wiped and put into the McDonalds bag. But sweet boy #1 had a blast peeing into the aforementioned hole. So we got back into the car and continued our journey. That second stop took an hour. Then a little while later sweet boy #2 poked at a strange fragrant brown substance that had squirted out the top, yes the top, of his pull up ( I put him in a pull up thinking that if something happened this would solve all problems, foolish logic obviously but it seemed sound at the time). I cautiously sniffed at the substance and my worst fears were confirmed (ok not as bad as that dream I had where one of the boys was shot by a randomly falling bullet and the baby was lost while I wandered around balling and lost within the confusion of the office in charge of re-electing Bill Clinton. But still it was bad enough) It was poop. We pulled over. I pulled poor sweet boy #2 out of the car and stripped him down outside under a tree. He was freezing and crying and poopy all over. But there was little room in the car for the thorough washing that he required. I wiped him down as quickly as possible attempting to comfort him simultaneously. He was red and cold and unimpressed. We got him clean, we got him changed and back into the car and stuffed all of the poopy things into the aforementioned McDonalds bag. Then on our way once more, but of course we had to stop 20 minutes later to nurse sweet boy #3 so our 2 hour and 15 minute drive ended up taking a good five hours but we finally made it home and bathed our boys and got them into bed. And there snuggled up in fresh jammies and a blanky sweet boy #2 wrapped his arms around my neck and declared “Momma I love you. I love all of us!”