B has been home, doing his best impression of resting, since Monday at 10:00. After determining that his allergies/asthma were in overdrive, the doctor said making him a couch potato for a few days would help him get back to where he needed to be.
The doctor obviously does not know B at all. She said he absolutely needed a steroid this time, simply because of the degree of inflammation and swelling in his nasal passages, and as much as we (collectively as a three parent system) hate steroids, we agreed. B sucks when he takes steroids. It's a battle that's been raging since he was 1 and we first discovered he was allergic to, well...everything. I stopped giving him steroids every time they were prescribed just because I couldn't deal with the beast he turned into while he was on them, and while they were working their way out of his system.
I'm sure everyone has their difficulties with steroids...but my kid? He turns into the spawn of Satan. I'm not exaggerating. He's angry, and then in the next moment, he's a sobbing mess on the floor because somebody looked at him wrong. He's hungry, and then, well...he's always hungry, so that doesn't really count, but he eats constantly. Again, that's pretty normal actually, now that I think about it.
Whatever. He's a real pain in the rear. I'm the kind of mom who is loving and compassionate and quick to do whatever to help her kids get better when they're sick. Give me a fever, the flu, strep...hell, give me vomit, and I'll take care of it without batting an eye, although I will probably dry heave a little. I draw the line at steroids. Never have I wanted to...well, I'll let you use your imagination, but you'll have to get creative 'cause my imagination is pretty dang active.
Hahahahaha, if you only knew what I was thinking at this exact moment.
Anyway, B was so excited to see his brother this afternoon, that he asked (literally) every 5 minutes if it was 3:08 yet. When N finally walked in the door, they were thrilled to see each other for a minute, and then N was over it. B did the majority of his make-up work, N did his homework, and then I let them loose on Halo while I cleaned up a little and talked to Stella, updating her on my latest dilemmas in life.
It's never a dull moment around here, except for when it is...like, all the time.
B announced that it was time for dinner, and that he was going to cook. Interested to see what he would come up with, I followed him into the kitchen, and then around in circles with a paper plate as he determined what Chef B would make himself for dinner. Hey, if they volunteer, I'm NOT going to turn down the help. (Side note: If they would volunteer to pick up after themselves, say...laundry for example, that would be amazing. Stinky boy socks are not my favorite.) He opted for a chicken corn dog, sour cream & onion Pringles, a bottle of water, an applesauce, and a yogurt. I was somewhat impressed with his choices. N went the same route, with a few variations, and an addition of strawberries to the applesauce and yogurt.
See? Our lives are so very fascinating.
Oh, I also superglued my fingers today. That was fun. The extreme heat here in the Great State caused the coating on my door handle to buckle and crack, so I decided I would fix it myself. I'm very "take charge" like that...or maybe I was just tired of getting papercut-esque wounds on my left hand. That's probably more likely, although I am pretty "take charge" now that I think about it. Add that to my list of intimidating factors.
Superglue: Okay, so I shoved the glue in there, and pushed the coating back on to seal it, and that's when I realized there was leakage and my fingers were starting to tingle. Being the genius that I am, I grabbed a piece of paper to hold it down. Needless to say, there are now little paper pieces stuck to my door handle, but I am not backing down from this battle. My car is NOT that old. It's a 2010 for Pete's sake. (Side note: Who is Pete? I want to know...I don't know any Pete's, but I sure do a lot of things for his sake. I feel like there should at least be a bit of an introduction.)
I thought about calling the dealership to ask them about my handle, but that would require going there and they annoy me...even though I DO need an oil change. I just don't want to wait there for 5 hours while they do it. I'm a busy girl, and I'll be carting a 7 year-old around with me tomorrow.
What else...there's not a lot to report. My boys still don't get along, so the excitement of being able to play with each other disappears pretty quickly and then one (or both) of them ask if B can go back to his dad's house, and I yell at them that they need to learn how to get along...'cause they're going to be best friends someday, damn it.
It still hasn't sunk in, but my face hasn't turned blue yet, so I figure I still have time.
Either that, or I'll become a Smurf.
Aubs
No comments:
Post a Comment