So far, 2012 has been the best year for the Arizona Nastases, as far as “family visits” go. Two of Chris’s brothers visited in January and February; Tammy and Larry Pike were here, for the second year, to celebrate one (of our two) our wedding anniversaries and my parents arrived in January! To top it all off (so far) my sister, Melinda Brown and her husband Paul (and three adorable kiddos) came in March. It’s great for the kids, as we both only make it back to Omaha about once a year. Unfortunately, since we moved to Arizona, we’ve only seen Mindy and Paul’s family two or three times.
Our kids SORT OF know their “Aunt Lori” and “Aunt Mindy”, but really, they know family friends better than they do their own family. So this trip was VERY important, for all of us, not only for the grown-ups to reconnect, but for the kids to (in my mom’s famous words) “MAKE MEMORIES”! So, MAKE MEMORIES we’ve done!
Mindy and Paul rented a beautiful home just minutes from ours, in the Santa Rita Mountains. It’s so beautiful, like a resort! Very luxurious, with lots of amenities (I could probably write a rental ad for it), it has pool and hot tub, on lovely grounds. It is seriously the PERFECT house for a large family of rambunctious kids (and fun adults)! The kids swam for innumerable hours, and floated in the hot-tub for days!
The game-room beckoned when they were inside, with pool or air-hockey or checkers or hide-n-seek. MY favorite feature? A tie between the waist-high herb garden-such a GREAT idea when you have to weed it!-and the Deluxe Scrabble game on the table in the sun area. (sigh) OH! And the multi-eating areas in the kitchen and patio. Brilliant!!
Tonight I’m feeling very melancholy, because my family’s visit is quickly coming to an end. They will all be leaving this Friday morning, to drive up to the Grand Canyon for a few days, then they’re all going home. However, we have another day together, tomorrow, which I’m sure we’ll all enjoy!
This moves me to the impetus for this post. The AMAZING, wondrous, HILARIOUS day we had today. Which I NEVER want to forget… because I know, in the future, I’ll remember wrong, or
worry that I’ve remembered wrong! lol --->warningto Jack Nastase
Jack and I met my parents and Mindy & Paul and kids at Colossal Cave state park. The park is named for the COLOSSAL cave (discovered in 1879, for the nerds) and of course, this is the MAIN EVENT. (I am editing the comment to add that we did some OTHER things, like watch the big kiddos pan for jewels (which is when Nathan gave me a COLOSSAL “diamond”, and Natalie-boo gave me some “could be fool’s gold, maybe not fool’s gold”) -she knew it was fool’s gold (LOL)-and we pet some horses.
So, we get our tickets for the cave tour (which goes 7 stories underground) and get into line. As we descend into darkness, Jack starts insisting that I take him "home"; that we go back. He insists I carry him. Luckily, a tour guide leading a group on their way back offered Jack (we were at the end of the line) her flashlight, which distracted him most of the way. Practically every rule that they mentioned, before the tour, we broke. (Groan) “No flashlights in the tour guide’s eyes, no pointing flashlights where the guides point flashlights, etc.”. There were times when my fear of heights almost overtook me, holding my baby in my arms! But I would tell myself that my dad (my hero) was behind me, and my brother-in-law, Paul, was in front of me and I knew that neither one would let us fall.
In fact, there were many times when I’d see my brother-in-law reaching his arms to subconsciously protect his family, then peek back to make sure Jack and I and Grandpa were ok.
Occasionally things the tour guide said would resonate with Jack. “Stalactite, stalagmite” (which he repeated, ad nauseam, to the joy of all the rest of the tour, I’m sure.) We reached the depth
of over 700 steps (with him annoying the other part of the group only 18% of the time), which I’m basing only on gratuitous laughs, there and again.
Finally, we made it out of the cavern. I knew it when the kind lady who had offered her flashlight to Jack in the beginning of our climb said to Jack, “Young man, I’ve been looking for that light”, and gently pulled it from his hand. He was stunned and dismayed, only for a moment, when he looked up and saw the light at the entrance. “Mama! We’re on our way home!” lol
On our REAL way home, the memories of our visit to the “Colossal Cave” took on VERY MASCULINE, VERY COLOSSAL infringements. Jack (on his fake phone, telling “daddy” about the day): “Daddy, we went into the cave. Then we saw BATS! The bats chased us. I said, C’mon guys, we gotta get outta here! Then we run, and the bats come!” At this point, I interject, only because I was witness to something completely different. “Jack, you really saw BATS?” without pause, “Yes, mama, the bats came (gestures into his hair and around his head) and I screamed!” I
waited a moment and said, “did they sound like this: squeech squeech, squeech?” He looked at me like I was nuts and said, “NO. They said “insert-very-scary-very-masculine-movie-monster-sounds”. He continues this line of “memory” of our fun day.
The ONE thing I LOVE most about his recantantation is his insistence that: Grandpa, Uncle Paul, Keegan and Nathan (his boy cousins) are his “guys” fighting the bats. Funny how, regardless of the reality that MOMMY and Aunt Mindy are the ONLY two who would have leaped to our death to rescue him and there were ZERO bats on our tour, he’s relating to the males! LOL Total
guys' guy!
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
Thursday, October 20, 2011
They Say You Can Never Go Home...
I remember when my parents came back from "some errand" and announced we were to begin a new adventure! They had found us a new place to live! The house was in a "cul-de-sac", which was a fancy word for "circle". We would be moving from our home in Omaha, to a far-away-away place called "Millard". We were full of questions. How could all the houses be in a circle? How would the cars get to them? Would our family and friends (especially Lee Bena) be able to find us in “Millard”?! My mom drew a picture explaining the cul-de-sac. The "star" was at the house at the center of the circle, and that would be our new home.
My 9th birthday was celebrated on the kitchen floor, moving boxes all around us, Godfather's pizza for dinner. (Godfather's BEFORE it became a chain.) That was the FIRST memory in our new house.
A million activities made it our home: picking up rotten apples in the backyard, gathering produce from mom's garden so she could "can" it, building the "addition" (turning the garage into a bedroom and diverting the driveway so it actually LOOKED like the house was built that way); digging out the backyard to put in the above-ground-pool. Taking “first day of school” pictures in front of the house every year. Getting your head stuck in the banister going down the stairs. Getting your bottom stuck in the clothes chute and having the neighbor firefighter come unplug you. :blush: Homecoming pictures, Prom Pictures, Graduating from High School Pictures, Pregnant Pictures, Bringing Baby Home From Hospital Pictures, Graduating from College Pictures, We Just Got Engaged Pictures! (“No, I'm not out of order; I'm in my OWN order.”) Another million memories captured on film. We've celebrated so many happy ones there, baptisms, birthdays, graduations, and we endured the pain of countless ones.
As we grew up and moved into our own homes, we knew dozens of people whose parents upgraded into newer, bigger, better homes. My folks just kept making OUR HOME bigger and better. The gardens changed from produce we ate to flowers and ornamental trees and plants that we enjoyed and photographed. My kids still refer to the property as “Grandma’s Park”, because there was so much to do and see there.
My last visit home, I spent the last nights I’d ever sleep again in my childhood home. It was bittersweet, revisiting all the nostalgia. So many emotions and memories wrapped up in one address, 10529 “S” Circle.
On the one hand I don’t want to let go of the ties I have to my family home. On the other hand, I’m thankful that my parents get to be released from the restraints that were holding them there. Today is the last day for my parents at that address, tonight they’ll close it up and tomorrow morning they’ll be on the road en route to their next adventure.
And from today forward, I consider where I live now, to be “home”.
A million activities made it our home: picking up rotten apples in the backyard, gathering produce from mom's garden so she could "can" it, building the "addition" (turning the garage into a bedroom and diverting the driveway so it actually LOOKED like the house was built that way); digging out the backyard to put in the above-ground-pool. Taking “first day of school” pictures in front of the house every year. Getting your head stuck in the banister going down the stairs. Getting your bottom stuck in the clothes chute and having the neighbor firefighter come unplug you. :blush: Homecoming pictures, Prom Pictures, Graduating from High School Pictures, Pregnant Pictures, Bringing Baby Home From Hospital Pictures, Graduating from College Pictures, We Just Got Engaged Pictures! (“No, I'm not out of order; I'm in my OWN order.”) Another million memories captured on film. We've celebrated so many happy ones there, baptisms, birthdays, graduations, and we endured the pain of countless ones.
As we grew up and moved into our own homes, we knew dozens of people whose parents upgraded into newer, bigger, better homes. My folks just kept making OUR HOME bigger and better. The gardens changed from produce we ate to flowers and ornamental trees and plants that we enjoyed and photographed. My kids still refer to the property as “Grandma’s Park”, because there was so much to do and see there.
My last visit home, I spent the last nights I’d ever sleep again in my childhood home. It was bittersweet, revisiting all the nostalgia. So many emotions and memories wrapped up in one address, 10529 “S” Circle.
On the one hand I don’t want to let go of the ties I have to my family home. On the other hand, I’m thankful that my parents get to be released from the restraints that were holding them there. Today is the last day for my parents at that address, tonight they’ll close it up and tomorrow morning they’ll be on the road en route to their next adventure.
And from today forward, I consider where I live now, to be “home”.
Friday, November 13, 2009
Jack Got His First Tooth!
Daddy got home from his 8 day trip...and Jack got his first tooth! And it's FRIDAY!!
Life is good!
(Pictures to follow!)
Life is good!
(Pictures to follow!)
Monday, November 2, 2009
Into the Wild
The Nastase family went on a search for adventure this past Sunday. We drove down to the Santa Ritas (the mountain range about 30 minutes south of us) and decided to hike the Elephant Head trail. Elephant Head is an aptly named peak on the Southwest end of the range. Here is a photo of it, taken by my mom. (Can you see the profile of an elephant, wrinkles, the outline of the trunk and an eye?)
The craggy, remote-looking surface is vastly different than the other mountains around, and we had never been there, so it was the perfect place to go explore.
On our drive we discussed Ryan & Abby having almost encountered a black bear just a few weeks before, in the same mountain range. (They were hiking in Madera Canyon, just a few miles from E.H.) Shivers of fear went up & down my spine as I considered the danger. Thankful that they had escaped peril, I reentered our conversation.
Coincidentally, Sophia recently completed a unit on the black bear in school, and was sharing useful information about the animal. (One such piece of 'information', "Black bears love gummy bears. If you have grass and berries, you can give them to a black bear if you see one. If you give it gummy bears, it will eat them all and be very happy!")
As we parked our vehicle at the trail head and prepared to embark on our jaunt, Sophia informed us (in a stage whisper) "I brought gummy bears! Just in case."
Daddy, a world-traveling-outdoorsman, reassured us we were safe, that bears don't come down "this low".
Even with his words of comfort, as we trampled through the savannah, I quietly kept my eyes and ears peeled for fast moving, carnivorous wildlife. (Lions and tigers and bears, oh my!)
After awhile, though, my concern waned and I became more comfortable and began to enjoy the lovely day and the unique topography. Jack was happily perched in a backpack carrier and Sophia skipped along, singing sweetly under her breath. The sky in Arizona is amazing and so BIG, the mountains surrounding us accent the beauty perfectly.
We stopped to admire a strange tree, bare of leaves except for a large ball of greenery hanging near the top. The naturalist in our group (Chris) recognized it as mistletoe.(Who knew that a Christmas decoration grew in the southwest?!)
As we continued on our westward march, I *thought* I heard something. Then I heard it again. A very low, very loud sound, then movement in the grass. It was around the corner on the path on which we were walking.
And then, through the amber brush, I saw a dark flash...
AND THERE IT WAS...
MOOO!
Then from all directions around us, a chorus of moos answered the "Path Blocker". We laughed out loud, a little bit out of relief. Then he mooed again and the chorus mooed and we laughed some more. And then he stood there. And we just stood there. All of us eyed each other warily, like ninja warriors sizing one another up.
We were, in a phrase, in a "Mexican Standoff". With a brown cow. (A herd of his brethren had his back and were mocking us, in their cow way.)
The Path Blocker was BIG! Sophia was in awe and I have to admit being a little overwhelmed. We yelled, yeehawed and gitouttahere'd at the beast, but to no avail. I'd almost given up and suggested that we retreat, but then inspiration struck. We could "tip" it! Being from Nebraska, cow tipping should come as second nature to me. (Unfortunately it doesn't.) Soon as that brilliant thought was born, its sister followed. "Doesn't one tip sleeping bovine?" This one was clearly WIDE AWAKE. And still not moving.
Finally my big, brave husband slowly moved forward waving his massive, muscular arms, the cow (in terror) threw out the white flag and gave in. He moved slowly to the side, and as we passed, emitted a last, mournful "moo".
Man prevailed over wild, once again.
The craggy, remote-looking surface is vastly different than the other mountains around, and we had never been there, so it was the perfect place to go explore.
On our drive we discussed Ryan & Abby having almost encountered a black bear just a few weeks before, in the same mountain range. (They were hiking in Madera Canyon, just a few miles from E.H.) Shivers of fear went up & down my spine as I considered the danger. Thankful that they had escaped peril, I reentered our conversation.
Coincidentally, Sophia recently completed a unit on the black bear in school, and was sharing useful information about the animal. (One such piece of 'information', "Black bears love gummy bears. If you have grass and berries, you can give them to a black bear if you see one. If you give it gummy bears, it will eat them all and be very happy!")
As we parked our vehicle at the trail head and prepared to embark on our jaunt, Sophia informed us (in a stage whisper) "I brought gummy bears! Just in case."
Daddy, a world-traveling-outdoorsman, reassured us we were safe, that bears don't come down "this low".
Even with his words of comfort, as we trampled through the savannah, I quietly kept my eyes and ears peeled for fast moving, carnivorous wildlife. (Lions and tigers and bears, oh my!)
After awhile, though, my concern waned and I became more comfortable and began to enjoy the lovely day and the unique topography. Jack was happily perched in a backpack carrier and Sophia skipped along, singing sweetly under her breath. The sky in Arizona is amazing and so BIG, the mountains surrounding us accent the beauty perfectly.
We stopped to admire a strange tree, bare of leaves except for a large ball of greenery hanging near the top. The naturalist in our group (Chris) recognized it as mistletoe.(Who knew that a Christmas decoration grew in the southwest?!)
As we continued on our westward march, I *thought* I heard something. Then I heard it again. A very low, very loud sound, then movement in the grass. It was around the corner on the path on which we were walking.
And then, through the amber brush, I saw a dark flash...
AND THERE IT WAS...
MOOO!
Then from all directions around us, a chorus of moos answered the "Path Blocker". We laughed out loud, a little bit out of relief. Then he mooed again and the chorus mooed and we laughed some more. And then he stood there. And we just stood there. All of us eyed each other warily, like ninja warriors sizing one another up.
We were, in a phrase, in a "Mexican Standoff". With a brown cow. (A herd of his brethren had his back and were mocking us, in their cow way.)
The Path Blocker was BIG! Sophia was in awe and I have to admit being a little overwhelmed. We yelled, yeehawed and gitouttahere'd at the beast, but to no avail. I'd almost given up and suggested that we retreat, but then inspiration struck. We could "tip" it! Being from Nebraska, cow tipping should come as second nature to me. (Unfortunately it doesn't.) Soon as that brilliant thought was born, its sister followed. "Doesn't one tip sleeping bovine?" This one was clearly WIDE AWAKE. And still not moving.
Finally my big, brave husband slowly moved forward waving his massive, muscular arms, the cow (in terror) threw out the white flag and gave in. He moved slowly to the side, and as we passed, emitted a last, mournful "moo".
Man prevailed over wild, once again.
Saturday, October 31, 2009
Halloween
Halloween started out for us on Friday, with a costume parade and a day of fun at Sophia's school. The children were to dress in their halloween costumes, but since Sophia's was white (she was a bride), I knew it would get ruined before the big day if she wore it to school. Instead, she was a cute little GOOD witch. (She reminded me and everyone who saw her, numerous times!)
I came as the Mama Good Witch.
That evening was pumpkin carving...with amusing results.
On Saturday, after a morning birthday party, we joined friends for a really fun pre-trick 'r treat potluck. All the kids came dressed in their Halloween best...Sophia was a little bride.
Some of the kids from the party...can you spot Malachai?
Chris made a delicious rat loaf...but hardly anyone tried it. Wonder why?!
Our handsome and lovely host couple 
Robert, Chris and Ryan were protecting the sofa from ghosts and goblins!
Arrgh! Me sleepy!
Robert, Chris and Ryan were protecting the sofa from ghosts and goblins!
Arrgh! Me sleepy!
Sunday, October 25, 2009
Fall Festival at Agua Linda Pumpkin Patch
Fall in the great Southwest is very different than it is back home in the Midwest. Due to the less dramatic change in temperatures; the changing of the colors here is less dramatic, as well. Autumn here is beautiful, nonetheless.
Today we partook in the great Autumn tradition of "Fall Festival" at Agua Linda Farm, which is a rustic little organic farm along the bank of the Santa Cruz river. The weather was beautiful, mid-70s and the sky was a beautiful blue. The aroma of kettle corn, hamburgers and sweet treats was thick in the air as we enjoyed a maze, swinging on a herd of tire swings, the petting zoo, live music and snocones! lol
Notice the bottom of Alexa's sack...
We love our beautiful, adopted home!
Today we partook in the great Autumn tradition of "Fall Festival" at Agua Linda Farm, which is a rustic little organic farm along the bank of the Santa Cruz river. The weather was beautiful, mid-70s and the sky was a beautiful blue. The aroma of kettle corn, hamburgers and sweet treats was thick in the air as we enjoyed a maze, swinging on a herd of tire swings, the petting zoo, live music and snocones! lol
Notice the bottom of Alexa's sack...
We love our beautiful, adopted home!
Friday, August 28, 2009
“Mother Guilt: Home Sick or Homesick?”
So often, as a mother, you walk a fine line between either coddling your children too much or not enough. It’s hard to know when a hug & kiss or a stern but loving response is best. I’ve been challenged with this line many times since Sophia started kindergarten.
Take last night, for instance. Yesterday evening was Open House at the Primary School. We (Chris and I) looked forward to Sophia being able to “show off” her classroom, her teacher and of course, her hard work. We realize that it is probably daunting for her to have an older sibling like Alexa, who excels in school and in social situations. Alexa generally chooses the right and makes good decisions. We don’t ever want Sophia to feel that there is a competition between them, or worse yet, decide to take the opposite path in school and in life. Thus, we make extra effort to focus on Sophia’s successes and her best efforts.
That being said, I also pride myself on raising my children using firm boundaries. I want them to have and use good manners and to be appropriate at all times. This pride has been challenged recently, most often when it’s most important to me for them to behave “perfectly”. (Occasions such as family weddings, baptisms, etc. are prime examples.) So, when Sophia or Alexa misbehave, I am torn between ignoring the bad behavior and focusing on the good or punishing the bad immediately. This brings us back to Open House.
Almost as soon as we walked into the classroom, Sophia morphed from helpful, smart and sweet five year-old into the female version of her kindergarten-nemesis, Malachai. She ran around the room, pulling toys out and leaving them on the floor, tickling her classmates inappropriately, poking noses and being an all around pain! I was mortified. When I chastised her quietly, she burst into sobs and wailed that she wanted to go home, "now!" Later, as we ate outside on the playground, she ran around without her shoes, dripped her icee juice all over and wouldn’t listen as we calmly asked her to “settle down”. We left the school with Sophia screaming loudly, tears streaming down her face because we wouldn’t take her to the swings. Parents gave us the knowing glances that I sometimes give when I see “out-of-control-kids”; it was embarrassing to be on the receiving end.
I wondered if we were being too hard on her; or not hard enough. I honestly thought a swat to her behind was in order, but didn’t choose to do it. The long school day was definitely a factor in her acting out; as a cranky kindergartner, maybe she just needed some tender loving care to snap out of it. When we arrived home I quickly changed clothes and headed to a fitness class. I came back after she was already asleep and felt remorse that I hadn’t left her with a kind word or a hug.
Which bring us to this morning. At about 5:45 am, I was awakened by Sophia, peering at me from the side of my bed. “Mama, I threw up.” I groggily reached for my cell phone and noted the time. I asked what happened. She said that she had felt sick and vomited in the toilet. I have to admit that I was very doubtful. On the heels of last night’s shenanigans, I wondered if she wasn’t faking in order to get some attention and make-up cuddling with mommy. Was she going to be staying home, sick or was she just “homesick”? The transition to all-day kindergarten has really made her miss me, she tells me that every day. I could understand her looking for a little love! I dutifully felt her head, which was warm. “Let me call daddy” I said.
I had a short discussion with Chris where he informed me that when he was leaving for work, she claimed to have thrown up then, too. He determined that she had choked on a drink of water and had spit the water out on her blanket. We agreed that she was most likely just acting sick. The problem is, I couldn’t send her to school even if she WAS faking. Sophia is the child who would tell every adult she came across, “I threw up two times this morning!” and they would be led to believe that I sent my sick baby to school and was the most neglectful mom EVER! No, I reasoned, it was better to keep her home to be on the safe side. And if she was faking, she was going to be taught a lesson.
First, I called and cancelled her scheduled after-school play date. I made the call within her earshot. Then I cancelled our fun dinner plans with some good friends. Next, I called the school. When she asked for breakfast, I didn’t play it as carefully as I would have had I really thought she was ill. Instead of dry toast, I gave her garlicky spinach scrambled eggs and buttery toast. Then, as my coup de grace, when she strolled through my room to the master bath, I stopped her. “You can’t be in my room, the baby is in here! You could make him sick, too.” “But I feel like I’m gonna throw up!” she said, with a grimace. I suggested that she go throw up in her bathroom and I warned her not to flush the toilet if she did, as I would want to examine it.
*This is where I should stop and warn the queasy reader that this story does not have a happy ending. And I should note that I am one of the queasiest. I can barely type this without gagging.*
A few minutes later she appeared in my doorway. “Mom, I threw up. I didn’t flush the toilet, but I got some on the rug. Sorry!” It was said in such an upbeat, lighthearted way that I imagined she was pulling my leg. In an exaggerated manner, I quickly ran into the hall. And ran head-on into a wall of the unmistakable scent of emesis. Poor Sophia had regurgitated garlicky spinach scrambled eggs…all the way down the hall, all over the carpet. The emesis explosion continued into the girls’ bathroom, on the floor, on any dirty clothes left on the floor, on the tub, around and on the toilet, with a tiny bit actually in the bowl.
That’s when my mommy guilt hit me in the face, hard. My poor little angel WASN’T faking. And I had not been very tender OR loving! AND my care consisted of feeding her something which very well exacerbated her already ailing tummy. Needless to say, the rest of my morning has been spent paying my penance by cleaning, cleaning again and being the cheerful servant to a remarkably upbeat Sophia.
Take last night, for instance. Yesterday evening was Open House at the Primary School. We (Chris and I) looked forward to Sophia being able to “show off” her classroom, her teacher and of course, her hard work. We realize that it is probably daunting for her to have an older sibling like Alexa, who excels in school and in social situations. Alexa generally chooses the right and makes good decisions. We don’t ever want Sophia to feel that there is a competition between them, or worse yet, decide to take the opposite path in school and in life. Thus, we make extra effort to focus on Sophia’s successes and her best efforts.
That being said, I also pride myself on raising my children using firm boundaries. I want them to have and use good manners and to be appropriate at all times. This pride has been challenged recently, most often when it’s most important to me for them to behave “perfectly”. (Occasions such as family weddings, baptisms, etc. are prime examples.) So, when Sophia or Alexa misbehave, I am torn between ignoring the bad behavior and focusing on the good or punishing the bad immediately. This brings us back to Open House.
Almost as soon as we walked into the classroom, Sophia morphed from helpful, smart and sweet five year-old into the female version of her kindergarten-nemesis, Malachai. She ran around the room, pulling toys out and leaving them on the floor, tickling her classmates inappropriately, poking noses and being an all around pain! I was mortified. When I chastised her quietly, she burst into sobs and wailed that she wanted to go home, "now!" Later, as we ate outside on the playground, she ran around without her shoes, dripped her icee juice all over and wouldn’t listen as we calmly asked her to “settle down”. We left the school with Sophia screaming loudly, tears streaming down her face because we wouldn’t take her to the swings. Parents gave us the knowing glances that I sometimes give when I see “out-of-control-kids”; it was embarrassing to be on the receiving end.
I wondered if we were being too hard on her; or not hard enough. I honestly thought a swat to her behind was in order, but didn’t choose to do it. The long school day was definitely a factor in her acting out; as a cranky kindergartner, maybe she just needed some tender loving care to snap out of it. When we arrived home I quickly changed clothes and headed to a fitness class. I came back after she was already asleep and felt remorse that I hadn’t left her with a kind word or a hug.
Which bring us to this morning. At about 5:45 am, I was awakened by Sophia, peering at me from the side of my bed. “Mama, I threw up.” I groggily reached for my cell phone and noted the time. I asked what happened. She said that she had felt sick and vomited in the toilet. I have to admit that I was very doubtful. On the heels of last night’s shenanigans, I wondered if she wasn’t faking in order to get some attention and make-up cuddling with mommy. Was she going to be staying home, sick or was she just “homesick”? The transition to all-day kindergarten has really made her miss me, she tells me that every day. I could understand her looking for a little love! I dutifully felt her head, which was warm. “Let me call daddy” I said.
I had a short discussion with Chris where he informed me that when he was leaving for work, she claimed to have thrown up then, too. He determined that she had choked on a drink of water and had spit the water out on her blanket. We agreed that she was most likely just acting sick. The problem is, I couldn’t send her to school even if she WAS faking. Sophia is the child who would tell every adult she came across, “I threw up two times this morning!” and they would be led to believe that I sent my sick baby to school and was the most neglectful mom EVER! No, I reasoned, it was better to keep her home to be on the safe side. And if she was faking, she was going to be taught a lesson.
First, I called and cancelled her scheduled after-school play date. I made the call within her earshot. Then I cancelled our fun dinner plans with some good friends. Next, I called the school. When she asked for breakfast, I didn’t play it as carefully as I would have had I really thought she was ill. Instead of dry toast, I gave her garlicky spinach scrambled eggs and buttery toast. Then, as my coup de grace, when she strolled through my room to the master bath, I stopped her. “You can’t be in my room, the baby is in here! You could make him sick, too.” “But I feel like I’m gonna throw up!” she said, with a grimace. I suggested that she go throw up in her bathroom and I warned her not to flush the toilet if she did, as I would want to examine it.
*This is where I should stop and warn the queasy reader that this story does not have a happy ending. And I should note that I am one of the queasiest. I can barely type this without gagging.*
A few minutes later she appeared in my doorway. “Mom, I threw up. I didn’t flush the toilet, but I got some on the rug. Sorry!” It was said in such an upbeat, lighthearted way that I imagined she was pulling my leg. In an exaggerated manner, I quickly ran into the hall. And ran head-on into a wall of the unmistakable scent of emesis. Poor Sophia had regurgitated garlicky spinach scrambled eggs…all the way down the hall, all over the carpet. The emesis explosion continued into the girls’ bathroom, on the floor, on any dirty clothes left on the floor, on the tub, around and on the toilet, with a tiny bit actually in the bowl.
That’s when my mommy guilt hit me in the face, hard. My poor little angel WASN’T faking. And I had not been very tender OR loving! AND my care consisted of feeding her something which very well exacerbated her already ailing tummy. Needless to say, the rest of my morning has been spent paying my penance by cleaning, cleaning again and being the cheerful servant to a remarkably upbeat Sophia.
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