I started writing this post after running out to pick up dinner for me and Brad on Friday night. (We had one of those date nights where you rent a movie and order take-out, then wait until the kids go to bed and pretend like they don’t exist.)

It all started when I pulled out of the alley and caught sight of one of our neighbors’ house. It was all lit up with Christmas lights!!!

This was the house that, just a week ago, looked like it belonged in some horror movie! For Halloween, they put really big, black spiders all over their house, and then cover the yard in cobwebs and scary lights and sounds – even a smoke machine! But last night – just a week or so after Halloween – it looked like the Gingerbread house from the Hansel and Gretel story! (Of course, given the fact that the witch in that story was going to EAT Hansel and Gretel, maybe the horror theme remains.)

In fact, the text I sent her said “Wow!! Your house went from Nightmare on Elm Street to The Gingerbread House like, overnight!!! Looks great!” to which she replied “Thanks! I still have a lot to do but am hoping to finish it tomorrow.” As I was writing her the text, I looked up just in time to swerve around a car and almost hit another one when I saw a different neighborhood with decorations donning their entrance, complete with Christmas lights!!!

But it was when I turned on the radio and heard KLTY doing a Christmas preview weekend – ALL WEEKEND, ALL CHRISTMAS MUSIC, ALL THE TIME – that I really started to lose it.

I was all like IT IS NOVEMBER 14^TH PEOPLE!!! I can’t start thinking about Christmas yet?!! I’m hosting Thanksgiving at my house! I have a turkey to thaw!!! Do you know how long it takes a turkey to thaw?? If I start now, it MIGHT be ready by Thanksgiving!!! And desserts and appetizers!!! Christmas?!! Since when did Christmas come BEFORE THANKSGIVING???

And then, something happened to change my attitude.

On Monday morning, the temperature dropped from the 80s to the 50s. Oh, glorious cold front! I had forgotten how it felt to be cold!!!

Today, after dropping ALL 3 of my kids at various schools, I went to Target. I STARTED CHRISTMAS SHOPPING! I came home and turned on the Christmas music and briefly considered eating the pre-cut sugar cookie dough (but stopped myself because seriously, someone went to a lot of trouble to put that little picture of a reindeer in that cookie and then charged me a lot of money for it!) I’m even considering getting the Christmas decorations out of the attic because, now that it’s cold, It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas! And I’m happy to do my part.

But then, I have to wonder, will I still feel the same way when the temperatures soar into the 80s again? Because, after all, this is Texas, and if there is one thing you can count on, it’s the heat.

Well, that and my neighbor’s obsession with decorating her yard.

When I was a kid, I can’t say that I hated going to the dentist. I can’t say that because I didn’t go often enough to form an opinion about it.

I blame my sister for this, actually. She had crooked teeth and had to wear a retainer for many years, and I think she just burned my parents’ out on visiting the dentist. When I came along four years later, they just looked at me and said “Good enough.”

Never mind the fact that I had buck teeth. And that my last name was Beever.

You think I’m kidding about the buck teeth? When I was in Fourth Grade and finally able to preview what band instrument I was going to play, my heart was set on the clarinet. You know who can’t play the clarinet? Little girls with buck teeth. Yes, they actually told me I could not play the clarinet because it would be too difficult for me to wrap my lips around both my teeth and the mouthpiece. Instead, I was given a flute, just like my sister.

When I began complaining to my mom and dad about my buck teeth and asking for braces, they told me that they would not pay for braces and if I didn’t want to have buck teeth, I was going to have to push them back in with my thumb. They then demonstrated how, whenever I sat in class or was reading or whatever, I could just prop my face up with my thumb on my front teeth.

You can’t make this stuff up.

When I have accused my mother of being a horrible parent using this example, she has always given me the same answer, “Hey, it worked!” Well, yes, it did. I actually have very straight teeth and never wore braces or even a retainer.

Of course, I am now in therapy, taking an antidepressant and wear a mouth guard at night due to high levels of stress, but that’s another story for another time.

Meanwhile, back in 5^th grade, I started beginner band using my sister’s beginner flute. By then, she was a freshman in High School and had graduated to the oboe during concert season and in marching band, she was getting ready to try out for Drum Major. Always the over-achiever, she went on to play piccolo solos from the podium while directing the marching band – something our small town had never witnessed before. During concert season, she took private oboe lessons from a professional oboe player in San Antonio and always played lots of solos. She was our band director’s star pupil. She was also a beauty queen and competed in the Texas Miss Junior Miss pageant as well as taking dance for many years where she was always on the first row.

Meanwhile, I was the buck-toothed little sister who looked like she was always sucking her thumb during class.

I, too, tried the oboe eventually but decided by 8^th grade that I needed to make my own way in the world. And so I switched to the French Horn.

When I asked my mom if I could switch to the French Horn, her response was “Go ask your dad”. When I asked my dad, he said “Isn’t that the thing that always has all that spit in it?” Why yes, yes it is. But I loved the way it sounded and so he agreed.

Now this was an instrument that served a dual purpose: it was as polar opposite of my sister as possible, plus it pushed in my teeth while I played, giving me a break from doing it myself.

And so, by about half way through High School, I was no longer a buck-toothed Beever. I was just a Beever.

Then I met Brad and went from being just a Beever to a Just-Beever. No, I’m just kidding. Now my name is legally Britany Beever Just.

Like I said, you can’t make this stuff up.

Originally posted October 23, 2008, this story has remained the most-read post on my blog ever since. Since I have some new readers lately, I thought I would re-post it. So here it is, along with the follow-up, for your reading enjoyment. Thanks, Britany

A few days ago, I saw this nasty rat run out of the garage so I called the pest control guy to come eliminate the problem.  He came yesterday morning and made me feel much better by telling me I do not appear to have any in the attics or the house – just the garage.  Whew!

Yesterday afternoon, I went to get our oldest child from school in the pouring rain and when I came home, opened and closed the garage door quickly since the temperature was dropping.  We all paraded into the house and didn’t leave again for several hours.  All I can figure is that it was when we got home from picking him up that the animal got in the garage.

So when Daddy called and asked if we wanted to eat dinner at Double Dave’s we were IN!  The boys paraded out into the garage (as normal).  The scene is still clearly in my mind.  Middle child was standing by the car, oldest was by the door to the house and youngest was standing on the stool by the button to the garage door, just about to open it (waiting on my permission).  The door to the house was open and middle said, in a normal-sounding voice “Mommy, look – an animal!”  All I could see was gray fur.  And the size?  Bigger than a rodent.  Then it turned and I saw a long tail.  Oldest said “It’s a cat!” and that’s when I said, probably not as calmly as I should have “EVERYONE GET INSIDE!  NOW!  MIDDLE CHILD, GET OVER HERE NOW!”

The boys ran into the house while I slammed the door, then thought twice and cracked the door open just enough to press the garage door opener.  I figured that the animal would run out.  Beyond that?  No plan.  So I called Hubs.  His answer?  Get the PLASTIC SWORD off the island and check out the garage.  Great.  I’m now headed out into the garage to face what could potentially be one of the ROUS’s (for those of you who haven’t seen The Princess Bride, shame on you!  Also, that stands for Rodents of Unusual Size).

As I beat around the garage with my plastic sword, nothing emerged so I was cautiously optimistic.  I got the boys into the car quickly, then wheeled out into the alley, shutting the garage door as we left.  At this point, oldest child yells “WATCH OUT MOMMY THERE ARE PEOPLE BACK HERE.”  As if my nerves weren’t already frazzled enough.

After slamming on the brakes and losing all 18 tubes of lipstick when my purse fell over, I saw a man and his little girl at the other end of the alley.  ‘I dumped my purse out for this? ‘ was my first thought.  My second was ‘Maybe they’re out looking for their missing gray cat, the one that’s been in my garage the last few hours.’ Hey, at least I got there, okay?!!

I rolled down my window and watched the look of astonishment on the man’s face as I described the incident in my garage.

Since I’m not great at using quotation marks, here’s the gist of the conversation:

Yes, it was their cat!  He was out looking for it, as a matter of fact!  Well, actually it was his wife’s cat, and you shouldn’t let your kids too close to it because it is, in fact, a pretty unfriendly cat.  Thank you and I’ll walk down the alley toward your house and look for it.

In retrospect, I should have given him my phone number.  Or perhaps my name.  But I was too busy telling this total stranger about how I thought his gray cat was a ROUS.  No, I didn’t really use the acronym but I did in fact tell him that I thought his cat was a large rat.  He didn’t laugh.  But then again, he appeared to be a Longhorn.  Which totally explains everything. (Sorry Cathy – couldn’t pass it up!)

The Rest of the Story

Yesterday, I wrote about a Totally Blogworthy Event.  Today, I will tell you “The rest [dramatic pause] of the story”.

This morning, hubs took oldest child to school which meant the minivan sat in the garage most of the day.  Late this morning, I had a reason to walk into the garage and immediately, I noticed some things out of place.  Strange.  I had this weird feeling that something wasn’t right when [insert loud, scary scream] I see the animal, now known as the brownish-grayish cat, staring at me from atop the shelves off to my right.  Yes, you read that right – that darn cat spent the night in our garage!

The good news?  We probably don’t have a mouse problem anymore.

The bad news?  Now we have a cat problem.

I (once again) opened the garage door so the cat could escape then darted inside to figure out what to do.  I tried looking up the phone number for our new neighbors but alas, they only listed an email address.  What’s a frantic person to do? Email her of course.  But then, it dawns on me – not everybody lives and breathes by that “ding!” on the computer that says “You’ve got mail!”  That MAY just be me.  Maybe.

Next on my list of things to try – pick up the cat and carry it over to the new neighbor’s home.  I figured, what better way to meet the new neighbor than to show up with her missing cat? All I had to do was catch it, which shouldn’t be a problem since it seemed to like us, or at least our garage.

The cat had now sauntered out of the garage and was wandering around toward the yard.  I got as close as I dared than spoke to the cat.  I did, after all, grow up on a farm.  I like to think I am something of a cat whisperer.  Yeah right.  That ugly mass of gray fur hissed at me and then headed straight for me.  I couldn’t tell what it’s intentions were, exactly – UNTIL IT TRIED TO BITE ME!!!  Then I was pretty sure it was hostile.

At this point, I may or may not have stood straight up and tried to kick the ungrateful thing, yelling “GO HOME” and pointing toward the alley.  It was undaunted.  It wanted back into my garage.

There was only one thing to do – I had to go tell the neighbors.  So with a barefooted 3 year old on my hip and middle child in tow, I headed across the field to meet the neighbors.  Neighbor, along with their dog (NAMED BEVO), answered the door.  She was worried sick about the cat.  She was up all night worrying about her.  The cat had never been outside before.  (I assured her the cat spent the night inside our warm and comfy garage.)  She wanted to go after the cat, but the new baby was asleep upstairs, and her little girl was watching TV.  I offered to stay with the kids while she went, and she was very happy to go.  So she locked BEVO in the bedroom and took off across the field.

I wasn’t there long enough to take pictures with my cellphone, but I totally wish I had.  Her house was BEAUTIFUL!!!  Stunning.  And – here’s the shocker – clean.  I mean, they just moved in like a month or so ago – and then HAD A BABY – and there was no clutter anywhere.  There were not even any dirty dishes present on the kitchen counter.  What kind of crazy mixed up place is this? I wondered.  That’s about how long I had to contemplate, since immediately after arriving at this stranger’s home, my 3 year old declared he needed to go potty.  I figured he just wanted to snoop around her house but I also figured that between that and wetting all over her brand new couches, a little snooping was in order.

While youngest child was in the bathroom, the baby woke up.  Funny thing was that I could hear him on the baby monitor but had no earthly idea where he was.

I tried asking the little girl but all she knew was “Baby crying.  Baby crying.”  Yeah, kid, I got that.

I tried to imagine which would be worse – the neighbor coming home to find me wandering aimlessly around her house or coming home to me sitting on the couch, listening to the baby on the monitor.  I decided to at least try to appear attentive.  I went up the stairs and there he was, the most beautiful baby I have ever laid eyes on, lying in the most beautiful crib I have ever seen.  In a fabulous house.  With no clutter.  Yeah, I’m not jealous or anything.

So down I came with the baby in my arms when I saw my youngest, pants and underwear down around his ankles, waddling back from the bathroom.  Having faced this scenario before, I was actually able to lean over and help him pull up his pants without ever putting the baby down.  We were just snapping up when new neighbor got home, kitty in arms.  She was ever so grateful and as I wanted to leave her with those warm fuzzy feelings about us, I exited quickly, yelling back over my shoulder something about how beautiful their house was blah blah blah.

She actually wrote me a really nice email tonight.  I believe we made a new friend today.

That is, assuming her cat didn’t eat any of that rat poison in our garage.

Compared to my 2 siblings, I am usually behind the times where technology is concerned. It has always been that way, and I assume it will always remain that way. Bethany and Will are always on the cutting edge.

(Well, except for that short period of time in Junior High when my Aunt Susie – who was the first one in our family to own a PC – taught me how to use her Apple IIe. But Will was quick on my heels and before I knew it, he was writing programs on that computer. And so the race began…)

I remember going home to visit my family after Brad and I were married and seeing Will crush a CD with his bare hands. He was learning to use a CD writer and was ruining disk after disk in the process – back when you could write but not rewrite on the CDs. The process was apparently frustrating because he learned the hard way that inside a CD was a whole lot of splintery glass.

Will has always served as my parents’ primary tech support person and computer provider. Whenever a newer and better machine came on the market, Will would give my parents his machine so he could justify buying himself a new one. And so he would hand his down to my dad, who would eventually hand it down to my mom, and then eventually, the old, useless machine would end up back with Will where he would strip it down and use it as a server or DVR or whatever.

I’m not sure when my parents began using PCs on a regular basis, but one day, Mom called Will because she was trying to use her new mouse and no matter how many times she clicked on the left button, it wouldn’t do what it was supposed to do! She was so frustrated – until it crossed Will’s mind to ask her which way the cord was facing – toward my mom or away from her. It was facing toward my mom, as Will had suspected – which meant my mom was trying to hold the mouse upside down, getting the left and right buttons crossed in the process. You should try it – we’ve always said that it takes real talent to use a mouse upside down!

Once mom became proficient at using the PC, she and dad began emailing each other. We thought this was hilarious, especially since they were about 10 feet away. We always said they could have hollered at each other faster than type and send an email.

Then we got our second computer, and found that sure enough, we were emailing each other rather than just hollering from the other room.

At some point in this technological evolutionary process, we got cell phones. This meant we could now call each other from separate rooms and avoid raising our voices.

Then my friends and family introduced me to text messaging.

It started when my brother came for a visit and sent me a couple of texts from upstairs. I thought it was so cool to get a message that said “What time is dinner?” and avoid having to actually speak to him. Not that I don’t enjoy speaking to my brother – it’s just so much faster to type a text! It’s so handy, in fact, that the first month I added texting, I went over – waaaaayyyy over – the 200 or whatever number I thought I would use. All my friends were horrified that I didn’t have unlimited texting so I quickly upgraded.

Then I learned about the new device my sister and brother both owned – the iPhone.

It was just a few months before they convinced me I needed one. They were right. I don’t think I can overstate how my iPhone has changed my life. Just last weekend, my brother was able to tune my parents’ piano using an application he downloaded to his iPhone. Yes, it’s true – there’s an app for that.

And just when I thought life couldn’t get any better or easier, this week Brad got a Blackberry at work.

Last night, for the first time in our lives, we went to bed early – he was answering work email on his Blackberry and I was playing a game on my iPhone.

Then, it happened. I got an email I thought he should read so I forwarded it to him. Yes, I sent my husband an email from one side of the bed to the other.

But you know what’s worse? He wrote me back.

Now all we need is a way to set up an automatic text message that says “Good night. I love you.” at a predetermined time every evening.

I’m not sure how to do that but I feel pretty confident that there’s an app for that as well.

One of the most challenging aspects of being the mother of 3 boys is encouraging the use of their imaginations (over the use of their Nintendo games, for example). They quickly grow bored with any and every thing, and resort to pummeling each other as a form of entertainment.

It’s every mother’s dream, I tell ya – watching her children find new and exciting ways to annoy, harm or otherwise destroy their siblings.

Since I grew up in the country, I spent a great deal of my childhood playing outdoors. And even though our current backyard is roughly the size of a postage stamp, I still try to encourage the boys to play outside, especially when they are getting on each other’s last nerve. Unfortunately, the boys tire of the yard quickly and begin searching for new ways to harm each other.

However, Monday I discovered that they are more creative than I have previously given them credit for. Introducing human bowling:

As you can see, the game consists of one brave soul sitting at the bottom of the driveway and spreading his legs apart. The person taking the turn must stand inside the garage and bowl one of our many soccer balls or basketballs at the person sitting at the bottom of the driveway. (The pictures are kind of grainy but you may be able to see Matthew in the orange shirt in the bottom picture, cringing while waiting for the ball to hit him.)

Yes, they “bowl” as hard as they can at each other. And yes, it hurts to get hit. And yet, they were all 3 laughing and squealing and having a blast!

If the person bowling the ball manages to get the ball in between the legs of the person at the bottom of the driveway, then they have to change places with him. If they miss, they wait for another turn. Which, if you think about it, means that the object of the game is to GET to be the person at the bottom of the driveway, waiting for someone to hit you with a ball! And that is exactly how they crafted it.

I loved it, every minute of those precious 5 minutes that they were playing together without fighting. I thought to myself, “This is what we imagined when they were infants. This is what we’ve been waiting for.”

Sure, the game quickly turned into a shouting match because “SAMUEL DIDN’T WAIT FOR HIS TURN!” and “PETER IS LAUGHING AT ME WHEN I GET HURT!” but, oh, it was so worth it. Just to have that glimmer of hope that one day…one day they might actually be able to play together without fighting.

Oh, who am I kidding? In reality, boys will just find new and interesting – and hopefully, legal – ways to beat each other up. Which is, I suppose, still accomplishing the goal of teaching them to use their imaginations.

Today is the FOURTEENTH DAY for us to have the flu.

That, folks, is a long time.

The good news is that Peter’s temperature is finally dropping down to below 100 without medication, and he appears to be feeling better. The bad news is that he’s not yet fever-free and will be home with me tomorrow. Again.

Please don’t get me wrong – I love my kids. But fourteen days is a LOT of together time.

I’ve tried to mix it up a little, take walks to the park and have movie night and game night. But I have to admit – I’m ready for a break.

My highlights have all grown out. My bangs are hanging down into my eyes. I’ve stopped trying to style my hair and have resorted to clipping it back like I used to do when I was 12. My two eyebrows are beginning to resemble a unibrow. The paint on my toenails has peeled off.

Let’s just say I’m badly in need of a spa day. In fact, when I told my mom, she thought I might need to book a whole weekend. <Grin>

But all of that is nothing compared to my psyche.

Let’s just say I’m craving some grown-up conversation, the kind that doesn’t start with “Mommy…can I?”

I’m all tapped out. The glass is not half empty – it’s bone dry. And there’s not a thing I can do about it because, well, there’s apparently not enough money in my bank account to bride anyone to babysit a sick kid.

So I’m looking forward with great anticipation to Brad’s day off on Friday. I’m going to get a pedicure. I’m going to get my hair done. I’m going to the mall. I may even go see a movie. Alone.

If I happen to run into you and you have your child with you, please forgive me for pretending I don’t know you and walking the other direction. It’s not you – I promise. It’s your child. I am bound and determined to have a day off and that means no one under 3 feet is allowed to enter my personal space. Period.

Well, just when we thought we were nearing the end of the Flu Epidemic of 2009, last night Peter’s temp shot up from the 99 degree range to 101.

I have to admit that when he first started complaining about feeling bad, I ignored him. I think I was in the 3rd Stage of the Flu, which is denial. Or is that the 3rd Stage of Grief?

Whatever.

But I finally broke down and took his temp. I nearly cried when I saw 101. That means that he really does have it, and by now we’ve missed the 48 hour window with which to get Tamiflu. So we’re looking at approximately 6 more days of fever for Peter.

And now Brad and I think we might have “a touch of the flu” as well. It’s really the strangest thing. We are exhausted but our symptoms keep coming and going. One moment, we feel sick at our stomachs, the next, we feel hungry. One moment, we are achy all over, the next, we’re feeling okay. We’ve had low-grade fevers on and off again, and a headache.

But other than that, we’re fine! No, really! I don’t have the flu! I’m just…tired! Yeah, that’s it!!!

Seriously, I keep trying to convince myself it’s all psychosomatic and not real. But I have no other explanation for this weird health rollercoaster we seem to be on. The good news is that it’s not really that bad. We can still function and that’s pretty important since we have these kiddos who insist on meals and stuff.

In fact, I took Samuel to his first day of Small Fry Basketball this morning. What a hoot! I wish I had been able to take pics with one hand while helping Samuel learn to dribble with the other but, well, hello! Coordination has never been my special gift.

In fact, when I was little, my dance instructor had a special section just for me. It was called “the back, BACK, row”. It’s not that I didn’t try – I just could never remember which way to turn. Or where to put my arms. Or my feet, really.

Okay, I was a terrible dancer. But I was sure cute in those little costumes! And I had fun, which might have been okay back when I was six, but was no longer enough justification when my parents released copies of the videos for the world to see at my rehearsal dinner. Thanks, Mom & Dad.

No, really, it was all in good fun. I’m just glad I didn’t have any girls. I really can’t imagine having to endure years of watching my poor daughter try to swim against her genetic tide and master the art of turning the same direction as the other girls in her line.

Although, now that I think if it, watching Samuel continually bounce the basketball off his shoe is not all that different. Same lack of coordination, different sport. But it could be worse. I could be watching Samuel in a ballet class full of girls, turning the wrong direction and thinking “That’s just wrong”.

Actually, I would never consent to allowing one of my boys to take dance – not because of the obvious crossing of the gender roles – but because of the humiliation he would have to endure for the rest of his life.

Because if there is anything worse than being the one always turning the wrong way at a dance recital, it is being the only boy in a pink tutu turning the wrong way at the dance recital.

It was last Thursday when Samuel first started running a low-grade fever.  Matthew threw up the next morning and, well, you know the rest.  Samuel had to have a chest x-ray yesterday because of his extended fever (eight days and counting) but it was clear.  They were checking for pneumonia.  Peter took a flu test but it was negative.  They said it was too soon to test.

I do wish someone could explain this mystery to me: Peter’s test was inaccurate because it was only about six hours after the onset of symptoms.  But Matthew’s test, while registering the flu, came too late for the prescription of Tamiflu.  Apparently, you have to hit it at exactly the precise time in order to get the treasured medicine, sometime within the first 48 hours from the onset of symptoms but after the “too early” window, which is a real trick, especially when the pediatrician’s office pretty much just gives you the next appointment on the list.

Not only that, but I learned yesterday that only certain doctors within my pediatrician’s group are even prescribing Tamiflu!  So the odds of us getting Tamiflu are about as good as being struck by lightening while winning the lottery.

Which begs the question, why bother going to the doctor at all?  In our case, we have now invested $80 plus whatever we will owe for the trip to the x-ray people (probably $100 copay for that) for the grand prize of…ding! ding! ding!…being able to tell everyone that ONE of our boys has a confirmed case of the flu.

You know what that’ll get you?  A mask, some stickers and a pencil.

Leaving the x-ray place

Yes, that’s right.  They made all 3 boys wear masks at the medical center where we went for the x-rays.  And you want to know what’s sad?  The lady that runs the x-ray machine now knows me by sight.  She actually said “Weren’t you just here recently?”.  Oh yes, as the mother of 3 boys, I have now spent quite a bit of my life at the x-ray place.

On a happier note, today we had to get out of the house for a few hours so the cleaning ladies could come.  They were so welcome and appreciated, and I have never been as happy as when we walked through the door and smelled the fresh, clean scent of pine.  It was momentary nirvana.

While we were out, I decided to surprise the boys with a trip to “Picnic Hill”.  It’s in the adjacent neighborhood and the boys have been begging to go for a long time.  It was really a nice change of pace after being cooped up for so many days in a row.  I took some pics with my cellphone.

View from Picnic Hill

Picnic Hill

Boys eating lunch

Looking back toward our house.

So while we are still sick, at least we are sleeping on clean sheets tonight and using clean sinks and clean wash cloths, etc.  And maybe – just maybe – we will finally be on our way to getting healthy again.

But on the off chance that that doesn’t work, does anybody know how to score some black market Tamiflu???

If I had been more awake, I would have grabbed my phone and shot a picture of Peter doing “Ring Around The Rosie” with Samuel at 7:15am.  You would never have guessed by the look of glee on his face that his temperature had just registered 100.0 – finally.  He’s been asking me to take his temperature for days, now, hoping against hope to get what Matthew and Samuel have so he could stay home from school.

Last night, it was 99.3 – not quite high enough to warrant a day off of school.  This morning, the first reading was 98.6, the second was 99.1, then finally, he hit the 100 degree mark – his ticket home for the day.  I have to admit wondering briefly if he had been able to figure a way to beat the ear thermometer, but it was too early and I had not had any coffee yet.  I decided to think about that when my mind was awake and fully functioning.  I’m still waiting for that to happen, by the way, which begs the question, is it possible to blog with only half my brain awake?  I guess that is yet to be seen.

So why is my brain still half asleep at 8:05am?  Well, I’ll tell you.

I went to bed at 10:30 last night.  At 10:45, Samuel came down coughing and crying.  I had already given him Benadryl and Motrin at 8pm so he couldn’t have anything else.  He went potty then tried to crawl in bed with me but I took him back upstairs and put an extra pillow under his head and tucked him back in – to his own bed!  I think he stayed there until 3am, but I’m not sure – those in between hours get so blurry.  When he came down at 3, he told me he would feel better if he could just sleep in my bed and I was too tired to argue.  I told him he could sleep with me as long as he stayed on daddy’s side of the bed and didn’t talk!  (Daddy couldn’t argue because he was away on business last night.)  So he slept – for a while.  At 5am, he woke me up to ask me if it was time to wake up.  At 6am, he woke me up to ask me if he could turn on the TV.  At 7am, he woke me up to tell me it was 7 and he was going to go poo poo on our potty.  (Gee, thanks for that announcement.)  At that point, I knew I had to get up as well.

So forgive my blog post if it’s incoherent.  I have a feeling I will be saying that to a lot of people today.  And if you are able today, take a nap for me.  I have a feeling it’s going to be a long one.

Now, where did I leave that coffee cup?

Here are some cute pics of the kids from Halloween night.  You might notice there is only one with Samuel in it – that’s because, as soon as the picture was taken, he asked if we could take off the costume so he could go lie down on the couch and watch TV.  His temp that night spiked at 104.5 so it was no wonder he didn’t want to participate in the fun, but more on that below.  Here’s the boys in costume:

Halloween

Casper, The Friendly Ghost

Have you ever seen the movie, Space Balls?

Okay, it's really Matthew under that helmet!

He fought the mask and the mask lost!

So here’s how the evening went.  First we ate dinner, then put on costumes, then took pictures, then removed Samuel’s costume so he could rest, then Brad took Peter and Matthew to about 4 houses right by ours while I answered the door.  After that many houses, Matthew, who was also running a temperature, wanted to come home.  Meanwhile, Samuel would NOT remain on the couch.  Too much excitement with the doorbell ringing every few minutes.  I wondered what the moms must have thought when my snot-nosed kid without a costume on answered the door.  I still maintain that that sight was much scarier than any of the costumes the kids were wearing (at least for the parents).

So after bringing Matthew home, Brad took Peter out to Trick or Treat.  After about half an hour, I was really starting to wonder where they were and I got a text from Brad asking if we still had kids coming by.  I wrote back, asking where he was and they had wandered into the adjacent neighborhood!  Apparently Peter was enjoying hearing how cute his costume was and all the extra candy he received as a result.

About the ghost costume…lest you think I’m just cheap, when I polled the boys a month ago about what they wanted to be for Halloween, Peter already had his costume planned out – minus the mask which was given to us by Jana at the last minute.  (By the way, I offered to cut a bunch of holes in the sheet so he could look like Charlie Brown but I guess he hasn’t seen that episode because he didn’t go for it.)  As for Matthew – yes, that is his costume from last year.  Again, it wasn’t my idea!  He already knew exactly what he wanted to be, so hey, who am I to argue???  And Samuel – that poor costume has been worn so many times, it is ripped in several key places, like under the arms and right in front.  But for his school parade, they had to dress up as a civic hero or Bible character, and since this was all we had that fit the bill, he went as a firefighter.  Then on Halloween, he forgot the Superman pajamas (see previous post) and decided to wear his fireman costume.  For about 5 minutes anyway – long enough for a picture and that’s all that matters, right?

So about the sickness.  It started with Samuel on Thursday of last week.  He was running a low-grade fever and said he had a headache, but that was it.  Then Friday morning, Matthew threw up and started running a low temp and complaining of a headache.  I figured it was the flu or a virus but it didn’t really matter which since I had heard the Swine Flu was a pretty mild flu compared to the other versions.

Over the weekend, Samuel’s temperature kept spiking and Matthew’s would go up, but not above about 102.  They both complained of body aches and headaches, but nobody threw up again.  With Motrin, they were pretty comfortable.  Then came Sunday night.

Sunday night, Samuel woke up around 11pm and had a pretty high temp.  I gave him Motrin and something to drink and put him back to bed.  He was up again about half an hour later saying he couldn’t sleep.  He wasn’t kidding.  I could not get him to stay in his bed so I finally put him in our bed until he got sleepy, then took him back to his.  He was awake again at 6am.  I decided it was time to rule out an ear infection.

Since Matthew still had a fever on Monday, I made the appointment for both.  They did a swab for strep and flu on both kids and both strep were negative but only Matthew’s was positive for flu.  I still can’t figure how Samuel’s isn’t flu – he has exactly the same symptoms as Matthew!  So I’m assuming the test was wrong.  Anyway, turns out if I had taken them in on Saturday, they would have given them Tamiflu (I thought they weren’t giving any of that out anymore).  Oh well, live and learn.

So today is Tuesday and we were up the better part of the night with Samuel.  His temp comes down with the Motrin/Tylenol, but he complains of stomach aches, back aches, bottom aches, even hands and feet aches and just can’t sleep.  He spent the whole night in our bed so I slept very little.  But the good news is that with the flu, the fever is only supposed to last 5-7 days and we are now on day 5 for Samuel.

So that’s an update on us – how are you?  I love to read comments when they are posted so please feel free!  It will give me something to do in between wiping noses, taking temperatures and administering medicine!