Sam's Future Career

You know how every parent likes to dream about what their child will grow up and be? Most go with doctor, or lawyer, or scientist, or President...

I've tried pretty hard to steer clear of this line of thinking because 1) how can you tell at 3 years old and 2) I don't want to put unrealistic expectations on him.

Up until this last week or so, if a gun were held to my head, I would have guessed emergency services of some sort. He is obsessed with fireman, policemen, and ambulances.

Up until this last week or so, if he was in the shower or general playtime, the majority of activities were prefaced with:

"I'm a fireman. What happened?"

or

"I'm a police man. What happened?"

or

"Get in the ambulance! I take you to the hospital!... What happened?"

To which I come up with some random story about something catching on fire or bad guys or whatever and he responds and saves the day, just to follow it with another: "I'm a fireman. What happened?"

This last week, though, he has had a cold. And I don't know if this is a brain-eating bug or what, but shower time has turned into him drawing something obscure on the glass door with the steam, and saying, "Mom, do you like my shoe?"



1) It does not resemble a shoe.
 
2) Why is he drawing a shoe? Every night? For a week straight?
 


So he asks if I like his shoe, to which I reply, "I love it!"
 
Then he says, "Do you want to buy one?"
 
And I say, "How much?"
 
Then I get a myriad of responses.
 
In the beginning, the response was, "Fifteen dollars!"
 
Then it changed to, "Four dollars."
 
Then it changed to, "Two dollars."

And now... it is, "FREE! NO DOLLARS!"
 
 
 
 
So here is my guess as of right now what he may grow up to be:


A shoe salesman.


For all those wondering who this is, it is Al Bundy, the most famous fictional shoe salesman of all time.
 
And his life was sad and depressing and I don't want that for my son. Unless he is the best damned shoe salesman this side of the Mason-Dixon....
 
 
Which leads me to what he will not be...


A successful businessman.




 Not that I want Sam to turn into an asshat billionaire with extremely bad hair and a cradle-robbing complex... but even if I did... I'd be let down pretty hard core.

1) He designs shoes then gives them away for free. A classic Trump "no-no".

2) He likes older women for the time being. So far his only "girlfriends" have been Gena (26) and Lane (16).

3) Okay there is a possibility he will have bad hair judging by the mess that is his hair in the mornings. But his Aunt B is pretty vocal about bad hair and my guess is it wouldn't go that way for long if she has anything to do with it.



So as you can see, I have no idea what this child will be. I'm sure he has more surprises in store for me and I'm going to continue to not guess. I'll just cross my fingers and hope we can scratch shoe salesman off the list of possibilities.

The Damage an Orange Seed Can Do

My son has the best memory of anyone I know. And he is a nosy little rosy. So he listens intently and then remembers... everything. For months. And it has caused us some grief here lately.

For instance. I've always been jealous of people with blue and green eyes. Why? My eyes are shit brown. All day everyday. Brown they be.
 
But those blue-eyed and green-eyed people are mesmerizing! And I've always wanted them (not enough to stick contacts in my eye b/c ew gross... but still).
 
Apparently I said that in or around his presence one time. Like months ago.
 
So while helping Susan on Tuesday wrangle kids for lunch, I overheard Sam tell Lily, "My eyes are brown because they are filled with POOP!"
 
Along these same lines, I believe his grandmother has told him he can't eat the watermelon seeds because they will grow a watermelon in his belly.
 
Now he has a complex.
 
He had some cutie oranges with his dinner and a few of them had seeds left in them. This caused him great anxiety and much grief because, "THOU SHALT NOT EAT THE SEEDS!!!!"
 
Ugh.
 
We got the seeds out of the ones we could and he ate a few more and then suddenly, he was done eating. He said his tummy hurt.
 
I know a ploy to eat candy when I see one and I said, "You can be done, but that means no candy."
He was fine with that.


Uh oh. He tends to never be okay with that. His tummy must hurt.

He then asks if he can lay in bed with me because his head and belly hurt. I asked if he thought we would throw up. He said, "I hope I down frowed up."

That's reassuring.

So I got a pot to throw up in just in case. I must have grabbed a rabid honey badger by the way he reacted.

He ran away from me! Screaming, "NO NO NO I DON"T WANT THE POT!!!!"

(I hope he still feels that way in high school)

Finally, I get him on the bed to lay down with me, so long as I understand his rules of "DON'T TOUCH ME!"

I kept telling Justin this was super weird and I was starting to worry about him. He kept heavy breathing randomly... still couldn't touch him... he didn't want to rock... he wasn't making any mother-puppy sense...

And then he dropped a knowledge nugget on me...

He said, "Don't touch my belly. It'll hurt cuz dat orange in dere."


I said, "Sam did you swallow an orange seed earlier?"

He said, "Yeah, and now I'm gonna frow it up or it will grown in my belly."

I said, "Let me touch your belly baby and feel for it."

Sam, "NO! NO! DEMON! DEMON!! NO MOMMY NO!!!"

Okay so he didn't call me a demon but he might as well have.

I said, "Well Sam, I have some seed killing medicine in the cabinet in there. Sometimes mommy uses it when she swallows seeds on accident. Daddy used it just yesterday."

Sam, "Dere's medicine for dat?"

I said, "Yup. You swallow the medicine and when it gets to the seed it makes it to where it can't grow at all and then you just poop it right out! Do you want some of that?"
Sam, "Yeah! I do!"

Ibuprofen folks. He had a headache anyway... what's a half dose of ibuprofen to put his mind at ease?

And it worked. He talked about it a few more times, convinced himself that it killed the seed but there was a bug in it and it was crawling in his throat. I distracted him from that by pointing out there was a seed in his poop that was going to go down the drain and he found that hilarious.

Kids are gross.

And my kid is apparently a literalist. So don't tell him things like this lest he remember them and use them against you in the future.

August: The Roller Coaster of Emotions

I'm really just going to recount the events of Saturday through today. I've mentioned in the last 3-4 posts how crazy August is. So I'm going to assume you have already grasped this concept. 

On Saturday because a dear friend of mine needed help, I agreed to work a test on campus before I was to give three presentations to freshmen that afternoon. I was exhausted but I hardly see how sitting in a room making sure people aren't cheating would make me any more exhausted than I already was... plus, I like money. 

I worked the test then left to set up for the presentations. The first one went well and it made it better that I got to present with a good friend. We both share a similar humor and the students seemed to like it since they referred to us as "that funny girl and the tall funny guy" for the rest of the day. Then I had my two "Roommate Horror Stories" sessions were I say things that make people blush and laugh all at the same time. Fun times. The day was a win! 

But I was so ready to go home because PAPA BOUGHT SAM A PADDLEBOAT!!!!

There is a small lake behind Grandma and Papa's house (overlooking the pool... which is where you can find us most summer days!) and now we had a paddleboat to take Sam out in. #radsauce

Here are some pics of our paddleboat adventure. Aside from Justin telling us we were all fat (just kidding... four people in the boat just made it harder to paddle), it was pretty fun. 

He really did have so much fun. He wanted to paddle so bad so we let him stick the oar in and "paddle". Really that meant he splashed lots of water on me but, eh? No biggie. 

Sunday morning rolled around like every other Sunday morning in the history of ever (since Sam's birth). He crawls up in my lap to watch cartoons. There shall be no separation of us on Sunday mornings. There is a routine. Wake up, crawl in momma's lap, and say, "I wanna watch a cartoon." Then five minutes later, "I'm weady for breakwast." Such cuteness. I'll be sad when this is over. 

I was looking forward to Sunday because this was the day I was going to have the majority of it off. We had the kickball tournament that night that I needed to be at but I had no plans of going to work before 5 pm. 

Until I got a call that we had lost one our students. 

Not lost as we couldn't find him, but lost as in he passed away. This did not happen on campus, however he was already moved in and the story surrounding this is heartbreaking. It was a huge surprise to everyone and there is a lot of sadness and shock surrounding it. No foul-play is suspected and he didn't take his own life. It is just one of those unexplained tragedies. 

So the majority of the rest of my day was handling the campus community. We had to tell the RAs, the staff, the student leaders, and finally his classmates. There is a lot that goes into handling a death of a student and the process is on going. We just continue to pray for the friends and family of this fantastic young man. 

It is hard to handle something like that anyway, but the bottom line is to remain strong for those you lead so that they can have their moments of grief. I held it together all day long. When it was finally time to go home and grab Sam to get ready for the kickball tournament, I was admittedly on edge but doing fine. 

I got Sam and got home to get ready and he had a piece of candy in his mouth. I thought to myself, "He should not be eating that." And that's where I messed up. I should have made him spit it out. But I didn't. Then he tripped and it got lodged in his throat. 

One thing I can say I am good at is responding to emergencies. I just act. I don't think. It's like I become a robot and just "do". 

So I "did." I yanked him up and did the Heimlich maneuver like I'd been trained to do it (I haven't. I've just seen it done). A few pumps and that candy FLEW out of his mouth. His face began to turn back to his normal color. His eyes were blood shot. And he began to cry. As I held him and tried to comfort him, the gravity of the situation hit me and... I lost it. 

Mental breakdown, right there in a bedroom. It was understandable b/c that is a crazy day by anyone's standards and certainly emotional. But seeing my child's life flash before my eyes and then experiencing the relief that everything was okay (when another family experienced the exact opposite just earlier today) was too much to handle. I needed to release of emotion. And it felt great. 

What did not feel great was mustering up the energy to go to a kickball tournament after that. But I talked myself into it because I wasn't the only staff member who experienced loss that day and who had an emotional day. There were other people that did too (even more so than I did) and still were required to be at this thing. They didn't get a break and neither should I. The least I could do was show up and be supportive of their program. 

And that's what we did. Sam has recently fallen in love with "Heaven" (AKA: Kevin) and he was playing kickball and Sam wanted to see it. 

So we went and had a lot of fun. Sam wanted to play but couldn't. We cheered them on for a few games. Sam decided he would be photographer with my phone for a bit. This is all he got though... 

He said to make a happy face. 

Angry face... 

Excited face... 

"Teethy" face. He meant for me to take out my teeth but I explained that's only for Papa...

I mustered up the energy to go to work on Monday, but I have to tell you, I had little left to give. I had a program last night from 7-9 pm in which is demands I be charismatic and funny. I had neither of those in my repertoire on Monday. 

My best friend started work with me and that was awesome and I got to hang out with some cool police officers... 

Shhhhh.... he's in disguise. 

And I had lunch with some of my staff.... but it was rough. And my boss saw it on my face. And then demanded I take a day off from work today. 

She's awesome. She knows I would have come in had she not told me to stay home. I just love her sometimes. 

So for today... I've had coffee, admittedly done some work (folks need to be paid), and my dog is very confused why I am here so he has stared at me awkwardly for about 2 hours now... 

On my agenda for today: 
A little bit of laundry
A haircut (if I can get an appointment)
Goodwill retail therapy... maybe even a pitstop at ROSS
Fill some prescriptions
Nap (maybe)
Chill... I have some Candy Crush levels to Crush... naw'mean? 

Unexpected Encounters on the Interstate

Remember that one time ABL flipped me off for merging? (If you don't, click here)

Apparently my weirdo escapades weren't over with that experience. 

Justin and I decided that since Sam was at Susan's tonight (much love to you SMACK!) and since it is August and I don't want to cook (shout out to myself!) that we would go somewhere out to eat tonight. As we discussed where we wanted to go, we were both in agreement that it needed to be somewhere we couldn't go with the boy (not that we don't love you, older version of Sam who hopefully doesn't remember being allergic to everything).

What did this mean?

Larry's Pizza... 

where there is a sign as you walk in that announces they cook with milk and nuts and make no apologies for it. Ahhhhh Larry's. 

As we are driving on the interstate to get to Larry's, I notice I'm going 54 miles per hour. 

The speed limit is technically 65. Err'body goes 75. It is understood. 

So why am I traveling so slowly? 

Because the car in front of me is. 

So I went around them. 

And what I saw as we were passing them by was enough for me to take notice, for sure. 

Justin and I were talking as I was passing about what in the heck they were doing that they felt it necessary to go that slowly on the interstate. As we were rounding the side of them, I noticed the silhouette of two older women and had that shameful thought to myself of, "Well that explains it." 

I admit it. I thought it. 

And I was wrong. 

Because while they may have been old, that was not why they were going so slowly. 

Upon further investigation, the lady in the passenger's side seat was preoccupied in the mirror, presumably fixing her hair AND applying make-up simultaneously. 

That could be distracting for a driver. 

But I doubt the driver noticed because she was a bit preoccupied herself. 

Justin and I thought it was profound enough to 1) blog about and 2) re-enact. 

You're welcome. 

That's right folks. She was brushing her teeth. 

Now I know people who do this in the car. It isn't all that weird. 

But when you are going 54 MPH on the interstate, and someone passes you, and you CREEPILY turn around and make eye contact as you are going to town on your teeth... that's the stuff awkwardness is made of, right there. 

PG list of times I don't want to make eye contact with you: 
1. As you pass gas audibly
2. As you readjust yourself in the downtown area
3. During or immediately following bathroom time (stall crack peepers anyone?)
4. While shopping for family planning or feminine hygiene products
5. While running to Walmart w/ no make-up in sweats
6. While eating a popsicle and/or banana
7. WHILE BRUSHING YOUR FLINGING FLANGING TEETH... ESPECIALLY WHILE DRIVING

And also... WHERE WERE THEY GOING?! 

You would think if one is doing hair and make-up and the other is catching up on their dental hygiene, that they must be headed somewhere important. Was there a sale on Polident? Were they headed to a date from their online dating profile? Did their red hats finally arrive across town? And why was there not time to brush before they left but there was enough time to grab the toothbrush on the way out?! Answers people! I need answers! 

Let me tell you folks, once again this proves that multi-tasking is a myth. Had they just driven the speed limit and gotten to wherever they needed to be, they could have brushed their teeth and fixed hair much quicker while not operating heavy machinery. However, my night, and yours, would have been far less entertaining. 

Samisms... Oh the Samisms...

I know kids say weird things... especially toddlers. But per capita, mine says more than the average toddler.

I'm going to narrate these happenings the best I know how to. Please remember that I'm going to be piecing this together through a series of texts I've received from Susan and a small bit of conversation on the phone.

More background: As explained on the previous post, I have no social life in August. I have no free time in August. I work, eat, and sleep in August. Not much else happens. I love it and it is amazing but it is EXHAUSTING!

Since Susan is rad and awesome and junk, she helps me A LOT during August. This week is move in week so we are wrapping up training, moving students in, and then entertaining them and getting them ready for college life. This is the crux of "hectic" so he tends to stay a few nights with Susan so I don't have to drop him off at 6 am and pick him up at 8 or 9 pm at night on some nights.

So he is staying the night tonight and he stayed last night. And this is what happened at Susan's...

They were sitting down to dinner and were about to say the prayer.

Susan: Sam do you want to say the prayer tonight?
Sam: I don't know how.
Susan: Sure you do. You say one here everyday at lunch.
Sam: Yeah, but this is dinner and we never say one at my house for dinner so I don't know how. Jonah can do it.

Pause: This little situation does not paint me well, lol. Do we pray at dinner? No, we don't. I love me some Jesus. I'm thankful for the gifts and blessings. But I despise repetition and it is very important to me that prayers are genuine. I'm in a state of prayer for most of the day anyway, but I just don't like the idea of praying the same prayer for every meal. I hate when it turns into that and it inevitably does, so I pray on my own time.

And clearly my son has picked up on it, but hasn't picked up that we are in the Bible belt and people have thoughts on the heathens that don't pray at meal time! Gah!

Unpause

When Jonah was done praying, Sam erupted in laughter. Why? Because Jonah SAID the prayer and didn't SING it.

The prayer they say at lunch?

God our father, God our father
Once again, Once again
We bow our heads and thank you, We bow our heads and thank you
A-men, A-men

Sung. Not said. Shame on you, Jonah.

At dinner time, they also do the "Best and Worst" where you go around the table and say the best and worst part of your day (I'm totally stealing this. I don't know why I never thought of applying this to family dinner time, but I didn't. I use this in class all the time.)

When it was Sam's turn, she was unsure if he would get it. His responses were:

Best: Spending the night for 2 nights at Susan's, playing with his ping pong ball (that he stole from me), eating dessert, cantaloupe, and playing with his friends.

Worst: Going to time out 2 times, having to share his ping pong ball with Little Lilli, not eating dessert, and not drinking orange soda during the day since Susan made him wait until supper.

I'd say he understood the game just fine!

I need to end with a bang so last story of Sam staying the night at Susan's...

Sam needed to go #2 and he is still not coordinated enough to wipe himself. He called for Susan who began the cleaning up process. Then he squealed like a girl and said, "STOP! You're wiggling my giblets!"

Goodnight!

Bubby's Rough Weekend

Last weekend was pert bad for the Bubs. (This week is pert bad for me at work... this month...whatever... so this is why you are just hearing about this)

Justin scheduled a wedding to shoot in Fort Smith back in the spring for August 3. When he told me the date, I thought, "There is no way I can do that." Folks... August is the month I basically don't exist outside of work. There is no time off. There is no sick. There is only work.

And it is hands down the most fun month out of the year. I get to train the hall directors and the RAs and move in the residents and then train them... it is what fun is all about, actually. But it is LONG and I work LONG hours and LONG weeks (read: no days off really).

But, I found a way we could actually go out of town for that weekend and it not spin the Earth off of its axis. Which worked out nicely as I kind of dig the "Earth spinning on its axis" thing.

I left work a few hours early on Friday and got us packed up and headed to pick up Sam at Susan's so we could get to A-town Friday night.

While on the interstate, I get a call from Susan. She says, "Hey... so this is your first 'come get your kid and take them to the doctor' call."

Because every parent wants to hear that...

She goes on to tell me he has fallen and busted his eye open on the corner of the couch. It isn't his eyeball necessarily, but it is right beside his eye and it is bleeding a lot and looks deep... like can see the muscle deep. As she continued describing it, she said it isn't wide at all. It would only take one or two stitches, but it is so deep she is concerned.

Well piss.

I call our doctors office to be told they are closing for the day (it was 4:35 pm) and that I needed to take him to the ER.

Boooo.

So I called an after hours clinic (because I'm a rebel and I DON'T FOLLOW INSTRUCTIONS!!!) to which I was told to take him to the ER, they don't treat for trauma.

Bummer.

When we got to Susan's, he had stopped crying and it had sort of stopped bleeding (leaking is a better way to describe it).

Because I'm a rebel and because it had pretty much stopped bleeding and because I had talked to my sister (a nurse) and my friend's husband (a nurse anesthetist) and because ER copays are DAMN expensive and because the pharmacist advised using steri-stitches on it with some triple anti-biotic cream... we did just that.

Don't be jealous of our mad steri-stitching skills, mkay?

I rode in the back seat with him on the way to Alma. We stopped and had dinner at "chickalay" and visited with Michelle for a bit. We watched Meet the Robinsons. And kept blotting his eye b/c it kept leaking! But it finally stopped around 11 pm that night and we were able to rest.

Because of this eye drama, we decided I should probably hang back from the wedding and take care of Sam. I'd hate for my good friend/cousin Ashley to not only have to make sure he stays safe and doesn't eat something that he's allergic to (milk and nuts) but also make sure he doesn't bust his face open again. And playing outside seemed like a bad idea.

So we stayed together and played all day. And he was HIGH. MAINTENANCE.

I told Justin he had it easy just shooting a wedding. Good. Grief.

We went to bed that night before Justin got home. When we laid down, Sam said his throat felt funny. I thought it was a ploy to stay up longer and talk so I made him lay down and go to sleep.

Then he woke up around 11 pm gasping for air, barking like a seal, seriously CAN. NOT. BREATH.

This is not my first rodeo in the "kid can't breath" arena. I immediately spring to action. I jerked him up out of the bed and headed for the freezer to stick his head in it and get his throat to calm down (great way to get some relief for croup if you didn't know that already).

Didn't help. He could not get a breath.

Meanwhile, I'm not a multi-tasker. Like I can't talk and do something at the same time. This includes telling my husband what is going on as he watches HORRIFIED and demanding answers. Not that I blame him, I just had a wee bit of tunnel vision at the time.

I try and try to get the kid to breath and we just can't make it happen. I tried to get him to focus on taking a sip of water... nothing. Finally I tell Justin to get my dad or Debbie to take us to the hospital.

Justin gets the car as cold as he possibly can and we head towards the ER. When we got there, they took him back to triage and immediately ordered a breathing treatment to happen in the triage room. It started getting better. He was talking now, though still audibly wheezing.

Respiratory comes back and gives him an inhaler and spacer.

Translation: They gave him meth. His second dose of meth for the night.

He was BOUNCING off the walls. Literally, at one point, he was up in my face, tongue hanging out, hands at either side of his face just making silly faces and noises. In my face. Like an inch from my face.

After we got the clear x-ray of his lungs back and were expecting the doctor to come discharge us, I made a joke to him, "Sam, if you don't call down I'm going to push you off the bed!"

First off... I was clearly kidding. I say crazy crap to him all the time. He says crazy crap back. It is super fun.

Apparently I said that seconds before he wanted to attempt a triple lutz off the side of the ER bed, because OFF HE WENT INTO THE FLOOR!

I lunged for him, barely caught him by his feet about two inches before he hit the ground head first... and I've scratched his face. Major.

Can this kid catch a break!? Geez...

So he was looking something rough there for a few days... or a week... whatever.

We are doing much better now. He got to sleep in our room for about a week b/c it freaks me out him waking up like that and, according to him, "It makes me so happy inside to sleep with momma!"

I think it made us both happy inside... no matter if he wakes up at 3 am crying, "MOMMY!!! Please keep me safe!"

Melt. My. Heart.

Angry Baptist Lady Called the Cops on Me and Flipped me the Bird!

I'm still laughing as I write this.

You are probably thinking, "Good grief, Rikki. What did you do to this sweet old lady?! Did you run her over in your car?! Did you kick her puppy?! What?!"

I merged.

That's it. I exercised my right to remain on the road when a lane ends.

Now you are probably thinking, "Well Rikki, did you merge like an asshole?"

Valid question.

Answer: No, no I didn't.

I was driving on the access road from Bryant to Little Rock. I was in the left lane and angry Baptist lady (ABL) was in the right hand lane. The lane is about to end so I looked behind me to see if anyone was near me and I see ABL at least two car lengths behind me. I turned my blinker on as I continued to look behind me, just in case.

She sees my blinker then gasses it.

*giggle* Oh no. Not happening.

So I went on and got over.

Should I have let her pass me on the right hand side when I mid-way through a merge?

Possibly.

But that would have resulted in me sitting on the side of the road waiting on ABL to pass me. That seems absurd.

What transpired after this is only meant for SNL skits...

This lady, who couldn't have been a minute under 60 years old, flips me off like it is her JOB!

Waving it at me... mean scowl on her face.... she is giving me the SUPER FINGER!


 Seriously. This is happening.

And I can't hold my laughter! It was one of the most ridiculous sights I have ever witnessed. She was so angry!

Dear ABL,

I'm sorry I utilized my right to remain on the road and gave you ample notice to see this was happening. I sincerely hope you weren't late to your appointment to get the stick surgically removed from your ass.

Sincerely,

Momma w/ a Dude Name

Apparently seeing me laugh about the situation didn't set well with her. I wish I could have held it in for her sake, but it was too darned funny.

Clearly my laughter equated the response of me setting her on fire... because then she angrily lunged at her phone so she could take pictures of my license plate! I have no doubts she then called the police to turn me in.

Dang law abiding citizens... merging and junk... we are a menace to society!

I feel like I'm forgetting something... let's see...

Oh yeah! How did I know she was Baptist?!

Because when she raced around me at her earliest convenience, she was sporting a sticker from her church on her bumper! :-)

Way to represent, ABL. Way to represent.

As someone so eloquently put it this morning, way to let your light shine!