Saving Mommy

Well, Ian got better. Then on Friday night it hit Erin. She threw up plenty, though she never had the other end of it. I was just fine and dandy and so was my HC. Then after all day of the other end, everything I had ever eaten decided it wanted to make an upward appearance. And of course it wanted to happen about an hour before it was time for my HC to go to work. He was sleeping through most of it.
And everyone else? Well, they wanted to watch.
I think Erin was trying to hold my hair back at one point and Ian was just standing in the doorway with an EW! look on his face. I had keep Erin from getting too close and after I almost knocked her down (I thought I was finished), I had Ian go wake Daddy up. Of course, Ian came right back. "Daddy won't wake up," he complained. It was clearly not a good time for me to do it. I hobbled into the bedroom and scrabbled at his leg until his bleary eye cracked open. Thank God he went into alert mode right away. He entertained the kids while I had some more trips to the bathroom. He called in to go on a later shift, which gave him 2 more hours at home. He fixed supper while I lay on the couch like a dead thing.
I almost cried when he went to work, I felt so awful. But one thing saved me from utter despair.
It was Elmo.
Elmo bubbles to be exact.
Gramma and Papaw got Erin a little Elmo bubble blower for her birthday last year. Since bubbles are seasonal in our neck of the woods (?!!!), we eagerly snapped up a bottle as soon as we saw our brand. Almost every day we have been filling Elmo up and turning him on for some bubble frolic.
Unfortunately, our lame camera is not transferring pictures to the computer, so you'll just have to visualize. If I can get my HC to sit and help me, we'll figure out what's wrong with it. Until then, I am thanking God for Elmo and the distraction he afforded while I was so disgustingly sick.
Today I feel better, just TIRED and my stomach feels like something you want to poke at with a stick, wrinkle your nose and leave on the edge of a ditch.
To Ian's great disappointment, he will be going back to school tomorrow.
That's okay. As long as Elmo has batteries, the world is a friendly place.

Ew

*note: due to the sensitive nature of this post and for the protection of my readers, there will be no pictures in today's blog.

Last night was the beginning of Stomach Bug II. The first was a few years ago when Ian was a toddler. Now he is 4, and praise God he can throw up into a bowl or the toilet (or the sink; or outside), most of the time. Erin thinks the emergency puke bowl is great fun. This morning she threw some cereal into it (don't worry, it's kept rinsed out). Then some bottles of Gatorade. A couple of hot wheels. Then she wanted to lay on the ground next to it to see her reflection in the sides. Ian thinks she is quite gross. "That's a YUCKY bowl!" he keeps telling her.
Of course, the twin companion to vomit comes out the other end. Explosively at times. Unfortunately, there is no bowl for this. But we are now minus one rug (I was sleeping; my HC determined this a matter of household security and made an executive decision), several pull-ups and a couple of rolls of tp.
Meanwhile, Erin decided to do another diaper fingerpainting when we were too slow to get her from her nap. So I have seen enough body fluid and waste today to last me for quite some time. And the Pizza Rolls that we heated for supper (we were desperate and cooking was not an option) did not phase us a bit. Ian finally managed to keep some string cheese down (he insisted, I was pulling for the jell-o). It's been 2 hours so far with no gastronomical pyrotechnics and we are SO praying that it was a 24 hour bug?? Please? Please?!
We are also praying that no one else gets it (go ahead and laugh, but we can hope, can't we?).

In other news, we went to the allergy specialist on Wednesday, for Erin. We got some nasal steroids even though she is under 2. They also took a few vials of blood for testing. We go back in 2 weeks to see the results. My HC was there to hold her while they took her blood and of course, it hurt him more than it did Erin. After a medicinal Happy Meal, Erin felt better. We also got strict instructions for some earwax removal, since it was too thick to see inside her ears. I don't know about anyone else, but I have always heard that "you should Never try to clean your kids' ears out with q-tips or anything; let your doctor clean the ears. You could damage something!" Of course, I go to the doctor and get "his/her ears are too filled with wax to see anything," with a hint-hint type of look. Finally the allergy doc steered us to an OTC oil that will cause the buildup to slip out (or you can suction, if you have kids that are amenable to that [I don't]). Sheesh.
Now we have the Blue Beast (nasal aspirator) and the Tuber of Terror! But so far, I haven't been able to catch anyone long enough to use it...

Blah-Choo

Well, after getting everyone else mostly recovered, it's my turn to sneeze, wheeze, drip and spin. Well, my head is spinning, figuratively. And due to some kind of insanity, there's no school tomorrow! Monday is supposed to be some kind of Teacher Work Day. So school starts back on Tuesday instead.
Then it's January as usual. MLK Jr Day is not a school holiday here. I don't know why. There are one or two African Americans in our entire county. That probably has something to do with it. But the sad, and sometimes amusing, truth is that I live in one of those areas (the misled majority is Democrat) that did not vote for Obama because "he is a Black Muslim." I heard that 6% of Texas holds that belief as well.
Anyway, if I don't seem very cohesive, it's because my brain is stuffy, along with my sinuses and nose. So I got Ian ready for church this morning, called one of his friends and arranged for him to be picked up and transported to church, and woke my HC up. Then I went to bed. When I woke up, it was after 2. Erin had already napped and gotten up. Ian had been home and gone again, to his friend's house to play with his new Power Wheels Gator and freeze outside. My HC had stuffed Erin with every kind of goody he could think of to buy her silence and happiness. How did I know? Follow the trail of crumbs, the caches of half-eaten Cheez-Its and gooey bits of fruit snacks. Of course after he went to work, I had to deal with the gastrointestinal distress that comes from having way too much junk food.
She had yogurt for supper.
I made myself some Potato Cheese soup, a comfort food for me, since no one else in my house will eat any kind of soup. I had a small bowl and realized that I wasn't hungry. If only we felt that way every day, the world would be a size 6. Until then, I have to find a Tupperware for my leftovers. I don't think there is one. We have melted a lot of Tupperware in the dishwasher. When they say "top rack only" they mean it!
I hope everyone, including me, has a good Monday. And I really hope I feel better tomorrow, because no one has any clean underwear left. It's Mommy's fault because she took a sick day.

Suckers and Turtles

I'm being literal about the suckers. Erin has been losing half-eaten suckers around the house. You can follow the sticky trail, but you may not ever find that sucker.
And I have been leaving strings of caramel everywhere because I had some left over from the caramel apples I made yesterday. hehehe. Yeah. Remember that commercial about the "you are what you eat" and one guy had a donut with sprinkles around his waist? Another lady had huge sticky buns on her hips. Well, I think I'll just turn into a giant square of caramel because I can't stop. Oooooh. It's all buttery creamy chewy sweet and melt in your mouth. Ooooooh. Okay, I need to stop.
We've been picking up pecans from our backyard (there's a tree that overhangs the fence) and my HC has been cracking them. I go back over them and get the tiny shell pieces out of the wrinkles and creases (that sounds funny) and then put them in a quart sized freezer bag. So far we have 2!!! Pretty good for the backyard.
It is my goal to make turtles for Christmas. It's something my Gramma always used to do. There would be riots and fist fights, hair pulling and gnashing of teeth. Everyone guarded their tin under the tree and growled (I kid you not) at anyone who ventured too close. When the tins got home, it got worse. Family squabbles, petty disagreements and downright feuding occurred if anyone took one not allotted to them. And believe me, they were counted out, divided and hidden.
It was really close when a roommate filched one from my closet my freshman year of college. She'll never know how close she was having salt poured in her bed.
Anyway, Gramma stopped making them when our pecan supplier went home to heaven (my Great-Grandaddy, one of the best men I've ever known; I hope I have one-tenth of his knack for gardening). It's a lot different when you don't know someone with pecan trees. Some years they are $7 a pound (already shelled)! So Gramma stopped and the world wept. She tried to make it up by sending baklava. It worked. The masses were placated, but a secret part of us yearned for the gooey goodness of turtles. And baklava. And fried squash. (Hey, it's Christmas, right?) Anyway, I am taking my life into my own hands and deciding to make my own turtles. I figure as long as nothing gets burned, we should be able to salvage most of it. It will never be as good as Gramma's (nothing ever is. I miss your fried squash, Gramma! Mine never turns out as good), but at least we tried.

Flushed Away

I know there's a movie by that title, I've seen it at the library, but I could never interest Ian in it.
Anyway, Erin has discovered the joys of the toilet. And has proceeded to drown choice items. I'm not sure of everything that has met its demise in the depths of the porcelain throne, but I know for certain that an entire roll of toilet paper drowned there. And today, something else. Something [sniff, sniff] terrible.
I had taken Ian to the doc's to get his flu shot, having been there this morning for Erin's 15 month checkup, now that she's finally better. I asked the nurse about Ian's flu shot and she said to just bring him in and they would do it. So I left Erin at home with HC and took him down to have it done. He cried and fussed and wailed. And that was before we even got out of the car.
After a bit of a wait, with me tapping my foot at the ticking clock (HC had to be at work at 4 and we were sitting there at 3:45), we were called in. The nurse, bless her little ole pea picking heart, asked me if we wanted the nasal injection instead of a shot. I asked Ian. "No SHOT?" he asked, impossible hope stamped on his little face, his eyes huge. "Nope," the nurse said, smiling, "all you have to do is tilt your head back and swallow. Can you do that?" "YES!" Ian said.
And it was done.
Then it was time to swing by and get Erin before the promised post-shot ice cream, which was still insisted upon even in the relieving absence of needles. I got home and ran inside. HC had a crestfallen doomsday look on his face. "She flushed it," he said pitifully. "Huh?" I said intelligently. "I wasn't watching her and then it was gone and it was stuck and--and--she flushed it," he finished weakly. "Huh?" I repeated. "I thought it was just a toy in there. She was standing there next to the toilet and I thought someone forgot to flush and I flushed it and it didn't go down and I thought it was a toy and so I reached my hand way up in there and felt it and it wasn't a toy! It was my PHONE!" I insist at this point that tears were about to start.
"Oh no!" was my reply. "I'm trying to dry it out," he said, holding up a ziplock baggy with the dismantled phone and about a cup of rice to soak up the moisture.
"I have to go to work. It was my fault, I wasn't watching her closely," he said sadly. Then we all left. Poor HC!! Now we'll all be careful about keeping the bathroom door closed.
In the meantime, he has found his old phone, the one that shuts off for no reason whenever you least expect it and has horrible speakers, where you can't tell what the other person is saying when you talk to them. But at least he's not missing any calls? Poor HC!
OH, and is anyone else completely weirded out by the time change? I feel like I'm late if I'm not starting supper at 4:30, when the sun is going down!

ER ---> RSV

Erin didn't have a high fever today, but she was just not herself. It was in the 30s this morning, so we drove Ian to school. Erin fell asleep in the car. She ate about 3 bites of eggs for breakfast, but kept laying her head on my shoulder and dropping off to sleep. Her cough was getting worse. After her 3rd nap, her difficulty breathing was getting worse, even after the nebulizer. She was at around 60 breaths per minute. The ER doc later said that normal is in the 20s. Yikes. We loaded everything up, picked Ian up from school (it was nap time, he wasn't that upset to leave early) and went to Siloam Springs to the ER.
We had thought about going to Stilwell Hospital, where Erin was born and where Ian's croupy ER visit had taken place, but the ER there had failed to catch a case of appendicitis in an acquaintance the day before, resulting in a very scary ride to Siloam Springs for an appendectomy today. Poor woman. So we decided that we would go to Siloam Springs and drive around until we found the hospital.
Chris's uniform and Erin's age got us to the top of the list and moved to a better lobby. The nice volunteer gave the kids little sewn teddy bears, made by a local church. Ian's didn't stay nice looking long; he played pretty hard with it. Erin stopped fussing long enough to say hello to hers.
We got to triage pretty fast, but had to wait for a bed. I got to sit and get Erin admitted (are there any emergency numbers we can call? (they all live in FL) Do you mind if your case is monitored by student doctors? (How else are they going to learn?) Is Erin a male or a female? (incredulous smile).
Finally we got into our room, plopped Ian down with his busy bag (I knew that our things-to-do bag was still unpacked from the camping trip for a reason) and waited. An ER nurse with cool hair gave Ian some coloring papers and a quilty type blanket for Erin, created and donated by a generous and crafty soul from Bella Vista. This was great and very comforting for Erin, who snoozed off and on. Eventually, over the course of a few hours, Erin got a breathing treatment, an RSV test and a chest x-ray. They all agreed that she was one sick little doll. She cried and fussed a lot, especially when they had to hold her down for the x-ray and when the respiratory nurse sucked out her nose with the Blue Beast (though the hospital's bulb syringe was more of a teal color).
Then we waited for the lab to send back the test results. After quite a bit longer, after we had all checked out the main ER bathroom, where ER waiters are sent and those who are retrieving specimens go, I decided to hold it if I had to go again. It was just used a lot and no one felt like sitting on the seat. It reminds me of the kind of bathroom that usually gets assigned to people doing community service. The kind that teaches you very effectively to go and sin no more. Eek. You get the picture.
The results came back. It was RSV pneumonia.

*For those interested in the intricacies of this, read on. If not, skip to the next paragraph. From www.cdc.gov: "Respiratory syncytial (sin-SISH-uhl) virus, or RSV, is a respiratory virus that infects the lungs and breathing passages. In fact, RSV is the most common cause of bronchiolitis (inflammation of the small airways in the lung) and pneumonia in children under 1 year of age in the United States.
Symptoms of RSV infection are similar to other respiratory infections. A person with an RSV infection might cough, sneeze, and have a runny nose, fever, and decrease in appetite. Wheezing may also occur.
Infants and children infected with RSV usually show symptoms within 4 to 6 days of infection. Most will recover in 1 to 2 weeks. However, even after recovery, infants and children can continue to spread the virus for 1 to 3 weeks."


She had another breathing treatment and her lungs were listened to again. The good news is that we were right to take her to the ER. The bad news is that it's a virus and we're just going to have to get through it. The breathing treatments help a bit, but we were told to keep sucking out her nose, pound her on the back to loosen the mucus in her lungs, keep the fevers down if they come back and keep the fluids going. Her oxygen levels were good and we were free to go. We got a scrip for Prednisolone to help with inflamed airways. So that was that.
We went to Walmart, got our scip, then to McDonald's for Happy Meals (Ian: "Oh, you so proud of me, I get a Happy Meal!") and then we went home so my wonderful HC could work the rest of his shift. It's really neat to see who your friends really are when emergencies happen. We had several calls of "what can I do?" from friends and co-workers. We had offers to watch Ian and pick him up from school and lots of "How are thing?" calls. It was just very reassuring and fuzzy-feeling.
And there's nothing like talking to your Mom when you start to doubt yourself. Just another instance of "you were SO right." Thanks Mom.

Unwanted Guest

This morning, Ian seemed better. He really wanted to go to school, so we bundled everyone up and set out. He coughed a lot, but he made it. But now Erin is coughing up a storm and dragging today. I was too. No fun. We were getting the bike stroller out to take Ian to school and I was passing our Halloween decorations. We hung up our little trashbag ghosts and strung up our fake spiderweb. It didn't come with the little plastic spiders, so I raided my stash of Halloween goodies for a few spider rings for Ian and HC to stick in the fake web. Well, this morning, one of them moved. And got bigger. Waaaay bigger. And it was yellow and white and black. Eeeeeeeew. We all froze, then stared at it, fascinated and disgusted and with creepy crawlies starting to shiver over the backs of our necks. Then we shook it off and took Ian to school.

When we got back, Chris spit on it to see if it was still alive (it was) because that's what boys do. When it doubt, spit on it or in it or over it. If it flinches, it's good and you're really scary. :) Guys are so funny.


It's still there. It has moved into the spider version of a model home, I guess. Furnished and even with a fake family so you won't get lonely. But it's really cold outside, so maybe it really needs a home. I hope it knows that its new home will be condemned and removed next weekend. Shiver, blrrrreagh. Not a big fan of spiders here. Ugh.

Here, this will cheer us up. A nice picture of Ian's pumpkin. It's supposed to be a drippy face. Ian had fun cleaning out all the slimy seeds and urging me to hurry up carving it. Now we have to visit it. I think he forgot about it today or else we would be out there lighting the candle and watching it in the dark until our toes turned blue and fell off.
But back to the no fun part of our evening, Ian coughed so hard he threw up his supper and red KoolAid all over the carpet and down the hallway. He then had to interrupt his vomit moment to pee, so we were laughing a bit. For example: "Bleah, Bleah (that's him throwing up). Cough cough. OH NO! I have to PEEEEE!" "Go then," I said, wondering how much would continue until I could start cleaning up. I was also holding a grossed out Erin on my hip. I wiped a tissue over Ian's nose and mouth as he ripped down his underoos and started whizzing like a champ. He had just peed about 10 minutes before. Wow, was his little bladder full. "Wow," I said. "Where did all that peepee come from?" His little pale face grinned up at me. "I don't know," he said. "But it's coming out." And he only sprinkled a little bit. What a buckeroo.
I got him settled in his room with a movie and draped towels over the messes in the living room. Uh oh. Erin felt hot. The battery in the thermometer is dead! I tried to get a replacement at the town pharmacy today, but they didn't have that one. They ordered it and it will be here Monday. Not that it helps me over the weekend. The only thing left is: DUM Dum dum. The Heini-o-meter! [screaming] Poor Erin was introduced to it and her little temp was 101.9. Oh NO! So she got some meds and some nebulizer for her wheezy cough and conked right out. I really hope she sleeps tonight and the temp doesn't go up like Ian's did.
So she went to sleep and I proceeded to scrub red food coloring out of the carpet. Wheeeee.
Now I need to finish up before someone else needs me.

Sick of September

We've been sick since August. The kids had little allergy-type colds that just haven't gone away. Erin has had her phlegm/cough/congestion/runny nose yuckiness for 2 weeks. It has been 12 days since I have had a decent night's sleep. Since she is so stuffy, it is hard to lie down flat (even though she is using one of our pillows to elevate), so she gets up a lot in the night. So I hold her and walk back and forth in the living room until she 1) coughs up all the yuck that is keeping her from sleeping well, 2)warms up and 3)falls back to sleep. Number 3 isn't always accomplished as fast as I would like. I'm not saying all this as a contest, like some women do. One person complains and the next person says, "oh yeah? Well, I haven't had a decent night's sleep in 6 months!" and then it's some sort of weird, deluded competition. No. First off, I'm saying it in disbelief because I can't believe it's been that long, even though the rings under my eyes could tell their own story. Second, in the middle of the night, it seems so much longer than that. Third, it's only because of how great God is that I am even functioning right now and haven't been late getting Ian to school.
Saturday night, Ian had a really nasty bout of cookie tossing. He had eaten his lunch in his room at his little table so he could watch whatever movie he wanted to watch in there and he had gotten some pizza on the floor. Before bedtime, I asked him to pick up the two little pieces that were under the table and throw them away. I'm not sure if he was just grossed out or bending over made everything in his stomach shift or what, but he proceeded to eject everything that was still in his stomach all over his rug. Then he took a deep breath and did it some more. I just stood there, holding Erin and watching in some kind of suspended animation horror. Then my adrenalin kicked in and I herded him to the toilet, where he stood there and stared (like "Ew! I'm not throwing up in THERE! I pee pee in there!").
I dumped (with a very fast song) the baby in bed and she stood there and protested missing all the fun (one of those times that it's completely gross to be the only grownup) while I cleaned Ian up and made him stay in the bathroom until I had cleaned up his room (nothing like the sight and smell to cause a relapse!).
It took a while.
I can tell you right now that we won't be having chicken divan again for about 15 years, if ever.
We ran out of carpet fresh. sigh.
I found the baking powder.
I was leery about putting Ian in bed because I didn't want round 2 to get the mattress. He didn't want to go to bed, so I made a little nest on the floor and gave him a pot in case he had to upchuck again. He asked for milk. Um, NO! So I got him some juice that he said tasted yucky and popped a movie in for him. An hour or two later, he had round 2 in his sleep and there was no clean floor left for him to sleep on and no clean blankets left (or stuffed animals).
So I covered his bed with towels (that's a trick that a great doctor gave me from when Ian had the stomach flu and I couldn't keep crib sheets clean) and got him a big beach towel to use as a blanket. Thank you Lord that there were no more eruptions.
Except this morning Chris felt queasy and nauseous. Groan! I took Erin to the PA (physician's assistant) and she got some Z-pack and better allergy meds to get rid of her bug (thank you Lord! I need Zzzzs!). I am very optimistic about this treatment. It's been really rough since the FDA or whoever has declared that any kind of cough meds, etc are not to be used on a child under the age of 6. Tell that to a parent who hasn't gotten more than 2 hours of sleep at a time for almost 2 weeks. I dug some old cough meds out of the bottom of my medicine chest and gave the proper dose to Erin anyway. And no, I don't feel bad at all. Or like a bad parent. It's hard to listen to your miserable baby cough and gag and choke. Then you're supposed to suck out their nose with the Blue Beast (nasal aspirator), slap some Vick's on and call it a night? Ha!
Anyway, I hope this z-pack works really really fast. Because tomorrow is grocery day and bill paying day and I won't have time to take a nap then either, even if I had the opportunity.
But that's okay, because I am thankful for medicine and for a little boy who is happy to see me after school and who is not throwing up gallons of supper. And for a little girl who can feel like the inside of a dirty diaper and still give gorgeous smiles and be happy to see me when I come to get her out of her crib.
So we've been through another one of those Parenting Trenches and boy are we happy to see the other side. Now if I can only get rid of the Marianna Trench under my eyes...

Hot Poop

Well it's hot. Hot hot hot hot hothothothothot. I signed up for weather advisories from our closest tv station (it's the only one that actually focuses on our area; Tulsa weather doesn't do us much good here). I've been getting 3 to 5 emails a day warning me of a heat advisory. It gives specific times that the advisory is in effect. I also got one severe thunderstorm warning, which didn't make any sense because when it listed the times, it said Clear after it. So I guess the storm won't hit us after all. Too bad, because we could use a breath of relief. On top of that Augustine blessing (for those of you that don't get that, it's August. So there.), our air condition is feeling its age. I'm guessing it's at least 30 years old, or pretty close to it. It is running up the bill without running down the temperature. Which means heat rash for everyone. Ian has his own ceiling fan as well as his own floor fan to blow on his bed. The baby has her own fan to blow on the crib and we have a piddly little ceiling fan that you can hardly feel, because it is too small for the size of the room. There's also a big oscillating fan in the hallway opening that's supposed to blow the cool air from the living room into the hallway. Well, it was working a month ago, but our poor AC has some kind of dementia because it has forgotten what it's supposed to do.

So we are praying for a new air conditioner. Someone told us about this great AC someone else is selling for a fraction of the price. But....it's for central heat/air. So the price plus the freon service plus the duct work plus everything would be over $1,000. Great, I know, for the price, but not exactly something that's realistic for us right now. Unless we could put our AC on Antiques Roadshow; prepare to be amazed.

So everyone is overheated and cranky. I fried some eggs this morning at breakfast time, but opted not to cook anything hot for supper. My poor HC was wilted when he came home for his dinner break. That Kevlar vest is not made for 100+ heat. And tomorrow is when the Real heat advisory starts.

So the kids have been running around in their underwear for most of the day, not allowed to go outside because of the heat, and I've been trying to keep up with messes and sooth little raw tempers. Too bad my own needs a couple hours of subarctic to help it.

And I found out today that I need to take Uncle Steven back to the airport on Tuesday because his plane leaves at 8:10am. My HC is working an overnight, so he won't be able to come with us. With check-in time and driving time together, I have to get myself and the chillens up at around 4am. Believe me, we are coming straight home for everyone to have a recovery nap. But it's going to be at least 4 hours in the car AC, so that's not so bad. And gas is down about 20 cents from when we picked Uncle Steven up at the airport, so the blessings are stacking up some.

Now to the other part of the title. No, I wasn't being crass. The kids were in the tub yesterday, playing. Erin likes to stand up and walk along the sides of the tub. She likes to throw everything out and yell until I fetch. She also likes to dump cup-fuls of water out of the tub and then yell when I take the cup away. And she likes to laugh at Ian, who will do almost anything, even knock himself out, to make her laugh. I had turned to tidy the sink and grab a fresh towel when all of a sudden Ian came shooting out of the tub yelling. I don't even think any water got on the floor. I don't even think he touched the floor. One second he was playing in the tub and the next second he had teleported to the other side of the bathroom under the towel shelf. "Ewwwww! Eww! Eww! Ewwwww!"

"What?" I asked, baffled. "What's wrong?"

"Ewwwww!" He turned horrified and disgusted brown eyes to mine.

"Baby girl POO-POO in the tub!!!!"

Sure enough, when I went to investigate, there were several articles in the tub that had not been there before. One of them was being chased by a tiny hand. Ugh!

I checked to see if she was done and swooped her out of the tub. Ian couldn't stay away. He gingerly crept forward and craned his neck to see, now that he was a safe distance away. It really didn't help matters when he spied a recycled grape. "What's that grape doing in there?" he asked. Uh oh. "Uh...that's a poo poo grape," I tried to explain.

---Today at snack time, he had some grapes (brave soul), but told Erin "you no eat grapes, Erin. Baby girl no like grapes today, Mommy." I guess he figured she'd had enough. So she got peaches. Back to our story (A good title: She Poopeth in Still Waters. har har har).---

I pulled the plug and put all the toys back in the tub basket for later bleaching. I stood Erin on the outside of the tub to watch. After some grunts and pleading, I got all the offending articles down the drain and rinsed out really good. I took out the mat and stood the kids back in the tub for a quick stand-up bath. Ian had to inspect the tub really well before he would get in and kept warily glancing at the baby's bottom like it was Mt. St. Helen's.

Soon after I had everyone clean and the tub full of bleachy water and the bath toys all in it, happily disinfecting.

Tonight, Ian remembered to tell Erin before we got in the tub. "Baby girl, NO GO Poo Poo in the Tub. Okay?"

She just grinned.