Waiting, Springing, and Hoping

I had my first 24 hour stretch without throwing up! This is incredible news, to us. Even though it was a short lived break, and on Sunday, the yuckies returned (and returned, and returned) it was a break. Almost 2 full days where I kept all of my food down. Before Friday, I hadn't had gone a full day without throwing up in over 8 weeks.
8. solid. weeks. of vomit.

And even though I've yet to see a repeat of that glorious puke free day, we know it is near, and we have hope.

We are so grateful to my mom for coming out to help.
I think it freaked her out a bit to see that we weren't kidding about how sick I was. Sometimes, people will see me at the grocery store or something and say, "Oh, I'm so glad you're feeling better!" when in actuality, I just threw up in my car, or the produce aisle. (yep). She got to see the Big Brother version of my life and the 24 hour life feed wasn't exactly glorious. The week that Aaron was out of town could have been a disaster without my mom. She was so helpful, and her visit provided me with some much needed rest and hope.

Even though I still have some really icky days, I feel like I've turned a corner. More puke-free days are on the way, I just know it....and pretty soon, there will be more healthy days than sicky days. And until then...well I have one great husband, 3 great kids, a bunch of wonderfully reliable friends, and one very compassionate Savior whom I know I can rely on to give me strength and relief anytime I call on them for help.

Here's to week 15, hope, and the very good people in my life!

I sent my mom back to California, today.
The drive home from the airport was beautiful and inspiring.

3 cheers for this beautiful spring. I am not blind to, nor without gratitude for the gorgeous scenery developing outside every window of my home.
The crocuses are up and the pear trees are popping popcorn all over NWA.

Spring has been lovely.
...But I've lived here long enough to know the full potential beauty of an Arkansas spring.
The redbuds are just baaaaarely starting to show color.
The tulips are up, but not open.
And those majestic dogwoods that will soon be frosting every lot in the village, defining the true arrival of spring, haven't even bloomed, yet.

Every bare tree is a message from God, "Oh, you think that's nice? Well, just wait 'till you see what comes next. You know what comes next, so just be patient, Meg. Be patient and hope. It gets even better."

I'm still working on the patience part, but we are definitely springing with hope in the Willy house.

The Circus Called...

I'm throwing up.
Reese is throwing up.
Quincy is throwing up.
Corbin cried all evening, which leads me to believe he wasn't feeling well, and will be throwing up shortly.

Corbin fell onto a stick yesterday (on his face) and now that eye is nearly swollen shut.

Quincy and Corbin got into a push and shove match with a door between them and the results were Quincy's forhead splitting open and a big, fat goose egg.
It's been a day.

When it rains, it pours. Tonight at my house, it is pouring vomit and I'm at breaking point.
I'm so hiring an army of cleaning ladies to come sanitize my house next week.

Snap.

The kids were exposed (like REALLY exposed) to Fifth Disease on Saturday, so I moved preschool to Friday, just to make sure that we are in the clear and don't unknowingly spread it to anyone else. Being quarantined isn't exactly a blast. One might think, that with an unexpected "free" day, I might get a bunch of things accomplished. Not really.

The girls have been fighting all afternoon over anything and everything. I finally put them in separate rooms, and now Corbin keeps going in an biting them.

I finally cleaned out my van. Wow, it was really really gross. The good news is that I found a cd that belongs to a friend of mine that I have searched the car and house top to bottom looking for. It was in it's case, but the case was stuck via melted fruity snack to the inside of the door pocket, so the compartment looked empty at a glance. Tricky. And seriously? Melted fruity snack? Gross. A little Mr. Clean Magic Eraser, and the case is good as new. Ironically, the cd is Dr. Wally's "Healthy Marriage, Happy Family" today? that = bwahahahaha!

It's really amazing that anyone ever lends me anything. Thanks, friends-who-share. I owe you. Seriously, I probably do. Despite my best efforts not to become one, I declare today that I a terrible borrower. Lo Siento.


Yesterday I lost the (new) phone. I had someone call it 100 times until I finally found it. During the 2 minute search, Corbin got out of the tub, ran around the house naked, peed on the carpet, and turned on the dishwasher.

Speaking of the phone, if you call me, tell me who you are when you call. I don't have any contacts saved, and I feel like an idiot for not recognizing your voice right off the bat. Same goes for texts and voicemails.

I've been studying like mad the past 24 hours. I made a deal with my Comm teacher that since I have every point possible in his class, if I can get 100% (which he says is possible but has only happened once in all his years giving this test) on the exam tonight, then all I have to do is show up to put my name on the final and I will get an A in the class. I'd much rather study once, than twice, so I've been glued to the flashcards today every spare moment I've had today...which have been few and far between. The test is a crazy list of vocab words. We get a blank sheet of paper, an hour, and 1 point for every word we remember and spell correctly and 1 point for the definition, word-for-word. I am fully confident that I can ace this test. Memorizing? Sign me up. I've already made an insanely long acronym for the word list so I can remember all of them. Cross yourfingers! I reeeeeeaaaaally do not want to study for a final....which is "comprehensive" and from the book that we have never even opened. I'd love to not open it at all and still get an A in the class. What's that? Show me that 3.9 GPA!

And because I didn't have enough stress today, Quincy decided to increase her value by 25 cents and swallowed a quarter.

Yup.. A quarter. We are going to wait 24 hours to see if she poops it out. If not...off to the hospital to schedule a surgery that, according to my friend, costs several thousands of dollars.

Goodbye RH sofa, hello stupid quarter that I should not have left on the countertop.
Anyone want to rubber-glove it and join me in a byproduct treasure hunt?

Oh, and I got a nice gash in my arm on a rusty corner of our trailer.
At least I am up to date on my dtap.

Gotta go, someone is crying.


Serenity now.

It's Baaaaaaaaaack...

Last night involved making trips from one bed to the next to take care of the sickies.

Someone, at any given moment had a fever, was thirsty, felt achey, needed to go potty, had a fever, was thirsty, felt achey...

All night long.

Question:
How the crap is this still happening?

I have laundered and bleached every surface.
Is our air toxic?
I am so very tired of my kids getting sick that I feel like I am going to lose it.

Spring is here! We need to be outside, playing, getting dirty, being warm, growing things, running, enjoying sunshine.

I'm letting them indulge in whatever they want to eat (marshmallows from the lucky charms bag, soda crackers, juice), dress however they want (no pants for Q or Corbin, jammies for Reese) and watch whatever they want (Alice in Wonderland, Little Brown Bear--aka worst $1 I ever spent, but they love it, and Thomas the Train--thanks, Carrie).

Corbin wants to be held 24/7, which is new for him, so I kind of love it.
That kid is a hoss.

Last week, at the doctor (yep. just last week. we've all been on antibiotics since Friday. stupid virus.), Corbin weighed in at 26 lbs at 21 months old.

Quincy weighed in at 27.5 lbs and she is 4 1/2.
There are 2 1/2 years between them, but he is going to pass her! (or eat her.)

Anyweight, they're all sick. Rosy cheeks, chapped lips, sad little puppy eyes.

And I'm giving them whatever the heck they want, today.
Because when you're cookin' at 103*, the body wants what the body wants.

And maybe if I surrender and spoil those little bodies with whatever they want today, Mr. Fever will chill out and get out.

Dear Mr. Fever,
Pick on someone your own size.
Leave us alone, and go hang out with Winter.

We have a Spring to enjoy.

March Madness for Beginners and The Cone of Shame

Well, I survived.
Kasey and I ran from the Bentonville Square to the Pleasant Grove Walmart and back.
It was brutal, but with only four Saturdays left before race day, I really only had two options:
1) run while sick, or 2) don't get an 18 miler in at all.

I chose to do it, because I'd rather hate a training run, than be unprepared on race day.
And while I'm glad I stuck it out and powered through, I definitely felt every single mile in every corner of my fevered, aching body.


I did make a few crucial mistakes:

1) No sunscreen. Duh! Antibiotics + 4 hours in the sun on a beautiful day = a pretty good burn.
2) While stopped at an intersection, a car passed with a dog in the front seat that looked just like this little guy.

I don't know why, but I thought it was hilarious. I spent a couple good minutes laughing hysterically at the ugly little dog with "the cone of shame" on it's head.
I even did the voice of the dog from UP "I do not like the cone of shame!" hahahahaha!

Oh karma.

Shortly after I got up this morning, I jerked my head to the left to say something to Corbin, who was standing by my bed.

As I did this, I felt a sharp snap in my upper shoulder/lower neck.

Pop.
Pain.
Whoa! SEARING pain.


I am now in a neck brace.

It's hot, baby.


Aaron, obviously, thinks this is hilarious and laughs hysterically when I have to turn my entire body to talk to him. He is sitting to the left of me on the sofa tonight, and I swear he is purposely making up questions to ask me, just for the comic relief it provides to watch me sit up and turn my entire body to face him, because I can't see him.


So now, in addition to Strep Throat, a fever that STILL will not go below 99.5, a bladder infection, and a crisp sunburn, I wear a cone of shame.

I feel like an angry old lady that is falling apart.

So how am I handling it?


Let's be real:
Tonight, the kids were acting super crazy and kept fighting with each other. I was helping Reese finish a school project, Quincy refused to put on underwear and was running around naked, and Corbin had climbed up on the table to get the scissors, but found a marker instead and used it to draw all over himself.


Aaron was aware of only Quincy, and only because she kept turning off the tv.
"hey Aaron, can you give me a hand in here? Aaron? Anyone? Beuler?"

What is happening here?

Aaron is an excellent father....but that guy in there, in the living room. That was not Aaron. It was some guy that was very concerned about a bunch of "seeds".

Seed?

Doh!
It's that time of year. I should have known. Of course.

March Madness.

My ailments ain't got NOTHIN' on Aaron's case of March Madness.
It truly is the worst illness that can strike a household.

Symptoms include:
-extremely crazy children become invisible
-very important games = every game
-constant texts and friday night phone calls from brothers and college buddies
-mysterious appearance of nacho cheese and onion dip in the fridge
-your shows will not air a new episode this week or next. Instead, there will be basketball games on 24/7
-a "romantic getaway" will be proposed, but do not be deceived. This is only a plot to get him closer to the Elite Eight. I find it best to do a little research and find out where all the NCAA games will take place, first, so I can call him on his ruse and then earn cool points for going along with it anyway.
-words like "seed", "upset", and "bracket" become parts of every day speech.
-they think taking pictures like this are funny, even after you threaten to put it on the internet for everyone to see. And then continue to laugh even after you guarantee that everyone will agree with ME (the girl in the neck brace, mopping the kitchen floor) that this is sooo not funny at all.

{not pictured: the funny guy with the camera}
This year he has an exceptionally rare and highly infectious form of March Madness, which seems to circulate once every fazillion years when BYU actually pulls together a decent enough team to make it past the first round in the big dance.



WARNING: There is no cure for March Madness.


In the midst of tonight's chaos, Corbin dumped my apple juice all over the kitchen floor (then slipped in it) and Quincy knocked a big wodden stacking toy off a shelf and it landed square on my bad toe.


I lost it.
Time to pull out the big guns.
I glanced over at Aaron and gave him with the look.


You know. The look that every wife swears she never makes, because it makes her seem controlling and needy and psychotic.

The "SERIOUSLY? Do you not SEE what is happening here? DO something!" look.


I learned two things from using "the look" tonight.
1) The look is no match for a #3 seed...especially when delivered from within the Cone of Shame.
2)This isn't just any case of March Madness,

Aaron's been Jimmered.


Instead of the cartoon old lady pictured above, I'm starting to feel more and more like this one:A Mean Meg version of Falling Apart Old Lady Meg.

No one likes Mean Meg.
Send help soon.

I do not like the cone of shame.

Wah Waaaaaah

What?! More snow?

Accio Baton!

Confession:

For some reason, I find the use of a conductor's baton when leading the congregation in sacrament hymns at church totally demeaning. I can't even look up at the stand. It really really bothers me.

Is it just me? Probably.

I don't care to be directed musically with any kind of baton, but it's just that this particular baton is SO GINORMOUS. It seems so out of place in a chapel...more like a police baton is being waved around at me. I don't know if I should sing, or duck and cover...or shout Expelliarmus!

Cuz really, it's that huge. It's like a freaking Harry Potter wand. I am so totally distracted during the hymns lately, that we are going to have to find another place to sit during church, because rather than worshipping with lovely songs of praise, I find myself daydreaming about walking up to the stand between songs and breaking the baton. It's not like our congregation is so large that the people in the back can't see. People on Mars could see this thing. I know. I'm being totally ridiculous. I just need to find another place to sit, where we aren't so close that I have to worry about the conductor losing grip on the baton and it flying over the first two rows and making a kabob out of my children.

Yes! This is the kind of thing that is taking over my thoughts during church. It's that distracting. It makes me feel like I'm in an orchestra pit, or a marching band...but definitely not at church, preparing to participate in a sacred ordinance.

Don't get me wrong, the conductor, she's fine. Nice lady. HUGE baton. Any baton is a problem for me, honestly. But this one just needs to go. But not her. She's nice. Nice enough that I would never tell her how much I loathe her baton, because it would hurt her feelings.

And also because then I would be admitting how crazy I am.


I probably shouldn't have admitted this. Now the rest of you will be distracted, too, when you look up during the sacrament hymns and see a huge baton waving around at you. Even if you don't find it offensive, like I do, you'll still end up distracted because you'll be thinking about me, and how I must be going crazy up there on the third row...where that dang baton seems even larger from my vantage point since I'm seated so close. But, I figured I'd better admit my pet peeve after all...because more important than my urge to whine, I needed to warn you. You've all been tipped off and should I fall paralyzed under a spell and turn to stone from a misfired petrificus totalus during the closing hymn next week, you know where to place blame.

Because they like to say, "Sal-sah"

They ran out of the restaurant style tostitos salsa at my local WM.
dun dun dunnnnnn......

THIS is why I usually keep an extra jar (or three) in the cupboard.
But, now, Aaron has discovered it's goodness and is also hooked. We've become canned salsa snobs and he won't put just anything on his taquitos.
Our cabinet supply is gone.

When I saw the empty store shelf, I tried not to panic, but I must have been sweating because it didn't take long before I had an entire crew of employees searching for a stray case of it in "the back".

I've called Aaron and asked him to talk to the Salsa Guy in Replenishment at the WM Home Office, to make sure this doesn't happen again.
Someone should lose their job over this. I need to get my salsa on.

But until they get more in, what am I going to do?!
I only have half of a jar left in the fridge and I've already got the shakes.

Cuz I'm Keepin it Real

and while I posted that, little Corbin squeezed a bottle of red glitter paint onto the carpet.
Good thing he's cute.

Giving Up On That Whole "Positive Thinking" Plan.

Remember that emotional breakdown I predicted earlier?
It didn't take long for it to make an appearance.

Like when I decided to make my day better by finishing the pergola I've been (slowly) putting together for like, forever.

It was super awesome, and when we finished, we took a proud step back to admire,

and Aaron said, "Uhhh....is it slanted? It looks slanted."

Huh?

Yes. It IS slanted.
There is a 6 inch SLOPE in my beams.

How did this happen?!

I didn't measure correctly, that's how. The beams hang differently on the hardware at opposite ends of the pergola. So when I used the same measurement for both ends, I ended up with one end 6 inches higher than the other, and the whole thing slopes. How did I over look something so obvious in my planning?

I cried.

And when I think about how I have to take it apart, cut 6 inches off the posts, and put everything back up, it makes me cry more.

I'm just. so. over. unfinished house projects, right now.

I told Aaron to hire an Amigo to help him fix the pergola problem, because I can't look at it anymore. He wasn't on board.

When (if) I ever DO finish this stupid pergola, you can bet I will have NO problem dropping $50 on some pretty outdoor string lights to hang from it. Because I am going to host one big, fat, celebration of a BBQ.

Dear Airlines

There were flights for $200 round trip to California when I was tied to commitments and had zero time to take a vacation. Now they are $400. What gives? I haven't been to California in 2 years, and it's been 5 years since Aaron came home with me. I'm sorry for ignoring you. I'm available now. Could you coordinate your schedule with mine and be more accommodating, please? I could really use a double double with cheese. Thanks.

-Unsatisfied Customer