Two weeks! I can't believe it's been two weeks since I've updated the story of our lives. Many of you probably think I've been bound and gagged by my children, and are currently calling 911 to have me rescued. While I appreciate your concern, rest assured that I am indeed still very much alive, but very busy.
Snort had a severe asthma attack last weekend. We spent some quality time in the ER where a complete idiot wearing a white lab coat and calling himself a doctor attended to his needs. Twice. We went to the ER two times, and saw the same man both times. Yep. Gotta' love small towns. The second time the dr. saw him, he still sent him home struggling to breathe. By that time, the weekend clinic had opened so we took him straight in. He was admitted in about five minutes. We only stayed for twenty-four hours, but completely missed Easter. What is it about Christian holidays that lands us in the hospital every. single. time.??? Beats me. At least this time we were in a hospital with no rodents, people drawing blood from the wrong patients, or doctors who have no idea what they're doing.
A few days after we came home, Snort somehow managed to get his diaper off in the middle of the night. (Note: if you're eating, stop now. This is going to get beyond words disgusting.) By the time I got into his room to get him up, there was poop everywhere. Now, we all know that the Beast has a long history of strange pooping incidents, so not much should surprise me. Honestly, I figured I'd seen it all when it comes to poop. Why, oh why, did I ever say that out loud??? It was like I was inviting the gods to challenge me. And challenge me they did. There was poop mushed between his toes, under his nails, and caught. between. his. teeth.!!! Gag!! I was throwing up a little in my mouth as I called the King to tell him what his son had done. He asked if I'd brushed Snort's teeth. I told him I had, and that I'd chosen to use the King's toothbrush to do it. That'll teach him to giggle under his breath at me while I'm dying a slow and miserable death at home.
The Beast has made friends with a few neighborhood kids. We're really impressed to see how well he's done with his social skills. I thought giving him a little freedom would lead him to demand more. Instead, he's been much better behaved. I think he knows it's a privilege (since I've told him so dozens of times), and is willing to do what he has to do to keep the privilege. Who knew?! My little boy is really growing up. *sigh*
Pretty spent the afternoon today with La La and Buhdo (that's how she says our neighbors' names) watering their flowers. No, she wasn't peeing on their plants. She really was doing what she was supposed to be doing. She stood there for nearly forty-five minutes holding the hose and carefully watering each individual plant. I, of course, saw this is an opportunity to grab the camera and started snapping away.
As tired as I am, it seems like I should have more to say. Surprisingly, I don't. I don't need to mention too much about the big storm we had that caused us to need to patch our roof, or the unfortunate toilet clogging incident involving an entire roll of paper towels, or the Great Bathtub Bathroom Flood of 2009, or the time Snort tried to eat Little Guy's hearing aid earmold, or the giant dog that lives next door and keeps digging under the fence so she can come in our back door, or the day the Beast ran outside with nothing to cover his bottom half. Those are, of course, fairly typical events in our household.