It took me forever to mend the Buster's stuffed rhino. The poor toy has been sitting in the laundry closet with a gaping hole in his side. The Buster would see the rhino sitting on top of the dryer and beg to hold it. He would kiss his horn and gingerly pat the hole. When I told him it was time to put rhino back because he was "sick", the Buster would ask to give "mores kisses" to his friend.
This has been happening at least once a week for the past two months. I know. I'm basically mom-of-the-year. But, I finally fixed the rhino.
In my pre-parenting days, I assumed that if a child is up in the middle of the night screaming, sick, and miserable, the next day the child would want to sleep and take it easy. How little I knew then.
When he is sick, the Buster develops a kind of superpower. He can scream and cry for hours in the middle of the night and still be full of energy the next morning. Extra-energetic, even. The amount of energy he has the morning after a nighttime illness seems to directly correlate to the amount of energy I do not have. Example: I am so tired that I try to feed Miss Meatball without taking the pacifier out of her mouth. The Buster is running laps around the couch, shouting out the names of different animals and begging for a cup of milk.
This energy spike pushes the Buster's ability for mischief into overdrive. In the time it took me to transfer one load of laundry from the washer to the dryer, he had amassed a collection of items including (but not limited to) my hairdryer, one chopstick, the kitchen scissors, a large metal spatula, and a candy thermometer. When he saw me coming, he dove behind the couch cushions, clutching the pair of scissors. "NO! MINES!" he screamed as I removed them from his chubby fist. He is exhausting and I started the day with an energy deficit.
Mercifully, by the evening he is worn out. He cuddles, telling me about his trip to the doctor's office. He reminds me of the important details so that I wouldn't forget that his ear hurt and that he got a sticker. He even suggests that his stuffed rhinoceros should go to the doctor to get his "ouch" fixed. I make a mental note to move the rhino to the top of my mending pile. The Buster gets one more hug, one more kiss, and a lullaby from Mr. O. When all is said and done, we have had better days, but we have also had worse.
This year marks the first time I've ever really decorated for Valentine's Day. I have always loved the idea of Valentine's decorations, but we have never really had a good spot to display them until now. Some of those Pinterest projects I've been eyeing finally came to life! The Buster has been pretty excited about all the "sharks" (Buster-speak for heart). Between the framed hearts and the mini-heart garland, we have been talking about sharks a lot.
See the lightbulb? That's what I gave Mr. O this year for Valentine's Day. It turns out that it is a lot harder to hollow out an old light bulb than the internet claims it is. Confession: I made Mr. O do it because I was afraid of shattered glass all over the kitchen floor. He basically made all the hard parts of his own gift and still acted surprised and thrilled with the final result. I love that man.
Our favorite B-horror film posters got a dose of Valentine's Day cheer as well.
We postponed our Valentine's Day dinner until Friday night. Totally worth the wait. Since we no longer live near our favorite pizza place, we made pizza and roasted asparagus for dinner. Definitely not the same as cooked in a wood-burning brick oven, but pretty yummy all the same. I am certain that even if we had gone out for pizza, they wouldn't have cut our pepperoni into hearts.
We finished our meal off with some strawberry cupcakes and then hauled the Buster upstairs to shampoo the frosting out of his hair.
Because it's been so long since I've regularly posted to this space, I thought I would fill everyone in on some Family O basics.
We live in a small town in the rural South. It is the kind of place where you find roadside stands that sell "hot boiled peanuts," and Civil War reinactors march in the Fourth of July parade. People here are for the most part friendly, chatty, and unhurried.
Mr. O is attending graduate school. When he is not cramming his brains full of more knowledge, he is interested in comic books, horror films, and hanging out with the kids and me.
I am a stay-at-home mom. I do many stay-at-home mom things. I read to the kids; sometimes I even read to myself. I do play-dates and grocery trips. I attempt all sorts of craftable projects. I make dinners and lunches and snacks and a shocking number of cookies. Aside from the typical stuff, I also teach piano lessons.
Of course, you can't meet the Family O without meeting the Buster.
1. A person or thing that breaks, destroys, or overpowers something
2. Used as a mildly humorous form of address, esp. to a man or boy
3. An unusually sturdy child
4. A busy, much-loved redhead belonging to the Family O (see above photograph)
Our newest family member is the sunny Miss Meatball.
What do you think she has stashed in those adorable, fat cheeks? Mr. O thinksit might be meatballs.
Hopefully this nickname doesn't cause any permanent emotional damage or social awkwardness in later life. At present, she doesn't seem to mind.
That's the cliff-notes version of my family. I hope you all had a wonderful, love-filled February fourteenth. We are celebrating Valentine's Day a day late because Mr. O had a crazy class schedule. Check back later for some of our postponed holiday fun!