Last night, we took the boys out to get some pizza. I don't believe I've ever mentioned it on here before, but Deuce is quite possibly the PICKIEST eater in. the. world. Despite my begging, pleading, threats and punishments, he won't even try a single bite of any food that he deems 'icky'. The term 'icky' appears to apply to just about any food, lately. Peanut butter is too 'icky' because of the stickiness, noodles are too 'icky' because they squiggle, etc. Cheese, however, is okay as long as he can't see it peeking through the pieces of bread. This is a very important detail in the Life of Deuce. I have now resorted to making grilled cheese sandwiches and ensuring the cheese is pushed in fully between the bread to make certain there is no visual stringiness...

Laugh if you must, but once you find something that works you go with it. To be honest, I'm a bit proud of some of my recent endeavors. For example, I finally found a way to get him to eat cheese sticks! Granted, it involves me 'sandwiching' together individual cheese sticks and cutting them into little 'cheese stick sandwich bites' and hoping he didn't see any of it...

Hush.

But last night, when I served his cheese stick bites, cut into one-inch squares thankyouverymuch, he looked down with disdain and said, "Um, I think I asked for triangles...ugh."

That's the point where your head explodes and you find yourself speaking in tongues, just for those of you out there without kids...

I believe that, through gritted teeth, I explained that this was all he was getting and I didn't give a flying kitten if he ate it or not.

Two minutes later:

Deuce stood up, holding his fork in the air with a 'one-inch square cheese sandwich bite' pierced on the end and exclaimed, "THERE'S SOMETHING GROSS IN MY FOOOOOOD!!!!"

At that point, the entire restaurant came to a hush.

I leaned over to inspect the carnage and there, sticking through the cheese I had so carefully hidden was the offending object. I put my head in my hands and mumbled through my fingers, "Deuce, that is the tine of your fork."

He sat back down and said to the table, "WHEW! It's okay everybody. It was just my fork. You can keep eating."

Go Forth and Read

Guess what? I posted for the THIRD! DAY! IN! A! ROW!

Yes, the sky is falling.

But more importantly, this one ISN'T about mono or Dorkfish trying to kill me.

My dear friend, Jenny, asked me to do a guest post on her blog called Great Little Stories. I was flattered since my stories are neither great nor little...but I guess she ran out of bloggers or something.

So Go! Read! and while you're there, look around a bit and if you're in the mood, give me a little comment love so she doesn't think I completely messed up her blog...

Click HERE to read it.

Thanks guys!
Amo

Tada! Mother's Intuition and All That...

Soooo....Bonus' doctor called today. (You know that's never good.) He said his test results came back and guess what?!

Yeah, mono.

Joy.

Not that I was surprised or anything. In fact, that's the whole reason I INSISTED that they do the blood work even though he said he didn't have the 'classic symptoms' and was only doing it because I insisted.

But I guess I'm a bad mom for making my kid go through that when just sat there and watched them stick him. The kid never even flinched! That's a high pain tolerance, friends. (Or the makings of a serial killer...) Either way, I was impressed.

So now we are on Deuce Watch 2011. He has no symptoms so far but it is honestly just a matter of time. The incubation period is 4-6 weeks and we were all sharing food and drinks back then. But I guess the bright side is that they won't ever get it again!

Well, that and when their friends get sick with it in high school I can say, "Oh honey, you don't have to worry about getting 'The Kissing Disease'. You got it from your mom."

Snicker.

An Epiphany for a Sucker

It's taken four and a half years, but I think I've finally found a useful purpose for Deuce.

Yes, he is awesome at comedic relief. Just this morning he said, "Momma, I don't want to go to school anymore. I already know everything." When I asked exactly what he meant he said, "If you put a bottle of ketchup in water, it floats. See? Everything. I got it."

How can one argue with that logic?

He's also been offering me money for letting him have candy. How many of YOUR kids offer you bribes for treats? Hmmmm? I didn't think so.

But actually, that is just what keeps me from LOOSING IT when he gives me attitude. I think his useful purpose may be taking care of Bonus the Bitch.

You see, it would appear that my mono has now spread to Bonus. While I can honestly tell you that the kid is sicker than he has ever been in his entire life, in complete disclosure I have to admit that he is also being more hateful that I ever thought possible for a seven year old. It would appear that he realizes the gravity of his illness and my feeble state (both in a physical and psychological sense) and has chosen to be nice to only me. I can only assume that this means he has a good sense of survival.

Every time Deuce walks in the room, he comes to check on Bonus. "Can I do anything for you, Bonus?" he asks with the sweetest voice; petting Bonus on the head. Bonus' response is sadly always the same, "NO. Go Away. Stop. Touching. Me." I never knew kids snarled either... Weird. Anyway, the constant drone of "My finger hurts BAAAAAD/my knee won't MOOOOOOVE/my big toe is falling OFFFFF" has kind of taken it's toll on my compassion. Don't get me wrong, he's sick. I am doing everything in my power to keep his fever down, keep him hydrated and comfortable but at the end of the day, I am sick too and it's wearing on me.

In ultimate desperation, I believe we may have just had a break through. While having a moment to myself and catching up on some blog reading, Bonus started his pleas for anything he can fathom. When I didn't jump up to get the thermometer SINCE I CHECKED HIS TEMPERATURE TWO MINUTES AGO, Deuce came to the rescue. Then, Deuce brought him more water. Then, Deuce offered to get him another pillow.

That's when the epiphany occurred. Maybe, just maybe, if I hide in the office long enough, Bonus will give in and let Deuce help him. Maybe this will be the turning point in their relationship. Maybe Bonus will finally realize just how much Deuce loves him and wants to help him...

Maybe that scream resonating from the living room is saying otherwise...

Sigh.

Just Bring Krispie Treats to the Funeral

I have spent the last NINE days in a supine position with the silly assumption that 'I can't possibly feel any worse.' Amazingly, it is possible to feel immensely worse every time you wake up... (I have to say, Mr. Mononucleosis is a bastard. Yes, I did give him a proper name as I feel confident that he is not one to upset.) On the rare occasion I feel as if I can tackle some simple task such as a shower, I get smacked in the face with a big ole healthy dose of 'respect for the virus'.

This has, naturally, put Dorkfish in a difficult position. Not only does he have to deal with my whining, he is apparently the one who brought this hot mess home. Yes, as I predicted in my 'he's trying to kill me' post, our physician confirmed that he did indeed have the virus first and is now on the backside of it. Ironically, he wasn't NEARLY as sick as I have been with it.

Which obviously means that he is trying to kill me.

I have to admit, he has been quite patient with my 'can you get me' pleas. Well, until tonight. I decided that only a rice krispie treat would make me feel better at this moment, so I asked him to make them. He was washing the dishes and said, "Well, I'm busy cleaning the kitchen now. SIGH."
So I waited.
Patiently.

Five minutes later: "How about now? Can you make me some treats now? I'm sick you know."

Him: "Yeah, I noticed. I will get them in a minute."

Me: "Do we have rice krispies? Marshmallows?"

Him (through gritted teeth): "Yes. SIGH. We have all that. But I am a little busy right now...."

Me: "Oh, so maybe you could make them in a minute then? I mean, you're gonna have to wash the pot and all anyway..."

Him: *blink, blink* (slight twitch)

"Oh LOOK! We're out of BUTTER!!! Sorry, honey."

So I texted my neighbor, Cameron: "Can I borrow a stick of butter? Dorkfish is using our lack of it as his excuse for not making me rice krispie treats...I'm rethinking his nursing abilities."

In under thirty seconds, Cameron was at my door. Dorkfish opened the door, looked at the butter and glared at me.

Grinning from my deathbed the couch, I said, "Now where are my krispies, beesh?!"

Feeling pretty smug, I enjoyed about half the pan. Sadly, the joke was on me when Bonus ATE. THE. LAST. ONE.

Obviously, that one is in on the 'get a new mommy' plan...

UPDATE: He's trying to kill me for sure now.

Last month, I told you about Dorkfish trying to 'off me'. It started out as a joke; a bit of a 'har-har' but the gloves have come off. I believe we are in full-on WATCH. YOUR. BACK. mode now.

He has been on vacation for the past two weeks and has been happily pointing out how effortlessly he keeps the house clean, puts food on the table, entertains the kids, and is now befriending my neighborhood posse. Honestly, I should have seen that one coming when he brought a box of donuts to the bus stop last fall... I generally only bring a beer, and the funny, of course. Don't get me wrong, I certainly appreciate a man who can do all these household chores with such ease and I am grateful that he comes home and picks up my slack. But the 'little comments' pointing out how effortlessly he manages to take on these tasks makes me a little concerned...

For example, last week he looked at me from the kitchen where he was washing dishes and said, "You know. If you were to die right there in that chair and no one came to check on you for a couple of weeks, our dog would eat you."

I'm not sure exactly what he meant by that comment, but I can tell you that the smirk said it all. The dog doesn't seem to be in on his plan yet, but I am watching them both pretty closely. Well, I was until I got sick. I'm not sure how he managed this one, but I have contracted mono. I have to admit, he's good. Real Good.

Ironically, it is damb difficult to sleep with one eye open when you're constantly exhausted...

So It's NOT Everywhere I Want to Go

Conversation with My Bitch last week:

Me: "So, my bank is forcing us to switch to Master Card."

My Bitch: "And..."

Me: "I really don't want to switch; I like Visa. Not to mention, Master Card isn't accepted everywhere."

My Bitch: "Like where? Where do you go that doesn't accept it?"

Me: (Trying to think up a quick example.) "Well, you know, like the Dollar Tree. They don't accept Master Card."

My Bitch: (Not even bothering to hold back the laugh.) "Could you repeat that, please..."