Skip to main content

Alive and Well...Because of Me

I'm pretty good at keeping things alive.  Unless it's pets or plants, those I tend to kill.  Nobody told me you can over-clean a Beta fish's bowl.  Poor little Brown Trout.  But aside from a few other short lived pets and every single house plant, I've done alright.  

Our kids are all breathing because of me.  At least in part.  Sure, it takes two to make a human, but I grew them, so I'm taking a little more than half the credit.  Sometimes I have to remind them that I gave them life, and what's the Cosby Show  line? "I brought you into this world, and I can take you out of it!"  I jest.  But somedays....  

Ross is breathing because of me too.  Literally.  I saved his life.  He owes me big time.  

I haven't completely cashed in on that one yet.  I'm saving it for something good.  Although...."Babies are crying.  Somebody needs to check on them.  Remember that time I saved your life?".....How have I not used that?!  Stupid.  Stupid.  Stupid.

I saved his life almost ten years ago.  I'm pretty much his hero.  He just forgets a lot, and I have to remind him.  It's okay, I don't mind reminding him as often as I need to.  

Ross eats fast and doesn't always chew well.  I've never taken food away from him, so I'm not sure what the rush is...  "Choo, choo, choo!" is my mantra at the dinner table, and it isn't meant for the kids.  He's a good sport though.  

Anyway, the story is that Ross didn't chew his last bite of steak at a fancy restaurant.  We were with a group of his teacher friends, and when he gave the, "Oh, shoot, I'm actually choking" signal.  They let me take care of it.  Apparently, it's part of the wifely duties.  Maybe, maybe somebody else would have intervened, but they didn't.   

Turns out, the abdominal thrust is very effective.  I'm glad because I like him.  Unfortunately, the abdominal thrust also makes you barf.  Luckily, the fancy restaurant had outdoor seating and a balcony.  I'll never know how the people below fared, but Ross lived.  

Long story short - now he owes me.    

I wonder if that comes with interest?    

I'm not looking for anything fancy.  Just my own room.  A hidden room.  A room the kids don't know about that's well stocked with lots of snacks and ice cream.  Don't judge me.  A girl can dream.  

  

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Sheltering in Place

In the past three months Corona Virus has more or less turned the world on its head.  I feel almost guilty for not being more stressed or put out by the whole thing.  We have been extremely fortunate. What we thought was a most impractical move on our part, wound up being a huge blessing.  With our two boys and our two newborns, we moved out of our house with no yard in the city limits and into my parents' house in the country while waiting for our new house to be completed.  The weekend we moved "quarantine," "social distancing," and "shelter in place" became the new mantra of our state.   Moving in with my parents meant ten plus acres of play space and two extra able bodied adults to help even out the score with the four kids.  Win for the St. Clair's!  Unfortunately, my parents are beginning to realize they may have made an error in judgement.   Yesterday, Sawyer gave their cat swimming lessons.   Last week th...

Advanced Placement

 Not to brag or anything, but I think we are raising some very advanced children.  At two-years-of-age, our girls have already worked out the art of manipulation and deflection.  It's the antithesis of endearing.   They went missing the other day - the girls did.  That's never a good situation.  They were in the house, and I knew they were in the house, but I couldn't see or hear them.  Silence is the loudest alarm system.  Fischer took action and found them both in my bathroom.   "MOM!" I met them in the hall.  Carter was covered in clumps and blobs of hand cream. "Emi did it," was her unsolicited response.   "No," I told her.  "I think you  did it." That night I got ready for bed and pulled out my one "self-care" splurge - my face cream .  It was in my drawer where I always keep it.  The lid was screwed on.  And it was empty, wiped clean.  "EmmmeerrrrrSON!" Guilty.  They were both ...

Week in the Real World

Exhausted.  Mentally and emotionally drained.  And that's where I'm at, at the end of this week.  I'm almost embarrassed to admit it.  I've been defeated by a six-year-old and a three-year-old.  Plus a couple of babies.   This is Ross' first week back to school full-time after a wonderfully long summer and spring of being mostly at home.  We are grateful he has a job, but we are sad to see him go.  This is the first time since March that I have been running solo with all four kids all day everyday.  I was feeling pretty low by the end of this week, and then I had to give myself a reality check.  We have a friend who has been doing this for a whole year.  No nights off.  No weekends off.  Her husband has been deployed since last fall.  I have it pretty good.   But, lest you think better of me than you should, sit tight, and I'll give you a little glimpse into our week.   We don't do transitions...