I should have called it 3 Kid Misadventures

-yet another fort- -i don't like this photo; he hardly looks like

a baby!-

So we recall, don't we, the day Gianni split open his noggin and got cheery blue stitches? One month later (to the day mind you) he decides to spend some quality time in the hospital. I'm going to give you the reader's digest condensed version, because, let's face it, this blog has a reputation for being amusing and silly, and well, this story isn't funny. And it won't be in 20 years either. But for those of you who haven't heard the story, here goes:

We all have The Crud, The Cold, The Plague, whatever you want to call it, all last week. Coughs and runny noses and low grade fevers, etc. Not really too terrifying, and those of you who know me at all know I am not one of those people who rush to the doctor every time someone in my house sneezes. In fact I usually wait, stubbornly refusing to admit to being sick, until I finally give in and go and have to perform interpretive dances or charades to explain my ailments due to having no voice, and as a result learn I have numerous ailments that I could have avoided had I paid enough attention to the symptoms earlier. I digress. Follow the bunny trail. Anyway, I decide to take Moose to see his doctor because he was really sleepy and lethargic even though his symptoms weren't nerve wracking. Sure enough, when we get there the doc says he won't need any prescriptions, we'd just use a nebulizer to help loosen up his chest/lungs. Sounds like a good idea. Note to you: not if you have a severe peanut allergy. So the ingredients in the air that we are purposely blowing down his throat are plummeting his oxygen. We can't figure out this reason until much later. Taken by ambulance to the hospital later. Anyway, this was supposed to be short, so to sum up: he's fine now. We stayed the night (always a treat...yum, hospital food ) and got to leave the next evening. I meant to take a photo of the banana I ordered for the poor hungry baby who got a great breakfast of cheesey egg products with hashbrowns and a side of milk (I guess they were just trying to finish the little guy off and thus never let us leave).* The same man who burst open the door at a bright and early 6:55 am after we had just fallen asleep a half hour before, yelling "Health and Nutrition!" is kind enough to bring a half of a brown banana, wrapped in saran wrap on a wilted lettuce leaf with a $3.20 pricetag. The photo was to make you chuckle and make me cry tears of the financially unstable, but I didn't have the camera. I'm just so thrilled to find out what the little Master of Disaster has in store for me in April.

Here's something funny: yesterday I wore flipflops and a skirt and a short sleeved shirt to the park where we played in the sun all afternoon, and today we have blizzard watches and it's snowing and it's blowing so hard you can't keep your eyelids open and all the highways outta here are shut down. Funny to you actually, no one here is bursting out with spontaneous giggle fits. Where is spring?! If it doesn't get here how in the world will I have time to properly kill all the stuff I plant in my garden? That kind of black thumb activity takes some time to plan, people, don't underestimate the dedication of the horticulture-challenged.

Oh, and if any of you are keeping a tally from the past decade of Who's Hit The Garage While Parking, here are the updated scores:

Mike:2

Lyssa:2

It's really too close to call at this point in the game/marriage.

I know this is getting really long, and if you've made it to the end, bless you. One more thing before I go this week:

I should have my parenting license revoked when it comes to birthdays. This occured to me when Anna's latest fish expired the other day (this is #6 since her birthday in January). Happy birthday, Roosky, let's learn about death and the circle of life instead of receiving a Barbie like a normal little girl. Poor kid. Let's revisit, for the sake of my humility, some other birthday mistakes I've made. There was the homemade cake that I left too close to the edge of the table and the dogs licked off all the pink, made from scratch frosting, and the candy monkeys. We ate it anyway because I was too cheap to go replace it with a storebought one (see below post). There was the year I canceled Cora's birthday camping trip that we had planned with all her buddies because it was over 100 degrees and I was pregnant. This would have been alright since our Plan B was to take her to the drive-in theater that night. But it sold out and we waited in line in our car for over an hour, and most of her pals got there before us and got in but she didn't. Happy birthday, Cora. Maybe next year I can run over her dog or burn down their dollhouse or something since I'm on such a roll. Big sigh. Anyway, those of you with fish knowhow, please share your wisdom as Anna has gone from tears and sobs (death of Swimmy) to a few sniffles (deaths of Ghosty, Blaze, and Tiger) to a brief farewell (catfish I don't recall name of now) to a cheery flush down the toilet with a "all drains lead to the ocean, dude!" (Marina). Me thinks her grasp of death may be too mature for a seven year old at this point.

* G. is allergic to all forms of dairy, especially egg, and also potatoes. He's a Denny's waitress' nightmare.