Monday, October 24, 2011


I am ready to run away.

I can remember as a teenager telling my parents that I was going to run away. You know those lovely years when you know it all and have it all planned and then parents and rules just kinda get in your way? I can see myself standing in the kitchen of the house that I grew up in yelling that I wanted to run away because my parents were so unfair. And I can specifically remember my Mom saying one of the three sayings I heard so often growing up:

1. Whatever floats your boat Amy...
2. Go ahead, knock yourself out...

and the ever-famous in the Morgan family:

3. Want in one hand and crap in the other and see which one fills up first. (I still don't really understand this one but have heard it over and again growing up. It originated with my great-grandmother Doris who was a feisty little thing, imagine that.)

I never ran away, let's face it - I had no where to go. And I think I knew they were empty threats and obviously my Mom knew as well as you can see by her reactions. But this time is different.

I am ready to pack my bags and go. I don't plan to do anything real exciting when I go, but I do plan to sleep. Maybe for 36-72 hours straight and then when I wake up all rested and restored I will realize that I miss my kiddos more than anything and come back home with a new perspective, new energy and new Amy to face the world again.

You see, we are embarking on week 4 of sickness in our house. We started with fever in our house the first week of October and it has been consistent in either of my two kids ever since. Louisa started first with bronchitis. Then, Nash got Roseola (well, I am assuming as he has yet to break out in a rash...but he ran HIGH fever for 6 days straight) and topped that off with croup. Then right when I was Lysol-ing every surface and getting the germs out and smiling thinking we were over the hump, Lou got whiny and fussy and told me she wanted to go to bed (that never, ever happens) and next thing I know she has a sore throat and is varmiting over everything. And then I smelt it, that lovely strep breath. Ugh, one penicillin shot later and she was better. Meanwhile, Nash stopped sleeping at night and became fussy and whiny and inconsolable. And this morning, he woke up with fever again after night number 3 of sleeplessness.

So, as I am extremely sleep-deprived and just kinda overwhelmed by it all right now I want to run away. I want a break. I quit - I just don't have anymore in me. I want to lay down in my bed at night and sleep until I am ready to wake up the next morning. I want to throw away the schedules of tylenol and motrin and not look at them again. I want my babies to feel better again. I want normal again.

But hey, want in one hand and crap in the other, right?

Grrrrrr...enough complaining. How about something to make me and everyone else smile. What about the adorable-ness of this.

I can't hardly stand it.

But in true Louisa-style, her 'get-up' for Halloween was not without a meltdown.

I had her dressed in her chaps, her boots, her bandana and her hat ready to go to a Halloween birthday party yesterday. As we were walking out the door it started.

"MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMYYYY! I don't want to wear these boots! They make my feet feel funny."

Okay, well are a cowgirl - cowgirls wear cowgirl boots.

"But I don't WANT to wear them. They makes my feet feel funny and squishy and I am NOT going to wear them."

Louisa, you are a cowgirl. Your cowgirl boots are kinda pertinent to your costume.

"Well, Mommy I don't know what percanent means, but I am not going to wear them. Otay?"

And with that the pink cowgirl boots (that used to be her faves) were tossed and she donned her red patent leather clogs that live on her feet and I just threw up my hands. Pick your battles my dear. And in a few years, I too will tell her to want in one hand... :)

Monday, October 17, 2011

Ask Me Tomorrow, I'll Tell You the Same

This has been a rough, rough, rough, rough, rough (okay, you get it) past week and a half. I am very surprised that everyone in this house is still in one piece. Granted, I have half the brain I started with (not good) and am slightly crazier than I started out (once again, not good) but we are all still breathing. And as my trusty mentor Cheryl taught me, as long as everyone is is gonna be okay.

This morning, Nash woke up afebrile and smiling. I got at least 4 hours of uninterrupted sleep last night. Louisa went to school. Hopefully, we are back in the everyday grind. I got everyone ready to get out the door, fixed some coffee, rolled down the windows and opened the sunroof and we were off to carpool line jamming to Whiskeytown.

I think I have talked before about music and the way it moves me. I find it very ironic that I love music so much but am not in any way, shape or form musically inclined. I mean, I can carry a tune like it is my business when no one other than my children or animals are around. Sometimes the Indigo Girls have nothing on me. But, to keep others from feeling bad and non-talented and to keep them from being jealous, I try to keep my talents to myself. :) But anyways, music does so much for my soul that it is borderline crazy. One song can do so much. It can make me smile, it can bring me to tears, it can transport me to another time of my life, it can inspire my sewing, it can change my perspective, it can give me chills, it can make me fall in love with my husband all over again...but most of all, it can change my attitude. You see, this morning as we drove to St. James, I blared one of my favorite 'make me happy' tunes and I sang along and I danced and all was right in the world again. And when the song was over, I played it again. As Ryan Adams did his magic with the song Mirror, Mirror...I got that warm, fuzzy feeling that everything is going to be okay. It is a new day, a new week, time to get this party started. And right about that time, an acorn fell off the tree above my car, through my sunroof and onto my head. It hurt. Really, really bad. I thought, "Are you even kidding me??" But before I allowed myself to get my britches in a wad and say bad words, I sang along, "Oooooh I'm tellin' ya now, I'm telling you noooooow." And all was right in the world again. Not gonna let an acorn spoil my day.

You see my friends...yesterday was a bit of a breaking point for me. An attitude adjustment was needed something fierce. The sickness that had taken over my house had slowly taken over me. I was DONE. I was OVER it. I was DONE-SO. Yep, done-so. I told Byron yesterday that I was ready to bang my head against the wall. I was at the point of no return in which if I heard Nash crying in his bed one more time I was afraid I may hurt him when I went in there. Now, before you go calling the authorities or thinking ill of me...I would NEVER, and I repeat NEVER hurt my children. However, I am thankful for a somewhat sound mind that tells me that when I get to that point I need to re-think and refocus. But, at that point in time, the point of no return is real. It happens. When your sanity is stretched to the very end, you get there. I remember hitting that point so many times when Louisa was a baby as she would scream I would put her down and walk outside and scream and cry until I had refocused that energy. I wondered when I had become this person that lost it so easily. I think that is called motherhood. It isn't easy, folks. In fact, it is quite possibly the hardest thing I have faced yet.

So, on that note...thank you Ryan Adams. My husband may not like you at all, but I cannot thank you enough. A change of attitude, a smile, a fun morning jam-session in the carpool line...acorn and all. With that, I realized that we are on the mend. Things are returning to normal here at the Norris house.

You see, Louisa is already back to pouting and giving me the stink eye bright and early in the morning because I didn't do her 'brains' (braids) right.

Nash is back to escaping the bouncy seat and that laundry sheet that always happens to be on the floor in photos is still there.

I am back to rescuing reptiles from the jaws of my striped kitty and the tumbleweeds of animal fur.

The striped kitty is back to napping on the pillows she knows good and well she isn't supposed to be on.

Lucy is back to watching and waiting for the mail man,

and my brown doggy is up in my green chair barking at the wind.

Back to normal people, or as close to normal as we get here. I'm telling you's bound to make you smile. :)

Thursday, October 13, 2011

Momma Louisa

Holy moles...if I thought I was S.T. in the last post, I don't even have words for now. It has been a week. I mean, a rough one. I don't know if I have ever chased fevers like I have this past week. Not even when working at Chirrens Hospital. Oh my word.

I said it this morning on Facebook, with 2 hours of sleep under my belt today I am officially STOOOOOPID. I should not be allowed to make decisions, operate machinery, drive or visit Etsy. The brain is in slow-mo. In fact, this morning when I woke and was making myself some coffee and Nash a bottle, I poured his formula into my coffee without even blinking and put it in the microwave. It wasn't when I pulled it out to drink that I noticed it, not even when I put it to my mouth. I even took 2 sips without it phasing me. However, it was when I went to put a clear bottle in the microwave (yes, I microwave my bottles) that I wondered, "Wait...where the hell did the formula go?" Oh yeah.


Anyways, last night was a rough one with baby Nash. Lou is finally on the mend and feels great other than having cabin fever. Now Nash is the one with fevers. I know for sure I have blogged before about how I hate a fever. I really do. Every time I say the word 'hate' I hear 2 things. The first being my Mom saying, "Amy, hate is a very strong word and you should not use it" and then I hear Louisa screaming, "You can't say that!!!" (since she thinks hate is a 4 letter word). Well, I respect both of those opinions...but I still HATE a fever. I am very scared of them. I remember one day working at Chirrens Hospital and having a Mom call me and tell me she thought her little boy had fever again. Since he was admitted for febrile seizures, I made sure to head down there. I took the thermometer off the wall and placed it under his arm (yeah, not so accurate...but she didn't want a rectal) and watched as the numbers rose. When it continued past 104.6, I started to freak out mildly. I tried my best to stay calm as I couldn't even watch it raise anymore because I was about to varmit on the floor and told the mom, "Let me go grab him some medicine." I walked out of the room in a slight panic, and soon as the door shut I RAN to find my trusty Cheryl and quickly fell apart and wondered if there was any way possible I could push some Ibuprofen into his IV. And then the seizure came. I think this episode is what spawned my fear of fevers. kitchen counter looks like this

and has for a week now. And my bathroom trash can looks like this.

Why Lou chooses to place her tissues on the floor beside the trash is beyond me. But I guess one day I will clean it up. Just not today. Oh, and the back of one of our bills looks like this.

So, as I am S.T. Rugglin' to function today I walked into Louisa's room to open her curtains and found some humor. It may not be funny at all, only to me who is slightly deranged and demented thanks to deprivation. But, thought I would share anyways.

Take a look into what might be when Louisa is a momma.

Looks as though the apple doesn't fall far, her kitchen is a mess too.

And this poor baby, asleep on the ironing board and being held in place by a hat. Or maybe her eyes are covered since they don't close? Oh the imagination of a 4 year old.

Need I mention this child? Fat, happy and about to fall out of the highchair.

Should I mention to her now that you shouldn't leave your baby and your purse unattended at the grocery?

But this one takes the cake. Momma Dog is dressed and ready to go. I was wondering where those shoes were.

Think I could give Momma Dog my grocery list? Or better yet, can I trust Louisa to babysit while I try to catch up on some zzzzz's?

Hehe. Maybe I should have should change the afore-mentioned Facebook status to:

"I said it this morning on Facebook, with 2 hours of sleep under my belt today I am officially STOOOOOPID. I should not be allowed to make decisions, operate machinery, drive, blog or visit Etsy."

Saturday, October 8, 2011

Not Intended for Children Under 4

Mommy Brain

Ever heard of it? Or do you in fact have it? Urban Dictionary defines it as:

The phenomenon known to mothers where their brains become useless piles of goo after being around their children for too long.

Well...sign me up over here. My poor brain is just S.T. all the time. (By the way, S.T. is short for S.T. Rugglin') I sometimes wonder if people think I am just absent-minded, ditsy, blond or just plain stoooopid sometimes.

I mean, I am not. Promise. I consider myself a smart girl. I made really good grades all through school and graduated salutatorian. But nowadays, I am pitiful. Straight up S.T.

For example - tonight. Poor Lou is not feeling well. She keeps getting plagued by a fever that comes and goes as it pleases. Soon as I think she is better, those poor cheeks are bright red and the babe is burning up again. The cough has set in too and is keeping her up at night, which in turn is keeping us all up at night (which may explain some of the brain issues). Bless it.

So, Nash and I decided to make the trip to the drug store to get Lou some cough medicine since gone are the days of shopping in the sample closet at the pediatric clinic. Sigh. Also, we had kinda been booted out of the house since we were failing to maintain quiet during the football game. Anyhoo, we get to CVS and I knew exactly what I wanted so I walked straight over there and picked it up. I grimaced at the price, so I also picked up the CVS brand and turned them over backwards to compare ingredients and was trying to focus and pay attention despite the noises coming from a certain 7 month old loud enough for the world to hear. Then I read the words "not intended for children under 4."

And this is how the thought process went.

"Well crap. I just gave this to her last night. Wait, I know that she can have this. Hmmm, I think it used to just say not intended for under 2, did they change it? Oh wait, I bet with all the new rules and hoop-la about all the cough meds that they had to up the age to 4. This is fine, right? I mean...I used to recommend this to moms. Shoot."

And this went on for about 10 minutes while I allowed my squealing 7 month old to eat my keys while sitting on the floor. Need I mention my pony tail that had half fallen out of the rubber band, the bobby pins holding up the remains of the front of my hair that didn't make the rubber band list, the flip-flops thrown on with my uniform of gym shorts and an old t-shirt that also happens to now have carrots and green beans on one of the shoulders. If I could have seen myself I bet my brows were furrowed and my ears were red. I also may have wondered if I am ever embarrassed at how I go in public.

But, I checked out anyways and soon as I got to the car I texted my trusty friend that still works as a peds nurse. And this is what it said, "I can give Lou Delsym right? She is about 27# isn't it 1/2 tsp?" And she texts me back saying yes that I can. Okay, phew. I thought so, I am not totally crazy. Then, I texted her saying, "Thanks. I got all freaked out because it says not under 4. Haha." And SOON as I hit send it hit me.

HOLY CRAP. My child is 4. AND a half. Oh my gosh. WHEN did this happen? I mean, I know that she is in pre-K and starts kindergarten next year and just had her 4th birthday...but in my mind she is still 2. Not 4 and a half and certainly not old enough for cough meds. Laws. I ask again, WHEN did this happen?

Was it possibly in the time that I sat in the cough and cold aisle at CVS wondering if I could still give my child a medicine since she was under 4? Geesh.

It is a wonder that at the end of the day everyone is still breathing. I swanny, I used to be really smart. Makes me wonder...have I ever had a blunder like that that I totally didn't pick up on?


Monday, October 3, 2011

What Baseboards?

So, I am just gonna go ahead and throw it out there. A cleaning lady is worth every.single.penny that you pay her.

I mean, I think she is. I have never been blessed with the luxury of being able to pay someone else to clean my house, and honestly...I don't even know what they cost. But, after spending the last 3.5 hours cleaning baseboards, tubs, toilets, moldings, ceiling fans, floors, etc. I am O-V-E-R cleaning my house. And the worst part, I am only half-way done. Ugh.

However, I will have to say that I was glad that I moved one of the sofas to see this poor, pitiful "mango" (that is what Lou calls flamingos) that looks as if he has a broken rope-leg trying so hard to get that popcorn morsel that has probably petrified itself under the sofa.

I mean, he could have choked on that thing! Phew.

And you know what...usually it doesn't matter. I have quickly let go of the need for my house to appear as though no one lives in it. Good thing too since it appears VERY much so lived in. I mean, it is my house. This is where we LIVE. It is gonna be messy. But, pretty soon that will not be okay. Pretty soon, this will appear in our front yard.

And once it does - my house will need to stay forever clean.

That single fact above puts me into the need to have a panic attack. The last time I lived in a house that was on the market, it was fine. I only had 1700 square feet, 2 dogs and a cat to worry about. I now have 2400 square feet, 2 dogs, 1 cat, 2 kids and a home-based 'business' to boot. Holy junks. Are you having heart flutters yet? Because I am.

For alone I have spent 3.5 hours cleaning and I couldn't show it like it is. So, what in the WORLD am I going to do when the time comes?

Never fear, I have come up with 3 options to ponder. Here we go...

Option #1 - sell the house before it hits the market. This is my option of choice. You see, this really is the better option out there. There will be no competition for anyone so no one will be out there driving up the costs (I am secretly giggling as well all know how pitiful the market it). Then I don't have to worry about keeping the house show-ready, dealing with phone calls, trying to photograph it, etc. Oh, and I might even throw in some brownie-goose if that seals the deal. Hehe. Not kidding here, people...

Option #2 - save up some of my brownie-goose money to hire a maid during the time in which the house is on the market. This will allow me some basic help and 'baseline' cleaning to keep it show-ready? I mean, right?? And this option makes me laugh since I fear that I am the sort of person to clean before the maid comes. And in all actuality, I am a house-wife. Isn't that my job anyways? Why do I have such a hard time finding the time to do it?

Option #3 - find a place to live while the house is on the market so that it stays clean. Wow, what a fab idea! I wonder which is cheaper...Option 2 or Option 3. Hmmmm...

Well, at least I have options, right? :) With that said, my maid is being extremely verbally abusive right now and holler obscenities (can you even imagine? the nerve...) about the need to get my booty up from the computer to finish what I started before my husband comes home to find not one, but THREE vacuums in the middle of the floor (his biggest pet peeve). Also, it is about time to stop getting stink-eye from a certain striped kitty who has almost buckled herself into a car seat in the middle of the living room floor (you see what I am working with here?) from her fear of one of the 3 vacuums.

So, are you ready to present me a contract?