Taylor: The Bee Incident

My daughter is pretty much the quiet rational child. I think it is in large part because she is the middle child. She has witnessed the boys' stellar decision making skills and has pretty much done the opposite. In fact, when she was little I use to tell her that I was going to put a cow bell on her because I could never find firgure out where she was because she was so quiet.

In fact, I used to tell call her my little Ninja because I was constantly freaking out when we were out in public. Most of the time I would look for her and call out and she would say, "I am right behind you mommy."

But this praticular night she demonstrated that she was truly my child. Here level-headed behavior went right out the window with one little insect.

It was late Saturday afternoon and all three of the my kids wanted to go to the park to play. Since there is a playground in the complex I had no objections. I planned to start dinner and work on some school work.

Not even five minutes later, my oldest child charged in the house and proclaimed that Taylor was stung by a bee and she is on her way upstairs.

So I hunkered down in the living room waiting for the child like I was waiting for a hurricane to make land fall. She flew in the door with hystericial fury.

"MMMMMOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMM, it hurts," she exclaimed with tears in her eyes.

Logan just looked at her and walked out the door as if to say, "yeah I am not sticking around for the drama."

"What happened?" I questioned.

Well I would try to give the full conversation but it was pretty much incomprehensible. The jist of it was she was on the playground and bee stung her finger.

I took her into the kitchen and washed the area while simtaniously trying to convince her that it was okay for me to examine it. I had to promise I would not touch it. 

I have never been stung by a bee but I have been stung by a wasp when I was pregnant with Taylor. I was at my OB/GYN's office when it happened. My doctor put tobacco on it. All the modern medicine in the world and he gave me tobacco.

  We had no tobacco in the house at the time. So I posted on my facebook status I needed help and started  to google.

Taylor who was now holding her finger and making wierd whimpering noise began making sense again.

"Mom, why would a bee do this to me. I never hurt animals, in fact I am nice to all of them. I never hurt bees mom," she inquired with these huge horse tears in her eyes.

"Baby, the bee has no way of knowing that you are a good person, it is just their instinct," I said and pulled her close to me.

Balancing her and my computer, I continued to google bee stings. At that time, my mom called on my cell. She apparently had seen my facebook status and had a solution. She wanted to put bleach it. The moment I asked her what bleach would do, Taylor had looked at me as if to see.......you are NOT putting bleach on my wound.

I was not putting bleach on the sting because I did not have bleach and the idea of doing that seemed wrong. So I put ice on her sting and that seemed to help her for a while. It calmed her down until daddy came in the room, then suddenly she was hysterics again.

I would love to tell you the conversation she had with my husband, but once again it was incomprehensible.  But it ended with........."AND grandma wants me to put bleach on it."

Joe looked at me and said, "Your not putting bleach on it."

I rolled my eyes, of course I was not putting bleach on it.

Taylor and I snuggled on the couch for an hour and she was finally calm enough to eat dinner. Then one of my FB friends told me to put a penny on it. Taylor loved that idea. So we took a penny and put it on her finger and covered it with a bandaid. She was happy for the rest of the night. The next morning she informed me that it worked but her fingered had changed colors.

So am not sure if it worked or helped her pshycologically, but it calmed her down.

  My mom to this day insists bleach was a better alternative.



The Plastic Fork: A Logan Classic

There are some things your kids do that you never will let go much less let them forget. Not to mention, there is a good chance I might still be mad.   I was telling this story in public the other day in a public place and people in the room started laughing. So I knew I must put this online and share it with the world.

I believe there is a moment in every parent life when they wonders if perhaps someone dropped your child on their head and did not tell you.

That moment for me came when Logan was in 4th grade.

I exaggerated a bit in my last blog, I do not hate all school functions. At Glen Springs Elementary, they did a fundraiser an annual fundraiser for the Safety Patrol DC trip. They had a school yard sale and parents could buy a table for 5 bucks and sale their own items. This was a highly successful fundraiser. It was easy to get parents to participation. I was one of those parents who was happy to buy a table.

I packed up some useless stuff that was collecting dust and made my oldest son accompany me to the yard sale. The day was pretty successful and towards  the end of the morning I let Logan play with one of his classmates. I thought.....what trouble could this child get into on school premises. That was not the brightest thought I have ever had.

After about 30 minutes, Ms. Haile(why is all assistant principal named Ms Haile, I bet there is some statistic that supports it) came out of the school with my son who was looking incredibly guilty.

This child which I carried in my body for nine months, kiss his boo boos, held while he cried, and fed noodle soup when he was sick, had managed to get in trouble for one of the dumbest things ever in the universe.

Logan was caught in the teachers' snack room trying to break in the snack machine with a plastic fork. That is right you read right, a plastic fork. I am not creative enough to make this up.

My son, who up until that moment, I never questioned his intelligence got suspended in the 4th grade for trying to break into a snack machine with a plastic fork.

Now to make this story even funnier, I just asked this teenager of mine if it was a fork or a knife because I was not entirely sure if it was a fork.  He walked into the living room and said, "Do you want to know the truth, " I was not sure at this point, "it was both."

Fortunately he was not a alone. Somewhere in Florida, Logan's accomplice possibly has to hear his mom tell people the story about the day her son tried to break in a snack machine with this weird Logan kid.

Joey: And The Amazing Barkley

Yep you got it, another about poor Barkley.

Most people know that I am not a morning person at all. The two oldest are definitely not either. However Joey wakes up with a smile on his face every morning and Saturday is no exception. Most of the time if we are asleep he will crawl on the couch and watch Spongebob until we get up.

It was about 830am last Saturday. I was laying there cursing the fact I was awake and wanted to sleep in. I heard something and I got up to investigate the noise. I opened the door and saw Joey laying the couch watching cartoons.

"Are you okay, buddy," I asked.

"Yes mommy, I am watching Spongebob," he said in his sleepy little voice.

"I am going to lay down for a few more minutes. Watch cartoons and I will be up soon."

"Okay mommy."

I looked down and Barkley was whining to get into Logan's room. So I opened the door for him and he ran in there.

I laid back down telling myself that Joey is seven and able to be left in the living room. In the middle of my justification, I heard this loud kitty scream right outside my door.

I flew out of bed and opened the door and there Joey stood looking guilty.

I asked, "What happened?'

"Mom, Barkley closed his tail in the door," he said super quickly.

"What?"

I could see the wheels turning in his head. Was mom going to buy it? Guess not, I should change my story.

"It was an accidennnttttt."

So I grabbed the cat and he seemed fine, annoyed but fine. I put him down and he ran away.

Then I looked at Joey again and did not say a word.

"Mom it was an accident."

A thousand questions went through my mind. Why was this child in the hall? Did I not just tell this child to stay on the couch and watch Spongebob? Why in the heck am I up this early?

And the anger started to build.

I looked at him and snapped, "Go lay down on the couch. "

I went back to bed cursing. Too mad to sleep, I finally got up and went into the living room.

Later that week we were discussing his lying problem and I reminded him of the fact that he lied to me about Barkley.

He looked at me without hesitation said, "No I didn't"