Just Call Me Wendy, CD(DONA)!

It's official...I am a certified birth doula through DONA International!  Woo-hoo! 

That's it...just wanted to share the news.

School Fundraisers Stink!

I love my kids' school.  I think the teachers are wonderful.  I do my best to volunteer my time and efforts to help the school as much as I can.  However there is one beef I have about public schools...fundraiser packets. 

Usually the fundraiser is presented to the children in an assembly to pump them up to sell things.  Of course they show the kids that they can win a radio, money, or obscure things like a disco ball or pens that double as compasses if they sell X amount of items.  The kids get excited and bring the packet home to me and ask me to help them sell 42 items so they can get a plastic disco ball light up thingie that looks like it was intended for a preschool rave.  I try to explain that to sell 42 items is a hard thing to do because people don't always need the things that are being sold and all of their friends have parents who are trying to sell the same stuff so the market for their product is pretty saturated.  It's not that I am trying to be discouraging, but I hate to see them get frustrated because the assembly pepped them up for a goal that isn't really reasonable in the first place.  So I buy something I don't really want or need to make them feel better and let them call their grandma with a sales pitch.  The neighbor lady buys some candy and that is about all we get.  They earn a plastic bracelet and feel jealous that Tommy's dad was able to take his catalog to work and sell over 100 items so Tommy gets awarded with a radio in front of the whole school, setting the other kids up for a heaping dose of jealousy and resentment towards me for not being more proactive in selling the random stuff nobody really needs. 

While I am on the rant, have you ever tried to explain to a six year old who doesn't seem to live in the same reality as you do that having 42 items doesn't mean you count the number of cars or that you have to sell 42 of your own toys or that you just own 42 items and therefore you get a prize?  It is enough to make you want to hit the bar before noon.  I tried to explain to him that he has to sell 42 items out of the catalog because he replies "I did!" and I keep trying to tell him he didn't and he insists that he did.  I try about 8 different ways to explain it and he is still walking around talking about the disco ball he will earn.  I give up and pray he forgets about the stupid ball. 

I wish that fundraisers sold things people need, not keychains or cookie dough (don't even get me started on the "Healthy Kids Cookbook" that featured fruit on top of a frosted sugar cookie).  Maybe I'd get excited if they sold natural items that I would actually use.  Reusable gift wrap anyone??

It Was Legendary

**Warning: Graphic description of puke mess...not for weak stomachs.**

Once again the stomach flu found it's way into our house.  It started with Midge and hit me and then went to Bear.  Last night we were dying eggs with the dye from boiled fruits, veggies, and spices.  After we were done Bear went to the couch and watched tv.  He seemed happy but said his tummy hurt.  While I was cleaning up the dye mess he went to the bathroom and came out and told me he had thrown up.  He was so matter of fact and relaxed about it that I didn't think he was telling the truth.  As I went towards the bathroom he told me "I thought I was done so I closed the lid and I threw up on top of the toilet."  When I walked into the bathroom I saw the most heinous of all vomit messes I had ever seen so I walked right back out, grabbing Bear's toothbrush on the way out, and shut the door.  I handed Bear his toothbrush and instructed him to brush his teeth in my bathroom.  With my sleeve over my nose I assessed the damage and decided I needed a plan.  Stephen walked in and asked why the house stunk like BO.  I showed him the bathroom and he looked dumbfounded.  "Really?  On top of the lid?" he marveled. 

Part of being a mom is not making a huge deal over things like puke and potty accidents but this legendary mess was going to take some dramatic measures.  I brought 10 towels, paper towels, cleaner, Lysol, a laundry basket lined with a trash bag and put on gloves and tied two towels over my nose and mouth.  I'm sure I was rebreathing a bunch of CO2 but I didn't care. 

It was everywhere...on top of the toilet, on the seat, in the toilet spattered from end to end of the bowl, down the sides of the toilet bowl, on the toilet brush, on the step stool, on the shower curtain, on the toilet plunger, in the trash can, on the side of the trash can, pooled behind the toilet, on the throw rug, in front of the toilet, on the side of the tub, on the side of the cabinets, and splashed up on the walls and plumbing behind the toilet.  Truly a legendary puke.  It took me about 20 minutes to clean and sterilize.  And I made it through without a single gag.  Yay mommy!

After things were back together I put my sickie to bed.  I knew I could lecture him about the proper way to puke into the toilet but instead I gave my big boy lots of love and told him I hoped he felt better soon.  As I tucked him in I thought about all the things I've done over the years for my kids that are gross, heartbreaking, painful, or that required a great sacrifice on my part.  I find that I don't regret or resent any of my choices or my children for the things I do for them by necessity or by my own free will.  I love my babies more than I can put into words and I would gladly clean up a thousand puke messes if it meant I could still be there to tuck them in at night.