Quick, before I get Sidetrack'd

Recognize that number? Yep, that’s poison control. That’s the number I had to call last week for the first time. Why? Because Boo decided it might be a good idea to taste a little hand sanitizer.

Little had used the hand sanitizer and handed it to me while I was typing an e-mail. I set the bottle on the desk and went on about what I was doing. A few minutes later the phone rang and I went into the kitchen to answer it. After a couple of minutes on the phone I came back into the living room to find Boo standing in the desk chair with the hand sanitizer pump in his mouth!

I didn’t (and still don’t) know how much he ingested, and there didn’t seem to be much gone from the bottle, but I could smell alcohol on his breath. So, I called poison control. The kind lady took all the facts, gave me a little advice (give him something sweet to drink, watch him for signs of inebriation), and told me to call back if I had any questions. Fortunately, Boo showed no signs of harm and continued to act and play normally.

Little has been around for three years and I’ve never even thought about having to call poison control. You just never know what Boo is going to get into (no matter how hard we try to keep things locked away!). Boys!

About three weeks ago our vacuum (which has served us pretty well during these 8+ years of marriage) died a smoky death as it cleaned out the dryer vent. With a preschooler and a crazy toddler roaming around this place we really can’t do without a vacuum for even a short period of time, so the search began.

Matt did some research, and we did some shopping, and we settled on a small canister vac that would serve our needs. All the while I dreamed and drooled over the Dyson vacuum that I would love to have but just wasn’t in the budget.

Then…a week after we purchased our vacuum I was notified by 5 Minutes for Mom that I was randomly selected as the winner of their Dyson DC25 giveaway. I was so excited! Matt, being the resident skeptic, was, well, a bit skeptical in the “I’ll believe it when I see it” sort of way.

The following Tuesday our new vacuum arrived. We excitedly opened the box expecting to put together the new toy vacuum and try it. We were unpleasantly surprised to find that the box did not contain the vacuum attachments or, more importantly, the front part of the vacuum (you know, the part that touches the floor and picks up the dirt).

On Wednesday morning I set out to find a way to remedy the situation. I e-mailed the prize coordinator at 5M4M and she got in touch with the PR rep for Dyson. I expected to receive an e-mail saying that they would ship me the missing parts and we would live happily with our new, fully assembled vacuum. When the PR rep contacted me, he was extremely apologetic for the problem and offered, not to get me the missing parts, but to upgrade us to a DC28, Dyson’s most powerful vacuum!

Our new vacuum arrived on Tuesday, and Tuesday night we put it together and tried it. From our first run, I think this is a great vacuum!

God is so good! A super-dooper vacuum was not something we had to have, but is definitely something for which we are thankful. God knows all of our wants and needs, the big and the small, and provides for us in ways that we couldn’t even imagine.

I suppose that at some point in every child’s life he or she has something that lives in the closet be it imagined (monsters) or real (ducks in my brother’s case). For a while now Little has informed me on a semi-regular basis that I have chickens in my closet.

But the chickens don’t just stay in the closet. Sometimes we have to get them off the dresser or out from under the dresser. Sometimes they are playing in the shower. You never really know where the chickens are going to be, but wherever they show up we have to herd them back into the closet.

I’m glad there isn’t something “scary” lurking in the closets around here, but chickens? Where does she come up with these things?

A few months ago MomSelect sent me an offer to receive 4 tickets to the Thomas and Friends Live! On Stage show that is touring this year. Little loves her trains, so I thought it would be a good opportunity to take her to the show. Unfortunately, the tour did not come to West Tennessee, so last weekend we loaded up the kids for a quick trip to Nashville specifically to see Thomas.

The show was cute, and both of my kids seemed to enjoy it. It was definitely corny, but what do you expect from a kids show? It took several minutes before the trains first made their appearance, and Little got a bit antsy waiting for them to come on stage, but once the trains were there she pretty much sat enthralled for the 45 minutes prior to intermission. Boo, on the other hand, clapped and sang and grinned and cheered all the way through the first part. There were several times where they asked for audience participation (make the sound of the train whistle, sing along, call for Thomas, etc), but Little would not participate (while Boo was too young to really understand).

Here are a few things I learned from taking my little people to see the show:

1. Seats in the first tier are better than floor seats (at least at our venue). We were able to get good seats with our passes.

2. An hour seems to be about the extent of my children’s ability to sit still and watch something. They both did great up until intermission, but the 30 minutes after intermission were harder. By the last 15 minutes, Little was asking if it was time to go yet.

3. I will never again drink the fresh-squeezed lemonade at Sommet Center. At least not while eating blue cotton candy. Let’s just say that the kids were fine, but apparently wee babe #3 was not to keen on the combination.

It was a tough weekend for Matt and me, but I’m really glad we had the opportunity and made the effort to take Little to see Thomas. She may not remember going since she’s so young, but she was very excited about it and seemed to really enjoy seeing the trains live on stage.

It was so good he had to lick the plate!

It’s Monday morning. I sit in the waiting room of my OB’s office reading Harry Potter (again) and waiting my turn. This should be a quick visit (with “quick” being a relative term when it comes to the OB’s office) – just the usual weight-blood-pressure-how-are-you-feeling-baby’s-heart-rate-is-good kind of visit.

My name is called and I am ushered to an exam room where I wait a bit longer before the doctor arrives to visit with me. “All seems well,” I tell her. “I’m feeling a bit better; although, I do still have a few moments/days where I feel sick,” I tell her.

She pulls out the doppler and sets to work finding the baby’s heartbeat. A few seconds, and nothing. Several more seconds, and nothing. A full minute, still nothing. The silence that strikes fear in the heart of any expectant mother. The doctor tries to reassure me: “It could just be the baby’s position or the position of the uterus,” she says. But we both know there is also the possibility of miscarriage. “Let’s take a look and see what’s going on,” she says.

So off I go to wait again. In a different set of chairs this time. Praying fervently all the while that everything is okay with this tiny one growing within my body. I feel a couple of tiny little movements that are more reassuring than anything anyone could say. Thank you, Jesus.

The ultrasound tech calls my name. I lie down on the table and she places the ultrasound wand on my belly. “This baby’s heart-rate is great,” she says almost immediately. Relief, gratitude, praise flood my being as I see images of this little one who has, in the last four weeks, begun to look more like a baby and less like a peanut.

The next day I drive down the road listening to my two little people giggle together in the back seat. “How Great is My God” plays on the radio, and all I can think is “Amen!”