Some of my friends have asked me to blog, and while I look forward to reading other people's blogs, my writer's block has gotten in the way. I have a hard time coming up with anything in our lives that is blog-worthy. We lead a pretty quiet life. And while we do have some pretty hilarious moments (have you met my kids?), blogging is putting our lives out there for everyone to see. And judge.
Part of the reason I have held back is because my brother, who is in a public role and who would probably like to eventually be in a role that involves more public scrutiny, might object to some of what I post. Like the KY Jelly story I am going to share in a minute here. He would probably cringe at the story. And to be honest, it makes me want to tell the story even more.
Last weekend, Mike drove up to Seattle with his buddy Woody to have a send-off for their friend York, who is an officer in the Navy and will be shipped off to Iraq in February. I was home with the kids, and Ben was running a high fever. When he was on Tylenol or Motrin, the fever would come down quite a bit, and he was almost back to his usual, trouble-making self. But when the meds wore off, he was lethargic and miserable. We knew it was going to be a rough weekend, but there was no way Mike could miss seeing York before he left.
On Saturday morning, I was giving the kids a bath. Well, a bath in our house is more like a shower with me, and then filling up the tub for the kids to splash and play. Ben's Tylenol had kicked in and he was feeling better. He wanted to get out of the tub, and Mary Beth wanted to keep playing. So I dried him off, got him dressed, and set him up with his Yo Gabba Gabba megabloks, thinking he would be occupied long enough for me to get dressed and dry my hair.
As I was drying my hair, I noticed Ben had abandoned his megabloks. Always suspicious of Ben, I turned off my hair dryer to listen. Eerily quiet. Never a good sign with him. Found him in our bedroom, night stand drawer open, squeezing a very full bottle of KY Jelly onto the carpet and running his hands through it like finger paint. He looked up at me and said, "Uh-oh. Mess, Mama." Thanks for pointing that out, Ben.
I scolded Ben and told him to go play with his toys as I tried to clean up the greasy, slippery mess on the carpet. (FYI KY is water-based, so not too bad to clean up). While I was cleaning the carpet, I heard the toilet flush a few times. Ben LOVES to flush the toilet. Won't use one, but loves to flush it. I hollered at Ben to stop wasting water and go play with his toys. Then Mary Beth yells , "Mom! Something is happening to the toilet!" Oh dear God.
Ben had tried to flush an entire roll of toilet paper. Not unwound toilet paper. All rolled up. Of course, that wouldn't go down, so the toilet was in the process of flooding the bathroom. Ten slow deep breaths. Ten more slow deep breaths. Confine a screaming Ben to his crib so that no more damage can be done to the house as I tackle the new mess. Mary Beth, meanwhile, is starting to freeze in the now-cold bathtub, but I can't take her out because there is a lake of toilet water right in front of the bathtub...
So that's the KY story. Turns out Ben had Roseola and an ear infection on top of it, so I was in for six more days of sick Ben. Ben who decided he wouldn't sleep unless he slept on me. I swear we regressed a full year in velcro-like behavior in one week. He's back to himself today, thank God. Was about ready to sell him to the gypsies.
