Today I felt like I had so much going on, I just did what I had to do to get through the next level; then, as soon as that step was done, I worked like mad on the next step.
It felt good to have my husband back at work, but I worried about him all day, because I knew he was still in a lot of pain. He likes medicine, "better living through chemistry" he always says, but he also tends to push his limits and wait to take medicine until he's in so much pain it takes a long time to kick in. Also, with his back hurting, he gets in a groove and forgets to get up. So, every hour I sent him a page reminding him to get up and stretch. I also paged him every four hours when he was due for more Tylenol. He came home so grateful and boasting that his co-workers think I'm this great wife! They couldn't figure out why his pager kept going off, so he started showing them the pages. I also send little one or two line notes when one of our boys does something "interesting". They actually thought I was "bothering" him and "complaining", so that's why he started showing them the pages. Anyway, they were all terribly impressed that I would "take the time out of my busy day" to write my husband. The way I figure it, my job as wife and mother is this: 1 - take care of me so I can, 2 - take care of my husband, and then, 3 - take care of our children. Taking care of our home falls into that category as does taking care of everyone's health (and diet). Now. This doesn't mean I do everything for them, but I help guide them along... my three (almost four) year old, Frank, tonight didn't like what he saw me fixing for dinner. So, he got out the tortillas and shreeded cheese, along with a plate to make himself a quesidilla (starch and protien). I ask what he was going to have for a vegetable, he got out a carrot, and ask for the potato peeler and crinkle cutter so he could clean and cut it. Then he took out the trash can (for the peelings) and a cutting board, and fixed his own dinner. He's not even four! I was proud (and a little sad) at the same time. I'm just tickled pink at how he can take care of himself and amazed at "how quickly they grow up!"
On a related note of growing up, when I got out of the shower it was to the sound of the boy’s bedroom door opening. When I stepped out of the bathroom, I found Jack, naked, holding his romper, which he'd unbuttoned (a first) that he’d been wearing in one hand, and a Buzz Lightyear glove in the other hand. He was using the Buzz glove to wipe his butt. Yep. Poppy! Big piles of poop on his carpet next to an empty diaper. I ask Frank “why’d you let your brother get undressed?” Frank turned around and said “What? Oh man! Why’s there poop on my floor!?!” He’d been so busy playing he never noticed Jack undressing or leaving the room. Did I mention I was late to pick up my friend's children this morning?
I've been thinking Jack's ready - at 19 months - to start potty training. Every time he sees someone near the toilet, he wants to sit on his potty, and he ALWAYS PEES in it! This kind of pushes it over the edge for me; next week perhaps we'll start. Once I got the carpet cleaned up, I picked up my friend's two boys. For the second day in row, I watched four boys (ages 19, 26, 44, and 47 months). Our friends are moving and trying to organize a huge, blow-out, sell-everything-they-own yard sale. They are also 7 months pregnant with their third child (a girl).
I'd offered to go over and help prep things, but then we realized that I'd be a much bigger help to just take the kids for a few hours at a time. Also, the boys have much more fun playing over here unincumbered by boxes of stuff they can't touch and able to delve into toys galore - inside and out. It's so nice how they are getting old enough to play more or less on their own and together. I can supervise from the kitchen window and still be doing my own thing in the house.
Speaking of "my own thing", I have a Library (ie: junk room) that I wanted to devote 30 minutes to before going to bed tonight, so, I'm off!