Thank you, Pia. And good-bye.

So, with the holidays and craziness, I haven't had time to write in about 3 weeks.

This last week has been a tough one. My 2 yr. old threw up 3 times on Christmas Eve morning, then my husband started throwing up and having the Big D (you know what I'm talking about) around 9 pm Christmas night, and then I started with both around 3:30 am that night. We both threw up about every 20 minutes for hours. Every thing in our house that could have been thrown up in was thrown up in.

Then, the following day, my mother got it. We sent our 3 month old to stay overnight with my husband's sister to keep him protected, but a few hours after we picked him up from her house the next day, my sister-in-law started throwing up and had to go to the ER twice! Luckily, our newborn has so far been saved from all of this. Babies are born with such strong immunity.

Then, yesterday, I had to have my dog, Pia, put to sleep. It was one of the hardest things I have ever had to do.

She was only six. Her seventh birthday is tomorrow. She had liver failure. She was diagnosed with it in September and had been taking pills ever since. But, in the last month or so, the pills stopped working and she ballooned up with fluid in her abdomen. She has also been using the bathroom on the floor lately because she couldn't make it outside.

I took her to the vet yesterday and he said the pills were not going to help her anymore and from here out, she would be miserable. And I couldn't let her suffer. I've seen dogs suffer because the owners love them too much to have them put down, but I loved her too much to let her suffer. The vet recommended she be put to sleep soon, so I had it done yesterday, before she got too miserable.

Pia was an awesome dog. She was a toy rat terrier and incredibly smart. She had the best instincts. She was kind and loving to kids and she loved me so much. She helped me through some really tough times in my life and she is the one who taught me how to take care of someone else besides myself. She used to lick my face when I cried and she loved to play with her food, like it was a toy. She would take a piece of food, carry it into the living room, and throw it around the room and chase it. She loved going to Grandma's house, loved being outside, and loved taking rides in the car. She knew what I was saying even when I wasn't talking to her. She was the best dog I have ever had and she can never be replaced.

I used to take her to the hair salon where I worked and she would just lie on the receptionist's desk and hang out. She was never a problem.

I'm sad that I only got to be loved by her for six short years. I should have been able to have her much longer.

When the vet left the room to get the anethesia and the meds that stopped her heart, I got to be alone with her and tell her how much I love her and thank her for all the gifts she has given me in the last six years. And then, I held her while she went to sleep.

She was the last bit of my pre-married, pre-parenthood life that I had left. She was the last piece of me that reminded me of who I was before I was making lunches and cleaning thrown food from the walls. And she was the only other estrogen in the house besides me!

I will miss her like crazy and have done more than enough crying in the past two days. And the crying will continue, I'm sure.

She was part of the family. Pia, you will never be forgotten and I love you.

*cough, cough* Can I Have a Sick Day, Please? No? I didn't think so.

So, I haven't been sick since March of 2006. Now, 8 days after I cancel my health insurance, I get sick. Duh.

Luckily, this time, I don't have a fever. Just a severe sore throat, nausea, and a runny nose with drainage down my throat. I started feeling bad yesterday morning and it just got worse throughout the day. By bedtime, my throat hurt so bad I couldn't even swallow liquids.

I couldn't sleep last night, plus I had to get up at 4:45 am to feed my son. Then, at 6:15 am, I felt an unnerving presence, like someone was staring at me as I laid in bed trying to sleep. I slowly opened my eyes and saw my 2 yr old standing next to my side of the bed, staring at me. 6:15? Really? He couldn't sleep for just a little bit longer?

I asked my husband to get up with him since I am sick and he did. However, he promptly fell asleep on the den couch, which sent my 2 yr old son right back into our bedroom to get me up. Then, my newborn started crying in his room, so at 7:30 am, I just got out of bed. So much for sleep.

I began to make my son's breakfast and my husband's lunch, then realized that my husband forgot to go to the grocery store last night. So, at 8:30 am, I took my baggy, bloodshot eyes and unbrushed teeth to the store so I could come home and make a dessert and an appetizer for my girl's night out Christmas party tonight, which I wouldn't miss even if my leg got cut off - I'm not missing my once a month opportunity to be kid-free - and then make bbq chicken for my husband for dinner since he won't eat anything but cereal if I don't make the food for him.

Now, it is 10:24 am. I feel terrible, I am nauseated, and it seems like it is about 8 pm already. As grateful as I am for my blessed life, I sure would like some quiet time and sleep so my body can heal itself.

Can I have a sick day today, please? No? Okay. I didn't think so. Yes, I will make you some chocolate milk. And yes, I will pack your lunch. Please don't pull my hair. Yes, I will sit here and play Star Wars with you. And yes, we can turn on iCarly. And yes, I will clean off the dining room table. And yes, I will wash some of your boxers. Yes, I will change your diaper. And yours too. And yes, I will hold you. And yes, ...

The Showdown

So, oh my goodness.

Yesterday. Oh, yesterday.

I didn't think I was going to make it through.

Make it through what?

I'll tell you what.

THE SHOWDOWN.

That's what.

Here is what happened. And this post might be long, so in case you can't make it all the way through, here is how it ends: I didn't run off and join a clan of traveling gypsies in order to escape motherhood.

So, yesterday was chaotic. My son, Max, had his speech therapy evaluation in the morning and just before we were about to leave, he and our bull terrier were chasing each other around the Christmas tree and my son fell and hit his forehead on the windowsill. We were already running late. After comforting him, drying his tears, and watching a red welp and purple bruise form on his head, we jumped into the car and I realized I had left my mug of green tea inside the house. Oh well, no time to get it.

I zoomed down our street and as I am turning left onto the main road, I see something fly off the hood of my car and smash all over the road. It was my ceramic mug of green tea. I HAD remembered to grab it, I just didn't remember that I had grabbed it and put it on the hood of my car. So, then I had to stop and clean up shattered ceramic off the street. Geez.

Later that afternooon, the day just got worse. My son was super grumpy, he was trying to knock over the Christmas tree, knock over the Christmas decorations, he was running around like a maniac, my newborn wouldn't stop crying unless I held him, I was trying to do everything with one free hand, there was no way I was getting dinner cooked, and then our bull terrier knocked an electric Christmas candle off the windowsill and the bulb broke all over the wood floor. And my son was in his bare feet.

I put my newborn, Harry, in his pack n play and put my 2 yr old son in his crib so I could clean up the broken glass. And as I am cleaning up the glass, I hear a THUD and then the pitter patter of little feet running across the kitchen floor. What the?

A little face peeked around the kitchen door.

Oh, crap. My son finally figured out how to crawl out of his crib. I had been dreading this day.

Finally, my husband came home at 6:30 pm and I was so tired, I crawled into Harry's crib with him and we both fell asleep for an hour and a half!

I woke up at 8 pm with Max trying to climb into Harry's crib and sit on top of us.

After teeth brushing and Star Wars playtime, we tried to put Max down at 8:30 pm.

And THE SHOWDOWN began.

First, Max started by crying and begging to be taken out of his crib. Now, usually, Max is easy to put down. Not sure why he chose last night to bust out the smackdown.

After he cried for a few minutes, he remembered, "Hey! I can crawl out of this little mini prison."

So let the games begin.

For the next 45 minutes, my husband and I took turns returning our son to his crib in Supernanny style. And Max thought it was hilarious. What a fun game!, he thought. You could see the pride on his face. He had outsmarted mommy and daddy!

My husband then decided to turn Max's crib around so that the low front was pushed up against the wall and the high back was facing the room. We thought there was no way Max could crawl over the high back.

And we were right. He couldn't. So, instead, he decided to try and squeeze his body between the wall and the low front of the crib and get out that way.

Suddenly we heard him screaming. My husband ran into his room to find him dangling between the wall and the crib by his neck because his head was too big to fit in between. What if we hadn't heard him screaming? It scared us to death!

So, at 9:30 pm, we decided we had no choice but to transition him and his crib into the toddler bed. My husband took off the front of the crib and we put up the mesh barricade to keep him from rolling onto the floor in his sleep. At first, Max thought it was so exciting that he could get in and out of his bed all by himself. But, that thrill didn't last long.

Once we turned out the light and closed the door, I think he realized that we had taken all the fun out of his new favorite game and he started screaming like I have never heard him scream before. It started out as just screaming out of anger. Then it transitioned into screaming and crying. Then, he just lost it. He yelled and screamed and cried like we were physically torturing him. And even though he could get out of bed by himself, he didn't. It wasn't fun for him anymore. He just sat there in his bed and flailed around screaming.

I checked on him a couple of times, my husband checked on him once, and nothing we did could calm him down.

Finally, at 10:30 pm, I snuck into the hallway outside of his door to listen and see if I should go in again. Suddenly, the green tea I was drinking went down the wrong pipe and I started coughing and choking and making an awful racket. I guess I would flunk out of ninja school.

But, my choking turned out to be a positive happening because my son stopped crying long enough to listen to me outside his door. All the coughing distracted him long enough to calm him down and he fell asleep!

And he slept through the night. Aaahhhhh...

Nap time today should be interesting.