The past 25ish hours have been one rollercoaster ride. It started with Trace spiking a 101.3 fever right before bed. I gave him Tylenol and sent him off to bed. When I got up to check on him about 4 1/2 hours later (so the meds still should have been in his system), he was fire burnin' fire burnin' on the dance floor. (That's right- I just referenced Sean Kingston.) I got him up, took his temp, and discovered that he was running a 102.7 fever. Greeeeat. (Tony the Tiger... that just happened.) So I go to dose him on Tylenol again, and less than five minutes later, my poor little man is heaving like the sea. Less than five minutes after he started heaving, he threw up all of the Tylenol I'd just given him. Awesome. So I brought him to bed, fearing that if I put him right back in his crib, he'd throw up and choke on it. Not a good scenario. However, bringing him to bed was also not such a great scenario. He laid quietly snuggled next to me for a while, just twirling his Winnie blanket ears in the dark... until he decided to sit straight up, stare at the open door, point, and start having a conversation with someone- someone who wasn't there. He babbled nonstop, throwing words in like "Mama" "Daddy" and "Way Way" (Rhea Rhea), not to mention "hi" "hola" and "wasat?", for about three minutes. Then he paused, like he was listening, and began babbling again. This went on for about ten minutes, when he flipped over so we were tummy to tummy, and settled down. I was almost asleep, and so was he, when he decided to pop up and start smacking Nate on the back. (Since Nate sleeps like a rock when he's out-out, he didn't feel a thing!) At that point, I decided it was time to put wee Willy Winky back in his bed.
Now, Rhea has this issue with thunder all of a sudden. Whether there's thunder out or not (more often- not), she FREAKS out if she thinks she hears it. So my alarm goes off at 6:35, as it does every morning, and I get out of bed with the full intention of showering, studying, and getting some coffee into my system. But when I went in to check on Trace, he woke up. I was rocking him, and he was almost back to sleep, when the back of the glider tapped the wall ever so lightly. Next thing I know, Rhea is up SCREAMING "MOMMY! THERE'S THUNDER!" Needless to say, there went my plans for a tranquil, peaceful morning. (I eventually got to shower at 5:30... sweet.) I cringe to think of what the spring's going to hold for us, seeing as how she freaks out about trains (the tracks are across the street and behind the houses- we can see the trains running from our front windows), airplanes (we're right in the path of the landing fields at O'Hare), and just about any other loud possible noise. Car doors, the Dumpster being rolled to/from the street on garbage day, subwoofers, the rolling shower doors, and apparently now, a tap from a glider in the next room. It'll be a party for sure!
In the middle of all this, it's midterm week. I had a big paper due in my lit class today and I was kind of doing the spazzy dance about how I was going to get it up to campus. Adam sat with Trace while he napped this morning so I could run Rhea to my mom's (JT turned 1 last week and today was his birthday party- Rhea was jazzed!), and I came home and finished editing and proofing my paper. Oh, and assembling the dreaded bibliography. Why on earth are there so many friggin' different styles of formatting?! And what on earth is Chicago format?! I'm a Chicago area native, and I have never in my life ever heard of Chicago formatting. So there's MLA, APA, and Chicago- I bet someone in Big Sky came up with Chicago style. I mean, what is there really to do in Big Sky, Montana other than stare up at the, well, big sky? This is all speculation of course, seeing as how I've never been to Big Sky, let alone anywhere near Montana. But I digress. Luckily for me, my professor (who rocks my socks, by the way) was kind enough to email me (just as I was hitting panic mode) and give me permission to submit my electronic copy to her and hand in my hard copy next class. Crisis averted, I did just that! And now, I really should be studying for my midterm for Thursday morning, but my brain is so fried that I don't even want to think about it. But I will. Who knew there were so many women in biblical literature to study for a midterm?! Trust me- there's a lot.
Moving right along, I was told by my mom that Rhea was "really really sweet with JT." Aww, what a doll... considering she got a spanking for kicking sickboy right in the face today. Sigh. I swear, sibling rivalry is proving to be wiiicked. Although, she about melted my heart tonight when we met my cousin for dinner at Maggiano's (*swoon*) and we passed a mom carrying her infant daughter, and Rhea looked at me and said "Mommy, look at that sweet baby girl! She looks like my baby sister Faith! Will you give her to me soon?" Well, let's clear some things up. 1.) I am not pregnant, nor do we plan to start trying for at least another year. I'm free and clear to deliver anytime in late December of next year, which is when my classes will be officially over and my bachelors will be officially complete. I won't walk until February 2013, which gives me a decent recovery window. Yes, I've thought this all out. 2.) We don't have a baby girl, let alone a baby girl named Faith. 3.) While I love the name, we haven't even begun to think baby names, because as I mentioned in point 1, I'm not pregnant. 4.) Rhea does surprisingly well in fooling me into thinking that she's finally realized that her sibling is a baby boy named Trace and not a baby sister named Tracy... until she has moments like the one I just described. Then I really begin to wonder what I'm not saying to get her to make the connection...
On another note, the first signs of spring have officially entered the Klinger house. I mean that literally. I was sweeping the house, and from out underneath some toys comes flying at me (right at me- my life flashed before my eyes) was a hundred thousand legger. That's slang in our house for a centipede. Gross. Every year, they're rampant and we have no idea where they come from, but last spring, I almost died because there was one that we just could not kill. That damn thing showed up in every room of the house at all hours/times/days- shower, kids' room, our room, living room floor (while I was watching a scary movie- in the dark, of course), laundry room... until Nate finally used his stealthy Spidey sense and splattered that fat monster on the kids' wall. Since then, Nate believes he's Miyagi and takes out flies in one fell swoop of his hand. I now find no need for an exterminator. Back to my gross disgusting centipede, who knew that I was so stealthy with broom bristles? That thing was dead with about 10 good whacks of the bristly end of my broom. Rhea wanted to know "why I was spanking the floor" and Jesse wanted to know if it was edible. It twitched, she flipped, and quit trying to eat it. Good call, Fattycake. Good call.
Anyway, that, in a nutshell, was my crazy day. Now I really do need to go study. For realsies. If only Nate would quit sawing logs on the couch next to me, that would be most ideal.
Night all!
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