Quarantine

It is that time of year when we are all sick. I have an ear infection and sinus infection while the boys both have strep throat.

Now, I don’t want to point fingers but I can say with some certainty that the culprit in bringing these germs into our midst was the Mud Puddle. I make this bold claim based on several known facts:
1. His best friend du jour (he switches twice a week it seems like) had to cancel a play date last week because he had strep.
2. The MP’s ‘strep’ circle is much wider than either Scott or me in terms of the number of people he comes into contact with on a daily basis who are covered in bacteria and have dodgy personal hygiene habits (this is about age not lifestyle – kids don’t wash their hands enough: fact).
3. He was not acting the least bit sick

After both Scott and I are diagnosed with our infections I decide I should probably take the MP to the doctor’s just to make sure that everything is ok.

What amazes me is the doctor’s ability to treat me as though I am an illiterate, unwed 12 year old raising my child in a car trunk ( see previous post: http://loveymudpuddle.blogspot.com/2006/03/sicko.html ) the first time and then this time treat me as though I suffer from that syndrome known as Munchausen by Proxy.

So this visit I was the crazy lady with the clearly healthy kid. The doctor checked his throat and said “Well his tonsils look a little red so we will go ahead and give him a strep test” (‘just to shut you up’ being the implied conclusion to THAT sentence). To which the MP and I replied in unison “HE/I don’t have any tonsils!!”
She looked at both of us, looked at the chart, looked back in his throat and said “Well they are little, they might be leftover tissue or they are growing back.” Um right.

The MP took this opportunity to look at me and whisper “They are not going to have to take them out AGAIN are they?” to which I replied “No” but in further research have discovered the correct answer is “probably not”. Seriously, I could not deal with that again without being sedated
(see: http://loveymudpuddle.blogspot.com/2006/06/in-came-doctor-in-came-nurse.html ).

So they take the throat swab and we sit and wait to get the results while he reads me a fourth grade level book about dinosaurs (he is so smaht!).
The doctor comes back in and surprise, surprise he has strep. We get our prescription for the pink stuff. The doctor has since stopped looking at me like I am a Kook and more like a mom who knows her kid and we beat feet out of there.

One of the stipulations of going back to school once diagnosed with a communicable illness is you need to be on antibiotics for 24 hours. So he was riding the couch for a second day.

Please remember I am sick, Scott is sick and the MP is sick but the only one not acting like it. Really all I wanted to do was sleep. All the MP wanted to do was whoop it up.

Bored with watching tv and playing with his toys he dressed himself all in black, put a towel over his arm and said he was going to wait on us.

He cleaned up his toys (I nearly fainted in shock over that one) and kept trying to serve me lunch. I wasn’t eating lunch – it was his lunch he kept trying to give me. Finally I asked him for a can of Tab (my drink of choice).
He went to Scott and said “Where do we keep the Tab?”
What is it with men and their inability to find things?
The Tab is in a big pink box with the letters T*A*B* on it located on the left hand side of the top shelf of the refrigerator where it has been kept SINCE BEFORE HE WAS BORN.
He proceeds to drop the can on the floor TWICE and brings it to me. Good help is hard to find.

He set up a dog spa and offered to give the dogs massages (they declined).

Next he made me fill out forms before giving me a massage the whole time insisting I would love The Hammer (which was his version of the karate chop). I finally relented and said I would take the massage if we both could take a nap.

He tucks me into bed, proceeds to knead and chop my back and head (ouch!) and whispers “Get some rest my sweet angel”. To which I am laughing so hard I am crying. He finally headed out to watch some Spongebob and I take a quick nap.

That kid is going to make a good salesman someday.

Mud Puddle Soup

So the MP was inspired by Scott’s extraordinary soup making skills and decided to try his hand at it last night.

First, he had me fill a pot with warm water because his feet were cold.

He soaked his feet for 15 minutes until they were warm while reminding me he was not spilling any on the floor and yelling at the dog for looking at him.

Then he removed his shirt and dunked his head in the water. No, I don’t know why.

He rinsed the pot with warm water (and no soap as near as I could tell) while singing “Sun, sun, Mr. Golden Sun” still shirtless.

He added more warm water, cherry tomatoes, celery (chopped by me after taking the scissors away from he – we do not cut celery with scissors!!), and salt.

He let it sit while he took a bath with more singing.

He added cinnamon.

He served Scott and I each a bowl and we had to eat it.

My belly just rumbled while typing this.

I believe I should get a new badge for my Mommy sash for eating foot/head/celery/cinnamon soup and not barfing.