Complaints for a Monday

Emrick and I both came down with colds over the weekend, and I am trying desperately not to let Holly get sick. I’m sure my efforts are pointless, though, since we are pretty much attached at the torso 15-18 hours a day. I’ve been telling Emrick to keep his distance from her as well, which is difficult for him because he loves to give her hugs and kisses. But I’ve taught him to give her a pat on the back rather than a hug, and to kiss her foot (yes, her foot) rather than her cheek. He’s not allowed to touch her hands or her face. Those are the rules, but they haven’t been a breeze to enforce. Back in December, both of the kids and I were sick, but it wasn’t too bad. It didn’t seem to affect their sleep too much, miraculously. If we all must be sick again, I’m hoping it will be similarly mild.

As I type this, I hear Emrick in the kitchen, playing with a plastic container of Cheerios. They’re pretty old, and probably stale, so I don’t really mind that he is scooping them out of the box, and into a bowl, and then dumping them back into the container again. And I don’t mind that some of them are getting on the floor, or that I just heard him say, “Holy crap. Look at all those Cheerios,” although I probably should. I don’t want him going off to preschool in a few months saying, “Holy crap. Look at all those shapes!” Instead, I will teach him to say, “Oh my goodness!” and then I’ll be better about watching my language.

Kids, though. You never know what they’re going to pick up, or what ideas they get from watching you. And some of Emrick’s notions really seem to come out of nowhere. A few minutes ago, he picked up Holly’s teething giraffe after wiping his hand across his nose. I snatched it from him and told him not to touch Holly’s toys while he is sick. Then I took the giraffe to the sink to wash it off. While I rinsed it off, Emrick said, “Mommy’s going to send it down the drain.” I said, “No, honey. I’m just washing it so Holly doesn’t get sick.” Unconvinced, he said again, “Mommy’s going to wash Holly’s giraffe down the drain.”

It’s funny. A few months ago, when I warned him that I would take the tablet away if he didn’t behave, he said, “Mommy’s going to break it.”

“No.”

“Mommy’s going to take it to the sink and get it wet.”

“Uhhh. Nope.”

I don’t know where he gets this stuff! I mean, for the record, I have literally never threatened to destroy one of his toys. Threatening to take them away? All the time. But never to destroy them. All I can think is that maybe he misunderstands my warnings that he could possibly break one of his toys if he is too rough with them as threats that I will be the one to do the breaking.

What I say: “Be careful with that, or it could break.”

What he hears?: “Be careful with that, or I will break it.”

Kids.

Emrick just said, “Yay, Emrick cleaned up all of the Cheerios.” (He still refers to himself in the third person sometimes, but he’s getting better about using “I”). Since Holly was finished with her snooze across my lap, I got up, put Holly in the exersaucer, and checked the pantry floor. Not a Cheerio to be seen. I said, “Great job, Emrick! I didn’t even have to ask you. I’m so proud of you!” And then I gave him a hug. He said, “Yay, Mommy is happy of Emrick and the Cheerios.”

I said, “That’s right.”

He said, “Mommy and Holly and Baby Doll are happy of Emrick and the Cheerios.”

*shakes fist* Darn you, Baby Doll! You are not in this family!!

As soon as Baby Doll gets her first cold, I’ll consider her a Sorensen. Until then, outsider forever!

New topic: I am still working on Holly’s nursery. That pink paint? FIVE coats. FIVE (5). F.I.V.E. I do have that second hand dresser stripped, though, which is good. Next up is a sanding, then priming, painting, and a finishing coat. It’s just nigh impossible to get anything done during the day, especially since Holly is in one of her not-napping-well phases. Also, I have decided to paint the trim a truer white. As you may recall, I decided that the shade of pink I put in the nursery made the yellowy “Dover White” look dingy. So what I’m saying is, it will probably be a few more weeks before Holly gets to move in.

Annnyway, Holly will be six months old on Thursday, which just so happens to be my birthday. I will be [static*mumble*unintelligible*indecipherable*static] years old. I hope we’re not too sick to enjoy it.

Happy Monday, everybody!

P.S. Tonight is the premier of season 2 of Bates Motel. If you missed season 1, you’ve got about 8 hours to binge watch it on Netflix, which I highly recommend. Can’t wait!