Please Don't Report Me

Ian, Joseph and I are sick. Really sick.

Ian was the first to exhibit symptoms including high fever, terrible cough, "productive" sneezing, and a general overflow of mucus. Joseph and I joined Ian several days later. Scott employed positive thinking to avoid this one.

Yesterday I decided a little fresh air may do our bodies some good. Since Joseph was asleep upstairs, we postponed a walk around the neighborhood and Ian and I just went for a stroll in the backyard. I decided my poor satsuma tree needed some moisture, so we came back in to fill a water pitcher.

While the water was running, I heard Joseph coughing, then chocking over the baby monitor. I put Ian down and dashed upstairs. When I got there, Joseph was breathing just fine, so I set about giving him his acid reflux medicine and soothing him back to sleep.

Usually when I leave Ian behind, he protests, demands to know where I am going, and throws a tantrum/hits the blinds/throws things at the satellite box until I return. But as I soothed Joseph, I didn't hear any of this going on downstairs. I smiled to myself and thought it wonderful that Ian was concerned with his brothers safety and was so patiently awaiting my return.

When I did return, about 10 minutes later, Ian was no where to be found. (Cue panicking mother) I looked first to see if I had left the back door open. It was shut tightly. Then I searched in all the usual and unusual hiding places, but found nothing. And then finally, I spotted Ian out the window in the back yard. I guess I had left the back door open, and he had just been nice enough to shut it behind him.

Despite the fact that he was barefoot and strolling among fire-ant landmines, he was perfectly safe. Since Joseph was now crying upstairs, I decided we would take a walk around the block afterall. So I put Joseph in the baby carrier and Ian in his stroller and we set out. Wanting to travel light, we left through the garage and used the code to shut the garage behind us, instead of bringing my keys.

Turns out the boys hated my fresh-air idea, and both cried from the moment we left. Ian wanted his bunny. Joseph hates his baby carrier. Both were hungry and tired. And sick. So I shortened our route and tried to cross a street by driving the stroller off a curb, instead of waiting to encounter a ramp. It was a high curb, but I was still surprised at how long it was taking for the front stroller wheels to hit the street. Ian was still crying. I finally look down and saw that I hadn't locked the stroller into the open position -- it had folded up with Ian's chest pressed to his thighs. So sorry, Ian.

I locked the stroller into the open position, and we proceeded immiediatly home. Both boys were still crying. This walk was such a bad idea.

When we arrived home, I parked the stroller beside me and attempted to open the garage door. The code just wasn't working. I entered the code over and over again. Ian stops crying and starts chanting "Try again! Try again!" So I tried again. Again and again and again.

Finally, my little coach gives up and starts saying "Uh-oh! Uh-oh! Uh-oh!" Eventually I notice that his little voice is getting quieter and quieter.... the stroller that was just beside me was now rolling backwards down the driveway! I ran after him and reached him just as the stroller jolted to a stop in the street. Ian looked nervous, but thankfully was perfectly fine.

I rolled Ian back up the driveway, and now instead of feeling frustrated, I kissed his little blond head and felt thankful a car hadn't come by at just the wrong moment. I tried the code 8 more times, and then finally called a friend to come rescue us. As soon as I dialed her number, the garage door magically lifted open.

We unloaded our weary, sick selves into the house. Ian got his bunny and then went to find his beloved "Dingle Bells", which I'd hung over the front door knob. They were "stuck" and he yanked on them 'til the string split. Dingle Bells and beads showered the front hallway. Now I stay awake at night wondering what hidden corners those little chocking hazards were flung to.

Sigh.