We've been inundated with smoke the last few days, from the Canyon Fire near Highway 178 in the mountains to the west of us. The smoke comes and goes -- sometimes we have bright blue skies, and sometimes you can't see any of the mountain ranges that encircle us and the smoke swirls down like low fog.
A couple of weeks ago there was a fire a few blocks from us and you could see a huge plume of smoke from our front yard. You could also hear ALL the fire engines rushing to the fire. It made a big impression on Baby A, who adores fire engines. Now when I say something about the smoke from the Canyon Fire, Baby A says "Moke! Bire tuck!" and I agree that fire trucks need to do something about all the smoke.
I'm very sensitive to smoke under any circumstances, but right now I'm also still recovering from my latest weird bug, so when the smoke is thick I cough a lot. The babies take notice of this too, but what they say is "Mommy bow up!" which means "Mommy throw up." This is in reference to what I did when I came down with their stomach flu on Tuesday. Baby A had it way back last Friday and then no one came down with it all weekend, so I thought we were going to get lucky. But no, Baby B didn't want to eat dinner Monday night, and then Monday evening we heard him crying. We went in their room to investigate and found him, and his bedding, just drenched in vomit. Took off the sheet and blanket and mattress cover and his PJs, replaced everything, threw the stuff in the washer (without rinsing it off first -- oh, big mistake). An hour or two later more crying, back in again, vomit all over everything again, change sheet and blanket and mattress pad and PJs. The third time was after we'd gone to bed, so Rocket Boy got up and just did a minimal change. The fourth and fifth times were handled by me, and Baby B had already gone back to sleep by the time I got there, so I just left him. (We had run out of sheets and mattress pads by then in any case.) There was a bit more clean-up in the morning. But after that he was OK.
But Tuesday I was a zombie -- from the interrupted sleep, but also because I was coming down with the same thing. I thought it was just the mild nausea caused by the antibiotic I'm taking, but no. It got worse and worse all day, reminding me intensely of being pregnant. I got weaker and weaker, sicker and sicker, and finally in the late afternoon I went to the bathroom (accompanied by my two faithful followers), knelt down, coughed, and did the deed. Babies were extremely interested, and kept shouting "Mommy bow up! Mommy bow up!" I recovered enough to call Rocket Boy at work, hoping he would take the hint and come home early, but he didn't, he came home late. How I love my husband.
Wednesday they went to daycare in the afternoon and I spent the whole time (except the driving to and fro) in bed.
Today I felt a lot better, but I was still coughing from the smoke. And every time I coughed, boos decided I was going to throw up. For instance, I started coughing in Albertson's, while choosing tasty frozen food items. "Mommy bow up!" Baby A shouted at a woman standing next to us. "No, Mommy is not throwing up, Mommy is coughing," I corrected him. The woman moved away from us, just in case.
Meanwhile the boos appear to be entering a nudist phase. They have learned how to take off a t-shirt and shorts -- and so they do, every chance they get. In the evenings, when we go out to see the tortoises, they take off their diapers too. Since our yard is chock full of "owies," I foresee disaster, but they are unconcerned. I know this is all a part of growing up -- someday they will learn how to put ON their clothes too, and then my life will get that tiny little bit easier -- but right now it is annoying.
On the other hand, it is convenient for potty training, which I have not been paying any attention to at all recently. (I keep saying I'm going to start again "when we're all healthy," in other words, when hell freezes over.) But when the boos have taken all their clothes off anyway, they might as well sit on their potties and do pee poop.
So this morning we were doing that, and Baby A happened to grab a ponytail holder I had in a dish on my bathroom counter. "Mommy bow up!" he said to me. Even though I'd been hearing "Mommy bow up!" endlessly the last 2 days, I didn't translate it properly. I thought he was saying "Mommy blow up." "No, sweetie, it's not a balloon," I said stupidly. "It doesn't blow up." "Mommy bow up!" Baby A insisted, so I showed him how I used it to make a ponytail. And then it came to me -- when I throw up, if I have more than 15 seconds notice, I put my hair in a ponytail so that I won't throw up in my hair. This is one of those tricks you learn when you're pregnant. And yes, I did it on Tuesday. So now I guess the boos associate ponytails with vomiting.
My little prayer to the porcelain god (there's a phrase from college days) obviously made quite an impression on the boos. Almost as much as a fire.
Any day now we are going to be healthy again. Any day now.
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