I got rid of the children today. I didn't get up nearly as early as I would have liked but I was still able to cook and get them dressed and out of the house so I could have a full day of peace and quiet. The problem with having a whole day to myself is the struggle to do absolutely nothing. There's always some little voice reminding me of some little thing I meant to do, but couldn't get to it before.
I've never been able to spend an entire day sleeping or doing absolutely nothing. I blame my mother for this. She wasn't the type of mother to promote sleeping in on weekends and even though I remember my siblings and friends accusing me of laziness, I learnt to wash clothes by hand, cook, sweep, clean the stove and fridge and much more. People have this crazy idea that you're supposed to like doing these things. That's a myth. You just need to make sure and get them done and out of the way to make room for the things you really like doing. And do them properly, otherwise it will mean doing it again. I learnt this early on and with the chores carefully out of the way, I settled into my bed with a good book. As an adult, I've learnt to appreciate some of my chores because it gives me five minutes of alone time to cool my head. In these moments, the screaming and fighting doesn't penetrate my brain and I am at peace.
Funny enough, now that I'm grown, my mother expects me to get a rest when I am home without the kids. And believe me I try, but once I stifle that little voice, I keep thinking of all the fun things I could be doing without them here. I can watch a movie, uninterrupted. I can actually listen to music without getting a song request. I could play fb games, finish that novel I've been working on... the list is endless. Want to know what really happens? I'm so exhausted that I don't do any of those things and then I still can't sleep because its so hot. Do you know what the kids think I do? Have a ball. Its usually evident by the way they come home on evenings peeping around the house as if they expect to find some clue as to what I've been up to. Shakir, in particular, will look at me with an expression of annoyance and ask me where I went and what I did. It isn't because he feels I should be enjoying my freedom, but rather because he can't bear the thought that I had a good day without him.
But today, as much as I wanted to move the whole house and put back again and start a number of projects I've been meaning to get started on, the honest truth is, my body refused to cooperate. I was like Elmer Fudd, without that screwy wabbit and I had my west and wewaxation whether I wanted it or not.
Today was the first time in a few weeks since I last visited my mother's house and as mothers are, she was disturbed by my rather nasty cough. Now even though I have two kids of my own and I have over ten years experience in the health sector, my mother would be the first to tell you that her more than thirty years of parenting trumps all that. Even though I assured her that I was taking medication, she determined that it was clearly not working and since we were going by the supermarket, my mother decided that she was going to buy me medicine that would work. I don't know how it is that mothers manage to find the nastiest forms of medication for their kids to guzzle down, but I made up in my mind that like it or not, if it was going to work, I would guzzle whatever poison she gave me.
And so it happened that when we got back to her house, I read the directions which said: "shake the solution vigorously." I became disturbed. Anything that refers to itself as solution did not bode well. I mean, solutions are what we use to clean toilets, tiles and stoves. Still I ventured on. The directions indicated that the serving size for adults and children over twelve is 10ml - the equivalent of two spoonfuls. I used the little measuring cup to ensure I poured the right amount and said a hearty prayer that if I should surely perish, that everyone would know that it was my mother who had caused my demise. Then, for reasons that remain unknown to me, I sniffed the darned solution and nearly had a coronary. Anytime you are about take medication, unless you are duly prepared, please take my foolish advice and don't smell it. It could mean the difference between life and death.
I don't think that I need to mention here that I hate taking medication, but if you haven't figured that out as yet, take note that I do not like it at all. If you are ill, you can be sure that I can probably suggest what remedy would work best. In fact, I will probably help to administer it if you are prone to dramatics, but I hate taking medication myself. But, even at my age, the truth is that I was not prepared to walk past my mother without taking the medication. I am not woman enough yet. So, I let her know that my demise was solely on her head and she cheerfully ignored me as I tossed the brownish liquid down the hatchet. The thing burned a passage down my throat, chest and gut and I let out a loud, high-pitched wail. Three times, I made this sound in an effort to recover and three times, I could I hear Jaheim make a similar sound. How good that little critter must have felt to see me getting a taste of my own medicine - literally. And as if to further prove my point, I heard his little chuckle and looked up to find his eyes, bright with laughter, on me. He is lucky that the bottle bears a warning that this solution should not be given to children under twelve.
When you sign on to be a mom, you have this fantasy that your children will be sympathetic to you in sickness and other crazy foolhardy ideas like that. The truth is, you tell them what to wear, what to do, where to go, you spank and / or punish them and force them to drink nasty concoctions all in the name of keeping them well or making them feel better. Think about it. These little critters are glad for one moment when something happens to show you up and you better believe that they will be the ones laughing the hardest. I don't mind. Honestly, I don't. Let them enjoy these rear occasions.
Another thing you never stop to think about: mothers don't get sick days. Despite however you may feel, you've got a responsibility to those that call you mom. Its the same if you're a super hero. The world doesn't stop needing you just because you've got a runny nose. And mischief and mayhem seem to pick up a secret radar just when you're at your worse. Today, my mischief and mayhem came in the form of Jaheim. But until he became tired and restless, it was a cute and playful type of mischief. I wish I could tell you now, but this post is about my mother - the original super hero.
Looking after four children will either make your day go by pretty fast or slow, depending on your perspective. My whole week feels as if it went by in a blur. On Monday, which was by far the best day for me since I hadn't started feeling sick yet, we had our own special session of karaoke. Now if you could just picture three year old Makayla up on her toes with her arms draped around Shakir as the two of them danced to Gorg's I Got My Rum, then you would surely have insight into the blast I had. And watching Shakir try to flip and break dance is always a treat. I swear I have to send that boy to an actual expert to learn these moves for real. Renee, the budding singer in the crowd, stole our hearts with Fireflies, while Jaheim took to drumming.
Now, I feel it necessary to say that on an ordinary day, I have two budding musicians. They alternate between drumming and playing the guitar. Needless to say, most days I have a headache. I grew up among musicians - two sisters and a brother. My younger brother and I were the renegades, but since he had DJ plans, I dare say he is also a musician. Me, I am an artist and writer most days and a super hero on others. It stands to reason that my boys should at least inherit one of my talents, instead of ugh music. So anyway, the karaoke seemed like a good idea and we continued with favourites like Rude, Chop My Money, Roar and Club Can't Even Handle Me. If I had a bigger floor space, I swear I could have videotaped the dancing and put together a better music video than some of what we see on youtube, but I digress.
We had so much fun singing and dancing that when everyone was fed and had a little rest, it seemed like a good idea to take the fun outside. I took the skipping rope with us and I decided to see if I could still skip. I was doing okay until I realised that the pain in my ankle was getting worse with each jump. That's when I noticed it was swollen. It tried to put me out of commission all week, but I'm a stubborn chick. I think that's when the cold decided it was going to join the fight and yesterday, the swollen ankle, hurt wrist, aching back and cold really confined me to indoors.
I told those kids I wasn't feeling well and that actually translated in kiddie terms as: "do as you like today and have a ball because I'm not able to say or do anything about it." I gave them a lot of leeway but then it was like we were trying to copy Abbott and Costello's Who's On First scene when it got to be too much and I asked Miss Makayla who's in charge. Her response, "nobody."
Flabberghasted, I repeated the question to get the same answer again, so I tried a different approach. "Who is the adult here?"
When I found myself repeating the same questions to Jaheim a few seconds later to get the same answers, I knew it was time to put them on time-out. I put them across the bed and tried my utmost to relax and settle myself, but there's something about four quiet children in a house that doesn't bode well with my spirit and sleep remained elusive.
Early every morning, my two year old goes to the refridgerator in search of sweets. I can't count the endless times I have had to say no sweets or wrestle a sweetie from his tight little fists. You'd think the next day would be different, but noooo. He is nothing if not persistent.
Anyway, I had three packs of skittles - one for Renee, one for Shakir and one for Jaheim. Shakir and Jaheim ate theirs. I told Renee to take hers home because I could not promise that they would be safe from Jaheim. She forgot. I don't think I have to tell you that since last night, the skittles have been on countdown. Twice, I told Jaheim no.
Today, unexpectedly, I went to town, forgetting that I would see Renee so as you've guessed, I didn't leave home with the skittles. I overheard Shakir telling her that she had left them behind. "Yes, I know," she said. "Did you eat them?"
"Don't eat them, please. You can bring them for me when we go back to school."
"You know we have another week home?"
"Yes, I know."
As I listen to this exchange, I'm thinking that she is having this conversation with the wrong boy. Shakir - you can reason with him. But Jaheim! I shook my head, quietly thinking that even Shakir won't be able to save those skittles even if he were to try.
Well, when we came home, the children had a little siesta and afterward, Jaheim disappeared and returned with the skittles in hand. "Jay," I say, "those are Renee's. You can't eat them."
Face solemn and serious, he responds, "me gine have to buy one for she."
"Me going to buy back one for Renee."
Needless to say, the skittles have gone to a better place.
Ordinarily, the story would end there, but tonight, he called up his grandfather again and told him he had to buy more skittles.
As a mother, you learn to give the illusion of not being able to hear, while remaining alert. This particular power serves well to learn new things - things that would not ordinarily be revealed to you otherwise.
On Tuesday, I took the children to the library so that they could have a quiet and cool place to do work. Walking slowly behind them to ensure that they keep in line, etc. I heard Shakir say to Renee that his goal is to be a super hero so he can defeat Super Mom. "Who is Super Mom?" She asked, to which he responded, "my mummy. That's what she does call herself!"
Ordinarily, it is something to be proud of when your kids aspire to be like you, or when they strive to be better than you in your profession, but in this case, something dark and primal built inside me. I cannot believe that this child really plotting my defeat though! You see why children need to be punished? You try your best with them and in the end, it all comes down to them to make the choices that could very well cause their downfall. Obviously, he will be annihilated like others who have tried. Someday, I might be persuaded to tell the tale of my defeat of the Super Villian that I now call my husband.
Speaking of illusions, I am reminded of how super hero children are born with powers of their own and how they choose to use them. For instance, from the time Shakir was a few days old, I realised that he possessed a great power that I had never even imagined. This child used to scream from around to 11pm until about 2am, refusing to sleep. I used to sing, dance, cry, try to reason with him, but he wouldn't stop. Amazing how one so small could have such power to control. Even my father used to get up sometimes and do a few spins with him. Well one night, I decided that my will was stronger than his and I turned off that nightlight, plunging the room into complete darkness and do you know that worked? I wish an older me could have appeared to the younger me in the hospital and say, "this is the secret". To this day, that child still doesn't like to sleep. During the day if I tell him he needs a nap, he will lay still and quiet, giving the illusion of being asleep. When it feels like a long time has passed, I see him stretch and yawn and I'm to believe that he has just awoken. SMH.
Even Jaheim has his own special powers. So far, it seems only I am immune to them... oh and a select few others. With just a smile, I've seen big people melt and gush about how cute he is and then they let him do just about anything. You hear things like, "he's just a baby. He doesn't know any better. Cuddear, don't lash him." SMH.
But the beauty of a child is that they have the innate understanding that there is love in discipline. Even after they misbehave and you punish them, they curl up in your arms and force you to dash the anger away. These are the times when I discuss with them what they did wrong and make sure they understand the reason for the punishment. Let me caution though that if you encourage your children to express themselves freely, you might end up in an hour long discussion, including questions, explanations and a layout of feelings on the table, as is my experience with Shakir.
I was going to wait until tomorrow night after my week of babysitting was concluded to talk about it, but today was by far the most challenging and fun experience I've had all week. Let me start at the beginning. I took these last two weeks of school summer vacation off from work to be home with my boys. I felt it would be a great opportunity to spend some quality time with them. If I'm truthful, I have to admit that I dreaded it almost as much as I welcomed the time off from work. I actually reconsidered doing it several times. Don't get me wrong, I love my boys dearly, but they are two active boys and I was looking forward to rest and relaxation. As you've probably figured out, I came around and decided I would keep them. I even decided to take two of my nieces on this week as well. Yeah, let it sink in. I've been keeping four kids all week and all of them under ten.
Today, I decided I needed to go back to town to pay the bills I didn't pay yesterday and while I'm at it, I would also get Shakir's school clothes. So my morning started around 6:30 when I reluctantly dragged myself out of bed to answer the door. I thought it was the older niece, Renee, arriving. It was not. Seems my kids had each called one of their grandfathers and asked him to bring them treats, so on route to work, he stopped by to play delivery man. Literally, five minutes after he left, Renee showed up, asking if it was okay if she opened her hair. I said yes (Renee's hair was plait in some chunky twists from two days ago when I hurriedly styled it for her so it really needed opening). She retorted, "good! Because I already started!" That should have been the first clue that the day would be an interesting one.
So fastforward to later after the hair is open and I settle her in front of me to plait it. Makayla hasn't arrived yet an Shakir is SUPPOSED to be doing some handwriting practice. I won't tell you what he was actually doing because I'm not sure myself. Anyway, so Jaheim rummages through his toy box and finds a block and decides to make up Renee. "Close your eyes," he instructs and then he appears to jab the block in her eye.
"Don't do that," I say. "You might injure her eye."
He doesn't answer, but a few seconds later, I hear her repeating the same admonition to him. Next, I hear him say, "Me coming back just now Boo-Boo." And again he rummages through his toy box. This time, he produces a red block and he is aiming it at her mouth. Mistakenly thinking that he is feeding her, Renee opens her mouth only to be told to close her mouth; it is lipstick. So it seems I had an apprentice today. Later, when I ask him how her hair looks, he declares that it's pretty so I guess we did good.
It was after ten when Miss Makayla arrived in her splendour, dressed to the nines in new sandals, if you please. She says to me that her mother has dropped her off so that I can put her in the pot to cook her and eat her. Okay. I should mention that I have been telling her I would do just that for the past few weeks. What was unexpected was how cheerful she was about the arrangement today. Now, I didn't mention it before, but prior to that and prior to the hairstyle and make-up session, Jaheim had told me and his father that he was going to cook Renee for us today. His father was going to eat her head in souse. So, I tell Makayla that I'll have to cook her another time, because Renee is on today's menu. My disclaimer: This is just silly games I play with the kids. I have never and will never actually cook anyone's children.
Now a lot happened today, so I can only give you a few snippets. Fastforward again to town. I went from between Cave Shepherd to Woolworth to Unlimited Collections trying to get Shakir's school clothes organised. My son is at a sort of in-between size where he is too tall for one size and too thin for the next size. Planning to custom-make for him next year. Anyway, in Woolworth, Jaheim goes from section to section searching for a helmet. I came across a toy hard hat, thinking that was what he meant. Nope! Baby Boy was looking for a helmet so he can ride the bicycle he now owns, courtesy his aunt. A special shout out to her at this point and can you hear the sarcasm? No. seriously, he loves the bike and I'm happy, but now everyday, I'm told I have to buy a helmet and today, he actually went looking for it himself. Thank God he didn't find one. A word to the wise, if you are a new mother and you happen to reading this, please be sure to keep your eyes on your kids at all times when shopping. Children grab. Three times today that I can recall (it may be more, since I already told you what my memory is like) I took an umbrella from Jaheim and attempted to leave Woolworth, and each time I moved off and looked around he had another one. It is by God's grace alone, that I do not now have three umbrellas sitting in my house somewhere.
I got pretty frustrated in town today. Let's blame it largely on my swollen ankle that slows me down most days, but also on the runaround I had to do to get school uniforms and then the children behaved like if they had broken free of their confines. Once I started to realise that the day was winding down, I made up in my mind that I was not going to carry those two little girls back to my house. It just wasn't sensible. So just like you have to do during playtime, I started to prepare them from early for the little change in plans. My attempts are met with smiley but stubborn resistance in the form of, "but Auntie, we left our bags by you so we have to go back for them." What was in these bags? Vitals the would surely perish if left at Auntie's strange and amusing house: Clothes for the little one and for the big one - a 3DS. Well, once I made sure that it was okay with the parents, I determined that these children were not going back to my house today. Town had completely worn me out.
But you know, in everything that happened, I had a beautiful day and I realise that I'm definitely in the wrong profession. Children are challenging, but they are a joy. The highlight of my day: going up the escalator, I had to discipline Shakir and this lady behind me commented that it was a rare thing to see. She said you hardly ever see parents discipling their children these days. I didn't explain to her that I'm actually a super hero and that I have a weapon of mass destruction so powerful that the mere mention of it renders the house silent. No. But I wanted to. I satisfied myself by telling her that I have to discipline them, because if I don't it means stress for me later. Anyway, this hero is glad to see the end of the day and I have to go and power-up for tomorrow's adventures.
I have a secret. Sometimes, I think that maybe I'm not such a great mother. Even though I'm a super hero, I worry that my best may not be good enough and I struggle with that daily. But then, there are days when I feel like I can stand up with the best of them. Those days, I puff out my chest and strut around like I own the place for as long as the feeling lasts.
Today was a tiresome day. I had a lot to do so even though I really wanted to stay in bed, I decided to brave this unforgiving heat. I went to the bank with my sister and we spent an eternity in there. I was loving the A/C but the children were restless. I busied myself writing my budget for the second time this month. Yeah, I wrote it out last week, but as luck would have it, I forgot the book home along with all the bills I left home to pay.
Before I was a mother, I remembered all sorts of things. I got praised for my memory by everyone. Now, every morning, I pick out clothes for two boys and spend the rest of the morning reminding the big one of the stuff he needs to do to get himself ready and telling the small one to stop wreaking havoc. It usually goes like this: "Shakir, did you cream your skin and comb your hair? Jaheim, stop that! What about your shoes Shakir? Jaheim what are you doing?" This keeps me so occupied that I'm usually about to go through the door with a stocking on my head or with bed hair. My point is, kids make your brain addle. You don't remember anything other than what they should be doing. I've tried keeping lists, but I am so scatter-brained that I have to make a list to remember that I made a list and another to remind me that I did that and... you get the point right?
Anyway, so as I mentioned, we're in the bank. All of a sudden, Jaheim leans over and touches this old lady. It was actually more of a pinch and I quickly told him not to do it. "Leave him," the woman said. "We's friends, you know? He's an active little fellow." There I am thinking that she doesn't know how true that statement is. Jaheim was actually being really good today. Just then, Jaheim says, "me thought you was a man." My mouth fell open and I hoped it would be one of those times when the person wouldn't understand what he was saying. The woman was wearing a trousers (I call them trousers, because it was pleated and seamed and looked man-ish) and a polo shirt. To her credit, she took it in stride. She smiled and told him she was not a man, she was a woman. Later, after the woman has gone, Jaheim goes looking for her and tells me he can't find the 'girl man'. SIGH! Children... I don't even know how to finish that statement.
I've always considered myself an animal lover, of sorts. To be more precise, I like cats and dogs. I consider birds and rabbits to be exotic creatures and I must admit that I would not likely willingly have either as pets. Maybe someday I will expand on my embarassing experiences with these creatures, but not right now. Right now, I have a different point.
Sometime ago, my husband decided that he wanted to get a pet for Shakir. I forget how long ago, but my answer was an emphatic no. You see, the thing they don't tell you about pets is that those creatures steal their way into your hearts and when they die, it's like losing a member of the family. I'm sure its been more than five years since my dog, Sasha, died and even now when I think of her, it is always with a quiet fondness.
Anyway, my husband (Super Villian that he is) went ahead and organised for us to get a cat. We named her Frisky. She was such a sweet little thing, but we lost her just over a week later. Hit by a car. That's the trouble with country pets. They don't adjust well to the city. A city cat would have known to look both ways before crossing the road. Well after that, I told my huband, no more pets. But like I said, he is a Super Villian. He brought another cat. We called this one Champagne.
If ever there was a time that a name didn't suit a pet, this would have to be it. Now, I've never had champagne myself, but on TV when people celebrate with champagne, you see some everyone smiling their stamp of approval. And when they taste it, they close their eyes and the look on their faces is just indescribable. I'm sure champagne must taste heavenly. But this gangster cat that my husband brought home makes me rethink everything I thought I knew about cats.
First things first, when this cat is hungry, you better feed it briskly. You can't decide that you're going about your normal everyday tasks if he's hungry. When you pass, he will bite your feet. He is so bad that one day I was going to the shop and when I stepped outside, there was a man sitting against the wall eating and Champagne was all over the man as if they were old friends. Now I don't know the man. He was there waiting on the mechanic that works in our yard and I guess he got hungry. That cat of mine was all up in the man grill, all in his face meowing and trying everything possible to make the man drop his lunch. I put it that way, because I personally think Champagne wasn't trying to beg for some. He wanted all.
To further help you understand how much of a gangster this cat is, I would have to tell you about tonight. Recently, I started tricking Champagne. When I want him to go outside, I usually open the door and step outside as if I'm going to his plate to feed him. In a few seconds, he follows and I quickly go back inside and close the door. You see, if I tell him that he needs to go out, he doesn't move and will sometimes go into places where reaching him is quite difficult. Tonight now, I go into my routine, but this time, as I'm about to shut the door, Champagne realises that I'm pulling my trick and runs back inside. He moved so quickly that I didn't even notice that he was onto me until it was too late. Then, just as I turned toward him, he spun around and hissed at me. It was the type of sound a cat will make when confronting an enemy.
"You hissing at me?" I snapped angrily. "Go outside, man!" After that, the same cat that now hiss at me, started to rub up against my feet, meowing sweetly and trying to sweet talk me. He went from 100 to 0 instantly - just like children do. I swear this is what happened. You can't make these things up if you try.
I do some of my best thinking in the shower. The water is running and as long I can hear the sound of of my boys playing amicably, I relax a little and thoughts flow. For instance, it was while I was in the shower that I got the brilliant idea that I should have a cloak of invisibility. I mean, think how wonderful that would be alongside my current awesome powers. That's when I realised that I already have one. Let me explain.
One morning, I had to go to work. I sent Shakir into the shower as I busied myself otherwise. I became aware that half an hour was rapidly turning into an hour and he was still in the bath. I didn't intend to be quiet at this point, since I was pissed, but I managed to get into the bathroom without him ever realising I was there until it was too late for him.
Our bathroom has a border that you need to step up on to get into the shower and there he stood, wiggling around and singing as water spewed heavily from the shower head. Then, right before my eyes, my son dove. It was a remarkable dive that would have brought tears to this super hero's eyes to see that my son was clearly following in my athletic footsteps. I mean, it was just beautiful. In fact, if I had to find any fault at all, it would be that he was diving out of the shower instead of into it. Then, his long leg connected with side of the house in a fabulous kick that I'm sure would have had many-a-villian scurrying away from him, had there been villians present. And the only thing going through my mind at that time, was that I had sent this kid to bathe so he could get ready for school. I was just about ready to blow my top when he turned and saw me. Clearly, the cloak of invisibility had worn off.
Now, today, it was while I was in the shower that I heard my boys whispering inside about how they were going to trick mummy. I turned the water down low so I could hear more but it was in vain. That's when I pulled on my cloak of invisibilty (which is really a large, fluffy white towel) and went inside so I could hear better. The cloak of invisibility - a must for every household.
Yesterday was a long day for me. I didn't intend it to be that way but I somehow found myself in the supermarket and that just always makes the day longer. When I got home, I decided to cook something quick and tasty - macaroni elbows with minced beef and cheese. Anyway, I also decided it would be best to clean some chicken for cooking today and that's exactly what I was doing when all of a sudden, my younger son walked past me plastered in white paste. I blinked a few times as I watched him head toward the bathroom before asking, "Jaheim? What are you covered in?"
"I don't know!" He calmly responds as he climbs onto the toilet so he can reach the bathroom sink. He's only two, so he can't reach it otherwise.
At this point, his brother comes to me with a container of muscle rub. "Jaheim had this," he says. It always amazes me how he can always tell me what his brother has been up to, after the fact. I can never get a heads up from him.
Let me add here that the muscle rub is mentholated and Jaheim has it plastered all in his head. "Oh no! Jaheim what are you doing?" I ask.
"Washing my hands."
"Ok. Don't do anything else. I'm going to have to give you a bath!"
No answer. Then Shakir says: "Mummy! Jaheim is putting his head under the pipe. Jaheim, don't put your head under that pipe. Don't do that Jaheim. Stop trying to put your head under the pipe..."
Now, you would really need to be here to appreciate how annoying that was. He isn't trying to stop him or anything as he says this, but he continues in the same monotone voice until I eventually intervene. I don't think I need to add that Jaheim wasn't paying him any attention either. And there I was with my hands covered in chicken and not seeming to be able to move fast enough. And if you guessed that the screaming started next, you'd be correct. The cream ran down his head and got all in his eyes.
I swear if I wasn't the super hero I am, I would have probably started to cry right then and there as well. Anyway, in the next few seconds, I managed to get my hands cleaned and get Jaheim undressed and in the bath. I washed his eyes and shampooed his hair, all the while he's screaming, and since I somehow got some of the darned cream in my eyes as well, I knew exactly how he felt. So, his eyes start feeling better and he stops bawling in one - like I said 100 to 0, real quick - and he asks me, "mummy, is your eye any better?" He knew I had gotten some in my eye, while trying to help him. :-)
One thing, I have to say I'm grateful for at this point though, through it all, he followed my instructions and the situation didn't get any worse than it was. Super hero-in-training.
Allison is mother to two active boys who challenge her on a day to day basis with their escapades. In her other life, Allison juggles a regular day job as a marketing executive in a health food organization. At night, when everyone is asleep, she dreams of being a fulltime writer and super hero.