I've heard many times before from various people that "I will get my reward in heaven." The comment is always regarding the person whom is giving me the hardest time at the moment. The reference could be made to anyone living in my household, human or furry. I found heaven last Saturday on my morning walk with Josie. This is what the November sky looked like. I not only know the way to the island, but now I know the way to heaven. Just go to MacQuarrie's Pond and turn and look due south. You'll find it. I guess my reward is there. If you get there before me, don't tell me what it is. I like surprises. Plus I don't like ghosts.
God must be stacking up my rewards after the last few days of grief the males in my household have given me. Sam had a rough week at school, even in our full blown attempt to improve his behavior and toileting skills. Given that this is the week prior to Thanksgiving, my friends at Milestones Early Learning Center are discussing thankfulness with the children. On the way home I asked Sam what he was thankful for. Thinking that his answer would most likely be "toys" or "trains", but I still held on to the hope that he would answer, "Mom", "Dad" or "Sisters." Nope. Sam's response: "Dog food." He also drew a picture of his favorite food at Thanksgiving dinner. Sam only has a repertoire of five foods: ketchup, Cool Whip, Cheese Puffs (gluten free and $7 a bag kind, nonetheless), dry Life Cereal, and milk mixed withe Nestle's Quik--exactly two scoops, no more-no less. What does Sam draw? Gravy. The kid has never even tasted gravy! And all of this was BEFORE I read the notes.
Here are two examples of his finest notes home from last week:
From Monday: "Sam had a hard time keeping his hands to himself today. He pushed our new friend down and hit her. He later pinched another friend. When asked about this, he hit and pinched me." Great.
From Wednesday: "While sitting and waiting to go potty, Sam poked another friend in the eye. When he went to apologize to the child he hugged them and liked their shoe." Guess that explains the dog food.
To punctuate this spectacular week, I went to get him out of bed Friday morning to find him covered in vomit. Lovely. And so begins the stomach bug a week before the biggest eating holiday in America.
Despite Sam's flu, which consisted of no fever and vomiting twice a day, which really isn't too bad as far as the flu goes--I still managed to have a fun weekend. My cousins from Cleveland came in for their annual pre-holiday season overnighter. The beer flowed right along with a year's worth of stories and laughter. It is always great to see them and this year it was even better. They brought their two grown up children, Sara and Tyler along with them, plus little Jaclyn who is exactly three weeks older than Ellen. I warned them that Sam would be a beast, but it was kind of nice because he had an excuse after all; he was sick. We ate too much, drank too much, and slept too little. But it was all worth it. I love my cousins and it wouldn't be fall in Erie without their visit.
Sunday morning, Louie treated everyone to a breakfast, LaFuria style. Big, fat, fluffy waffles with mountains of butter and rivers of syrup. He likes doing the bacon in the oven and gets it nice and crispy. After breakfast Karen and clan came for a quick visit before the Ohio O's headed west again.
It was about 2:00 when I noticed Louie taking a nap. Not a normal part of his high-energy routine. He then disappeared into the basement for awhile. The next thing I knew he was calling for a garbage can, and could I please empty the garbage out of it. Oh no. That was the last time I saw my husband upright, unless it was sprinting to the toilet. Since then he has hit every garbage can, pooped in every toilet, and slobbered on every pillow in the whole house. The washing machine is working overtime, as am I. I love my boys, but they have a way of being high maintenance during times of sickness.
I imagine the Ohio O's have just shouted a resounding O-NO! I couldn't bear to call them. I chose to deliver the news the cowards way---through this blog, so they are finding out this pleasant news along with all of you. My Uncle John is still an ace with a sling shot. Apparently that is how he shoos deer away from his bird feeder. He can hit them in the arse and send them on their way even at 84 years old. Impressive. I wonder if that sling shot can reach Erie. If so, I am in major trouble.
So if you want to stop by on Thursday, I'm serving up Thanksgiving dinner this year. On the menu is roast husband with a side of Sam (gravy, since it's his favorite). Feel like the dinner could be a bit toxic to the taste buds? We can always feed it to the dogs. Another good idea since that is the thing Sam is most thankful for. Waste not, want not, I guess.
Happy Thanksgiving everyone. Heaven help us all.