Albuterol = Epiphanies!

Albuterol really amps up the twins! Their new favorite activity right after taking it is to run laps around the island in the kitchen, reciting their favorite scenes from Curious George or having conversations. Usually Twin B is the narrator & human, and Twin A is Hundley (the dog) or George (a monkey).  Should it worry me that she's so good at imitating animals?  I choose to believe that they retain this information due to their astounding memories, and NOT due to the fact that they get 30 minutes of TV a day...

Sometimes, as they are trotting in circles, they prefer to have conversations.  Here is one such example:  
Twin A: "God loves me." 
Twin B: "God loves me, too."
A: "NO!! God loves ME, not you!"
B: "God loves ME!! ME!! ME!!"
A:...."God loves me AND you???"
B: "Yes!"
A: "God loves us...but he doesn't make us breakfast." 
B (sadly): "Yeah..." (Brightens up) "Mommy loves us!"

Beware of threes...especially in twos...

We had such a crazy week!  It was the kind of week that makes you wonder what you did in a past life to get that kind of Karma!  It started on the weekend when we stifled without A/C.  After some checking, we realized our thermostat needed to be replaced.  Easily enough accomplished, and we're back to cool air and smooth sailing...until Monday, when our A/C cut out AGAIN.  Of course the A/C people were due to come out WEDNESDAY, but we couldn't wait that long.  Fortunately it was a switch, and we're off and running!

Tuesday I'm sitting in the house debating my dinner options when I hear this strange static-like noise.  I walk into the kitchen, trying to figure out what's wrong with the baby monitor, when I hear the noise plus a soft pop.  Turning my attention to the refrigerator, I see...smoke?  What an awful smell?  Seriously?  Is that smoke?  My eyes water as I watch the smoke billow out from the fridge, and I panic.  That type of panic that seizes your guts and roots you to the floor.  Fire?  Am I about to lose my house?  Can I get my kids out fast enough?  Do I need to call the fire department?  WHERE IS MY HUSBAND?!?!?!?  This clearly does NOT fall under the realm of "mom stuff."  Fire is "Dad stuff!"  

This lasted all of 3 seconds, and then I hear a voice in my head yell, "Turn off the breaker!  MOVE!!"  I yank open that breaker box and flip EVERY switch that looks like it could have anything to do with the kitchen.  Microwave...dishwasher...kitchen general...oven...does that say kitchen?  Don't know...flipping it anyway.  I go back inside to find that I'm lucky enough to have forestalled a fire!  WHOOHOO!  So I call my husband and shriek into the phone, "WHERE ARE YOU?!?  I JUSTFLIPPEDTHEBREAKERSAND(sniffle sob shudder)YEAAAHMMWNOWPHOIHLJBKEWR..."  Fortunately he's smart enough to realize that this translates into, "Get home now, she's lost all sense of coherency."  

A new fridge later, it's Wednesday, and it's time for fridge delivery...or it would be, if the Lowe's employee who sold us the fridge (which we specifically bought because it was IN STOCK) knew how to put an order in the system...We call the store, but the associate says, "I can't help you, call the delivery company," then hangs up before we can respond.  We find our paperwork and call the delivery company, who says, "We don't have a record of this delivery.  We're really sorry.  Here's the manager's name and direct line, call him and see if he can help.  We'll check on our end."  We call the manager and are told, "It was mistakenly entered as a special delivery and will be in next week."  Next week?  I don't think I can pack my fridge full of ice for over a week and hope I'll be able to keep ANYTHING cold...So the manager wearily informs us that as soon as he hangs up he will make sure the order is changed so it can be delivered THURSDAY, and there's just nothing else he can do to help us.  Yeah, wouldn't want to offer a coupon, a minor discount, a small gift card...We get a call two hours later saying delivery will be Thursday, but the guy who calls us is livid because when he got the new list for Thursday, we weren't on it.  He had to call Lowe's and chew out the manager who screwed up our order AGAIN.  Thanks to the delivery company we got a fridge on Thursday.  Thanks to Lowe's we won't be shopping there again for a new appliance!

Wednesday night comes, and I can rest easily...or not, as Twin A decides it's time to come down with one whale of a chest cold!  We spend the night in the family room, and it takes three rounds of albuterol for her to finally breath well enough for her to be able to sleep.  So Thursday it's off to the pediatrician for orapred, albuterol, and antibiotics for both girls.  Twin B, it turns out, was keeping her double ear infections a secret...We get home...Oww, my sinuses...You always want your children to share...just not their germs...Sleep is elusive when you are blowing your nose every 2 minutes...

Friday, and FINALLY we're going to have a bit of a break.  DH heads out of town to attend the Nascar race at Bristol with his family, and it's girls night!  We enjoy our pasta and movie, and everyone heads to bed...what the HECK is that wail?  I head into C's room...and light out of there for the kitchen like I'm being chased by wolves.  I grab a pan and break landspeed records running into C's room, just in time to get that pot under her...and it's a stomach virus!  JACKPOT!  Back to the family room for another all-nighter!  My third in a row.  See the power of three at work here?  It's like the TV show Charmed, but without the strange fashions and "magic."  

On Saturday I was supposed to attend an all day training class that I'd been REALLY looking forward to for weeks.  Nope...I'm in the family room watching various cartoons all day, dealing with three sick little girls, and wishing my head had a flip top so I could remove my sinuses.  Wouldn't it be great if you could get disposable sinuses?  When they get sick you just pop open your head, toss the infected ones, and put in a fresh, clean pair.  Let's get on that evolution thing there, God, 'K?

After I posted on FB about my fridge a friend of mine innocently reminded me of the rule of 3 - you know, bad things happening in 3s.  Personally I think we're covered for a couple of years, because we've had all the bad things we needed...in ONE week!  I'm declaring a moratorium on bad things around here!!

If it's good for the goose...

We are all sick of the CFA thing with Dan Cathey, right?  You are probably thinking, "Seriously?  NOW she wants to talk about it?  I'm done reading..."  Well bear with me.  This isn't about his comments.  It's about something SURROUNDING his comments.

Dan Cathey made the decision to comment about gay marriage.  YES, it was his right.  NO, I'm not arguing it.  Other people reacted and made comments about his comments.  YES, it was THEIR right.  NO, I'm not arguing about them, either.  And what was the big backlash?  "You must be TOLERANT.  You must ALLOW this person to have his opinion.  You are un-American if you don't!  Freedom of Speech!  First Amendment!!"  Some people even went so far as to say you couldn't react to his words or choose not to eat at CFA.  Not many - most people were willing to agree that if you didn't like his words it was your right, provided you accepted his right to say the comment.

Here's the thing:  Yes, we have freedom of speech and the right to say what we think.  That's what makes this country great.  I love it.  But we forget rights come with responsibilities.  Say what you think, but accept the consequences of your actions.  People seem shocked that words and actions have consequences (that's a rant for another day...).  Some are foreseeable.  Some are shocking.  Some are fair, others not.

Now, why am I bringing this up?  Well, in the past few days I've noticed something about the so-called "Tolerance" people.  On several occasions I've seen these same people attacking others viciously for their opinions.  Saying, "How dare she say that to ME?!?"  Or, "Why is that person being so mean to ME?," simply because another person on email or on facebook disagreed with them.

People, a disagreement is NOT a lack of tolerance.  If I say, "Here's my opinion," and someone says, "I disagree," that's life.  That's the essence of freedom of speech.  If the person goes on to say, "You stupid moron, you must agree with me," that's not freedom of speech.  That's hurtful and rude.  But if someone doesn't agree with your opinion, they are NOT being intolerant.  They are simply exercising the right which so many people shrieked we must give Dan Cathey.

So why is that when a public figure makes a statement that could be controversial, we're not being tolerant if we disagree?  However, if someone in our life says, "I think otherwise," we start facebook campaigns against this person and attack him/her?  One of my friends said, "Let's return to civilized discourse," and I agree.  But not just in the political/religious arena.  PERIOD. If you have a deeply held belief, and someone disagrees, recognize that they are practicing their 1st Amendment rights, just as you are.  Note: I'm talking about civil disagreement.  Not rude, nasty, ugliness in disagreeing.

Does that mean there's no room for debate?  Of course not!  Civil response and debate are a cornerstone of our society.  Does it mean there aren't times to campaign against someone's words?  Of course not!  Some things people say are just plain ignorant, unfair, rude, and may even infringe on the rights of others.  Does it mean you can't complain to your friends or ask for support?  Isn't that what friends are for?  I'm just saying that you might want to consider what is truly worth your time.  You may be surprised once you take a deep breath how trivial some matters become.  And most importantly, you may want to ask yourself, "Is this person really deserving of my wrath, or should is this a situation in which freedom of speech dictates that I have to give him/her a say, even if I disagree?"  Who knows - you may learn something in your search of the internet to prove him/her wrong!  I know I have on many occasions!

So now my logical side has had it's say!  My emotional side is snickering...and wondering how well I'll remember this when someone really pisses me off...

St. Anthony's great, but my hubby's my hero!

So I went to Publix today after getting my hair cut.  I'm on my own, feeling pretty good, enjoying the freedom of doing an errand without three girls in tow.  I browse the sales, getting some good deals, and in general feeling pretty great.  Then I get to the line...and realize I don't have my wallet.  Sometimes I take my wallet out of my purse and stick it in my back pocket, then forget to remove it when I get home.  So it's very likely my wallet is in a pair of shorts in my house.  I have a credit card I keep separately for emergencies (or this occasion), so thankfully I don't have to put back all of my excellent deals.

I get home and start looking around the house for my wallet.  My mom and eldest are helping me...I should say my mom is helping, and my eldest flits around the house, asking every 10 seconds, "Did you find it yet? Do you see how I'm helping you?"  My mom, in an effort to give us the chance to search, tells C that if she REALLY wants to help she should pray to St. Anthony.  The prayer goes like this, "St. Anthony, St. Anthony, Please come 'round.  Something is lost that must be found."  St. Anthony's usually pretty good about helping us around here.

10 minutes later I'm now frantically ripping things apart in an effort to find this wallet.  This is my debit card, my license, my insurance card...basically my financial life.  I'm no longer praying, I'm attempting to strong-arm St. Anthony.  "Look buddy, you'd better come 'round, 'cause seriously, this isn't something to play with. This is my family's future, and one day we want to buy another house...Dude, get your butt over here..."  I'm struggling to maintain a calm composure.

As near as I can remember, the last time I had my wallet was Monday night when we went to Walmart.  So I decide I'm going to call and PRAY someone kind turned in my wallet.  In the back of my mind this little voice is niggling at my brain, whispering, "Call your husband."  Seriously?  What's he going to know about where it is?  It's my wallet - he has his own to keep track of!  What am I thinking?  So I dial Walmart.

"Hello?"  A male voice answers.
I'm a bit thrown.  No identification?  "Thanks for calling Walmart" is too hard to say?  Uhh..."Hi, I'd like to talk to someone about a lost wallet?"
...."I don't think I know anything about that."  DOH!  I called my DH.
"Sorry sweetie, I thought I called Walmart.  Uh...I think I lost my wallet."
Now I witch about my DH at times - let's face it, those closest to us can totally drive us NUTS!  But let me tell you, one of the reasons I love him is he can be so low-key and calm in very strenuous situations.  So he says: "OK, well, where did you have it last?"
Now I'm getting very upset.  "Uh...I think I paid at Walmart on-"
"No, I paid at Walmart.  You took C to the bathroom, remember?"
The OH SH!T moment has arrived.  Oh my...oh crap...the last time I had it was..."Oh no, I think the last time I used it was last Wednesday when I was out to dinner!"  Now I cry.  That's it...no more brave face.  I've totally ruined our finances, our lives...I've got to call ALL of those companies...it will be weeks until we can use our cards again...
Meanwhile, my DH is calmly studying this situation.  "You were alone on Sunday.  Did you by chance eat out after your class?"
I teach an ESL class for adults on Sundays at my Church.  "No, I came straight home because I wanted to---"  LIGHT BULB!!!!!!!  "OH MY GOD - YOU ARE A GENIUS!" I shout!  Being Anal-Retentive (please note capitalization and hyphenation), I have a separate bag for each class or group I attend.  I hate to carry the bag AND my purse, so I move my wallet to the bag.  I yank my ESL bag out of my coat closet, strewing mittens, scarves, and bits all around my foyer.  Front left pocket...empty.  Front right pocket...there's a suspicious bulge..."YES!!  I LOVE YOU!!!"  Now I'm a crying, snotty mess.  But I have my wallet!!  WHOOHOO!!

A chuckle, and my DH says, "Well, that's why you call the helpdesk, right?  For help."

OK, OK, and my thanks to St. Anthony, for trying to show me the way.  And not snickering too loudly at me...