Pink Drips, Eardrum Rips & Busted Lips

Pete - singin' the blues.

You know I'm not one to complain when we get sick. Its such a normal part of parenthood, family life, preschool, whatever. Kids bring germs home. They cough, sneeze and breathe all over everything, infect the house, give it to their parents, get it back from their parents, blah blah blah. It's the cold season. It happens.

Still, this season has been some bullshit. Over and above the typical stuff. About 6 weeks ago, I started a Brett family pink eye co-op. I had never had it in my life before getting it most likely from a hotel while away for work (gross, right?). So I took some drops, but probably not for as long as I should have. A week later, Peter's got it. We followed the protocol for him and took him to his pediatrician. A week of antibiotic drops later and he's golden.

Two weeks later, I get it again. Then he gets it again. Then me again briefly. Then my Mom, who watches the boys a couple of days a week. It was conjunction junction around here. Four rounds of sheet, pillowcase, blanket, everything washings later and things appear to be back to normal. Fingers crossed.

From there, Rosalie gets a bad ear situation - clogging, pain, ringing. She battles through Thanksgiving, which we hosted, and woke up the next day with serious issues. Bad ear infection. So bad that it most likely ruptured her eardrum. For real. We weren't exactly sure because she's a Spartan and doesn't really tell people when she's in pain. So she's been down for the count this weekend, letting the antibiotics do their good work. By the way, are there many worse words in the English language than "ruptured?" Name me five.

Finally, earlier today, the boys and I were outside when Peter took off for the house, tripped over a stone step and smashed right onto the edge of the deck, lips-first. The poor kid was pouring blood as I scooped him up, ran inside, kicking the door open like a firefighter to work on him. Luckily no teeth were damaged but he bonked the everloving hell out of his upper lip. Brilliant idea of the month goes to my sick wife, who brought him a popsicle to bring the swelling down, knowing he woudn't keep ice on his lip for more than 3 seconds. But would he keep wild berry sugar-ice? Yes.

He's fine now but he's definitely aware of his huge top lip ("I can't eat my chicken because I've got a broken lip, Mommy."). On top of that, it makes for a very uncomfortable pacifier experience so he went to bed for the first time in his life tonight without one. Tearlessly!

I may change the name of this blog to Warrior Milk after all these tough people I live with. So bring it on, winter. That all you got?

Oh, it is? Good.


Peter Camus

I've written previously about the random thoughts that kids, Peter in this instance, always seem to verbalize. It's one of the simplest, most unexpected pleasures of parenting.

You want an example? Sure. I've got a couple. With Pete, it usually happens just before I leave his bed to let him fall asleep. He'll be chillaxing with BlankiePaci and suddenly pop Paci out of his mouth, turn to me and whisper something like this.

"Dad. Dad. Do squirrels eat flowers?"


"Dad. Dad. Dad. Whennnn. Ummm. When I drop my ketchup on the floor. At McDonald's. Who cleeeaans it up?"

What's great about it is that we both get a fun little existential quiz every night. It's the little things like this I think about at this time of year. Thankful as hell for them.


Photo of the Moment

Kids. Leaves. Welcome to Marchwood in November, friends.

38 bags as of today, btw. We're only getting revved up.



Pure rock & roll. He's going crazy to The Hives' "Declare Guerre Nucleaire," which is pure rock & roll filth in the best possible way. Immediately after this was shot, he asked to hear it again and just before I obliged, I played the first 2 seconds of Them's seminal "I Can Only Give You Everything" just to mix it up a little. He was overly tired (from rocking, of course), got angry with me and threw his guitar.

I reprimanded him for throwing his valued instrument but I'd be lying if there wasn't a tiny part of me thrilled with the audacity and Pete Townsendness of it all.

Oh, and speaking of tired, the other audio you hear is poor, sleepy Pete, whining ever so quietly and wanting no more of this noise.


Words of the Week

Quick follow-up to my previous post. Over the weekend, Peter sneezed violently, right into his most prized possession - Blankie. He looked up sadly to Rosalie and said,

"I bless youd on my blankie."



We've got some sickness up in here. Over the past month, none of us have been able to get healthy. The boys have been battling fevers and colds. Pete and I have been trading conjunctivitis, Rose feels like garbage - it's neverending. Sure, it could be worse but I figured I'd give you an explanation of why we've been among the missing lately. We're kind of a mess.
So we've upped the tea intake. We've introduced the boys to the non-Taurine Vitamin Water flavors (Grape and Orange). We've invested in childrens' Motrin. We've visited the doctor and we're fighting back. But stay away from us for another week or so. It could be this.
I'm not kidding.