Now I Remember...

why I love blogging so much. I can do something I enjoy while being productive, which makes me feel less guilty for not doing the other things that I should be doing but don't enjoy... like dishes, laundry, and assorted other duties of someone who lives with 4 other people who don't like to do any of that stuff either.

Currently, the kids are pretending to "rest" -- except Sam, who is like his father in the fact that he relishes a 6-hour nap in the middle of the day, so I have a few moments to breathe... which I need, considering that Sam has given me heart failure twice in the span of less that 24 hours.

Both experiences are actually parenting firsts for me -- something I find unusual considering I thought I'd already covered a good bit of territory with the first two. Anyway, yesterday was the first time I've ever been at home alone when one of the kids got hurt bad enough to bleed.

I should preface this by saying that I do not normally mind blood, but if it happens to come from one of my children, it totally freaks me out. The first time Ethan busted his lip, I hyperventilated and almost passed out.

Over time, I've learned to at least semi-disguise my reactions, and I actually thought that maybe I was getting over my fear until Sam bounced his face off of the ledge of a stair yesterday.
I didn't throw up, which surprised me, but:

1- I did set him on the counter and leave him unattended while rummaging through the freezer for one of those bleepity-bleep frozen "boo-boo" compresses that are always everywhere to be found when I don't need them -- like when I'm looking for the real ice packs to insulate a cooler -- and nowhere to be found when I need them -- like when my youngest offspring is bleeding profusely from the mouth.

Thankfully, Sam was too distraught to realize that he was finally up on the counter, so he didn't try to jump off, climb to the top of the cabinet, or clear my everyday dishes off of the shelves.

2- He did, however, help himselves to some grapes, which didn't concern me until I realized that the grapes hadn't been washed and that he was probably consuming some kind of pesticide/grocery store funk that would make him sick.

This freaked me out even more... leading me to think it was a good idea to try to rinse his mouth out... which seemed to be working until I realized that I was patting the lip he had just busted on the stairs.

Oops.

At any rate, Sam hasn't tried to run up the stairs once since yesterday; I think he learned his lesson... or I scarred him for life. One or the other.

Today, Sam decided to top his bleeding escapade yesterday by drinking water from the toilet.

Just typing that makes me gag.

The toilet fascination is something I don't understand. Ethan had no use for the potty whatsoever when he was a toddler. In fact, he avoided it -- and wearing diapers -- if at all possible.

Laney was different, which I chalked up to her being Laney. She didn't drink out of the toilet, but she did like to play in it. I'm pretty sure I posted pictures to the blog when she combed her hair with water from the toilet, which also made me gag as well as become a firm believer in the importance of sanitizing one's children.

Sam, well... he just does things his own way. First, he swiped my favorite Tervis tumbler. Normally, this would have immediately resulted in me retrieving said tumbler, but I was in the middle of solving some other critical delimma.

Sidenote: I'm pretty sure Sam planned this out in advance as revenge for me making him come inside without his prior approval.

Anyway, I hear rustlings in the bathroom. I don't worry immediately because the toilet lid is down, and Sam isn't one to exert enough effort to open it.

Until today.

Also, Sam normally just throws things... like his siblings' toothbrushes (replaced. No worries.)... into the toilet. He hasn't really shown interest in the water... just in destroying things via potty exposure.

Until today.

Today, Sam marched into the half-bath downstairs, just steps away from me, opened the lid, lowered my precious Tervis tumbler into the putred, disgusting potty water (although, I will take this moment to say that the toilet was flushed, so it could have been worse...), scooped up an unknown amount, and drank it.

Vomit.

I know this because I sent Laney to see what he was doing. She waited until he finished his cup o' vileness before she wrenched the cup out of his hand and brought it to me, proclaiming, "Mommy! Can you believe Sam just drank potty water?!"

No. No, I can't.

So I run into the bathroom to find Sam -- who apparently likes potty water -- trying to scoop some into his hands to drink.

Dry heaves and spine chills.

For the love. Is one uneventful day (or twenty) too much to ask?!?