We ushered in the wee hours Sunday with Amelia running a high fever and frustrated to tears with a runny nose that just wouldn’t quit and a coughing jag that led to her throwing up in the kitchen, mostly on the hubby, which both terrified her and woke up big sister. I think Amelia and I were both up at about 4:45 a.m. for the day. The hubby took Caitlin to Wal-Hell Sunday morning to pick up generic children’s Motrin and Dimetapp along with Gatorade and tissues as well as a boat load of food from Jim ‘n Nick’s. Their cheese muffins are dee-vine and I knew we’d need the extra nourishment good Sunday barbecue provides to survive another long-ass 24 hours of sickness.

One minute Amelia was feverish, lethargic, and completely zombied out on the couch watching Blue’s Clues, the next minute she was screaming her head off but wouldn’t let me rock her or touch her with a 10 foot pole (her pediatrician informed me at her 2-year physical that the tube had come out of her right ear and I would bet money on her having a horrific ear ache), and the next minute she was happily painting with water colors at the kitchen table and trying to drink the paint water concoction which she insisted on calling juice. Well it was purple.

And also? Caitlin has had intermittent diarrhea for two days. Today we all woke up under the weather and I took a sick day.

The dogs are having their share of ailments as well. Bailey has an abcessed molar and I am trying to remember to lace pepperonis and cheese with antibiotics for her twice a day. She’s getting knocked out on Wednesday for a doggie teeth cleaning. I guess nearly 10 years of table scraps will wreak havoc on a dog’s teeth. And also, she does not have a giant tumor on her side like I’d convinced myself in a fit of despair. It’s fat. Apparently she is retaining fat on just one side of her long doggy belly. That’s my girl!

Oh yes, Lady Luck was on our side this weekend.

It was also unseasonably cold and drizzly and dank and downright depressing outside all weekend, the kind of weather that has you wondering when you’re going to finally be able to complain about the fine Middle Tennessee humidity. The hubby worked Saturday morning and by the time he got home I had that “Here’s Johnny” psycho twinkle in my eyes and I was just dying to get out of the house. My dad watched Amelia while we took Caitlin to the YMCA for a kids’ health fair and to TCBY afterwards, because I might as well teach her now that the reward for going to the gym is frozen yogurt topped with Reese’s Pieces.

So do you ever wonder how in the world mothers survived just 100 years ago? How did they make it without extra soft lotion infused Kleenex and Motrin and running water and DVD players and hand sanitation gel and McDonald’s Happy Meals?

No doubt I would have failed Pioneer Mothering 101. I love my modern conveniences. And besides, calico doesn’t do a thing for me.

This entire post about former Beverly Hills 90210 star Ian Ziering reportedly being asked by Playgirl to pose nude cracks me up. I never watched much of 90210, but I was a junior in college when it debuted. I was more of a Melrose Place kind of gal. In fact, I think I still have the Melrose Place soundtrack on cassette tape.

Speaking of Playgirl, somewhere along with my collection of 4-H ribbons and school yearbooks is an autographed magazine filled with nekkid men that will surely be a family treasure to pass on to my girls when they are at the appropriate age.

I was working in the “branding and media services” department six years ago (that’s corporate BS jargonese for internal communications) at a large company here in Nashville. This was pre-kids when I still had that ambitious twinkle in my eye to get my grubby hands on the corporate ladder. My boss was named a VP and they restructured the management position over my department in such a way that it was actually not out of the question that I could qualify for it since I had 10 years’ of experience at the time.

Being little miss ambitious, I applied for the job and lo and behold I was flown out to Houston to interview with the head corporate person in charge of the new division. I did not get the job, but I came home with an autographed copy of Playgirl which was a great story to tell my all female co-workers.

During the flight I ended up sitting next to a very tall Italian man whose ego just about knocked me out of my seat. The Italian Stallion and I chit chatted for a while and he told me he was traveling on a book tour. This instantly got my attention since I am all about all things of the literary/publishing persuasion. I thought to myself, “OK, maybe this guy isn’t a shallow all brawn, no brain kind of guy.” He then proceeded to tell me he had recently been named the Playgirl magazine Man of the Year and he was touring the country. He pulled out his black satchel of goodies and the flight attendants were practically falling into his lap. Luckily the only thing he pulled out of the bag was a handful of magazines and a black Sharpie. There’s nothing more awkward then flipping through a magazine and looking at nude pictures of a man sitting right next to you. I mean what do you say? Nice tan? Who’s your stylist? How’d you get all that grease out of your hair?

Any way, I’ve always wondered what happened to the guy since he wanted to break into the entertainment industry. Ahem.

The days of the fashion forward kindergartener are over. Our county just passed a standard dress code for all children attending public school, K-12, beginning this fall. Caitlin’s standard dress code will be solid khaki, navy, or black pants, skirts, and shorts with solid collared shirts.

I’m somewhat on the fence with this new ruling, although I know a lot of students and parents are outraged. On the one hand, the timing of it, for us any way, couldn’t be better as Caitlin will grow up with this new rule, never having known the glorious feeling of stepping out in a brand new blinged out Hello Kitty track suit from the mall, complete with matching hair accessories, socks, shoes, and lip gloss. On the other hand, if I were a student, especially a junior high or high school age student, I’d be completely irate. I mean, there’s only so much individualism you can voice with khaki. But it will be a treat for Caitlin wear regular clothes at night and on the weekends…you know when we break out the matching Gymboree family ensembles to go to the grocery store.

The hubby points out that when he was in junior high, Ocean Pacific (”OP”) was all the rage. His mom and dad refused to fork out money to buy trendy clothes and he was forced to wear OP knock offs and he had but one glorious OP shirt. I’m sure his male classmates who made fun of him are all now 50 pounds overweight, bald, divorced, and selling used travel trailers, but that’s beside the point. I do recall a time in high school when I spent every penny shopping at the mall. There were some hideous fashion choices, like the overpriced Coca Cola sweatshirt I just had to have and the Jordache velcro shoes, but that’s beside the point, too.

Call me a shallow, fashion driven girly girl but I was looking forward to taking Caitlin shopping for back to school clothes this summer as she embarks on that great adventure called school. Now it will be a challenge to find the cutest nondescript navy polo within a 60-mile radius. Basically her daycare wardrobe has consisted of Tar-jay specials, consignment store loot, and hand-me-downs from my neighbor’s daughter. Now I get to pump her up about shopping for button downs and jumpers devoid of any Hello Kitty, Barbie, or My Little Pony motif. Wait a minute, maybe we could get away with a tiny ankle tattoo.

I am still up to the challenge of back-to-school shopping as I have a family fashion torch to pass on to my girls. You see, in my 8th grade yearbook I was dubbed “Neatest Dressed” (back in 1983 they apparently thought “Best Dressed” wasn’t PC enough.)

So what do you think about standard dress codes for public schools? Is it a bunch of BS? Will it really help students stay on course and focus on learning or is it just going to create a nationwide rebellion, a la Footloose, where every kid under the age of 18 slips into their street clothes the second the school bell rings? Will khaki bonfires become a rite of passage for kids graduation night?

The first stop on our Easter road show was lunch at my mother’s house followed by dinner at the hubby’s parents. My sister-in-law brought our nephew Connor, who is just 3 and a half weeks old. My brother-in-law stayed home with our 2-year-old nephew who was not feeling well.

The girls were completely enamored with their sleeping boy wonder cousin. He was curled up in his infant car seat carrier on the floor, sleeping peacefully under a blanket and occasionally grunting and squishing up his face as he concentrated on pooping while sleeping, which is a talent that babies have. I mean really, when else in life can you enjoy uninterrupted slumber while pooping? Once you have to walk to the toilet and wipe your own bottom the responsibilities and realities just start to mount and the next thing you know you’ve got a mortgage and Sears is mailing you warranty reminders on all your major appliances.

Any way the girls gathered at his feet. They were completely enthralled with him, especially Caitlin who was not shy about shushing Amelia and placing her hand over Amelia’s hand while she whispered instructions. “Don’t wake him up! Just touch his blanket! Don’t touch his face!”

Amelia got up and disappeared for a minute into the kitchen. I assumed she had grown tired of big sister bossing her around, but she came back bearing gifts for baby Connor. She started tossing packs of candy on him from her Easter basket while he slept. Despite all this girly showering of affection, he continued to sleep. Despite being pelted with fun size packs of M&Ms and Starburst candy by Amelia, he continued to sleep. Oh to sleep that soundly.

I bet he was dreaming of two pretty little girls, a blonde and brunette, sitting at his feet, watching him lovingly and showering him with candy. No wonder he was sleeping so well, sweet boy.

Easter Sunday, 2004, Caitlin at my mother’s farm (it’s hard to believe she was ever this little)

Happy Easter Ya’ll!

We’ve already had Starburst jelly beans for breakfast and now we’re moving our way through a one-pound bag of pastel M&Ms. I think I polished off the mini Musketeers last night.

God has blessed me with the ability to somehow have PMS during every major holiday. It’s a burden, but someone must eat all the rejected chocolate at our house.

Yes, it’s another review. Hey, it’s a holiday weekend and the blogging is going to be slowwwwwwww.

The hubby deserves a medal for taking Caitlin to her soccer game this morning. It is 32 degrees outside. Ugh! I think the Easter Bunny will be wearing Uggs and polartec tomorrow. And maybe some jumbo crocheted ear warmers. (Read on …)