drills. the non-mechanical kind.
uuuugghh.
we're launching into good old springtime weather in texas. which means the usual crisp (kind of) and gorgeous days of shockingly blue skies and lush, green baby grass. and also the threat of having limbs forcibly torn off just before the rest of you is crushed by that half dead tree falling on your bathroom ceiling. or, in my case, having a heart attack because you're so incredibly worried all of that will happen to you. spring: a time for dichotomy.
violet woke this morning for school and reported a hurting tummy. which isn't all that unusual for her. i encouraged her to forge ahead to the bathroom and attempt a refreshing bowel evacuation. i was scrambling with my first and most important task of the morning: getting the coffee pot on the stove. i was very confused about priorities when i thought i heard her saying she was going to throw up and i guess that gave brian enough time, after i hollered did she just say she's going to throw up?, to get in there while violet spittled on to the floor.
look, i gotta get the coffee started on time if i'm going to have something acidic to pour into my stomach to kill a viral infection.
after spittling on the floor, she made a tiny spittle into the vomit bowl i had produced after starting the coffee. i put an assortment of rubberbands and clips into her hair and walked her back to bed. she was all warm and pale. blargh. i put her face on a towel and put the vomit bowl on the floor by her and reacquainted her on the proper steps for a successful throw up. convinced brian to scrub the long-suffering front toilet. i followed this up with a personal administration of probiotics, lysine, and vitB for good measure. popped some probiotics in oliver's face.
wait. i didn't come here to talk about spittle violet. she's fine now. she practically hopped in place while saying, "soooooo... you know how when i'm sick i get to lay down on the couch and watch tv?"
i packed oliver into the car to head out for the bus and i asked him, because of today's approaching storm, if they've had a tornado drill this year. he said they hadn't, but have had a lock down drill in mr. ruiz's class. and my stomach made a clench as it does whenever i hear the phrase lock down drill spill from the mouth of one of my children.
i asked him what they tell them about the drill and he didn't get what i was asking. he said they don't really hide, they just line up against the wall and stay quiet.
the reason i said uuuugghh up there was because this is the part where i learned that even though oliver has been doing lock down drills since first grade, shortly after sandy hook, he didn't actually understand the why of it.
"it doesn't make sense to have us stay quiet. if someone's breaking into the school and they think no one is in that room, they're going to think, 'hey! i bet there's a lot of great stuff to take in there. and no one is around to catch me.'". he postulated this because, "no one would want to break in to kill kids."
and then i have to cry. he doesn't know that's precisely why they have lock down drills.
i wanted to cry and sob really hard really bad. but, you know, oliver's in the car and we're sitting in the parking lot across from hexter now and so my eyes are just bursting from the pressure and leaking a little and i'm hanging on to my breath.
i stop myself from revealing the disturbing and grisly truth, even though i'm frequently pretty truthful with my kids about the ways of the world. but this one is just too much. too personal for him. too terrifying a prospect. in a weird way, too hurtful of feelings. breaking in just to kill kids?
i told him well, sometimes people react violently when caught in the act of committing a crime because they don't want to get caught. so that's why you want to stay quiet. and if they think no one is there, they won't run off quickly and that gives the police more time to respond to the alarm that someone will send and catch him.
and i stuffed the tears down, down, down, and put him on the bus.
well, great. violet just puked again. fuck this, i'm now wearing a mask. she's watching animal odd couples like nothing happened.
we're launching into good old springtime weather in texas. which means the usual crisp (kind of) and gorgeous days of shockingly blue skies and lush, green baby grass. and also the threat of having limbs forcibly torn off just before the rest of you is crushed by that half dead tree falling on your bathroom ceiling. or, in my case, having a heart attack because you're so incredibly worried all of that will happen to you. spring: a time for dichotomy.
violet woke this morning for school and reported a hurting tummy. which isn't all that unusual for her. i encouraged her to forge ahead to the bathroom and attempt a refreshing bowel evacuation. i was scrambling with my first and most important task of the morning: getting the coffee pot on the stove. i was very confused about priorities when i thought i heard her saying she was going to throw up and i guess that gave brian enough time, after i hollered did she just say she's going to throw up?, to get in there while violet spittled on to the floor.
look, i gotta get the coffee started on time if i'm going to have something acidic to pour into my stomach to kill a viral infection.
after spittling on the floor, she made a tiny spittle into the vomit bowl i had produced after starting the coffee. i put an assortment of rubberbands and clips into her hair and walked her back to bed. she was all warm and pale. blargh. i put her face on a towel and put the vomit bowl on the floor by her and reacquainted her on the proper steps for a successful throw up. convinced brian to scrub the long-suffering front toilet. i followed this up with a personal administration of probiotics, lysine, and vitB for good measure. popped some probiotics in oliver's face.
wait. i didn't come here to talk about spittle violet. she's fine now. she practically hopped in place while saying, "soooooo... you know how when i'm sick i get to lay down on the couch and watch tv?"
i packed oliver into the car to head out for the bus and i asked him, because of today's approaching storm, if they've had a tornado drill this year. he said they hadn't, but have had a lock down drill in mr. ruiz's class. and my stomach made a clench as it does whenever i hear the phrase lock down drill spill from the mouth of one of my children.
i asked him what they tell them about the drill and he didn't get what i was asking. he said they don't really hide, they just line up against the wall and stay quiet.
the reason i said uuuugghh up there was because this is the part where i learned that even though oliver has been doing lock down drills since first grade, shortly after sandy hook, he didn't actually understand the why of it.
"it doesn't make sense to have us stay quiet. if someone's breaking into the school and they think no one is in that room, they're going to think, 'hey! i bet there's a lot of great stuff to take in there. and no one is around to catch me.'". he postulated this because, "no one would want to break in to kill kids."
and then i have to cry. he doesn't know that's precisely why they have lock down drills.
i wanted to cry and sob really hard really bad. but, you know, oliver's in the car and we're sitting in the parking lot across from hexter now and so my eyes are just bursting from the pressure and leaking a little and i'm hanging on to my breath.
i stop myself from revealing the disturbing and grisly truth, even though i'm frequently pretty truthful with my kids about the ways of the world. but this one is just too much. too personal for him. too terrifying a prospect. in a weird way, too hurtful of feelings. breaking in just to kill kids?
i told him well, sometimes people react violently when caught in the act of committing a crime because they don't want to get caught. so that's why you want to stay quiet. and if they think no one is there, they won't run off quickly and that gives the police more time to respond to the alarm that someone will send and catch him.
and i stuffed the tears down, down, down, and put him on the bus.
well, great. violet just puked again. fuck this, i'm now wearing a mask. she's watching animal odd couples like nothing happened.