Queen of Spain Blog

Please. Please. Please. Let us out. We promise not to pass our snot on to the next family. Just please, for the love of God, let us out.

I know. I know. You are right. This would have never of happened to your brother. And while I won’t necessarily concede we missed one of your milestones, I will agree that it did lack a certain amount of fanfare.

You got your first tooth. Its beautiful. Its sharp. Its a glorious tooth and I apologize for not making a bigger deal of its arrival.

Now I’m not going to try and justify myself to you, I am, after all, the Queen. But the kingdom was extremely preoccupied with the Royal Snotfest still consuming this monarchy. You, yourself, are still infested with this evil invader the idiots at the pediatrician’s office are calling a “cold.” They obviously don’t understand its MY children that are infected, or else they wouldn’t treat me like every other neurotic mother in town calling to see what is to be done with this sleep-depriving, tissue consuming, demon of a virus.

I’m sure you are wondering what all of this has to do with the lack of celebration, as it were, for the new pearly white in your mouth. Afterall, had it been the Count’s first chomper, there’d be a parade, you’d argue. True enough my dear. True enough. Admittedly the Kaiser and I bestowed many a kudo for your sibling’s first milestones. And yes, they are documented at nauseum.

But I know you. And you are obviously above such typical parental accolades. You have held your head high (and without support) since birth. You have been talking to us for months. Crawling for weeks. And you are pulling up, standing, and nearly cruising–all before your brother had begun to sit. You’re special, my dear. And you’ve known it well before we figured it out, and certainly never needed us to point it out.

So please do not mistake the “second child” parental nonchalance as favoritism. We just know its a tiny tooth. And we’re saving our Princess Parade for the really big milestones. I’ll start planning the party for your first period now.

The Queen

Seriously. I’m gone for a few hours and all hell breaks loose.

Can THIS really be true? First of all, I thought Tom Cruise couldn’t reproduce. But I think that came from the same tabloid that informed me Hillary Clinton was an alien. And what about poor Katie’s parents? I mean, are they freaking out? Or are they like my Mother…who STILL tells us she used to live in the same subdivision as Tom Cruise’s mother. She was that excited.

Also, while my DSL, that’s not really DSL was taking a crap, our President thought it would be fun to scare the LIVING SHIT OUT OF ME. We just got our flu shots here, but apparently that whole regular flu is very last year. If I were any sort of mother I’d be tracking down that avian flu antidote as we speak.

To add to the fun around here, while I spent an hour on the phone with the DSL that’s not really DSL company, the Count got his entire arm STUCK IN THIS.

Oh, and someone or something is stealing tomatoes from our garden. We think it might be our neighbors my husband has named “The Courtney Love Experience” if that gives you any indication of what they are like.

Today we celebrate. Today we party. Today we open the Igor Larionov bottle of wine I’ve been saving. Today we dine out for hurricane relief. Welcome back hockey. Here is what you looked like in my house when you left us. Or at least, when I remember you last. And next to it…what you look like now. You are a completely different person. But I love you, just the same.
Now drop the puck.

The mucus is still flowing here in the Royal Kingdom. Boogers galore abound in our castle. Two miserable little creatures keep moaning for popsicles and Kleenex and the Queen is moaning for the Queen Mother to fly in from Florida so she can help. But, no such luck. Queen Mother does not arrive for 2 more weeks and by then, I have no doubt, the sea of snot will have subsided or this Queen will have drunk herself silly trying to forget the smell of Vic’s at 1am.

I’d by lying if I said this kingdom was a peaceful one. Because with two sick kids and two parents starting to feel a little unhealthy themselves, tensions are high. So high, that bedtime last night became a battleground. Thunderdome, really. A gauntlet was thrown and I have every intention of calling the Kaiser out to see just how much he really meant what he said.

Kaiser Ota swears he will never, ever put PJ’s on Princess Peanut again. Ever. Never. Ever.

It all started innocently enough. Administering night-time (knock out) medicines, brushing teeth, changing diapers/training pants, and then…the dreaded (duh duh daaaaaaaaa)
“Can you change Peanut too, please…she needs new PJ’s. They are in the nursery.”
“Sure.”

To be fair. The nursery is still a disaster from the move. Clean clothes have made it to the top of dressers but not, necessarily IN them. I also need to go pull out all the Princess’s 3-6 month clothing, as its no longer fitting. So sending the Kaiser to go get PJ’s is really an exercise in torture.

The Kaiser returns from the nursery with PJ’s I KNOW do not fit. Since we’ve played this scene out before, I humor him a little and say they might fit Maybe. I’ll try.

I don’t really try. I just announce, while he’s not looking…”Sorry honey, these don’t fit…could you grab another pair…” And this time I give him instructions on where to find a good pair.

He comes back with a perfect pair of PJ’s. And for reasons still unknown to me, I tell him to put them on the Peanut.

I’m fiddling with one thing or another…the Count’s toothbrush, his nighttime juice, his nightlight…whatever, when I turn around and see HE HAS PUT THE PRINCESS’S PJ’S ON BACKWARDS.

He’s struggling. She’s trying to crawl out of his reach. He’s trying to snap. She’s getting fussy, he’s trying to just finish the damn snapping. It looks like a nice little wrestling match is going on when I proclaim, “Those are backwards.”

No answer. Still snapping. Did he not hear me?

“Those are BACKWARDS.”

The snapping fiasco abruptly ends. The Kaiser hands me an unbuttoned, half dressed child and proclaims “I am never, ever putting PJ’s on her again.”

Bring it on. Bring it on. I give him 1 week. Then life and circumstance in the Royal Kingdom will dictate he PJ again. I’m sure they will be on wrong. Or not fit. Or be too hot of a material or too summery for 40 degree weather. But he’ll do it again. Oh yes he will.

In an attempt to amuse and delude myself from what is really going on here today (yes, the Princess is now spewing snot too) Here are some fun and mindless things to check out:

1) This moron actually lives about 5 miles from where I grew up. I would totally tattoo Steve Yzerman’s face on my ass, but this is just sad.

2) This political quiz called me a socialist. Too bad I like me some expensive stuff. But it would be a nice world if we could all have expensive stuff.

3) In case I haven’t mentioned it enough, HOCKEY IS BACK, BABY. We had our fantasy draft Sunday, but the Kaiser and I were dealing with the sea of snot, so our team got autodrafted. I will happily take your suggestions on what to do with this:
M. Sundin (Tor – C)
O. Jokinen (Fla – C)
B. Morrow (Dal – LW)
O. Kvasha (NYI – LW)
J. Iginla (Cgy – RW)
B. Hull (Pho – RW)
N. Lidstrom (Det – D)
B. McCabe (Tor – D)
N. BoyntonNA (Bos – D)
F. Kaberle (Car – D)
J. Nieuwendyk (Fla – C)
B. Gionta (NJ – RW)
A. Brunette (Col – LW)
E. Belfour (Tor – G)
D. Hasek (Ott – G)
J. Grahame (TB – G)
Obviously Brunette will be the first to go. I won’t even have a Fagalanche player on my fantasy team. You can take the girl out of Detroit…

4) I really want the entire family to dress like this for Halloween. But I know the Kaiser would kill me.

5) We purchased this little potty for our ongoing potty training fun this weekend. I honestly think it might be the single most ridiculous child-related purchase we’ve ever made. The freaking thing SINGS and the book its comes with is more than comical. The Count is entirely too sick for us to be trying it out all that much right now. But I predict it will be more than funny once we get going. Seriously. Its A ROYAL THRONE, what could possibly go wrong???

That, to your left, is one sick little boy. Miserable with snot. Hopped up on triaminic. Showered with popsicles and tissues.

Blame it on preschool. Blame it on his little snot nosed friend that always seems sick. Blame it on the flu shot he got Friday. Whatever the reason, Count Waffles the Terrible got hit hard by the mother-of-all snot producing viruses this weekend and is threatening to bring the rest of the house down with him.

As we sat in a steamed up bathroom at 1am, the smell of Vic’s nearly burning my nostrils and not even remotely affecting his, I wondered how often this scene is repeated in homes across the world. I clearly remember doing it with my Mother. Having your achey body pulled from the couch to sit all sweaty on Mom’s lap, reeking of menthol, while your PJ’s cling to your chest.

I sat there rocking, singing, trying to soothe him in anyway I could. Wishing this nasty, nasty germ would pack up and get the hell out of our house. And then I smacked myself back into reality. We are very lucky. We are very, very, very lucky. And don’t you ever, ever forget that. He only has a cold. One of one million he will have. One of many hundreds of times we will sit in this vaporized bathroom and on a slick, cool toilet.

The reason I smacked myself back into reality, during what can rightfully be called a suck-ass Motherhood moment, is because I remembered a friend. She’s not even a friend really. More someone I knew for a short period of time. We did Stroller Strides together, back after the Count was born and her son was about his age. She had her second baby right after (or was it right before?) I had the Princess. They moved away. They moved away and I forgot about them. I forgot about them and I got an email. I got an email that made me always, always remember how good things are around here. You see, her second child, born just before (or was it after?) my second child, has cancer. Cancer. Just typing that hurts.

At 2 months old, little Cruz was diagnosed with Acute Neuroblastoma, an aggressive cancer. They found it at his routine 2 month check up. He has undergone multiple rounds of Chemotherapy, had major surgery to remove the tumor, and is expected to undergo more chemo. I get email updates through the Stroller Strides network. The last one I got made me sick in the way only a mother feels sick. In the pit of her stomach. In the deep, dark, depths of her larger than life heart.

Cruz was going into surgery. The family had been through so very much. In and out of the hospital so, so many times in his short life. Apparently everytime they go into this hospital, Cruz is put into the standard yellow and black pediatric gown. This time, when the hour came to put Cruz in that gown and take him to surgery, his mother lost it. She did not want to put that damn gown on him again. She just couldn’t stand to see him in that yellow and black thing one more time. It was her breakdown moment. The moment, this always perky, cheerful girl, finally had enough. Over a gown. She is so brave. So very brave. And her equally brave husband calmed her down. Talked her down. And they dressed the baby in that gown and sent him off to surgery. While I will never understand what this family is going through, I understand how dressing her little baby in that hospital gown this last time broke her. Cruz came out of the surgery well. He’s got more chemo scheduled. They are continuing the battle.

So as I ramp up for another day of snot and tissues and vic’s and triaminic and thermometers. I’ll keep telling myself, its only a cold. Its only a cold. Its only a cold.

Anyone interested in donating to the Barron family for Cruz’s skyrocketing medical costs, feel free to contact me.

Daddy is home.
Football is on the TV.
I can pee by myself instead of with one child on my lap and the other running out the bathroom door with a trail of toilet paper.
The Kaiser grills.
Did I mention the whole Daddy is home thing? Seriously. Look at that picture. Everyone is occupied. I’m going to open a beer and go hide somewhere. Because I can.
Happy weekend everyone.