Bisquick Shake and Explode.

Bottle of Bisquick brand 'Shake and Pour' pancakes mix - $1.99. 12 oz. Bag of Nestles Toll-House Semi sweet Chocolate Chips - $3.99.  Calphalon 14" non-stick fry pan - $59.99. 36 oz. bottle of Clorox Clean-up - $4.89. Fitbit Charge HR -  $249.99.  Second bottle of Bisquick mix - $1.99. Letting James pour in the water, put on the lid and shake the mix..... PRICELESS!!!     And now for the rest of the story. Obviously the lid was not on the bottle properly. As James was vigorously shaking the bottle, the lid let loose and the bottle practically exploded.  Not a drop of it got on him but the entire circumference of my kitchen and part of my dining room, not to mention myself,  looked like a preschool paper mâché disaster.  It dropped off my eyelashes, the tip of my nose, the left portion of my glasses had a glob that complexly obscured my vision, but the majority of the mix had splattered directly under my chin and was slowly making its way down my neck and into my shirt. The stove, upper and lower cabinets, ceiling, floor, sink, window above sink, fridge and kitchen table were hit. I started to clean up the stove first but I was dripping more mix from my body than I was actually getting cleaned up. I had no choice but to go slopping into the shower and peel off my quickly hardening breakfast project and wash the mix off of every inch of my body. I still don't know how it ended up in my belly button. Then back to the kitchen to begin the clean up project. Well....  While I was in the shower my precious Jamie decided he would start the clean up process by putting 6 towels in the sink and filling it with soap and water. Then he found the bottle of Clorox Clean-up bleach cleaner under the sink. His first order of cleaning business was my Fitbit, which I had peeled off and left on the gooey counter.  So he soaked it down really well with bleach cleanser and proceeded to wash it with one of the sopping wet towels. So as I return from the shower and walk into the kitchen, I find that my darling has taken out the pancakey rug, wiped down the stove and some of the floor and counter with the drippy towels and the bottle of Clorox. I'm so proud.... But then I reach over to get my Fitbit to wipe down and I realize it's floating in a puddle of Clorox, water and Bisquick... Siiigh. So now the kitchen is cleaned back up and second batch of chocolate chip pancakes are made and consumed.  I wonder if the Fitbit warranty people would like to hear a story about pancakes and bleach???

Drawing blood from a man cub.....

All in all James's appt. at USA went well. The doctor was very thorough and had lots of questions. He listened to my concerns and responded to each one. And he had great bedside manner with James. You would be surprised how many specialists do not.

Now, the blood draw was a whole nother story......  It really does come in threes. I just hope it doesn't start back at one too soon.

As always, I don't lie to James about medical stuff because he has to be able to trust me. So I told him after the doc left that we had to go to the lab for another blood draw. I reminded him of the draw he had last month and how he freaked out over it and all for naught, because after he said it really didn't hurt. He said "I knows, I knows, mom. We got this." (Sometimes I swear he is channelling Smeagal from Lord of the Rings.)  We went over it a few more times on the way to the lab. "Now, you aren't going to freak out about this, right James?  After all you aren't a little kid anymore. You're almost a man."  Each time he would say "We got this, Mom. Wheelie,  we can do it."  So we go sign in at the lab and about ten minutes go by before they call us up to the window. I give the Phlebotomist behind the counter James's military ID and she promptly engaged James about what a big deal it was that he had his own military ID. He blushed a little and said "yeah". I told her that when he first got his ID he said it was his drivers license and he planned to drive home.  We both had a little chuckle about it to which James replied "Mom!  Stop it". And he slapped my hand. Weeellllll......  Phlebotomist lady did not take that well and immediately said "James!  You better be good to your Mama, or I'll come out there"!  Ha!  Hahahahahahahaha!  James gave her his 'yeah right' look and said (hold onto your seats) "Yeah, right". Oh, I already decided that I really, really likes this lady, but she slapped her hands down on the counter and said "Oh no you didn't!  You think I won't come out there. Well!  You just wait right there".  She proceeded to hop up out of her chair, sending it spinning off into the wall, and marched herself right on out to the waiting room where smarty pants James had already spilt for Vegas!  There were at least ten other people in the waiting room but that did not stop James and the Phlebotomist from having a rousing games of 'You can't catch me' around the chairs and tables. So.... Being the Mom and the one who had to pretend to be responsible, I snagged James by the collar as he darted by and put an end to the game. The Chaser led me and the chasee back to the lab and I put the chasee into the blood draw chair. At this point he was still cooperating with the whole 'We got this attitude'. That lasted through the alcohol swabbing, the tourniquet tying, and to the point where Phlebotomist lady produced her Butterfly needle. Then the real fun began. After I got James in the WWE Sleeper hold, I 'Mom whispered' in his ear, "If you hold still, it won't hurt and you get a milkshake on the way home. If you move, it WILL hurt and I'll drink your milkshake in the car". I have no doubt it was the threat of my confiscation of his beloved milkshake that made him suddenly freeze. Needless to say, when it was all said and done, he said "Told you we had this, it didn't even hurt".

Wakey Wakey, eggs and Bakey......or hot dogs.

People may wonder sometimes why I only have two personality emotions : grouchy or crazy. Well, this may enlighten you a bit. I had a little trouble sleeping last night, which isn't that unusual. This restless night can be attributed, in no small part, to James's very loud 11:26pm conversation with his dream time companions. I hear "Hey!" .....  "Give me that back"..... "Help me!  He's got my shoe!"  Sigh. These middle of the night convos are also not unusual. But they are sometimes so vehement that I'm forced to get out of bed and make sure no one is actually in James's room 'taking his shoe'. After settling James back down, I probably fell asleep around midnightthirtyish. Here it is the last week of summer break, I've had just a few measly hours of real sleep, and my precious son gets out of bed at 4:50.  And I'm not talking PM. But he doesn't get up and make it obvious that it's him.... No, he slowly creaks out of bed, making all sorts of strangest noises. Creeping around the hallway outside my room. Scraping things along the floor. Breathing heavily. I, being at least half crazy, can't figure out if it is James, a burglar, a murdered or a zombie making those noises. I'm far too tired to care enough to get up and check so I just open one eye and wait to see if I'm about to be murdered or have my brains eaten, or just be really aggravated. James finally shuffles into my room trying to be quiet. I've never understood why he tries to be quiet when we both know he's going to shuffle to the side of my bed, pry open one of my eyes, lean down and talk into it like a Sonic speaker and ask me a question that will cause the pried open eyeball to roll back far enough in my head to get a good look at my brain. As he reaches the side of my bed, he indeed pulls my eyelid up and whispers, into my eyeball...."Mom... I need to eat my leftovers now. Is it lunchtime yet?"  Seriously?   I never answer right away because I'm digging deep into my psyche to pull up a tiny bit of patience and restraint to prevent me from saying out loud the response that has immediately popped into my brain. Of course, this just means James needs to repeat himself a bit louder and with a smudge more spittle in my eyeball when he says "lefToverS".  Mm mm. Thanks son, my eye was feeling a wee bit dry.  So after a moment to collect myself I respond by letting him know that it IS NOT time for lunch. It's not even time for breakfast. It is, in fact, time to SLEEP.  I instructed him to look out the window, where he could confirm that it is, indeed, still night time. I also let him know that it would be in the best interest of his health and emotional well being to return himself to his bed where he was welcome to play with his iPhone or sleep. I didn't really care which, but he was not to leave his room again until he could look out the window and see the sun. He reluctantly acquiesced and returned to his room. I listened to him climb into his bed and heard the telltale click of his iPhone coming on. Good. That would keep him busy for an hour or so. I settled back in to try and get back in good with the Sandman and just as I was beginning to drift into oblivion, my darling child, who had obviously put on his head phones, chose that very moment to start belting out his own personal cover, complete with his very own version of lyrics, of Dance Dance by Fallout Boy. "Dance! Dance! Pulling a tart to bash time. What er you licking at powderpuff?"  I shouted for him to be quiet, which was pure stupidity on my part because, hello...he's wearing headphones and listening to Fallout Boy at 75 decibels. So I flailed out of bed and stomped into his room, yanked off his headphone and said "MOMMY. NEEDS. SLEEP."  He gave me a disgusted huff and said  "You said play with my iPhone."  I clarified with James that he was to play extremely quietly with his iPhone until the sun came up and I stomped back to bed. Finally I was able to drift back to sleep and thankfully James was being quiet. I had just floating around the perimeter of happy dreamland when James yanked my blinds all the way to the top and said "Ha!  Look mom, there's the sun. I'm going to go get a leftover hotdog."  It's now 11:05 am and guess where my angel is?  Yep. He's laying across my bed, asleep. I'm currently devising unpleasant ways to wake him that don't qualify for a call to DHS.....  So far ice water is my best plan. I'm kidding, of course. I would never dump ice water on my sleeping 15 year old. No. Instead I'm going to go pry open his left eye, lean in real close, and order a Sonic burger with pickles and bacon, a large order of mozzarella sticks, a small tater tot and a route 44 Mountain Dew to keep me awake for the day.