This age is hard

Hours later, as I look at Beckham in his sweet little monster jammies, binky in mouth, babbling around it about nothing at all...
Maddox sleeping and Lance at work,

this all seems funny.
and it is good to laugh; as it is the only way I will survive it.

It almost seems like I am telling stories about another child...
out of a horror story.
Not my little peanut, all cute and glistening tonight.
But I swear to you...
Beckham has been one fit away from a fair trade on Craig's List this week.

Let's recap.

Remember that Maddox started vomiting Tuesday night.
Diarrhea followed.
So much that he would run to the toilet every 30 minutes and almost never make it completely.
I bet he crapped in 10 pair of underwear over the past few days.
And we have been up and down every night since this started.

Candace mentioned that I was going to have to make a trip to Target for some new undies before this was all over with.... and I realized it was well past due.
That child is still wearing his 2T-3T Handy Manny, Mickey Mouse, and Cars duds that he potty trained in over 2 years ago!
Because they still fit!!!
Candace laughed because she knows how bad my own undergarment collection is--
which made me laugh, because Lance's are worse than mine.

Beckham ended up with a little diarrhea himself.
And Lance came home Friday night vomiting.

All in all, everyone was just peachy.

After being pinned up in the house all week, and Lance staying at the store a billion hours a day-- 50 days a week; we decided to venture out on Saturday.

Maddox still didn't look well:: pale, eyes sunken in and whiney...
Beckham was Beckham.
Irritable, bossy, demanding... and cute.
And I am tired.
{{present tense.  Still am}}

We dressed and right before we were heading out the door, Maddox started vomiting again.
I decided to check his sats, which I had not done in a week, and he had bottomed out again.

With Lance not here to ground me,
I went into Holly mode.
Rather than logic saying that the vomiting was a part of the virus just lingering about-- I was attaching it to his oxygen level... and since he has no cough, I was confused with that as well.
Neb going, my mind was diagnosing him with all-things-traumatic (and psychotic) and I decided we were leaving anyway.

His sats stayed up almost the entire day, as we only had to do one more treatment.

We said hi to Daddy at the store and then slid over to Target.

Which was a joke.

That no one laughed at.

I made a FB status that I would rather be struck in the face by a King Cobra than have to go in public with both boys by myself,
and it is the truth.

I started with a bribe in the food lounge thing, and bought them each their own ICEE.
Normally I would cheap-out and make them share...
And I would try and convince Maddox in any color but red, knowing that B will want whatever his brother had.
But I didn't.
I got them each their own concoction of blue and red and we ventured into the store.

It didn't take long for Beckham to want out of the buggy, and Maddox to want every toy we saw.

However, I owed them each a toy as that was the deal if they would sleep an entire week straight in their own beds.
And minus the night that he got ill, they have been in their room for a couple of weeks now,
so I was past due.

Beckham was a few hours past a nap and I was a few hours past trying to make him happy, so we finally threw in the towel.


While checking out, we had a ICEE disaster.
I asked for a rag, but instead I got a 16 year old girl who was very aggravated.
She kept saying, "you're going to have to take them out of the buggy for me to clean this up."  but obviously she had zero children or she'd understand that I already deserved a Purple Heart for having them both in the buggy anyway-- so I politely asked her to bring me a mop and I'd clean it up myself.  I explained that I'd rather be knocked out cold with a hammer than get them both out!
But she wasn't amused.

We headed back to Lance with a couple of shirts for the boys, the toys and nothing that I went after.

Lance was ready for dinner-- which was miserable-- and had to run a few errands to places like Office Depot and Staples.  --which even sound boring to a grown up.

We ended up back at the store, organizing his office until 10:00...
and we let the boys run around the joint like feral children, while we did.

The tummy bug finally hit me last night, and this morning I felt like I had slept 7 minutes.

Today, Lance had to go to Target for the store and I thought it would be a good idea to tag along-- with an extra set of hands, I could finally get what I needed.

Wrong.

Again.

Beckham is so hard.
Lance assures me that Maddox had days like this too.
I remember a few-- because when Maddox was 2, trips like these paralyzed me.
I could tell a couple of stories but I'd be too embarrassed and someone would probably call the authorities.
But the fact of the matter is that we survived them and he's a pretty good boy now.
There's hope.

Lance is always calm, and tells me that I can't joke about things-- like taking him to a safe baby site; just for a couple of hours to have lunch in peace.
But he does get embarrassed.
More than myself, probably.  
Today, he was trying to buy Beckham's terribleness with a toy in the one spot (which I can't judge because that is obviously what I had done the day before with 2 bright red icees) but B was still screeching like a wounded crow and a lady said , "whoo that's bad" --in an endearing, I feel sorry for you type of way.
And then she said it 3 more times.

It was bad, but so was her hair, and I swear, had she told me one more time-- I would have let her know. 
I go for the jugular when my back is against the wall.
You should know that.
Instead, I took him to the car while Lance and Maddox finished and I called mom.
Because that's what I do.

And again, I pulled away with only a case of diapers and not a grocery one. 
  
My mom laughs because I have prayed many prayers about wanting Beckham to talk.
And now he says "no" on repeat.
All angry and disgruntled-like.
"Do you love momma?" --no.
"Do you love daddy?"  --no.
"Are you a sweet boy?"  --no.
"Will you try and be a sweet boy?"  --Nooooooo. 

We had lunch at Rosa's, where I attempted to find a silver lining.
I love that all 3 of my boys remove their hats when we eat.
We have never talked about it, or told them too-- but they watch their daddy and follow his lead.
I love that.

A lady came to our table to tell me that my boys were so cute and they love watching them-- and I started to think they were harder in my head than in reality.

But then Maddox spilled his lemonade all over the floor and Beckham refused to sit in a high chair and neither boy ate enough to make a moth full, so we bailed out. 
Stopped back by the store, and called it a day.

Back home, Beckham napped.
Maddox and I played.
And my parents stopped by after the Stars game and B played me for a fool.

Maddox still looks ill to me, but we are sending him back to school tomorrow.

In a different outfit than the one I set out, since apparently my phone thinks I live in "Cupertino" where it will be 39* and not here, where we are expected to reach 82*.
The parkas probably aren't needed.
Glad I figured that out now.

Maddox went to sleep about 8:00 and hopefully he rests tonight.

Beckham just crashed.
With his body in the floor an his head perched up in a camping chair. 

He and I have spent the last couple of hours cuddled up and chatting, as if we hadn't spent the last 2 days battling for the claim to victory.

Tonight he says love me.
He claims to be a good boy.
And he thinks he'll be better tomorrow.
(all by shaking his head yes.  The word has still not arrived)

I could literally eat the cuteness right off his body and it makes me wonder what God was thinking when he granted us with this amazing job.

"Here child.  One second you are going to want to choke his neck off-- you are going to cry out to me for help... and an hour later you are be obsessed with his every being and want to lick the sugar right off his tiny ears."
Maybe not?

Either way, tonight I thank Him for them.
Bad and all.

And, remember how I said Beckham's "glistening" in the beginning of this saga?
I meant it literally.
He got into my favorite lip gloss and rubbed it on EVERY square inch of his naked body earlier. 
I bathed him after the episode, but all of his favorite parts are still shining like diamonds.
And just so you know,
I didn't trash the lip gloss.
Because A. we all know I am cheap B. I am sure nastier things have touched my mouth. and C. I had no idea it was so sparkly and durable!

So that's it.
That's all I've got.

I can only hope that this week is less eventful,
that we are all well,
and that we get some rest.

I am not going to hold Beckham to tonight's promises...
because he's 22 months.
And this age is just hard.