Ginger Unplugged

"What happened to your bellybutton?" Long pause of shock and horror. "Oh, there's a Cheerio in it."

Here I am awake with Monkey at 3:34 am. This is not something I usually do. My amazing Husband gets the kids ALL the time. ALL of it. He was up 6 times with Monkey just last night. So as shrieks arose in the dark yet again I made Husband put in ear plugs (who actually fought me about it) and took Monkey on myself. He was drugged within an inch of his life because I had given him something earlier for teething and Husband forgot and gave him more (who cares about these things at 2 am?). After ten burps I finally brilliantly deduced the problem was gas but had no gas medicine. Did I mention the shrieking--not Monkey's usually hearty yell? Shrieking. Here I was dependent on home remedies again, although I considered driving him to a pharmacy if necessary (did I mention the shrieking?). I stuck a tiny bit of powdered ginger in his mouth (it's supposed to help digestion) but I had to do something more--he wasn't falling for, "Here, this is really delicious" again. Befo...

I don't think I remembered to tell many people that, "I'm off to California." So, uh, here I am back again, before you even noticed! I figured it wouldn't really matter unless there was an earthquake or something and none of you knew to come search the rubble for us, but there wasn't the slightest tremor so all's well that ends well, right? You can't argue with Shakespeare. To make up for not knowing about California beforehand, at least you can know about it in depth afterhand. Here are some of my memorable moments. 1. Discovering when the temp went up to 86 in Arizona that our air conditioning was out. The kids were good sports and luckily the sun set soon after that. 2. Crash waking us up every ten minutes to make sure we hadn't "jumped out the window" or anything. Tempting...but there were bars on the window, so we couldn't get away. 3. Husband's sister giving me every bit of food in her juice shop that is on my special diet....

I know you've all been waiting anxiously (and perhaps with a smidge of guilt and fear) to find out if I found someone to go with me to the Dave Matthews concert. The answer to that burning question is (loooooong pause)... YES! My very cool friend Katie immediately called after I blogged to take me up on my offer and then my dearest friend Carrie saw my plight (she'll do anything for someone in need--bless her kind heart) and offered to go, too. So the rest of you are officially off the hook. IF anyone else should really want to go, we have lawn tickets (it's at Usana Ampitheater ) so you can join us easily. Just let me know. The more the merrier. My mom, however, is not invited. I have naturally given her grief for years over her favorite musician because, as our good friend Bob says, "There are two kinds of people in the world, those who like Neil Diamond , and those who don't." Her response to my DMB predicament? "Well at least people know who Neil Dia...

I am trying desperately to get someone to attend the Dave Matthews Band concert with me. Husband said, "You know, I like to be with you and all, but I've got to draw the line somewhere." However he doesn't want me going alone since "hot guys will pick me up." Yeah. Right. My kids said, "Who? Elvis ? We would go if it were Elvis." Husband interjected, "Heck, I'D go if it were Elvis." "My gosh," I said, "It's DAVE MATTHEWS . He's full of heart, talent, passion." Blank stares. "You know?" I added, " Otis on that Winn-Dixie movie ?" But that was still apparently unconvincing. Butterfly, who's 5, finally said she'd come with me out of pity if I brought coloring books or the Nintendo DS for her to have something to do. My gosh. Does any adult I enjoy being with actually know who Dave Matthews is and like his music!? I think I'll sneak to it myself if not. I've had plenty of ex...

Questions I was asked today: Is Hawaii more than one state? How are crystals made? Why are there blank pages at the end of books? Since the president doesn't really own the White House, can we go live there? What do we have that's stretchy, doesn't break easily and won't melt? And those are just the ones I made note of. After satisfactorily answering all these questions and more, you really would think I could successfully manage to look at the toilet seat before I sat on it.

Why can't I learn this one simple thing? WHY? I am a mother of FOUR, this should be obvious. Note to self: Look at the toilet seat before you sit down--every time, no matter what. LOOK!!!

Remember how I said I've been sick for two years? Well I'm done! Everyone in the house is sick with high fevers, outrageous coughs and "get out the saltwater" congestion, except for me. And, having taken care of them all, I can tell you there's a slight downside to health. But anyway--here is what I think is going on. I've been having some different symptoms and THINK I might, possibly, perhaps have endometriosis . So I went on this die t and I'm taking approximately 1.4 billion herbs and regardless of whether it's helping my suspected endo, I am now apparently very healthy. Those who know what I'm doing always ask me what I eat though, so here it is: Fruit Vegetables Whole Grains (except for wheat) Seafood Nuts Legumes Um, I think that's about it. But see, this is what you can do with it. Breakfast Hashbrowns Oatmeal (with rice milk) Applesauce with toasted nuts and cinnamon Rice milk and frozen fruit smoothies Lunch Sweet potato fries Pinea...

I really didn't mean for this to turn into a trauma log (sort of like a travel log but fewer coconuts). I guess sometimes life's just like that. Butterfly broke her leg! She was out riding her bike which she was just saying was her absolute favorite thing in the world to do. "Even better than friends," which I think was an exaggeration but tells you how much she loves it. She attempted to turn around in our garage and the bike slipped out from under her. She has a long twisty break in her shin but it didn't actually move the bone anywhere. So she didn't need to have it set--just splinted. She crawls around and gets carried a lot and pushed in her stroller all during school (bless her teacher). Flying Monkey is quite jealous. They've been seeing which of them can get the most attention by hollering in the middle of the night. So far, they're pretty evenly tied. But I digress...I'm working on very little sleep here. I was in so much shock at the doct...

There was a thump, someone running and someone screaming. Used to such things, I sat on the bed and said, "what!" in that annoyed tone that mom's and teenagers do so well. My lovely but dramatic princess screamed from somewhere in the hall, "Something's wrong with Monkey! He's bleeding everywhere. Oh no, oh no!" It turned out that one of his two front bottom teeth was poking straight forward, where it used to poke (like most people's) straight up. Husband simply knocked it back into place, "It was just a reflex," he says. Apparently, if Monkey keeps the tooth it will all be due to Husband's instincts because the doctor said he didn't know anything about teeth (it was a Saturday) and the emergency dental people refused to ever call me back. It's a bit crooked and I suspect it's a bit wobbly. Still, on the bright side, he's biting much less.

I'm on the editorial board for a brand spanking new literary journal called The Sigurd Journal . It will come out quarterly; the first issue is being sent out February 15th. So if you'd like to subscribe, please send $5 for the year (what a deal) and your address to: The Sigurd Journal PO Box 93 American Fork, UT 84003 Make your check out to Caleb Warnock. You can also pay with Paypal to calebwarnock@yahoo.com Subscriber information will not be sold or shared. TSJ is mailed to subscribers booklet style, saddle-stapled, 5.5 x 4.25 inches, page number varies.

I am still working out the kinks, but I'm starting two new blogs to separate out all my posts. This blog will still have most everything. My publisher likes that I have a blog and says that kids look up authors quite a bit so I've tried to keep this blog child friendly but I'd like to gear a blog completely to kids (because they're just not as interested in, you know, house cleaning and nose drops as I am). Here is my new blog for kids: http://gingerunpluggedkids.blogspot.com/ It's only got two short entries so far, but I'm going to add material already on this blog and then add new. It will take a few weeks. And you thought one blog was perhaps too many for me...

I have been sick for, oh, two years now. First it's one thing and then it's another--I'm thinking it's a cry for attention, except mostly I just want to be alone. Anyway, this weekend's malady is a stuffy nose. I know, WAH for me. But I can't breathe through it at all. It's the kind where if you drink something too long you will pass out and probably drown. I took a decongestant which did exactly nothing to help. So my husband made me an Airborne concoction to drink down and absolutely insisted on giving me some nose spray. But I hate nose spray, I couldn't even breathe to suck it up anyway. Plus, it's not like it's a fresh bottle. I'm not usually squeamish but come on, it's been up someone else's nose already. (See, I told you it was all a cry for attention). Anyway, he came back with a warm cup of salt water and told me to put these drops in my nose. "I learned not to breathe in water at a very young age," I told him. But ...

What I was trying to teach Flying Monkey : Don't Bite. I tried to teach him this by putting him down whenever he bit me. What the Flying Monkey learned : If I want to get down, bite.

An actual conversation: "Crash, what's negative blood?" Big eyes. Big smile. "Oh, MOM! Don't tell her! We were just playing! I swear. Come on. Please?!" "Don't tell who, what?" "Wait, nevermind." "What are you talking about, Crash?" "Nothing." "TELL ME." "Uuuuuuh, I'm trying to get Butterfly to believe we have ghosts in our house but I said she can't see them because she doesn't have negative blood." "How do you know what kind of blood she has." "I don't. I just told her that. Don't tell. Please, please, please!!!"

There's this thing that's been bugging me for a month now--just something someone said at a Christmas party. (No, not a family Christmas party). My husband and I were telling Flying Monkey stories, as we often do, and Evil Person asked, "Are you sure your parenting skills haven't just slipped?" Evil person was making choice comments to everyone, I noticed, so at least I didn't feel particularly singled out for abuse but... Of COURSE I'm not sure the Monkey would still fly if I were a better mother. Don't we all wonder that about our children? Yes, it's true. I could follow him around all day with educational activities, a snack and a warm bottle but then the house wouldn't get clean, the other three children wouldn't get fed, let alone their parents, and I would have even less of a life than I do now. There may not be a Flying Monkey in that case, but there would certainly be a Cackling Wicked Witch and four other very unhappy family member...

I just looked through the list of ingredients on my Bath and Bodyworks soap and they are using the exact chemicals that are supposed to be a concern in my essential oils. So I'm as safe as Bath and Bodyworks I guess. I expect Keihl's to pay me millions for my recipe any day now.

I did the weirdest thing through the holidays. I had an uncontrollable urge to do girly things. Two of them to be exact. (1) I took longer than my daughter did at Claire's (gasp) and bought hair tools to do my girls' hair with. They and any photo they're in will assure you that I don't normally do hair. (2) I also researched in a near panicked state how to make my own lip balm. I bought all these supplies to do it with and have now created this one-of-a-kind ultimate lip balm. Smooth texture, long lasting. I love it! Of course I just learned that all the essential oils I used are potentially fatal, like if you have an allergy or something. Or eat the wrong foods with them. Or get your lips in the sunlight. But so far, I'm alive. And my lips are luscious. I am perfectly thrilled to be getting in touch with my feminine side and so is my girls' hair. So there you have it, going girly through the holidays. Um, and if I gave you any lip balm--use at your own risk. Bu...

So I've just been pondering. If my baby's a flying monkey what does that make me? Human? Lower primate? Bird? Wicked witch?

The other question I get besides, "Did the electrician kill you?" is "How is the Flying Monkey?" Here's an update. Milestones: Gnawing on things more viciously than ever--chairs, himself, sisters, me. We've all learned to just sort of give him the food and back away because he rarely distinguishes bananas from fingers. New Trick: Head butting. When I watch people head butt, like the turtles Crush and Offspring in Nemo, I think they must work themselves up to it or something. Maybe light forehead tapping for a month or two before going at it like rams. But apparently Flying Monkey is a prodigy head butter. He didn't get this talent from me. He leans in for the sweetest hug and then WHAM. Head butt. I end up with a splitting headache and he wears a grin like he's expressed the ultimate in human affection, despite the red mark or goose egg on his forehead. I think the good lord saw what Flying Monkey was capable of and gave him a triple strength skull. ...