The Oatmeal Diaries
This morning Cora woke up with the most grotesque bloody nose I think I've ever seen. I'll spare the details, but it was everywhere, all over her face, dried and crusted. I hadn't seen it yet. I was trying desperately to have a few minutes of quiet to read my Bible and shower before the day started. When I came downstairs, I discovered that the boys, who'd been too disgusted by Cora's face to sit at the table with her for breakfast, had decided to eat their oatmeal in the living room. Surprisingly, they hadn't made much of a mess. But left the jar of raisins and the small container of cinnamon sugar we use for oatmeal sitting on the blue tweed arm chair.
Now we're expecting a derecho this afternoon--the kind of storm with strong gusts of winds that managed to blow patio tables and chairs two yards over the last time it hit the Midwest. So while Micah was home and able to help me, we gathered the new patio table and chairs and swept through the yard to make sure anything that could be blown away was tucked into the garage. I came back inside with just enough time to get Cora cleaned up before we had to drive Micah to work.
We returned from driving him to work and ran to the neighbor's house to feed their tortoise and tadpoles while they're on vacation--always a treat for my kids. We may have borrowed their trampoline for a few minutes too... By this time I was well into my day without a bite to eat. I was hungry! We came home and the kids busied themselves with their toys. Finally, I thought, they're quiet. I'll grab some cereal and check email in the living room while they play. I poured my cereal and discovered that we had half a bowl of Cheerios left. Time to get more groceries.
I had just settled in on the couch and reached for the laptop when I glanced at Cora. Her face was covered in something brown and gooey. Not again! I moaned. Why is her nose bleeding today? And then I realized that the brown stuff was coming from her hands. And her mouth. And the little container half-tipped over on the blue tweed chair. Cinnamon sugar. She'd been eating it by the fistful, and the brown sticky stuff was everywhere! I set down my bowl and ran for a washcloth, scolding the boys for leaving their oatmeal fixings out. "No more eating in the living room!" I said on my way to the kitchen. "Especially oatmeal! I'm serious, boys. I don't want any food in the living room anymore." It took a lot of scrubbing, but I managed to get the sugar off of her hands and face, mostly out of her hair, and somewhat off of her (white) shirt. I returned to the chair to scoop up what cinnamon sugar I could before hauling out the vacuum to clean the chair and floor.
I finally returned to my bowl of cereal, logged into the laptop, and glanced over to make sure Cora was staying out of trouble. She had her little face down on the dining room table. What is she doing? I wondered. And then I noticed that the table was covered in dry oatmeal, no doubt spilled when the boys were fixing their cereal. Cora had her face to the table, snuffing the oatmeal! "Cora!" I shouted as I set down my cereal, again. "Boys!" I picked her up and set her on the floor, making sure there were no more messes on her face. I wiped up the oatmeal and cleaned the floor. "No more oatmeal. Period. This family is done with oatmeal, except on Saturdays when I make it for you. New rule," I said as I rinsed out the oatmeal from the washcloth.
I sat down at last to finish my cereal. Cora wandered over to the couch and smiled at me through her matted curls. And then I saw it. Another bloody nose. That's it! I thought, It's just going to wait until I finish my breakfast.
I scarfed down my food and got her cleaned up again. My husband, a brave and possibly masochistic man, was getting text message updates with each new development. After about the fourth text, he wrote back and said, "OK, but isn't it at least a little bit funny?"
Ask me after lunch.
Now we're expecting a derecho this afternoon--the kind of storm with strong gusts of winds that managed to blow patio tables and chairs two yards over the last time it hit the Midwest. So while Micah was home and able to help me, we gathered the new patio table and chairs and swept through the yard to make sure anything that could be blown away was tucked into the garage. I came back inside with just enough time to get Cora cleaned up before we had to drive Micah to work.
We returned from driving him to work and ran to the neighbor's house to feed their tortoise and tadpoles while they're on vacation--always a treat for my kids. We may have borrowed their trampoline for a few minutes too... By this time I was well into my day without a bite to eat. I was hungry! We came home and the kids busied themselves with their toys. Finally, I thought, they're quiet. I'll grab some cereal and check email in the living room while they play. I poured my cereal and discovered that we had half a bowl of Cheerios left. Time to get more groceries.
I had just settled in on the couch and reached for the laptop when I glanced at Cora. Her face was covered in something brown and gooey. Not again! I moaned. Why is her nose bleeding today? And then I realized that the brown stuff was coming from her hands. And her mouth. And the little container half-tipped over on the blue tweed chair. Cinnamon sugar. She'd been eating it by the fistful, and the brown sticky stuff was everywhere! I set down my bowl and ran for a washcloth, scolding the boys for leaving their oatmeal fixings out. "No more eating in the living room!" I said on my way to the kitchen. "Especially oatmeal! I'm serious, boys. I don't want any food in the living room anymore." It took a lot of scrubbing, but I managed to get the sugar off of her hands and face, mostly out of her hair, and somewhat off of her (white) shirt. I returned to the chair to scoop up what cinnamon sugar I could before hauling out the vacuum to clean the chair and floor.
I finally returned to my bowl of cereal, logged into the laptop, and glanced over to make sure Cora was staying out of trouble. She had her little face down on the dining room table. What is she doing? I wondered. And then I noticed that the table was covered in dry oatmeal, no doubt spilled when the boys were fixing their cereal. Cora had her face to the table, snuffing the oatmeal! "Cora!" I shouted as I set down my cereal, again. "Boys!" I picked her up and set her on the floor, making sure there were no more messes on her face. I wiped up the oatmeal and cleaned the floor. "No more oatmeal. Period. This family is done with oatmeal, except on Saturdays when I make it for you. New rule," I said as I rinsed out the oatmeal from the washcloth.
I sat down at last to finish my cereal. Cora wandered over to the couch and smiled at me through her matted curls. And then I saw it. Another bloody nose. That's it! I thought, It's just going to wait until I finish my breakfast.
I scarfed down my food and got her cleaned up again. My husband, a brave and possibly masochistic man, was getting text message updates with each new development. After about the fourth text, he wrote back and said, "OK, but isn't it at least a little bit funny?"
Ask me after lunch.
