Star Date 19 OCT 2004 - Suburbia

We are on week two of copious snot, with hacking coughs and sporadic high fevers. I am indignant, and righteously so. We have used ten boxes of Kleenex, three mini bottles of Purell, three packages of Tylenol soft-chews Cold and Cough, fifteen cans of chicken noodle soup and apparently, we have exhausted the tattered shreds of my patience.

I have laundered all the bedding. Twice. And I have to do it again. I have carried a box of tissue under one arm like some sort of crazy cardboard clutch purse. I have patted, soothed and provided sippy cups. I have wiped, swiped, and re-diped.

And now? I have a new vision for The Circus.

I see a houseful of healthy, grateful children. I see a hallway free of laundry. A sink untainted by the dishes of many. Wait, wait, someone check me. I think my fever is spiking again, and I'm hallucinating.

But - oh! Such good news. My hubs and I have finally purchased a much needed couch for our living room. Our old one was so fugly that I've been threatning to drag it into the street and torch it for years. We took all three sick kids and stormed several furniture stores in the area (Not yer high end fancy pants furniture joints... no, we went for servicable and stain resistant, not the eight way hand tied kiln dried harwood frame yadda yadda. I was seriously considering naugahide. Seriously.)

Shopping with the kids is always a special treat. The kindergartner is pretty good now. The boy, though, is the textbook Bull In China Shop. Holy crap that kid can get into trouble fast. I put the baby in her stroller, enlisted the Kindergartner to help me push, and left the hubs in charge of Boy Wonder.

Upon entry to the store, the boy immediately took off at a sprint, and seized a tschotske chicken off an end table. Waving it over his head, he barrelled into a living room suite and skidded to a stop. He crawled up into the couch and sat beaming at us...until we got into striking range. He left the rooster on the couch and stood bolt upright. He looked left, and then right, and then did the Sportacus move and ran head first into the first armchair across the aisle.

When I say head first, I mean, he had his arms behind him, and was bent forward so that his forehead was the first body part to make contact. Momentarily stunned, he swayed as he stood up, a wobbly "oy-yoy-yoy-yoy-yoyeeee" accompanied by some vigorous head shaking. My husband was able to capture our little offender and place him on his shoulders.

The baby decided that this was the ideal time to try and make a jailbreak of her own. "Aaaaaaargh!" issued forth from the stroller. Four stiff limbs and a rigid torso strained against the five-point harness. "Mama. Down. Mama. Down. Mama. Down. Mama..."

Everybody drink!

Now, I admire her persistence, but um, no. Not down. Not now. No way, no how. We set off at a fast clip around the store. Too cushy. "Aaaargh!" Too beige. "Laller laller laller." Too large. Too grandma. "Down!" Too modern. "Mama!"

Drink!

We took the salesman's card and ran to the car. After fortifying ourselves for a second round at In-N-Out, we hit store two. The hubs volunteered to baby wrangle, and I took my son firmly by the hand. We were good for the first few minutes. We wandered around and found a few potential pieces. We spoke to a nice saleswoman, who pretended to think that the kids were adorable.

Then, with lightning-fast rapidity, the tides turned. The baby began fighting to get away, so my husband PUT HER DOWN. Uh...this does not constitute wrangling. She ran off, giggling. Remember that we are packing kleenex to avoid applying snail trails of snot upon showroom furniture. Shooting a look of horror at the hubs, I put my son's hand in his and moved to intercept. I got to her, wiped her nose and hands and grasped her under her arms to lift her up.

She executed the disappearing armpits trick, and slid to the floor. I look up to see my son doing some sort of monkey dance and my husband trying to sign papers for delivery, while my kindergartner spun in a recliner.

We hotfooted it out to the car, not entirely sure what we had just purchased, but not really caring. Apparently, we bought a fairly non-descript black leather couch. It's very butch. After a day of having the comfortable but manly couch here, I decided I needed a chair. So I called up the saleswoman and had her deliver a deep red chaise in faux suede microfibre.

It's very comfy, and it is a fitting throne for, well, me. Now I just have to figure out how I'm going to convince the kids to fan me and feed me grapes. Hmm, the baby loves to force-feed me Cheerios...

And Friday, I'll be ordering new pergo flooring for the entire house. And then I will be figuring out new paint colors. And window coverings. Thank goodness my mom is gifted with home design. She'll know exactly how to fix all my decorating blunders.

Changes ahoy! I guarantee by the end of this I'LL be the one running around going "laller laller laller."