Wilmington Weekend Update #12

Okay, this covers two weeks because the first week was just entirely too boring to deserve its own entry. Let’s review:
Wake up. Wake the kids. Dress everyone. Breakfast. Drop-offs. Work. Pick-ups. Homework. Dinner. Baths. Kids’ bedtime. Clean the kitchen. Sleep. Now you know the basic structure of the last two weeks.

Fortunately, not all was monotony. For example, we had soccer two weekends ago, and the kids got their new uniforms, both variations on green and white. They also took team pictures. With all the excitement, you’d think they would have really kicked it into gear, giving their all for their teammates now that everyone was in green. Maybe I shouldn’t have read to them from Little Freddy Nietzsche’s Guide to Existentialism, but both Abby and Sellers seemed to realize soccer is an empty, futile exercise not worth the expenditure of energy just to propel a black and white sphere into some randomly chosen net. It’s early in the season, but it may be time to consider other sports, like Tee ball. Or chess.

There’s only one way to celebrate after soccer, as everyone knows, so we went to … HOME DEPOT! Jeff Weaver cleared the brush across the street while we were in Chattanooga, so Margaret figured she would plant some bushes as our contribution. The kids actually climbed so high on the bags of dirt they got yelled at by management (a fine thanks for all our patronage). But then they discovered the decorative pond was filled with tadpoles, making the trip all worthwhile. There was no way I could let them leave without one tadpole, so now we’re growing a toad.

While Margaret put in bushes I gathered the kids and took them to a birthday pool party at our friends Nancy and Bill’s new house on the waterway. Lots of things were impressive: the swimming pool, the game room, and the view down the long green lawn as boats plied the waterway. But what the kids remember most is the dead fiddler crab in the shallow end.

Sunday we made it to church (the whole thing this time). After that we had to reward the kids, so we ended our errands at the Halloween Store, where we ditched our original idea to go as the SpongeBob Squarepants cast when Julian popped a big latex alien head on his already generous noggin. He insisted he was “Firemolt,” which we finally figured out in his language means "Voldemort ." Soon we found four more alien costumes and started boogying to Michael Jackson’s Thriller in the middle of the store. The Spongebob costumes are lame anyway.

We then journeyed to Target in search of Halloween lights and drove home with our booty to string up all our decorations. The Crazy-Halloween-And-Christmas-Decoration-Family up the street moved out, so I figure we’ve got the spot cinched.

The week was routine except that a chair fell on Abby’s finger Monday after school, sending the whole family to the Cape Fear ER for what looked like a broken digit. The ER has now given us a frequent flier card; we already have enough points for a free throat swab!

Thursday I found a tortoise in the front yard, and it rained too much for soccer practice. I’m not sure which one excited the kids most.

Friday was Flop Night, but our first new episode of Avatar all year was interrupted by Julian, who developed a fever of 102 and vomited three times. Don’t worry, we still watched our show! Saturday I was on call and Margaret nursed Julian and prepared for our friends Peter and Paige Clark to come from Chapel Hill for the weekend (yes, we did warn them in advance of our plans to infect their two lovely girls with some nasty bug). Unfortunately with all that going on the kids had to miss their soccer games. They were…hmm…”despondent” isn’t the right word. Sad? Bummed? Disappointed? I think the word I want here is “gleeful.” Yes, they were gleeful. Chess anyone?

While I was still rounding on babies Margaret became distracted from the children’s constant fighting by a pile of cat turds on the playroom couch. Trying to get to the couch while carrying a pile of laundry she slipped on a spot of Spray & Wash and doubled over her left great toe, the pain of which at least distracted her from the cat turds.

I did get home and Margaret took off for the hospital to round on her patients. I took over the screaming and nursing until Julian’s Tylenol kicked in, then we dashed around for groceries and other supplies. Somehow by happy hour we all reunited just as Peter and Paige pulled up. Their girls, Eleanor and Catherine, jumped right in, playing happily with “Julia,” Sellers, and “That Baby” while the grown-ups drank and boiled shrimp.

I didn’t have to return to the hospital, but I was up a lot with calls overnight, so I slept in before finally packing Julian to the office to figure out why he was still febrile and cranky. His strep test turned positive the moment it hit the reagent. I only wish we could give Peter and Paige our frequent flier miles, but they’re only good at the Cape Fear ER. After Krispy Kremes and Omnicef we took off for the beach, where the surf was gentle, the water was blue-green, and low tide left the sand dotted with pools swarming with minnows.

After two hours of beach play we carted all the kids back and dumped them in a bath. Then we fed everyone and the Clarks began their long journey home. We tidied up and played in the yard, where our back-yard neighbors the Fennels were tearing down the section of chain link behind the driveway with a big green tractor. We’re just getting to know them, but any enemy of chain link is a friend of mine.

I’ll take all the suspense out of this week by telling you: Margaret went to the orthopedist today and her toe isn’t broken after all. As consolation she went to the dentist this afternoon and got some fillings. What else can happen? Who knows, but you’ll hear about it here first.