In the future...

Hazel loves the idea of Lunchables. She begs for them every time we go to the grocery store, then begs to eat them every day. The thing is, she doesn't actually like them. Every once in a while she will be starving and, therefore, manage to eat the whole thing. But 9 times out of 10, she eats the first bite of whatever meat is included in that day's Lunchable and decides that the meat is "disgusting." This inevitably leads to her refusal to take another bite of anything in that little plastic, compartmentalized tray of processed foods.

We are finally over giving her chance after chance to prove to us that she can be a big girl and eat the whole thing. It's just such a waste of money. So Nathan came home today right as I was getting frustrated with Hazel for wasting yet another valuable Lunchable. I was getting a little worked up, so he jumped in and took over the conversation, using his usual sarcastic drama to make fun of my genuine drama.

Nathan: "Hazel, that’s it. You are never getting lunchables again."
Hazel: "That’s fine. I hate them. The meat is disgusting."
Nathan: "You’re not getting any more lunchables and you’re not going to college."
Hazel: "What’s cobbleage?"
Nathan: "Cobbleage is where you are going to be begging me to go when you are 18."
Hazel: "I can go to cobbleage if I want to!"
Nathan: "You can? Well you better work hard then, cause you’re going to have to do it on your own."
Hazel: "But I can’t drive!"
Nathan: "You’ll be able to when you’re that old. But I’m not going to buy you a car either."
Hazel: "Fine. I’ll just steal your car."
Nathan: "Well, you are your mother’s child, so that wouldn’t surprise me."

Clarification

I am laughing SOOO hard that you all think Owen's team is actually called "The Misfits." It's totally my fault for not clarifying- that is just what I have dubbed them. The actual team name is The Cardinals. :) So- a little less sad than you all originally thought. Sorry to disappoint.

Soccer Misfits

Just a few pics of Owen's soccer team this year, now that Saturday is his last game. We aren't participating in this league next year. I have finally figured out that all the men who want their kids to be awesome soccer players teach them from birth, then volunteer to be a coach for this league, then pick all their friends' kids to be on their team. This results in Owen (who's mom and dad don't know any of the futbol wonders) ending up on the loser team. Once again, his team has lost every single game. They are just like this little leftover group of misfits. Last year he didn't mind, but this year I think it has really had an effect on him. He says things like, "Not this team again!" and "We suck!" and "I definitely need to practice soccer more." Poor kid. It's definitely not doing his self-esteem any favors.

This is our friend/neighbor that joined his team last minute, Anthony

Posing for team photos

The misfits

The huddle

"Good game, good game."

Just FYI- this last picture is the perfect example of what I'm talking about. I think they scored about 25 goals to our zero. And the coach's son was like a little miniature Beckham- I mean this kid was performing miracles. I started cheering for him halfway through the game, the little brat. And, of course, Owen's team will play this team again on Saturday for their last game. No better way to end the season than with a huge arse-kicking, right?

And the magic number is....

FOUR!!!

Four years old, fourth visit to the emergency room, and four stitches.

That's right- our precious little clutzo is at it again. Actually, I guess I can't blame it all on her clumsiness. The chances of injury were slightly increased while playing a game of tickle tag in a dining room with tile floors. Hazel slipped while reaching for a leg to tickle and split her eyelid open on the edge of the dining room chair. To make matters worse, I was 30 minutes away at a baby shower. My friend, Tupou, was babysitting and called me in a panic. I could hear Hazel screaming in the background so I was like "She sounds conscious. No worries!" but I don't think that calmed him at all.

I came home and checked out the wound and decided it needed medical attention. It was about 4:30 on a Saturday and every urgent care place was closed. Isn't that incredible?!?! I was pretty upset. A trip to the emergency room means a $100 copay. At this point, I started doubting the severity of the injury. I called a friend to see if her husband (a surgical resident) could look at it and tell me if I needed to spend the next four to five hours sitting in the virus-infested emergency room, but he wasn't around. At this point, I am starting to get myself worked up, thinking "If I spend the time and money for an emergency room visit, this sucker better need some stitches." I know- mom of the year, right?

Anyway, long story short, it definitely needed stitches. Tupou and Shannon ended up driving us to the ER, sitting in the waiting room with Owen for FOUR HOURS and buying the kids McDonald's. I tried reeeeaaaaaally hard to convince Tupou that I didn't blame him, but I found out later that Hazel had said to him (while sobbing) "I don't want you to babysit me again." Poor guy! I'm sure she broke his heart....and apparently made him feel so guilty that he felt the need to spend the rest of the night trying to make up for it.

Here's her wound. Once again, I only had my cell phone and some glamorous flourescent lighting, so it will be hard to tell much from these pictures.

This is the picture that she colored for Tupou. She literally spent about an hour on it, trying to stay in the lines and make it perfect. I think she started to think about what she had said to him, and she felt bad. She ADORES this guy, so she wanted to let him know that she had been a little too hasty in saying that he was no longer allowed to babysit her.

After coloring the picture, she told me to write him a note on the back and began to ramble. She actually said A LOT more than this, but I wrote down the points that I thought were important. It was SO cute. She obviously wanted to "take back" what she said and made me read this back to her after I wrote it so she could approve my transcribing skills. Then she said "Now draw a heart so he knows I love him."

Here's the note:

"I love you. I don't want to play hide-n-go-seek again because I got hurt today. I really want you to come over to babysit me one more time, but I want Owen to not get hurt like me, cause I don't want to go to the hospital with him and have to wait. I want Owen to feel happy. I want to play duck-duck-goose instead. Love, Hazel"

Here she is waiting for the doctor- she has an anesthetic swab taped to her wound.

And here are her four stitches. I can't believe how good and brave she was. She definitely cried, but let's be honest. Who WOULDN'T cry while watching a fishook come at their eye over and over? I had a hard time watching the actual process. It's weird how I can handle blood and guts-I'm pretty sure I could even stick my whole hand into a gaping wound to stop the bleeding if I had to- as long as it's not my child. All it takes is a tiny little cut like this on one of my babies to make my stomach turn.

But, all is well, and she is pretty proud of her strings in her eye, although she is constantly worried that they are coming out. She's such a precious little clutz, isn't she?