Wheezing, fevers, and bulb syringes

So, I've kept the kids at home all this week because the three of us have been in an alternating battle against sinus/upper-respiratory infections, colds, bronchial wheezing, and LOTS of drippy green snot (both of my little ones have had the "green elevens" all week, if you know what I mean), so I didn't want to further expose their already compromised immune systems to more germs/get a bunch of other kids sick.


As a result of trading our usual trips to the park, story time at the library, the Bounce House, play dates, the Little Gym, and even various errands for fevers, sniffles, aforementioned green elevens, coughing, Tylenol, Benadryl, Amoxicillin, respirators, humidifiers, saline, and bulb syringes, some of us have been struck with a bonus case of Cabin Fever, and by some of us, I mean MJ.


Even under-the-weather, she's into everything.


On Monday, MJ had a 102 degree fever.  Regardless, I spent 90% of the day saying things like, "Sit on your bottom!  Couches are not for bouncing!"  This inspired me to share some of the interesting conversations (albeit most one-sided) I've found myself having with myself my two-year-old.
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me: Okay, Lovey; let's blow your nose.
MJ: Nooo!  No blow nose!  I wike bogies!
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Alex: waaaaaaaaaah!
me: Oh!  What happened?
MJ: Machaewa throw shaker. Hit Bay-Awex head.
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me: Couches are not for diving!
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MJ: No poopies in uh unnawares.  Nooooo.  It's yuckies.
(Guess where the poopies were?)
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me: Couches are not for coloring!  Where did you get that pen?
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MJ: I snuggle Bay-Awex.
me: MJ!  We do not sit on our brother's head!
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me: MJ!  No bite!  Dining chairs are not food!
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MJ: Mommy's working.
me: Yes. Mommy's writing a grocery list so Daddy can go to the store.
MJ: Machaewa make list?
me: Great idea! (Handing her paper and crayons) Only color on the paper!
MJ: No bite.
me: Right! Crayons are for coloring.
MJ: (eats red crayon) I fixed it!  Nooooo!  Ugh!  No color lips!  Only color paper!
(apparently I'm not the only one who talks to myself.)
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me: MJ, what's in your mouth?
MJ: Rocks. Paper.
me: (trying not to laugh) Scissors, too?
MJ: No scissors.  No touch.  No put scissors in mouth.  That's yuckies.
(Duh, Mom.  Only rocks and paper are culinary delicacies.)
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MJ: Get down!  Right now!
me: Machaela!  We do not stand on the table!  Let go of that light fixture!
MJ: Time out.


Note: I was planning to post a pic of MJ wearing her nebulizer mask (poor thing), the giant bite mark left on the dining room chair by our goat daughter, and Alex up on his hands and knees (rocking back and forth!) but I can't find the connector thingy for my camera's memory card.  Ugggh technology!