johnvano.com: Mr. Mom Needs a Margarita

Took the kids and Toby to the dog park today. Lots of butt-sniffing going on there. I felt like an enabler. It was like a swinger's club for canines.

Paula is in Missouri with her family--remembering her grandfather who died over a week ago. Turns out her grandpa was a bit of an amateur writer. She's going to bring back some of his work... maybe he can guest blog for me once. Might make a nice tribute. I've come down with the nasty drips--the flu--while I'm home alone with the kiddies. No wonder Paula makes those "I'm sick" calls to me while I'm at the office... being sick and watching 5 little kids who all have a story to tell every 90 seconds, is taxing. I felt like rubber by 6:00 tonight.

You like stats? Here are some Vano family stats...

Every 5 minutes: One child will be screaming in pain (real or imagined); someone else will request a band-aid (with urgency); two will ask for a snack while one is stealing one; one will announce that they are going to the bathroom while one stands pants-down, with a soggy pull-up or full-frontal nudity staring back at you; someone will be on Webkinz, while another whines for their turn; two neighbor kids will knock on the back door and want to play (we had 7 neighbor kids in our backyard playing with our kids on Sunday); the dog will pee on the floor; the contents of the candy bowl will mysteriously drop an inch (I still can't figure out why we have a candy bowl--we're asking for trouble there); and every five minutes we're 95 minutes closer to someone being admitted to the emergency room.

With this, I'll close: Three things happened right on top of the other Sunday afternoon. 1) Marshall came running inside howling with faucets for eyes, he had fallen on his back on some sticks. After I gave him a long hug and a quick physical, he shook it off and went back outside for more. 2) Literally 4 minutes later, he comes roaring back in with the exact same pain and anguish--this time he'd fallen on his butt. 3) As I was giving him some TLC, one of the neighbors comes downstairs with, "Mr. Vano, Madison is bleeding!!" And then I see Madison, walking downstairs, her face like Edvard Munch's The Scream, blood running down her face and into her eyes. She had gashed her forehead on a cabinet as she hoisted herself up onto the counter to get some cups for her and the friend.

On the way to the ER, Madison tells us that she just knew she was going to have to go to the hospital while Mommy was gone, "But I thought it was going to be my leg," she said. "I dreamed I would twist my ankle." Then in pipes Marshall with great reverence and awe, "So it's like you had a vision?"