It happens every year about this time.

The Oscar nominations come out and I’m reminded that I’m a mom who is at least three times more likely to venture into a theater to see a kid flick than an adult one.

This year I’ve actually seen one of the best picture nominees. Naturally, it’s “Juno,” you know, the one about teenage pregnancy. How very mommy of me.

Typical of other years, the nominated movies I’ve seen are nominated for costume design, animated feature, make-up, music, sound editing, sound mixing and visual effects. You know why? Because the movies in those categories are the type that appeal to kids.

I must have missed a lot of good movies this year because as I scanned the list I wondered why the oh-so-enchanting “Enchanted” was only nominated in the best song category.

I wondered if my beloved “Pirates Who Don’t Do Anything” missed the cutoff date this year, or if vegetables who can manage to sword fight without arms just aren’t impressive enough for the Oscars.

I’ve seen both of the Johnny Depp movies nominated – “Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street” and “Pirates of the Caribbean: At World’s End” – and have to admit I prefer the one I was able to take my son to.

This year I can’t even speak with authority in the animated feature category. Usually I’ve seen most, if not all of them. This year I only saw “Ratatouille.” I’m not surprised that “Bee Movie” didn’t make it – I fell asleep while we were watching it – but didn’t “The Simpsons Movie” deserve a slot when it seems like two additional movies could have been nominated?

I have a month to fill in some gaps before the winners are announced.

I guess I’ll have to figure out what was so great about “Surf’s Up.”

You know what’s worse than having a sick kid? Trying to get that sick kid to take medicine.

Young kids are the worst. They could care less that the medicine might make them feel better later. They only care that it’s going to make them very unhappy the instant the liquid touches their tongues.

Unlike Mary Poppins and her spoonful of sugar, I offer a drink to help the medicine go down. In case you’ve never tried to get a reluctant child to take medicine, know that it’s a bad idea to hold cups of sloshy liquid in both hands. That leaves you with no way to protect your clothing if your sick little angel decides to bat the dosing cup from your hand. However, having a free hand doesn’t help matters at all if the child decides to let the medicine drip down her chin instead of swallowing it.

When my 11-year-old finally learned how to swallow pills, I thought that at least half the struggle was over, but my relief was short-lived. There’s something positively nasty about finding a half dissolved caplet at the bottom of the drink you shared with your kid to help him swallow a pill.

The sad thing is, I can’t even say I don’t know why he would possibly think I wouldn’t notice a pill in my drink. It’s an inherited delusion. I continue to dream that I will one day successfully get medicine into one of my children’s drinks without them noticing – thereby avoiding the battle entirely.

Hint: Do not try mixing Benadryl with a cup of milk. No one will be fooled. My daughter not only refused to drink the glass that had been tampered with, she refused to drink any milk at all until I replaced the carton.

Last week, my 4-year-old caught a relatively minor cold. Since she was still running around and relatively cheery, I initially decided to forgo the medicine to let her heal herself. I changed my mind when her coughing woke her up repeatedly, which prompted her to wake me up to complain. After she took some cough medicine, we both got some sleep.

Naturally, the night I gave my daughter medicine, news organizations around the country were printing the news: The Federal Drug Administration has recommended that cold and cough medicines not be used in kids under two. Meanwhile, a review of these medicines for 2- to-11-year-olds is pending.

Until that report comes out, I think I’m going to refrain from giving the kids cold medicines unless their pediatrician advises it. In the meantime, I’m stocking up on chicken soup and Vicks vapor rub.

Mom-extraordinare Paula recently forwarded this video to some of the moms in her address book. I thought I’d pass it along for all the other moms who want to drive sleek sports cars but instead have cars filled with toys, extra clothes, snacks and scary other things our kids sneak into the car.

Oddly, after watching it, I feel like drinking a Zima, something that I haven’t touched since the pre-kid days.

I guess I shouldn’t have told my 4-year-old to tell her 11-year-old brother that I love him.

She somehow twisted it around and claims to believe that if I love her brother, I must hate her.

While I tried to explain that because I have both of them, I have even more love for them than I would have had otherwise, my son jumped in and told her that I loved my daughter more.

Then he challenged me with an old hypothetical: If I could only save one of them, which one would I save?

There’s no way to answer that question without being put into that impossible situation.

No one wins when it comes to sibling rivalry.

My kids are never going to believe they’re equal.

I don’t think it makes a difference in the long run.

When you were growing up, did you think your parents loved you and your siblings equally?

When you finished growing up, did you care?

A couple days ago I learned over to kiss my daughter goodbye, only to have her cough in my mouth.

She belatedly smashed her mouth against the crook of her elbow and apologized. It would have been more convincing if she wasn’t also giggling.

I told her she was lucky she was cute, and believe me, I meant it.

The scary thing about the whole scenario is not that I ended up catching her cold, but how little the experience phased me. When I consider all the ways my children have shared their germs with me, it was minor. I mean, it was dry. That’s a good thing, in my book.

These days my 11-year-old tends to retreat when he gets sick. He shies away from hugs and kisses and just wants to be left alone.

When my 4-year-old gets sick, though, I’m doomed. She firmly believes that misery loves company and a case of the sniffles usually sends her straight to my arms. I don’t have it in me to turn her away. I figure it’s inevitable that she’s going to share her germs with me anyway, so I might as well face it head-on.

I guess sometimes that’s going to mean an unexpected cough instead of a kiss.

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On a semi-related note, is anyone else irritated at how hard it is to get pseudoephedrine? If you have to stand in line at the pharmacy to get it, you should at least be able to buy enough to get a whole family through flu season. Sheesh.