How much do I love vomit? Let me count the ways…

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The past month or two, the youngest two are competing for title of “sickest kid”. This isn’t sick in a good way,this is just sick, regular sick.

Highlights include Sammy missing three days of school in a ROW, followed by Jenna waking up in the middle of the night to vomit in bed (two nights in a row).

I’ve mentioned vomit before, as I’ve had plenty of run-ins due to my excessive progeny. I used to call it puke, but I’m feeling less than friendly and I think vomit is a little more reserved. So it knows I’m not very happy with it.

Two nights of complete bed changes, bathing and hair washing, you think you know what’s up… you think you’ll be ready next time 3am rears it’s ugly, nauseous head.

But again, vomit likes to surprise us. Poor kid is sitting on the potty the next day and ends up vomiting all down the front of herself, getting the stuff everywhere in the bathroom EXCEPT in the toilet.

It’s fine, really. She’s a trooper, and thankfully that ended her surprise attacks of emesis…for now…..

Today, I’m here to report that we have moved on to Strep Throat. It’s official, and she gets to start the pink medicine we all cherished in childhood. I have to fight the urge to take a swig just to see if it’s the same as I remember.

People are starting to forget about us though… as we’ve been trying to avoid all human contact as soon as new symptoms start to show up so we don’t infect the earth.

Playdates, birthday parties, any social activity…all on hold…. every weekend we end up isolating ourselves to save our loved ones from the illness we have been wallowing in.

Uh oh.

As I type she has just announced to me that her belly hurts and taken up position lying on the kitchen floor. Not sure what is going to happen next…. but I’m considering a plastic wrap to cover the entire house. Just to be safe.

Wish us luck friends!

 

 

 

 

 

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No longer a doormat

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I am a different person than I was say, 20 years ago.

I mean besides the obvious differences that are affected by things like age and gravity and too much chocolate (ok, too much chocolate…that’s not actually a thing…..)

I was shy, and quiet, and I really wanted people to like me. I think I tried to change things about myself to suit others, and never thought much about what I actually liked or wanted.

Grade school years weren’t my best. Punctuated with moments of being teased about my clothes, my shoes, my hair, I just didn’t know how to defend myself. I lacked the bitchiness that girls these days seem to need to survive. I didn’t know how to respond to bullies, or people who weren’t exactly bullies, but just wanted to get their way.

I walked away from confrontation, which is not always a bad thing….. but even when I should have defended myself, or my ideas…. I didn’t.

And then, I had my first child.

Suddenly, I had the purpose I lacked. I had someone to fight FOR.

I remember when I realized how much I’d changed….  when my oldest was 3, I came to pick her up at preschool. She was in a large room with most other kids waiting for their parents to come. Seeing me, she got up and hugged some of the friends near her goodbye.

A teacher on the other side of the room yelled out for my child to stop disrupting the kids and stop hugging right now. She was very bitchy about it.

And then I felt the rage. didn’t help that I was pregnant and possibly hormonal.

The old me would have apologized and walked out of there probably angry at that teacher for yelling about something so silly, but more angry at myself for not defending my child.

The new me, the person I had become COULD NOT walk out of there. Not without looking that teacher in the eye, and asking how hugging a friend goodbye was hurting anyone? Was she really going to tell my child that she couldn’t give anyone a hug goodbye!!?? It didn’t seem to disrupt anyone but that teacher.

She stuttered, and backpedaled. And said she was sorry, and of course she could hug her friends. And so she did. My daughter  decided that she should probably then hug every damn kid in that room goodbye…..

And so the doormat phase ended…..  thanks to my firstborn who taught me not only how to stick up for her because I loved her so damn much, but to love myself too. Because SHE loved me that much. And guess what??? I still love her that much, and more.

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Letter to self…revisited

Paczki

It has been one year exactly. My Facebook feed reminded me of this gem of a post, and I just have to say that the person responsible for it (see below) is pure genius.

I have a chance, and a plan, and my Fat Tuesday goal will be realized!!!  A year after writing this letter to myself, I suppose I should respond to my suppositions and speculations….

………….Last year………

I was nominated to write a letter to myself, the future me of 1 year from now. Thanks to Amanda at “Just in Queso” for thinking of me, and actually reading my blog! I thought this was really just a punishment for my kids and a way to embarrass my husband, I sometimes forget that anyone else would have a reason to stop by 🙂

The rules are as follows:

  1. Tag the letter under “dearfuturemetag”
  2. Write a letter to yourself to read again in a year’s time. You can answer then if you’d like.
  3. Nominate other bloggers. (My nominees are at the end of this post)

I think this request could not come at a better time, as today is Fat Tuesday and I have, for the 2nd year in a row, flopped horribly at my goal of eating myself into a stupor. I have a goal for the future me……..

Dear Self,

Today is February 9, 2017. A year ago was Fat Tuesday, and I am sure you can still taste the disappointment. It tastes nothing like a cream filled Paczki.

Because of the wondrous and possibly miraculous way that Easter changes from year to year, the future me-you-now has the opportunity to fix your two year slump and arrange for a perfect, delicious, and calorie-laden Fat Tuesday. Because this year it falls on February 28th. WEEKS from now.

So! No time to waste. You will not have a breakfast of minty chewing gum this year. You will not scarf down some yogurt and grapes in the afternoon…these things should be outlawed on Fat Tuesday…there will be no excuse for healthy eating this year. Not on THIS day.

I assume you are finally working out again regularly……and surely have beaten your daily cravings for chocolate and candy during the rest of the year. I am sure your typical weekday dessert is just your Vitamin D gummies, although you probably should stop eating three times the recommended dose….

Keeping these things in mind, you have time to plan for Fat Tuesday 2017 without a lot of guilt. And yes, it should read like a headline. It is your day to shine.

As of today (your today, my year from today), you have 19 days to get yourself prepared. Take the day off. Don’t be surprised if your Google calendar reminds you that you already TOOK the day off, because I can do that from here. No more thinking about sweet and savory treats as you are stuck working all day, starving…. remember Fat Tuesday 2015? Wasn’t pretty. No more running from appointment to appointment with various kids, with no time to spare for even a Starbucks run. Hello Fat Tuesday 2016, still a little too fresh.

Be glad the kids have school. They will only slow you down that day. You are allowed to share the day with a friend though…but choose wisely. It must be someone who will keep up with you. Much like going to Cedar point as a kid, with a friend who won’t ride the coasters….. don’t pick anyone who isn’t willing to ride all the rides. Even the ones that make you throw up. Actually, if you do it right…. you should almost want to throw up by the time you are done. Almost.

Make a list. You love lists. What MUST you have on Fat Tuesday, the fattest day of the year? Especially since you are now being so good all the rest of the year…..

Think classics. Like Alfredo sauce (not on pasta, only to dip breadsticks into). Chocolate lava cake. Make the calories count! Don’t you dare touch chocolate from Drug Mart, unless is it one of those nougats from Russell Stover. The pink kind that is really chewy with nuts or something in it. Those are amazing. Remember, they are rectangles.

As for me, well, as  you can see from looking in the mirror… I’ve been working hard on getting you into shape. Training for this day. Make me proud. Tomorrow I will eat salad, and force myself to start the daily workouts, don’t waste my efforts. I’m passing you the torch now…… run with it. Carry it to our day of hedonistic indulgence, make our dreams a reality. Those dreams of hot fudge, maraschino cherries, and liberal dustings of powdered sugar.

 

My nominations are:

  1. https://deadbeatmom.wordpress.com/
  2. https://doctorly.wordpress.com/

………And now current year……….

Well, I did work out…. and then I didn’t. Back to that later.

Gummy vitamins remain my emergency dessert…. although if there is chocolate ever in the house, it is not safe from me.

I’m planning to make a chocolate lava cake right NOW actually…to practice for Fat Tuesday.

Just in Queso, and anything queso actually….. is pretty damn awesome.

Over my head over here

 

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Looks are deceiving

 

I find the kids really annoying today.  It’s true. Kids ARE annoying.

Usually we all manage to put up with each other, as I’m sure I might possibly annoy them too.

But today…..

It has been a day of them egging each other on, teasing and poking each other, being loud and obnoxious in public….. Today they are the kids that people who don’t have kids see, and then think to themselves “I’m so glad I decided not to have kids”.

I think the last straw was in the hardware store. I just needed to get ONE THING. Well, two things.  A battery for the fire alarm that won’t stop chirping (also annoying) and some hardware to fix my towel rack.

As I walk with them, I stay between them so they can’t poke and tickle each other and try to keep their volume to a minimum. Jenna refuses to walk in a straight line, and at one point just collapses on the floor in a giggling heap. Pulling her up is impossible, she keeps her knees bent and won’t bear her own weight.

They find this hilarious. Me, not so much.

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My whispered threats of beatings once we are out of the public eye are not taken seriously, they know I’m bluffing.

They’ve reached that point of silliness that just doesn’t stop. We’ve all been there. The point where the laughter just doesn’t end, no matter what danger it may put them in.  They needed something to snap them out of it, a shock to the system.

Getting them buckled into their seats, I see the answer.

I had just bought them each a small box of valentine candy at the chocolate store. I glared at them, grabbed those boxes, and took them to the front seat with me.

I ignore their renewed attempts to annoy me. YES, they were now doing it on purpose! I open a box, and start eating it piece by piece, keeping my eyes ahead of me. Suddenly they aren’t laughing so hard.

“You can’t eat our candy!”

“Oh YES I can. I bought it. It’s MY candy.”

Seething from the back. From Jenna especially, you don’t mess with her chocolate.

To further illustrate how I am the boss of them, I pull into the Starbucks line. Order myself a tea and NO CAKE POPS.

I drive away and smile to myself as they sit, stunned, in the back.

Jenna is absolutely outraged.

She starts on a rant about how I don’t even love them because I took their candy and I’m not a good mom. Of course I have to return with how good kids listen to their parents and they weren’t being good for me.

“So, you don’t love us!” She’s not asking. She’s accusing.

“You don’t love us and maybe you don’t want to be our mom!”

I’m amused now, chocolate and tea has restored my humor. So I respond:

“I never said I don’t love you, are you saying you want a different mom?”

She doesn’t come out and say it, but she’s heading in that direction. I get a speech filled with 4  year old logic about how it’s physically impossible for a parent to actually love a child if they take candy from them. And maybe it’s time for us to part ways. Not that she doesn’t love me, but maybe we need a break. And besides, if I send her to a different house, they’ll probably have a dog.

I promised her there would not be a dog. She’s stuck with me, and her chocolate was delicious.

 

 

 

 

Political Stress Relief

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Tired of your Facebook feed blowing up as we hurtle towards the end of true freedom as we know it?

Sick of speeches against Trump, speeches supporting Trump, rallies for and against, Starbuck boycotts, Uber boycotts, Muslim boycotts, and the boycott of basic human decency?

Are you nauseous trying to sort through real reality and alternative reality, trying to figure out what’s, you know, real?

Well, you’ve come to the right place. We’ve got some tried and true methods to get your mind off the battle between Democrat and Republican, between Muslim and Christian, Between Good and Evil… ’cause that’s what it’s all about, right? No more gray area, and we all have to PROVE we’re the ones who are RIGHT. (or LEFT…ha ha ha).

Ok, so… Get on a plane. Go to Syria. Get off the plane.

Are you with me? Great.

Now time to de-stress. Get your mind off Twitter politics for a while.

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Take a leisurely walk. Probably avoid Aleppo. But regardless, no matter where you go…. notice the people around you. Oh….do they look kind of jumpy? No worries, bombings and random shootings will do that, but I’m sure YOU’LL be ok. Just avoid….everything…

See? Haven’t thought about Trump yet, have you?

Nowhere to stay? Right, forgot there may not be a thriving tourism business right now. No worries, you can stay with my family in Damascus. What, you think it’s weird that all the adults are home, and not working? Well, that happens when your entire business was actually destroyed, bombed, looted and there are no prospects for work because people are just trying to stay alive right now as much of the economy has been shut down. Upside, more family time, yay!

Don’t mind the lack of electricity for several hours a day. It’s actually a very complicated plot to ensure that residents (and the occasional vacationer) disconnect from social media and really connect with each other. So be grateful, and polish your conversation skills, it’ll be fun! And bonus….no Kellyanne Conway or pesky celebrities with actual opinions of their own.

Lack of running water… don’t think of it as a problem. Rather, think of it as a SOLUTION. I promise you aren’t going to be sucked into reading post after post on Facebook for a while, or making comments trying to defend your opinion on recent executive orders. You’ll be too busy making trips back and forth to a public water supply with everyone else in the area who still wants to drink, bathe, cook, or just gargle.

At the end of your stay, provided you survive, you will have developed all sorts of coping mechanisms. Once back home (cause you’ll be allowed in) they will help you deal with the stress of the common American. The daily stress felt by those safe enough to have time for it.

Deep breathe…. you’re welcome.

That Indian place

A few days ago I decided to order some Indian food from this place we know, it had been a good month or maybe even more since we ate from there.

I splurged, got three things instead of two for us to split, extra garlic naan bread…. I was VERY excited to eat it.

I waited patiently for the husband to come home, didn’t even unpack the bag. As I waited I thought of the delicious cream sauces, yummy warm bread and chunks of paneer cheese. This place….. when the food is good, it’s very, VERY good.

But when it’s bad……

So I unpack as soon as I hear the garage door start to open. Set the table, open everything, I’m ready!  Find a stray cashew in the rice, I remove it and ignore it. The husband has this belief (possibly not unfounded) that the food we order has been scraped off other peoples plates and into our containers. Maybe because it always looks different, they use different vegetables almost every time,  but the sauce is always the same so who cares!

We start to eat. And that’s when it all just goes to shit.

Someone forgot how to cook, or someone there hates me. One of our dishes had a heap of soggy vegetables and no cream sauce to speak of, rather it sat in a warm bath of its own broth and some odd spices. I tasted, praying for it to be better than it looked. Nope.

My staple dish, the one thing that ALWAYS looks the same, and tastes the same, SUCKED. The only thing correct was the peas and cubes of cheese. A horrible fake.

We cried a little, ate what we could. Cried some more. NOT satisfied.

Now, any other place pulls this crap, and I would not hesitate to call and complain. It was THAT bad. But that’s the problem with this place. I HAVE called them before, because of another issue we had with the food once being so spicy that it burned our lips off even when I had asked for it to be “very mild”. It was so hot, that eating was purely pain, we could taste nothing but our melting tongues.

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The guy on the phone was nice,  I recognized his voice. He was so sorry, offered to buy us a dinner to make it up to us, told me to order again and it would be much better. So I did, I went again a few days later to pick up my “free dinner”, after calling and talking to another guy reminding them that I was collecting on his promise.

I got there, and was assured it was going to be great…and told I had to pay. It was funny actually, I tried to tell the guy that it was supposed to be free because we couldn’t eat it last time. He smiled very indulgently, and basically said “no, it’s gonna be great so go ahead and pay”.

So I paid.

And that’s the problem. Because sometimes that  food is amazing. Sinfully good. So good that right now, as I type, I can TASTE it….. but you never know when it’s going to be that good again.

You want to walk away when it sucks, as it will about every 4th time…. but they know. They KNOW you will come back. Makes them cocky. They can literally give me rice off someone’s plate. I will eat that rice if their vegetable korma is amazing. I will eat it with ANYTHING. And they know that.

I’m not proud of the fact that I fully intend to order again in the next week or so.

By my calculations, it’s gonna be great  next time. I hope.

 

Am I sick, or do I just hate everyone?

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Yesterday was supposed to be a great day. The husband didn’t have much going on at work, so we had “talked about” going to a mall across town with the little ones.

We’d stroll around, basking in our love of each other. Hold hands over pretzel nuggets in the food court. Find all the pants we could ever need for Sammy, the kind for skinny boys who need an adjustable waist but also very long legs. Find the perfect jean skirt for Jenna so she can wear her blue and white striped tights with red hearts on the knees.

Goals, I had goals yesterday.

Then, yesterday actually happened. I did my usual Sunday stuff. Cleaned, washed floors. Took Jenna shopping for groceries. Came back. Built a model of the Eiffel tower in toothpicks. Cured cancer…… all while the husband was……somewhere…….doing whatever he was doing in the house. On the phone with his family, on his computer, drinking his coffee…..

At 2pm I asked him, as he stood in his wife-beater and shorts, if he was planning on getting dressed today? He thought he might eventually. He always seems so surprised to find out the actual time after he’s putzed around for hours.

 

 

We didn’t get to the mall he wanted to visit, but instead he insisted on rushing to the mall close to our home to see if we could at least find pants for Sammy. Dreams of pretzel nuggets were dashed.

It didn’t go well. I was annoyed, as I often am when faced with someone who has different time management strategies than me. I DID find the jean skirt for Jenna that would have been perfect with her adorable striped tights, and a pair of pants for my tall, skinny boy.

Unfortunately, my black mood would not allow me to be courteous to the rude lady manning the cash register, and I chose to leave all the clothes behind in a fit of pique that only hurt myself as I walked away. The husband was wandering around in other departments at this time, and so without knowing it, was saddled with the burden of somehow being responsible for me not being able to buy the clothes I wanted as he wasn’t by my side to smooth things over with the mean monster lady in the kids department.

The drive home…silent. We had a dinner to get ready for and I was thinking of what I needed to do for me and the kids to make it on time. Also thinking about that jean skirt. And pretty much disliking everyone and everything in general. Ever feel like that?

It wasn’t until we pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant later….  I realized that my crap feelings weren’t just psychological. I also FELT like crap. My nose was stuffy and getting stuffier, and starting to leak like a faucet. I had a weird feeling in my throat, like a pre-tickle…. just a little taste of something to come. My eyes were glassy…

I was getting sick!!  No wonder I felt like kicking someone. It all made sense, and actually made my mood better-as I realized I probably did still love my husband after all.

Whew.