My husband can’t find anything around the house, but he can find everything on the Internet. He can find it quicker, cheaper, and closer in location than I can and anyone I know. We have gone against each other laptop to laptop at the same time, and he has found it faster than I have. It’s extremely frustrating because I thought that I was somewhat savvy with Google.
Last month it was body brushes. We went and had a couple’s spa treatment at Christmas and we both loved the body brushes they used before the massage. It got rid of all the dead skin and felt great. We were so excited to take them home and use them all the time. However the spa did not have them in the gift shop.
Side note to spas: have the actual products you use in the spa shop so we can buy it and take it home. I thought that was basic retail 101, but apparently not.
There we were on the hunt for these dry body brushes and after a few days of searching I could only find ones with handles and we were specifically looking for ones without. Feeling completely dejected for not finding them, I came to report to my husband that we will just have to live without them and find a new way to exfoliate. He informed me that he had found what we were looking for, and they were really cheap and they were on our way. Bastard! I searched long and hard.
While we were away on vacation, my husband saw a necklace and earrings that he wanted to get me. I told him no (stupid huh?), that we shouldn’t spend the money on jewelry for me (I will never do that again). A few days after we got home, I really regretted it. It was something I absolutely loved and my husband was willing to get it for me. I told darling hubby that I would like to find the earrings and necklace, because I actually did like them, and the only jewelry that I wear is what he has given me. He didn’t respond and so I figured that I would just get it for myself.
There I was Googling away again, and came to him to report that I was in fact successful at finding them, and this is where we can go purchase them. I thought that for sure with jewelry that there is no way that he would be able to find them. Yup you guessed it, he found them before I did and for cheaper. Bastard!
I concede King of Googling. You are the undisputed champ, and I will be sending along my list of everything that I need researched. That vacation we are taking in August, that’s right, all yours now to research. Have fun!
Thursday, May 31, 2007
Wednesday, May 30, 2007
The Kiss of the Toilet Plunger
What do you say after you have kissed the bottom of a toilet plunger? Well, just ask my son.
Monday night my husband, son and I were all kicking butt on our dirty house. My husband was hanging hooks in the utility room. My darling son who is almost three was in there helping Daddy. All of a sudden my son grabs the toilet plunger and zerbert’s the bottom of the plunger, just like we zerbert his tummy.
We immediately rushed him to the bathroom to wash out his mouth and sanitize him. He then said, “I need a cup of sugar”. Yeah, I guess you would.
Monday night my husband, son and I were all kicking butt on our dirty house. My husband was hanging hooks in the utility room. My darling son who is almost three was in there helping Daddy. All of a sudden my son grabs the toilet plunger and zerbert’s the bottom of the plunger, just like we zerbert his tummy.
We immediately rushed him to the bathroom to wash out his mouth and sanitize him. He then said, “I need a cup of sugar”. Yeah, I guess you would.
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
Pirate Party of a Lifetime
The invitation came in a copy of Treasure Island, and it said “Come as you Arrrggghh!”
Now with an invitation like that, I could not resist. So we flew down to San Diego for some pirate fun at my husband’s CEO’s birthday party and the rest of the crew that my husband works with. Just a side note, I would love to work for my husband’s company, they are great and fun people, I would do anything if they would let me work there too. I am lucky that they let me hang out with them once in a while.
So first we select our pirate gear, I go for a pirate she captain all in black. Long black velvet coat with black knickers, and black boots…very intimidating. My husband went the way of Jack Sparrow-ish. We arrived at the ship it was fabulous. The first thing I noticed was a sign hanging from the rigging that said, “Do Not Climb on the Rigging”. Well there went my plan for the evening. I am in my pirate gear, and I can’t climb the rigging! Fine, moving on to the appetizers, fresh crab legs and the bowls were carved out of ice. The drinks were cold and good, except it was really fucking cold in San Diego. I live in San Francisco in the fog, so I thought sunny San Diego would be a nice departure, but apparently it followed me down the cost line. Fuck you fog, I tolerate you because you are San Francisco thing, but here in San Diego I expect sun. Luckily they had a great pirate band doing jigs and drinking songs.
Everyone is milling about in fabulous pirate gear; it was fun to check out what kind of pirate everyone one. Although I do feel bad for one lady, she chose to go the way of the slutty pirate and in 58 degree foggy weather on the water. You could see her two tits salute from all over the ship. I would have offered her a jacket, however I was trying to stay warm myself. In the middle of appetizers we were suddenly invaded my pirates, I kid you not. An actor’s troop of pirates boarded our ship and was shaking us down for loot and when we looked across the water, there was a schooner come right at us, shooting at us. It was so like being in the movie. Then our ship fired back, I shit you not. Then the pirates proceeded to give a salute to my husband’s CEO, the birthday boy, and then they made one of their pirates walk the plank. And he really did it too, in that frekin' cold weather.
After the pirate antics, we were ushered to dinner which happened in the main deck of the ship. The tables were draped with silk coral table cloths, and white coral and candles were the decoration. Over the birthday boys table they had strung yards of white linen and in the middle, they hung a chandelier from the rigging. Dinner was amazing, I have never experience ambiance like that. The people at our table were a joy to chat with. And then it hit me, yes it hit me, the dreaded migraine.
If you remember correctly, I was recovering from a nasty cold, and then we flew and even though I was hyped up on decongestant, I still got the dreaded migraine. So in the middle of dinner, I had to excuse myself. I ended up puking while on a schooner, a first for me. Luckily I made it restroom in time. But it is a tricky thing, trying to hold steady on a ship and make sure that you puke into the toilet at the same time. Every time you think you are going one way, you go the other. No it was not motion sickness. I had a headache the since the time I landed and it just progressed. So of course I get sick and have to leave the party, because my migraines means that I can’t stand light, sound, cold, smell or anything. I told my husband to stay for desert, but being the awesome guy he is, took me back to the hotel. Since I was puking the dinner of a lifetime down the toilet, he lovingly held my hair and rubbed my back. Since I couldn’t keep any medication down to make it go away, we had to do hot compresses and water.
I hear I didn’t miss much, they did desert and drinks below deck and it was lit up with red candles and everyone was dancing. They had a lady painted in chocolate and fabulous deserts. And I missed it.
Well it just figures, I finally get to be a pirate on a real pirate ship and I get a migraine and have to leave the party of the century early. And my big romantic weekend away with my husband, and he has to spend it nursing me back to health. At least I got to be a pirate on a real ship, just for a little bit.
Now with an invitation like that, I could not resist. So we flew down to San Diego for some pirate fun at my husband’s CEO’s birthday party and the rest of the crew that my husband works with. Just a side note, I would love to work for my husband’s company, they are great and fun people, I would do anything if they would let me work there too. I am lucky that they let me hang out with them once in a while.
So first we select our pirate gear, I go for a pirate she captain all in black. Long black velvet coat with black knickers, and black boots…very intimidating. My husband went the way of Jack Sparrow-ish. We arrived at the ship it was fabulous. The first thing I noticed was a sign hanging from the rigging that said, “Do Not Climb on the Rigging”. Well there went my plan for the evening. I am in my pirate gear, and I can’t climb the rigging! Fine, moving on to the appetizers, fresh crab legs and the bowls were carved out of ice. The drinks were cold and good, except it was really fucking cold in San Diego. I live in San Francisco in the fog, so I thought sunny San Diego would be a nice departure, but apparently it followed me down the cost line. Fuck you fog, I tolerate you because you are San Francisco thing, but here in San Diego I expect sun. Luckily they had a great pirate band doing jigs and drinking songs.
Everyone is milling about in fabulous pirate gear; it was fun to check out what kind of pirate everyone one. Although I do feel bad for one lady, she chose to go the way of the slutty pirate and in 58 degree foggy weather on the water. You could see her two tits salute from all over the ship. I would have offered her a jacket, however I was trying to stay warm myself. In the middle of appetizers we were suddenly invaded my pirates, I kid you not. An actor’s troop of pirates boarded our ship and was shaking us down for loot and when we looked across the water, there was a schooner come right at us, shooting at us. It was so like being in the movie. Then our ship fired back, I shit you not. Then the pirates proceeded to give a salute to my husband’s CEO, the birthday boy, and then they made one of their pirates walk the plank. And he really did it too, in that frekin' cold weather.
After the pirate antics, we were ushered to dinner which happened in the main deck of the ship. The tables were draped with silk coral table cloths, and white coral and candles were the decoration. Over the birthday boys table they had strung yards of white linen and in the middle, they hung a chandelier from the rigging. Dinner was amazing, I have never experience ambiance like that. The people at our table were a joy to chat with. And then it hit me, yes it hit me, the dreaded migraine.
If you remember correctly, I was recovering from a nasty cold, and then we flew and even though I was hyped up on decongestant, I still got the dreaded migraine. So in the middle of dinner, I had to excuse myself. I ended up puking while on a schooner, a first for me. Luckily I made it restroom in time. But it is a tricky thing, trying to hold steady on a ship and make sure that you puke into the toilet at the same time. Every time you think you are going one way, you go the other. No it was not motion sickness. I had a headache the since the time I landed and it just progressed. So of course I get sick and have to leave the party, because my migraines means that I can’t stand light, sound, cold, smell or anything. I told my husband to stay for desert, but being the awesome guy he is, took me back to the hotel. Since I was puking the dinner of a lifetime down the toilet, he lovingly held my hair and rubbed my back. Since I couldn’t keep any medication down to make it go away, we had to do hot compresses and water.
I hear I didn’t miss much, they did desert and drinks below deck and it was lit up with red candles and everyone was dancing. They had a lady painted in chocolate and fabulous deserts. And I missed it.
Well it just figures, I finally get to be a pirate on a real pirate ship and I get a migraine and have to leave the party of the century early. And my big romantic weekend away with my husband, and he has to spend it nursing me back to health. At least I got to be a pirate on a real ship, just for a little bit.
Monday, May 21, 2007
So you want to be a Pirate?
I have always wanted to be a pirate, ever since Pirates of the Caribbean. No not the movies, the actual ride at Disneyland. I fell in love with that ride the first time I went on it in the early 80’s. That has always been my favorite ride at Disneyland. I always wanted to jump off and join the animatronic fun. You get to dress cool, drink all you want, cuss up a storm, and steel loot on the high seas, totally the career path for me. When I was little I imagined that I was the pirate queen. Little did I know my childhood dream would become a reality.
I used to do Renaissance Faire’s in my twenties. I was totally into it with a historically accurate costume and everything. They were wild times filled with wonderful friends. We would delight the crowds with our mischief by day, and full and total debauchery ensued by night. Luckily I met my husband there, so he knew exactly what kind of wench he was marrying. Well at one of the smaller Faire’s they had a pirate’s guild, filled with cool people being pirates. Complete with swashbuckling, cussing, and drinking. I of course had to join them and become a pirate; they were living the life that I was meant for, if only on weekends.
To become a pirate, it only consisted of one challenge; you must drink this special tankard (renaissance drinking vessel) full of rum. It equated to about a pint and a half of rum that you had to chug all at once and keep down, you could not throw it up. If you threw up the rum at any point in the evening, you would be deemed a Butt Pirate. As you can imagine how unappealing being a Butt Pirate is. So I bellied up to the challenge and put my balls on the line and chugged the rum down with everyone chanting “Pirate, Pirate, Pirate”. I have never been drunker in my life (ok there was one more time, but that story is off limits). One of the official pirates from the guild followed me around all night to make sure I did not puke. I prevailed through the night, and the next morning I returned to the pirate camp to claim my eye patch and hat and became a pirate. Luckily we were landlocked with not so much as a fountain in site, so I didn’t have to walk the plank, but I would have. My husband had too much sense to become a pirate, but he appreciated me as his pirate queen anyways.
So when we received an invitation a couple of weeks ago to attend a pirate themed birthday party on an actual schooner, The Star of India from the 1800’s, what else could I say but, “Ahoy Matey”. To be continued…
I used to do Renaissance Faire’s in my twenties. I was totally into it with a historically accurate costume and everything. They were wild times filled with wonderful friends. We would delight the crowds with our mischief by day, and full and total debauchery ensued by night. Luckily I met my husband there, so he knew exactly what kind of wench he was marrying. Well at one of the smaller Faire’s they had a pirate’s guild, filled with cool people being pirates. Complete with swashbuckling, cussing, and drinking. I of course had to join them and become a pirate; they were living the life that I was meant for, if only on weekends.
To become a pirate, it only consisted of one challenge; you must drink this special tankard (renaissance drinking vessel) full of rum. It equated to about a pint and a half of rum that you had to chug all at once and keep down, you could not throw it up. If you threw up the rum at any point in the evening, you would be deemed a Butt Pirate. As you can imagine how unappealing being a Butt Pirate is. So I bellied up to the challenge and put my balls on the line and chugged the rum down with everyone chanting “Pirate, Pirate, Pirate”. I have never been drunker in my life (ok there was one more time, but that story is off limits). One of the official pirates from the guild followed me around all night to make sure I did not puke. I prevailed through the night, and the next morning I returned to the pirate camp to claim my eye patch and hat and became a pirate. Luckily we were landlocked with not so much as a fountain in site, so I didn’t have to walk the plank, but I would have. My husband had too much sense to become a pirate, but he appreciated me as his pirate queen anyways.
So when we received an invitation a couple of weeks ago to attend a pirate themed birthday party on an actual schooner, The Star of India from the 1800’s, what else could I say but, “Ahoy Matey”. To be continued…
Saturday, May 19, 2007
Old Men & Airports
I am sitting quietly in the airport, minding my own business making sure my luggage is not touching anyone and an older man decides to talk to ask me a question and sit right next to me. There must be something about me that screams lost, naïve young lady in search of older male guidance. Do I look like the eternal granddaughter or something?
I want you to keep in mind that I was sitting quietly minding my own business in a random seat in the waiting area.
The older man asks me, “Are you in line?”
“No” I reply, “I think the line is over there. I am sitting here until everyone lines up”
“Well you are in Line A. If you flew more often you would know this”, the old man chortles on in his condescending tone.
I check my surroundings, because clearly, I am in a random seat, SITTING DOWN, and I am most definitely not in a line, there is actually no line in site.
“Actually sir, I do fly often and to the best of my knowledge, this is just a seat”, in my snarkiest tone,
A young man down in a random seat behind me concurs with me.
“Well, your sitting in row A, but we won’t hold it against you”, the old man said. And then he proceeds to chuckle at his joke.
At that point I gave him my dirtiest look and turned away, as he continued to stare at me. What is it about me sitting silently that sends a siren call for all the condescending old men to sit next to me, and talk to me? Do I look like I was raised by wildlife and that I need to be taught the finer points of air travel?
Well just so you know, Southwest’s Boarding Class A is the new First Class, in case you hadn’t heard. I can’t believe I didn’t know about the secret airport waiting line.
Don’t get me wrong, I love sweet old men, the ones who tell you their life story and the way things used to be. The only old man that is allowed to be condescending towards me is my grandfather, because he earned it, he saved his unit from attack single-handed during WWII. But my Grandpa would never do something like that because he is the sweetest old man ever. It’s the condescending, crabby old men that just drive me crazy, and clearly they should be contained permanently within a golf course. Did I mention I was sitting in a random seat, quietly, minding my own business? I just want that to be clear.
I want you to keep in mind that I was sitting quietly minding my own business in a random seat in the waiting area.
The older man asks me, “Are you in line?”
“No” I reply, “I think the line is over there. I am sitting here until everyone lines up”
“Well you are in Line A. If you flew more often you would know this”, the old man chortles on in his condescending tone.
I check my surroundings, because clearly, I am in a random seat, SITTING DOWN, and I am most definitely not in a line, there is actually no line in site.
“Actually sir, I do fly often and to the best of my knowledge, this is just a seat”, in my snarkiest tone,
A young man down in a random seat behind me concurs with me.
“Well, your sitting in row A, but we won’t hold it against you”, the old man said. And then he proceeds to chuckle at his joke.
At that point I gave him my dirtiest look and turned away, as he continued to stare at me. What is it about me sitting silently that sends a siren call for all the condescending old men to sit next to me, and talk to me? Do I look like I was raised by wildlife and that I need to be taught the finer points of air travel?
Well just so you know, Southwest’s Boarding Class A is the new First Class, in case you hadn’t heard. I can’t believe I didn’t know about the secret airport waiting line.
Don’t get me wrong, I love sweet old men, the ones who tell you their life story and the way things used to be. The only old man that is allowed to be condescending towards me is my grandfather, because he earned it, he saved his unit from attack single-handed during WWII. But my Grandpa would never do something like that because he is the sweetest old man ever. It’s the condescending, crabby old men that just drive me crazy, and clearly they should be contained permanently within a golf course. Did I mention I was sitting in a random seat, quietly, minding my own business? I just want that to be clear.
Friday, May 18, 2007
Away for the Weekend
Hubby and I are going away for the weekend to San Diego. Our darling son will be staying with my most gracious parents while we have an adults only weekend in San Diego. We are attending a birthday party for my husband's CEO. Did I mention that this is our only second weekend away from our son and we are sick as dogs on our big weekend away.
The first time was over Easter, we went to a friends wedding. We were so excited for an adult weekend alone, maybe we could do something, I don't know, INTIMATE. Well during that weekend, everyone had to share rooms, with strangers. Lovely you say, you bet. We could have sneaked off into the woods, but I really would not have wanted to explain the poison ivy and bug bights on my lady parts to the EMT, so we decided just snuggling is enough.
So this big weekend, alone, room to ourselves...and we are sick. Well, I guess we will get drunk on Nyquil and see what happens.
And by the way dear husband, when I ask you to help pack, that does not mean lay on the bed with your laptop and check the weather in San Diego. When I say pack, it means pack your shit, otherwise you will end up without clean under ware, like last time. I say I forgot, but did I?
The first time was over Easter, we went to a friends wedding. We were so excited for an adult weekend alone, maybe we could do something, I don't know, INTIMATE. Well during that weekend, everyone had to share rooms, with strangers. Lovely you say, you bet. We could have sneaked off into the woods, but I really would not have wanted to explain the poison ivy and bug bights on my lady parts to the EMT, so we decided just snuggling is enough.
So this big weekend, alone, room to ourselves...and we are sick. Well, I guess we will get drunk on Nyquil and see what happens.
And by the way dear husband, when I ask you to help pack, that does not mean lay on the bed with your laptop and check the weather in San Diego. When I say pack, it means pack your shit, otherwise you will end up without clean under ware, like last time. I say I forgot, but did I?
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
Light on posts
Posts have been a little light this week because I have been battling mucus, fatigue, and a fever. You see our germ monger of a son just had to hug the little girl at daycare who had the green snot bubble hanging from her nose. I love that he is such a little lover, and dolling out the hugs but maybe it is time to teach him that little girls have cooties, for my own health and his. Or maybe I should teach him that everyone with a stuffy nose has cooties, which is not really all that inaccurate.
Monday, May 14, 2007
No Nap for Mothers Day
There was only one thing that I wanted to do on Mother’s Day and that was to take a nap. I imagined a quiet house and I would slumber away the afternoon in peace.
Well, I didn’t get to take a nap, but it was a great Mother’s Day. It started with my wonderful husband making breakfast. Thankfully we did not eat breakfast in bed because I am certain that would have resulted in more laundry, and I was not interested in that. My husband makes the best French Toast in my opinion. Our son was running around wild so I scooped him up and we snuggled in bed watching Blue’s Clue’s until breakfast was ready.
Then my husband took our son out for a bike ride, and I had the whole house to myself for two hours. What did I do? Dishes. My husband was so nice to make breakfast that I couldn’t make him do dishes too. But I got to work-out and read, and it was heaven. Then I started to miss them, and that was when I got the call that they had ridden to the next town and could I come get them. I got to see my son ride his bike and enjoy the sunshine at the playground, and then my husband made me my favorite meal. The one he made me to get my attention when he was trying to get me to notice him. And it did. The way to my heart is through my stomach.
As it turned out my son was wired from his bike ride and refused to take a nap, so we let him stay up, but my husband was so tuckered out, that he was the one who ended up taking the nap. Nice!
But all through the day, I couldn’t help but feel gratitude for my husband and son, and their efforts. After all it was them who made me a mom in the first place.
Well, I didn’t get to take a nap, but it was a great Mother’s Day. It started with my wonderful husband making breakfast. Thankfully we did not eat breakfast in bed because I am certain that would have resulted in more laundry, and I was not interested in that. My husband makes the best French Toast in my opinion. Our son was running around wild so I scooped him up and we snuggled in bed watching Blue’s Clue’s until breakfast was ready.
Then my husband took our son out for a bike ride, and I had the whole house to myself for two hours. What did I do? Dishes. My husband was so nice to make breakfast that I couldn’t make him do dishes too. But I got to work-out and read, and it was heaven. Then I started to miss them, and that was when I got the call that they had ridden to the next town and could I come get them. I got to see my son ride his bike and enjoy the sunshine at the playground, and then my husband made me my favorite meal. The one he made me to get my attention when he was trying to get me to notice him. And it did. The way to my heart is through my stomach.
As it turned out my son was wired from his bike ride and refused to take a nap, so we let him stay up, but my husband was so tuckered out, that he was the one who ended up taking the nap. Nice!
But all through the day, I couldn’t help but feel gratitude for my husband and son, and their efforts. After all it was them who made me a mom in the first place.
Saturday, May 12, 2007
Mother's Day is coming
Mother’s day is coming up and I am feeling a bit of anxiety. I have issues with my own mother, which makes me fret that I am not a good enough mother. So each Mother’s Day is my day to take stock in how I am doing.
Kid happy – Check
Kid clean – Mostly
Kid healthy – Yes, except for the cold the little girl at daycare gave him
Kid and TV – not that much
Kid and Playtime – Getting a lot
Kid’s Imagination – Developing. Check
Kid’s manners – Please and Thank you. Check.
I often feel like that I have to be all the things that my mother wasn’t. I feel like if I accomplished that I would be doing a good job. But rather than droning on about all the ways my mother wasn’t there for me or the difficulties of our relationship I will focus on what I am grateful for and the things that I liked about her.
I will always remember you as a blond, wearing a tube top and flip flops around the yard during the summer. I loved when you would buy me mini cans of 7-up in the summer. Thank you mom for the Barbie Dream House for Christmas the year you and Dad got divorced. Thank you for letting me choose my senior prom dress, even though I was showing the most cleavage of any girl there. Thank you for trying and I love you.
Kid happy – Check
Kid clean – Mostly
Kid healthy – Yes, except for the cold the little girl at daycare gave him
Kid and TV – not that much
Kid and Playtime – Getting a lot
Kid’s Imagination – Developing. Check
Kid’s manners – Please and Thank you. Check.
I often feel like that I have to be all the things that my mother wasn’t. I feel like if I accomplished that I would be doing a good job. But rather than droning on about all the ways my mother wasn’t there for me or the difficulties of our relationship I will focus on what I am grateful for and the things that I liked about her.
I will always remember you as a blond, wearing a tube top and flip flops around the yard during the summer. I loved when you would buy me mini cans of 7-up in the summer. Thank you mom for the Barbie Dream House for Christmas the year you and Dad got divorced. Thank you for letting me choose my senior prom dress, even though I was showing the most cleavage of any girl there. Thank you for trying and I love you.
Thursday, May 10, 2007
Fluids Test
It seems like since the time my son was born, I keep getting initiated or christened with bodily fluids. Whether it is the black sludge of my son’s first poo, or the first time I forgot to cover him with a washcloth while changing his diaper, I keep getting anointed with bodily fluids. I know that it comes with the territory, but I just didn’t realize I would be up to my eyeballs in it, literally.
I remember when my son was only a month old and I was still on maternity leave. I got him up for his morning feeding, next thing I know it, while I am breastfeeding him, the child manages to pee and spit up on me at the same time. I was crying in the rocking chair holding my son and my husband comes in. “What’s wrong honey, are you ok?” I made him regret coming in to check on me by lashing out, as he was the only I could lash out to. “Look at me, I am covered in piss and puke, this f@$%* sucks, no I am not ok”. My loving husband took the child while I cleaned up, and then he had to go to work. My intention that morning was for us to have a really good day, and then my son had to go puke and pee all over me. That was my first really wet and horrible christening.
Then the weeks and months pass, and poo and pee are not such a big deal, until you start potty training. My world is now consumed with pee and poo again and making it to the toilet in time. I always foolishly think I have it all under control and that things can only get better.
Last month my son came down with his first stomach flu. It was Monday morning, and I was in bed sleeping, and he came to my side of the bed and vomited all over me. It’s hard to register reality at 5:30am on a Monday. Did I just get puked on? I don’t even have my contacts in yet. I think I am going to vomit myself, because this is just too much. And then I looked at my son’s adorable little face that was taken over with fright. He was shaking, and he was trying to keep the next round down by covering his mouth. What could I say but, “It’s ok honey” and whisked him off to the bathroom. And in that moment when I did not freak out, I knew I had passed this test, the fluids test. I was able to be thrown up on, and completely control my emotions and deal with the situation. Seven days later he recovered from the stomach flu.
Now I have only one lingering question. My husband’s side of the bed is closer to the door, why didn’t he go throw up on my husband? I hope it’s because my son knew I would be cool with it.
I remember when my son was only a month old and I was still on maternity leave. I got him up for his morning feeding, next thing I know it, while I am breastfeeding him, the child manages to pee and spit up on me at the same time. I was crying in the rocking chair holding my son and my husband comes in. “What’s wrong honey, are you ok?” I made him regret coming in to check on me by lashing out, as he was the only I could lash out to. “Look at me, I am covered in piss and puke, this f@$%* sucks, no I am not ok”. My loving husband took the child while I cleaned up, and then he had to go to work. My intention that morning was for us to have a really good day, and then my son had to go puke and pee all over me. That was my first really wet and horrible christening.
Then the weeks and months pass, and poo and pee are not such a big deal, until you start potty training. My world is now consumed with pee and poo again and making it to the toilet in time. I always foolishly think I have it all under control and that things can only get better.
Last month my son came down with his first stomach flu. It was Monday morning, and I was in bed sleeping, and he came to my side of the bed and vomited all over me. It’s hard to register reality at 5:30am on a Monday. Did I just get puked on? I don’t even have my contacts in yet. I think I am going to vomit myself, because this is just too much. And then I looked at my son’s adorable little face that was taken over with fright. He was shaking, and he was trying to keep the next round down by covering his mouth. What could I say but, “It’s ok honey” and whisked him off to the bathroom. And in that moment when I did not freak out, I knew I had passed this test, the fluids test. I was able to be thrown up on, and completely control my emotions and deal with the situation. Seven days later he recovered from the stomach flu.
Now I have only one lingering question. My husband’s side of the bed is closer to the door, why didn’t he go throw up on my husband? I hope it’s because my son knew I would be cool with it.
Monday, May 7, 2007
Down the Drain
This morning I woke up startled, then confusion and frustration said Good Morning. Peace left when I got out of bed. Compassion washed off of me in the shower, and slid down the drain. My patience went down the toilet two minutes before I got into the shower. I was looking for love, not sure where that went today, could be in the back of the closet, might be under the bed. All I know is I can’t find it. Rage was waiting for me in the car. Boredom greeted me when I got to work. Despair kept following me down the hall. Did I accidently throw happiness away in the trash with the dirty diapers last night?
A-ha! I found hope rumbling around in the bottom of my purse. Warmness filled me on lunch. Joy flowed up when I hugged my son. Comfort came wrapped in my husband’s arms. Relief poured out into the wine glass. Solace I found when I laid my head down. Peace returned when I closed my eyes.
A-ha! I found hope rumbling around in the bottom of my purse. Warmness filled me on lunch. Joy flowed up when I hugged my son. Comfort came wrapped in my husband’s arms. Relief poured out into the wine glass. Solace I found when I laid my head down. Peace returned when I closed my eyes.
Thursday, May 3, 2007
The Office
It’s Thursday night, and that means that The Office is on tonight. This is the best damn show ever, and not because it closely mirrors my work life. Alright it is cathartic that someone has captured the hell that cubicle life can sometimes be. I especially find it amusing because everywhere I have worked; I have encountered a version of the main character, Michael Scott. Michael Scott is the king of all things inappropriate.
But this show would be nothing without the looks. I love the looks that everyone gives into the camera. The look that says, “I am in hell and my soul just got sucked out of my ears because of what that person just said”. The looks that she has given in reaction to her boss Michael Scott are the same looks that I have given in real life. If you want to know what I am like at work, look at Pam and that is me. It’s like they used my life for research and gave you Pam.
But the show would not be complete without the tension between Dwight and Jim, and I can’t help but laugh at all the practical jokes and pranks that Jim pulls on Dwight. Jim is a brilliant mastermind of amazing jokes and gags against Dwight.
The fabulous movie “Office Space” was brilliant in itself in really capturing the absurdity that exists in office life. I feel like The Office takes it five steps further. So if you haven’t checked it out, please do. If you work in an office, you will love it, and if you don’t, that means you are Dwight. Raise your red Swingline stapler if you know what I am talking about.
But this show would be nothing without the looks. I love the looks that everyone gives into the camera. The look that says, “I am in hell and my soul just got sucked out of my ears because of what that person just said”. The looks that she has given in reaction to her boss Michael Scott are the same looks that I have given in real life. If you want to know what I am like at work, look at Pam and that is me. It’s like they used my life for research and gave you Pam.
But the show would not be complete without the tension between Dwight and Jim, and I can’t help but laugh at all the practical jokes and pranks that Jim pulls on Dwight. Jim is a brilliant mastermind of amazing jokes and gags against Dwight.
The fabulous movie “Office Space” was brilliant in itself in really capturing the absurdity that exists in office life. I feel like The Office takes it five steps further. So if you haven’t checked it out, please do. If you work in an office, you will love it, and if you don’t, that means you are Dwight. Raise your red Swingline stapler if you know what I am talking about.
Wednesday, May 2, 2007
IPod, I am your IBitch
I used to be a normal person before my IPod came into my life. I love music, all kinds and I had a decent selection of CD's, but I have never worshipped a device like I do my IPod. The funny part, it was a gift from a former employer, I did not even buy it.
First, it was all the music that I had access to download off of Itunes. No more towers of CD's about the house anymore. And if I lost a CD, well I can just log on and I can download it for cheaper that the price of the CD. And since I am cheap bastard, no more paying for the whole album when I only truly loved one song.
As our relationship developed, and my IPod was giving me so much, I felt I had to give back. No more demure ear buds for you baby, only full on headphones would encompass your sound. And then I lost myself.
Oh, you want a cover to protect your pure white casing, sure thing IPod. Oh you need a couple of different colors and styles to change it up, no problem IPod. Oh you like to be carried on my arm, good idea, now I can wear you when I do the dishes or have sex and you will not get in the way of either activity. Every task in the house is better with a soundtrack.
That's right IPod, I can't hear you through out the house, and yes sometimes it is bad etiquette to have you and my headphones on at a dinner party that I am hosting. Brilliant IPod, I will get you portable speakers for the house, so I can share your carefully crafted playlists.
I can't listen to you in the car, that is such a travesty my dear sweet IPod. I will run right out and get you a car adaptor, that way we can share the commute together.
And on those rare occasions when you are running a little slow or worse, hanging, and then there was that time that you wouldn't connect to the computer. Rage, head exploding rage! The only thing that made me feel better was throwing my chair across the room.
When my husband is borrowing you, I am so frekin' jelous. How dare you let him touch your smooth cool plastic, and let him fondle your navigation wheel. How dare you put out tunes the way you put out tunes for me. You're mine, damn it!!
And when my computer died, and I mean the computer won't turn on died, all that I cared about was getting my ITunes off of it. Screw our accounting books for our home business, my years of independent films, resumes, and family pictures...no the ITunes was much more critical.
IPod, I am officially your I-bitch.
First, it was all the music that I had access to download off of Itunes. No more towers of CD's about the house anymore. And if I lost a CD, well I can just log on and I can download it for cheaper that the price of the CD. And since I am cheap bastard, no more paying for the whole album when I only truly loved one song.
As our relationship developed, and my IPod was giving me so much, I felt I had to give back. No more demure ear buds for you baby, only full on headphones would encompass your sound. And then I lost myself.
Oh, you want a cover to protect your pure white casing, sure thing IPod. Oh you need a couple of different colors and styles to change it up, no problem IPod. Oh you like to be carried on my arm, good idea, now I can wear you when I do the dishes or have sex and you will not get in the way of either activity. Every task in the house is better with a soundtrack.
That's right IPod, I can't hear you through out the house, and yes sometimes it is bad etiquette to have you and my headphones on at a dinner party that I am hosting. Brilliant IPod, I will get you portable speakers for the house, so I can share your carefully crafted playlists.
I can't listen to you in the car, that is such a travesty my dear sweet IPod. I will run right out and get you a car adaptor, that way we can share the commute together.
And on those rare occasions when you are running a little slow or worse, hanging, and then there was that time that you wouldn't connect to the computer. Rage, head exploding rage! The only thing that made me feel better was throwing my chair across the room.
When my husband is borrowing you, I am so frekin' jelous. How dare you let him touch your smooth cool plastic, and let him fondle your navigation wheel. How dare you put out tunes the way you put out tunes for me. You're mine, damn it!!
And when my computer died, and I mean the computer won't turn on died, all that I cared about was getting my ITunes off of it. Screw our accounting books for our home business, my years of independent films, resumes, and family pictures...no the ITunes was much more critical.
IPod, I am officially your I-bitch.
Tuesday, May 1, 2007
Magical Finding Powers
I have magical finding powers. If you are a mom, wife, or the more organized significant other in your household, then you know what I am talking about. When something is missing, you are called upon to find the missing object. That is when I call upon my magical finding powers to locate that obscure thing in the box buried in the closet. I do have a natural memory for remembering where I last saw an object. My husband thinks I have a gift, almost supernatural, and so for a long time he would ask me before looking himself.
Then, I felt I should share the secret to my magical finding powers. I actually don't like running around the house hunting down other people's stuff, even if they are my own family. So first, I shared the secret of under. This is the main key to my magical finding powers. You see, I look under things, and most often I am able to locate the missing object. But lately, that has been failing my husband, so I introduced him to my secret weapon, behind. Yes, objects fall behind things, and often when under doesn't work, behind works great.
But today, my dear husband, who was working from HOME, and he called ME at WORK to ask if there was brocolli in the fridge for dinner. And here is where my magical finidng powers fall incredibly short. I am unable to locate objects when I am not in the house. But I thought where we kept the broccoli was fairly obvious. I though that since he was home, that looking IN the fridge would be the first step to using his bestowed magical finding powers.
Before I launched into my usual tirade, I took a pregnant pause. His reaction then started a verbal fart from his mouth. "Uh...yeah...never mind, I got it babe, talk to you later (click)." I can only imagine that in that vast pause his magical finding powers and/or his frekin' common sense returned and we were able to avoid the, "You're a smart man, can't you figure this out?" coversation.
Then, I felt I should share the secret to my magical finding powers. I actually don't like running around the house hunting down other people's stuff, even if they are my own family. So first, I shared the secret of under. This is the main key to my magical finding powers. You see, I look under things, and most often I am able to locate the missing object. But lately, that has been failing my husband, so I introduced him to my secret weapon, behind. Yes, objects fall behind things, and often when under doesn't work, behind works great.
But today, my dear husband, who was working from HOME, and he called ME at WORK to ask if there was brocolli in the fridge for dinner. And here is where my magical finidng powers fall incredibly short. I am unable to locate objects when I am not in the house. But I thought where we kept the broccoli was fairly obvious. I though that since he was home, that looking IN the fridge would be the first step to using his bestowed magical finding powers.
Before I launched into my usual tirade, I took a pregnant pause. His reaction then started a verbal fart from his mouth. "Uh...yeah...never mind, I got it babe, talk to you later (click)." I can only imagine that in that vast pause his magical finding powers and/or his frekin' common sense returned and we were able to avoid the, "You're a smart man, can't you figure this out?" coversation.
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