December 24, 2004 | What do I do all day?

Today dawned sunny. Over 48 hours have passed since the last spew here at Casa Mir, and I think I shall declare myself free and clear. There were a few hours, last night, when I wondered if I would be the next to fall to the dreaded stomach bug. But all is well and I think–for once–I dodged a bullet.

And there was much rejoicing!

The children are off with their father. This allowed me to:
1) Sleep late.
2) Have coffee ice cream for breakfast.
3) Assemble the world’s most annoying nativity.
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December 23, 2004 | Woohoo!

So you know how earlier, I confessed to my previous baby-eating penchant, tying it all together (poorly) with the tale of the flower delivery that was not, in fact, for me?

I feel the need to come completely clean with all of you, since my prior admission was so liberating. Puppies make delightful between-meal snacks. With ketchup. If you pinch their necks just so, they hardly ever even get away.

Phew! I feel better, with that off my chest.

Also, the darndest thing happened today. A guy came to the door with a suitcase of money in one hand, and a gorgeous hunk in the other. But it turned out that his delivery was for someone else, at a different house. Oh well.
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Friends

There are certain things every woman wants out of friendship with her girlfriends. She wants a ready shoulder when she needs to cry. She wants a comrade-in-chocolate when desperate times call for desperate measures. She wants a “OH NO THEY DIDN’T” when righteous indignation is needed. She wants a buddy who both agrees that her children are the cutest ever and that she deserves several medals for not beating them senseless.

Now, when I started blogging, and found myself actually meeting and befriending women whom I considered to be worthy writers, I looked forward to the riches of information I would be gleaning either through osmosis or actual conversation. These women would teach me how to improve my own writing, I knew. They would show me how to make a go of it in this business, and the secrets to producing publishable work. I would be a member of a coveted society where craft was KING and the members held the keys to the secret chambers of heavenly treasure!

Or, you know, we would just have entire conversations about our BUTTS. Either way.*
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December 22, 2004 | Haven't been hit by lightning yet!

So here I am, navigating my day fairly well, I think. We made it through the night without further barfage. Monkey felt better today and wanted to go to school for his BIG! HOLIDAY! PIZZA! PARTY! so I got Chickadee settled on the couch with her trusty bucket and ran around getting teachers’ gifts ready (which I’d started last night, but was eventually abandoned in favor of vomit patrol) and readying him for school.

I warmed up the car, packed up our things, and got Chickadee to put on some sweats under her nightgown, and then boots and a jacket on top. We got Monkey to school, whereupon I had one of those lightbulb moments about my sheer stupidity. (”Yeah, he really wanted to come in for the pizza… and I’m looking forward to cleaning up pizza puke later, so load him up!”)

But ya know, I was maybe being too pessimistic. It’s entirely possible he won’t start hurling until tomorrow night, and tomorrow night? The kids will be with their dad. Tralala!
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Health is overrated

PTBD: Post-Traumatic Barf Disorder

Characterized by an inability to walk past the “scene of the crime” without gagging.

December 21, 2004 | Health is overrated

I spent the day at home, trying to entertain an exhausted and still-coughing boychild. I thought the evening would be an improvement.

That was before I found myself in the bathroom scrubbing vomit from the grout, having this tender exchange with my other child:
Me: DO NOT remove your HEAD from that BUCKET. Honey.
Her: *pitiful response from inside the bucket* Mama, are you puking, too?
Me: No, honey, just gagging.
Her: *HEAVE* How come?
Me: Because… ummm… *gag* I’m an unfit mother.

Hey Dad… I’m SO SORRY about all those times you had to clean up my puke. This was a genius way to achieve payback. Let me just figure out the proper contagion incubation math… carry the one… oh yeah, that should be my head in the bucket on Christmas. Thanks!

Offspring: ecstasy and agony

On the first day of Christmas, my children gave to me…
squabbling over arranging the nativity!
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December 20, 2004 | What do I do all day?

So my dad, he’s got some sort of virus, who knows what. Not a huge deal, but he had a fever and looked kinda pasty and whatnot this morning. Plus we had our first big storm and it was all snowy and gross and the news was all “Hey! It’s snowing! And these cars crashed because DID WE MENTION that it is SNOWING here in NEW ENGLAND? Here I am in the SNOW! Drive CAREFULLY!”

But because I am a lousy daughter, I was unable to convince him to stay another day. I offered everything I could think of, including ginger ale with a straw, hand-delivered to his choice of resting locations! But no, he wanted to go home to his own bed. While he was sick. In the snow. We were unable to dissuade him.

And because I am a lousy mother, I kept both kids home from school today. In fairness, Monkey seems to be sick (although not horribly so), but Chickadee’s school had a 2-hour delay, so even after letting her sleep in I still could’ve made her go. But it just seemed too complicated. We would’ve had to rush and I would’ve had to get the driveway cleared and all of that for half a day of what? Advanced gluing? Coloring practice? I just can’t get too worked up about missing half a day of first grade.
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December 19, 2004 | Health is overrated

Ask me how the concert was.

Go on, ask. You know you want to.

Okay, I’ll tell you.
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December 18, 2004 | What do I do all day?

The pie is quite delicious… I couldn’t say for sure if it could win me a pie-baking contest in Georgia or not, but it’s yummy. And continuing in the Thanksgiving-ish theme, we made a veritable banquet tonight; turkey with all the trimmings and the singing of the grace song followed by fingers in the mashed potatoes, just as God intended.

All of which would’ve been fabulous–no qualification–if I was someone else, with someone else’s luck. But GUESS WHAT! I’m me, and so it was all fabulous except for a few minor things.

Like how Chickadee complained of itchiness this afternoon and when I asked if Daddy had her shower after swimming, she said no. So up we headed for a shower, and her eczema was the worst I’ve ever seen it. She was scratched raw around her knees and elbows and cried in the shower and cried as I tried to do the ointment and lotion as gently as possible. Poor scaly pumpkin.

And then there was the part where Monkey crawled into my lap towards the end of dinner and I said to myself, Hey self, this child feels a wee bit toasty. Minutes later I had the answer to how many green beans a small boy with a temperature of 102 will eat (four, believe it or not).

Plus we’re not even discussing how I have apparently forgotten how to sleep. God, I am just not very bright sometimes. Leave it to me to forget how to sleep. Tune in next week as I master the fine art of blinking!

Anyway. Despite this, we here at Casa Mir are vastly enjoying having the parental types around. Chickadee and Grandma have been playing dollies, and Grandpa has developed a small Monkey-shaped growth on his hindquarters. This left me uncharacteristically free to indulge in some of my favorite activities, today. Trying to nap (see above), cooking, and not suffering from bleeding eardrums as the result of an uninterrupted stream of inane prattle directed only at me.

Tomorrow I’m looking forward to a complete nervous breakdown either from lack of sleep, sick children, concert jitters, or some combination thereof. But it’s comforting to know that my folks will be here to cover the kids’ eyes while it happens.