The elephants on my chest

Oh, hello. You know what’s awesome? Being the sort of person who is prone to psychosomatic illness. Now, a lot of people think that “psychosomatic” means “faked,” but in fact it means real physical illness that just happens to be caused or aggravated by mental factors such as stress.

If they gave grades in psychosomatic maladies, I would get an A+, as well as comments like, “Really gives it her all!” and “Rarely do I see this sort of dedication.”

When I made it through our two-week-long tour of illness, stress, and family dysfunction over the holidays with nary a sniffle, I was set to declare myself champion of staying healthy. Then we came home, I did ten loads of laundry, and promptly came down with a miserable chest cold. Whoops.

Fortunately, the hits kept on coming, with several dreadful pieces of news arriving in the last week. I figure I should be on life support by February. (more…)

  • email
  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Kirtsy
  • StumbleUpon
Comments { 28 }

Happy banana!

Because I am in desperate need of something cheerful this evening, I give you the intersection of my son’s delight and my husband’s penchant for documenting everything:

(It was a Most Excellent birthday, bananas and all.)

  • email
  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Kirtsy
  • StumbleUpon
Comments { 8 }

A dozen kinds of wonderful

My current earworm:

Because, yes, today my Monkey is (sing it with me!) 1 2 3 4 5, 6 7 8 9 10 11 12! (Remember when they only ever counted up to 12 on Sesame Street? It was like numbers higher than that just didn’t matter, or even exist.) (more…)

  • email
  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Kirtsy
  • StumbleUpon
Comments { 67 }

Blah blah blah new year blah blah blah

Hey, let’s all pretend this is the first day of the rest of our lives in a somehow more important way than every other day is the first day of the rest of our lives. Okay? Okay!

(Probably we should’ve done this on Sunday—the Actual First Day Of The Brand New Yay Year—but I was busy sitting in the car all day, eating all of the potato chips in the world and asking Otto “Are we there yet?”)

I’m over at Off Our Chests, today, pondering new year’s resolutions, and whether they make any sense to me. Do they make sense to you? Come on over and let’s talk.

  • email
  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Kirtsy
  • StumbleUpon
Comments { 3 }

We lived to tell the tale

Is there anything better than arriving home after a trip and collapsing into your own bed? I contend that there is not. Especially if you’ve just driven 900+ miles in a single day and haven’t yet realized that following that delicious night of sleep in your own space you’ll be dealing with The Holiday That Threw Up All Over The House And Also Two Weeks Worth Of Mail And Packages And By The Way The Children Are Still Sick.

Needless to say, last night was delicious. It was around midnight by the time we’d arrived home, dispatched the children upstairs, and unloaded the clown-car-esque packing job my husband managed to do with our vehicle full of Christmas Cheer. We then drifted off in our own gigantic bed (I love my parents dearly, and the guest bed at their house is actually pretty comfy, but the difference between a King and a Full is… substantial), and my last thought before sleep overtook me was, “There’s no place like home.”

Of course, later I woke up to discover that Licorice was stealing all the covers, and as I tugged at the blanket in annoyance, THEN everything was back to normal. (more…)

  • email
  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Kirtsy
  • StumbleUpon
Comments { 21 }

The continuing saga of pestilence

Thank you all for the well-wishes for my mother-in-law. She had surgery and they were able to insert a rod into the bone to repair it, and it is around about this point in the story when Monkey puts his hands over his ears and says “YOU CAN STOP TALKING ABOUT THIS NOW” because it weirds him out to think about operations and people being fitted with rods. Because we are excellent parents, we assured him that Grammy is just fine, and we will all love her just as much now that she’s a cyborg as we did before.

In the meantime, my poor brother-in-law Nearly Nickless wasn’t feeling so hot, and the LAST time we were at their house, you know, he got a stomach bug which I ended up getting (which landed me in the ER), so I immediately started spritzing myself with hand sanitizer and giving him an extremely wide berth.

It turned out that he had strep throat. Because of course he did! As the excellent house guests we are, we clucked sympathetically, asked him if we could get him anything, and then promptly packed up all of our stuff and left. (more…)

  • email
  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Kirtsy
  • StumbleUpon
Comments { 17 }

I guess now it’s Christmas

The thing is, there are lots of things to love about Georgia, but it’s really far away from our families, which is kind of a drag. I mean, it’s not as bad as when I lived in California—we’re all in the same time zone, at least—but it still means that visiting is kind of A Production, and there are times when that’s difficult.

So when we first moved down here, we said hey, we’ll come back for Christmas every year. The first year we had a good trip, though I did end up getting an ear infection and calling my doctor back in Georgia to beg for meds and sending Otto out looking for an open pharmacy on Christmas Eve. (Deck the Halls with Zithromaxes, fa la la la laaaaa….)

The second year, well, Nearly Nickless shared his stomach bug with me, and we spent Christmas Eve in the ER.

After all of that big fun, the third year we decided to just stay home. We promised to alternate years, and return the next year. (more…)

  • email
  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Kirtsy
  • StumbleUpon
Comments { 38 }

Happy post-Christmas

I’m over at Off Our Chests today, decompressing from Christmas.

(Still not dead, Dad.)

  • email
  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Kirtsy
  • StumbleUpon
Comments { 2 }

Dear Dad: I’m still alive

My father sent me an interesting email this evening, on account of I apparently haven’t blogged for three days and he’s concerned that I may have died. I didn’t, of course. I have merely been sucked into a maelstrom of holiday frivolity, which basically means I have been overseeing cousin relations in-between eating everything that isn’t nailed down.

Also, my nephews got an Xbox Kinect. So, um, I have been busy smoking Chickadee at Just Dance. HA!

Anyway, we continue to be impressed with how well the dog is adjusting to the various craziness—different house, extra kids, people coming and going. I kind of expected her to just lose her mind, but she’s done remarkably well. I’m sure it’s only partially because she’s figured out that both my sis-in-law and my nephews are only too happy to feed her.

Of course, I do have some bad news to relay. (more…)

  • email
  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Kirtsy
  • StumbleUpon
Comments { 11 }

Hurry, Monkey!

When we last left off, poor Licorice was trying to adjust to being used as a chew toy by Zoey. Truly, the dogs had very nearly reached an amicable understanding—and here by “amicable” we mean that Zoey learned to knock it off whenever Licorice snarled at her—so of course we packed everything up and moved on to the in-laws. Zoey is now a distant memory, so far as Licorice is concerned. (She’s in for a rude awakening next week when we head back to my parents’ house. Ha!)

The good news is that here at Nearly Nickless’ house there is no exuberant puppy trying to eat Licorice’s head. The bad news is that my nephews are MIGHTILY DISPLEASED that we showed up without our kids.

Specifically, they would like Monkey here RIGHT NOW PLEASE. (Sorry, Chickie.) We are not sure whether to look forward to this or be very afraid. (more…)

  • email
  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Kirtsy
  • StumbleUpon
Comments { 9 }
Design by LEAP