Geometry as a palliative
Have I ever mentioned that I love my kids? Has it come up once or twice? I cannot recall, on account of I’ve had about 3 hours of sleep all night, broken up into half-hour segments. I may have covered this before. But I do. I really, really… Zzzzzzzzzzzzzz….
Would anyone like some Earl Grey? I just drank a couple of mugs’ worth, and next I plan to immerse my eyeballs in it. (“Earl Grey? Really?” “You’re soaking in it!”)
Okay. I’ll just apologize in advance. My cohesiveness is still in bed. Weeping, no doubt.
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Red; repeat, RED!
God grant me strength.
EDIT: Okay, I guess that was cryptic.
Basically I had this great day where I felt better than I have in weeks; I cleaned, I grocery shopped, I worked; the kids came home from school and we baked in preparation of Monkey’s Thankgiving play and “feast” tomorrow; we had dinner; and then while I was loading the dishwasher and the kids were (I thought) getting ready for bed, actually Monkey was puking his guts out.
To his credit, his aim was true. Huzzah!
I was patting his back and stroking his hair while he finished up, and Chickadee stuck her head in the bathroom and asked when we’d be leaving. “Leaving?” I asked.
“Yeah, you’re taking him to Daddy’s, right?” Well, what did I expect from the child who responded to exhortations to eat her breakfast this morning with a pointed stare through a kaleidoscope and a “WOW, Mama, you have about a million heads!” declaration?
I’ll let him stay, because he’s cute and pitiful. (I contented myself with leaving a phone message for my ex. “Hi! I hate you!”) But if I get sick, it’s off with his head.
Spew alert level: orange
Tonight on Woulda Coulda Shoulda: Let’s talk about puking! Cuz that’s always a crowd-pleaser!
I have a confession to make. I’m an emetaphobic.
Well, I don’t know if I truly qualify as phobic in the clinical sense. On the other hand, “I hate to vomit” really doesn’t cover it, either. I hate to vomit AND I hate to deal with vomit AND I have a highly developed gag reflex. When my children get sick in that way, I cope with it, because I have to. I also have panic attacks and gag repeatedly while dealing with it.
I live for the day when my children will be able to consistently aim when they have to toss their cookies. Also I have a friend with prescribing privileges who can tell you that I have offered all manner of bribes in return for phenergan whenever the pukes hit this household.
Maybe emetophobic is accurate.
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In search of something shiny
I am still here! Yes! Cranky and slow-moving, to be sure, but trucking right along.
There is a whole story I could tell today about how I very much hate HMOs, dislike the system of medical care in America in general, am really starting to despise my doctor’s practice in specific, and how I am confused and annoyed and tired of being jerked around, but… nevermind. God. I’m tired of complaining. (Take a look around. Consider for a moment the level my negativity has to reach before I tire of it. This is really saying something.)
So! Instead of telling you about how I had to go have my blood taken AGAIN for some more potentially useless tests, I will tell you about what I did on the way home, once I was fortified with a very large latte and a handful of Advil!
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Revenge of the Spirochetes
Hello! And, also, OW!
I’d like to introduce you to my new band, Revenge of the Spirochetes. It plays extraordinarily sucky music which more or less makes you want to lay down and die, but SUCH A CATCHY NAME. I am unconcerned about the details! Everybody grab a tamborine! Also, if you would like to come over here and maybe find my heating pad and perhaps hit me over the head really hard so as to render me unconscious, that would be fabulous. Thanks.
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Still crazy! But not a hypochondriac!
We are all clear on the fact that on the great spectrum of mental health, I do lean just a bit to the side with the padded room. The voices in my head tell me that it’s rather endearing, so shut up. Normally I am able to keep myself well-regulated with medication and copious amounts of chocolate, but even so, sometimes things get away from me.
For example: I am the queen of psychosomatic illnesses. Many people think psychosomatic means FAKE, when it fact it means ABSOLUTELY REAL PHYSICAL SYMPTOMS BROUGHT ON OR AGGRAVATED BY YOUR LEVEL OF CRAZY. I suffer from migraines. I struggle with insomnia. Probably there’s other stuff I’m not thinking of at this very moment. Real problems, fueled by my angst-ridden mind!
So when I started feeling kinda crummy I figured I had a cold or something. And then when it didn’t go away I figured I was just stressed out. And when it got a little worse I figured maybe I was a little depressed or something in addition to being stressed. And then when it started scaring the crap out of me I went to the doctor and said, “Hi! I am a hypochondriac, I think! Or possibly dying! Perhaps you could take my $15 and let me know which one! Thanks!”
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Guest Neurotic
The Mommy Bloggers have graciously allowed me to share a few words over on their site today.
Please do not feed the mental illness
If I call to get my lab results, by all means, take my name and number so that someone can call me back.
DO NOT then call me back in ten minutes to cheerily chirp that the doctor will call me back tomorrow to discuss the tests.
Between that phone call and the next one I can come up with over a dozen scenarios involving great tragedy and that’s without even TRYING.
Sheesh.
Let’s try this again
And this time, everybody play nice, and don’t crash the server.
The sucking up as well as the hard-hitting interview are both live for your perusal.
Apparently I’m writing over there tomorrow, too. Maybe I should think of a topic….
Please stand by
In addition to having handily disposed of not one but TWO websites today (if only I could harness my powers for good), there are now further technical difficulties which necessitate the absence of a real post for tonight.
And by “further technical difficulties,” I of course mean “I am still laboring over an assignment due in the morning which I have somehow not yet completed; unless the person reading this is my editor in which case it is totally already done, no worries at all, and by the way have I mentioned lately that you are pretty because you totally are.”
In lieu of a real post, have three random snippets from my day:
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