Monday, January 13, 2014

Noro Through the Ages

It's funny. The annual Holt family stomach bug outbreak always seems to coincide with the annual trip to the Providence Performing Art Center.

Every year for Christmas, I get tickets for Lyd and I to see a show.

Every year, right before we go, someone gets struck down with the stomach bug.

I stress and worry because I would hate to have Lyd miss out on the show and I know she would be pissed if someone else took her.

We made it to see Wicked last night.  I breathed a sigh of relief as soon as the show was over. (The assholes who came out in force to join us at the show may be a post for another day)

Bring it on Noro-virus!

It was especially hairy the year that we had a show to go to, after which, I had to drop Lyd off to her Dad's because she was flying to Hawaii the next day.

And V and G had already had the bug.

I dropped Lyd off and nearly collapsed with relief that time.

Then I went home and got sick. Lyd made it through, happily.

It used to be that I feared the stomach flu.

Anyone with really young children can relate.

The kids get sick first, you change their diapers and clean the vomit that they spew all over indiscriminately.

By the time they are feeling better, you are on the floor feeling like you are going to die, unable to move.

The kids take the opportunity to destroy the house.

I had a friend who drove down to Virginia (or somewhere else that was a really long drive) with her family, to stay with a friend's family.

Within a half hour of arrival, the friend's daughter came down with the stomach flu. My friend said, "We gotta go!" packed up her three young daughters and drove back home.

I would have done the same thing.

If you have a child under the age of 7, the stomach bug is the worst thing. To the point where anyone that has it going through their house is considered a pariah. To be avoided at all cost.

I remember a night, during that crazy snowstorm filled winter a few years back.  I spent the evening chipping away at a huge swath of ice in the driveway of the house I worked at, in preparation for a storm that was coming. I made my way home from work in the storm, an hour late because my relief came late, only to have to shovel more in order to get into my driveway.

I walked into the house, tired and glad it was all over. G was standing at the door. She informed me that she had puked "a little" in the bathroom.

It looked like a vomit bomb went off in the bathroom. B and I spent the next hour alternating between cleaning and holding the big green bowl under G's chin.

I spent the rest of the evening on bowl duty. It was definitely one of those dark nights of the soul. You cat nap on the foot of the sick child's bed. You don't want to actually share the bed because, gross. You lay listening for that first sound of retching, praying to God that you get the bowl under their chin before you have to change the fucking sheets again.

It's gotten much better. I knew things were looking up last Mother's Day. You can read about that vomiting incident here.

So far, V had it last week. The lovely boy waited until morning to start, so I got a full nights rest. He made it into the bowl every time. Because he is old enough to stick the bowl under his chin himself (I spasmed with joy as  wrote that last part. It's the little things, ya know?).

G said she felt sick last night. I suspected a school avoidance, but left the big green bowl up on her bed just in case. G sleeps high up in a loft bed. The thought of the splatter range should she puke off the side of that bed was simply terrifying, so I took that precaution.

I jumped out of bed at 3am to the sounds of her retching. Thankfully, in the toilet. I don't know if you can truly understand my happiness and feeling of triumph at this, but it certainly was a wonderful moment.

So here I am, tired from sleeping on the couch, while Gretel lay on the other end with the big green bowl. I am working on tying up any loose ends because I am assuredly the next person to take my place on the couch, with the big green bowl by my head.

Only I am a big girl, so I generally make it to the bathroom.

 I suppose I should apologize. No blog since Christmas and the one I get around to writing speaks only of my family's vomit.

But this is where I am right now, in a holding pattern, waiting to see where the virus strikes next.

Two down, three to go!


Wednesday, December 25, 2013

Merry Christmas!

I managed to get up early again this year.

I am sitting by the Christmas tree, which is the only light on in the house.

Dawn is just peeping up in the East, I can see it out the window if I turn my head.

I love this time of day, especially on Christmas. The kids are still young enough to believe in Santa and magic.

I am stationed here waiting for the sound from upstairs of feet hitting the floor and running down the stairs.

That for me, is the magical moment, now that I know who Santa really is.

It is very fleeting and I am thankful for it while it lasts.

I hope you all have a Merry Christmas.

If you are a person who loves this day, I hope it is a long wonderful day filled with joy and fun.

If you are a person who hates this day, I hope it is over in a flash for you and that things will be better once it is finished.

Off to buy a hive of bees from Heifer International while I wait for the pitter pat of little feet.

Merry Christmas and as always, thank you for reading my crap


Monday, December 23, 2013

Bechdel Briefs

I logged onto Facebook first thing this morning and saw a post from my friend Heather.

She said that she will no longer be able to watch a movie without checking to see if it passes the Bechdel test.

The Bechdel test, for those of you who don't know, was first introduced in a comic strip by Alison Bechdel called "Dikes to Watch Out For".

A female character said in a strip that she only watches movies if it passes 3 requirements.

1. It has 2 women in it
2. Who talk to each other
3. About something other than men.

Look it up, and my apologies if my explanation seems vague. It is 7am. I have a deadline in 10 minutes at which time, I have to wake B up and begin my very last leg of the X-mas rush.

I am so ahead of the game this year. I finished shopping on Friday.  I wrapped almost everything and I am all finished with baking.

Go Cindy.

So back to this Bechdel test.

It is very interesting. The article I read from Wikipedia also mentioned that one could also apply these rule to one's life/relationships to see if you yourself, as a woman, pass this test.

I am married with oodles of kids. I rarely talk about the opposite sex. Maybe to bitch about B, but not often.
He does Ok most of the time.

I was at a party the other night and the main topics of conversation were "Merkins" and "Vajazzle".

Looks like that party passed the Bechdel test.

You know what I talk about with other women a lot?

Whether or not our children change their underwear.

This is a perfect segway into my idea that I have been thinking about.

My magnum opus as far as embarrassing my children, which, if you read my blog, you know I love to do.

 My friend, who will remain unnamed, has a daughter who does not change her underwear.

I thought it would be so great if I went out and bought said daughter a package of "days of the week" undies for Christmas.

When she opened the package, I would explain to her, that her mother tells me that she never changes her underwear and I thought this would be a perfect gift.

Even better if V gave it to her.

But what would be best?

Arrange a "Secret Santa" party with the neighborhood parents. (most of whom have children who do not change their underwear. It is an epidemic this side of the Parkway, so I hear)

Parents will tell the kids that they will grab the gift for them.

At the party, which would be a group of 8-11 year olds of both genders. (This is VERY important as kids this age are very self conscious about certain things when the other sex is involved.)

The children would open the gifts. All which would be underwear.

All the parents would exclaim in joy and make comments in front of the kids such as, "Oh how wonderful! You never change your underwear and these are so nice! Maybe this will motivate you!"

Your children will hate you. They will probably stick you in the crappiest nursing home when it's time.

But think of those glorious seconds, watching them squirm in sheer embarrassment after the underwear goes round.

And probably totally worth it as children can be so rotten right before X-mas zero hour, that they most likely deserve whatever you can dish out.

Mine do.

It's worth it.

And there is still time...




Monday, December 09, 2013

Crappy Post

I've got to quit sugar.

Not until after Christmas of course.

Probably never. I love that shit.

It does make me horrifically silly and I say things sometimes that I find funny, but other people do not.

G got mad at me last night. Enraged is more like it.

I blame cupcake #4.

When G gets really mad, she giggles as she tries to kick your ass.

I told her last night that sometimes, when a woman gives birth, they poop a little as they push the baby out.

I told her that I had a full breakfast and a chicken salad sandwich for lunch while I was in labor with her.

So odds are, I probably crapped on her head as she came out.

Only the nurses will ever know and I'm sure they are not telling.

Yeah, G didn't take that well at all.

I blame the cupcakes.

Sunday, December 08, 2013

Sunday Blues

Day of rest, my ass.

Sundays are the only day that all of us are home together.

It's also the one that drives me totally ragged. Just after coming off a 16 hour shift the day before as well.

It's a day of grocery shopping, ice skating lessons and whatever horrors that the family can cook up for me to do.

Speaking of cooking-it's Sunday dinner too?

I want to know the asshole who thought of that bright idea.

(me)

I was doing Ok, my only big plan aside from the Sunday basics, was to take the kids to the Holiday Flea market.

Horst then comes up with the paper, even before I am finished with my first cup of coffee, to ask that I take him shopping for Christmas.

Just a few hours ago, while at work, I had a person I worked with slowly and loudly eating a banana next to me.

And I really couldn't tell them to knock it off. Professionalism and all.

It was almost enough to make me jump out the second story window.

This might be the one that puts me over the edge. especially if Horst insists on the bulky packages.

However I do have a plan.

Bring him to UPS and sit in the fucking car while he ships it.

Ok, I would love to stay and write more about the tortures and torments of Sunday family day, but I just  looked at the clock and it's time to go.

Best get this over with..Pray for me.




Thursday, December 05, 2013

Call Me Dr Zaius

So Thanksgiving is done. NaNoWriMo is done. December is here.

Thanksgiving Eve marks the return of Steve, the homicidal and perverted Christmas Elf. Steve likes to carry knives.


He also enjoys hanging around the bathroom, giving everyone stage fright with his cheerful, vacant grin. Von speculated last year that Steve and the tooth fairy engaged in some casual sex as well. Here's the old post- 

We found him yesterday hanging around here-


It's kind of a pain in the ass. I always forget to move him. I end up remembering when the kids are already awake, so I either have to smuggle the elf somewhere else, under my shirt or I have to call attention to the fact that he did not move and declare him to be a "complete lazy fuck".

But I'm not here today to tell you of my elf problems. I'm here to talk about my outfit. Actually, my favorite sweater. 

Guess what? B hates that too. Bag, water bottle..it never ends.

I put my favorite sweater, which is actually more of a short sleeved sweater tunic, on when we were getting ready to go see a friend and his family on the day after Thanksgiving. 

B exclaimed from the bed, "What the hell are you wearing! You look like someone from The Planet of the Apes!" 

I explained that I was cold as well as, lacking in cardigans because my other ones had all worn out. 

B was understanding of my predicament, but stated he would not allow me to go to his friends house dressed like Dr Zeus. 

I took the sweater off and promised him that I would dress more like his mother next time. (It's not directed at you, P, I love your style-all the barbs are directed towards your son, as always)

Here is me

I don't know if I see much of a resemblance

I will admit, I was secretly delighted. You see, my friend Heather was told recently, that her outfit looked "old school Star Trek" and I was a bit jealous. 

No reason to be now. 
 I wonder if people think that there is a Comic Con in town whenever Heather and I go out togther. 

(BTW-Heather has an awesome new blog called "It's Your Mirror" over there on my blog list. Go read it.) 

In the end, I wore a shawl out that day.  But, as with everything B dislikes of mine, his disapproval has kindled a deep love in my heart for the Dr Zaius sweater. 

Perhaps it will motivate him to get me some kick ass cardigans for Christmas. 

The only drawback is, whenever I put the Dr Zaius on, that Simpson's song plays in my head all day.



I guess it's a small price to pay to look so awesome.





Thursday, November 28, 2013

Happy Thanksgiving


In regards to my previous post about having to go see that stupid Planes movie. I want you all to know, in the spirit of full disclosure (and also because one of my friends pointed out that by not going to that movie I was lying to everyone who reads my blog.), I didn't have to go see it! It was great, we went to see the later movie and skipped that one. I did not spend that extra time watching a monkey masturbate either. 

Happy Thanksgiving!

I thought that you all would be a bit tired of turkeys by now, so I'm going to celebrate with a picture of a turkey vulture, enjoying his own Thanksgiving day feast.

I think he looks very thankful for that random carcass.

I had plans to do this thing that I found on Pinterest. You cut leaf shapes out of colorful construction paper and every day you write on one of the leaves something you are thankful for. Then you hang it up on a strinng on the wall.

It looked really nice.

I didn't do it.

There were a lot of people who would post what they were thankful for on their Facebook page. One a day for thirty days.

I liked that idea, but never got around to it.

For November, like I've said before a million times, I've been trying to write a novel in a month.

I have not yet reached 50K, but I've passed 30K and I am pretty proud of that.

I'm going to go write a bit more before everyone else wakes and turkey mayhem begins, but before I go, here are my 30 things that I am currently thankful for.

1. B, of course. I am pretty damn lucky. We still have a lot of things to say to each other (not swears) after almost 15 years and, I can't think of a better person to stand strong with me against the evil tyranny of the children.
2. I am thankful for the children. They are royal pains in the ass, but they really make me laughand I adore them.
3. I am thankful for plumbing and proper sewer lines that take waste away from my home. (No joke, we all should be thankful for that)
4. I am thankful for clean water
5. I am thankful that I am the only early riser in a houseful of late sleepers. I love having the early mornings to myself.
6. I am thankful for the way things work out sometimes. For instance, I'm actually thankful for that whole beehive vandalism incident back in May, where I ended up having to move my hives. Turns out, I would have had to move them anyways in the end. If that whole thing had not happened, it may have been a frantic move later in the season. A lot of good things came from my hive being vandalized. It's funny how things work out.
7. I am thankful for social media. It allows me to keep in touch with old friends that I would not have kept in touch with otherwise. It also gives me the opportunity to entertain you all and I really like that.
8. I am thankful for opportunities to make people laugh
9. I am thankful for opportunities to help people. I know it sounds hokey, but it's true.
10. I am thankful for my job, which pays the bills and gives me the time to raise my kids the way I want to, as well as engage in the million of other things I do. Especially write.
11. I am thankful for the stories that have been kicking around my head. I'm never bored because of them.
12. I'm thankful for the opportunity to be able to practice getting those stories out of my head and onto paper. It's grueling and difficult I tell you, but I love it.
13. I am thankful for Zovirax antiviral cream. My cold sore was, honestly, the size of a man's big toe. I suspected it was actually my absorbed twin, trying to break free in order to kill us all. It looks much better now. Pinkie toe sized
14. I am thankful for elderberry syrup
15. I am thankful as you all are I am sure, for the fact that I just decide to finish at 16 because I am tired of writing what I am thankful for.
16. I am thankful for the wonderful group of people in my life, they are truly the best of all. Thanks guys.


A wise friend once told me that Thanksgiving is her favorite holiday, because it doesn't involve presents or costumes. I couldn't agree more.

I'm off to write and then cook for just the people in my house. This is great because there is no pressure to clean and make everything look nice.  Everyone gets paper towels for napkins.

Then, we all go to the movies. We're going to see the new Hunger Games movie. And here is another thing I am thankful for

17. I am thankful that the kids are older, which means that we don't have to see stupid kid movies for our annual family Thanksgiving movie night. Nothing says family like flaming corpses and ritual government endorsed murder, right?

Happy Thanksgiving!!