April 19, 2011
For the past 2 1/2 days I’ve been home with a strep throaty boy. And I have a sinus infection. And a yeast infection. And PMS. And initially I thought “Really, Universe? You’re gonna take a woman who’s having level 7 PMS and quarantine her in a house with a 10-year-old pile of whiny drama? And then toss in a sinus infection and an antibiotic-induced mega yeast infection, and then sit back and see what happens? Like it’s Big Brother or Survivor or something?” And I got to make the unpleasant discovery that now that The Boy is 10, his ways of dealing with illness have changed.
Just a few short months ago he was a very apologetic and lovey dovey sick kid. Not only did he want to snuggle all day, but he also sincerely felt badly about being a burden. As he should. The kid used to apologize after every barf, and tell me how wonderful I was to take care of him. Which I always thought was totally appropriate. Because let’s face it people, if you’re bathing someone, waiting on someone hand and foot, and cleaning up someone’s vomit… you totally deserve a 7 figure salary, a day at the spa, a night on the town, and a miniature pony. But since the patient is only 10 years old, I happily accept a Thank You. At least until he’s all grown up and makes enough money to give me all those other things. Especially the pony.
But now that The Boy is 10, he is a bitchy, demanding sick kid. He pretty much blames me for the fact that he’s sick. And he shouts things like “Juice!” or “Strawberries!” and gets Incredible Hulky angry if those things do not appear on his lap instantaneously. And on day 2, The Boy decided that his throat hurt so bad that he couldn’t swallow. So he wouldn’t swallow. Nope. He carried around a Tupperware container to spit in. All day. And he would drink Gatorade, swish it around in his mouth, and spit it into the tupperware container. It was like living with some fancy pantsy wine tasting dude. Or a tobaccy chewing hillbilly. Actually, more like the tobaccy chewing hillbilly, because he smelled kinda bad and his hair was all wonky and about 20% of the time his spit missed the Tupperware container and landed elsewhere. And did I mention that we just got new carpet and furniture? So Mr. Hillbilly Strep Throat Spit Boy spent the remainder of his sick time in bed. Where I didn’t have to look at him and his nastiness.
So anyway, I’ve been stuck at home, dreaming of how awesome it would feel to stick a popsicle up my vajayjay (but I would never actually do that you guys), and thinking about how I should blog but really have nothing interesting to blog about, as you can see for yourselves. So I just thought “What the hell.” My sinuses and my no no hurt and I’m nice enough to write something for you guys anyway, so the least you all can do is appreciate it. Or pretend you do. And be happy that you got something. And that you have your vaginal health.
And here are a few things that I would like to share with you:
|My friend Jenny saw this in the bathroom at a Farmers Market down the road, and thankfully decided to photograph it. Just in case you can’t read the fine print on the bottom, it says “If you have a problem with this stay the hell out of the restroom. If this continues the restroom will remain locked and you can piss or shit on yourselves. You want to act like a child about it then wear a diaper and don’t worry about it.” So now I find myself wondering just what the hell happened in this bathroom? At a freakin’ farmers market? Murder? Birthing? Animal sacrifice? Something unspeakable had to go down to get the bathroom owner to this point. I mean, I’ve seen some things in bathrooms. Horrible things. The Chick Fil A bathroom incident of 2007 was the worst. But Holy balls! This guy’s story probably makes mine look pathetic.|
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