7. This feels like the right story at the right time – (remember I said I had 13 of these, well I do, but I only wrote the first 6 and then just named the other seven, so they are being written “real time”.
My darling daughters share a room – it hasn’t always been that way, before they all had big girl and big boy beds (you know we still had cribs and/or toddler beds) – we varied the combinations around. But once the youngest had a “big girl” bed, we figured it was time to think about gender and we put both girls in one room together. Well the bedrooms in our house are not what you would call ‘huge’ in fact they are on the small side (not compared with what we had growing up, but still, small for two beds, two dressers, etc.). So we had these two twin beds in this room and dressers, etc. And it was really just too darn crowded once they began to accumulate stuff of their own. So we determined it was time for bunk beds – and they easily agreed on who should be on top and who on bottom – so this made life easy – but… youngest wanted bottom, but she didn’t like being completely under her sister – it made her feel “claustrophobic”, so we put the beds in an L shape of sorts, because these beds were designed so that you could do that. The top bed went North-South and the bottom bed went East-West. Well this created this wonderful little cubby area that was under older sisters feet, but not really “out in the room” – this was really great for youngest, it was like her very OWN space and she loved it – I seem to remember we had a desk in there, but I don’t know exactly how or what.
Anyhow, everyone is sound asleep, husband and I are going off to bed, and of course he has always been able to fall asleep in about 12 seconds, whereas I lay there a little while and then fall asleep – well… as usual, I was half-asleep and he was snoring (loudly – and no that’s not why I don’t fall asleep – I will write a post someday on my secret hatred for the sleep apnea machine – IT’S TOO QUIET), and I hear this faint little “mommy” – no maybe I didn’t hear anything… wait there it is again, maybe louder – and then… “M.O.M.M.Y.!!!! D.A.D.D.Y.!!!”, very loud, unmistakable – youngest is freaking. We jump out of bed and run in there… and oldest is leaned over her bunk bed wretching, and youngest is sitting up just barely out of the line of fire screaming her head off… older sister didn’t want to puke in her own bed, so she leaned over and puked all over her sister. Well of course I’m thinking about clean-up immediately, and thus far the mess is completely contained on youngest’s comforter – so I begin telling her not to move… I am so mean, here she is trapped under a lake of vomit and I won’t allow her to move, lest she disrupt the nice levees her legs under the covers have created. Husband has gone for a ‘puke bowl’ and youngest is now yelling at her sister “puke in your own bed” – and I’m saying ‘no, no, this one is already dirty’ – but she is a voluminous vomiter and has already gotten to dry heaves, so really it is academic at this point. Now son is awake, standing in doorway laughing at all of us – of course – he isn’t puking, puked on, or about to clean up puke – so it’s all good in his world (he will get his though, oh yes he will get his). Once the bowl was safely under the oldest, I scooped up the comforter, headed for the laundry room and let husband comfort the youngest who was completely traumatized by the whole thing. I still have not lived it down – I frequently get the “but mommy, you have a carpet cleaning machine, you could have just shampooed the carpet and let me out”.
Not an especially dirty story, after all, but timely none the less… my girls still share a room, still have bunk beds (in the usual configuration now – youngest wasn’t about to expose her legs to her sister after that), and actually they still vomit occasionally – however I can tell you now that they don’t wait for mom and dad – the sick one will wake the other and they are remarkably fast at getting to the kitchen for the bowl for the other sister. In fact, they don’t even wake us anymore – youngest was barfing last week, and we only knew because we saw the bowl in her bed – “hey what’s with the barf bowl in your bed” – “oh I threw up last night, my sister cleaned it up for me” – so those of you who think you can’t possibly follow your children around forever cleaning up after them – keep in mind that they do eventually begin to take care of themselves and it is sad and exhilarating all at once.
Thursday, September 13, 2007
Monday, September 10, 2007
my weekend
Well this was Harvest Festival weekend - which is sort of a big deal in a "farming" town - not that we are much of a farming town anymore - really more of a suburb of Denver, and most folks in town haven't ever mucked out a stall or chopped wood or gotten up early to feed critters but none the less we hang on to a few of our 'farming' roots - including the harvest festival. Well our Harvest festival is very much about the booths and the food and the carnival - there is also a parade on Saturday morning, and all the girl/boy scouts and marching bands and politicians and 4-H kids and classic car clubs turn out to show their stuff. After the parade there is usually a duck race down the creek (pronounced crik) where gold was first discovered in our town. You buy a duck from the Rotary for $5 (I think you can get 5 for $20?) and the money supports their scholarship fund. After hundreds, I mean hundreds of rubber ducks have been sold they dump them all in the bucket of a bulldozer - for those who know - the bucket on a regular sized bulldozer is darn big, so there are really a lot of ducks, they nearly fill the bucket. They dump the ducks into the creek and we all run down the banks of the creek watching the little ducks go - they get caught up in eddies and branches and behind rocks and they run over each other and around each other and it is so fun to watch them go down the creek - and of course the numbers are on the bottom so you have no idea at all which one is yours. They go down the creek for about 1/2 mile and then the Rotary has this wonderful thing some clever person built that catches ALL (okay one or two slip by, but nearly all) the ducks and it catches the first eight or ten in single file (it's shaped kinda like a Y as wide as the creek and then the leg of the Y holds ducks single file) - and of course that is how the winner is determined. We have never won - we don't care - duck race is absolutely the most fun of the day. So - The oldest had to work - well she was supposed to work at night, but a girl actually asked her to trade shifts for the morning shift which she gladly took (for reasons I will explain later), and the boy had a football game, so he and husband went to football - because I was not about to miss the duck race for a football game my boy was NOT playing in. So youngest and I packed up a cooler with some drinks, grabbed the Jelly, some hats, some cash and took off for the Duck Race. No Freakin Duck Race - I drove around the creek three times looking to see if they moved it up or down stream - no race - I'm so disappointed and well pissed off - I'm going to the next Rotary meeting to raise a stink actually! So then we went "downtown" - you know 3 blocks from the creek - and found a parking space and headed for the "catholic" school gymnasium. Why no one actually calls it by it's name is sort of beyond me, even the good little catholic girls that my daughter played softball with that attend school there don't call it by it's name - anyhow, it's the perfect location based on the rest of the events for them to hold the "food fair". Yes a real true old-fashioned food fair (hence the aforementioned 'jelly'). You can enter Garden vegetables that are abnormally large or weird looking - or on the other side of the gym (small town, small school, small gym, it's not so far to the other side) there is the canned fruit, canned veggies, pickles, salsa, jelly, jam, cake, pie, cookies, yeast bread, quick bread contests. My daughter entered her elderberry jelly. Well actually youngest and I took it in, because oldest was at work - but she had gladly changed shifts because prizes are awarded at 2:30 - and she would get off at 2:30 instead of starting her shift at 2:30 so she could possibly be there in time to get her prize. There were 7 jars of jelly in the jelly category - and she won 3rd place!! Now for anyone who actually knows what elderberries are - you are probably thinking ewwwwwwwww elderberry jelly? For anyone who actually knows what elderberry jelly is, you are probably thinking "holy crap that's way too much work". It is wonderful jelly, really delicious and wonderful. But the nature of elderberries makes it two to three times as much work as other varieties of jelly - for a bunch of crazy reasons. So that she won third place tells me that the judges actually knew that it is a bitch to get it to set and not turn to rubber, it's really really difficult - way more than other jellies. I'm a jam person myself, I have no patience for that dripping bag and that skimming the foam crap - let me cook up a big old pot of fruit and sugar and ladle it into jars any day - much much easier. Well then, after all that - we went on home had some supper - got back together as a family and went back for the carnival (much more fun at night you know) and it's all about being seen and seeing others anyhow. Amazingly - first year in ages - all three of our kids stayed with us. In part because we had the $$ (but they know we would have handed them some and let them run off if they asked), and in part because in spite of inviting lots of friends (most of their friends do NOT live in our town because they don't go to school in our town) none of them had a friend come with them. So, my eldest, she really doesn't like carnivals, and she was missing her boyfriend, and she had worked early so she was tired - she really only went for the funnel cake - and she almost has no friends from our town anymore, and certainly none that would go to the festival - though she isn't - they are all emo/punk and way too cool for something like that. Son has played almost all of his sports in the next town over or for school, so except for one year that he played sports in our town and a few friends left from elementary school (which also isn't in our town, but had a few more kids from our town than the high school) he doesn't have a lot of town friends either. Now youngest, played softball in our town (eldest did too, but quit so long ago it's hard to remember), dances in our town, for some reason has a lot more elementary school friends from our town and actually has some high school friends from our town... so she was sure she would just run into friends -- no go. But the boy ran into about 20 friends - and never once wanted to take off with them - he stayed with us. And he was delightful to his sisters - and they were delightful to him. It was so much fun - none of us rode any rides, but we shot at targets (I did pretty well but didn't win), and the boy and the youngest tried to break beer bottles with baseballs - the boy won that and all the little kids standing around were saying "wow, he should be a pitcher" -- tee hee, he is a pitcher. And then we had our funnel cake, listened to a little of the rock band in the park and went home - it was sort of a quiet night at the fair? Damn that funnel cake was good though!
Sunday is boring so nevermind - this isn't "my weekend" it's my saturday.
Sunday is boring so nevermind - this isn't "my weekend" it's my saturday.
Friday, September 07, 2007
fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck
I just sent an email to a teacher without "signing" it -- and in fact... it's more complicated than that. You see my daughter (the senior) specifically requested that we say something "smartassed" in her yearbook - can you believe the little stinker - all the other mommies and daddies are writing things like "You have always been a blessing and seeing the lovely young woman you have become makes us shiver all over with appreciation to the Lord for the blessings he gave us when he brought you into our lives, Praise Jesus for you - you will be the best college student ever because you are amazing and beautiful and and and... " But no, we get a request for "smartassed" - which actually now that I re-read the above example - at least in our family - would clearly qualify as smartassed, but she would also disown us - even though we will be paying for college. So this email was to the yearbook teacher, and it was:
Ms. Yearbook teacher; thank you for your help with this, attached is the picture we discussed of daughter and the sentiment we would like is:
blah blah mushy blah blah reference to favorite hippy song blah blah reference to baby song blah blah
ps. We couldn't decide between a car and a computer for graduation - but then we thought about a vacation... we will call you when we get to Bermuda, please feed the dogs!
now... I'm afraid that Ms. Yearbook teacher (who is foreign by the way, and actually does not have great English) might think the ps. is for her!!! and not include it in the yearbook - and it is actually the specifically requested smartassed part of it - which is of course altogether or more important than the mushy blah blah -- so do I write back - or do I resend the sent message but finish it this time? Adding some paragraph to make clear where the sentiment ends? I'm all a twitter at the possibility that I just fucked up the damn thing and husband and I fought about it for three days - because you see...
He sang to her in-utero (he sang to all the kids in-utero) and so did I. But we sang different songs - now... I know my memory has gone to hell in a handbasket, but... (btw, wouldn't a handbasket just ignite and burn up the minute it reached hell?) I. KNOW. FOR. A. FACT. that he sang "Somewhere Out There" from American Tale to her until she was about 2 years old and requested that he change her song to "Goodnight Sweetheart" - he swears it was never "Somewhere Out There" and always "Goodnight Sweetheart" (maybe I should remind him that he was certain she was a boy til she popped out). And then when she was about 8, she wanted another change, but he wouldn't comply, he told her that "Feelin Groovy" was his song to himself and she couldn't have it. I never changed songs by the way, always "Wouldn't It Be Loverly" - anyhow, the two songs that we referenced are BOTH HIS - and mine just would not fit in - also, we debated and debated as to just how much of "Feelin Groovy" was going to make the cut - because we feel differently about a specific line - he thinks "morning" represents youth, and I think "morning" sounds dumb and should be "moment" and I didn't want to "limit" the sentiment by using "morning". Now I get that "morning" can represent "youth" - but he didn't say that until after we had argued about it for 30 minutes - UGH men! - and then once he said it I was so frustrated that it took a few hours for it to sink in and then I was okay with it.
Anyhow isn't this all so stupid, - but looking at baby pictures of the kids last night to choose the one to go with - OMG we made BEAUTIFUL babies - WOW! and We laughed our asses off at how silly they all were. I found about a bazillion to stick on her "senior collage" - do all schools do all this silly sappy shit or is ours just over the top on this the way it is with other things - we have... senior quote in yearbook (supposed to be selected by senior, but you can tell by reading them that some of the heli-moms are "helping"); sentiment from family with baby picture (or multiple if you want to pay more $$ ($35/each); senior bricks; senior collages; speeches from mom and dad at senior picnic or baccalaureate or something; baccalaureate (which is apparently very religious - as in gentile religious, so I'll be seeing if the ____berg's are going to participate before we make a decision - our senior has already said she has no desire to participate); graduation; and then regularly scheduled senior/parent meetings about "senior issues" - this first one was about college admissions - and that makes sense - and I know that one of them is baccalaureate planning - and I know that some of them are for announcements - which when I was in school was all about the kids and the parents were surprised when they saw what we chose... I'm so confused, lol. When I was in school our senior activities consisted of Keggers (no parents), class picture (aerial on the football field), more keggers (no parents), stop by the table and vote on announcements one day, check the spelling of your name another day, more keggers, ditch day (which included a kegger), graduation rehearsal (again, more beer), and graduation - woohoo the hard stuff, champagne popping out from under gowns and being passed up and down the rows, oh yeah, and more beer, and sometimes parents joined in this beer fun - did I forget any senior activities Moosema? (we were seniors together - but I don't think she drank as much as me, so she might remember something I don't)
Ms. Yearbook teacher; thank you for your help with this, attached is the picture we discussed of daughter and the sentiment we would like is:
blah blah mushy blah blah reference to favorite hippy song blah blah reference to baby song blah blah
ps. We couldn't decide between a car and a computer for graduation - but then we thought about a vacation... we will call you when we get to Bermuda, please feed the dogs!
now... I'm afraid that Ms. Yearbook teacher (who is foreign by the way, and actually does not have great English) might think the ps. is for her!!! and not include it in the yearbook - and it is actually the specifically requested smartassed part of it - which is of course altogether or more important than the mushy blah blah -- so do I write back - or do I resend the sent message but finish it this time? Adding some paragraph to make clear where the sentiment ends? I'm all a twitter at the possibility that I just fucked up the damn thing and husband and I fought about it for three days - because you see...
He sang to her in-utero (he sang to all the kids in-utero) and so did I. But we sang different songs - now... I know my memory has gone to hell in a handbasket, but... (btw, wouldn't a handbasket just ignite and burn up the minute it reached hell?) I. KNOW. FOR. A. FACT. that he sang "Somewhere Out There" from American Tale to her until she was about 2 years old and requested that he change her song to "Goodnight Sweetheart" - he swears it was never "Somewhere Out There" and always "Goodnight Sweetheart" (maybe I should remind him that he was certain she was a boy til she popped out). And then when she was about 8, she wanted another change, but he wouldn't comply, he told her that "Feelin Groovy" was his song to himself and she couldn't have it. I never changed songs by the way, always "Wouldn't It Be Loverly" - anyhow, the two songs that we referenced are BOTH HIS - and mine just would not fit in - also, we debated and debated as to just how much of "Feelin Groovy" was going to make the cut - because we feel differently about a specific line - he thinks "morning" represents youth, and I think "morning" sounds dumb and should be "moment" and I didn't want to "limit" the sentiment by using "morning". Now I get that "morning" can represent "youth" - but he didn't say that until after we had argued about it for 30 minutes - UGH men! - and then once he said it I was so frustrated that it took a few hours for it to sink in and then I was okay with it.
Anyhow isn't this all so stupid, - but looking at baby pictures of the kids last night to choose the one to go with - OMG we made BEAUTIFUL babies - WOW! and We laughed our asses off at how silly they all were. I found about a bazillion to stick on her "senior collage" - do all schools do all this silly sappy shit or is ours just over the top on this the way it is with other things - we have... senior quote in yearbook (supposed to be selected by senior, but you can tell by reading them that some of the heli-moms are "helping"); sentiment from family with baby picture (or multiple if you want to pay more $$ ($35/each); senior bricks; senior collages; speeches from mom and dad at senior picnic or baccalaureate or something; baccalaureate (which is apparently very religious - as in gentile religious, so I'll be seeing if the ____berg's are going to participate before we make a decision - our senior has already said she has no desire to participate); graduation; and then regularly scheduled senior/parent meetings about "senior issues" - this first one was about college admissions - and that makes sense - and I know that one of them is baccalaureate planning - and I know that some of them are for announcements - which when I was in school was all about the kids and the parents were surprised when they saw what we chose... I'm so confused, lol. When I was in school our senior activities consisted of Keggers (no parents), class picture (aerial on the football field), more keggers (no parents), stop by the table and vote on announcements one day, check the spelling of your name another day, more keggers, ditch day (which included a kegger), graduation rehearsal (again, more beer), and graduation - woohoo the hard stuff, champagne popping out from under gowns and being passed up and down the rows, oh yeah, and more beer, and sometimes parents joined in this beer fun - did I forget any senior activities Moosema? (we were seniors together - but I don't think she drank as much as me, so she might remember something I don't)
flufferwhat?
I was reading a post by Karly over at Wiping up Snot – or maybe it was her guest post – anyhow, she said something about a fluffernutter sandwich – now I have heard this before – but really never knew what it was – so I confessed my ignorance to her and she wrote me back – actually making a derogatory comment about one of my favorite sandwiches – I think she said she thought she might hurl – I like Peanut Butter and Mayo (with lettuce when available). Apparently, for anyone else as ignorant as me (I think it might be geographic, but that is still somewhat unclear) – fluffernutter is peanut butter and marshmallow “fluff”. And in New England there is a brand of fluff called “fluff” that is the very best – if fluff is the same as the Kraft Marshmallow Cream that we use here for fudge – and by “we”, I mean those of us who refuse to stand over a pot of boiling sugar and butter with a thermometer rising up to the atmosphere of Hell and instead of timing the nasty goo religiously with a clock with a second hand – btw… I find it ironic that nearly everything that is a “holiday treat” requires you actually have a clock with a second hand – my children cannot read clocks with hands (well not easily or well) but they can time the hell outta pizzelles or fudge with the second hand, lol. I know that ‘candy’ making fudge people look down their noses at us marshmallow cream fudgers – but, my fudge is always the first one gone on a buffet so pfffffft!
Okay well anyhow, if “fluff” is the same as that nasty crap that I put in the fudge, I could just hurl – so I guess Karly and I are even in that regard. I can’t imagine why anyone would want to combine the joys of fresh bread and peanut butter with nasty nuclear waste sugar – and I suspect she thinks of mayo as greasy nastiness or something equally as unappetizing.
But this brings me to another thought – and then I signed into my blog and remembered that I wrote about puke yesterday – so this is like a segue between puke and um… puke.
I love to tell stories on my children, and occasionally strangers – geez I wish I had voice recognition typing in my car – I wrote the best post last week in the car about inconsiderate bitches and bastards that leave shopping carts all about the parking lot among other transgressions – of course I was driving so I was just “writing” out loud to myself, and it will never come out the same on “paper” as that original artwork! Anyhow, time for a story on me – I suppose it would work as a ‘dirtiest’ story – but what the hell, we’ll just stick it in as a Friday – don’t celebrate the weekend this way!
We were at the lodge – the one mentioned previously in fish gut stew post and again after that in the “I splashed the sheriff but I didn’t get the deputy” post. The kids were very small, in fact, even in my slightly drunken stupor – I remember being concerned about their safety while roasting marshmallows – and asked my much more sober husband to keep a very close eye on them – and to definitely not let them fling the flaming balls of sugary goo into the faces of all the drunks sitting around “supervising”. The other questionable decision I made was to actually consume the beautiful wonderful snacks that my darling babies had made “just for me” even though they contained one of the most hideous “food” products hidden away in the pantries of most Americans (I doubt that people in any other part of the world would even consider putting that crap in their mouth! – note to self google marshmallows in the rest of the world). And I didn’t just consume one or two ‘smores’ – NO, my babies loved me a lot that night, and they just kept making me samples of their sugary love – and the little turds wouldn’t even turn back to lighting sugar on a stick on fire one more time til I took a bite – so though I managed to ditch a few of them in the garbage, I pretty much was forced to consume them.
Well here is an interesting scientific fact – marshmallows and copious amounts of beer do not actually complement each other when combined gastronomically – and in fact, as we all know ‘fresh’ marshmallows (do they ever really get stale???) float when thrown in a lake (or cup of hot chocolate)… well that floating quality does not cease with partial digestion, and in fact flufferbeer puke floats well in the lake also. It does not however clean up very well off of carpet – and like the lake, it floats in the toilet, which by the way, will cause you to hurl again – because it’s oh so lovely to see your puke floating inches from your bloodshot eyeballs. This particular weekend, the hostess saw fit to give us the rooms on the third floor, so by the time we climbed up to the lodge from the beach and then up all those flights of stairs to the lovely little tiny 1930’s bathroom – I frankly thought I may die at the lodge – if not from the flufferbeer rock and roll party in my stomach, then surely from the embarrassment of vomiting all that loving gooiness right into the lake in front of my sweet babies.
So… while I have never really liked marshmallows anyhow, not even as a kid – I really only like them in fruit salad – the idea of a ‘fluffernutter’ sandwich could just be my next diet tool. I think I will find pictures of them and post it on my refrigerator. Maybe pictures of big fat nasty rude people who leave their shopping carts in the middle of the fucking aisle two spaces from the corral after they’ve bought a huge jar of ‘fluff’ and are headed home to binge themselves on the nasty goo.
Okay well anyhow, if “fluff” is the same as that nasty crap that I put in the fudge, I could just hurl – so I guess Karly and I are even in that regard. I can’t imagine why anyone would want to combine the joys of fresh bread and peanut butter with nasty nuclear waste sugar – and I suspect she thinks of mayo as greasy nastiness or something equally as unappetizing.
But this brings me to another thought – and then I signed into my blog and remembered that I wrote about puke yesterday – so this is like a segue between puke and um… puke.
I love to tell stories on my children, and occasionally strangers – geez I wish I had voice recognition typing in my car – I wrote the best post last week in the car about inconsiderate bitches and bastards that leave shopping carts all about the parking lot among other transgressions – of course I was driving so I was just “writing” out loud to myself, and it will never come out the same on “paper” as that original artwork! Anyhow, time for a story on me – I suppose it would work as a ‘dirtiest’ story – but what the hell, we’ll just stick it in as a Friday – don’t celebrate the weekend this way!
We were at the lodge – the one mentioned previously in fish gut stew post and again after that in the “I splashed the sheriff but I didn’t get the deputy” post. The kids were very small, in fact, even in my slightly drunken stupor – I remember being concerned about their safety while roasting marshmallows – and asked my much more sober husband to keep a very close eye on them – and to definitely not let them fling the flaming balls of sugary goo into the faces of all the drunks sitting around “supervising”. The other questionable decision I made was to actually consume the beautiful wonderful snacks that my darling babies had made “just for me” even though they contained one of the most hideous “food” products hidden away in the pantries of most Americans (I doubt that people in any other part of the world would even consider putting that crap in their mouth! – note to self google marshmallows in the rest of the world). And I didn’t just consume one or two ‘smores’ – NO, my babies loved me a lot that night, and they just kept making me samples of their sugary love – and the little turds wouldn’t even turn back to lighting sugar on a stick on fire one more time til I took a bite – so though I managed to ditch a few of them in the garbage, I pretty much was forced to consume them.
Well here is an interesting scientific fact – marshmallows and copious amounts of beer do not actually complement each other when combined gastronomically – and in fact, as we all know ‘fresh’ marshmallows (do they ever really get stale???) float when thrown in a lake (or cup of hot chocolate)… well that floating quality does not cease with partial digestion, and in fact flufferbeer puke floats well in the lake also. It does not however clean up very well off of carpet – and like the lake, it floats in the toilet, which by the way, will cause you to hurl again – because it’s oh so lovely to see your puke floating inches from your bloodshot eyeballs. This particular weekend, the hostess saw fit to give us the rooms on the third floor, so by the time we climbed up to the lodge from the beach and then up all those flights of stairs to the lovely little tiny 1930’s bathroom – I frankly thought I may die at the lodge – if not from the flufferbeer rock and roll party in my stomach, then surely from the embarrassment of vomiting all that loving gooiness right into the lake in front of my sweet babies.
So… while I have never really liked marshmallows anyhow, not even as a kid – I really only like them in fruit salad – the idea of a ‘fluffernutter’ sandwich could just be my next diet tool. I think I will find pictures of them and post it on my refrigerator. Maybe pictures of big fat nasty rude people who leave their shopping carts in the middle of the fucking aisle two spaces from the corral after they’ve bought a huge jar of ‘fluff’ and are headed home to binge themselves on the nasty goo.
Thursday, September 06, 2007
it's Thursday - another dirty story (#6)
Ah… more inspiration – puke. Oh do we have puke stories.
Puke after field trip… You know when you chaperone the field trip, and the teacher, out of some serious malevolent sadistic moment of revenge (maybe you forgot to make non-chocolate cupcakes for the last birthday, or you questioned her about your kids handwriting on a particularly stressful day) gives you the group with THE KID. Oh yeah, my kids went to a ‘choice’ school, which in part means that you “choose” to chaperone lots of field trips because they need drivers as buses are not in the budget for schools that get 70% ppor (if you need to know about ppor, just ask).
You know that kid… in my oldest daughters class it was a kid named C – he was adorable, and I liked him actually. Funny, didn’t have to be perfect in front of him, could slip and blaspheme or maybe even mutter an expletive when I slammed the trunk on my hand trying to stow 42 more lunches, could even listen to regular rock music and he never bitched that my car smelled like cigarettes. In my youngest daughters class it was C’s younger brother… M. M was even cuter than C with these huge mischievious blue eyes and a little dimply grin that would charm Mother Theresa into letting him TP the Vatican. M also had the same endearing qualities that his brother had – with regard to the music and the vocabularly choices and even the stinky-assed car. They were both monsters however, and most mom’s would NOT chaperone them more than once, so while I accuse the teacher’s of malevolence, I think it was also convenient that I would actually allow the little hellions into my car. I’m not even sure which one, I think M, actually tried to escape from the car on the freeway once. They both would wander off ALL of the time, but I was rather adept at staying BEHIND my group and observing their path to the wrong part of the museum and a quick retrieval before anyone was the wiser. My sons class, which falls in the middle, didn’t have a boy from this particular family. Instead his class had three or four of the little buttwipes from other families – and they made M the escape artist animal abuser and his brother C the vodka drinking porn providing little pervert look like saints. One of these little hooligans, the one whose parents were oblivious to his social idiocies, was placed in my group for a field trip. He was a pale skinned, red headed, way way freckled (those huge freckles that red heads get), chubby, spoiled little pain in everyone’s ass. (Actually his mother was totally to blame, and a bigger pain in the ass than the kid – you know how that goes – he coulda been a cool kid if she hadn’t mollycoddled him and let the world know how freakin perfect she thought he was at every opportunity). Fortunately his more than perfect mother generally chaperoned field trips, so ordinarily no one had to deal with the little beast. (Picture Dudley from the Harry Potter books combined with that little red headed hellion from the Bad News Bears – or was it that hockey movie about ducks???) But alas, the day came when perfect mommy had to go be perfect for her other son, or her husband, or was starting a support group for mom’s who can’t do enough volunteering and ass kissing – and that teacher, she actually even said it out loud to me (how politically incorrect) saddled me with him because she was sure that I was the only parent on the trip that could handle him. Through most of the field trip he was actually rather quiet and compliant – he didn’t bully the other kids too much, far less than usual… he didn’t run off, sass me, insist on getting his own way, etc. He ate his lunch rather than throwing it at people – which was a huge improvement over his usual field trip lunch time antics. Finally, the trip ended – my son of course wanted ‘shotgun’ so the other little darlings – son’s best friend – what a great kid- and another sweet kid that never quite fit in but son and his friend were always kind and included him, and he requested me because he absolutely adored me (still hugged me in SIXTH grade – EVERY time he saw me!) – he knew no one would bully him in my car probably and of course the beast all climbed in the backseat.
You know that look a kid gets on their face about 10 minutes before they puke. That sorta pale green can’t smile or move their facial features in any way, staring blankly and actually starting to look smaller than they are? The beast got that look on his face… about 5 minutes from the school… so I said “hey T, you don’t look good, are you gonna hurl?”. He replied that no, he would not hurl, he was fine he just had a headache. He got greener as I exited the highway and headed up the road to the school. “You sure you’re okay T” “Yes, I just have a headache”… then… that true green, you know the look, and the strange shape the mouth takes… the ‘its about to blow green and puckered look’… we were 100 feet from the door of the school… no sense stopping til we got to the door. As I pulled to the front door, the boys all bailed, they could see it coming too, and the janitor was walking out of the building right at that moment… my son bless his heart ripped open the back door and T leaned out and let fly with the most amazing amount of chunky looking slime… then he got up took three steps and erupted again, the two puddles on the sidewalk nearly touching… a few more steps and another huge puddle, fewer chunks, more volume, running down the sidewalk toward the others. The sidewalk was about 30 feet long to the door… the janitor picked up a quick pace to the kid and pulled a bag from his pants pocket (janitors are like boyscouts, prepared for anything) and handed it to him and guided him into the clinic. The Bell rang – the front doors burst open and 120 first and second graders began pouring out of the school like bees erupting from a broken hive… willy nilly everywhere, and then they stopped… it was a domino effect pileup of small children, trying to stop in time – the kids who could see the huge mess – probably 12-15 feet long and about 4 feet wide, a river of puke – trying to navigate around it with the pressure from behind pushing them forward. I felt compelled to try to direct the traffic, I enlisted the other boys… we were pushing first and second graders to the sides of the river of goo, the teachers couldn’t see the mess but quickly realized that we were redirecting their darlings onto the grass toward the kindergarteners and they were about to lose them all in the confusion before their mom’s could get them. Somehow someone stopped the flow of children out the front door and directed them all back down the halls and through the classrooms that had doors on the front side of the school. Parents who were used to hovering around and picking up their children began to gag and run away, no help at all… they just wanted to determine their child had not made this hideous mess and wasn’t dying somewhere of some fatal gastrointestinal dilemma. Soon the janitor reappeared with the hose, but then disappeared again and went and got the ‘sawdust’ stuff… you know the pink sawdust… wow that stuff is absorbent. I ventured into the clinic to check on T – his butt was sticking up out of the door of the tiny little bathroom that the clinic had attached to it and he was still groaning and moaning and by now heaving more dry than wet. He was also crying, poor kid, so embarrassed and hoping that he hadn’t gotten any in my car. I assured him that vomit can be cleaned and I would go find the teachers or his mom. I arrived back at the 5th grade classrooms where all of the 5th graders had been kept because we “hadn’t returned” yet and they couldn’t be dismissed til they were all accounted for. His mom (bitch) was loudly complaining to the teacher that not only had she sent him with that weird Mrs. Me, but that she knew for a fact that I had probably stopped somewhere on the way back and that I had no consideration for the rules or other people. I, in fact, have never stopped on the way home from a field trip – and I do respect the rules and the teachers, just not usually the other parents. I stepped into the room, and in my best impression of Donna Reed, looked her square in the eye and told her that her son had indeed needed to stop on the way back, but that I had managed to return him all the way to the front walk of the school before he threw up what was apparently 42 gallons of vomit and that he was currently with the Clinic Aide having the most hideous dry heaves I had seen since college. Then the teacher dismissed the class and followed me out to the front where we found the Janitor shoveling pink sawdust into a trash can and cursing that TR Brat! Apparently… T always vomits in such volume, and had done it on several occasions in his years at this school. Further, the kid didn’t know what I meant by ‘hurl’ so he really did think that he was not going to ‘hurl’. I only had to just barely clean up a few wee bits of vomit that barely caught the threshold of the car, and not the rest, so I’m not sure this would have qualified for the contest – but it was nasty just the same.
Puke after field trip… You know when you chaperone the field trip, and the teacher, out of some serious malevolent sadistic moment of revenge (maybe you forgot to make non-chocolate cupcakes for the last birthday, or you questioned her about your kids handwriting on a particularly stressful day) gives you the group with THE KID. Oh yeah, my kids went to a ‘choice’ school, which in part means that you “choose” to chaperone lots of field trips because they need drivers as buses are not in the budget for schools that get 70% ppor (if you need to know about ppor, just ask).
You know that kid… in my oldest daughters class it was a kid named C – he was adorable, and I liked him actually. Funny, didn’t have to be perfect in front of him, could slip and blaspheme or maybe even mutter an expletive when I slammed the trunk on my hand trying to stow 42 more lunches, could even listen to regular rock music and he never bitched that my car smelled like cigarettes. In my youngest daughters class it was C’s younger brother… M. M was even cuter than C with these huge mischievious blue eyes and a little dimply grin that would charm Mother Theresa into letting him TP the Vatican. M also had the same endearing qualities that his brother had – with regard to the music and the vocabularly choices and even the stinky-assed car. They were both monsters however, and most mom’s would NOT chaperone them more than once, so while I accuse the teacher’s of malevolence, I think it was also convenient that I would actually allow the little hellions into my car. I’m not even sure which one, I think M, actually tried to escape from the car on the freeway once. They both would wander off ALL of the time, but I was rather adept at staying BEHIND my group and observing their path to the wrong part of the museum and a quick retrieval before anyone was the wiser. My sons class, which falls in the middle, didn’t have a boy from this particular family. Instead his class had three or four of the little buttwipes from other families – and they made M the escape artist animal abuser and his brother C the vodka drinking porn providing little pervert look like saints. One of these little hooligans, the one whose parents were oblivious to his social idiocies, was placed in my group for a field trip. He was a pale skinned, red headed, way way freckled (those huge freckles that red heads get), chubby, spoiled little pain in everyone’s ass. (Actually his mother was totally to blame, and a bigger pain in the ass than the kid – you know how that goes – he coulda been a cool kid if she hadn’t mollycoddled him and let the world know how freakin perfect she thought he was at every opportunity). Fortunately his more than perfect mother generally chaperoned field trips, so ordinarily no one had to deal with the little beast. (Picture Dudley from the Harry Potter books combined with that little red headed hellion from the Bad News Bears – or was it that hockey movie about ducks???) But alas, the day came when perfect mommy had to go be perfect for her other son, or her husband, or was starting a support group for mom’s who can’t do enough volunteering and ass kissing – and that teacher, she actually even said it out loud to me (how politically incorrect) saddled me with him because she was sure that I was the only parent on the trip that could handle him. Through most of the field trip he was actually rather quiet and compliant – he didn’t bully the other kids too much, far less than usual… he didn’t run off, sass me, insist on getting his own way, etc. He ate his lunch rather than throwing it at people – which was a huge improvement over his usual field trip lunch time antics. Finally, the trip ended – my son of course wanted ‘shotgun’ so the other little darlings – son’s best friend – what a great kid- and another sweet kid that never quite fit in but son and his friend were always kind and included him, and he requested me because he absolutely adored me (still hugged me in SIXTH grade – EVERY time he saw me!) – he knew no one would bully him in my car probably and of course the beast all climbed in the backseat.
You know that look a kid gets on their face about 10 minutes before they puke. That sorta pale green can’t smile or move their facial features in any way, staring blankly and actually starting to look smaller than they are? The beast got that look on his face… about 5 minutes from the school… so I said “hey T, you don’t look good, are you gonna hurl?”. He replied that no, he would not hurl, he was fine he just had a headache. He got greener as I exited the highway and headed up the road to the school. “You sure you’re okay T” “Yes, I just have a headache”… then… that true green, you know the look, and the strange shape the mouth takes… the ‘its about to blow green and puckered look’… we were 100 feet from the door of the school… no sense stopping til we got to the door. As I pulled to the front door, the boys all bailed, they could see it coming too, and the janitor was walking out of the building right at that moment… my son bless his heart ripped open the back door and T leaned out and let fly with the most amazing amount of chunky looking slime… then he got up took three steps and erupted again, the two puddles on the sidewalk nearly touching… a few more steps and another huge puddle, fewer chunks, more volume, running down the sidewalk toward the others. The sidewalk was about 30 feet long to the door… the janitor picked up a quick pace to the kid and pulled a bag from his pants pocket (janitors are like boyscouts, prepared for anything) and handed it to him and guided him into the clinic. The Bell rang – the front doors burst open and 120 first and second graders began pouring out of the school like bees erupting from a broken hive… willy nilly everywhere, and then they stopped… it was a domino effect pileup of small children, trying to stop in time – the kids who could see the huge mess – probably 12-15 feet long and about 4 feet wide, a river of puke – trying to navigate around it with the pressure from behind pushing them forward. I felt compelled to try to direct the traffic, I enlisted the other boys… we were pushing first and second graders to the sides of the river of goo, the teachers couldn’t see the mess but quickly realized that we were redirecting their darlings onto the grass toward the kindergarteners and they were about to lose them all in the confusion before their mom’s could get them. Somehow someone stopped the flow of children out the front door and directed them all back down the halls and through the classrooms that had doors on the front side of the school. Parents who were used to hovering around and picking up their children began to gag and run away, no help at all… they just wanted to determine their child had not made this hideous mess and wasn’t dying somewhere of some fatal gastrointestinal dilemma. Soon the janitor reappeared with the hose, but then disappeared again and went and got the ‘sawdust’ stuff… you know the pink sawdust… wow that stuff is absorbent. I ventured into the clinic to check on T – his butt was sticking up out of the door of the tiny little bathroom that the clinic had attached to it and he was still groaning and moaning and by now heaving more dry than wet. He was also crying, poor kid, so embarrassed and hoping that he hadn’t gotten any in my car. I assured him that vomit can be cleaned and I would go find the teachers or his mom. I arrived back at the 5th grade classrooms where all of the 5th graders had been kept because we “hadn’t returned” yet and they couldn’t be dismissed til they were all accounted for. His mom (bitch) was loudly complaining to the teacher that not only had she sent him with that weird Mrs. Me, but that she knew for a fact that I had probably stopped somewhere on the way back and that I had no consideration for the rules or other people. I, in fact, have never stopped on the way home from a field trip – and I do respect the rules and the teachers, just not usually the other parents. I stepped into the room, and in my best impression of Donna Reed, looked her square in the eye and told her that her son had indeed needed to stop on the way back, but that I had managed to return him all the way to the front walk of the school before he threw up what was apparently 42 gallons of vomit and that he was currently with the Clinic Aide having the most hideous dry heaves I had seen since college. Then the teacher dismissed the class and followed me out to the front where we found the Janitor shoveling pink sawdust into a trash can and cursing that TR Brat! Apparently… T always vomits in such volume, and had done it on several occasions in his years at this school. Further, the kid didn’t know what I meant by ‘hurl’ so he really did think that he was not going to ‘hurl’. I only had to just barely clean up a few wee bits of vomit that barely caught the threshold of the car, and not the rest, so I’m not sure this would have qualified for the contest – but it was nasty just the same.
Wednesday, September 05, 2007
Listerine... let me count the ways
I just found this and it was never posted... I wrote it last week, looks finished, wonder what I was thinking?
I recently read a blog over at My Tiny Kingdom regarding stinky feet - and I posted there that Listerine actually helps the stinky feet - other things that help - and these of course depend on many factors...
Drop stinky assed sandals (waterproof) and watershoes in the pool overnight - upside down so that the stinky part is in contact with the germ killing chlorine... this is even better if you just 'shocked' your pool... might discolor certain fabrics (you know "chlorine bleach" -- yeah)
Rinse with cold water after bathing/showers, this helps with body odor from ANY part of the body - it's not a cure all, but some feet are stinky enough to use a multi-faceted attack
Two pairs of socks - I know more laundry, but honestly you can buy more shoes or you can try the two pairs of socks -- I have SIX brothers - who all wear TWO pair of socks, and none of them started that until their feet became unbearably smelly - even to themselves. My husband also used to wear two pair when he was working in landscaping and wearing work boots, again no stinky (although he is not a stinky person by nature, but work boots usually are)
And baking soda in shoes does help - although again... once they get the funk, it's too late, this really needs to be done as a preventive to any shoes that you care about... I read over at My Tiny Kingdom about putting it in some socks and then putting the socks in every night... now this just might work for a boy who will not sprinkle every night (hell we are lucky they brush teeth at least every 48 hours and change underwear often enough to have to launder it occasionally)
oh yeah the post title is "Listerine"... so it is supposed to be this hilarious story about Listerine
Okay so I come from this stinky family - my mother's side, though she doesn't have much issue with body odor -- and I was always taught that the aluminum in deodorant is terrible for your health (grew up homeopathic) so we avoided it til of course no one could stand us - so you can table the 'you used deodorant too soon' lecture. My uncle is without question the worst smelling American on the planet - I'm not racist, it's just that I have travelled some, and between lack of plumbing, different hygiene habits, different diets, etc... for we Americans, some people in other parts of the world are pretty smelly (they themselves probably think we stink). Anyhow, dear old Uncle reeks most of the time, but my Aunt always said that was in part due to the fact that he smokes like a chimney and drinks 92 pots of coffee each day... while those are both near truths... and well I used to smoke, and I have always been a fairly heavy coffee drinker - I didn't start stinking as bad until I stopped smoking and cut back on the coffee... hmmmmmmmmmmm. Alas, I have to change brands of deodorant (yes with aluminum blah blah) every couple of sticks as Degree will only work for a few months and then is useless so I change to Secret - again only for a few months - probably two sticks and then back to the other... I really don't know as the stink comes mid-stick usually and I just go get the other one. Then, there are fabrics that make it much worse - and I love tank tops, and I think the lack of sleeve just 'massages' the stink glands in the armpits - so if you catch me mid-stick in a sleeveless shirt with any rayon or spandex in the fabric on a hot or stressful day I'm liable to be stinky while my hair is still wet from my shower - seriously... I have noticed myself smelly while I am still IN MY TOWEL from my shower - and if you can smell yourself - you are really disgusting to other people. Add to this that my husband has never touched a stick of deodorant to his armpits his entire life and smells nice all of the time (well unless he rolls in shit or something, but he only does that on rare occasions). So I am very aware, really I am aware - and embarrassed that I stink like good-old-stinky-assed-chain-smoking-coffee-drinking-slightly-creepy Uncle.
It was a day like that, I arrived at work, had to work on one computer right next to my boss - could smell myself - wishing I had worn a wet suit to work so the stink couldn't get out - and I had to go to a meeting. I got to my car to drive to the meeting - and went for my emergency stick of Secret - UGH WRONG CAR! I had taken to driving the kids' car because it gets better gas mileage and my emergency stick of Secret was safely stored in the glove box of my car at home in the driveway. I frantically started searching my purse for some Purell (my mom has recommended this as a way to kill germs and contain odor) dammit it was empty - no doubt my youngest who has some sort of fascination with opening containers but is completely unable to close them again had found it some time previously and then it had probably run all over everything in my purse, but being mostly alcohol probably just made ink run on some important piece of paper and then dried up rather quickly. There I was at the light of a VERY BUSY Denver intersection, when I saw it... the travel listerine I had just purchased for an upcoming trip. And... there were napkins in the glove box. I grabbed a napkin, soaked it in listerine and right there at the red light next to a bazillion delivery guys and across the intersection from a few dozen more, I unbuttoned my blouse (it wouldn't untuck because of the outfit I had on and the seatbelt) and began to warsh my armpits with listerine soaked napkins. It did help with the body odor - and I had that nice medicinal smell too!
I'm sure there are 8 million uses for listerine - so feel free to share them
This weeks menu
As stated earlier, I am going to try to post our menu so that if I share those times when we actually have ideas about what to eat, other folks will offer up some suggestions that will allow me to come up with some variations and we don't eat the same three things in constant rotation (exaggerating for clarity). I have to give credit where credit is due - I still haven't figured out exactly what she wanted so damn bad - but my oldest daughter (the one that cooks) really wanted to go to the store yesterday after I picked them up - she said something about lunch, but all she bought that had anything to do with lunch was sourdough bread. Anyhow, credit goes to her, she said that if we were going [I can't type dammit, I have backspaced over like 15 typos already] we should make a menu and a list. Well bless her heart she even got her sister interested, and thus... we have a menu (for a change) just like the old days when I was an organized mom. It is for a short week, but still.
Tuesday - Porkchops with wine sauce (this is S's specialty, and she was cooking), she also made rice and sauteed zucchini to accompany this
Wednesday - Chicken Cordon Bleu (another specialty of daughter), I believe she is planning on asparagus and rice pilaf with this (she really really likes rice)
Thursday - Sloppy Joes (we have a really busy day this day, so this will rock to come home to something already planned and EASY), we will have steak fries and sliced peaches fresh from the Western Slope with this
Friday - BBQ Ribs (my husband is a magician on the grill), I'll make some pasta salad and corn on the cob to go with this
Saturday - Chicken in the Red Pan - another family recipe, you should have seen the delight on my children's faces when I suggested it - not a summer recipe as a rule because it goes in the oven, and we all know you don't bake when it's hot! [I just checked though and that is our small town festival weekend - may have to make a change, we'll see] none the less it's the plan. This is served with Rice (stop laughing, we don't usually have rice three times a week) and there is broccoli and mushrooms in the recipe - that's veggie enough, haha
Sunday - Spaghetti - Daughters boyfriend is going to be here, and she wants him to enjoy a family meal with us - apparently this means something Italian (or Polish-though she didn't suggest any Polish food). Looks like I really only have to cook once all week (WOO HOO) and that might get postponed for harvest festival! You know she will want to cook for her b/f and I won't be allowed near the sauce.
So - the grocery list also follows (keeping in mind that I probably had some of what was needed on hand.
Pork Chops
Chicken Breasts
Matzo Meal
2 Cans Crushed Tomatoes
Sloppy Joe Mix (ps. I never follow the directions!)
Buns
Ribs
Corn on the Cob (buying later at farmers market)
Rice
Zucchini
Asparagus (wth is wrong with Safeway these days, they have this nice asparagus, but they let it sit in nasty water or NO water and it's icky icky)
Rice Pilaf
Broccoli
Prosciutto
Swiss Cheese
Mozzarella
Mushrooms
Tomato Paste
Ground Beef
Red Wine
Tuesday - Porkchops with wine sauce (this is S's specialty, and she was cooking), she also made rice and sauteed zucchini to accompany this
Wednesday - Chicken Cordon Bleu (another specialty of daughter), I believe she is planning on asparagus and rice pilaf with this (she really really likes rice)
Thursday - Sloppy Joes (we have a really busy day this day, so this will rock to come home to something already planned and EASY), we will have steak fries and sliced peaches fresh from the Western Slope with this
Friday - BBQ Ribs (my husband is a magician on the grill), I'll make some pasta salad and corn on the cob to go with this
Saturday - Chicken in the Red Pan - another family recipe, you should have seen the delight on my children's faces when I suggested it - not a summer recipe as a rule because it goes in the oven, and we all know you don't bake when it's hot! [I just checked though and that is our small town festival weekend - may have to make a change, we'll see] none the less it's the plan. This is served with Rice (stop laughing, we don't usually have rice three times a week) and there is broccoli and mushrooms in the recipe - that's veggie enough, haha
Sunday - Spaghetti - Daughters boyfriend is going to be here, and she wants him to enjoy a family meal with us - apparently this means something Italian (or Polish-though she didn't suggest any Polish food). Looks like I really only have to cook once all week (WOO HOO) and that might get postponed for harvest festival! You know she will want to cook for her b/f and I won't be allowed near the sauce.
So - the grocery list also follows (keeping in mind that I probably had some of what was needed on hand.
Pork Chops
Chicken Breasts
Matzo Meal
2 Cans Crushed Tomatoes
Sloppy Joe Mix (ps. I never follow the directions!)
Buns
Ribs
Corn on the Cob (buying later at farmers market)
Rice
Zucchini
Asparagus (wth is wrong with Safeway these days, they have this nice asparagus, but they let it sit in nasty water or NO water and it's icky icky)
Rice Pilaf
Broccoli
Prosciutto
Swiss Cheese
Mozzarella
Mushrooms
Tomato Paste
Ground Beef
Red Wine
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