He's Lucky He's So Good in Bed

Of course the joyous event of spring FINALLY arriving in this godforsaken state had to be tempered with something. I mean, you wouldn't want things to be TOTALLY awesome for any significant amount of time, right?

Hence, the arrival of the nastiest head cold I've had in quite some time. I've got sinus pain, congestion, body aches...I know- wah wah wah, boo-hoo, cry me a river- but seriously? Summer colds SUCK.

When I remarked on this fact to my husband, his astute reply was, naturally, "Well...Summer worse than others. GET IT? GET IT? HAHAHAHAHAHA."

Yeah, he's an asshole. Cute, but an asshole.

When It Rains, It Pukes

Good fucking grief.

The weekend started out awesome: Saturday was rainy and we had fun cleaning the house and doing some painting with the kid. (He always starts out wanting to use a brush but 'finger painting' inevitably ensues...its a blast). Saturday night, important works of art set to dry on every conceivable surface in our kitchen, I went out for a drink with friends. Sunday I had La Leche League business to attend to which was a good excuse to girl-talk-it for 2 hours.

Sunday night is when it all turned to hell. It started innocently enough: The husband made homemade Alfredo sauce and served it over some fresh pasta purchased from the grocery store. We also had some bagged salad that was on a good sale.

At precisely 11:16 pm, I woke up with THE WORST sickness I have ever had. EVER. There was diarrhea. There was puking. There was BOTH AT THE SAME TIME FOR 5 STRAIGHT HOURS. The husband was in the same boat. After 9 years of marriage, you wonder how to reconnect? Just get violent food poisoning at the same time. A cheap, easy bonding exercise. You're welcome.

Our only saving grace was that while World War III was being waged in our innards, the kid was sound asleep, dreaming peacefully in his crib all night. Thank jeebus he didn't touch any of his dinner. I finally passed out on the couch around 4 am. I think the poor husband was up all night.

So yesterday, we both called in sick and spent the day daintily sipping ginger ale, nibbling saltines and watching movies while Otto played his little, non-food-poisoned heart out at daycare.

Thank the Powers That Be for daycare.

And now, on the other side of this horrific episode, a few observations: I feel suprisingly clean...last night I washed all our bedding (no one puked on it or anything but you know...I just wanted it clean), took the longest, hottest shower of my life and slept like I was dead for 10 hours. This morning, my pants fit a little looser and my head is strangely clear.

So food poisoning? Marital bonding technique AND effective detox. And you can take that free advice all the way to the toilet.

With their flapping heads and beady eyes....

...oh wait, that's Canadians.

So my husband IM's me this morning with this:

why is so much of our country so vile and disgusting?

and then links me here.

Good fucking question, I say. Oh, and it just furthers my hypothesis that conservative talk radio hosts are demon spawn from hell.

In Which I am Slowly Regaining my Sanity

This weekend was a toughie. Sunday found me sicker than a dog, trying to clean the house, parent and nurse my aching head and sinuses full of rubber cement. The husband did what he could, but you know folks, when punk rock calls who are we mere mortals to resist its siren song? In all fairness, it was his band that was playing the gig and he really didn't have the option to bow out, but just allow me this tiny bit of bitter resentment. M'kay?

Today, I am finally feeling as though I am leaving the dark, dank woods of the WORST HEAD COLD EVER behind, which is extraordinarily wonderful. I can breathe again! The clarity is intoxicating...I was able to BREATHE THROUGH MY NOSE all night last night which did wonders for both my self esteem and my sad little chapped lips.

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In other news, I am nearly done with the second book of the Twilight series and OMG I'm hooked. Great literature they are not, but there's something to be said for super fun, entertaining escapism. And vampires.

Debating whether I want to go see the movie when it comes out next week...because I have such a clear picture in my head and I don't want the film to ruin it. But at the same time, the movie could be really fun. And there would be popcorn. I know...decisions, decisions.

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And, just to get it down somewhere so I don't forget, here's the latest on what little O is up to:

-Putting things in the trash ("tash") ...he throws things away and then claps for himself and says Good Job! ("goo-JAH!)

- Asking to nurse by making the sign for "more" and pointing to my boobs. When I ask "Milk?" He nods happily and says Yes ("YAY-es")

- He had his sixth tooth poke through last night and was not pleased about it. The good thing seems to be, though, that once it breaks the skin, he is fine. So he was up at 9:30 pissed beyond belief but then slept fine the rest of the night.

- He loves dogs ("DOG!"- he says this word very clearly) and trucks ("tuck!") and I got him a baby doll last week and he loves to give his baby a bottle. Its pretty much the cutest thing ever.

Sick Day Baking

Donut Muffins from my new favorite food blog: Bread & Honey. Yum.

Since I had to be home with the puker anyway, I figured I might as well have some fun. The muffins turned out great and were very quick to make. Oh, and the puker helped. He doesn't look sick, does he? :-)

Now, however, I'm feeling a little baker's/eater's remorse. I think I'll hop on the stationary bike and do some reading. Ciao!

Edited to add: Maybe not...I think I just heard the puker waking up from his nap...curses!

Vomit Watch 2008! (Now! with more puking!)

So, um, yeah. For your Monday Morning Pleasure, a summary of the last few days:

Last Wednesday Night: Baby wakes up covered in vomit. We clean up, get back to sleep only to be awakened by more vomit in about 45 min. Lather, rinse, repeat.

Thursday: Stay home with baby. Seems fine other than periodic puking. I give him water in a sippy cup and breast milk only. We have high hopes.

Friday: Still throwing up in the morning. Puke now covering everything we own.

Saturday: Things looking up! No puking...here have some crackers! Oh. Oops! Puke.

Sunday: Puke free day. Seriously, not one puke. Baby eats crackers, applesauce. It stays down! Praises be!

Today: 8:00 am. Eager to return to the world of non-vomit, baby returns to daycare (with instructions regarding bland, starchy diet, excess of liquids etc etc) and I return to work.

9am. Phone rings. Daycare. You guessed it- PUKE!


Its OK, really. I totally wanted to use up ALL MY SICK TIME on my kid this month. Because, you know, VOMIT RULZ.

To be continued...