It's only Wednesday, and I've already had too long of a week. Emotional strain, kids out of school, and a hacking lingering cough that is making me sound like a phone sex operator and which I wish to hell would have the decency to just get bad and then go away.
Mr. Marzipan and I put the kids to bed early last night because they needed it and we really needed it. Then we curled up on our epic couch (21 running feet of L-shaped couch) to watch Chuck. Mr. Marzipan hates to watch TV and movies with me because my suspension of disbelief is horrible and I get confused by elaborate plot points. He has to hit Pause a lot so I can say things like, "How come she's with that guy? I thought the other guy was a bad guy and then they....oh. Because of the raccoon, right? Oh, hey, that guy's using the mass spectrophotometer wrong. This is stupid."
But aside from making no sense at all in this universe or any other, Chuck is fun and silly and the theme is an instrumental version of one of my favorite Cake songs ever. Mr. Marzipan put a pillow on his lap and patted it, indicating that I should lay down. I did, and he drew endless circles on my back as I lay drowsing in the ambient light of the TV, coughing feebly.
When the episode ended, he ordered me to bed. I coughed my way upstairs and curled into a pitiful ball on my side of the bed, which Mr. Marzipan refers to as The Pit because my Sleep Number is 30. He came up a few minutes later, carrying the vaporizer. He filled it with eucalyptus oil and set it on my night table. Then he brought me Ny-Quil and water before climbing in bed next to me. He removed his shirt and rubbed some eucalyptus oil into his skin so that I could lay my head there and breathe it in. It was a very good way to fall asleep.
***
I talked to my friend Julee this morning.
"You sound better," she said. "Or at least you sound less sexy."
***
I had a playdate with my friend Mary Alice and her five children. We went to one of those inflatable bounce room places and this total weirdo came up and started talking to Mary Alice about the aforementioned five children, demanding to know whether Mary Alice was "Catholic or something." Mary Alice is Mormon. The woman then told us an elaborate story beginning with how her mother was a nun and then moved on to an IUD and ended with liver failure. She also mentioned Big Love in an attempt to connect with Mary Alice.
Facepalm.
But also hilarious.
***
I came home and there was a message from my mother in law who - in the past ten years - has said maybe five overtly nice things to me. She thanked me for coming to the Seder and told me how much she appreciated it. This is a huge step forward.
Thanks, Heather.
***
My aunt came over and helped with the kids while I worked in the garden. I'm muddy and bloody and scratched and be-splintered. The afternoon light was warm and buttery, and there were the most delicious smells coming from the hyacinths. I'm going to grill some chicken here shortly and be thankful that I am alive in the world today.
Showing posts with label martian death flu. Show all posts
Showing posts with label martian death flu. Show all posts
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Sunday, January 24, 2010
In Which My Son Is Totally Pathetic And Things Are Not Set Aflame
We had dinner with some friends last night at Sushi Hana in Mount Washington. I hadn't been to that location before, but the food was even better than the Towson one. We ordered a metric ton of food, and one of our dining companions noticed another table receiving a tray of Mystery Rolls which had been ignited and were burning quite impressively. She asked the waitress to add "the burning thing" to our order. But after we had gorged ourselves on an immodest array of foodstuffs, we realized that the flaming suhsi had never arrived. We were disappointed but too stuffed to do anything about it. Yay for an excuse to go back and eating flaming things!
We went to The Papermoon for dessert, which always brings back fond memories of college, because I practically lived on their barstools for a few semesters. I'd sit in a dark corner and smoke horrifying amounts of cigarettes while studying ghost cells or muscle insertions or some crap. But I quit smoking over 7 years ago, and you can't smoke in there anymore anyway, which as a Libertarian I deplore and as an individual person who thinks cigarettes are flagrantly stupid, I like. In any case, we had the bread pudding. It was good, but the Dark Side of the Moon cake is superior.
So. We get home at around 10:30 or so. At 11 AlmondBoy awakes, screaming as though he is undergoing some sort of ancient Chinese torture designed for maximum volume output. He said his mouth hurt. Then he screamed some more. The only breaks in his hour-long screamathon were (1) yawning from exhasution (2) vomiting up the pain medicine I gave him. So Mr. Marzipan took him to the ER while I stayed home and fretted. AlmondBoy continued to scream until someone there gave him oxycodone and put everyone out of his misery. They diagnosed him with a pretty severe ear infection, of which he has already had like a dozen. He and Mr. Marzipan got home around 2 AM. We snuggled into bed and enjoyed an interlude of sleep.
At 5 AM, there was more screaming. Because AlmondBoy had thrown up all over his bed. One bath and some laundry later, we were all back in bed. I dozed off again at 6.
AlmondGirl poked me awake at 7 to let me know she was slowly starving to death and needed breakfast NOW or she'd probably waste away to nothing and could I get UP. I lacked the energy to ask her if some kind of memory wipe had done away with her ability to peel bananas or obtain cheese or open a granola bar. Mr. Marzipan escorted her downstairs, we he discovered that one of the cats, in a grand gesture of interspecies solidarity with AlmondBoy, had thrown up on the table.
I made bread and strawberry jam to keep myself awake. I did laundry. I sang a disturbing amount of Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat. AlmondBoy spent a largish part of the day in his skeleton pajamas, languishing on the couch, rotting his brain with Bugs Bunny. (Secret Mom Confession: Sick kids are really cuddly, which is so sweet.) Later on, two of our friends came over to visit this afternoon and brought me some Gnosis Immunity Boost chocolate on account of I am looking like Death's spinster aunt these days. They are homeopathic, all-natural, yoga type people and seemed rather horrified that we are planning to have tubes put in AlmondBoy's ears. They gave us the number of a lady who does [thing] with infrared light. I'm fairly openminded and trend towards granolaism in some ways, but I'm also a member of the Well Why Don't We Just Try Some SCIENCE Up In This Joint? School of Not Being Ill. But I'm going to call, because anesthesia makes me twitchy and, hey, what the hell?
We went to The Papermoon for dessert, which always brings back fond memories of college, because I practically lived on their barstools for a few semesters. I'd sit in a dark corner and smoke horrifying amounts of cigarettes while studying ghost cells or muscle insertions or some crap. But I quit smoking over 7 years ago, and you can't smoke in there anymore anyway, which as a Libertarian I deplore and as an individual person who thinks cigarettes are flagrantly stupid, I like. In any case, we had the bread pudding. It was good, but the Dark Side of the Moon cake is superior.
So. We get home at around 10:30 or so. At 11 AlmondBoy awakes, screaming as though he is undergoing some sort of ancient Chinese torture designed for maximum volume output. He said his mouth hurt. Then he screamed some more. The only breaks in his hour-long screamathon were (1) yawning from exhasution (2) vomiting up the pain medicine I gave him. So Mr. Marzipan took him to the ER while I stayed home and fretted. AlmondBoy continued to scream until someone there gave him oxycodone and put everyone out of his misery. They diagnosed him with a pretty severe ear infection, of which he has already had like a dozen. He and Mr. Marzipan got home around 2 AM. We snuggled into bed and enjoyed an interlude of sleep.
At 5 AM, there was more screaming. Because AlmondBoy had thrown up all over his bed. One bath and some laundry later, we were all back in bed. I dozed off again at 6.
AlmondGirl poked me awake at 7 to let me know she was slowly starving to death and needed breakfast NOW or she'd probably waste away to nothing and could I get UP. I lacked the energy to ask her if some kind of memory wipe had done away with her ability to peel bananas or obtain cheese or open a granola bar. Mr. Marzipan escorted her downstairs, we he discovered that one of the cats, in a grand gesture of interspecies solidarity with AlmondBoy, had thrown up on the table.
I made bread and strawberry jam to keep myself awake. I did laundry. I sang a disturbing amount of Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat. AlmondBoy spent a largish part of the day in his skeleton pajamas, languishing on the couch, rotting his brain with Bugs Bunny. (Secret Mom Confession: Sick kids are really cuddly, which is so sweet.) Later on, two of our friends came over to visit this afternoon and brought me some Gnosis Immunity Boost chocolate on account of I am looking like Death's spinster aunt these days. They are homeopathic, all-natural, yoga type people and seemed rather horrified that we are planning to have tubes put in AlmondBoy's ears. They gave us the number of a lady who does [thing] with infrared light. I'm fairly openminded and trend towards granolaism in some ways, but I'm also a member of the Well Why Don't We Just Try Some SCIENCE Up In This Joint? School of Not Being Ill. But I'm going to call, because anesthesia makes me twitchy and, hey, what the hell?
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