Clowns are more evil than birds.

Being sick is for the birds. I wonder where that phrase came from...but anyway it works for me because I hate birds. Well, truly, they hate me. It started when I was four and a merry band of evil geese chased little yellow-London Fog- coated me out into the middle of a very (thank the heavens) frozen Viele lake. Had to be rescued. True story. (also, when I say true story I really mean it...Zach is the teller of tall tales, hence: TOTT, but weird hist just happens to me on the regular. Such is my life!) Soon after that I realized that perhaps the geese had told all the other birds in some sort of bird email blast of their being chased off the lake and loudly admonished by the South Boulder Parks and Rec guy and so I had a mark on my head. A bird vendetta was issued against me.

Get her.

I have been dive bombed, had my hair grabbed and pulled, bitten by a pigeon in NY (he just flew up and BIT ME! And yes...a tetnus and rabies shot was had.) I have never, knock on wood, been how to say this delicately - ummmm pooped upon. No, but poor Dub was marked simply for being my sis and she has been baptised twice by the flying demon birds.

Is it any wonder I became a cat person?

I hate birds and they hate me. It's a very symbiotic relationship. Wait, no it's not. I never really learned symbiosis because I was crap at science. Actually, I might have been good at science but I never really went. My instincts told me that hanging out in the student center and playing SWISH would be way more fun. The power of following your instincts kids. Lesson for the day.

I feel guilty though. Saying bad things are for the birds. I mean they are still God's creatures.
Lucky for me there is something that I hate more than birds. Clowns. And I think we can all agree that Clowns are more evil than birds. And surely there is the devil's work those creepy red painted smiled and horrifically demented eyes. The proof is in the pudding people. 20 million horror films simply cannot be wrong!

I mean seriously. Clowns will bring the end of days. Mark my words.

I'm pretty sure there is zero photoshopping going on in this picture because clowns are just that evil. If I can find who it belonged to first I will have them come here and prove it.

The Power of OW!

Max  has a new word. It's "OW" and he has learned ever so quickly that upon uttering that simple syllable everything not only stops, but everyone surrounding him rushes to his aide smothering him with assurances and snuggles. Just as soon as he learned this lesson, he learned to abuse it.
A simple removing of pj's now causes screaches of "OW! OW!", Don't want to eat those crackers? "OW! OW!" and forget about a diaper change. One would think we were dipping his booty in boiling oil instead of gingerly applying some A&D ointment.
Sometimes, it's really hard not to giggle at your child. I try, but sometimes I fail. Cause the drama? The drama is comedy.
Yesterday I reached my OW! limit. It's been a tough week here at the American Dream, TOTT had literally been brought to his knees by a kidney stone (which he showed me and other than the eeeeewww-there-are-somethings-couples-should-not-share factor, holy schnikes. That hist was huge and sharp. Poor TOTT!), then the whole fam, and I mean everyone was struck by a stomach bug.
It was the opposite of of awesome.
I laughingly joked to TOTT that I was having sympathy kidney stone pains, much like he had sympathy pains all throughout my pregnancy. Alas it turned out not to be a figment of my admittedly overactive imagination.
In case anyone is ever wanting an ultrasound...you know the first trimester kind...I suggest your mention the words 'lower left sharp abdominal pains' to your doctor.
Since I am not a man, it took me a mere week to admit that something was truly up and make an appointment. I was unconvinced that it was something major, but the docs bandied words about like ectopic pregnancy and ruptured ovarian cyst.
Excellent.
Yet again, due to my rampant refusal to wean my toddler just yet, I am regulated to nothing but Tylenol, Chocolate and Tears. My current holy trinity.
Luckily today I was informed it was not an ectopic pregnancy and was indeed a cyst, but it looked as thought it was on it's way down and is in no danger of rupturing. Whew. No word on why the pain is radiating up throughout my ribs...but at least I can relax about any imminent danger to my future baby making possibilities!

The best part of being sick in bed, are the Puppy Bear snuggles.

Yet again, I must extoll the European sensibility of living with extended family. I know...I know...and soon we will indeed fly this nest, but honestly, what seemed like the end of the world has turned out to be one of our greatest blessing. No one circles the wagons like family. Even after a week of being sick everyone rushed to my aid. To play and care for M while I couldn't/can't pick him up. As in pain and wallowing in my own puddle of self pity, I do see how blessed I am. Even though the pain has sapped the funny from my very being...it shall rise again. Like the South. (only not really...the South, not the funny.)

MacGuyver or: I apologize for this blog post

Do you like my new anklet? Soon they will be sweeping the runways in Milan and Paris and you'll all think Wow! I saw that on Stephanie's blog ages ago!
In true awesomeness form I sliced my ankle like a 7th grader in the shower this morning. Excellent. And as I was watching the Psycho-eque water slide down the drain, I quick-like-a-bunny made an awesome toilet paper tourniquet. And then I took a picture of it for you. You're welcome. Upon second thought I decided feet are gross, especially ones (mine) that have had lots of bone surgeries on them and I fancied it up for you as best I could, what with the no photoediting skills. Must learn some.

Toilet paper tourniquet is just another way I am sooooooooooo MacGuyver. Or, as was renamed by @HighImpactMom on Twitter MacGuyverMom . I KNOW! We're all MacGuyverMoms right? I mean, just the other day I fixed my iPhone charger with a Diego band-aid. MacGuyverMom!

(Total randomness, a million years ago Zach worked at Abercrombie & Fitch on the 3rd street Promenade in Santa Monica and actual MacGuyver, Richard Dean Anderson came in and guess what he bought? Four pairs of Cargo pants. Nothing else. He basically bought his costume. You can't make that up!)
Back to curious case of 'I've been shaving for how long?': I'm good with blood. I mean, I don't love it or anything but it doesn't make me all squiggy inside like it does the husband. He's a bad *shut your mouth*, but blood? Not his favorite thing. I seriously worried about the C-section and he was under strict don't-you-dare-peak instructions because I knew he'd hit the deck as if Ali stung him like a bee if he saw the red stuff.
I'm plenty grossed out by a million other things. The other day I found a huge beetle in the sink and swished it down the garbage disposal with hot water and totally freaked turning it on. (Then in an irrational move I felt totally guilty about the horrible death of said beetle and worried about that beetles mother; did she ever have nightmares about her baby being crushed in a garbage disposal the way I do seeing my sweet baby in a thresher/falling down a well/ strolller slipping to the lake/ car accident/ trapped in a burning room? What? I'm the only one? Well, lucky you! Let me introduce you to my good friend postpartum anxiety. Actually no...stay away from her, she is an evil whore bitch who will steal your sleep causing you to have total physical freak outs and visions beyond awful all while you know rationally your sweet baby is right.there. sleeping peacefully in his crib. Also, no, mama beetle never thought  any of that because she is a BUG. And if you're still with me after that you totally deserve a Girl Scout Cookie. I recommend the Samoas, they're delish.)

  Also, if you're new to my blog. I sincerely apologize.

After I was all moisturized and dressed I of course decided a non-Diego band aid might be better for the days activities. Nope. My mistake. Toilet paper tourniquet worked much better. 5 band aids in 15 minutes or one TP tourniquet. You be the judge.

TP Tourniquets also good for Cat toothaches.

*no kitties were injured during toiletpapering

Aporkalypse Now.

Dub stood no chance against a Max-Zuzu team up!

Ten days of a visit...2 pictures where you can kinda see both of their faces.

Two nights ago (which is like afternoon back home) I got an upset text from Dub. Zu had a temp of 104 and the pediatrician suspected the dreaded (duh duh duuuuuuuuuunn) Swine Flu (how's that whole H1N1 renaming thing going? Yeah, thought not) over the next 12 hours I read text after text of panic and fear and sadness as Dub struggled to keep her baby as comfortable as possible. At 4 am he was shivering violently and not sleeping at all. Needless to say, he was at the pediatricians ASAP. Official diagnosis given and Tamiflu administered.

Except for that terrible bit where the little ones can't keep anything down or in during this flu.

Trickedoo! The meds won't even stay down. Sigh. My very own panic at Stinker getting sick reached a fairly high level so I made the same call I've made every week to Dr. Courtney (she's young! she's blonde! she's awesome!) and wonder of wonders, miracles of miracles my question was answered with a yes, we have the vaccine, bring him on down.

Last night Zuzu slept a little bit on his daddy's chest, congested and fevery but resting a bit and I peeked in on my own cherub and cried a little.

Being away from Dub and Zu and Janice and Ben is really, really tough on me. It's tough being away from all my friends/family in Los Angeles but being away from my best friend Janice and my godson Ben and from Sistah Dub and Zu is utterly heartwrenching. I am missing everything.
And I feel guilty. Guilty for leaving shortly after Janice's cancer diagnosis (she kicked it's ass by the way!) and Zuzu was only 10 weeks old and newly diagnosed with PKU. We were supposed to be Team Zuzu. Raising PKU awareness together and taking the kids to do fun stuff together. I'm still not over it.

Especially when something happens... something where I would have been able to help. I looked at my Stinker all snuggled with his Sock Monkey and I thought I should really be leaving you in Daddy's care and heading to Dub's to rock Zu while they take a rest, a shower, a meal...anything to give them a little break.
Of course I can't do that at all. All I can do is send Dub late night texts telling her what an amazing mom she is. How scary it must be to see your little one so sick.

This morning I woke early and when Stinker stirred I brought him to bed with me and we snuggled in the covers, cuddling with the Prozac Puppy, slowly waking and stretching. Those morning smiles he gives me are the bestest. The joy he has that I am still here can only be matched by...well by mine that he is still here!

I spoiled him with yogurt and blueberry muffins for breakfast before we bundled up (you rarely have to bundle in LA and I still haven't gotten the hang of it) and headed out to get stuck.

He handled it like a champ. Me? I'm going for a spotless record of crying every time he gets a shot. Perfect record so far!

Afterwards I treated myself to some Starbucks, Stinker got an emtpy cup with a lid just like he likes and I was happy listening to him sing along with Frank Sinatra's Christmas Album. I know I'm biased, but fer reals y'all, my kid is awesome.

Dub tells me Zu is doing better today, still sick but hopefully on the road to recovery. I hope he feels better soon, and I hope we get to visit asap. Cause fer reals y'all, my nephew is awesome.


Hope all of you and your little ones too are nothing but happy and healthy!

Hippity Hop

Just a quick update, today was Max's X-ray and seriously he couldn't have done better if we bribed him with Elmo. ONly one parent could go back with him so Zach went and I sat in the waiting room...watching Big Cat Diary which was fantabulous until the screaming started. And then on Big Cat the story line was about a momma lion trying to get to her cubs after she had fallen down a river embankment and was stuck. Great. Every now and then I would hear Max scream and I would freak...how many X-rays are they doing? Turns out just one. It was over right away. And that screaming I heard? Was from the waiting room in the back, Max was very vocal in his displeasure when Zach wouldn't let him play with things back there. Whew.
The Radiologist took the time to go over the X-ray with us and the upshot it...perfection. HIs hips are perfection, popping is normal and his absurd flexibility is probably half genetic as Zach and I are both flexible and half from his gestation.
Whatever...he's good to go and I could not be more thrilled!!!
Shady Grove Radiology, you rocked my socks today. Thanks!

The Roller Coaster.

Good heavens people. What a week. Or week and a half really. Stinker has been sick, sick, sick and it's been a comedy of errors trying to get the tangled web of what's going on figured out. In the end it's nothing serious, all simple innocent childhood issues but in a perfect storm of 'well it could be..' symptoms. So, the final word is: two ear infections, Roseola, and a severe Amoxicillan reaction and a cold. YAY!

Ear infections are cleared now, high fever gone, Roseola cleared, and now the last of the Amox rash is clearing. His palms and the bottoms of his feet are finally clearing thanks to Dr. Courtney and her doses of baby Zyrtec. Today we actually went out and about and not one person pointed and said "that kid is sick!" which did in fact happen when I took him to the grocery store. It looked like he had a raging case of the measles and a very snotty nose (which is still around...mucus is my kryptonite so...gag) so I can't blame them but it stinks to have your little one pointed at in such a manner. Personality wise he is almost back to normal. He's started smiling and giggling again, giving lots and lots of kisses. He now knows where his ears are that's for sure! Bless his little heart. I'm so glad to see him on the mend.

My birthday came and went in the midst of this and it was lovely, I got well and truly spoiled by the inlaws with the second holy trinity: Sephora, Nordstroms, Tiffany. And Zach spoiled me with sweaters and roses and an upcoming trip to the Shaw and Stratford Festivals. Lovely!

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