|
|
||
|
the latest
waddle: good morning, wordpress - 10:36 a.m. , 2009-07-03 elaborate murder attempt - 2:56 p.m. , 2009-07-01 building a tractor in the basement - 10:42 a.m. , 2009-06-19 ask no questions tell just a few lies - 3:17 p.m. , 2009-06-09 my long lasting flavor really lasts long - 1:10 p.m. , 2009-06-04
|
This whole week has blown. (Sometimes literally, as you will see below.) No doubt, dogg. This week is straight-up wack. This whole week has deserved to have its cheap K-Mart weave yanked right off its head and stomped on by my Converse Of Justice. Pardon me, I am high on the Quakes. God, these things. These things need to come in a bigger bag, because fuck you with your "Serving size 9 mini cakes"; the serving size for me is UNTIL THEY ARE GONE. Preferably with a Diet Coke so I can have as many chemicals as possible in my body at one time. And then I feel slightly manic and start imagining that I have bionic insides and I answer my office phone in a robot voice. Incidentally, whenever I ask Nora to talk like a robot she answers, "I am not a robot" in a robot voice, which cracks me up like you would not believe. Why am I so annoyed at this week? Is it just the Quakes talking? Well, maybe. I did find out from a Christian stay-at-home mom-blogger that I am "unwilling to take on the unfeminist task of childrearing" (?) and that parenthood "is not something to be shoehorned in between work and a social life." Wow, is that what I've been doing? Because it seriously feels like the other way around. I found that comment to be about 85% funny (as in: thanks for the tip and yes, I am laughing AT you) and 15% infuriating (as in: not this bullshit again), and I considered responding to it at length. Then I had more Quakes and decided to leave it alone. No one ever became less of an idiot by reading internet-diary screeds. I also was waiting for an elevator and someone I am barely acquainted with said, "How's the kid?" So I gave my standard Short Answer, which is that she's three years old and funny and awesome. And this person said, "I know people who adopted from China, and right after they got their referral the wife found out she was pregnant with twins." (a) Wow. I did not know people actually said things like this. I had always secretly thought it was a shibboleth used to provoke outraged comments on infertility weblogs. The worst part of the week was still to come, however, when the nanny (whom we employ because I am unwilling to take on the unfeminist task of childrearing) called in sick, and then Nora also came down with the pestilence, which in her case involved diarrhea and general listlessness. However, I have to say that Nora seemed much less distressed by her plight than an adult would have been---she would just say, "I have to go poop AGAIN" and then comment "that was not a very nice poop." To which I would reply that although I had no Standardized Evaluation of Poop* chart handy, I agree that by no measure was that a very nice poop. So that was lame, and resulted in me arriving at work, learning of the nanny/Nora sickness, and turning around to head home again (LT had to be in the suburbs and could not cover. And who has sympathetic unemployed friends who will let you bring a diarrhea kid into their home on no notice? Nobody.) The only plus in the whole, BRAT-diet-bullshit day were many tiny moments of gratitude for having a potty-trained kid---instead of changing horrific diapers I merely had to sit with Nora, assist with wiping, and put up with her being pissed at me for denying her juice. *Just give the EU time, they will probably get on this. But lo! The virus was not yet finished! For the following night I myself had issues at the other end! My streak is over: I spent the wee hours shivering in the bathroom and marveling at this very bizarre human reflex. Toward dawn I even got kind of Zen about the whole thing and decided that perhaps my non-Puker pride has been a tiny bit misplaced. Although vomiting is awful and I never want to do it again, in some respects it is preferable to unrelenting extreme nausea.* So while I don't intend to join the Pukers' ranks, I can sort of see where they are coming from with their "get it over with" attitude. *So an existentialist walks into an urgent-care clinic... So that is where I've been. I want a do-over. Fortunately I seem to be on the mend, although I still don't trust much beyond the Quakes and tiny bites of banana. I seriously had better hurry up and get well soon, however, because hell yes. ---mimi smartypants is so, so boring. |
