Getting Over It

When I quit work, we had to move. Bug and I moved to the desert. Big D stayed in Los Angeles and came to us on the weekends. At first it didn't matter much. Bug was nursing all the time and refluxing when she wasn't nursing and we two were a beautiful mess. But as the months turned into a year, the weekdays without Big D became grueling and the commuting back and forth for Big D became arduous. Bug became attached to her Daddy. It became obvious that we needed to move back. But in doing so, I have come to realize that this temporary move to the desert has been a buffer from the feelings of having to, for financial reasons and other more personal reasons, leave. The house in Eagle Rock has our blood, sweat, and tears in it. For now, it is still ours though we no longer live there. But I am realizing that I have to mourn a little for it and then get over it. Cause a house is only a home when the people you love are in it. And that is what I have learned. So, here is my goodbye to my lovely little house. I think we did right by you.

These Family Vacations Are For The Dogs, Literally

Last week we headed up to Flagstaff to have the much anticipated and drama producing "the dogs of the family need to meet" vacation in the snow. Mind you, a few members of Big D's family have yet to meet Bug and this would be Bug's first introduction to snow. But these facts were far down on the list in importance to the dogs of Big D's family romping in the snow together. As we pulled onto the highway, I felt that familiar little scratch in the back of my throat that undoubtedly signals a cold is coming on. And of course a cold was coming on. I was going on a vacation. I always get sick on vacations. I always get sick on family vacations. I always get sick on vacations with Big D's family. Of course. My body revolts against me. Or against Big D's family. So right when I need my strength the most to keep a happy face and zen out amidst the madness (oh the stories I so wish I could tell) I am usually drowning in phlegm or coughing up a lung or puking up my guts. Lovely. It is just lovely. So of course, I got a full blown cold the whole time we where in Flagstaff. My head was a freight train being attacked by a sledgehammer and yet I went sledding, visited the ruins, made dinner, cleaned the kitchen, and of course watched out for Bug. I wouldn't have wanted to disrupt the doggie lovefest with a severe cold or minor case of piggy flu.


And it reminded me of another Big D family trip. This was a few years before the birth of the Bug. We were living in Los Angeles and we were heading down to San Diego for a reunion with Big D's family to watch the Browns kick the Chargers asses. Hahaha. Though neither Big D nor any of his siblings ever lived in Cleveland, his father is from Ohio and so they all are devout Browns fans in honor of their father. I was raised in New England and am therefore, though not much of a football fan, a fan of the Patriots nonetheless. But the point is, I was going to this family reunion to show allegiance to my husband and his family. And of course, on the way down to San Diego I feel that scratch in the back of my throat. Does my body revolt against the very idea of these family reunions? Maybe. I think my body just revolts against me.


So I did my best to suck it up. I drugged myself up good and smiled through it. And then the day of the game came. It was so hot. Ridiculously hot. The hot that doesn't happen in San Diego. Blistering sun. No sea breeze. Just bright sun which feels like daggers in my eyes so I keep the dark shades on and keep my eyes closed beneath them. As we approach the stadium Big D notes that the Echo is out of gas. He notes it but does he stop for a refill. Oh hell no! Big D has got to get to that stadium and get his football on. The point is we have NO GAS IN THE CAR as we putter into the stadium. And the traffic is a long line of turtles waddling into the parking lot. And because we have no gas we HAVE NO AIR CONDITIONING. And the Echo is the size of a peanut with three big guys plus me squished into it. And I have jacked myself up on cold medicine and diet coke to try to make it through the day from hell and save my marriage. And I am not kidding when I say that. Big D takes his family's likes and dislikes very seriously. When we were first dating, I fell asleep while watching a movie called something like A Man in The Wilderness, a movie revered in Big D's family, and it almost cost us the relationship. I think Big D still has hurt feelings over that. They take these things VERY seriously.


So anyway, the car is hot and stuffy and puttering along and you guessed it, I start puking all over the car. But this doesn't detract from their enthusiasm. In fact, they are so pumped up for the game I am not sure if anyone notices I am BARFING ON THE FLOOR of the car. GOOD TIMES!! Once in the stadium a harsh reality is upon us. The sun is beating down on the Browns side of the stadium and I am quickly adding sun stroke to my current bout of consumption. I excuse myself and head to the bathroom to make friends with the toilet. Ah, puking in public bathrooms, now that is classy (and has happened more than I care to admit). As I am puking, I realize that I really need to find a place to lie down and get out of the sun. So I go wandering the inner bowels of the stadium and stumble upon the clinic. I tell them that I am sick and need to lay down. The nurses look at me like, "Sure bitch, you are just drunk and can't hold your liqueur". But they let me lay down for 10 minutes. They actually time it and kick me off the cot at ten minutes and tell me that I either have to leave or go home. Go home? Not an option. Because if I pull Big D and say I was kicked out of the game for being sick, I would be headed to divorce court. Wow, the kindness of these medical professionals really astounds me. I am feeling the love. So I wander back to my seat where someone in the family starts taking photos of us all having a good time. And it seems everyone is completely oblivious to the fact that I am on death's door at this point. I am actually made to smile for the camera and I somehow manage to do it without vomiting--now that photo would have been a keeper!


So I am sitting there trying to meditate, praying I make it through this. And I begin noticing that Browns fans are particularly gross. For example, the people in front of me have two wild child brats. These kids have giant mats of nappiness for hair and the dad has some sort of skin disease that he keeps itching on and it starts bleeding. They are eating massive amounts of food and I am not kidding but the kids apparently don't know how to chew because as they are piling nachos and hotdogs into their mouths it just come tumbling out in chunks all over themselves and the seats and the floor and the hair of the people in front of them. And I realize I need to get out of there fast. So I spend most of the game sitting on the concrete in the hallway trying not to die. As the game nears an end (the Browns losing of course) I wander around a little and find that there is a whole picnic area on the first floor with chairs and tables and benches and shade and I could have sat there the whole time. And I am really pissed off at that point because the evil medical people could have told me that this place existed if they had a shred of humanity.


And then the game finally ends. Big D's family is pissed off and hating on the Chargers and making up reasons why the Browns lost yet another game. We make our way back to the car but we can't leave yet because there is no gas in the car so we have to wait until the parking lot empties until we can leave. This takes over an hour, maybe two. At this point, I no longer think I am dying, I want to die. Take me lord, take me now! We finally get in the car. Hallelujah! And now we have to find a place to get gas which for some reason takes an unholy amount of time. To top it of we follow Big D's Brother back to the condo and his Bro gets lost. It takes hours to get home. When we finally get home, I have to take the dogs out to pee because the boys need to finish watching football on TV before they can be bothered with the bathroom needs of the dogs. Someone orders Subway. We eat. I go to bed. Yeah, family vacations rule.

The Best of 2009 Blog Challenge

I am participating in Gwen Bell's The Best of 2009 Blog Challenge because it is fun. I am beginning here.

December 1 Trip. What was your best trip in 2009?

Our trip to Colorado, was by far, the best trip we took this year. And I am not just saying that because it was our ONLY trip this year. Well, maybe I am. But, the fact remains that we had a fabulous time in Denver. We met Uncle Ben's dog, Pike. Pike is a St. Bernard. He is the biggest dog in the whole world. We stayed at our friend's house. These are friends that we hadn't seen in years. We caught up like it was old times and that alone is a gift and a treasure and if nothing else fun had happened that would have made the trip. And we took Bug to the Denver Zoo. Her first trip to the ZOO! I couldn't remember the last time that I had been to the zoo because I am not a zoo person so I wasn't really too excited about the outing but, as it turns out, zoos are pretty great when you experience them with your child. When you see it through your child's eyes.


December 2 Restaurant moment. Share the best restaurant experience you had this year. Who was there? What made it amazing? What taste stands out in your mind?

This has not been a good year for me and restaurants. In order to keep nursing Bug, I pretty much had to give up my former foodie lifestyle and eat bland for most of the year. I have since reintroduced fish, shellfish, dairy, some soy, and eggs but I am still not eating wheat (though I am eating spelt) or nuts. One thing that kept me going all year was knowing that I would go out for my birthday and have Grimaldi's pizza. And I did. My mom watched Bug for four hours which is the longest that I have gotten away since she was born and Big D and I went to Scottsdale to hang out for the afternoon. We found a great tea shop and had a latte at a funky coffee shop. This was foreplay. Foreplay for pizza. And it was ORGASMIC. Real pizza. Thin crust, sweet tomato sauce, fresh mozzarella and basil. We ordered a large. We ate the whole thing. Ah, it almost brought tears to my eyes. It was heaven and I chased that heaven with a cannoli. Can you hear the angels sing?

Woman in the Mucus

So humor me for a moment while I bore you with some Japanese New Wave Cinema references. See, I told you I went to film school once long, long ago. You didn't believe me, did you? Well, that's OK. It is sometimes hard for me to believe too now that I spend all day keeping a toddler from eating the dog food or choking on water bottle caps. But I did. And I happened to like the really boring esoteric stuff. I even made boring esoteric films. Yeah, I was one of those kind of art school nerds. But this is really getting off the subject.

I wanted to talk about what I've been thinking about a lot lately. The book/movie Woman in the Dunes. Have you read/seen it? Well, to Twittersynopsis it, it is about a woman who lives in these remote dunes and has to sweep the sand back every day all day to keep from being drowned in it. There is more to the story--an entomologist dude wondering the dunes finds her and hangs out there (or maybe she finds him? can't remember) and they fight and have sex. But that part isn't really what I am thinking about. I am thinking about the woman in the dunes sweeping up all day just to do it over again the next to keep from drowning in it. Lately, with Bug's seemingly constant colds, I consider myself The Woman in the Mucus. I carry a snot rag to wipe the slime away lest we drown in it. I keep a humidifier going. I boil water on the stove. I Little Noses her nostrils. I syringe out the goobers. Every day.

Motherhood is like that. Isn't it? You get to do the same things every single day. Some days are better than others. Some days you want to hide under the covers. Some days you zen out and do it. Some days you just love the routine and the surprises within the routine. Some days are tantrums and breakdowns. Other days are joy and breakthroughs. Or a little bit of everything. There is a basic routine each day and yet each day is so different from the next. It's the mothering paradox.

To use a more Western image, I suppose it would be to imagine Sisyphus happy. To imagine Sisyphus content as he rolls his boulder up the hill each and every day. In my current situation, it would be a large booger that I roll up the hill every day. Or maybe it is a giant ball of laundry? Or an enormous pile of dishes? What is yours? And can you imagine yourself happy? Or do you want to drop everything and run for the hills?

Potty Time

For the last few weeks Bug has been doing this squat move after taking her evening bath.  Sometimes, she'll squat and pee on the floor.  So today I bought her a potty.  I set it up in the bathroom and told her that it was for pee-pee.  She seemed VERY excited about it and kept climbing on and off of it exclaiming, "PEE PEE".  After her bath she ran over to it, sat down, and peed.  Clearly proud of herself we clapped together, "YAY, PEE PEE".  It was so cute.  I don't think we are exactly at potty training yet because she is only two days shy of 15 months old but I guess she is moving in that direction and by the looks of it will be potty trained long before she is weaned.

Some Things Are Better Left for Teddy Bears, Bunnies, and Dinosaurs

A while ago I wrote about trying to find a Plush Buddha for Bug.  This is the only one I have found.

Doesn't he look like a pedaphile or at the very least a pervy swinger?  Needless to say, we are sticking with our Buddha made of wood. 

I am, however, getting Bug a Barney doll for Christmas.  Say what you will about Barney. I have heard it all.  But frankly, I don't care.  Bug LOVES him and that is all that matters.  I am not buying it for me.  I am buying it for her. 

Where It's At

Antibiotics make poop weird. Bug's poop has this weird candy/medicinal smell. It is runny, verging on diarrhea and is a little more frequent than usual. It has a darker slightly rusty red color to it. So yeah, this is TMI but it is what is on my mind these days. Today is the last day of 10 days on antibiotics and hopefully this ear infection has been killed. If I could kick and punch this infection and scream I HATE YOU at it I would. Bug has had two ear infections, two colds, and bronchiolitus in the last three months. It's sucky to say the least. I think she is on the mend. Excuse me while a pause to knock on wood. So now if these evil molars would just break through and leave us alone we would be all set and ready for Christmas.