There has been an eruption of vomit at her house. She is busy cleaning it up, soothing the sad baby, and making sure enough fluids are taken in.
Please check back tomorrow. Hopefully the patient will be fully recovered by then.
Thank you for your patience.
People. Can I have your attention please?
Now, we all know that I have been going through an extremely, uh, bumpy patch the last few weeks, right? Right. Okay. Well, it has lightened enough that I can now function semi-normally. I'm sure this has nothing to do with the meds, and everything to do with the fact that my MIL has sworn on her life that she will indeed call me every.single.night until I am better. It's working. Don't take that like I don't like her calling or that I don't like her in general. I love my MIL. I love love love her to death. I think sometimes I married SugarDaddy just so she could be my MIL.
Well, after our trip to the Dells, I started feeling kinda funny. Not "Ha ha" funny like normal, that is still wwwaaaayyy off down the recovery road, but funny like my skin kinda itched and tickled, but I couldn't put my finger on it exactly.
Sunday night, enter the rash of doom. Covered. Head to toe. Itched like a mad hoss too. But then it went away, and all was better in Keliland.
Monday arrives, and arms, owie. Upper arm, left side, major owie. And bumps. And pus. And eeewww! I start popping Benadryl like candy, but no relief. It was then I knew what it was.
So I head to the doc, and then to the pharmacy, wherein they fill my brand new RX for Valtrex.
Go on, click the link. Before I go on, and to make this post that much funnier, click the dang link.
Clicked? Okay.
Turns out there's a new herpes in town. Valtrex treats my kind of herpes as well as the genital kind, so don't go getting no idears or anything.
Shingles. Good for roofing, bad for people.
My kid has strep. Again. This is like the bajillionth time in the last year and a half or so. I'm really really really tired of 10 day antibiotics. I'm also tired of her screaming through a penicillin shot, and then doing 10 days of antibiotics on top of that. I'm hoping she'll be getting her tonsils out within the year. But we'll see.
So, on that note, I'll be back tomorrow with something good. Not great, but probably not that good either, so don't hold your breath.
On a completely unrelated note, my feet are muy stinky.
I got nothing today. Nothing.
Except maybe the beginnings of a cold. Which is wretched timing, seeing as we'll be up in the 40's by Saturday.
And so help me, if this cold keeps me from emerging from my winter cocoon to enjoy some sunshine and blue sky, I will a broken woman be.
But other than that, there is not much to tell.
And I'm totally not complaining about that.
Yesterday started out like most days. Up and at em bright and early. Emma off to school, Maggie awake and dressed in her standard outfit consisting of a Hannah Montana shirt, jeans, and the puffy pink skirt over the top of the jeans, all of this topped off with sparkly pink shoes. She is all girl. And Gretta being her silly self carrying around 13 binkies and her milk. We headed over to the local Starbucks to meet up with some friends and get "coffee", which is code for Hazelnut Hot Cocoa. Mmm. I chatted up the ladies while the kids sufficiently destroyed the table and chairs with donut pieces and spilled milk. Eh, we'll just leave a tip, no biggie. After I had my fill of funny stories and gross sex talk, it was time to head off to Maggie's dance class. She danced her little butt off. Gretta got her white-girl groove on, too, and it was hilarious.
So we head home. I've decided that on the way, a trip to Linens N Things is in order, to take advantage of their misfortune of going out of business and scoring an electric blanket for cheap. Sounds good, right? Yeah. So I'm heading along, minding my business and listening to Cathy and Judy's Sex Thursday talk show, when I approach the turn off for my street. Should I continue to LNT, or should I head home and put Gretta to bed? Hmm. If only there was a way for this decision to be made for me. If only.
Then suddenly, "Waaahh, baaarrrfff." Gretta has spewed all over in her car seat. Decision made. I turn up the street and head home as fast as I can. She continues barfing in her seat, not really crying, mostly just saying "Eeewww", and looking at her slime covered hands. We whip into the driveway, I pull her out of the van, and strip her down naked on the grass. Mind you, it's 30 degrees outside. But I'm not taking any chances of having my van smell like rotten milk, as I was doomed to drive around a Jeep that smelled that way all summer. My bad. But I digress.
I pop G in the tub, and start the mind numbing task of disassembling the damn car seat. Does that remind you of the movie Short Circuit? "No disassemble, no disassemble! Number 5, alive!" That movie reminds me of Meg for some reason. And again, I digress.
What the heck is with those car seats? I mean really. I understand the need for safety and all that good stuff, but who hasn't had their kid puke in the car seat, and needed to rip it apart STAT? You'd think they would make them a little easier to get apart for washing and sanitizing and such. This is the second time in 5 months I've had this kid puke in her car seat. I should be a pro at this by now. I'm not. So now I have a clean, sanitized, taken apart car seat in my dryer. Sugar Daddy is out of town, and this time I don't have an identical model to copy like I did last time. What's a girl to do? I guess I'll stay home and take care of business here. Or I could attempt to put it back together. But at least it's clean.
I understand how boring it can be to browse the various blogs on your Google reader and see only images of mediocre children dressed up as mediocre characters. But I bring you Emma. A most beautiful child, in a most beautiful home made costume. I had a few people tell me they needed to see all of my kids in their costumes, so here you go.
Yes, she's in a poodle skirt, made by yours truly. Even the little doggie and leash. Yes, because I'm that talented. And yes, she's wearing her pajamas underneath. We took this picture on Wednesday afternoon because I forgot to get a picture of her on Halloween. She was home "sick" that day, cough cough. But what can I say, I'm a big softie about stuff like that. But seriously, she is sick. She has an ear infection. Her first ever. So I thought she deserved a day off for that.
You might remember a little while ago I posted about a booger being stuck to my mouse. And it wasn't mine. I swear.
Well, it has happened again. Only this time it wasn't on my mouse. It was suck on the closet doors in my entry way. Nice.
I guess this is what happens when 2 kids have runny/stuffy noses, and the other one just has a special affinity for picking hers. And 1 of the 2 kids has croup, and the other one of the 2 kids has an ear infection. How lucky are we? Just in time to pass it all through the family for our trip to Utah. Yippee.
And today, after hearing of a friends passing from cancer, I miss my mom. I hate knowing what they are in store for over the next few months. It makes my heart hurt.
I have a killer cold. If I was a man, it would be a "man cold". And if I was motivated at all, I would put a super duper link to the "Man Cold" on YouTube, but you can "Tube" it yourself, cause I'm lazy like that. I fell asleep at 8:00 last night. It rocked. But I still feel like total crap.
*Oh, alright, I linked it. Geez. Now I need a nap.
Gretta is repeatedly trying to wedge herself under my computer chair. With each and every attempt, she bonks her head, hard, on the frame. And yet she continues to try. Tenacious, yes. Mentally ill, possibly.
I have seen Sugar Daddy a total of 15 minutes this week. No, that's a bad thing. See, it's his busy season, getting everything sorted out to different retailers for their Christmas sales. Which means he works at 5AM and gets in just after 7PM. I know I shouldn't complain because it's much harder on him than it is on me, but it's my blog, so I can complain about whatever I want. And tonight he's partaking in the Cubs vs. Brewers game in Milwaukee, so that means he won't be home until after midnight. I don't feel bad for him, though.
Maggie had her first dance class yesterday. Yeah, I'm such a good mom, I forgot the camera.
Emma missed the bus yesterday. Again. So she was late.
Gretta has a fever, a rash, and a limp. This warranted a trip to the ER, but she checked out fine.
My slutty dog has decided it's much more fun to spend the days philandering around the neighborhood than being cooped up in the house with a sick bitchy mom. I rarely know if she's in or out. And to be honest, I don't care anymore.
Oh, and I've been wearing the same pair of denim capris all week. I change my shirt and bra, of course, and my undies, but the pants, they just keep calling my name. I need a new pair. Or pairs.
Feel free to slap the Mother of the Year award right here.
