Puff the magic dragon

I shouldn't write when I am in a negative headspace. The dark and broody stuff just comes out then. And really, this blog is supposed to be fun. I try to post the fun and comedic and leave the dark and broody posts alone as much as I can. But there are times ...

Hmm ... Perhaps I need a separate dark and broody blog space for that stuff. I'll give that some thought.

In the meantime, we are now back to normal over here. And to celebrate, I present the following:


Happy Halloween!!

That's entertainment

Edited: Saturday, October 25, 2008 @ 9:25 a.m. **

I am a person with varied interests. Music, darts, theatre, children, computer programming, animals, pool, law, pinball, math, ... My tastes are eclectic.

T: Do you have Captain Tractor? Or Offspring?
Used Records Employee: Who listens to Captain Tractor and Offspring?
T: Well, me ... and the people who stole my car ...
URE: ... or at least they do now ...

When it comes to entertainment, I like mindless comedy. I also really enjoy drama. And musical. Action is okay too. Horror is one genre I frankly don't much appreciate. Basically, it's good if it makes me think. Or laugh. Or cry. It can be based in reality, if it is tastefully done. Tragedy is okay, if I am in the mood for tears. Gory messes do not appeal to me. Harm cannot befall a child, or an animal, and it would be best if things ended on some sort of positive note. If I want anything too real, I'll watch the News, thanks anyway. (I should note that I do not watch the News for entertainment value; it's for information purposes ... it's for education ... learning what to do, what not to do, and shaping opinion.)

Really, I like a little bit of almost everything. Almost ...

My idea of the worst kind of entertainment? Violent, graphic, gory, tragic fiction that could really have happened (but didn't; hence, "fiction"). I don't understand these kinds of shows. I don't grasp their entertainment value. Why would I want to watch graphic depictions of horrible things happening to reasonably decent fictional characters while at the same time learning nothing? I don't get it.

But H, who is like me in many ways, dramatically differs from me in this one area. H actually really enjoys what are, in my view, awful programs.

This, as much as anything, is why we have two TVs.

Now, I can watch reruns of "Friends" and "Seinfeld", or new episodes of "The Big Bang Theory" and "Two and a Half Men", or whatever else appeals to my teensy little brain. And at the same time, H can retire to a different room to watch "Life", "24", and "The Shield", and presumably take pleasure in the fictional suffering of others. He really seems to enjoy it. I am mildly disturbed by this.

Tonight, H decided to attempt to watch "Life" with me sitting nearby. An ex-con whose 10-year old son had been murdered by a newly escaped felon was then himself graphically murdered by said newly escaped felon in front of the police, who were trying to protect everyone. They showed all the blood and everything. It was way cool.

Here we have practically everything I hate ... violent, graphic, gory, tragic fiction that could really have happened (but didn't; hence, "fiction"). And a child being harmed to boot. Fabulous! And as they cut to commercial:

T: How can you watch this?
H: I didn't know that was going to happen!
T: It happens every single week!
H: No, it doesn't.
T: Okay. Not that exact thing. But something very similar.
H: But ...
T: Seriously! How can you enjoy this?
H: ...
T: Watching some poor likeable guy get shot in the head.
H: ...
T: Well?
H: Would you like me to watch it upstairs?
T: ...
H: Fine! (grumble, grumble, mutter, mutter) *

(Ordinarily, I might have just left the room. But the knee isn't fully healed and I still don't do stairs so well, so there aren't many places I can go just now without considerable effort. And it's his stupid show anyway, so ...)

I'm going to sleep now. With visions of sugar plum fairies and violent showers of gunfire dancing in my head. And I hope to not dream about some fictional dead guy and his equally fictional, equally dead 10-year old son.

But I sure hope H enjoyed his remaining 50 minutes of mass destruction.


* It should be noted that H didn't really grumble. Much.

** Edited to add: I have just learned that H actually slept through the disturbing scene in "Life". And that, even though he was exhausted and sleeping through the show anyway, he still left the room to watch the rest of the show, rather than just letting me change the channel to something we both would enjoy. And he stayed up an extra hour after "Life" was over to watch an equally disturbing episode of "The Shield"!!!

My husband has no sense whatsoever. Could somebody please organize an intervention?

Paradise by the dashboard light

Well, that last post was uncharacteristically deep, wasn't it? We won't do that again for awhile. It's too hard.

Time for a kidlet anecdote!

J is very inquisitive. And H likes to explain things. But sometimes, it's hard to put things in terms that the J will understand. He's only 3. He has very little life experience. He doesn't understand many things. Like taxes. Or politics. Or why we can't drive with the dome light on.

J: Turn the light back on.
H: No, J. The light needs to stay off.
J: But I can see better with the light on.
H: I know, J. But the light needs to stay off.
J: Whyyyyyy?
H: Because Daddy can't drive with the light on.
J: Whyyyyyy?
H: Because it's illegal.
J: What does "illegal" mean?
H: It means the police might give Daddy a ticket.
J: What's a ticket?
H: It's kind of like a spanking. But instead of slapping your bum, they ... ah ...
T: ... pinch your wallet?

Now it's Turkish delight on a moonlit night

Today is Canadian Thanksgiving. In our household, it goes something like this.

**********
H: J, put your shoes on please.
J: I got the green!
T: J, can you please move that toy?
N: WAAAAAAAAAH!!!
J: I wanna take this hammer!
H: Fine. But put your shoes on please.
N: WAAAAAAAAAH!!!
T: J, I really need you to move this.
H: Please do what your mother tells you.
J: I got that green, too!
N: WAAAAAAAAAH!!!
T: Come on! I need to pee!
N: WAAAAAAAAAH!!!
H: Why did you take your pants off, J?
J: I ... um ... can't remember.
T: I can't get around that toy, J. It's too big.
N: WAAAAAAAAAH!!!
J: N's crying.
T: J! Will you please move that toy!
H: J! Pants! On!
T: Honey, you're confusing him.
J: I wanna take this saw too!
N: WAAAAAAAAAH!!!
H: N, please stop.
J: I want chocolate!
H: No, J. We're going to have dinner.
T: Pants! Toy! Now!
N: WAAAAAAAAAH!!!
J: But I want chocolate!
N: WAAAAAAAAAH!!!
T: Please? Please move the toy?
H: No chocolate! Listen!!
T: (Singing to N) Rock-a-bye, baby ...
H: J, put your pants back on.
J: Why?
N: WAAAAAAAAAH!!!
H: Because I asked you to!
T: ... when the wind blows ...
J: But I want ... um ...
N: WAAAAAAAAAH!!!
H: I am tired of you saying "I want"!
N: WAAAAAAAAAH!!!
T: ... the cradle will fall ...
J: But Daaaaadddddyyyyy!
N: WAAAAAAAAAH!!!
J: I want ...
H: Stop saying that!
T: Please stop crying, N? *sob*
J: Whyyyy??
T: H, can you move the toy?
H: J! Move that toy!!
N: WAAAAAAAAAH!!!
T: J? Please?
H: Why won't you listen, J?
N: WAAAAAAAAAH!!!
J: I wanna watch "The Incredibles"!
N: WAAAAAAAAAH!!!
H: N, please stop crying!
T: What?! No! We are not watching a movie!
J: But Mooooommmmyyyy!
T: I said no!
N: WAAAAAAAAAH!!!
H: J! Put your pants on!
J: Umm ... I ... I wanna ... umm ...
N: WAAAAAAAAAH!!!
T: Enough! I need to pee! Move the toy!!
J: I give you the toy!
H: Good, J. Now please, put your pants back on.
T: Thank you, J.
N: WAAAAAAAAAH!!!
J: You're welcome, Momma.
H: N! Please?!
J: Can we watch "The Incredibles"?
N: WAAAAAAAAAH!!!
H: No, J. It's time to go!
T: How are you doing, honey?
H: Just great! J?! Now!!
N: WAAAAAAAAAH!!!
J: But I'm just spinning!
T: I'll be right there!
N: WAAAAAAAAAH!!!
T: Okay. Can we go?
H: J! Pants!
J: Um ... oh! Okay!
H: Thank you, J.
T: Okay. Now can you put your shoes on?
N: WAAAAAAAAAH!!!
J: I want my boots!
T: No. You need to wear shoes.
J: But I want my boots!
H: No, J! Shoes! Put them on!!
N: WAAAAAAAAAH!!!
J: WAAAAAAAAAH!!!
T: ...
N: WAAAAAAAAAH!!!
H: ...

**********
Today, I am thankful that H didn't just drive off the embankment on the way to his brother's house for Thanksgiving. Thanks, Hon!

And Happy Turkey Day!!

Don't be afraid of the dark

The irony of this situation has not escaped my attention.

**********
H: Goodnight, J.

J: I'm scared.

H: What are you scared of?

J: There's a monster in the closet.

H: There's no monster in the closet. Look. (opens closet door)


J: But there's a scary lion. And a scary noise.

H: There's no scary lion and no scary noise.

J: But ...

H: Mommy and Daddy would never ask you to stay in a room with something scary in it, J.


J: But I need you.

H: But Mommy and N need me too. I've done everything you've asked me to. I read your stories, and I snuggled you, and I gave you your water. And now Mommy and N need me. You need to go to sleep.

J: But I want you.

H: Here. (Hands J the toy that J picked out all by himself at the store and insists on keeping in his room every single night) Two-headed dragon will protect you.

J: Two-headed dragon will eat the scary people?

H: Yes. There is nothing scary in the room, but if there were, two-headed dragon would eat it.

**********
Yes. That's right. There is nothing scary in the room. Except for ...


... J's staunch overnight protector. Which even scares the crap out of me.

I love you because

I love H.

I love H because he can make me laugh, even during the hard times. Like today, when we passed a sign that read "Rhino Housing", and he started making light of it.

H: Look. Rhino Housing.
T: Yes, I see it.
H: Rhinoplasty.
T: Uh huh.
H: Rhino Party.
T: Yeah.
H: Rhinoplasty Party?
T: Rhinoplasticine.
H: Rhinoplasticine housing party! Plasticine rhino's house party!

And thus it progressed. Before long, I was laughing, despite myself. Life goes on.

I love H because he doesn't hesitate to tell me when I am being ridiculous. Like today, when I started searching the animal shelters' adoption banks and pulled up this picture.



A female cat. Medium haired. Three months old. And she looks almost exactly like our dearly departed. So much so, in fact, that H saw the picture displayed on my computer screen and thought someone had emailed me a picture of her.

I immediately wanted to go to the shelter to get her. H stared at me in shock. And then he took my hand, and kindly explained how crazy I sounded. Our household, with a preschooler, an infant, a wife and mother who works outside of the home and is in school and who has a broken knee, a husband and father who works outside of the home and has plans for further schooling, and a healthy 9-year old cat. Our family, grieving the loss of a cherished pet who passed only one day ago. Now is not really the best time to adopt a new pet, is it? And if it were, it is probably not the healthiest choice to adopt a cat that looks exactly like the one who just died, is it? She may look the same, but she is not the same. She will not act the same. Wouldn't I just end up resenting her for not being exactly the same, in every way?

Probably.

I love H because, even though he knew I was being unreasonable, and even though I knew I was being unreasonable, he still let me phone the shelter to ask about the kitten. Who had already been adopted. (Well, of course she had! What cat lover could resist her, really?) He let me phone. Even though he later told me that he really didn't think we would have gotten her, even had she still been there. Because to do would just be crazy. And as much as it pains me to admit it, he was right.

I love H because he was right, even though I didn't really want him to be right. He is logical when I am emotional. And I think that's good.

I love H because he is H. He comforts me when I am sad. He cares for me when I am unwell. He is my best friend. He is my rock.

I love H.

Transitions

J really does love having his own room and sleeping in his racecar. He pretty well slept through the night his first night. We heard him talking in his sleep around midnight. And he also woke up around 3:00 a.m. and had a pleasant conversation with his panda. But he didn't call for us, and we didn't go in. He went back to sleep pretty quick and slept peacefully.

In the morning, he raced in to tell me "I had a good sleep! Over there! In my racecar!!" Such a big boy!

As a reward for being such a good boy and sleeping through the night without a fuss in his new bed, he was given a new Play-Doh set. It's a Backyardigans Pirate Ship. J adores Play-Doh. He had a nice time playing with it last night.

And then he went to sleep in his racecar bed, again without a lot of fuss. He slept through the night. But he did toss and turn a lot this time, and he woke up in a completely different position. I think he's doing well with the adjustment. It's nice that J adapts so well to change. Hopefully he will adjust nicely to the addition of his expected sibling. We shall see!

On another note, H really appears to enjoy J's new Play-Doh set also. He usually enjoys playing with Play-Doh with J. But last night, H regressed back a few steps and actually spent some time playing with Play-Doh by himself, after J had gone to sleep. H appears to quite enjoy shooting Play-Doh with the ship's cannon.

H is really tired and will need some time to unwind after this baby is born. I don't know how that will work.

Shopping with a J

I always knew work would need their laptop back. I had hoped that it would be after the baby was born, but I kind of knew that was wishful thinking. The timeframe is just too long. The office has expanded, and new people require the equipment. My laptop needs to be updated with some new software so that it can be reassigned and returned back into circulation.

In my absence, I've been using the laptop primarily for school. My schooling is work-related, but not as work-related as actual billable work. Billable work takes precedence. And so, my employer has contacted me and asked for return of the company laptop. It's more than fair. They've actually been really good to let me keep it for this long. It needs to be returned ASAP, as their supplier has had some delivery delays and the situation is fairly desperate. They're good to me. We'll get the laptop back to them right away.

Unfortunately, we now need to make some alternate arrangements for my own sanity. I'm on bed rest, as you all know, so I can't sit up at my primary computer. I can't imagine what I would do with no computer access for the next several months, but the only access I'm permitted consists of using the laptop while lying down. And I can't adequately prepare for my exam with no computer.

H and I discussed it, and we decided that we needed to get a personal-use laptop computer. We'll need one in the next year or so anyway. And for the time being, I desperately need it to preserve my sanity for the next few months. Fortunately, they're on sale right now.

H was outfitted with a list of requirements, straight from the accounting association's website. And after work today, H picked up J from daycare, and off they went to the store to pick out a laptop computer.

They arrived at the store before 6:00. H found a knowledgable staff member to help him. A reasonably priced, appropriately discounted, completely suitable laptop was selected quickly. Score! H and J would be home in plenty of time for dinner, and J would make his regular bedtime.

And then, it was time to pay for our new computer.

H decided to use a credit card.

And that's when the shopping expedition turned. It went something like this:

**********

The security code on the back of a credit card is an added security feature for telephone and online purchases. But the store has a rather silly policy of requiring entry of the security code on the back of the card, even for in-person purchases. Sadly, the code is worn off of the card. So the cashier spends some time unsuccessfully trying to guess it.

After trying to ring it up seven times and receiving seven consecutive "declined" messages, he gives up.

H calls the bank to try to get the code. Runs through a million and one security questions, and eventually gets the code. The bank then advises that all of the "declined" attempts were actually put through as "preauthorized holds" by the bank, and the card is now maxed out. So now, even though H has the security code, he still can't pay for the computer. The bank advises that, unless this is remedied, there will be a hold on our account for 5 business days. That will put us past the "sale" date, will cost us a significant amount of coin, will prevent us from using the card in the interim, and is obviously completely unacceptable.

The store spends the next two plus hours trying to resolve the situation with the bank.

The bank requests a letter on the store's letterhead stating what happened. The store has no letterhead. Will a letter signed by the store manager do? The bank will check and call back. Yes. Yes that will do.

What does the letter need to say? The letter needs to list off the charges and the authorization numbers. But the store has no authorization numbers, since the transactions all showed up as "declined". Will the bank release the numbers to the store? No. The bank will not release the numbers, but requires them nonetheless. The store calls its own bank, hoping to get the authorization numbers. But the store's bank obviously has no authorization numbers, since the transactions were "declined". The store calls our bank again and begs on bended knee. Can our bank, please oh please, just release the numbers? Please? Yes. Yes they will.

The letter is drafted. The letter is faxed. The bank spends about half an hour fixing the problem. The bank calls back. The situation has been remedied. The card will work now.

The laptop is finally paid for.

Throughout this 2-hour ordeal, J behaves like an absolute angel. He drinks some orange juice. He plays with an inactivated debit machine. He plays nicely with some other children. He converses with other customers, and tells them all about his bears, and his rocks, and his racecar bed, and everything else he can think of. He almost makes up for the fact that he "hit his friends" at daycare today, and had to "spend some time thinking about what his hands are for" as a result. *Sigh!*

**********

After the situation was resolved and the computer appropriately paid for, H loaded J back into the van and started to drive home. That's when J decided to be especially entertaining.

J: Look!

H looked back at J. And he saw that J had pulled off his boots and socks, and was now wearing his mittens on his feet - a difficult feat, considering that his mittens are attached to his coat sleeves.

They got home. J trudged right through a puddle and got his pants all wet. He came in, and H promptly removed the wet pants. J ran into the living room to see me.

J: Look! I'm naked!

J had a nice, albeit late, dinner. And he had some chocolate as a reward for being such a good boy at the store. H also bought J a Backyardigans DVD, which he will get to watch tomorrow.

But for now, it is time for J to sleep. It is well past his bedtime.

Night night, little man. Sleep well.

H singing to J

While holding J's little plastic dinosaur, sung to the tune of "Flipper":

They call him Dyno, Dyno,
King of Juras-sic.
No one you see
Is grander than he.
And we know Dyno, Dyno
Is made of plas-tic.
Ain't it fantas-tic.
Dyno he be.

Like father, like son

Suave. Debonair. Smooth.

Years ago, when I was in my early twenties, I was in a bar, drunk as a skunk, and I decided to hit on this stewardess:

H: Hi! My name is H, and I'm really drunk! It's my birthday! Do you want to join us?
Stewardess: ... Umm ...
H: Hey! I have a suit just like that one! Only it doesn't have a skirt ...

Well, tonight J took a page from me on how to flirt with women. We were eating dinner at a Boston Pizza, and J was doing his thing and flirting with the little blonde waitress.

She came over.
J smiled at her.
She admired his smile.
J dipped a french fry in ketchup.
She admired his skill.
And then ...
J missed his mouth entirely, and stuffed his french fry up his nose.

So the difference between me and my son is that for him, this kind of thing actually works. 'Cause not only did she continue to talk to him, but she actually gave him two cookies when we were leaving.

Smooth, J. Very smooth.

No. Not that end.

J's favorite little Boppy Bear sprung a leak. Oh noes! (Boppy Bear was a birthday present, and J loves it. It's a little yellow inflatable bear. You can push it down, and it will spring back up. Hours of entertainment!)

Fortunately, Boppy Bear came with a repair kit. H grabbed the kit and prepared to fix Boppy Bear. The instructions said to remove the paper backing and press down firmly over the hole, then re-inflate in 20 minutes.

H cut a little piece off, and attempted to remove the paper backing. He finally got the paper backing separated from the patch, and tossed it aside. Then he held the piece down over the hole. He took his hand away. The piece slid off of the hole. He tried again. And again. And finally, he said "Well, how is this stupid thing supposed to work".

I wandered over to investigate. I picked up the piece. I turned it over. I grabbed the instruction sheet. I read them over. Then I looked at H and said "It's not working, because you are trying to repair the hole using the paper backing. The piece that you discarded is the patch".

J's Boppy Bear is patched now. Soon, I shall inflate him again. I hope he will hold air now. (Floppy Boppy is no fun at all.)

**********

J has a raging double-eye infection. We are using polysporin drops to try to clear it up. That and frequent baby shampoo washings of the eyes to keep them relatively gunk-free. The doctor thinks it's viral, so we just have to wait it out. But his eyes are really puffy and gunky, and he has big purple circles under them. He's feverish and generally unhappy. He's not eating, and isn't even drinking much at all.

My poor baby! I hope he feels better really soon.

**********

We bought J a Christmas gift tonight. It's really exceptionally cool. It's a ride-on motorized trike-type motorcycle, with rechargeable battery.

They had three of these in pink, but J got the last little boy's motorbike in the store. His is red and black, with flames painted on it. They're suitable for ages 3 to 7, according to the package, but J will be fine as long as he's supervised. That, and we probably just won't charge the battery until he's closer to the age group; until then, it will be more of a push-and-ride toy.

Anyway, this thing looks really cool. And it looks really expensive. But it wasn't. At all. We always look for sweet deals, and sometimes things work out. I really love sales and places that let you collect points toward purchases. YES!!

The Name Game

I have apparently graduated. I had no idea. And my educational institute didn't know either. But the bank knew. And obviously, they must be correct.

Now I have to figure out how to pay for my bleeping courses for fall, since the bank has unilaterally canceled my student line. Because I graduated, dontcha know. And only 6 years early, too. Whoop-it-di-doo.

And I type this while on hold, trying to get my account reactivated.

Stupid bank!

**********

H decided to play "the name game" with J tonight. J wanted his sucky (our name for the soother), and H went:

"Sucky, sucky, bo bucky, banana, fana, fo $#@&-y ... Well, I guess that doesn't work, does it?"

Havin' a Heatwave

Tonight, H was dancing around the kitchen with J.

Sometimes, H likes to sing to entertain J.

"Your mommy loves you
And you love her
Doo-dee-doo-dee-doo-dee-doo
Your kitties have fur"

I love my husband!

**********

We're havin' a heatwave. It's bad. I don't know if it's cooler outside or in just now, but it's bad either way. It's 1,867,897,675,952,311,245,809 degrees out. And I'm meeeelllting. Meeeeeeeeelllllllllting!!

I awoke today, warm but otherwise okay. But within a couple of hours, I developed a migraine. Mostly, I speculate, from dehydration. Why? Because it's 1,867,897,675,952,311,245,809 degrees out. And I'm losing moisture rapidly. I also have asthma. Asthma adores the heat, and it comes out to play quite regularly. Asthma medication causes headaches. As does lack of oxygen from the asthma attack.

My head was pounding away. It was terrible. And so we canceled plans with our friends for the evening. And we spent the day in search of air-conditioned environments. Every time we would go into an air-conditioned environment, my migraine would lessen. And when we'd leave, it would return. But I fail to see the correlation. Really.

We bought a new car a few years ago. It does not have air conditioning. Yes. We are that stupid. The fan usually works well. But not today. Today, it only blew hot air. The old car doesn't have a/c either. It's a very old car. And in fact, it only blows hot air at any point in time. The fan is broken.

Today, we went shopping. It was air conditioned!! It was heaven!!! "I am going to live in the Home Depot store!!!!" No such luck. We came home. J's usually cool milk had turned to a frothy steamed-milk beverage while we were driving in the car. It was frightening. We emptied the mug and washed it thoroughly. We hung out in the backyard. We baby-proofed more of the house. We put J in his little pool. He didn't stay in it for very long, but he was better today than he was yesterday.

Yesterday, we put him in the pool and he climbed out, ripped off his swim diaper, and tried to run around to the front of the house and streak down the street. I caught him about halfway to the front yard.

But today, he kept his swim trunks on, and he had some fun in the pool. He decided to dip his sippy cup in the water, but that's okay; it's clean water. And he had a good time. I waded in the baby pool. And it was wonderful! I think I may sleep there tonight.

H and I have always said that central air-conditioning is a luxury in our climate. We don't need it. We live in a cold climate. It only gets hot like this for a few days out of every year. The rest of the time, you pretty much keep the furnace on. But on days like these, I start to wonder. Is the central a/c worth it after all?

No. Of course it's not worth it. Not here. Not for a few days out of every year. Not when we have bills to pay, a basement to finish, a garage to build, a retaining wall to erect, and a car to replace. Not when we can't afford it. Not for us. No.

We have resolve. We are correct. Central a/c is not needed. We can cope. Yes, it's hot, but we will survive. We do not need central a/c. And more importantly, we cannot afford central a/c. So we will not get central a/c.

Alright then. I'm going to go pop a few more candied Tylenols now, and then I may vomit. It's fine. I'm sure the cost savings is totally worth it.

**********

'Night.

Things you never thought you'd hear yourself say

T: "Please don't hit Mommy with the car."

- and -

H: "It'd be just like Footloose, but with riding mowers."

H is going to the doctor

He doesn't have a GP, so he will be going to the Medicentre, the source of all evil. But my GP isn't taking any new patients, and the Medicentre is open late, so that is where he must go. He will go after work.

H has had this cold since before Christmas. He just keeps on passing it on to J and myself. Now J has this ear infection on top of it. I have asthma, so colds are not something that I can afford to catch repeatedly, and I can only fight it off for so long. He has to get over it, one way or another.

I'm tired of all the balled up kleenexes. I'm tired of listening to the hacking cough (with or without the subsequent vomiting). I'm tired of not getting enough studying in, because I am either sick or looking after J throughout the evenings when H is sick. I'm tired of having to take inhalable steroids to combat my asthma when I catch it. I'm tired of listening to J cough and splutter when it overtakes him.

And I am particularly tired of going to bed accompanied by the sickening stench of Vick's Vaporub. I can't get H to stop using it. I've asked. Begged. Pleaded. But I can't get H to stop using it. Tonight, I swear he took a bath in the stuff. My sleep is suffering because I can't go to bed until really late, as the smell is too strong early on. And H is a night owl, so that means I am up into the wee small hours of the morning, waiting for the smell to dissipate. J doesn't really let me catch up on missed sleep during the day. And H is too sick to look after J for very long in the evenings. (Tonight, I had to stop studying because H didn't wake up when J was crying, so I needed to go and tend to J.) I may be sleeping in a chair in the nursery tonight, just so it will be a tad bit more bearable. But you know, the smell has seeped into the entire house now, and the nursery is almost as bad. J threw up tonight, and I briefly thought it smelled of Vaporub. I'm not even sure I can get away from the pungent aroma in the basement any longer.

I dearly hope the Medicentre can help H. Else, I may begin to get testy.

I wish

I wish that we had a spare bedroom with a spare bed in it. H has been all congested for a couple of days, and he has bathed in Vicks tonight to try to help. While I sympathize with him and I wish he felt better, the smell is really intense, and it is driving me nuts. The bedroom reeks of Vicks.

But where else might I sleep?

Focus on education

H (talking to J): "B". "B" is for "Booger". "B".

Yes. Thank you, honey.

That must really hurt!

Poor little J!

He is finally asleep. He's been really fussy today. He's just a big pile of tears and drool. I think his teeth are really bugging him. I really hope those top teeth poke through soon, so he's a bit more comfortable. I hate it when my little baby is in pain. (And, as an aside, his screaming is also painful for the rest of the household.)

He won't eat much when his teeth hurt, and that is just untimely since his weight has dropped off and we're trying to get it back up. I'm supposed to be feeding him 6 times a day just now (solids and breast milk), but I could barely get him to eat 3 decent meals today. He doesn't even want the breast milk! His little nose is all runny, and he just cries and cries.

I can't check to see how close the teeth are to the surface; if I put my finger in his mouth, he bites. Hard. He's drawn blood, in fact. So all I can do is guess. From his temperament and drooling (et al), I think they are close. Oh, do I ever hope so.

Also: H is sick. He never quite got over that Christmas cold that we all had, and it has come back in full force. A violent choking cough accompanies this current bout. I hope he feels better soon. He may have to call in sick tomorrow. Poor H!

Where is the international date line anyway?

H: It's almost time for the Thursday night line-up.
Me: It's Wednesday.

I have concluded that...

...it is impossible to feel happy while suffering from a chest cold.

...I love my family, and I don't want to antagonize them.

...it is best to stay away from people when I feel miserable.

...sometimes, you are better off not answering the phone.

...I would like to take a trip, far, far away.

...tears may be futile, but sometimes they are unavoidable.

...my husband is more moody than am I when he is under the weather.