Diapers and Dragons

Thursday, April 23, 2009

I Here a Tale Unfold, Whose Lightest Word Would Harrow Up Thy Soul*

I'm feeling a little harrowed. Just a little, mind you, but there it is. I'm feeling a bit whiny as a result, and I have chosen to subject you to read said whine. Because there's only so much satisfaction one can glean from posting over on Secret Spineless Whine.

So here are some recent harrowing events:
  • DramaBoy tested positive for strep (again and still) on Monday and had to be put on a higher level antibiotic, as the blessed amoxicillin had apparently done an insufficient job of killing off this particular strain.
  • The Widget had explosions from both ends for a week due to gastroenteritis. He has recovered, although he now has farts so stinky we keep checking his diaper to see if he has filled it. Even he's confused.
  • ComputerDaddy apparently caught the same bug this week and has been prostrate since Monday evening. He has the added joy of fever and cramps on top of streaming forth at both ends.
  • Last night, in a feat of heroic mommyhood, I placed my cupped hands beneath DramaBoy's mouth (for lack of a handy receptacle needed rightnow) and caught the vomit that spewed forth at the onset of what may be his own battle with the Creeping Crud.
  • My throat is sore. If this turns out to be strep rather than allergies, I will be Very Put Out. I simply do not have the time to be sick, thank you very much (or the sick days, for that matter).
  • I have gotten very little sleep the last few days and keep practically falling asleep when I'm driving. I'm not exaggerating--I have the whole eyes fluttering shut, drifting into a weird almost-dreaming state, having to slap myself in the face sort of experience going on. It's bad enough when it's just me in the car: it's terrifying when the boys are in the back seat.
  • This morning as I exited the front office and headed down the hall towards my classroom, coffee clenched hopefully in my hand, I heard a commotion from the balcony overhead and saw a backpack come flying over the side, headed directly for me. If I had not stopped, it would have slammed me in the head. The perpetrator has been found by administration and, I assume, is being flogged and keelhauled. Also perhaps suspended.
  • I have very little time this afternoon between my chiropractor appointment (ah! massage therapy! the light in my day!) to grab the kids and take them back to the house in Detroit where I will deposit them with my brother, then head all the way back up to the marriage counselor. And there's construction (as usual in the Detroit area come a hint of warmer weather) on the way home. Is it evil to sort of hope that ComputerDaddy is sick enough to cancel tonight? Probably.
  • My students actually need to be taught today, because they're done reading their play. Dammit. So I must end now.
I should probably be trying to focus on Grace in Small Things, but all that comes into my head is a handful of warm, soupy vomit and a flying backpack.

Enjoy that meal you were thinking about eating.

--------------------------------------------------------
*Bonus points and maybe a little something special if you can identify the original quote and its source!

4 bits of love:

The Kampers said...

ohhh, so sorry about all the crude going around your family! Yuck! And on a happier note, Forrest really likes the ummm creator that is attacking your blog. Every time I would switch windows, he would tell me to go back to yours so he could look at it!

Beth said...

Poor, poor you!
You have the RIGHT to complain! The bare-handed vomit-catch ALONE earns you the right to several YEARS of whining.

Marinka said...

That sounds absolutely awful, you have every right to whine. It's hard when something like strep runs through the family. Hang in there. Get some sleep. (let me know if I can provide more useful advice).

mom said...

Hey, since I have the advantage of retrospect, seems like it was a good thing that ComputerDaddy actually felt too weak to have the counseling session! But PLEASE get some sleep, hon: I want to see you and those darling little boylets in a week! (And watch out for backpacks -- ugh, what a thought . . . your guardian angel deserves yet another thank you, maybe a medal.) Love you!

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