driving around in the car i heard the girl farting away in the back seat. the boy was laughing hysterically. each fart took him to a new level of belly laughs and made her fart more.
"do it again, K!"
"i can't!"
"why not?"
"because my bum is open."
don't even try to make sense of it.
i have it. the dreaded blue screen of death. i've gotten it before and made it disappear, but this time it's not budging.
i've tried norton goback.
i've tried safe mode.
i've tried safe mode with nuts and a side of crazy.
i've threatened to throw it out the window.
i've pressed F8 until it made a old style computer beeping noises and told me to bend over.
i even bent over and it still didn't give in.
i just told it to disable norton goback and i'm trying to start it with the xp installation disk. so far it has taken 15 minutes for norton goback to remove its own history from the c drive and it's only 20% of the way done.
why am i telling you this?
because i'm going to have a full-on nervous breakdown if i lose what's on my laptop, and writing about it allows me a tiny window of denial.
all of my quickbooks files, all of my desktop publishing, all the photos i've taken in the last month or so (thank god i used the backup service to back up the last three years' worth of family photos!), oh god, all of the files from the school.
what's that, you say? i should have backed things up?
of course, you would be right!
so let that be a lesson to you!
(ya big whiner.)
somebody shoot me. please?
***update***
my system is up and running again. i'm about to start a mad backup so if it goes again my data will be safe.....
oh, and the baby? she's good too. turns out she had the flu. the flu flu. the real deal. i took her in yesterday and that's what they said. they also said i was right to wait and right again to take her yesterday since it was her fifth day of fever *and* no one else in the house is sick. that part of it still makes me nervous, but i'm trying to stay on the sane side of that at the moment.
i was going to write something clever about hillary today but my energy for that has fizzled throughout the day because the girl has been hit with some kind of flu. i think. i mean, she's only puked once (and it was a doozy--all over me, herself, and in my hair. in my hair, people! like this: "mommy, i love youuuuuuu....bwarrrrrf."). she's been like a baby koala, just hanging on me. she won't lie on the couch or in bed or on the floor or anywhere but on me. and the fever has been off the hook.
105.3 last night.
swear. to. god.
so i gave her some tylenol and called the peds. who were, of course, not there, because it was sunday. so i got their answering service and was then referred to the nurse on call. betty. betty with a raspy, i've-smoked-for-the-last-thirty-years voice. and betty commenced with the questions:
105.3?
yes.
rectal?
yes.
any other symptoms?
she's had a clear runny nose for a week.
is she eating?
she had part of a muffin.
no throwing up?
nope.
really?
really.
wow.
wet diapers?
i just changed one.
really?
really.
wow.
drinking?
yes, juice.
really?
really.
wow.
what kind of juice?
um....pomegranate?
at which point betty busted out laughing and rasped, "that little girl is one tough cookie!"
then she asked if i could get her to drink water and i said yes and she busted out laughing again, rasping her disbelief that a child so obviously sick would not only consent to my crazy pomegranate juice, but would drink plain old water, too. i was instructed to give the girl a tepid bath, change her into lighter jamamas, and get her to drink.
the tepid bath nearly killed us both.
she *is* one tough cookie, my little girl. last night she was up about every hour screaming that she didn't want any more--i'm guessing it was a tepid bath nightmare.
she went to bed tonight with a fever of 104.7 and a dose of motrin. no tepid bath, because our regular nurse, Ann, confirmed that tepid baths are no longer the way to go. they can actually cause a fever spike. i love Ann. she was there when the girl had an ear infection at 3 weeks old and we had to drive through a blizzard to get her to the peds' office. we'll be checking in with Ann in the morning.
so the hubs took the kids to walmart to pick up some diapers and a new body ball for me because i just realized the one i have is for shorter people, and while they were gone i started getting dinner ready. we're going to the hubs' company party tonight, which is loathsome, but my friends N and B volunteered to come HERE to babysit. they're married and have a boy, T, who is my boy's age and are apparently gluttons for punishment or something. but i love them and this is a shining example of why. i mean, who does that?
anyway, where was i?
oh, yeah, walmart...dinner...so there i am, standing at the sink peeling potatoes, listening to the chickens searing in the hot roasting pan on top of the stove, and my mind starts to do that crazy mommy wandering thing and before i know it, in my head, i've killed off me and the hubs (no idea how, it happened, it just did) and i'm standing there bawling because all i can think about is the look on my boy's face when they tell him we're de*d. (i'm too superstitious even to type the word.) i start thinking of the questions he'd be asking and who'd be taking care of my babies and i'm suddenly a wreck. i put the chickens in the oven, close the door, throw down the dish towels i used to hold the hot handles on the pan, and go back to my peeling, snuffling, and wild imagining.
from behind me comes a sound.
*poof*
it wasn't loud--in fact, it was very subdued. and it was familiar. so familiar that my brain knew what it was before my body did. my brain was thinking. "hmm. fire. but how? grease on the stove? nah." and then my body turned around and my brain said, "ahhhh. dish towel."
yes, friends, in my insane reverie i had thrown the dish towel on the burner, which was still glowing red because i was distracted by my own lunacy and had never turned it off. *poof*. had i been 12 inches nearer the stove i might have gone on fire myself.
colleen, who i adore (and love a smidgen more every time she puts up a post) is on a mission to get me back up to speed with this blog thing. and so, she has tagged me to tell all three of you six weird things about myself.
this is not such an easy task at this stage of my life because i am less weird now than i've ever been. still, there are some weirdnesses that persist.
1. let's just jump in with a good one, shall we? my eyes are normally very dark hazel, which means they're brown with flecks of less brown. but, after i've done something extremely pleasurable (like, let's say, sex?), they turn dark green.
2. i often conduct out-loud "arguments" with people who have pissed me off, but who are not in the room with me. yes. that's right. i yell to myself a lot.
3. i have a lot of prophetic dreams. the hubs didn't believe it at first, but recently he asked me to stop telling him about my dreams because too much was turning out to be true and it was freaking him out.
4. i never go back and read the books i've written. my expectation is that once it's in print the book will be perfect. the fact is it never is. there are always typos, mislabeled photos, juxtaposed paragraphs, or something that's just plain wrong. i don't read my reviews either.
5. i once worked as a veterinary assistant. the knowledge i acquired there allows me to: identify heartworm under a microscope, drain a dog's anal glands, clip animal toenails, and collect a fecal sample. weird *and* gross! double the pleasure!
6. when i am thinking or am working hard at something i search my scalp for thick, wiry pieces of hair and pull them out. after a particularly long, hard work session i look like a crazy person because my hair is messed up and sticking out in all directions.
so that's it! i'll just tag my friend dizzy because i'm afraid she's disappeared forever (or just isn't getting my emails!) and JRM because i owe her one ;)
i'm having one of those days. come to think of it, i'm always having one of those days. you know what i'm talking about--a day during which there is much arguing with short people who, for some reason, i have deluded myself into believing have some sense of logic.
example #1: driving home from this morning's field trip i had three children in my car. two were mine, one was not. (i'm a math whiz. can't you see that?!) because we had to be at the art center *at* noon i made the decision to let the kids eat in the car on the way back. against my own suggestion to the parents that they not pack yogurt in their children's lunches, i packed some for the boy. most of the time the boy will drink two drinkable yogurts without batting an eye. today, for some reason, he only drank half of the one i packed. and come on, let's all be frank here, the reason was simply that we were in the car and i had a desire not to have yogurt spilled everywhere. so, after he drank half he said, "mom, what should i do with this?" and held up the half full yogurt container.
"does it have yogurt in it?" i asked.
"yes." he replied.
"well, then you'll have to hold onto it until we get back to school."
no answer.
...five minutes later...
"mom, my yogurt spilled."
"you were supposed to be holding it. why weren't you holding it?!"
"i don't know."
"obviously, if you put an open yogurt container down in the car while i'm driving, it's going to spill, so why did you do that?"
"i don't know."
pointless arguing because how do you even come back at "i don't know." you can't. try it sometime. when someone is yelling at you about something just say, "i don't know." and see where they go from there. nowhere, that's where they'll go. the best you'll get is some under the breath mutterings. trust me. i know.
example #2: as i was putting the girl into her car seat (which, in and of itself is a huuuuuuuuuuuge transgression. no one *puts* the girl anywhere. she does it she-self!) she picked her nose and hit serious pay dirt. a booger the size of my head came out. i reached for it (because that's how brave mothers are. we reach out and grab boogers the size of our heads *without*a*tissue* and dispose of them properly) and she SCREAMED:
"NO! NO! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! I want to eat my boogerrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!"
and i mean SCREAMED. the entire parking lot turned and looked at me and my pig-headed, booger-eating kid.
"why do you want to eat your booger? that's gross. yucky, yuck. plllllllllllbt. yuck. no, no, no."
"I WANT TO EAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT MYYYYYYYYYY BOOOOOOOOOOOO-GGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEERRRRRRRRRRRR!
waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!"
and there i was, reduced once again, to under my breath mutterings--"fine. whatever. eat your fricken booger. make a booger salad. have an ice cream sundae with a booger on top. what do i care? it's *your* life. fer chrissakes."
i just want to get it out there that i'm a 24 FANATIC. i watched the first five seasons in less than two months and am in heaven now that season 6 has started.
i should note as well, since today is the season premiere of american idol, that i picked the winner for last season (taylor hicks) in the very first round of auditions. it's a sickness, really.
i think everyone also needs to know that the one thing i covet right now is the tempur-pedic sleep system. any one of them. when the commercial comes on tv i stop everything just so i can watch the guy jump up and down next to a glass of red wine. it's gotten so bad that the hubs has actually said, "one day, i'm going to get you that mattress." he said it with conviction. as if he's on some kind of mattress mission. and this is remarkable because he has never, ever been on a quest to buy me anything (except the outfit he got me the christmas we were engaged--another story, remind me later) AND he's known for his miserly ways. a $2,000 mattress might have actually caused him to stroke out a few years ago.
i've been home since 11:15am. left school early to straighten up because i had a friend coming around noon and i have to say, i miss being at home toodling around working on my own schedule. crazybizpartner (from now on she'll just be CBP) better watch it--i might just start working from home permanently. bizitch.
and that, right there, folks, was a bit of bloggy navel gazing for your enquiring mind(less) pleasure. or not.
she hurled that at me in a way that implied insult. alas, she was foiled again! it's no insult, as far as i'm concerned. yes. it's true. string me up and beat me with thorny sticks. i do think i can do anything if i have the time and resources to study whatever that thing may be. i'm really not sure why it would be thrown as an insult. should i not have confidence in my abilities? should i assume everyone in the world is smarter than i am? more capable?
perhaps she thinks my self-confidence means *i* believe everyone around me is less smart, less capable, less confident. fyi to her: believing in myself doesn't ipso facto mean that i don't believe in anyone else. it seems she is the one who is in a pitiful place.
my confidence is hard won. i was the shyest kid in school. i never spoke one word in class all the way through college. it took every ounce of strength i had to brave living in manhattan and working at one of the *big* publishing companies. my first day at that job was like Andi's first day in The Devil Wears Prada. i cried my eyes out when i landed in new orleans to write my first travel guide even though i knew the city like the back of my hand. i survived mono in Amsterdam. it was all i could do to keep from throwing up my first day of culinary school when i realized that i had no idea what the hell i was doing there. i didn't know a speed rack from a sautoir, and veloute? something fat french people wear? ganache? call me stupid. how about quenelles? are they birds? the bag of books and case of knives i carried back to my car that day nearly felled me. oh, and then there was the working in restaurants, the only woman in a herd of obnoxious men. i was shorter, smaller, less ugly, less experienced, and by default, it was open season on me. making and flipping single serving omelets for the first time ever in front of 100 people? yeah, believe it or not, that's scary. and i survived all of it. not only that, i thrived. i came to love the challenge of something new. a chocolate business? no problem! write a few books? sure! open a school? why the hell not!
was any of this stuff really that hard? rocket science? brain surgery? life or death? no. not that i remember anyway. but everything i did opened me in a new way to new things and places and people and different parts of myself that i didn't even know were there. i gained confidence every step of the way. and i did it the old fashioned way--i earned it. and i celebrate just a little every time my baby girl screams, "NO! Me do it meself!!" because maybe, just maybe, her life will be fuller than mine because she's starting out from a much better place.
so to the woman who inspired this post, i say, stick it!
so, have i mentioned that the boy loves science? or that "mythbusters" is his all-time favorite show? running a close second is "how it's made," and coming in third is "dirty jobs." naturally.
this obsession with the discovery channel started a few months ago. our DVR still records thomas the tank engine every day--sometimes several times a day--but those shows are now going unwatched. what gets the boy out of bed every morning is mythbusters. last night's long-awaited episode got him out of bed earlier than santa claus ever has.
i'm left wondering if it's okay that my six year old delights in watching scale replicas of the hindenburg go up in flames over and over and over again.
nonetheless! i am grateful to adam and jamie for quelling the cries of a child who had decided he was "never, ever, ever going to college and why, oh why, do nana and papa keep sending me money for college?! i don't want to goooooooooooooooooooooo." because we told him that there's a college nearby where they do experiments just like on mythbusters and he could go there if he does really well in school. you know the one.
i figure--might as well shoot for the stars, right?
the day after we told him about the mythical M.I.T. he said, "you know that college i'm going to go to?"
"yes," said i [and in my head i'm yelling, WOOOOOOOOO HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO start 'em early! parenting! it's easy!]
"when can i go? when i'm 12?"
omg, really?
anyway, the whole reason i got on here was to tell you about Steve Spangler Science and how completely over the top cool they are for sending a bonus item in the box of Energy Beads we ordered.
the boy is going to flip his wig when he gets home. they sent a mentos geyser experiment. in his very own back yard the boy will get to do this. (or at least a small-scale version of that.)
really, what more could a six-year old boy ask for?
well, here i am again--back in the light, up from the underground. i moved a couple of posts and censored a few things, but really, most of what i'd written wasn't censor-needy in the first place, so i realized that i might as well just come back up for air. and, ahem, i think i lost all my readership in the process.
that's a-ok, though, because now i'll be back on the bloggy bandwagon, commenting hither and yon, and getting back my linky love. i'm a blog whore. it's officially official.
and i'm lazy.
i was just sitting here thinking what i really want is a remote control for the oven. you believe that? i'm too lazy to stand up and walk about 20 steps and turn on the oven.
i dunno. something happens when the girl's been asleep for an hour. my whole body begins to shut down. the brain turns to mush. i start yawning. my eyelids get heavy. i can't focus on anything, and all i want to do is sit somewhere. alone. in the silence.
and now i've just had a panic attack because i realized that when i put the girl to bed i brought down a boatload of laundry and i haven't even gone down into the hellhole i call my basement to sort it.
so that's where i'm going right now. if i don't come back in a few days it's time to send out a search party.
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