Archives for the month of: December, 2014

As I laid on my deathbed contemplating where I could find the most peace in my house to recover from this recent illness, I realized that none existed. I’d be more relaxed trying to dodge traffic on my bike in New York city while wearing a blindfold.

I’ve said before that my kids don’t let up. Their intensity hardly dips below 100% during their waking hours.  Their limbs (and vocal cords) are constantly in motion.

The kids have been sick since before Thanksgiving. Has that slowed them down? Nope. They’ve caught multiple versions of cold and flu. They hack up shades of yellow and green with little regard for where it lands. (We have a daughter that thinks every tangible object in the world is a potential food source.) It’s no big deal when they’re the only ones coughing and sneezing.  Since November, it’s been a daily contest of “Who’s produced the most nasal juice today?”, “Who’s coughed a phlegm ball the farthest?”, and everyone’s favorite “How many boogers can you wipe on someone else today?”. (Yes, my usage of punctuation makes logical sense.)

As fun as those games sound, they’re surprisingly not. The kids don’t wash their hands often enough and we adults don’t wear Hazmat suits in the home. I’m constantly wondering whether the wet spot on my face, hands or clothing is water or a bacterioviral mutation of a disease destined to have me spewing liquids from every orifice of my body. (Yes, that’s gross.)

I finally succumbed. With a 103.1 degree fever and chills that three layers of winter wear couldn’t quell, I could barely hold my own head up for the past few days, let alone my body. While I couldn’t see straight or stop shivering, Worm still HAD to climb on my neck and treat me as his human horse. He didn’t care that my brain cells were frying inside my head. My punishment for not carrying him? Asphyxiation by his oddly effective chokehold and a severing of our best friendship. My punishment for carrying him? Mushie’s NEED to hitch a ride, too!

Being sick is not what it used to be. It’s misery now. The days of being able to rest and recover are over. Now I know what other parents mean when they say “We’re in survival mode.”. I get it now. I’m John Rambo in First Blood. Maybe I should go sleep in the woods…

The Midnight Plot to Keep Honeydaddy Sick Forever

The Midnight Plot to Wake Honeydaddy Up and Surprise Attack Him with Germs

Gavin – 38; Honeydaddy – 22 (I’ve survived the onslaught of your microbial attacks, Worm! Thank you garlic and oranges!)

I started this blog as a way to chronicle my children’s lives in the early years. It was a tremendous undertaking considering that I had other things I’d rather be doing (like sleeping, eating, and exercising). But, I was determined to leave a trail of digital memories behind. It worked for two years or so, but the once abundant flood of monthly posts have all but dried up.

The excitement of writing about new adventures with the kids has become less than exciting. (Getting them out of the house to have said adventures is a monumental task in itself.) It’s a lot of work trying to force my children to enjoy themselves at the park, the zoo, Disneyland, etc. Then, I’m propping them up and jabbing them with a long stick so that I can capture at least one looking at the camera before they zoom off in opposite directions.

They’re also at a point in their lives where they feel like happiness comes from the simple things…that they’re NOT doing. So they cry a lot. In recent months, outings as short as a trip to the post office has the potential to leave everyone in tears. It wears me out mentally and emotionally. And I don’t get any good blog material out of the trip to the post office…unless I push the Smush down the mail chute and chronicle the event.

My stats show that I barely release two posts a month now. The hundreds of thousands of folks that months ago would sit in front of their computers anticipating the release of my next blog post are now lost in to Kim Kardashian’s buttocks. Now, the only one that stares at the computer drooling for every Me vs. Gavin blog is my dog. And I’m not quite sure if he’s drooling over my writing, the chocolate bar on my desk…or if he’s telepathically asking for a walk around the block.

Worm and Mushie are busy. No, it’s not like let’s run in circles for an hour. That’s too safe and calm. They run in circles to warm up, then:

  • climb up and down on the furniture
  • smother each other with couch pillows
  • see who can squeeze who between the front door and screen door
  • push each other in the doll stroller until someone falls out
  • play toy tug-of-war til someone has all the toys and the other is sobbing profusely
  • push each other down without a parent noticing and run away
  • go outside to the sandbox and come back inside to pour sand on the carpet
  • jump around in the bathtub screaming until someones ears start bleeding or until someone slips and falls
  • see how many sheets of toilet paper can come off the roll before mom or dad see
  • dig through the garbage bin for useful items (like a crunchy, candy wrapper) until I catch them

And that’s before breakfast. Then they do it again. It never gets old, either. For them. So, I play all-day damage control by chasing them from here to there and shooing them away from danger and demise. When I’m not saving their little lives, I’m swinging them on my various limbs like little primates in the jungle. My neck and arms ache by sundown and I get a killer workout from it. When they’re finally tucked in bed at 8:30pm, I’m not really interested in writing. I’m catching up with a missed meal or two, emailing my adoring FB friends business contacts, walking the dog, doing dishes, or falling asleep at my desk wondering what it was like when I had that precious little gem called time.

They consume so much of my day now. But, I’m determined to get back on the wagon and rejuvenate this blog! I’ve also got some reinforcements now….ha ha ha!

Kids! Hey! Wait a minute! Let's Talk About This Over Lollipops, OK?

Kids! Hey! Wait a minute! Let’s Talk About This Over Lollipops, OK?

Gavin – 38; Honeydaddy – 21 (Worm. If you and Mushie destroy my blog, then no one wins…I think.)

 

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