Barfing Blows

I suffered some terrible retribution these past two days, most likely a direct result of my hating humanity. I haven't barfed in years and had forgotten how unpleasant it is. Dyl woke up crying a couple of days ago, and when we went racing upstairs, found him covered in spew. Partially digested Hawaiian Pizza, to be more precise. The kid has a real history with that particular pizza, which has kept him from it for the better part of the last 5 years. I thought nothing of the episode, until it happened on the hour, every hour for the rest of the night.

Dyl is an easy sick kid. He pukes in a bucket, or the toilet and lays on the couch. No drama, no mess, just big sunken eyes and 24 hours of Sprite and cartoons.

I thought it was an isolated incident related to the pizza, until Dawson called to us early Wednesday morning. I shot out of bed with Dave, and together we raced up the stairs. Before I could get to Daws, though I had to make a beeline for Em's bathroom. Long, disgusting, story short; Daws and I both came down with the bug.

I am never sick. When I am, it is total drama. With both Dawson and I laying on the couch moaning, and writhing with abdominal discomfort, I started to think of all the things God could be punishing me for.

Being sick is not fun. Being a sick mother with 2 healthy kids and one puker is way worse. I would just barely get Dawson settled from his latest spew, and be hunkered over the john myself, with Emma sitting on the floor watching me and Dyl leaned up against the door, asking me if I would puh-lease get him some breakfast. "Um, just a second, son" I would manage to get out, while spitting the last chunks of taco salad from the night before.

I managed breakfast, and to get Dyl on the bus and Em down for a nap, before I totally lost all motor function and retired to my bed with Dawson. Daws is a bad one to be sick with. He is equally, if not more dramatic than myself and his whimpers are excruciating. While we were lying there, me offering all the remedies I could conjure, and him declining everything, he suggested we say a prayer. I offered one up, though I was only half convinced I hadn't brought this on myself, due to my lack of compassion at work, as of late. Daws, felt better though and while we wasted away there he kept saying that Heavenly Father would help us.

The final straw in the drama, came after a particularly hard bile barf of Dawson's. He collapsed on the bed, and with the back of his hand on his forehead, he exclaimed, "I just want my old life back." I couldn't help but laugh, and then he started laughing. He is so my kid.

It is now Thursday night. We are both feeling a little better, no vomiting, just flu hangover type stuff, and a very strong resolve to be more compassionate.

Numbers At A Glance

Two Boys.

Seven Lost Teeth.

First tooth lost naturally, without the help of a basketball, foot, or other trauma.

Way to go Dyl!

Sledding Is Good Medicine

Some days I hate my job.

Those days make me hate people.

Nothing better than having a successful code, and the life you just saved, starts bragging about being a Nazi enthusiast and Aryan Nation bull crap. Makes me proud to have blond hair, blue eyes, and awesome chest compression skills.

I also love to be taken advantage of by addicts. My favorite of the week, was the woman in full hysterics about her terrible abdominal pain. Despite all my internal bells and whistles blowing, I immediately drugged her and gave her the benefit of the doubt. She disappeared 10 minutes later after disconnecting herself from the monitor. When I found her gone, I got super T.O'd, thinking she was out smoking. If your pain is that bad, you shouldn't have the energy to go outside and smoke, nor if given IV narcotics, should you be unmonitored. She reappeared about 20 minutes later with her boyfriend pushing her in a wheel chair, fresh from a smoke break, and a quick jaunt to the cafeteria for the biggest breakfast burrito I have ever seen.

That is probably the best cure for abdominal pain that I know.

I'm not sure why the bull is getting to me today. It is no different than every other shift I have worked. Maybe it was the hairy two hour and 15 minute commute through wicked blinding snow. I love risking my life to help idiots.

Anyways.

When I got home tonight, the weather was warm.......like 30 degrees as opposed to the negative numbers we have been seeing, and although I was tired and hateful towards humanity, the kids talked me into going out into the back yard for a little sledding.

Talk about good medicine.

We scrambled to find snow clothes to fit everybody. The Boyz, passed around what fit and what didn't, and I found the snow pants Daveskins gave me for one of our first Christmas's together. I laughed and said, if they fit, I will join you for some ice cream this evening.

As you can see, they fit. I just couldn't feel anything from my thighs down.

We spent a couple of hours just playing and laughing with each other. I was very calming to be playing safely in my own back yard with my sweet little Hoodlums. It made me feel a little bad for all the wack jobs that don't have anything better to do, or the people to do it with; that make the hospital their home.

I guess I just need to reboot and be grateful that I have such awesome friends and family, and try to be a little less of a be-otch, and maybe act like I am grateful for all that I have.

It's hard sometimes not to feel more like Clark Griswold, "kiss my ass, kiss his ass, kiss your own ass, Happy Hanukkah." And less like Tiny Tim.

But they help bring back the Tiny Tim resolve.

And I am cured.

Friday, December 11, 2009

It was Dyl

I knew it.

Dyl threw up all night and then all morning. Being the awesome Mutha that I am, I rubbed his back and gave him Sprite and then when he looked the most pathetic, asked him if he ate all the advent calender candy.

Yes. He did.

No surprise to me.

When I inquired as to why he would eat some out of his own calender, he said, he didn't realize it was his, until to late. He's still coming into his craf-ti-ness.

So thanks to those who supported me during the false accusations, and a big fat "suck it" to those who didn't believe. Namely, Dave, my own Mother, and Katie.

Tuesday, December 8, 2009

You know what sucks? One time, you eat an entire plate of Valentine's cookies left on your doorstep, lie about eating them, and then hide the evidence, which your husband inevitably finds. Then for the rest of your life, anytime sweets go missing, the obvious choice is you. It doesn't matter that you might not have had dinner that particular evening, or that you were emotionally fragile at the very time, someone decided to ditch a plate of frosted cookies on your stoop. Nope. The only thing SOME PEOPLE remember, is that you ate every last one, even though sugar cookies are their favorite. What-ev.

Tonight, we enjoyed a lovely, albeit unoriginal ward Christmas Party. Any Mo would know what I am talking about, and although it is the same every year, one can never have too many traditions. After a dinner of ham, funeral potatoes, salad and roll, we released the Hoodlums to stand in line for a chat with Santa. Dawson wants nunchucks and Wii games, Dyl froze, and Em wants princess stuff and spark-ly shirts. Easy Peasy.

The real problem came when we made it home and the Hoodlums wanted to eat the chocolate out of their advent calenders. We didn't remember the calenders until yesterday, so they got to eat 3 pieces, and Dave promised them we could catch up tonight. However, as they scurried up to the table, we started to hear murmurings about "somebody ate a bunch of my chocolates."

Upon further inspection, someone had indeed eaten several pieces out of all three advent calenders. The Boys swore it wasn't them, and that is when David turned on me. He kind of shook his head, like, really? I swore it wasn't me, but David countered that I was the only one home all day, and that the kids were not strong enough to break the seals, and yadda, yadda. I could have killed him, but looking at the kids hurt faces and him looking at me like I was a pathetic pile, I just started laughing. It seemed ridiculous, since that chocolate is so disgusting and cheap, but I felt totally cornered, and my laughing only increased their suspicion.

Dave felt the need to further humiliate me, by placing the following sign on the calenders, as a way to deter future chocolate burglars, all the while continuing to passively accuse me. "For hell's sakes, Linsey, they are only 7, 5, and 2. Merry Christmas to them."

For the record, I did not eat the damn candy. As long as we are placing blame, I am going to go ahead and put my money on Dyl. He is crafty, and cunning, and as we were tucking him in tonight, he said, "I might have sneaked an extra one this morning....I can't really remember." Uh huh.

Dave doesn't put any stock in that though, because he says Dylan is smart enough to not eat extra out of his own calender. I am pretty sure Dyl is smart enough to eat a few pieces from his own, in order to deflect suspicion, after all he is my kid.

Dawson and Dylan discover an unattended bucket of ice cream.

Meanwhile, Back At The Ranch..

The Hoodlums could not have been more excited to see us go for the weekend. They absolutely love their Shannah Hannah, and she loves them. They know that all rules go out the window when my sister comes to stay. I always think it's funny when she starts texting me the day before we are due home about "being exhausted," and "I don't know how you do it." Basically, although I know she rolls her eyes about some of my rules, the kids don't drink Dr.Pepper non-stop and do lines of Pixie Stix for a reason, when I am home.

I am glad they get to do it with Hannah, they need a break sometimes too. They were so excited to have her here, that they made a list, so as not to forget anything.

1-Go swimming.

2- Have movie night- Dinosaur.

3-Buy tattoos every day.

4-Eat a pile of candy every day.

5-Play Wii- so much.

6-Make cookies.

7-Eat pizza.

8-Go to the Diner.

9-Eat brownies.

10-Make popcorn.

Thanks to Hannah, they were able to check everything off their list. They had a great time with her, and by about Wednesday, they might come off their sugar high. Thanks Sis!

Sunday, December 6, 2009

Eleven Freaking Years, or Eleven Years of Freaking, Same Diff.

You know that fleeting moment, where you are sitting in front of the computer, watching William Shatner dance around, just knowing that any second the Marriott Hotel is totally going to accept your ridiculous offer of $35 a night. And while you enjoy their luxurious linens and room service, at a fraction of the price, you are laughing at all the idiots who paid full price for their rooms.

I just love that shiver of anticipation over the sweet, sweet deal that I know is going down, and as I bounce in my chair, thinking "Holy Shizzle, I am going to get an incredible room, for a ridiculous price,' I only get more excited as the little Priceline marquee keeps exclaiming that I am only minutes away from my hot reservation.

Then, up pops, Congratulations! The Provo Travelodge Motel has accepted your offer! That's when living on the edge, turns into, Oh shit. We are spending our 11th anniversary weekend at the Travelodge Motel.

Prior to booking our reservation, I called Daveskins to see if he just wanted me to book a nice room, or if he thought I should Priceline it, since it was our anniversary, and all. He could probably hear me bouncing in my seat, and said, "Whatever you want."

Good.

'Whatever I want', gets me into trouble sometimes, but I love just about any kind of a thrill, even if it means throwing my weekend accommodations to the wind. It's a good thing I married such an even tempered man, because when I sheepishly called Dave back to let him know we would be staying at a nasty motel for anniversary, he only said, "Oooohhh. It sounds nice."

I should have just shut my laptop right then and there, but curiosity got the better of me, and I started reading the traveler reviews for the place. The very first review was titled "Hooker Upstairs". It went on to complain about not getting any sleep because of a prostitute, (who they met over the continental breakfast the next morning) having about 5 or 6 different clients, and the walls were paper thin. The next several reviews mentioned stuff about hair, and carpet and smells. I called Dave in a panic, although truth be told, they had me at continental breakfast.

I am sure it was irritating to receive a call every 5 minutes from me, updating Dave on the latest review of our scurvy hotel, but he was pleasant and I didn't even hear him roll his eyes, when I told him I had devised a plan to get us out of it.

My plan didn't work and I just sounded like an idiot when I called to cancel the reservation because of my "Grandmother having a stroke", and then, when I couldn't get my money back from Priceline, calling the motel back and telling them it looked like she was going to pull through, and we would love to stay at their fine establishment if my booking had not already been taken. Whew!

I thought I had really pulled a fast one, until I heard a small voice behind me say, "What's a stroke, and why did Grandma have one?" Ah, Dawson. I quickly discarded the notion of telling him the truth; Well, Son, your Liar Mother got herself into a pickle and was trying not to bring home lice, or hepatitis from my Anniversary weekend. Instead, I went the half truth route, by explaining how sometimes when Gram just stares straight ahead, and doesn't acknowledge that he is talking to her, that is a stroke. It's most likely that she doesn't hear him, but who am I to say that it isn't actually a mini-stroke. They're really hard to prove.

We usually go to Salt Lake the first weekend in December for an Anniversary-slash-Christmas shopping trip, but had to go the Provo route since I dropped the tranny in my Tahoe last week and that is where it was getting fixed. The whole way down the canyon, I had a sick feeling in my stomach about our motel. Dave just made jokes, and tried to get me to relax, but I had all sorts of scenarios conjured up in my mind. We made a pack, that if I smelled one thing awry, or if anything flew into the air when I did a sheet fluff, that we would head straight for a reputable hotel.

All that worry was for nothing. When we nudged open the door to room 106, I took a big whiff, and nothing but fresh, clean smell. Yay! I am not talking about the 'we just used a bucket of bleach to clean up the crime scene' type smell, just clean goodness. Same went for the linen check. It was an older motel, but served our purposes just fine, AND I am sure we payed much less than our neighbors. Another successful Priceline bargain.

We had an awesome weekend, and laughed until we were sick. Dave needed some new pants, and since we were close to the mall, we wandered around until he found some he liked. He went into the dressing room to try them on, and after what seemed like forever, I caught his eye over the doors, and he motioned for me to come. When he opened the door for me to see, I nearly peed my pants. There stood my incredibly hot husband in the most ridiculous pair of skinny jeans I have ever seen. I teared up, laughing at the denim sucked tight around his low riding hips and thighs, the perfectly tapered legs, and his enormous size 13s poking out the cuffs. He just stood there, looking in the mirror, and at his spectacle of a wife, and forlornly inquired if we might be, in fact, too old to follow the trends. A resounding YES! Lucky for us, Tuffskins never go out of style.

We were able to catch a few movies, nothing great, and we both fell asleep during the 9:40 showing of The Invention of Lying. I think that was a first for both of us, and yet another indication of our aging. We ate at all our favorite haunts, Ruby River, Tucanos, basically anything with red meat involved, and mostly finished all our Christmas shopping. It was an awesome weekend.

The very best part of the weekend came on Friday morning. I have been making Dave a surprise little slide show of our last 13 years together. I put it to music and cried every time I worked on it. Friday, we did a session at the Provo Temple and when we came out, we climbed in the back seat of Dave's truck to watch the DVD. We laughed, and cried, and reminisced about all the things we have been through together. It was incredible. I love him more than I ever thought possible.

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