If my phlegm doesn’t kill me, my spotty reception will.

 

When I am on the phone, the last thing I want to do is have someone on the other end hear me pee in the bathroom.  However, because I had been transferred and on hold for fifteen minutes – I had to chance it.  Apparently, self-diagnosed bronchitis makes you cough up a lung and almost drown in your own phlegm.  That’s why I refused to hang up and call back after peeing.  I was serious about getting an appointment with my doctor.

I also knew on some level that the best way to not be on hold anymore was to do something that would make it inconvenient to have an actual conversation with someone.  I was sure that the minute I started peeing, someone would finally pick up on the other line.

I was right.

Of course I did not flush.  I wouldn’t want to solidify the nurse’s suspicion of what I may have been doing.

My toddler began screaming to be set free from his highchair, and I obliged while confirming with the nurse that I did not feel faint or have any pain in my chest.

She missed half of what I was saying and I spent the next two minutes walking around the house saying, “Can you hear me now?  Can you hear me?”

When I finally found a pocket of good reception, I was trapped.  If I wanted to keep this call going and eventually get my ass in to see my doctor, I could not move from the 3 foot by 3 foot square in front of my bedroom window.

My toddler sensed this…

naturally he bolted to the other side of the house.

I began to follow, but  almost immediately the woman on the other end started  saying, “I can’t hear you again. Please try again…”

So I shouted, “NO! I’m here! Can you hear me now?”

And I stayed in my pocket…

and I answered a series of questions…

and I was told there were no appointments today or tomorrow.

As she was telling me about going to Urgent Care if needed, I heard splahing.

I hung up…

and I ran…

to find my toddler throwing toilet water in the air…

from the toilet I didn’t flush.

So that’s all I have to tell you today.

There will be no thought provoking blog post…

just me drowning in my own phlegm,

with no doctor’s appointment,

and a kid who just played in my pee.

 

jenni chiu sig

Did my birthday happen?

 

Monday was my birthday and I’m not sure if it even happened.

We just moved into our new home several days ago, both of my boys got sick, ended up at the ER with ear infections, and after four nights of the baby not sleeping, I’m not sure I can count anymore – so who gives a crap how old I am.

My birthday was spent holding a crying baby for hours on end while entertaining a sick but very awake four year old.  My husband was good enough to pick up sushi on the way home so I didn’t have to cook, but my mother didn’t call because of her work schedule combined with our time difference, and my father didn’t call because he probably didn’t even know what day it was.

There was no cake.

Birthdays are weird after you have kids and get older.  Responsibilities take no pause.  There are no party hats and cute invitations sent out to all your friends.  There are less and less milestones… sweet sixteen, voting age, drinking age, old enough to rent a car.

This is how people start to forget how old they are.

So for my birthday, I ask that you please read this post from a year ago.  Then, by doing some simple math you can figure out how old I am and fill me in…

But first I’m going to take a nap.

 

 

 

That’s a lie.

I’m just going to wish I could take a nap.

 

Take it, snot rag.

 

I’m going to start mainlining some immune system boosters because I don’t have time to be as sick as I am.  Hot Nerd is out of town on business for the next three days, my preschooler is making summer vacation his bitch, and our baby boy is recovering from the grossest, stinkiest, stomach bug ever.

I am a freaking super  hero right now.

I’m also so sick I want to cry for my mommy.

Here’s some spontaneous poetry that came out of my head once:

Brain compressed.

Mouth dry from hanging wide.

Stabbing behind the left eye.

Take it, snot rag…

take it.

When you multiply-

one on my nightstand,

two on my coffee table,

five on my counter,

I’ll try not to yell.

Just take it, snot rag…

take it.

If you find ways into my pocket,

and into my wash,

and leave pieces of you,

on everything I own,

I swear to look the other way.

Just take it, snot rag…

take it.

Take all that I have,

at 50 miles an hour.

It’s love/hate…

 

plus

aloe.

 

Ode To A Snot Rag.

Brain compressed.

Mouth dry from hanging wide.

Stabbing behind the left eye.

Take it, snot rag…

take it.

When you multiply-

one on my nightstand,

two on my coffee table,

five on my counter,

I’ll try not to yell.

Just take it, snot rag…

take it.

If you find ways into my pocket,

and into my wash,

and leave pieces of you,

on everything I own,

I swear to look the other way.

Just take it, snot rag…

take it.

Take all that I have,

at 50 miles an hour.

It’s love/hate…

plus

aloe.

*****     *****     *****     *****     *****

If your kid gets my kid sick, I’ll kick your butt.

P6190132Toddlers are snotty. They can’t blow their noses, and they like to smear their boogers all over their faces. Parents- curb your kids’ snot as much as possible. And if your little one is sick- KEEP THEM AT HOME. Or at least away from places where tons of kids gather- come on, people!

I took my one year old to story time at a local book store the other day. We had our little snack cup filled with cheerios and my son was watching the story teller in awe.

Another little boy, I’d say about two years old, comes over and sticks his hands into our cheerios.  Now, every toddler loves cheerios and normally it wouldn’t have been a big deal, as I’m sure the mother would’ve been right behind him apologizing and busting out her own snack cup of cheerios. However, on this particular occasion, the child had just sneezed and had green snot coming out of his nose. He then smeared it with the back of his hand before sticking it into our germ free snack cup.

I looked over at his mom and saw her sitting there, across the room, smiling and shaking her head as if to say, “That little cutie of mine, look at him being so nice and sharing his mucous with that poor snot-less child”.

So I took the little creature’s hand out of my sons’ snack, looked over at his mom and said, ” No thank you. No thank you. No thank you.”  I didn’t know what else to say. I wanted to be polite, but the momma tiger in me was starting to growl.

Snotty kids’ mom came over and got him, without so much as a cursory glance at me, and they settled themselves across the room.

And nope, she did not wipe his nose.

Now, today, my son has a cough and a very runny nose. I am, of course, upset because he has managed to remain healthy for the entire first year of his life. There is no way to know if he caught something from the story time incident, but I feel like being mad at someone.

So, snotty kids’ mom – I’m coming for you. I would like to find out where you live. I would like to go and get myself strep throat, and then come to your house and lick your silverware.

And let this be a gentle reminder to parents out there. If your toddler is sick, keep them at home. Don’t go toting them around God’s green earth and force them to play with other kids. Because if your kid gets my kid sick, I’ll kick your butt.

- seriously