All posts for the month November, 2014

Gone Mom

Published November 18, 2014 by sarcasmica

I’m dying, I’m dying, I’m dead.


Gone and done.

Wait…. That means I’ve left the children alone to their father. He’d have to prepare food daily and figure out their meds -a mighty task at the moment – and know who to call for prescription refills?

Scratch that. I’m back.

Seriously, the illness around here has reached biblical proportions. My poor sweet 4 yr old daughter went from a ‘she’ll grow out of it’ croupy cough to an eye infection back to croup then to an ear infection and a return eye infection. This culminated in her grand finale tonight of puking from my lap into the bathroom leaving a trail of clear chunks for me to find her.

Thoughtful one, eh?

Simultaneously, I’m nursing a wheeze, and congested cough & head cold. My son is developing quite the chest rattle, and my husband is staring down the barrel of a second round of antibiotics for his bronchitis.

I feel as though my neck may explode from the glands on the outside hurting and the burning on the inside while my sinuses are cementing in my face with every sniff and snort.

I have not had any rest or downtime. My sanity is about to snap, and you know who it’s snapping on?

The husband. Yes, that’s right! Call me a heartless bitch. Call me a lazy selfish cow. I can’t hear you, so I couldn’t care less. All I want right now is my codeine laced cough syrup-which is teasing me from the safety of the medicine cabinet- some puffs with lotion and SLEEP. I want the green Martians in my chest to simmer down so I can get a single nights rest.

But no. I’m going to be sleeping with one ear and only one nostril open. I will be listening for any urping puke sounds from my daughter’s room so I can be ready to pounce sleepily and congested to her rescue at any moment.

God help me, I need some rest!



Published November 17, 2014 by sarcasmica

Few things will make a person crazy faster than a house full of sick people. It’s madness. No one wants to eat, but everyone is hungry, but not for that or that. I want this with a side of a little bit of what’s on the top of that. And that’s it. I’m full, but after I try just enough of that to make you waste the last of that other thing.
Repeat for lunch in 2 hours, and dinner 4 hours after that.

I don’t want medicine, but I hate how I feel, but it’s not the right time to take that one, please give me something to drink with this one, but not that. I like the other medicine, not this medicine! That doesn’t go with this taste, I hate how my throat feels after I have that, will I be sleepy? (oh yes, you absolutely will!)

Cough cough cough bark bark cough bark gag.

Sneeze sniff wheeze cough bark gag barf.

Blow my nose! Wipe my butt! Chapstick my face!

Cough sneeze bark fart wheeze bark cough

TV blaring wherever there’s a body to entertain because no one has the energy to do anything except deal with the above two lists of rigamaroll.

Then there’s “when do I call the doctor?”, managing the spouse’s sometimes irrational expectations on what a doctor will do for your child. A cough is nothing to report. A sneeze is not an emergency. It’s not worth what they catch at the doctor’s office to be seen for the inevitable question of, “Is there a fever?” “No.” “Then syonara, senorita, there are other more serious patients this time of year. You will know soon enough because you dared walk through the waiting room without a Hazmat suit today. Stupid.”

Then the barking starts. That’s at least a “we’ll take a look”. That was followed by, “She’s big enough to outgrow it. Come back if it’s not gone in a few days.”

Of course that lands us right at the weekend. We go in each day for the croup cough that goes on aaaaaaall day up until the Benadryl kicks in. It only lasts until about 5/5:30am and the minute her eyes are open, the barking begins all over again.

She’s had 2 steroid ‘shots’ of liquid and it’s not taking.

No, the hot steamy shower does not work. I tried it.
No, the outside cold air doesn’t work. I tried it.
Yes, she’s had a humidifier on every night for a week. No it isn’t helping.
Yes I have stood on my head while chanting the incantation simultaneously sacrificing a chicken during the full moon.

They are now out of reasoning. I’m hearing things like “if she’s not having a hard time breathing, then there’s nothing we can really do now.” Awesome! Let’s wait until she’s blue and oxygen deprived to fix her. Fabulous.

In the meantime, i’m now sick with whatever rampant army germs are running amok around this house. So we’ve gone from semi-compassionate caretaker to sick, grumpy, icky congested medicine pusher. I’m at the point where i’m gonna start drugging them just to get some peace and quiet.

There is nothing like the peaceful slumbering silence of sleeping sick children and adults in a house that has been echoing all the disgusting bodily fluid flinging colds, coughs, and congestion.

My son wanted to stay home sick because he’s beginning to catch the cold I now have. My daughter is home from school with me until we get this seal impression under control. I had the gargantuan task of getting him to school today because I will be damned if after a weekend taking care of my bronchitis-wielding husband I’m now going to deal with 2 sick kids home with sick mom. Too bad, so sad. I’ll happily entertain you both tomorrow after i’ve had one day of slovenly recuperation.

Excuse me now while I go dunk my entire body in Lysol and figure out how to attach hand sanitizer to every door knob.

Week 4 Weigh In

Published November 14, 2014 by sarcasmica

This week was an unprecedented number for me. -4.9lbs in one week!

My body cheated a little. I vaguely remember when I first did Weight Watchers, the week of my periods were always a bigger loss than others. Also, the week after I was always in danger of gaining, or at the very least not losing as much as I felt I worked for. It evened out over both weeks. It’s the average that really counts afterall. Truthfully, it’s not even the weight that’s supposed to count. It’s how active have you been? Did you track? How was your eating? We all know you can track and stay on the plan, but that doesn’t mean you’ve been eating all that great.

Anyway, I was shocked and happy and I took that number with my head held high. I just know now that cramps and bloating and period paraphernalia cannot hinder my getting on the treadmill in this 25-35 degree weather. (the treadmill is in the uninsulated garage) BRRRRR!!!

But I will do it. You know why? Because I was so out of control, so over the top with what I was doing to myself that my body actually stopped having periods regularly for over a year. I did not know this could happen. I was freaked out at first, mostly because I did the whole “holy shit what if i’m pregnant” mind boggle. Then I realized my husband has been snipped and it was not logically possible.

Anyway, so now i’m on three months in a row of a period, i’m 9lbs down, and i’m trying to take it all meal by meal. Snack by snack. Track track track!

(I started this post six hours ago and just got back to it, so i’m gonna cut it short and go pick up the kid from preschool)


Holiday Touring

Published November 13, 2014 by sarcasmica

(please forgive the awful auto formatting listing all questions as #1. I am too tired to figure it out and fix it. Besides, if you are a reader of my blog, you have overlooked far more than this.)

My Fairy Blogmother, naptimethoughts, included me in a fantastical amazetacular project. “Project” might be a strong word… “experiment” might fit better. Considering my current state of dishabille and bloodshot eyes, I resemble a lab rat closer than I do a Pinterester or motivated anthing-er.

So hopefully I do this right and don’t embarrass her for including me in the blog tour du jour. Light the fires, kick the tires, and let’s stop burnin’ daylight!!

  1. What are you working on?

A road trip. And sleep. The two do NOT coincide. You know what else is a wrench in these plans?! Illness. Human and pet varieties. My daughter is having a bout of croup at the moment. My husband, not to be outdone, has come home from his trip bereaved and bronchitis-ful. Yup. So we have one barking like a seal but producing nothing but groggy zombie parents, and my husband is coughing up small aliens. Somewhere in between nursing them both (and y’all KNOW who is requiring more work) I have to plan our Thanksgiving road trip extravaganza. …Also, my two suicidal and inappropriate dogs tried committing suicide via fertilizer consumption last weekend and are just now getting back on solid food. Knuckle sandwiches all around!

  1. Explain in detail your usual Thanksgiving, making sure not to leave out family drunks, who sneaks out to smoke pot in the garage, (extra points if it’s you) who does all the work, and whether or not Thanksgiving ends in a fistfight every year. Feel free to lie, we’re not looking for truth here, we’re just looking for a good story. This is, after all, the Holiday Virtual Blog Tour.

“Usual” is not a word that comes to mind when thinking of my family. When I was young it was my favorite holiday because it was the one time of year both of my brothers would come visit my mom and I. They stayed exactly as long as it took to inhale the turkey, scratch stuffing, taters, yams, rolls, pies, sodas, etc etc etc. They would leave as the final flatware hit the bottom of the sink. I would help my mom clean up and watch her try not to show her disappointment in her kids. Me for eating helping after helping after helping, and them for swooping in long enough to suck the bones dry and then disappear. Now, however, it all seems kind of small and ungrand. I want to make traditions fun and festive for my kids, but without much family around, how does one do that? I nominate myself for family drunk! And because pot is legal here I’ll go ahead and nominate myself for the family garage pothead, too. I’m an overachiever like that.  My husband is the power napper. My mom is the baker/cook. My kids are the entertainment and hazard all at the same time.

  1. What are your feelings regarding Thanksgiving as a Holiday? Please take into consideration how, after they kept us alive during our first several winters on this continent, we decimated the Native American peoples and then built up all the land, cut down all the trees, burned all the coal, sent it up into the atmosphere to create a hole in the ozone layer and consumed everything within sight, without care for the people or land we stole.

Because I am sleep deprived and at this point holding my eyelids open only one at a time with one hand and typing painfully slowly, I will say this; We should all celebrate Thanksgiving by forcing every retail store to employ all the bratty teenagers who think they don’t need to participate in family functions, and do nothing to help prepare or clean anyway. As a bonus, the ones who feel like school is a giant waste of time and stress out their parents saying they want to quit/drop out/prostitute themselves/join a boy and or girl band should have to wear the pilgrim hats. No phones will be allowed on the shift and they have to wear period clothing…. but they would get paid time and half. But “time” is equal to all the labor they help with at home, not the current minimum wage. It will be icing on the cake when no one actually shops on the holiday because of the boycott, so the 1 day employees will show up and put out what would surely be minimal effort for no reason whatsoever because there will be no customers.

Maximum planning, minimal effort, zero fruitful outcome and even less appreciation. You are now your own parent. BOOM! Wear a condom and go thank your mom and/or dad for keeping you alive until this point!

Ok, now I get to pass this along to someone hand picked by moi. You have to answer the following questions about the appointed holiday of my choosing, and then forward your own questions and holiday on to your victims bloggers. Happy Touring!!

B. Mary

Holiday: St. Patrick’s Day
1. Do you celebrate this day of leprachauns and everything made-up?

2. If you had a leprechaun, rainbow, and bucket o’ gold what would you do with them?

3. Are you in favor of the leprechaun traps or are they a giant waste of time made up by the Pinterest coven to make all the ‘normal’ drunk-on-green-beer moms feel like gross underachievers?


Have fun! Make up your own questions and possibly holiday too, and pass it along!

One Squirt From Disaster

Published November 9, 2014 by sarcasmica

I have never been a lover of the “FML” acronym. I think it’s melodramatic and just kind of deuchy. HOWEVER, today just may be the inauguration of that very phrase into my own vocabulary.

I was very thankful the vet was able to squeeze my suicidal dog into her schedule today. I was less ecstatic when I went to pick her up and had to stand in line for fifteen minutes as the frazzled office lady handled the mob. A mob of anxious people waiting to retrieve their sick expensive pets on a Sunday night. And in this town, that meant missing the everholy Seahawks game. High TREASON!!!

I also had my nightmare challenging kid with me. I don’t know what it was about this weekend in particular, but both of my kids needed to be inspected for rabies. We had feral, foaming, frustrating, infuriating children sun up to sun down. The only time they were cooperative together was on a video game, and that shit just isn’t going to be on all day. I don’t care who you are, you cannot contain or control a tweaked out 8 and 4 year old on Kirby. It ain’t pretty.

So my son was with me to pick up the patient. He was behaving because it was just us. Then about the 12 minute mark of waiting in line he began to get antsy. Things were too good for too long. Lets face it, after 10 minutes we all knew I was on borrowed time.

He began interrupting and acting up right as the tech comes to give me the grocery bag size med sack. She whipped out three bottles, two syringes, and a box and proceeded to give me the instructions…. verbally. … before I paid the bill… as my kid is tugging on my arm that he has to pee. …  ..

Still not feeling an appropriate “FML”. I kept on.

I listened, I swear. I even remember her using English. The first item she brought out she even specified not to start until the next day.

She went through the rest. She pointed out it was all typed onto the bottles and also in triplicate stapled to my gigantic receipt, so i’m sure that’s where I spaced it.

Then I had to wait another 10 minutes for them to bring her out. Then they rang me up.

Needless to say by the time I got home, got the dog inside in her crate, reunited the feral children who immediately began ripping each other’s hair out, unloaded the car, got the dog bowl out, and took out the first pill bottle, all regional English and language was out of my brain. I remembered none of the verbal instructions and found the ONLY one with details was the first one she showed me.

Now i’m beginning to appreciate the FL in FML… but I hadn’t thrown in the towel yet.

I pull it together enough to give one of the meds. I eliminate the 2 that are “give 1 hour before food” and give her the right one.

All is well.

Someone gets slapped in the face with Spongebob.

Get to the table for dinner.

Just eat it, I don’t care. Just eat it. Yes it’s cheese. Just eat it. I don’t care if you don’t want “that kind”, just eat it. EAT THE F*CKING CHEEEEESE!!!

We finish the peaceful and intimate family meal and go upstairs because now it’s bedtime. I do not give a rat’s ass that it’s only 6:30, we are going UPSTAIRS!

I deal with the usurper again. He attempts a coup and is mightily rejected. He does not like this. I do not care.

Still hanging in there.

I PJ my daughter post bath, she brushes and gets into bed. I read. All is well.

I go to herd the big one into bed and notice a solid, coal-black turd sitting on his carpet beside the dresser.

“HOW did you not NOTICE there is a TURD that is black and disgusting ALL DAY right here?!!!”

and this is when the FML floods my brain.

The second dog is now vomiting and shitting black tar.


My heart is not strong enough for this kind of nonsense. My back is tensing as I type this. Momma needs a bar. Not a drink, a BAR. And a bartender to just know what to hand me and not ask any questions.

If I had the energy, I would squeeze a tear or two out for myself and revel in a pity party free of children. But I don’t. I have exactly enough energy to push the button on my electric reclining couch, lift the remote, and push a button.

If one more thing in his house shits on the carpet or let’s a body fluid leak out, I am picking up my car keys and driving to the nearest asylum. I am fully trained as a patient.


Nauseating November

Published November 9, 2014 by sarcasmica

I had the bright idea last summer to start a garden. I am not a gardener, nor do i have a green thumb. However, you have to be a special kind of plant murderer not to have a successful plant or two in Washington.

We bought a raised bed from Home Depot, potting soil and seeds. I thought pumpkins would be great! I hate paying the big $$ to the You-Pick farms.
So we built it, I planted, we all watered, and waited. A little while into waiting i decided to look into fertilizers. I. was at Target- you know, where all the premium blue ribbon gardeners go- and checked out the aisle of poo. I decided to start small with the inexpensive $5 bag of blood meal fertilizer. Gross, right?

I put it in the garden and moved on. The very next day I found our Corgi mix face-deep in the dirt snorting and digging like a coke head on a pile of fresh cut blow. He. Was. Covered.
He stunk, but that was it.

I left the bag and some gardening tools on the hose box beside the garden. I tell myself I would be a much more organized person if i didnt have a husband and kids. I used to keep my apartment clutter-free and laundry done pre-kids.

Anyway, last week we had a storm come through and wind littered the yard with branches and thrown yard paraphernalia. I let the dogs out Friday and they disappeared! I let them romp in the rare sunshine, and thought nothing of it.
A little while later I open the door and our 7lb gargoyle rescue is not begging to come back inside as per usual. I go investigate and find my two mutt crackheads face first snorting and inhaling the contents of the fertilizer bag the wind had blown over and dumped all over the ground.

I reprimanded them and brought them inside. Later that night I put my gargoyle into her crate and went to sleep. I had woken up to various noises from her throughout the night but decided to deal with it in the morning.

I woke up to what looked and smelled like the bowels of a very petite Satan had exploded all over the crate.

I gagged.

y’all, I have worked in pet stores and experienced all sorts of foul smells including dead rodents ripening over night.

I have worked in a kennel where nervous animals get put up in a loud, scary, fenced cement floor kennel side by side with other scared nervous dogs. Do you know what scared, nervous dogs do? They poop. They poop nervous diarrhea. Also, scared angry possessed cats have the ability to poo out their feelings. It isnt pretty.

I never gagged.

I shot two squishy goo-covered babies out of my hoo-ha. I have seen The Placenta.

I did not gag.

I wiped and cleaned out all the body fluids of two children for the past 8.5yrs.

I never gagged.

The contents of this crate made me run to the nearest sink and gag.

I cleaned up my mongrel, took her outside and watched her puke, try to eat it, and then try unsuccessfully to poop.

I realized something about myself. When a situation arrises that causes me to lose sleep, clean, monitor, and bathe an animal I get resentful and frustrated instead of sympathetic and worried.

I dont like this about myself, but there it is. Perhaps its the sound of a cash register chiming in my head as the situation worsens. With every guttural urping heave I hear the vet scratching down one more test to be ordered. Each unsuccessful hunched butt-squeezing squat causes the old school credit card machine swipe across my brain.

I tentatively fed her small bits in the morning – shes only 7lbs after all and cant afford to loseweight – and she kept it all down so I thought we were out of the poorhouse woods.

This morning she threw up her food from the night before, and still hadn’t pooped.

I reluctantly called the vet:
“Hello, Moneybags Vet Hospital?”
“Hi. Do you have any available appts today?”
“Drop off only. So we take the pet and the vet calls you later with a course of action and you can pick up in the afternoon.”
“Ok. i’ll take it.”
“Whats the pet in for?”
“She ate fertilizer and has exploded all over 2 crates now.”
“…. let me talk to the vet please hold!”
“Ok, the vet would like you to bring her ASAP. Can you come now?”

Thats not terrifying, huh? The only consolation was her not saying “Here’s the nearest emergency vet. Now Go!!”

I dropped her, and my bank account, off with instructions to slap her around freely and then give her a job. They laughed, and that’s why we go there.

And to think this all began with my cheap ass not wanting to spend money on the ‘expensive’ $10 fertilizer.

This has been a painful lesson to put shit away at the end of a long week of sadness. My mom, who lives with us, had to put her cat to sleep last weekend. My son is just now moving on from that. My husband’s mom passed away this week so he’s been in Arizona dealing with all the things that involves. (with the help of his ex wife, her friends and their spouses and kids… not at all complicated, right?!) And my daughter contracted an eye infection that has us all keeping our dried out over-washed hands to ourselves.

November so far can just suck it. Im now going to revel in all the premature Christmas songs and decorations just to spite it.


Fitful Hangover

Published November 6, 2014 by sarcasmica

I have a fit hangover today. Emotionally drained after going to bed numb.

MEH. The literal definition of “Meh” is this feeling right here.

It was the kind of evening that made me wonder, “Do other parents have 8 year olds that act this bad?!” I mean, I don’t want to wish this on anyone …. well, perhaps Kimye could benefit from it. But honestly, it’s just awful. The kind of behavior that makes you reflect on how you raised your child. I didn’t notice a barn. I was pretty sure we were always in a house. We did have animals, but nothing wild or feral. I never threatened to eat parts of my kids when they were naughty. We were in Texas for 2 short periods of time, but never was there a Chainsaw Massacre house he was allowed to play in. I have always known all of his friends and he was never anywhere without me. Certainly I would have noticed if any of the parents had horns, a tail, and a fiery home.

So why is he like this?! It can’t be the sensory stuff. Railing and ranting and eye rolling and smartassery has nothing to do with processing your surroundings. I have joked that in checking the kids’ Halloween candy for needles and razors, perhaps we should have sprinkled the goodies in holy water just in case any of them were cursed.

One slipped by and has possessed my child.

I took a “Positive Parenting Class” last year and keep telling myself to binder and organize the materials, which I kept. I’m afraid last night would have just resulted in throwing the thing at my kid.

It was just bad.

And in the middle of it all is my sweet daughter dodging the flying spittle and shrieks of anger and venom.

I would feel like I did a terrible job as a parent, and feel the need to berate myself, but then logic kicks in. I realize, “You did not beat the child, you did not drink yourself to sleep, you did not ‘go out for milk’ and never come back. Actually, you deserve a medal!”

But that doesn’t feel good either.

In the end he lost privileges, Legos, and Halloween candy. (Along with some of my respect and adoration)

But has he learned anything from it?! I doubt it. I don’t want him to feel terrible about himself, I just want him to not ever do that again for as long as he lives. Where’s the seminar for that?!

I have to look at my other kid and see that she doesn’t behave anything like this – barring the habits he has taught her – and assume it’s not solely my failed parenting that has caused him to act in such a way. So what , then?

Today began like any other. He was absent any remorse or acknowledgement for how he behaved.  Clean slate. New beginning. Fresh start…. except I have this grudge I can’t help but hold onto a little bit as I parent him from more of a distance. That makes me sad.

And i’m managing not to eat my way through this stress while my husband is away dealing with his dying mother.

And my keurig mocha has let me down to top it all off. I think I got a bad batch. Now I get to pick up Starbucks on the way to a playdate during which I hope and pray not to bitch and moan through the whole entire thing.


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