Archive | January, 2013

How does he live like that?

21 Jan

So, my lovely and wonderful Angela posted a link to this:

You don’t have to click on it unless you want to.  It’s some guy who has made his New York studio into a modular apartment where he can make five full rooms because of magic walls and also magic.  Plus he doesn’t appear to own anything.

Leaving me to ask the question, “Where does he keep all his clutter?”

She assured me that there was a closet for his clutter, and also for all five of his outfits.  (Five outfits?! He must, like, LIVE at the laundromat, he sure doesn’t have a tiny green energy efficient washer dryer in there!  What does he do when Baby spits up on him?  Or when Chaos has a tantrum and pelts him with mushed bananas? Or when Chaos pees her pants all day even though she totally knows better? Or maybe he hand washes everything and he pulls a super efficient clothes line across the whole apartment and hangs his wash out to dry?

Most likely he uses a service.

I wish I had a service.) 

My follow up question was, “but if the closet fits five outfits, where does he keep his 17 baskets of old mail and magazines that he doesn’t have time to sort, pineapple tiki lamp, children’s toys and books, CDs and DVDs, four menorahs, selling stand for husband’s CD’s, box full of chargers, framed picture of Chaos that she pulled off the wall so she could admire herself, extremely dusty throw pillows, three different blankets (none of which are currently warming my freezing feet), bag of unwanted things that I ordered through the intertubes that I need to still return, and wooden cash register from the 1920’s that is so heavy he couldn’t possibly lift it?”

See, that was some of the clutter I saw while looking around the living room.  

People wonder how I live like this, so I guess I shouldn’t judge how someone lives like THAT.  I do, though.  How can anyone live like that?  It would make me crazy, to have to put away my bed before I could eat lunch, and to have to set up my table before I could eat lunch. I’d probably end up leaving it in one setup all the time, the bed one, and just rearranging it when company or photographers come and I wanted to show off how efficient I am.

I bet that’s what that guy really does.

In other news, we are all sick, in varying degrees, with Cornelius.  The Bishop has lost his lovely voice, Chaos has an ear infection and Baby has a… oh, I don’t know.  A runny nose.  Maybe he’s teething.  He’s been kind of grumpy and demanding.  He’s past Cornelius, I think, maybe (who could tell with him? His nose hasn’t been runny for two days, so I figured Cornelius was out!) and in that case maybe this is the beginning of Dolores? I hope not. Or if it is Dolores, I hope (as I always do, and it never seems to work) that he is the only one who makes her acquaintance, and that she is short-lived and exceedingly mild mannered. I can hear him coughing now. Oh, baby! My poor guy.

Me, I have a little cough and I’m in a BAD MOOD.  I have a day off tomorrow, where work is closed and daycare is open.  Since this only happens a very few times a year, I am feeling extremely possessive about my day and also convinced it is going to be compromised by a sick kid or some other catastrophe.

The Bishop thinks I’m being weird.

The Bishop was also quite insistent that I do not have teh parasites even though Chaos KEEPS GETTING THEM from someone, and also my scalp itches. So clearly I must not have teh parasites, right? I treated my own head a few days ago and made the Bishop comb me, but I was still itching so I just treated it again and made the Bishop comb me again. I strongly suspect that the Bishop might be bad at combing. I think combing is an acquired skill and I myself am only just starting to get the hang of it. The Bishop is bad at combing because he never finds anything but I know there is SOMETHING THERE.

I fear that the Vermin have set up a 420 square foot condo on my scalp and are looking for places to hide their clutter.


Cornelius or no Cornelius?

15 Jan

I got all OMG ONOES that Chaos would get the influenza.  I have a horror of Chaos getting sick and that’s the truth.  The idea fills me with anxiety.  There is just this part of me that is stuck forever in the room with Chaos during her months on the ventilator when she was a baby.

I maybe want to talk to my therapist about that.

Plus, the way things have been going lately, it kind of seems par for the course!  The flu, that is, and not the ventilator.  She had the shot, but not a long time ago when it would be hopefully doing a bit of good but last Saturday when I gave into the influenza panic that was gripping me and dragged Chaos to an unsuspecting Urgent Care joint that had the bad sense to admit that they had a few pediatric shots remaining in their arsenal when I showed up at their door, crazy in my eyes. They did not know what to make of Chaos Peanut. I did explain that she has teh Autism which is usually a golden ticket to allow her to act as herself as she wants to in anyone’s chocolate factory, but this nurse seemed truly flummoxed. “She can’t have Band-Aids,” I said. “She doesn’t like Band Aids.” “They all like Band-Aids,” the nurse assured me. “No they don’t,” I said. “She doesn’t. Don’t give her one.” And Chaos had to kind of be held down (she was kind of being held down and kind of involved with watching a video of her friends Cady and Vaughn singing “Happy Birthday” to Baby on the Bishop’s iPhone, and this is so totally NORMAL for us that I didn’t think anything of it, I mean, isn’t it like that for EVERYONE??? But the nurse looked totally traumatized and afterwards I kind of wanted to offer HER a Dora sticker and a lollypop.

And we’ve had another round of lice treatments.  Plus a sleepless night last night, when Chaos woke up at 2:30 howling.  Why?  The only one who knows is Chaos and she’s not saying.  “I want…” we prompted.

“…howl HOWL sob sob sob HOWL HOWL I want HOWL HOWL sob HOWL HOWL!”

Eventually we got her up and got her to take some Advil and drink some generic Pediasure (her beverage of choice) and she fell asleep for a few hours at around 4 and this morning she was dancing around the kitchen looking all repaired.

So we took her to feeding therapy with the OT re-eval to follow and somewhere between dancing around the kitchen and the hospital, which is less than a mile away, Chaos lost her joie de vivre and went back to howling.  

“…howl HOWL sob sob sob HOWL HOWL I want HOWL HOWL sob HOWL HOWL!!!”

So we talked to the feeding therapist and rescheduled the eval and brought Chaos home for a sick day.  Upon re-entering the house, Chaos collapsed onto the couch with a 

“…howl HOWL sob sob sob HOWL HOWL I want HOWL HOWL sob HOWL HOWL!”

and then fell asleep.  She had a low-grade fever, but no other symptoms of note, other than coughing and a slight runny nose, which are, I feel, the continued after-effects of the last cold Blowreen and not new symptoms.  Chaos napped on and off, waking up to howl more and demand TV.  I bribed her with TV to take more medicine and she slept for a bit and now she’s dancing around the house again.  With no pants on, of course.

Medicine wears off at about 5:00, so we’ll see if howling starts up again.  I don’t know what to think.  Six year molars coming in and causing undue distress?  Headache virus that I’ve heard is making its rounds?  Maybe an ear infection?  Should I name it Cornelius or not?

So listen, this is very important

11 Jan

I’ve decided to RENAME the colds, they are no longer Sandor and Dulcinetta. Instead, I’ve decided to follow the National Weather Service’s model, and name the year’s colds after the letters in the alphabet. Sandor, which began in 2012 but plagued us into 2013, will hereafter be known as Ahmadinejad. Dulcinetta is now known as Blowreen.

Family Members Currently Experiencing Blowreen: 4.


9 Jan

I’m just writing to let you know that we are all healthy and lice free here!  Hooray!  The plagues have ended and Joy rules in the House of Mishegas.

OK, I’m totally kidding. Chaos rules in the House of Mishegas! (Also Baby. I wouldn’t want to leave him out.)

Chaos is getting over a cold (Let’s call it Sandor) and now she’s appears to be coming down with the a new cold that we’ll call Dulinetta. Now, read carefully because this is important and there will be a quiz when we are done. Sandor is the cold that the Bishop CLAIMS he caught from her but you and I both know that he has Dulcinetta and he caught it from BABY and now he’s given Dulcinetta to Chaos who wasn’t done getting over Sandor, and as a results, was too sleepy to get properly lice-combed and was rubbing her nose… Got that? Baby had Sandor and Dulcinetta. Baby gave Sandor to me and Chaos, but not the Bishop. Baby came down with Dulcinetta, and Bishop came down with Dulcinetta, which he claimed was Sandor, caught from Chaos, but was really Dulcinetta, and then he gave Dulcinetta to Chaos. Got it?

OK, quiz time!

I’m just kidding. I really don’t have the energy to write a quiz.

Colds turn the Bishop into Rip Van Winkle.  You never saw anyone sleep so much.  He sleeps and sleeps and then he wakes up so he can go back to sleep.  It’s unreal.

Colds turn Baby into himself, only snottier.  And maybe just the tiniest bit grumpy.  But mostly he’s just a pleasant, funny little fellow with a runny nose.  He asked for Tylenol the other day.  I had the medicines in a baggie and he pointed at the Tylenol and said, “I want that!”  I gave him some.  I have no idea if he knows what it does or if he just thinks it tastes good, but I gave him some, since he asked for it. I give him everything he asks for. It’s a no-fail parenting strategy.

Colds turn Chaos into Maximillien Robespierre and she unleashes a reign of terror upon our household and makes us feel as though she has chopped off our heads with her mighty Guillotine of Sleeplessness. Plus howling. Lots and lots and lots of howling, and you know how I love me some howling.

I don’t know what colds turn me into.  Back before children, I had something known as “sick time” (now a rare, precious and exotic commodity!) and when I had a cold, I would stay home and wallow in my own disgustingness, as you do.  Now, I work through it, the long-suffering Martyra Martyrstein, and I spread displeasure and germs to all who come near. Because I don’t have a cold. YOU have a cold (Sandor and/or Dulcinea, natch.) *I* have allergies. Allergies! I don’t get sick. Who has time to get sick?

Who or what does a cold turn you into?

And any bed on which he lyeth is unclean

3 Jan

OK, so I’ve gone from “you’ve got to laugh” to not even feeling like laughing because the plagues just keep going and going.  Chaos has lice again.

I feel like this.

Hee!  Drama!  OK, I just gave myself teh giggles ’cause I can still drama queen with the best

I think one of the worst parts of Chaos’ continuing lice saga is the way people treat me.  Not like I’m unclean (although, as you know, I am) or like I don’t keep Chaos clean or anything, but like the reason Chaos still has them is because I DID THE SCRUB DOWN WRONG and not, say, because she was lying on the carpet in daycare screaming at the same time daycare happens to be having a lice infestation.  The note home from school was really irritating.  “You have to wash ALL THE THINGS,” it said.  (Actually, it didn’t, because the folks writing the note are probably not familiar with the genius of Hyperbole and a Half and that’s too bad.

No, the note did not say “You have to clean all the things,” it said that I have to wash everything again.  Yeah, OK.

So I meet Chaos’ bus, bring Chaos home, Clean All The Things, put Chaos in the bath, douse Chaos in poisonous poison, rinse it out, comb her hair while the Bishop vacuums the soft toys and Baby Peanut cries, replace All The Things, remake Baby’s bed, remake Chaos’ bed.  We’ve got it down to a science at this point.

Meanwhile, Chaos has this terrible outbreak for psoriasis on her scalp from all the treatments..

It just makes me feel so alone, the way they treated me.  I don’t know why, or even how to explain it.

And we continue to do battle with the OTs, who still want to discharge Chaos.  Today we got a very awesome letter of recommendation from the pediatrician that says, “Chaos really really needs OT so give her lots because she really really needs lots of OT!!!”

“Ha!”  I thought, “Take that, you OTs, Chaos does too need lots and lots of OT.”

And then sometimes it just hits you, you know?  Chaos really does need lots and lots of OT.   And then I feel sad.

Well, I guess I better stop teh feeling sorry for myself.  Chaos is lying on the couch talking to herself and she doesn’t have any pants on.

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