Rejuvination

Whenever I get back from a weekend away from my family I feel so rejuvenated that I just want to do crazy things like be patient with my children and maybe even stop nagging my husband. Wild.

It was everything that I had hoped it would be. There was wine tasting and attempted wine tasting where Old Man Vintner kicked our cans to the calle after declaring that "I couldn't possibly give a group like this a tasting, lunching and reading. Mostly we spent our time laughing until I peed, and it felt good. Normally I would avoid soiling myself, but somehow it seemed right. I am not sure which was my favorite moment. Somewhere between listening to sweet Hattie pipe up with "What do they mean by that? A big hot wiener?" and watching the girl I would vote Most Likely to Poop Rainbows because she is so kind, furiously mining Google on her IPhone for more information on the difference between a Dirty Sanchez and a Dirty Rodriguez (note to readers: DO NOT GOOGLE THIS, omg) and offering my paltry knowledge of what a Cleveland Steamer is (See previous parenthesis, suffice it to say there is much information available regarding the possible introduction of feces into the marital bed. Ahem) Between all 9 of us I calculate that at least 13 children, 2 boyfriends, 7 husbands, 6 dogs, one 1/2 gallon of vodka, 50 trillion calories and much much wine was sacrificed for our good time.

It was still reeeeealllly nice to come home to the 3 Sweaty Muskateers waiting for the Mama Llama.

My Bad

What is that you say? I have a blog? Ohhhhh, I remember now! That thing with the green and the words. Yes. Indeed. I have neglected you so, Little Blog, forgive me.

You see, summer has finally arrived and I am busying myself with summery type things such as reacquainting my children with the backyard and slicing fresh strawberries to shove into the two tiny, insatiable berry holes of my offspring. Everything is nice. Also, there is lots of working on my internship and trips to the beach. Tomorrow I am leaving The Littles with their father so that I can go on a weekend trip of debauchery with 7 other women sans sippy cups and binkys and feather boas.

While it is a little sad to leave my Roob for the first time EVER, I have a distinct hope that these women will neither wipe their noses on my shirt nor ask me to wipe their butts after A BIG ONE. I feel relaxed already.

An open letter

Dear Target,

As a longtime customer of your children's clothing section I feel an obligation to let you know that some of your stores exist outside of warm climates such as Hawaii, Florida and THE SURFACE OF THE SUN. I am bringing this to your attention to assist you in your choice of clothing to stock in your children's section during the spring and early summer months. I was surprised to find no sign of any type of garment longer than hot pants since the beginning of February. Your store is located in Oregon. We wear pants here. The collection of polar fleece in the average toddler's closet would rival that of your average Eskimo. Think tiny cocoons of unexposed flesh and you will have your average Oregonian under the age of 5. There is occasionally a time when we find a use for shorts, such as when we visit the aforementioned warm climates or when we are inside getting friendly with our heat lamps.

Another news flash for you would be is that CHILDREN GROW, asswipes. I am faced with either putting them in pants two sizes two small and listening to MY PANTS ARE TOO TIGHT MAMA, I HAVE A MELVIN at inhumane decibels or putting them in shorts with thermal tights under them. Not the look we are going for.

I never thought I would be in a situation where I was begging for an effing pair of STRETCH PANTS, but seriously, for the children. Or the Melvins. Whatever.

Sincerely,

Cold Since February.

Positively Negative

I wish I had something to offer you except for the surely much anticipated Herpes Update. That is to say, she is still incredibly sick and yes, she continues to be a joy to be around. And by joy I mean insufferable.

In a way I suppose that it is a good thing that no one informed the Pacific NW that it is June because I would be really bummed if I had to explain to her why we can't go out walking and to the park if it were sunny. It feels sort of like November got stuck on repeat and so we are enduring long grey days full of torrential rain and general gloominess. I am starting to think that we are going to skip summer altogether and try again next year.


Breathe Kirsten, breathe. This can't last forever. Can it?

The bad disease Part Deux

The Herpes continue to wreak havoc at Chez Davey. I am told that all children respond to illness and pain differently. If when they say differently they mean that they turn into screaming, tantruming evil ankle biters whom, judging by their tear stained cheeks and frowny scowls, may be plotting to perpetrate some kind of a kinder sized coup. That's different alright.

Help. This is threatening my very sanity and why can't she curl up in a ball with a blankie and watch Sesame Street like a normal human and eat the ice cream I bought her instead of making me want to put her in the yard with a free sign? The dr. says this may take 10 days to clear up. I know she is hurting as her gums are still swollen and they said there are giant open lesions in her throat (yum), but why won't she just wave a white flag, say ouchie and EAT SOME FUCKING ICE CREAM ALREADY.

The Bad Disease

A few days ago, Goldie stopped eating. She also had a fever of 101-ish and so I did what any loving mother would do, gave her some Advil and pretended that nothing was wrong. She has an extremely high pain tolerance and never acts sick, even when she is. I should have known better. We went to play dates, on long walks and a very large parade. Then yesterday I noticed that her gums were swollen. And bleeding. I saw visions of missed flossing opportunities and late night bottles of milk and began frantically dialing doctors and googling Red Gums+Fever+Incompetent Mother+Doom followed by Baby Dentures Better than Diamond Grill+Toddler.

When we finally went in last night, the triage nurse took one look at her mouth and was all "dude, what took you so long to get here?" The kind doctor somehow convinced her to open her mouth and thought it was strep for sure and did a throat culture that, judging by Goldie's reaction felt like being stabbed in the eye with a hot poker. Eventually she calmed down and ate a Popsicle while we awaited the results. Not strep. The doc was still concerned and I casually mentioned that ha ha, I have this leeeeetle cold sore here on my mouth and that dot above her mouth looks soooort of like a cold sore, couldthathaveanythingtodowiththis?

I held the poor little duckling down so we could pry her tiny mouth open for another look. All the doc said was "impressive, I'll be right back." Ten minutes and another Popsicle later she returned with Diagnoses Oral Herpes-Some-Big-Word. Apparently she has giant open lesions in her throat and there is no treatment other than Advil. Damn it, WHY wasn't I more careful when I felt the cold sore coming on? I feel about an inch tall.

I also wish that her and Roob had not spent the past week having an old fashioned drool-off while Roob practiced her kissing skills. But that, I am sure, will be another story.

Photographic Proof

Pumpkin and my niece.......I am still freaking out