Poor boy: or, a post of absolutely NO interest to anyone other than my mom and maybe Sharon, Amber and Emily. Because they like me. And they are moms.

The Tyrant, after 2 and 1/2 years and one month, has finally been laid low. By something or other, presumably a virus of some sort.

I had just managed to get myself tucked up in bed when he threw up for the first time ever.

Poor boy.

And then it happend again. And again. And again.  Five times all total and each time we’d get up, get him changed (we gave up brushing his teeth after the second event), get the bed changed and get back to sleep only to have him repeat the whole process yet again. By the 4th time it came to me that I should probably have a bucket of some sort. So Number Five went into the bucket and that was the last one of the night.

He threw up three more times today and now is sleeping and has gone about 4 hours without hurling so I’m fervently praying that this is only a 24 hour bug, not a 48 hour one.

24 hours is  a long time with a sick little one. One’s day is  marked by

the smell of sour milk

“BUCKET!”

“You think he’s ok, don’t you?”

checking little heads every so often

I’m keeping vigil over his bedside tonight. After the ENORMOUS pile of laundry including most of our blankets, all the flannel sheets, all of Miles’s jammies and most of my sweaters, I am determined to catch everything I can in the Bucket tonight!

He rallied briefly this afternoon but for the most part we’ve done a lot of laying on the sofa listening to music and extended napping/nursing sessions.  The milk doesn’t stay down but it probably stays down  long enough to get his body a little of what it needs to absorb, anyway, since breastmilk is so rapidly and easily digested.

Thank you to the four of you who have listened to my little tale of Miles’s First Illness.  Hopefully I’ll have nothing new to report tomorrow, other than a Bucket-free night.

Rah Rah sis Boom Bah

After an exceedingly emotionally miserable week last week in which I felt sure that T would never find a job and we would become destitute and be thrown on the mercies of our friends and relations (and also during which I was fighting off a cold), I have come out on the other side of the down swing and decided this:

I’m going to be positive.

This is not to say I don’t think we might still become destitute and be thrown on the mercies of our friends and relations but rather that, even if that happens, well, we have pretty nice friends and relations.

But I feel now (usually) that something good is going to turn up.  Or it could just be that I am feeling better and not sick anymore.

But either way, I have told T that I am our family cheerleader now.  So even if he can’t not be Eeyore, I will at least be on the side looking for the silver lining.  Because after all, none of us is facing a grave illness or has died or had anything amputated or anything super-bad.  It’s just work and just money and money can’t buy you love, right?

Thanks, Beatles.

So instead of gloom, doom, and hopeless pessism hidden under the guise of being realistic, I have chosen, chosen, mind you, that I will instead be positive and if not happy at least content that whatever happens will be fine, not to say good even.

So, God, Universe, Fate, Karma, what-have-you, you have been duly called upon to note that now that I have made this incredibly mature and selfless decision, You therefore OWE it to me to make it all happen.

Amen?  Amen.

Oh, We Just Can’t HAVE Nice Things. Tsk

Oh, is that a map of the world you just got for Miles?  Let me throw up on it.

Oh, is that a new white rug for the bedroom? Let me throw up on it.

Oh!  A new, expensive slip-cover!  Allow me to use that as a scratching post!

Oh! A new, expensive slip-cover!  Allow me to see what happens when I write on it!

Oh! A new, expensive slip-cover! Allow me to throw up on it.

This is our new sisal area rug.  Let’s spill coffee on it and see what happens, shall we?

This is your new sisal area rug? Allow me to throw up on it.

And here is the lovely maroon and gold tablecloth from Thailand and oh, what’s this? Yes, a mysterious wax stain!

And here is an also-lovely multi-colored silk wallhanging, also from Thailand, which, let’s just play with the fringe with our claws and see what that does.

This unique serving dish I brought back from Korea? This one? Right here in several pieces on the floor? Yes, that’s the one.

Oh, look at this darling glass bird that was bought for Miles for his first Christmas! It’s just sitting up on the mantle. I think someone should jump up there and knock it down and smash it into smithereens.  Just for fun!

And by the way, Pottery Barn, to me, this sofa that was in the most recent catalog you sent me that I recycled:

Manhattan Leather Sofa

This just looks like one  big and very expensive scratching post to me.  Does it come with a double sticky finish? Or built-in automated squirt-gun triggered by feline proximity?  Coffee, tea, any other solid, liquid or gas or marker of pen or scissor-proofing? Because then I might be in.

Lent

Lent is upon us, its sober austerity accentuated by this year’s thick covering of snow.

Lent, a time for sobriety, for abstemiousness, for contemplation.

In the over-stuffed glut of our grocery stores with their brilliantly colored and packaged foods and food-like products, anemic-tasting produce plucked too early from warmer climes and shipped thousands of miles to the cold north, it is easy to forget that not all that long ago Lent was an actuality, a necessity, as well as a religious observance.

With the feasts of winter festival days behind, the better part of winter past but still weeks till the first greens peep from under their winter mantle, the Days of Lent were once a time when physical want and need served as a foil to offset spiritual want and need. Or perhaps it was vice versa, the ritual of spiritual shriving giving a mental fortitude to the belt-tightening required as Fall’s bounty gives way, the roots are eaten, the food put by in plentiful times dwindles.

Deep below the snow, unseen, unguessed, unheralded as yet, the roots and buds are spinning and plotting, the Earth’s fullness is readying itself to spring up and give birth to life and newness just as deep below our outward appearance we can take the time in this season of impoverishment, to reflect on our own need for renewal, for the coming sip of refreshment taken in the coming spring air and revival of life.

Many cultures and times have turned the season of want into a time of reflection, belt-tightening into soul-searching.

Now is the time to view the snow, the cold, the dark and reflect and look forward to the newness of life and earth and beings, to value  the lessening and look ahead to fullness.

Delayed Gratification

Just a note at the outset: I prefer my gratification to be INSTANT, thank you very much.

With T on the job hunt and things up in the air about where we’ll be ending up when the dust settles, there are lots of things that have been moved to the back burner for now.  And by things, mostly I mean buying stuff. But not all.

To Whit:

Unpacking.  There are still boxes to be unpacked but mostly they are books. I have no desire to unpack them if we are going to move again. I have LESS desire to move them elsewhere that involve moving them BACK out later.  In all the moves we have made, I have tried not to cull our books too much. I love my library but those suckers are HEAVY.

Deep freeze. I’d like a small deep freeze to freeze veggies from the next growing season as well as to freeze meat from a meat share. Which I can’t join until I have  a deep freeze. Which I won’t get until we know whether we’re moving or not.

New bed for Miles.  I like the trundle we’re using now for its low height and space saving but along the way it has suffered some traumas and has developed various squeaks and creaks of protestation when being used by anyone over 35 pounds.  As this is the bed I sleep in with Miles, it makes for a wakesome night sometimes.  But maybe I just need to have my step-dad (aka MACGYVER) take a look and fix it with a single nail and a toothpick.

Grain mill. I’d like to start grinding my own grains and get experimenting with lots of other grains besides wheat in my baking. I’d like to make my own pasta, too. But it is just one more thing to move. If we are moving.

Baby.  I’d like for Miles to have a sibling. I’d like that to happen before I’m 87.  But without full insurance, T’s not keen on getting a move on that one.  

But let’s be honest, everyday I think about my friend Sharon living in Tanzania. Her neighbors draw water from a well.  My life is stinkin’ rich and a few extras are not going to make me any happier (but probably a job for my husband would.)  And then there’s Haiti. I have NO reason to complain.  But probably I will anyway.

Because it does A LOT of good, let me tell you.

Aren’t humans a funny lot?  We can ALWAYS find something that we need or want or if we had then we’d be happy. So I guess I am in pretty good company, the rest of humanity and all  🙂

At the Park

82% of Internet Users Do Not Recommend Being Me and You Can, Too!

Are you frequently irritable in the morning?

Do you often find yourself  disappointed when a particularly fantastic dreamworld you had created in your head comes crashing down when faced with actual reality?

Have you experienced periods of feeling vastly sorry for yourself for no reason or for made-up reasons or for reasons which are, really, overall in the vast scope of the WHOLE WORLD, totally  not good reasons?

Do you have a particular corner of your table that just attracts a pile and even when the pile is moved, another pile immediately grows back?

Have you found yourself full of the best of intentions to do something or even anything, INCLUDING something that might be REALLY NICE for someone and that would really make their day, and then  putting it off for weeks, months or even years?

Are you often so exhausted by all the plans for things you want to do that are in your head that you are too overwhelmed and give up even starting to do them but fret about them not being done, all the same?

Do you start a project, get about half-way through, and then give up or move on to another project which you will only partly complete?

Are you full of good ideas and yet when it comes to finding time to implement them, prefer instead to sit on your behind and stuff your face with chocolate while reading non-edifying fiction?

Would  you just rather stay at home than pretty much do anything that involves going out past, say, 7 p.m.?

Do you find yourself gaining the inevitable winter weight and then determine an exercise plan that you immediately follow for one day before giving up on?

If  you have answered yes to any of the above, then you, too, might be ME.  Being ME is a serious condition that (most probably) requires strict  professional medical attention and care.

If you or someone you know and/or love might be ME, please call now for more information on how to treat this serious illness.

Our operators are standing by now.

Remember, friends don’t let friends be ME.

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