msLaura: Modern Mama Laura Hamilton + Dan Baker = Julian Hamilton Baker & Adrian Hamilton Baker "When a woman tells the truth she is creating the possibility for more truth around her."
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Happy Valentine's Day, you ass

Swingers

Happy Feet

On Julian's 4th Birthday

Politan

This palace can be yours...

Disaster Baby Part I - Explodes a Box of Kleenex Supposedly Out of His Reach

I just burst out laughing so hard I almost woke up the kids

Antibiotics ROCK

Grocery shoppin' in the ghetto

Don't let this happen to you, moms of the world...

Is winter over yet?

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« January 2008 | Main | March 2008 »

February 15, 2008

Happy Valentine's Day, you ass


This is a baboon's butt, if you didn't guess that already. What an awesome valentine.

Swingers


Swingers, originally uploaded by mslaura.

This is what the kids were doing while I was getting Happy Feet.

February 14, 2008

Happy Feet

Happy Valentine's Day, feet. I took you to Happy Feet Foot Spa today and you will never be the same.

This place is the greatest find ever. It's unbelievable. If you live anywhere near Cupertino, RUN, do not walk to Happy Feet. I am not joking.

Happy Feet Foot Spa
1045 S De Anza Blvd
San Jose, CA 95129
(408) 777-8855

I was driving down De Anza to run an errand at the beginning of January, and all of a sudden I spied the sign for Happy Feet Foot Spa. I had never heard of it before, but the name alone was enough to make me check it out. I had the kids in the car, but I drove slowly in front of the window and saw *One hour foot massage* and a reflexology chart. Hot damn!

For Valentine's Day, Dan and I changed plans last minute and decided to go check out Happy Feet instead of going out to dinner. We called up to make an appointment yesterday. How much was the one hour foot massage? TWENTY DOLLARS. That's right. We were so shocked that he called back and asked again. Same answer. What? No way! Yes. Yes way.

We went to our appointments today (his at 4:00pm, mine at 5:00pm) and it was truly killer. This place is insane, in a great way.

The spa consists of a big room full of reclining massage chairs, almost like a movie theater. It's pretty dark inside, and there is nothing on the walls except a meditation video playing on a flat screen TV. Well, you don't need much more, because your eyes will be closed in bliss, so don't worry.

Dan had his appointment first, then I came an hour later and passed the kids off to him. His eyes were all bleary and he looked drunk with relaxation when I arrived. A good sign. I switched car keys with him and the owner hurried me into my chair.

As soon as I sat down, I was swathed in towels, and my feet were placed in a bucket of VERY hot water. This was the overall motif of the visit...you are exposed to sensation that is very intense, ALMOST to the point of pain, or even a little past it, but it's all good.

At first I was like, "WOW, this water is hot!", but a second later I was loving it.

While my feet were soaking, my masseur got to work rubbing my shoulders, arms, head and hands vigorously. No light prissy touch, this was some serious working out of knots and kinks. I never knew my forearms were so tight!

After 10 minutes or so, he got to work on my feet. I will admit, it was painful in spots when he was digging his knuckles into my arches, but it was also pleasurable. I am not normally a fan of *hard* massages, but even though he was rubbing my feet really hard, I never asked him to ease off. It just felt good.

After the initial hard rub, he took a lighter touch and did my toes, heels, and every single spot on both feet, basically. Then he did my ankles, calves, and knees. Man, it was AWESOME. So blissful. Total relaxation, and incredibly therapeutic.

He finished up my legs and feet by literally *smacking* them with his hands, which again sounds painful, but it felt great, really got the circulation going. I was totally laughing to myself though.

I thought the massage was over, but then he asked me to turn over. I was fully clothed, BTW, I just rolled up my pants, and we were in the room with all the other customers.

So now....the back rub. Holy bejesus. At this point I will reiterate that I am not normally a fan of hard massages. I never get the sports massage or the deep tissue or anything like that. I prefer a nice Swedish.

But this man literally BEAT ME, and it felt great! I have never had such a hard, intense back rub. I don't even know what he was using, his elbow maybe? The knots in my shoulders and back never stood a chance. He literally crushed them into submission.

I was right on the verge of telling him to ease up, but even though it hurt at times, it completely relaxed my back and shoulders, and I could feel knots dissolving under the pressure.

He did ASK me if the pressure was OK, and I said yes, so you can certainly get a lighter massage if you want. I was surprised that I liked it, but I did. My back is really tight, and it was awesome.

At times he dug into my back so hard that I burst out laughing. He probably thought I was a little nuts, but oh well. It just completely cracked me up that I was laying on a table while some strange man absolutely beat the CRAP out of me, and I loved it. He was rubbing me so hard that my mouth was getting smashed into the massage chair face cushion, and I was literally biting it. Yes, there was a disposable slipcover thing on it, but still. Too funny.

Anyway, at the end I felt GREAT. I got up, paid my $20 + $5 tip, and walked out. My shoulders and feet were tingling and my whole body was relaxed.

Dan and I compared notes and we both loved the massage, even the parts that were slightly painful. We are still amazed that it is so incredibly cheap. OK, so you're on De Anza Blvd, and the setting is not so chi-chi, but you know what? For the same price as ONE killer 60-minute massage at Burke-Williams, I can get NINE HOURS of killer massage at Happy Feet, and I think it might even actually be more therapeutic.

Dan asked me who I had for the masseur, and I realized that I didn't even know. I had my eyes closed pretty much the whole time, and once my guy was done, he took off. I couldn't pick him out in a lineup to save my life. Um, he was Asian, like everybody else in there?

I love living near Cupertino. Goddamn...the things you can get. Crazy fruits and vegetables and bizarre snacks and live fish at Lion Market, smelly durian tapioca pearl drinks (and yummy NON-durian pearl drinks), every kind of tea you can imagine, awesome Vietnamese food, and now a kickass hour-long massage for $20. TWENTY BUCKS. I love the Bay Area. Love it.

Hurry up and get over there fast. At these prices, they will either go out of business or else be booked solid. Personally, I plan on going there at least once a week from now on. Actually, when Dan was in there was a woman who had already been there that morning and she was back for a return visit.

Happy Feet. This place ROCKS. Don't miss out. Your body will thank you.

According to the chart below, I have some issues with my intestines. That was the most tender spot on my feet.

February 13, 2008

On Julian's 4th Birthday

Whoa, four years. You are like, this BIG BOY now. I can't believe it. You can hold rational conversations with big words and everything. And of course, still be totally impossible at times.

Well, aren't we all.

I'm so excited to hang out with a big four-year-old boy. Wow, you can do all kinds of things now. I think back to your birthday last year, when your baby brother was brand new, and no comparison. You were just a little boy then, and you are definitely a whole different boy now, with all kinds of ideas and opinions and my oh my...don't you love to debate with me on some of them. That's fine, I don't mind a good debate from time to time.

We had a good day today, didn't we? It wasn't too fancy or anything, but we packed in some fun today. Started off with you and your brother at Kids' Club while I went to a Pilates class. You love Kids' Club, and you love it even more when your baby brother doesn't cry and scream and embarrass you with his ear-splitting loudness. Today he wasn't loud and he didn't scream. He must have known that it was your birthday. What a nice brother. Mommy was glad about the not-screaming too.

After Kids' Club, it was time for school. There are a bunch of kids with food allergies at your school, but Mommy found a gluten & dairy-free brownie mix at Trader Joe's, and got some veggie chips and strawberry fruit leathers too, and brought them to school for a party snack.

The kids are used to getting rice cakes for a snack at your school, which seems like a nasty snack to me (styrofoam, anyone?), so they were all pretty damn happy to see veggie chips and strawberry fruit leather and brownies. Big success!

You got to pick a story for Miss Marianne to read to the class, and you wore a crown at the snack table, like a Birthday King. You are so cute.

You played Hide and Seek with your friends today at school, and it consisted of all you kids counting randomly (14! 17! 28! 29! 30!) and then all rushing off like a swarm of bees. Not sure who you were seeking, or who was hiding.....maybe a little unclear on the concept? But everyone had fun, and that's the important part.

Then we went home, got a snack, took Baby Brother potty, and headed off to the playground for a spell....then to the toy store to pick out a birthday toy, and finally to Baskin-Robbins to get a quart of strawberry ice cream at the drive-up window.

By the way...whoever invented the DRIVE-THROUGH ICE CREAM WINDOW should win a Nobel Prize. Best thing ever. Oh wait, there is *one* thing better than drive-through ice cream, and I'll get to that in my next post. But back to Julian's birthday.

So, we got home with the ice cream and set up your miniature golf course (the present you picked out). I made a yummy dinner with lamb tenderloins, broccoli, and carrots. It took a little persuading to get you to eat your broccoli, and then it was on to the ice cream, with FOUR candles on top.

What a fun day...we just played and played and played. Good times! I'm so proud of you. You are so smart, and so sweet and loving, and even very polite when you want to be. Happy birthday, my dear boy!

February 08, 2008

Politan

I heard this song on "A Prairie Home Companion" last week and was hypnotized by it. Such a pretty tune, such a lovely voice, and such haunting lyrics. She sang it slower on the show, which I think was better, but hey, it's still pretty great.

Do you like it too? Take a listen...
Politan by Nellie McKay

Oh, at the end...the voice of the island? If it sounds familiar, that's because it's the voice of the guy from Schoolhouse Rock, who did innumerable voices for that wonderful series. "I'm Just a Bill" ring any bells?

This palace can be yours...

Lookee here, you can buy this veritable palace in Detroit for LESS THAN THE AVERAGE HOME PRICE here in Santa Clara County.

It's pretty sweet. Too bad it's in Detroit, but then again, would you ever need to leave home, when home is that fancy? Plus, it looks like it's out in the burbs, not in the urban center or anything. I love the sun porch. Nice paintings on the ceiling. You can see it better here.

February 06, 2008

Disaster Baby Part I - Explodes a Box of Kleenex Supposedly Out of His Reach

This stuff happens so often that I am going to start documenting it. I wish I had thought about this during the last few days, what with the poop, shattered glass and Pepto-Bismol disasters. And those were only a handful. Now that I have a plan around it, he'll probably be as good as gold. Wait...maybe I'm onto something...


DisasterBaby explodes a box of Kleenex in the back seat of the car from Laura Hamilton on Vimeo.

I just burst out laughing so hard I almost woke up the kids

OK, Dooce has been bugging of late. It seems like she just writes about her dog and her stylish knick-knacks. But then she comes out with a gem like this that cracks me up to no end:

Antibiotics ROCK

Oh my GOD, I am a different woman. HooRAY for antibiotics and modern medicine. That shit kicked in fast, and not a minute too soon, either.

I'm still pretty sick, but not at death's door like I was. Even this morning I was feeling pretty bad still. I couldn't eat a thing for the last two days and I was just fading, getting really weak and nauseous.

Tonight I felt good enough to order Chinese food and go to town on it. In fact, I am going back for round two right now. I have a lot of eating to catch up on.

I've been on one HELL of a weight loss plan. Works great, but the side effects are hell.

Oh, so today...the latest in Adrian's Campaign of Destruction....
I have him on my back. I go in the bathroom to put lip balm on ...my lips look like they've been torn up with forks, they are so chapped from all the mouth-breathing I've been doing.

There is Pepto-Bismol on the counter from this morning, when I felt really nauseous after taking my antibiotic on a too-empty stomach. Adrian swipes it somehow while I'm not looking, disarms the child-PROOF (ha!) top on it, and starts pouring it down my back, between our two bodies.

I don't feel anything, because I have on a wool vest. But I look down and it looks like I'm bleeding pink. What the? Where is it coming from?

I look in the mirror and see A waving the now-empty bottle around. Goddamn Destructo-Baby strikes again! So I have to take him off my back and out of the carrier, the BRAND NEW CARRIER that is now soaked in Pepto. My wool vest is soaked in Pepto, as is my shirt and my new wool pants. His clothing is soaked too.

I am NOt going to ask what next, because this baby has proven his ability to get into trouble already. But we have had a seriously crazy few days here with all the destruction he has caused. Poop, broken glass, eating magazines, I can't even go into it all. I'm thinking about a playpen or something. He will scream his head off, but at least he won't be causing such mayhem.

Grocery shoppin' in the ghetto

Yesterday after my doctor's appointment, I had to go fill a prescription. Oh lord, yes, another joyous opportunity to drag the kids in and out of the car twice more...hooray!

Albertson's is a grocery store very close to my house, and it has a Sav-On Pharmacy inside. So I headed over there, put Adrian on my back, stuck Julian in one of those Shopping Carts with a Car on the Front, gave the pharmacist my scrip and my new insurance card, and was told, "Go do your shopping while we call the insurance company and set up payment."

OK, except I don't have any shopping to do, I can barely stand up, and besides (looking around)....this place is GHETTO.

Man, is it ever. Albertsons is the kind of grocery store where there is nothing to buy if you are a high-falutin', processed food-avoiding, organic-loving Trader Joe's regular foodie like me. Aisle after aisle filled with sodas and super-sugary cereals packed with artifical colors and flavors, Fritos, Doritos, and who ever knew that there were THAT many different kinds of malt liquor aka Booze Masquerading as Sody Pop? Not me.

The frozen food section is three aisles, with every sort of TV dinner imaginable. Interesting, in an icky sort of way. I head over to the produce department and the produce is LARGE AND IN CHARGE. There are Fuji apples as big as my baby's head, all exactly equal in size and shape, and waxed to shining, weird perfection. It's all Stepford produce. Looks gorgeous, but rings hollow. I wonder what kinds of noxious chemicals it takes to create this, and shudder. I ask for the organics section, and it's tiny. Nothing but apples and carrots.

There are some spooky looking characters roaming around too. The first pair that catches my eye is a woman with what looks to be massive burn scars over her entire face, and only one tooth. She has almost no nose left, just two holes. I hope Julian doesn't see her and say something in a loud voice...she's pretty terrifying-looking. She is pushing the wheelchair for a fairly normal-looking dark-haired man. He looks a little battered, but not too bad. Until he opens his mouth...then I see that he too only has one tooth!

Next, roaming the Personal Products aisle is...the Unabomber! No joke, I thought that guy was in jail, but here he is...shopping for deodorant at Albertson's! And talking in a very low voice on his cell phone...uh oh.

A clerk comes by and asks me if I need help. Ya think? Because I've been circling the grocery store for 30 minutes without putting anything in my cart. I say no, thank you, and note that he is obese and has super-bulgy eyes with glasses that are about an inch thick. Red hair too, in a U shape.

I'm definitely part of the freak show here today. Soaked in sweat, gasping for air, loaded down like a pack mule with a large baby on my back who keeps screeching "DADDDEEEEE!" and wildly pointing to everything that catches his eye, and I'm hanging on for dear life to a huge cart with a giant toy car on the front, where Julian is throwing himself around inside like a whirling dervish, I'm not sure why.

I'm sweaty and totally disheveled, with a matted braid, and I'm shuffling around pushing this car all hunched over because I don't know, I can't seem to stand up straight or walk normally since I got sick. Too weak, and my back is killing me. Oh, and honking my nose into a Kleenex every few minutes, then carefully examining the contents.

Apart from the food, I belong here. These are my people. Everyone is super nice (except the Unabomber, but well, you know). No one looks at me funny. The toothless guy in the wheelchair waves to Julian and asks him to honk his car horn. Beep beep!

Even the little crews of wanna-be gangbanger pre-teens are OK.

The funny part is that Trader Joe's and a fairly decent grocery store are right across the street, so it's not like there aren't other options. I know TJ's takes food stamps. We're not REALLY in the ghetto, it's just this one grocery store that seem to pull in a weird crowd. Maybe, like me today, they feel at home here, and the food doesn't really matter?

February 05, 2008

Don't let this happen to you, moms of the world...

Holy frijoles, this flu I've got is UTTERLY AWFUL. It keeps morphing from one bad set of symptoms into another.

The worst so far is the Body Temperature Roller Coaster. Arms in the air, everyone!
Let's take a look at the diagram, shall we?

So at one extreme I am literally BURNING UP with fever and sweating my boobs off. Luckily, I don't feel *so* sick when I have the Heat Miser thing going on. I mean, I'm still miserable, but not *as* miserable as I am in Freezing My Ass Off mode.

When the Freeze Miser thing hits, I sit on the floor in a ball and grind my forehead into my knees. That's it. I can't do anything else. First of all because I'm too cold to unfold myself out of a semi-fetal position...also, we have heater vents down at floor level, so I try to strategically position my collapse for maximum heat intake.

Oh, well I do shiver and shake uncontrollably too. That's a lot of fun. NOT.

For the past 3.75 days (but who's counting?) I've been riding this bullshit roller coaster and hey, you know what? I WANT TO GET OFF. Not only because I feel awful, but because I am literally crippled by this thing, and have YOU ever tried taking care of two small and rambunctious children while sitting on your kitchen floor with your forehead grinding into your knees? It's not so easy.

This weekend the Young and the Restless were not only that, but they were extra LOUD too. Adrian has been screeching every time he wants to get my attention, or communicate anything at all. I am madly signing to him, hoping that he'll catch on that screeching is not a good way to communicate, but it IS a good way to ensure that he will be put out on the corner for adoption.

Julian is overtired from being kept awake by coughing fits all night long. That makes him kind of nutty, and he has been screeching a lot too, even though he can speak perfectly well. Peer pressure, you know.
...

Well, I stopped writing there yesterday and then got too sick to do any more. In the meantime it's been pretty nightmarish. I'm still not getting any sleep at night, and not able to lie down for more than a little bit at a time during the day. EVERYTHING HURTS.

Chasing after two kids is hard enough when I'm well, but this sick? Impossible. I can't do it. But my babysitter is sick too, and Dan is busy with his new job. So my options are slim to none.

As a result, I have pretty much lost my sanity. Today I took Adrian's diaper off to let him air out a bit, as he had a little rashy spot in the fold of his groin. Then I felt really weak and dizzy and had to lie down on the rug in the living room. Julian and Adrian were both playing nearby, with Julian's train set. I kept thinking, "MUST GET UP AND PUT A DIAPER ON THE BABY", but I literally couldn't move, I felt so awful and I was so exhausted.

Suddenly I hear Julian say, "Ewwwww, MOMMY!" and I crack an eye open. Adrian is eating something, and there is a streak of something out the side of his mouth. What could he be *eating* over there?

"Ewwww, it's stinky!" At that my heart stopped. No, dear god, let it NOT be that. But yes, god DID let it be that. And it was bad. Boy, was it ever bad. A baby smeared with poop, a floor smeared with poop, and me, laying there practically unable to get up.

Well, I DID get up, of course, since the problem was growing worse by the minute as he moved around. All I can say is that I have absolutely ZERO sense of smell at the moment, and I have never been more thankful of that. Because otherwise I think I would have been retching, cleaning that shit up. It took every remaining iota of energy I had to clean up floor and baby, and I burst into tears and pitched a fit, a loud HYSTERICAL fit at the end.

The fit went something like this:
I'M SO SICK AND SO TIRED, I CAN"T TAKE IT ANYMORE! I'M UP ALL NIGHT LONG WITH THESE KIDS, AND I CAN'T LIE DOWN FOR EVEN FIVE MINUTES DURING THE DAY EITHER! HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO GET BETTER LIKE THIS, WITH THESE FUCKING KIDS DRIVING ME NUTS AND GIVING ME NO PEACE!

I think that's what I said. I felt bad including Julian in that, because he leaves me alone (for the most part) during the day. But at night he is usually the one keeping me awake.

Last night I had just gotten to sleep, like literally 20 minutes earlier, and all of a sudden Julian starts wailing in his room. "Wah!!! Ehhhhhhhhhh!" Like a car alarm going off in there. I wait to see if *maybe* Dan will hear him and go in to quiet him, but of course not.

I haul myself up out of bed to find out what's wrong. "Why are you crying? What's wrong?"
"I don't know." And he stops crying, rolls over, goes back to sleep. Well, thanks for waking me up and getting me out of bed then! I appreciate that. Really.

I finally get back to sleep amid my feverish shakings, shiverings and sweatiness. Adrian wakes up a couple of times, then I spontaneously wake up because I'm BURNING a HOLE in the bed, I'm so on fire. My shirt is soaked. It takes me a long time to cool off enough to sleep again, and just as I am drifting off, I hear Julian's door open and he comes in, climbs into bed with us, and proceeds to thrash around, toss and turn. I tell him to cut it out or he has to go back to his own bed. Then Adrian wakes up again, Julian tosses and turns.

It is at this point that I begin to plot how I will abandon my family. Because this gig? It's not working out for me too well. I'm sick as a dog, and no one gives a shit. Let's pile more on her!

I won't rag on Dan too much here, but suffice to say that my husband, in spite of having witnessed me utterly freak out and lose it earlier in the day, proceeded to leave a big pan of ravioli out on the counter (after serving himself a portion), and that was after leaving sushi out on the table the night before, PLUS leaving the peanut butter out (and open, can't put the lid back on, no sirree!), but hey, at least we won't die of food poisoning from him leaving the peanut butter out. But meat ravioli? SUSHI? Oh, and shepherd's pie was left out on the counter a few days ago. Why bother returning it to the refrigerator? Too much work, that cleaning up after yourself, putting food away thing. Might sprain a finger or something. Taking it OUT of the refrigerator is enough of a task.

Besides, we're not sick enough around here. We need food poisoning on top of everything else. Right? Hmmm, maybe not. Well, no worries, *I'll* take care of it, just as soon as I hack up a lung or two and peel myself up off the floor. Oh, and did I mention I'm taking care of the kids too, in my horribly ill state? But really, don't worry about little old *me*.

OK, just one more thing. When we went to go vote tonight, I heard Dan volunteering to a total stranger behind us that I was really sick and had been BEDRIDDEN for several days. Yes, as in "confined to bed (by illness)". As if! Like I've been in bed resting up, dozing on and off, perusing magazines, and ringing a little bell for Dan to bring me tea and chicken soup. HA! I SHOULD be bedridden, I would probably not be nearly this sick now if I HAD been bedridden, OK?

Aaaargh! My husband means well, I know he doesn't do this stuff on purpose, but when he gets all wrapped up in his own head with work stuff, forget about it.

I went to go see my new doctor today for an urgent care appointment, dragging both kids along of course. I was a little freaked about driving there, as I was feeling dizzy and light-headed. You see, I *was* finally able to take a nap today from 12 until about 2pm, but then my appointment was at 2:30pm, so I had to wake up and then rush, rush, rush, and my stomach is feeling icky, and lord knows I didn't want the SUSHI that had been left out on the table for several hours last night.

That's when I saw the ravioli pan sitting out on the counter with the lid all pried up. And Julian says to me, "Mommy, I'm hungry. I didn't have any lunch." Wha?
"So Daddy never gave you any lunch while I was sleeping with Baby Brother?"
"No. I'm hungry!"

I grab a little snack and we head out. The doctor is nice. She comes in the exam room and offers her hand to me. I shake it with my hot, sopping paw and tell her my sad story. She listens to my breathing and has to dry off the stethoscope afterwards. I have a temperature of 101.6. I'm VERY SWEATY.

She concludes that I probably started with a mild flu, but now I have a very bad sinus infection, and that is why I've had this horrible fever for five days straight. My body is trying to drive the bacteria out by coming as close to spontaneous combustion as possible. This also explains why I have yellow and green blood-tinged chunks of goo coming out of my head. So now I have a course of antibiotics to take and will hopefully improve soon.

God, Adrian is a terror. I mean, he's a darling baby, and about as sweet and loving as can be. But that kid is a whirlwind of destruction. Tonight Dan was playing with Julian (after I yelled at him for not being helpful) and I guess he thought I was watching Adrian, but really I was in a walking delirium. I had just hauled my limp body up off the carpet to get some juice because my mouth had gone bone-dry. Anyway, I was putting water in my glass and I hear CRASH! Adrian had just gotten into the cupboard with my glass baking dishes in it (which I thought I had rubber-banded shut, but I guess not) and pulled them out onto the floor from the top shelf, thereby shattering two of them.

So that was fun, cleaning up shards of glass with a dustpan on my hands and knees, sinuses throbbing, all sweaty and ready to pass out. Way to end the day! Can't wait to do it all over again tomorrow! Woohoo!

Just realized that it's 10:00pm, I haven't eaten lunch or dinner, and I should probably change my shirt, since it's soaked with sweat again. Ugh. And maybe hydrate a little, ya think?

February 02, 2008

Is winter over yet?

It's the 2nd of February, and you know what that means...it means that January is OVER for another whole year.

I despise January. Actually, I'm not so fond of February either, but at least February is one month closer to spring. January is so far away from any remote glimmer of warm, lazy days. The holidays are over. We come down with endless colds and flu. Vitamin D levels plummet. The kids are cranky. I'm cranky. I can never get warm enough, no matter how many sweaters I wear, except when I'm occasionally suffocating from the heater's blast of parched air.

We hibernate. Our friends hibernate. The days become nothing but get up, trudge through the day, feel cold, go to bed. I make an attempt to get out of the house and go for a hike with the kids once a week, but Julian has started saying that he doesn't want to go...it's too cold outside.

To add to my joyous outlook, Julian has had a NASTY flu for the past week. Poor little guy barely spoke, barely ate for three days. He complained about being hungry, then didn't touch his meals, just sad there red-eyed and miserable with multi-colored goo dripping out of his nose.

I thought he was being kind of wussy, but then *I* came down with it last night and FUCK. What a nightmare. I could barely sit up in my chair. I had to sit on the floor to put on my jammies because I was afraid I would pass out and bonk my head on the tile.

I was so out of it that I went to bed with Adrian at 7:15pm. I lay in bed next to him, wracked with frigid shaking chills, then burning with fever. I slept on and off, but mostly I just swung between the two extremes in a delirious state. Luckily, Adrian had a great night of sleep and barely woke up. Thank goodness, because if he had been having a high-need night, or if he had been screamy, I am not sure what I would have done, but it would not have qualified me for any Mother of the Year awards, that's for damn sure.

I woke up at one point and felt like I had been in that bed of misery forever and a day. Utterly weak, shaking, sweating, and my hips and knees ached like I was 95 years old. I couldn't get comfortable. My throat burned with a ball of fiery snot firmly wedged out of loogie-hacking range.

I had to pee like a racehorse, so I crawled out of bed and into the bathroom. Surely it must be around 5-6am, right? It felt like I had been in bed for 12 hours straight. Looked at the clock and was horrified to see that it was exactly 1:06am. FUCK! Six more hours of torment!

And why, you ask, didn't I just get up, if being in bed was so awful? Because being out of bed was even worse. Freezing cold in the house, and I didn't have enough strength to sit up.

Shortly after crawling back in bed with Adrian (and praying that I was passing him enough breastmilk antibodies for him to avoid coming down with this), I heard Julian open his door and come out in the hall. He rattled the door handle to Adrian's room, but in his sleepy state couldn't get it open (I normally leave it ajar). I heard him go back to bed after a little bit, and felt bad, but oh well.

I woke up again later on...surely NOW it must be close to dawn, right? Nope, now it was 3:17am. I got up to pee again, but this time Adrian woke up too and started crying, so I toted him into the bathroom with me and sat him on my lap while I peed, sat him on HIS potty to pee, and headed back to the Bed of Pain.

As I was creeping back to bed I heard Julian stirring, and once I got into bed and got Adrian settled, he appeared at the bedside. "Mommy, I want you to come and sleep with me."

"Oh honey, come and crawl in with me here. Mommy is too tired and sick to move."

He laid next to me, and the two of us sickos cuddled and commiserated. "I feel sick." "Me too." "I don't LIKE being sick." "Me NEITHER. I HATE being sick. "I'm sorry that you're sick." "I'm sorry too, I hope we both get better soon."

We both laid awake for a long time, neither of us feeling well enough to sleep.

Awake, asleep, awake, asleep. Tossing and turning, freezing and sweating. Aching hips, aching knees, aching shoulders.

Finally at 6:45, Adrian woke up and started chattering happily, crawling around the bed, and trying to pounce on his poor tired brother. Then Julian woke up and the two of them rolled around like two little puppies, cute as could be.

We all got out of bed eventually, got some breakfast, and I popped two ibuprofen. I normally prefer to let a fever run its course, but after my night of torture, I felt I had had enough.

So here it is, 5:00pm on a Saturday. It's dark and gray and cold outside. I have on a turtleneck sweater, a wool vest, a wool hat and a scarf. INSIDE. And I'm still freezing, even though the thermostat says 67.

In my pre-kid days I would be lounging in a scalding hot bathtub right now, but no chance of me doing that. I could get Dan to watch the kids, but Adrian would still be squawking at top volume outside the bathroom door. GOD FORBID YOU STEP AWAY FROM ME, MOMMY WOMAN. It's too cold for them to go for a walk or perform any other distractional tactics.

I could take a bath after the kidlets go to bed, but that will eat into my work time, and lord knows...I'm way behind on that. Behind on emails, behind on website updates, behind on organizing inventory. You name it, I'm behind on it. Well, except for shipping orders. I can't afford to get behind on that.

Speaking of which, time to deal with the Super Squawker, who is right now standing next to my chair screaming. Time to start making dinner as well. Oh please, let tonight go better than last night...


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