THE ONE in which you find us all in snotty heap...dead.

So Cooper has RSV...sucks majorly. He also has an ear infection in BOTH count em BOTH ears! (According to my grandma, this is all my fault because I let him run around naked, ie: fully clothed minus the socks...) And I want to be all like, "grandma I don't think I'm the problem, the infection is in his ears NOT HIS FEET." If he had contracted gan-green then SURE I might take the fall for that one...but this, I'm not going down for.


Anyway so he's pretty miserable but THANK THE GOOD LORD IN HEAVEN much, much better than at the first of the week. He gets a breathing treatment three times a day and an antibiotic twice a day and we suction his nose as often as we feel like taking our lives in our own hands because seriously have you ever tried to stick something up the nose of a very strong octopus? Have you?

So I am thrilled and thankful that he is on the road to recovery and I have to give a shout out to Craig (my house husband as of this week), who has taken care of Cooper the majority of the time. Him and my mom took him to the doctor. Craig picked up the meds. Craig has given him all the breathing treatments and the antibiotic too for that matter. And he's also been the chief bottle maker (and dish washer), HOW LUCKY AM I?!

The reason Craig has taken so much responsibility is that my job has required me to be here this week. We have a new sheriff and administration taking over and the chaos is imminent and frowned upon if missed by any employee. Yay me, barrel full of fun...

So about that snot. I'm pretty sure I'm getting sick. I guess I have the adult version (aka: much milder) of RSV. I'm sniffing, coughing, wheezing, all cold symptoms apply. Granted I would much rather be sick than Cooper and if I could take this illness from him I would, however nature had a different approach in mind. Nature feels that if one in your herd gets sick that the whole herd is condemned and then it does it's best to weed out the weak ones from the pack. Currently nature is trying to wipe the Sexton's off the map...


As of now Craig is not sick....I'm holding my breath but...Craig has the immune system of a half dead donkey...seriously, he usually catches whatever is going around. I attribute him not getting sick thus far as nothing but the Sovernity of God since I really couldn't miss work and Cooper really needed one sober parent (not doped up on Robitussin), to take care of him. But it's probably coming. Change is coming and I fear that, that change for Craig is his health. I mean seriously can you live with two sicklings and not catch it yourself? I think not. Especially when one of them does things like COUGH IN YOUR MOUTH. (I was informed by Becca that today while visiting Cooper she leaned down and opened her mouth and he went AUGHHCK right in her face. So yeah, she's going to get it too...

So Monday (if we're not dead by then), Craig is supposed to write down when he wants to use all of his vacation/sick days...Yeah he's expected to KNOW when he's going to be sick for twelve months...is this realistic? Not in the least. Vacation I could understand (it would still be annoying to try and figure out when you're going to need that work reprieve most so you don't go postal, so far in advance but I still get it for vacation). But when your days double as vacation/sick it's pretty much impossible to utilize any of them as sick days...ughghgh. Just one more thing to look forward to, you can count on at least a couple of days when you are sick and have to take an unpaid day...Did I mention "ughghghghgh"...

So to recap we're all either sick or getting sick and we're destined to die in a snotty heap while NOT GETTING PAID for it!

The One Where Noone Gets Any Sleep...

Last night was rough. To put it mildly, it SUCKED.


Cooper is sick. Sniffly, congested, can't breath, SICK. But last night we added another element to the mix. Uncontrollable crying and withering around. I knew he was hurting but I was having a hard time figuring out where and what (if anything) I could do about it. We tried tylenol. We tried a bottle. We tried a flashlight...(which sounds weird but Craig has this flashlight and is just Cooper size and when it's dark sometimes you can hand it to Coop and he flails it around and watches the light and chews on the end...). Anyway we tried all that we knew to try. Craig walked around with him. I cradled him. NOTHING. WAS. WORKING.


He would take his bottle for like 30 seconds and then stop and start to cry again. I thought maybe he was having trouble with the milk (because of all the freakin congestion) so we tried pedialyte. He would still only eat for like half a minute.

I had him propped in my lap on a pillow and all of a sudden IT ALL CAME UP. Like possibly everything he had ever eaten in his whole life, possibly everything anyone had ever eaten in their whole life...since the beginning of time...all PROJECTILE VOMIT style. We were soaked and covered and so was the bed.

I changed and changed the Coop, who had miraculously stopped screaming and was down to a whimper. Poor little baby, I knew he must be miserable. Anyway so we relocated to the couch and I tried just holding him against me which was actually working so me and him propped against the couch to try and get some much needed sleep. (By this time it was 3:00 am).

Craig comes and flops on the other couch, apple in hand...I'm like, "what are you doing, are you not going back to bed?" He was like "no, pretty much I have to get up in three hours I'll just stay up!" (See when I get delirious I get funny when Craig gets delirious he gets cranky and unreasonable).

So me and Coop are sitting there trying to sleep while Craig sits 3 feet away and munches on an apple...have you ever heard anyone eat an apple at 3:00 in the morning? Pretty much the most annoying sound ever...it's dead silence then CRUUUUNNNNCH...chew chew chew...CRUUUUNNNNCH...chew chew chew.

I cannot describe to you the absolute torture this caused my ears. It was worse than nails on a blackboard, it was worse than nails on jeans (bec!) and I'm pretty sure it was worse than if fifteen cows had been in my house, all mooing, all dying.

Finally the apple was gone. Then *then* he decided to go back into the bedroom...finally I think we'll get some rest. Now I'm trying not to move at all because I don't want to risk waking him up and starting this whole process over again.

Mercy cat jumps up on the coffee table and swipes the bag of cat treats that are lying there. CRAP! Now if a normal cat encountered a bag of treats it wouldn't be that bad. They might bat it around a little, play with it for a few seconds but then they would loose interest because, well they're a cat and a cat has the attention span of like, 2.8 seconds. But not Mercy cat, she is like a freakin ninja...with tools. She grabs the bag with her teeth and carries it to the floor. All the while I'm whispering "mercy...mercy...no...NO..." She ignores me and proceeds to use her teeth and front paws to rip into the bag...an effective, albeit SLOW, TORTUROUS way to open them. So I keep hearing *crinkle* rip rip rip *crinkle* rip rip rip until I almost entitled this post "the one where the cat gets the boot".

Then the crying starts again. AUGHGHTHTHGHGH. I try a nifty little hold called the collick carry that my brilliant mom showed me. This calmed him and as long as I had pressure on his tummy he was fine. The minute I layed him down he screamed but if I was holding him pressing on his tummy he seemed okay. So this is what we did. We pressed and we whimpered and we slept.

Poor little guy, I hope and pray that he feels better today. (Craig and my mom have him at the doctor right now).

And as for Craig and Mercy, no more cat treats and SO HELP ME IF I EVER BUY ANOTHER APPLE AGAIN.

DO YOU JUST WANT ME TO BEND OVER OR WHAT?!

Last night I was hit with a particularly hard case of delirium...is that a word? Anyway I was absolutely DELIRIOUS.

Craig, Cooper, Cooper's curious george doll and me were laying on the couch and Craig was trying to get comfortable so he was moving around and I thought he needed a pillow for his head so I'm like "do you want me to stuff curious george in you?" And he was like, "ummmm yeahhhhh what do you want me to do, bend over?!" And I'm like "WHAT?!" He's like, "you asked if I wanted you to stuff curious george IN me." (insert hilarious laughter here). "NOooooooo" I say, "I meant do you want me to stuff curious george in your head.....wait...I mean UNDER your head...as a pillow..." But Craig thought we just needed to go to bed because I apparently really needed some sleep.

So we're laying in bed and we're all watching Cooper's new projector thing that we got him for Christmas. (It plays lullabys and projects lights and scenes on the ceiling...very relaxing). So we're just laying there enjoying it and Craig was like "well is there anything else that you want to prop on my face?" I look over to see what he means and realize that I've flopped my whole hand across his face and it was just laying there...I guess I thought it was comfortable, I don't know...I didn't even realize I was doing it. (More hilarious laughter).

Then after the lullabys had stopped and the lights had went out we were almost asleep when I burst into a fit of giggles. "What? asked Craig, are you thinking about the curious george thing again?" "No....I (hehehehe) I was just thinking about (hahahaha) I was remembering aunt Trudy opening the enema at Christmas (AHAHAHAHAHAHA!) Do...(hehehe) do you remember that? Do you remember her UNWRAPPING it?!?! The look on her face when she saw the ritz box (hahahahahahahahahaha)" And Craig was like "Vaguely...but I don't remember it being that funny".

I continued to laugh myself to sleep...oh if every night could consist of happy thoughts about curious george and Christmas enemas...

SOFT ~n~ NASTY...

"Soft n Nasty" a quote from my husband yesterday.

He stayed home with our sick Coopasaurus and like a good house husband he did a few chores. When I got home all the clothes were gone out of the bathroom floor. I walked in the laundry room and commented on how good it smelled.

"Yumm it smells so...good in here...what did you do?" "It's just the detergent you bought, it smells really good!" At this point I'm thinking to myself "really? the purex I got for $1.99 on clearance? hmmmm. I didn't know it smelled that good..." Then Craig picked up the bottle of liquid he had ACTUALLY been using to "wash" the clothes. "Craig, that is Snuggle Bear (or whatever that cuddly little bear product is called). It's fabric softener...not detergent..." He shrugged, "Oh...well I guess our clothes will be SOFT ~n~ NASTY."

And that, right there, that's why I did it, that's why I married him, because of moments like that.

Do you even know where THAT goes?!

(a post from yesterday)

As I sit here and write this I feel like a CRAP-A-DOODLE. In case you aren't familiar with that term it technically means "feeling really crappy and probably on the brink of death".


Even though I'm pretty sure it's fairy warm outside I have my office heater on because I'm chilling. I can barely open my eyes because my head hurts and ears are popping and my throat sucks really bad. Also my back hurts, my legs and feet are throbbing and my uterus is trying to single handedly kill me. Now if that doesn't define CRAP-A-DOODLE I don't know what would.


The first symptoms were my back and uterus so I blamed my period. (Which I now don't feel is completely at fault although it surely isn't helping). Next my head, eyes and ears exploded, to which I attributed to the fact that I lost my contacts this morning and was wearing my sucky glasses. Later I got more contacts, head still exploding. Then I figured that Craig had conveniently passed his germs to me since he went to the doctor today to find out he doesn't have strep, but some type of virus. Now with my legs, feet and the chilling I'm wondering if maybe it's not my very own version of the flu...


Yuck.


I very rarely get sick so when I do I guess I'm kind of a whiner. Okay I know I'm very much a whiner. But anyway, so Craig was at walmart getting his meds and I asked him if he would pick me up a box of tampons. All the while I've been complaining of how bad I feel and the fact that everything hurts and useful trivia like that. So Craig finds the specific box that I want and I ask how much it is. "$4.57." "WHAT?! For a tiny box like that?!" Craig is now fumbling through all the tampon boxes making sure he hasn't accidentally picked up the size labeled "GIANT ECONOMY, WILL LAST UNTIL MENOPAUSE". "I'm sorry, that's the smallest box they have." "UUUhghhghgh, I moan, just never mind I know I have a coupon at home I'll wait until I have that with me." "But baby if you're hurting like that you need these NOW!" "What?" "You need these now because you're hurting so bad." "What?"


At this point I'm really confused because what does he think tampons do? They're not some kind of miracle drug guaranteed to cure all that ails you...a necessity sure, but by no means "just what I need to feel better". Because he is obviously (even if in his "man innocence") trying to be nice and do me a favor I let all this go and just tell him to go ahead and chop off his arm and let them know I'll be there later to give them my leg.

Now that I've lost all faith in my husband's knowledge of tampons, I have to ask myself, "does he even know where they go?"

Straight From My Husband's Lips:

As we left church and passed the gas station he looks over and without cracking a smile, as absolutely serious as I've ever seen him he goes "I'm so glad gas is $4.00 a gallon...I just can't think of anything else I'd rather spend my money on".

Then he just waited until I finally laughed out loud and said "you are kidding, right?"

He never answered and that makes me go "hhmmmm".

Maybe I'm just a CONTROL FREAK...

But seriously HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO TELL YOU IT'S CHEAPER?

If I hear Craig order a mighty kid's cheeseburger meal one more time I am seriously going to loose it. Over and over again I have pointed out that it's cheaper to order a double cheeseburger, small fry and small drink and still have more food than the freakin fake "happy meal".

First of all happy meals haven't been "happy" since they took away the cardboard box and replaced it with a suck filled, environmentally friendly, paper bag. Secondly with the frick is up with "mighty kids". It's like, "KIDS, KIDS, HAPPY MEALS AREN'T BAD ENOUGH FOR YOU, BE A MIGHTY KID!" (A mighty fat kid). Not that I was a healthy kid, heck when I was four I was ordering BIG-MACS and there's nothing wrong with that but it pisses me off when my 35 year old husband pays over $4.00 for a $3.00 meal just to have it come in a bag that says "I'm a Mighty Kid"...

18 degres away from 100...

That is the temperature in my house right now, as we speak. 82 degrees. Middle of September, 82 degrees...how RIDICULOUS is that?! Apparently our air conditioner decided to go on strike...I mean COME ON! It had three weeks, four weeks tops to keep on persevering and then we could all call it quits for one more horrendous summer in georgia. But no, it couldn't give me that could it?


Now 82 degrees may not that sound that hot...if you're my Aunt Marie, who purposely keeps her thermostat hovering at triple digits. However we keep our house at a nice cool, delightful 69 degrees. 70 if we're feeling conservative...so 82 feels like, well basically we now know what it feels like to be a cinnamon roll in the oven. Not only are we burning alive we're also getting very sticky...

Since we've already had to have the air conditioner fixed once this summer I was reluctant to spend any more money on it. Also because I am cheap and a pro-champion procrastinator I suggested to Craig that maybe we should just try to make do with fans for the rest of the summer and worry about this problem next spring.

He looked at me in disbelief and was like, "no, we need to get it fixed and get it fixed now. You're horrible to live with when you're hot." "I'm not that bad..." I just...I don't know, I think my body already maybe runs a little hotter than the average person's. Maybe it's all my extra padding, maybe that serves as insulation. (See post on why I'm the fat kid).

So I'm like "maybe I get a little grumpy when it's hot." And Craig was like "grumpy does not begin to cover it. I'm looking for words like unbearable, inconsolable, irate...Seriously we need to get it fixed this week...I'm calling the guy tomorrow. Because if not I'm afraid you'll die. I'm afraid you'll literally die and that you'll purposely take me with you."

I don't know that the heat would actually drive me to kill but if you find us in a pile of ashes know this; we spontaneously combusted and accidentally cremated ourselves. And also it is my last wish that you, as my friend or family, must divide the ashes evenly and each wear a portion of ME in a vile around your neck. Everyday. Forever. And remember I like to stay cool...