One of my kids was sick last night. The word "HURL" describes it well. "Hurl" from standing up, not from bending over the white porcelain potty. "Hurling" happened in the upstairs bathroom; thankfully he made it that far, and thankfully the second time it hit him, he made the mark. Lots of towels and rags to clean up. Daddy gagged and almost added to the mess. Mommy just rolled her eyes at him and tried not to laugh as our son was feeling so pitiful.
An hour later we tucked him in at the foot of our bed (on the floor), so we could help him if it happened again. Almost asleep we were all settled in when he got up and headed to the bathroom. Daddy said, "are you okay?" Son dutifully responded that he was fine and we relaxed for a few seconds until we heard the sound of "HURLING" again - - from a standing up position. It has a very distinct sound. . . . It sounds like someone has dumped a bucket of water (but it is definately NOT water) from about four feet up onto the tile floor (and up the walls and the baseboards and the door. . . ) In shock, we ran in - - not looking forward to a second clean-up - (notice, we weren't as concerned about the kid, but about the clean-up!) Nice parents we are.
Then the unthinkable happened, and I stood behind him and watched as it happened. He probably just didn't want to step in the mess he had already made (because that was what I was thinking - ooo, yuck) he would have had to step in it to make it to that beautiful white bowl of water that would have been so simple to flush and watch it all go away. . . but, alas, the second wave didn't make the mark this time. Lots of Yuck. He was white as a sheet. I think I was too seeing what I had to clean up . . . again.
But it could have been worse. Different son, several years ago. Sleeping on the top bunk. Got sick in the middle of the night, and not wanting to soil his bed, Hurled over the side of the bed - - onto his sleeping brother in the bed below - - onto the carpet - - onto the couch where we read stories - - and onto his other brother in his little bed on the other side of the room. That time too, Daddy gagged as we were scooping up the debris and we had to hide our laughter from the sick soul. I still chuckle thinking about that night and us with dust pans doing our best to scoop as much as we could out of the carpet before the deep cleaning began all while trying to turn off our olfactory senses.
Only other night or rather illness that slightly compares, was the "get sick in the middle of the night, sit up and HURL all over your bed" sickness that hit my kids and many others about 7 years ago. Yup, no lie, that's what was happening all around town. Hit two of my kids on different nights. Usually for other types of accidents, I would just pull out towels and let them go back to sleep, but not those nights. Those nights were "turn the top light on, strip the kid, strip the bed, clean the kid, clean the bed, tell the other kid in the room to go back to sleep, pray the washing machine is empty, pray they go back to sleep and don't get sick again!" nights.
No more hurling today, but I am ready. I've bought several cleaners, Lysol, gingerale, gatorade, and oh yeah, I was supposed to by canned pears. From my years of pregnancy I learned that only one food tastes decent going both ways - canned pears. Pizza is horrendous; don't eat pizza if you think you might be seeing that meal again soon. And if you do, don't say I didn't warn you. Canned pears, that's a much better choice.
Well, I'm hoping that at least two of my kids now know how to make it to that beautiful thing called a toilet in time so I am not scrubbing floors and walls and baseboards or chuckling at my hubby trying to keep his own dinner where it belongs. Good thing he wasn't a nurse, but then again, he makes his living by putting his hands in people's mouths all day. . . Hmmm, nope, I think being a nurse is worse. Too many memories popping up right now, but, I definately think being a nurse is worse.
Monday, January 18, 2010
Saturday, January 16, 2010
Graduation: May 1987
I keep seeing "1987" on T-shirts and blazed across cool ads and stuff. As if that was the best time!
Don't you just know it! 1987 was cool! Well, legwarmers were a little doofy, and the permed hair with the stick up bangs was kinda bad, and rat tails were horrible, and Members Only jackets???? Whatever.
Well, for me, 1987 was cool because I graduated from high school in 1987. What a day. What a night. Probably very few people from my high school remember this part of graduation, but it is scarred into my brain. It actually cost my about 4 1/2 years extra of upper level school.
First, I was dating the school rebel, Tommy. I happened to be the exact opposite (of sorts). Tommy and I really didn't fit together, and as I found out much after the fact, I was actually a pawn he was getting out of the way so his cousin could date a friend of his that had been interested in me. (nice, huh?) Oh, well, live and learn. He was still fun. He had a jeep. He lived on a neat little farm out in the country and he had a sweet brother that showed horses. I french-braided that horse's tail one night, and he (the horse) thanked me by relieving himself of some cooped up gas as I was about half-way through the braid and couldn't let go to find safe air.
Dress was always a big deal at our school. Guys wore a tie until 12:00 and then could wear polo shirts afterwards. Girls wore skirts to their knee and hose all the time. For graduation the girls wore white dresses and white graduation gowns over top. The boys were to wear black or blue dress pants under their blue graduation gowns. Tommy had brown pants - dark brown pants. He had worked hard to pull up his grades at the very end so he could even graduate, and as we were getting ready all fussing over hair and hats, the teachers informed him that he wouldn't be able to walk across the stage because he had on dark brown pants. WHO would notice? WHO would care? His mother sure would care that she had sacrificially paid for four years of school, and he didn't get to walk across the stage with his class because his pants were a shade off! I was mad. I was really mad. I was at the other end of the spectrum when it came to grades. Out of 100 graduates, I was 11th. I know that because the top 10 percent got to wear a nice yellow rope saying they were in the top ten per cent. I had goofed off in Home Ec and mad a C. Unbelievable.
Well, I decided to use my clout to make sure Tommy walked across that stage. I don't recall how many joined my cause, but I said I wasn't going to walk out on that stage if they didn't let Tommy walk. Unfortunately, whoever was in charge was still being a stickler. One of the guys ended up running to the gym to get his navy GYM pants for Tommy to wear. Ridiculous.
Well, that was just the beginning of the night. We had evening plans that started at the Skating Rink and then the plan was to all go over to my house to crowd into our basement and watch a slide show of pictures I had collected of our four years in high school. (I missed that part, but I made my own memories.) We had other plans that went throughout the night and then a final hurrah for breakfast the next morning.
I must have ridden to the skating rink with Tommy because I know how it all went down. Tommy had a pocket knife with him (no, he wasn't supposed to have it, but he was a country boy). He had a hole in the pocket of his jeans and didn't want to lose it, so he asked Todd to hold on to it for him. Todd slipped it into his pocket. I went to find my friends and next thing I knew, Tommy and his rowdy friends were wrestling on the floor. Boys. What happened next they must have told me as we were headed to the ER. Turns out they were all pouncing on Todd. Todd kiddingly decided to "even things out," as he put it, and pulled out the knife and clicked it open. Unbeknownst to him, Tommy was already in the air. The knife went into the palm of his hand. As fast as it happened, all those guys disappeared into the bathroom. (Craziness on the night of graduation could cost you your diploma - or worse.)
They came back out and three of us were headed to the ER with Tommy - Todd, Tim and Me. As they were taking him back to sew him up, Todd said, "Don't let Annette go, she'll pass out."
"No, I won't." I replied and headed on back. The doctor sewing him up and I got into a conversation about where we were headed after school. I mentioned Physical Therapy school which I was seriously considering. The doctor mentioned having Anatomy and Physiology with PT's and doing work on cadavers with them. Now, I hadn't quite come to terms with the cadaver thing. And the sounds in the room got a little distant. I watched as the doctor was nonchalantly whip-stitching together Tommy's hand and thought, "he is taking much less care with his hand than I do with my sewing!"
The next thing I knew, I was looking up into a bright light and lots of people in white were looking down at me. I passed out again. When I came to the second time, I was royally embarrassed. Of course, Todd fussed and fumed saying he knew I was gonna pass out! On the way home - or rather, back to my house, because, by now we had missed the whole skating party and the class was to be meeting at my house for the slide show - we were driving and to my great embarrassment, I had to beg them to stop the car so I could throw up! (This was to be the first of several embarrassing events that went very similarly.) Back at my house, I sipped sprite while the rest of my cohorts enjoyed the show and went somewhere else from there. I stayed at home missing just about all of the partying. I did feel better in time to meet them all for breakfast at Denny's. As I left my house that morning, I found one of Tommy's wrestling buddies, Michael, asleep on the swing in my front yard. Still don't know how that happened. Anyone want to fill me in on how all the graduating partying went that night in 1987? How many of you actually knew this part of what happened that night?
Most of my class went on to the same college, but God had other plans for me. I too was enrolled, but pulled out two weeks before school was to start. I instead hopped on a plane for Los Angeles, and that is another story. . .
Don't you just know it! 1987 was cool! Well, legwarmers were a little doofy, and the permed hair with the stick up bangs was kinda bad, and rat tails were horrible, and Members Only jackets???? Whatever.
Well, for me, 1987 was cool because I graduated from high school in 1987. What a day. What a night. Probably very few people from my high school remember this part of graduation, but it is scarred into my brain. It actually cost my about 4 1/2 years extra of upper level school.
First, I was dating the school rebel, Tommy. I happened to be the exact opposite (of sorts). Tommy and I really didn't fit together, and as I found out much after the fact, I was actually a pawn he was getting out of the way so his cousin could date a friend of his that had been interested in me. (nice, huh?) Oh, well, live and learn. He was still fun. He had a jeep. He lived on a neat little farm out in the country and he had a sweet brother that showed horses. I french-braided that horse's tail one night, and he (the horse) thanked me by relieving himself of some cooped up gas as I was about half-way through the braid and couldn't let go to find safe air.
Dress was always a big deal at our school. Guys wore a tie until 12:00 and then could wear polo shirts afterwards. Girls wore skirts to their knee and hose all the time. For graduation the girls wore white dresses and white graduation gowns over top. The boys were to wear black or blue dress pants under their blue graduation gowns. Tommy had brown pants - dark brown pants. He had worked hard to pull up his grades at the very end so he could even graduate, and as we were getting ready all fussing over hair and hats, the teachers informed him that he wouldn't be able to walk across the stage because he had on dark brown pants. WHO would notice? WHO would care? His mother sure would care that she had sacrificially paid for four years of school, and he didn't get to walk across the stage with his class because his pants were a shade off! I was mad. I was really mad. I was at the other end of the spectrum when it came to grades. Out of 100 graduates, I was 11th. I know that because the top 10 percent got to wear a nice yellow rope saying they were in the top ten per cent. I had goofed off in Home Ec and mad a C. Unbelievable.
Well, I decided to use my clout to make sure Tommy walked across that stage. I don't recall how many joined my cause, but I said I wasn't going to walk out on that stage if they didn't let Tommy walk. Unfortunately, whoever was in charge was still being a stickler. One of the guys ended up running to the gym to get his navy GYM pants for Tommy to wear. Ridiculous.
Well, that was just the beginning of the night. We had evening plans that started at the Skating Rink and then the plan was to all go over to my house to crowd into our basement and watch a slide show of pictures I had collected of our four years in high school. (I missed that part, but I made my own memories.) We had other plans that went throughout the night and then a final hurrah for breakfast the next morning.
I must have ridden to the skating rink with Tommy because I know how it all went down. Tommy had a pocket knife with him (no, he wasn't supposed to have it, but he was a country boy). He had a hole in the pocket of his jeans and didn't want to lose it, so he asked Todd to hold on to it for him. Todd slipped it into his pocket. I went to find my friends and next thing I knew, Tommy and his rowdy friends were wrestling on the floor. Boys. What happened next they must have told me as we were headed to the ER. Turns out they were all pouncing on Todd. Todd kiddingly decided to "even things out," as he put it, and pulled out the knife and clicked it open. Unbeknownst to him, Tommy was already in the air. The knife went into the palm of his hand. As fast as it happened, all those guys disappeared into the bathroom. (Craziness on the night of graduation could cost you your diploma - or worse.)
They came back out and three of us were headed to the ER with Tommy - Todd, Tim and Me. As they were taking him back to sew him up, Todd said, "Don't let Annette go, she'll pass out."
"No, I won't." I replied and headed on back. The doctor sewing him up and I got into a conversation about where we were headed after school. I mentioned Physical Therapy school which I was seriously considering. The doctor mentioned having Anatomy and Physiology with PT's and doing work on cadavers with them. Now, I hadn't quite come to terms with the cadaver thing. And the sounds in the room got a little distant. I watched as the doctor was nonchalantly whip-stitching together Tommy's hand and thought, "he is taking much less care with his hand than I do with my sewing!"
The next thing I knew, I was looking up into a bright light and lots of people in white were looking down at me. I passed out again. When I came to the second time, I was royally embarrassed. Of course, Todd fussed and fumed saying he knew I was gonna pass out! On the way home - or rather, back to my house, because, by now we had missed the whole skating party and the class was to be meeting at my house for the slide show - we were driving and to my great embarrassment, I had to beg them to stop the car so I could throw up! (This was to be the first of several embarrassing events that went very similarly.) Back at my house, I sipped sprite while the rest of my cohorts enjoyed the show and went somewhere else from there. I stayed at home missing just about all of the partying. I did feel better in time to meet them all for breakfast at Denny's. As I left my house that morning, I found one of Tommy's wrestling buddies, Michael, asleep on the swing in my front yard. Still don't know how that happened. Anyone want to fill me in on how all the graduating partying went that night in 1987? How many of you actually knew this part of what happened that night?
Most of my class went on to the same college, but God had other plans for me. I too was enrolled, but pulled out two weeks before school was to start. I instead hopped on a plane for Los Angeles, and that is another story. . .
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Warm up with these summer Memories.
Warm up with some memories.
Summer will be back here soon.
This one just sends me into fits of laughter every
time I look at it.
Dominican Republic.
This one makes me say, ahhh. The sand had pink
flecks in it. I brought a bag of it back and have it in a jar.
Praying for Haiti.
This one is several years old, but what a fun day.
Think warm thoughts. We will be sweating before we know it.
Summer will be back here soon.
This one just sends me into fits of laughter every
time I look at it.
Dominican Republic.
This one makes me say, ahhh. The sand had pink
flecks in it. I brought a bag of it back and have it in a jar.
Praying for Haiti.
This one is several years old, but what a fun day.
Think warm thoughts. We will be sweating before we know it.
New Years Day
My baby is losing his first tooth on the first day of 2010. He was so excited. He spent all day messing with that tooth and finally . . .
after much wiggling . . . 
tada! The first tooth is officially "lost." (Don't cry, Mommy, hold it back. This is a good day, remember. Oh, this is hard. I'm not crying. Just taking more pictures before he graduates from high school. . . OK, now I really am tearing up, my throat is tight. . . Now, go enjoy them today, before they really do graduate.)
I love you guys!
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
What am I good At?
That phrase has been reverberating in my head, but everytime I "say" it to myself, Miss Markham comes to mind and looks at me as only Miss Markham could. "At?" I say to myself . . . "What are you good AT?" I can't believe that came out of your mouth/thoughts! Then I try to say it correctly and it sounds even more ridiculous: "What are you good at doing?" Okay, Miss English teacher . . . and then I go back to the original question. WHAT AM I really good at (doing)? My original degree was in English. I love to write, would love to write a book, but don't know what I would write about. I once used to journal - in college, before kids. I try to journal now, but can never find the book I last wrote in or a pen or the time, etc.
Maybe I will get back to the original topic later this week, but there are a few things I'd like to say about grammar. First, I went to a rigorous high school. Senior English/Grammar was notorious, dreaded, feared for four years. And it lived up to its reputation. My senior year of high school, I recall us diagraming each others sentences as we talked in conversations so we wouldn't flunk out of Senior Grammar. Little did I know that that was the last time I would be taught grammar - even as an English major.
Here is an example of how Senior Grammar creeps up in my every-day life:
"Drive Safe" I'm sure you've heard it a million times, but just curious, how many of you have a Miss Markham or a mom or yourself that corrects that phrase in your head every time you hear it? "Drive SafeLY" It's an adverb, people. It describes How to drive; adverbs have an -LY. Oh, well. You can have a safe trip. You can even have a safe drive, but when you drive, drive safeLY. Ah, Somethings are not worth the effort, but for now, I have said it.
Miss Markham, what a sweet dear lady. Funny story. It was a cold day. (I know that because I was wearing a turtleneck.) We were taking a test. A hard one; one I was very nervous about taking. Miss Markham always made me a little nervous because she was very wise, and I wasn't always sure I had the right answer. If you didn't have the right answer, she could quickly make you feel very stupid with her chuckle and a comment about obviously not having done the assignment or something.
Well, this day, I was intensely working on my test, thinking hard when she came up and stood next to my desk. It made me very nervous, and finally, I looked up. She was very tall. In a loud whisper - she wasn't a very quiet person - she asked, "I have always wondered, how do you get into those things?" I had no idea what she was talking about. Surely she wasn't asking how I got into my desk, but that did cross my mind. I looked at my test, and her question didn't seem to have anything to do with my test, so I looked at her again - clueless - like a deer in the headlights. Here I was again without an answer for the all-wise teacher.
She pointed at my neck and said, "Your shirt, how do you get into it? I see all you girls wearing them, but I can't figure out how you get into it." My shirt! My turtleneck! She was looking for a zipper or something!
I sighed with relief and pulled at the neck to show her and said, "It stretches; it just pulls over my head." Ah, the answer, the simple answer. I smiled with extreme relief that I hadn't come up blank and went back to the intense grammar exam. We didn't dare laugh, but I know there were many smiles around the room. Who knows, maybe she did it on purpose to lighten the atmosphere. The room had been ice cold with fear and trepidation as we were carefully putting our answers down, but she had warmed it up with a simple question that showed us our all wise British Literature teacher was real. She had never understood a turtleneck.
As you read this, please don't check my grammar. I like to write poetically or conversationally. I don't claim to be perfect. I am not writing for a grade today, but thank you, Miss Markham, for teaching me grammar.
Maybe I will get back to the original topic later this week, but there are a few things I'd like to say about grammar. First, I went to a rigorous high school. Senior English/Grammar was notorious, dreaded, feared for four years. And it lived up to its reputation. My senior year of high school, I recall us diagraming each others sentences as we talked in conversations so we wouldn't flunk out of Senior Grammar. Little did I know that that was the last time I would be taught grammar - even as an English major.
Here is an example of how Senior Grammar creeps up in my every-day life:
"Drive Safe" I'm sure you've heard it a million times, but just curious, how many of you have a Miss Markham or a mom or yourself that corrects that phrase in your head every time you hear it? "Drive SafeLY" It's an adverb, people. It describes How to drive; adverbs have an -LY. Oh, well. You can have a safe trip. You can even have a safe drive, but when you drive, drive safeLY. Ah, Somethings are not worth the effort, but for now, I have said it.
Miss Markham, what a sweet dear lady. Funny story. It was a cold day. (I know that because I was wearing a turtleneck.) We were taking a test. A hard one; one I was very nervous about taking. Miss Markham always made me a little nervous because she was very wise, and I wasn't always sure I had the right answer. If you didn't have the right answer, she could quickly make you feel very stupid with her chuckle and a comment about obviously not having done the assignment or something.
Well, this day, I was intensely working on my test, thinking hard when she came up and stood next to my desk. It made me very nervous, and finally, I looked up. She was very tall. In a loud whisper - she wasn't a very quiet person - she asked, "I have always wondered, how do you get into those things?" I had no idea what she was talking about. Surely she wasn't asking how I got into my desk, but that did cross my mind. I looked at my test, and her question didn't seem to have anything to do with my test, so I looked at her again - clueless - like a deer in the headlights. Here I was again without an answer for the all-wise teacher.
She pointed at my neck and said, "Your shirt, how do you get into it? I see all you girls wearing them, but I can't figure out how you get into it." My shirt! My turtleneck! She was looking for a zipper or something!
I sighed with relief and pulled at the neck to show her and said, "It stretches; it just pulls over my head." Ah, the answer, the simple answer. I smiled with extreme relief that I hadn't come up blank and went back to the intense grammar exam. We didn't dare laugh, but I know there were many smiles around the room. Who knows, maybe she did it on purpose to lighten the atmosphere. The room had been ice cold with fear and trepidation as we were carefully putting our answers down, but she had warmed it up with a simple question that showed us our all wise British Literature teacher was real. She had never understood a turtleneck.
As you read this, please don't check my grammar. I like to write poetically or conversationally. I don't claim to be perfect. I am not writing for a grade today, but thank you, Miss Markham, for teaching me grammar.
Monday, December 28, 2009
2010 Here I come!
Well, I thought I had written a draft, but it isn't here, gone, poof, outahere, oh well. Yesterday I found the Pioneer Woman's blog and was promptly addicted. She is adorable and so real. I like people who are real. Real life is beautiful, and I love people who can embrace it just like it is even when it is a really muddy day.
Speaking of real, my car is parked in the garage!! And I have parked there all week! Amazing. It has been icy cold this whole last week, so I have enjoyed it as a special gift from my Handsome Hubby and my oldest. They say it's gonna stay that way. Won't that be nice? I'm not gonna hold my breath, but the idea is really nice.
Christmas is slowly disappearing around my house. Saturday morning we de-decorated the tree. That is always a little sad for me, but I made some sweet memories. We like to watch the Lord of the Rings series over Christmas break. This year we watched on New Years Eve and New Years Night. Then we stuck in one of the extra DVD's that showed how they did it. How fascinating!! My creative juices were flowing. It was freezing outside, but I knew Christmas would disappear before I knew it and I had really wanted to take some pictures of the lights. So I started playing. It was really fun.
I went from swirls and then played with words - that I found out I had to spell backwards and upside down - not easy. What do you think?
Speaking of real, my car is parked in the garage!! And I have parked there all week! Amazing. It has been icy cold this whole last week, so I have enjoyed it as a special gift from my Handsome Hubby and my oldest. They say it's gonna stay that way. Won't that be nice? I'm not gonna hold my breath, but the idea is really nice.
Christmas is slowly disappearing around my house. Saturday morning we de-decorated the tree. That is always a little sad for me, but I made some sweet memories. We like to watch the Lord of the Rings series over Christmas break. This year we watched on New Years Eve and New Years Night. Then we stuck in one of the extra DVD's that showed how they did it. How fascinating!! My creative juices were flowing. It was freezing outside, but I knew Christmas would disappear before I knew it and I had really wanted to take some pictures of the lights. So I started playing. It was really fun.
I went from swirls and then played with words - that I found out I had to spell backwards and upside down - not easy. What do you think?
Sunday, December 13, 2009
Christmas 2009
Can it really be? The hubub of the season is in full swing. Christmas is just a little less than two weeks away - says my wipe board that one of my boys has taken to updating every day. I have pulled off one office party with 13 gifts bought and wrapped as well as an office decorated and a new tree put up and decorated as well. Whew! My house is mostly decorated, though a few things have been abandoned for lack of time and energy - like the wreaths on every window and the garland for the stairs that finally blew some fuses, and that in turn blew some fuses in me. So we have no garland on our stairs this year - not the end of the world.
Can it really be? The hubub of the season is in full swing. Christmas is just a little less than two weeks away - says my wipe board that one of my boys has taken to updating every day. I have pulled off one office party with 13 gifts bought and wrapped as well as an office decorated and a new tree put up and decorated as well. Whew! My house is mostly decorated, though a few things have been abandoned for lack of time and energy - like the wreaths on every window and the garland for the stairs that finally blew some fuses, and that in turn blew some fuses in me. So we have no garland on our stairs this year - not the end of the world.
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