Puke Day

Boy 2 has been complaining of a tummy ache ever since school started.  It started on the first day of school, but almost everyone in our house vomited, so I wasn't really concerned.  First the dog barfed in the middle of the kitchen floor.  We all noticed at the same time as he ran away in doggie shame. PDH yelled "Gross" and ran down the stairs.  I said, "Could be worse, this is only dog food. We should just leave it until he cleans it up himself.  I know a dog that eats cat poop then pukes on the front mat."  Boy 1 turned green and ran away and I could hear gagging from down the stairs in PHD's direction.  I had to clean up the dog barf but the good news is I got a few minutes of quiet to read the paper when I was done. 

That same day Boy 2 threw up on the bus on the way home, just before they reached our house.  I wasn't sure of the protocol, maybe someone can enlighten me.  The bus parked in front of our house for quite some time after the boys came in the house.  I wondered if Mrs. Bus Driver was waiting for me to come clean it.  So I waited a few more minutes then went out and offered to help as Mrs. Bus Driver was finishing up.  She said she had it under control but she noted,  "It looks like he was eating apples."  She seemed offended by the apples more than the puke. Odd. I didn't think she would appreciate my "could be worse it could be regurgitated cat poop" philosophy so I kept it to myself. 

Anyway, two weeks later, Boy 2 is still complaining off and on about a tummy ache.  Finally I take him to see the doctor.  Boy 1 tried to negotiate me leaving him at home with the iPhone. When that didn't fly, he agreed to come along but be angry about it.  It all came to a head in the examining room just before the doctor came in.  Boy 1 gave Boy 2 a shove, Boy 2 tried simultaneously tattling and punching Boy 1 in the gonads.

Boy 1, "Stop it, you're such an idiot."
Boy 2, "Whaaaat?  I can't hear you."
Boy 1, "I said, Sto---"
Boy 2, "Whaaaat?  I can't hear you."
Boy 1, "STOP---"
Boy 2: "Whaaat?? Still can't hear you. Are you still talking?"
Boy 1, "WELL MAYBE YOU SHOULD STOP EATING ACORNS OFF THE GROUND AND YOU WOULDN'T HAVE A STOMACHE-ACHE."
Boy 2:  "They weren't acorns, they were hazelnuts, I looked them up in a book in the library. 
Me:  "You were eating acorns?  Off the ground?"
Boy 2: "NOT acorns, hazelnuts."  Like I am the dummy.

I tried to explain to him that he shouldn't eat things off the ground at school, it could be making him sick, he doesn't know what it is, etc.  There was no talking him out of it.  He looked them up in a library book, so it's all good.  

The doctor then came in the room and confirmed that there are hazelnuts growing in the city.  So I guess Boy 2 has the all-clear to eat more acorns or hazelnuts off the ground. 

Now I have a tummy ache...

KISS the Sister Wife

PHD said, "I made a collage in my office.  Well, it's only 3 pictures, not really a collage.  You should go look."  I played it cool, freaking out on the inside.  The last time he hung something on the office wall it was a framed poster of KISS.  For those of you under 40, here is what members of the band KISS looked like:

Framed.  I thought he was joking so I hung a picture of the cast of Twilight over it to prove I got the joke and I could do one funnier.  Only he was serious.  He really likes KISS.  I haven't seen the Twilight poster or the KISS masterpiece since.  Now any wall hanging by PHD concerns me.  So what I did find wasn't so bad:

Not so bad, if you like to see yourself in three 8 1/2 x 11 photos. I don't really. Especially three photos that I had previously rejected as too hideous for even a teeny facebook profile picture.

I told him, "You don't need to stalk me, I live with you."  He said, "I liked those pictures and now I can pretend you are triplets...or, Sister Wives!!"  He kept looking at me as though he wanted me to freak out.  I don't want to be triplets but Sister Wives I can get into...We could divide up all the jobs I don't like, I could leave the house by myself on those days that the kids hate me and I would always have someone to talk to. Someone who wouldn't wait until I finish a sentence and say, "I don't think I was listening to one word of that", then laugh like (s)he just told the best joke ever. 

I should probably check Kijiji. Is that where you get a sister wife?  Kijiji may or may not provide the best quality of sister wives.   Probably a sister wife that looks like this:

  

Note: A whole week ago, I had a(n) (is it a or an? I think it's an. maybe not. H is confusing.) hysterically funny ending planned for this post.  It tied together all the pieces of this post, related to the title and was so surprising that you would have spit your milk on your keyboard. If you were drinking milk.  Only PHD started reading it over my shoulder as I was typing and then I couldn't remember my ending.  The ending that was hysterically funny.  Gone. I waited a whole week and it hasn't come back.  PHD actually erased all the creative thoughts in my head by reading my unfinished post over my shoulder. Jerk. 

Instead, here is a funny sentence from Tina Fey's book "Bossypants":

"This made no sense to me, probably because I speak English and have never had a head injury."

This sentence is very useful because in addition to being funny, it can be applied to this post, this blog and 90% of the things that come out of my mouth.  Thanks Tina.

Just because it's close to your tongue doesn't mean you should lick it

Two weekends ago we went to my sister's house for my other sister's birthday.  I didn't have any boxes laying around to wrap the present so I recycled a cupcake box I had been hoarding.  I wrote all over it, things like, "Recyled box = save the earth = me good person" and "Look, leftover icing".  I gave it to Boy 2 to hold while we drove to the party.  I glanced in the back seat to see his little tongue darting out to lick just below the "Look, leftover icing" lettering. I told him to stop it so he gave the box to Boy 1 who also gave it a good lick.  Hmm, is it wrong to give your sister a box of saliva for her birthday?  What if I didn't tell her, is that better?  Or, what if I did tell her the next day when I asked her to take a picture of the box for my blog?  She said she had already thrown out the box so my reader(s) would have to take my word for it. I asked her to just take a picture of herself  in a dramatic representation of the box. She still hasn't sent it.  Maybe it's still coming.  Or, maybe she didn't like my little box 'o bacteria. That makes more sense.

Last weekend PHD and I went to Vancouver.  We do this thing when we get on an airplane.  "Do you want the window seat?" "No, it's okay, you have it."  "Are you sure?"  until I get impatient and take the window seat.  Then he spends all of takeoff and landing leaning way too far into my personal space to look out the window.   As we were landing in Vancouver, it occured to me that he might not like spit, either.  So I waited until he leaned way too far into my personal space bubble and I stuck out my tongue which banged into his eyebrow. I can't take full credit for the idea, I read it in a blog on what to do in awkward social situations. This suggestion captured my fancy.  My thought was sticking out your tongue could be like a personal space meter.  If you are so close to me that you get nailed when I stick out my tongue, you are too close.  Reasonable, right?  Except he thought it was funny so he kept leaning in and back going, "Whoo, whoo".  Not at all weird. Also very disappointing as he was still in (and out of and back in) my personal space as well as giving me a bit of motion sickness. (As background, he had just minutes before adopted a t-shirt slogan as his new personal mission statement: "Fighting always works". It was probably a UFC shirt but I suspect PHD's interpretation of it will affect our marriage in many ways, none good.)

To recap, I prepared a little check-list for your reference:

I hope you will this reference material useful. You can also print it off and use it to test your own personal space boundaries/tongue reach.  Fun and useful.  Enjoy.

I wouldn't lick that if I were you

Boy 2 came home with a bloody tongue a few days ago. Apparently he licked the monkey bars. The next day he told his cousin that there are magnets in your tongue. Why else would it stick to metal?

I don't think I will correct him. I hate when they lick stuff.

Things I Can't Explain

Here's one thing I can't explain:

Why would a person want to ride a bike in hockey shin pads and swimming trunks?

Why would jamming yourself in a box be so hilarious?

Why would you ever say this sentence, "Hey, look, it makes me cry but I can stick my finger right down my throat!" and then do it?

When I asked Boy 2 why he did this:

He said "Cuz I was hot."  I can't explain why a do it yourself haircut would be the first solution to cool a person down.

Why would you climb on a shelf at Dollarama to pee down your pant leg?  Not going to say which boy it was but in his defense, he was only 2 at the time.  I didn't have so much as a Kleenex on me at the time and they don't have public washrooms so all four of us ran away like we stole something.  Sorry to the employee that had to clean that up!

How I can I get stabbed in the foot with a butter knife at the dinner table without it leaving the boy's hand?

Where is the left arm to my office chair?  Everytime I stop typing to think for a minute, I lean to the left and almost fall off.

Why do I have these on my kitchen table?

I don't even want to know where the tenth one is. Boy 2 thinks the explanation is pretty obvious.  If you want to walk around without a shirt but still need mitts on, you can cut the fingers off and still peel an orange. Awesome.

Why would a grown man lick my fridge? SMac obviously has a giant tongue.  No wonder he can't close his mouth when he's chewing gum.

One more, I have spent the last two years wondering what my PHD said to Boy 1 to get these looks of disgust:  (even the dog looks irritated!)

Oh boy, this could go on for days!  This post may be part one of a series!!

Yakima, Edmonton

We went to Edmonton last weekend. The ride to Edmonton sounded like this:

"....punch, punch, punch, Stop it or we are turning the car around...I forgot my phone, turn the car around...punch, punch, punch...I said Stop it!...Don't touch me, I don't want your germs!  (really? You were okay licking the floor of the emergency room bathroom , but Boy 2 germs, no good?)... I have to go to the bathroom...Doesn't the word "Yakima" sound like puking?...yak, yak, yakima...I'm hungry...punch, punch, punch...Stop it, I mean it..."

Just to clarify, it was Boy 1 and Boy 2 punching each other.  Once we got to Edmonton, it started getting fun.

We went rock climbing,

knocked out a few gophers,

went on some rides,

cleaned my change purse out on wishes in the pond,

petted some stingrays,

made friends with a penguin,

hung out with the sea lions,

took home a penguin,

and a stingray,

and that was day one!

Day 2, H1 took the boys to the water park while I shopped.  That worked well for me.  Probably a bit more tiring for H1!

Here's how Boy 2 felt about leaving the water park: (bad pictures but you get the idea)

Day three was IKEA and home! When we stopped for gas on the way home, the boys each got a pack of 6 gumballs.  Boy 1's pack only had five. He was so outraged  by the false advertising, "The pack says 6 but it only has five!!" that he actually returned it to the store.  He is a firm believer in justice.  So, I know Yakima is a city but I believe the word "Yakima" sounds more like a high five, or way to go -  as in Yakima, Boy 1!! Way to go!!