Salmonella...a friend you are not!

I used to believe that people who said they had experienced food poisoning were at best, exaggerating. Like many, I am certain, I would listen politely, and roll my eyes as soon as said person was out of sight. To you, I apologize!

I must admit that having contracted salmonella personally, not even the flu can compare! Mine is a peculiar story though, that begins with a journey for a pet bird.

Being as my husband didn't seem to believe that my running a house, caring for my wee one AND my dh, as well as a German shepherd and two cats was enough to keep me busy, he decided we should go on a quest for a bird, because "having a bird will be fun!" Little did I know it would lead to salmonella.

We began our journey by going to a small, local pet store. We looked around a bit, but really did not see anything we liked. I decided to keep my wee one occupied my looking at the "exotic" pets. Exotic, how exactly?? Oh...that's right..."exotic", in this instance, apparently meant carriers of salmonella. In the "exotic" pets area, there was an albino hedgehog. He seemed innocent enough. I must admit, he was quite cute. I have often thought of the adage "looks can be deceiving" since then. I asked the store owner if I could handle the hedgehog, to which he replied I could. He also warned me to "cozy" up to the hedgehog slowly, because they are jumpy...and when they jump, the quills pop, and one could easily be poked with a quill, which is quite painful. That was enough to scare me, but I still wanted to at least touch the hedgehog. *Note to self-TRUST YOUR GUT, WOMAN!!* I reached in to touch this hedgehog...the "danger" was much like the Siren song that Homer spoke of. Upon barely touching the hedgehog he jumped, which made me jump. That close call was enough for me, and my wee one and I left the "exotic" pets area. I had thankfully escaped injury...or, so I thought. Before leaving the pet store, I made a trip to the bathroom, to wash my hands. Upon seeing the bathroom, I decided to wait until we returned to the vehicle to use one of the baby-wipes I keep in the truck, to clean my hands, as the bathroom was rather dirty, and I was afraid I would exit with more germs than I had entered.

Upon settling in the truck, I used a baby-wipe to cleanse my hands, and thought nothing more of the pet shop, other than being glad we were leaving. We decided to make a trip to "the big city", to check out one of the bigger pet stores. On the way down to "big city", we drove through the drive-thru at McDonald's. My "clean" hands touched my food...my food entered my mouth, and my "friend" salmonella got a free ride to my intestines.

I won't share the sordid details, but suffice it to say that in a matter of about 48 hours, my body was doing things it was never meant to do. I wasn't sure which end needed to be pointed toward the toilet more urgently. This took place over four days. On the fifth day, I ended up in the emergency room, due to bloody stool. I was poked and prodded to a great extent, and I cannot even begin to imagine when I may finally recuperate all of the blood they removed from me. Being as they were unsure of my diagnosis, I wasn't even allowed a Tylenol. Nor food, being as they decided it was vital to do a colonoscopy. Experiencing a colonoscopy is definitely an entry for another day. :oP

My hospital stay lasted about 36 hours, and only upon a follow-up visit to my doctor, did I learn I had contracted salmonella. Technically, it wasn't true food poisoning, as I had actually contracted it from an animal, but without reserve I can say that it was a miserable experience that ranks right up there with gall bladder pain. It was quite horrid.

I am doing much better now, although I do have some lasting effects from it, most notably, a form of arthritis. My doctor said it can take more than a year to go away, but that it may never go away. I suppose if there is a moral to this story, it is that we should be kinder towards those who say they were ill due to food poisoning...or ill at all, really. We never know when we may need their sympathy. More importantly, however, is this moral:

DON'T TOUCH THE EVIL HEDGEHOG!!!

What do Snow, Pumpkin pies, and Josh Groban have in common?

Three things that I absolutely love, and cannot get enough of. I received a fix on one, with the arrival of better than six inches of glorious, wet, snow this afternoon. Tomorrow, I will get a delightful dose of pumpkin pie, being as it is Thanksgiving day. Not to mention, many other delicious, gut-busting foods! LOL!

As to Josh Groban. He will be playing locally soon, and I wish with all my heart that I could go see him. I could, except that I am the type of person that would get lost in a paper bag...and since dh doesn't care to go, it leaves me unable to go. His singing talent is among the best in this world. Sure, I like some mainstream music...and I certainly love christian music. But there is just something so indescribably moving that radiates from Josh Groban. His songs move me to tears. When listening to him sing, one can feel the emotions behind the lyrics. My words do not do the gift that he has, any justice. One has to listen to Josh, to understand. For those interested in hearing a bit of his music, check out his site. Be warned...he will touch your heart.

Josh Groban

Officially on STRIKE!!

I have decided to go on strike, for one week. The rules are that I will do the cooking and the laundry, but I am doing nothing else. No vacuuming, no dishes, no dusting, no picking up toys, no taking care of the animals, etc. After 7 years of marriage, and 4 years of motherhood, it has come to this point.

Before I was a stay at home mom, I worked at the same place my husband does, for 3-1/2 years, so I know full well what his works entails. I know that there are times when working out of the home really bites. I know it can also be extremely frustrating. Sometimes, I long for those days. Wake up, go to work for 8 hours, and come home to relax and do what I want. Imagine, 16 hours a day of my own time! I don't know if I would know how to spend those hours.

For those who think that being a stay at home mom entails nothing more than sitting on your butt, popping the occassional Bon-Bon while watching Oprah...to you I say that you ought to be beaten fiercely...every hour. A stay at home mom's day is 24 hours long, 7 days a week. On most days, as soon as I wake up and have gotten my wee one breakfast, I begin cleaning and doing laundry. I then take the dog out, feed and water the dog and both cats. Clean the litter box. Wash the breakfast dishes...and there's no electric dishwasher in this house. Put laundry in the dryer, and start a new load of wash. Vacuum. Pick up toys. Pick up toys. Get wee on some lunch. Pick up toys. Make beds. Take the dog out. Swiffer the floors...only one room in my house has carpet. Feed and water the bird. Finally take a shower. Throw myself together. Get the load of laundry out of the dryer, and put another in the dryer. Fold the laundry. Wee one I babysit arrives, and her and my wee one go to play in the toy/computer room. Get second load of laundry out of the dryer, and fold it. Put laundry away. DH comes home. Break up a fight between wee one I watch, and my wee one. Start dinner. Set table. Wee one I take care of goes home. Dinner on table. Scrape plates. Wash dishes. Clean kitchen. Pick up the explosion in the toy/computer room. Clean living room...again. Get wee one showered and ready for bed. Read to wee one on some nights. Try to not fall asleep while I am waiting for my wee one to fall asleep. Back downstairs to clean up bathroom. Straighten up back porch...shoes, etc. Re-tidy living room. Occassionally get online for a bit. Go to bed usually after midnight. All starts again in the morning.

Now, while this may seem busy, add into the days that I also have to constantly pick up after dh. He takes his socks and jeans of in the living room? They remain there until I pick them up. DH gets a blanket out to use while watching tv? I fold it up. DH gets a coat out? I take it off the back of the chair where he has put it, and put it where it belongs. Etc. Etc. Etc. I have to say that the one thing that drives me absolutely insane...and I think he does this intentionally...is the newspaper. I read the newspaper maybe once a month. Maybe. DH gets the paper on the way to work. After he is done reading it, he puts it in his lunchbox. When he returns home, he takes the paper out of his lunchbox, and sets it on the counter. Or the table. I have to then pick it up...usually later in the evening when I am setting the table, or getting dinner ready, and put it into the recycling. I have asked him numerous times why he does this, and his reply is that he didn't know if I was going to read it. I have told him to just put it right in to the recycling, that I am not interested in the paper. He has yet to figure this apparently complex problem out. And this from a Marine!!! *Sigh*

I am tired. I am tired of be taken for granted. I am tired of having to babysit both my son and my husband. I am tired to the point that it has finally really pissed me off. So, I am on strike. I can only imagine what the house will look like in a week. I may even regret having done this, but damn it! It is time for someone else to carry the brunt of the household chores. It is time for someone else to understand what my "job" entails. I already know what his job is. At this point, all I can really say, is thank heavens I have already done the grocery shopping!!

*Sigh* Sad day today.

There were a lot of funny things that happened today, as it goes with most days. But it was also a really sad day for me, as well. A year ago today, my cat, B.A., died. I inherited him the end of November 1996, from my sister, who was moving to Texas.

B.A. was just a beautiful cat. He was a huge Tuxedo, that looked mean...but that belied his true demeanor. He was my baby, before my baby was born. He slept curled up in the crook of my arm every night, under the covers even. Each morning, B.A. would come downstairs with me, and sit on the arm of the sofa while I ate breakfast. Before we moved to the new house, there were a number of occassions when he would either sit on the edge of the garden tub while I was relaxing in a bath, or he would curl up behind my head, nuzzling my neck in the process.

I remember with perfect clarity, the morning I found B.A. I went upstairs to get some clothes for my wee one, and I thought B.A. was asleep in the chair in our room. I called out to him...nothing. This was unusual for him, because B.A. was a talker. I called out to him again...still nothing. Not even a movement. I walked over to him, and teasingly chastised him for ignoring me. Oh how I wish he had just been ignoring me. Once I realised he was dead, I just sat down in the middle of the floor, and sobbed my heart out. After awhile, I called dh at work, to have him come home and bury B.A.

It still hurts so much, that I have only been out to "see" him three times. I guess I need to make a point of going out to where he is buried, and talk to him for awhile. I really do miss him every day. I miss his curling up in my arm. I miss his meow. I miss his siting with me while I eat breakfast. I miss him chasing milk rings. I just miss him. I cannot believe it has been an entire year already, since I have seen him in anything other than a picture. As soon as I get one of his pictures transfered to this computer, I will edit one into this post. Maybe once you see him, you will understand why I miss him like I do.

Mommy loves you B.A., and Mommy misses you more than you know.

"Know your farts, and let them rip!!!"

This is my wee one's current favorite saying. He doesn't get to watch a great amount of television, and when he does, I make certain it is a channel that is kid-safe. Such as Nickelodeon...k...the commercials on Nick make me crazy, as a parent, but that's an entry for another day.

Anyhow, on Nick, they have these informative shorts that are of varying topics, all pertaining to health. One is about sugar. One is about scabs. Another about bogeys. Well, it seems my wee one has decided that the short about farts is especially entertaining. At the end of this particular short, the voice-over says "Know your farts, and let them rip!!!" I don't really mind these shorts...but "Know your farts, and let them rip!!!" is beginning to get a bit old.


Me, introducing my wee one to an elderly neighbor lady: "Honey, this is Mrs. G. Can you tell her hello?"

Wee one: "KNOW YOUR FARTS, AND LET THEM RIP!!!"


FIL to wee one: "Papa heard you like SpongeBob SquarePants."

Wee one: "KNOW YOUR FARTS, AND LET THEM RIP!!!"


Me: "Sweetie, do you want oatmeal or a banana for breakfast?"

Wee one: "KNOW YOUR FARTS, AND LET THEM RIP!!!"


A good friend of mine once told me, long before I was blessed w/ my wee one, that once boys hit a certain age...around 4, they become absolutely fascinated with their body, bodily functions, the noises it can make, and so forth. He also said it is a form of personal enjoyment a male never gets over. I thought he was joking. I guess the joke is on me.


Time to add up the equation:

1. When we went to visit FIL, a few states away (12 hour drive), our wee one felt compelled to check out every rest area between here and there. Stopping at a restaurant warranted at least three trips to the bathroom. I'm still trying to figure out what occurs to make our son go deaf when he enters a public restroom. I have witnessed countless people chuckling at the sing-song voice that emits from the bathroom when he is in there. I must admit that a miracle occurs upon his exiting, however...it seems that as soon as he steps out of there, his hearing is restored. Praise God!

2. A few nights ago, I cooked a ham for dinner. We tend to eat on it for 2 days, and then on the third day, I will usually make something like ham and scalloped potatoes, or ham and bean soup, etc. This particular time, I chose to make ham and bean soup. When we sat down for dinner, our son looks into his bowl, and then said "Mommy...is this the soup that makes me fart really good?" I think my husband is still trying to get the remnants of ham and bean soup out of his nose.

3. On an almost daily basis, my son asks me if I can help him make armpit farts. It's quite the sight, really. He gets on my lap, facing me, I put my hand in his armpit, and we work together to make the desired sound effect. When Papa came to visit recently, this was a source of pride that spanned three generations: my FIL, my husband, and of course, my son.

4. Walgreens, and I believe Walmart, now, carry self-inflating Whoopie Cushions. My son is now on his fourth one.

5. Ever see a wee one laughing so hard, they're crying? I have. My son is infatuated with our basement. It's nothing special...a run-of-the-mill basement, as basements go. About 3 weeks ago, while I was putting away laundry on the second floor, RJ and our german shepherd, Rachel, made a visit to the basement, unbeknownst to me. Just as I was coming back downstairs, I heard what I thought was my son crying. I rush to him, only to discover he was in the midst of guffaws. According to my son, he and Rachel were playing, and in the midst of play, Rachel ripped a good one.

6. My son hates to have his picture taken professionally. October 18th, I once again took him for this ritual. He refused to smile. If the Picture Lady told him to hold his hand one way, he held it the other. He would not cooperate. The Picture Lady then asked my son if he had any pets. He mentioned Rachel. He then felt compelled to relay the story in it's entirety, of what happened in the basement. (See number 5.) In the middle of the store, the Picture Lady began making farting noises...throwing in a forced burp or two. These are the best pictures RJ has ever taken.


Yes, I guess the joke is definitely on me. I wish I could partake of the apparent enjoyment of bodily functions that so many of the male persuasion seem to. So, I suppose there's no point in breaking up what seems to be a beautiful relationship. My son, and I must admit, my husband, are infatuated with farts to the point that it could be considered disturbing...well, at least to us rational, intelligent women. I just don't get it! That's okay though...there are some things in life that are to remain answerless forever, I suppose. So, until that answer is forthcoming, in the spirit of my son:

"KNOW YOUR FARTS, AND LET THEM RIP!!!"

Been meaning to do this.

I suppose now is as good as any to jump onto the BLOG bandwagon, eh? I suppose I really should be in bed instead, but thought I would post a few thoughts first.

I've had so many thoughts racing through my head in the past weeks, leading up to, and since, the election. I am so thankful that this country pulled together and re-elected GW...the idea of Kerry running this countries affairs terrified me. I just cannot wrap my brain around the idea of someone wanting a free republic to defer to the likes of the U.N. No corruption there. For my wee one, I suppose I owe a bit of thanks to everyone who cast their vote for GW, so THANK YOU!

I also want to say thank you to our brave men and women in combat. I can only imagine the sacrifice that you are making, but from this mommy, thank you. For so very many things, thank you. My prayers are with you, and I know that the Lord will carry you safely home...either way.

Something else that I have been pondering for awhile, is how those on the left can profess to be so peaceful...pacifists, supposedly. Yet, they think nothing of going to great physical...and often violent...extremes to get their POV across. So frequently, I have found so many libs to be childish, at best...even resorting to name-calling when deemed appropriate. Great example to set for their wee ones, no? I do suppose that there is ONE good thing about libs...they tend to only procreate themselves, so soon enough, is it safe to expect they will wipe themselves out of existence? :o)


Zzzzz...eyelids are drooping......