Sorry for the hiatus. We have been all kinds of busy here. We hosted Christmas, then I hosted the flu. This year we have caught every sickness that has gone around and have gotten super sick. In fact, if there is even a remote possibility that the Zombie Apocalypse is a real thing, my family will be the first infected and we will rule the Zombie population. Fair warning to you all.
Anyway, this flu was unlike anything I have ever experienced. Our little family had the flu a few years ago and we felt like roadkill for a few days. This time I was in bed for about a week. This is not like me. For example, less than 24 hours after I birthed Amelia, the firefighter, Amelia and I were at Target buying girl clothes. You see, we waited to find out if we were having a boy or a girl, so we only had boy clothes and one gender neutral preemie outfit. Both of our boys were teenie tiny babies who wore preemie clothes for the first 6 weeks of their lives, so we were not even remotely prepared for an 8 pound baby GIRL. The firefighter offered to go buy some baby girl clothes while Amelia and I rested at home. But I told him “There is no way I am missing taking our daughter shopping for the first time. I just need a new pair of hospital issue undies, an icepack and another giant maxi pad and I’ll be ready to go shopping!”
Ladies who have had babies, you know what I am talking about. Male readers, my bad.
All of that to say, I got freakishly sick with the flu this year. On New Year’s Eve I started coughing up blood. So the firefighter came home and I went to the only Urgent Care center that was open New Year’s Day. I walked in to a cacophony of coughs and sniffles and the delicate sound of loogies being hocked. It sounded like a Tuberculosis Symphony warming up. As I looked upon the huddled masses of fellow fevered sickies I felt a sense of camaraderie. These were my people. We all shared a common bond visible by the glassiness of our eyes, the sheen of sweat upon our brows and the wretched racking of our coughs. The bond we shared was ill fated. <—See what I did there?
The receptionist smiled warmly and asked me, “Why are you here today, hon?”
I answered, “Well, I have had the flu for 6 days now and around midnight I started coughing up blood.”
My fellow zombies stopped their various bodily sounds and looked at me like I had announced I had Leprosy and my intent was to lick them all.
The receptionist, mouth agape in horror, said, “No ma’am. There is nothing we can do for you here. You should not be here. You need to go to the hospital, now.”
No thanks. I’d rather die at home.
Thankfully we have a Dr. friend who listened to the firefighter describing my symptoms and prescribed some meds, just in case it had become pneumonia. It probably did not get to that point, my cough has always been a full body experience. It sounds vaguely like a sea lion convention and finishes with the lilting timbre of a cat kacking up something disgusting.
Anyway, I am a new woman. Four pounds lighter, with ab definition (due to all the coughing), and as God is my witness I will never reject a flu shot again.
Once I rejoined the land of the living we decided to redo our boys’ room. First, I worked on removing the old border in their room. That took a while. Though not as long as the booger wall. Yes. Booger wall. There was not enough magic in the Magic Eraser to remove years worth of two little boys boogers. After concocting a cocktail of lemon, vinegar, and soap my brillo pad was finally able to penetrate the mucous layers to reveal the wall. While the firefighter and I were working, I mentioned the booger wall. Just in passing. I said, “Yeah, I got the border off and you can’t even tell where the booger wall was.” He said, “Yeah, it looks great.” I think it really bothers me that I didn’t have to explain what a booger wall was. He assured me that assigning a wall as keeper of boogers is a completely normal kid thing to do, like vomiting all over your bed, or keeping your baby teeth in a special box in storage. Wait. What?
I would like to finish with an observation.There are two types of people in this world:
those who use guacamole as an excuse to eat more chips and those who use chips as a guacamole delivery system.