My blog has moved! Redirecting…

You should be automatically redirected. If not, visit and update your bookmarks.

Monday, April 17, 2006

This is the story that never ends

“Writing is a socially acceptable form of schizophrenia.” ~E.L. Doctorow

(A story in four parts because I’ve got shit to do)

I’m limiting myself to special K, triscuits, and a banana today. I feel as if I eat anymore I might explode/I haven’t had a ‘good’ work out since last Tuesday; thus making me ornery, fat and lazy. This is a long time coming I would say, I should’ve known that after Wednesday things would just be shit and I’d be left feeling quite complacent, but at least I now know the root of the complacency and boredom.

Pukefest 2006

Wednesday evening Noah (as depicted here and here) was not his usual happy go lucky-shower me with hugs, kisses-slobbery self. Instead of sleep, he decided to test out his Linda Blair in the Exoricist type moves. The first time he puked and the subsequent screaming that was involved, I felt terribly, because (a) his parents (as depicted here and here) were going to kill me and (B) he’s such a sweet baby and his teeth were driving him batshit crazy. The second time he puked – after the first changing of the sheets – I actually could hear from the living room. This was about the time that I started to tear up, because he was so upset. I needed to call my mommy, who was wholly unhelpful and told me to quite being a pussy; though not in those exact words.

The third time he puked was positively priceless. I had just picked him up, when he decided to perform the aforementioned Exoricist type moves. The similac and pears that he had just eaten shot the fuck out of him, on to me, my pants, grazing my face, onto the floor and crib behind me. I swear on my life, that his head may have spun around a few times after that. I gave him a look of “Holy mother fucker” and yelped a little bit. He gave me a look of “Man the fuck up, why are you screaming like a little bitch?” Then I yelped some more and brought him to the sink to rinse him off, where he happily frolicked with the water and smiled. I contemplated getting my tubes tied and smiled back. After which he smiled some more, while I tickled his tummy and then promptly fell asleep.

I thought about what to tell Amy and Jason about why there were no sheets left and prayed that they wouldn’t hate me. For the record, prior to Pukefest 2006, he put him on the floor next to the exersaucer and he fell into the exersaucer and screamed bloody murder. The only remedy for this was a bag of frozen spinach to keep the child from bruising. If you’re wondering, Amy and Jason do not hate me and I was sent off with pictures of Noah to use against him on his 16th birthday. Noah, I love you dearly, especially the hugs and kisses, but don’t think I won’t show your first girlfriend pictures of you in a pot.

Next up:
In which I’m quite tempted to walk from Maryland to Long Island


Blogger sparkles anonymous! said...

You made it through three rounds of baby barf. I would say that this definitely makes you NOT a pussy. Hell, I got nauseated just being in a too-warm Safeway this weekend. I woulda been barfing right along side of Noah, had I been in your shoes!

10:33 AM  
Blogger Liz said...

Awww, it wasn't your fault. And I hear that baby vomit is good for the skin...

11:45 AM  
Blogger Washington Cube said...

At least there was no sympathy puking going on at the same time.

11:55 AM  
Blogger Marci (aka Baby Banana) said...

I love that this is a post about a baby (an adorable, adorable baby) and the word "fuck" is used no less than three times.

Awesome. Way to keep it real.

12:10 PM  
Anonymous Maliavale said...

I'm laughing my ass off. Is that OK? Dialogue is killing me.

7:52 PM  

Post a Comment

<< Home

Creative Commons License
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 2.5 License.