December-Part 2

The week before christmas was oh so hard on me.

First, the bairn ended up with Strep throat. I do believe we ran on about 4 hours sleep for a couple of days, which means I lost a couple of days. Not good when you are the Planner Of Everything, particularly at Christmas time. I have a tendency to plot my days to the hour. It’s bad, I know, but it comes from almost 20 years of being a hairdresser (aka self-appointed Coiffeurist to the Stars)(and their dogs) and having ran late ONE time early in my career with a client that reamed me out and said he could never come back because “his time was too precious to sit and wait.” Read that as self-important prick that scarred 23-year-old me forever. Not really, but thanks, famous old-time CBC news anchor! So the boy went on antibiotics to cure that up. All good.

 At the same time, my friend… Well, I really need to tell you about my friend. I was a bridesmaid for her and about a year later, my hubby and I decided to get married. I didn’t want her to fuss and it was a private affair, so I phoned her and said “Will you be my witness?” Without a beat she said, “Yes!!! What did you do?” Now, there are friends, and then there are friends who will cover for you without thinking about it. She’s one of those. We’ve wept together, cheered each other, and held hands when it felt like no one else was there. She and her hubby tried for a long time to get pregnant and this year, lo and behold, they did. They have a small, impatient little boy, named Noah. He kicked the door open to get out 14 weeks early. He’s very tiny, but he’s a fighter. This is one of those times when I feel so powerless and I know there is nothing I can say or do to make it better. But, my dear ducks, I know how good-hearted you all are. I know you all have hearts as big as anything. So please pray for this baby and his family for me, will you? Take one minute, and send all the energy you can muster. He has great parents and he is much-loved. I can’t wait to see them all at home and happy and healthy.

On to Christmas day. Lots of fun for us to watch the boy with his gifts. Until about four o’clock, when he decided to try to turn inside out. For eight hours. I guess we’re lucky, this being our first vomitous christmas and all. I’ve heard some children actually seem to plan on getting puking sick at every family get together. Just to get attention. And to be assholes.

Sadly, my mother and I both got it on the 28th. Now I don’t know about you, but I personally think that vomiting anywhere but in your own home is best left to teenaged binge drinkers. I like my own toilet, with my own bed nearby. Because I don’t like spewing. It pisses me off. And hearing my mother retch did not help matters any. I lay limply in the bed that night, thinking “This is the shittiest christmas ever and I would like to kill everyone now.”

I didn’t. I was too weak to go on a murderous rampage. But, there’s always next year, right?

All in all, a weird couple of weeks. Emotionally and physically exhausting. The same for all of you, I’m sure. So I think we should make a deal. Lets all say ‘Fuck this shit’ save our money, and meet up somewhere warm and have a few nice cocktails and a foot massage. Sound good? I thought so.

Chill, People!!!

And no puking.

December-Part One

I’m home!!!!!!!

Oh home! How I missed you! If I could hug a house I would, that’s how goddamn happy I am to be home!

We went to the ‘Chewan for our lovely holiday visit. Nothing like driving 5 hours across bald, scrubby prairie to help one to understand the concept of horizon. It should be a very Zen experience. However, try doing it in a fully loaded Outback, with an almost seven-year old, who is perpetually in motion, a twelve week old kitten, a hundred and ten pound Shepard cross, and a thirteen pound lap dog.

I think we were an hour into the trip when the son started his plaintive calls of, get ready, “Are we there yet?” No shit. Every twenty minutes. Followed closely by “I’m borrrrrrred!” Look at the scenery, son. “What scenery???” Exactly.

Now, add in the big dog. She has always been a back seat driver. She cannot lay down and enjoy the trip. Oh no. She must get her head and upper body right between the buckets so she can see out the windshield and assess how well you are driving. This is very exciting to the old girl and the more excited she gets, the more she pants, therefore, the more she drools. As you are motoring along, your arm is getting wetter and stickier with each passing moment. Whats funny is that she is so big and sits so erect and close to your right shoulder, I’m certain it looks like some strange two-headed conjoined beast twin driving our auto. Either that or everyone thinks we have an extraordinarily ugly daughter. Who has a drooling problem.  

The small dog (we think he is a Pug/Jack Russell cross. A Jug, if you will) has a rather high-strung personality. This manifests itself in a non-stop vibratory shiver while in the car. The poor thing is a nervous wreck. He acts as if he is about to be raped and castrated at any given moment. It goes like this: Shake, open eyes, quickly smell penis, nutsack and anus to make sure they are all still there, give a dirty look to the closest human so they know you are watching them, close eyes, shake for ten minutes, repeat.

The kitten was an awesome traveller. She just hid until we arrived at our destination. We took her as a surprise present for my folks (read that as getting rid of her) but they were having none of it. We had a rousing game of ‘nonchalantly throw the cat in the car, nonchalantly throw the cat back in the house’ as we were saying our goodbyes. My parents won. Pricks.

The top cat didn’t come. I tried to get him in the cat carrier, but he is huge and wouldn’t fit. It was like trying to stuff a horse into a Corvette. But with claws. I decided to just throw him into the car and let him ride free. He escaped as soon as hubby opened the hatch, and it was a sight to behold, watching my poor man fighting with a huge ball of flab and fangs. Honestly, I don’t know who was more petrified, the man or the cat. So I got out and caught the miserable sonofabitch (the cat, not hubby) and brought him struggling and fighting back to the car, which I then quickly threw him into and tried to slam the door. Not surprisingly, he had his tail half out. Did you here the shriek over at your place? I opened the door as fast as I shut it and that cat flew out so fast, I didn’t have time to see where he went. Our neighbour let him in and fed him but he is still not speaking to me.

But we made it home today. I have had a hell of a couple of weeks. This is going to be a long one, so I’m breaking it up for you. Part two of it all tomorrow. 

Did I mention I’m glad to be home? *Hugging house*

 And does anyone need a cat?