Angry

OK, 'angry' doesn't really cover it. 'Seething with rage' might suffice.

It's taken 24 hours (edit: and three rewrites now) for me to calm down enough to compose this.

So. I have been obliged recently to attend gatherings with my children. At these gatherings is also in attendance a person with her child. This child is usually ill. The last three times we met there he was ill. And I'm not talking about a sniffle. I mean snot dripping from his nose / wet, hacking cough / vomiting.

Now kids get sick. This I understand. But this child is always there sick. And he is not only brought there while he is ill - a place where his people know my four small children will be, plus two other small children, one of whom is under one year - but he is allowed free reign. He is allowed to roam about, touching the other children, drinking from other's cups, handling and mouthing all the toys.

I don't know what everyone else does - it's their business, I don't care - but I keep my kids home when they are ill! Mine do NOT go out of my home until they are completely well.

I have even given special consideration to this very child, keeping myself - if I'm ill - or my children home because this child has a susceptibility to respiratory bugs! And yet he is dragged out when unwell and thrust into the midst of my children (and two others) heedlessly.

Well, not any more.

My children are almost never sick. My oldest, Boy, has been ill maybe eight times in his life. And that's everything - sniffles, colds, one stomach virus. And my kids are not cloistered in this house all the time. We go to the Wal Marts, to the park, to my OB's office, the pediatrician (where we actually sit in the sick child room because it's larger).

The entire brood has been very ill THREE times since October. Each time exhibiting symptoms 24-72 hours after exposure to this child who was ill.

Last time it was coughing, snotting, fevers. Days and days of four children feeling so bad they didn't stir from the couch. Now it's violent vomiting. Evil Genius Husband I have been up all night; changing sheets; soothing frightened, trembling, weak babies; scrubbing up puke.

That's when I wasn't hanging over the toilet myself.

Oh, yeah. This child is thoughtlessly brought around me, the chick who's almost eight months pregnant.

(EDIT: tonight we were up cleaning diarrhoea. O joy. None of us has slept in 3 days.)

Well it ends here. My children will no longer attend gatherings while that child is there, nor go where he is. If we are there and he is brought to the same location, I and my kids will immediately leave.

I hate to go to this extreme, but I cannot have this keep happening, and I cannot come up with anything else to do. Now I just have to figure out how to express my concerns and inform the person who holds these gatherings as he means a great deal to me and my children and I don't want to hurt his feelings.

I'm thinking of availing myself of the help and advice of the other two mothers who's children are exposed.

I want to stress that this has nothing watever to do with the child per se. He can't help being ill (one assumes) but if he is to be brought there while contagious, with absolutely no regard to my or my children's health, then we shall simply have to stay away.

-----

Oh, before anyone points this out: yes, I am aware that I'm in for a rude awakening when Boy goes to school next year. I'm sure many parents send their kids to school sick. I also know that simple, normal exposure in a large group of kids will result in more illness. I'm not entirely stupid. This vector, however, I can control ... and I intend to.

Another quick one ... sorry!

Well, I'm currently without a computer, so don't be alarmed if I'm gone more often.

Arrgh! I HATE it.

Obviously, I have something (since I'm typing this) but it still sucks arse.

Having your PC crash is irritating for many reasons - not least of which is folks who say: "well why don't you just use the other computer?"

Yes, it's true, I actually have four PCs on a wireless network in my house (ex-PC tech, remember?) and it's true that I did replace the phone line from the BellSouth demarc, the phone jack (whilst lying on hard concrete, ouch!), spent 2 1/2 hours on the horn to Pakistan listening to a difficult-to-understand young man read troubleshooting instructions off his screen. True we did finally get the DSL back up, the router re-initialized, and the network back up (so the other PC's can get online) ...

BUT!

See, switching to another computer is not like borrowing a friend's car. There, you just toss in your purse, fumble with unfamiliar keys, adjust to strange seat positions, taller or shorter pedals, etc. You're uneasy in a new vehicle, but you can drive it OK after you warm to it.

No, losing your PC and 'just' switching to another is like being awoken in the middle of the night and told you must move house. You are snatched away from your home and bunged into the new one. Hey, it might be bigger, nicer, more expensive! It might have a oven you could roast a goat in, a fridge the size of a pantry, huge new washer and dryer, and so on.

But it's not your house.

You discover that the little niceties you're used to are missing: toilet paper, towels, food in the gleaming fridge, clothes in the sleek Ikea wardrobe. True, the house is bigger, better, nicer - and you're appreciative of that - but it will take weeks to replace and rearrange the little necessities, to make it livable.

That's why it's hard to 'just use another computer'. All of my bookmarks are on the old one; my bloggers, my boards, my faves (including passwords); my email is set up on the old one; all of my images and software for creating shirts ... on the old one.

Crudnuggets.

And you know what the funny part is? I don't just miss my computer, I'm also pining for my desk. It's weird. It's like my workstation over there. I have a place for my coffee/Diet Coke, my idea notebook, my Discman. The pencils and the pencil sharpener, various office supplies, are there. The camera hook-up and my cell phone recharger are right at my elbow, plus I have a comfy chair and a panoramic view of the family room where the babies play all day.

LOL, perhaps a bear turned out of her den would make a better analogy.

Ahh, well. I have all of my pics of the babies and my finished t-shirt designs on CD. I guess I can bide my time until I get a new PC, fiddle around on this one - while sat awkwardly twisted on the couch (in order to use a laptop one needs a lap *snort*) while Evil Genius Husband joneses in the background to play City of Villains (this is 'his' computer. While I'm on it he can't get his email, visit his sites, surf porn, argue with fellow geeks on comic boards ... you know, essential stuff.)

I hope everyone had a lovely and safe holiday! I got the coolest gift for Fiver EVAR from a fellow blogger and I'm dying to show it off (and pay it forward). More on that later!

A Monday crabby quickie, heh

So sorry this is late, but, a very Happy Chanukah to any and all who celebrate it! Be joyous and be safe this insane season.

----

Seen on BabyCenter as a suggestion for the dilemma: "My toddler has no interest in books":

(From anonymous) - "I see parents telling you not to let her watch TV. Well, there is nothing wrong with TV." [Snip, then this:] "If your conserned, I would ask some mothers who have ..." [and so on]

No comment from her on encouraging the baby to love books. Uh, yeah, honey. I'm going to take the sage advice of some chick who has obviously never read anything thicker than a supermarket tabloid but can probably name all the characters, past and present, on "Lost". I want a woman who cannot spell 'concerned' and doesn't know the difference between 'their, they're, and there' to give me parenting pointers!

That's just sad and scary, people.

------

And in the news they are suspending executions in Fl and CA because lethal injection, especially if not administered correctly, might be considered cruel and unusual.

The bloke in Florida, they say, took 35 minutes to die rather than the standard 15. He "appeared to be moving 24 minutes after the first injection, grimacing, blinking ..." He was a career criminal sentenced to death for shooting a man and previously convicted of stabbing to death a prison worker.

The bloke in California, whose execution was put off because of this new row, is a rapist and a murderer. Let's visit the facts, shall we?:

He "attacked [the 17 year old girl] from behind and tried to strangle her with his belt. [He] then hit her head with a hammer, beating her into unconsciousness, and crushing the victim's skull. [He] then dragged [her] face-down across the road and into a vineyard, where he raped her and stabbed her four times in the chest."

OK. What am I missing here, folks? What do I NOT understand?

We are concerned about these creatures? Our heartstrings are tugged when a man who has raped, killed, tortured, (whatever) experiences pain when he dies? I DON'T EFFING THINK SO!

They didn't care whether their victims - innocent people like you and me - suffered. They didn't care if their deaths were painful. They trampled the ultimate rights of an innocent person and now we should be fretting over their just death's being agonizing?

I call bull$#!t on this one.

In which pubic hair is mentioned

I just realized that when I go to read my fave bloggers I'm always irritated when they haven't posted.

Me.

She Who Only Rarely Posts.

Yeah, I suck. I also love my bloggers. My list that I read daily is much shorter than it used to be: basically, my posse and about that same number again. Isn't it odd that one can randomly reach out over the 'net and find a handful of women who's lives you find so interesting? Whose words you find so moving (or amusing)? From whom you gain insight and strength just by hearing about their lives?

Weird, eh?

-----

Well I've been totally useless the past few days. I'm working furiously on the stores since these are the final days of online holiday shopping, so I spend way too much time gawping at the computer screen and talking to myself.

I did go to the sale Saturday. It was bloody cold (so cold I didn't take any of the bubs) and I was afraid I was going to be the only person there. A small crowd showed up after a bit. (I drove into the bustling metropolis of Saluda, South Carolina where I had my order gotten wrong by Burger King employees and was forced to choke down a dry sausage bisquit for breakfast and said crowd accumulated while I was gone.)

I was unique in being the only female there until about noon or so. This gave me the advantage of getting to bid, unchallenged, on some cool stuff (baby stuff, mostly). I did the thing I should have been doing all along: I brought my Coleman camp chair - one of those canvas folding jobbies - and it seriously saved my hips and my knees. I sat there like a duchess and bid with impunity, lol.

I do have to share with you this bloke who comes to the sale. Man, oh man! He's tall, quiet, broad shouldered and narrow hipped, has the nicest backside I've seen since Evil Genius Husband's (and EGH's is niiiiice). He's middle aged - about 50 or 55 - has a neat, steel grey mustache ... YOW! I so wish I could sneak a picture. This guy would make you drool.

Anyway, I was studying him Saturday (ok, ok, yeah, his buttocks were right at eye level to me since I was sitting. Shut up!) and I noticed that his jeans were not faded at all. They were bright blue like they were brand new and they had been carefully ironed (with a crease!) His shirt was also starched. And he always looks like this. Like an advert for a farmer. I wonder if his wife does all that or if he's just one of those fastidious men?

Of course it could be worse. There was one disgruntled looking bloke in his faded-almost-to-white button fly overalls ... with the buttons undone. He grumped and grumbled past me several times (damned women at the stock sales, sitting about like duchesses ...), and yes, I DID shamelessly look for a flash of willy but all I saw was some greying pubic hair.

----

OK, I just have to get working on some new designs. Oh, and go feed the chickens. We have new squabs (those are baby pigeons)! I will try to get some pics for you.

PS: Here is that promised farm blog post - late as usual.

Of dogs and pigs

First of all it's bloody cold here. It's, like, 35 or something.

Now I know those of you north of the midlands of South Carolina will chuckle indulgently at me but, there it is. Bloody cold. To me.

So I'm sitting in the house, reading to the babies and the dogs start barking. This isn't unusual. We have 6 dogs and they are, to a dog, pretty freakin' dumb. They are also spread out: one in the barnyard (Turkish), two in the yard (Jake, the daftest dog on earth, and Reggie, the psycho) and three in the house.

The outside dogs tend to egg each other on. One barks and the other join in having seen and heard NOTHING amiss, just taking their idiotic dog-brother on his word. Bark! Space aliens! With tentacles! Bark! El Chupacabra! Attack! Bark, bark, bark!

Idiots.

Reggie, the psycho dog, will bark at dirt. Or leaves. Or clouds. Or some random itch behind his left elbow.

Anyway, this results in my ignoring them for the most part. I have actually learned to distinguish their barks after a fashion, much like I can tell the babies's different cries.

So, I'm reading to the bubs, and I hear the OMIGOD, OMIGOD, AHHH! DOGORSOMETHING! bark. This one is usually reserved for actual dogs on the property (as opposed to dogs riding by in pick-up trucks and dogs running more or less in the road with their stupid white trash owner who thinks it's cool to allow them to roam people's yards whilst she 'jogs'.)

Well, strange dogs are bad so I sigh, get up, bundle up to the eyes (bloody cold, remember?) and trudge out.

I stroll out into the yard, expecting nothing, and stop, startled. Something big, fast, and very dog-like sprints down the other side of the picket fence. The dogs go mad.

Galvanized, I hurry up to the gate.

Something else - big, fast - sprints behind the chicken lot. There're feathers all over, and these weird, winding ruts in the partially frozen ground. Like Mutant Moles Gone Mad. What the HECK?

Suddenly something right at my elbow (I'm leaning over the gate) goes: "Hugph?"

Well I screamed like a girl, I can tell you.

When I recovered enough to breathe I saw Bunty, one of my girl pigs, gallop down the drive, into the road, and around the corner. About that time Green and Ginger came around the shed and bustled up to me as if to say: "Hey, momma, got food? Food? Huh? Isn't this cool? Wow, chickens! Got food, Momma?"

The pigs were out. Damn. It.

Long story short (too late) I spent the better part of an hour trying to get those blasted pigs. Cursing and waddling around a barnyard while my small children are up to who-knows-what in the house is NOT my idea of a good time. I really really really need a dog! And by that I mean a useful dog. Not something with dog DNA that just eats and sleeps and barks at the random chupacabra!

Gah!

Related Tags: south, southern, southeastern, pigs, t-shirts, tees, shirts, tshirts, south carolina, dogs, herding dogs, working dogs, pets, funny, farm, humor, humorous

Google me, baby! [UPDATED]

Ohhhh ... new Blogger.

Shiny.

Or should we call it Bloggoogle?

I haven't actually had a chance to muck about with it so expect either high praise or crabby bitching here soon.

BTW, I am aware that my archives are not working. They've never worked. I shall endevour today to get Bloggoogle to help me fix 'em.

I actually have emailed them twice about it but got the tinned response of some bored NON-technical-minded telephone rep who was just looking through a database for an appropriate 'answer'. Like when I used to be a telelphone and computer technician. I worked with PCs all day. It was my job. I was solely responsible for about 200 machines. I'm no computer whiz, but I had the basic working knowledge.

I'd ring Dell and get some twinkie with her eye on the clock and I'd be saying: "Yes, whenever I push ctrl/alt/del smoke pours out of the back!" and she'd snap her gum (keyboard clicking in the background) (pause) and go: "See the little button in the lower left hand corner that says 'start'? Click that and hit 'restart computer'. Give us a call back if that doesn't fix it!"

Gosh! Why didn't I ever think of that?!

Anyway, I'll be back later. Keep your eyes peeled for a new farm blog entry: Pig Races!

-----

UPDATE:

HAH! *does awkward happy dance* Who da woman? I think I have gotten everything fixed! It's amazing what one can do while awaiting 'official' help from the 'experts'.

Go on ... click an archive link. Click it!

The Big Gap

I can't believe my baby Bulk is 18 months old!

It's going to be so tough to have a newborn and an almost-two-year-old, isn't it? I'm terrified.

All of Bulk's siblings already had their baby sib by this time (the Human Crash Test Dummy was a baby herself when Bitty Girl was born - only 10 months old). I never had any jealousy issues or tantrums or regressions. It was easy for them, harder for me.

Of course, Bulk is pretty laid back. He's of a congenial nature anyway, plus he's had to learn to share and be patient via having older sibs. I suppose it won't be too bad.

Mind you, he does get disgruntled every now and again. Don't make him angry. You wouldn't like him when he's angry. He uses his superior ... well, bulk ... and strength and overpowers the object of his displeasure. He's not a hitter or a biter (both are absolutely verboten in my house, anyway) but he'll just grab, lay on top of, and essentially mash his victim. He can totally overpower his sisters and Boy can get away only with much effort.

So every now and then I'll hear outraged (and usually muffled) cries of: "MomMA! Bulk is ON me!"

It's one of those things where I disapprove but have to bite my lip to keep from laughing at the same time.

----

In other baby news I got my c-section scheduled. There was a huge row (NO! Not with you, Blue!) (shut up).

They have my due date as March 13. This is calculated by my LMP with the stubborn assumption that I ovulated on day 14 and have a 28 day cycle. Well, as I pointed out to the scheduler (and everyone else who'd listen for 6 months now) I ovulated 4 days later (I was charting temps) and my cycles run 32-34 days.

My actual due date is March 17.

I wanted March 12 for my c/s date (I'm very superstitious - all of my babies were born on a Monday). I also wanted Dr. Cutie Pie to deliver me (he delivered both my boys).

Well, 1) they refuse to do it on the 12th as it's "too close to" my 'due date', and 2) a doctor whom I do NOT care for is on call that day. Well crap.

So, if I go for the preceding Monday I can get my regular doc, Dr. Cautious who delivered THCTD and Bitty.

This is fine except that means this baby will be delivered 11 days early. This really bugs me. I believe in letting 'em cook as long as possible if you can (ok, perhaps not as long as Boy who was 2 weeks overdue and still wouldn't come out). He'll be awfully small (Bitty was over a week early and was only 9lbs - my teensy-est).

I'm worrying WAY too much about this aren't I?

Gah!