Saturday, October 30, 2010
Shiny New Blog
Isn't it pretty?!?! I just have to thank my lovely lovely lovely friend Liz (@violetposy) for the time and effort she put into my site redesign. She made the whole process quick and easy and yummy (we met for coffee and cake to discuss what I wanted). So, thank you Liz! It looks wonderful!
Friday, October 29, 2010
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
My Own Florence Nightingale
LaLa has become obsessed with the idea of becoming a nurse when she grows up. I think it is great that she would like to nurture people back to health and am fully behind her if this is what she decides to be when she grows up. However, I think she has a very...odd...a bit off...view of what nurses are. See, she has really never had very much interaction with nurses. She has always been very healthy and the only times she has really seen nurses are when they take her weight and temperature at the doctors office.
Recently, she did a report on Florence Nightingale. This is how she has formed her opinion of nurses. Now, she has pretty much turned her bedroom into a Crimean War field hospital. She has taken to wearing long dresses with shirts tied around the waist as an apron. Barbies are her patients. They are laid out on her bed, like a gigantic ward floor, side to side with blankets covering them up to their necks. I half expect to go into her room and find her doing amputations with Chloroform as the anaesthetic and giving Laudanum for pain.
Also, I am pretty sure she thinks she is British.
Recently, she did a report on Florence Nightingale. This is how she has formed her opinion of nurses. Now, she has pretty much turned her bedroom into a Crimean War field hospital. She has taken to wearing long dresses with shirts tied around the waist as an apron. Barbies are her patients. They are laid out on her bed, like a gigantic ward floor, side to side with blankets covering them up to their necks. I half expect to go into her room and find her doing amputations with Chloroform as the anaesthetic and giving Laudanum for pain.
Also, I am pretty sure she thinks she is British.
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
The Distance Between Us
Sometimes distance is a good thing. It can pad me from feeling the raw pain of family tragedies. I want to be there to help during the bad times, but the distance also acts as an emotional buffer. I can hear about everything, but not seeing it, well, it can make it easier. Sometimes I am grateful about the distance.
During the happy times however, distance is horrible. It is the gap that I can not overcome. It is seeing weddings of cousins through Facebook. It is learning about the birth of a new baby through an email. I want to be there. I want to dance at the wedding and hold that sweet baby. I can't. I will miss it all.
Technology may keep me connected to those I love, but it can never make up for being there.
During the happy times however, distance is horrible. It is the gap that I can not overcome. It is seeing weddings of cousins through Facebook. It is learning about the birth of a new baby through an email. I want to be there. I want to dance at the wedding and hold that sweet baby. I can't. I will miss it all.
Technology may keep me connected to those I love, but it can never make up for being there.
Monday, October 25, 2010
Just So You Know Those Adverts are Crap!
KiKi has had a cold for about three days now. She almost missed the last day of school before the half term break, but she was insistent that she needed to go to school so she could parade about in her leopard costume that her MiMi (my mom) sent her. She is a strong willed one, ya know.
The past two days she has just had this really violent cough that she just can't seem to shake. Despite the cough medicines I have given her orally, there is really no change. Mind you, it doesn't sound like it is deep in her chest, more at the back of her throat. It doesn't really bother her until bedtime and then it kicks in so bad that she can barely catch her breath. So, I decided to use what any good mom in the western hemisphere would use, good ol' Vicks Vapor Rub.
Let me for the record say that this ad is crap.
There is no gently smoothing the jelly-like substance across your child's chest. It is more like you have to hog tie or pin your child to the mattress and in the two seconds that your child's chest is actually exposed, rub on a bunch of menthol smelling goo. Meanwhile, they are screaming at the top of their lungs like they are being gutted (yes, really, that much fun).
I see no part in the ad that says I may or may not have to use rope in order to apply this product. However, I will concede defeat because, dammit, Vicks actually worked to stop her coughing.
The past two days she has just had this really violent cough that she just can't seem to shake. Despite the cough medicines I have given her orally, there is really no change. Mind you, it doesn't sound like it is deep in her chest, more at the back of her throat. It doesn't really bother her until bedtime and then it kicks in so bad that she can barely catch her breath. So, I decided to use what any good mom in the western hemisphere would use, good ol' Vicks Vapor Rub.
Let me for the record say that this ad is crap.
There is no gently smoothing the jelly-like substance across your child's chest. It is more like you have to hog tie or pin your child to the mattress and in the two seconds that your child's chest is actually exposed, rub on a bunch of menthol smelling goo. Meanwhile, they are screaming at the top of their lungs like they are being gutted (yes, really, that much fun).
I see no part in the ad that says I may or may not have to use rope in order to apply this product. However, I will concede defeat because, dammit, Vicks actually worked to stop her coughing.
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
As Elton John sang, "The Circle of Life"
I think I am going to have to give POW Sam Kitty a new name as he is no longer a POW and hasn't been one for nearly 3 months. Yes, I have given up the good fight of keeping him indoors. Yes, I live on a main road and fear for his safety, but nearly being killed by tripping on him and figuring out how to block his escape each and every time I opened the front door was becoming a huge problem (read-pain in the ass). So I adopted the view of that Russian (Dolph Ludgren in real life for the record) from Rocky IV, that says "If he dies, he dies". In truth I really don't want him to die, not only cause he is a pretty awesome cat, but for goodness sake I flew him across an ocean and I have entirely too much money tied up in him now.
So, as I was saying, Sam Kitty is now free as a bird now. Also, eating birds...and mice. Actually, I don't think he eats them all since he has now brought me 3 mice and a bird as sacrifices. I tried to explain to him, as a household of Christians we don't require blood sacrifices, but you know how it is with cats, in one ear out the other. Instead he has continued to play Grim Reaper to the mouse and bird population. Then I took the approach of accepting that cats eat mice, even The Farmer in the Dell* says so (you didn't know that takes means eat, did you?). So with resignation I let him continue to play Jason Voorhees in my backyard.
That was until Sunday afternoon. The day that will live in infamy (other than when Japan bombed Pearl Harbor, cause that was really bad too). He puked mouse guts up on my utility room carpet. Oh Lord in Heaven help me! It smelled really really bad and I had to clean it up. Needless to say I almost made a matching stain on the carpet. Now, I am dead set against him exercising the circle of life in my backyard. I however am not willing to confine him to the house.
Flash forward to Tuesday afternoon. I am minding my own business doing the dishes and peering outside the window in front of me to the backyard. I see Sam Kitty, bringer of death, outside acting suspicious. I say out loud to nobody in particular, "Oh no! What's he got now?!" and he freezes in his tracks like he has heard me. Then looks directly at me with a mouse hanging out of his mouth. I take off like a shot outside yelling "OH NO YOU DON'T!!" (I'll be dammed if I am having mouse guts on my carpet again!) chasing him. He runs like the damn wind and ducks under the fence. Blast! I'm foiled!!! Not to mention, I look like an idiot and am once again glad that I have no neighbors. The joke is on him however because it starts raining shortly after and I won't let him inside until I am sure that he won't puke on my carpet. HaHa! Take that Sam Kitty, Grim Reaper of Mice!
*Farmer in the Dell lyrics
So, as I was saying, Sam Kitty is now free as a bird now. Also, eating birds...and mice. Actually, I don't think he eats them all since he has now brought me 3 mice and a bird as sacrifices. I tried to explain to him, as a household of Christians we don't require blood sacrifices, but you know how it is with cats, in one ear out the other. Instead he has continued to play Grim Reaper to the mouse and bird population. Then I took the approach of accepting that cats eat mice, even The Farmer in the Dell* says so (you didn't know that takes means eat, did you?). So with resignation I let him continue to play Jason Voorhees in my backyard.
That was until Sunday afternoon. The day that will live in infamy (other than when Japan bombed Pearl Harbor, cause that was really bad too). He puked mouse guts up on my utility room carpet. Oh Lord in Heaven help me! It smelled really really bad and I had to clean it up. Needless to say I almost made a matching stain on the carpet. Now, I am dead set against him exercising the circle of life in my backyard. I however am not willing to confine him to the house.
Flash forward to Tuesday afternoon. I am minding my own business doing the dishes and peering outside the window in front of me to the backyard. I see Sam Kitty, bringer of death, outside acting suspicious. I say out loud to nobody in particular, "Oh no! What's he got now?!" and he freezes in his tracks like he has heard me. Then looks directly at me with a mouse hanging out of his mouth. I take off like a shot outside yelling "OH NO YOU DON'T!!" (I'll be dammed if I am having mouse guts on my carpet again!) chasing him. He runs like the damn wind and ducks under the fence. Blast! I'm foiled!!! Not to mention, I look like an idiot and am once again glad that I have no neighbors. The joke is on him however because it starts raining shortly after and I won't let him inside until I am sure that he won't puke on my carpet. HaHa! Take that Sam Kitty, Grim Reaper of Mice!
*Farmer in the Dell lyrics
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