wordy whiny wednesday

I know every other blogger in the blogging universe will be participating fully in wordless Wednesday. And usually I look forward to Wednesday for that reason. Post a photo and move along. But this isn’t any normal Wednesday for me so I’m going to create a new Wednesday tradition.

I bring you: Wordy Whiny Wednesday.

Sponsored in part by Milo, Hormonal Imbalance and Tofu.

If that title sounds as awful as I think it does I wouldn’t blame you if you just closed this page and moved on to the next blog. If you decide to read on, I warn you, there will be whining. In excess.


If you remember Monday. There were woes. Woes and sighs of doggy distress.  $165 and three medications later, we find, the dog, Milo, as it were, turns out has sarcoptic mange. (If you are susceptible to suggestion and prone to psychosomatic medical disorders and imaginary itching, do not click that link. I beg of you.) What that link does NOT tell you is that if you find out your dog does in fact HAVE sarcoptic mange (aka dog scabies) you will immediately become a crazybugobsessedinsanewoman and set about cleaning everything in your house. OR you will sit in front of the computer in tears looking at photos of bugs and imagining your baby crawling with invisible biting dog mites while your husband tries ineffectively to soothe you by taking the cushion covers off the couch. Or both. And you will itch.Most certainly.  Because while the mite responsible for my current misery does not actually COMPLETE it’s life cycle on humans that doesn’t stop it from trying.

In the aftermath of The Scabies, the house was in complete disarray.

The next morning, Tuesday, it was still in disarray, only now, it was in disarray and I couldn’t move.

In the frenzy of cleaning I managed to hurt my back. So off to the trusty Hunting-White-Coated-Face-Lifted Chiropractor I went. (No really, that’s what we call him.)  After much gasping and scolding at the sounds my back made he sends me home. To bed.


Which is where Ella and I spent much of yesterday. While the house continued in it’s downward spiral of further disarray and what I like to refer to as The Bad Hormones were ravaging my body (along with other unpleasant things I won’t subject you to), I laid there. Which was actually quite lovely. For approximately five minutes.

At which point I began to lose my mind.

I busied myself knitting and I was able to finish this:










My phone cover, without incident. (pattern and tut to follow)

Ella nursed a fair amount because it was so readily available and within her grasp (quite literally)  and she cooed and smiled and babbled to me.
















Until she was obviously sick of looking at my face.

Which took about an hour.

I busied her with toys and moved on to working a bit on the blog. Productivity in the face of despair. Yes. Brilliant. I spent a bit fussing the sidebar and such until I was satisfied and when I saved some changes and loaded the page, excited to see my changes, I was not so excited at what I saw.

My sidebar was gone.

To fully understand this you must understand that I worked over a week on that sidebar.  WordPress. If you’re reading, I hate you. I wish upon you the plague or that thing with the locusts. Either of those.

Did I save a copy of my HTML? No. Of course not.

I cried.

For a while.

Thankfully the Man was able to run after the children. Once the children were home from school I set about having them put things back in order. You know, to what ever degree kids can do that sort of thing. Like putting the wrong covers on the couch and vacuuming half a room and those kind of things.  During this time I tried, without sobbing uncontrollably, to piece the sidebar back together. As some point the 15 year old said something like “Mom, why do you have two pimples? Are you stressed out or something?”

No. Not at all.

Because it was clear that I couldn’t under any circumstances cook dinner, we went out to Chinese food. It was nice to be sitting up. In a chair. And the kids were all agreeable and in a good mood. Lovely. And as he does often the Man offered the 15 year old $5 to eat tofu. It took her a while to work up to putting it in her mouth (15 agonizing minutes, but who’s counting). She eventually did.

And then she promptly began to gag and throw up.

At the table.

And then she went to the bathroom to throw up.

And while she was gone the boys started with the third degree about whether or not they were going to throw up.

And then I went to the bathroom to soothe her and hold her hair out of her vomit and dry her vomit-y tears and tell her she never ever had to eat tofu again ever in her whole life.

And I wanted to throw up.

But I don’t throw up, so we just left. And came home. And when we got home we gave the dog his $165 pills.

And he started to throw up.

Eight times.

On the rug. (And why can’t animals EVER throw up on the linoleum anyway?)

And when he was done throwing up he ate the throw up. Which made the 11 year old say he was going to throw up. Now everyone was nauseated and no one wanted to touch the dog anyway but if the vomit wasn’t enough he started itching. And I’m 117% certain I could see the microscopic mites literally flying off of him and into the air we breathe. And that made me itchy.

So I gave up and went to bed.

Today I don’t feel so much like I want to die. And the dog isn’t AS smelly or itchy. And no one is throwing up.

So that’s a vast improvement over yesterday.

I’m looking at things from a glass half full perspective.

It looks like it’s about half full of a bottle of Cabernet.

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4 Responses to “wordy whiny wednesday”
  1. liz says:

    oh gosh. i hate wordless wednesday anyway. it’s good to get it allllllll out.

    • mommabare says:

      Oh that’s only the beginning. Again, half-full. I left off the part about the crying at the table. Oh and Sean telling me I looked pregnant.

  2. Stef says:

    I feel fairly sure you’ve seen the original Annie movie, correct? Remember that part where one of the orphans says, “Oh my goodness, oh my goodness!!”? As I read your blog that comment kept repeating in my head. It just kept getting better (or worse) and um, yeah, yikes.

    Oh, honey, I’m so sorry. Let’s just strike yesterday completely off the record books. There comes a point in days like those where you just give up and let it happen and know that the next day is going to be better (because it couldn’t be worse). Big, fat, squeezy hugs for you.

    By the way, regarding tofu, when I was in DC a couple weeks ago I went to dinner with a an Asian friend and his midwest-bred, white-girl wife. She was talking about how she had had such a hard time liking tofu due to the consistency/texture – until she realized that it’s just like scrambled eggs. Once that thought was in her head it was so easy to not only eat the tofu, but to learn to love it as well. Just a thought for the 15 year old. If it helps.

    • mommabare says:

      I actually played Annie in the play but all I can hear is “it’s a hard knock life for us…”

      The sun’ll come out, tomorrow. Betchyer bottom dollar than tomorrow….

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