Wednesday, September 23, 2009

the many heads of humiliation

I would never complain that my life is uneventful. It isn't. I think that the nature of the events leaves something to be desired in terms of feeling comfort, sanity, and basic value as a human. Consider my eventful weekend:
Saturday am--9-10:30am soccer practice for the kids. Anna, my lithe amazonian daugther runs like Pele. Lucian, my short oblivious son, takes pride in moving the small goal in the middle of games in order to trick the other players. This is a promise. He does it every Saturday and since there are so many witnesses, I cannot strike him down on the pee-wee field.

Saturday 4pm--After taking a shower, Anna presents me with a pick and I comb here hair in the usual routine, until, suddenly, the pick is covered with small bugs. I SCREAM, but no sound comes out. It is the kind of scream that is meant not to alarm, but to coat the inside of your forehead so as not to upset the children. So begins the delousing of the Afro.

Saturday 10pm--After bending over Anna's infested little head for about 2 hours, I sit down, finally, and crack open a book. A strange gurgled cough sounds from upstairs, and before I can even set the book properly on the coffeetable, Lucian is leaned over his toybox chundering all over his Playmobile collection. YES! We now call his room the Chumbucket. He half-smiles, I'm not sure he finds it funny.

So, eventful yes, glamorous, enlightening, nope.

And finally, yesterday evening, Lucian is making gagging sounds in the car, of course, I panic, thinking of all the bleached playmobile items still soaking in the tub....he is sticking his finger down his throat. Now, I am positive he isn't bulimic, the kid would eat until he fainted and he clogs the toilet with his profound fecal matter (we call it bad waste management). He says, "I'm scratching, there's something back there"...
Off to the pediatrician who asks Lucian what's wrong to which he responds (mind you it's 7pm at this point) "I don't know what the hell is in there but it's pretty frikkin' sharp."
Huh. Nice.
Strep test is negative, the doctor is already on the phone with homeland security and we are purchasing popsicles at the grocery store when Lucian spies two Latino men in front of us a the checkout.
"Hey" he points, "How come they're so short? Must be Spanish or something."
Uneventful, never, humliating, absolutely. You should've been there for the midget incident last summer.
Oh, and what did I have for dinner this evening, since all of this should come with a recipe. Matzo soup from the box, old garlic bread, and push-up pops. Tylenol PM for dessert.
Happy Cooking.


  1. Okay so you just made my day better, reading it gave me a good laugh. While I am sitting in my closet of a dorm room, picturing this stuff happening. I write my stuff in a journal because it is not as entertaining as yours. Keep going I love it.

  2. Aw, it 's so nice to know I'm not alone! What a nightmare motherhood can be, and no freakin' book ever mentioned that!

  3. Yeah, and thanks to everyone who tried to warn us!!!

  4. The "chundering" prompts me to hijack my wife's log-in to relate an incident that occurred when I was around your kids' age.
    My sister was always the puker in the family. One night, she got out of bed and just made it to the top of the stairs when up came all she had eaten that day. For a small child, she had excellent coverage.
    Here I should describe the staircase in my folks' house. The stairs are in the living room with one side fully open. Mom used to hang freshly ironed laundry from the bannister spindles until she could get it put away. Along the same wall, below the stairs was the sofa. Of course, there was carpet on the floor.
    It sounded just like a sister managed to get every step of the stairs, a good splatter on the front door about 3 feet from the bottom, the sofa, the carpet and all the clean, freshly ironed laundry. Mom had to take a day off from work to clean it all up.
    Mom couldn't be mad at her because she was sick and trying to get to the toilet, but the deal was struck to call for help before going for the stairs.

  5. We call those instances "Puke-o-Rama", it's just comical. It was a big mistake giving Lucian spinach and Flinstones vitamins that night, but who knew?!