Princess Zurg woke up at about 5:30 in the morning and started throwing up.  As I believe I’ve blogged before, my children are physiologically incapable of standing in one place while they throw up.  As soon as they feel the bile start to rise, they go into panic mode and run around the house, covering all the carpeted areas with whatever they’ve failed to fully digest that day.  I have a running list of things I should not feed my children until they learn to puke in a porcelain bowl, and salmon just rocketed to #2, right behind grilled cheese sandwiches.  (It’s been five years since the Great Grilled Cheese Incident, but it still makes me shudder.  Shudder.)  Most fruits, on the other hand, are relatively pleasant.  (When you’ve cleaned up as much vomit as I have, you can say that sort of thing with a straight face.)

Anyway, I know it’s Monday morning and you don’t want to hear any more about barfing.  Suffice it to say that the splatter effect my children manage to get on carpet is exceptional.  Exceptional.


It’s all a big blur, to tell you the truth.  Sugar Daddy and I did finish watching Alias Season 4, and I can only say one thing.  Well, I’ll say two things.  That show is absurd–in the sense of being really freaking awesome.  But that season’s cliffhanger was the most effed-up, lame, and frustrating one ever.  It makes me not even want to watch Season 5.  I am that upset.  No, don’t tell me what happens in Season 5!  I don’t want to know!  I swear I’ll block you for life if you tell me anything.  Ooh, I’m getting tough now.  I’ve never threatened you all like that before.  Hope it didn’t scare you.


Here’s the first 20 minutes of church.  Whispered but unfortunately still very audible lines are in italics:

Mister Bubby:  I’m huuuunnnnngwyyyyyy.

Giraffemom:  That’s interesting.

MB:  I need bweakfaaaasssst.

GM:  Just a minute.

MB:  I’m huuuunnnnnngwyyyyy.

GM:  Hang on a minute.  Just hang on.

Princess Zurg:  Why do we always have to go to church?  Church is so long.  Church should only be one second.  There.  It’s over.  Why do you always make us go to church?  I’m hungry.

GM:  Please be quiet!

PZ:  I’m going now.

GM:  Fine.

PZ:  By myself.  Alone.

GM:  Fine.  Good.

PZ:  I’m leaving.

GM:  Fine, just do it!

PZ:  Okay.  (Exit PZ)

MB:  Mommy, I’m hungwy.  I need food.

GM:  Fine, eat something.  I don’t care.  Just be quiet.  Please.

(A little while later…)


GM:  They’re on the floor.  They’re gone.  You’ve got plenty of Cheerios.  Just eat them.  Sh!


GM:  Sh!  It’s okay.  Let them go!


GM:  I can’t!  I can’t reach them!  Just eat what you’ve got.  There are so many, look, you don’t need those other Cheerios–


GM:  Fine!  Crawl under the bench and get them!  Just be quiet!


MB:  Mommy, did you pack yellow goldfish?

GM:  Yes.

MB:  Which one has more in it?

GM:  They both have the same.  Just eat them!  Eat one of them!  Pick one, I don’t care!

MB:  Is this one bigger?

GM:  I don’t know!  I don’t care!

(Elvis dives off the pew, slams his head smack on the floor, spilling his Cheerios, and starts screaming.)

GM:  Great.  (Picks up Elvis to take him to the foyer)  No, no–nobody move.  Everyone sit on the floor or put your legs out to trip the eight-month-pregnant woman carrying 40 pounds of two-year-old.  It’s better this way, trust me.




It got better.  But I was still glad when it was over.  As always.

And now the medical update:

So wearing the wrist splints has helped to a large extent, but my middle finger on my right hand still feels like I rammed it into a brick wall at 40 mph, then stuck the tip of it in the freezer for about half an hour.  I think that’s weird.  My fingers are still periodically fat, but usually not.  What’s new is that my feet have also decided to get fat.  My feet do not usually swell during pregnancy.  Actually, they never have.  I always anticipated that they would swell, and I’d take off my toe rings in my first trimester as a precautionary measure, but my feet never did swell, and I think I just kept them on during my Elvis pregnancy.  I didn’t even think about removing them this time until I looked down at my feet last night and discovered that I was about to lose two toes if I didn’t take immediate action.  It wasn’t pleasant, but I got them off (the rings, not the toes), and while my feet are still fat, they’re all in one piece.

My feet don’t look good fat.  Which is really bothering me because my feet are ordinarily very attractive.  No, really.  Everyone says so.  At least they used to.  I hope I can still fit into my tap shoes after this is over.  For that matter, I hope I regain feeling in my third finger on the right hand.  I think I’m going to need it.