And chunks and slime strings. The Pumpkin man was at it again today. We were in the car. On our way home this time. He told us his belly hurt. We made it home with no incident. I dragged him out of the car and carried him into the yard.. I asked him if he needed to throw up. He shook his head no. Then puked. A little at first. A splash on my shoulder, a spritz on my neck. "That wasn't so bad." I thought before he let loose like a broken sewage line at a fashion show.
He got us both real good. In a way, it was nice. He hasn't puked on me like that since he was a baby. Awww. At the same time, you could see how big he's getting because of all the colorful, little, singular bits. Yellows and reds and greens. Like stinky confetti. Surprise!
We had just come home from dinner out. A rarity for us but we were kind of forced to. We were stuck in the city due to an impromptu doctor's visit for the Peanut.
Both kids have colds. Slight fevers and snot rockets. The Peanut began complaining of some slight burning and irritation in her tiny nether regions ("My vagina hurts." She said this flatly. Matter of factly. Which is kind of when you know there's trouble. Isn't this a lovely post?) The Peanut's nether regions are of some concern to us.
Last night, on the advice of our on-call ped, we went to our local er to get a urine sample. The doctors and nurses at our local hospital--which for the purposes of this post we'll call Whidden Memorial Hospital in Everett Ma--have been hand-picked from the finest online universities and mail order degree mills. Long story short, we went in to find out about a u.t.i., and came out with a diagnosis of a yeast infection based solely on a visual inspection that uncovered some residual Desitin we had applied early in the day. That shit stayed on through a bath, by the way. Stuff is amazing. Little known fact, Desitin is what the Eskimos use to waterproof their sea kayaks.
When I told a nurse of my reservations about the diagnosis and resulting prescription, I was told " don't worry about it. It won't hurt her. Go ahead and use it." Which was always my mother's philosophy when it comes to medications, so you know, no judgements.
We went to our regular pediatrician today, and everything is fine and good. So that's good.
I'm typing this after getting back from my run. I'm not exactly sure how far I ran, as the drunk lying on the grass near where I run was taking care of counting the laps for me. It was great on one hand because he was really enthusiastic. "Yaaah! SEVEN!" he bellowed as he held up four fingers. Still, I trusted him until we got near the end and instead of yelling out nine or ten he just sobbed out the lyrics to King of The Road.
Finally (thank god for fucks sake), I have a new post up over at Insert Eyeroll. Please check it out if you have a moment. I 100% promise it has nothing to do with vaginas.
P.S. One more thing. The Peanut started yelling gibberish in this loud, raspy, angry kind of starting out low and ending high voice. She told me that's what I sound like when I yell. Which explains a lot. I should probably try some real words. even better though I asked her what mommy sounds like when she yells. The peanut peanut pitched her voice higher and yelled, "BLAHGERRAHHLWORLGARGLFUCKINGYAARGLE!"
I said, smiling, "How does mommy yell again?" And she replied, "BLERRRGLEGROWLRAAHHERGLEFUCKINGRAWWWR!
I enjoyed telling my wife that this evening.
Alright. Thats it now.