In case you don’t get a chance to watch The Simpsons one of 47 times a day Fox and UPN run it, you can always get a good Homer quote here.
For those of you who live in the Tampa Bay area, we have got to vote this fascist out of office. Rhonda Storms (I guess that is her real name, although it sounds like a porn name) is a censor and an ignorant bigot. She should be ashamed of this.
As I mentioned, Hurricane Dennis missed us, but here comes Emily.
And two more things.
1) Gabe got out the tool belts last night. The squad went wild. They love them. They also love the tools they found to put in them. I think they are supposed to be for ages three and up, but Grandma saw them at the grocery store several months ago. This picture is from last night, but they were wearing these again this morning.
2) Notice the curls on Ian. They are precious, but he’s going to have to get a haircut when we get back from vacation, or his hair is going to start dreading.
Posted by Sarah @
9:04 am |
Gabe says she takes after me.
I don’t see it.
Oh, and yes, those are Ian’s shorts.
Posted by Sarah @
8:14 am |
It’s been an interesting weekend so far. Hurricane Dennis hasn’t done any damage here, but it’s dumping a lot of rain on us.
I woke up yesterday, at 6:15am, to the sound of Ian moaning from his crib. When I went in to check on him, he seemed to be moaning in his sleep, so I went back to bed. This lasted less than three minutes. He was still moaning and I got to his room just in time to see him throw up. I think he was still asleep and he was still on his back, and part of me is panicking that if I hadn’t walked in right then, he would have choked on his own vomit. Anyway, I picked him up and he barfed on me again. I took him out to the living room and he puked again, and we ended up waking up Gabe and Ian and I got in the shower, because we were both covered in vomit.
He kept throwing up every time I tried to give him any water, or Pedialyte, so when the doctors office opened, I called them, just to make sure nothing horrible was going around. Here’s how that conversation went:
Me: May I please speak to a nurse or a doctor?
Lady: What is going on with your child?
Me: He keeps throwing up.
Lady: How long has he been throwing up?
Me: Since about 6: 15 this morning. (It was about 9:15 when I made this call)
Lady: Sure, let me get a nurse for you. Oh, wait, about how many times has he thrown up?
Me: I don’t know, about 15 or 20.
Lady: 15 times this morning!
Me: Yeah, about 15 times.
Lady: I think you are going to have to take him to the emergency room. Hold on.
First of all, anyone who has been to the emergency room with a baby knows how bad this sucks. Anyone who has watched someone give their child an IV knows that it is one of the last things in the world you want to be doing on the morning that you may or may not be getting a hurricane. Secondly, I knew he was not dehydrated (wet diapers are the key) and I also had inside information that not only had he had some formula that smelled questionable, but he had eaten anchovies off of this father’s pizza the night before.
The only reason I even called the doctor was to make sure nothing horrible was going around. It looked to me like he was trying to get something specific out of his system, but if he had ebola or something, we should probably not let him share pacifiers with his sister. Vomit doesn’t really bother me all that much, but this kid had horrible reflux for the first nine months of his life, so I’m really used to him puking all day long. Also, according to Gabe (and my other family and friends who I have mentioned this to) I throw up way more than your average person. The first time Gabe mentioned that I barf more that normal people, I said “I haven’t thrown up in at least two weeks”. He pointed out that just by me thinking that two weeks was a long time was proof that I puke a lot.
It all ended okay. We went straight to the doctors office and he didn’t throw up one time after I had the conversation with the lady on the phone. He was even flirting with some sick 12 year old in the waiting room. I’m pretty sure it was the formula. I talked to Enfamil and they are sending me a replacement canister.
That is what was happening with the boy this weekend. Here is what is going on with the girl:
Me: Gabe! Gabe! Claudia is singing!
Gabe: What is she singing?
Me: “Hush” by Deep Purple.
I hadn’t even realized that I was singing Deep Purple to the kids, but when I sang “Na, Na Na Na, Na Na Na, Na Na, Na”, Claudia sang “Na Na Na Na Na” and she did it in some sort of rhythm. So she sings now. Mostly 70’s power metal, but still, she is singing.
Posted by Sarah @
1:27 pm |
I didn’t make this up. Someone else did. I’m just telling you that there is a actually a website called Alien Loves Predator. It, well, just go see for yourself.
I don’t have strong feelings about Hummers (the vehicles), but apparently this guy does. I cannot imagine devoting this much time to disliking an automobile.
After reading this headline, I was fairly surprised to read that the article was not about my friend, Bill.
The kids are napping and my Mom is here. She is reading/watching Maisy muted and close captioned. She actually just said “I just watched that squirrel take off his underpants!” I’m starting to wonder about these shows.
Frank sent me this article about these poor sheep.
I call shenanigans. Calling this band Strapping Young Lad is false advertising. These guys are none of the above.
Posted by Sarah @
8:17 pm |
When I was in the hospital, on bedrest, before the squad was born, I didn’t have many option of what to watch on TV. I had basic cable in my room, so I could get ESPN, but they didn’t offer Bravo, or HBO, or MTV or anything like that. The good news was that it was the season for both the NBA and the NHL playoffs. (I was in the hospital for 41 days). The bad news is that it was the finale of Friends.
I really didn’t want to watch the Friends finale, but one of my favorite nurses was on shift that evening and I knew she wanted to see it, so I left it on so she could come in and out of my room and see what was going on.
Of course, as usual, I was having contractions, so she had to keep me on the monitor and I was getting shots of terbutaline, which they only gave me if I had more than six contractions in an hour. So, basically, I am in labor and watching the stupid Friends finale.
When Monica and Chandler’s surrogate popped out two babies I started crying. Not because I was touched, but because I couldn’t bear having the distinction of having twins on the same day as the Bings. I felt that it would cheapen my whole experience, and compromise the integrity of my kids forever. Okay, so I might have been a little bit emotional at the time, but the terbutaline makes you feel like you are on speed and I had crazy pregnant hormones for three people making me insane. Then later, they had a going away party for Rachel and nobody even brought the babies, they just left them across the hall, and Rachel wasn’t even taking her baby with her to France - she was just going to let her Mom bring her out later, and I wanted to throw things at the TV, but I knew I couldn’t, because I wasn’t allowed to get up and retrieve them.
Everything turned out okay. The Squad stayed put for another week exactly, and by that time I was so ready for them to be born that I forgot about the fake TV babies and the negligent parenting styles of the Friends.
I’m still really glad they weren’t born that day.
Posted by Sarah @
11:08 am |
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