11 June 2008
You're Fricking Welcome
OnePlusYou Quizzes and Widgets, stolen from a blog I stalk
You could be reading one of those swearing blogs right now, but you're not. Thank your little lucky stars I have a relatively clean mouth. Relatively.
Peanut survived his proceedure last Friday, coming through it with flying colors and screams that would wake the dead. He continues his weight gain, making it up to over 13 lbs a week ago at his pre-op appt. Go Chunky! However, he's not chubby enough yet to hide both boobs after my front-clasp bra has suddenly come unlatched in the middle of shopping for cards at Hallmark. Did I leave immediately? Of course not. It was 100-flippin'-degrees outside and I refused to make an extra trip later on, especially with these gas prices. So I tried to cover half of my ampleness with Peanut and the other with the arm I was using to look at cards. I came away with three cards and no one making any loud remarks about the chick with no bra who obviously needs one. Dignity in tact! Ta-da!
As I was sitting in my car putting myself back together, a kid in a brand-new car smacked right into the side of a minivan parked in the lot, scraping up the side. As he backed away, the owner of the van got out and glared at him. Only then did he stop. I laughed heartily. Of all the cars this kid hits, it's the only one with someone sitting inside it (well, besides mine of course). He started to apologize as if that would suddenly heal her car, but she appeared to inform him most strenuously that only his insurance information could do that. I laughed again.
Peanut seems to like Coldplay, despite my telling him that Viva la Vida sounds exactly like Speed of Sound, which was a tweaked version of Clocks. "But the words are different!" he proclaims. "Chris has suddenly gotten deeper instead of rambling nonsensical lyrics and pretending they mean something!" To which I reply, "Meh." It's funny how he wasn't this talkative when I wanted to discuss the Bush Administration. I just hope his silence and thousand-yard stare at that time meant his little mind just can't handle the lunacy, lies, and shooting people in the face.
Sometime last week Peawhistle got "Hungry Jack" in her head and it has yet to exorcise itself. If you ask her a question--any question at all--she will slyly reply, "HUNGRY, JACK?!?" No, she hasn't tired of it. It also doesn't take interrogation to get it out of her. She will run around to various people in her life, quizzing them about whether or not they are, in fact, a Hungry Jack. Regardless of the response, she laughs uncontrollably. I'm glad she's such a happy and easily entertained child, even if it means living a very brief life if she doesn't knock it the hell off (1.1%!).
Did I tell you what they figured out Peanut is allergic to so far? Peas (duh), milk, peanuts, cashews, pistachios, and sesame seeds. That's just so far. Not everything has popped up yet and he is very likely allergic to a host of foods we don't know about. First off, this is going to suck come his first birthday. How do I make him a cake when I don't know if his little frosting-covered face will wind up in the hospital again or not? Secondly, the only way we can tell what he's allergic to between now and then is to experiment. I asked if we could just do that in the ER to save time. They said no (no sense of humor, these people). And thirdly (because I know I'm going to get comments if I don't include a "thirdly"...nerds), this is karma for my making fun of all those neurotic Peanut Kid parents all these years. The amusing irony of Peanut's nickname has not escaped me, either. "Hi, my name is Abby, and I'm a Peanut Kid Parent. Thank you."