It wasn't bad enough that we spent most of Friday evening holding Henry's head while he heaved into a pan.
Or that Tim was already under the weather with a nasal/throat ailment when this latest germfest hit.
Or that I spent the entire weekend watching Curious George, Thomas, Bob the Builder, America's Funniest Home Videos, The Grinch, and Cars. Twice.
Or that just when we thought H was feeling better on Sunday morning, barf fest. All over the couch. And all over Mommy.
Or that Henry, the child who refuses to poop in the potty, asked to go poop in the potty about 73 times on Sunday afternoon. Meaning he either loves the feeling of his pullup and pj bottoms going on or off or we now have a most splendid case of constipation (which will require a trip to the store for suppositories and yet another round of high drama).
No, none of that was bad enough. Maggie, our 15-pound Killer canine, thought she'd amuse us and herself by playing with what I thought was her cute little toy purse. Thought. Yes. Thought. In reality...I learned otherwise, as I stepped closer to grab it and took a closer look at it in the light which had been dimmed to help relax our patient(s). That's when I screamed and ran backwards into the kitchen. Those weren't purse handles. Those were spindly bird legs hanging out one side of Maggie's mouth. Dead bird legs. At least, I hoped it was dead. I screamed again and jumped up and down as a signal to Tim that he'd better get that avian-flu-hosting creature out of my living room...YESTERDAY.
It must not have been a very tasty bird (Do Sparrows taste better than Robins? How do Chickadees compare with Wrens? Do they all taste like chicken?) because she immediately dropped it when we tempted her with a Milk Bone. I'm not sure how Tim disposed of it, but he did feel the need to inform me that the bird was cold and may have been dead for a while. Although it wasn't rigid. Yes. Aren't you, too, glad to know that?
For much of this weekend, my stomach felt woozy. I think it's more the power of suggestion than a real illness. I'm not taking chances. As soon as H goes to bed tonight, so will I, hopefully fighting off any possible bugs. Or birds. Or bird-killing dogs.
Plus, I'll be well-rested for the 2 a.m. call from Henry's bedroom: "Mommy...I feel sicky...bleeaaacchhhhhhhhh..."
Or that Tim was already under the weather with a nasal/throat ailment when this latest germfest hit.
Or that I spent the entire weekend watching Curious George, Thomas, Bob the Builder, America's Funniest Home Videos, The Grinch, and Cars. Twice.
Or that just when we thought H was feeling better on Sunday morning, barf fest. All over the couch. And all over Mommy.
Or that Henry, the child who refuses to poop in the potty, asked to go poop in the potty about 73 times on Sunday afternoon. Meaning he either loves the feeling of his pullup and pj bottoms going on or off or we now have a most splendid case of constipation (which will require a trip to the store for suppositories and yet another round of high drama).
No, none of that was bad enough. Maggie, our 15-pound Killer canine, thought she'd amuse us and herself by playing with what I thought was her cute little toy purse. Thought. Yes. Thought. In reality...I learned otherwise, as I stepped closer to grab it and took a closer look at it in the light which had been dimmed to help relax our patient(s). That's when I screamed and ran backwards into the kitchen. Those weren't purse handles. Those were spindly bird legs hanging out one side of Maggie's mouth. Dead bird legs. At least, I hoped it was dead. I screamed again and jumped up and down as a signal to Tim that he'd better get that avian-flu-hosting creature out of my living room...YESTERDAY.
It must not have been a very tasty bird (Do Sparrows taste better than Robins? How do Chickadees compare with Wrens? Do they all taste like chicken?) because she immediately dropped it when we tempted her with a Milk Bone. I'm not sure how Tim disposed of it, but he did feel the need to inform me that the bird was cold and may have been dead for a while. Although it wasn't rigid. Yes. Aren't you, too, glad to know that?
For much of this weekend, my stomach felt woozy. I think it's more the power of suggestion than a real illness. I'm not taking chances. As soon as H goes to bed tonight, so will I, hopefully fighting off any possible bugs. Or birds. Or bird-killing dogs.
Plus, I'll be well-rested for the 2 a.m. call from Henry's bedroom: "Mommy...I feel sicky...bleeaaacchhhhhhhhh..."
Comments
Maggie likes birds huh? The pups like bunnies. And birds. I think they'd get along well. :) That is so, so gross though.
Cheer yourself up! Bake some of these brownies by Paula Dean. I tried one today and they are yumm-my.
http://www.foodnetwork.com/food/recipes/recipe/0,,FOOD_9936_35336,00.html?rsrc=search