Poop on a Hot Tin Slide

BIRTH TRAUMA: Jo Style.

2012-03-06T16:01:00.001-08:00

My friend Ches asked me this:

I'd like to hear about the births of your babies and how you felt staying in the hospital. Was it stressful? Or did you not even care because, you know, you just gave birth and all. :) Did you obsessively watch the nurses/doctors to make sure they washed and hand sani-ed before they came into your room?

Oh boy. This is a great question, and MAN does it bring back memories.

So, in a nutshell, I spent the entire time in the hospital freaking the fuck out.

Because of germs.

And to make matters worse, I had to stay in the hospital a full three days. That was a lot of hours of freaking the fuck out. Because of germs.

First of all, I printed out a sign and hung it on the hospital door: "All visitors: Please wash your hands when entering."

Oh yes I did.

Second, before giving birth, I had used Lysol wipes on things like the bed railings and tables and such.

Bag of Lysol wipes:

Third, I repeatedly Purelled my hands while in labor. WHILE PUSHING MY BABY OUT.

This is me, rubbing my hands together briskly for 30 seconds.

I also had good old Sani-Hands everywhere.

Like, everywhere.

I watched every doctor and nurse like a fucking hawk. Only about 1 time in 400 did a nurse ever use hand sani upon entering, even though it was right on the wall. ~~Kind of like my bathroom at home.~~

It made me CRAZY that they didn't use hand sani. But I was too chicken to speak up.

Even during the fraction of the time that they did use hand sani, they would come in and use the computer to check my stats, etc, and that keyboard and mouse had been handled by people who hadn't cleaned their hands, so it was kind of pointless.

They'd also use pens and stuff, and I would cringe and think, "Do you know how filthy that pen is? And now you're going to touch my hours-old baby?"

At one point, the nurse came in and said she was about to give my baby her first bath. I asked, "Do you usually use the sink for that, or a basin?" She said they always use the sink. The sink where people had been washing their dirty hands. Where I'd brushed my teeth and spat. Etc. I said ~~"FUCK IF YOU'RE DOING THAT WITH MY BABY, BISH"~~ "I'd really prefer it if you used a basin."

She complied.

When Maya came to visit, I washed and Purelled the very skin off her hands.

But isn't this precious?

Maya even got into the swing of things using Sani-Hands to wipe off everything she deemed germy.

I was also concerned about the doctor not wearing a mask during the birth, but I guess that wasn't a huge deal.

I was impressed, however, when the doctor asked the nurse to take his glasses off the top of his head and put them on for him, instead of him touching them (glasses are among the filthier things in this world):

I sure hope there is no vaj showing in any of these photos.

So this just shows you a portion of the anxiety I went through. Then I had to contend with visitors and being afraid that people had colds, etc. Everything about everything about being pregnant and giving birth made my OCD go haywire.

Whatnots.

2012-03-02T20:28:00.002-08:00

FIRST, A PLEA:

So, I do believe I've lost my JoJo Mojo, baby, yeah.

Not sure what precisely to blog about these days. Got any ideas? Questions? SHOOT 'EM MY WAY. Help me help you. Or just HELP ME. Cos I am SPENT, son. Spent.

---

I did want to say, my newest "how did I ever live without it" item is the automatic Purell dispenser. Yeah, the kind you see in hospitals. You know, the hands-free kind:

BUT IT'S ON MY HOME BATHROOM WALL.

You heard me. I have an institutional-sized automated Purell robot on the lilac walls of my guest bathroom. Also known as Maya's bathroom. Why?

WELL WHY THE FUCK NOT.

Why, Redux? So that Maya can more easily dispense the proper amount of hand sani, instead of getting barely any from the pump and throwing my whole world for a loop.

See, in eons past, I would hear Maya fussing about in the lavat'ry. Then I'd hear a flush, after which I'd wait a tick and then scream out, "DID YOU USE HAND SANI? OMG DID YOU!?! DIIID YOOOU??!?!!?"

Now, see, I just wait and listen for that mechanical robotic "AsqueeEeech!" that announces that Maya has indeed used the hands-free automated Purell dispenser. That "AsqueeEeech!" is music to mine ears.

Now, occasionally, this is what I hear: "pee pee tinkle" "flush" "AsqueeEeech!" "AsqueeEeech!" "AsqueeEeech!" "AsqueeEeech!" "AsqueeEeech!" which means that Maya has abused the automated hand sani, using a tad too much. But she's a lady after my own heart: can you really have too much hand sani?

AsqueeEeech!

Anyway. The dispenser is nailed and adhesed tightly to the guest bathroom wall. Now that I also have my "Jesus and Germs Are Everywhere" sign posted front & center at the doorway of my home, people will definitely, definitely think I have gone FULLY, fully, 100% bananas.

I guess the only thing I still need is a sign on my front door reading:

And the Oscar Goes to Germ-X.

2012-02-27T17:21:00.000-08:00

Here's who should have won Best Actor.

I Just Lost All Respect for Snooki and Deena.*

2012-02-19T14:28:00.000-08:00

* HA! HA! HA! HA! HA! Never had any in the first place.

But guys. Guys. This. Just, this...is...

Well, let the pictures of this recent episode of Dirty Shore speak for themselves.

As Snooki and Deena leave a public restroom:

Stay klassy, girls.

Wife Swap: Jo Edition.

2012-02-07T12:40:00.000-08:00

(Or is that Wifes Wap?)

I've always wondered what it would be like if I went on Wife Swap. Scratch that, I KNOW what it would be like. You know how they always pair totally opposite women/families? A rich bitch goes to live in a hovel, and the other wife lives in a mansion; an unschooler goes to live in a house where the children have every single minute of their day scheduled, planned, and busy; a mother who lives to serve her husband goes to live in a house where the wife doesn't lift a finger; etc.

Yeah. So here's what that would mean for me.

They'd give my household a wife who:

OMG wears shoes in my pristine house
Does not wash her hands or the kids' hands upon first coming home
Takes my children to the McDonald's McPlaguePlace
Uses the bathroom without washing
Changes Naomi's diapers without washing
Brings the shared bum-bum sponge back into fashion
Gives Maya all the soda pop--scratch that, all the Red Bull--she wants
Lets the kids watch horror movies
Fills the baby's bed with a plush baby bumper, five pillows, eighteen stuffed animals, and four blankets
Lets Maya play in the street or totally out of sight at the park
Teaches Maya to flick her boogers

Cuts the mold off cheese and keeps using it
Leaves bean soup out overnight and serves it the next day
Lounges around bare-ass nekked with her bum-bum right on my couch
Brings in three cats and a dog who scootches

Sneezes and coughs with wild abandon
Lets the baby chew on the restaurant table
Lets the baby play with and gnaw on her cell phone and keys
Lets our new scootching dog lick the baby's face and mouth
Shares a bath with my kids
Goes lake swimming and doesn't shower after
Lets Maya mix up her Play-Doh colors (HORROR!)
Mixes up a nice batch of raw meatloaf with her bare hands and then merely wipes them on a kitchen towel
Throws away all my Clorox wipes and hand sani

Lets my kids eat carrots freshly plucked out of the soil
Makes mud-pies with the kids and looks away when Naomi actually takes a bite
And likes her chicken pink in the middle.

Maybe they'd even bring in the lady from the infamous "High Meat" household. (Hilarious sidenote: My husband names his character "High Meat" when he plays MMORPGs.)

"It's got a wang to it."

"Do you believe that God would put anything on this earth to hurt us?"

Yeah, I don't know, how about motherfucking sharks?

...Or listeria, or E. Coli, or rabid bats, or salmonella, or lice, or yellowjackets, or jerkoffs in grade school who throw encyclopedias at your head, or crocodiles, or campylobacter, or bears, or or strep, or staph, or legionella, or leprosy, or cholera, or hungry lions, or Lady Gaga??

Just to name a few.

But I digress.

Anyway, I think the wife they paired my husband with would do all these things and more.

...Or else she'd just be really fun and outgoing and actually take the kids places and get her butt off the internet. You know, whatever.

Things I Do.

2012-02-04T12:39:00.000-08:00

It's been a coon's age since I've done one of these. To be quite honest, I can't remember just which Things I Do I've already shared. Deal, bishes. Anyway, here you go. I present More Things I Do:

When I close a scissors (a scissor?), I do it very far away from my head, always convinced I'm going to cut off my hair.

When I drive by a semi-truck or one passes me, I get a major panic attack. Hard to breathe, hard to think, racing heartbeat, goosebumps, the whole deal. I'm just positive that one of their wheels is going to explode, slamming into me and causing my demise, or that the truck will veer out of his lane and into me (I've had too many close calls to refer to this as an unfounded fear).

You already know this from my Great Wuff post, but when I stay at a hotel, I clean EVERYTHING with Clorox wipes. From the obvious things like the phone, doorknobs, and alarm clocks, to things we will never even touch, like walls and windows and random accoutrement.

Why is this lady's entire arm and elbow touching the filthy floor??

Unacceptable.

One second thought, maybe cleaning the windows isn't a bad idea...

I have semi-hoarding tendencies. I have a hell of a time trying to get rid of (even donate) things that someone has bought for me. Especially if my mom bought them, since she is dirt poor and she spent HER MONEY on those things. I keep clothes, trinkets, decorations, any object, far longer than I should and have a terrible time parting with them. And books? Forget about it. I keep those fuckers forEVER. This is why our house is cluttered liek woah.

Could be worse. Could be cats.

I organize the dishwasher because of a paralyzing fear that I will get cut on knives. Knives go in one utensil basket, at the farthest place back, forks go in another, spoons in another, baby spoons in yet another. I never mix utensils. When I reach for the knives, I do so at a pace of about 0.000000001 mile per hour, still convinced I will get cut. Oh and yes, sometimes I reuse and rewash plastic utensils. Suck it, Trebek.

I should have been naked while I took this picture so you'd have a ~~grotesque~~ fun surprise

when you looked at the shiny stuff.

Remember this gem?

When the kids are awake and aren't going to sleep as expected, I want nothing more than for them to sleep, goddammit. When the kids are sleeping soundly, I worry that they have perished, and sometimes I will risk waking them up just to make sure they're alive.

I have to check the last word of a page several times because I'm convinced I didn't read it or absorb it. I stare at the word for awhile before I can move on to the next page.

I throw away perfectly good food because I worry it has spoiled. I waste soooo much money this way.

I think I've mentioned this one before, but I switch spoons or spatulas toward the end of cooking meat or eggs. This is because you use one tool to stir the raw meat or eggs, and as they cook, you jam the same damn tool back in the pan, reinserting all those grody bacteria. I wait until the meat is almost completely done, then switch tools, then finish cooking it. AND SO SHALL YOU, EVERMORE.

Thus concludes this episode of Things I Do.

Fun Friendly Phobic Fact Friday! Tooth Hygiene Edition.

2012-02-03T11:05:00.000-08:00

The first recorded use of toothpaste was about a thousand years ago by a Roman named Scibonius Largus. (Which translates to Large Bonerus.) <-- Outright lie

Anyway, Large Bonerus's toothpaste was a mixture of honey, salt, and ground motherfucking glass.

Thank you, Colgate, for improving the formula.

Oh, and Ancient Spaniards use to dip their toothbrushes in human urine.

So, I Wrote This Book.

2012-02-01T12:59:00.000-08:00

Dear friends,

I wrote a novel when I was 18.

That was a great, great many years ago.

The book sucks, badly. I mean it's STUPID.

It is bizarre, to say the least. Oh, and it sucks.

But there are like five parts that still make me laugh out loud hysterically.

It's about a lunatic who is obsessed with the eradication of germs and contaminants.

Yeah, I see you smirking. You over there in the red. Shut up.

If I self-published this ~~absolutely shit novel~~ treasure on Kindle, would you read it?

Would you pay to read it?

What would you pay to read it?

Love,
Jo

Oh Come ON You Guise.

2012-01-31T10:34:00.000-08:00

I am sore disappointed in the turnout.

Go here immediately and answer my questions!

While you do so, I will tell the rest of you a story.

---

Once, when I was about six, my brother was taking Tae Kwon Do classes. I always tagged along. We got to know a few of the other families that sat on the benches watching. One of them was the family of Lance Max Fishback. (Would YOU ever forget that name?)

Anyway, one day Lance Max Fishback's mother offered me a carrot. A whole, unpeeled carrot (a whole, unpeeled, and possibly unwashed carrot, judging by the unmistakeable flavor of dirt). She handed it to me with her bare hands. I ate it.

AND I SURVIVED!!

But the horror lingers to this day.

---

OK. So I expect that by now you have GONE HERE and have made your self known.

Thank you,
The Management

---

Edit: I'm proud of you. You came through.

Monday Musings; or, Make Thyself Known Immediately, If Not Sooner.

2012-01-30T09:45:00.000-08:00

So I was musing the other day: WHO ARE YOU PEOPLE?

You all know me. And if you don't, allow me to introduce myself.

Hello. My name is Jo, and I have OCD.

I gargle with Purell,

My hands are always sopping with hand sani,

I snort Comet,

And I mainline Clorox.

OK, now you know me. So who are you? I have around 130+ hits a day, which I suppose is fair to middling for this young blog, so I want to know who's hitting me. Wouldn't you want to know that?

So introduce yourself! Come say hi! You can post anonymously if you want, but tell me a few things about you! Tell me who you are, even if you think I already know who you are.

What's your name? Or what shall I call you?
How did you find my blog?
Do I know you in real life?
How long have you been reading it?
What keeps your reading it/what do you like about it?
Or perhaps you think it's a train wreck/what do you hate about it? :P
Do you like Tenacious D?

Can you rub your belly and pat your head?
Can you touch your tongue to your nose? GROSS! Stop this at ONCE! BOOGINS!

Do you have obsessions or compulsions yourself?
DO you think I'm completely, completely nutbar or have you learned a few useful tricks while reading my blog?
Have I changed your outlook in any way?
Y'know, just give me some info about who's reading my nonsense. I'd like to know more! I love my fans and readers so much! And I want to know who you anonymous fuckers are.

Anyway, hi!!

Fun Friendly Phobic Fact Friday! or, You Have Died of Dysentery.

2012-01-27T15:16:00.000-08:00

Lake swimming.

We've all done it as kids. I used to love nothing more than to ease, eeeease myself into the frigid waters of Lake Retreat when we went there for family camp. I used to swim, cannonball, and dive gleefully into those waters, yea though the surface was positively replete with duck shit. And in the outer areas, there were lily pads so dense that it's a wonder I never drowned. (I did get badly caught in them one time, and my wee short life flashed before mine eyes.)

I don't remember always showering after a visit to the lake. Sometimes I did, but surely, sometimes I did not. I do remember showering after an ill-fated, attempted canoe ride, in which I asked a morose, lonely, v. large girl to come boating with me, and I got in first, then she tried to, but she tipped us over. I in my favorite sweater and jeans and shoes was not pleased. Plus, I was 13, and it was very important to look good, so back to the cabin I went and showered that shit off me and washed my hair a dozen times.

But I digress.

Even though we all technically survived lake-swimming, is it safe?

Not always.

First of all, there are beasts. You may encounter snakes (including venomous ones), snapping turtles, alligators, leeches, Asian carp, etc. Or pissed-off geese.

Second, you may contract nasty bugs, such as pathogenic bacteria, viruses, and parasites. Picking up a case of Giardiasis is a not-uncommon threat. You contract it by swallowing even small amounts of tainted lakewater. Also frequently present are Shigella, Campylobacter jejuni, Leptospirosis, Helicobacter pylori, Legionella, Mycobacterium avium complex, Salmonella, and Typhoid fever (yes, Typhoid fever--not just what you die of in Oregon Trail).

Amoebas are another concern:

Lakes and rivers are a popular place for those hoping for relief from the summertime heat. However, water-borne bacteria called amoeba could ruin your plans. It's a tiny parasite that breeds in water. It enters through the nose and attacks the brain. Symptoms are flu-like and can come on rapidly, and, if it enters your body, attacks the brain.

Lakes also often contain fecal coliform and Chromobacterium Violaceum, which has made people severely sick:

HOPE MILLS (WTVD) -- Doctors at UNC Hospitals are fighting to stop an infection caused by a common bacteria found in lakes before it spreads through the body of a 14-year-old Cumberland County boy.

Matthew McKinney was taken to UNC Children's Hospital to be treated for the bacterial infection that he picked up while swimming in Hope Mills Lake on June 14.

"It's not every day a doctor says, 'your son's dying, we're going to try to save his life,'" Matthew's father, Brian McKinney, said in an interview with Eyewitness News Wednesday.

McKinney said doctors had to remove part of his son's nose, half of the palette in his mouth and five teeth.

"I just can't imagine. It's like something in the movies. It's a nightmare," he said. "I just can't imagine not having a roof to your mouth and bless his heart, he doesn't know this is happening."

The teen is still in critical condition, but his father said he is doing a little bit better. Tests have showed the bacteria may be making its way out of his bloodstream. However, he's not yet out in the clear.

The bacteria called Chromobacterium Violaceum that Matthew contracted is common in the sand and mud at the bottom of lakes, ponds and rivers across the state.

"It's everywhere. It's natural. It's in the environment," McKinney said.

McKinney said his son and his friends were diving under water, rooting up rocks lodged in the lake floor where the bacteria lives.

"The biggest thing the doctor said was don't go digging in the mud," McKinney said.
Health officials have not closed Hope Mills Lake - nor issued a health warning - but they are advising swimmers not to drink the water. They also say it's a good idea to use soap and shower off after swimming, immediately clean and treat any cut or wound, and seek a doctor's care if a cut or scratch gets infected.

YIKE.

And for the love of God, please avoid these three areas:

Lake Karachay, Russia

According to a report by the Worldwatch Institute on nuclear waste, Karachay is the most polluted spot on Earth. It was used by the Soviet Union as a nuclear dumping site, and now the radiation level here is so high that it's sufficient to give a lethal dose after just an hour of exposure.

Onondaga Lake, NY

Onondaga Lake is arguably the most polluted lake in the United States. No other lake in the United States receives as much of its inflow as wastewater. It is also severely polluted with various forms of nitrogen. Concentrations of total ammonia and nitrate in the upper productive layers (near the lake's surface) remain well above levels considered limiting to plant growth (phosphorus is the limiting nutrient). Concentrations of total ammonia and nitrite exceed standards, often by a wide margin, intended to protect aquatic life against the toxic effects of these forms of nitrogen.

The Berkeley Pit, MT

New fungal and bacterial species call this deadly lake home. The pit is one mile long by half a mile wide, and over 1780 feet deep, 1000 of which are filled with acidic water with high concentrations of heavy metals and toxic chemicals, including copper, iron, arsenic, cadmium, zinc, and sulfuric acid. The iron-rich water near the surface is reddish, yielding to a vibrant lime-green hue not far below the surface, where copper concentrations are higher. If you were to drink large amounts of this lovely concoction it would kill you by corroding through your digestive system.

And please, please, if you must swim in a bum-bum-germ-infested lake? Godsakes man, please shower afterward.

Things What Are in My Purse.

2012-01-26T11:01:00.000-08:00

Since women care about these things...

These items are in my purse Right As Of Now.

We have:

Three packs of gum, for ever-fresh breath
A business card for The Nail Palace, which is Our Place (or was before I decided to push my plate away and say NO MORE ACRYLICS FOR ME, MOM)
A receipt for a mani/pedi at The Nail Palace
My well-loved, well-used, gross leather wallet
Several lipsticks and lip glosses

Two pens
My checkbook
A piece of scratch paper with notes on it of what I wanted to tell my doctor the next time I saw her to discuss my OCD
A ~~Benjamin~~ Washington

A blemish cover-stick
A teency tinecy tin of Altoids
A cell phone
A teency tincey flashlight
The absolute most important item: PURELL. I would die without this. I use it on the regular.

A ticket stub for Bridesmaids, one of the funniest fucking movies I've ever seen.
**I was not paid for this endorsement**

No those aren't condoms, they are sunscreen wipes, the best invention evaaaar.
**I was not paid for this endorsement**
A Sebastian lipstick called "Honesty," my absolute favorite shade, that has somehow lasted me for ten years, even I use it all the time. Good thing it lasts so long because they don't make it anymore!

**I was not paid for this endorsement**
**Someone should pay me for these endorsements**
Germicidal wipes that I stole, yes STOLE, from a doctor's office

Usually you can find within my purse a few more antibacterial items, and a lot more crap, but I just did a Purse Purge. So there you have it. My purse contents. But now that I look at it in detail, I still need to add a whole mess of these:

Will do.

What's in your purse? Tell mama, child. I want pictures.

Fun Friendly Phobic Fact Friday!

2012-01-20T12:49:00.000-08:00

/end trans

It's the Great Wuff, Charlie Brown!

2012-01-17T20:00:00.000-08:00

So we are back from our adventure at the Great Wolf Lodge!

The trip was part success and part OCD nightmare. Allow me to break it down for you, in the LONGEST BLOG EVER.

First, we left the baby in my mom's care. Now, there's no one more capable than she (except for yours truly of course). My mom is a great babysitter & grandma. But we've never left the baby overnight before, so I was sad. It was nice, though, to have a couple days out with just our big girl, too.

Then, we had to make the drive in a ton of snow. Two hours south. If you haven't heard already, Seattle is having a major snowstorm. Well, more accurately, the convergence zones are, and I'll give you three guesses as to whether we live in one. OK WE DO. So just getting out of the neighborhood is terrifying. (Oh, and coming home today, with way more snow than before, was no picnic either.)

Once we arrived, my husband checked in while we waited in the car to unload our stuff. This was the first cute pic of the lodge that I took, the front doors!

It was funny, as I sat there waiting for my husband to finish registering at the desk, I watch 1,000 people go in and out of the doors. And I noticed that not one, not a single person seemed to care about the germs on the door handle. In fact, they handled the door more than necessary with full palm contact, touching it in several places, etc. I was like, "Am I really the only one? Am I the only person who thinks about the atrocities that lie on door handles and doors themselves?"

Anyhowz, inside, there was the adorable lobby:

One of my favorite things that I passed was this picture, in a kids' cave:

Dude. It's a THREE WOLF MOON painting. Could there be anything more awesome?? I ask you this.

Then we went to our room, the Wolf Den Suite (hereafter known as the Wuff Den, because when Maya saw her Wolf Den sleeping cave, she said, "This is where the baby wuffs sleep!"). The room was frickin adorable. I mean, I was squealing like a veritable piggy at the cute. Check out the Wuff Den!!

The ~~rooms~~ dens at Great Wuff Lodge have suuuper high ceilings. I don't know why or how, since this fucker has EIGHT FLOORS and it doesn't seem nearly tall enough.

Then I was done squealing at the cute, and it was time for bidness. It was bidness time.

I took my trusty Clorox wipes neatly in hand, and proceeded to clean EVERYTHING. Yes, everything.

I cleaned:

The living room countertops
The tables
The light switches
The inside doorknob
The TV remotes
Basically the whole Wuff Den children's sleep area itself
The bunkbeds
The phone
The alarm clock
The pen
The activity guide
The dresser handles and front boards even though we weren't going to use the dresser
The headboard posts on the king bed (because people touch those fuckers with Sex Hands)
The shower knob
The bathroom sink handles
The bathroom sink counter
The toilet flusher
The toilet lid
The toilet SEAT

ET CETERA. I did everything short of splashing pure bleach around.

Once things were wiped down, I called reception and asked for two more sheets. Previously, I had swiped two sheet bundles off a maid's cart--

--but after arriving back at our room, I realized I was holding two bundles of approximately 100 pillowcases each. Oops. But actually, they came in handy. More on that in a second.

So I took the new sheets and put them on top of the duvet and tucked the top under, while the sheet below it was tucked over it. So the entire bedspread was contained. I did the same on the kid bunkbeds. Then I put a fresh pillowcase over every single pillow in the joint, the opposite way of the first pillowcase, so that we wouldn't touch the pillows by mistake. I hate it when that happens.

Then, I took those 9023842184 pillowcases and covered the entire couch and armrests with them. In case you're wondering, OH YES I DID.

I now present, Great Wuff Lodge Before & After:

Bed before:

Bed after:

Bunks before:

Bunks after:

And my pride & joy, the couch. The couch before:

The couch after:

lollllll you know you <3 me

Even though things were cleanish, I did my fair share of freaking out and saying, "Don't touch! Don't touch! Get off the carpet! Don't touch!" And of course, just walking on the carpets skivved my shits. Ahh well. Baby steps.

After we cleaned all the things, we went to the enormous waterpark. It was fabulous!

We stayed for hours. We did almost everything, over and over again. I loved the big waterslides. Although, I couldn't help but wonder, as I climbed all the stairs up to ride the waterslides, if any of the water dripping on my head from the landings above contained urine.

At one point, we stopped at the snack bar for some junkfood goodness. I got cheese nachos, and my husband got a mini-pizza. Maya got a PB&J. My OCD flared up real hard, because I saw the womyn who was handling our food--er, really handle our food. She wasn't wearing gloves, and she touched my chips (in fact, she picked one up off the counter and put it BACK on my nachos). Then she manhandled the pizza, as she cut it and put it in a box. I was sore disgusted.

Anyway, then we went back to our room to shower off the filth of the swimming pools, and decided to try to take a nap. No go. Nobody could sleep, even though Maya was exhausted. So then, we went to "gr8_space," their arcade (lol r u 4srs). That was two tons of fun, as we taught Maya to say, except for...DUN DUN DUN...the germs. OH the germs. I was saying "Maya don't touch your face!" every two seconds. But we did have fun playing a ton of games, and we got 278 tickets, which equaled exactly one set of sparkly lipglosses for kids and one tiny pack of Sweet Tarts. lol.

At some point, we wandered a cute gift shop, where we bequeathed unto Maya a sorcerer's hat, a silver crown, and a huge heavy golden coin. (She really wanted that coin.)

Later that night, we headed over to Camp Critter, a restaurant where you could eat under overhead tents. It was v. cute.

I had a rather tasty Mediterranean wrap, and even though I damn-near broke my tooth on a kalamata olive pit, I enjoyed it. Oh but my absolute favorite part (<--- sarcasm) was when Maya cheerfully piped up, "Mommy, you're so fat!" Thanks kid. Thanks a lot. Zut alors!

Oh, and as usual, we took our handy alcohol wipes to the restaurant and had at it. Wiped down the table and our hands (even after washing), touched the ketchup and salt with napkins, etc. You know me.

Also at dinner, Maya decided to sing "This Old Man." Here is how she sang it:

This old man, he played one,
He played knick-knack on my straw
With a knick-knack paddyback gav a dog a bone,
This old man came rolling home.

This old man, he played two,
He played knick-knack on my lamp
With a knick-knack paddyback gav a dog a bone,
This old man came rolling home.

And so forth. She kept substituting the real words for the things she saw around her, and my absolute favorite was "knick-knack paddyback gav a dog a bone."

Oh, and whenever you dine at Camp Critter, apparently they give you ~~wolf~~ wuff ears. Maya loved hers.

If you're wondering why she's in jammies, it's because right after dinner, they had a kids' show followed by storytime. All the kids wore jams.

The show was kind of hilarious, because at first everything was fine:

And then the dark-haired ladything got stuck in the door and it never fixed itself. It stayed like this the remainder of the show. The talking trees and moose and things all stopped moving, too, while the voices continued. Behold, the creepy creepy frozen lady:

It reminded me of the scary lady in Ju-On.

Anyway, at the very end of the show, something magical happened. It started snowing! Soapsuds! :)

It was great. Maya had a cow. Here are some random merrymakers and then one of Maya:

After the show came storytime. Danielle came out and read a story about wuffs, and then all the kids got to have pictures taken with Wiley the Wuff. Soooo cute.

Then it was back to the room for a lovely glass (or three) of wine and bedtime. Oh, but first, Maya was drawing a picture, and I asked her to tell me about her drawing, and she said, "It's you, Mama! And you're standing on the water--" [here she points to the nose of the mama she drew, and finishes:] "--that's why you have a SNORTLER on!" My husband and I laughed our bum-bums off for like 15 minutes. Snortler!!

Anyway, come bedtime, at first I tried sleeping in the nice cozy king bed, but the featherbed and down comforter conspired against me, and my nostrils SLAMMED SHUT with allergy swelling. So I decided that the Wuff Den would be the girls' room, and I decided to sleep on the top bunk. (1) Because its fun to sleep on the top bunk, and (2) because it's fun sleeping in a girls' room, and (3) because shut up.

I actually went to sleep pretty quickly, which is remarkable due to the severity of my insomnia. Only hitch? We forgot to put Maya in a Pull-Up before bed (yes, homegirl still wears Pull-Ups at night--child just will not night train), and at 4 am she woke up in a state because she couldn't find Coggy, her little stuffed dinosaur. I climbed down the bunk ladder to perform a Coggy Search & Rescue and thusly discovered the absent Pull-Up. Lo and befrigginhold, Maya was soaked through and through. Fuuuuu...

After turning on the light and finding Coggy (who was right beside her) and changing her pee-peed jammies and putting a Pull-Up on her and putting a towel down for her to sleep on and then going pee myself, I was wide awake. In fact I am typing this particular portion of my blog at like 5 am from the top bunk (on the godforsaken "experimental internet" on my Kindle, with a dumb little book light) because I still can't sleep. Fuuuuu...

How many more hours until we can go swimming??

---

The next morning, Maya was up at 7:30 am (I never went back to sleep at all), so we started to get ready and also pack up to check out. (You could stay at the lodge and do anything you wanted, including the waterpark, all day, even after check-out.) After loading up, we went to breakfast. I had the most un-credible omelette: green onions, black olives, spinach, tomato, cheese, and something else I'm forgetting. Then after that, it was back to the room for a quick wardrobe change, into our swimsuits, and we all headed out to the waterpark. We played for several hours, until we were kind of burned out, then showered in the locker rooms (which was HORRIBLE for me--using a shared shower, stepping on the shower floor, having to get changed in an open area and trying not to expose myself, trying not to step on the floor outside the shower, pulling clothes up a still-wet, sticky body, sweating like a sweaty horse...) and changed into clothes we'd brought separate from our other luggage. After, we all shared one mini-pizza, during which Maya was being so obnoxious that I said, "Let's be quiet. Let's see who can be quiet the longest." Maya paused five seconds, then said, "Not me." We loledirl.

After snack, we went to the Cub Club to make our own lotions. Actually, we wandered by, then realized the lotion-making segment didn't begin until 2:30 pm, and it was only 12:45 pm. We debated what we were going to do, because we basically had nothing else to do until then, and we didn't want to wait. Plus the snow was getting really bad. SNOWNOEZ!!!1 So I peeked in and asked the girl, "Do you think there's any way we could do the lotion-making now?" She was soooooo sweet. She said we definitely could, since the entire place was totally empty, then she set out to help us.

Maya and I each made one. First we sniffed a ton of oils, from patchouli (yiiick) to cucumber watermelon, and decided on our favorite smells. Maya chose a Christmas scent that smelled like oranges and spice, and she also picked "sugar cookie." They mixed pretty well! Mine was an odd combination, but turned out heavenly. I picked lilac, "tsunami axe" (which smelled fresh and a tiny bit like men's body wash), and "Egyptian musk," which was more soapy, not really at all musky. I blended them until they were just right, and now I have a delicious, light, fresh smelling lotion. Oh, and we got to color them. Mine is pale blue, and Maya's is green. (Her favorite color.) Maya named both of our lotions. She named hers "Green Butterfly." She named mine "Flower." :)

Oh, and the girl who was so cute and nice who helped us make these lotions, she kept talking about how OCD is just because she likes things in order and in place and gets mad when someone just dumps supplies in a big box or something. I was like, "Bish you cute n shit but you ain't know what OCD is!"

After that, we hit the road! This was the snow the day before:

This was the snow the next morning:

Rainbow? Or trick of the camera?

This is our snow at home. Tomorrow we are predicted to get, and I quote, between 10 inches and 3-4 FEET. What. That's not even a thing.

Look, our snowman lost his head and is leaning drunkenly.

You can't tell from that pic, but we have at least 6 inches. That's what he said.

Anyway, we managed to get through our ridic snowy neighborhood and safely into the driveway. Whew. Then we all took showers/baths, again, because that's how we roll, baby.

---

TIDBITS

As a sidenote, you'd think with all the walking and climbing stairs in the lobby and the waterpark--carrying a huge innertube, to boot--would actually make you lose a bit of weight or at least balance out the large intake of calories. But wouldn't you know it, this here bitch actually gained weight. FFS.

---

A few extra pictures for your pleasure:

Oh, and one of my favorite parts was encountering...AN ICE CREAM PEDICURE SPOT for kids. So that their feet can taste like ice cream.

So, basically, I was in a constant state of OCD terror, but still managed to have a genuinely good time. Not sure how that works, but it did. :)

THE END!

PS: Here's our snow this morning!

Dude our big tall flower tree broke! Or is just bent. We shall see.

The Really End!

Snow, Colds, and Toe-Sucking.

2012-01-15T13:57:00.000-08:00

OK. So Maya and I just got home from a birthday party, and also the most treacherous drive I've ever driven. The snow here is craaazay right now, and nothing was plowed, and it was a near disaster. My Jeep slipped and slid so much I thought we were done for. Then at one point, I had to run a red light at a major intersection, because I could. not. stop.

Then coming home, I so damn-near hit the truck in front of me I about peed my trou. It was miserable. We were thisclose to needing abandon ship and to swim home.

But hey, the party was fun. Except for the people with colds, hacking their lungs out. :)

---

Besides sharing the details about my hellacious journey with you folk, I also wanted to share something else. On the road (of doom) coming home, I passed a store. It was called "Sweet Feet." Below their billboard was a sign. And here I quote.

"Ice Cream Flavored Pedicures"

What. I mean, just, what. Not ice cream scented, but ice cream FLAVORED? Because, uhhh, someone's gonna snack on your toes? Lick those babies? Suck your sole? WTF.

"Honey, I just had the most fantastic pedicure. Come taste my toes!!"

Good grief.

I have a suggestion for Ben & Jerry's. If we have ice cream flavored pedicures, how about this?

NOM NOM NOM.

---

Now then. If this blizzard would kindly stop, as we have to make a two-hour drive to Great Wolf Lodge tomorrow morning. D:

Obsessed with reality tv!

2012-01-13T16:04:00.000-08:00

This guest post from Mickey Garza.

I have become obsessed with reality television shows. I know they have become the new fad, but I used to hate them. The only reality show I watch was “The Amazing Race”, which isn’t even a true reality show. I guess it might go into the category of game show. Nonetheless, it was once the only show I watched. Now every show I watch is a reality show. I even got excited when I saw direct tv madison offered a reality television channel. Last year I would have thought it was a terrible idea. I would have gone on to question the people who would watch it. Now I find myself calling them to get it added to my lineup. I am wondering what has happened to me. Have I stopped using my brain to watch television? Have I started enjoying over dramatized lives? I guess the answer to all the questions is yes. But I am happy right now and I enjoy the shows, so I guess there is not anything wrong with it.

So, I'm P. Much Famous.

2012-01-12T09:41:00.000-08:00

This is old news, but I'm just getting around to sharing it.

Guys, I am now the proud owner of my first published article! OK, no, I'm just exaggerating, it's my BFF's Darlena's published article. (Dar, as you recall, is from http://www.parentwin.com/ . )

She wrote up a fine and dandy piece and wanted contributors, which I was flattered and more than happy to participate in. And lo and behold, IT GOT PUBLISHED! The article is on nasty nasty nasty kitchen germs, and you can find it here: The 5 Dirtiest Secrets of Your Kitchen (And How to Clean Them).

And look! Look! My name is mentioned six (6) (VI) SIXXX times! I am beside myself. I even qualified for one of those awesome quotey sidebarry large attention-grabby thingers:

CHECK
THIS
SHIT
OUT --->

Look! I'm a star! And stars carry around teacups. Or is that so 2010 Gaga ago?

Could someone fetch me more Constant Comment tea? I take two and a quarter creamers, and two halves of two Splendas, stirred with Swiss glass swizzle stick, and I like it served in my deceased Aunt Mimi's rosebud cup. And if someone could please serve it to me because my nails are still wet from my mani. Now hop to.

---

One quote I am particular proud of is this:

"I like to treat my kitchen sink like it's going to kill me," Dickerson jokes. "You don't have to be so crazy about it, but do use common sense -- and a liberal helping of bleach." -One J. "Clorox is my middle name" Dickerson

(OK I amended that very last part.) But still!! The pride I feel! I'm a star!

So to Darlena, thanks for making this happen. To my trillions and trillions of new readers, thank you, thank you so kindly. And to the rest of you, soak your kitchen sponges in bleach or just throw those fiddy-cent motherfuckers away. Look, I know you can feel a child in Africa for the cost of one sponge a week, but seriously throw those germbeasts in the triznash. Then give up your double tall nonfat sugar-free cinnamon dolce no foam extra hot latte and use that money to save a child. But godsakes man, buy new sponges.

Another Major Award!

2012-01-11T13:52:00.000-08:00

Katie over at savingandsharingit, an awesome blog, has awarded me the Versatile Blogger Award! Thank you Katie, I'm so glad you like my weird little journal! :)

They Shared a BUM-BUM SPONGE. O. M. G.

2012-01-08T21:54:00.000-08:00

So I was reading one of my favorite blogs the other day (Sherilin's Laughing My Abs Off), and not only did it make me shriek in horror, but it was so, so appropriate for my own Bum-Bum Germs blog that I asked if I could repost it. She graciously agreed, and now you get to experience the horror too:

---

never take for granted...

i bet from the title, you were thinking i was going to go deep on this post. talk about never taking our loved ones or our health for granted. you thought wrong, my friend. my last post had some depth, so i couldn't go there again so soon.

no, what i'm talking about today is toilet paper. i got a book out of the kids science section about the history and workings of toilets (i love the library and the gems i find there).

here's a picture i took of a page in the book that left me with my mouth in a cringe and my eyebrows in a pinch.

in case you can't read it clearly, let me point out a few pertinent bits. "Ancient Romans used a sponge on the end of a stick to clean up after using the toilet." this seemed all right to me initially. a sponge is soft and wet. okay, the romans had a good idea there other than the fact that they had a room filled with toilet holes all in a U shape so several people could go at once while looking at each other.

but the next line stopped me in my sponge-happy tracks. "When finished, they put the sponge in a pail full of water so that the next person could use it."

great googly moogly..... this is NOT okay! they shared a poop sponge?!! not so bad if you're the first guy with a fresh sponge, but something tells me it didn't get changed too often. and i know how gross a kitchen sponge gets after a few days, so i can only imagine how vile a community hiney sponge would be after a few days on booty duty!

the next line that had me making faces was, "Some used stones, sand, or seashells to scrape themselves clean."

a rock? did they hunt about for the perfect butt scraping rock and then keep it for using over and over? or did they just grab up any ole rock they could reach while squatting and just jam it back there and try to knock off the big bits? would a rounded or jagged rock work more effectively?

and i don't know about you, but when i'm at the beach and get sand in my suit, i pretty much just rip my suit to the side and try to shake, swipe or rinse it out with little regard for who's about because i cannot STAND how it feels! imagine using sand as a wipe! i've heard of using sand to wash dishes in a pinch, but never your crack. Ick!

the worst part in that sentence might be the seashell. i was just at the beach a couple months ago and i collected and examined a lot of different types of shells, so when i read this, i did a mental inventory of the shapes, sizes and textures of various shells, trying to figure out which seemed the most wipe-like for bum scrape-age.

this one seems somewhat manageable, i guess. you could use one side for scooping and the other side for buffing after the scrape was completed.

and i would definitely avoid this next shell, even if it was the only thing readily at hand. because, wowie zowie, i don't think anyone's rump could handle that.

this book made me very grateful for the lovely and delicate luxury that i've always taken for granted. oh blessed, glorious toilet paper, you are so precious to me. and your cousin, the moist, flushable wipe, is a gift to the behinds of this century. i will never take either of you for granted again. amen.

---

Jo's Note:

May I suggest this toilet paper?

Fun Friendly Phobic Fact Friday!

2012-01-06T10:13:00.000-08:00

Is it just me, or has EVERYBODY come down with a stomach bug this winter? That's all I hear about on Facebook. "So-and-so is barfing all over. Oh wait, now so is his brother. Shit, the husband has it now! ERRRBODY'S PUKING!!" My Facebook newsfeed is awash in vomit and diarrhea. Every day. (Seriously, do you feel the need to inform your long-lost classmates and your Auntie May that you are experiencing ass-pee? WTF.)

Then I read this. Found this gem courtesy of my BFF Mandi:

Researchers have discovered that closing the toilet lid before you flush could prevent the norovirus, also known as the winter vomiting bug, from spreading.

Scientists from the Leeds Teaching Hospitals NHS Trust found that leaving the lavatory lid up when you flush the toilet causes a cloud of bacteria to explode into the air and settle on nearby surfaces.

This increases the risk of viruses such as the winter vomiting bug and hospital superbugs transmitting from one person to another.

The researchers tested a range of hospital toilets to see whether leaving the toilet seat up or down has any impact on the stomach bug spreading.

They used a sterilised toilet and created a 'diarrhoea effect' in it using stool samples deliberately infected with the superbug C. difficile.

Researchers found when the toilet lid was left open, the superbug was transported 10 inches above and on the toilet seat, plus a smaller amount was detected in the air up to 90 minutes later.
When the lid was put down while flushing, the bug could reach through the gap of the lid but there was a significantly lower level of it in the air. There was also no C. difficile recovered on nearby surfaces.

Ironically, most hospital toilets do not have toilet lids in a bid to stop cross-contamination when handling the seat. The study is urging hospitals to provide patients with the superbug with a toilet that has a lid.

"This contains smells and droplets that can become aerolised. Some bugs spread more easily to surfaces this way and the norovirus is thought to be one of them. Our advice - put down the lid if it's there and wash your hands afterwards," professor Mark Wilcox, Clinical Director of Microbiology, told the Daily Mail.

The norovirus has hit the headlines on numerous occasions this winter, with there being 46 suspected cases in under 2 weeks, causing double the amount of hospital bed closures and followed by scientists' claims that they may have found a cure.

If you're worried about catching the norovirus. although there is no treatment for the illness the NHS recommends taking the following precautions to help prevent the norovirus spreading:

WASH YOUR HANDS.

Wash your hands frequently and thoroughly with soap and water, particularly after using the toilet and before preparing food.

DON'T SHARE TOWELS.

Avoid sharing flannels and towels with anyone who has had or has the superbug, or anyone who may be exposed to it in any way.

DISINFECT SURFACES.

Disinfect any surfaces or objects that could be contaminated with the virus. Wash the items separately and on a hot wash to ensure that the virus is killed.

KEEP YOUR TOILET CLEAN.

Keep the toilet and surrounding area clean and disinfected to avoid any cross-contamination.

AVOID RAW, UNWASHED FOOD.

Avoid eating raw, unwashed produce and only eat oyster from a reliable source. Note that oysters are known to carry the virus.

The Trader Joe Incident.

2012-01-04T13:02:00.000-08:00

I briefly mentioned this in an earlier blog, but wanted to dive into the full tale, as it has been on my mind lately since Naomi is now old enough to sit in restaurant high chairs, and we're once again getting dirty looks when we put the shopping car/high chair covers on first.

The part I mentioned earlier was thus: I once had a brazen and crotchety elderly gent at Trader Joe's comment on my shopping cart cover. This is approximately what took place:

Intrusive Dense Ignoramus Opining on my Techniques (hereafter IDIOT): "You know, you are doing a great disservice to you gnawing infant's immune system by protecting her from shopping cart germs."

Me: ~~"OK buster, let's see YOU fucking lick this shopping cart handle, you rat bastaaaad. How do you like them fecal germs?"~~

(Is that Steve Carrell?)

Me, instead: "I just don't want her chewing on the cart, is all."

IDIOT: "But she'll never develop an immune system that way!"

Me: "~~Oh yeah, because swine flu and staphylococcus does wonders for a teeny tiny baby, ya got-damn moron."~~

Me, instead: "Oh, OK, oh well."

IDIOT: "Children need to be exposed to germs. You are doing her a great disservice."

Me: You already said that, IDIOT, so STFU and leave me and my clean, healthy infant alone. My baby is only 7 months old and needs to be exposed to stomach flu and pinkeye and the Grippe and Rosela and whooping cough and Consumption like I need a third nipple. On my forehead. And PS: You are full of horseshit.

Instead: "Oh, she gets plenty of germs; we have a dog and two cats at home" (which was true at the time).

Now get this. He literally recoiled in horror, shocked to the core, and said (WAIT FOR IT)-- "Oh no! That's terrible!" (Verbatim.)

...I was like, "WHAT THE FUCK, SIR? WHAT THE FUCK??"

I guess he wanted her to suck the everliving shit (pun intended) out of the shopping cart handle (including the fecal coliform and shigella thereon), but being exposed to household pets and their dander (which, by the way, is encouraged by the Hygiene Hypothesis) was just going WAY TOO FAR. Too, too far, sir. Too far indeed. Bum-bum germs and influenza for a tiny tiny baby, yes. Kittycat fur, no. OK then.

I gave him my best o_O, mentally flipped the old fucker the bird, and went in search of some christing pita bread.

Because really?

And haters still hate every time I wipe down the table in front of my children, that they might not consume the hand-germs of the 500 people before them, nor the bacteria of the damp, dank rag that gave a cursory wipe of the table moments before. It's sad that I'm made to feel ashamed to clean the things my baby will suck on, like the table, but that's how people make me feel. Oh well. Not gonna stop me from breaking out the Sani-Hand wipes.

Monday Musings.

2012-01-02T14:29:00.000-08:00

Did you ever stop to think how gross the food and drink is at a movie theater? I don't mean that nachos are gonna clog your arteries, or popcorn is soaked in artificial butter. What I mean is how germy it is.

The person behind the counter takes your bag in one hand and a scoop in the other, and runs it clean through the popcorn to scoop it up, while the rest of the popcorn slides over their hand and arm. Repeatedly. Watch them next time--you'll see how their entire hand and arm come into direct contact with the popcorn. Trust me; you'll see.

Remember, they've been handling money and God knows what else.

And they usually lay your popcorn bucket right in the mass of popcorn. Think of what this means if someone's popcorn is a refill--a stranger has been pawing through that bucket with greasy, saliva-tainted, unwashed fingers, filling their popcorn bucket with germs, usually placing their bucket on the FLOOR of the theater in between munchings, and now that bucket is lying right the fuck in the popcorn machine.

Then, when the popcorn scooper is done, they just drop the popcorn scoop (that they've been handling with their bare hands) right there in the popcorn.

And the soda pop--the ice they use is just a ~~hot~~coldbed of disease. The ice sits there in a wide-open container right under the soda nozzles, collecting dust and sneezes alike. Then they scoop it, in a manner not unlike the scoopage of popcorn, and contact with their hand is likely. Then they drop the scoop into the ice. They also tend to shove the whole scoop in your pop cup when filling it. This is particularly bad when you again consider refills.

We were at the theater on New Year's Eve, and after the movie, my husband went for his refill of Coke Zero. The ~~cashier~~ ~~concessionaire~~ ladyperson scooped the ice, then shoved the entire scoop down into his cup--the cup he'd been drinking from and backwashing in. The scoop easily came into direct contact with his saliva. And therefore thousands of other people's saliva. I had to look away and say a prayer to the Patron Saint of Spit to get through it.

So the next time you are at the theater, pay special attention to the popcorn scoopage and the soft drink makeage. You'll never look at it the same way again.

Happy New Year!

2011-12-31T14:19:00.000-08:00

So it's almost ~~the year of doom~~ 2012.

I don't usually make New Year's resolutions, but this year I think I will. ON BEHALF OF YOU GUYS.

This year, I swear, as friends of JoJo, to wash m'damn hands. To wash them and wash them good. Regularly. Often. After touching anything. Anything at all. I resolve to WASH MY HANDS.

Look, even Facebook agrees.

I also hope and pray that this new year brings me a little peace. That I can find some therapy, some help, and some got-damn medication that takes the edge off this fucker called OCD. I've been on a wild cocktail of meds for 8 or 9 months now, and have experienced no relief. Here's hoping 2012 can bring health, happiness, inspiration, and a lot more Prozac.

Out with the old

In with the new

LOVE YOU GUYSSS. Happy new year, my peeps.

Done.

2011-12-29T14:29:00.000-08:00

Another cold.

Another infant with another cold. Another cold courtesy of Maya, who picked one up at school and gave it to her little sister. Another cold.

Another runny nose.

Another cough.

Another sinus infection.

Another ear infection.

Six weeks, three colds, four trips to the doctor, four rounds of antibiotics, four rounds of probitics at $20 a pop, one new humidifier, one pricey electric snot-sucker.

Six weeks of barely sleeping out of worry for the baby, because she's so congested she might stop breathing.

Another cold. Fuck this. I'm pulling Maya out of preschool. And dance class. And life.

So This Is Christmas.

2011-12-26T14:54:00.000-08:00

Well, we survived another Christmas. But not without injury, for Maya is sick yet again. So is my husband. This only means one thing: The baby is next. She's currently on her third round of antibiotics in about five weeks, having suffered two back-to-back colds that were incredibly severe, resulting in a horrific cough and congestion, sinus infections, and double ear infections both times. The doctor warned us that this looks like she'll need ear tubes. Great. So now I'm just waiting for the baby (and me) to get sick AGAIN, and then the baby to get another ear infection AGAIN. Which means sleepless nights, fearfully listening to her struggle to breathe and choke on huge amounts of mucous and drainage.

Waaahh wahhhhhhh.

Christmas Eve was fairly stressful. People wanted to hold the baby and kept touching her hands. I also had to hold Naomi the entire time, because I didn't want her crawling on the carpet. I don't like other people's carpets. And there were approx. 498,284,401 people crammed into an extremely tiny house, and it was approx. 820 degrees Fahrenheit, and I was sweating like one US Prime hog, with a tiny space heater (Naomi) attached to me at all times, since my husband stayed home sick and my mom had bronchitis and there was no one else to hold her but me. (Except for the cousins who demanded Naomi time.) My older daughter was sitting and crawling and scrabbling and playing on the carpet, and there was nothing I could do about it, since I couldn't exactly hold her or tell her not to sit down as she opened presents. Plus, a few adults were coughing or sniffling, and one baby was fever-red-cheeked, tantruming, and coughing a deep phlegmy cough, and my stress was all-consuming.

Wahhh wahhhhh.

But on to the good parts of the holiday.

People were generous to my kids, and they got some sweet gifts. Maya got some baby doll bottles and tiny diapers, which was awesome because she looooooves loves loves her three doll babies, Dee-Dee, May-May, and Runchel. Yes Runchel. She named them herself. So she's having a blast feeding and diapering her dollies.

Naomi got some really cute soft blocks that rattle or crinkle, and a book she can take in the bath, and other fun things.

Behold, my chitlins:

Naomi, all ready for the drive to our aunt and uncle's house:

Maya, opening gifts on Christmas Eve (and sitting on the dreaded Other People's Carpet):

We left shortly after present-opening time, and headed home to put the kidlets to bed.

Once they were home, stripped, and disinfected, I told Maya all about the true meaning of Christmas, and explained to her how the little baby Jesus was born this night, so long ago. We wished Baby Jesus a happy birthday, and then put the kiddies to bed.

Once the babes were asleep, with visions of sugar-plums and Purell dancing in their heads, Santa came.

And we slept. Or attempted to. I think I was more excited than Maya for Christmas morn to come.

Bright and early, it began. Maya came into our bedroom and said, "I think Santa came!" We headed out to check. Sure enough, he had eaten his cookies, put candy canes on the tree, and left presents galore. Even his reindeer had eaten the reindeer food we left out on the porch. The holiday madness ensued.

Candy canes, the breakfast of champions:

Christmas babies:

I like it eatin paper!

Then it was off to my mom's place for Christmas Part III.

We readied the kids, and we were off.

Our littlest Santa enjoying the view of Puget Sound:

We had a fabulous breakfast, provided by my sweet sweet mama consisting of:

Bagels

Cream cheese

Smoked salmon

Carr's water biscuit crackers

Wheat Thins

Taco omelettes (cooked with ground beef, olives, tomatoes, salsa, cheese)

Glazed donuts

Bellinis (champagne and peach juice)

Crisp bacon

Sausage

Rolls

Chips

Dip

And pancakes.

Moment of confession: I am 33 years old. My mother still makes me JoJo pancakes.

I love her so.

After breakfast, it was time to open presents!!

I like it eatin boxes

Noey's first dolly!!

My family knows me too well. Not only did I receive six Bath & Body Works foaming soaps, I got a touch-free mountable Purell dispenser, Purell refill (70% alcohol!! SCORE!!), and a case (A CASE) of Kleenex paper hand towels.

After presents, we all lounged around in a food coma. We tried to get the baby to nap, but she Would. Not. Have It. After ages of trying to console a screaming baby, we had to leave. Back home we went, to disinfect all our packages with Lysol wipes.

And now it is the 26th. No more un-disinfected packages, carpets, or questionable food for another year.

Hope you all had a blessed holiday. :)

It's Never Too Late for a Christmas Miracle.

2011-12-23T18:54:00.000-08:00

If you love me, vote for me. :)

I think the baby Jesus would.

Merry Christmas, my people.

A Charlie Brown Christmas.

2011-12-21T12:44:00.000-08:00

Lucy: All right now, what seems to be your trouble?
Charlie Brown: I feel depressed. I know I should be happy, but I'm not.

Lucy: Well, as they say on TV, the mere fact that you realize you need help indicates that you are not too far gone.

Lucy: I think we better pinpoint your fears. If we can find out what you're afraid of, we can label it. Are you afraid of responsibility? If you are, Hypengyophobia.

Charlie Brown: I don't think that's quite it.

Lucy: How 'bout cats? If you're afraid of cats, you have Ailurophobia.

Charlie Brown: Well sort of, but I'm not sure.

Lucy: Are you afraid of staircases? If you are, then you have Climacophobia. Maybe you have Thalassophobia. This is fear of the ocean. Or, Gephyrophobia, which is the fear of crossing bridges. ...Or maybe you have Pantophobia. Do you think you have Pantophobia?

Charlie Brown: What's Pantophobia?

Lucy: The fear of everything.

Charlie Brown: THAT'S IT!!

Make New Food, and Trash the Old. One Is Silver and the Other's Mold.

2011-12-19T13:15:00.001-08:00

Scratch that. Toss the new as well.

I'm sure there's no way in hell this will surprise you, but I also have a...a Thing about old food.

If I don't know how long something has been sitting in my fridge, I toss it. No matter what. No exceptions. It could look and smell fresh, and it could be something that's not particularly dangerous to eat if it's old, but if I do not know how long it's been opened, I toss it.
If something with no listed expiration date has been sitting in my fridge for over about four days, I toss it.
If something with a best-by date has been sitting in my fridge past the best-by date, I toss if, even though that's not a use-by date, merely a best-by date.
If it's got beans or rice in it, I toss it with a Quickness. Both beans and rice go dangerously bad, quickly.
If cheese gets white spots or moldy spots, oh honey, that shit is GONE. I know a lot of people just cut off the mold, but eff that in the goat ass. I do not cut mold off of food.
If it's milk and it has even the barest hint of being sour, down the sink it goes. My husband will drink milk that's moments away from curdling, but I have a fierce sense of smell, and I always sniff milk before using it, and I can smell when it's one hour off.

Same with bread. Before using any bread or feeding it to my young, I first sniff it. I can smell bread mold like nobody's bidness. As mentioned, I have a keen olfactory system and am particularly sensitive to that sour, moldy smell of bread that's gone off. If it smells OK, I then check every inch of every slice, looking for furry white spots. I inspect every inch of it, front and back, corner to corner, then give it a pass or fail grade. If anything seems remotely wrong, it's in the trash and mommy can't make toast that day.

PASS!!

FAIL!!

I am just basically a really, really extremely overzealous food thrower-awayer. I waste so much food it's tragic. I feel guilty about it, not to mention it's not very good for the budget, but at the same time, the last thing I want to do is ingest salsa spotty with mold or rank mayonnaise or V8 Spicy Hot past its prime or Chicken a la Staphylococcus Aureus.

As mentioned, I know that some people will take a brick of molding cheese and cut a hunk off and call it good, which I understand isn't all that uncommon, but worse yet, some will cut off the moldy hunk of bread and eat the rest, without regard to the fact that the spores have spindly, feathery, moldy, reaching fingers that spread much farther into the soft, soft, tender white flesh of bread where you cannot see yet, and this I will not stand for. I WILL NOT STAND FOR IT!

What is terribly amusing and unexpected is that the two foods I will use quite a long time after their sell-by date are eggs and yogurt, two foods that most people would be like, "TOSS THAT SHIT LIGHTNING FAST!" Both actually last a very long time, weeks after their sell-by date, and I have no problem consuming some delicious Yoplait on October 19 if it has a sell-by date of October 1. Mmm Yoplait.

And eggs are good quite awhile past their sell-by date as well. We're talking a month or more. I am totally down with eating old eggs. But old bread? No thank you ma'am. Old juice? No way Jose Eber. Old something else? Shove it up your bum-bum.

So with only a few exceptions, basically I let so much food go to waste it's a tragedy. I'm sure most of it is still edible, but I can't deal. I can't deal with the idea that there are invisible mold spores that I might be consuming, whereas someone else might be all, "Oooh, free penicillin. Awesome."

What's your take? Are you a mold-cutter-offer? Do you eat moldy cheese or do you TOSS THAT SHIT SO FAST?

Tricksies.

2011-12-17T18:15:00.000-08:00

Dial Soap, you can't fool me. I'm on to you. You think you're being so sly, but I know you've reduced the size of your soap, cheating me out of a substantial chunk of your antibacterial goodness, yet charging the same damn price.

I mean, who's with me? Who remembers when Dial used to be a thick, heavy, manly, perfectly rectangle chunk of soap ~~that you could put in the toe of a sock and beat the shit out of someone with?~~

And now it's just this lightweight little pussy of a shape-with-no-name and a great gouge taken out of it, saving Henkel Consumer Corporation money and causing me great anguish. Behold.

You thought I wouldn't notice. But I'm on to you. Scammers.

Fuck you, Dial.

---

Also: Oh boy. Only 11 people think I'm funny. So sad.

I Got Nommed, Y'all!

2011-12-15T13:20:00.000-08:00

U guise!! My friend over at ParenTwin.com nominated me for Funniest Blog. Check me out, and people--if you've ever laughed at one of my rants, or because of me you've held your breath when walking by someone who sneezed, or thought of me when touching restaurant ketchup bottles and then used some hand sani afterward, and pretty please vote for me! Click like like like! While you're there, have a look at ParenTwin and show her some love too. :)

It's a major award!!

This IS My Beautiful House.

2011-12-12T14:36:00.000-08:00

We spent all day scrubbing and scouring and Cloroxing and cleaning the shit out of this house, and we are left with a gleaming, shining, sterile abode, and red, raw hands stinking of bleach.

I am happy as a pig in shit.

Well, this kind of pig in shit, anyway.

Because even he is sensible about bum-bum germs.

Fun Friendly Phobic Fact Friday!

2011-12-09T13:53:00.000-08:00

You know those makeup testers they have at Nordstrom, Macy's, Sephora, everywhere you go?

Yeah.

You might want to rethink using those little testers to see how a little NARS Shanghai Express looks on your lips or how some Bare Escentuals Pure Radiance looks on your cheeks. Or God forbid how a little Maybelline Great Lash looks on your eyes.

" 'We went to department stores, specialty stores, drugstores — everywhere,' she says. Her researchers found staph, strep and even E. coli bacteria on makeup testers. 'Wherever you see E. coli, you should just think "E. coli equals feces," ' Brooks says. 'That means someone went to the bathroom, didn't wash their hands and then stuck their fingers in that moisturizer.' Brooks says that when they tested the makeup on Saturdays — the day with the most traffic at cosmetic counters — the percentage of tainted makeup was 100%."

So if you want the Herp or a raging case of pinkeye, go ahead. Else, let's put down those tiny brushes and wee dipsticks and step away from the makeup counter, shall we?

Jesus Take the Wheel.

2011-12-07T18:17:00.000-08:00

--------------------------------------------

THE WAITRESS

AT OUR LOCAL IRISH RESTAURANT

PUT
HER
MOTHER
FUCKING
FINGER

IN MY BABY'S MOUTH.

IN HER MOUTH.

My baby's mouth. The waitress's finger. The waitress's finger IN my baby's mouth. In.

---

We all know the stages of grief. Denial; anger; bargaining; depression; acceptance. Allow me to demonstrate for you the Stages of Rage I went through after witnessing this utter atrocity.

At first, pure and utter SHOCK.

Then...AAAUUUUGGGGGHHHHH!!!! OH NO YOU FUCKING DIDN'T!

SWEET JESUS MOTHER OF MARY GOD IN HEAVEN NOOOOO

What she said.

HUUURRRGLE

BUUURRRGLE

YOU! YOUR FINGER! YOU PUT IT IN MY BABY'S MOUTH!!

YOUR FINGER IN HER MOUTH

What's on your hands? WHAT'S ON YOUR HAAAANDS??

FUUUUUUU...

Wait, ma'am. I don't believe you did.

Who the motherfuck DOES that? Who??

I. CAN'T. EVEN.

THAT JUST HAPPENED.

Even Einstein agrees. WHO DOES THAT.

Flames. On the side of my face.

Rage.

RAGE.

Devastatingly sad. FML forever. This may actually kill me. I may actually die over this. I give up. I give up.

I concede defeat.

BRB gonna go take a rape shower.

On second thought....

BITCH I WILL CUT YOU

Bitch I will CUT you.

BITCH I WILL CUT YOU!!!

---

In her mouth. Her finger. In her mouth. I just. I can't. I can't.

"Wash, and Don't Touch Nothing."

2011-12-06T17:30:00.001-08:00

In Which I Continue to Brainwash My Elder Child.

What's particularly funny about this video is that you will notice the following things:

Maya rub and pick at her nose. GERM CITY

Maya bite her nails. GERM CITY

A very cluttered kitchen countertop.
A telephone table full of junk & papers.

A red high chair full of food particles & crumbs.
A disaster of a living room after Hurrican Maya hit. (We had just finished having a "picnic" on the carpet, so you'll see a blanket and lots and lots of plastic food and a table full of other accoutrement.)

A poor neglected baby who's just kind of...there.

Everyone in their pajamas at 5 pm. DON'T JUDGE ME
Maya doing a spectacular Anti-Germ Dance.

Maya give us her best Crazy Eyes.

Yet I have OCD? A place for everything and everything in its place? A pristine and perfectly orderly abode? Nah, I just spray everything with Lysol and call it good. The house is generally in a state of wild disorder, but is lickably clean clean clean. I'm not an order freak, I'm a bum-bum germ freak. Although that doesn't mean that I don't have full-on panic attacks when they house is so disorderly that I just want to die. Most of the time I kind of wish I could burn the fucker down and start afresh. Or hire 15 maids to clean up the house, but if I did that I'd panic for weeks that they tainted something or scrubbed down the kitchen counters with a toilet sponge or touched things with grimy hands or...or...and on and on.

---

But I digress, Back to the video. Here is the proper way to clean your hands, according to Maya:

WATER
SOAP
RINSE
DRY
HAND SANI
AND THEN DO THE HAND-WASHING DANCE.

---

This video is funny, but it's tragic. It's like how, when I first read A Confederacy of Dunces, I thought it was the got-damn funniest thing I'd ever read in my life. But then by the 4th or 7th read, I thought it was depressing as fuck. Kind of like this video. Hilarious, but incredibly tragic.

But come on, it's still mostly funny. I mean, the Hand-Washing Dance. Come on.

Monday Musings. Plus Lots of Other Random All-Consuming Fears, Unfounded or Otherwise.

2011-12-05T15:04:00.000-08:00

This is rather a grim Monday Musing, and it has nothing to do with germs whatever, but who said I have to muse about germs? I have a lot of phobias and fears and it's my blog and I can muse about whatever I want to JEEZE.

Today, I was musing about eyeglasses. Specifically, what happens if you're wearing eyeglasses in the car and you are in a horrible, tragic car accident? And even more specifically, if the airbag goes off and bashes you about the face? Do your eyeglasses shatter into pieces or crack in half, the force of impact shoving them into your poor innocent unsuspecting eyeballs, giving your gruesome and devastating ocular injuries?

One wonders.

This is the kind of thing my brain things about constantly.

While we're at it and a bit off topic, let me list for you the other things I'm terrified of that don't have to do with my germ phobia:

Other things I'm freaked about:

Driving over a cigarette that someone flicks out of their car while driving--I'm afraid it will get caught in the underworkings of my car and it will explode my ride.

We have ancient and very very not-up-to-code springs in the garage door and every time I press the button to open the garage door I am afraid they will spring loose and I and my children will be decapitated.

I am afraid of spiderwebs everywhere and I walk around waving my arms wildly and bowing with my arms straight out as if praising the doorstep or giving worship to the gateway. If I do walk through a spiderweb, I panic and shriek and shriek and do a manic shaking flapping jumping flailing dance to try to rid myself of a spider that may or may not be on me, including flipping my hair upside down and raking my fingers through it and tousling it and shaking it all about. The I do the hokey pokey and I turn myself around. That's what it's all about.

That's really me. I guess I was embracing my fear that Halloween.

I'm afraid of anything pressing on my temples. No massage, no sleeping with my hand under the side of my face, etc. Because when I was little, my mom told me that pressing on my temples could cause me to die. True? False? WHO CARES. It's ingrained in my psyche.

I'm afraid of touching lunch meat and then not washing, because I'm afraid of getting listeria on my hands and giving it to my baby from touching said lunch meat and not washing thoroughly afterward. Even though listeria is really only an issue when you consume it while pregnant.

Every since I read about two boys who dropped a rock from an overpass, and it killed a pregnant woman driving underneath, I constantly envision people dropping rocks from overpasses and one falling through my car window and smashing me to smithereens.

We have huge old trees in our backyard and every time there's wind, I'm afraid one will crash through our bedroom window and, yes, smash us to smithereens.

When driving on the freeway, I'm afraid of ladders or lumber or pipes or things falling off trucks in front of me and impaling me--I will switch lanes if I am driving behind a truck carrying lumber or other metal poles or such.

If I am driving in a two-lane road, I am terrified, TERRIFIED, BEYOND TERRIFIED, that the other car will cross the center line and, you got it, smash me to smithereens. If it's a four-lane road, I will always drive in the far right lane. If my husband is driving, I announce, "DANGER LANE!" until he moves over.

I worry about getting stuck in traffic under an overpass and that there will be an earthquake at that very moment and I will be, um, smashed to smithereens by falling overpass.

I an obsessed with the terribly, horrible, gut-churning idea of my babies choking. Maya likes to eat gummy fruit, which are about yay big, the size of a small marble, and yet do you know what I do? I CUT THEM. I cut them until they are the size of a huckleberry.

Behold, gummies pre-cut. Note the ring for comparison.

Perfect choking size, am I right?

Well here's what I do. I slice those fuckers until they are half or a quarter of that size:

And often, even smaller. I am so, so afraid of my babies choking.

Even gummy bites cut in half seem too scary for me.

More things I am terrified of:

Getting papercuts on my tongue when licking envelopes.

Unloading the knives out of the dishwasher--I'm convinced I will get a huge gash or a cut from reaching in to take out the cutlery.

When driving right beside a semi-truck on the freeway, I'm afraid it will blow a tire and the tire will explode out and will hit me and I will either swerve out of my lane to my doom or be forcibly thrown over a lane by the exploding tire, again, to my doom.

I'm terrified of driving and parking in downtown Seattle. The one-way streets throw me for a loop, and the brazen pedestrians cross the street at will without having the right of way so I'm always afraid I will hit someone, and the only parking available is parallel parking, and even though I technically know how to parallel park and fucking aced my fucking driver's test, I get sick to my stomach having to do it in live traffic, stopping right there in the lane, putting on my signal, and hoping people will give me enough room to back into my spot. Then I always mess it up the first time and my blood pressure goes through the roof and I have to try again, and meanwhile angry Seattle drivers are fed up with me, and I just want to crawl into my glove compartment and hide forever. So basically, if I can help it, I never, EVER drive downtown.

I lock the car doors if I'm at a stoplight and I see someone on the sidewalk who I fear will try to enter my car and accost me.

I always fear that waitresses bringing over a tray of several refilled drinks for several different customers will mix them up and give me some herpiatic cold-ridden nasty stranger's Sprite or mixed drink.

Which one's which? Whose is whose???

I'm afraid of catching blood-borne diseases or a raging fungal infection while getting a manicure.

I'm afraid of re-breaking my nose, and because my baby tends to bash her head into mine as I hold her. I never look at her straight on as I hold her close. I keep my head turned. I'm afraid she'll slam her head right into my poor damaged nose.

Happy on drugs:

Hours later, miserable, hotpacked with terrible nose and ear pain:

DO NOT WANT TO HAPPEN AGAIN.

I'm afraid that my husband will keep forgetting to clean the dryer lint trap and it will cause a fire (it really can!). So I check it obsessively.

I actually spend a great deal of time worrying about having a brain aneurysm or choking to death while I'm at home alone and leaving my babies unattended and thus very unsafe.

Every. Single. Time I step down the two steps into the baby's room, I'm afraid I will trip and fall on her and crush her.

I'm afraid, no matter how many times I check (and I check 479 times a day), that our back sliding glass door will be unlocked and an intruder will come in. I yank on that sucker every time I pass it, even when I know that it was locked three motherfucking minutes ago and nothing's changed since.

I don't know. There's so many more. I guess that's enough for today.

Fun Phobic Friday: Sleepvover addition

2011-12-02T12:28:00.000-08:00

Today I had the strangest thought.

I actually entertained the idea of having a sleepover with Maya's good friend X. For a second it sounded nice and fun.

I don't know what came over me.

Now, Maya's friend X is a typical child who catches sick pretty often, like so many kids do. Without meaning to hurt X's feelings or that of her [acid test] mom, I'm actually always ~~a dry-heaving wretching sweaty ball of angst~~ a little afraid to see them, because is seemingly always sick (we're talking coughing, congested, runny nose, and FEVERISH) when we get together. I mean, hey, it happens. Kids get sick a lot. But it's terrifying to me.

But suddenly I thought, "Hey, Maya's about that old. She's about old enough for her first sleepover. It could be fun, right? Fun by my standards? First we'd have her over and she's wander the house, checking out Maya's cool toys ~~and putting her unwashed hands over EVERYTHING including the baby's toys that go straight in her mouth~~, and then we might mosey to the kitchen for a snack ~~as long as they don't share food or touch hands~~, then we could play with Maya's dollhouse for quite awhile followed by a trip outside to play in the mucky wet piles of leaves after which we'd have to scrub decaying foliage and squirrel poop off their hands, then we might do some arts and crafts and make noodle necklaces, followed by watching the movie Tangled, and for dinner I was thinking we could make pizza ~~then purell the shit out their hands and then~~ and cut out their pizza pieces with a star-shaped cookie cutter. Fun right? THen they'd play awhile longer, I imagine doing hand clapping games ~~OH GOD,~~ Finally popcorn before bed ~~because what sleepover is complete without grimy, licked, bum-scratching, nose-picking~~ fingers reaching into a communal bowl of popped corn, then bedtime.

We don't have a second room or bed so X could either share the bed ~~oh God the chance of lice~~ or we could put X on the floor on some big couch cushions ~~covered by 15 fitted sheets and a washable pillow.~~ The next morning we could have pancakes ~~after washing last night's booger picking off their hand~~s, and play some dress up or board games ~~after which I'll sanitize every last piece,~~ and wait until X's aid-test mommy picks her up. WHAT COULD BE MORE FUN.

After all is said and done, hopefully X won't tell her mommy, "Mom, Jo used hand sani 27 times on my hand we washed our hand a really lot, and she got really upset when I double-dipple my carrot sticks into the ranch dressing."

This was my actual train of thought:

Hey! A sleepover sounds fun. Just one extra kid. I can't deal. Woo hoo! I could do this. No big. I'll put on my big-girl panties and stock up on Purell and it will be grand.

Hmm. On second thought, it's the Acid Test kid. I love her to bits, but....

OSHITZ. The panic is starting to creep in. How am I supposed to do this?

Yeah. Pretty much fuggeddaboudit. God I suck as a mother.

Sounds like an absolutely ~~dreadful~~ lovely time.

What was I thinking?

At least if I ever did this I'm be somewhat in control of cleaning their hands and cooking foods to safe temperatures and not tainting the with dirty fingers as I served them.

If I switched things up and let Maya stay overnight at Acid Test's house, this is what would take place.

First, the girls would run up stairs to play in M's room. Then they'd immediately play with the turtle. The MOTHERFUCKING TURTLE OF ALL THINGS. The harbinger of salmonella. Without washing afterward, naturally.

They they'd probably go on with their bad selves to go eat a snack, a nice juicy wet sticky snack or oranges or apples, with salmonella hands, and if Maya had to go potty after this, no one would remind her or help her to wash or at least use hand sani. Then, they'd play with the computer, because they'd both very adept at navigating the computer. It's not a kids' computer, it's the real thing, where Acid Test's husband, one of the grimier people on earth, uses the mouse and keyboard. GERMIEST PART OF AN OFFICE OR A HOME OFFICE. Awesome. They they would play outside ad get grubby, the only saving grace here would be that they'd surely take a bath, because my kids gives her kid a bath most nights but see, my friend is a big, big fan of the friends taking a bath together. That's how Acid Test family rolls. I've seen her post Facebook pictures of her taking care of like four kids, all of whom are in the rub together. Fun for the kids, a damn near brain thrombosis for me. ALL. THOSE. BUM-BUM GERMS. *hyperventilates*

So maybe a sleepover was not the best idea. Sounds fun in theory, and someday my child will do it, but right now, you couldn't get me drunk enough or ply me with enough Xanax to allow it. Sigh.

I'm feeling panicky just typing this. BRB. Gonna guzzle some Purell.

I just can't win.

Make New Food, and Trash the Old. One Is Silver and the Other's Mold.

2011-12-02T12:27:00.000-08:00

Scratch that. Toss the new as well.

I'm sure there's no way in hell this will surprise you, but I also have a...a Thing about old food.

If I don't know how long something has been sitting in my fridge, I toss it. No matter what. No exceptions. It could look and smell fresh, and it could be something that's not particularly dangerous to eat if it's old, but if I do not know how long it's been opened, I toss it.
If something with no listed expiration date has been sitting in my fridge for over about four days, I toss it.
If something with a best-by date has been sitting in my fridge past the best-by date, I toss if, even though that's not a use-by date, merely a best-by date.
If it's got beans or rice in it, I toss it with a Quickness. Both beans and rice go dangerously bad, quickly.
If cheese gets white spots or moldy spots, oh honey, that shit is GONE. I know a lot of people just cut off the mold, but eff that in the goat ass. I do not cut mold off of food.
If it's milk and it has even the barest hint of being sour, down the sink it goes. My husband will drink milk that's moments away from curdling, but I have a fierce sense of smell, and I always sniff milk before using it, and I can smell when it's one hour off.

Same with bread. Before using any bread or feeding it to my young, I first sniff it. I can smell bread mold like nobody's bidness. As mentioned, I have a keen olfactory system and am particularly sensitive to that sour, moldy smell of bread that's gone off. If it smells OK, I then check every inch of every slice, looking for furry white spots. I inspect every inch of it, front and back, corner to corner, then give it a pass or fail grade. If anything seems remotely wrong, it's in the trash and mommy can't make toast that day.

PASS!!

FAIL!!

As mentioned, I know that some people will take a brick of molding cheese and cut a hunk off and call it good, which I understand isn't all that uncommon, but worse yet, some will cut off the moldy hunk of bread and eat the rest, without regard to the fact that the spores have spindly, feathery, moldy fingers that reach much farther into the soft, soft bread where you cannot see yet, and this I will not stand for. I WILL NOT STAND FOR IT!

What is terribly amusing and unexpected is that the two foods I will use quite a long time after their sell-by date are eggs and yogurt, two foods that most people would be like, "TOSS THAT SHIT WITH A QUICKNESS!" Both actually last a very long time, weeks after their sell-by date, and I have no problem consuming some delicious Yoplait on October 19 if it has a sell-by date of October 1. Mmm Yoplait.

What's your take? Are you a mold-cutter-offer? Do you eat moldy cheese or do you TOSS THAT SHIT SO FAST?

Did Today Really Just Happen?

2011-11-30T17:47:00.000-08:00

So I wrote this like two months ago and forgot to post it. Deal.

----

OCD Nightmare #1: Visiting My Doctor. I had an appointment to go talk to my doctor about where things stand with my mood meds. I stopped seeing my psychiatrist ages ago, because (1) he was kind of a doucher and (2) I found out miles too late that he wasn't an in-network provider (O HAI SEE YA $600), so I just thought I'd see my regular MD, since we were really only dealing with medication here, not talk-therapy. But that means I have to go sit at a regular doctor's office amongst all the sick people for a minimum of 25 minutes before I'm seen, because they're always late, and my pits get sweaty, and my blood pressure rises steeply, both from the long wait (which pisses me off immensely) and from being around ill people. So I had the pleasure of doing that today, seeing my general practitioner for a followup appointment. She was on-call today, too, so she was extra late and THEN had to take an emergent phone call halfway through our session, so I sat there, BP at a good 180/100, certain I was actively in the process of catching a cold as I sat there waiting.

OCD Nightmare #2: The Prescription. After explaining to my doctor that nothing we've tried so far has even touched my OCD (and I'm on a laundry list of meds 8 mile long), I burst into tears and confessed that I feared nothing would ever work. My doctor said, "Well, it depends on how far you're willing to go." I asked her what she meant, and she actually--this actually happened--she actually said, "There's electroshock therapy." I was like,

She said, "It sounds medieval, but for stubborn mental or psychological issues, it can really work."

Hang on. I need a glass of wine.

OK.

So I was like, "Motherfucking electroshock therapy. R u srs." She was srs. She was dead srs. I was all, "Does it...hurt?" She kind of explained how it worked and I was like, "Um...can I just have some motherfucking Buspar instead?"

She prescribed the motherfucking Buspar.

OCD Nightmare #3: We Take the Kids to Their Doctor. Both tots needed shots today: Naomi needed her second flu shot and her first pneumococcal shot (we delay and stagger vaccines, but we do vaccinate), and Maya needed Hep A #2 and Hep B #2 (we're waaaay behind on those, oops). So we had the joy of waiting around in the pediatrician's office, where I think my blood pressure was by now 200/120 from waiting so long, steam by now roiling from my ears.

And I was in panic mode, since Maya had her hands all over everything--the handles of the chairs, the table, the fish tank. And Naomi kept wanting to touch my purse, and I was like,

NOT THE PURSE!!!

We waited forever, and finally we got called in to the actual doctor's office where we could wait some more. But at least they had Purell, so we could use some of that, which lowered my BP to a fine fine 170/90, I'm sure. Finally the medical assistant came in, the kids got their shots, which they took like pros and neither one cried, and we were done. Thank God. Then, when I was putting the baby in her carseat, I bumped her head on the roof of the car and she burst into sobs. FML.

OCD Nightmare #4: Dinner. Then, the plan was, we were going to go eat at Applebees (I know, we party like rockstars up in here), but we pulled up and (1) saw how crowded the parking lot was, (B) realized it was 5:30 on a weekend night, and (iii) my anxiety inexplicably and immediately went through the roof, so instead we went next door and got some ~~food poisoning~~ Subway instead. Much better.

We go home and eat our ~~food poisoning~~ Subway and try to get Maya to eat some soup, but she is basically doing this at the dinner table:

I can only assume it's from the vaccines. She's doing weird shit like dipping her fingers in her soup and zoning out, which isn't normal for her. So after trying to get her to eat for an hour, we give up. We're calling it bedtime, 2-1/2 hours ahead of schedule.

OCD Nightmare #5: Poop. On a Hot Tin Butt. So, if you recall, Maya suffers terribly from constipation. It's truly terrible--it's gotten so much worse, and she holds in her poop so long that when she does go, it's truly like beholding the site of an assacre. Blood, shit, bloody shit, the whole nine.

So all day long we've been trying to get her to poop, since she hasn't in days. She's been farting like King Fart of Shit Mountain. She's been bent over, knock-kneed, waddling, hand between her buttcheeks, yet claiming she doesn't have to poop. We've been sitting her on the chamberpot every 30 minutes, telling her to JUST FUCKING POOP. It's like potty training all over again. But still she insisted she didn't have to go.

So then about 20 minutes following our fine fine Subway dinner and her two-sips-of-soup supper, she's waddling around again, knees together, butt sticking out, and if I know anything I know there's a duke in there the size of Manhattan. I take her to the potty and lo and befuckinghold, her draws are full of shit. Liquishit. She has sharted at least a half-pint into her favorite green unniepannies, and it has soaked through them onto the pajamas I had put her in. FML SO HARD.

She is hysterical. I am trying not to be, but come on, SHIT IN PANTS. I peel off her jammies and throw her underwear into the garbage. I did not think she could get more hysterical than she already was. I did not think there was a pitch higher than her voice had already reached. I was wrong. When I threw away her underwear, she went ballistic.

"BUT MOM! THOSE ARE MY NEW UNNIEPANNIES!!"

"No, those are your old ones."

"NO THEY ARE MY BRAND-NEW ONES! MOM!!!"

"No, they're your old ones, and they're getting too small anyway."

"THEY'RE NEW AND I WANT THEM! DON'T THROW THEM AWAY! DON'T THROW THEM AWAY!!!"

"The new ones I just bought you are purple and aqua, remember? These are green. These are old. These are too small. And anyway, you shat them. They cannot be saved. They are sullied beyond repair. No one can help these unniepannies now."

"MOM!! MOM! MOYYY-OMMMMM! PLEASE! PLEEEEASE! DON'T THROW THEM AWAY! MOM! PLEASE! NOOOOO!!"

"Maya. I am throwing these underwears out. They have been pooped in and I will not wash them. Not today, not tomorrow, not in this lifetime. You better be glad I am not throwing out the pajamas too, but luckily I grew up broke as a joke in a single-parent family and it had a negative effect on my hoarding tendencies and can't bring myself to toss out a perfectly good jammy. But these underwears are goners."

"BUT MOY-OMMM!! I WANT THEM! PUH LEEEEASE!!! DON'T THROW AWAAY MY UNNIEEPANNNIEEEWSSASSADLKFJSSFJSKDASHJFS:A:JASA;SLKFLL;SKFLSA;!!@@#215%&!"

Ad infinitum. Here she is shrieking, positively shrieking, so loud that I am certain the neighbors knew she had sharted her draws.

The OCD in me wants to just put her outside. Just, you know, just put my child outside, forever. Just not deal with it. Just put her in the garbage with the soiled unniepannies. Just not even deal. Because my kid has shit on her buns. Shit. On her buns.

But I have to deal. So I wipe her down. And if she wasn't falling asleep at the wheel, a full shower would have been in order, but we'll just do that tofuckingmorrow. Today was full of enough shit.

At least there was no semi-automatic ass-spray this time.

Weekend Update

2011-11-29T12:24:00.000-08:00

Thanksgiving was nice. We skipped the usual plan (going to my aunt & uncle's house with all the extended family) because they had been sick recently, and we spent the day with my brother and his wife, and my mom and grandma, instead. I'm so glad we did, because everyone who attended Thanksgiving at my aunt's house came down with a terrible stomach flu. Yaaaay turkey and vomit. SO glad we missed that one. But it makes me crazy how that side of the family is ALWAYS sick on holidays and other get-togethers.

----

So I've started seeing another psychiatrist. You may recall that my first endeavor didn't go so well--at first I liked him, but then he started rubbing me the wrong way, and when he blamed me for going "quite a long time over our time limit" when in reality his previous client had actually gone 30 minutes too long and he and I were only 5 minutes past the hour, I started questioning my relationship with him. Pus, he wasn't covered by insurance. Oops, forgot to check that one. So I stopped seeing him and just started seeing my regular family practitioner, since all we were doing was managing meds, not having talk-therapy. Finally, this became a little too much for my regular doc, and she cried uncle, and nothing was working even though I was on like 8 different meds, so I started seeing a different in-network psychiatrist. So far so good, even though we're only two sessions in.

He's a slight-framed Indian lad who I'll call Dr. P.

Dr. P has a subtle willowy barely-there lisp, but it makes him all the more endearing. It makes him sound gentle. Our first session was good--he asked about a zillion questions, some of which were incredibly hard to answer (have you ever had suicidal thoughts, have you ever harmed yourself, etc.). But I think it went well. Today, our session was a little tougher, as he doesn't specialize in "cognitive behavior therapy" (CBD) related to my OCD, so besides the usual "how're yer meds doin" chat, we couldn't talk about that much. But it was still good. He is changing up my meds, adding this, subtracting this, and he really wants me to see a therapist specializing in CBD/OCD.

Anyway, I'll be seeing him for awhile, and since you, my fans, are all hanging on to my every word I say, I will let you know if his cocktail of meds works. So far, the one I've been on for months & months now has had exactly NO effect whatsoever. And I'm on some hardcore shit. Again, my body betrays me. Nothing works on me like it does for the typical person. (Hence my SEVEN OR EIGHT MILLIGRAM DOSE (that's 7-8 tablets, kids) OF KLONOPIN, which still amounted to nothing, and a blood test confirmed that it's barely even in my system.) Sigh.

----

11/28/11: I've got to confess, I'm sitting here having an actual cocktail, not just a medicinal cocktail, even though I'm on SSRIs 'n "DO NOT MIX WITH ALCOHOL"s 'n shit, because that's just how I roll. Danger is my middle name. Or Al Coholic. Whatever. I'm drinking it from my one and only martini glass, which always makes me happy. Wouldn't this glass make you happy?

And as I typed this, sitting here sipping my Sidecar, my 4-year-old came over and demanded a taste. When she asks for a taste of my wine, I dip a pinkie finger in it and let her lick it off (yay for defying hygiene!), so I did the same with my Sidecar. I said, "It probably tastes a little strong for you, Love," at which point she declared, "I LOVE SIDECARS!!" and wanted another pinkie-taste. MOTHER OF THE FUCKING YEAR OVER HYAR.

Can I get a what what!

----

Continued 11/29/11: I had to take Naomi to the doctor today. You know it's bad when I resort to that, since the pediatrician's office is what my nightmares are made of. I sit there in the doctor's office and pray to the Patron Saint of Rugrats that none of the other kids breathe in our direction. Anyway, we were there because the "simple" cold we all caught hit Naomi so hard (hit us hard too, but it affected the baby the worst). We were at the pediatrician's office a couple weeks ago too. This cold has lasted for four weeks as of tomorrow, and it went from a wretchedly bad cough and horrific congestion to a sinus infection and now, from today's diagnosis, a double ear infection. My poor baby. And she's always in such a good mood, even when she has to be miserable. Her whole head must hurt, and she's still coughing all the time and super snotty and phlegmy. This is exactly why I feared her getting sick. This cold didn't teach me "ahh, colds aren't that bad," it reinforced how scary they can be, having to worry constantly about her breathing during the night, etc. So now if anything I'm even more scared of the common cold. This has been a horrible month, and she still has a long way to go. Probably another couple weeks until she's better. So this "cold" and all its complications will have lasted SIX WEEKS. That is hell on a baby and her parents. So sad. So miserable.

Anyway, that's all I got for you. I've been losing my blogging mojo lately. Boo!

Monday Musings.

2011-11-28T11:43:00.000-08:00

Do you ever think about the things you touch on the restaurant table, like the salt & pepper or the ketchup bottle or *choke* *retch* the menu, and how many people before you have touched them with God knows what on their hands?

If you never thought about this stuff before, after reading this article, I bet you will.

PS: I like how that person claims to not be a germaphobe. I beg to differ. :) Sounds an awful lot like me when I go to a restaurant...

I Like Candy and All, but I Think There's a Clear Winner Here.

2011-11-26T15:37:00.000-08:00

So it was my husband's and my 6th wedding anniversary a couple weeks ago. My mom posted this on Facebook for me, asking which gift I'd prefer, traditional or modern.

I damn near shat my pants.

My mother. She knows me too well. And yes, she shares my sick, sick sense of humor.

Hope you guys had a happy Kthxbyegiving and whatnot. xoxo.

Cherry, Bubblegum, or Varicella Flavor?

2011-11-22T15:58:00.000-08:00

PHOENIX (KPHO) -
Doctors and medical experts are concerned about a new trend taking place on Facebook. Parents are trading live viruses through the mail in order to infect their children.

My BFF Mandi recently brought this to my attention. People are sending viral infections in the mail. Viral Infections. In the Mail. Motherfucking viruses in the USPS motherfucking mail. Varicella (chickenpox), to be specific. Some people are actually attempting this for measles, mumps, and rubella. Why, God, why? We have vaccinations against these, people! Vaccinations!!

It's like, "here's your 2011 newsy newsletter, the kids are all right, here's what we've done the past year, little Janie is off to school, oh, and here's a snotwad lozenge of rubella. No big."

They are mailing tainted lollipops, wet rags, and clothing, all covered with saliva and the like, whereupon you let your child suck away to his heart's content on a herpes-zoster pop (MMM) or perhaps scrub a nice wet rag covered with mump and pox debris all about your previous poor poor mump- and pox-free person.

My horror is so great I can't even.

Now, I'm sure a lot of you have heard of chickenpox parties, where one kid has chickenpox and mothers choose to get their kids together with the sickie to expose their chidren young so that they get their kids catch the virus and get it over and done with as children, when it's less likely to be dangerous. (The virus can be pretty vile if you catch it as an adult.) There are wildly mixed feelings on this, but it's a pretty old-fashioned idea, especially now that there's a vaccine. Although I confess, this partic'alar one was the hardest decision I made as a vaccinating mother.

Now, the vaccine of course is imperfect. Not only can there be (very very rare) complications like it as with any vaccine, but it doesn't guarantee your child will never catch chickenpox. It just drastically cuts down on any severe case or horrible, life-threatening reaction. Dr. Swanson says "We’re giving the shot to prevent the serious, life-threatening complications that can come along with the virus, such as a brain infection or flesh-eating bacteria in the sores."

Mmm. Flesh eating bacteria all because of a simple childhood illness.

Warning. Warning. Click at your leisure, if you have a strong stomach.

I confess, this was the most difficult vaccine for me to come to terms with. I do understand both sides of the equation here. We personally stagger vaccines and delay them, some by weeks or months (MMR), some by years (like Hep and and B), although we DO vaccinate. I was all about the Pertussis vaccine, for example. Whooping cough scares the living shit out of me. The only vaccine we semi-purposely, semi-accidentally we skipped altogether was Rotavirus, because (1) getting a case of the trots didn't seem like a big deal or worth taking any potential vaccine risk; and (2) we accidentally waited too long and Maya couldn't get it anyway (they're supposed to get it before six months old I think, oops). (She still hasn't caught it by age four, I'll have you know.) But we thought long and hard before getting the varicella vaccine, and finally conceded. I mean, who wants their kid to get a raging case of chickenpox?

I had a terribly bad case as a tiny two-year-old kid. My mom said I was in agony and would just sit there and shake and quake and writhe and sob, itching so desperately but not knowing what to do with myself because I was too young to know how to scratch. Any chance I have to reduce the chances of my child going through that, I'll take. And if she didn't get lifelong immunity and needs a booster in 10 years? Who the fuck cares? If that's the main problems with the varicella shot, that (1) it's not a 100% guarantee and (2) you'll need boosters, wowee, big whoop. And some people say that it sets you up for being prone to getting shingles later in life. I'll have you know what I had about the worst natural case of the pox I could possiblty have and only a few months ago, I broke out in the dreaded shingles. So you never know. It's all kind of a crapshoot, but I erred of the side of protecting my kidlets.

I REPEAT: I don't even want my kids licking "clean" saliva off a lollipop. what has this world come to?

Anyway, I digress.

It's totally up to you whether you want to get the vaccination or not. I understand both sides. But you might want to skip the tainted-lollipop 2001 Chickenpox Internet Party approach. Just a word of advice you might want to heed: "It is a federal offense to mail infectious agents in the mail." A FEDERAL OFFENSE, people.

So keep your germ-lollies to your self. Criminy. It's on par with sending Anthrax through the mail. Would you ever do that? I didn't think do. So listen. I don't even want my child to suck on your pristine disease-FREE saliva-covered sucker, not to mention your sucker covered in a viral infection. So please keep your herpes zoster and your rubella to your DAMN selves, thxusovmuch.

Fun Friendly Phobic Fact Friday!

2011-11-18T12:12:00.000-08:00

The Five-Second Rule Revisited.

A study in the April 2007 Journal of Applied Microbiology found that salmonella could survive up to 28 days on a dry surface and be transferred “almost immediately on contact.”

Throw that shit away when you drop it! Or else don't get salmonella and other nasties on your floors. Whichever.

And Now to Answer Your Burning, Burning Questions!

2011-11-16T22:41:00.000-08:00

chesea asks:

1. Is there anything about your OCD that you'd miss if you woke up tomorrow and were suddenly cured?

Well, not if I were cured of my actual FEAR of getting sick. But if I were cured of my "germ awareness," I'd miss that, because I happen to think it's actually a really good thing to be as aware of germs as I am. That's part of why my disorder is going to be so hard to "cure"--simply because I think that it's right and good to be so aware an conscious of germs. I know germs ARE on the things I think they're on, and I think it's best to avoid them if possible, or wash after coming into contact with them. So to answer your question, hell no I wouldn't miss the terror at hearing someone cough 8 mile away, and the absolute panic with which I'm bestricken when I come to pick my child up from preschool and I hear one of her little friends let out a huge sneeze, I'm but I would miss being aware of certain germs so that I could avoid them and be as clean and healthy as possible. If I were TOTALLY cured of this, I would probably get sick more often with both colds, tummy bugs, and who the hell knows what else. Hope that makes sense.

2. Can you feel ANY effect from those medications? Are they helping at all?

Honest to God, no. Not with regard to the OCD/anxiety aspect, at all. I'm taking some meds to help with irritability/atypical depression, and I do notice a difference there. (Finally, I don't want to smack my oldest child into next week All The Time. I kid, I kid. Just kidding, I kid about kidding. OK I kid about that too. OK FINE I'm HALF KIDDING ABOUT EVERYTHING YOU JUST READ.) So the meds are working with my OMGRAGE issues, but not even remotely with my OMGOCD issues. I feel absolutely no relief with my anxiety, and that's after taking everything under the sun for it. Hard-core shit, like Klonopin, Xanax, Buspar, etc.

3. How do you feel about natural cleaners (like vinegar instead of bleach)?

Well, I'm undecided. I take that back. I'm not into it so much. I mean, if you're cleaning something the baby's gonna lick, I wouldn't use Lysol wipes. Although I would probably use Clorox "Anywhere Spray," which insists it's safe to use in the immediate proximity of food and children. (It's a super, super mild bleach mixture, basically, and bleach in certain dilute concentrations is extremely safe. Which is why I luuurve my some bleach. Harsh enough to kill shit, gentle enough to swim in and drink.) I always hear what a good disinfectant natural cleansers are, and I suppose vinegar is fairly harsh and kills certain things, but it's not murderous enough for me. For things like cleaning windows? Sure. But if my kid had another one of her poosplosions of semi-automatic ass spray, I wouldn't feel confident cleaning her "drawing weasel" with vinegar. It would be Lysol wipes, then Lysol spray, and some bleach thrown around here and there, all the way, baby.

4. Did you worry about using a lot of harsh cleansers while you were pregnant?

I definitely did worry. I used rubber gloves all the time, every time I cleaned with Clorox or Lysol wipes or Comet scrub, and I was worried about the amount of hand sani I used. (I was like, is the amount of alcohol-based hand sani soaking into my system to the point where I'm using the equivalent of taking a shot?) So I worried, but not enough to stop using it. ;) I didn't really use anything with fumes much, or if I did, I would spray it, hold my breath, turn on the fan, close the door, and run, run away.

5. Do you prefer original scent Purell or the green "with aloe" Purell? :)

Original all the way. In fact, I hate those stupid hand sanis with lotion added too. They don't feel astringent enough for me. I don't want to feel moisturized, I want to feel dry and tight and crisp and alcoholed. It's a mental thing. Although as far as scent alone goes, I like Germ-X the best. Smells delish. Well, so do Bath & Body Works hand sanis. But yeah, no added moisturizers for me. It makes me feel dirty and gross.

6. Do you use ketchup/mustard packets when you're at a restaurant? Or do you disinfect them first?

I never really encounter those so much. Just regular bottles of ketchup and mustard sitting on the restaurant table. Oh well, I guess you're right, those packets do some with burgers at McDonalds. Yeah, if I do use packets, I'd def hand sani afterward. Packets of Splenda or sugar are bad enough. Those feel dirty to me too. And I guess I do encounter packets of hot sauce (fire sauce, specifically, because I'm a fire sauce kind of girl) when we go to Taco Bell--I use those and either Clorox-wipe them first, or use them them I hand-sani or wash. Usually because it's the cashier, not the food handler, who adds those to my bag of food, and That's Just Gross.

7. Cloth napkins at restaurants - stressful?

NOT UNTIL YOU MENTIONED IT GODDDD. But yeah, not especially. I suppose they should unnerve someone like me, but...I guess I deal all right with them. Lord I hope they use bleach though. Or color-safe bleach, whatevz. Probably they don't, but it's another one of those things I desperately don't want to give much thought to, lest I develop yet another "issue." Funny enough, I have far, far more of a problem with rolled up PAPER napkins, the kind they roll your silverware in and then secure with a rolly sticky paper thingy. Those, I feel, are super gross, from the napkin itself to the silverware they've diddled and doddled with. Because there's no way they wash their hands first. Ugh. They roll up our silverware at the restaurant we go to every week for trivia night, and I feel like those napkins and that silverware is just foul. I DON'T WANT ROLLED-UP SILVERWARE. DON'T TOUCH MY NAPKIN.

---

Excellent questions, ches. Feel free to ask more in our next installment, or any time you wish. :) xoxo.

Janice, the Not So Special Mother, asks:

1. What about people who want to shake hands? Do you go all Doc Holiday and say "Forgive me if I don't shake hands" or just suffer and wash up after?

Oh God, how I hate, hate, hate shaking hands. Hate it with the fiery fires of hell. I will do it, though. I'm not ballsy enough to be all Howie Mandel and be like, "How about a fist bump instead?" I shake hands, but then my hand literally feels hot with the burning burning germs until I have the opportunity to wash at my earliest convenience, and I don't touch my face or mouth or food or child or anything with my right hand until I can wash. So yeah, I just suffer and wash up later. Maybe after I rise to internet fame and fortune, I will be able to pull a "forgive me if I don't shake hands, dahhling," but for now I just have to deal with it. But it's awful.

2. Also, how about touch screens in public? ATM's or order screens or whatever? Those are totally disgusting.

You are completely right. They are gross. Although everything you touch in person is gross. Pay phones, doorknobs, menus, ATM buttons (touchscreens or not), handrails, everything. But with touchscreens, I use my knuckles. I don't know why it feels safer to me, but it does. I knock the buttons super fast and hard with my knuckles instead of pressing them all juicylike with my fingertips. And yes, I use massive quantities of hand sani afterward, and then go home and wash. ;)

Thank you Janice! Good ones!

mommamaynard asks:

1. Did you nurse your babies? Did you have to sanitize your breast before latching your baby on? How did you handle nursing in public? I would think that nursing would actually make it easier to handle germs then with bottle, were bacteria creeps in every nook and cranny.

I did nurse my babies. Because I had terrible terrible nursing issues and never produced enough, I ended up exclusively pumping and supplementing, so I only ever nursed in public a few times, and that was with Maya, my firstborn. I nursed at the mall once, and then at a family holiday party another time. I would wash my hands first (like I did any time I nursed or, more accurately, attempted to nurse) and just take her somewhere private or through a blanket over my chest and nurse. Yes, nursing was somewhat easier than putting together a bottle of formula and worrying that the parts are touching a dirty table or something. Although exclusively pumping made everything hell on earth, having to plan around pumping sessions or even bring my pump with me, then worrying about storing the milk, etc. Basically, there was nothing easy about feeding my babies, ever. Argh.

2. How did you manage potty training with your oldest daughter? Did she have any poo accidents you had to deal with? (My friend had to throw her daughter's panties out when she pooed her pants at Boston Pizza, she WAS NOT carrying those filthy things around with her.)

Potty training went very smoothly and easily. Maya was potty-trained within a week. We just stayed at home, kept her naked from the waist down, and had her sit on the potty every 20 minute or something. It all went very easily. Cleaning her little Bjorn potty has been a super gross-out factor to me. I mentioned that here. But, yes, she has had accidents, even *shudder* poopy ones. There was the epic, epic diarrhea all over creation accident, which I documented, and there have been a couple other times when she has pooped in her panties, one time so bad I threw those things away, causing massive outrage on Maya's part. But I was NOT washing those or dealing with them. She has constipation issues and lets things go waaaay too long, so accidents are becoming more frequent now, and I kind of don't know what to do. :/

The one part of potty training that SUCKS is that she uses public restrooms. When we're at a restaurant and she has to use one, I use like 800 toilet seat covers staggered all over the whole damn toilet, tell her 799 times "Don't touch ANYTHING," and have a mild panic attack.

adelerium asks:

1. Do you worry about MRSA? That is the kind of stuff I worry about most for me and my kids, more than random colds or just the grossness of what other people have touched.

I do worry about it, although not nearly as much as I worry about colds, flu, and other sickness. I'm not sure why. I know it's odd that I'd be more worried about my baby coming down with a cold than a flesh-eating antibiotic-resistant infection, but it's true. The one exception to this is that my husband has a recurring infection in his leg (he has some kind of weird pocket or crypt under the flesh there that just gets repeatedly infected), and I worry my ass off that he's going to get MRSA in it. As it is, he's gotten ridiculously bad infections in his leg before, and they've had to treat it with like three different extremely strong antibiotics and lance it and drain it and pack it full of iodine-soaked packing strips, etc. Wow, way more than you wanted to know. But to answer your question, yes, it is then that I worry terribly about MRSA. But if my kids get a scratch or a skinned knee, no, I don't panic. But if someone coughs in my general direction? PANIC CITY.

Thea over at The Lint Trap asks:

Once your baby is no longer a baby do you think your OCD will improve since a lot of it seems to stem from worry over her getting sick?

I think so, to some extent. Part of my fear is just that she's so little, so young, and doesn't know how to deal with getting sick. She can't clear her nose or throat very well. It's scary and dangerous. I worry about Maya when she gets a cold, but it's nothing like the worry I feel for the baby. I think that will simmer down as the baby gets older. But I don't see myself changing my habits (both normal and very extreme) as she grows, unless I've found effective treatment and I no longer obsess or compulse. Still, I look forward to the day when my little one catching colds isn't such a terrible fear for me.

---

Thanks, Thea. Thanks in fact to all y'alls for participating in the 1st Annual Ask Me Shit Convention. xoxoxoxo!

Are You There, God? It's Me, Jo.

2011-11-14T11:17:00.000-08:00

Now while I'm a big believer in God, and I feel His work must be perfect and holy and righteous and all that nonsense, I can't help but sometimes think, "You know what, Pal? I could have planned this shit a hell of a lot better than You. No offense, Jesus."

Let's think this through for a second.

SEX.

For example. First and foremost, the nasty. As I've heard it so crudely explained, who runs a sewage pipe through a recreational area? Sorry, but who wants to get all playful and lovely dovey and disover a BUTTHOLE in the way? Nothxyouvmuch. Butts are off limits. If it were up to me, I'd plan the fun and naughty bits as far away from the excretory system as I could. Maybe we'd poop out our toes or pee out our elbows. I don't know. But anything is better than a pee hole one centimeter away from the female pleasure bits, or pissing directly out one's supposed-to-be-sexy manhood. And butts? Don't even get me started. Why are they RIGHT THERE? Why right there? Why is the taint (a.k.a. the watch-your-step zone) only one inch big? So wretchedly unsexy. I want nothing to do with this butt of yours kind sir. I could have designed it better, Jesus.

BOOBS.

Second, for all your nursing mothers out there, don't your beautiful and glorious and full and perky breasts lose some of their magic when they are scabbed over, bleeding, leaking, aching like the bejeezus, and you cringe if your husband gets withing six American inches of them or if he accidentally brushes by them or you god forbid, have to shower and the water pelts down upon your glorious aching bosoms? Oh I remember the agony like it was yesterday. The last thing you want is sexytime when he's all over those puppies. Not only because you'll soak and spray the bed with your milky milky goodness, but because there is a switch that has been flipped in your head that says, "These are for baby. They are no long for sexytime, at least for 9-1/2 months or more." And if you are anything like me, "I don't want your slobbery lips and/or beard all over my pristine baby feeders. Who know where those lips have been? Sorry honey, just wait a year and we'll be back to normal and you can smother my glorious creamy white mounds of love of with smooches. No big, right?" I could have designed it better, Jesus.

BIRTH.

Business in the front, party in the back.

Speaking of bringing forth young, I would have liked things to go the way for humans that they do for kangaroos, for example. A kangaroo gives birth to a very tiny, very immature joey, 2 cm long and weighing less than a gram. I could get used to that. This Joey gave birth to a seven-pound, ten-ounce Noey. Screw this linebacker, I want a gram-size baby. The baby roo wriggles out of the mother's vajayjay, with the mother's lady bits totally intact, no harm done, no tears, no stitches, no repair, and weasels its way to a pouch where it spends 7-1/2 months attached to a teat. I could deal with that. Rather than a ravaged, savaged, torn-to hell perineum and 19-1/2 hours of hard labor with pitocin and all that shit, followed by a broken tailbone, a second-degree tear, and urinary incontinence that lasted for like 18 months. Bygones.

I mean, joeys are fucking hideous to behold, unless you're its roo mama in which case your fetal joey is the most glorious thing you've ever laid eyes on, but still, I'd rather squirt out a 2-centimeter baby than a 21-inch fucker. I could have designed it better, Jesus.

EXCRETIONS.

Also, as long as we're talking about what we would have changed about the childbirth process if we were Jehovah, I would have made the digestive systen 100% efficient. Like, you take food in, you use it all, there is no need for excretory bidness. Why can't we use every bit of the food we take in with complete efficiency? What's with the having to shit like once or twice a day? Totally unacceptable, Savior Lord God in heaven, Totally unacceptable.

I think You know best about most things, but poop, genitals, birth, and the like, You should have consulted me on. I'm just saying. You should have consulted me.

So dear Jesus, if you're listening, just know that I could have done better than You with re to all things excretory, reproductive, and sexual.

Love,
Evermore,
Yours,
In faithful service,
Jo

Ass Soup & Crack'ers.

2011-11-11T14:23:00.000-08:00

Why do people take baths together? Why, in the name of the Father, the son, and the holy toast, why?

Isn't it just sitting there stewing in what I have deemed Ass Soup?

Oooh. Nothing says I love you like butt-soap froth on your face.

Solo baths are bad enough. When I want to take a bath, I shower first. It's just a Thing I Do. I wash all my bits in the shower, and then I soak in the tub, fresh as the proverbial daisy. I realize this is just too much effort for the vast majority of the American Public at Large. That it just doesn't occur to people to wash their asses before soaking in butt stew. But to soak with another person in butt stew, hiney goulash, or ass soup...it just--I--you can't--you must--you fucking have to realize, THAT'S. JUST. GROSS.

Because...because...

ASS SOUP.

Now listen. I've done it. I've taken baths with boys before. WHOA, SHOCKER.

But I have. I've done it. And it was que romántica, especially as we lounged there to a CD full of soft Celtic tunes. But that was years ago, long before my OCD took a sharp turn for the worse.

And now, those romantic baths of yore are Right Out. Right out. Sorry, husband.

We also have a hot tub, and even though that bitch is chlorifuckinated to the max, I STILL have a hard time soaking in it with someone.

Before heading out to go lounge in it for a bit with my main man, I will ask nonchalantly, "How's your ass?" And he will answer without hesitation, "Pristine." Because he knows I don't even want to soak in a hot tub full of CHLORINE BLEACH-WATER with someone else's ass. That's OCD for ya.

[I'm sorry, I'd add one of my awesome pictures here, but Googling "two butts in a hot tub" did not yield any image results that I want my husband to see when he reads my blog. Sorry honey."]

Wait! Here's a safe one.

What what, chicken butt!!

And another!

If that don't want to make you soak in butt stew, I don't know what will.

But still. All you people who take baths with your significant others. How do you do it? I've done it, in the ancient past, but remind me: How do you do it? Doesn't it bother you? Do you mind? Do you shower first? Will you still do it now that I've brought it to your attention? Will you now wonder, WWJD (What Would Jo Do)? Will you now forevermore be a little squicked out by sitting in bum-bum chowder? You're welcome.

Fun Friendly Phobic Fact Friday!

2011-11-11T11:36:00.000-08:00

Please, for the love of God, close the toilet seat before you flush it. When you flush, microparticles of toilet water (and whatever was in the toilet) are aerosolized and are sprayed up to several feet away, landing on you countertops, your hair brush, your cup of water, and your...*dry heaves* your toothbrush. So keep these items as far from the toilet as you can, and always, always close the lid before flushing.

PS: Don't forget to ask me questions in our Q & A session!!

Q & A

2011-11-09T13:07:00.000-08:00

Let's do a Q & A session. The first of many. I'm sure I'll do this again later.

But I'm curious, do you have any questions for me? Some of you ask questions in the comments, which I always enjoy. They either get me thinking, or they make me smile because they are already topics I plan to discuss and I'm like, "Great minds think alike, baby!"

So I'll leave this open today. Is there anything, anything at all, you wonder about?

Ask away, child. Ask away. Feel free to ask anonymously too. I'll answer in another post later.

You Had Me at Purell. You Had Me at Purell.

2011-11-08T11:38:00.000-08:00

So there's apparently a new show out there called Suburgatory, and I know nothing about it, but I'll tell you what, in a mere 8 seconds, it won me over. I was fast-forwarding through the commercials of my TiVoed Dancing With the Stars, when suddenly my keen eye caught something lovely: a glimpse of Purell. I'd know it anywhere, even fast-forwarding on the fastest speed my remote control would take me. I stopped and quickly rewound, only to see a promo for this new show, and all it took for my heart to be won forever was to see a soccer mom giddily Purell-down the stripper bar before doing a brush-your-teeth dance routine on stage. Forget Dancing With the Stars. My heart now belongs to Suburgatory.

That. Is. Me.

Only Blonde.

These people. Are. You.

After reading every one of my blogs about the Things I Do.

...I'm OK with that.

Monday Musings.

2011-11-07T10:31:00.000-08:00

So I had someone unfriend me from another social networking site in a response to what I can only assume was my last blog. Guess they think it's inappropriate to dislike your sick child.

Just doing my best to alienate my small group of readers. Bygones.

---

Anyway, it's Monday and you know what that means. It's time to muse.

I've always been curious...Do germs stick to dry cloth? Sounds stupid but...I mean...do they? Like, specifically, if you only briefly touch something with your sleeve? Kind of like the five-second rule. I'm sure they do, but to what extent?

THE RAECH says they do.

In fact, she recommends changing your kids' clothing after school to cut down on germs. She would appreciate that I already strip my kid bareass nekkid the very milisecond second she walks through the door after preschool, and toss that shit in the washer on hot immed.

But anyway, see, I always open doors with my sleeve if I have no paper towel or something, and, it's not like I then proceed to lick my sleeve, and I don't consider it clean, per se, but I feel a lot better about my sleeve than I would my bare hand if I'd touched the doorknob. So, to what extent do germs really stick to cloth?

One wonders.