Snow, Colds, and Toe-Sucking.

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. :)

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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.

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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!

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.

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!

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.

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:

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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!

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.

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.

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 hotcoldbed 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!

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.

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.

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. :)