The Cheeseblog

Yes, I filled the script. (Script…I’m street, yo!) 5 pink antibiotic pills ($27.95) and I’m on day 3.

Day 1: Birthday party. Much nose blowing. Much infant waking. Much toddler yelping. Didn’t much notice the colour of snot. Ate cake. Mmmm. Cake.

Day 2: I blew approximately 18 lbs of honey-mustard coloured snot out of my face. In the evening I got another headache and felt quite demoralized by this whole antibiotic thing. Sigh, I thought, I will have to go to Walk In Clinic Hell again on Saturday morning. Both because my newly acquired family doctor does not work weekends or afternoons (this week only) and because that’s the day the pills run out and you don’t want to let your antibiotic course lapse or you’ll get SUPERBUG. I took more ibuprofen and went to bed.

Today: I go to the dentist for the first time in a year. My dentist has five children, just like my old, awesome doctor. Now THAT is a millionaire’s family I’m thinking. My dentist’s children are all two years apart from one another. I instantly stop feeling so sorry for myself and start feeling sorry for my dentist’s wife. Suddenly I start paying attention and notice that I have blown my nose twice today and the snot was yellow. Not lemon yellow or duckling yellow. Just normal, snot yellow. Have wine to celebrate.

Stay tuned! Sinusitis 2008 will continue the rest of this week!

I didn’t get a chance to tell him yesterday what a neat kid he is, how much I love having him around, how much he thrills me with his genius and melts me with his smile. Birthdays are busy days and he was immersed in water, sand, cake, the laughter and attention of his family. So I took him aside in the quiet first moments of this morning, the day after, and whispered it in his ear. I didn’t bore him with the details. Those are for me to hold close, to flip through like index cards as I marvel at all he has done, all he has become since that day two years ago, since that moment two days plus nine months ago. I love you, I said and he squirmed and ran away. As it should be.

more photos at flickr

Here’s a word not to google: mucus.

I know, most thinking people wouldn’t. But here I am, I have no idea how many weeks now since I first got sick - I mean I think I’ve been sick since Fresco was born so that’s 10 weeks good god and yes there were a couple of weeks in there where I wasn’t sick I’m being a drama queen - and three days after we decided I definitely have a sinus infection and now my snot is bright orange. Bright orange, like a creamsicle. And my cheek hurts again.

I went to the walk-in clinic on Saturday morning and boy wasn’t that a treat on a long weekend with only one doctor on duty and she said I looked fine but gave me a prescription for antibiotics in case it got worse. So now I’m wondering - is it worse? I still feel like crap. I am still blowing my nose all day. The headache comes and goes but is manageable as long as I keep taking ibuprofen. I have not had a recurrence of the sudden, crippling headache that struck me down at approximately 5 pm on Friday and left me writhing until shortly after midnight (combined with the blood simultaneously oozing from my right nostril, this was my impetus to go to Walk-in Clinic Hell and no I did not have my beer on Friday night even though SA brought me some dammit.) Now the snot is bright orange; does that mean I’m getting better or am 15 minutes away from meningitis? Should I fill the prescription because tomorrow is a holiday. Should I wait because if I fill it I’m sure to get better. Should I blow up balloons for Trombone’s birthday party tomorrow (oh yes, or he will kill me with his toddler rage).

I think I am going to wait. I’m pretty sure this is a viral infection, not bacterial - came right after a cold, no fever, no “sudden onset” well except for the headache. I should say, I was pretty sure, until the orange snot came long. It just kind of sings “bac-ter-iaaaaaaa!” to me, you know? Like, to the tune of Age of Aquarius.

Anyway, if you got here by googling snot + orange + sinus, come back in a couple of days and see what shakes down.

The exciting news is that I have a sinus infection at almost the same time as dooce! Sinus sisters! At least I won’t get 500 + comments on this post, half of which telling me how to live my life. Poor dooce.

Oh hey guess who turns two years old tomorrow. We went to the dollar store today for party hats and Trombone informed everyone within several feet that it’s his birthday tomorrow AND Canada day and he gets cake and oh did he mention the cake and now there are winnie the pooh party hats too OMG I’mnotquitetwoyearsoldICan’thandlethismuchwheeeeee!

Yeah, he’s excited. It’s infectious excitement though. Like the one in my sinuses but with cake.

Um. I’d better get started on those balloons.

I was totally going to write, “Ha ha I am on my porch blogging wirelessly, SUCKAS” and then of course I got out there and lost the signal so now I’m back inside.

While I was on my porch, though, I heard someone calling his son, “Griffin…where’s Griffin…” and remembered that this morning at a park quite a way from here I saw another little boy named Griffin and I don’t think I could name a kid Griffin any more than I could name one Minotaur. Wouldn’t you be seeing the thing every time you looked at the kid? Griffins are kind of cool but in my mind they are totally associated with this and I can’t put a human face to the word at all.

It’s like every time I look at Trombone I think of marching bands.

(ba-dum-dum)

I wish I had a beer. It is finally summery today; sweaty, hot beer weather. Tomorrow I will have a beer. And a shower. Today I realized I could just wipe under my arms with baby wipes and then apply more pit-stick and that’s basically as good as a shower. Right?

Hey where’d you all go?

That’s pretty much it. I was just going to sit outside and be inspired by nature, do some sweet natureblogging. But since I can’t, I’m struck by how very little I have to say. Here’s two years ago today for your reading pleasure. Apparently The Mizzle (read The World) has been chock full of nuts for quite some time.

New Westminster has a downtown. It’s the area around Columbia Street, by the riverside. It’s all old-style, narrow streets (possibly even cobbled? anyone?) and alleys and downtown stuff like poor people, drug addicts, a skytrain station (two, actually) and now, revitalization and condos!

New Westminster also has an uptown. Proceed directly west at a 90 degree angle from downtown for 10 blocks or so and you are uptown. The corner of 6th Ave. and 6th St. is the epicentre of uptown. I have spoken of this corner before. We live 10 minutes by foot away, so we do most of our shopping here. Yes, I buy all my clothes at the mall, at “Sweater Collection.” Yes.

Here’s what uptown looks like on a weekday morning:

- 60% older people using walkers / canes / motorized wheelchairs
- 30% women with strollers
- 4% middle-aged people in suits
- 5% blue collar people heading to or from the Tim Hortons at the corner
- 1% hipster ( p-man?)

The library is uptown. The “good” Safeway is uptown. The London Drugs, the coffee shop I like, the coffee beans we like, the cat food we need to control our cat’s bladder crystals; all of these things are uptown. So today I journeyed there, buggy full of toddler and wee child strapped to my chest. It was a trip I intended to make yesterday but Trombone refused to leave the house, preferring instead to make endless sand castle cakes out of his “sand dirt” on our porch.

(Him: Here Mommy, here. Some sand castle cake! Chocolate!
Me: Mmmm…
Him: Don’t eat it! It’s PRETENDING!
Me: Oh, OK, thanks for reminding me
Him: Nom nom nom
Me: So if it’s pretend cake, why are YOU eating it?
Him: I. don’t. know.)

We passed an old woman with a walker. She said You’ve got your hands full! I said yes. Yes I do. We passed a couple of hairy dudes with Tim Hortons coffee. They said, You’re working hard! I said yes. Yes I am. We passed a hipster. He didn’t look at us.

We passed another old lady, balancing several potted plants on top of her grocery cart. She said, You’ve got your hands full!
I said, yes.
I thought, You don’t know the fucking half of it.

We stood at the corner waiting for the light to change. A not-terribly-old lady with a walker stopped in front of me.

You’ve got your hands full!
Yes, ha ha, I sure do.
Is the little one another boy?
Yes, mm hm, 2 months old now.

She looked at me very intently. Looked at Trombone.

Are you going to try again?
No, that’s it for us.

She shook her head. Looked at Trombone again. He stared back at her.

You don’t want to try for your girl?
No. Nope. I like boys. I love my boys. Boys are great. Anyway, it takes both kinds, right?

She kept scrutinizing me. Shook her head again. Walked away.

She seemed - mad at me. Or disappointed. I’m not even related to this woman! I’ve never seen her before in my life!

So:

1. I have heard this before: “your” girl. Like - I ordered a girl three years ago and she’s still not here? Oh and she has green eyes and red hair so don’t try sending me some random “girl” from the “girl warehouse” because I know which girl is MY girl.

I’ll know when I have her because then, only then, will I have sunshine on a cloudy day.

2. Obviously - is it your business? I mean, I will make conversation while I wait for the light to change with just about anybody but do you realize you are asking me very personal questions? Let’s talk about what a cold June it’s been, shall we? Tut, tut, looks like rain.

3. How about this, if you’re stuck for something to say (even though you started this conversation): “Another boy! Lucky you!” or simply, “Congratulations!” or what the woman I saw a few blocks later said, “Brothers! Wonderful!”

See how easy?

I’ve heard tell of people complaining that they have two girls, intend no more children and always get the “try for a boy” thing. I’ve seen it attributed to sexism. But obviously not, obviously it’s just that The World wants everyone to a) have more than one child and b) have one of each sex because

because why?

Seriously, does anyone know why? Is it from an in-breeding perspective? If we were the last family on earth and it was up to us to re-populate, then yes, it’s a bit icky, but I’d want as many kids as I could make and I’d want some of each kind so they could

…okay, yes, ew. But you see what I’m saying? Why does it matter?

Maybe that particular woman is a boy-hater. But other people have said this to me. They can’t all be boy-haters and furthermore I know if I had two girls they’d ask if I was trying for “my boy.” My former boss, when I ran into him a few months ago, referred to one boy / one girl as “the millionaire’s family.”

Anyway if I had a girl now, she’d be doomed to be the princess of the family so it’s just as well.

And…then we went to the “dark park” for 30 seconds before it began to piss rain and then home, to Casa del Penis, to serve the rest of our girl-free sentence. (And in case you were wondering, no, I’m not a girl anymore. I’m a mother.)