Containment, Continued
Happy Souvenirs & Fruit-Flavored Memories

Strepped Out

Noah's been sick since Saturday. Another round of strep, milder this time, but still. STILL. 

When trying to decide what topic to write about yesterday, and ranking the thrilling options on a scale of "That'll Do, Pig" to "gurl no1 currr," I typed "sick" into my blog's search field, just to see.

Screen Shot 2014-05-06 at 8.52.46 AM

Over 700 results, 10 solid pages of posts, 10 posts to a page, and every single one another repetive riff on someone in the household being sick. Colds, fevers, stomach bugs, viruses, flus and infections of all colors and stripes. Quite a few (DOZENS) of them are basically me writing about how I can't write anything REAL that day, because SICK. (And then I immediately follow up that excuse with 1,500 words about being sick. I am a very predictable monkey.) 

Further scientific exploration reveals 183 results for 'vomit.' 154 for 'puke.' 102 for 'barf.' 67 for 'hurl' and a suprisingly piddly 19 for 'yak.'

You know, just in case one day I want to look back and read my life story, I've got a comprehensive record of every single time someone threw up. So that's covered, at least. 

Here, kids. I compiled and printed out some stories from your childhoods. Sorry about all the snot talk and diarrhea. I think some other stuff happened, but I forgot to write it down.

Speaking from experience — and thoroughly documented experience, at that! — I can say that Noah being sick is definitely the easiest of the sicks. He's independent, not whiny and fairly sensible. He'll accept bad-tasting medicine with grace and dignity, rather than with full-body thrashing and clenched teeth. "I need the Hospital Cup, Mom," he said yesterday. "I need to stay hydrated." Unlike Ike, he'll lie down and take a nap, instead of barrelling around the house in a fevered frenzy of destruction. Unlike Ezra, he'll decline solid foods in the wake of a stomach illness, instead of constantly sneaking snacks that he will promptly barf (result #103!! Whoooo!!!) up. I mean, Noah can blow his own nose now. What a milestone, what a world.

There is actually no excuse for me not writing and working at my full potential today, because the poor child has not demanded a thing from me, save for a sufficiently charged iPad and the warm, darkened inside of an Ikea futon slipcover. 

Noah hiding

(Number of results for 'Ikea' on my blog: 287)



Poor guy. But at least you have a handy reference for his pediatrician and college admissions personnel...


You totally forgot my favourite word (that I learned from you) for it: (turbo) hork.

Jessica V.

I love the giant boy-foot sticking out from the futon cover. Also - Wendy is spot on with turbo-hork...HA!


Our last round of sickness was the dreaded pink eye, which I really resented because it meant they didn't feel very sick at all and wanted to play non-stop while I was trying to squeeze in a few hours of work. Selfish jerks. I look forward to this more civilized sickness in, oh, three years!


I'm disappointed...I expected a bit more effort on the "yak" front from you. We need to support this under-rated word whenever we can.


I hope that Noah feels better.

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