Christmas Eve

Chris and Melissa came over for dinner, I made baked Ziti; Bryan didn't have much, since he was still recovering from the Taco Time incident. We then went to Christmas Eve service. Evie only made it through the prayer before she started screaming. After I spent 30 minutes with her in the cry room, Bryan came back and we agreed that he would take us home, and then return for the Scheers. She was screaming so loudly, she could be heard in the sanctuary. She was cutting a tooth, something we suspected, but was confirmed Christmas morning.

A little E. Coli for the holidays

After 6 years of being together, Bryan's record of having never puked has been broken.
The poor guy has food poisoning.
Last night we were out doing some grocery shopping and running general errands when hunger struck. We were 20 minutes from home and still had two stores to hit. Thus, we decided to join the droves and go to a drive through. Being in Gig Harbor, our options are somewhat limited, and from where we were, we could chose Dairy Queen, Taco Time, KFC or McDonalds. Now to many of you, Dairy Queen may sound like a hideous choice and to me it usually would as well. But the one here is locally owned and is so spotless and lovely, that it is usually out first choice. It's designed after a 50s diner and they only use fresh ingredients, including real cheddar cheese- something you don't usually find in a fast food establishment.
Anyway, I ordered a regular cheeseburger meal, and enjoyed it whole-heartedly. It was juicy and delicious, and I told Bryan so as I ate it. Bryan did not enjoy his food with me however, as he opted against Dairy Queen, a mistake he is now regretting. (and you all thought he got sick from Dairy Queen.)

While I was eating mine, he was pulling into the drive-though of Taco-Time.
We generally stray from Taco Time, as we always end up with serious tummy troubles after; we call it "Taco-Slime" I reminded him of this as he pulled in. "Remember what happened last time you after here? You had an upset stomach." He said, "It's okay, I think I'm going to get a black bean burrito instead of beef this time."
Alright, I think to myself, you're a big boy, do what you must.
We pulled up to the speaker, the nice lady wished him a happy holiday and asked for his order. He ordered a jumbo BEEF burrito with two extra hot sauces. BEEF! I looked at him. "BEEF?" I asked. "Yeah," he said. "I changed my mind."
Okie dokie.
Cut to three hours later and he's writhing in pain on the couch, saying
"honey, I don't feel so good.
An hour later, he's bowing down to the toilet. I got him some pepto, handed him the trusty pink hospital bucket that has served me so well over the years, gave him a cool wet rag, and told him I was sorry.
It's almost noon and he's still in bed, in the guest room. I'm not sure at what point in the night he decided to leave our room and go to the guest room. At 3am he was still in ours running from the bed to the toilet, but when I was up this morning, he was in the other room, which means now the guest bathroom will also have to be cleaned.

I'm really hoping this is just a 24 hours food poisoning, as I know how much it sucks to get it, I've had both the roast-beef induced variety, as well as the pregnancy-induced kind. They feel pretty much the same, and I can tell you with the utmost authority that it sucks completely, and you feel completely miserable. Poor guy.

Hopefully if the temptation rises again, he will remember to resist the Taco Time.

Bryan received this from a co-worker today

I thought it was funny and thought I would share it...

***To all my Democrat friends:

Please accept with no obligation, implied or implicit, my best wishes for an environmentally conscious, socially responsible, low-stress, non-addictive, gender-neutral celebration of the winter solstice holiday, practiced within the most enjoyable traditions of the religious persuasion of your choice, or secular practices of your choice, with respect for the religious/secular persuasion and/or traditions of others, or their choice not to practice religious or secular traditions at all. I also wish you a fiscally successful, personally fulfilling and medically uncomplicated recognition of the onset of the generally accepted calendar year 2008, but not without due respect for the calendars of choice of other cultures whose contributions to society have helped make America great. Not to imply that America is necessarily greater than any other country nor the only America in the Western Hemisphere. Also, this wish is made without regard to the race, creed, color, age, physical ability, religious faith or sexual preference of the wishee.

To all my Republican friends:

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!***


I'd like you all to know that even though we are "bleeding-heart, liberal, commie Democrats," we do in fact wish you all a very Merry Christmas!

Sad News

My Auntie Joy passed away this afternoon. Please keep the family in your prayers during this difficult time.

Honey is a miracle drug

The prescription-strength cough meds weren't touching my barking cough. Robitussin isn't doing anything.
I remembered that honey is supposed to help, so I ate a teaspoon of straight honey. It was pretty gross, but after about 10 minutes, the cough subsided.
I find this very interesting.

The Vet Visit

So I got Evie and myself all dressed and ready. I grabbed the leash and called Puck. Both dogs clamored toward the door. I told them both to sit, both sat. I then said, "Puck, come" Portia charged me. I yelled at her, and told her to sit. She sat, Puck cowered. I told him to come. Portia charged me, Puck sat there. I again yelled at her told her to sit and stay, told him to come, but this time, I stuck my foot out against her chest, to hold her back while Puck bounded out the door.
I put him in the back of the jeep, strapped Evie in the car seat and off we went.

When we arrived at the vet, I unstrapped Evie, but left her in the car seat. I ran to the back and put his leash on him, then took him to the side to get Evie. As I reached in to grab her, he thought I was motioning to him to climb in, so he did. While I was trying to grab her, he tried to jump over my back into the side of the Jeep. I body checked him and he bounced back out of the car; I told him to sit. Then I untangled the leash and proceeded to grab Evie.

We walked into the vet's office, and by walk, I mean I walked, Puck bounced, while I pulled on him with one hand, gripping the baby with the other. I then spontaneously grew a third hand and opened the door.

Puck bounded in and put his paws up on the counter. I pushed him off and checked us in, while he bounced excitedly around us. All the while, I continued to shift Evie from hip to hip, rotating her away from wherever he was, as he was so excited, he kept trying to get up in her face.

The lady rushed us in to the little room and I let him roam around while I sat on the little bench that was built into the wall. The vet knocked on the door a few minutes later, and walked in. Puck barked at her, then whimpered and proceeded to try to climb into my lap, where Evie was sitting. Evie laughed, Puck cried and I rolled my eyes. The vet was cautious, and although she tried to get him to come, he continued to try to climb up behind me, or into my lap anytime she approached him. So Puck had to be examined in the back with the help of two techs. The exam room I was sitting in shared a wall with the back area, so I heard the trouble they had to go through just to take his temperature. It sounded like they were trying to hog tie an elephant, rather than examine a 60lb dog. There was banging, scuffling, howling, whining, and a lot of laughter. When she brought him back in, and he climbed back up on the bench, and leaned against me.

Anyway, all this to find out that he's fine. He's not sick, no bacteria, he's not showing any signs of having eaten anything bad. The assumption is that he's suffering from some major anxiety since his "man" is away. It seems all of Bryan's treating him like a baby has turned him into an anxiety-ridden spaz.

You have got to be freaking kidding me.

He's not sleeping in my room tonight, that's all I've got to say.

4:45am, Wednesday

Dog? You betcha. Just started puking in front of the dresser 5 minutes ago. I'm now sitting on the couch waiting for him to finish outside so I can go back to bed, hoping the baby doesn't wake up.
Bryan soooooo owes me.


***UPDATE***
5:25 am: Evie is awake and crying. I had hoped she'd go back to sleep, but that dream has since died. I'm now waiting on her bottle to warm. The washing machine is already running as the bathroom floor mats seem to have fallen victim to Puck in the night.
It's gonna be one of those days, I fear.

10:00am: We're going to the Vet. It has been a looong morning.

PS: My cough has now progressed to a bark; I sound like a harbor seal. You know you wish you could come visit our how right now, don't you?

Day two...the dog continues to punish me

Bryan is still in Los Angeles on his horrid last minute, week-before Christmas business trip. His wonderful dog woke me again this morning at 5am. This time he at least had the courtesy to nose me frantically and whimper, so that I again had to run groggily down the stairs, turn off the alarm and let him out before he had an accident. He didn't need to yak, this time he needed to do something a little south of the border. I am thankful he went outdoors.
He seemed fine the rest of the day. Ate his breakfast without delay, and ran around outside very happily.
After her midday nap, Evie and I left to do some final Christmas shopping and to pick up the girls after school. After a rather uneventful evening with the kids, I put Evie to bed at 7:30 and went into my room to change into my jammies for a night of brainless TV watching. I turned on my light to find a pool of dog yak waiting for me; it had obviously been there for a while, but was not there this morning when I went in my room to get my shoes. It was right in the middle of the floor, in front of my dresser.

My room now smells of carpet cleaner fumes, and I've currently got a tent city of paper towels over the wet stained areas, so to remind myself not to step on them. I've already stepped in the solution and soaked my socks a few times. It is taking more than a few rounds of Resolve to get the nasty dog puke stain out of my white bedroom carpet...(whoever put white carpet in this house obviously did not anticipate any humans or animals of any kind every taking residence in this house.)
Although it's quite chilly outside, I've got the window wide open and the fan blowing to help with the carpet cleaner smell.

For a dog who has never had an accident in the house, (since he was a puppy) this most recent turn of events is most annoying.
Especially when it is obvious that he didn't even try to come downstairs to go out, he just did it in my room, in front of my dresser.
I can't decide if he is really sick, or if he is just eating something in the yard, and then puking (every time, in the same spot) to somehow punish me for bringing the baby into the house and sending his man away.
If he is still sick tomorrow, I will call the vet. Although I am telling you, it's not like he's laying around as though he feels bad. He seems fine, until 5am when all of a sudden, he has an emergency situation.
I would like to point out that it was exactly two years ago, (a week before Christmas) that Bryan brought this dog home from California, and then left again to go back, leaving him in my care. The dog came complete with dysentery and giardia and was deathly ill the entire time Bryan was gone. Come to think of it, I had whooping cough then....
Interesting...

An update on the Scott sick house

After a rough weekend, Evie's fever finally broke, and she seems to be feeling better. I'm still coughing up a lung, and I sound like I've been smoking for 80 years, but other than that, we're starting to feel better.
I'd like to say however that there is nothing more magical than waking up to the sound of a dog puking all over the room. Two mornings in a now, we've awoken to the dog puking. Of course Bryan is in Los Angeles now, so I had the pleasure at 5:30 this morning to drag the puking dog down the stairs and push him out the back door. I then grabbed the bottle of carpet cleaner and went back upstairs to scrub my bedroom floor...at 5:30am.
I'm currently washing the floor mat that usually sits in front of the sliding door. Bryan wants me to take him to the vet, but the dog is currently bounding around the back yard, barking at the squirrels, so I'm gonna go out on a limb and say he either ate something bad, or he has a tummy bug, and I'm going to hold off on trying to deal with the 70 pound puker and the 15 pound baby at the same time. At least this morning. We'll see how it goes.

A house full of sickness

To add serious insult to injury, I've been fighting bronchitis for a little over a week now and am on day-three of antibiotics. Evie is now running a fever of 100 degrees. We're giving her Tylenol and watching her closely. Bryan is supposed to leave for LA tomorrow night, and I'm a little apprehensive about the entire situation. I'm just hoping she isn't developing bronchitis as well, since that is dangerous for the little ones.