Geekster is downstairs on his computer, when in reality he should be out getting me some ice cream at the store.
'But Maven! You said you were done with eating bad foods at night! You said you don't want your arms to become pontoons and you want to be alive and healthy to watch your boys grow up!'
Yes, sweetness. I did say those things, and I mean every word.
Except the day after scrawling out those lovely sentiments, I came down with *drumroll*... THE FLU!
You know, because I don't have to move in a couple of weeks or anything. And today wasn't Gutsy's field trip to the Museum of Agriculture or, as he lovingly calls it, the Animal Science Farm (which is a very creepy name and makes me afraid for his future).
Geekster took Gutsy to the *shudder* Animal Science Farm. I sat around and watched shows on HGTV about real estate, all the while making conversation with a babbly, drooly, crawling, cruising baby. With the amount of medication I've been on today he nearly made sense. I fed him oatmeal and yoghurt and Fig Newtons as they were easy to find and required very little prep.
Mom of the year award, here I come!
I don't normally take drugs. If I work out, I'll take Ventolin for my asthma beforehand. If I have a bad migraine I'll take a couple of Advil Liquigels. And that, folks, is as far as I'll go. It has to be really awful for me to suppress symptoms. It's the addict in me; tough it out, Maven. Tough it out and let your body fight it off naturally. Don't be a wuss, Maven.
Wussy Maven is currently on four different types of medication. Hoowah! You can imagine what it took for me to get here. I'm on asthma meds, a decongestant (nasal spray, so as not to have it seep into the booby juice), an expectorant, and ibuprofen.
Geekster is now on his way to the store to get me my damn ice cream. Sure took him long enough. Sick chicks need their ice cream, like, yesterday. This procrastination is not acceptable. I don't care if he was 'rebuilding the firewall' or whatever. Short of 'finding the cure for AIDS', there is very little that can acceptably come between a flu-ridden Maven and her ice cream.
He's back. He brought me strawberry cheesecake flavour.
I specifically stated 'something with chocolate in it'. Bastard.
Ok, ok. He's not a bastard. I take it back. It's just that at the same time as he got home, the stupid Ducks scored on my precious Senators. I'm a bit pissy right now, being sick and on drugs and not getting chocolate ice cream and watching my team get beaten for the second time by the team from Hollywood.
No hockey team should be allowed to exist in a place that does not naturally have snow. It's just wrong.
This ice cream, on the other hand, is great. What I can taste of it, anyway.
Stupid ducks. Stupid flu.
Haha, the bird flu!
(this is only funny because I'm medicated, I'm sure).
I'm going to bed.
'But Maven! You said you were done with eating bad foods at night! You said you don't want your arms to become pontoons and you want to be alive and healthy to watch your boys grow up!'
Yes, sweetness. I did say those things, and I mean every word.
Except the day after scrawling out those lovely sentiments, I came down with *drumroll*... THE FLU!
You know, because I don't have to move in a couple of weeks or anything. And today wasn't Gutsy's field trip to the Museum of Agriculture or, as he lovingly calls it, the Animal Science Farm (which is a very creepy name and makes me afraid for his future).
Geekster took Gutsy to the *shudder* Animal Science Farm. I sat around and watched shows on HGTV about real estate, all the while making conversation with a babbly, drooly, crawling, cruising baby. With the amount of medication I've been on today he nearly made sense. I fed him oatmeal and yoghurt and Fig Newtons as they were easy to find and required very little prep.
Mom of the year award, here I come!
I don't normally take drugs. If I work out, I'll take Ventolin for my asthma beforehand. If I have a bad migraine I'll take a couple of Advil Liquigels. And that, folks, is as far as I'll go. It has to be really awful for me to suppress symptoms. It's the addict in me; tough it out, Maven. Tough it out and let your body fight it off naturally. Don't be a wuss, Maven.
Wussy Maven is currently on four different types of medication. Hoowah! You can imagine what it took for me to get here. I'm on asthma meds, a decongestant (nasal spray, so as not to have it seep into the booby juice), an expectorant, and ibuprofen.
Geekster is now on his way to the store to get me my damn ice cream. Sure took him long enough. Sick chicks need their ice cream, like, yesterday. This procrastination is not acceptable. I don't care if he was 'rebuilding the firewall' or whatever. Short of 'finding the cure for AIDS', there is very little that can acceptably come between a flu-ridden Maven and her ice cream.
He's back. He brought me strawberry cheesecake flavour.
I specifically stated 'something with chocolate in it'. Bastard.
Ok, ok. He's not a bastard. I take it back. It's just that at the same time as he got home, the stupid Ducks scored on my precious Senators. I'm a bit pissy right now, being sick and on drugs and not getting chocolate ice cream and watching my team get beaten for the second time by the team from Hollywood.
No hockey team should be allowed to exist in a place that does not naturally have snow. It's just wrong.
This ice cream, on the other hand, is great. What I can taste of it, anyway.
Stupid ducks. Stupid flu.
Haha, the bird flu!
(this is only funny because I'm medicated, I'm sure).
I'm going to bed.