FFFFOUND!.

Last night I had the time to make a good dinner.  I whipped up cream of celery soup and fresh dinner rolls.  With fresh pears on the side.  It was wholesome and tasty.  The kids hated the soup, of course.  “This looks like throwup,” says the boy of joy.  He was serious.

OK, it did look a little like throwup, but only some kinds of throwup, not the gross kind.  Well, not the grossest kind.  But it did taste good–salty and fresh and creamy.  I guess you can’t have everything in a soup.  Especially one that your kids think looks like something your body already rejected.

At least the rolls were good.  They ate plenty of those.  So tonight I wondered what to make.  I had a lot less time.  The rest of the fam was off to the library where my daughter met a friend from school for some friend time.  It was me deciding and me making and I had had a long day.  I didn’t feel like making anything complicated at that point.  I just wanted to eat it.

But of course I wanted my family to have a quality dinner.  I had to make something fast that had no resemblance to bodily fluids.  So I made spaghetti.  We don’t have that all that often.  It is easy and we all like it but I tend to make things that are fresher if I can, or that are just more fun to make.  Spaghetti is just too easy.

My savior was the table.  Instead of the easy pour it into bowls at the stove approach, I set places and we had some spot lighting and we sat together and talked about our day.  I love that.  I remember eating spahetti as a child but more than that I remember eating together as a family.  I want my kids to remember that.

The bummer is that I had really been looking forward to making the soup yesterday.  I had never made cream of celery soup before.  Mostly because, well, it’s celery for god’s sake.  But I had all this celery since you can’t buy just what you need and I needed to make something with it.  I’m thinking next time I toss in a few carrots.  It will give it a little sweetness but, more importantly, some color.

But then again, do I want to hear my boy of joy say “This looks like…?”

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Normally, my it takes a bit to turn my stomach. I am not often found driving the porcelain bus, you might say. No sir, rarely do I find myself in the midst of the technicolor yawn. So recently when I found myself quite ready to blow chunks, I was mildly surprised.

Puke from a 4 month old is not the most hurlific of substances, when taken in by sight or smell. Baby Ralph is a daily occurence. In fact, the common de-fooding of my child is taken in stride. However, a recent experience with normally benign bob, nearly had me painting the walls.

Post feeding, my innocent and wonderful baby, we’ll call him Slimer, managed to aim his Dionysian offering directly onto the back of my hand, not so terrible in and of itself. However, as I rotated my hand to keep the putrid puke from soiling the carpet. I experienced infant indigestion in an all to clear fashion. Imagine with me, if you will, the feeling of warm, raw egg whites, mixed with cottage cheese, oozing slowly across the flesh of your hand. Sliding into your palm and leaking slowly into the crevasse between your fingers. I’ll admit, the description doesn’t do it justice. Of course, I was holding the child up, so it took some time to be able to rid myself of my handful of hurl.

So, of course, I took the occasion to document the event, in the photo above.

Today, one of my bumpy fingernails peeled completely off. I’m not posting photos of it because it makes me throw up in my mouth a little just thinking about it.

The good news is, a cleaning lady came over and cleaned my floors and kitchen today, and now my house smells clean. She even scrubbed out the cat barf from the carpet. My approach to cat barf: cover with a rag and hope the liquid gets absorbed. It looks like that worked, because hey! no stains!

Had I cleaned, my house would smell like bleach. She and I exchanged drunk stories. She just turned 21, and thought I was in my early 20s. Big. Fat. Grin on my wrinkly, oxygen mask-chafed face. I have to alternate between Proactiv’s refining mask to make it less pimply and neosporin to make it less red and infected. I don’t know how people with cold sores cope.

I will be forever glad that I have so far managed at avoid the herpes. I can’t imagine the herpes would be pleasant, as the name implies snake bites. When Mati was little, I taught her the Valtrex theme song, and she was so cute running around in her ruffly little dresses singing, “Living the liiife I waaaant” in her little falsetto. Then she’d yell, “THANKS, VALTREX!”

You’ll notice in the photo below that the angel is putting these kids in the paths of many dangers.  They could “accidentally” jump or fall off the cliff, fall face-down into running water, or get bitten by a snake.  Three points for effort, you naughty angel!  Three points for trying.  Better luck next time.