Last week I came down with this amazing crap, because really, it was some amazing crap of flu ickiness that resulted in an eight-day fever.
So the only thing I can really remember over the past eight days is making fun of Kylie's latest stuff toy.
A beaver.
Of course I had to buy her a beaver. I mean, really, wouldn't you be disappointed in me if I didn't?
So I'm sure you can think of a slew of comments to add, but we keep telling Kylie not to get too excited by the beaver. She's really showing that beaver who's boss. Look how far she can get her tongue in that beaver.
And my personal favorite, best be careful to love the beaver, Kylie. It may just magically disappear if you do not.
Oh, and I bought her a sweater.
See? I told you all I've been running a fever for eight days.
The other day I picked the boys up from school and noticed something about Griffin across the parkway (wish I could call it a quad, can I call it a quad? calling it a big ass sidewalk seems dumb).
Half his face was missing.
Now, okay, I get it: I'm a drama queen. Duly noted. But! Half of his face was missing. Which resulted me in yelling, in front of 500 bazillion young, impressionable minds, "Griffin! WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED?"
"Happened to WHAT, Mom?"
"YOUR FACE."
"Oh, I fell."
"You okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fine. Stop freaking out."
"Oh, I'm not freaking out."
"Yes, you are. Quit it."
"BUT! YOUR FACE!"
"I just got it dirty."
"No, you didn't. Did you see the nurse?"
"Yeah, she washed me up."
So, after a call to the doctor's office, a call to the school nurse, a call with the doctor and consulting a shoe salesman (much prettier than Al Bundy, I might add). I decided to take him to the ER for a possible concussion.
Dude, after what happened to Darwin I have become this overprotective mother hen who's all hyper-sensitive to head accidents. I know, I know, that was horrible, awful, unfortunate accident but it create some kind of crazed monster in me of protecting my baby's heads at all costs.
So, yes. I full intended to take Griffin to the ER because! He could have a hematoma! It could pinch off some special nerve and damage him! HE COULD DIE!
And I called Aaron. After all, he needs to know our son is going to die, right? Right.
Well, okay. So Aaron talked me off that ledge. Aaron's idea? Motrin. And a mirror. So Griffin could see I'm not a crazy lady. Then a grown-up drink for me to calm my shit down.
A couple of weeks ago I got a call to participate in a survey. Normally I take full of advantage of having an advertising degree and work in advertising and be all yeah, no, I work in advertising ::click:: whenever I get such a call.
But this time, this time, they mentioned it was about music before I even had an opportunity to be bitchy.
"Music?"
"Yes, music. We're doing a survey for radio stations..."
"I LOVE MUSIC!"
"Um, great. So I have a few questions..."
"OKAY, DID I MENTION I LOVE MUSIC?"
"Yes, ma'am, you did. Does anyone in your household work in the advertising field?"
Gawdamnitdamnitdamnit. Sigh. "Yes, I do - but! It's on the internet! With blogs!"
"It what?"
"Is on the internet. With blogs. Totally unrelated to the music field." Squee!
"Um... hold, please." ::pause:: "Could I ask you a few questions?"
So after I answered the questions and she decided I could totally participate, I was told to expect a call in the next few weeks.
Last night, the call arrived.
"Okay, ma'am. We're going to play a part of a song for you and you need to decide how to rate it. One is unfamiliar, two is hate; three is don't like, four is tired of it; five is neutral, six is like and seven is favorite."
And then it went like this....
easy, favorite
easy again, favorite
duh, favorite
FAVORITE (and where's my goddamn "omg, this kicks ass!" button?)
like (whew, I bet they were starting to think I wasn't paying any damn attention)
FAVORITE (but kinda old. seriously? shouldn't you be asking me about new stuff?)
"Hey Griffin! They're playing Franz Ferdinand!" "Favorite it, Mom! FAVORITE IT!"
Favorite. Like, duh. Totally.
My poor seven button is gonna break at this point.
And then they played Creed. And honestly, I was going to embed it. But then I couldn't do that to my wonderous blog. Creed? Seriously? I punched that two button about a million damn times.
