The Cave

First of all, I found your comments FASCINATING re: having a childcare provider bring her own kids to the job. It’s funny, I listened to all of them, and thought of the few ways that I’d be cool with it, and none of them presented themselves to me — i.e., the nannies who had babies and then BROUGHT their babies after they had them (and were well established at the family to begin with)? Well, of course, DUH, I’d be fine with that. A kid at or vaguely around Sam’s age, who would be into keeping a similar schedule who wasn’t, say, a total bully asshole? I could be OK with that, too. See also: if I were in their home and not mine, for the reasons I mentioned in the comments.

There’s something about your own kid in your own house that you can just … relax a little. I mean, of course Sam is always supervised, but I know every corner of this house. I know when her silence means she’s concentrating (i.e., in the back playroom, where her fuzzies and crayons are) and when being quiet means DEFCON 1: GUARD THE SUDAFED because she’s in the bathroom, sifting through the drawers. These are sounds, for better or for worse, you’re trained to listen for in your own house. Someone else’s, not so much.

Anyway. It’s moot, sort of, because I found at least one sitter who’s coming tomorrow (today for most of you reading this) and will be paid an ungodly money for the sole purpose of having my tubes ‘n utes shot through with dye and examined under an … I don’t even know what, as I had this before, I SWEAR, but the thing is, I HAVE NO MEMORY. I have very little memory of the whole pre-Sam shenanigans, and I don’t know why. I hope it’s the same if I get to the second baby portion of our show, that this all becomes kind of … faded.

We’ve  been still, ahh, sick at our house, and it all started with Sam and her ridiculous beach-bound illnesses, and then there was me, who was misdiagnosed with a sinus infection (non-contagious! HAA!), who then passed it on to Adam, who is lying beside me right now, wheezing into his Wheat Thins. Both of us will very likely be passed out cold by 10 p.m., which happens in this house, mmm, pretty much never. Good thing I’m on antibiotics, though! I am what’s wrong with pharmacology today, man. I told you.

The flip side of all this is that I am dropping weight like a saddle bag of hot potatoes. This is what happens when you can pretty much taste nothing for two weeks. Food becomes remarkably uninteresting if you can’t taste it! Who knew? Truth is, I’ve been fantasizing about cupcakes and peanut butter bars pretty much non-stop — and I’m a savory gal! — for no other reason that they are the only things I can really remember the flavor of. I can’t smell anything either, so changing diapers, too, is a surprisingly pleasant task.

I thought about marketing this as a weight-loss tool — invite everyone to my house! Give them the disease and then VOILA! Watch the pounds fly off! There’s got to be an infomercial I can make out of this, maybe featuring Suzanne Somers. Sinus Camp 2011: It’s Infectious! I think, is our tagline. Unfortunately, I have moved beyond the contagious phase, and thus, everyone would have to get in close quarters with Adam, instead, and that’s … less appealing than you might think, although I imagined I was about as delicious-looking while I, too, was coughing until I vomited.

I think my revenue options may be limited by the gross-out factor, but I’m not ruling this shit out! WEIGHT LOSS IN A CURABLE DISEASE.

In recent days, however, I’ve been able to taste a little more, and by that, I mean I can taste sriracha, which is why my last three meals have consisted of various noodles and/or sandwiches drenched in more sriracha than a normal person could probably handle, and it burns like FIYAH, but at least I’m ALIVE. This must be why people tattoo their bodies to FEEL THE BURN! Walk on fire! LET US LIVE. GIVE US THE SRIRACHA.

(Side note: there is something depressing about losing 10+ pounds and being acutely aware that you still have, um, FORTY, or so to go. Seriously. FORTY. I am usually pretty chill about my weight/body image, and for the most part, I am — I mean, I’m not really all that consumed by it — but something about feeling my clothes FINALLY fit much looser has given me enough of a taste that I’m all LET’S GO, WEIGHT! BRING ON THE SIZE SIX!)

(HAAAA I SAID SIX. What an ass.)

Anyway, I’ve GOT to tell you that I’ve been watching NOTHING on television. NOTHING. Should I be watching Game of Thrones? I mean, on HBO.com, that is, because I know it’s over. The Killing? Falling Skies? True Blood is back this week, thank GOD (well, Sunday), but that’s … all I’ve got. And I miss TV. A lot. (Already seen FNL, so it’s not NEW.)

Happy Wednesday! Or as it’s known around here, Tubes, Utes and Babysitter Day! Oh, God.

*Mumford & Sons. The Cave being my uterus. OH I KILL ME.

42 comments June 21st, 2011