My little Norah is obsessed with balls these days. She doesn't care what kind, what size, what color, she just wants to have a ball to play with. Aunt Michelle gave her a basketball for Christmas, which she loves. Grandma has a purple ball roughly half the size of Norah, which she still manages to toss around. She's also got tons of others at home.
So, we're at the grocery the other day and we're walking through the produce aisle. Suddenly, and without warning, Norah starts pointing frantically and shrieking "Ball! Ball!". I look over and what do I see? A giant display of oranges. The poor kid thought there were roughly 100 orange balls, neatly stacked up and ready for her to play with, and boy was she excited!
She was slightly disappointed when I didn't let her throw them around.
Slightly disappointed, but still very, very cute.
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Monday, January 25, 2010
So, is that, like, a commune? (Cohousing, part I)
So, we’ve been talking about cohousing lately.
Who’s we? My Tuesday-Nighters, naturally. Cuthbert, Lisey, Mia, Jack, and I particularly, but we’re open to others joining the conversation.
Background:
Before any of this ‘H became a mommy’ stuff happened, we started thinking about the idea of living more closely as a community. We’d been meeting pretty regularly for over 2 years at that point, and the idea of living closer together seemed like a natural next step.
Each and every time we spoke to someone about this, they would respond with, “So, is that, like, a commune?” And we would say something witty like, “yes, but without all the brainwashing,” because we really didn’t know what to call our idea, but we were pretty clear that it wasn’t a commune.
We looked into a few properties and eventually put our idea on hold mostly due to financial constraints and prior financial commitments of some of the members.
Fastforward, and here we are again. We’ve now been meeting regularly for something like 4 ½ years, and the desire for community and a way to live closer together has only grown. This time, Lisey went out and found lots of resources for us, and it turns out there are already people living this kind of lifestyle in the US. Apparently, they call it cohousing.
This is all great and wonderful for a variety of reasons, most notably that there is a wealth of experience we can now draw from in trying to sort this out. Most cohousing communities are open to visitors, and we’ve discovered that there are consultants and architects who work pretty much exclusively with cohousing communities. Whoo hoo! Now we’ve got something to go on!
Plus, we have an awesome new name for our idea. Instead of fumbling around with, “So, we want to live in the same place, but not all in the same room, but we want a common room – and a library!, but have our own space, but someone has to own the building and we don’t know how that works, but we’re all going to be really close neighbors, so, erm, yea, we want to have some sort of community,” now we go around saying things like, “Oh, yes, we’re very interested in the idea of cohousing.”
Which sounds much more sophisticated, and much less like we’re a spastic bunch of hippies, if you ask me.
And now people respond to us with, “So, is that, like, a commune?”
*bangs head on desk*
Anyway, it’s given me a little motivation to do a write up on cohousing. Perhaps writing this won’t make any of you, my dear readers, interested in co-housing, but it will give me something to go on the next time my grandma wants to know what I’m up to, or my boss expresses concern that I’ve joined a cult.
It’s not a cult. Really. We’re quite serious about making that clear.
We’ve gone so far as to have banned Kool-Aid.
Anyway, back to cohousing.
The idea of cohousing is essentially the idea of building a neighborhood on purpose. Jim Leach, a cohousing developer and builder, says, “…cohousing was very much resident driven: it is basically a group of people who want to design and build their own neighborhood and do a better job of it than conventional builders are doing.” Take your current living situation – your house or your condo or your apartment – and then imagine having meaningful relationships with the majority of your neighbors and having a shared common space for things like shared meals, events, etc. That’s the basic idea. Obviously, it’s a little more involved than that, but this is a good starting point.
Cohousing happens in all ways, shapes, and forms. Some communities choose to build new housing commodities from the ground up. Some retrofit existing structures. Some live in the country, some in the suburbs, and some in the city. Some co-exist with urban businesses; some are located on farmland. Regardless of when/where/how a cohousing community is built, there are some basic things that usually stay the same:
Cohousing communities provide private living space for residents. No, you do not have to share a bathroom with everyone on your block or building. Individuals and families have their own homes, whether in the forms of single family structures, condos, or rented apartments. Most cohousing communities also have a designated outdoor area that is private. For example, the back yard might be a private area, while the front yard is a public area. If you’re in your back yard, people generally leave you alone. If you’re in your front yard, they might stop to chat. Or, depending on the structure of the neighborhood, it might be the other way around. Either way, privacy is a part of the structure.
Cohousing communities provide shared living space for residents. What this shared living space will look like depends on the type of community you live in. Communities with a series of single-family structures usually have a common house which is a separate building with shared living space. Communities comprised of condos or apartments in a single or series of buildings might have a room or series of rooms dedicated to common space. Nearly all common houses (or common rooms) contain a shared kitchen and dining area. Community meals are popular among cohousing residents, and the shared kitchen and dining space facilitate this. Depending on the atmosphere of the community, shared living spaces could also include children’s playrooms, libraries, adult sitting rooms, entertainment rooms, or meeting rooms. Or whatever your community wants and can afford. Common spaces are typically maintained by the entire community and are paid for with dues paid by each resident.
In addition to indoor common areas, outdoor common areas are frequently seen in cohousing. Community gardens are common, along with community playgrounds and a community lawn for gathering. Of course, this is all dependent on what your community wants and is able to maintain.
Cohousing communities are developed with the participation of future residents. Future residents participate in planning and designing their community so that it meets their needs. Every group of people has a different group of needs. By participating in the planning of the community, cohousing communities are able to work to have their particular needs met.
Most cohousing communities operate by consensus. In other words, all the residents have to be on board with a plan (or at least not oppose it) in order to it to move forward. While this means lots of meetings and lots of debates, it also means that no one’s needs are ignored and that cohousers are typically awesome problem solvers.
Ok, that's going to be part I of my cohousing write up. I'll soon be back with part II, including some of the benefits of living in cohousing and some additional cohousing resources. I'll be back soon!
Who’s we? My Tuesday-Nighters, naturally. Cuthbert, Lisey, Mia, Jack, and I particularly, but we’re open to others joining the conversation.
Background:
Before any of this ‘H became a mommy’ stuff happened, we started thinking about the idea of living more closely as a community. We’d been meeting pretty regularly for over 2 years at that point, and the idea of living closer together seemed like a natural next step.
Each and every time we spoke to someone about this, they would respond with, “So, is that, like, a commune?” And we would say something witty like, “yes, but without all the brainwashing,” because we really didn’t know what to call our idea, but we were pretty clear that it wasn’t a commune.
We looked into a few properties and eventually put our idea on hold mostly due to financial constraints and prior financial commitments of some of the members.
Fastforward, and here we are again. We’ve now been meeting regularly for something like 4 ½ years, and the desire for community and a way to live closer together has only grown. This time, Lisey went out and found lots of resources for us, and it turns out there are already people living this kind of lifestyle in the US. Apparently, they call it cohousing.
This is all great and wonderful for a variety of reasons, most notably that there is a wealth of experience we can now draw from in trying to sort this out. Most cohousing communities are open to visitors, and we’ve discovered that there are consultants and architects who work pretty much exclusively with cohousing communities. Whoo hoo! Now we’ve got something to go on!
Plus, we have an awesome new name for our idea. Instead of fumbling around with, “So, we want to live in the same place, but not all in the same room, but we want a common room – and a library!, but have our own space, but someone has to own the building and we don’t know how that works, but we’re all going to be really close neighbors, so, erm, yea, we want to have some sort of community,” now we go around saying things like, “Oh, yes, we’re very interested in the idea of cohousing.”
Which sounds much more sophisticated, and much less like we’re a spastic bunch of hippies, if you ask me.
And now people respond to us with, “So, is that, like, a commune?”
*bangs head on desk*
Anyway, it’s given me a little motivation to do a write up on cohousing. Perhaps writing this won’t make any of you, my dear readers, interested in co-housing, but it will give me something to go on the next time my grandma wants to know what I’m up to, or my boss expresses concern that I’ve joined a cult.
It’s not a cult. Really. We’re quite serious about making that clear.
We’ve gone so far as to have banned Kool-Aid.
Anyway, back to cohousing.
The idea of cohousing is essentially the idea of building a neighborhood on purpose. Jim Leach, a cohousing developer and builder, says, “…cohousing was very much resident driven: it is basically a group of people who want to design and build their own neighborhood and do a better job of it than conventional builders are doing.” Take your current living situation – your house or your condo or your apartment – and then imagine having meaningful relationships with the majority of your neighbors and having a shared common space for things like shared meals, events, etc. That’s the basic idea. Obviously, it’s a little more involved than that, but this is a good starting point.
Cohousing happens in all ways, shapes, and forms. Some communities choose to build new housing commodities from the ground up. Some retrofit existing structures. Some live in the country, some in the suburbs, and some in the city. Some co-exist with urban businesses; some are located on farmland. Regardless of when/where/how a cohousing community is built, there are some basic things that usually stay the same:
Cohousing communities provide private living space for residents. No, you do not have to share a bathroom with everyone on your block or building. Individuals and families have their own homes, whether in the forms of single family structures, condos, or rented apartments. Most cohousing communities also have a designated outdoor area that is private. For example, the back yard might be a private area, while the front yard is a public area. If you’re in your back yard, people generally leave you alone. If you’re in your front yard, they might stop to chat. Or, depending on the structure of the neighborhood, it might be the other way around. Either way, privacy is a part of the structure.
Cohousing communities provide shared living space for residents. What this shared living space will look like depends on the type of community you live in. Communities with a series of single-family structures usually have a common house which is a separate building with shared living space. Communities comprised of condos or apartments in a single or series of buildings might have a room or series of rooms dedicated to common space. Nearly all common houses (or common rooms) contain a shared kitchen and dining area. Community meals are popular among cohousing residents, and the shared kitchen and dining space facilitate this. Depending on the atmosphere of the community, shared living spaces could also include children’s playrooms, libraries, adult sitting rooms, entertainment rooms, or meeting rooms. Or whatever your community wants and can afford. Common spaces are typically maintained by the entire community and are paid for with dues paid by each resident.
In addition to indoor common areas, outdoor common areas are frequently seen in cohousing. Community gardens are common, along with community playgrounds and a community lawn for gathering. Of course, this is all dependent on what your community wants and is able to maintain.
Cohousing communities are developed with the participation of future residents. Future residents participate in planning and designing their community so that it meets their needs. Every group of people has a different group of needs. By participating in the planning of the community, cohousing communities are able to work to have their particular needs met.
Most cohousing communities operate by consensus. In other words, all the residents have to be on board with a plan (or at least not oppose it) in order to it to move forward. While this means lots of meetings and lots of debates, it also means that no one’s needs are ignored and that cohousers are typically awesome problem solvers.
Ok, that's going to be part I of my cohousing write up. I'll soon be back with part II, including some of the benefits of living in cohousing and some additional cohousing resources. I'll be back soon!
Thursday, December 31, 2009
2009 Quote Review
It's time for an annual quote review. Here are the best from 2009!
“Webbed toes are not cute on babies.” ~ J
“The throat opens up like Rosie O’Donnell eating a cake.” ~ Cuthbert
“Speaking of wanton destruction….” ~ Cuthbert
“I don’t want to be God. I don’t even want to be a supervisor.” ~ H
“One fish, two fish, red fish, jaded fish.” ~ Cuthbert
“Mount Rushmore looks just like that, except it’s huge and it’s not made of cheese.” ~ Seth
“It’s basically like Star Wars outlining the fall of the Roman Empire.” ~ J
“Gay card beats woman card.” ~ Cuthbert
“Balls is not a verb, just for the record.” ~ H
“Your body is not like toast; you can spread cold butter on your body.” ~ Betty
“It might be good to date someone who’s not, like, a flaky toolbag.” ~ Cuthbert
“Momma, I have your nipple covers!” ~ Little Miss L
“I kind of just want to poke a Quaker, to see what they do.” ~ Mia
“You should really ask permission before you set yourself on fire in someone else’s apartment.” ~ H
Jack: You know, Christian groups are always getting all kinds of free property. That’s what we need to do.
H: We need to become Christians?
Jack: No, we need to get shit for free.
“I am totally not chasing fire trucks to find our new house.” ~ Lisey
“When someone can look you in the eyes and say, ‘Me too,’ and they actually mean it – it can save you.” ~ Rob Bell, Jesus Wants to Save Christians
“Corn fields are the scariest things on the entire fucking face of the planet.” ~ Douglas Coupland, Generation A
You may notice that the list seems a litle shot this year - its kinda hard to get in on the action where the good quotes are happening when one has a newborn. Next year, we're going all out.
Enjoy!
“Webbed toes are not cute on babies.” ~ J
“The throat opens up like Rosie O’Donnell eating a cake.” ~ Cuthbert
“Speaking of wanton destruction….” ~ Cuthbert
“I don’t want to be God. I don’t even want to be a supervisor.” ~ H
“One fish, two fish, red fish, jaded fish.” ~ Cuthbert
“Mount Rushmore looks just like that, except it’s huge and it’s not made of cheese.” ~ Seth
“It’s basically like Star Wars outlining the fall of the Roman Empire.” ~ J
“Gay card beats woman card.” ~ Cuthbert
“Balls is not a verb, just for the record.” ~ H
“Your body is not like toast; you can spread cold butter on your body.” ~ Betty
“It might be good to date someone who’s not, like, a flaky toolbag.” ~ Cuthbert
“Momma, I have your nipple covers!” ~ Little Miss L
“I kind of just want to poke a Quaker, to see what they do.” ~ Mia
“You should really ask permission before you set yourself on fire in someone else’s apartment.” ~ H
Jack: You know, Christian groups are always getting all kinds of free property. That’s what we need to do.
H: We need to become Christians?
Jack: No, we need to get shit for free.
“I am totally not chasing fire trucks to find our new house.” ~ Lisey
“When someone can look you in the eyes and say, ‘Me too,’ and they actually mean it – it can save you.” ~ Rob Bell, Jesus Wants to Save Christians
“Corn fields are the scariest things on the entire fucking face of the planet.” ~ Douglas Coupland, Generation A
You may notice that the list seems a litle shot this year - its kinda hard to get in on the action where the good quotes are happening when one has a newborn. Next year, we're going all out.
Enjoy!
Monday, December 14, 2009
Sunflowers
i long to be
a candle, flickering in the dark
settled in the shadowed corner
a servant of
the God of the Dark Places
the God of raves and tattoo parlors;
of bar stools and smoke-filled back rooms
i long to be
a flame, fanned by the whispers
of the dark of night
an expression of one
who made beauty out of blood,
Redemption out of Death;
who spoke into the dark to create
i long to be
the salve on the self-inflicted wound
soothing the need for pain
a remnant of one
from which beauty creeps
infusing the broken and bleeding,
defiling the Sabboth with healing
i ache to be
the tool of a heartbroken God
whose tired sighs call me to action
a weeping Christ
who looks into the tomb
and grieves while he heals,
who honors our struggles with tears
i ache to be
an expression of love
for one whose being is love
a flickering flame
for the desperate and damaged,
the addicted and abandoned;
the ones who are just like me
i long to belong
to the God of the Dark Places
a candle, flickering in the dark
settled in the shadowed corner
a servant of
the God of the Dark Places
the God of raves and tattoo parlors;
of bar stools and smoke-filled back rooms
i long to be
a flame, fanned by the whispers
of the dark of night
an expression of one
who made beauty out of blood,
Redemption out of Death;
who spoke into the dark to create
i long to be
the salve on the self-inflicted wound
soothing the need for pain
a remnant of one
from which beauty creeps
infusing the broken and bleeding,
defiling the Sabboth with healing
i ache to be
the tool of a heartbroken God
whose tired sighs call me to action
a weeping Christ
who looks into the tomb
and grieves while he heals,
who honors our struggles with tears
i ache to be
an expression of love
for one whose being is love
a flickering flame
for the desperate and damaged,
the addicted and abandoned;
the ones who are just like me
i long to belong
to the God of the Dark Places
Monday, November 16, 2009
Some Conversations
A couple of weeks ago D and I packed up and headed to Cedar Point with Velma and our friend Seth. As we’ve proved in the past, Velma and I cannot travel to Cedar Point without some sort of ridiculousness happening. It simply isn’t possible. Come to think of it, Velma and I cannot seem to spend more than 20 minutes together without some sort of ridiculousness happening, but I suppose that’s a different story. Anyhow, in the spirit of being true to oneself, I’ve decided to share a few of the random conversations from our trip with you. Enjoy!
Conversation #1: Consider your career choices carefully
Velma: So, I started Junior Achievement this week. I had to go talk to all these 6th graders about their future careers. I asked them all to write down some careers they were considering so I could talk to them about the classes and skills they would need to get there, but one kid wrote down that he wanted to be God. What do you say to that?
H: Hmmm, I don’t know.
Velma: I told him he was going to be pretty busy if he was going to be God.
H: Yea, he’ll definitely need time management skills
Velma: Yea, that’s a lot of responsibility.
H: I don’t want to be God. I don’t even want to be a supervisor.
Conversation #2: You see it, right?
On the way home from Cedar Point, we stopped at this happy little pizza joint that someone had recommended to Seth. One of the pizzas we ordered was a Greek pizza with feta cheese on it. The following ensued:
Velma: (squealing and pointing) Look, guys, look!
(everyone looks over to her plate, where she is pointing)
Velma: Look, it’s Abe in the cheese!
H: Huh?
Velma: It’s Honest Abe! There in my cheese!
D: You see Abe Lincoln in your cheese?
Velma: Right there, in the Feta! Don’t you see him!?
D: No
Seth: No
H: No
Velma: I feel like I’m at Mount Rushmore!!!
Seth: Mount Rushmore looks just like that, only it’s huge and it’s not made of cheese.
I love you, Velma!
Conversation #1: Consider your career choices carefully
Velma: So, I started Junior Achievement this week. I had to go talk to all these 6th graders about their future careers. I asked them all to write down some careers they were considering so I could talk to them about the classes and skills they would need to get there, but one kid wrote down that he wanted to be God. What do you say to that?
H: Hmmm, I don’t know.
Velma: I told him he was going to be pretty busy if he was going to be God.
H: Yea, he’ll definitely need time management skills
Velma: Yea, that’s a lot of responsibility.
H: I don’t want to be God. I don’t even want to be a supervisor.
Conversation #2: You see it, right?
On the way home from Cedar Point, we stopped at this happy little pizza joint that someone had recommended to Seth. One of the pizzas we ordered was a Greek pizza with feta cheese on it. The following ensued:
Velma: (squealing and pointing) Look, guys, look!
(everyone looks over to her plate, where she is pointing)
Velma: Look, it’s Abe in the cheese!
H: Huh?
Velma: It’s Honest Abe! There in my cheese!
D: You see Abe Lincoln in your cheese?
Velma: Right there, in the Feta! Don’t you see him!?
D: No
Seth: No
H: No
Velma: I feel like I’m at Mount Rushmore!!!
Seth: Mount Rushmore looks just like that, only it’s huge and it’s not made of cheese.
I love you, Velma!
Monday, September 7, 2009
Marketing That Really Stands Out
Here' s a sign I saw by the side of the road yesterday:
Gently Used
Low Mileage
KITTENS!!
I suppose that's better than high mileage kittens, eh? D found the sign to be rather ridiculous, but you know what? I still remember it, and I'm sitting here writing about it, aren't I? I'd say that makes it pretty darn effective.
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
Can't a Girl Get a Bath Around Here?
Hello there!
I’m just popping in with a quick short story from my everyday before I run off to get some work done. I promise, I have a few fun blogs in the works for the near future, so don’t give up hope on me yet!
About a month and a half ago, after a long day of being a tired and overworked mommy (babies are quite the time suck, even if they are quite worth it), I decided to hand my beloved Norah over to her father so that I could take a bath.
Now, if you have ever been a new momma, you know that baths are a rare commodity. Between feedings and changings, and trying to figure out what in the world your baby wants, there are laundry and dishes and groceries, and meals that need cooking. Throw in 20 hours working from home, and you have one burned out momma. I needed that bath. I mean, I needed that bath. I needed that bath like I need air – I mean, I was going to turn blue and convulse and my heart was going to stop if I didn’t get that bath.
Did I mention it had been a rough day?
Anyway, I handed Norah over to D and proceeded to draw myself a bath. I even had the forethought to grab a Coupland novel and a glass of water, so I could properly enjoy my bath o’ luxury. The tub reached a state of relative fullness, but it wasn’t quite finished. I decided to climb in anyways and get a head start on my way to relaxation.
No sooner had I sat down in the tub then D came flying into the bathroom, practically shrieking, “She’s throwing up blood! She’s throwing up blood!” I deciphered that my husband was shouting at me that my daughter was dying of some sort of blood-vomiting disease, and immediately hopped out of the tub, searching for a towel. All kinds of crazy thoughts are running through my mind at this point: What in the world did she eat? What if there are, like, little shards of glass in her tummy? Oh, this is very, very bad! How much blood is there going to be? What’s going on with my poor baby?!?! Oh, god, we can’t afford the Children’s Hospital! What if her little intestines are in shreds?!
I ran into the bedroom where little Norah was playing. I’m sopping wet, just barely wrapped up in a towel, and I have no idea where my glasses are, so everything is a little blurry. I look around and I see….. no blood. There is no blood, anywhere.
Stupidly, I think to myself that maybe I need to get my glasses to see the blood – ‘cause, blood isn’t, like, a distinct bright red color or anything, right? *sigh* I looked to D, then looked to Norah, then back to D, then back to Norah. Finally I asked him, “where’s the blood?”
D: Right there! (points to a tiny spot of spit up that, as far as I can tell, has no blood in it)
Me: Where?
D: THERE!! (points closer to the same spot)
I looked very closely, and what did I see?
A tiny, tiny, spot of blueberries, about the size of my pinky fingernail.
Let me just say, there is an enormous difference between vomiting up pints of blood and spitting up miniscule remnants of blueberries. Like, maybe the difference between calling 911 and just grabbing a burp cloth.
Details, details – I know, I’m so picky.
I proceeded to grab a burp cloth, wipe up the spot, and tell D that he was looking at blueberry spit up.
D: Are you sure?
Me: Yes, I’m sure.
D: How do you know?!?!
Me: Because, as far as I know, Norah doesn’t have purple blood. If you find out differently, let me know, but until then I’m getting in the tub.
Now really, I know blueberries aren’t exactly ‘blue’ in color once they’ve been cooked. But they are purple, which is not the same thing as bright, bloody red. At least in my experience, purple, and blood red are generally very different colors. Generally. I could have missed something in art class, I suppose. I’m still trying to figure out whether I should be more concerned that my husband thinks my daughter has purple blood or that my bath water was getting cold while all this was going on.
It was a very nice bath, incidentally, once I got past the ‘o-mi-god, my daughter’s insides are being ripped to shreds by some horrible malady and she’s puking up blood everywhere’ train of though. Very nice, indeed.
I’m just popping in with a quick short story from my everyday before I run off to get some work done. I promise, I have a few fun blogs in the works for the near future, so don’t give up hope on me yet!
About a month and a half ago, after a long day of being a tired and overworked mommy (babies are quite the time suck, even if they are quite worth it), I decided to hand my beloved Norah over to her father so that I could take a bath.
Now, if you have ever been a new momma, you know that baths are a rare commodity. Between feedings and changings, and trying to figure out what in the world your baby wants, there are laundry and dishes and groceries, and meals that need cooking. Throw in 20 hours working from home, and you have one burned out momma. I needed that bath. I mean, I needed that bath. I needed that bath like I need air – I mean, I was going to turn blue and convulse and my heart was going to stop if I didn’t get that bath.
Did I mention it had been a rough day?
Anyway, I handed Norah over to D and proceeded to draw myself a bath. I even had the forethought to grab a Coupland novel and a glass of water, so I could properly enjoy my bath o’ luxury. The tub reached a state of relative fullness, but it wasn’t quite finished. I decided to climb in anyways and get a head start on my way to relaxation.
No sooner had I sat down in the tub then D came flying into the bathroom, practically shrieking, “She’s throwing up blood! She’s throwing up blood!” I deciphered that my husband was shouting at me that my daughter was dying of some sort of blood-vomiting disease, and immediately hopped out of the tub, searching for a towel. All kinds of crazy thoughts are running through my mind at this point: What in the world did she eat? What if there are, like, little shards of glass in her tummy? Oh, this is very, very bad! How much blood is there going to be? What’s going on with my poor baby?!?! Oh, god, we can’t afford the Children’s Hospital! What if her little intestines are in shreds?!
I ran into the bedroom where little Norah was playing. I’m sopping wet, just barely wrapped up in a towel, and I have no idea where my glasses are, so everything is a little blurry. I look around and I see….. no blood. There is no blood, anywhere.
Stupidly, I think to myself that maybe I need to get my glasses to see the blood – ‘cause, blood isn’t, like, a distinct bright red color or anything, right? *sigh* I looked to D, then looked to Norah, then back to D, then back to Norah. Finally I asked him, “where’s the blood?”
D: Right there! (points to a tiny spot of spit up that, as far as I can tell, has no blood in it)
Me: Where?
D: THERE!! (points closer to the same spot)
I looked very closely, and what did I see?
A tiny, tiny, spot of blueberries, about the size of my pinky fingernail.
Let me just say, there is an enormous difference between vomiting up pints of blood and spitting up miniscule remnants of blueberries. Like, maybe the difference between calling 911 and just grabbing a burp cloth.
Details, details – I know, I’m so picky.
I proceeded to grab a burp cloth, wipe up the spot, and tell D that he was looking at blueberry spit up.
D: Are you sure?
Me: Yes, I’m sure.
D: How do you know?!?!
Me: Because, as far as I know, Norah doesn’t have purple blood. If you find out differently, let me know, but until then I’m getting in the tub.
Now really, I know blueberries aren’t exactly ‘blue’ in color once they’ve been cooked. But they are purple, which is not the same thing as bright, bloody red. At least in my experience, purple, and blood red are generally very different colors. Generally. I could have missed something in art class, I suppose. I’m still trying to figure out whether I should be more concerned that my husband thinks my daughter has purple blood or that my bath water was getting cold while all this was going on.
It was a very nice bath, incidentally, once I got past the ‘o-mi-god, my daughter’s insides are being ripped to shreds by some horrible malady and she’s puking up blood everywhere’ train of though. Very nice, indeed.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)