Just Beth

Gratuitous funny dog picture

I hate puking.  I’m sure you do, too… I mean, I’ve NEVER heard anyone saying that they love a good vomit session, have you?  Anyway, I think the instinctual abhorrence of vomiting is pretty universal.  I’ve been doing a LOT of puking lately…  I’m pregnant for one thing, and while that doesn’t always mean that you WILL puke, I am.  Plus, I just had the flu.  It got me thinking that I might have more than your average experience with puking, and that I ought to share my experiences with others.  So here you go, my advice on how to make your upchucking experience just a little less horrifying.

First, try to think about what you’re eating.  You know it’s going to come back, so you might as well plan for it a little.  I don’t know about you, but puking nothing or BILE is the absolute worst of the worst.  If you can eat something, you’ll have more energy after you upchuck, plus you can pre-determine what it will taste like on the way back out.  Avoid things that are fibrous or crunchy, like carrots, Triscuits or anything with a corner.  Also avoid milk products if possible, because curdling your own milk is really vile.  If you’re pretty sure you’re going to puke before you get a curdle on, though, try eating some fruit loops.  Yes, I’m serious.  They’re sweet and delicious either way, coming or going.  Or coming and coming back…?  Also avoid eggs, anything spicy and tomatoes.  You don’t want any of those things coming back to visit.

Next, think about where you’re going to puke.  The obvious choice is the toilet, but I suggest you try other places.  Just LOOKING at the toilet makes me gag a little because I’ve puked into it so often.  I don’t need more help, thank you very much.  Plus, I have ONE toilet at my house.  It’s always disgusting, no matter if I’ve just cleaned it or not.  Also, I don’t know if chicks who haven’t had kids have the same problem, but I pee my pants ALL THE TIME these days.  When I cough too hard or laugh or sneeze, and ESPECIALLY if I’m crouched around the god-damned toilet hurling my guts out.  When we had the flu here recently, it wasn’t always possible to puke into the toilet so I started puking elsewhere.  I tried the sink, but not only was it a little small and shallow, the stopper got in the way of my chunkage, and therefore caused some extra needless ralphing.  My new personal favorite place to toss my cookies is the bathtub.  Now, you DO have to clean the bathtub better and there is definitely more surface area, but being able to sit on the edge and hold myself up and away from the vomit splash was PRICELESS.  It also stemmed my pee flow, which was awesome.

Last, but certainly not least, don’t hold back.  Don’t try NOT to puke, don’t try to be quiet or ladylike about it, don’t FRONT.  It’s awful, everyone knows it is awful, holding it in is just torture for yourself.  If you’re anywhere near me when I puke, I make HORRIBLE noises, I KNOW.  Yes, I’m dying.  No, you don’t need to hold my hair.  You can, however, clean the bathroom when I’m done.

Any questions?  Did I leave anything out?  And you’re welcome, enjoy!

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update:  someone who is experiencing the nth degree of morning sickness suggested peaches as being something equally sweet and tasty coming up as they were down, and to try puking outdoors.  I love peaches and will try them ASAP, and I agree with the outdoor thing, but my dogs love puke (and poop) so I just can’t do it.  It IS a great idea, however, and something to keep in your repertoire regardless.

Time to just write, so please excuse the verbal vomiting that is about to take place.

I find myself coming back to this place day after day, opening up a new, blank screen and NOT finding the inspiration to write.  I don’t know why.  It bothers me, though… a blank page is the most divine thing I can imagine.  It represents new beginnings, endless possibilities, coming to terms with anything that’s been bugging me.

That may be the problem, there’s been too much bugging me lately.

I’ll start with a day, May eighteenth.

It’s a big day for me, at least this year.  Two things have happened on May eighteenth that beg me to give them space here, to discuss and think about and then hopefully leave here.  The first is an anniversary.  In 2008 we bought this house.  It closed on May eighteenth.  My daughter Sally was born in July, so I was approximately eight years pregnant when we moved in.  I unpacked and organized the kitchen first, moving the plates, etc about a dozen times.  It truly, truly sucked.  Now, I love my house… rather, I love WHERE my house is.  Its a funky, old, poorly built house set on the point of a long, warbley triangle of land covered in evergreen trees and magic fairy ponds.  I  see green, lush foliage out of every window, and when I walk out back I hear rushing streams – two of them.  I love it here.

May eighteenth is also my older brother’s birthday.  Did you know that I have an older brother?  Well, I did, anyway.  Now all I have is a hole in my heart where he used to live.  Last year he created, lived in, and then routinely destroyed this place in my heart.  He did it like any dirt-bag man uses women, callously and with no care for anyone but himself.  To say that I am still hurt is an understatement, a silly conglomerate of words that lack the depth of my feelings.  I had thought for weeks about an appropriate (or rather, inappropriate) post to dedicate to him on his birthday, even coming up with the title.  Wanna hear it?  I’m going to screw up the apostrophe’s, so forgive me, but you’ll get the idea.  It was going to be called “NOT My Brother’s” Birthday.  And it was going to be about what a total and complete waste of space he is.  The more I thought about it the less I felt inclined to say, which sounds like a good thing but I am still so pissed off and hurt by him that I WANT to talk about it, to purge it from my system and close off that fucking hole he made.  I guess it’s not time for that yet.

Next lets talk about medication.  Many of you know that I suffered MAJOR post-partum depression after I had Sally, and continued after I had Bobby.  Well, it was time to go off of it, so I did.  I quit cold turkey.  Not the most fun thing I’ve done but it felt right, even when I was pretty certain that I was going to lose my mind and never return.  So I bought chickens instead.  No, I’m not kidding, and no, I didn’t REALLY get chickens to keep me from the brink of insanity.  I bought chickens because A) I want them; B) I have this aforementioned lovely patch of land, which includes a chicken coop, and C) because my family and I LOVE eggs.  Adore them.  I make about a half-dozen eggs a day, almost every day.  The real question is why it’s taken us so long to do this.  I bought five chicks, three Welsummers and two Buff Orpingtons.  They are currently living in a plastic tub in my ‘guest’ bedroom.  We’ll get a bigger ‘brooder’ box next week and they’ll begin living outside.  They’re so cute and they make the nicest little chirps when I come into the room.

I digress, though.  I felt horrible for about a month and REALLY terrible for another couple of weeks, but I’m doing great now.  If I could get some sleep, there’d be no stopping me!

Anyway, hopefully this will jump start my creative juices so I can start regaling you all with my hilarity and wit once again.  Tomorrow, I’ll post some pics at the very least.  Because oh my LORD child, the THINGS I have done with my hair…!!

Thanks for stopping by… ~xo, b!

I actually have a resolution this year.  I keep trying NOT to, but I always end up saying some crap like ‘I vow to lose weight and be more patient with my kids and get organized and I WILL stop gossiping”… you know, stuff you’re never going to actually DO, right at the stroke of midnight.  Then I spend the next twelve months disappointing myself.  It’s not really healthy, you know?

So I decided to make one.  Just one.  I just might be able to handle ONE.  Uh, one that doesn’t involve dieting.  Tried THAT about a billion times before I figured out it was just never going to work like that.

Here it is, with much pomp and circumstance (I totally almost wrote circumcision)(not really.  I’m not quite that witty)…

I am going to STOP being LATE.

I know.  Did you fall down just now?  My family members who read this just did.  SORRY GLENDALE!  SCOTTSDALE!! SANTA BARBARA, WAIKIKI…NOT AN EARTHQUAKE, JUST MY FAMILY FAINTING IN DISBELIEF.

Unorganized, perpetually procrastinating individuals tend to be late, I’m not sure if you knew that.  They can be lots of OTHER things, too, like brilliant and beautiful and talented and very, very sorry that they’re late.  Also, in my defense, I’m not one of ‘those’ obnoxious late-ies who constantly rely on how TERRIBLE the traffic was.  I mean, at least be CREATIVE if you’re going to be late and then LIE about it.  Gah.  Losers.

As for me, I am late for very different, very real reasons every time.  Like the time I locked my keys in the house with the kids in the car and had to shimmy (SHIMMY) through a window that I used a DOLLY as a ladder to get up to.  And then launched myself onto the guest bed.

Being late…its practically not my fault.

However.  I am now technically a ‘grown-up’ and should therefore act a little more accordingly.

Ew.  That just totally kind of ruined it for me.

Fuck.

Maybe I’ll resolve to not be so goddamn self destructive instead.  I’m nearly embarassed of myself.  Sheesh.

Anyway.  Happy New Year!  Do you have any resolutions?