Internet Fun 101, and Also Sleep Deprivation

The boy, he has croup. Do you know what this means? This means very little sleep in Parentville for the past few nights. This means that my son, is officially, a seal [for those unfamiliar with parenting...as I was until having the boy six months ago, babies with croup get a very seal-sounding bark to their cough]. I almost want to throw him a ball and see if he could balance it on his nose, but this might be considered cruel and unusual punishment for a child with a temperature of 103 degrees. My poor, sweet lamby-boy. He is not well.

And Mommy, well, it's not about Mommy...is it? But, in case you were wondering? She has not slept very well. Sweet Daddy has offered to get up with the boy, but you, of course remember that Mommy is a hypochondriac (and perhaps has Munchausen's by proxy?) and therefore worries, worries and overfunctions, and also Daddy has been recovering from some medical stuff, and...well, now Mommy is sleep deprived.

Examples of this deprivation? Ummm...I spent a good thirty seconds (which seems like no time at all in the real world but is VEEEEEERRRRRRYYYYY long in actual life with a fussy child) trying to put Grayson's car seat in the car after our doctor's appointment. Except, I was putting the car seat in backwards. BACKWARDS!?! I have had this child for almost seven months and I decided, oh, just today to put it in with him facing forward? Well...that's what very little sleep will do to you. And then there's the absolute mind-fuck of not being able to remember that the dog is outside, in the rain, huddling under her little overhang of the house, shivering her little miniature dachshund rear end off, while I sit contentedly inside looking at catalogs and scarfing down baked Doritos.

So, how can one post coherently? Answer: they can't. I simply cannot follow a train of thought today, sort of like reading Garrison Keillor editorials (which I love, but believe are better in the telling than the writing, or perhaps it is my inability to read them which is the issue...as sometimes I believe Garrison is quite nearly next to God).

So, in lieu of any important or deep thoughts, and while Grayson is happily crashed in front of his Vivaldi/Monet Baby Einstein DVD snoring loudly, let's play the "How Did People Find This Blog" game.

Every so often I take a gander at SiteMeter stats to find out how people were referred to my blog. Often it is in oh-so-very-innocent ways...through RevGalPals link, or through Fort Wayne Observer, or because they know me and love me and are oh-so-kind to wonder what I do. But, quite often it's because, as my husband says, Google is like God, and you never understand Her ways. So, someone will type in some keywords and my post will magically pop upon their screen.

Enjoy the last month's offerings...

• "Zofran Euphoric." I can only assume, my sweet searching pilgrim, that you were hoping that this anti-nausea medicine would make you experience the heights of pleasure. My blog, sadly, only expressed my sweet satisfaction at not tossing my cookies, which was in and of itself euphoria. Sorry to disappoint you. I suggest, though, twirling around in circles for a good four to five minutes and then falling down and seeing what happens. It always brought on a sublime high when I was about three-years-old.
  
• "What is proper attire when attending a matinee ballet?" Dear Reader, I am so sorry that you are anxious enough to have to ask. In Fort Wayne, I find that flip-flops and a tu-tu work...or jeans and a sweater...or a former prom dress with an AIDS activist ribbon pinned on the breast. Perhaps, you might ask why this perplexes you so much. Do you worry about what others think of you? When all else fails take the Contemplative Chaplain approach and go with black. Basic black. Of course, I am NOT a fashionista. And have been called "frumpy" in my time. Perhaps I should refer you elsewhere?
• "Organizing Pantyhose." Oh my. I just don't know where to begin here. Herringbone stockings next to fishnets? Blacks next to nudes? Perhaps the reader would be better served in an OCD group. Good luck with that.
• "Can former cancer patients get tattoos?" Please. Yes. I have never regretted my tattoo. Please write me and tell me about it...
• "My cat bites me when stroking his back." Get rid of the cat (to a loving home), and then call me. I have a great 21 lb. ball of feline love who needs a home. He doesn't bite when his back is stroked. And, he only shits outside the litter box 20% of the time.

Alright, that's all for this sleep deprived maniac tonight. I've got a boy rousing and some Gerber's green beans to be spoon-fed into a wide-open baby-bird mouth.