I think.

Lay the questions on me!

Like many others, I’m doing this questionnaire first done by the lovely Finn, taken from the Proust Questionnaire from Vanity Fair magazine:

What is your idea of perfect happiness?
Right here, right now.  My life is happy.  I am lucky to be blessed with a loving home, wonderful family, quality friendships, and we live comfortably.  I continue to seek challenges that interest me and have the freedom to do what I want with my life.  That’s pretty sweet and I could not ask for more.

What is your greatest fear?
Something tragic happening to anyone in my family.

What is the trait you most deplore in yourself?
I need some more giddyup in the exercise department!

What is the trait you most deplore in others?
Insecurity – especially when it manifests itself as manipulative passive aggressiveness or jealousy.

On what occasion do you lie?
I will very occasionally lie to spare another person’s feelings.  Mostly, I’m straight to the point and don’t hold back.

What is your greatest extravagance?
Our new house.

What is your current state of mind?
Calm, but my brain is always turning.  I’ve learned to simmer it down in recent months and not panic about workload.

What is the quality you most like in a man?
Honesty.

What is the quality you most like in a woman?
Honesty.

Which words or phrases do you most overuse?
I say ‘awesome’ way too often.

When and where were you happiest?
Too many moments to count, but definitely at my wedding, at the birth of my kids.

Who are your favorite writers?
William Shakespeare, Wally Lamb, Margaret Atwood, Judy Blume, Robert Munch.  (What?  I have kids and a raging internet addiction, I don’t get to read much.)

Which talent would you most like to have?
I wish I had badass dance moves and a cute ass to go with them.

If you could change one thing about your family, what would it be?
That they didn’t produce so much laundry.

If you died and came back as a person or thing, what do you think it would be?
A puppy.  A happy, sleepy, silly, roly poly puppy.

What do you dislike most about your appearance?
My weight.

Where would you like to live?
Here.  I love here.

What is your most treasured possession?
My wedding ring.

What do you regard as the lowest depth of misery?
Self- destruction.

What do you most value in your friends?
Acceptance. (same answer as Finn)

What are your favorite names?
Other than my kids, I can’t really think of any.

What is it that you most dislike?
Child abuse.  I wish it would disappear from the planet forever.

What is your greatest regret?
I truly do not have any.

How would you like to die?
Old and painlessly!

What is your motto?
Live and let live. ]]> http://www.karensugarpants.com/2009/11/sugarpants-the-proust-questionnaire/feed/ 5 http://www.karensugarpants.com/2009/11/sugarpants-the-proust-questionnaire/ http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/KarenSugarpants/~3/crXZQQjjqxs/ http://www.karensugarpants.com/2009/11/things-ive-learned-by-being-quarantined-to-our-house-for-a-week-has-it-been-a-week/#comments Thu, 05 Nov 2009 22:23:25 +0000 Karen Sugarpants http://www.karensugarpants.com/?p=2604

In other news, I hate other people’s children, but not as much as this mom hates her kid. (I don’t really hate other people’s children, but it’s for the snark.  It’s all about the snark.  Your kids are the cutest, I swear.)

Only the coolest group of writers to ever grace the internet with their celebu-prowess and awesome-sparkley-cornholios:

MAMAPOP!

Yes, the lovely Sweetney asked me last week if I would like to join their team of SPESHUL RITERS and after totally-not-squeeing maybe-a-little squeeing, I said yes!

It was like a marriage proposal without the kneeling, just like the MamaPop party at BlogHer was like a wedding without the silly vows.  It was just the danc-y drunk-y part where everyone is all “I love you man.” And oh how I love me some MamaPop, man!

So here is my first post over there, if you’re so inclined to read my take on children’s movies, namely: Where the Wild Things Are, Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs and the upcoming Berenstain Bears movie which has yet to be named as I’m fairly sure the ink isn’t dry on the deal.  Oh and there’s something about kids eating rocks.

And as we say at MamaPop: Please to enjoy.

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This morning I woke up with a nagging cough and the headache I’ve been fighting for 5 days is still here.  Yay.

I’m watching them closely for the scary signs of requiring the ER but so far, so good.

Even though we are dealing with this misery, I maintain that I made the right decision, and that the kids probably had it before their shots.  Which sucks.

I still think people need to calm down though.  No need to panic, because stressing over it can’t be good for us.  It really isn’t the worst illness to ever hit our family.  Let’s hope we’re nearing the end though, because dudes, I’m TIRED.  I want to go back to my life where our biggest problem is not being able to fast forward commercials on live TV.

All I can say is I tried to protect them and continue to do so by watching over them and making sure pneumonia and/or dehydration doesn’t set in.

What I don’t appreciate is being shown fear-mongering websites about the H1N1 shot.  A family member decided to share such a thing with me today with a note that said, “don’t get the shot,” and it really really pissed me off.  I know he cares, it’s just, what the hell good does that do anybody?  I wasn’t going to click over, just because I didn’t want to re-think the decision I’d already made and carried out, but curiosity got the better of me and I did.

What I found was information from the 1970’s, false information about the current H1N1 shot, and a bunch of fearful people sharing their stories.

Seriously?  It was about as scientific as this blog.

Do me a favour.  Do what’s best for YOUR family and let me do what’s best for MINE.  Mmmkay?  And if you haven’t really taken the time to read everything you can on a subject, I suggest you STFU.

When I shared my decision making process with you all, not once did I say you had to follow in my footsteps.  Never would I tell you you had to use disposable diapers, breastfeed and make your own baby food.  Never once have I said everyone should send their kids to French Immersion.  Those options were ours to raise our kids with, and I sure don’t expect everyone to do things my way.  If there is one thing I hate, it’s unsolicited advice.

While I do think all Canadians who are able to should get the shot to avoid spreading it to others, especially those in the high risk groups, I have kept my mouth SHUT.  That is my opinion and I’m entitled to it, but you don’t see me telling everyone and their mother that.

Because how much do you hate it when someone tells you how to live your life?  take care of your kids?  handle a situation?  That’s what I thought.

Now I gotta go make some rugrats well.  Wish me luck!

What’s the last piece of unsolicited advice you got?  How did you handle it?

This morning I read the story of a 13 year old boy, who was otherwise healthy, who died from Swine Flu on Monday night.  Evan Frustaglio played hockey, like Dylan.

I called Dylan’s cardiologist in the hopes of having him give me “the right answer” as to whether Dylan should have the H1N1 flu shot or not.  (Dylan had Kawasaki’s Disease as a baby and his story is here if you don’t know it.  He has gone from 2 to 1 aneurysm in his heart since I wrote that)  Of course most doctors in our litigious society will not tell you one way or the other if you should, but two of the major symptoms of swine flu that stuck in my mind are: a severe cough, and chest pain.

I can’t even tell you how much Dylan’s aneurysm scares the shit out of me on a normal day.  The threat of it rupturing is on my mind a lot more than I let on.  It’s not something I dwell on, just like I don’t dwell on the fact that my husband works with half a million volts on any given day.  Dylan leads a normal 10 year old’s life, plays full contact hockey, wants to play football, is active at school and at home. So why would a cough worry me so?

Well it’s the unknown, I suppose.

The cardiologist’s office said, “there is no reason for Dylan not to get the shot. It remains a personal decision.”

*sigh*

I’m not gonna lie to you.  I cried after that phone call.  I cried because for the first time, I truly did not know what was best for my kid. Even when we were 5 days in when he was sick with KD as an infant and the doctors thought they knew what was wrong with him, I knew what to do when they told me the possible diagnosis.

Like many parents today, I don’t know that this H1N1 flu shot is the best thing.  On the other hand, my instincts, however unscientific they are, tell me that this chest pain, severe cough, and any sort of respiratory trouble could be fatal.  I’m not a doctor but I really think this flu, this horrible piece of fucking shit swine flu, could kill my son.  I hate how worried everyone is.  I hate how scary it is.  I hate thinking the worst.  I hate that I feel guilty for adding Thomas to our Family Shot Roster to protect his brother.

I pulled myself together and called Granny.  I hate to cry on the phone to Granny because as much as she loves me, I sure don’t want to worry her but she is the closest thing to my Mom and well, I needed her.

I cried again after we hung up.  She didn’t know what to do either. She tried to comfort me but she really had no answers, even for herself and Papa.

Daren and I talked it out and decided the whole family would get the shot.  The fear of the flu attacking our already vulnerable son was outweighing the fear of the unknown with this shot.  My instincts were strong in that direction though not certain, but they’re been right so many times before.

The kids and I stood in line at the only local H1N1 shot clinic I was aware of, for nearly 3 hours, and only the kids qualified for this round of shots.  The clinic was for high risk people, 65 and older, and 3 month – 5 year old children.  (I will have to see my doctor (I have the appointment) and Daren can get the shot at work.)

A volunteer came by with a clipboard and asked, “What are we doing here today?”

I pointed to Thomas and said, “Well, he’s 5,” and the man checked off the box for his age group. “and this guy,” I said as I put my arm around Dylan’s shoulders, “has an aneurysm in his heart.”

The man checked off  ‘Heart Disease,’ and handed me the clipboard.  I bit my lip to fight back tears as I filled out the rest of the boys’ information and prayed.

I could tell you how I nearly cried yet again when Thomas lost all the colour in his face once the nurse poked him with the needle. How worried I’ve been since they got their shots. How I have been watching them non-stop all evening, checked on them at least 5 times since bedtime and how worried I am that they both have headaches, are sweating (but not feverish) and how I fought back more tears just now when Thomas cried out in his sleep and looked so so sad and tiny in his bed.

I doubt I will sleep tonight.  I won’t be able to, watching my sons sleep, listening to their breathing.  I’m worried beyond any normal day, any normal night.  Beyond the aneurysm, beyond scrapes and bruises, beyond hard hits in hockey and wrestling on the lawn.  It was very difficult to look in their trusting eyes and know for certain that I did the right thing.

Oh how I hope I did.

I know this is a touchy subject and that many parents are scared.  Many more are certain of their decision and have very strong opinions one way or another.  While I’m interested to hear your stories of how you came to your decision for your family, what I don’t want to hear is any sort of disrespect in the comments on the matter.  It’s a tough enough decision without being criticized for it, and what works for one family might not be right for another.  Thanks for your co-operation.

Still practicing on the Sony Alpha 330 – a DSLR I lust after. (It’s on loan from Sony and I love it.)

This post is about something that took me by surprise while I was there.

Thursday morning, after many arrangements had been made, Daren and I drove in the dark a half hour to the airport.  The scent of toothpaste and coffee swirling through the car, we sat close and still as the night air enveloped us.  His decision to take me to the airport himself was a little odd.  He normally lets me handle all the logistics and often times I’m left with a maxed out credit card due to the good ol’ fashioned ass raping of airport parking charges.

We spoke quietly here and there, but mostly it was a silent ride.  I sneaked glances at my husband in the dark as the occasional oncoming car lit up the silhouette of his face.  I reached my hand across the seat and set it on his lap.  Instinctively, he placed his hand over mine and I turned mine over to curl my fingers through his.  We’d done this a million times, on nearly every car ride we’d ever taken.

As I felt his warm hand squeeze mine, I became a little sad.  Sure I was excited to go on this vacation, but I really wished he could come with me.

We arrived at the airport and spent not enough time saying goodbye.  He would be late for work had I kept him any longer.  Normally I’m so excited to go where I’m going and caught up in the actual plans that those goodbyes leave him pining pretty hard for me, but this time I didn’t want to leave him.  I didn’t want to walk away from his warmth, his lips, those arms around me.

It hurt.  I ached.

Regardless of my silly girlhood crush on my husband, I had to say goodbye to him, and did.

Fast forward to the day of Adam’s party and I was a bit of a wreck.  That morning had started off all wrong when I woke up with a little bit of a headache.  By the time we got to breakfast, I was really suffering despite having taken 2 different kinds of medication.  After breakfast I took more pills and we headed to the craft store for supplies for our costumes.  (This is the part where I have to simply say Dave is a creative genius and explain in an actual party recap post later later.)

At some point during the craft store visit, I had to disappear to the ladies room.  The smiley pancake I had at IHOP felt like it was going to need an exorcism and I was so shaky I could barely function.  When I got back to the gang, they were asking me stuff and I was all dopey and could not focus.

I very nearly lost my shit in Jo-Anns.

There came a point where I had to make myself focus, God knows I’ve had enough of these stupid killer migraines that I know how to fake being normal.  I hit the cake decorating section to find a book for Dylan and my vision was so fucky it freaked me out.  It didn’t help that the lights were those super we-don’t-care-about-your-headache lights.  A number of times I thought I’d go down, but I mustered through.  I was even semi-bitchy to the cashier but she gave me 40% off despite that so yay.

Eventually we made it back to Hilly’s and I just laid on the couch in my jammies as Dave and Lisa worked on everyone’s costumes, bless their little hearts.  At one point Dave brought me a cool cloth (though he did tweet that he farted on it first, the bugger) and I think I passed out several times. p.s. Dave’s farts smell like rainbows and oxycontin.  So you know.

I really didn’t think I’d make it to Adam’s party.*

As I lay there, head pounding, all I wanted was Daren.  When I have a particularly bad migraine, he places his hand over my forehead and it truly feels better.  He rubs my back, snuggles, and I finally relax and fall asleep in his arms.  Lately I can’t get enough time with him because of his work and in those hours all I wanted was him.  So badly.

I can’t really describe that physical feeling other than it being an ache.  That ache lives in my arms, my back, my legs.  I needed his arms wrapped around me so badly, I hurt.  I needed that hand on my forehead.  We’ve been married 11+ years and even though it seems like forever, the whole time we’ve been married it’s felt new. Fresh. Easy.  We fit.  If I told you any more about this marriage, you probably wouldn’t believe me.  And that’s okay because I kinda like having this secret awesomeness that’s just him and I, yanno?

This whole achey thing is only weird because usually when I go away (or he does), I’m fine.  Sure I miss him but the physical aches?  Nah.  Though we’ve never been apart more than a week.

When he picked me up at the airport Sunday night, I could barely contain myself.  I had a stupid grin on my face as I walked out of the tiny airport and to my car where he was standing.  He opened the back hatch of my wagon and our boys, fresh from car slumber, turned around to see me kiss their father.

My heart really does soar at the thought of Daren.  My stomach flops when I know he is minutes from home.  I feel tingly when I know he is seconds from my lips.  The man fills my soul with everything he’s got.  I know, we’re so in love it’s totally gross.

There are more important things in life than updating my status. I don’t need the validation from friends and family that I’m a good mom (I am) or that I’m funny (I am) or my recent picture makes me look like a princess or some shit (it does).

Seriously, I really don’t.

For a long time I hung onto FB to distribute pictures of the kids to family but then I end up sending a separate email to Papa because he isn’t on Facebook and that’s just one more silly step because the old man says “Facebook sends me too many emails and then I’m on there for an hour and I wonder where my whiskey went.  So I quit.”

Truer words were never spoken. Not that I drink whiskey at 9 a.m., but yanno.

It’s a Huge Time Suck, as everybody says.  One more thing to check on my iPhone or laptop. One more thing to irk me when someone says something particularly douchey or is bragging so hard I’m sure their head will explode. One more thing to deter me from my focus for the day. The fact of the matter is, I don’t care what you’re doing, and you probably don’t care what I’m doing either, right? (It’s okay, I don’t expect you to care what I’m doing, really I don’t.)

If you really care that much, you’ll email me or phone me like in the olden days. You know, in like 2004.

And if I am focused on work or whatever, I’ll call you back when I can.  Also like the olden days.  Nobody is that important that they can’t wait.  Except Granny.

I think we’ve lost sight of communicating with the most important people in our lives. I kept Facebook for family, but the family members I’m closest to?  We talk nearly every day on the phone. While I realize some people find Facebook to be an easier form of communication, I much prefer talking with the people I love. I’d much rather spend time with those people in person than get a comment on my status that talks about my kid or my garden or how much I hate pickles, yanno?

See also: Where did privacy go?

I could write scads about oversharing, and hell yes, I’m guilty of it at times (oh hai, you’re HERE.  AT MY BLAWG.)  This generation seems to think every wipe of their ass is post-worthy and goodness knows us bloggers are a narcissistic bunch.  Sure, there are great stories and morals to be had on blogs, and Great Gobs of Gigabytes I love me some blogs, but mostly, this generation is building up a mountain of used toilet paper smeared with snippets from their daily life that really isn’t all that news-worthy.  It’s shit.  Utter shit.

Is this heaping pile of shit going to matter in 10 years?  Does the world really need to know you have chlamydia or that your wife swallowed something she shouldn’t have?  No, no, and Good God, NO.

As for Twitter, that’s something I can take or leave on any given day. I have left for days and no one has really noticed except closest friends. It’s like a little party you can jump into whenever you feel like it and I like doing that, but that too has it’s downfalls and rabbit holes. Click someone’s link, then one of their commenters links, pretty soon you’re an hour in and you have no idea who drank your whiskey.