Monday, June 30, 2008

Barfy McBarfington

I know you all are dying to know about the weekend, but let me just tell you that it ended prematurely with an early morning phone call...sickness had struck...and we had to get the kids.

Ever since we got home on Sunday, we have had sick people. Me, baby, hubby was sick on Saturday at the conference, and my 6 yo daughter was sick this morning too. AAAHHHHH!

Can I just tell you all that I am SO sick of sick people. Myself included.

We have all had the flu at least 10 times (not exaggerating) since November. This has been the worst year we have ever had for this sort of thing (Knock on wood)...and I would love to know what we are doing wrong.

What the heck is causing the repeated bouts of this stuff? We take vitamins. We keep things clean enough around here...not perfect, but not overbleached. We should still be leaving room for the healthy bacteria here.

What is going on?

And have I told all of you that I am not the most compassionate person when people are sick? You know, I think it is that germ thing. I don't want to get any on me...so, "um, I'm sorry you are sick, but stay away from me" is kind of my mantra. I don't like that I am that way, I just am. It is not that I don't care, it is that I get really uncomfortable.

At this point, if anyone knows of a Mr. Clean magic eraser for the gastrointestinal system, or maybe some liquid bleach like stuff that will microclean our insides...would you let me know? SOS pads for the colon? Clorox wands for the "lower east side"?

Lastly, does anyone have any barf cleaning tips that will allow one to clean up this dreaded stuff without heaving and gagging yourself? Because I am on the verge of needing to permanently clothespin my sniffer.

I am beginning to think we have some major parasites, and I am not referring to the 7 kids.

Calgon, take me away.

The Maid

Friday, June 27, 2008

Parting is such sweet sorrow....

Friends, Romans, Countrymen...

'Tis your glorious maid here...you know the one who puts an extra chocolate on your pillow.

(Hey, I didn't say that I wouldn't take a bite out of it first.)

Just checking in to say that I am off for a weekend retreat with the butler...oh, yes, we are hanging the do not disturb sign for sure! We are going to, uh hem, work on our marriage. It is a marriage retreat...and I hope we pass the test.

It has been 3 years since we have been in a hotel room alone with no kids for two nights! Woohoo!

I will talk with all of you precious people when I return. Hopefully I will learn something significant about the dear butler while we are away...like he loves to communicate and really wishes I wouldn't stop talking...or that he enjoys mopping and wishes he could do it every day.

Hmmm...and what will he learn about me? Well...that I really like to take a bath or shower ALONE and preferably without a cheek grab from him. And that I know the only reason his side of the sink is cleaner than mine is because he throws all of his junk on my side. Yep, I'm onto you buddy.

So when I return enlightened, about how we should control our emotions, share our lives with each other, and edify one another always...I would really like to find that one of you dear bloggers has sent a repairman to our home in our absence to repair our 55" Big Screen TV. (Nope, this isn't really ours...ours looked worse than that.)

(Don't ask me if I totally made the butler so mad that he threw a ladder through it, I will deny it. That is my story and I'm sticking to it. Really.)

While we are away learning how not to do that, could someone please undo all of the damage we have done to our kids along the way too? (Thanks Ruby and Elliot...you have your work cut out for you.) Whatever you can't undo, Oprah can capitalize on later.

Okay, so really we are not that bad...doesn't everyone have a trailer trash fight once every ten years? What I mean of course, is a girls gone wild kind of fight where clothes get torn or you have to break something to let it all out.

Spill it. You know you all have at least one juicy story...I am going to have a contest...yep...that's it. Leave me a comment while I'm gone detailing your great trailer trash fight story and when I return, I'll pick a winner with the help of the angry, I mean, loving butler.

Don't worry I won't send you a kid or a fish or something...it will be a great prize...something really practical...like all of the leftover candy bars my kids didn't sell or something. (Giggle.)

Have a great weekend,

The gentle and quiet Maid. (Believe that and boy do I have some great swamp land for sale.)


Disclaimer #1: No butlers or maids were harmed in the writing of this blog. The ladder through the tv story is shared with exclusive verbal permission from the butler himself, he only asks that you not call him the angry butler. He is, after all, a musician (drummer) and you all know what musicians can do to a hotel room. Hee Hee.

Disclaimer #2: If you are living in, haved lived in, or ever plan to live in a trailer, please do not be offended by the term trailer trash. We have lived in trailers more than once, so we are highly qualified. If you are trailer trash, please know that it is simply a term of endearment...yeah, that's it. And lastly, if you are a girl gone wild, please know that the butler and I will be praying for you. Please put your shirt back on and get off of the keg.