My Husband’s Achiles Heal

Mar 17, 2008

Here’s a funny little story from our weekend trip for

There’s not much that a big Brazilian boy is afraid of. Gilberto has masses of muscle, has never backed down from a fight, and doesn’t take danger too seriously (the stories he tells about what he and his brother did while growing up make the hair on the back of my neck stand straight on end). But on Saturday night I saw him cower in fear for the first time.

The Aunt that we stayed with ended up dog sitting her son’s two pitbulls that night. They are VERY protective of the family, so she wanted us to to let her know right before we got back for the evening so she could corral the dogs and introduce us slowly.

I passed with flying colors, but as soon as the bigger dog saw Gilberto, he lunged, and emitted the most terrifying growl I have ever heard. I tell you, I would NOT want to be a burglar in that house. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Gilberto snap his legs together and hunch over, one leg slightly off the ground, toes pointing inward. An instinctual move to save the family jewels.

I teased Gilberto as my Uncle took the dogs into the living room, because we had been warned that the dogs have quite the bark, but not so much bite. I didn’t realize how shaken up he was until we got into the bedroom, and I had to convince him to go out and watch TV since he wasn’t ready to go to bed yet. I’ve never seen him so nervous!

A few minutes later he came running back into the room. The dogs wouldn’t stop growling at him and he was scared to death.

Me: It’s fine! They won’t bite you.

Gilberto: It’s not fine! They’re trying to eat me! I’ll just go to bed with you.

I couldn’t talk him into going back out. Though at that point I was thinking that maybe him being in hiding wasn’t such a bad idea.

In the middle of the night Gilberto woke me up.

Gilberto: Do you think it’s okay to go to the bathroom? I’ve got to pee SO bad and I can’t hold it anymore.

Me: Yes, it’s safe. The dogs are locked in my Aunt’s room.

Gilberto left, but two seconds later I look up to see him stumbling back into the room (it was pretty dark), followed by two barking dogs. He shut the door just as the big dog thumped against it.

Gilberto: They’re trying to get me!

Me: What?

Gilberto: I went into the hallway and then saw these white teeth snarling at me from the end of the hall. Luckily I was close enough to the door that when they ran at me, I was able to escape! They’re trying to get in through the door!

Me: Listen, that’s my Uncle getting the dogs. Go ahead and go to the bathroom.

Gilberto: I don’t have to go anymore. They scared the sensation right out of me.

In the morning I got up with Gabi and forgot to close the bedroom door. The dogs had gotten out, and the big one went straight into our bedroom and stood inside the door growling at Gilberto. When he came out to join me in the living room, he asked me why I’d left the door open.

Me: I thought the dogs were in my Aunt’s bedroom. I’m so sorry!

Gilberto: Do you have any idea what it’s like to wake up to the sound of a dog ready to kill you? I thought it was the end! Your Aunt got to him just as I thought I’d have to get up and fight.

Me: They’re outside now. It’s okay, hon, you can relax now.

The rest of the morning, the big dog stood at the sliding glass door staring in at Gilberto and growling at him. And my big, bad husband stayed as far away from that door as possible.

It’s probably not such a great thing for my marriage that seeing my husband in such a vulnerable, frightened state made me laugh my arse off. Bless his heart. But in my defense, he was laughing with me. And we waited until we were safely in the car and away from danger.

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Phoenix

Mar 13, 2008

We are heading to Phoenix tonight. We like to drive overnight because Gabis sleeps and doesn’t have to be entertained while strapped in her car seat for 6 hours.

My dad is one of six kids, and only two of them left the big city (including him). So I have a rather large extended family in the Phoenix area.

When my dad, stepmom and little sister come down to the Lower 48, that’s where they head, and we drive over to meet them.

Since they live in Alaska we don’t get to see them very often, so I’m really looking forward to this weekend. Plus, I get to show off Gabi to the family!

I’m not sure if I’ll have access to the Internet while I’m there, so no more posting until Monday.

I’m anticipating serious withdrawals.

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In Case I’m Ever Mugged By A Swarm Of Five Year Olds

Mar 13, 2008

Sweet!

18

Bring it on, kiddos.

(The questionnaire to find out how well prepared I am to fight off a five year old was hilarious)

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The Accidental Washing

Mar 13, 2008

Gabi still wears pull-ups when she goes to bed.

She wakes up dry 99% of the time, but she says she’s just not ready to wear underwear for night night yet, and we need to wait until she’s a little bit older.

A few weeks ago I forgot to replenish the pull-up supply and when bedtime came, alas, no pull-ups. We tried to convince her to try underwear, and bless her little heart, she tried. But she kept doing these weird little body convulsions and crying out, “It feels funny! It doesn’t feel right! I just can’t do it, mommy!” When she found the previous night’s dry pull-up, all was well once again in the Kay household. After all the histrionics, it took less than a minute for her to fall asleep.

So I continue to dole out for the pull-ups.

And last night I accidentally washed one.

Why oh why can’t I be free of the diaper/pull-up phase?

There is nothing quite as deflating as going to switch a load of laundry and realizing there is mounds of gel-like slimy goo all over everything. I had already thrown a bit of the clothes into the dryer, so I had to clean out both of the machines. It was quite a lengthy process. And I think in the midst of feeling sorry for myself I forgot to feed Gabi dinner (but I guess if she was hungry she would’ve said something, right?).

First I had to clean out the slimy goo. Then run the washing machine on a short cycle without any clothes. Then shake out all the clothes that had been washed with the goo and rewash them (I found what was left of the pull-up inside a pair of pajama bottoms). Then, finally, get down on my hands and knees to pick up each itty bitty piece of slimy goo from the floor, because using a broom just smears it around.

And that gel-like goo is so gross to the touch! I got it all over my clothes and I even managed to get a bit in my hair.

When I was done I plopped down on the couch and sighed in resignation to the messiness of motherhood. It just never ends! Even when the pull-ups are gone, there will still be messes that consume my time.

I already know that I’m going to cloth diaper with the next baby. I should have done it with Gabi considering my stance on natural parenting. It’s better for the environment, better for the baby’s skin, and it won’t get gel-like slimy goo all over everything. That’s one future potential mess maker averted.

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Just Shoot Me Now

Mar 11, 2008

I am NOT fond of bugs.

I understand that they’re a very important part of the ecosystem and circle of life and whatnot, but I prefer to maintain a definite bug-free zone around my body. I call it my bubble. The bugs, they need to respect my bubble. Otherwise they will be forcibly removed by death.

It really would be great if my bubble was like an invisible forcefield that pushed all the bugs out of my way as I moved around, so I wouldn’t have mini heart attacks whenever one got too close. It could also keep out kids that like to jump on you out of nowhere and husbands that smell. But as it is, it takes sweat equity to keep my bubble bug-free.

Whenever there’s a spider in the house, I do what most sane women do and scream for my husband to come rescue me. Ever since I had a spider JUMP on me (right after my friend said, “You should probably move out from under that spider in case it jumps on you.”), I freeze up when I see one, afraid that even the slightest movement will alert it to my presence. Though I’m not afraid to move my lips to yell.

I was also bitten by a Brown Recluse on my last night in Guatemala. I got really sick and had to take three different drugs to stop the the spread of dead skin. It was gruesome. I would have taken a picture of the wound, as it was kind of funny that you could see plain as day the two teethe marks, all black and indented and surrounded my a huge red welt. But it was on my ass. Yeah, that was a fun ER visit.

Nurse: Okay, now strip from the waist down and put on this gown. The Dr will be in to see you soon.

Me: My underwear too?

Nurse: Yes, hon. How else is he supposed to see your bite?

Me: Well, allright.

The doctor enters and has me lay on my stomach, my entire backside feeling the breeze.

Dr: Wow! That’s some bite! Hey Arnie, come over here and take a look at this! The skin atrophy is quite extensive. We’d better get meds in her immediately. Hey Betty, you’d better come see this, too!

A little bit later, after I’ve been administered my first round of meds

Dr: Hey, I brought a few other doctors with me to see your bite. Can you please show us your butt again?

Me: Um, okay.

Dr: Thanks! I’ll be back again soon with everyone from the 2nd floor. It’s not often we see a bite as bad as this!

So that experience pretty much solidified my disdain for most multi-legged creatures.

Gilberto, having grown up in the land of all things creepy crawly, has a soft spot for bugs. Especially the ones here in the States that don’t look nearly as harmful as the super scary kind we see in Brazil. I would prefer he kill them so that they can’t return (if it found it’s way in once, it might try to retrace its steps). But I guess it’s okay that he gently takes them outside in his hands, as long as they’re out of my house.

It makes me wonder a bit how helpful he’s going to be when we move to Brazil. He might just tell me it’s futile to try and rid my bubble of bugs, and arm me with a broom. This terrifies me, because there is some SCARY stuff down there. Lots of poisonous or disease ridden stuff that can kill you. The obvious being spiders and snakes.

But today I read something pretty disturbing on Adventures of a Gringa in Rio.

Did you know that there are poisonous caterpillars? Caterpillars here in the States are cute and fluffy and turn into butterflies. In Brazil, they make you hemorrhage and die.

This is what I have to look forward to when we move to Brazil.

I can feel my brain turning to mush just THINKING about it. Without Gilberto by my side to identify all the lethal bugs, I might get myself into some serious trouble. Even with my broom.

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