BRAINPAN LEAKAGE

So here’s the thing… Our kid has an addiction. It’s pretty severe, and unfortunately there doesn’t seem to be much we can do about it.  No amount of threatening to take her Nintendo DS away, or confining her to her room has any effect whatsoever. We’ve considered therapy, but it seems our insurance won’t cover it. Yes… It’s that horrible addiction.

Our child is a fruitaholic.

Now, in order to feed the child’s habit, I am forced to make frequent trips to the local supermarket. You see, she goes through fresh fruit faster than it can… well… become not fresh.

Bunch of bananas? Gone. Bag of apples? Gone. Bag of oranges? Gone… And right on down the line. In fact, up until recently the only thing of a fruit orientation I have been able to bring home that didn’t immediately disappear is grapefruit. As it happens, I love grapefruit. Problem is, now the kid does too. My only saving grace at this point is she likes it supremed (meaning, the bitter, tough, membrane removed,) just like I do, but she hasn’t quite figured out how to accomplish that just yet. Of course, that just means I get stuck doing it for her…

But, let’s not get too far off track. This is, after all, a story about E K.

You see, since the offspring goes through fruit faster than a bad case of blight, we tend to keep canned fruit around as well. Of course, being the health conscious folks we are, we go for the no sugar added, packed in natural juices sort of canned fruit. It still isn’t as good as fresh fruit, but it’s a damn sight better than all that heavy syrup or aspartame.

And so, this brings us around to E K.

It had only been about 24 hours since my “Day Of Retribution” for the “Gimme Mai Shooz” blog entry. I was now using a walker to hold myself up in my three-fourths body cast, while dragging an IV stand around with me, and having my dressings changed hourly.  Obviously, I wasn’t moving very fast. Unfortunately, the offspring was experiencing one of her sudden needs for fruit, and the little monkey had already consumed all of the fresh produce in the house. (On a side note, I wish I had her metabolism. I drink a cup of black coffee and put on 3 pounds. She eats a bag of oranges and it’s all good. *sigh* )

But, I digress again…

The kid needed some fruit and though we were all out of fresh, we had some canned stuff in the cabinet. Since my nurse, Brunhilda, had already left for the day, I had no one to help me situate all the tubes and wires from the life support equipment attached to my walker, so I was moving exceptionally slow. In an uncharacteristic fit of pity, E K told me she would take care of it, and then darted off to the kitchen.

Well, you know how E K is in the kitchen. I’ve told you all before… So, suffice it to say, I just continued shuffling my way through the house in that direction. Something in the back of my head told me that it was the right thing to do.

Since turtles were lumbering past me like little green, hardtop Porche 911’s , it took me a while to get to the doorway. I wasn’t really surprised when I scooted around the corner to find E K  struggling with a can of fruit. The same can of fruit she had been struggling with for several minutes, and the can was apparently winning.

“What’s the hold up?” I asked. “The offspring is in there eating the Ficus.”

E K shot me one of those looks that was a mix of, “help me, it’s not my fault, shut up, damn you, my hero, help me, if you say anything I’ll kick that walker right out from under you and dance on your head!, help me dammit!, go away dammit! Gaaahahhhhahahhhh!!!“.

Yeah, I know… That’s an awful lot to get from a single glance, but she can be pretty damned expressive when she wants to be. I think it’s the red hair and the blue eyes that do it.

I didn’t say anything, lest I end up back in the hospital. I simply shuffled over to the island and watched as she went back to struggling with a can of sliced pears and a manual can opener. After several more languid moments of The Evil One attempting to massacre the top of the tin receptacle she let out a frustrated sigh, plonked the can opener down on the counter, then slid the can over to me. She stuttered, “I… well… I did…” Then she pointed at the can and let out another exasperated huff.

I looked at the can.

Then I looked at her.

Then I looked at the can.

Then I looked at her.

She stared at me with the whole, “Don’t make me kill you” expression on her face. Then, just to be certain I understood, she said, “Don’t make me kill you.”

Balancing myself with the walker, I reached out, picked up the can, then slipped my finger through the pull tab on top and peeled the lid open. Yeah… You read that correctly. E K was trying to open a pull tab can with a can opener. In her defense it had been a long day, and she had a lot of things going on that were keeping her a bit distracted in the brainpan. Still… it was a pull tab can and she was gouging the living hell out of it with a can opener. There was humor there. Bizarre, laugh out loud humor.

But, I knew better. I didn’t laugh out loud. No, I was good. For a few seconds anyway. You see, as I sat the can back on counter I looked at her and said, “You know, this is blog material, right?”

She smirked, then began filling a bowl for the offspring. That was an imperative since the child was about to eat all of our house plants. As she spooned sliced pears into a dish she mumbled, “That’s just mean.”

“Yeah,” I acknowledged. “Maybe… But you have to admit, it’s funny.”

“No, it’s just mean,” she replied, then added, “But nowhere near as mean as I’m going to be if you blog about this…”

I have Brunhilda’s number on speed dial, and the medical supply place is going to leave the life support equipment here on sort of a semi-permanent rental basis, just in case.

I wonder if they have free Wi-Fi at the hospital?

More to come…

Murv

I don’t know if any of you caught the recent news report about this. It was one of the feature stories on The Early Show, and since I like to sit and ogle Julie Chen and Maggie Rodriguez every now and then it’s a program I catch on a regular basis. (Just kidding, I don’t really ogle them. They are both very easy on the eyes, though, I can’t deny that.)

Anyway, as it happens, just the other day they had a feature about Marriage, Relationships, and Intimacy in the wake of starting a family. Basically, some University did a study – probably with our tax dollars if I had to guess – and came up with the conclusion that better than 90% of the time,  once a couple has a kid, intimacy and moreover sex within the adult relationship declines dramatically. They even pointed out that this happens most especially within the first couple of years.

No shit… You know, I never would have figured that out without their help. I mean, it’s not like you suddenly aren’t getting any sleep, or that your whole life doesn’t hinge solely on the well being of this screaming poop machine.  Or that your wife is now in the land of unbalanced hormones and will be for a while. Had they never done this study I’m afraid I might have wandered aimlessly through the rest of my life, always wondering why such things happen.

Okay… That’s enough sarcasm from me for the time being.

So anyway, they talked to some guy with a pile of letters behind his name who is billed as a relationship expert. He was the co-author of the book to the left there… Hmmm… I think the cover artist must have been looking in E Kay’s closet for inspiration or something… But, I digress… I’ll admit, I haven’t actually read this particular book, but I did read one of his other self-help missives – She Comes First. It’s a tome geared toward helping men please their mates in the… you know… bedroom. I read it because I’m all about doing whatever I can to please the E K. It tends to reduce the number of beatings I have to endure, and stuff like that.

However, with regard to She Comes First, let’s just say some of the things in it frightened me. Quite a bit. Not all of them by any means, but there were a few… And, I’m married to Satan in High Heels, so I’m not easily frightened. Okay, I’ll be honest; they didn’t really “frighten” me per se. They did, however, make me go “ewwwww!” At any rate, I won’t go into details, but… ummm… well… ’nuff said… shudder… ewwwwww!… Okay, now ’nuff said.

Anywho, they were talking to him about the Love In The Time Of Colic book – (that I am inadvertently advertising for him… aww hell, maybe he and/or HarperCollins will return the favor) – but, back to the story, one of the things he went on to outline is that couples have to make time for one another, do the date night thing, give each other 20 second long hugs – (Where 20 seconds came from I dunno… Probably all that research is my guess. E K and I usually go for a 2 or 3-minute hug, but then we love each other and all that silliness so we can actually endure physical contact that lasts longer than 20 seconds.)

And, of course, there was also the whole thing about the S word… Yeah, S E X.

Okay… I’ll fess up… We had ourselves another “no shit, Sherlock” moment right then and there. But, to be fair, maybe we are just a bit more well adjusted and free thinking than some other folks and some of this stuff simply hasn’t dawned on them. Therefore, I’m not going to put the guy or his work down. If it helps someone out there, rock on. It’s just that the concepts seemed like no brainers to the Evil One and me.

Still, E K was in a semi-jocular mood… So, as this interview and feature aired, and she was preparing to leave for work, she came over to hug me and started counting aloud – One… Two… Three… Four…

Okay… I guess you had to be there. Trust me, it was funny at the time. Really… It was…

But, moving right along… We had both been chit chatting about this report, pretty much making comments at the TV much like the comments I made above. I did, however, mention to The Evil Redhead that I thought we had handled things fairly well, both throughout the munchkin’s infancy and now with her being an almost tween who demands a lot of attention. I also pointed out that a few good hugs shared between the two of us definitely did make my day complete.

She agreed… Well, I suppose I should say I think she agreed. Her reply was kind of one of those E K grumbling, “Yeah, okay, whatever, now fetch my things out to the car then kiss my feet, lackey,” sort of comments.

Still, even with the grumbling, since she seemed to be in a good mood I then mentioned the more intimately physical aspect of things. Of course, since our offspring happened to be sitting right there staring at the TV, I tried to do it on the sly – How would I do that, you ask? Simple – I said, “And besides the hugs, there’s the whole S-E-X thing.”

Yeah… I spelled out the word… Yeah… Yeah… I know. Our kid is nine, gifted, reads at a level way beyond her years, and has a vocabulary that outshines some high school students I’ve met.  Just bear with me for a second… There really was a method to my madness.

Of course, E K looked at me like I was a blithering idiot, looked at the kid, then back at me – once again like I was an idiot – and then shook her head and said, “Why did you spell it?”

“The kid,” I replied.

“She can spell, you know that.”

“Yeah, but I’m counting on the fact that she’s half asleep and drooling at the TV,” I replied. (For the record, it was Good Friday so the kid was off school.)

E K snickered and said, “Yeah, right.”

“What did you just spell, daddy?” the kid asked out of the clear blue, not breaking her zombie-like stare from the television screen.

“Excess,” I replied without missing a beat.

She mumbled, “Oh… Okay…”

I knew my ploy had been a bit of a gamble, but luck was on my side and it had worked. I looked back at E K in triumph, but she just scowled and cocked her eyebrow. My momentary elation instantly came crashing back to the ground in a crumpled heap.

You see, Her Majesty, The Queen Bitch Of The Whole Fucking Universe, Missouri Chapter, doesn’t like losing, especially if it involves her being wrong and me being…well…not wrong. Even if my “not wrongness” is purely out of luck or even a fortuitous accident. Moreover, not only had I seen that evil look before, unfortunately I knew exactly what it meant.

Seems I’ll be doing without any excess for a while…

More to come…

Murv