Tuesday, March 11, 2008

A Day in the Life of a Wounded Crow - Volume 8

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An ode to a long night should be the surname of this post, but I like crazier titles. Last night I was sleep walking my way through work and was looking forward to getting home and sleeping. Sunday I had basically threatened to eat my own body weight in chicken fried steak {birthday dinner yanno?} and had come pretty close to doing so. It’s about the only real pleasure I have in getting a year older is that I can eat whatever the hell I want without too many people getting on my case about it. The disadvantage is I rarely get any sympathy for being an old Alka Seltzer commercial {I can’t believe I ate the whoooooole thing …} when my body decides to get revenge on me the next day. Oh well, life goes on.

Ravaging through my e-mail {since I have felt like writing a lot more lately} I ran between the bathroom and the computer for about 30 minutes before I could actually get into bed and watch the remains of “Tim Gunn’s Guide to Fashion” {I’m not gay damnit!} and hopefully let the Tylenol PM take me. The pounding on the door was the only thing that stopped this brilliant plan, as the good Captain {ADHD} was barking to me between hurls, “Dad … I’m … Sick …” and unfortunately it woke me up. Opening the door simply brought the amazing stench of vomit {nothing smells as bad as puke!} that covered the other side of the door strait to my nostrils, and under the guise of “concerned father” I was able to run to the bathroom and get rid of what was left of the chicken fried steak from the night before.

In this case there are advantages and disadvantages of dealing with a 3 and a half foot genius, and it is often complicated by the fact that I was felling no better than he was and had to compensate for that. The trick is to keep him up to speed with how adults would deal with the situation, and he usually thrives under the stimulus of learning something. Now all we need is an adult, and it would all be simple huh? In the absence of an actual adult it is time for me to fool him into thinking that I am one, and here is how I did it.

I took his waste basket, and filled the bottom of it with trash liners. Placed it beside his bed and explained to him that when he threw up he would need to finish up and then throw the bag away in the big trash can up in my office, then replace the bag. My thinking was that nobody is going to feel any better repeatedly sticking their head in a bin full of smelly puke. I gave him a cool washcloth and told him to wash his face off afterwards and I took him into the bathroom and showed him how to rinse it out afterwards. I gave him a can of {caffeine free} Pepsi and told him to drink about a quarter of the can each time afterwards. Explained how it would get the taste out of his mouth and the carbon dioxide, and sugar would help him when he threw up again {and explained that he would but it is just getting rid of it all} and by this time {you guessed it} he was bored to tears and ready to fall asleep.

Now as I had said before, he went to school and I was surprised to even know he had. I had instructed him to tell his grandmother that he should just stay home. Apparently he was a little trooper and felt that he should go to school, and as always I didn’t see the real reason that he had gone to school until it was upon me. The really hot secretary at the school walked up to me {yeah, me, strait out of bed, hair in knots, pillow marks on my face from the drool, eye boogers for all I know} with a doe-like look on her face telling me about how the Captain had explained to her how “Daddy” had taken care of him the night before. This is something that he does when he learns something “adult like” as he goes around and tells anyone and everyone about it. His hot as all hell teacher was in the nurse’s office to tell me this, and the school nurse {not hot, very old} was complimenting me on my approach the night before.

For anyone new to this type of Superdaddydrama, this is a typical school type moment for me. I walk in there taking care of some sort of catastrophe {usually caused by Captain ADHD, but Imtoocutus is starting to catch up} looking my absolute worst, feeling like crap, frustrated, unable to conduct myself in a civilized manner, and somehow getting Single Daddy sympathy from women who hate their own husband or ex husband. The “Oooo distressed male” factor wears off so I ignore it optimally. I have assumed over the years that after the veil of interest and sympathy wears off, what is left is the memory that I looked like crap and probably smelled bad. It works best that way, and fortunately with Lazius Boycrazius in High School I don’t have to worry about the child that actually was actively trying to fix me up with all of the women around the school anymore. It’s not cool anymore at that age, and the school doesn’t call me up and make me come in for every little thing.

It wasn’t even that easy realistically because this also happened to be Town elections day, so on top of all of the usual school people I had to walk through looking like hell, I had to deal with all of the people that had nothing better to do than vote on zoning, and tax planning referendums. I figured that while I was there I might as well go in and vote “No” to everything with the good Captain there to possibly learn something as well. We stood in line while he explained to everyone how daddy taught him to be sick properly, until they handed me the 5 {yes 5, five, cinco, V} freaking ballots full of questions about retirement home zoning and taxes. I’m pretty sure that the only thing he learned was colorful Saxony words for stupid ballot questions, as I scribbled in the “No” dots as fast as I could. There is nothing worse than 65 retirement home referendums on a ballot either because it means that angry AARP members are all over the place acting like hooligans.

I took this opportunity to point out to the Captain that daddy always votes “No” on these things because no matter what you give them they are never happy. He seemed to understand that really easily thanks to the dynamic spectacle, so it wasn’t a complete waste of an afternoon. There is only one retirement home in my town, and the biggest of the referendums is a bill to take the oldest horse farm in the state {had 2 Kentucky Derby winners} away from the owner by eminent domain because they don’t like the noise. There was another one wanting to change the classification of the town law that 150 feet of land in front of the home must be protected {thus meaning that the street has to be at least 150 from the front of the circular driveway in front of the building and that area must be covered in grass} to be 250 feet. This would mean that the building across the street {the home of the owners of the horse farm} would have to be torn down and the road would have to be moved to behind where the building stood. In other words, this is all most likely going to happen because the average person doesn’t care enough to vote on these things, but the AARP types will be there. His poor little brain will probably never recover from the damage I did to it today explaining these referendums to him, but for some strange reason he thinks it was a good day spending time with his daddy. ;8o)

Other Crap This Weirdo Publishes... Mental Notes & Random Musings {Daily Blog} The Crow's Nest {The Homepage of Jeremy Crow} Jeremy Crow on Multiply {For Community Types} Blogaholics Anonymous {E-Mail Blogging Group} Itching For Coffee {Community Blog}

Nothing that was printed here was intended to offend anyone, and if it did, screw ya, you begged for it. If you believe that there are some measures that can be taken to change me, then please feel free to pray for me, and while you are at it yourself, because you read this far, and if you hated every minute of it, then you are an idiot, not me, or the other people who like what I have to say! .. Jeremy

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