"Mrs. Pammer? This is Rhonda. Can you come pick up Benjamin? We have him here in the office. He has 100.7 fever."

Right. Of course he does.

I get there and he's running around and smiling and clapping. Because that's what you do when you're sick, right?

Right.

But He of Mountainously High Pain Tolerance shows no signs of "sick" or "pain". Ever. That oughta come in REALLY handy later, right?

Right.

Off to the pedi we got to discover what we all knew -- a secondary ear infection. Fantastic!

If you need me, I'll be playing Thomas the Tank Engine and watching Noggin.

But then there's the penis. Well, not YOUR penis, per se. But HIS penis. And his absolute and complete love affair for it.

There just aren't words.

I have a lot of penis in my life. Benjamin is fascinated with it and ever since he started wearing Big Boy Underwear (Thomas the Tank Engine and Cars ONLY thankyouverymuch) he has a LOT of access to it. And really? There are days where he'd just as soon not wear pants so he and his little helmeted BFF can hang out together.

For instance. Benjamin and I had spent the day together because it was parent/teacher conference day at his school. We were, without a doubt that day, a little sick of each other. I had a lot to do and he was a little cranky that day for whatever reason and OMG the whining. By the time Husband came home and we finished dinner and for the GAFRILLIONTH time told the kids to STOP WHINING OMFG I was in desperate need of a bath.

That's all I wanted. A bath. 20 minutes of quiet for the love of G-d.

Husband was kind enough to allow me those 20 minutes and I'm pretty sure I turned on my heels and sprinted to the bathroom. I hadn't been in the lavender bubbles more than 8 minutes before little hands turned the knob to the bathroom door and Benjamin came walking in announcing he had to go potty.

The potty room is behind the bathtub, so I didn't actually see him wander in. I merely sighed and said, "Okay, buddy. Be sure to push you penis down..."

See what I mean about All Penis All the Time around here?

I heard the potty flush and Benjamin announced, "I'm done!"

"Great, buddy. Close the door to the bathroom after you wash your hands." And I went back to reading whatever mindless magazine article was in front of me.

But then out of the corner of my eye I noticed he was standing next to the tub.

"I have a pretty penis, Mommy."

HUH?! Yeah, that'll make you turn your head, won't it? So I did. And I found that Benjamin had laid his penis on the apron of the tub lovingly. And was petting it. About 2 inches from MY FACE.

You would think this might have unnerved me. Well, a little. But I can't say I was surprised. I just turned my head back to my magazine and said, "Yes, buddy. It is a lovely penis... DADDY!!?!! Could you come in here for a moment PLEASE?!!"

It's a good thing Husband wasn't drinking anything when he walked in. I'm not sure he'll ever forget that sight as long as he lives.

Boys. Gotta love 'em.

And a healthy dose of Rachmaninov.

I'll be back soon.

Oh, how I wish I could. Today Benjamin and I went to the pediatrician because his level of Hot last night was sort of Inferno-ish and might have unnerved Husband a bit. And, well, that's what you do when 3 year olds are sick, right? You take them to the doctor's office where EVERYONE is sick.

I hate that place. I always want to wear a gas mask and Hazmat suit and take a shower a la Silkwood after we're done which is NEVER FAST ENOUGH.

Anyhoo.

Benjamin typically loves the doctor. Because they give him Thomas stickers there. Somehow the stickers make him instantly forget the poking or stabbing or prodding that went on the 7 minutes before that moment.

And today was FULL of poking - full of JAMMING, really. They jammed two very long Q-tip looking doodads squarely up his nose and one squarely down his throat. He was thrilled. Luckily the nurse was very skilled, if a bit socially awkward, and it was over quickly. He sneezed about 97 times afterwards and blew snot all up and down my arm and HOW I don't have this pestilence after what he's flung at me the past few days I WILL NEVER KNOW.

Turns out he has (drumroll, please...) H1N1. A mild case. We were given Tamiflu, but I'm using it as he was literally running, singing and dancing all day long and had all of one dose of Motrin. I'm thinkin' Day Two of Piggy Pestilence is fine -- and no additional goofy drugs needed.

I was told that the incubation period for this is 1-4 days and if I don't come up with any symptoms by tomorrow there's a good chance I (and Leah) won't get it.

Ain't that some shit? The girl who is currently afflicted with EVERYTHING somehow may skip Swine Flu.

We'll see. Day ain't over yet.

So, that's the update. No more pestilence stories. Tomorrow we'll talk about something WAY more interesting.

Yep, that's right, folks - it's time for that penis story I promised you. You'll want to have a cocktail at hand for this one.

Oh, COME ON, of COURSE this was coming.

This ain't your first rodeo.

Benjamin woke up with fever this morning. 100.7 to be exact. All glassy-eyed and "snuffy" and coughy and puny. So, that's TWO down now at Casa Pammer. Leah has had a semi-barky cough for a day or two, but nothing worse at this point.

The timing of this is, of course, most awesome. I have a HUGE deal (on Day 25 of this new job) to work on -- and I'm not entirely sure how you do that with a glassy-eyed, "snuffy", coughy and puny 3 yr old in your lap while almost your entire team is off at a conference this week.

But I'm about to find out.

In other news, Leah has made her Hanukah list. It looks like this:

iPhone
iPod
iTouch
Computer
Cupcake maker

Can someone hand me a cocktail?

You're welcome.

I've had them before, but my prescription changed and, well, I guess I just wasn't really in all that big a hurry to replace them. Truth be told my prescription is really minor and mostly due to aging eyes (awesome). Turns out I can't see far away so well which has made driving recently kinda interesting.

But now I can!

I don't really mind the glasses. In fact, if you've been around me for any longer than, oh, 23 seconds, you'll probably notice that I always have my sunglasses on me. Either on my face or pushed up in my hair. Always.

It started because I kept losing my sunglasses, which became expensive. Then I realized that they became awfully handy in holding my incredibly thick hair back. Bonus! Now I own several pairs of sunglasses and they are, without a doubt, my most favorite accessory.

But there's a difference between sunglasses and regular glasses. When I stare at someone for an awkward amount of time or roll my eyes bitchingly behind sunglasses... they can't see me do it. And that's an awful habit I've got, but it's true. Now? With "clear" glasses? I can't seem to train myself NOT to stare. And I'm pretty sure I'm gonna end up in some ridiculously awkward situations because of it.

Oughta make for some great blog entries, though.

Husband has The Flu.

He's had the seasonal flu shot, but not the H1N1, and we have no idea what version of awesome this is. He is miserable. And have you ever tried to keep a three year old out of your room? It requires high-level military defense procedures.

I'm kinda hoping for seasonal flu as the H1N1 is associated with respiratory issues and, as of late, I fall into that sparkly and special "high risk" category. (And yet? Not enough to actually be given the vaccine. But that's another rant for another day.)

The kids are trying to be helpful, but that doesn't necessarily mean NOT SCREAMY. I'd like some Not Screamy tomorrow.

The absolute highlight moment of today was when Benjamin was sitting on the couch this evening, quietly watching Backyardigans, when suddenly he popped up and announced, "Gotta go potty!" and ran, with great focus, to the bathroom. The next moment was his voice from the bathroom, "Mommy! Balls! Balls!"

(Which in BenjaSpeak means, "OMG the Poo Poo Is Coming Out and I'm Totally Not Prepared!")

So I go hauling in there to find him bent over the toilet seat, which was down, laying his head on it, and one hand literally shoved in his ass in karate-chop position trying to keep it from coming out.

I'm so not kidding.

This is when you know it's just time to call it a day. Thursday? You can just bite my ass on Main Street.

I'm talking about lice.

G-ddamnit it I get itchy just typing the word.

About two weeks into third grade I got a call from the school asking me to come pick up Leah. She had lice.

Are you KIDDING me?! She's been at school all of NINE days?! She's been to camp (with a Swine Flu issue)! She's gone to day camp all summer long! She's been on an airplane to San Francisco! She's been to Galveston! And you're telling me we send her to school for NINE DAYS and she gets LICE?!

I had two questions at that point: (1) WTF do we do now? and, (2) WHO THE HELL DID SHE GET IT FROM?!

We were given a piece of paper that had some things to know about lice and how (allegedly) to get rid of it. It even had a coupon for a product at the drugstore. So... off we went. $30 later we came home with two bottles of it (just in case because her hair is long and thick) and proceeded to go through her hair ¼ inch by ¼ inch section to come through it and put this amazingly greasy product on it. I'll give her credit, she was a total trooper.

Ironically, she was due to get a haircut that day - so after we were done, I raced her over to the hair dresser and told her quietly of the issue. Technically she wasn't supposed to do her hair, but I told her I really believed we got it all. She agreed to wash and cut Leah's hair, but not blow dry it. FINE! NO PROBLEM! But OMG please cut her hair it's so ridiculously long and out of shape.

And guess what we found? Yep. More lice issues. The nits. (And a word to the squeamish - don't Google this shit if you aren't prepared. Take my word on this one.)

So... back to the drugstore. Another $60 now, but MY head was feeling itchy and I wanted product at home in case I had issues, too.

And another hour's worth of going through Leah's hair. I SWEAR I got it all this time.

While this was all going on, I read that I had to wash EVERY linen she may have come in contact with (which, in this case, was every fucking bedroom in my house) and any clothing. All needed to be washed on HOT water. While THAT's going on, bag up EVERY stuffed animal or soft toy in garbage bags for two WEEKS.

For those of you playing the home game, that equated to 11 loads of laundry on HOT and 9 bags of toys all across the house. I couldn't wait to see my electric bill.

Leah seemed to be fine, so I let her go to school the next day. But then, while folding one of the ELEVEN loads of laundry, I started to feel itchy. Really awful itchy. And it wasn't getting better. It wasn't getting better to the point that I was miserable and called Husband to come home from work because I needed him to get that anti-lice goop on my head ASAP or I was going to freak straight the hell out and I couldn't do it all myself. (Much like you can't dry the back of your hair as well as your hairdresser can, I wasn't about to do a half-assed job on the back of my head in THIS situation.)

An hour and a half later, we were done. But I realized that all the clothes I had dealt with that day had to be Rewashed as well as all my bed linens. I was tired, itchy and over it. And really g-ddamned close to tears.

BestFriendWendy tried to be as supportive as she could via phone and happened to mention that in the Chicago area there were "Lice Removal Services". Lucky bastards. (But how'd you like THAT for a job?!)

In pure desperation, I Googled that for where I live. And lo and fucking behold there it was: Texas Lice Squad. OMFG. It's right around the corner from my neighborhood. They opened at 9am. I left a message at 7:34am begging them to take me and the kids for a check and removal if necessary. At that point, I would have paid them $5,000 to make this nightmare end.

(As an aside, this totally sucked. But I know another family that dealt with this for SIX MONTHS. I would have started shooting at people.)

I race both kids and myself over there later that day. Turns out an old colleague of mine owns this place as she went through this nightmare with her family for NINE MONTHS (see previous note OMG). Benjamin is fine - thank G-d - the thought of having to get him to sit still for that long was awful. Leah, well, she still had some issues. As did I.

Oh? And guess what? All the information the school nurse had given me? WAS WRONG. And that product I used? WOULD NEVER HAVE SOLVED THE PROBLEM. All the laundry I did? NOT NECESSARY. And? TAKE THE TOYS OUT OF THE BAGS NOW.

MOTHER. FUCKER.

The Texas Lice Squad fixed it. They are, without a doubt, my heroes and I have pimped them out to other parents dealing with this every chance I get.

I am livid at my school nurse and principal. There was never any notice sent home to the parents about a lice issue in the classroom. The information we were given was not only wrong, but ineffective. Combined they are not even giving the parents a fighting chance against this ridiculous issue.

And I will deal with them shortly.

In the meantime, I've learned a lot about lice. Namely I hate them with the fire of a thousand suns. And never want them in my life again. Even the mere tingle on my head now has me running to a mirror to check. Leah thinks I've lost my ever-loving mind as I go through her hair each week like some deranged gorilla mom straight out of a National Geographic special.

But you know what? Fuck lice.

Right up until I started to feel, uh, strange.

Nothing alarming, but at the same time just not right. And I developed a cough. And I remember sort of feeling a little off kilter - not full-on dizzy, but just not centered and playing nicely with gravity. (And, no, righteous herbs were not involved. Sadly.)

I didn't think twice about it - perhaps a shrimp was not entirely good? But that's not like that restaurant... Oh, well. No big deal.

Until the next time. When I felt wheezy and unable to take a good breath is without feeling the wheeze in my chest. The hell? Am I developing a shellfish allergy? Man that would suck.

I decided I would self-diagnose and lay off the shellfish altogether, which did suck. But, hey, something just wasn't right with that. And I was fine.

Until the next time. When shellfish wasn't in the mix. And I couldn't breathe and pretty much scared the shit out of my lunch date as I bolted out of the restaurant to the nearest pharmacy. And ripped open the Benadryl in the aisle before paying it and slammed two down my throat.

Strike Three. Off to the allergist I go.

120 needle pricks later, it is not, as my 100 year old allergist guessed, shellfish. It is, however, the most random list of things ever. And a few of these things actually are out to kill me (some are not, and are only annoying at best):

(Cow's) milk
Egg yolks
Watermelon
Peaches
Oranges
Coconut
Peanuts
Cashews
All zucchini and squash
All beans
Tomatoes
Coffee
Hops

Of this list, oranges are my most deadly foe. Go figure! And because of this and its accomplices up there, I am now a proud owner of not one, but TWO Epi-Pens that I must carry around. On top of that, I now also carry a rescue inhaler and take several prescriptions to keep the Citrus and its Merry Band of Deadly at bay.

It is a new way of life.

I'm not great at remembering to ask what's in things, but I'm getting better. Husband is all kinds of stressed out when we go eat, but he's getting better, too. I've had a couple of issues related to this and my latest medical adventure of Adult Onset Asthma, but it's getting better as well. There are days I feel like a walking medical mess, others feel fine.

I'll tell you this: a steroid pack fixes a lot of things. And BY G-D do you get shit done while on 'em. I could have re-sided your house I had so much energy. I now understand the upside to drug addiction. Coming off of 'em? Notsomuch.

So. Gone are the days of small, chic purses. But breathing? It's a nice trade-off.

I was a candy thief. Leah decided to warn all of her friends not to come to our house "because my mom will totally steal all of your candy." That's gonna help my reputation at the PTA meetings.

And anyone who's a Buffet fan will appreciate Husband's costume as a Pirate Who's Lookin' at 55. (Missing parrot notwithstanding)

I've been gone from this little purple piece of the internet for a long time. But perhaps this will be a good way to get back to it.

We've a lot to catch up on, you and I. The kids are bigger. I've gone back to work. There are pictures to share (yes, for you, Lemon) and well as toddler hijinks. There are stories of pests, pricks and penises to share. And, yes, they are all different.

Hope you'll join me for the ride. The road's a little broken, but it's still entertaining.

Late last week we found out her camp had a small outbreak of H1N1 (or the "swine flu"). Needless to say a great "oh, SHIT!" was heard about the land. Many minutes were spent googling "H1N1" and all kinds of big words and scary media stories were found.

Then came the questions. Do we send her? How many kids have it? What are they doing about it? What if she gets it?

After the initial freak out, I knew we needed to take an optimistic "wait and see" approach. Part of that included calling my pediatrician who is, without a doubt, the biggest rockstar of my children's lives. I explained the situation, which he was already aware of because many kids at camp are part of his patient base. His answer?

"Oh, I think it's great. I'd let her get it."

(pause)

(giggle)

"Oh, wait? You were serious."

"Oh, yeah! Let her get it. This year's strain isn't bad and then she'll have great immunity for next year - because they won't have time to get it into the flu shot vaccine and it'll be WAY worse next year. We've had 100 cases in the last two weeks. No big deal. We're not even recommending Tamiflu once it starts because it's really mild. But if you want it, I'll give it to you and she won't get it at all. Your call."

"All righty then... "

So. Just curious. If it were your kid - what would you do?