My Lucky Charm

If you have any respect for me--or if you have a sensitive gag relfex--you should stop reading and continue to think of me as the charming, refined, hygienically diligent person that I appear to be. For those of you who have no respect for me, enjoy. I present, for your reading enjoyment slash disgust...

My Lucky Charm

On Friday night I remembered this ad I saw for the Turkey Trot 5k which is held annually at the Seegmiller Historical Farm to benefit the Dixie Care and Share. So I said to DJ, "Hey DJ, whaddya say we do the Turkey Trot 5k tomorrow? There's no entrance fee, we just have to donate canned food." After applying a bit of the aforementioned charm, I talked DJ into walking the mile with my kids in the stroller while I ran the 5k.

We woke up bright and early Saturday morning, filled an old Walmart bag with nonperishable, tuna packed in oil that I bought on accident-type items, and drove to Washington. And I (really, you can stop reading any time) didn't shave my legs. And it had been quite a while since I had shaved, to be totally honest. And I wore shorts. (Aaaaand there goes my last shred of dignity.)

Where was I? Oh yeah, running. So I ran the race and it was great, but that's not where the lucky charm comes in. After the race they have a little raffle thing where they give away massages and t-shirts and frozen turkeys and things of that nature. Get this-- DJ and I totally won a 12 piece meal with a 1/2 gallon of A&W root beer from Kentucky Fried Chicken! A thirty dollar value! I know. AMAZING.

As we sat at under the gazebo at the park snarfing our fried chicken and cole slaw I was feeling very grateful, so, clutching the bucket of chicken, I stood and made the following speech:

"I have so many people to thank for this award. DJ, who snores away while I go running every morning and yet is very supportive. My children, for providing me with the baby fat that inspires me to run. And especially, my leg hair. I usually hide you under pants. However, today you have proven to be my lucky charm and I will no longer be ashamed of you! Thank you! Thank you!"

I bowed and waved to the crowd that had assembled. And then I had to go find my children, who were off trying to pretend that they belonged to a different family.

JewwDUSS!

Yay! I got tagged for one of those games where you post a random picture and (WHEW!) it's not an embarrassing picture! Let the fun begin! The rules are...

*Open your first photo folder.

*Scroll down to the 10th picture. (if you dont have 10 in that one, then go to the next folder that does).

*Post that photo and the story behind that photo on your blog.

*Tag 5 friends to do the same

It's Chancho when he was five months old. I think I took this picture because it was the first time I put gel in his hair but you can't tell because his hair is translucent. Trust me, it was cute.

I'm not going to tag five friends. Instead I've decided to do this: "HEY! FIVE OF YOU! POST A PICTURE OF YOURSELF!" Now we'll see who responds the fastest. What fun.

I'm feeling so special this week! Not just because I was tagged in a fun picture game but because I was asked to participate in a CDC survey about birth defects. I know, right? How could I not feel special? It was actually really cool. If your definition of 'cool' includes doing an hour long phone survey about your eating habits from June 2008 through May 2009. Cool, huh? Nothing spells humiliation like someone asking you how many servings of chocolate you eat in a week, on average. And then having to answer honestly. I had to tell her about my Marshmallow Mateys addiction in horrifying detail! She actually asked about my cold cereal habits and the specific brands I ate. And how many times I ate them per week. Good thing she didn't ask about the size of bowl I used.

Participating in that painfully embarrassing survey reminded me of high school. I took this statistics class my senior year and we learned all about surveys and what makes them meaningful and margin of error and correlation and blah blah blah... But what I remember most from the class was this guy, Richard, who sat behind me the whole year. He had this bizarre habit of saying, "JUDAS!" whenever something irritated him. You know... Judas. Only he said it, "JewwDUSS!" with a heavy St. George accent. Like Mr. Ward would give us a lot of homework and I'd hear Richard behind me: "JewwDUSS!" Or the power would go out: "JewwDUSS!" Or the air conditioner would kick on: "JewwDUSS!" You get the idea. All year long.

So all through the survey I could hear Richard in the back of my head.

Survey lady: "Ms. Haynes, in the three months prior to becoming pregnant and the first three months of your pregnancy how many times would you say that you ate Marshmallow Mateys cereal? Once a month, once a week, more than once a week, twice a week, three times a week, four times a week, five times a week, six times a week, once a day, or more than once a day?"

Me: (thinking) "JewwDUSS!"

Me: (responding) "Umm...at least once a day."

It went on that way for an hour. On the bright side, they are giving me twenty bucks for participating. You know me, there's not a lot I won't do for twenty bucks.

Throw out your dead!

When DJ and I entered into this bwessed awaingement six years ago, I never EVER would have envisioned the following scene:

The curtain goes up and we see the Haynes living room. Swine Flu, Day Nine. All six members of the family are crowded and sprawled out onto two couches, their hair matted to their heads. Tissue wads and and used dishes are everywhere, Baby Einstein is on the TV on repeat.

DJ: "Macey! Quit digging your toes into my back!"
Elise: "Why does it smell like feet in here?!"
Macey: "Can I do Barbie dot com? Can I do Barbie dot com?" (Repeat 400 times.)
Olivia: "UhhhhuuUUUUuuuuhhhhhh............" (That's Olivia melting.)
Chancho: "Happy birtday, Mommy." (He's still celebrating my birthday, sweet boy.)
Tess: "............" (Tess screamed herself hoarse on Day Seven.)
Elise: (thinking) "Why is everyone BREATHING so LOUDLY?! And it still smells like feet!"
DJ: (thinking) "Maybe I should open a fishing lodge in Alaska...YEAH! I should!"
Elise: (hearing DJ's thoughts) "No, you shouldn't!"
Chancho: "Happy birtday, Mommy."

I am so DONE with this flu. We had bacon and Halloween candy for dinner the other night. And if I have to watch Baby Einstein one more time, so help me, I will rip my own eyeballs out with a rusty fork.

The End.

Or is it?

P.S. I promise, this is my last flu-related complainy post--cross my heart, hope to die. No, really. HOPE to DIE. See ya next time!