Photos courtesy of Shawn Linehan
Monday, November 22, 2010
Thursday, November 18, 2010
mommy and the incredible vanishing gag reflex
Let me be the first to say: I have a weak stomach. Not for raw food or strong booze or gory hacker flicks. Nope--for vomit, the sight, sound, and smell of it.
One would be amazed, if in my position, how many movies actually include scenes of people throwing up. Go ahead and start paying attention--it's seriously like 1 in 5, and if not with accompanying visuals then at the very least graphic retching noises. It's gotten to the point where if someone leans over a toilet or behind a dumpster, Reid will reach for the remote to mute the volume because otherwise I'm quaking with nausea. God forbid I'm at your house when your cat forces up a hairball, I'll probably have to leave before the appetizer is served.
Refer now to previous post on darling daughter's Rough Day. Rough Day involved not one, but two, scenes of technicolor bile being sprayed about the house and public places, all whilst I stood steadfastly by catching what I could in various cups and vessels to ensure minimum cleanup. Yet never once did I become the least bit squeamish. It was business as usual.
The first time I experienced this phenomenon was in a security line at Ixtapa International Aiport in Mexico. Ninety-odd degrees, no air conditioning, a hangover, a 2-year old ridden with sand flea bites and a fever---AHHHH...vacation! About 10 people from the front of the line Sadie, who I'm holding, looks at me questioningly before proceeding to barf all over me. I won't go into details about what ensued with the non-English-speaking doctor over the next half hour, but let's just say we luckily all had a change of clothes. Still, despite the heat and tequila fuzz, I barely batted an eye.
I can recount every instance (only 4) this has happened to me, but it amazes me every time. How can I not watch this on TV but it's utterly okay if my offspring spews all over me? I have to think this must be one of the oldest survival instincts known to woman. It's the only explanation.
One would be amazed, if in my position, how many movies actually include scenes of people throwing up. Go ahead and start paying attention--it's seriously like 1 in 5, and if not with accompanying visuals then at the very least graphic retching noises. It's gotten to the point where if someone leans over a toilet or behind a dumpster, Reid will reach for the remote to mute the volume because otherwise I'm quaking with nausea. God forbid I'm at your house when your cat forces up a hairball, I'll probably have to leave before the appetizer is served.
Refer now to previous post on darling daughter's Rough Day. Rough Day involved not one, but two, scenes of technicolor bile being sprayed about the house and public places, all whilst I stood steadfastly by catching what I could in various cups and vessels to ensure minimum cleanup. Yet never once did I become the least bit squeamish. It was business as usual.
The first time I experienced this phenomenon was in a security line at Ixtapa International Aiport in Mexico. Ninety-odd degrees, no air conditioning, a hangover, a 2-year old ridden with sand flea bites and a fever---AHHHH...vacation! About 10 people from the front of the line Sadie, who I'm holding, looks at me questioningly before proceeding to barf all over me. I won't go into details about what ensued with the non-English-speaking doctor over the next half hour, but let's just say we luckily all had a change of clothes. Still, despite the heat and tequila fuzz, I barely batted an eye.
I can recount every instance (only 4) this has happened to me, but it amazes me every time. How can I not watch this on TV but it's utterly okay if my offspring spews all over me? I have to think this must be one of the oldest survival instincts known to woman. It's the only explanation.
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
rough day
Tuesday, November 02, 2010
holy veggies batman
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