The week that was… different

Spring break and we have been counting the days to our trip to see my mishpocheh (family). We’ve had four Nor’easters in 3 weeks, snow up to my tuchas (tush, derriere) and all too much tsuris (troubles, stress, woe) filling our minds. The thought of 80-degree weather, sunshine, swimming, and laughing my ass off with my shvester (sister) until we literally wet ourselves was naturally the stuff of dreams… like unicorns, L.O.L surprise dolls, and glitter falling from the sky. And the kinder (my girls), they love seeing their Aunt, Uncle, and Cousins more than anything!

A blast from the past! From the top, schvoger, shvester, me, little, big

T minus two days, and the fever, she burns through my Little. A temperature of almost 104She had complained of a tummy ache, and like all good Jewish-atheist momma’s, I told her to sit on the potty. She has had so much junk food of late, a good poo would be a relief like it would for all of us. She tried, my madelah (sweet girl). We watch The Greatest Showman on the telly.

This is my magical cocktail, keeping me safe. TY Ilaria! Notice how my cup is marked — no sharing with the sickies — my glass, half-full

T minus one day, fever sticking around like gum underneath the table in a diner. Lethargy and skin as pale as fine porcelain said porcelain will play a role very soon. We plan, we pack, we share the news of germs and we try to stay positive. We watch The Greatest Showman, then we snuggle off to bed, my Little wrapped tightly in my arms. A few tired hours pass and we all awaken to a fountain of vomit. Nothing really says love more than getting thrown up on, and only worrying about the helpless, unhappy, scared little patient in your arms. We clean her up. Big, she helps us to change the sheets and blankets. The Mrs. presses the ‘sanitize’ button on the wash cycle.

There is a strange calm in the air, with a scent none too pleasant. Little, she fell fast and hard to sleep, again tucked close by my side. I could hear the soft crying moans from Big, realizing that we wouldn’t be taking that big ol’ jet airliner in a few hours time. Tears roll down my cheeks, silently. At 4 am I text my shvester, our friend who was to stay with Gatsby. We are a no go. Ix-nay on this oliday-hay.

Has the world ended? No. Are we grateful that we only have a petite passing pathogen that will eventually vanish? Of course. Are we all desperately disappointed? Big time.

Day of. I let all three of my girls sleep. I promise my Big that we will find a way to make it fun. That we will take turns taking her out of the sickly house and have some well-earned fun. I speak several times with my mishpocheh. My schvoger (bro-in-law), he punches frantically in the keyboard to see if we can squeeze out different dates of travel, salvage our trip. We have teary-eyed FaceTime calls. So many plans they had in store for us! Vey iz mir. (oh my effing G). 

Gatsby, so happy

Little, she cries for my Mrs. to stay with her, so Big and I make our way into the world. We have a nice nosh (little something to eat) at Starbucks. And head to the movies in a gray, teary day. We see A Wrinkle In Time. The woman at the ticket sales booth is 803 years old if she is a minute. In the past, she has given me the senior rate, to my dismay. Today, she again rings us up, 1 senior, 1 child. I feel the dark cloud above, rather than reveling in the 8 dollar savings. f*ck it and enjoy the show with your daughter

We had a lovely afternoon and decided Little, she would have been afraid in this movie. We bring home a vast array of popsicles (they used to call them poppa-sicles) for the sick one, in hopes of getting her to eat/drink. We learn of the day spent in (and close to) the porcelain seat, now the excrement exodus from the southern region. Oy. This reaffirms our tough decision. We watch The Greatest Showman. 

Little finally wakes up with no fever and no symptoms. We convince her of just one more day indoors. The 24 hour, fever free rule — to keep the rest of humanity safe.

photo by my Mrs., hair by my Little

Her hair has begun to form dreadlocks. We all fear the brushing of that mop. The Mrs., she starts round one, and Big, me and Gatsby head out the door to explore our new ‘hood. We walk for an hour, in hopes of better hair days. We have such a good time! Gatsby is loving the spring and leaving pee-mail messaging around for all his new friends.

We open the front door to a geshrei (shriek, loud, unearthly Jamie Lee Curtis in Halloween cry). At least another hour goes by, and I am summoned so Big can get out’a dodge with the Mrs. Armed with a brush, conditioner, and really bad TV, I sit with my muse. It will be 4:45pm before I claim victory. Her head, like a BP oil spill, finally combs through. We did it.

Later that night, we watch The Greatest Showman. Who knew our spring break, our circus, would also be our groundhog day. Aud-o, Steve-o, Max, Vic, we love and miss you all so much.

Yiddish Proverb:

A mensch tracht un Got lacht. Man plans and God laughs.

 

From The Greatest Showman:

‘Cause we’re dreaming with our eyes wide open.

So come alive!

And of course, a bei gesunt. As long as you’re healthy! Stop by tonight! The Greatest Showman, 8pm.

Oh the places you’ll go (if you’re a germ)

These teeth, I have to protect, nu?
These teeth, I have to protect, nu?

It’s no joke! This blogging thing, it takes you places and introduces you to some wonderful, amazingly talented people. I’m having the time of my life! Nu?

Along this theraputic journey of mine, I met up with Lisa and the good people from Intellident. They asked me if I would do a product review of their Disposable Toothbrush Shields, mittendrinnen (in the middle) of my writing therapy. Who am I to say no to a new opportunity? The little box of free goodies arrived, and my mishpocheh (family), we got busy and tried it. So here I go with my very first product review. Stay with me, please…

Now, it must be said: I was raised by a militant, neatnik mother, who truly put OCD on the map. As an unfortunate repercussion, I like things to be a bit clean and neat. Tidy would be a word to describe me, sure. I am also married to my Mrs., have two beautiful shana madelehs (sweet little girls) and a puppy, Gatsby. We share 900 square feet here at the Manor. Together, cleanliness is next to dogliness. Walking in, I always have a sneaking suspicion that we may have been robbed, or at least the apartment was maybe tossed by the feds? But hey, we live here, we love here, we play here and we have fun here. Making memories, right?

Enter the bathroom. For my friends across the pond, I’m referring to the loo, the water closet. Here in the good ol’ U.S. of A., the library, the throne, the porcelain pot. In this room, no matter how often you clean it, lurks germs, noro-viruses, mold, E. coli, fungi, MRSA, your run of the mill surface and airborne ‘disgustingness’ and other toxic nasties. This is also where, we the people, clean up, clean out, shower, floss and brush. Oy vey.

Every time you flush, a literal mushroom cloud of poo, bacteria and beastly biohazards are thrust into the air by the cleansing flood of water. Our toothbrushes, that sit simply atop the sink in a shared family cup, absorb contamination and contagions that are ready to enter our bodies by any means accessible.

Location, location, location
Location, location, location… Right next to the mushroom cloud, oy vey

So for the past few weeks, armed with the new nasty knowledge of toxins brewing atop our toothy bristles, we placed disposable toothbrush shields on each of our 4 toothbrushes. The company says it’s like, a little surgical mask for your toothbrush. Me and the kinder (children), we called them hats. We were each in control of our own chapeau, and we changed it after 7 days as suggested. I must tell you the emmes (the real deal, the down low) truth when I say, I feel safer. It’s like my brush has its own hazmat suit. 

When Little had the sniffles and sneezes after swimming, or the Mrs. had the telltale signs of sickness, I didn’t think for one second, not one, that influenza would overtake our house. For all I know, it was allergies for both, but regardless, I was chill. My TB had a hat!

4 thumbs up (and a paw) from this family
4 thumbs up (and a paw) from this family

Our toothbrushes cuddle in our cup and we are protected. This my friends is a mitzvah (a very good thing)! I can’t wait to see how these little masks/hazmat suits/hats shield us from the dreaded startofschooleritis; when nose picking, water bottle sharing and free-falling ahhhh-choos spread from youngest to oldest before the first school bell tolls.

Negatives:

  • Not reusable/washable
  • Not recyclable

Positives:

  • Surgical mask for your toothbrush
  • 99.9% effective barrier against airborne and surface bacteria
  • Replaces those clunky plastic boxes that serve as breeding grounds for germs
  • Perfect for home, travel, work, gym, backpack, purse, etc.
  • Disposable
  • Inexpensive: click here to see (and I’m a forced frugalista)
  • Women owned business (yeah!)
  • Made in the USA, really it is!

So for you dear readers, there are two things I must recommend:

  1. When you geh in der klozet (go to the toilet), shut the lid before you flush
  2. Use Disposable Toothbrush Shields from Intellident

Please know, no toothbrushes were harmed during this test. No monies exchanged hands for this review. We are going to continue to use this ingenious product. 

A gezunt ahf dein kop (Good health to you)!

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Our house is STILL covered in sick! Oy Vey!

Can these two really be the carriers?
These two, can they really be the carriers?

The Mrs. mentioned that our flat here at the Manor has become somewhat of a convalescence home. I added that we don’t seem to be restorative or showing any signs of improvement since last November when the first ‘–itis’ hit our mishpocheh (family). Our little petri dishes, Little and Big, share their cooties a bit too freely.

Keep the tune of a Hard Day’s Night in your head as you read this little ditty…

It’s been a hard long night, and we’ve been feelin’ just like dreck (crap, ca-ca)

Our skin has turned a dulling white we really are a pain in the neck

And when we get out of bed we feel the pain in our heads

Won’t let us see daylight

 

You know we work every day to eat real healthy and exercise

But no matter what we do or say

The microbes make us just wanna cry

Despite the Lysol clean wipes we can’t unclog our nose pipes

The bugs just won’t go away

 

When we sneeze, germs discharge all around us

When we cough, its like we were hit by a bus, bus yeah

 

It’s been a hard long day, how long can we endure this lack of zest

And the feeling of proverbial brech (to vomit) can leave us emotionally so depressed

The tsuris (heartache) is too much to take, what’s the point of awake

When we feel so feh (physically and emotionally disgusted)!

 

It’s been a long four months hosting germs ‘n feelin’ so unkempt

And it’s worth it just to hear you say

You must be overwhelmed and so farhklempt (emotionally choked-up)

So let’s get out of that bed and get our clothes on instead

It’s gonna be okay

 

When we sneeze, germs discharge all around us

When we cough, its like we were hit by a bus, bus yeah

 

May our homes soon be rid of these invisible nogudniks (bad guys, in this instance, germs) that lurk in our air. May our kinder (children) really use soap and sing the A,B,C’s twice as they wash their hands. Let the schmutz (dirt and grime, in this case, mucus) stop dripping from our many orifices.  Gutinue (at last, with exasperation), enimageough already!


A bie gezunt
(as long as we are healthy!)

 

May there be hope!

 

 

 

 

 

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