How Do YOU Spell Relief?

Well, it has been some time since I put anything on here. I guess
I've been really busy, lately...what with the new weight bench and
free weights to protect the kids from (read: protect from the kids.)
And then with the internet service provider collecting our monthly
fee (pre-paid, I might add) and then promptly switching the cable off,
I've had very little time to be on here. Oh, and what's with this green
font, you ask? Well, I'll tell you. I'm quite gassy....and I am feeling a
little on the green side.
Yeah, ewwww gross! Well, there's no reason to pretend here. I come
from a long line of farters. I'll omit their names to protect the (not-so)
innocent. BUT I inherited the fart-gene, baby....from BOTH sides of
the family. Now I've not yet inherited the gaseous genetic trait where
I race to the bathroom with lower cheeks pinched tightly leaving a "pop-
pop-pop-pop" sound trail behind me. (Our family has actually named
this trait after one of the family elders, however, since I'm attempting to
protect the family fart tree, I guess I'll have to omit that too.)
Anyway, we've got 'em all in our family: the loud, the louder, the machine
gun, the "oh, hell, who stepped on the dog", the not-so smelly, the smelly,
the s.b.d. and the "WHAT crawled up your ass and died". ANY type of
fart ever known to man can be claimed by anyone (or several) in my family.
My brother recently chewed me out on facebook for discussing his "rancid
ass" on the internet. Hmmmmmm. Truth be told, HE brought it up when he
reminded me of a fart he "dropped in my ear" during a trip we took together
to Arizona. My husband has been known to hear my bom-booferous,
window shakers from over two window unit air-conditioners (with about 8
spoons shoved inside each....THAT is another story that I'll call Why My
Kids and Spoons Caused Me to Declare Bankruptcy), a ceiling fan, a
snoring congested 1 year old and the movie DIE HARD cranked up on the
tv. I lied in my room laughing for 15 minutes after my own fart only to finally
think, "He must not have heard me. Maybe it wasn't as loud as I thought."
Only to have him poke his head in the bedroom door about 30 seconds later
and ask, "Are you okay? Did the roof fall on you?" DAMN. How embarrassing.
Well...THAT was nothing.
TODAY I was peeling potatoes for dinner and the washing machine was
making it's usual jet engine noises in the spin cycle and I had a CD playing
in the kitchen. I looked around to make sure my husband wasn't around (kids
are fair game...I'll fart around them just to get even for them walking in on me
in the bathroom or only peeing on MY side of the bed!) and I let 'er rip.
Well, I don't know what a ripped spleen or ruptured small intestine actually
feel like but I imagined it today. OH MY WORD! I doubled over and cried
against the sink it hurt my abdomen so bad. I must have shrieked without
realizing it because Hamo and my husband came running in thinking that I must
have cut myself. Then through the tears I started laughing. My husband asked
what happened and I told him he didn't want to know. He looked puzzled. So
somewhat embarrassed I told him, "I farted so hard I hurt my intestines."
He just rolled his eyes and muttered something in Arabic about "giving him
strength."
At least my son felt for me. He hugged me and said, "I'm sorry your farts are
so strong they fight back." Little snot. He snickered as he walked out. Laugh
if they must. But I may be the first person in history to ever end up in traction
due to bad gas!

I Swear He Did It to Himself! and Other Truths CPS Won't Believe

How soon is too soon to explain what a hickey is to your kids?
I'm guessing 8 is a little young, right? I used the term "painless
bruise" instead. I'm hoping that's acceptable for a while. What
am I talking about? Well, I'll tell you.
Last night just after dinner, Ismail came into the kitchen and
told me that I NEED to come look at Aiman's chin. Since I was
up to my armpits in dirty dishes and an argument with Hamo, I
opted to ask for a verbal description instead. He said, "It's got
a big red thing on it." HUH? What big red thing?
I blew it off as leftover meatsauce from pasta. Aiman has been
known to actually lick his dish clean if it's something he likes.
Oddly enough, it didn't really register with me that he doesn't
actually LIKE pasta or meatsauce. He only tolerates it because
I use green peppers in the sauce and to him this means "Fart
Power!"
So about an hour later Ismail came back to me and said, "Mom,
the red thing on Aiman's chin is getting WORSE!" So, I called
him into the kitchen, thinking it was just a red grease stain. He
walked in, looked up at me and said, "Ma'am?" and HOLY
SUCTION CUPS, BATMAN! He had this gigantic hickey covering
his ENTIRE chin.
I had to rule out bruising first, as a precaution. So I asked if Hamo
had pinched his face (he's known for this.) Aiman looked embar-
rassed and said, "No. I did it with my cup by sucking it up with my
mouth for a really long long time."
Once we determined that it didn't hurt and it was a "painless bruise"
(Hickey), I just put a little Hemoclar ointment on it (for hematomas)
and sent him on his way with a warning not to do it again.
*Sigh. I don't really beat my kids. It just looks like I do.

Why I'm in Knots

Yeah, Randa has been spending the night in my bed since
Saturday night. Anytime her father is away on business she
just climbs right in bed with me and instead of taking his
side, she scootches right to the middle and snuggles up
against me and goes right to sleep. Unlike Samiya, Randa
is a fairly stationary sleeper. (Sleeping next to Samiya is like
being in a nighttime non-stop filming of a Jackie Chan movie.)
But Randa has her sleep-faults, too. Well, just one, really.
She's got to sleep with her hand under her face and her left
elbow jutting out right into my back between my shoulder
blades! OUCH. It doesn't matter how many times I roll her
over to her father's side or reposition her arm. She will turn
over just after I drift off to sleep and jam that joint right into
my spine again. I think I've developed a slight twitch in my
left shoulder. I fear it will turn into a full blown spasm if I
don't figure out what to do about this soon.
Is it not enough I only get 3-4 hours of sleep a night? Those
few precious hours have to be totally uncomfortable and
sometimes downright painful, too??? I suppose it could be
worse. It could be Aiman who believes it's his God-given
right to sleep next to me when Baba is out of town.
The child will not eat anything except chicken or fried (fill
in the blank) or pizza anymore....UNLESS I can guarantee
him that whatever other dinner item on the menu is full of
"fart power." Yes, he is 8. And unless whatever he doesn't
like has a fart power factor greater than 7 on a scale of 1-10,
he won't eat it. Could you imagine me having to sleep next
to THAT???? "Mom can we have lentils for dinner? They
have lots of fart power, right?"
OH THE HUMANITY!

Thanks, I'll stick with the back spasms. Leave Randa where
she is.