Cough Up the Gags

I’m sorry I am a day or two late in posting this blog! I was originally going to write a note saying I’ll have one up and ready in a couple of days, but as you all know, nothing ever goes the way I intend. Somehow one line became two and the words were gushing out speedily and precariously like bowling balls down a hill.

I was late putting this episode up because my four year old, Lanes, has been coughing up a storm and was floating around our flimsy apartment with one nostril running and one nostril stuffed up—I don’t even know how that is possible. I have been in a flap, every retching cough sounding like nails scrapping a blackboard to my ‘Mamma’ ears.  

My far more sensible spouse, P, of course took it in stride, only furrowing his brows in concern, and pulling out more tissues from his sleeves than a clown at a birthday party. Considering Lanes loves to garnish me with sloppy kisses and is constantly doing things like accidentally sticking her fingers in my eyes, I'm bound to get sick. As I type this, I feel like I have a hot coal wedged in my windpipe.

The good news for this week is that my nutty sister and my gorgeous nieces descended upon us for twenty four hours! When my sibling first decided to come, I didn’t take her seriously. Or maybe I didn’t want to get my hopes up and then be all sad and lonely when she doesn’t come and drive me crazy the way only she can. She has her own brand of madness.

She can say she is coming to Canada one minute and the next thing I know, she is in Utah, or she might come into contact with the pet penguin of a friend’s third cousin twice removed who has diarrhea and then she cancels.  She is constantly scared of passing on bugs.  These conversations start with the words 'I don't want Lanes to catch (insert virus du jour here)' and end with me dashing the phone on my forehead.

I waited with bated breath until they called from the border. I didn’t utter a word to Lanes, just in case. She was so surprised, she was speechless! Sadly, Lanes proceeded to get her cold/flu/cough right after! Not that she let it stop her fun. I don’t know if this ended well for my virus-phobic sibling, but everyone decided to make the most our one day of ‘fun’.

Well, I brilliantly got a migraine, and to my sister’s credit, it had nothing to do with her—for once. I was upset over Lanes’ coughing and the night before P had sprayed an old cologne into his CD player—I'm sure this is something all rational people do--all stereos need deodorizing. I got such a headache from the smell and it was so offensive to my lungs that I had to whip out my inhaler.

This was not easy to do since I hide medication in ridiculous places to keep it away from Lanes, and in the end I can’t find anything. Luckily this time, before I collapsed in a heap on the floor, I found it wedged behind the dishes.  The lingering smell in our static aired apartment and the worry over Lanes' cough made my head spin.

I figured that Lanes was ok since her dad and aunt were around and she was busy prancing around with her cousins, so I put my micromanaging tendencies aside and took a nap. Net result, after twenty minutes of P and my nutty sister keeping the kids away from me, I had three very large children with very pointed elbows, knees and chins bouncing way too close to my kidneys, thighs and ribs on the bed.

For the sake of self preservation, I had to get up and my sister came and dived into the bed as well. They noticed flashing red lights outside, and all of them rushed to the floor to ceiling window, pulled the blinds aside, and marveled at the sight of various fire trucks and ambulances outside. 

This is a very common occurrence in our crazy a$$ ghetto fabulous building, so I wasn’t surprised. What seemed different to me was that there were no cop cars this time. I was so used to the drama before us that I was immune to the wailing of the sirens.

I sprang up and ushered them away because anyone outside had a nice view of the four of them (nutty sister and the three girls all standing in order of height) pressing their nosey noses against the window. They looked like wanna be extras from the show ‘Cops’ or something.

They failed to realize that in the pitch black of night, they are more likely to be the spectacle than the spectators. With the lights on in our place,  the outside world could clearly see them, and me in my dashing PJs in the background.  After I shooed them away, they flew to the window in the living room and were very disappointed to find that the action was happening in the building opposite ours—for once!

Deflated at not getting to see a bust going down (I guess they should have come on a Saturday, when the pot heads have pot lucks), they requested that I stay up for the rest of the night so that they might have some entertainment.  I had to put a very tired Lanes to bed and when I returned to the living room, my nieces were wide awake and my sister was mewling in her sleep on the couch.

This was interesting and disappointing at the same time. I am not sure when we will be able to visit her, so I was looking forward to chatting with her all night like back in the day when she used to come home from college for the summer. However, she is much like a wobbly trained seal when she is sleeping, and thus there was fun to be had.

If you prod her, she will turn left or right, depending on where you jab her and it’s a great time to ask her questions.  Between being known as the responsible one in the family and her penchant for eaves dropping and spying things, she is the keeper of secrets and big news. 

I told my nieces we should try and come up with some questions and see what she will say.  I had only tried this once, but all she said was 'a giant jelly doughnut is trying to eat me!'. I wonder what Freud would have to say about that. Try as we might, my nieces and I couldn’t find any questions we needed answers for.

That disappointment put aside, I hovered over her and debated trying to scare her. She instinctively reached out and whacked me in the head. I should have known better because on one occasion she broke my glasses and on another, when I was about seven and I tried to wake her up, she swung her hand and hit me in the neck so hard, I couldn’t turn my head for a day and a half. Obviously, I never learn.

I remained near the couch, determined to wake my sister up. She reached over and tried to squeeze the circulation out of my thigh. Luckily, she woke up to the sound of her children laughing and she added insult to injury by saying she thought she was clinging onto her pillow. I guess I need to join a gym.

After we caught her attention we decided to keep yakking and we wound up staying way too late. I think every last drunk tenant in our building had already slithered home by the time we went to bed.

We woke up to the sound of Lanes coughing up a storm. She was at it every twenty three seconds.  My nutty sister kept mumbling something about folks returning from Whistler clogging up the border and she was trying to rush back. Lanes and I were trying to do everything to make them stay longer.

In the end, we went out for lunch to an all you can eat sushi place. The dishes came out kind of small and the girls were really hungry, having been taken on a scenic detour to the mall (I can’t regale folks with stories and give driving instructions at the same time).  I thought, brilliantly, that if I order fast, we can leave soon and they can get home at a respectable time.

As usual, good intentions fail me, and I ordered way too much and I had to quickly cancel some of the orders. My nieces were overwhelmed by the amount of food in front of them. Lanes was busy with her miso soup and didn’t give a hoot because she was happy to be out with her beloved aunt and cousins. They helped me hide the evidence of wasteage. I did try to eat everything, but at some point, I had to give up.

They were laughing at me because on a previous occasion in Seattle, we went to another sushi joint and I was under the impression it was a buffet. I was happily taking stuff off the conveyor belt and marveling at what a great deal it was until P, ever more with it than I am, nudged me and told me it was not indeed a buffet and I had to quickly hoist the untouched sealed items back onto the belt. I never lived that one down.

I was mortified at the thought of years of jokes at my expense , ‘never take Aunty to a buffet because…’, ‘never go for Japanese food with Aunty…’.  Oie ve. Any old how they all ran off after that, all the while deciding that I was rather entertaining to be around, not so much for my stellar personality but for the cumbersome situations I fall into.

They can't wait to go home and tell their dad about their latest outing with me. I shudder to think of what my brother-in-law will have to say. He already thinks I'm not playing with a full deck. Hopefully, my famous chicken curry, basil meatballs and panrolls I sent him will work in my favor. Time will tell.

At the end of the day, I was left with a teary eyed lonely Lanes, and I’m feeling rather whoozy.  I can only imagine how I’ll be feeling tomorrow, so I thought better write while I’m semiconscious. Also, tonight is P’s turn to put Lanes to bed and judging from the high pitched singing that is going on in her room, I’m guessing she is better and he is worse for wear. On that C major note, I better sign off and rescue my spouse before he gets serenaded to til midnight . More musings from BC next week…