Sorry about the title. I couldn’t help myself. I’ve had very little entertainment over the past two days besides coming up with that, and experimenting with bleach and water solution ratios.
After my very excitedly written post about my plans to go to a REAL ROCK CONCERT the other night, I am now writing a much more mundane post about puking. Unfortunately, said puke was not puked by a rockstar on stage, but instead by Diva all over her bed.
This is not the first time my children’s gastrointestinal pyrotechnics have interfered with my plans. Just a couple of months ago, I was LITERALLY on my way out to the car to drive to a Pampered Chef party (to spend time with friends I hadn’t seen in months, and while my husband was on the second half of a two week business trip and I was in desperate need of a break) when Diva literally threw up all over me. And don’t get me started on the FPIES-caused changes in plans over the course of Hunk’s almost two years. Like sleeping on a regular schedule, for instance.
If the concert itself didn’t make me feel I’ve wiled away my youth on more un-fun endeavors these past ten years, cleaning up after a pooping, vomiting, hyperdramatic child when I was SUPPOSED to be at a concert certainly did. (Diva is NOT one to suffer in silence – even for a four-year-old she is hilariously histrionic. Except if it’s 4 a.m. and I haven’t slept since 1 a.m. and I have to get up at 7 a.m. to care for Hunk. Then she’s HORRIBLY histrionic.
No matter. Semantics.)
Anyhow, funny story:
Once I figured out there was no way I could go to the concert, I realized I now had these tickets to give away. I don’t want other alternative bands to get the idea that Watertown can’t fill a stadium and never book another show here. And those two tickets might have made all the difference, you know what I mean?
Anyway, I’ve been following rap artist Apache Chief (@Iamupstate) on Twitter for a couple of months now, after he mentioned he was coming to Watertown to perform at the Children’s Miracle Network Dance-A-Thon on March 26. On Sunday, I got a tweet from Apache Chief’s manager, asking if I’d made the show.
I tweeted back that I hadn’t because Diva was sick. I also mentioned I was disappointed I’d be missing the Cold concert. Then – I don’t know why – I asked if they would like my tickets to the show.
Apparently, Apache Chief is a HUGE Cold fan – he said he’s seen them like EIGHT times – and he was pretty excited to get the chance to see them again.
So between Diva’s tummy hurting “worser and WORSER” and Hunk having a leaky diaper (because the kid – after his own bout with this tummy bug – has decided all he wants in life is Pedialyte and drinks liters at a time and fills his diaper within an hour with so much pee, you could literally float a boat if you extracted all the pee into a bucket), I got on the phone and tried everything I could think of to find the number for the Watertown Fairgrounds Exhibit Hall box office (HA!) to let them know APACHE CHIEF was coming in my place.
After it was clear there was no getting in touch with anyone except people in Sunday comas who made it sound as if I were speaking to them in Italian with a Jersey accent and I was ready to give up, I got a text from Apache Chief with the name and number of the person I needed to speak to. Must be pretty awesome to “know people.” Apache Chief and Co. got their tickets and I went back to being a full-time mom instead of a part-time wannabe.
So now I have missed two concerts that I was probably not cool enough to attend. BUT, I did get the phone number of an up-and-coming rap star who owes me a favor.
How cool is that?
