Ten Reasons I Love the Tropics

1) Stunning white sand beaches.
2) Trade winds.
3) Palm trees.
4) Flip flops.
5) Have I mentioned lately that our house in Washington is under five feet of snow? Aha.
6) Gas station giveaways. (I mean it, they are fabulous. The approximately ten gas stations on the island are always holding these awesome giveaways. The last time that we lived here, Shell gave away a baby pig. I really wanted to win, but it didn't happen. Right now, it's model Ferraris. We just got one, despite my tendency to lose the receipts, which you have to keep to claim your prize.)
7) Blueberry cream cheese ball things at the Japanese bakery.
8) The water slide at the fancy pool.
9) Not caring if it's raining, because it's so cooling. Unless it's tropically teeming down rain and then, laughing hysterically because the kids and I are drenched like we jumped in the pool coming up the steps.
10) My kids' fat little bellies in their bathing suits.

Are we all feeling warm and fuzzy? Good. Love fest over. Guess who has pin worms. Is it the baby that touches feral dogs and has an obsession with rocks and always has his hands in his mouth? No. Perhaps Gee who has a David Sedaris like proclivity for licking random disgusting public objects? No. My daughter Ess, who will happily eat a year old piece of candy off of the ground in front of a trash can? No.

Me. I have intestinal parasites. Me. The woman who washes her hands 8000 times a day and uses antibacterial hand stuff like it's going out of style. It's a travesty of justice. I would appeal to a higher power, but I'm afraid I would only doom myself to coming back to earth as a pin worm in another life.

My mom just read this and she's dying right now. That's right, mom, I just admitted to whatever poor souls have decided to enter my internet home today that I have butt worms. How's that for hospitality?

As soon as she can figure out the time difference she's going to call me. "Stacey Colleen McCallister" (except that my middle name is far more Jewish and my last name (my married name) is a bit more Scottish). She'll use my whole name, though, because that's how I know she's really fired up. "SCM, do we really need to inform the nice blog people that we have worms in our ass?" My mom has a delightful sense of propriety, but a foul mouth. She's the reason my children will cuss at an early age.

Yes, mom, we (I) do. I'm bitter. I'm pregnant for the love of god, don't you get a by on these things when you're in a family way. Raise your hand if you think a pregnant woman with butt worms is entitled to a glass of wine (or two) tonight. But, no, I won't be having wine because I already have to expose this poor baby to anti-parasite medication.

I spoke to my resident health care professional (Matt, he's a pharmacist).
Me: Can you please look up the drugs for intestinal worms and make sure I can take them and bring me some home?
Matt. Ewwwwwwww. Groooooosssssssss.
Me: Very mature and professional. Is that what you say to your patients?
Matt: I don't sleep in the same bed with my patients.
Me: Just do it.

(Later)
Matt: It's a class C drug and (waa, waa, waa, blah, blah, mouth moving, don't care). So, it's considered safe, but it hasn't really been tested on pregnant women and I'm not sure you should take it.
Me: How many drugs are tested on pregnant women?
Matt: Almost none.
Me: I cannot have pin worms for six months.
Matt: Are you sure you have pin worms? How do you know? Is it really that bad?
Me: Would you like me to get graphic?
Matt: Sure?
My mom: NO! NO! People who don't know us well are reading this. Aunt K, Uncle R. Oh. God. My holiday poem. Our friends.
Me: It itches you freaking bastard, bring the damn drugs home!

PS If you're a new visitor, or you really come for the adoption posts, or the sweet posts about being a mom, or well, something a bit less worm-filled, I'm really, really sorry. I washed the blog really well, in hot water, with bleach.
PPS I can't believe this is my first post in 2009. Bright side - it can only get better from here.