grab my butt(on)

I have launched a campaign to make my blog go viral. Not really sure what this entails, but I started a Twitter account and posted a tweet - sadly, the tweet was the "how to start tweeting" information link, but it was a beginning. And a very memorable start for my solitary follower (who are you anyway to follow someone that hasn't mastered the Twitter?). Then I think I linked a tweet to my facebook page and my blogspot. I might have created a badge, too. I am completely unsure of my actual accomplishments and I am positive that I could never re-create my accidental triumphs because my computer time was thwarted by a virus. Little O has got her 1st fever (not too shabby considering that she is 3+ years old) and she is not a good sicky.

She is like me - combative and needy and refuses to ingest and and all medicines. I brought her to the doctor yesterday and he ruled out the strep and an ear infection. This is how the visit went: me pinning the arms of my upside down spitting girl while the doctor scoped her ears and swabbed her throat. She screamed at me to simultaneously "get outta here" and "hold you mama". Thank goodness it was a slow day in the office because we might have scared away any new perspective patients. On my way out, the doctor handed me a bag of Lexapro in a Lunesta bag - because my insanity is a secret apparently. One look at me and the gig is up people. So, now, we are on a strict regimen of popsicles and juice and venomous spite. I cleared out the entire aisle of fever reducers at Rite Aid in search of a palatable selection (and also a bottle of Bio Oil. Totally an impulse buy, but while I am treating a sicky germ, why the heck not erase those unsightly, old stretch marks, right? Sounds easy, I will let you know. Maybe I will do a before and after analysis...)

Anyway, despite my attempts to get the girl to take liquid or chewables, the end game is the same - me with boiling, sticky, acetaminophen/ibuprofen in my hair and dripping down the inside of my t-shirt and pooling in my bellybutton, in the dark, tripping over piles of laundry and a grumpy, displaced dog (he prefers the end of the bed, but not with a thrashing toddler). This morning, I was successful in duping her with crushed pills in a bowl full of yogurt, but she might be on to me. She gave the "I am on to you and your reindeer games, woman" look. I tend to get that look a lot these days. So, for the next 3-4 hours she will be spicy and will dump every bucket of toys she owns. My really-should-have-been-steam-cleaned-3-months-ago-berber carpet is totally covered with wooden blocks and Mickey the Mouse figurines. She might be trying to recreate our favorite scene from Home Alone (the first one. Surprisingly, #'s 2 and 3 didn't live up to the typical sequel successes.) I really hope she is back to her typical convivial self by tomorrow. It is exponentialy more challenging to Facebook stalk with a cranky kid on one's lap.

If there is a Twitter tech among you, could you spare a speedy quick lesson? I will gladly grab your butt(on) if you grab mine!