Little Miss Sick?

Natalie woke up screaming at three in the morning on Friday.

She does that sometimes. I guess she has a nightmare or something so I’ll stumble in, assure her that everything is okay and then say that it’s time to go back to sleep.

Tom rarely hears it when Natalie cries. I think he’s going deaf. Because when Natalie started to wail on Saturday, he just rolled over. Sometimes I want to lean over and start wailing into his ear.

I forced myself out of bed and went to Natalie’s room. That’s when I realized she was making a horrible gagging noise.

No…

Please no….

Not barf.

I cannot deal with barf. I can deal with blow out poops any day….but barf? Not so much.

I watched in horror as Natalie spewed all over the carpet.

“Mommy!” she gasped in between retching. “I sicken! I SICKEN!”

I would have gathered her into my arms. But then she threw up down her front.

The smell was….let’s just say I was trying hard not to throw up myself.

I went over to Natalie, who was sobbing, and told her it was going to be okay.

“Mommy!” she wailed and then rushed into my arms, pressing last nights regurgitated dinner all over my front.

“It’ll be okay,” I said in a strangled voice. I was trying hard not to breathe.

“Mommy, I---” Natalie began and then a spew of throw up hit my shoulder.

“Okay, Linda Blair, let’s settle down,” I said, scooping her up. I rushed her into the bathroom.

Of course she didn’t throw up again though.

No, she had done that already all over her room. All over me.

I gave her a quick bath and then stripped her bed and cleaned up her floor.

Then I put her back to bed and took a quick shower.

When I climbed back into bed Tom was all, “What happened? What’s that smell?”

“Natalie threw up,” I explained.

Then he started snoring again.

The next morning Natalie was clearly out of it. Instead of racing around the room, she lounged on the couch. This is unthinkable for my children. My kids are always on the go. They rarely sit for long.

Natalie threw up a few more times. She said she was hungry for lunch so I fixed her a plate—and then she threw up all over it.

“I’m going to be sick,” Tom said, dropping the pizza he was about to eat.

He was still sitting there in horror until I shouted at him to “help clean up the puke, for God’s sake, don’t just SIT there…”

Natalie went to bed early and then woke up calling my name at two in the morning.

“Mommy? MOMMY!”

I braced myself for the vomit.

But thankfully there was none.

Natalie just wanted cold water and a diaper change.

On Saturday morning Natalie was a bit warm but she was behaving more like herself. She was racing around and getting into everything. Towards the end of the night I noticed that she crawled back on the couch and I thought she was feeling sick. I checked her temperature and it showed she was back to normal.

“Mommy. Want water with ice,” Natalie told me primly.

That was something I did for her when she was sick: I’d add an ice cube to keep it cold longer.

When I returned with Natalie’s ice water she went, “Want princess blanket.” So I got that for her.

Then she asked for her pillow.

And I started to wonder if she was pretending to feel sick…..

But then I felt guilty. Of course she was still sick.

But then again…..

She probably loved it when I babied her all day Friday. She could have thought, “Wait a minute. I don’t want to give that up. But if I pretend to be sick…”

On Sunday Natalie did the same thing. When I dared to give her plain water she went, “I want ice,” and handed her cup back.

I took her cup and bent down to her level. “You wouldn’t be pretending to be sick, would you?”

Natalie blinked sweetly at me. “Water. With ice.”

“Amber! Why are you just standing there? Our sick daughter asked for water with ice!” Tom’s voice rang out. He took the cup and gave me a dirty look. He was totally falling for it. Natalie is his little princess. His baby.

“She’s not sick anymore, Tom. Her temperature is normal. She’s been running around the house all day at top speed. She squeezed out the last of the toothpaste all over the bathroom. She’s faking it,” I explained as I walked into the kitchen.

(Further proof: this was Natalie on Sunday. In the background you can see the mess she’s made. PLUS she’s clomping around in her Daddy’s shoes...

)

“She is not! Look at her! She’s laying there all pathetic under her princess blanket,” Tom said. He walked back out with Natalie’s water. “Here you go, sweetie.”

Natalie took it. “Thank you, Daddy.” Then she gave me a Look that clearly said, “Mwahaha.”

She didn’t want dinner. She asked for ice cream.

“Okay,” Tom said.

“TOM! I tell you, she’s faking it!” I argued.

“She’s not. Look at her all pathetic under her princess blanket.”

Of course when I looked at her she gave me another “mwahaha” look.

I walked out and gave Natalie her ice cream. “I’m onto you,” I said.

Natalie grinned at me with ice cream dripping off her chin. “I yuv you,” she said.

I smiled back. “I yuv you, too, little faker…”

Silence is Bliss?

Tom and I were able to go on a date Monday since Tom’s Mom was visiting.

We decided on lunch and a movie.

Sometimes it’s hard to agree on a movie. Tom likes movies where things blow up and guts go flying across the room. I like movies where a woman and a man try to find one another. Granted, I do like other movies. For instance, I love movies with aliens in them but I think they terrify Tom. I also love movies like Austin Powers and Billy Madison. You know, movies that really don’t make a lot of sense but are hilarious?

The good news is, Tom and I could agree on a movie. We figured we’d go see Couples Retreat.

Before that we went to lunch at this small Italian place. It’s awesome. They have authentic Italian food. I ordered the Vodka Rigatoni and tried not to eat too much of the bread they put out beforehand. But it’s so hard! The bread is warm and delicious and…heck, I ended up eating more than I can remember. The thing is, I realized that Tom and I were barely saying a word to each other. So I suddenly banged my hand down on the table and went,

“No.”

This caught Tom’s attention. Before he had been staring intently at a painted picture of a vine.

“No what?” he asked.

“We can’t already be one of those couples who have nothing to say to each other. So…how is your job going?” I said.

Tom raised an eyebrow. “You know how it’s going. I’ve already told you.”

“Work with me here, Tom.”

“I would if you asked a good question. Why am I going to waste my breath answering a question you already know the answer to?” Tom wondered as he popped another piece of bread into his mouth.

I sighed. “I just don’t want to sit here in silence.”

Tom shrugged. “It doesn’t bother me. I’m enjoying it. We don’t have a kid screeching at us for once. So let’s just sit back and enjoy the quiet.”

I shook my head. “No! The whole point of getting out alone is getting to talk without interruptions. So…tell me something interesting.”

Tom frowned. “Well. This olive oil dip is really good,” he finally said, motioning to the bowl in front of us.

I sighed again. “No! About your life. What’s something that you haven’t told me?” I leaned forward expectantly.

Tom looked perplexed. “Well,” he said slowly. “I need a new pair of pants.”

Good gracious.

Thankfully our food came then. Another silence lapsed but this time it was because we were too busy stuffing our faces. We’re big food people, you see. We don’t like taking a bite, swallowing, talking, and then having to wait forever to take another bite.

My vodka rigatoni was delicious. I was in the middle of moaning because it was so good when the waiter came back to refill our drinks.

“Oh my. Should I leave you alone?” he joked.

I chewed happily. “I’m okay,” I assured him. “This is just so good.”

I really need to learn how to cook better. I mean, I suppose I could but to be honest, I hate cooking and I think being in the kitchen is a waste of my time. I wish I had a passion for it. I have a passion for eating, obviously.

After we ate we headed to the movie theater.

The guy behind the concession counter appeared to be a little bored. When we approached he said in a monotone, “If you buy a large popcorn and drink, you can get a commemorative Twilight glass.”

I made a face. “No thank you.”

This is when he lit up. “Do you not like Twilight?” he practically demanded. I thought he was going to leap over the counter and grab my collar.

“Er…not really,” I admitted and then shuffled a bit behind Tom in case the guy lost it.

But no. Instead he shouted, “Tamara! Get out here! I found one! You owe me five bucks!”

And then another worker walked out from the back with the same bored expression.

“I found one. I told you I’d find one today. She doesn’t like Twilight,” the guy told her, pointing at me frantically.

It was the strangest thing. But the good thing was, I didn’t have to pay for my butter salt. Apparently now they want to charge you $1.50 for it but the guy was all, “Since you earned me five bucks, you can have it for free.”

Yay!

See? It pays to not like Twilight, I tell you.

And guess what? They showed a preview for New Moon and Tom and I both went, “Boooo!” at the same time when it popped up.

Of course then we heard this chick sitting in the back go, “Who said that?” and I motioned for Tom to slide down in his seat with me.

“Twihards can be scary,” I whispered. “It’s best to keep quiet now.”

(I’m not kidding about the scary Twihards either. See, I post over at this clothing forum, right? I went into a Twilight thread because apparently some drama broke out because people bashed Twilight or something and I was just telling them that I meant no harm when I made fun of Twilight since I have this compulsion to have everyone like me. Some ladies were downright mean and told me to go back to my blog and write about my dirty laundry. Some were normal and thanked me for my message but sheesh, there are some nutters, I tell you…I mean, do they realize they’re getting all bent out of shape over TWILIGHT? These are grown ladies I’m talking about. If they were teenagers I’d get it because their brains haven’t formed all the way yet. But adults? I’m still at a loss…)

Anyhow, Tom chuckled softly over my scary Twihards comment.

So yeah, maybe we don’t always have something to say to each other. But we work. Our relationship works.

And that’s all that really matters.

The Swimmer Boy

Tommy has started his swim lessons again.

The first time he went his real teacher was sick so he had a substitute. This substitute was…how should I put it delicately? Scary. She was this older Spanish woman who seemed to snap at the kids if they weren’t doing something exactly right. Tommy is sensitive. He always has been. He hates when someone is upset with him. He’s prone to bursting into tears. It’s just who he is. So when this teacher kept yelling, I was two seconds away from jumping off the bleachers and splashing her face with water.

I know that’s lame. The whole splashing her face with water thing, I mean. I’m just awful with confrontations against people I don’t know well. I never know quite what to do or say.

I did mention her hostility to the front desk though. The woman seemed to know exactly who I was talking about.

“Yes. She’s a bit...strong,” is what I was told which is a polite word for scary bitch. But then I was assured that Tommy’s real teacher would be there next week.

When we went back to Tommy’s lessons on Monday, I pumped myself up to demand a refund if the scary Spanish lady was back. She seriously terrified Tommy. He also said she’d start to jabber in Spanish. I noticed this when I watched from the bleachers. I really should pay more attention to Dora the Explorer. The only word I got from her was “water.”

I was all ready for my confrontation. I had one of my famous Passionate Speeches in mind that I give to Tom when I’m upset. I have no problems confronting Tom. But other people? That’s a bit harder. My speech was going to go something like this:

“I’d like a refund. The scary Spanish lady is frightening my son and I don’t want her to ruin his love for swimming. That woman is going to scare children away! I mean, swimming is already a sport that doesn’t get as much buzz as it is and could use all the people it can get. You walk into a store and you see a shirt for baseball, for basketball, for soccer, for hockey…but where are the swimming shirts? That’s what I want to know. Where are the swimming shirts?” Then I was going to hit the palm of my hand with my fist.

So yeah, the speech was a bit much. But seriously, where ARE the swimming shirts. Some stores have them, I know. But I went into this one store wanting to get a swim shirt for Tommy and they didn’t have one. And when I asked the store worker he looked at me as though I had a thong on my head.

“Swimming?” he barked.

“Yes,” I said. I wanted to add, “You know that thing people do in water.” But some people don’t get sarcasm.

“Why would there be a swimming shirt? It’s just fun and games,” the guy told me.

Okay yeah, swimming is fun and games. But it’s also hard work. I can’t even dog paddle to the end of the pool without losing my breath! There needs to be more swimming clothes. That’s all I’m saying. (Gymboree, take note. If I see one more baseball/football/soccer line I'm going to scream.)

Anyhow, the good news is, Tommy’s real teacher was there and she was nice.

Of course we got there early so I’d have time for my passionate speech. Seeing as I didn’t have to give my passionate speech we had to wait around. This little girl from Tommy’s class marched up to us and went,

“Want to see my scab?”

Obviously she hasn’t been taught people skills. Someone seriously needs to tell her that she cannot start a conversation like that.

“No thank you,” I said but it was too late. She was already twisting around and showing me this disgusting mark on the back of her leg.

“I fell down. It bled a lot,” she told me solemnly.

“Um. Ew,” I answered. Then I figured I should say something Mom-Like and went, “I imagine that hurt a lot. Are you okay now?”

The girl nodded. “Yeah. I also pulled off my fingernail. Want to see it?”

“No thank you,” I said but it was too late.

She showed me her bandaged finger.

I felt faint. I do not deal well with injuries.

“I think the lessons are about to start,” I said hopefully even though I saw that it was still ten minutes before they were supposed to begin. I was just hoping that she’d go away. Kids just seem to gravitate towards me. It’s like I have a neon sign blinking above my head that says, “Random freaky children! Come talk to me!”

“Do you know once I broke my nose? It hurt,” the girl continued.

I wanted to say to the girl’s mother, who was messing around with her BlackBerry and didn’t hear her daughter’s crazy conversation, “Does this belong to you? Could you deal with it? Please?”

I had to listen to her report all of her injuries. It was disgusting.

When the teacher mercifully called the class, my mind with whirling with images of bloody noses, scars..

Yuck.

I am pleased to say that Tommy enjoyed swim lessons this time. He easily dived into the water without hesitating for even a second.

When he gets really good, he’s talking about wanting to join the swim team. He says he wants to race against other people. I’ve reminded him that he can’t always win—that’s another thing, he gets all bent out of shape when he loses. This is why I hate playing games with him. The other day we played Chutes and Ladders and I won and he sulked for nearly an hour. He’s just like his father. I can’t even play the Wii against Tom because heaven forbid that I win. And when Tom plays against the computer and he loses, he’s all, “It’s CHEATING! I’m losing because it’s CHEATING!”

So before Tommy joins the swim team, we’re going to sit down and reiterate that he can’t always win.

Because heaven forbid if Tommy loses and he starts to yelp, “The other boy cheated!” at the top of his lungs.

I think I'd slide down in the bleachers and be all, "Lalala. Whose kid is that?"

On Halloween Day....

“Trick or treat, smell my feet, give me something good to eat! If you don’t, I don’t care, I’ll pull down my underwear!” Tommy sang.

“You better not say that tonight,” I warned. “And plus, exposing yourself is against the law. I think Pee Wee even got arrested for it."

It was Halloween and Tommy was obviously excited over the prospect of going trick or treating. Every few minutes he’d ask me if it was almost time to go.

“Now Mommy?” he’d wonder.

“You still have five hours to go.”

“Now?”

“You still have four hours and fifty five minutes to go.”

“How about now?”

“Four hours and fifty minutes.”

It was starting to get a little aggravating to be honest. A part of me wanted to shriek, “Never okay! We’re never going trick or treating!” But I didn’t. I swallowed my frustration down and when Tommy asked me again if it was almost time I said through gritted teeth, “Four hours and thirty minutes..”

When it was finally time to go, I insisted on taking pictures.











“Mommy! Batman doesn’t have time for this,” Tommy moaned.

After the pictures, I put Natalie in the stroller. I did this because she tends to get tired after walking for a bit and she’ll suddenly stop, cross her arms over her chest and proclaim that she’s “all done.” She refuses to budge after this. If she’s feeling especially stubborn, she’ll collapse dramatically on the ground. She’s done this once at the mall and I had this old lady ask if she needed to call 911.

Tom’s Mom, who was visiting us a few days stayed back to pass out candy. Tom had to work of course. He seems to always have to work on Halloween.

I had planned on just taking the kids around the block because A) it was cold, B) it was cold and oh right, C) it was COLD. I don’t deal well with the cold. Plus there was still snow on the ground from our big snowstorm and a lot of it still blocked the sidewalks.

So we started ringing doorbells and after the fifth door Natalie said, “I’m all done.” Then she got out of her stroller and started walking towards the direction of the house. The only reason why she ran back over to me was because there was a boy in a monster costume that freaked her out. She threw her arms around my waist and pressed her face into my stomach. “I’m all done,” she said again. “I cold. I go home.”

Tommy stomped his foot. “I’m NOT cold. I don’t WANT to go home!”

I suppose I could have dropped Natalie off with her Grandma. But quite frankly, I didn’t want to have to walk all the way back home. I’m lazy like that. So I dug through Natalie’s candy and pulled out a lollipop. I checked to make sure it wasn’t diseased or poisoned and then I handed it over.

“You eat this. Okay?” I said. Look, I’m not above bribes. I admit that when I go to Target, I usually let Natalie pick something out from the dollar spot so she’ll allow me to shop in peace. I’ll fork over a buck if I get some silence. I know Supernanny would faint but then again, what does she know? She doesn’t have kids. She gets to shop in peace whenever she wants.

Natalie was content with the lollipop. We went to more houses. I had to plow through snow with the stroller. This didn’t always work out so well. I thought I could get through this mound of snow but I was wrong. The wheels got caught on it and Natalie nearly went tumbling out into the snow.

“MOMMY!” she snapped, all insulted.

“Blame the snow!” I retorted.

I definitely got a work out.

Which was a good thing because when we got home, I totally raided the kid’s candy.

“What are you doing?” Tommy demanded as I combed through it. I immediately started setting aside the Reeses Peanut Butter Cups.

“Making sure your candy is safe. This doesn’t look right,” I said, as I moved a Milky Way over to my pile.

“That’s mine!” Tommy argued, grabbing a peanut butter cup. The thing is, he doesn’t fully appreciate it. If you eat a Reeses Peanut Butter Cup, you have to really love it. Tommy just chews it like it’s an apple or something. He doesn’t savor it like I do.

“Tommy,” I explained. “I get the Peanut Butter Cups.”

Tommy frowned, still hugging one to his chest. “Why?”

I thought quickly. “Because I created you. Therefore, I have dibs on the peanut butter cups.”

Tommy cocked his head to the side, contemplating this. I suppose he figured it was a good enough reason because he handed the candy over. “Okay,” he said reluctantly. “But only because you created me.”

Ha.

This is what I set aside for me:



Yum.

Is it sad that I’ve already eaten it all? (Plus a few extras that I've swiped..)

Sundowners - What is That?

When I was younger I loved the croonings of Gordon Lightfoot. One of my favorite songs of his was called "Sundown." I loved the harmony, the haunting melody, and his voice. Today I am fascinated by another title of "Sundown." You see my mom has Sundowners Syndrome, also known as sundowning. It is a condition often associated with the early stages of Alzheimer's, although a definitive connection has not been made. Sundowners syndrome can also be considered a mood disorder or even a sleep disorder. Sufferers experience periods of extreme agitation and confusion during the late afternoon or early evening hours, leading to irritability towards caregivers or hospital staff. It was once believed that sundowners syndrome was a result of missed day/night light cues, hence the sudden onset at sundown. My mom worked for Wal-mart for over 20 years. She worked third shift. I am so curious as to how many third shift workers experience sundowners in their later years. If I were a researcher I would take this up as a challenge. Caregivers and nursing home staff members can often anticipate an elderly patient's bout of sundowners syndrome. A period of irrational thoughts and irritable behavior might begin after the last meal of the day and last until bedtime, for example. One theory concerning sundowners syndrome is that the constant daily mental processes for normal living can become overwhelming for the elderly during evening hours. They simply have too much incoming information and their restricted cognitive abilities become overloaded. The result is a period of irritability and negative thoughts. In my mothers case the Dadeville Healthcare Center is too stimulating. There is too much activity going on and by evening it sets her off royally. She and her roomie both are sundowners and high elopement risks...but they are not good for each other at night because one won't go to sleep until the other one does. So I can see the wheels turning and you are asking yourself...ok...your mom is a sundowner...what can be done about this to help her lead a normal life? Well therein lies the problem.
Treatment for sundowners syndrome is generally limited to the underlying condition which triggers it, such as Alzheimer's or clinical depression. Anti-depressants may lessen the severity of the confusion, while drugs like Aricept may improve cognitive function. Since sundowners syndrome is also closely associated with sleep disorders and fatigue, sedatives and other sleeping aids may also help. Experienced caregivers suggest encouraging the patient to take several naps throughout the day and limit stimulating activities to the morning hours. All this has been tried....my mom has been given enough sleep enhancing drugs to stop a stampeeding herd of cattle...and none of it has worked to date. That is where another problem exists because there are other conditions which closely resemble sundowners syndrome, especially in unfamiliar hospital settings. Some elderly patients may become confused or irritable as a result of the anesthetics used during their surgeries. Others who spend time in the ICU or are connected to noisy medical equipment may experience a condition called hospital psychosis, which may also be especially noticeable during evening hours. But hospital psychosis can affect any age group, while sundowners syndrome is generally limited to the elderly population. Ok...so she is a classic sundowners. As far as dementia goes...it is just one of many stages she will go through...hopefully. This to shall pass they say...worst case scenario...it won't. Understanding the sundowners concept though has explained a lot of things that my mom did before my dad died and while they were living with me. I believe she has been a sundowners for a while. It is good to know....but does it make me feel any better? Nope...Not really...to be honest...it just makes me feel worse for my mom...she has been suffering for so long...and was so good at bluffing...I missed the cues completely. This woman should be playing poker in Vegas....she is good! Happy Hump Day! Hug your momma if you can. If not...hug somebody else's momma. It will make their day!

Limited Visibility

So it was Friday morning and there was a problem.

Tom couldn’t get to the airport to pick up his mother who had just flown in to spend a couple of days with us.

Why?

Because the roads were closed thanks to the snowstorm we had the day before.

“Why are they closed? I have a truck! I’ll be fine,” Tom kept fuming.

“Er, well the news says that roads are closed due to blowing snow and limited visibility,” I explained.

Tom waved a hand in the air dismissively. “That’s nothing. I’ll be fine.”

I blinked at him. “So you can still see even though there is limited visibility? Are you like a superhero or something? You could be called SuperBoy ‘N Truck,” I joked. I thought it was funny and laughed.

Tom did not. He just started to pace. “I have to find a way out there. There’s got to be some way.” He checked the map online that told him what roads were open and closed. All the alternate routes were still closed. “Why won’t they open the roads? I’ll be fine!” he kept moaning.

“Blowing snow and limited visibility,” I reminded him.

“That’s nothing!” Tom said again.

He’s not afraid to drive in anything, you see.

An hour later he checked the map.

“My alternate route is open! I’m off,” Tom said, grabbing his coat.

I checked the map and saw that the road was open but that it stated that it was icy with blowing snow and yes, limited visibility.

“Wait!” I called out as he was about to walk out the door.

“What?” He was obviously annoyed.

“I’m just...worried. What if you get hurt?”

Tom rolled his eyes. “I won’t. I have four wheel drive. I’ll be fine.” He leaned over and kissed the top of my head.

“But...” I started to argue.

“Amber. I’m going. What’s your problem?” Tom demanded.

I sighed. “Maybe I just love you, you idiot! I don’t want you to get hurt!” (And yes, I totally took the line “I love you, you idiot” from Gilmore Girls. I love using lines from the show. Sometimes I’ll shout, “Oy with the poodles already!”)

Anyhow, Tom said that he’d be fine and left.

I worried for him.

But he was okay. Tom really is a good driver. He said some roads were rough but that his truck got through it.

Later that night we carved the pumpkins.



After Tom finished the first one, he said he had a great idea for the second.

I thought it would be something sweet from the way he winked at me. Maybe he’d carve in the worlds “I love you!”

But no.

He made this:



He laughed at it for about five minutes.

“A barfing pumpkin. Hahaha. Maybe he ate Amber's cooking," Tom said.

I gave him a Look and reminded him that hey, I made a mean bowl of spaghetti...

So there.

On Chocolate Passion Body Powders

Look at this:



Doesn’t that just scream fun?

Eden Fantasys was kind enough to let me try a product and I picked that one. It's a site dedicated to a bunch of different adult toys. It also has lingerie. Maybe you can surprise your mate. Maybe that'll be a Christmas gift for Tom. I mean, I'd WEAR it obviously and Tom would just...enjoy I guess...I think anything other than the sweatpants I wear is a step up, you know..

Anyhow, what I picked is called Chocolate Passion Body Powder.

Of course I’d go for the chocolate.

The package from Eden Fantasys arrived discreetly.

You don’t have to worry about SEX TOYS being emblazoned on the side of the box in bold letters. I was always paranoid about that. My neighbors already think I’m crazy enough as it is and if they knew I ordered products like that, well, then they’d be all, “And not only does our neighbor sing bizarre songs to her kids to get them to smile for the camera, but she’s also some sort of nympho. Best not go outdoors in tiny clothes or else she might jump on you.”

The awesome thing about the Chocolate Passion Body Powder is that it comes with a card to explain different uses.



For instance, if I just want to smell like a giant chocolate bar, it tells me how I can do that.

But obviously I wanted to use it for other purposes.

So that night I said to Tom as he started to kiss me, “Okay.”

And he went, “Huh?” because he’s so used to me rejecting him. It’s not because he’s crap or anything like that, it’s just because, well, by the end of the night I’m usually exhausted. By then I’ve usually been screamed at, bitten, and told off—and that’s only from the cat.

Anyhow, Tom was surprised because he’s used to me slapping his hand away and mumbling no.

This time I said yes.

He almost seemed confused. “When you said yes, did you mean...”

“I meant YES, Tom!”

So he started kissing me again and then I said, “Wait. I have something!” and I pulled out the Chocolate Powder.

The card even explained how I could use it as an aphrodisiac.

One sentence says, “With a waving action, spread a light dusting of Chocolate Passion Powder in the air.” So I did this. Only I think I used too much because a splatter of it fell on Tom’s face.

“Jesus! What are you doing?” he shouted, rubbing it from his eyes.

“I’m making a light dusting of Chocolate Passion Powder!” I shouted as I waved the awesome pink feather in the air.

“You’re blinding me is what you’re doing!” Tom whined.

But he’s just a baby. Any other man would probably relish in the chocolate rain.

Then I started spreading some chocolate powder on Tom’s chest. I took a tentative lick and was impressed. The powder was delicious. Of course then I kept licking the powder and Tom was all, “Hello? Did you forget what you were doing? I’m starting to feel like I’m just a hunk of meat to you.”

Oh. Right. The stuff was so good that I nearly forgot that we were about to....

Needless to say, I soon remembered.

And the powder was a success in that area.

And Bonus! Afterwards our bed smelled like chocolate.

Guess what was else on the card thing?

Instructions on how to make a cup of hot chocolate.

I did just that and then got the giggles.

“What’s so funny?” Tom asked from the couch.

I lifted my cup. “I’m amused that we just used this stuff upstairs and now I’m drinking it.”

The hot chocolate was delicious too by the way.

So bottom line? The Chocolate Passion Body Powder rocks. It has so many uses so the $19.99 price is totally worth it.

Tom has even asked for the powder. He was all, “If you remember what you’re doing, we can bring the chocolate stuff. Just don’t slobber on me again.”

Awesome.