BLURG

Occasionally there just isn't a word in the English language that is good enough at describing a particular emotion or circumstance or whathaveyou, so generally I go about the business of making one up.

There could possibly be a Chinese or Mandarin or Old Hungarian word that would encapsulate the situation nicely, but I don't speak a lick of Old Hungarian. I do, however, speak Make-It-Up-Yourself quite fluently. It's practically a second language to me. (You can look for Ellen's New English Dictionary in stores soon.)

(This is a trait I have been found to have in common with Tina Fey of Saturday Night Live and 30 Rock fame. This has led me to believe that Tina and I, given the right set of circumstances, could be the best of friends. As long as we put aside our differences in faith and politics, we would be inseperable, Tina and me...because who needs to agree on those things, anyway, to be BFFs?)

ANYWAY, I woke up every morning last week thinking the same word:

Blurg.

I probably don't even need to tell you what blurg means, but I will. 

Blurg is when you pull yourself out of bed, after a fitful night's sleep, feeling groggy and pitiful, but not having any choice but to pull off the covers and make haste for the day.

Blurg is really needing a nap but having a two year old who refuses to stay in her bed. 

Blurg is looking down and realizing your favorite shirt is oatmeal-encrusted and you are going to have to change clothes...again.

Blurg is getting to the grocery store and realizing you forgot the list you spent an hour making.

Some less sophisticated personages might just say "Oh no!" or "Drat!" or give a hearty sigh or something like that. Me? I say

blurg.

Last week, due to Joe's work schedule, I, for all intents and purposes, ended up acting as a single parent.  It is rare, but happens occasionally, that he has a week that keeps him super busy with dinner meetings and out of town trips and whatnot. It was already, for that very reason, going to be a blurg-y week.

So what could make this week even more blurgier? Toward the beginning of the week I began feeling not-so-good. Very blurg-ish. I wanted to nap during the day, which I never do!

And to add blurg to the blurg, my children were acting a bit like monkeys that had just been released from their cages.

Take, for instance, Apple-Gate 2011:

Big sister gives little sister an apple that has been eaten down to the core. She also gives it to her in her mother's bed. Little sister begins to eat the apple, core and all, and lets apple-juice run stickily onto the sheets.

Big sister wants apple back. A wrestling match ensues.

Big sister wrests the apple away from little sister and throws it into the trash can.

This causes little sister a great deal of consternation,

but she will not be thwarted.

No one can take away my apple nub! No one!

Every day I asked myself the same question: Could this week get any more blurg?

And every day the answer was:

WHY YES IT COULD!

I went to the gym to exercise only to begin having unexplained leg pain.

Blurg!

I ordered Mexican take-out one night only to find that I had ordered it from an entirely different restaurant than the one at which I arrived at to pick it up.

Blurg!

(This made for an impromptu Mexican-dining experience with my two monkeys.) 

I ran out of milk.

Blurg!

I went to Wal-Mart specifically to buy hangers (because, mind you, I don't ever go to Wal-Mart just for the fun of it) and they were out of the exact ones I needed!!

BLURG!

The blurg icing on the blurg cake of my blurg week came with a frantic phone call from New York City.

It was my husband, and he had lost his car key in the Washington DC airport.

Not a big deal, except we don't have a spare.

Not a big deal, except it's one of those fancy keys that isn't really a key---just an electronic square piece of plastic that opens the doors and turns on the engine simply by being in physical proximity to the car.

Not a big deal, except that he was in New York and had no way to get home once his flight landed back in Knoxville.

No big deal. No big deal.

There is just something very blurg about sitting for 3 hours in the airport parking garage with two children while professionals look bumfuddled about what to do with your husband's car that has no key, and then realizing your only option is to have it towed. And over an hour later, when the tow truck shows up, the nice fellow with the grease-stained shirt and large belly informs you that he hopes he can get it out of the parking space. (And then asks if you happen to have a spare key on you. Oh BLURG.) And getting stopped by airport security to validate that you aren't just stealing the car by using a tow-truck, after a four-hour ordeal, with two children in the back seat of your car as you follow behind, because that wouldn't be obvious would it?! 

 

And then there is a sigh of relief that you have taken care of all you can take care of, so you treat yourself (and your hangers-on) to some ice cream. Ice cream makes any blurg day less-blurgy. This day has had all the blurg it can take.

OR HAS IT?!

Just wait, because your husband will call and say that his flight has been delayed...and since there is no car at the airport for him to drive home, (because, remember, he lost his key??)...you will have to pick him up at 1 am. With two kids.

BLURG!

Ha! And you thought that was all? You did?! How silly of you.

Because your husband will call an hour later and say that his flight has been cancelled and he won't be home until tomorrow afternoon.

Another day of blurgishness will be yours for the taking!

But finally, finally, finally,

he will come home.

And your 5 year old will want to take a picture of you,

so you will say (If I remember correctly, the details are somewhat hazy) "Give me your best 17-year-old girl pose!"

and your husband will come through for you.

You will be so happy that you will make him some strawberry-iced cupcakes.

(You don't have milk in the fridge, but you DO have all the ingredients for strawberry-iced cupcakes. Go figure!)

So, just take it from me.

It won't change your circumstances, but it might just make you a feel a leeeeetle bit better, to make up a word when you are having one of those days.

You know,

one of those

blurg

kind of days.