Tuesday, February 28, 2006
An answer to all women's prayers...We were waiting for somebody to prove it was good for you!
A phonecall I went through today:
Me: Good afternoon, Company name here, how can I help you?
Her: Hi I'm calling about the house you guys have for sale.
*Notice she said THE house, not A house, because we only have one house for sale in the whole state!
Me: What street is it on, please? (one way for me to be able to run a search for the property so I can direct her call.)
Her: Oh, I don't know. It's a gray house.
Me: Was there a name of an agent on the board in front of the house? (another way I can run the search)
Her: (to someone else) Was there a name? (to me-) yeah, Real Estate. The name of the person is Real Estate.
Me: (in my head)oh my GOD! Are you kidding me?!?!?
I couldn't connect her to the agent, Mr. Estate had just stepped out.
**Side note- NONE of our signs have the words Real Estate on them...
I just found this on Michelle's site, please read this. It will sicken you to no end! (Supermom-I know you will have something to say about it, girl!)
My appointment yesterday sucked ass. First of all, I'm in the room naked from the waist down and my gyno walks in and asks "Why are you here?" (Crickets.) Are you fucking kidding me? He finally sits down and looks at my chart and says "Oh..." and starts with the whole "We'll check again and once the labs come in we'll call you and let you know. And just to be on the safe side we'll have you back in six months." He hasn't even seen the labs and he's making appointments for six months. So I get poked and prodded and swabbed and he's done. "We'll let you know." He said as he walked out. Wham, bam, thank you ma'am. Thanks buddy, I feel so much better. He didn't say anything else. I feel like calling the office everyday till they tell me something, because he didn't even say the "Things are looking good" that I used to hear before the baby. But he also didn't say anything negative. I don't know. I didn't eat anything all day yesterday, got into a huge "I hate you, I'm taking the baby and leaving you" fight with Daddy, went to bed with a huge migraine. Good times all around.
So today, my mouth feels numb (WTF is that about?) and I'm a mess. I wish this could all just be over with. The therapy, the gyno appts., the fights...
I need a break from being me.
Monday, February 27, 2006
God Bless you, little Angel.
Thursday, February 23, 2006
***UPDATE: Here is the story printed in today's (2/24/06) paper. Her mother worked for the police dept. so you would think she would understand the concept of sirens. I am not placing blame on her, I'm just confused over the common sense of it all. This happened just ten minutes from where I live. I'm sorry her baby is gone...
Wednesday, February 22, 2006
Today I left. I used my lunch break to go pick up Daddy at "home" so he can drop me back off at work and take himself to work, since he starts at one. I didn't eat. So when I got back to my office, I went to a small diner down the block and ordered a hamburger deluxe (lettuce, tomatoes, fries. They make it sound like it comes with party favors and balloons.) and sat at my desk to eat it. I'm holding the burger, getting ready to take my first bite, when the highly-caffienated guy I hate oh so much comes running-yes, RUNNING- to my desk holding papers out at arms length saying "can you fax these for me?" I know he sees the burger in my hands. I know he really can walk the three feet to the fax machine, push the buttons on it and send the fax himself. Instead he stands there, still holding the papers out to me, waiting for my response. This wouldn't piss me off if he wasn't so stupid. This morning I walk in and there are papers on my desk. That is typical, because sometimes the people who work from home will come in after-hours and drop things off that I need for the files. But I look at the paper and it's a fax that needs to be sent out. I look closer and it belongs to this asswipe. I take my coat off and bring it to the back, where I find him, sitting at his desk, doing nothing. The fax could have been sent already. Everything with this guy is urgent, so I'm sure that fax needed to go out ASAP, but instead it was sitting on my desk waiting for me. What an ass. I should also mention he has his own personal assistant who doesn't send his faxes. Or organize his files. Or take his messages. What in the world are you paying the assistant for?
I'm going to have to start leaving the office for lunch.
Seriously, that is a good point. Honestly.
When I am alone in the car with him, I like to be able to know that I can turn slightly and see him, or attend to him, which is easier if he's behind the passenger seat. And anyone with children in these car seats knows what a pain in the ass it is to move them around everytime you get in the car. Especially if you're already running late (I always am) and Daddy's papers are scattered in the backseat and you would rather just throw them out than move them over.
Case in point: The other night Little Man was constipated. I had taken Daddy to a friends house who needed help with his car, and I started to drive to my mother's house, a town away. The boy was still behind the passenger seat and I was at least able to reach back and pat his leg and hold his hand (not the safest way to drive, I know, but if you could hear the way the poor boy was crying...) while I got to my mother's house and stuffed him with prunes. Last night my mother needed me to bring her something and I packed the boy up (car seat behind driver's side this time) and headed to her house. He apparently is familiar with Murphy's Law, and starts crying. But he is behind me, and there is no way in hell I could reach back to comfort him, or give him his sippy or pacifier. I was trying to soothe him with words, that went across well, he started kicking my seat and screaming at me. The radio isn't working in my car, so there went the idea of music. He stopped before I got to my mother's, but still. The damn car seat is going back behind the passenger seat before I pick him up from the babysitter TODAY.
Tuesday, February 21, 2006
I'm hoping that we can get out of this rut we're in, because the depression is starting to settle in with me.
Oh-and there's bad news...we can't have the apartment. The landlady is his aunt, and somehow between us giving her the deposit (IN JANUARY) and them taking more than a month to put us in it, she has changed her mind. She told SIL that she doesn't think we can afford it. At first it was "Maybe they can take the smaller apartment" (the one bedroom in back that is just the bedroom, a "living room" a kitchen and a bathroom-no closets) but I told Daddy no. We have been waiting more than a month to get this apartment and now we can't have it? Fuck you lady. And fuck your apartment, give me my deposit back, we're going somewhere else. Not to mention the craptastic time we are having staying in the Disney Princess room at SIL's house. At least Daddy sees my point of view. In the smaller apartment we will have no space, and my Little Man won't have his own room, and where the hell am I supposed to put all our clothes and his toys and things I don't want out in the open like that? It's a miracle they fit a bathtub in that small ass bathroom. (Don't let me tell you what the toilet looks like...) And the one bedroom-with a Queen size bed, a crib, and a dresser...nope. Not happening. So back to apartment hunting. And more moving. Because we haven't done enough of that this year...
Next Monday is my appointment, trying not to think about it too much, and with all this going on I'm actually succeeding.
I need a drink. Too bad I haven't had a drink since before I was preggo, and one watered-down fruity drink will probably knock me on my ass...
Monday, February 20, 2006
Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit, I'm saying as i put the plate down and run to the other side of the ottoman and see him laying there with a shocked look on his face. Holy shit holy shit holy shit holy shit He starts to cry because he sees that I'm reaching for him too frantically and I know he sees the look on my face. I pick him up and start touching his neck his head his back checking to see if he cries harder when I touch any place in particular. He grabs hold of my neck and buries his face between my neck and my shoulder. Oh my God he's fine holy shit holy shit holy shit. My mother has fluffy carpeting, my son has a hard head, I guess that makes for a great combination.
I was scared shitless.
"Cheese." he says. He wants to keep eating, how dare I interrupt his breakfast?
He picks up a piece of egg with cheese on it and pops it in his mouth. Big cheesy grin for Mama.
I don't think my heartbeat has gone back to normal since then.
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Friday, February 17, 2006
This game actually makes me think I know how to play poker...it's fun.
My mother got me addicted to this one months ago. I've taken a break from it because sometimes I want to kill the guy...the one that's supposed to be ME! It's great. I think I'll kill time with it today...
Holy shit! This is scary.
IN THE NEWS:
This asshole is really pleading not guilty. Someone drove by and said "Burn that baby killer."
Wednesday, February 15, 2006
yep. Valentines Day continued to suck. We went to my mother's house where I COOKED for us. Spaghetti and sausage. Woo-hoo. No gifts. Nothing. I hate being broke. Can't even give gifts to the people you love. My mother gave us cards from Little Man. He signed them with scribbles. That part I loved.
Made an appointment with my gyno for my six month check-up that I was supposed to have in November but (thank you insurance) I missed that. After having Little Man the doc noticed some "abnormal cells" that he said were normal for a woman after she gives birth. "Let's check back in a couple of weeks and see what happens." Two weeks later, cells still look "funny", "Let's do a biopsy, and make sure they aren't cancerous." Go back to the gyno, got some skin scraped out of my coochie, which hurt more than the 'slight discomfort' they said I would feel. Cells came back normal, but still in danger of being pre-cancerous. "See you in six months!" Which, thanks again to my wonderful insurance company became NINE months, and God only knows if I have some sort of cervical cancer or something and it's taking too long to catch and may not be treatable. So now I'm going to my gyno in two weeks for another scraping, and I'm already scared shitless. My cousin just had a hysterectomy (did I spell that right? the spell check isn't working.) due to ovarian cancer that spread to her uterus. "There was nothing they could do for her." was what my mother told me. What if the cells are cancerous? What happens then? What if there's nothing they can do for me? What if having Little Man was the only chance I get at having a baby??? And here I am not appreciating motherhood the way I want to, not being home with him, getting frustrated over stupid shit...
Daddy is scared in his own way, not once does he say a word to me, but his mother told me he was asking her about her paps and cells and cancer...she told him she always gets 'abnormal-looking' cells in her paps and they always turns out to be nothing every time they scraped her. I haven't said anything to my mother because I don't want to scare her for nothing- if it does turn out to be nothing. I told my sister. That's it. No one else knows, except for the whole internet now, but I don't care. Maybe there's someone out there who can offer some advice, a story of what they went through. A drink. Anything.
The appointment is the 27th. I think I will successfully lose the twenty pounds I want to lose before then with all the worrying I'm already doing.
Tuesday, February 14, 2006
This year: Daddy shook me awake twenty minutes after the alarm clock went off so I could hurry my late ass into the shower.
Last year: We spent the day home together with the baby. Cuddled while he slept and had some rather great ummmm....
This year: Off to the babysitter went Little Man, off to work we went.
Last year: His mother took the baby while we had dinner.
This year: His mother bought me an outfit to wear to our non-existant dinner that we are "having" tonight. To my knowledge, there is no dinner. There has been no request for a sitter, there has been no "Is your mother working tonight?" from him.
This year: My boss is the one who gave me a box of chocolates. And I'm here eating them thinking they would taste better if they came from Daddy.
This year: Valentines Day sucks.
I don't know why I expected us to do anything today, it's not like we have money, but God if we could spend some time together. He is the one who always said he hated Valentines Day and I respected that, still giving him a gift and a card. This year I didn't- couldn't get him anything. I still wore the outfit that my MIL gave me, I just wore it to work. At least I can tell her "I wore it on Valentine's Day, just like you told me to!"
To those doing something special, enjoy it. Don't let my misery bring you down.
***Side note- did anyone watch the Peter Manfredo fight last night? It was the first time I actually saw that guy deserve to win a fight. I don't know what the hell happened to Scott Pemberton, but he got knocked on his ass. I went to high school with Manfredo, don't care for him much he was a cocky bastard. He always thought he was hot shit. I never spoke to him. He fought well last night though.
Monday, February 13, 2006
Thursday, February 09, 2006
Yesterday's "well-visit" turned into a hell visit when all of a sudden the doc looks in Little Man's ears and SURPRISE!!!!! We have an ear infection. The boy just started acting cranky in the waiting room, cried as soon as he saw the nurse, wouldn't let the doc check him, but I don't care about that. He has an ear infection. He just joined the club of millions of kids across the united states, has to take amoxycillin twice a day but. he. will. not. drink. it. The directions on the rx say I can mix the medication with milk. He's not stupid he knew there was something in there, but drank most of the milk anyway. And the motrin we have to give him for the pain- let's just say I'm glad it's clear and dye-free because my SIL's furniture was getting the worst of it. He has never had a problem taking medicine. If anyone has any advice or special procedures they would like to share on getting them to take meds- feel free to comment.
I stayed home with him yesterday, and he couldn't be happier. We sat on the couch and watched Sesame Street and Doodlebops (gag) and we played with Princess Niece. And he took a two hour nap. (That was before the hell visit.) Made me wish I didn't have to work and could stay home with him everyday. We made sandwiches. Well, I made the sandwiches he was pulling on my pant leg because I was taking too long to give him a slice of cheese to nibble on. It was a pretty good day. Now I have to get to work-
Please let me know of any ways to get the meds IN their mouth and not all over ME!!!!!!!
Tuesday, February 07, 2006
This is his face stuffed with chocolate cake.
And this is what I had to clean up. What you don't see is that there was white frosting all over his navy blue pants from the fortunate pieces that never made it into his mouth...
I told my Princess Niece she was to take full responsibilty for this since she was the one who can reach the table top.
I laughed the whole time I was washing him up, because all I could think about was "Holy Mother of God I'm never going to get him to sleep tonight..."
He fell asleep fine. Still woke up in the middle of the night, but we won't start that again...
Apparently to where the photos I was trying to upload recently are.
They must be chatting.
I KNOW I saved my work on saturday...
I just saw the post and changes this morning. But then I posted the pics of Little Man and POOF! into thin air they went!
This was all within three minutes time. I was getting dressed for work, Daddy was in the shower. Notice the Disney Princess sheets we sleep on. (We=Me, Daddy, and Little Man because God knows he really hates the playpen.) And notice how much room he takes, so you know how comfortanly we all sleep on this tiny bed...
Now that blogspot isn't eating up my photos, I will be posting the story of Little Man and Princess Niece getting into shit they shouldn't be getting into...
Friday, February 03, 2006
Little Man and Daddy stayed in the car listening to music and I ran in for a quick pick up.
Do you smell the irony in that last line?
"I ran in for a quick pick up."
Don't ever let the cosmos know you are trying to do something in a hurry.
Getting the anbesol was the easy part, as I walked (almost ran) into the pharmacy, I went past the security guard and made a bee-line for the baby aisle. This took more than a bee-line since this is not "my" pharmacy, I was not familiar with the aisle order. Whatever, I grabbed the anbesol and went to the register. Two people in front of me at the only open counter.
Piece of cake.
Until I realized the lady that was at the actual counter was arguing with the cashier about a coupon she wanted to use that would give her TEN CENTS OFF.
Come on lady, Im paying this place seven bucks so I can sleep for more than three hours tonight, it won't kill you to spend the ten cents.
Then I noticed the security guard walking towards me. There was minimal space between me and the....thing I was standing in front of but he felt the need to walk behind me. I was holding the anbesol in my left hand, left hand was just relaxed down my side, I wasn't holding it up or anything. My right hand was in my coat pocket, clutching my ATM card which was anxious to be swiped. Security guy walks towards the wall, turns on his heel and watches my hand.
****Side note- I used to work as an "undercover" security guard in a high priced department store, I know every move he's going to make before he even does it.****
I laugh a bit in my head and keep my hand by my side. I was not playing with the package in any way.
Finally the coupon lady leaves, and here goes the girl in fron of me, with four packages of Maxi pads.
Heavy flow this month?
She decides she wants to sign up for the pharmacy's discount card.
Seriously, what the hell did I do in my past life???
Security guy still watching me. He walks to my right this time, looking for my hand which is still in my pocket. He isn't being very discreet. I stand there waiting, the jeopardy song in my head.
Security guy walks to my left again.
Finally it's my turn.
I paid in under a minute.
He followed me to the door, except all he saw was smoke because I practically ran out.
Totally felt stupid, because here I was in the middle of ghetto-ville, being racially profiled by a black toy cop. Imagine that.
Wednesday, February 01, 2006
He wakes up every night about the same time, but never screaming, usually just a tiny whimpery whine to get our attention.
But last night...oh man.
I shot out of the loaner bed in the loaner room and flew to the playpen. A scream like the one he was giving could only mean that his legs were being torn off. Well, my state of deep sleep told me so. He was sitting up. I look for his pacifier- it's in his mouth.
How can you scream like that with a binky in your mouth? You're talented...
I tried laying him back down and patting his butt- the norm for any other night. He sits up again, still screaming. Daddy tells me to bring him to the bed to him.
God, no are you crazy? Everyday I wake up with a foot in my eye or a fist in my ear, I don't want him in the bed.
I bring him. Usually a cuddle with Daddy will quiet him.
More screaming, louder if possible.
No dirty diaper.
Not hungry- totally threw the bottle across the room when it was offered.
Nice shot kiddo, now go to sleep.
I turn on the t.v. the brightness hurts his eyes. He squints, but doesn't let up.
Why does this always happen to me? Why am I so bad at this?
So the kid reaches for me. I soften my demeanor, because I'm so angry at myself for not being able to calm my own child down. He straddles my lap while I sit on the edge of the bed and he leans his head against my chest. He is still crying.
The boobage used to do it for you, dude.
We eye the bottle of Motrin on the dresser.
"Check his mouth." I say to Daddy.
"Two new cutters coming through."
Fucking great. Two teeth at once? And at three in the morning? Because it's not enough that he's getting a cough, and it's not enough that he just cut two teeth not too long ago. Poor kid.
Midnight snack of Motrin for Little Man.
He was asleep in five minutes flat.
In the bed with us.
Even when I win, I lose.
Why is Wednesday called Hump Day?
I've never heard anyone explain it, I just started hearing it one day. (you know, the day I crawled out of the cave I was living in.)
Anyone who answers will get a prize...