Can you believe, it's not even 9:30, and this asshole 
just brought me the letter I changed 16 times for him on Monday and said "I have a few more changes".
There are many others that I am forgetting, but you can see he is very verbal. He spends most days going on and on in baby jibber jabber, and I try to sneak words in for him to repeat. I've noticed he favors certain letters which are probably easier for him to pronounce. Another thing I've noticed is he favors his left hand. Both my parents are Lefty's, as am I, and I laugh at Daddy when I see the boy coloring with his left hand. (It was a competition, just like whether he would say Ma or Daddy first. Daddy got that one, I get the hand!)
Well, my boy is growing up at an amazing rate. My heart already aches because I know I can't stop it and take more time with him. How i wish I could be home with him everyday. How I wish our circumstances were different so that I could be more of a part of his growing.
Mommy loves you, Little Man. I'm working for a better life for you.
a letter more than sixteen times. I will take pictures of all the "recycled" letters and post them. What pisses me off is that this dude swears I'm the one making the mistakes. I write what I'm handed. I'l make corrections that are obvious like spelling and sentence structure, but if you want to move that sentence around the whole page...DUDE! SERIOUSLY! And then my boss looks at me funny every time I say we have to order more paper. He's not here to see what this fucking guy does to me. I hate him.I don't know if I have anything else to write (bitch) about right now. Edits may come since I have 45 minutes left in my day... 
*Saturday morning Little Man woke up earlier than usual. No worries, I set him on the floor with toys and books and tried to have a few more minutes of sleep. I felt him tap on my nose a few minutes later, and opened one eye.
"Ma" he said holding up the ladybug book he loves to death. (and by this I mean it's that one book he wants read over and over, and backwards, and upside down...)
"Baby, I'll read it to you in a few minutes, let Mama sleep just a little more."
yup, having way too much fun with this...must. work. now...
It will go away for a day or two and make me think things will actually turn out pretty okay for me/us, and BOOM! the thunder comes and lightning strikes me in the ass and I'm reminded that I'm cursed after all.
I finally gathered up the balls to call my insurance and ask them for a list of therapists that are covered by them, so that I may make an appointment. I need to do something, I feel like throwing myself into traffic sometimes. But, of course I think of that beautiful little boy I have and I can't. He needs me. So I need to make myself a better person for him. The first place I called was a detox center. Hello insurance! I said depression, not drug addict! The second place I called was a man who picks up his own phone because he doesn't have a receptionist. The first question he asked me was "Are you looking for medication?" (crickets in the backround.) "Not specifically, but if that is going to help..." I answered. So I figured if these are the types that are covered by my insurance, then I'll just make an appointment with this guy and if I don't like him then I'll find another. I couldn't go on with the list. I have an appointment in two weeks. We'll see.
That's the picture. Here is the story. I don't know what to say. It's horrible. But don't people normally stop when they hear sirens? 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?
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.
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...
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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.
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.
They were sitting on the kitchen floor with a plate of chocolate cake that my SIL had left on the table. My Princess Niece got it from the table and she and my son sat to have a feast.
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...
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...
