People always say "Someday". Your life is a mess? Nothing is going right? You're hurting? Shit sucks? Just remember "someday". "Someday" it will get better. "Someday" you will get your turn. "Someday" things will start looking up. Just keep waiting on "Someday". For such a small word, it holds an awful lot of meaning.
It's been the word that has ruled my life for I don't even know how many years. No matter how bad things got, I always held on to "someday". I believed in it. I know that the concept of "Someday" was the only thing that got me through a lot of the time. I wanted to give in. More often than once. I just wanted it to be over. No more pain. No more hurt. No more loss. I couldn't deal with yet another person walking away. I didn't want to keep living each day feeling like I wasn't worth it. I knew, I still know, that I'm broken. I'm a broken person. I probably always will be. No one can fix it. No one can take back the past. Hell, I wouldn't even take it back. Looking back on it now, yeah it's crazy to know what I've lived through, but it's what made me who I am. Tough people are made because no one was there to wipe away their tears. But I didn't think I was strong enough a lot of the time to make it through the next day, the next hurt, the next disaster.
But I would think of "Someday". I would think about finding that love I'd been searching so long for. I thought about getting married. Sharing that day with someone. I thought of a house that actually felt like home, where I could feel safe, and complete. I thought about having kids. I thought about it all. All the goals I wanted to reach. To find that "Someday" to finally put my soul at ease.
The only thing I've learned about "Someday" that I didn't understand before is that when you finally think that maybe, just maybe, you could have found it.....feeling like you're about to lose it is just about the worst feeling in the world.
I don't want to lose my "Someday". And I don't want to live out my "Someday" with someone else.
Monday, December 12, 2011
Monday, October 24, 2011
Don't Judge Me!
Yeah, yeah, I have a blog and I neglect it just like everyone else! And I guarantee it will happen more than once after this. So don't judge!
Things have been insanely hectic. My dad has been in a rehab center getting physical and occupational therapy for the past almost three weeks. Yes, he is closer to home, which is nice. However, this also means I spend an abundant amount of time there so nothing here is getting done. Nothing. At all.
I've also been completing training at my new job. Boy, has that been fun! It's like high school all over again, I swear. I just keep telling myself "You're here to work. You're here for the job. You need to make money. Do NOT strangle anyone!". That last part is a joke....or is it?...
So I haven't gotten to do anything. Everything is piling up. Laundry, cleaning, blogging. There is no time in the day for anything. And to top it off, The Gremlin has apparently decided to make up for the fact that he was never a terrible two or three by being a god awful four. Fun times are being had by all.
Speaking of The Gremlin, here are some recent gems:
It seems that my son has developed all kinds of new quirks while I've been diligently learning my new job. For example, when something doesn't go his way, or if someone drops something, or if something on tv happens he now goes "waaah waaah waaaaaaah". That's right, that noise you hear on tv that sounds like drawn out trumpet noises....please tell me you know what I'm talking about? It's borderline hysterical. I have no idea where he heard it or picked it up from, but it amuses me to no end.
This past weekend we went to my cousin's house and carved pumpkins. Two we carved with faces and one we carved out to stick my cousin's four month old son in. I kid you not (haha, I didn't even make that joke on purpose!). Little G was in his "baby's first Halloween" costume and we were taking full advantage of the moment, damn it! So we carved out this ridiculous pumpkin and set everything up in front of my cousin's dark brown couch. The Gremlin was not thrilled with this idea. In fact he said "You know, grammy did a really good job watching that baby the other day." as if insinuating that maybe she would be the best person to entrust Little G with. Then he flapped his arms around saying "No, no, don't do it. It's not a good idea.". Oh little man, I think that freaking way too adorable pictures prove otherwise!
P.s. If anyone finds my cute, goes to bed on time without a fuss, doesn't throw hissy fits ever son, could you please return him? I miss him terribly....Haha, just kidding...sort of. :o)
Things have been insanely hectic. My dad has been in a rehab center getting physical and occupational therapy for the past almost three weeks. Yes, he is closer to home, which is nice. However, this also means I spend an abundant amount of time there so nothing here is getting done. Nothing. At all.
I've also been completing training at my new job. Boy, has that been fun! It's like high school all over again, I swear. I just keep telling myself "You're here to work. You're here for the job. You need to make money. Do NOT strangle anyone!". That last part is a joke....or is it?...
So I haven't gotten to do anything. Everything is piling up. Laundry, cleaning, blogging. There is no time in the day for anything. And to top it off, The Gremlin has apparently decided to make up for the fact that he was never a terrible two or three by being a god awful four. Fun times are being had by all.
Speaking of The Gremlin, here are some recent gems:
It seems that my son has developed all kinds of new quirks while I've been diligently learning my new job. For example, when something doesn't go his way, or if someone drops something, or if something on tv happens he now goes "waaah waaah waaaaaaah". That's right, that noise you hear on tv that sounds like drawn out trumpet noises....please tell me you know what I'm talking about? It's borderline hysterical. I have no idea where he heard it or picked it up from, but it amuses me to no end.
This past weekend we went to my cousin's house and carved pumpkins. Two we carved with faces and one we carved out to stick my cousin's four month old son in. I kid you not (haha, I didn't even make that joke on purpose!). Little G was in his "baby's first Halloween" costume and we were taking full advantage of the moment, damn it! So we carved out this ridiculous pumpkin and set everything up in front of my cousin's dark brown couch. The Gremlin was not thrilled with this idea. In fact he said "You know, grammy did a really good job watching that baby the other day." as if insinuating that maybe she would be the best person to entrust Little G with. Then he flapped his arms around saying "No, no, don't do it. It's not a good idea.". Oh little man, I think that freaking way too adorable pictures prove otherwise!
P.s. If anyone finds my cute, goes to bed on time without a fuss, doesn't throw hissy fits ever son, could you please return him? I miss him terribly....Haha, just kidding...sort of. :o)
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
Time to Take Stock in Umbrellas!
Note to self: Never, and I mean NEVER, use the term "When it rains, it pours" again! Sheesh, who knew that would snowball into a virtual hurricane of issues. And not just minor issues, I'm not talking "I misplaced my phone charger and I'm leaving for a three day weekend" kind of issue. We're talking big issues, life changing issues. Involving a boss, a parent, and a grandparent.
We'll start with the parent. As I mentioned, my dad had a problem with his foot. He's diabetic, so a problem with a foot is a major issue. It started as a crack in his heel that wouldn't heal no matter what was put on it or was prescribed to him. It then turned into a big problem when it became infected and got worse and worse until my dad couldn't even walk. He had a cat scan, he had doctor visits, and somewhere along the line the ball was dropped, he was not seen soon enough, and to make a long involved story short- they had to amputate. Yesterday actually. They put the surgery off twice (the surgeon was ill) and finally went through with it. It was hard to accept, hard to deal with, and man it sucks preparing yourself for something like that two days in a row to have the surgery postponed over a weekend to a Monday! It went well, my dad is resting (hopefully) comfortably and the road to recovery is going to be a long one. But he's alive and he's in fairly good spirits considering. Plus now he gets to crack all kinds of jokes like "Now I'm half a foot shorter!" and make his nurses feel all kinds of uncomfortable. I'm concerned about what's going on in his head and how he's handling this, but my dad is old school. Blue collar, no non-sense, do not talk about your feelings kind of old school. So it's hard to tell. He's coping, but unfortunately there's no way to tell just how well or not well he's coping.
On to the grandparent- This past Sunday, the day before my dad's surgery, my 87 year old grandfather was having a problem with heartburn that persisted over Saturday into Sunday and he had a fever. So my mother shuttled him off to the nearest Emergency room. He shuffled in on his own slippered feet only for us to find out after an EKG that he had a heart attack. He was then shuttled off by ambulance to a different hospital...you guessed it, the same one my father has been residing at for the past two weeks, just a different floor. Grampy is doing well, being put on different medications, and complaining wholeheartedly about the hospital food. He goes from warm fuzzy little old Grampy to grumpy miserable bear Grampy. And my grandmother, as sweet as she is, is one hundred percent convinced that it has nothing to do with his diet (this from the woman who would make a bologna and cheese sandwich and put butter on it) but is directly resulting from my grandfather's daily intake of maybe, MAYBE, 6 oz. of diet coke each day. Oh, Grammy!
And last but certainly not least, my boss, bless his 80 year old heart, had a stroke two weekends ago. As you may (or probably more likely may not) recall, I had an interview two and a half weeks ago. Well, I GOT THE JOB! So that following Monday as I promised myself, I put on my "big girl panties" (let me clarify, this means I was a Big Girl, not that I put on a large size pair of underwear from added roominess and comfort on such an important day!) and marched into work to deliver my two weeks notice. Unfortunately, shortly after that we found out my boss had a stroke while away for the weekend. Total buzz kill. He's doing well, he's actually in his office right now (here I go, blogging at work again! This is the slowest point of the season...I think customers are afraid to come in because we are immediately up in their faces begging for some human interaction and a sale...) doing a preseason order with a rep. All is not one hundred percent, but my boss is a tough cookie and I have no doubt that he will be back to as close as one hundred percent as he can get in no time!
So that, dear readers (Are you there??? Hello? Hellllloooo???), is why I have been MIA for the last however many days, weeks, it's been. If it's not one thing it's another and I swear to you that has been the way my life has gone for a long, loooong time. Sometimes, or rather more often than not, it borders on ridiculous. Like I find myself looking up and thinking silently "Really? REALLY?" and I am not a religious person in the least bit. A little bit of a break in the craziness would be fantastic instead of wave upon wave of things coming up. It gets to a point where I feel like I can't have a normal life. I won't be able to have the husband, kids, house, white picket fence, and dog I've always wanted because my insane life will forever be throwing a wrench in the works. I hope this isn't true. I really hope this is just some silly fear I harbor, but I don't know. It seems more and more likely that I'm always going to be dealing with something and not working towards the goals I have in mind (and heart). But we'll see. I'm hoping that getting this new job is a shining beacon of sanity and accomplishment that will lead the way towards bigger and better things. Maybe I won't be single forever, maybe I won't have to resort to becoming a cat lady, maybe a night life of bingo won't be my fate! Maybe.
Gremlin Gem- Here's a good one. I was driving to....somewhere that I can't remember now this weekend and I went down a side street. I was driving my dad's Escape (which I have fallen in love with over the last two weeks and he may never get back) and right in front of me was one of those silly little cars, you know the little hatchbacks with room enough for the driver and a box tic tacs, and the tic tacs might be pushing it. Now, the girl driving it was trying to perform some sort of tom-foolery car manuever from the right side (my side) of the road to the left (I guess she was attempting to reverse directions. Clearly she's not from this area where there's eight hundred side streets that lead you back to where you came from, where you were going, and potentially even to where you didn't know you wanted to be!). I don't know who gave this girl her license but they should be fired post haste! She performed an 89 1/2 point turn for about five minutes in the middle of the road. Come on! Your car is barely bigger than The Gremlin's matchbox cars! It's not that difficult! This is a normal size road! Hell, it's bordering on slightly larger than average sized road! So there we were stuck watching this ridiculous show of poor driving ability with cars lining up behind us and cars lining up on the opposite side of us. I muttered under my breath "Friggin' idiot" not realizing I had a four year old with super hearing in the back. The Gremlin immediately shrieked "Mumma! Do NOT say bad words. That's not how you treat your friends!". Friends? I don't know this girl nor would I ever want to associate with her, her inability to make a simple three point turn in the aforementioned three points directly shows her problem with decision making and well brains in general. I apologized, "I'm sorry buddy, thank you for reminding me." to which my son full of far too much attitude for his four years replied far too smugly "It was my pleasure.". Really?! Really.
We'll start with the parent. As I mentioned, my dad had a problem with his foot. He's diabetic, so a problem with a foot is a major issue. It started as a crack in his heel that wouldn't heal no matter what was put on it or was prescribed to him. It then turned into a big problem when it became infected and got worse and worse until my dad couldn't even walk. He had a cat scan, he had doctor visits, and somewhere along the line the ball was dropped, he was not seen soon enough, and to make a long involved story short- they had to amputate. Yesterday actually. They put the surgery off twice (the surgeon was ill) and finally went through with it. It was hard to accept, hard to deal with, and man it sucks preparing yourself for something like that two days in a row to have the surgery postponed over a weekend to a Monday! It went well, my dad is resting (hopefully) comfortably and the road to recovery is going to be a long one. But he's alive and he's in fairly good spirits considering. Plus now he gets to crack all kinds of jokes like "Now I'm half a foot shorter!" and make his nurses feel all kinds of uncomfortable. I'm concerned about what's going on in his head and how he's handling this, but my dad is old school. Blue collar, no non-sense, do not talk about your feelings kind of old school. So it's hard to tell. He's coping, but unfortunately there's no way to tell just how well or not well he's coping.
On to the grandparent- This past Sunday, the day before my dad's surgery, my 87 year old grandfather was having a problem with heartburn that persisted over Saturday into Sunday and he had a fever. So my mother shuttled him off to the nearest Emergency room. He shuffled in on his own slippered feet only for us to find out after an EKG that he had a heart attack. He was then shuttled off by ambulance to a different hospital...you guessed it, the same one my father has been residing at for the past two weeks, just a different floor. Grampy is doing well, being put on different medications, and complaining wholeheartedly about the hospital food. He goes from warm fuzzy little old Grampy to grumpy miserable bear Grampy. And my grandmother, as sweet as she is, is one hundred percent convinced that it has nothing to do with his diet (this from the woman who would make a bologna and cheese sandwich and put butter on it) but is directly resulting from my grandfather's daily intake of maybe, MAYBE, 6 oz. of diet coke each day. Oh, Grammy!
And last but certainly not least, my boss, bless his 80 year old heart, had a stroke two weekends ago. As you may (or probably more likely may not) recall, I had an interview two and a half weeks ago. Well, I GOT THE JOB! So that following Monday as I promised myself, I put on my "big girl panties" (let me clarify, this means I was a Big Girl, not that I put on a large size pair of underwear from added roominess and comfort on such an important day!) and marched into work to deliver my two weeks notice. Unfortunately, shortly after that we found out my boss had a stroke while away for the weekend. Total buzz kill. He's doing well, he's actually in his office right now (here I go, blogging at work again! This is the slowest point of the season...I think customers are afraid to come in because we are immediately up in their faces begging for some human interaction and a sale...) doing a preseason order with a rep. All is not one hundred percent, but my boss is a tough cookie and I have no doubt that he will be back to as close as one hundred percent as he can get in no time!
So that, dear readers (Are you there??? Hello? Hellllloooo???), is why I have been MIA for the last however many days, weeks, it's been. If it's not one thing it's another and I swear to you that has been the way my life has gone for a long, loooong time. Sometimes, or rather more often than not, it borders on ridiculous. Like I find myself looking up and thinking silently "Really? REALLY?" and I am not a religious person in the least bit. A little bit of a break in the craziness would be fantastic instead of wave upon wave of things coming up. It gets to a point where I feel like I can't have a normal life. I won't be able to have the husband, kids, house, white picket fence, and dog I've always wanted because my insane life will forever be throwing a wrench in the works. I hope this isn't true. I really hope this is just some silly fear I harbor, but I don't know. It seems more and more likely that I'm always going to be dealing with something and not working towards the goals I have in mind (and heart). But we'll see. I'm hoping that getting this new job is a shining beacon of sanity and accomplishment that will lead the way towards bigger and better things. Maybe I won't be single forever, maybe I won't have to resort to becoming a cat lady, maybe a night life of bingo won't be my fate! Maybe.
Gremlin Gem- Here's a good one. I was driving to....somewhere that I can't remember now this weekend and I went down a side street. I was driving my dad's Escape (which I have fallen in love with over the last two weeks and he may never get back) and right in front of me was one of those silly little cars, you know the little hatchbacks with room enough for the driver and a box tic tacs, and the tic tacs might be pushing it. Now, the girl driving it was trying to perform some sort of tom-foolery car manuever from the right side (my side) of the road to the left (I guess she was attempting to reverse directions. Clearly she's not from this area where there's eight hundred side streets that lead you back to where you came from, where you were going, and potentially even to where you didn't know you wanted to be!). I don't know who gave this girl her license but they should be fired post haste! She performed an 89 1/2 point turn for about five minutes in the middle of the road. Come on! Your car is barely bigger than The Gremlin's matchbox cars! It's not that difficult! This is a normal size road! Hell, it's bordering on slightly larger than average sized road! So there we were stuck watching this ridiculous show of poor driving ability with cars lining up behind us and cars lining up on the opposite side of us. I muttered under my breath "Friggin' idiot" not realizing I had a four year old with super hearing in the back. The Gremlin immediately shrieked "Mumma! Do NOT say bad words. That's not how you treat your friends!". Friends? I don't know this girl nor would I ever want to associate with her, her inability to make a simple three point turn in the aforementioned three points directly shows her problem with decision making and well brains in general. I apologized, "I'm sorry buddy, thank you for reminding me." to which my son full of far too much attitude for his four years replied far too smugly "It was my pleasure.". Really?! Really.
Thursday, September 22, 2011
Oh Em Gee!
(First, let me say, I am a total slacker with this blogging thing. But it's ENTIRELY not my fault! Remember when I said a couple blogs back "when it rains it ours"...It's been a monsoon for the last couple weeks! I'll explain THAT on another day, another blog.)
Yeah, I said it. Oh Em Gee!!! I have an interview today. Eeek! I'm keeping it on the DL for now because I don't know which way it's going to go and I'd rather not jinx it. But I am excited. Excited and yet torn. Let's just throw this out there- I have a total love hate relationship with my job. It's the first job I've had (aside from one nanny job with two kids that I adored) that I haven't woken up 9 out of 10 mornings and thought "Damn. I do NOT want to go to work.". I don't know if it's because it's my first "real job" so to speak or if it's because I have the Gremlin now and there's a certain sense of "provider instinct". Perhaps it's the fact that I've been here for almost two years and I've finally gotten into a routine. Whatever the reasoning, as crazy as this place makes me (yes, I'm blogging at work. I'm an excellent multi-tasker.) I'm a little reluctant to leave. The hours are fabulous, I still get to spend a lot of time with my gremlin. They are very understanding about when I have to leave for appointments. And they've finally started to understand my sense of humor! It's a miracle. I'm starting to get a long with my coworkers really well (it was three girls, there was bound to be issues) just in time for the pool season to end.
But here's the thing- this place, this job, these stores aren't going anywhere. There's no chance for promotion, no growth in the company, and there's no benefits. No paid holidays. No sick time. No personal days. And in almost two years here I've earned....one week of vacation. I know, I know. At least I get a vacation. But you don't understand! This is my job title "Office Manager/Property Manager/Court Representative/Sales Clerk/Personal Assistant for Such and Such Pool Company, So and So Ski Shop, and His and His Rentals". That's a lot of freakin' hats that I have to wear! And at the end of the day it's simply too much. The pay isn't there. And the stress is off the charts. There's no support up front so I spend my entire day running around like a mad woman and when I get home I'm totally exhausted and I'm still thinking about what I failed to get done today that I'll now have to do tomorrow. It's waaaaaaaaaay too much. Plus there's some other issues but we won't discuss those publicly on the internets to avoid any....issues later on.
So at the end of the day, I have an interview. I hope it goes well. And if it goes well I hope I can put my big girl panties on, march myself in her on Monday and say "It's been fun, I appreciate the experience, but here's my two weeks notice.". We'll see how it goes. I'll definitely miss a handful of people here and what's really sad is that I've spent nearly two years here and one of my boss' won't remember my name a week after I've left. Sad, but totally true.
And now, for a Gremlin Gem! So my dad has an issue with his foot (WHOLE other story!) and Gremlin and I have made the half hour trip to his apartment to care for his foot, make him dinner, and clean up around his apartment (do his laundry, his grocery shopping, his cleaning....hey, he's my dad, I owe him.) and then the half hour trip home every day for the last two weeks. The Gremlin has developed this interest because of it in being a doctor. Now every time I go to wash my dad's foot, Gremlin and "Dr. Cat" (my orange cat Dinah that lives with my dad) HAVE to be present and he "consults" with Dr. Cat. He'll drag poor Dinah out from where ever she's gone to hide (under the bed, behind the couch, in the armchair...whatever works) and stand there tilting his head from side and side going "Soap, check. Tape, check. Looks good, Dr. Cat! How's it going Mumma?". This is when he can tear himself away from my father's computer where he has learned how to navigate the Disney Jr website and find the videos for Cars and Handy Manny. Priorities, people, priorities!
Yeah, I said it. Oh Em Gee!!! I have an interview today. Eeek! I'm keeping it on the DL for now because I don't know which way it's going to go and I'd rather not jinx it. But I am excited. Excited and yet torn. Let's just throw this out there- I have a total love hate relationship with my job. It's the first job I've had (aside from one nanny job with two kids that I adored) that I haven't woken up 9 out of 10 mornings and thought "Damn. I do NOT want to go to work.". I don't know if it's because it's my first "real job" so to speak or if it's because I have the Gremlin now and there's a certain sense of "provider instinct". Perhaps it's the fact that I've been here for almost two years and I've finally gotten into a routine. Whatever the reasoning, as crazy as this place makes me (yes, I'm blogging at work. I'm an excellent multi-tasker.) I'm a little reluctant to leave. The hours are fabulous, I still get to spend a lot of time with my gremlin. They are very understanding about when I have to leave for appointments. And they've finally started to understand my sense of humor! It's a miracle. I'm starting to get a long with my coworkers really well (it was three girls, there was bound to be issues) just in time for the pool season to end.
But here's the thing- this place, this job, these stores aren't going anywhere. There's no chance for promotion, no growth in the company, and there's no benefits. No paid holidays. No sick time. No personal days. And in almost two years here I've earned....one week of vacation. I know, I know. At least I get a vacation. But you don't understand! This is my job title "Office Manager/Property Manager/Court Representative/Sales Clerk/Personal Assistant for Such and Such Pool Company, So and So Ski Shop, and His and His Rentals". That's a lot of freakin' hats that I have to wear! And at the end of the day it's simply too much. The pay isn't there. And the stress is off the charts. There's no support up front so I spend my entire day running around like a mad woman and when I get home I'm totally exhausted and I'm still thinking about what I failed to get done today that I'll now have to do tomorrow. It's waaaaaaaaaay too much. Plus there's some other issues but we won't discuss those publicly on the internets to avoid any....issues later on.
So at the end of the day, I have an interview. I hope it goes well. And if it goes well I hope I can put my big girl panties on, march myself in her on Monday and say "It's been fun, I appreciate the experience, but here's my two weeks notice.". We'll see how it goes. I'll definitely miss a handful of people here and what's really sad is that I've spent nearly two years here and one of my boss' won't remember my name a week after I've left. Sad, but totally true.
And now, for a Gremlin Gem! So my dad has an issue with his foot (WHOLE other story!) and Gremlin and I have made the half hour trip to his apartment to care for his foot, make him dinner, and clean up around his apartment (do his laundry, his grocery shopping, his cleaning....hey, he's my dad, I owe him.) and then the half hour trip home every day for the last two weeks. The Gremlin has developed this interest because of it in being a doctor. Now every time I go to wash my dad's foot, Gremlin and "Dr. Cat" (my orange cat Dinah that lives with my dad) HAVE to be present and he "consults" with Dr. Cat. He'll drag poor Dinah out from where ever she's gone to hide (under the bed, behind the couch, in the armchair...whatever works) and stand there tilting his head from side and side going "Soap, check. Tape, check. Looks good, Dr. Cat! How's it going Mumma?". This is when he can tear himself away from my father's computer where he has learned how to navigate the Disney Jr website and find the videos for Cars and Handy Manny. Priorities, people, priorities!
Friday, September 2, 2011
Like a River
"I'm Moving On"
by Rascal Flatts
"I've dealt with my ghosts and I've faced all my demons
Finally content with a past I regret
I've found you find strength in your moments of weakness
For once I'm at peace with myself
I've been burdened with blame, trapped in the past for too long
I'm movin' on
I've lived in this place and I know all the faces
Each one is different but they're always the same
They mean me no harm but it's time that I face it
They'll never allow me to change
But I never dreamed home would end up where I don't belong
I'm movin' on
I'm movin' on
At last I can see life has been patiently waiting for me
And I know there's no guarantees, but I'm not alone
There comes a time in everyone's life
When all you can see are the years passing by
And I have made up my mind that those days are gone
I sold what I could and packed what I couldn't
Stopped to fill up on my way out of town
I've loved like I should but lived like I shouldn't
I had to lose everything to find out
Maybe forgiveness will find me somewhere down this road
I'm movin' on
I'm movin' on
I'm movin' on"
Thank you Rascal Flatts for having the words I needed to hear! I've always ALWAYS loved that song. It's probably my favorite one of theirs. But last night it took on a whole new meaning. And I cried, boy did I cry! (Bet you understand the "Like a River" headline now, I'm witty, I know.) It was what I needed to hear at that time to know in my heart what my mind was refusing to accept. I'm Finnish, we're stubborn like that. The line "life has been patiently waiting for me..." caught me in particular. I've been so caught up in trying to make present situations work that I've forgotten how to look forward to the future, how to appreciate each day that I am given, and how to let go of the past. It's not going to be easy, in fact it's going to be an absolute bear to get through, but I can do this. I can stand up for myself and I can say enough (using my big girl voice and everything!). And this is exactly why I love music. It says what you need to hear when you don't even know you needed to hear anything at all. So yay for one positive blog admist a sea of woes. It's tough revisiting old wounds. It's especially hard for me to write everything out all the emotions I felt and all the awful things I went through and then going back and reading what I wrote. I almost want to stop and go "Whoa, that was me?". I know I've lived it and I know I've dissected every part of it with my best friend when it was happening. But to see it all written out? It's a little overwhelming. I hope that being able to get it out and see it on "paper" will allow me to really move on. To heal when I haven't been able. To maybe find a piece of the old content me and drag it back to today. We'll see what happens, I s'pose.
And now *drumroll* what you have all been REALLY waiting for, some brand new just for you (that's bs but I thought I'd try to make you feel special, you're welcome. They were really for me.) Gremlin Gems!
So Gremlin and I have a nightly routine of brushing our teeth together. He has one of those fun little sand hourglass things you get from the dentist when you're under the age of probably 6. So we (me) get the toothbrushes ready and we countdown (3,2,1...GO!) flip the hourglass and start brushing. This is followed by rinsing (me with mouthwash, him with water but shhh don't tell him it's only water) and spitting (clearly his favorite part), and then I floss his teeth with his neon dinosaur shaped flossers. Two nights ago I finished brushing his teeth and Gremlin started smiling, no, full out GRINNING and almost laughing a little. I smiled at him because it was so contagious and asked what he was so happy about. He said "You flossed my teeth, sanks (the "th" sound is a work in progress) mumma, you're the best!" with so much enthusiasm it was ridiculous! I just wanted to hug the stuffing out of the kid! (Note to self: GIANT box of dinosaur flossers for the Gremlin for Christmas. Apparently that's the way to his heart. Who knew?)
The next morning the Gremlin promptly forgot how awesome I am. I was taking off his pjs and his head got stuck (by the way, when did my kid get such a freakishly big head?! Does this happen with age? Will it go back to normal? Do I have to buy him bigger shirts just to make sure his giant noggin doesn't get caught every time?!?!) and I had to do a bit of finagling to get his squash out with his ears still attached. Gremlin promptly grabbed either side of his head, rubbing his ears furiously, looked at me, and exclaimed "What is wrong with you?!". Listen kid, you didn't get the giant melon from me.
The Gremlin has this new "talent" he's been perfecting. He leans on the foot stool on one side and the couch on the other and swings. He thinks this is the greatest trick ever. But the footstool is on wheels (it's more like a cushioned trunk for lack of a better description) and starts to scoot away from him. Which causes him to collapse the whole six inches to the floor. He ALWAYS hams it up and lately his new "thing" is to say "The couch gave me the slip again!". Hysterical.
And last (but definitely not least), Gremlin will collide with something or pretend he crashed into something, then he'll flop face down no matter where he is, and say in his best wounded voice "Oh, I think I broke my spleeter." Don't ask me what a spleeter is. As far as I can tell it's located somewhere in his knee. Although he always grabs for his stomach or side before he falls down. Oh the dramatics, they start early in my family.
by Rascal Flatts
"I've dealt with my ghosts and I've faced all my demons
Finally content with a past I regret
I've found you find strength in your moments of weakness
For once I'm at peace with myself
I've been burdened with blame, trapped in the past for too long
I'm movin' on
I've lived in this place and I know all the faces
Each one is different but they're always the same
They mean me no harm but it's time that I face it
They'll never allow me to change
But I never dreamed home would end up where I don't belong
I'm movin' on
I'm movin' on
At last I can see life has been patiently waiting for me
And I know there's no guarantees, but I'm not alone
There comes a time in everyone's life
When all you can see are the years passing by
And I have made up my mind that those days are gone
I sold what I could and packed what I couldn't
Stopped to fill up on my way out of town
I've loved like I should but lived like I shouldn't
I had to lose everything to find out
Maybe forgiveness will find me somewhere down this road
I'm movin' on
I'm movin' on
I'm movin' on"
Thank you Rascal Flatts for having the words I needed to hear! I've always ALWAYS loved that song. It's probably my favorite one of theirs. But last night it took on a whole new meaning. And I cried, boy did I cry! (Bet you understand the "Like a River" headline now, I'm witty, I know.) It was what I needed to hear at that time to know in my heart what my mind was refusing to accept. I'm Finnish, we're stubborn like that. The line "life has been patiently waiting for me..." caught me in particular. I've been so caught up in trying to make present situations work that I've forgotten how to look forward to the future, how to appreciate each day that I am given, and how to let go of the past. It's not going to be easy, in fact it's going to be an absolute bear to get through, but I can do this. I can stand up for myself and I can say enough (using my big girl voice and everything!). And this is exactly why I love music. It says what you need to hear when you don't even know you needed to hear anything at all. So yay for one positive blog admist a sea of woes. It's tough revisiting old wounds. It's especially hard for me to write everything out all the emotions I felt and all the awful things I went through and then going back and reading what I wrote. I almost want to stop and go "Whoa, that was me?". I know I've lived it and I know I've dissected every part of it with my best friend when it was happening. But to see it all written out? It's a little overwhelming. I hope that being able to get it out and see it on "paper" will allow me to really move on. To heal when I haven't been able. To maybe find a piece of the old content me and drag it back to today. We'll see what happens, I s'pose.
And now *drumroll* what you have all been REALLY waiting for, some brand new just for you (that's bs but I thought I'd try to make you feel special, you're welcome. They were really for me.) Gremlin Gems!
So Gremlin and I have a nightly routine of brushing our teeth together. He has one of those fun little sand hourglass things you get from the dentist when you're under the age of probably 6. So we (me) get the toothbrushes ready and we countdown (3,2,1...GO!) flip the hourglass and start brushing. This is followed by rinsing (me with mouthwash, him with water but shhh don't tell him it's only water) and spitting (clearly his favorite part), and then I floss his teeth with his neon dinosaur shaped flossers. Two nights ago I finished brushing his teeth and Gremlin started smiling, no, full out GRINNING and almost laughing a little. I smiled at him because it was so contagious and asked what he was so happy about. He said "You flossed my teeth, sanks (the "th" sound is a work in progress) mumma, you're the best!" with so much enthusiasm it was ridiculous! I just wanted to hug the stuffing out of the kid! (Note to self: GIANT box of dinosaur flossers for the Gremlin for Christmas. Apparently that's the way to his heart. Who knew?)
The next morning the Gremlin promptly forgot how awesome I am. I was taking off his pjs and his head got stuck (by the way, when did my kid get such a freakishly big head?! Does this happen with age? Will it go back to normal? Do I have to buy him bigger shirts just to make sure his giant noggin doesn't get caught every time?!?!) and I had to do a bit of finagling to get his squash out with his ears still attached. Gremlin promptly grabbed either side of his head, rubbing his ears furiously, looked at me, and exclaimed "What is wrong with you?!". Listen kid, you didn't get the giant melon from me.
The Gremlin has this new "talent" he's been perfecting. He leans on the foot stool on one side and the couch on the other and swings. He thinks this is the greatest trick ever. But the footstool is on wheels (it's more like a cushioned trunk for lack of a better description) and starts to scoot away from him. Which causes him to collapse the whole six inches to the floor. He ALWAYS hams it up and lately his new "thing" is to say "The couch gave me the slip again!". Hysterical.
And last (but definitely not least), Gremlin will collide with something or pretend he crashed into something, then he'll flop face down no matter where he is, and say in his best wounded voice "Oh, I think I broke my spleeter." Don't ask me what a spleeter is. As far as I can tell it's located somewhere in his knee. Although he always grabs for his stomach or side before he falls down. Oh the dramatics, they start early in my family.
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
The Ever Important Question: How?
I SWEAR I will get back to my long winded tale of the three years DB was a part of The Gremlin's life...at some point. Right now though I'm going to jump ahead because it's my blog and I can do that. Also I'm having a rough time trying to figure out my place and what my role is else where and I need to vent it out. Hardcore. Before steam starts shooting out of my ears (no more ear problems!).
In removing DB from our lives I made the decision to allow his mother and his younger sister (and father and twin brother) to still see The Gremlin. They did nothing wrong, they saw him on a consistent basis, and it was clear that they really loved him. Now at the time DB's sister was pregnant but had not had her daughter yet. Yes, there was a nagging fear in the back of my mind that things would irreparably change once she was born and that Gremlin and I would be "old hat". But I wasn't about to voice those fears to them. I mean really, discuss this with one very pregnant chick and Gremlin's nana?! Wasn't possible at the time. Besides they were family to me and Gremlin and I was convinced then that everything would be ok.
Fast forward now to today and boy, I was wrong. I was beyond wrong. We're talking an epic amount of wrong. First of all we've been meeting at a mall. Because they are afraid of their son coming to their house. So we sit at a table, them on one side, us on the other. Similar to a prison visit without the glass partition and the phone. For anywhere from an hour to three hours. Once a week. That is no way for a child to visit with "family". I say "family" because we don't really hear from them until I text them the day of our visit and ask if we're still meeting. Third, it hasn't been all too consistent. It all started last year, the day after Gremlin's birthday. We met them for our "usual" meeting and I could already tell something was wrong. They brought along Gremlin's Uncle. He never sees his uncle. And everyone just had that look on their face like they were dreading what was about to happen. I was on edge the whole time. Then they made the mistake of bringing out this huge gift bag and telling me it was from DB and do I want the Gremlin to have it. Are you serious? You're going to SHOW him this huge gift bag and then ask me if I want him to have it so I can look like the a**hole when I say no? They gave David the gift and me the card. The card was written out and signed by DB's girlfriend in his name. I ripped it in half and threw it away. Petty, maybe, but damn it sure felt good. I remember I had to walk away for a moment so my best friend sat with Gremlin and the "family" while I took a moment to myself. I came back and DB's sister's boyfriend (that's not confusing or anything) took Gremlin down to the little play place and as I watched them walk away I knew whatever it was that they had been dreading was finally here. The night before, on Gremlin's actual birthday, DB came to their home with his girlfriend...and an ultrasound picture. To me that says "I am officially replacing my son with a new child, be excited for me.". I melted down. I walked outside, got in my car, and bawled my eyes out. Not because I thought there was a chance for me and DB, but I cried my heart out for my son. My son who did NOT deserve a single second of the bullsh*t DB put us through. My son who did NOT deserve to grow up without his father. My son who did NOT deserve to be treated like a play toy that's easy to replace. I gathered myself enough to walk back inside straight by the table where everyone still sat, down to the play place. The Aunt's Boyfriend knew and just handed Gremlin to me and I turned around and walked right back out of the mall to my car. Thankfully my best friend was with me to grab everything I had left behind and meet me outside. And we drove away. They didn't come to Gremlin's party that year. I didn't extend an invitation. I was broken in so many ways and I didn't even really have it in me to have a party. There was fighting amongst my family and then this with their family. But I did it for Gremlin and the day of his party I got worlds of nasty text messages from his Aunt. Attacking me for me as a person, attacking my "relationship" with Gremlin's father, attacking me for having a party for my son. I was done. I was beyond done. And we did not speak for probably a good two months. The dust settled and I wrote them a very long letter explaining my side of the story. They contacted me and thanked me for being the one to reach out and try to fix things. I made a surprise visit with The Gremlin to their house on Halloween. Things seemed right for awhile. We aren't invited to holidays anymore, DB is there. We aren't invited to birthday parties, DB is there. We are not invited to anything they go to or do, DB is there. We get cancelled on because DB demands their attention for something or other. We get cancelled on even though they pick the day and time we were suppose to meet.
I love them, I considered them family, they were my safe haven when my family didn't agree with the decision I had made. But my situation in this crazy mess is a tough one. I always feel like the outsider. Like I don't really belong there and I'm just being tolerated. I feel like I've been replaced and my son has been replaced. I feel like I'm holding on to something that I don't really have the right to. I feel like I'm holding onto something that's long gone. Something where only the very tips of my fingers are touching. It's hard to trust them. It's hard to listen to what they have to say. They tell me they don't like DB's girlfriend, but facebook (stupid stupid facebook) says the complete opposite. I feel like I'm being lied to. So how do I cut myself off from them? How do I make that decision to walk away from the only members of that family that the Gremlin has left? How does this always end up being my decision to make? How do I explain to Gremlin that there's nothing wrong with him, that it was them, it was the situation? How do I keep his little heart from breaking when he's a little bit older and has questions? How do I get through this?
I know I can do it. I know I'm strong enough. But my heart just recovered from DB walking away and replacing us or what felt like replacing us. And to be honest, I was a lot closer to his mom and sister. I never wanted to have to explain to Gremlin something like this. I never want him to ever feel like he wasn't good enough. Because it's not his fault in any way shape or form. It was a bad situation. It was a "parent" who wasn't ready to be one, who wasn't mature enough to be one, who couldn't be responsible enough. And it was a series of events stemming from his inability to step up and be a father that caused everything else to fall apart.
And how do you not get angry over it? How do you accept the fact that an entire family can do this to a child? Any child, not just because he's mine. I'll never understand it. Any thoughts? Ideas? Anything? How? How? How?!
In removing DB from our lives I made the decision to allow his mother and his younger sister (and father and twin brother) to still see The Gremlin. They did nothing wrong, they saw him on a consistent basis, and it was clear that they really loved him. Now at the time DB's sister was pregnant but had not had her daughter yet. Yes, there was a nagging fear in the back of my mind that things would irreparably change once she was born and that Gremlin and I would be "old hat". But I wasn't about to voice those fears to them. I mean really, discuss this with one very pregnant chick and Gremlin's nana?! Wasn't possible at the time. Besides they were family to me and Gremlin and I was convinced then that everything would be ok.
Fast forward now to today and boy, I was wrong. I was beyond wrong. We're talking an epic amount of wrong. First of all we've been meeting at a mall. Because they are afraid of their son coming to their house. So we sit at a table, them on one side, us on the other. Similar to a prison visit without the glass partition and the phone. For anywhere from an hour to three hours. Once a week. That is no way for a child to visit with "family". I say "family" because we don't really hear from them until I text them the day of our visit and ask if we're still meeting. Third, it hasn't been all too consistent. It all started last year, the day after Gremlin's birthday. We met them for our "usual" meeting and I could already tell something was wrong. They brought along Gremlin's Uncle. He never sees his uncle. And everyone just had that look on their face like they were dreading what was about to happen. I was on edge the whole time. Then they made the mistake of bringing out this huge gift bag and telling me it was from DB and do I want the Gremlin to have it. Are you serious? You're going to SHOW him this huge gift bag and then ask me if I want him to have it so I can look like the a**hole when I say no? They gave David the gift and me the card. The card was written out and signed by DB's girlfriend in his name. I ripped it in half and threw it away. Petty, maybe, but damn it sure felt good. I remember I had to walk away for a moment so my best friend sat with Gremlin and the "family" while I took a moment to myself. I came back and DB's sister's boyfriend (that's not confusing or anything) took Gremlin down to the little play place and as I watched them walk away I knew whatever it was that they had been dreading was finally here. The night before, on Gremlin's actual birthday, DB came to their home with his girlfriend...and an ultrasound picture. To me that says "I am officially replacing my son with a new child, be excited for me.". I melted down. I walked outside, got in my car, and bawled my eyes out. Not because I thought there was a chance for me and DB, but I cried my heart out for my son. My son who did NOT deserve a single second of the bullsh*t DB put us through. My son who did NOT deserve to grow up without his father. My son who did NOT deserve to be treated like a play toy that's easy to replace. I gathered myself enough to walk back inside straight by the table where everyone still sat, down to the play place. The Aunt's Boyfriend knew and just handed Gremlin to me and I turned around and walked right back out of the mall to my car. Thankfully my best friend was with me to grab everything I had left behind and meet me outside. And we drove away. They didn't come to Gremlin's party that year. I didn't extend an invitation. I was broken in so many ways and I didn't even really have it in me to have a party. There was fighting amongst my family and then this with their family. But I did it for Gremlin and the day of his party I got worlds of nasty text messages from his Aunt. Attacking me for me as a person, attacking my "relationship" with Gremlin's father, attacking me for having a party for my son. I was done. I was beyond done. And we did not speak for probably a good two months. The dust settled and I wrote them a very long letter explaining my side of the story. They contacted me and thanked me for being the one to reach out and try to fix things. I made a surprise visit with The Gremlin to their house on Halloween. Things seemed right for awhile. We aren't invited to holidays anymore, DB is there. We aren't invited to birthday parties, DB is there. We are not invited to anything they go to or do, DB is there. We get cancelled on because DB demands their attention for something or other. We get cancelled on even though they pick the day and time we were suppose to meet.
I love them, I considered them family, they were my safe haven when my family didn't agree with the decision I had made. But my situation in this crazy mess is a tough one. I always feel like the outsider. Like I don't really belong there and I'm just being tolerated. I feel like I've been replaced and my son has been replaced. I feel like I'm holding on to something that I don't really have the right to. I feel like I'm holding onto something that's long gone. Something where only the very tips of my fingers are touching. It's hard to trust them. It's hard to listen to what they have to say. They tell me they don't like DB's girlfriend, but facebook (stupid stupid facebook) says the complete opposite. I feel like I'm being lied to. So how do I cut myself off from them? How do I make that decision to walk away from the only members of that family that the Gremlin has left? How does this always end up being my decision to make? How do I explain to Gremlin that there's nothing wrong with him, that it was them, it was the situation? How do I keep his little heart from breaking when he's a little bit older and has questions? How do I get through this?
I know I can do it. I know I'm strong enough. But my heart just recovered from DB walking away and replacing us or what felt like replacing us. And to be honest, I was a lot closer to his mom and sister. I never wanted to have to explain to Gremlin something like this. I never want him to ever feel like he wasn't good enough. Because it's not his fault in any way shape or form. It was a bad situation. It was a "parent" who wasn't ready to be one, who wasn't mature enough to be one, who couldn't be responsible enough. And it was a series of events stemming from his inability to step up and be a father that caused everything else to fall apart.
And how do you not get angry over it? How do you accept the fact that an entire family can do this to a child? Any child, not just because he's mine. I'll never understand it. Any thoughts? Ideas? Anything? How? How? How?!
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
The Gremlin Turns 4!
I will eventually get back to the story of this crazy ride called life, but today is a day of celebration. The Gremlin turns 4 today. At 4:22 p.m. to be exact. Four! Where does the time go??? The time has gone, but it has been absolutely amazing. It's been a learning experience. It's been happy, sad, maddening, and just about every emotion in between. It's been life at it's finest.
Raising The Gremlin has been an absolute pleasure. Yes, there have been more than enough times where I wanted to pull my hair out and lock myself in the bathroom. But all in all it's been wonderful. Watching him learn and grow, seeing him test out walking, and speaking those first words. Getting to experience all his first and the moments he tried something new. Hearing the great things he has had to say. It's been nothing short of wonderful.
He's growing into such a smart and funny boy. He has this one of a kind sassy attitude. He's so incredibly loving and giving. He's everything I could have ever have hoped for and so much more. He is going to be a great individual and I am so proud to call him my son.
Happy fourth birthday, Gremlin! May your upcoming year bring you as much happiness and laughter as you bring me. I love you. <3
Raising The Gremlin has been an absolute pleasure. Yes, there have been more than enough times where I wanted to pull my hair out and lock myself in the bathroom. But all in all it's been wonderful. Watching him learn and grow, seeing him test out walking, and speaking those first words. Getting to experience all his first and the moments he tried something new. Hearing the great things he has had to say. It's been nothing short of wonderful.
He's growing into such a smart and funny boy. He has this one of a kind sassy attitude. He's so incredibly loving and giving. He's everything I could have ever have hoped for and so much more. He is going to be a great individual and I am so proud to call him my son.
Happy fourth birthday, Gremlin! May your upcoming year bring you as much happiness and laughter as you bring me. I love you. <3
Sunday, August 14, 2011
And the Skeletons Keep On Dancin'!
I guess I should finish up the blog I started about my adventure with my son. And I also guess that this is the part where I need to be serious. I don't like being serious, not unless I need to be. I love the humor, the sarcasm, the smiles, and the laughter of life. I love expressing it in as many ways as I can. However, unfortunately, this part of the tale is more serious than I would have liked it to be. Having a child, bringing a life into this world, is supposed to be joyous and an amazing time in your life. Entering parenthood. Sure there's the rough nights and the fears of whether you are adequate enough to be the parent you need, want to be. But being a parent isn't supposed to be a mess. It's not supposed to be hurt and anger. It's not supposed to be resentment. Supposed to be or not, a large portion of my time was. And this is that half of the blog....
My son's father, whom we shall call the DB (feel free to guess what that stands for), had a child before The Gremlin. A daughter who was I believe around the age of three maybe four when I had my son. He and I had a tumultuous relationship from day one and I will always believe I was more invested in it than he was. But one of the things that drew me to him was that he did have a heart of gold and the love I thought he had for his daughter, whom he did not see by choice of her mother, blew me away. Of course, I understand there are always two sides to every story and boy do I get that now. But anyway, we had a rocky relationship and were on and off for over a year. At the time that I had The Gremlin we were off again.
I clearly did not know I was having my son so after the dust had settled and me and The Gremlin were back at home, I had a lot to think about. And think I did. 24/7. Every moment of every day. It didn't help that when I got out of the hospital and turned my cell phone on I had one voicemail, from DB. What was I going to do? How would I even tell anyone? Who would believe this? Was I going to tell him? What would he think? What would his family think? I spent many late nights up watching The Gremlin sleep thinking what the hell am I going to do? I did this for two weeks.
And twice during those two weeks DB called me. Tried to convince me to go out for drinks with him. Talked about how depressed he was with his life, how he had this job where he was on the road all the time. I listened. I declined going out for drinks, I told him my responsibilities had changed. I listened some more. How was I suppose to tell him that we had an amazing, beautiful, miracle little boy when all he could talk about was how depressed and unhappy he was? I couldn't. But at the same time it was killing me to keep it in, to talk to him while looking at our son asleep making those cute sleeping baby noises.
Then finally it got to be too much. I knew I needed to tell him because I felt it was right in my heart to let him know. And at this point my doctors had convinced me I would never have another child, so what if this wonderful son I had grew up and resented me because I never told his father? I couldn't stand the thought of that. So the next time he called, I told him. I mentioned how I told him two weeks ago that I hadn't answered his phone call because I was in the hospital...how I literally meant that I had been in the hospital. And the rest of the story just kind of spilled out. I held my breath waiting for him to respond, not knowing which way it was going to go. Then he asked if I was ok, if the baby was ok. I told him it was a boy that he was fine and gorgeous. He cried. I cried. He wanted to see us as soon as possible.
I explained to him my thoughts on the situation. That I did not want money, from day one I always said I do NOT want any money. I understood that by no means did this mean we were going to be a family. It did not mean we were going to magically become some fairy tale story. I explained to DB that there was ONE thing I wanted from him- to see The Gremlin on a consistent basis. No in and out of his life. He was either in or out. That was the one thing I required if he was going to become involved with The Gremlin. And at the time he agreed to that. We talked for a while. At one point he hung up to compose himself and I called my best friend. He called back. We talked some more. When we hung up I felt like a HUGE weight had been lifted off my shoulders. It was out there, I had told him, I no longer had to fight with myself over it. I picked up The Gremlin and cuddled him for a while.
The next day or maybe the day after that DB called and asked if we could meet somewhere. I agreed knowing sooner or later it would happen. I called my best friend and chewed her ear off worrying about meeting with him and his mother. What if they didn't believe me? What if they didn't think Gremlin looked like him? What if they ganged up on me? My best friend asked if I wanted to reschedule, if I wanted her to go with me. I thought about it, but declined. It would have been nice to have someone on my side, but I knew I had to be a "big girl" and do this on my own. So I packed up The Gremlin and took one of our first trips out just the two of us to go meet DB and his Nana for the first time.
We met at a local 99 restaurant, one that I can no longer set foot in or drive past without getting flashbacks. I can literally feel the butterflies in my stomach just like I did that night. I parked in the back of the building. Got out and sat in the backseat next to The Gremlin. I just stared at him for awhile soaking in the last few moments of alone time. Then I saw DB approach. I opened the back door. I couldn't even look at him. I just looked at Gremlin while he looked at Gremlin. At some point I got out of the car and carried him inside. We sat down at a table. I took Gremlin out of his carseat and cuddled him. I remember being able to look at DB's mother but I had the hardest time looking at him. I'm sure I recounted the entire story to them. Everyone stared at Gremlin. At some point DB worked up the courage to hold him. I won't lie, my heart was overcome at that moment. I can't remember the whole night. I don't remember if DB's mother and I hugged or not. I remember that I got back in the car with The Gremlin and DB got in with us. We drove around talking. I don't remember what was said. I don't even know if I had looked him in the eye yet. At some point I think I dropped him back off with his mother and I went home. The Gremlin and I went home.
Wow, this is a lengthy story. Longer than two blogs I think. I have definitely exhausted myself for one evening. But there's the second installment. I worried over it, finally told DB, and even met up with him...and his mother. It was a relief in a lot of ways, but in some ways not so much. My mother had been quite clear with me, she would not support my decision if I told DB and his family. But it was my decision and my decision only. I had to do what was right for my son and what was right in my heart. And I did. The stress of not telling my family what I had decided was enough to keep me up nights, but it was done. I couldn't take it back. I could only wait and see where it went from there. I had hope. Man, I had hope. I think it was that hope and my love for my son that would get me through the next three years....
My son's father, whom we shall call the DB (feel free to guess what that stands for), had a child before The Gremlin. A daughter who was I believe around the age of three maybe four when I had my son. He and I had a tumultuous relationship from day one and I will always believe I was more invested in it than he was. But one of the things that drew me to him was that he did have a heart of gold and the love I thought he had for his daughter, whom he did not see by choice of her mother, blew me away. Of course, I understand there are always two sides to every story and boy do I get that now. But anyway, we had a rocky relationship and were on and off for over a year. At the time that I had The Gremlin we were off again.
I clearly did not know I was having my son so after the dust had settled and me and The Gremlin were back at home, I had a lot to think about. And think I did. 24/7. Every moment of every day. It didn't help that when I got out of the hospital and turned my cell phone on I had one voicemail, from DB. What was I going to do? How would I even tell anyone? Who would believe this? Was I going to tell him? What would he think? What would his family think? I spent many late nights up watching The Gremlin sleep thinking what the hell am I going to do? I did this for two weeks.
And twice during those two weeks DB called me. Tried to convince me to go out for drinks with him. Talked about how depressed he was with his life, how he had this job where he was on the road all the time. I listened. I declined going out for drinks, I told him my responsibilities had changed. I listened some more. How was I suppose to tell him that we had an amazing, beautiful, miracle little boy when all he could talk about was how depressed and unhappy he was? I couldn't. But at the same time it was killing me to keep it in, to talk to him while looking at our son asleep making those cute sleeping baby noises.
Then finally it got to be too much. I knew I needed to tell him because I felt it was right in my heart to let him know. And at this point my doctors had convinced me I would never have another child, so what if this wonderful son I had grew up and resented me because I never told his father? I couldn't stand the thought of that. So the next time he called, I told him. I mentioned how I told him two weeks ago that I hadn't answered his phone call because I was in the hospital...how I literally meant that I had been in the hospital. And the rest of the story just kind of spilled out. I held my breath waiting for him to respond, not knowing which way it was going to go. Then he asked if I was ok, if the baby was ok. I told him it was a boy that he was fine and gorgeous. He cried. I cried. He wanted to see us as soon as possible.
I explained to him my thoughts on the situation. That I did not want money, from day one I always said I do NOT want any money. I understood that by no means did this mean we were going to be a family. It did not mean we were going to magically become some fairy tale story. I explained to DB that there was ONE thing I wanted from him- to see The Gremlin on a consistent basis. No in and out of his life. He was either in or out. That was the one thing I required if he was going to become involved with The Gremlin. And at the time he agreed to that. We talked for a while. At one point he hung up to compose himself and I called my best friend. He called back. We talked some more. When we hung up I felt like a HUGE weight had been lifted off my shoulders. It was out there, I had told him, I no longer had to fight with myself over it. I picked up The Gremlin and cuddled him for a while.
The next day or maybe the day after that DB called and asked if we could meet somewhere. I agreed knowing sooner or later it would happen. I called my best friend and chewed her ear off worrying about meeting with him and his mother. What if they didn't believe me? What if they didn't think Gremlin looked like him? What if they ganged up on me? My best friend asked if I wanted to reschedule, if I wanted her to go with me. I thought about it, but declined. It would have been nice to have someone on my side, but I knew I had to be a "big girl" and do this on my own. So I packed up The Gremlin and took one of our first trips out just the two of us to go meet DB and his Nana for the first time.
We met at a local 99 restaurant, one that I can no longer set foot in or drive past without getting flashbacks. I can literally feel the butterflies in my stomach just like I did that night. I parked in the back of the building. Got out and sat in the backseat next to The Gremlin. I just stared at him for awhile soaking in the last few moments of alone time. Then I saw DB approach. I opened the back door. I couldn't even look at him. I just looked at Gremlin while he looked at Gremlin. At some point I got out of the car and carried him inside. We sat down at a table. I took Gremlin out of his carseat and cuddled him. I remember being able to look at DB's mother but I had the hardest time looking at him. I'm sure I recounted the entire story to them. Everyone stared at Gremlin. At some point DB worked up the courage to hold him. I won't lie, my heart was overcome at that moment. I can't remember the whole night. I don't remember if DB's mother and I hugged or not. I remember that I got back in the car with The Gremlin and DB got in with us. We drove around talking. I don't remember what was said. I don't even know if I had looked him in the eye yet. At some point I think I dropped him back off with his mother and I went home. The Gremlin and I went home.
Wow, this is a lengthy story. Longer than two blogs I think. I have definitely exhausted myself for one evening. But there's the second installment. I worried over it, finally told DB, and even met up with him...and his mother. It was a relief in a lot of ways, but in some ways not so much. My mother had been quite clear with me, she would not support my decision if I told DB and his family. But it was my decision and my decision only. I had to do what was right for my son and what was right in my heart. And I did. The stress of not telling my family what I had decided was enough to keep me up nights, but it was done. I couldn't take it back. I could only wait and see where it went from there. I had hope. Man, I had hope. I think it was that hope and my love for my son that would get me through the next three years....
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
Skeletons Are Dancing in the Closet Tonight
I'm feeling discontent and nostalgic tonight. The Gremlin turns four two weeks from today and for whatever reason "the big 4" is giving me angina. Or it's my heart breaking a little. Either way it hurts and I don't like it. So I figured what better way to deal with it than to publicly discuss the last four years of my life on my blog? I think in theory that I just like the idea of getting it out there to an audience (as non-existant as it is) that doesn't know me, doesn't know the situation, can't prejudge it. Because it was quite the situation. So pop some popcorn, crack open a beer, put on your fluffy slippers, and let the skeletons do their thing....
On August 23rd, 2007 I had an appointment with a neupherologist. I don't know if I spelled that right. An ologist of the kind that deals with kidneys. I had some symptoms for the past three weeks that apparently meant I had kidney failure. Or liver cancer. Either way the options were pretty grim, I had just turned 21, didn't drink barely at all (no really), and was scared. Absolutely scared. So with my little brother in tow (he was freshly 18 at the time and I was suppose to take him driving after my appointment) I went to have an ultrasound done of my kidneys. Joy.
I was laying on the table, in the dimly lit room, cold jelly goo on my tummy, the ultrasound tech's hand with the thingy over my stomach trying to mind my own business when she said the one question I was definitely not prepared to hear: "How far along are you?"....Hi, what? In my kidney failure? Or my liver cancer? I'm not sure which you are referring to. I hyperventilated, I cried, I made that ultrasound tech very uncomfortable. She left the room I'm assuming to consult somebody on what to do with the basket case in her exam room. The verdict was to wipe away the goo and send me to my doctor's office down the street. So I walked out of the room, still crying, with my brother tailing about fifteen feet behind me, lest to be seen with the hysterical girl. We went to my doctor's office. I left him in the car. They ushered me right in. My doctor told me they weren't sure how "far along" I was. Oh and it was a baby, not a kidney failure or a liver cancer. Who knew? Not them apparently. I made her tell my mom. I couldn't form the words. Couldn't tell her. Everything was so up in the air. Holy sh*t, I'm 21. Holy sh*t, I'm going to have a baby. And it needs to be asap because I have HELLP syndrome and everything is off the charts and I need to get back to the hospital...And what the hell did my mother just say? She's excited? Oh yeah, I guess a baby is better than cancer. I got back in my car and said to my brother "Well, I guess I should tell you, you're going to be an uncle." Boy was he confused. Drove back to the hospital. My mother met me there. Asked if I knew who the father was. I know somewhere in the back of my mind I was insulted. But this was not the time to address that. We went in and they admitted me. We talked and somehow laughed about what I would name the baby. My sister showed up at some point. They put a monitor on my stomach. We heard the heartbeat. I really wish now that I had remembered to ask them for ultrasound pictures. For whatever reason it just slipped my mind...can't imagine why (total sarcasm). My dad showed up. Asked how long we had known about this. Four hours and counting, pops.
Around 3 a.m. I was taken by ambulance to a different hospital. One with a NICU that was prepared to deal with my "situation". The not knowing how far along the baby was, not knowing enough about HELLP syndrome, a lack of confidence in their "team". My apologies to my former doctor. I wasn't very amiable. But you see, I had been poked like a pin cushion, blood drawn, an attempted IV three times before they got it right, and oh yeah the fact that you missed something HUGE and had me convinced for three weeks that I was dying. Little bit of a lack of trust in you. At the big hospital I was asked a bunch of questions that I don't remember now. They put me on a med to prevent seizures that made me feel like I had the flu and was swimming in jello. Started pitocin at some point. Wooooo, that stuff kicks in quick! Contractions started. Got an epidural. The funny thing is, out this whole "adventure" that's what I remember the most. The freaking epidural. I mean they scare the pants off of you (tough task, you're wearing a johnnie) by telling you can't move to avoid being paralyzed. Then it felt like someone was hardcore jabbing me in the liver?kidney?spleen? with a red hot poker. That couldn't be right. But I survived the epidural. Sure, it only worked on one half of my body, but hell whose nitpicking? At least it worked a little, and a little is definitely better than nothing.
So there I am. In my room. With my sad excuse of an epidural. Squeezing a little stuffed brown bear with a pink hoodie that my mom got out of a happy meal (oh sure, have a happy meal, who me? No, I'm fine with my ice chips. Mmmmm ice chips.) against the railing of my bed with each contraction. And who the hell dares to whisper in my room?!?!?!?! Are you freaking kidding????!!!! STOP WHISPERING. Let me tell you, I was a very VERY polite patient. I did NOT want to be that hellain all the nurses talk about when they leave the room. The one always calling them, never happy. I was polite as I could be. But my god! The whispering!!! That just are away at me. My moms (I have two, they are married, that's another story entirely) and my sister swore they were discussing my baby shower. In reality they were watching my blood pressure rise higher and higher and higher. I mean it got up there. That's part of the whole HELLP syndrome thing. Blood pressure shoots through the roof, they start throwing around the phrase "stroking out", they put you on the loopy meds to prevent seizure, your blood count gets all wacky. That's when they told me a c-section was NOT, let's repeat, NOT an option. The nurse came in something about my water breaking soon. Turned to walk out of the room. Oh nurse? You mean like that? Oh no, your water couldn't possibly have broken....oh my yes like that. Annnnnnnnnnd the ball is really rolling now. Told you so, Nurse.
At about 4:05 p.m. on August 24th, 2007 IT WAS TIME. I knew it, I felt it, this kid was coming and there was no stopping him. If only someone could have convinced the nurse of this. Because she was on the phone all cutesy "Hey we're having a birthday party in room (whatever the hell my room number was at this point) want to join?" to what seemed like everyone and their mother. And I was like "Listen lady, that's adorable and all but this kid is coming now so if it's cool with you, let's get a move on!!!!!". I think my mom could tell by the look on my face that I was not playing around. And apparently from the look on my mother's face and the look on mine, the nurse finally got the memo. Just in time to put down that fun blue mat with the pocket. Similar to a newborn slip and slide. Maybe seven minutes of pushing later....Welcome to the world little man! That's right, it is a boy. And lucky enough for me I had a boy's name picked out already. I had picked it out a good year or more earlier. My father's best friend, had been his best friend for well over twenty some odd years, had named one of his son's after my father. My father wanted to do the same, but somehow my brother ended up with a name nowhere near resembling his friend's. Sadly, my father's friend passed away suddenly after returning home from visiting his oldest son. He'd had a tough year. Flipped the concrete truck he drove to avoid hitting a young driver head on. He ended up in a pond, couldn't get out of the truck, was pulled free by a passerby. Fell at work. Then this. My father was heartbroken in his sullen "I'm fine" kind of way. So my son was proudly named after his grandfather's best friend. And his middle name? After my brother. A fact which to this day makes his face turn all kinds of red. My last name, of course.
He was adorable. He was a fighter. He was kicking and flailing like it was going out of style. I would have too if I had been living all squished up with no amniotic fluid to float around in! (Hence my puffiness and maladies that resembled liver cancer or kidney failure.) He was 5 lbs. 10 oz. probably about eight months all ten fingers, all ten toes. A little yellow around the edges, but a little time chilling under the lights and he was good to go. I loved him. I loved him like he was going out of style. And so did everyone else. My mom was off to shop to her little heart's content. My father was buzzing him around in his little baby basket ("Dad....Dad what are you doing?" My dad was buzzing him around all over the place, waving his hand over the top of the basinet like there were some infrared laser I wasn't seeing. "There's a draft. I'm trying to find a place without a draft". Cutest damn thing EVER.).
So there I was. Two months (all right, almost three) past my twenty first birthday. I had just had my first child. With twenty four hours notice. I had HELLP syndrome. Couldn't get out of bed. I had brought a life into this world. A beautiful, sweet, miracle of a little boy and I loved him, I loved him more fiercely than I had anything in my entire life. And I was scared, so incredibly scared. This wonderful little guy was my responsibility. Every move I made would have an effect on his life. Every decision. Here I was dealing with all these conflicting emotions surrounded by happy couples. Couples starting out their families, others adding to their already established families....Holy hell, I had a kid and no one, not a single person, knew or believed I had been pregnant! Yes, it was just like that stupid tv show.....
(I ran out of steam so I'll continue airing out my skeletons on another night. I'll let you digest that first part. If anyone reads this. And if not, well, it was good for me to get it out there anyway. Gremlin Gem of the day: Little man crammed his legs into a pillowcase which I happened to notice when I looked up to check on him at a particularly eery quiet moment. He was half asleep but he picked his legs up and said "Look, mumma, it's like a mermaid." I smiled and said "You're so silly." To which he replied, "No, mumma, I said MER-MAID." Like I clearly just hadn't heard him right. Silly me.)
On August 23rd, 2007 I had an appointment with a neupherologist. I don't know if I spelled that right. An ologist of the kind that deals with kidneys. I had some symptoms for the past three weeks that apparently meant I had kidney failure. Or liver cancer. Either way the options were pretty grim, I had just turned 21, didn't drink barely at all (no really), and was scared. Absolutely scared. So with my little brother in tow (he was freshly 18 at the time and I was suppose to take him driving after my appointment) I went to have an ultrasound done of my kidneys. Joy.
I was laying on the table, in the dimly lit room, cold jelly goo on my tummy, the ultrasound tech's hand with the thingy over my stomach trying to mind my own business when she said the one question I was definitely not prepared to hear: "How far along are you?"....Hi, what? In my kidney failure? Or my liver cancer? I'm not sure which you are referring to. I hyperventilated, I cried, I made that ultrasound tech very uncomfortable. She left the room I'm assuming to consult somebody on what to do with the basket case in her exam room. The verdict was to wipe away the goo and send me to my doctor's office down the street. So I walked out of the room, still crying, with my brother tailing about fifteen feet behind me, lest to be seen with the hysterical girl. We went to my doctor's office. I left him in the car. They ushered me right in. My doctor told me they weren't sure how "far along" I was. Oh and it was a baby, not a kidney failure or a liver cancer. Who knew? Not them apparently. I made her tell my mom. I couldn't form the words. Couldn't tell her. Everything was so up in the air. Holy sh*t, I'm 21. Holy sh*t, I'm going to have a baby. And it needs to be asap because I have HELLP syndrome and everything is off the charts and I need to get back to the hospital...And what the hell did my mother just say? She's excited? Oh yeah, I guess a baby is better than cancer. I got back in my car and said to my brother "Well, I guess I should tell you, you're going to be an uncle." Boy was he confused. Drove back to the hospital. My mother met me there. Asked if I knew who the father was. I know somewhere in the back of my mind I was insulted. But this was not the time to address that. We went in and they admitted me. We talked and somehow laughed about what I would name the baby. My sister showed up at some point. They put a monitor on my stomach. We heard the heartbeat. I really wish now that I had remembered to ask them for ultrasound pictures. For whatever reason it just slipped my mind...can't imagine why (total sarcasm). My dad showed up. Asked how long we had known about this. Four hours and counting, pops.
Around 3 a.m. I was taken by ambulance to a different hospital. One with a NICU that was prepared to deal with my "situation". The not knowing how far along the baby was, not knowing enough about HELLP syndrome, a lack of confidence in their "team". My apologies to my former doctor. I wasn't very amiable. But you see, I had been poked like a pin cushion, blood drawn, an attempted IV three times before they got it right, and oh yeah the fact that you missed something HUGE and had me convinced for three weeks that I was dying. Little bit of a lack of trust in you. At the big hospital I was asked a bunch of questions that I don't remember now. They put me on a med to prevent seizures that made me feel like I had the flu and was swimming in jello. Started pitocin at some point. Wooooo, that stuff kicks in quick! Contractions started. Got an epidural. The funny thing is, out this whole "adventure" that's what I remember the most. The freaking epidural. I mean they scare the pants off of you (tough task, you're wearing a johnnie) by telling you can't move to avoid being paralyzed. Then it felt like someone was hardcore jabbing me in the liver?kidney?spleen? with a red hot poker. That couldn't be right. But I survived the epidural. Sure, it only worked on one half of my body, but hell whose nitpicking? At least it worked a little, and a little is definitely better than nothing.
So there I am. In my room. With my sad excuse of an epidural. Squeezing a little stuffed brown bear with a pink hoodie that my mom got out of a happy meal (oh sure, have a happy meal, who me? No, I'm fine with my ice chips. Mmmmm ice chips.) against the railing of my bed with each contraction. And who the hell dares to whisper in my room?!?!?!?! Are you freaking kidding????!!!! STOP WHISPERING. Let me tell you, I was a very VERY polite patient. I did NOT want to be that hellain all the nurses talk about when they leave the room. The one always calling them, never happy. I was polite as I could be. But my god! The whispering!!! That just are away at me. My moms (I have two, they are married, that's another story entirely) and my sister swore they were discussing my baby shower. In reality they were watching my blood pressure rise higher and higher and higher. I mean it got up there. That's part of the whole HELLP syndrome thing. Blood pressure shoots through the roof, they start throwing around the phrase "stroking out", they put you on the loopy meds to prevent seizure, your blood count gets all wacky. That's when they told me a c-section was NOT, let's repeat, NOT an option. The nurse came in something about my water breaking soon. Turned to walk out of the room. Oh nurse? You mean like that? Oh no, your water couldn't possibly have broken....oh my yes like that. Annnnnnnnnnd the ball is really rolling now. Told you so, Nurse.
At about 4:05 p.m. on August 24th, 2007 IT WAS TIME. I knew it, I felt it, this kid was coming and there was no stopping him. If only someone could have convinced the nurse of this. Because she was on the phone all cutesy "Hey we're having a birthday party in room (whatever the hell my room number was at this point) want to join?" to what seemed like everyone and their mother. And I was like "Listen lady, that's adorable and all but this kid is coming now so if it's cool with you, let's get a move on!!!!!". I think my mom could tell by the look on my face that I was not playing around. And apparently from the look on my mother's face and the look on mine, the nurse finally got the memo. Just in time to put down that fun blue mat with the pocket. Similar to a newborn slip and slide. Maybe seven minutes of pushing later....Welcome to the world little man! That's right, it is a boy. And lucky enough for me I had a boy's name picked out already. I had picked it out a good year or more earlier. My father's best friend, had been his best friend for well over twenty some odd years, had named one of his son's after my father. My father wanted to do the same, but somehow my brother ended up with a name nowhere near resembling his friend's. Sadly, my father's friend passed away suddenly after returning home from visiting his oldest son. He'd had a tough year. Flipped the concrete truck he drove to avoid hitting a young driver head on. He ended up in a pond, couldn't get out of the truck, was pulled free by a passerby. Fell at work. Then this. My father was heartbroken in his sullen "I'm fine" kind of way. So my son was proudly named after his grandfather's best friend. And his middle name? After my brother. A fact which to this day makes his face turn all kinds of red. My last name, of course.
He was adorable. He was a fighter. He was kicking and flailing like it was going out of style. I would have too if I had been living all squished up with no amniotic fluid to float around in! (Hence my puffiness and maladies that resembled liver cancer or kidney failure.) He was 5 lbs. 10 oz. probably about eight months all ten fingers, all ten toes. A little yellow around the edges, but a little time chilling under the lights and he was good to go. I loved him. I loved him like he was going out of style. And so did everyone else. My mom was off to shop to her little heart's content. My father was buzzing him around in his little baby basket ("Dad....Dad what are you doing?" My dad was buzzing him around all over the place, waving his hand over the top of the basinet like there were some infrared laser I wasn't seeing. "There's a draft. I'm trying to find a place without a draft". Cutest damn thing EVER.).
So there I was. Two months (all right, almost three) past my twenty first birthday. I had just had my first child. With twenty four hours notice. I had HELLP syndrome. Couldn't get out of bed. I had brought a life into this world. A beautiful, sweet, miracle of a little boy and I loved him, I loved him more fiercely than I had anything in my entire life. And I was scared, so incredibly scared. This wonderful little guy was my responsibility. Every move I made would have an effect on his life. Every decision. Here I was dealing with all these conflicting emotions surrounded by happy couples. Couples starting out their families, others adding to their already established families....Holy hell, I had a kid and no one, not a single person, knew or believed I had been pregnant! Yes, it was just like that stupid tv show.....
(I ran out of steam so I'll continue airing out my skeletons on another night. I'll let you digest that first part. If anyone reads this. And if not, well, it was good for me to get it out there anyway. Gremlin Gem of the day: Little man crammed his legs into a pillowcase which I happened to notice when I looked up to check on him at a particularly eery quiet moment. He was half asleep but he picked his legs up and said "Look, mumma, it's like a mermaid." I smiled and said "You're so silly." To which he replied, "No, mumma, I said MER-MAID." Like I clearly just hadn't heard him right. Silly me.)
Saturday, August 6, 2011
When it rains....it freaking pours!!!
I intended to make this blogging thing an everyday, or as close to an everyday event as possible. Then I remembered who I am. The Queen of Fail. No really, I had a friend in college who said that if I was a Care Bear I would be "Bad Luck Bear". I think that means my tummy charm light thing would be a person being struck by three different lightning bolts at one time. It's cool, Grumpy Bear was always my favorite (besides Braveheart Lion of course!). So what major catastrophe occurred this time? Let me tell you...
I think it was in my last post that I ranted about my swimmers ear/ear infection. Well, on Tuesday of this week I woke up feeling god awful. Like I had the flu without the actual yakking. But I sucked it up like the trooper I am (that and because although my job is awesome experience the pay is next to nothing and there are no benefits like oh say sick days or personal days. Total crap, I know, but have you tried finding a job out there these days? No? That's because you can't!) I shipped myself off to work. Needless to say I made it half way through the day before I threw in the towel and dragged my sorry butt back home and immediately crashed in my bed for two blissful coma like hours until The Gremlin returned home. Woke up Wednesday not feeling too too bad, pretty fatigued, and with a ping pong ball sized lump behind my right ear. What the hell? Really? And that was my good ear too! Dragged myself back to work, called the doctor's for a third time in two weeks, and managed to get an appointment. Well, by the time my appointment rolled around I had a matching set of ping pong balls and couldn't turn my head in either direction. And god damn it, was it a million degrees in there or what?!?! Went to the doctor's was told it was my lymph nodes, I probably had a type of flu and my body was reacting to that, had a slight fever, take Tylenol every four hours, call if something changes blah blah blah. Oh and by the way, do you have a rash? Um, no, but thanks for asking...I think. Stopped and got Tylenol, went back to work. Finished out the day. Got home and at this point it dawned on we that I hadn't eaten anything. All day. And had no desire to eat anything. Tried to, got a third of the way through something, and yeah no wasn't going to happen. Went to bed. Wake up Thursday. STILL feeling crappy. My mother practically begged me to stay home. I compromised telling her I would leave at one when my coworker showed up or come right back if my other coworker was in. Was at work for one hour and I notice spots on my hands. Then I realize my chest, back, and neck are itchy. Not only itchy, but feeling like a sunburn too. I scuttled to the bathroom and low and behold....a rash! Awesome, man, awesome. Wait it out until one and then leave for home where all I can think about is putting on a sweatshirt and some socks because god damn it I am FREEZING! So that's exactly what I did. Plus a fleece blanket. I immediately crashed on the couch. I vaguely recall my dad stopping by, asking what was wrong with me, talking to me about The Gremlin's party, then leaving. Next to drop in were my mother and The Gremlin. I got the words "Do I have a..." out of my mouth before my mother took one look at me and said "Let's go, we're going to the emergency room". Uh oh, I must have looked bad. Get to the emergency room, explain myself to check in, wait a few, go into the triage room answer some more questions, take my temp, my blood pressure (100/70, very nice) and blah blah blah. Get my bracelet, so attractive. Give out my insurance information....then sit in the waiting room for forever playing "Guess what's wrong with that person game". Always a fun time. From a general glance over the crowd seemed like one broken foot, a sprained ankle, a broken hand, and someone needed stitches...not too bad. EMTs came in at one point with a man on a stretcher. They swapped him into a wheelchair and then left him....in the middle of the room...and he didn't speak English. He promptly fell asleep. And snored. FELL ASLEEP AND SNORED. How much pain can you possibly be in that you fall asleep and snore??????? Just wondering.
Anyway, they finally call me in and at this point my mother has been watching me turn redder and redder and redder. And I'm getting itchier and itchier and itchier. Apparently even the whites of my eyes turned red. Cool. So it's safe to say I was more than happy to hear my name be called. But what terrible fate should await behind those double locked doors? A two and a half hour wait in the little room. Because there were a whopping four people in front of me. Oi. My mother paced, I laid on the bed staring at the ceiling, complaining that they could have at least left out some coloring books and crayons or something. My mother paced some more, commented on how much redder I was getting, I considered blowing up every single pair of blue latex free gloves, tried not to scratch. My mom complains. She thought they were just starting to sew up Stitches Girl, but really they had just finished and she missed it. I wondered out loud if anyone had every tried to hold onto the little metal curlicue arms for IV bags suspended from the ceiling like a zip line. My lips got itchy. Then my throat. I tried not to panic.
Finally, the guy who I can only assume was the ER doctor came in. I say assume because he came swooshing in and didn't even introduce himself. Just came right out with "Why are you here today?". Oh ok, no silly formalities, it's ok I don't want to know the name of the doctor I am speaking with. Pffft, who does that anyway? Introduces themselves. Way old school, man. I explain to him the rash, tell him about the lymph node thing, explain to him at least three times that I haven't taken anything for the rash, then try to explain to him about the ear infection. Because as I found out the day before this was no ordinary ear infection, it was a MRSA infection. He didn't believe me. Oh, you caught me, I just go around telling people that for sh*ts and giggles. My freaking doctor did a culture! That's how I know it was a MRSA infection. Cripes. So then he takes the ear scope thing and jams it in my ear asking if that hurt. Dude, I'm fairly certain you just poked me in the brain, YES THAT HURT. Then this guy takes it and immediately jams it in my other ear....without cleaning it off first. Really? REALLY? Was that ok for you to do? Because that other ear was my GOOD ear. Dr. RandomGuy decides it's an allergic reaction to "sulfa" which means it was the bactrim I had been taking. For almost a week. Awesome.
So that was my week. I'm alive. Maybe not healthy but alive. I'm covered in a rash from head to toe. But I'm alive. I have rash on the palms of my hands and the soles of my feet. But I'm alive. I'm on three different meds and I'm woozy. But I'm alive. I look....awful and patchy. BUT I'M ALIVE. When it rains, it pours. And when I get sick, I don't do this sh*t half assed, I commit.
I'll leave you with another Gremlin Gem (ooh, I like that!):
He was sitting on his little night time potty (our bathroom is downstairs and I'd rather he not attempt going down there in the middle of the night half asleep) looking at a pumpkin carving book (he's so my kid) and proclaimed, "Mumma.....that's crazy...mumma, why is there sandwiches with the pumpkins? They have sandwiches with the pumpkins! That's so crazy." Ha ha, this kid, he makes everything so much better.
I think it was in my last post that I ranted about my swimmers ear/ear infection. Well, on Tuesday of this week I woke up feeling god awful. Like I had the flu without the actual yakking. But I sucked it up like the trooper I am (that and because although my job is awesome experience the pay is next to nothing and there are no benefits like oh say sick days or personal days. Total crap, I know, but have you tried finding a job out there these days? No? That's because you can't!) I shipped myself off to work. Needless to say I made it half way through the day before I threw in the towel and dragged my sorry butt back home and immediately crashed in my bed for two blissful coma like hours until The Gremlin returned home. Woke up Wednesday not feeling too too bad, pretty fatigued, and with a ping pong ball sized lump behind my right ear. What the hell? Really? And that was my good ear too! Dragged myself back to work, called the doctor's for a third time in two weeks, and managed to get an appointment. Well, by the time my appointment rolled around I had a matching set of ping pong balls and couldn't turn my head in either direction. And god damn it, was it a million degrees in there or what?!?! Went to the doctor's was told it was my lymph nodes, I probably had a type of flu and my body was reacting to that, had a slight fever, take Tylenol every four hours, call if something changes blah blah blah. Oh and by the way, do you have a rash? Um, no, but thanks for asking...I think. Stopped and got Tylenol, went back to work. Finished out the day. Got home and at this point it dawned on we that I hadn't eaten anything. All day. And had no desire to eat anything. Tried to, got a third of the way through something, and yeah no wasn't going to happen. Went to bed. Wake up Thursday. STILL feeling crappy. My mother practically begged me to stay home. I compromised telling her I would leave at one when my coworker showed up or come right back if my other coworker was in. Was at work for one hour and I notice spots on my hands. Then I realize my chest, back, and neck are itchy. Not only itchy, but feeling like a sunburn too. I scuttled to the bathroom and low and behold....a rash! Awesome, man, awesome. Wait it out until one and then leave for home where all I can think about is putting on a sweatshirt and some socks because god damn it I am FREEZING! So that's exactly what I did. Plus a fleece blanket. I immediately crashed on the couch. I vaguely recall my dad stopping by, asking what was wrong with me, talking to me about The Gremlin's party, then leaving. Next to drop in were my mother and The Gremlin. I got the words "Do I have a..." out of my mouth before my mother took one look at me and said "Let's go, we're going to the emergency room". Uh oh, I must have looked bad. Get to the emergency room, explain myself to check in, wait a few, go into the triage room answer some more questions, take my temp, my blood pressure (100/70, very nice) and blah blah blah. Get my bracelet, so attractive. Give out my insurance information....then sit in the waiting room for forever playing "Guess what's wrong with that person game". Always a fun time. From a general glance over the crowd seemed like one broken foot, a sprained ankle, a broken hand, and someone needed stitches...not too bad. EMTs came in at one point with a man on a stretcher. They swapped him into a wheelchair and then left him....in the middle of the room...and he didn't speak English. He promptly fell asleep. And snored. FELL ASLEEP AND SNORED. How much pain can you possibly be in that you fall asleep and snore??????? Just wondering.
Anyway, they finally call me in and at this point my mother has been watching me turn redder and redder and redder. And I'm getting itchier and itchier and itchier. Apparently even the whites of my eyes turned red. Cool. So it's safe to say I was more than happy to hear my name be called. But what terrible fate should await behind those double locked doors? A two and a half hour wait in the little room. Because there were a whopping four people in front of me. Oi. My mother paced, I laid on the bed staring at the ceiling, complaining that they could have at least left out some coloring books and crayons or something. My mother paced some more, commented on how much redder I was getting, I considered blowing up every single pair of blue latex free gloves, tried not to scratch. My mom complains. She thought they were just starting to sew up Stitches Girl, but really they had just finished and she missed it. I wondered out loud if anyone had every tried to hold onto the little metal curlicue arms for IV bags suspended from the ceiling like a zip line. My lips got itchy. Then my throat. I tried not to panic.
Finally, the guy who I can only assume was the ER doctor came in. I say assume because he came swooshing in and didn't even introduce himself. Just came right out with "Why are you here today?". Oh ok, no silly formalities, it's ok I don't want to know the name of the doctor I am speaking with. Pffft, who does that anyway? Introduces themselves. Way old school, man. I explain to him the rash, tell him about the lymph node thing, explain to him at least three times that I haven't taken anything for the rash, then try to explain to him about the ear infection. Because as I found out the day before this was no ordinary ear infection, it was a MRSA infection. He didn't believe me. Oh, you caught me, I just go around telling people that for sh*ts and giggles. My freaking doctor did a culture! That's how I know it was a MRSA infection. Cripes. So then he takes the ear scope thing and jams it in my ear asking if that hurt. Dude, I'm fairly certain you just poked me in the brain, YES THAT HURT. Then this guy takes it and immediately jams it in my other ear....without cleaning it off first. Really? REALLY? Was that ok for you to do? Because that other ear was my GOOD ear. Dr. RandomGuy decides it's an allergic reaction to "sulfa" which means it was the bactrim I had been taking. For almost a week. Awesome.
So that was my week. I'm alive. Maybe not healthy but alive. I'm covered in a rash from head to toe. But I'm alive. I have rash on the palms of my hands and the soles of my feet. But I'm alive. I'm on three different meds and I'm woozy. But I'm alive. I look....awful and patchy. BUT I'M ALIVE. When it rains, it pours. And when I get sick, I don't do this sh*t half assed, I commit.
I'll leave you with another Gremlin Gem (ooh, I like that!):
He was sitting on his little night time potty (our bathroom is downstairs and I'd rather he not attempt going down there in the middle of the night half asleep) looking at a pumpkin carving book (he's so my kid) and proclaimed, "Mumma.....that's crazy...mumma, why is there sandwiches with the pumpkins? They have sandwiches with the pumpkins! That's so crazy." Ha ha, this kid, he makes everything so much better.
Monday, August 1, 2011
Diamonds in the Rough
Here are a couple of real gems The Gremlin has thrown out there in the last few months. It's pretty hysterical hearing what goes through his little mind these days, even if some of it makes me go "What the h*ll....". Commence laughing-
The Gremlin's adopted aunt/daddy recently bribed him into good behavior with his first pair of over the sneakers roller skates. Super cool ones too, they look like Hot Wheels cars! Came with knee pads and elbow pads and upon donning them inside the house The Gremlin took off like he created the damn roller derby himself! He was in the living to the kitchen and back with no problems. The kid threw balls backwards for the first two and a half years of his life but he can roller skate like nobody's business! In the house that is. Once his little wheeled feet hit the outdoors his legs could no longer coordinate themselves like they did inside the house. He was all over the place. The last time he fell he gave up. He sat for thirty seconds before flopping backwards, sticking his roller skate covered feet in the air, and proclaiming "Tripping and failing are not for me. Take them off!".
The Gremlin's actual blood related Aunt, my sister, whom he fondly refers to as "Rah-rah" (real name is Sarah) has Wednesdays off and in times of need she will take The Gremlin for the day. On one such occasion, Rah-rah picked him up at my work leaving her black car with black interior parked outside with all the windows up. While Rah-rah was getting situated to leave, The Gremlin piped up from the backseat with "Rah-rah, it's so FLICKERING hot in here!".
Another occasion, Rah-rah and Uncle An-ton-ee (her husband, Anthony, whose name The Gremlin pronounces differently almost every time) were watching The Gremlin while I was out and he proclaimed "I want to be a lifeguard when I grow up." Rah-rah knowing The Gremlin's deep despise of water (hence The Gremlin) explained that lifeguards have to swim. The Gremlin quickly changed his mind, but of course acted as if Rah-rah misheard him by saying "I don't want to be a lifeguard, I want to be a soldier!". Silly Rah-rah, maybe you should look into a hearing aid. She said a good hour later, out of nowhere, The Gremlin stated "I am just a soldier looking for my birthday".
The Gremlin has a love for castles, dragons, knights, and catapults. At one of the local public libraries there is a GIANT stuffed bunny basically the size of The Gremlin that he felt the need to drag across the library and sit in a small chair at a table. Once situated (and both his floppy bunny ears were out of the bunny's face which took a lot of standing on tippy toes to accomplish) The Gremlin proceeded to read the bunny a story. About a knight. In charming armor. Regularly you can hear The Gremlin referring to himself as a Knight in Charming Armor or a Knight in Sharming Armor. So stinking cute!
The Gremlin and I recently went to visit my cousin and her flipping adorable month old son. She also has two yorkies who have an over abundance of toys. The Gremlin decided it would be a FANTASTIC idea to take each and every one out of the basket and line them up on the floor. Each time he pulled out a new toy he would look at my cousin and say "What's this?" to which she would reply "A dog toy"...this happened at least ten times. He pulled yet another squeaky object out of the basket, asked the same question, got the same answer, but then replied with "Doesn't surprise me." This was followed up by "That was so unnecessary" when something not to his liking happened.
My sister lives in a condominium community (I don't even know if that's what I'm suppose to call it....but village sounds so damn snooty!) where they have an inground pool. While his aunt and I were swimming, The Gremlin was crawling back and forth across the first step into the pool...his version of "swimming". My sister swam up and bumped into him to which he replied, "Why hello, lady boat!".
While on this same pool exscursion, The Gremlin was throwing his water wings into the pool calling them boats. My sister snagged one in an attempt to bribe him into actually setting foot in the pool with us as opposed to wallowing on the first step. After much distressed flapping of his little arms, my sister told The Gremlin he had to ask nicely to get his "boat" back. He exclaimed "Please! PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE! That's all the words I have!", as if his saying please too many times would mean he could never say it again. Gotta watch your please quota for the day, wouldn't want to run out....wait, can I use this theory at work?!....Please?
While at Wendy's one afternoon, The Gremlin was thoroughly enjoying his cheeseburger and apple slices, I was trying to maintain faith that the grilled chicken thing I had ordered would be so much better than the delicious looking cheeseburger on the menu when he suddenly said "MOMMA. It is so freezy in here *this is where he wrapped his little arms around himself and shook almost falling off his chair to emphasize the cold factor", I should have gotten a warm winter jacket. Yup, I'll have to get one." and then happily went back to trying to suck an apple slice up through his straw. Sometimes he's like a 70 yr old man trapped in an almost 4 yr old's body. P.s. Gremlin, it's 90 degrees with a humidity so high it's like walking into a brick wall when you go outside. Don't talk about winter coats, I could pass out from the thought of it.
Just the other morning while I was attempting to do...something I can't remember now, it occurred to me that David was trying to tell me something. "Momma, momma, look someone ripped this map!" (it was in fact the little booklet thing from inside a dvd), "Oh yeah? Would this someone's name be The Gremlin?". He had this look like "oh, crap, I forgot I did it" and came back with "Maybe it was those kids...who rip things! Yeah!". That's it mister, no more hooligan imaginary friends for you!
And last, even though this was from a year ago, this clearly shows how much this kid is truly loved. We go to a Fourth of July parade every year. We sit in the same place every year. We have been doing this since...well, for as long as I can remember. Last year, we were sitting in our designated spot, my dad, my younger brother, myself, The Gremlin, and Rah-rah. It's one of those parades where some unfortunate people volunteer to drag the shopping carts full of useless crap up and down the parade route. A guy with a cooler walked past us with a sign that read "Sno-Cones" and how ever much they were. The Gremlin has NO idea what a sno-cone is at the time, but once he heard the words he was so excited he could barely contain himself. By the time my sister and I had finished debating whether or not it was a good idea to purchase a drink/food item from a guy with a cooler, he had long walked passed us. Poor Little Gremlin slumped back into his Spongebob folding chair, looked at Rah-rah with the saddest puppy dog eyes he could give, and quietly said "Now I will never get to have a sno-cone." This was simply too much for Rah-rah who practically leapt from her chair exclaiming "Not on my watch!" and took off after sketchy man selling sketchy sno-cones. The Gremlin got his sno-cone and complained for the rest of the day how much it made his head and teeth freezy.
This kiddo never stops making me laugh, and he has been doing since the day he was born. Although, I must say, the ultimate thing he said (which was actually him repeating something his other aunt told him to say) was when he was around two and he needed his grandfather to move off the couch so his diaper could be changed. He marched his little two year old self right in there and said "Move, trash bag!". Not funny, but damn funny all at once.
The Gremlin's adopted aunt/daddy recently bribed him into good behavior with his first pair of over the sneakers roller skates. Super cool ones too, they look like Hot Wheels cars! Came with knee pads and elbow pads and upon donning them inside the house The Gremlin took off like he created the damn roller derby himself! He was in the living to the kitchen and back with no problems. The kid threw balls backwards for the first two and a half years of his life but he can roller skate like nobody's business! In the house that is. Once his little wheeled feet hit the outdoors his legs could no longer coordinate themselves like they did inside the house. He was all over the place. The last time he fell he gave up. He sat for thirty seconds before flopping backwards, sticking his roller skate covered feet in the air, and proclaiming "Tripping and failing are not for me. Take them off!".
The Gremlin's actual blood related Aunt, my sister, whom he fondly refers to as "Rah-rah" (real name is Sarah) has Wednesdays off and in times of need she will take The Gremlin for the day. On one such occasion, Rah-rah picked him up at my work leaving her black car with black interior parked outside with all the windows up. While Rah-rah was getting situated to leave, The Gremlin piped up from the backseat with "Rah-rah, it's so FLICKERING hot in here!".
Another occasion, Rah-rah and Uncle An-ton-ee (her husband, Anthony, whose name The Gremlin pronounces differently almost every time) were watching The Gremlin while I was out and he proclaimed "I want to be a lifeguard when I grow up." Rah-rah knowing The Gremlin's deep despise of water (hence The Gremlin) explained that lifeguards have to swim. The Gremlin quickly changed his mind, but of course acted as if Rah-rah misheard him by saying "I don't want to be a lifeguard, I want to be a soldier!". Silly Rah-rah, maybe you should look into a hearing aid. She said a good hour later, out of nowhere, The Gremlin stated "I am just a soldier looking for my birthday".
The Gremlin has a love for castles, dragons, knights, and catapults. At one of the local public libraries there is a GIANT stuffed bunny basically the size of The Gremlin that he felt the need to drag across the library and sit in a small chair at a table. Once situated (and both his floppy bunny ears were out of the bunny's face which took a lot of standing on tippy toes to accomplish) The Gremlin proceeded to read the bunny a story. About a knight. In charming armor. Regularly you can hear The Gremlin referring to himself as a Knight in Charming Armor or a Knight in Sharming Armor. So stinking cute!
The Gremlin and I recently went to visit my cousin and her flipping adorable month old son. She also has two yorkies who have an over abundance of toys. The Gremlin decided it would be a FANTASTIC idea to take each and every one out of the basket and line them up on the floor. Each time he pulled out a new toy he would look at my cousin and say "What's this?" to which she would reply "A dog toy"...this happened at least ten times. He pulled yet another squeaky object out of the basket, asked the same question, got the same answer, but then replied with "Doesn't surprise me." This was followed up by "That was so unnecessary" when something not to his liking happened.
My sister lives in a condominium community (I don't even know if that's what I'm suppose to call it....but village sounds so damn snooty!) where they have an inground pool. While his aunt and I were swimming, The Gremlin was crawling back and forth across the first step into the pool...his version of "swimming". My sister swam up and bumped into him to which he replied, "Why hello, lady boat!".
While on this same pool exscursion, The Gremlin was throwing his water wings into the pool calling them boats. My sister snagged one in an attempt to bribe him into actually setting foot in the pool with us as opposed to wallowing on the first step. After much distressed flapping of his little arms, my sister told The Gremlin he had to ask nicely to get his "boat" back. He exclaimed "Please! PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE! That's all the words I have!", as if his saying please too many times would mean he could never say it again. Gotta watch your please quota for the day, wouldn't want to run out....wait, can I use this theory at work?!....Please?
While at Wendy's one afternoon, The Gremlin was thoroughly enjoying his cheeseburger and apple slices, I was trying to maintain faith that the grilled chicken thing I had ordered would be so much better than the delicious looking cheeseburger on the menu when he suddenly said "MOMMA. It is so freezy in here *this is where he wrapped his little arms around himself and shook almost falling off his chair to emphasize the cold factor", I should have gotten a warm winter jacket. Yup, I'll have to get one." and then happily went back to trying to suck an apple slice up through his straw. Sometimes he's like a 70 yr old man trapped in an almost 4 yr old's body. P.s. Gremlin, it's 90 degrees with a humidity so high it's like walking into a brick wall when you go outside. Don't talk about winter coats, I could pass out from the thought of it.
Just the other morning while I was attempting to do...something I can't remember now, it occurred to me that David was trying to tell me something. "Momma, momma, look someone ripped this map!" (it was in fact the little booklet thing from inside a dvd), "Oh yeah? Would this someone's name be The Gremlin?". He had this look like "oh, crap, I forgot I did it" and came back with "Maybe it was those kids...who rip things! Yeah!". That's it mister, no more hooligan imaginary friends for you!
And last, even though this was from a year ago, this clearly shows how much this kid is truly loved. We go to a Fourth of July parade every year. We sit in the same place every year. We have been doing this since...well, for as long as I can remember. Last year, we were sitting in our designated spot, my dad, my younger brother, myself, The Gremlin, and Rah-rah. It's one of those parades where some unfortunate people volunteer to drag the shopping carts full of useless crap up and down the parade route. A guy with a cooler walked past us with a sign that read "Sno-Cones" and how ever much they were. The Gremlin has NO idea what a sno-cone is at the time, but once he heard the words he was so excited he could barely contain himself. By the time my sister and I had finished debating whether or not it was a good idea to purchase a drink/food item from a guy with a cooler, he had long walked passed us. Poor Little Gremlin slumped back into his Spongebob folding chair, looked at Rah-rah with the saddest puppy dog eyes he could give, and quietly said "Now I will never get to have a sno-cone." This was simply too much for Rah-rah who practically leapt from her chair exclaiming "Not on my watch!" and took off after sketchy man selling sketchy sno-cones. The Gremlin got his sno-cone and complained for the rest of the day how much it made his head and teeth freezy.
This kiddo never stops making me laugh, and he has been doing since the day he was born. Although, I must say, the ultimate thing he said (which was actually him repeating something his other aunt told him to say) was when he was around two and he needed his grandfather to move off the couch so his diaper could be changed. He marched his little two year old self right in there and said "Move, trash bag!". Not funny, but damn funny all at once.
Sunday, July 31, 2011
Are You Freaking Kidding Me?!?!
I turned 25 and everything went to Hell. Okay, so maybe I'm exaggerating. But only slightly! Within the two months since I turned *gag* a quarter of a century *sob* I managed to get a severe eye infection (rendering it impossible to wear my contacts which is a shame because this is summer the season of many many sunglasses *sigh*) and swimmer's ear that in all actuality was a middle ear infection. I know, right? An ear infection? At 25? Pfft, who knew. Once I turned 10 you woulda thought I'd grow out of those. But alas, I have the worst issues with throat and ear related ailments. No really, my senior year of high school alone I had whooping cough (oh how joyous THAT is), double ear infections (told you), strep throat (spelling?), mono, and an allergic reaction to a medication (itchy from the inside out, a truly odd sensation). Dude, I totally know what you're thinking- Get this chick a plastic bubble STAT!!! It's crazy. However this ear thing really takes the cake. Initially I went into the doctor and said "Hey, you know, there's this throbbing in my ear. Call me crazy but I do have some personal experience with this type of pain and I do believe I have myself an ear infection". To which I was told I had swimmer's ear. I nearly laughed myself right off that stupid table (you know the one with the crinkly tissue paper that you can never be comfortable sitting on, but you don't want to move because no one can hear you over the freaking gift wrap under you!). Me? Swimmer's ear? ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME?!?!?!?! (See what I did there? Tricky.)
I am NOT a swimmer. I hate bathing suits. HATE THEM. And therefore have refrained from swimming since I was, oh, 12. Give or take. However the weekend before this stupid ear fiasco started I did put on a bathing suit *Gasp* and go into the pool at my sister's. All for The Gremlin to sit at the edge of the pool refusing to get in ("No, I'm fine. Go away.") BUT I did NOT swim, my head did NOT go under water. Not ONCE in the whole two hours. I have witnesses to prove it! Including my sister who, when she heard about my diagnosis, laughed and said "Clearly they meant you have "Causually Standing in a Pool for Two Hours Ear". Exactly.
So I went and picked up my prescription for ear drops. At Walgreens. Because it would be faster than driving to my hometown to my normal pharmacy so I would miss less of the work day. HA! Obviously I forgot who I am. The phone system at the Walgreen's pharmacy was down and what havoc that wrought! Finally got my ear drops, did what the directions told me to do for so many days, and YAY! The pain went a way. Only to come back two days later. -.- Really? I followed the directions! Back to the doctor I went where they looked at me like "Oh you poor thing, you're that one in a million girl that the meds don't work on". Gee, thanks, let me break out my tiny violin. ANOTHER prescription for ANOTHER ear drop AND an oral antibiotic later. AFTER they jammed long q-tips in my ear to take cultures. THIS BETTER WORK....
Two days later, voicemail from the doctor's- "We got your culture back. Turns out the amoxicillin we prescribed won't help. Stop taking it immediately. We are calling in a different prescription (which means you have a middle ear infection) for you. Have a good weekend!"....Really....I'm going to hope that, since I can't hear out of my left ear, you actually said "Gave a shrewd befriend" because you are clearly so high off the hand santizing fumes in the office that you couldn't possibly make sense and I didn't hear you wish me a pleasant weekend...-.-
I am NOT a swimmer. I hate bathing suits. HATE THEM. And therefore have refrained from swimming since I was, oh, 12. Give or take. However the weekend before this stupid ear fiasco started I did put on a bathing suit *Gasp* and go into the pool at my sister's. All for The Gremlin to sit at the edge of the pool refusing to get in ("No, I'm fine. Go away.") BUT I did NOT swim, my head did NOT go under water. Not ONCE in the whole two hours. I have witnesses to prove it! Including my sister who, when she heard about my diagnosis, laughed and said "Clearly they meant you have "Causually Standing in a Pool for Two Hours Ear". Exactly.
So I went and picked up my prescription for ear drops. At Walgreens. Because it would be faster than driving to my hometown to my normal pharmacy so I would miss less of the work day. HA! Obviously I forgot who I am. The phone system at the Walgreen's pharmacy was down and what havoc that wrought! Finally got my ear drops, did what the directions told me to do for so many days, and YAY! The pain went a way. Only to come back two days later. -.- Really? I followed the directions! Back to the doctor I went where they looked at me like "Oh you poor thing, you're that one in a million girl that the meds don't work on". Gee, thanks, let me break out my tiny violin. ANOTHER prescription for ANOTHER ear drop AND an oral antibiotic later. AFTER they jammed long q-tips in my ear to take cultures. THIS BETTER WORK....
Two days later, voicemail from the doctor's- "We got your culture back. Turns out the amoxicillin we prescribed won't help. Stop taking it immediately. We are calling in a different prescription (which means you have a middle ear infection) for you. Have a good weekend!"....Really....I'm going to hope that, since I can't hear out of my left ear, you actually said "Gave a shrewd befriend" because you are clearly so high off the hand santizing fumes in the office that you couldn't possibly make sense and I didn't hear you wish me a pleasant weekend...-.-
Saturday, July 30, 2011
Obligatory First Blog Explanation
Just like the title says, I will now explain to you in one word why I have decided to create a blog- LAME. That's right, I am a very, very lame 25 year old. Shocking, I know, with my outstanding sense of humor, amazingly good looks, and talent with the typed word! All bullsh*t aside, I am pretty darn lame in my opinion. Don't believe me? Here's an account of my week day, not any one in particular because they all seem to blend into one big week mush. Enjoy! (Disclaimer: Keep in mind I'm a single mother. I have an adorable, yet evil genius minded, almost 4 yr old whom I lovingly refer to as "the gremlin".)
6:30 a.m.- Crack one eye open whilst slapping my hand around the bed trying to locate my cell phone. What?! It's 6:30....in the morning!? Eff this. I don't "do" this version of 6:30. Close eye.
6:33 a.m.- Wake up with a start because surely I just slept for an additional four hours and am ridiculously late for work and I am in so much....What. It's been three minutes? You have GOT to be kidding me!
7:15 a.m.- (I fast forwarded for you because I literally wake up every three to four minutes convinced I've overslept. And no I don't set an alarm. Why set an alarm when you naturally scare the beejesus out of yourself for fear of being late???) Check cell phone for the billionth time. Contemplate getting up because then I could take a normal length shower, check email, make breakfast/lunch for work, get dressed, and get coffee made in singular steps instead of one long hundred yard dash out the door. Nah, where's the challenge in that???
7:45 a.m.- Ah crap, here we go.
7:46 a.m.- Trip over one of the cats on the way out of the bedroom while trying to be quiet to not wake The Gremlin. See, I know the cats (there are four of them, only one being mine) have some bet going each morning. They KNOW I am trying to not wake up The Gremlin. The Gremlin wakes up and it's a COMPLETELY different kind of morning filled with "Momma momma momma momma look what I did...Momma momma I'm shirsty...momma momma you wanna make me scrambled eggs now....momma momma look look look what I did...momma momma can you put it on my channel?" and NOTHING gets accomplished. You know I have had one of those mornings when I am eating popcorn for lunch at work and my hair, well, it's not having a "good" day and I'm wearing sandals when it's 40 degrees out. Anyway, I know the cats are on to me and it's their personal mission each and every morning to see which one of them can get me to trip and swear and crash into something that will awake The Gremlin. I'd love to know what the winning cat actually gets. Probably the prime yakking spot or the sunniest windowsill.
7:55 a.m.- Yes! Beat my personal best, showered in four minutes and made my breakfast, lunch, and coffee. Time management my....bum.
8:00 a.m.- Tiptoe past The Gremlin. Time to find something to wear, the appropriate footwear, get makeup and hair situation under control.
8:10 a.m.- The Gremlin is up. Usher him down the stairs ("Throw blankie down the stairs first so you don't trip *insert two minutes of The Gremlin kicking blankie down the stairs because of course his throw made blankie fall two steps down* Let Momma throw the blankie next time *quietly thinks to self "Right into the trash stupid blanket"* Can I please pick blankie up? No don't step on it, you're going to fall. No, I said no, because I said so....." and so on). Get him a cup of juice while brushing my teeth and trying to get him to use the potty while tripping over another cat.
8:30 a.m.- Watch the clock cursing every second that ticks closer to when I have to leave as The Gremlin bops around next to me telling me all about his dream where the house turned into a pumpkin. What the H did we read for a book last night? Surely it didn't involve pumpkins.
8:45 a.m.- Oh hey, look there's Grammy, go tell her all about your pumpkin house and if you're really good I bet she'll make you scrambled eggs...oh yeah and behave today! And I love you. Out the door I go.
9 a.m. to 4 p.m.- Any number of things happen during these hours at work. More than likely my eighty yr old boss is asking me to look up something ridiculous on the internet or he's misplaced his keys/glasses/cell phone, speaking of cell phone, how do you turn the sound on/enter a contact/ and what the h*ll is that little yellow envelope? Answer the phone, while printing emails, writing a purchase order, and ringing out a customer. It's never a dull moment there.
4:20 p.m.- Home again, home again. There's The Gremlin waving at me like a mad man.
I've officially lost interest in separating everything out by time so here's a general idea of what the rest of the night looks like. I chase The Gremlin around while he tries to tell me about his day but he's so darn excited he mixes up his sentences and it comes out "Grammy and I went to the post office and the big truck drove to the jail with clowns and I went in Time Out, but only once because I threw scrambled eggs for lunch and I wasn't hungry". Well then. I try to force feed my kid some dinner while he negotiates with me for something completely unhealthy instead ("But you can give me a candy, if you want to..." *puppy dog eyes*). Ha, nice try kid, I'm a seasoned professional with the puppy dog eyes, I am immune to your cuteness! He watches one of "his" shows followed by that time of night that signals it's time for bed- he goes absolutely batsh*t crazy. Running around in circles, speaking in tongues, off the wall. Then there's the whine and shuffle up the stairs trailing blankie behind. Read some books annnnnnd The Gremlin is out. Ding ding ding! Two hours of Momma time and that's it.
So there you have. Lame. So here I am starting a blog. Because even single moms have thoughts you know! And nine out of ten times those thoughts can not be shared with their child. Especially when said child is going through that parrot phase of repeating EVERYTHING. And I mean everything.....
6:30 a.m.- Crack one eye open whilst slapping my hand around the bed trying to locate my cell phone. What?! It's 6:30....in the morning!? Eff this. I don't "do" this version of 6:30. Close eye.
6:33 a.m.- Wake up with a start because surely I just slept for an additional four hours and am ridiculously late for work and I am in so much....What. It's been three minutes? You have GOT to be kidding me!
7:15 a.m.- (I fast forwarded for you because I literally wake up every three to four minutes convinced I've overslept. And no I don't set an alarm. Why set an alarm when you naturally scare the beejesus out of yourself for fear of being late???) Check cell phone for the billionth time. Contemplate getting up because then I could take a normal length shower, check email, make breakfast/lunch for work, get dressed, and get coffee made in singular steps instead of one long hundred yard dash out the door. Nah, where's the challenge in that???
7:45 a.m.- Ah crap, here we go.
7:46 a.m.- Trip over one of the cats on the way out of the bedroom while trying to be quiet to not wake The Gremlin. See, I know the cats (there are four of them, only one being mine) have some bet going each morning. They KNOW I am trying to not wake up The Gremlin. The Gremlin wakes up and it's a COMPLETELY different kind of morning filled with "Momma momma momma momma look what I did...Momma momma I'm shirsty...momma momma you wanna make me scrambled eggs now....momma momma look look look what I did...momma momma can you put it on my channel?" and NOTHING gets accomplished. You know I have had one of those mornings when I am eating popcorn for lunch at work and my hair, well, it's not having a "good" day and I'm wearing sandals when it's 40 degrees out. Anyway, I know the cats are on to me and it's their personal mission each and every morning to see which one of them can get me to trip and swear and crash into something that will awake The Gremlin. I'd love to know what the winning cat actually gets. Probably the prime yakking spot or the sunniest windowsill.
7:55 a.m.- Yes! Beat my personal best, showered in four minutes and made my breakfast, lunch, and coffee. Time management my....bum.
8:00 a.m.- Tiptoe past The Gremlin. Time to find something to wear, the appropriate footwear, get makeup and hair situation under control.
8:10 a.m.- The Gremlin is up. Usher him down the stairs ("Throw blankie down the stairs first so you don't trip *insert two minutes of The Gremlin kicking blankie down the stairs because of course his throw made blankie fall two steps down* Let Momma throw the blankie next time *quietly thinks to self "Right into the trash stupid blanket"* Can I please pick blankie up? No don't step on it, you're going to fall. No, I said no, because I said so....." and so on). Get him a cup of juice while brushing my teeth and trying to get him to use the potty while tripping over another cat.
8:30 a.m.- Watch the clock cursing every second that ticks closer to when I have to leave as The Gremlin bops around next to me telling me all about his dream where the house turned into a pumpkin. What the H did we read for a book last night? Surely it didn't involve pumpkins.
8:45 a.m.- Oh hey, look there's Grammy, go tell her all about your pumpkin house and if you're really good I bet she'll make you scrambled eggs...oh yeah and behave today! And I love you. Out the door I go.
9 a.m. to 4 p.m.- Any number of things happen during these hours at work. More than likely my eighty yr old boss is asking me to look up something ridiculous on the internet or he's misplaced his keys/glasses/cell phone, speaking of cell phone, how do you turn the sound on/enter a contact/ and what the h*ll is that little yellow envelope? Answer the phone, while printing emails, writing a purchase order, and ringing out a customer. It's never a dull moment there.
4:20 p.m.- Home again, home again. There's The Gremlin waving at me like a mad man.
I've officially lost interest in separating everything out by time so here's a general idea of what the rest of the night looks like. I chase The Gremlin around while he tries to tell me about his day but he's so darn excited he mixes up his sentences and it comes out "Grammy and I went to the post office and the big truck drove to the jail with clowns and I went in Time Out, but only once because I threw scrambled eggs for lunch and I wasn't hungry". Well then. I try to force feed my kid some dinner while he negotiates with me for something completely unhealthy instead ("But you can give me a candy, if you want to..." *puppy dog eyes*). Ha, nice try kid, I'm a seasoned professional with the puppy dog eyes, I am immune to your cuteness! He watches one of "his" shows followed by that time of night that signals it's time for bed- he goes absolutely batsh*t crazy. Running around in circles, speaking in tongues, off the wall. Then there's the whine and shuffle up the stairs trailing blankie behind. Read some books annnnnnd The Gremlin is out. Ding ding ding! Two hours of Momma time and that's it.
So there you have. Lame. So here I am starting a blog. Because even single moms have thoughts you know! And nine out of ten times those thoughts can not be shared with their child. Especially when said child is going through that parrot phase of repeating EVERYTHING. And I mean everything.....
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