Wordless Wednesday

I hope you all have a safe and happy New Year's Eve!!!

Post Christmas Post..hehe

Hello there doogs, I hope you all had a wonderful holiday! We certainly did. BB hit the motherload as far as gifts are concerned. I thought I would give you a little taste of our Christmas by doing a picture post...Enjoy!

This is what I opened with frantic anticipation from BD. No, I'm not kidding. He probably wishes I were kidding right about now though. That's the last time he will give me anything in a box that says "as seen on TV".



Ahhh, but my mother in law's gifts make up for it....

I had no idea how shitty my camera was until I actually got a nice one! My old camera was 4.0 megapixels, and this one is 10. That's SIX more megapixels for those of you that didn't major in math.

Yeah, she's pretty awesome, don't be jealous.

I just like this picture. It's our oldest boxer, Tyson, on Christmas morning. I was eating a cookie*, cuz I'm healthy like that, and he really wanted one. It looks like he's praying.

Tree at in-law's house, with the presents creeping towards the kitchen....

Santa, that fat bastard, got the credit for the most awesome toy evah...

Yeah, he loved it. I think he even squealed like a little girl at one point.

Ahh, now I bring you to Kota the Triceratops. What.the.fuck. This big ass dinosaur is now sitting in the middle of my living room. And if you walk by it, it kind of growls at you. Like it's cat calling me. Like I really needed another pervert living at my house.

So that about sums up our Christmas morning. Which reminds me, I hate the time right after Christmas, it's very anti-climactic an depressing. Tell me the best part about your Christmas morning to cheer me up :)


*(I was drinking mimosa's too, what about it?)

Tuesday Meme

I stole this from Matter of Fact Mommy, because she is my long lost sister and I want to be just like her.

1. What did you do in 2008 that you'd never done before?
Injected fertility drugs into my belly for 14 days straight (I may blog about it later...I haven't yet because I really try not to depress my readers!)

2. Did you keep your new years' resolutions, and will you make more for next year? I didn't make any on purpose last year...this year is to quit smoking!

3. Did anyone close to you give birth?
No one close to me. I need some new babies!

4. Did anyone close to you die?
My sweet grandmother

5. What countries did you visit?
Yeah, like I have the money to visit other countries

6. What would you like to have in 2009 that you lacked in 2008?
A new addition to the family

7. What date from 2008 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?
April 1 - the day my gma passed away

8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?
Getting accepted into nursing school. That shit is hard yo.

9. What was your biggest failure?
Not sticking to my workouts and diet

10. Did you suffer illness or injury?
Kidney stones 4 times. OMG. DAMN ALL THE KIDNEY STONES!!!

11. What was the best thing you bought?
We bought BD's new truck this year and I love it!

12. Whose behavior merited celebration?
BB's....he is finally potty trained. Hallelujah!

13. Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed?
My own

14. Where did most of your money go?
Mortgage and pre-school

15. What did you get really, really, really excited about?
I'm gonna go with getting into nursing school again. Took me two years!

16. What song will always remind you of 2008?
"Whatever You Like" - I have very small ghetto side.

17. Compared to this time last year, you are:
Smarter!

18. What do you wish you'd done more of?
Exercise

19. What do you wish you'd done less of?
Drink

20. How will you be spending Christmas?
With my in-laws, BD and BB

21. Did you fall in love in 2008?
I was already in love :)

22. What was your favorite TV program?
Gray's Anatomy hands down

23. Do you hate anyone now that you didn't hate this time last year?
Nope, no time for hate in my life

24. What was the best book you read?
"Are you there Vodka? It's me, Chelsea" - by Chelsea Handler

25. What was your greatest musical discovery?
Jack Johnson - I could listen to him all day

26. What did you want and get?
I wanted to get into nursing school.

27. What did you want and not get?
A sibling for BB

28. What was your favorite film that you saw this year?
Baby Mama

29. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?
I honestly have no idea what I did on my bday this year. 28

30. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?
If my ovaries weren't so fucking retarded

31. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2008?
I have zero fashion concept. If you ever see me looking fashionable, BFF probably dressed me

32. What kept you sane?
BFF for sure

33. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?
I am absolutely fascinated with Angelina Jolie and her 17 kids

34. What political issue stirred you the most?
"Re-distribution of wealth"

35. Who did you miss?
My gma

36. Who was the best new person you met?
Susan and Shellie in nursing school.

37. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2008.
Everything happens for a reason. I know it sounds very cliche', but it is very true.

38. Quote a song lyric that sums up your year.
You got me?!

Tuesday Morning in the SPM Household....

BB is staying with my gma. We left him there when we came back from visiting. I think he likes it better there than he does at home. I'm just telling you this so you don't assume he was witness to what happened in my bathroom this morning.

BD was in the shower, singing christmas songs at the top of his lungs.

"Rudolph the red nosed reindeer, had a very shiny nose...."
"Rudolph with your nose so bright won't you drive my sleigh tonight"

Then in the best Joe Pesci voice he can muster:


"Pull your own fucking sleigh santa! Suck my red nose!"

I look through the shower door in bewilderment and tilt my head to the side.

He said, "that was the mafia version."

Oh, right, the mafia version. Duh.

And then after he got out of the shower he smelled my armpits because I couldn't remember if I put on deodorant. We're weird.

At Least I Get it Honest

It is 32 degrees here in H-town today. I'm freezing my nuts off. If I had aforementioned nuts, they would have been dropped in the parking garage this morning. Or up in my throat. So last night I was all excited about the impending weather change while I was watching the weather with BD. He said "don't get too excited, it's supposed to be 75 on Christmas day." Son of a bitch! Can we get ONE Christmas where everyone is not wearing shorts? Just ONE?!

1. We had Christmas with my parents and grandparents this weekend. It was awesome. I love hanging out with my family and always come back with good stories. Stories that some how involved alcohol. See you guys, if I didn't come from a family of alcoholics, I would have nothing to blog about. Then what would you do all day? You're welcome.

Last time we were in town over Thanksgiving break, my dad got really drunk, which is totally normal. My parents have an L shaped countertop in their kitchen, and BD and I were sitting on barstools eating dinner there. Dad came in from outside, lost his balance, and was walking the perimeter of the counter. The only thing holding his ass up was the counter because he was walking at an angle. Can you guess what happened next? Yeah, he ran out of counter. He was still walking with his gangsta lean and when he ran out of the support of a countertop, he fell flat on his face. Good times. BD and I never missed a beat, we just kept eating like this was a completely normal scenario. I think I managed to mutter a "you okay dad?" between the laughter. If I don't laugh I'll cry people!

2. After much cajoling I've convinced BFF to start a blog because her life is just as, if not more, funny than mine. Go check her out here. Single mom of a five year old drama queen. Funny stuff.

3. It's that time of year again...time to make resolutions! I hate resolutions. Loathe them, actually. However, this year I'm making a very important one. As most of you know I've been doing my clinicals in the critical care unit. Most of the patients I take care of have been smokers. To see the effects of smoking first hand is terrifying. I've always known smoking was bad for you, but to actually see the damage it does to a person has shaken me to the core. I have a beautiful son that is my world and I want to be around to enjoy my grandchildren. So, my resolution is to stop smoking. I'm terrified and nervous and pray every day that I will be strong enough to succeed. But lucky for you it should make for a lot of interesting blog fodder :)

So what are some of you resolutions? Hopefully we can encourage eachother!

Let's Reminisce

I want to start this post by saying that we really aren't a bunch of raging alcoholics, even though it seems that way sometimes. We do enjoy drinking and sometimes we don't know when to call it a night, and that's when funny shit happens.

Let me tell you about last Christmas. We spent it at my in-laws house and on Christmas eve we have a tradition of making a ton of hoers d oeuvres (no fucking clue if I spelled that right), wrap presents, watch a christmas story, and drink. The ladies stuck to wine, but I'm pretty sure the guys were pounding whiskey.

My father in law flips houses and he had one down the street that hadn't sold yet, so we called that the Santa Staging Area (SSA). That is where we kept all the presents that were from santa so the kids wouldn't see them. The plan was for BD, bro-in-law and father-in-law (FIL) to go get the gifts after the kids were asleep. They were supposed to be wrapped and ready to go. Oops.

So around midnight the guys head over to the SSA and they are gone a really long time. I was fully convinced that they had been cuffed and stuffed on christmas eve for drunk driving. Just then they came in the front door with some of the gifts. BD didn't look so good. I asked wtf took them so long. FIL said one of the 'elves' was busy puking in the front yard of the SSA so it took them a little longer. Awesome. So I sent BD's drunk ass to bed and finished helping with the gifts. The more gifts I put out the more I started to notice how weird they looked. Some were half wrapped, some had the paper on backwards, some had tape wrapped around them about 8 times in one continuous circle. That's when I realized we forgot to go wrap them and the drunk elves had to do it themselves. I didn't even think about the name tags that night.

The real hilarity ensued the next morning. My two year old son opened a screwdriver set. I opened a pair of size 12 cole haan mens dress shoes. BD got a fuzzy robe. Apparently they wrappped all of the gifts and the name tags were an after thought. They completely guessed as to which gift went to who. Since then whiskey has been banned from Christmas eve festivities.

I Fought the Wine and the Wine Won

So last night pinot grigio was all "put the bottle down, I'll still be here tomorrow." And I'm all, "no pinot grigio, I love you!" Then I woke up with a massive headache. Or hangover. Depending on how you look at it.

Big daddy and baby boy are sick. Tis the season I guess. And that usually happens when you get snow one day, and 78 degree weather the next. Gotta love Texas!

Last weekend we took baby boy to the hockey game. He loves watching sports and he's only three. He is definitely going to be a sports fanatic like his daddy. One thing he does not love is taking pictures.

Exhibit A:


At least he's looking in the direction of the camera this time....

I guess his little hands weren't doing the job fast enough:

"Seriously Mom, enough with the damn camera"

BD has this theory that I'm a complete bad luck charm. He won't even let me gamble near him when we go to Vegas because he always starts losing. He sends me over to the penny slots in the corner of the casino with the rest of the derelicts. The one time I was left to my own devices I thought, "I'll show his ass and win lots of money at the craps table!" I lost $240 in 10 minutes and wasn't allowed to have any more money for the rest of the trip.

So his theory was pretty much proven at the hockey game. I needed to go to the restroom and grab another beer. When I left my seat the game was tied 1-1. When I got back we were winning 6-1. What the fuck?

Holy Weather Change Batman!!

Tuesday here in Houston it was 75 degrees and humid. Wednesday? Wednesday it snowed for the first time in, oh, a decade! We were sent home early from work, and later that night I could hear all the neighbors outside. The kids were playing and the adults were just amazed. I'm sure the yankees are laughing right about now.

And look, the snow actually stuck to the ground!


He kept eating it. He said it tasted like "cold icee cubes."



Our snowman. We made his eyes out of skittles and his nose was a toothpick because us southern folks aren't equipped for snowman construction like you northerners.

Making snowballs together....

Everyone seems to be in a good mood today. It's amazing what a little snow in Texas can do!

PS - There were about 100 wrecks on the freeways this morning. No big surprise there.

Stuff Your Mom Should Tell You

So there is a dirty little secret about having kids that your mom (and friends, thanks assholes) never tells you about when you get pregnant. In retrospect, it should have been obvious. I mean that sweet little 7 pound blob did spend 9 months residing on your bladder. Then you have to push and shove and grunt and groan it out...over your bladder. Are we seeing a pattern here? Yeah.

The first sign of my trouble was about an hour or so after I had given birth to baby boy. I wanted to take a shower and stood up and felt something running down my leg. I looked down and realized it was pee. Nice. I looked at the nurse and said, "um, I'm peeing on myself and pretty much can't stop it." That is not a good feeling my friends. Of course it got progressively better once I was all healed up from having my vag blown out by that angelic little creature.

Ah, but did it go away? Negative. Now the pee sneaks out when I least expect it. When I cough or sneeze. When I laugh too hard, which is hard to avoid with my childish sense of humor. It's pretty common for me to stop mid-laugh and say "SHIT!" and run off to the bathroom. One time I had the stomach flu. The only thing more humiliating than having your head in the toilet all day is pissing down your leg a little every time you wretch. Good times.

I finally made an appointment with the lady doctor to address this problem. She ran a bunch of test to check out my muscle strength down in that region. She made me do kegels with her fingers all up in me. That's totally not weird or humiliating. She agreed that if the kegels didn't work I'd probably need a bladder suspension. Surgery? No thanks. The only thing I'm suspending on my body is these behemoth boobs.

So, I've accepted my fate.....


Yes, I'm kidding. I'm going to have the surgery. Blah!

Conversations That Embarrass Me

This is going to be short because I'm uber busy with work and trying to churn out a ten page paper on patients that are of a culturally different background. Thank God I finally found an African to corner and answer cheesy questions for said paper. Like a real African, not an African-American to my French-American. It was the end of a very long day and I saw her and was all "OMG you are of a different color!" What I meant to say was "OMG you are of a different culture!" And my friend looked at me and was all, "did you really just say that to her?" Thank goodness she laughed, but I still felt like an asshole. Such is my life, and mouth.

Anyhow, here is a conversation that actually took place in my bathroom this morning.

SPM - My hair is pissing me off! Look at it, just look! It's all flippy and curly and shit!
BD - That's normal, you're getting older.
SPM - WTF?
BD - You know, cuz women's hair gets curly as they get older.
SPM - ??? No it doesn't.
BD - Yes it does. Look at all these old ladies with really curly hair.
SPM - That's because they perm it you fucking retard.

Damn You, Pinot Grigio!

Hi, I'm an alcoholic and have no self control. I like wine, especially pinot grigio. My husband calls me a wino but he still buys it for me. I guess because he doesn't like drinking his keystones (aka-stonies) alone....ick. Any how, last night it all started with dinner. I wanted a glass of wine while I was cooking, which is totally normal and fine. Then big daddy started talking about a Christmas budget and so obviously I had to pour another glass because it was a very serious/hives inducing conversation.

Then two glasses became four, then the next thing I know I wake up in a ditch on the outskirts of Tijuana next to a dead donkey and I'm all what the fuck? I was just making dinner and hanging Christmas lights! It's the pinot grigio. It's bad, bad stuff!

Ok, that last part isn't true. Like I could have made it back from Tijuana already.

Maybe it's a southern thing. Southern girls like to drink. Case in point:


Most of the pictures bff and I have together we both have a death grip on a miller lite bottle. (With lime please, thanks.) Guess which one I am.

And another thing, which looking at the picture reminded me of. BFF and I wear the same thing all.the.fucking.time. And we work together so it makes for some awkward situations. We have worn the same outfit three times this week, and it's only Thursday. Here is an instant message conversation we had this morning:

BFF - ok, let's get this over with
BFF - what are you wearing
SPM - pink and black shirt
BFF - awesome
SPM - you?
BFF - black and white
SPM - awesome
SPM - I don't even own any black and white outfits so you're always safe wtih that
BFF - LOL
BFF - it's a white button down under a black sweater with black pants
SPM - mine is a white button down under a pink sweater
SPM - with black pants
BFF - awesome
BFF - so the only difference is the color of our sweater
SPM - yeah, uh huh
BFF - this has got to stop

Our over use of the word awesome is starting to get on my own nerves.

I'm Swearing Off Convenience Food

I must have done something to piss off the powers that be of microwave meals. We all remember the Lean Cuisine debacle. After that I swore off lean cuisines for a while. Then I came across something called Fresh Mixers from Healthy Choice in the grocery store. You cook the noodles in the microwave and then heat up and add your sauce. Sweet. So I bought one and it has been sitting on my desk for a good month.

By the time lunchtime came around today I was elbow deep in homework, er, I mean, expense reports. Yeah, expense reports. I remembered my little convenient microwave meal and thought I'd give it a try. Bonus points for not spending money on lunch and getting the lecture from big daddy about how much money I waste on lunch. For the 738th time.

I go into the kitchen and cook the noodles. Then I looked at the directions again to make sure I was doing the right steps. Here is what the directions say regarding the sauce, verbatim:

Heat sauce, if desired, pull corner of film to vent. Heat for 30 seconds.

Well I'm lazy, so I assumed I didn't have to pull cover to vent, because it said if desired right there on the package. So I threw it in the microwave the way it came and walked over to get a fork. Just then a mini chernobyl happened. The sound was so loud I had to look around to make sure someone from the ghetto hadn't busted his way in and was mowing people down with an AK-47. Then I realized that probably couldn't happen because our security rivals that of fort knox. I figured my sauce had exploded. I opened the microwave to see the carnage.

Sauce.everyfucking.where. So I spent the next 10 minutes cleaning the stupid ass microwave. And when I went to wash my hands after cleaning the microwave, I cut my hand on the bathroom door. Super. Thank God I could salvage enough to put on my now cold noodles. (Sauce, not blood.) They ended up being pretty good but I'm still pissed off and swearing off convenience food all together.

PS - I now know the if desired part was meant for the heat sauce part. Who wants to put cold ass sauce on their noodles. An eskimo, that's who. Because it's so cold where eskimos live, they don't ever get hot food. It's practically frozen by the time it gets from their plate to their mouth anyways. Small suggestion, healthy choice direction writers, maybe you only need to put heat sauce if desired on shipments going to Alaska.

On jobs and burns

1. So after much deliberation and a small breakout of hives, I decided to turn down the job at the hospital. Once I actually put pen to paper I decided it would be stupid to take that much of a pay cut. I've got bills and shit. And I like to get my hair done, so I guess staying in hell a little while longer is a small price to pay. Plus BD said if I stay at my job he will get me a housekeeper. Score.

2. I'm fucking psychic and it's starting to freak me out. Last week I dreamt every night of people dying and being at funerals. I told bff this past weekend about it and to not be surprised if someone we knows dies. When I came into work this morning there was an email that a co-worker of ours husband died the night after Thanksgiving. He was only 54 and died in his sleep. Freaky. The night my dad died I had a dream that my grandparents were on a plane and they were both sobbing, but I couldn't figure out why. A few hours later I got the call that my dad had died while they were all on vacation together. Ever since then it has freaked me the fuck out when I dream of people dying.

3. I figured out I can't get cell phone reception when I sit on the right side of my couch. The left side is fine. Seriously.

4. Last night BD and BB were playing in the living room while I was in the kitchen. BB is running around like a crazy person because they were eating ice cream. I hear screaming. BB tripped over the dog and fell into our fireplace. He got second degree burns on his arm. It was horrible. Everything I had learned about being a nurse dissappeared and I flew into frantic mom mode. Some of his skin was burned to the glass and BD had to clean it off :( We took him to the ER and got some burn cream and got him bandaged up. He was a trooper. This pic was taken with my cell phone so it's a shitty picture, but you get the point....

On the way to the pedi this morning for his follow up visit:

BB - "Mommy, when we get there are they going to shock me?"

SPM - "Shock you? Whose been shocking you?"

BB - "Every time I go they shocks me in the arm!"

SPM - "Do you mean shot?"

BB - "YES!"

SPM - "No baby, no one is going to give you a shot."

BB to the pediatrician - "Dr. E, my mommy said I don't need a shot today, okay?"

**cue hysterical laughter from the staff**

Open Letter to Seasonique

Dear Seasonique,

I know it's pretty funny that I am on your birth control to begin with, seeing as how my ovaries ride the short bus. However, the real reason I got on you was for four periods a year. Who the hell wouldn't want only four periods a year?! Sign me the fuck up! So I made an appointment with my lady doctor and told her I needed a prescription. She laughed and said, "Why? You just spent like $15K at the fertility clinic across the hall." "Well yes, but if I can't get pregnant I may as well not have to deal with the bullshit of 12 periods in a year!" So she agreed and wrote me the prescription.

So we have established the fact that I wanted your product for the simple reason of having less periods, right? Then can you please tell me why the fuck I've been bleeding like someone put an icepick through my jugular (if said jugular was in my vagina)? Is this some kind of sick joke Seasonique?! You're a man, aren't you?

And then, to top this mass hemorrhaging off, I finished my last pill four days ago expecting to get my normal period so I can get off your godforsaken drug and guess what? It never came! The bleeding has stopped. Haha, seasonique, haha! Asshat.

Signed,
Nearly Anemic in Texas

So, they offered me the job

They offered me the job at the hospital. Two drawbacks. One, it is $4 an hour less than I make now. Two, it is for the night shift - 7p to 7a. I would only work three shifts a week, that is considered full time in hospital land. This should be an easy decision for me. Super-bitch has pushed me over the edge this morning and it took all I had to not quit on the spot when the hospital called.

However, I have financial obligations that I need to think about. Can we afford for me to take a cut in pay? I have no idea. I'm having lunch with BD today to discuss it. I don't do well with change, so this is very scary territory for me. I do know one thing. I'm not happy here. Not here so much as here working for that thing next door to me. She texted me yesterday to "make sure I know I'm expected at work tomorrow." Yeah, I'm very well aware of my schedule beast. What.the.fuck? I don't text her and say "hey, just making sure you know you're due in hell in ten years." Duh, it's obvious.

A Tuesday Meme

I found a meme on Calicobebops page and decided to tag myself. I know, loser. Whatever. It is a small cure for my bloggers block, and gives you guys something to read!

So here are the instructions: Go to your sixth picture folder then pick your sixth picture.Pray that you remember the details. Post it on your blog.

And here is that picture:



It is baby boy two summers ago at my in-laws house. They live on the lake so we spend a lot of weekends up there in the summer. A pool, boat, ,fishing, moms home cooking...what more could you want?! I think we had gotten out the craps table that night to play some family casino. Baby boy got into the chips and I just happened to catch him with the camera when he looked up. Usually anytime he sees a camera he hides his face, so this is a rare picture. He is, by far, the best accomplishment of my life.

Still no word

I've been waiting patiently by my phone since Monday, but still no word from the hospital. I'm assuming they are negotiating my kick ass salary as we speak and that's why they haven't called yet. Or they are acting like a man and don't want to call too soon so as not to seem desparate. Whatever, I just wish they would call!! She-bitch called me yesterday to complain about, are you ready for this??....her towels in the hotel room were too wrinkled. I know, you think I'm making this shit up. I wish I were. Everything that happens while she is traveling is my fault. That's just the rule. Her bed in Rome was too small - my fault. The limo was late picking her up in Rio - my fault. There was a smelly man next to her on the flight to London - somehow also my fault. But the towels being too wrinkled? This is a new complaint I've never had before. Yet it's still my fault! Today is my Friday, that is the only thing that is keeping me going.

Tomorrow I'll be working in the ICU again. I'm really excited. It's like my respite away from the craziness that has become my life. I get to do my thing and take care of patients and it's all about me. No one is screaming "mommy!!!" four thousand times. No one is bitching about wrinkled towels. It's just me and my patients, who may or may not be conscious.

Saturday we are heading home. Sidebar - isn't it funny how we still refer to 'home' as our parents house? Well, I do anyway. I haven't lived at 'home' in well over a decade, but I still call it that. Anyhoo, we are going to visit my family. Everyone lives about two hours away in a quaint little southeastern texas town. I haven't been back since hurricane Ike hit. I admit I've been avoiding it. Seeing the destruction after Rita was bad enough. We will visit with my parents and grandparents, and we are also going to meet my baby brother's new girlfriend. Judging from previous girlfriends it should be a real treat. And by treat I mean freak show. Who knows, maybe he'll surprise me.

Saturday night we are going to the carnival, and that is causing me quite a bit of anxiety. You see, I was involved in a freak carnival accident when I was about 5. It was a beautiful day, and my dad's union was having a carnival and bbq type thing. They had a ride called the scrambler. (Ironic, as it would later scramble my brains.)

There were about 6 cars, each attached to an arm. Each car would spin and the arms moved them around in a circle, and up and down. I kept begging to ride it and finally got my turn. I climbed in with another little boy. (I would later cushion his fall.) The ride began and all was fun and games until the bolt holding our car to the arm started to shake. It shook and shook and the last thing I remember is that damn bolt flying out of its hole. Our car then became airborn and flew through the parking lot, skidding to a stop on the concrete. I flew through the parking lot as well, and broke the little boys fall. Because I'm nice like that.

I ended up with a bald patch on the back of my head and a nasty concussion. I remember my mother waking me up every time I would fall asleep and it really started to piss me off. (See, I've liked sleep ever since I was little.) I now know she was just making sure I wasn't dead. She was a good mom like that.

Ever since then I've been terrified of any kind of carnival rides. I mean, if you think about it, you're putting your life in the hands of a carnie. Come on, it doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that is probably not a good idea.

Things I shouldn't have to say

BD is 31 years old. Some people might even consider him a grown adult. I am not included in "some people." Case in point. Last night he took BB upstairs to give him a bath. I didn't even have to ask him so he gets extra points for that. By the way, no one ever asks me to bathe BB?? Hmm. I just assume the parental role and get it done. But then again, I do have a vagina, and BD does not. There must be some sort of penis chemical receptor that blocks common parental duties from men's brains. I digress.

So he takes BB upstairs and I hear splashing around. Good, I think to myself, he is actually going to give him a bath and I can relax! That's what I get for thinking. After about fifteen minutes I go upstairs to get ready for bed and he is getting BB out of the tub. I notice his hair isn't wet. I don't see the soap anywhere. I sigh and ask a question that you should never have to ask your adult husband.

"Did you use soap?"

"Well, no, but I rubbed bubbles on him."

"You have got to be shitting me. I shouldn't have to ask you to use soap when you bathe him! You are a grown man for God's sake!"

"Well he didn't play outside today because it was raining, and it's not even my night to bathe him."

I could feel the vein protruding from my forehead. I was chanting in my head...choose your battles, choose your battles, choose your battles....

I walked out of the bathroom and didn't say another word about it even though I was fuming. Until this morning. Apparently having a vagina also means you lack the ability to let things go. He was brushing his teeth and shaked his wanker at me...his normal morning routine. And apparently I was still mad about last night because I looked at him and screamed "Do you know how many times I've bathed him when it wasn't my night?!?!" He gave me that whoa-you-just-went-all-crazy-bitch-on-me stare, and then all was good. I'm over it. Until it happens again. And I can assure you it will happen again.

All I have to say is that man is lucky he is so pretty.

Keeping My Fingers Crossed

I had a job interview today at a hospital near my house. Actually it is the same hospital BB was born at three years ago. The position is for a 'professional student nurse', which means you can do anything that you have learned how to do in school. Which also means I know enough to kill you, but probably not enough to save your life :) The best part is that it is for the labor and delivery department! L&D is where I ultimately hope to end up when I graduate so this would be perfect for me. Not only that, but I will finally be able to tell my BITCH ASS boss to FUCK OFF!!! I hate her. No, I loathe her. I want to scratch her fucking eyeballs out and tell her that everyone thinks she is a cold heartless bitch. But I don't, because I still need a paycheck. The day will come though, mark my words. She will rue the day she started treating me like a second class citizen.

So my interview was fantastic. I met with HR for about an hour, and then he took me to meet the head nurse in L&D. She interviewed me for another half hour and showed me around. She kept saying how excited she was to see my resume come across her desk. When I left I thanked her for speaking to me and she told me to expect a call from HR very soon. I'm totally taking that as a good sign. You people have no idea how much I want out of corporate America. The backstabbing, the brown nosing, the paper pushing...I can't take it anymore!

On another note, I know I haven't written much lately but that's because I've had major bloggers block. Nothing very interesting has happened to me this past week. We went to the renaissance festival on saturday. It is the biggest gathering of white trash I've ever witnessed. Women were dressed in chain maille with nothing on underneath. (Did I mention I had BB there?) And let me just say ladies, dimples are only cute on your face. Please don't go out in public in a thong if it looks like someone beat your ass and thighs with a bag of nickels, okay? Nobody wants to see that.

That is all for today. I'll leave you with this....I asked BB what he wanted to be when he grows up, he puts his finger on his chin, thinks for a minute, looks at me proudly, and says "a tree!"

Some Random Crap (no pun intended)

I was going to write a post about how hot big daddy is and how lucky I am to have him as my husband, but he's really been a douche bag for the past three days, so I'll save that little gem for another day. Instead, I'll tell you about clinicals last Friday.

I've been doing clinicals pretty sporadically because 1) I'm fucking busy and 2) I'd rather be at home with baby boy than at a hospital for 12 hours. The morning started pretty awesomely. I walked onto the unit and there is a full blown code happening. They yell at me to glove up. I look like a deer in the headlights because this lady looks like she is about to die. I put my gloves on and stand in the corner and pray to God no one needs me for anything important, because as far as nursing goes, I'm still pretty retarded. IV's were started, labs were taken, and she was intubated. Phew. The only thing I was asked for was a wet rag so the Dr. could wipe his face. Sweet. That is something I can totally handle. We were promptly floated down to the intermediate care unit (IMCU). I hate IMCU. It's boring. I'm used to being on the critical care unit. The CCU is exciting. People code. You get to see gross and fascinating stuff. It's awesome.

So my nurse and I trudge down to the stupid IMCU and get report on our patients. 91 year old female with dementia/had a stroke, 65 year old female with emphysema and COPD, 60 year old male heart attack, and an 83 year old woman who I'm still not sure what the hell was wrong with. She seemed perfectly fine, and I never gave her any meds. Whatever.

My lady with emphysema and COPD was a biznatch. She yelled at me from the time I got there to the time I left. "I can't breathe, I can't breathe!!" I go into her room and she has taken her oxygen off of her face for the 18th time. "Ms. CrabbyAss, you have to keep the oxygen on your face for it to work." Her daughter came out to the nurses station and looked at me with sympathetic eyes. She said "I know my mom is a huge pain in the ass, so I just wanted to apologize ahead of time." Glad I wasn't the only one that thought she was a pain in the ass. Not 20 minutes later came the "I can't breathe, I can't breathe!!" again. I'll be damned if she hadn't taken that mask off again. She is yelling at me over and over. I said, in my nicest voice ever "Ms. CrabbyAss, if you are able to yell at me, then you are able to breathe." That made her shut up for a glorious hour.

My guy with a heart attack was a peach. He didn't complain one bit. We went in to put an IV in him, not realizing he already had one. I snapped my fingers and said "darn, I was looking forward to practicing on you." He stuck his other arm out and said "you can do it on this arm darlin', needles don't bother me." What a trooper. And no, I did not put another IV in him just for practice.

Now for the coup de gras. The one thing that has ever happened that made me question my choice of profession. One of my friends that is also doing her clinicals at the same hospital came up to me and had this look of dispair on her face. I asked her what was wrong and she looked at me and said "I have to do a digital removal of a fecal impaction." So, of course I made fun of her. That's how we roll. My nurse heard me making fun of her and as punishment (plus he's kind of sadistic and likes to see me squirm) made me go help.

Stop reading if you're eating, and/or have a weak stomach.

This patient was a 95 year old woman that hadn't pooped in over four weeks. FOUR WEEKS. Do you know how painful that would be? Shellie and I gloved up, and lubed up. Please don't make me stick my finger in there...Please don't make me stick my finger in there... "SPM - come over here and feel this." Oh.ma.gah. He wants me to stick my finger up a butt. Not only that, but he wants me to stick my finger up a butt with the sole purpose of digging out poo. I think I threw up in my mouth a little.

I slowly walked around the bed. I put a liberal amount of ky jelly on my finger. "Feel that and see if you think an enema would work." GAH! I put my finger in and didn't feel anything. Know why? Because I had missed and my finger was in her vagina. Can you say humiliation? I promptly remedied the situation and stuck it in the backdoor. My finger was met with a mass the size of a grapfruit that was literally as hard as a rock. At that point I stopped being so grossed out and started feeling really bad for this patient. I can't imagine how painful that must have been. It was a painstaking process, but we got it all out. She was so grateful and so relieved, and we left her resting peacefully for the first time in weeks.

When we left the room my nurse slapped me on the back and said "welcome to nursing!"

The car!

BFF read my last blog and asked how in the hell I could forget to mention our car. Honestly, I don't know. I guess my brain can only recall a small number of childhood memories at a time. There was only one car for the six of us. Well, we had a truck, but the sides fell off. The car was a late 70's model chrysler. It was doo doo brown and in pretty bad shape. It looked similiar to this, but with a lot more rust and a steady bellow of smoke coming out the windows:


The air conditioner was broken. I know, that's a huge surprise. I remember being so hot that I thought I was going to die right there in the back seat. And how painful it was to remove my sweaty little legs from the vinyl when we reached our destination. The best part about the car though was that the floor boards in the back seat were missing. Like instead of a floor, there was nothing. They had rusted completely away so there was a 12x12" hole on each side. Uber safe for three children to ride back there. Anyhow, my cousins and I would throw pennies while we were riding in the back seat because they made a cool spark on the road. And the faster we would go, the better the spark would be. Sometimes they would fly back up and pop us in the face, but it was all in good fun.

PS - I think I spent a good portion of my youth with a contact high.

Proof That I Came From Crazy

There is a reason for my neurosis. No really, I swear. It all comes from my childhood. I didn't have your normal Norman Rockwell childhood. Not even close.

I guess it all started around age 2. My dad had banged my mom's best friend shortly after they were married, so mom and I moved in with my aunt and uncle and two older cousins. They were both girls, one was 9 months older than me, the other 3 years older. My mother was 18 at the time, and my aunt and uncle weren't much older. Now that I think back it's actually a miracle the three of us survived.

We didn't have a lawnmower (huge shocker!), so we were each handed a pair of scissors and my aunt told us to "get after it", in her uneducated country twang, while pointing at the front yard. I shit you not. We had to trim the grass around the front walk with scissors. It was a painstaking process to say the least, and our little fingers would be sore from all the chopping. But we did a damn fine job if I do say so myself. I personally would never in a million years trust my three year old with scissors, but I guess that was a different time.

We didn't have a vacuum cleaner either. Actually we didn't have much in the way of "luxuries". No worries for them though, they just made us pick the carpet lint and other debris off of the carpet with our fingers. We would each be handed a grocery bag to put the crap we picked off in. Even after all of this, I never realized how poor we were. That was until the day my uncle was drinking hot water from the tap. I said, "why are you drinking hot water?" He looked at me and said, "it's cold outside." My young little brain still couldn't process what he meant, and I guess I had a confused look on my face. He rolled his eyes and said, "you drink hot water when it's cold out, and cold when it's hot." It was at that moment I realized that we may not be like the other kids we went to school with.

One thing we did have was a rusty old ford that my uncle drove. One day my aunt set us up for washing dishes, and she went to do something outside. We heard a loud crash and then lots of yelling. Turns out she had pulled open the tailgate of this rust bucket and the sides of the truck fell clean off. I'd never seen my uncle so mad. He kept yelling, "I told you once if I've told you a thousand times, you do NOT wash my truck and you do NOT open the damn tailgate because the mf'er will fall apart!!" It was pretty fucking hilarious even at the age of 4. The truck looked very similiar to this one:

Oh, and we had weed in our fruit bowl on the kitchen table. Most people have, oh, I don't know, FRUIT in their fruit bowl. And that led to what I'm about to tell you. We were in the 4th grade, I remember it like it was yesterday. McGruff the D.A.R.E. dog came to our school along with some police officers to teach us about drugs. They had samples of some of the drugs with them. (Now that I think about it, it seems a little weird that they would bring drugs to an elementary school, but I digress.) He pulled out a baggie of dried marijuana leaves, and before I could stop myself I had an overwhelming urge and shouted "heyyyy, we have that at our house!" And that was the last day I saw weed in the fruit bowl. Not the last day I smelled it, but the last day I ever saw it out in the open. With the exception of the occasional roach in an ashtray.

Things that were seen a lot in our house growing up:

From the Mouths of Babes

Having a three year old in the house proves to be a never ending source of entertainment for us. Well, entertainment or sheer hell, depending on the day. I will never understand how you can love someone so much it hurts, but really, really not like them sometimes. One of the mysteries of being a mother I suppose.

I have been fighting this awful cold or flu-like illness for 10 freaking days now. Friday I was laying on the couch in just a tshirt and underwear. BB came over and sat near my feet. He looked over at me and pointed at my butt.

"Is that your big butt Mom?"
"Um, yeah, I guess so..."
"It's naaastyyyy" (while making a grimacing little face)
"I love you too son"

Now I don't want you to get the wrong impression of me, and my 'nasty' butt. I wear a size 6. Apparently BB thinks any womans butt is nasty. Trust me, I wanted further clarification.

Saturday we went to the pumpkin patch. BB wanted to ride the train. Train = 10 cars hitched to the back of a tractor. The ride was bumpy to say the least. BB was snuggled up between BD and I. I notice he is staring at my boobs. He pokes one and says "why do those keep going bong bong bong" while bouncing his head up and down. I thought the guy sitting across from us was going to piss himself.

And the comment that made it all worth it: BB pointing to the Victoria's Secret catalog..."hey mommy, that's a picture of you!" I love that little guy.

I can see where he might be confused though. I totally look like this (in my dreams):

Innocent Toys Gone Bad

BB's birthday was in August. He is in love with Spiderman, and was thrilled to open up this little number. It's motorized, and the bubblewand/hand dips down into a reservoir filled with bubble solution and raises back up to his mouth where the bubbles are blown. Hehe, blown. Anyhoo, picture this whole scenario in your head. I'll give you a minute. Do you get it now? That's right, Spiderman is giving the bird, over and over and over. Thanks grandma.

A couple of months ago my sister and I were in the toy department of wal-mart looking for a birthday gift for my neice. I walked past this car and just happened to glance down at the name. I stopped dead in my tracks and immediately whipped out the ol' cell phone. My sister asked what I was doing and, stifling childish laughter, I told her to look at the name on the box. She rolled her eyes and said "28. You are 28 years old." Whatever, it's still funny, because where I come from, chub means something entirely different. I can just hear BD now asking if baby wants to visit chub city tonight.

Corporate America

BFF and I work for one of the largest, most powerful companies in the world. Decent pay, awesome benefits, our own offices....not to shabby. That is until you realize that this place is sucking every ounce of happiness out of your soul. People walk around here like drones. It's sad really. It's like groundhog day, every.single.day. Walk through the rotating doors, scan your badge 18 times to get to your tiny office, type on the computer and check the clock every five minutes until that one hour of sweet respite...lunch! Return through the rotating doors and type away until quitting time. Make useless small talk with people you wouldn't socialize with outside of work even if you were paid large quantities of money.

Yesterday we had to go to a meeting called Living a Charmed Life. "What does living a charmed life mean to you?" asked the speaker. "Not having to go to stupid meetings like this just for the free mexican food" I muttered to BFF. "Would you like to have a charmed life like Katie Holmes" asked the speaker. BFF looked at me and whispered "negative ghostrider, I like my non-scientology beliefs just fine, thanks." I'm actually surprised BFF and I haven't been fired yet from this great establishment. We managed to get through the meeting without putting ourselves on anyones radar and/or being volunteered for another stupid committee. Seriously, they lure you into meetings with free food and the next thing you know you are heading up the scrapbook committee or teaching african refugees how to read in your free time.

On top of all this, almost everyone we work with has a PhD, so having a normal conversation with any of them is completely out of the question. I made the mistake of telling one of them I was taking Microbiology last semester. The next day there were no less than 7 textbooks on my desk relating to the 'wonderful world of Microbiology'. At least that is what the post it said that was on top of them.

Three semesters until graduation. Oh, and guys, by the way....

Blog Fodder Just Keeps Flying at Me

Yes, this is another driving story. I can't help it that this shit happens to me every day, okay? It's just one of the lovely perks that comes with living in Houston. And for once, my story happened once I got out of the ghetto! Let's have some wine and celebrate.

So I'm driving home yesterday and I'm almost to the 'burbs where I live, when traffic starts slowing down *shock* as I near my exit. As I creep slowly toward the exit ramp I can tell that there is a little truck half on the shoulder of the road, half still in my lane. Fucktards.

As I go to pass these dumbasses I notice they are fighting with eachother. Like full contact fighting. There were two guys in this tiny single cab truck beating the shit out of eachother. I'm pretty sure they were gay because they were more like sissy slaps than they were full on punches. And the driver guy was really pissed and was waving his hands around in that "heeeyyy girl" type fashion, but it was a very angry "heey girl". And then he popped the passenger right on the mouth with the back of his hand. And the passenger started bleeding and flipped down the mirror so he could wipe his chin off. (Probably not the first time he's had to do that.)

I really felt sorry for the passenger because he is obviously the taker in the relationship and he just got bitch slapped by the giver, who frankly, looked more like a dingy trucker than a queen. But who am I to judge.

Then the truck started backing into traffic because I guess the dingy trucker queen was in such a tiff that he let his foot slip off the break. Then the taker must have said something really smartass because the giver popped him again and they just took off into the sunset. I really enjoy a good love story, don't you?

Ghetto Chronicles Part II

If you read my first ever blog about Houston drivers you will see where this post is going. I left work yesterday after 10 grueling hours of working and generally being someones bitch. (And/or fucking off on the internet, but that's neither here nor there.) I make a left turn out of the parking lot and onto the road, hoping that I can go faster than 30mph somewhere between here and home.

So I'm minding my own business, pulling up to a red light when this biznatch in a gold corolla (with shiny rims, klassy) cuts me off and comes within mere inches of my front bumper. Being in a shitty mood in the first place, of course I honk at her...and may have flailed my arms a bit. You know, the arm flailing. It's the body language way of saying "what the fuck was that you gangsta-leaning-hooptie-driving-no-insurance-having asshole?!"

So I may have honked my horn a few seconds longer than was necessary. I may have flailed my arms a little more than I needed to get my point across. Whatever it was, she was not happy with me. She got in the lane to the left of me and just stopped. She stopped because she knew I would have to pull past her at one point. She rolled down her windows and turned off the music. "Shit, she turned of her music. She is so going to kick my ass."

I was thinking to myself that this it. This is where I've pissed off one too many people in traffic. I'm about to become the breaking news story on channel 2. "White female found shot to death in her SUV. Apparent arm flailing/road rage homicide. Full story at 10 o'clock."

I flipped open my phone so if I needed to dial 911, that would be one less step I would have to take. She looked like she was going to get out of the car for a second. I was fully prepared to exit the car brandishing my favorite pair of brown stilettos. Don't laugh, they're pretty sharp on the heel. I may be a wuss, but I could do some damage with a shoe. That is until she caps my ass, then I'll be left pretty much defenseless.

Thanks be to God the light turned green at that moment and my life was spared. I cut down the nearest side street to get the hell away from her. I got away unscathed, but learned a valuable lesson. Apparently you should just flip people off because the arm flailing gets you into way more trouble.

A Day in the Life

I know I'm always bitching about how busy I am and some of y'all are probably like "whatever, we know you plop your fat ass on the couch at night and eat ben and jerry's straight out the carton". Really, that would have been true a few months ago, but now, not so much. This is what I did yesterday....

6:00 - curse alarm clock, shower, get ready for work
6:30 - wake up BB, bribe him into going potty, and get him ready for school

BB - I don't wanna go to school!
Me - You have to go to school and mommy has to go to work, that's just how it is.
BB - WHY????
Me - So you can learn stuff
BB - I'm learned enough
Me - Clearly

6:45 - drop BB off at school and head to work
7:10 - get to work and sprint to my office, hoping no one will notice I'm late
----- in between doing actual work, make a grocery list, read three chapters, write a paper, and respond to the three mandatory discussion questions about what to do with a used catheter, does the morgue really prefer that you leave tubing in place, and how to handle your patient dying
5:45 - leave work, woo hoo!!!
6:15 - grocery shopping at ghetto kroger cuz I'm too tired to battle walmart
6:45 - get home, unload groceries, start making dinner, unload dishwasher
7:00 - while dinner is cooking, put together next nights dinner in crock pot
7:15 - eat dinner, make brownies with BB, then clean up the kitchen

Me - don't eat the batter BB
BB - Why?
Me - because it has raw eggs in it and you'll get salmonella
BB - Daddy does it.
Me - *sigh*

7:45 - bathe the little monster....

BB - (pointing to his penis) Is this my toy?
Me - *horrified* No, that is not a toy.
BB - Can I play with it.
Me - **wishing I was anywhere BUT in this bathroom at this very second** No, you can't pl...well, yes, but not around other people....alone. No, well, just....Big Daddyyyyyy!!!!!

8:00 - wrestle him into his pj's, stuff a brownie into my fat face wondering WTF I was thinking letting him have sugar this late
8:15 - get stuff ready for the next day, make a mental note to set alarm for 15 miutes earlier so maybe, just maybe, we won't be late - again.
9:00 - ???? - study until I fall asleep and subsequently wake up with my face stuck to pg 187 of my pharmacology book. Yeah, I drool. What about it?

You just cannot make this shit up

I guess I should start off by reminding you all that BFF and I work in Greenspoint. Fondly known as Gunspoint to the rest of Houston, because it is ghetto faaabulous. Seriously, BD has forbidden me from going anywhere over here by myself because he's afraid I'll get kidnapped/gang raped/car jacked/beaten for being a cracka. I'm more than happy to oblige his request.

Sooo yesterday BFF and I were outside 'getting some fresh air' as we usually do after lunch. We are in deep conversation about important shit like politics. Okay, not really, we were talking about our hair and the effects of low lights versus high lights. Anyhow, mid sentence BFF stops and says "oh.ma.gah". I know, after hearing that, when I turn my head to the left I'm going to witness some sort of ghetto debauchery that only happens in Greenspoint. And I was right.

There was a woman on a bike with a baby. When I say "woman", I mean she was like 16, and when I say "on a bike" I mean someone elses bike that she just jacked, and when I say "with a baby" I mean she had the baby propped up on the nut bar just dangling there. The baby couldn't have been more than 12 months old. Seriously. He was sitting on the nut bar (I don't know the proper name for it okay?) with his little feet dangling dangerously close to the tire spokes. It made me really sad after I stopped laughing.

Then it got a little weirder. She stopped, picked her kid up by the elbow (as most fantastic mothers do) and put him on the sidewalk. She was obviously pissed at his lack of motor skills and ability to hang on to the nutbar. She threw his shoes on the ground. The poor little guy hurried to put his shoes on. He also didn't have pants on, in case you were wondering. She threw the bike down right there in the middle of the sidewalk and left it there. That is how I came to the not so shocking conclusion that she stole it. She grabbed the little boy and just walked off. Possibly one of the weirdest things I've ever seen in Gunspoint.

BFF and I just sat there with our mouths hanging open for a good two minutes. I looked at her and said "did that shit just really happen?"

Good times.

It's Been a While

I haven't had time to post much lately, I've been hella busy ever since this semester started and every free second I have from work or school is spent with my boys. That time is, unfortunately, few and far between. Last night I colored dinosaurs on the floor for two hours. I subsequently missed a quiz, but I was right where I wanted to be and don't regret it one bit. I keep reminding myself that I'm doing this so BB will have a better life, but that line seems so blurry sometimes. I wonder if I'm doing more damage than good.

It is so hard trying to do it all. Work full time, school full time (well, more than full time, 15 hours to be exact), plus keep up with wife and mommy duties. I'll be the first to admit that I've stretched myself too thin. I work well under pressure though. Even if I am on the verge of a mental breakdown most days. Thank god I have my good friend miller lite and a fantastic husband to help get me through. I have never been so physically and mentally exhausted as I am right now. My house looks like an all male dorm at the moment. I need a maid. A live in maid that happens to be a personal chef as well.

On another note. Is there some kind of potty training miracle advice out there? I swear we will be dropping BB off at college with a laptop and economy box of depends, cuz you know pull-ups don't come in adult sizes. I think he pees in his pants just to spite me now. Literally 5 seconds after I ask if he needs to go he will pee on himself. He's all like "whatever Ma, I does what I wants." Not really, but that's what I imagine is going on in that thick little head of his. Then he tells me to take his socks off because they're wet. No shit sherlock, you keep whizzing on yourself! The other day while I was in the shower he took off his pants and peed directly in the center of my bed. Hands on his hips and all and moving his body back and forth like his penis was a damn sprinkler. Potty training SUCKS!

And on yet another note, I had my first clinical at the hospital on Saturday. 7a-7p in the ICU, not for lightweights my friend. I never thought I'd ever say these words out loud, but I had to confiscate a bag of chips ahoy from some girls panties. I also got to do a catheter, practice an IV (yes I said 'practice' ha!), and empty a post surgical ostomy bag that was full of blood. Look it up. And you know what? I loved every minute of it! This is already promising to be a very exciting career.

Random Musings

1. I had pharmacology orientation Monday night. Everyone that takes pharm. is going into, or already in, the medical profession, so about half of the students were in scrubs. I was looking around the room, because I'm nosy like that, and I saw a girl sitting in the last row that looked rather....hmmm....white trash-ish? Do you know what she was wearing? NASCAR scrubs. I shit you not. I didn't even know there was such a thing. Could you imagine this chick coming into your room to do God-knows-what to you? I have a feeling she smells like colt 45 and marlboro reds. She probably has an "I heart Junior" tattoo on her boob too. This is all just speculation of course.

2. I've seen a lot of weird shit driving in houston. Women putting on makeup, people working on their laptops, people reading the paper or a book. Yesterday I saw a big burly black biker (ha, say that three times fast!) cruising down I-45. He had a, (are you ready for this?), Louis Vuitton messenger bag strapped to the back of the motorcycle. The only way he can even hope to keep his street cred is if he just jacked it from some lady at the mall.

3. I wasn't even here for 10 minutes this morning when trumpet nose started in with his phlegm gargling. I'm this close to going chuck norris on his ass.

That is all for now.

In the Land of Don'ts

I realized recently that I say "don't" A LOT. I think I need to come up with a more constructive way of getting my point across to BB. Granted three year old boys are quite a challenge, and constantly into something. But I have to wonder if my overuse of "don't" is being lost in traslation. So, I'm going to list common "dont's" that are said on a daily basis in our house.....

Don't feed the dogs from your plate.
Don't pick your nose.
Don't pile drive the dog when he's sleeping. (or any other time for that matter)
Don't pull the dogs ears.
Don't take your clothes off.
Don't poke the dog in the eye.
Don't stick anything up the dogs nose. (are you feeling sorry for my dogs yet?)
Don't play on the computer.
DON'T STICK ANYTHING IN THE SOCKET!!!
Don't slap your penis, you'll want to use it later.
Don't pour water out of the tub.
Don't put on mommy's heels...you're going to give your father a heart attack.
Don't color on the walls.
Don't color on the carpet.
Don't color on yourself, I don't care if it looks like a tattoo.
Don't touch the scissors.
Don't spray febreeze on the dog, I don't care if he stinks.
Don't play with the blinds, you're going to choke yourself!
Don't open the front door.
Don't investigate what's under the dogs tail.
Don't throw your toys off the balcony, I don't care how cool the noise is.
Don't throw your toys down the stairs.
Don't talk to your penis, it doesn't understand you. (unless you're apologizing for the abuse you put it through)
Don't pee in the backyard, I don't care how good your aim is!
I know it is big enough to be a helmet, but don't put mommy's bra on your head.

That is all I can think of for now :)

Hockey McLoogerson

So there is this guy at work, we'll call him Hockey McLoogerson. He is becoming increasingly more annoying by the day. He moved to my group a couple of months ago. He is one of those "I know everything and if you've done something I've done it ten times better" people. Highly annoying in a meeting when he interjects his vast knowledge every five seconds. The other day I was in the middle of a presentation and Mr. I-know-everything kept on with the "did you know this and did you know that's". If looks could kill he would be a rotting carcass on the floor of the 4th floor conference room.

The one thing Hockey does that is like nails on a chalkboard to me is his incessant nose blowing, and loogie hocking. He either has one helluva coke problem or some allergies that need serious medical intervention. Trumpet nose blows so fucking hard I'm surprised he doesn't blow out gray matter. And apparently, that's not good enough because then he snorts louder than a baby elephant. The snorting is then followed by the hocking in his throat that seems to go on for ten good minutes. It literally makes me sick to my stomach, so I had no choice but to address it with the stupidvisor.

Me: "Do you hear trumpet nose in there? I don't think I can take much more of this!!" Stupidvisor: "I guess I never really noticed"
Me: **picking jaw up off floor** "You never NOTICED? It sounds like he's trying to mate with a lion in there! It seriously makes me want to vomit."
Stupidvisor: "I think he's been sick, maybe that's the problem"
Me: "Yeah, he's sick alright" **stomps back to office to devise revenge plan**

I am really thinking about leaving an anonymous note on his desk. I'm open to suggestions on how it should read.

Posting my new friend Crystal's suggestion:

Happy Birthday Baby Boy!

Today is BB's 3rd birthday. It seems so surreal. You always hear "older" people talk about how fast your life goes by, but you don't realize how true that is until you have children. I swear it seems like I was just pregnant. I remember taking the pregnancy test like it was yesterday. We had been trying to get pregnant for almost two years. BD was at the gym and I was about to take a shower. We had plans to go out with some friends, and I decided to take a test just in case. I knew it would be negative like the 25 before that. I peed on it and threw it on the back of the toilet. I took a shower and got ready, then walked over to the test to throw it away. I picked it up and cocked my head to the side. "Two lines…two lines….wait a minute, that can't be right!" I grabbed the box to make sure I was right, and I was. The test was positive.

I drove straight to the gym and ran in waving my test at BD like a crazy lady. I was crying and just kept saying, "we're pregnant, we're finally pregnant!" He had a stunned deer in the headlights look on his face, which I imagine all new dads-to-be to have when they hear the news of an impending birth.

The next nine months were unpleasant to say the least. I puked every hour on the hour, even in the middle of the night. I swelled up to the size of the Michelin Man. I wasn't nice to anyone. And I had hot flashes that would rival being on the inside of a volcano. But even after all that, I thanked God every day for giving us this little miracle. The moment we found out he was a boy BD threw his hands up in the air like he had just scored the game winning touchdown. I looked at him with tears rolling down my face and said, "We're going to have a son." We both cried, and the nurse cried along with us.

I went into labor in the middle of the night on August 18, 2005. Contractions were about ten minutes apart. I was uncomfortable, but told BD to go to work anyway. He kept calling to check on me. I plopped my fat ass on the couch and stayed there all day, only getting up for the incessant pee breaks.

Around 2pm I called and told him he needed to come home, that the labor was real. An hour later the contractions were three minutes apart, so we headed to the hospital. They kept making me walk around the hallways. I hadn't eaten all day, I couldn't have water, and the pain I was in was indescribable. Irritable is putting it lightly. At one point I told my poor husband that he could shove the ice chips up his ass, and if he didn't bring me some actual water to drink it would be the last mistake he ever made. No one ever brought me water, but they did back away from the bed.

Then came the epidural. God bless whoever invented this thing. I don't care how big that needle was, I would have shoved it in my back myself at that point. Ahhh, sweet relief. I told the anesthesiologist if I wasn't already married, I would marry him on the spot. Things progressed pretty quickly from there.

Sweet Baby Boy was born at 2:17am on August 20, 2005 after just a few pushes. He weighed 7lbs 2oz and was 20" long. Ten fingers, ten toes, bright blue eyes, and wispy strawberry blonde hair that had grown in a mohawk. He was beautiful and perfect in every way, and it was and still is the happiest day of my life.