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**