Too Much Perfection?

"Um. My husband is an idiot."

Ugh.

So Sunday DH caught this nasty bug that the wutz had at the end of last week. He wasn't feeling well so he went to bed early. Before he slept, I told him that he should stay home and rest on Monday. He promised he would if he was feeling bad. When he woke me up Monday he said he was feeling better, so he got dressed and took the wutz to school then drove 50 miles to work.

I got up early, tidied the house, fed the horses, then by 9:30am I was curled back in bed ready to enjoy a lazy day ALONE! Yes, I said it. ALONE.

At 9:35am my phone rang. It was one of DH's coworkers. DH had passed out during a conference. Twice.

They ended up calling 911 and he was taken to the hospital. So I had to climb back out of bed, get dressed, go get my mom and drive over an hour to the hospital. Turns out the only thing that showed up was some dehydration. Basically, the dude has the flu. And he was too stubborn to stay home and rest.


He flinched when I walked into the ER because he knew he was going to get an earful, too. I told him that his refusal to take one day off probably just cost us an entire paycheck (deductables, yanno) and that when he got checked out he was going home and going to bed until I said otherwise.



So now, Mr. Macho is in bed, with a fever of 103. Please God, don't let me be next!

I know I've blogged about it ad nauseum, but my headaches and migraines have returned to me full force lately. I don't know why. Maybe it is the cooler weather. Maybe it is all the rain we've had this season. Maybe I'm just put together cheap and I'm falling apart. Whatever the reason, it well and truly sucks.

I just feel so blah and useless lately. With the headaches I don't sleep well and when I am awake I just don't want to do a damned thing. It's like this depressive black cloud is hovering over me. I hate it.

During my pregnancy with the wutz I didn't have headaches at all. Nor did I have them for the nearly two years I was breastfeeding. After that they were few and far between. Until the past few months. Now they have returned to what they were before I was pregnant. It has been long enough that I actually started to love live without them. *sigh*

So once more I am on a quest to wade through prescription after prescription to find the right cocktail that will make them tolerable.

Wish me luck.

Okay, there are some situations where you can just tell that the marketing and think-tank people are all male. This new Apple release of their iPad is a prime example. I recognize that every comedian in the country is likely cracking very similar jokes, but it wouldn't be me if I didn't pause to offer the ole What. The. Fuck. Apple?

So there, I did. Seriously, Apple. Hire some more women. If you had, you'd know that iPad sounds like something we women loathe to wear once a month. Didn't one person... I mean, just ONE stop and say, "Wait, I think maybe we should rethink this whole iPad name. Let's give it 28 more days and see if it sticks."

I am so tired of cold weather. I'm even tired of cool weather. We've had more than our share this winter, with record breaking cold and all. Enough is enough. I'm getting all twitchy and restless.

I am ready for Spring. And I'm doubly ready for the time change. I hate that it gets dark so early. Not only is it cold, there aren't enough hours in the day.

I'm done.

I'm beginning to feel like the crazy cat lady. After all the doctoring I'm doing to keep one alive, I've now got another fuzzbutt that has spent two days crying. Screaming. Crying. Whining.

Yeah. The siamese kitten. Her. She's driving me nuts. She normally is a very vocal cat, but the past two days have been constant. At first I thought it was the weather because we were expecting nasty storms. Now I think she's just pissed because she's getting old enough to sow her furry oats.

Too bad, pussy. Too bad. So just shut up already. Geez.

I blogged previously about my sick siamese. He's been diabetic for a few years and we recently discovered that he has advanced stage asthma/respiratory problems. As in, the worse the Univ. of Georgia radiologists have ever seen. Yeah. That bad.

I wasn't surprised, though. It seems my animals always have firsts. Like my golden retriever's fishing line leg ligament. Or one of my horse's massively stobbed tendon sheath. If the shit can go wrong, it does go wrong. On an epic scale.

But I digress. As per usual.

Anyways, he's been doing so-so. I'm giving him insulin twice a day now instead of once. I'm also giving him oral steroids. A pill.

Yeah, I'm giving a cat a pill. I've done worse, though. Thank goodness he's got the mildest disposition ever. And I'm doubly thankful for experience in the whole feline med-giving because I once had a siamese that had to have medication daily and she was like trying to get medicine in a cheetah. Not fun.

Again, I digress.

So tonight I was giving the cat his insulin. It went well. I injected him carefully, because he's lost a lot of weight and I don't want to put the needle in the wrong spot, and because I hate needles and I try to be mindful and respectful with them. Until it got to the point where I had to recap the needed. I wasn't paying attention as I drove the needle into the little plastic orange cap. No, I didn't miss. Instead that little fucking needle pierced through the cheap plastic cap and pierced my finger. To. The. Bone.

Argghhhh.

Such a little needle. So much owwie. I nearly fainted. Yeah. Seriously. Did I mention I hate needles?

I think I'm going to officially fire myself and make it DH's job from now on. Either that or I want hazard pay or something.

Ouch.

Alright, in the light of a new day I feel that I can finally write a bit about my day yesterday. I still find little humor in it, however. But maybe you will.

The day started out like any other. Coffee was made. Teeth were brushed. Kid was dressed. But the kid was also sniffly. By the time we finally pried him off the sofa and into the car, he was very whiny. I did manage to get him into class and out of the goodness of my heart, I warned her that he was not feeling 100% and there may be issues that day because of it.

I arrived to work late, but that's not a rarity. It's cool. Really. Then later in the morning just as I'd downed my second cup of coffee, the phone rang. It was DH calling to inform me that I had to go pick up the wutz. Immediately. "Oh shit!" I thought. He must be really sick. I was quickly informed that no, that wasn't the reason. Apparently the teacher had called him to tell him that the wutz had severely bitten another student and therefore he could not stay in school.

Yep. My little angel was tossed out of school on his ass. At age three.

I'm was so proud.

*exhales* So I threw all of my stuff in my bag and flew out of the office. I'm pretty sure I told them why I was leaving, but if I hadn't I'm certain they'd have known since steam was coming out of my ears. I arrived at school to find a screaming/crying wutz who was demanding to go outside and play. I talked to the teacher and she informed me that he did not break the other child's skin when he bit.

Well hell.

It's not severe unless there is blood and stitches required, if you ask me.

I informed her that I'd take him home and we'd keep him home on Wednesday and try again on Thursday at school to see if he could be better behaved. I hope to God he will be or Momma's gonna go postal on a three year old. I thought it was the twos that were supposed to be terrible?

I am having a day. A very bad day. It has all culminated to the point where I am ready to get in the car and drive off to an undisclosed location, never to be heard from again.

I'm sure there's a funny story in here. I'm sure I'll laugh about it soon. But today is not the day. Right now, there is no humor in the day I had. I'd love to blog some tragically funny sorry about this day, but right now it isn't going to happen.

I'll be back as soon as it does.

My 12 year old blue point Siamese boy was diagnosed a couple of years ago with diabetes. Recently I've noticed the symptoms returning so I took him in to the vet to have his levels checked. We made some changes and he did okay for about a week. Then he started panting. I assumed it was Kussmaul breathing which can happen if their blood sugar skyrockets. He did it off and on for two days over the holidays. I took him in on Monday to see what they thought. In the end they couldn't see how the blood sugar would be causing the continued rapid panting, so they x-rayed him. His lung films looked like someone laid a piece of lace over them, there's that much asthmatic type damage. The vet said it looked like end stage asthma. I've never noticed anything odd about his breathing other than he was a little noisy and he snores.


So the vet sent the films to the radiologist at UGA. He looks at them and says the same thing, but he also says it is one of the worst cases he's seen and he wants to use the x-rays in his teaching.


Now Zoos is on steroids to try to make his breathing better, but that will likely screw up his blood sugar levels. It's a Catch 22. Poor guy.

So if you have it in you to say healing prayers for a feline, he could certainly use some. *sigh*

I had to park next to a small throng of protesters when I went to get my yummy, delicious cyclone shrimp from Jonah's today at lunch. Of course, the protesters were attempting to rally the troops against government mandated health care. Blah blah. Lots of the signs had statements about being informed and being angry.

But the one that amused me the most was the one that was so informed, she didn't know how to spell her own profession correctly:

This morning I spoke to my parents on the phone. At the end of the conversation I inquired on who would be the one responsibile for school pick up. It was decided that I would be the one to accomplish this task.

Not a problem.

Right?

Well, I left work fifteen minutes early in order to be there when school let out because the majority of the children ride the bus to the YMCA and the wutz hates being left out there alone. Mission accomplished. I got there with a few minutes to spare.

But upon my arrival one of the teachers on outside duty looked at me then looked to where the wutz always is and then back to me. Then the school's Director did the same thing. Not a good sign.

The wutz wasn't there. The Director then asked me to call my Dad to see if he had picked him up. I wasn't panicked as I grabbed my cell phone and made the call. I assumed that, being the flake I am, I'd simply gotten my wires crossed and Dad had picked the kiddo up. Wrong. I could hear the panic rising in my Dad's voice as I explained that the wutz was officially AWOL.

The Director then mentioned that he could be on the bus with the YMCA kids. It was in that moment that my rising sense of panic began to ebb a bit. "Yeah." I told her. "He's on the Y bus." She then looked at me with a questioning glance, and I had to explain that the wutz had been talking for a few days about how he wanted to ride the big school bus to the Y. I knew in my heart of hearts that he was safely on that bus. After a phone call confirmed it, I headed off to the next preschool to pick him up while the bus was held up for me.

When I arrived at the school, I was met with apologies and a screaming/crying wutz. He did not want to get off the bus. He wanted to ride it all the way to the Y. I was too frazzled, though. I just pulled him off the bus and all but threw him into his carseat. Then I had to field half a dozen panicked phone callsas word of the wutz's Great Escape had filtered through the family grapevine.

Shortly thereafter, the Director called to offer sincere apologies once more and to tell me she wasn't making excuses for the error, but it was something that had never happened before. Fortunately, for her, I know her very well. Her daughter was one of my bridesmaids in my wedding. I know she'd never ever purposefully be neglectful. I told her that I wouldn't say it was okay, but as long as she made certain it never happens again we could consider the matter closed.

It turns out that both of the wutz's teachers were out sick today, so she was in his classroom along with a substitute teacher. But the Director had been called out to go to her office to tend to another matter as the morning came to a close. So when the substitute teacher asked the wutz if he went to the Y, he saw the opportunity to ride that wonderful school bus and he chirped, "Yeah, I do!"

In addition to the absent teachers, the YMCA bus was being driven by a subsitute today, too. The bus driver normally does roll call as the children enter the bus, but the new driver didn't know to do that or either just did a head count and the wutz apparently filled a vacant slot.

It all added up to be the perfect storm that allowed my child to slip onto a bus that he wasn't supposed to be on and shave at least five years off his Momma's life.

I'm just glad he is safe and sound, though.



Now, where's that damned drink I need???

AGHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!

*Photos taken with the cell phone and a terrified and trembling hand

The wutz has been taking swim lessons for the past two months. We've really enjoyed watching him as he has begun learning to swim. Last year he wasn't very confident in the water and it was a bit overwhelming to him. Since the end of summer approaches, I'll soon be posting pictures of his swim lessons and also of our vacations, but for now I wanted to take today to look back on last year's swimming experience...

This was originally written in June of 2008:

I hate drunk people and I hate sober people and I hate all the people today. And I hate short people and I hate tall people and I hate all the people today.

‘Cuz I’m havin a bad day.havin a bad day. Get out of my way. cuz im havin a bad day.

Blue Flannel hit the nail on the head when they wrote that song. It totally described my mood right as I stood in my kitchen and begged God to give me one small break today. Then I sat down to eat rerun pizza and the piping hot cheese promptly slid off the slice and dropped gracelessly onto my bare lap.

It has been a rotten day.

What’s worse, Thursday pretty much tanked, too. I won’t even go into that, though.

I did learn a great lesson today. Never wear a string bikini to a public pool while accompanying a rambunctious toddler. Seriously. Just. Don’t. Do. It.

The wutz was a wild man today. A total and complete hellion. He’s always a bit hyper but today was a whole new level for my little dude. I thought taking him to the public pool this evening would be a wonderful experience. For sure, he’d be so grateful for my kindness and generosity at letting him enjoy the amazing kiddie pools and play with all those children, that certainly he’d be a grateful little angel. Wrong. Oh so wrong.

We arrived and mosied into the locker room to change clothes. He was wiggling with excitement as I tugged up his Winnie the Pooh swim trunks. That was my first mistake. I never should have dressed him before I dressed myself. He was full throttle to the pool, and there I was as naked as the day I was born, trying to catch him and simultaneously keep my dignity intact. Yeah. Right.

Once he was wrangled, I had to forcibly pin him to the bench with my knee, while I teetered on the other foot and attempted to tug on my string bikini. Here you’ll find mistake number two, which I’ve already touched on.

Finally dressed we barreled toward the pool. He was wide-eyed and amazed. Until I tried to guide him into the shallow pool. Apparently I wasn’t notified that it wasn’t water in the pool. It was acid. Or at least that’s how he acted. Full out, shame-your-parent, tugging and clinging to anything and everything you can grab meltdown right there. So, being the loving mother that I am, I cradled him in my arms and proceeded on a straight path into the water until we were both submerged to our shoulders. I can tell you, he appreciated that. Eventually he realized that he could touch the bottom. That gave the oh-so-amused pool patrons about ten minutes sans temper tantrums. But only ten minutes. Because then he saw the slide. Oooooh. A slide! A very very big slide. It really was a pity that he had to be four feet ride that ride. Now that, he most certainly did NOT appreciate. Nosirree. Not one bit.

It was an effort to distract him, but a shiny pink ball that a little girl had was enough to do the trick. “Ball Momma! Momma ball!” Cue next meltdown.

That wrapped it up for me. We were done. I was done. We proceeded, quickly, to the locker room, to repeat the previous changing room experience, only in reverse this time.

I cannot tell you how glad I was to get out of there. And every single person there agreed wholeheartedly.

So yeah… I’m havin’ a bad day.

The other day, I purchased a good bottle of Riesling. When I say good, I mean it cost more than five bucks. In other words, it wasn't no Boone's Farm or anything. But for the life of me I cannot recall what it was.

But I digress... as usual.

Once the wutz was in bed, DH and I decided that a nice glass of wine was in order and well deserved, so off we went into the kitchen to pluck down two wine glasses and fetch the bottle of Riesling and open it with the corkscrew.

Corkscrew?

Where is the corkscrew? No, seriously, honey... where'd you put the corkscrew?

Hellloooo? Corkscrewwwwww?! Where are you?

Nope. It was not to be found.

I know it was there the other day. The thing is, items alway seem to go missing in the exact frame of time when I actually need them.

I needed that damned glass of wine.

We then proceeded to get a little creative with our wine opening skills. We enlisted the help of a metal skewer, two army knives (minus the corkscrews, who doesn't put a corkscrew on an Army knife??), the stem of a cake mixer, a set of channel locks, and a pair of needle nose pliers.

Nothing, and I mean nothing, worked.

By then a good half hour had passed and I was in dire need of me some wine. So I did what any desperate wino would do. I drove the cork into the wine bottle and we both finally enjoyed a nice glass of cork-enhanced Riesling.

I am so sleepy. So much so, that I am terrified to even blink. I think if I even closed my eyes for a split second, they may fuse permanently shut. That is why I have been on the computer for hours. You know, if you are on the computer you rarely blink. So I'm just saving myself the trouble of falling into a zombie-like trance that includes incredibly loud snoring.

I didn't stay up too late last night. I was in bed before midnight, which is about normal for me. Or nothing late enough to illicit this sort of feeling from me today, at least. However, the wutz woke up at 4am and declared he wanted to go in the othe room which is what he calls the living room. I am not sure when I fell back asleep, DH claims the wutz finally stopped chattering around 5:30am.

You can imagine my surprise when my eyes flittered open to alight upon the alarm clock that read 7:02am. gasp I have to be at work at 7:30am and we live 30 miles from my office. Needless to say, but I'll say it anyways, I dove out of bed and did an amazing flight of the bumblebee to get dressed and get coffee poured. I flew out the door and pushed down on the gas pedal a little more than legal. Okay, okay. A lot more than legal.

I was still late, though. By 8 minutes.

Yeah. I got up, dressed, out the door, and to work in 38 minutes flat. *preens*

All that to say, I think my poor wake-up this morning actually prevented me from fully waking up.

I so so need my bed. Stat.

After the wutz was born, it became painfully evident that I needed to sell my Dodge Ram (yes, with a Hemi) and get something that allowed us to haul all the crap that is required when you have a baby. Including, but not limited to, the kitchen sink.

It was a sad day that I handed over the keys to my beloved blue Dodge and traded them for a set to my Expedition. We purchased New-to-You, because I refuse to buy New-New since it seems like such a waste of money. But I digress…

I found out that I love having a SUV. I love having the extra room. I don’t have to worry about rain, because there’s nothing in an open bed, as there often was in the truck! The third row seats are even electric and a push of the button makes them disappear so I can have plenty of room for the sink if I like.

I also love the bells and whistles. The navigational system is wonderful. The seats are leather and, believe it or not, very comfy even with the seat AC freezing my ass or the heater warming it. It gets decent gas mileage, about the same as the truck. And it drives well. Sort of.

Except when it shuts off unexpectedly. Which it did twice today. And it has done several times recently.

Just driving down the road, all of a sudden I realize my gas pedal is no longer serving its purpose. I glance down and the dashboard warning lights are lit up like a Christmas tree on Christmas Eve. Then the steering is rendered all but useless. Finally I’m able to come to a halt, turn the key to off, turn the key forward once more and the engine cranks up with no trouble. No spit, no sputter, no complaint. It purrs like a kitten until it decides not to purr any longer.

Upon consulting Mechanic Google, I find that this seems to be some glitch in Expeditions. I spent the morning reading pages and pages of complaints. Great.

And to make things even better, there’s no recall for it.


I think I may need to send my Dodge a letter of apology. *sigh*

So, while at lunch today I had composed this fabulously funny open letter to "MRSPETE" but now I cannot use it. I guess it is a good thing I only wrote it in my head. Which means there wasn't a whole lotta effort put into it. Fortunately.

See, what happened is this... I went to Belk's to kill part of my lunch hour. And what better way to kill an hour than shopping?!? Unfortunately, the parking lot was packed. I guess it is because half of the town was there shopping the sales for Mother's Day presents. I didn't need to shop for Mother's Day presents because my mother insisted on a present that shall come in a little blue box with a white bow. Yes. Seriously. But I'll save that for another post.

Anyways, while seeking out a parking spot, I spied a brand new Mercedes parked horizontally across two parking spaces. Lucky for me, there was a parking spot right next to MRSPETE-the-parking-lot-hog. I guess MRSPETE didn't realize that by leaving a space open by the nose of her car it wouldn't be immune to the massive Camaro car doors. I whammed open the door and watched in amused amazement as the Mercedes hood ornament went flying across the parking lot. Okay, that last part just happened in my head, but I was oh-so-tempted.

But it did inspire a wonderful blog entry about the rude crazy lady that either didn't know how to park or is such an anal twit she thinks a MRSPETE tag is classy and hoarding parking spaces saves the paint job on a brand new car she likely paid way too much for anyways. Until I got back into my car and cranked my baby up, backed up and then heard thwapthwapthwapthwapthwapthwapthwap. I managed to coast my lame car toward the parking spaces once more. Only to come to rest horizontally across two parking spaces.

Yeah. That part really happened. My bad.

Karma totally kicked my ass.

I guess I still haven't fully recovered from our vacay. I am still exhausted. To top it off, I woke up this morning with a swollen upper eyelid. Then the swelling continued until the corner of my eye and side of my nose was also swollen. The benadryl makes me sleepy. Being sleepy and unable to sleep makes me grumpy. Not to mention the arrival of AF. Nice.


Needless to say, I'm just a ray of freaking sunshine today.


Therefore, I am going to throw up a couple of bad pictures of our trip taken from my cell phone. Why don't I post quality pictures taken from my $800 camera? Well, I'll tell you why. I'm too freaking lazy to download them. So there. Take that!

I will. Someday. I promise. And you all know I never break promises.

*snort*