Should not be permitted to have the cars they do. I got stuck the other day behind a brand-spanking-new BMW Z4. This is a sporty car. This is a car that is meant to be driven. With a 2.5L Inline 6, this is not a car that's meant to be driven slowly. The speed limit on this particular stretch of road was 35mph.
The Twit Driver of said car was, according to my speedometer, going a paltry 31mph. Let us now factor in my speedometer's inaccuracy. It's two miles fast. That means that instead of going an already slow 31, this driver was driving along at a painful 29. Twenty-freaking-nine miles per hour in a vehicle that's meant to be driven at speeds much greater.
It was annoying. Twit Driver hung up her cell phone and still continued to drive like an 80 year old on her monthly trip to the grocery store. @@
Thursday, November 17, 2005
Sunday, November 13, 2005
bawm chicka bawm bawm
The kids napped at the same time today. I had planned to sneak out and see the new babies, but TheHusband had other plans.
'Nuff said.
'Nuff said.
Thursday, November 10, 2005
Until Thursday: The Week in Review
Sunday--miss birthday party to doula Friend L's VBA2C of a 9lb baby
Monday--prepare for my parents' garage sale
Tuesday--my birthday--greet internet Friend C from out of town, just after discovering that a kid at my brother's school has whooping cough--guess who helped watch my kids while I was with my laboring Friend L? Panic, before talking to parents and seeing official notification email from school, then call doctor and make sure antibiotics are called in just in case. Friend C's youngest (3 weeks older than Rooster) starts throwing up.
Wednesday--Friend C's youngest finally stops throwing up, but our collective older children (3.5, 2.3, and 2) attempt to tear each other limb from limb and include my house in the destruction. Talk to nurses at doctor's office again and get reassured that two breastfed children of my boys' ages and size are unlikely to get whooping cough anyway from this type of exposure, regardless of vax status, much less a severe case. Feel slightly better. Friend C's eldest child starts acting crabby and breaks out in what appear to be Chickie Pops.
Thursday--Definitely Chickie Pops. Get call from Friend M's husband saying Friend M is being rushed to hospital for "urgent c-section," as the baby has decided to get her cord wrapped around her neck while in the breech position, and yes, they're aware chicken pox are a possibility here, but even so I'm on the top of the call list should Aunt not do so well with Friend M's son. Friend C decides to take sick little monkeys and head home, but not before deciding to rent townhouse across the street, which is A-OK by me. :) It wasn't a dream, we really do get along well together. Brandon gets home and all is well until halfway through cooking dinner, when Eeny pukes his guts up for the First Time Ever, but certainly not the last. His current count is three.
Note: Vomited refried beans are nasty.
Call doctor and speak with on-call since mine's out of town, and explain that Eeny is not vaxed for whooping cough, which is why I wanted the antibiotics in the first place. Blow right past doc's perplexed sounding, "Let me get this straight, he hasn't had ANY DTaP?" and inform him that I think stopping antibiotics (he's only had three doses) until the stomach bug is gone and then restarting them, especially if it's only 24 hours, is the best course of action, and in turn, blithely ignore doc's incredulity at hearing that a 2 year old is still receiving breastmilk. DH, lovely and worthy man that he is, volunteers to sit with Sick Toddler all night, reaffirming my choice to have marry him in the first place. I call my mom, to tell her that no way in heck am I coming over tomorrow to help with the garage sale unless she comes up with a miracle cure for the Puking Boy Wonder. She tells me she understands and that she's hit a deer and is waiting for a tow truck, so would I mind calling back later? Toddler pees in the potty before getting spectacularly sick again, prompting me to offer to eventually buy him Thomas and Friends underpants.
All of this is a wee bit overwhelming. That said, in order to arrange my thoughts, I've come to the following conclusion:
If vomiting weren't so upsetting to my poor child, I'd prefer he did that instead of ever getting a runny nose.
Throwing up is dramatic, done all at once, and gets the ickiness out so it can be taken care of in one fell swoop.
Nose-running is long, annoying, gooey, and revolting, requiring me to follow a recalcitrant toddler around all day with a Kleenex, demanding that he stop long enough for me to wipe that disgusting slug track off.
I think I shall fall over.
Monday--prepare for my parents' garage sale
Tuesday--my birthday--greet internet Friend C from out of town, just after discovering that a kid at my brother's school has whooping cough--guess who helped watch my kids while I was with my laboring Friend L? Panic, before talking to parents and seeing official notification email from school, then call doctor and make sure antibiotics are called in just in case. Friend C's youngest (3 weeks older than Rooster) starts throwing up.
Wednesday--Friend C's youngest finally stops throwing up, but our collective older children (3.5, 2.3, and 2) attempt to tear each other limb from limb and include my house in the destruction. Talk to nurses at doctor's office again and get reassured that two breastfed children of my boys' ages and size are unlikely to get whooping cough anyway from this type of exposure, regardless of vax status, much less a severe case. Feel slightly better. Friend C's eldest child starts acting crabby and breaks out in what appear to be Chickie Pops.
Thursday--Definitely Chickie Pops. Get call from Friend M's husband saying Friend M is being rushed to hospital for "urgent c-section," as the baby has decided to get her cord wrapped around her neck while in the breech position, and yes, they're aware chicken pox are a possibility here, but even so I'm on the top of the call list should Aunt not do so well with Friend M's son. Friend C decides to take sick little monkeys and head home, but not before deciding to rent townhouse across the street, which is A-OK by me. :) It wasn't a dream, we really do get along well together. Brandon gets home and all is well until halfway through cooking dinner, when Eeny pukes his guts up for the First Time Ever, but certainly not the last. His current count is three.
Note: Vomited refried beans are nasty.
Call doctor and speak with on-call since mine's out of town, and explain that Eeny is not vaxed for whooping cough, which is why I wanted the antibiotics in the first place. Blow right past doc's perplexed sounding, "Let me get this straight, he hasn't had ANY DTaP?" and inform him that I think stopping antibiotics (he's only had three doses) until the stomach bug is gone and then restarting them, especially if it's only 24 hours, is the best course of action, and in turn, blithely ignore doc's incredulity at hearing that a 2 year old is still receiving breastmilk. DH, lovely and worthy man that he is, volunteers to sit with Sick Toddler all night, reaffirming my choice to have marry him in the first place. I call my mom, to tell her that no way in heck am I coming over tomorrow to help with the garage sale unless she comes up with a miracle cure for the Puking Boy Wonder. She tells me she understands and that she's hit a deer and is waiting for a tow truck, so would I mind calling back later? Toddler pees in the potty before getting spectacularly sick again, prompting me to offer to eventually buy him Thomas and Friends underpants.
All of this is a wee bit overwhelming. That said, in order to arrange my thoughts, I've come to the following conclusion:
If vomiting weren't so upsetting to my poor child, I'd prefer he did that instead of ever getting a runny nose.
Throwing up is dramatic, done all at once, and gets the ickiness out so it can be taken care of in one fell swoop.
Nose-running is long, annoying, gooey, and revolting, requiring me to follow a recalcitrant toddler around all day with a Kleenex, demanding that he stop long enough for me to wipe that disgusting slug track off.
I think I shall fall over.
Tuesday, November 08, 2005
Happy Birthday to Me
Four words: Possible Whooping Cough Exposure. @@
For the boys, unfortunately. I think I'll call the doctor tomorrow and ask about their risk. A kid at my brother's school has it, and my kids hang out with my brother.....
For the boys, unfortunately. I think I'll call the doctor tomorrow and ask about their risk. A kid at my brother's school has it, and my kids hang out with my brother.....
Monday, November 07, 2005
Wehaddababyeetzaboy
Friend had her baby!
He's a gorgeous red-headed, blue-eyed little kiddie, and I love him. :) She is feeling terrific, which is awesome, because her labor was over 20 hours long.
She's a bit of a curiosity in the hospital now. She said there have been tons of doctors and nurses poking their heads in to see the 9-pound baby delivered vaginally after two prior c-sections.
She was getting tired at the end, and the OB offered to use forceps if she wanted, but I convinced her to wait another two or three contractions before trying them. After the third contraction, the OB said, "This is where we usually take the forceps off." She'd done it! :) We are SO thrilled for her.
He's a gorgeous red-headed, blue-eyed little kiddie, and I love him. :) She is feeling terrific, which is awesome, because her labor was over 20 hours long.
She's a bit of a curiosity in the hospital now. She said there have been tons of doctors and nurses poking their heads in to see the 9-pound baby delivered vaginally after two prior c-sections.
She was getting tired at the end, and the OB offered to use forceps if she wanted, but I convinced her to wait another two or three contractions before trying them. After the third contraction, the OB said, "This is where we usually take the forceps off." She'd done it! :) We are SO thrilled for her.
Thursday, November 03, 2005
:::skeeve:::shudder::::barf::::
Something in my living room has been whiffy. I couldn't figure out what it was. I thought that when I changed Rooster's diaper on the couch, and set the wet on the back of it, that TheHusband had removed it. Maybe he didn't and it was buried in the cushions. I checked all of the cushions and the trash can.
Sure enough--one wet dipe that hadn't been folded properly. Eeeeew. This does not happen on a regular basis. In fact, I daresay this is a first. Still, the whiffyness remained.
This evening, on Day Three of what is now The Stench, and I reach under the middle cushion on our sectional, thinking that perhaps a diaper got stuck under there. I don't know how it could have happened, but it smells. My hand feels nothing, but I decide to lift the cushion and double check.
Ew. Ew. Ew. Ew. Ew. Ew. Ew. Ew. Ew. Ew. Ew. Ew. Ew. Ew. Ew. Ew. Ew. Ew. Ew. Ew. Ew.
:::::::::::::skeeve:::::::::::::
It's a dead mouse.
I hate dead mice almost as much as live spiders (I made TheHusband off one of them this evening, too). Squished, stinky, crusty dead mice are pretty darn high up on the list of things that make me want to vomit. We've just recently come through our first cold snap of the season. I thought the traps in the den had been a wee bit more active than usual (how's three of the little vermin in a week?). Eeeeeuuugh.
TheHusband, brave, heroic, and strong stomached man that he is, removed the mouse for me. It had gotten stuck on the bar that holds the two sides of the couch together. The only thing that could have happened to crush the wee beastie was one of us sitting on the couch just as it crawled onto the bar. This leaves me with two thoughts:
1) There's impeccable timing for you
and
2) My ass may be a mouse-murderer
I shall contemplate these things later....
Eeny is hitting Rooster a lot. It's getting on my nerves. I think I'll start taking him to playgroup by himself so that he can have some Mommy time. Sometimes I miss it being just the two of us. I took him with me to a consignment shop today to drop off outgrown clothes, and it was so fun to have him with me. :)
Rooster has just awakened for the night, followed by his brother. This kid needs to stop trying to pull up on anything that will hold still for a second. He's going to get bruises on his cute little face.
He was crying until I came into the room. Even though it was completely dark, he quieted down as soon as I came in. He started cooing when I reached for him, and he's now sitting on my lap blowing raspberries as I try to finish typing this.
These kids are cute. I think I shall keep them.
Friend needs to go into labor. She's 41 weeks pregnant and miserable. I feel so badly for her. She had a good BPP today, and she feels fine. I just hope for her sake that it's soon. She's getting annoyed with all of the comments.
Sure enough--one wet dipe that hadn't been folded properly. Eeeeew. This does not happen on a regular basis. In fact, I daresay this is a first. Still, the whiffyness remained.
This evening, on Day Three of what is now The Stench, and I reach under the middle cushion on our sectional, thinking that perhaps a diaper got stuck under there. I don't know how it could have happened, but it smells. My hand feels nothing, but I decide to lift the cushion and double check.
Ew. Ew. Ew. Ew. Ew. Ew. Ew. Ew. Ew. Ew. Ew. Ew. Ew. Ew. Ew. Ew. Ew. Ew. Ew. Ew. Ew.
:::::::::::::skeeve:::::::::::::
It's a dead mouse.
I hate dead mice almost as much as live spiders (I made TheHusband off one of them this evening, too). Squished, stinky, crusty dead mice are pretty darn high up on the list of things that make me want to vomit. We've just recently come through our first cold snap of the season. I thought the traps in the den had been a wee bit more active than usual (how's three of the little vermin in a week?). Eeeeeuuugh.
TheHusband, brave, heroic, and strong stomached man that he is, removed the mouse for me. It had gotten stuck on the bar that holds the two sides of the couch together. The only thing that could have happened to crush the wee beastie was one of us sitting on the couch just as it crawled onto the bar. This leaves me with two thoughts:
1) There's impeccable timing for you
and
2) My ass may be a mouse-murderer
I shall contemplate these things later....
Eeny is hitting Rooster a lot. It's getting on my nerves. I think I'll start taking him to playgroup by himself so that he can have some Mommy time. Sometimes I miss it being just the two of us. I took him with me to a consignment shop today to drop off outgrown clothes, and it was so fun to have him with me. :)
Rooster has just awakened for the night, followed by his brother. This kid needs to stop trying to pull up on anything that will hold still for a second. He's going to get bruises on his cute little face.
He was crying until I came into the room. Even though it was completely dark, he quieted down as soon as I came in. He started cooing when I reached for him, and he's now sitting on my lap blowing raspberries as I try to finish typing this.
These kids are cute. I think I shall keep them.
Friend needs to go into labor. She's 41 weeks pregnant and miserable. I feel so badly for her. She had a good BPP today, and she feels fine. I just hope for her sake that it's soon. She's getting annoyed with all of the comments.
Wednesday, November 02, 2005
Stupid
Yes, I am resentful. Probably bitter, too. I have this thing, you see. I think that a grown man of 28 years should be able to pick up the phone and call utility companies and places like medical offices. But noooooooo. TheHusband called me tonight after having finished all of his school conferences. When he has nothing to do, he likes to just sit on the phone and force me to make conversation. He'll say, "Soooooooooo........." and either wait for me to talk, or ramble endlessly about what color he'd like to paint the walls when we win the lottery and he gets to remodel the house (can we say Dreamland?). Nevermind that if I've told him once, I've told him a thousand times, it's a seriously stupid move to put $30,000 worth of work and remodeling into a house that will top out at $90,000 in the midst of a real estate boom, and I have absolutely no plans to let that happen, so let's not hear about it, thanks.
So I told him I was in the middle of dinner with a fussy, teething (doesn't he have something better to do?) baby on my lap. So then I remember that I need to call the gas company and have them come out and check our line because I smelled gas earlier today, and the friend I had over smelled it, too. I figure, if he's sitting on his arse at the school with nothing to do (he had to wait 30 minutes until everyone else was done so they could all leave at the same time), the least he could do is call the nifty 1-800 number and report the stupid gas smell. I ask him, he whines and whines about how I should do it.
Um, I'm eating dinner. You have 20 minutes until you can leave and you're all ready to go. YOU call. But I'm Nice, so I end up calling. @@ Gas leak smell turned out to be nothing, but I'm still steamed. Why, you ask? Maybe I'm miffed that $107 turns out to be too much to spend on groceries for three people (Rooster's still on tap) for a month, to the point that now I, yes I, must be the one to call all of the medical clinics (even though I was not the sick person :::wishing for a sandbag to hit whoever decided that "in sickness" should be part of the marriage vows::::) and tell them, yes, I'm sorry, I realize we owe you $300 for the doctor showing up at the hospital at 11pm to admit poor Husband, and for the kids' well visits, but for some reason we felt food was more important, and even though this doctor is one of the best in the world and we really like him, we can't pay you this month, even though it's only ten measly dollars.
::::sigh:::: If I can figure out how to put together 30 days' worth of meals for 2 adults and one picky as heck toddler on $107, he can sure as heck pick up the phone and tell a few of these offices to deal with it until we have money again.
ARGH!
In other news, Eeny showed me today that he can now stand on one leg.
Edited to add: I've rethought the sandbag, sickness, and marriage vow comment. I suppose if I want TheHusband to take any sort of care of me when I have a cold, then I'd better leave that bit in. Fine. No sandbag.
So I told him I was in the middle of dinner with a fussy, teething (doesn't he have something better to do?) baby on my lap. So then I remember that I need to call the gas company and have them come out and check our line because I smelled gas earlier today, and the friend I had over smelled it, too. I figure, if he's sitting on his arse at the school with nothing to do (he had to wait 30 minutes until everyone else was done so they could all leave at the same time), the least he could do is call the nifty 1-800 number and report the stupid gas smell. I ask him, he whines and whines about how I should do it.
Um, I'm eating dinner. You have 20 minutes until you can leave and you're all ready to go. YOU call. But I'm Nice, so I end up calling. @@ Gas leak smell turned out to be nothing, but I'm still steamed. Why, you ask? Maybe I'm miffed that $107 turns out to be too much to spend on groceries for three people (Rooster's still on tap) for a month, to the point that now I, yes I, must be the one to call all of the medical clinics (even though I was not the sick person :::wishing for a sandbag to hit whoever decided that "in sickness" should be part of the marriage vows::::) and tell them, yes, I'm sorry, I realize we owe you $300 for the doctor showing up at the hospital at 11pm to admit poor Husband, and for the kids' well visits, but for some reason we felt food was more important, and even though this doctor is one of the best in the world and we really like him, we can't pay you this month, even though it's only ten measly dollars.
::::sigh:::: If I can figure out how to put together 30 days' worth of meals for 2 adults and one picky as heck toddler on $107, he can sure as heck pick up the phone and tell a few of these offices to deal with it until we have money again.
ARGH!
In other news, Eeny showed me today that he can now stand on one leg.
Edited to add: I've rethought the sandbag, sickness, and marriage vow comment. I suppose if I want TheHusband to take any sort of care of me when I have a cold, then I'd better leave that bit in. Fine. No sandbag.
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