Thursday, November 24, 2011
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
My husband took the day off, which was nice. My kids have been a special kind of crazy this week and I have no idea why, so it was nice to have him here knowing I had a doctor's appointment later today. A doctor's appointment alone? I was sure it would be like a mini vacation!
Chris made breakfast this morning and after I finished washing the dishes, we went to the market to shop for our Thanksgiving dinner. The In laws are coming up tomorrow so it isn't just us. We're keeping it relatively small but the smallest turkey we could find was over seventeen pounds. We did pretty good polishing off the leftovers last year. I just hope my husband understands that next week he'll have turkey in his peanut butter sandwiches, underneath his corn and at the bottom of his cup of coffee. It will be everywhere. I like turkey but I would have preferred a Cornish game hen. Meh..whatever.
We got to the market early as to hopefully find a turkey that wasn't frozen solid. We did. In fact, most of them were thawed. I'm not sure what you do with a frozen turkey on Thanksgiving Eve. So we got our things in spite of the place being full of crazy people who just stood there and get the hell out. I was really careful when I picked out the turkey because last year Giant tried to wipe out my entire family by selling us a rotten turkey. When I went (on Christmas Day ) to return it, they had nothing so I was forced to go to Safeway and purchase what was probably the most disgusting piece of meat that we ended up just throwing away. I'd like for that not to happen again. We'll see. If you don't hear from us for a week, send the police to our house.
On the way home from the market I stopped by the fabric store and signed up for knitting classes. You'd think knitting classes would be easy to come by but they were kinda hard to find. Michaels, nope. JoAnne's, nope. The only reason I found this class was becauce I found an atricle about the girl teaching this class as I was searching for knitting in my area. And these aren't just any knitting classes, this is Irish knitting! Please don't ask me what that means because I have no idea. It may just involve pounding Guinness while you knit. I don't care. It sounds romantic. It's a three week class that I start in December. Hopefully I'll learn something. I'm excited at the prospect!
Later in the day after I'd done some prep work for Thanksgiving and my daughter was napping, I grabbed my Kindle and went to my mini vacation, I mean doctor's appointment. I was going for two reasons. One, while I was at my mother's house last week, I thought I felt a lump on my side. Not a big gigantic mass, but something hard that I didn't feel on the other side. Since I'm of the chunky persuasion I almost didn't go thinking it was probably nothing and I felt kinda stupid going to see my doctor when I tried to find it this morning and couldn't. Two, and this is unrelated, I have a clear learning disability and I think it's time I made an attempt to find out more about it and what can be done. If nothing else it could help me understand my son's disability and how to better help him. It would also be nice to read a book like a normal person without having the Kindle read it to me as I read. Retaining some of what I read would be nice as well.
So as I laid down on the table and was explaining to my doctor that I felt stupid because I couldn't find the main reason why I'd come to see her, I found it. It took me a minute and it was higher than I remembered but it was there. It isn't tender, which she said was a good thing but it's there and I'd like to know what it is. I asked her if it felt like something that shouldn't be there and she said "It definitely shouldn't be there." OK, now what.
I have an ultrasound Tuesday at 8 AM. I knew it had been too long since I had a near catastrophe. She mentioned that it was near my incision from gallbladder surgery and that it could just be scar tissue, but the ultrasound should tell me. On to the next issue....
I explained my learning disability issues to her in hopes she could steer me in the right direction. I understand it isn't a medical issue but as a medical professional I thought she could refer me to someone who could help. She listened to me explain my iseues and then sat down and said, "I could refer you to a clinical psychologist." My mind screamed "You must be fucking kidding me!!!"" My mouth said "Is that where I have to go, really?"
My first thought was to scrap the whole thing.
Then I thought of my son and if understanding myself better would help me understand him, I at least have to try. I had immediate visions of explaining to a psycho doctor that while I lived in an orphanage for a while as a kid, don't have the best relationship with my father, have a sister who I never talk to and is in and out of jail more often than I fart and have a family that is, well, distant, that I'm not crazy, depressed or even confused. Hey, I'm not saying I don't have issues, I do. I just don't let where I've been dictate my life. I found out years ago that being a victim didn't benefit me so I stopped. But that isn't my only issue with psycho doctors. This may shock you but I tend to be a little arrogant and don't like being told what to do, even if it's just hinted at. I'm just not opened to it. To say I'm an insufferable patient is an understatement. I once had a psycho doctor tell me that "perhaps you could attempt to be a more forgiving person." Really? They sent you to school to learn that shit? I told him, yeah him, "You know nothing about me if you'd even suggest that." I never went back. I'm not paying someone to blow wind up my ass an hour every week.
So while I will go out of my way to locate a reliable psycho doctor on Monday morning, I won't be happy about it. I know one thing, I want a woman. I've had both male and female psycho doctors and I like women better. There are certain professions that I just prefer a certain sex. I never questioned that my children's pediatrician had to be a woman. I would never have chosen a man. I want my dentist to be a man. I want my neurologist to be a man. I want my surgeon to be a man. I want my general practitioner and yuck doctors to be women. My Urologist is a man and I love him. I love my female Endocrinologist as well but I could take that either way. A man wouldn't bother me. I know there are good doctors in all these professions both male and female but I choose what I'm comfortable with and usually it's a woman. I certainly wanted a mother for our pediatrician. I thought that was paramount. How can you get practical advice from a non parent man? If it makes you feel any better, I like the person who cuts my hair to be either gay or crazy. Right now, she's crazy.
So in the end I got a referral for an ultrasound which I need to fast for so I scheduled it for Tuesday. I'm trying to get someone to watch the kids so Chris doesn't have to take the day off. I hope the results come in quick because while I'm sure it's nothing, it will worry me until I hear someone say that. I also have to call an attorney for a totally different issue involving my son. I was hoping for a uneventful week but I should have known that was a pipe dream.
So, on Monday I get to call a doctor and a lawyer. Add an Indian Chief to that and we've got ourselves a fucking nursery rhyme! Yay me!
Thursday, November 17, 2011
He didn't have the exact one but it was similar and he played with it for ages. I thought Logan would love it so I threw it in the cart. Now we'd probably been in the store for over thirty minutes at this point and on my way to the checkout, I realized I'd forgotten to get him a card. I circled around and searched for the cards that aren't where they used to be because everything is in the process of moving. Even the front door is in a different place and the directionals are so poor that you have no idea where you're going. I find the cards and behind me, this "pep rally" is still going on. Now I have no idea what would take thirty minutes to discuss between these people or why some idiot thought it was a good idea to not only block up the isles with this thirty person gabfest but to block up the front entrance. I mean, really? Think it through people! Do you not have a stockroom? You have to do this where we walk into the store? I guess it makes sense to some people to stand around holding your dick while you're store is falling apart. There was cheering. It really was off putting.
So, I got my card and headed to the checkout after looking for the new Entertainment Weekly that I knew wouldn't be out yet. There were four isles open out of the over more than fifteen or so. Why not? God knows you don't want to break up "Walmart University" in the name of customer service. So, I waited. I was third in line and I wasn't complaining. If you go to Walmart looking for a smile and to get out quickly, you're an idiot.
At some point one of the managers walks by and starts pointing at the customers behind me. There were three and he points at them to go to other registers as opposed to waiting in this longer line. If you've ever been in this particular Walmart, you probably would recognize this guy. He's got the shiniest head you've ever seen and the worst hair plugs. It actually looks like he's got a dark coloured donut under his plugs. Oh wait, was I not supposed to notice that? He's apparently not only a client......
Call me crazy but when new lines open up, doesn't common sense (something else you shouldn't be looking for at Walmart) dictate that you take the first person in line to a newly opened register and not the three people directly behind her? I look at him like "Are you a fucking idiot or what?" because that is exactly what I was thinking and he actually said to me, "Sorry Ma'am, there were no more registers. Without blinking I responded. "No shit, really? You don't say?" Fucking. Moron.
So finally I get to the front of the line and Chainsmoker McCheary checks me out. Brush your hair much? Is there no dress code or hygiene code at Walmart? I'm going with no. I know it's gross but I honestly expect some of these people to be walking around with shit stains in their underpants. Most of them seem so dirty. How does someone not notice this?
When I put the toy I'd gotten for Logan on the counter I realize it's been banged up and scuffed so I don't want it for him. Instead of waiting in the "Customer Service" (another thing not to look for at Walmart) line twice, I go back, get another one and bring it up. Now, the one I am replacing it with is filthy. I mean it looks like it's been sitting outside there is so much dirt on it but it's the kind of dirt I can wipe off whereas the other one was not fixable. I wasn't happy about it but I took it to "Customer Service" anyway to switch it out. They only had two so if I wanted this toy, it was my only option. I'm not even sure these photos show the level of filth on this toy but it really is terrible. There are only two reasons why someone would be proud to work in a store that allows their shit to look like this and that is because you are a buffoon or because you are a buffoon.
Moment of Zen...Moment of Zen....
........Must move on......
I walked out of Walmart ready to spit fire and I couldn't wait to get out of there. I mean I felt dirty and my dog is going to have to eat something else because I plan to shun that place for a while. Here's the kicker. When I pulled out the toy to look over it's dirtiness, I noticed something. See that empty spot where a car should be? That's where Lightening McQueen goes. HE ISN'T THERE!! I HAVE TO GO BACK TO THAT INBRED CATASTROPHE OF MISSING TEETH, WRANGLERS AND LOVERS OF WAFFLE HOUSE!!
Fuck me. I'm just returning it and doing what I should have done to begin with. I'm going to Target. Those people may be assholes but at least they bathe. Also, I like red.
I feel dirty.
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
Since it's a bit of a drive I decided to get a hotel room just outside of Nashville. The haircut is tomorrow but today we left Georgia around 7ish and drove to Tennessee. We visited a friend, drove by the house I grew up in, went to Centennial Park to see the Parthenon, visited my Grandparent's graves and even hit a Confederate Cemetery on the way up just for shits and giggles where I got to hear a recorded speech about how the Civil War was not about slavery, but states rights and the distortion of the meaning of the Confederate flag, ummm, ok.
I've always loved cemeteries but only stopped here because it was right off the Interstate and River had kicked out the power cord to the DVD player again. I'm not poking fun at the cemetery or the men buried there but I could not possibly disagree with anything this guy said anymore than I do. That aside, it's moving to see headstones that are marked only "Unknown Soldier." It must stink to never know.
When we came into our hotel room Owen immediately set up his Chuggington tracks on the floor and River got out her bag of Strawberry Shortcake dolls. All was good. There was some fussing when Owen kept laying Strawberry on his train tracks and running her over but I put an end to it and all was right with the world.
I noticed that River was acting sluggish. She was clearly exhausted but it was so early that I felt like I couldn't let her go to sleep. She crawled under the covers, put her head on a pillow and pulled the covers up to her neck and with a smile announced "I'm going to sleep." I thought she was joking until I looked over and her eyes were closed. She can't go to sleep at 4:30ish or she'll wake up in the middle of the night. So, because it was so early (either 4:30 or 5:30) I plucked River out of bed, dressed her, put her in the stroller and we walked over to the shopping center across the street. They have a Target and I was on the hunt for the Breaking Dawn Part I soundtrack that came out today! We passed a little shop where I bought a pink (yes, pink) dress for River with matching bloomers. They were having a 60% off sale so I bought it. She doesn't have much from Nashville and I figure this was better than a big ass ugly orange sweatshirt she'll never wear. Go Team!!! But we just don't do orange.
So, instead of spending the night in a big comfy bed by myself like I'd planned, I am sleeping next to my four year old while my tiny 26 pound two year old is wrapped up by herself, sleeping it off. Instead of watching my baby play with her Strawberry Shortcake dolls, I got to clean her vomit soaked clothes with a bar of cheap hotel soap in the sink with water that never got hot enough. Although I've done a really good job of cleaning, my hotel room smells like vomit. I have no way of washing her clothes properly until I get back to Momma's house so I'm sure the van will smell like roses on the trip tomorrow. I guess I should just be happy that she missed her Timberlands.
Even with all that, there's an upside. River is incredibly gentle, as is Owen when they are not feeling well. I couldn't even do that when I was in high school. Hell, I'm still not sure I could do that. If I throw up it ruins my whole day. My kids just shake it off. Also, Owen is being hella sweet tonight. He's been just this side of crazy for the last few days but tonight he's being very quiet while River sleeps and occasionally touches my face with his hands, pulls me to him and gives me a sweet kiss on the lips. Such an angel.