Random Updates

Beware of the randomness....

The neighbors across the street announced they are pregnant. Here's hoping they stop honking at the dog when they leave for work.

Somehow, I ripped my pinky toenail off without knowing it. The glory of vicodin, I guess.

Speaking of vicodin, I have discovered that a vicodin, a naproxen, three over the counter pain meds and the guest bed are the only things that ensure a good night's sleep. Sad. I called a local orthopedist this afternoon (a friend of mine told me that a relative of hers had surgery for something very similar at this doctor). I have to have all of my records from every doctor sent to this guy before they will agree to see me. Right. Wish me luck on that one.

I did not eat gluten free tonight. My husband will be glad tonight is his late night.

Our Verizon land line and our internet were out for just over 48 hours. It was horrendous. Our youngest had a fever and our thermometer was stuck on celcius. I called my parents on my cell phone and had to talk them through googling a conversion for us. My mom pulled out the dictionary first and was trying to do the math. NO! GOOGLE!

Hubby put his cell phone on the back of the car.... and then we went to church. About 36 hours later, a FedEx driver called that he found it down the street. He'll "deliver" it tomorrow. This is once again proof that we made the right move. Where we used to live, there would be calls to China and India made!

I mowed the lawn tonight. I was the only adult here and wasn't sure how that would go with two boys under 3, but I managed. They were very good and have a healthy enough fear of the mower that sitting on the front porch while playing with fake pumpkins kept them amused while I mowed the front.

And now, off to catch up on all the crap I missed while offline. I had a friend complain that she hadn't checked her email in a week and had 96 ("NINETY SIX!!") emails. Honey, you ain't seen nothin!

Moms Offering Moms Support?

I have been a member of my local MOMS Club chapter for just over a year now. When I moved here and had a major issue meeting other like-minded moms, I was so happy to find this group of women! Most of them have had careers and have advanced degrees, but decided to down-size in order to be able to stay home and raise their children.

There are many members of our club who do still work. And there are many members whose husbands work odd hours (police officers, pilots, college professors, etc). So we have felt the need to have playdates and additional evening activities.

But, the "rules and regulations" of the organization state that we can only have one evening or one weekend event per month. When we pursued the issue further, we were told that husbands "feel resentment" when family time is taken away from them and we were not permitted to have additional activities.

Ok. This just rubs me the wrong way for so many reasons. I am sure you can imagine.

So has anyone else felt this? Do we disband and join up with a group that does NOT have a 1950's mentality?

Yup....

The debate has not changed my opinion.

Toys I Hate... Part 2

Because the toys I hate post seemed to be such a hit, I thought I'd add more. Here we go with two more toys I can't stand.

A number of people actually suggested the Fisher-Price Corn Popper. This is the toy that a child pushes along the floor and it makes a "popping noise" just like popcorn popping. (By the way, do NOT google "popcorn pusher.")

Fortunately, a majority of my house is hardwood flooring. This toy does not make as much noise on hardwood! So it's not nearly as annoying at my house as it could be. Although you still do hear the random, "Don't ram the dog with that thing!"

It's simple in concept, which is why the toy has been around for many years. But now, like every toy, there seems to be the need to add to it. Now, not only do you just push it and annoy your parents with its loud popping noise, but it counts. Because we now believe that every toy has to teach us something, the damn thing now screams at you. Enough! Which bright marketing director without kids said, "Hey... let's make an annoying toy even louder!"

Thanks to Zorra for commenting on my blog and for others who emailed me privately to express their disdain for the popper!

NEXT!

Oh bath toys. I don't know where to even begin with bath toys. Here's just a whole genre of toys that was created by people who never met real children.

Let's start with the penguin rings. I'm not even sure who the company is who makes these toys. We were given them to review and I was so pissed off by them that I couldn't even review them in the allotted time.

There are six colored rings. Each ring has a different shape on it. There are six penguins. Each penguin has a different color bow tie and a different color ring around his top hat. They also each have a different shape on the top of their head. Kids learn by matching the shapes or colors on the penguins to the rings (again with the learning).

My main issue was due to my self-diagnosed OCD. The color on the penguins bow tie corresponded to the shape on the hat. So the designer of the toy, instead of providing three different ways to match the penguins to the rings, only provided two. See my problem here? (Ok. Maybe not.)

Where the problem got intense was that the penguins squirt. So the three year old squirts the one year old. The three year old squirts the Mom. The three year old squirts the Dad. The three year old squirts the wall.

Hmmm.... Maybe the problem isn't the toy, but the three year old?

Anyway, the penguins got moldy within a short time period due to the excess water being added and soon were squirting bacteria all through the bath with my clean boys. So now we have just the rings and the penguins are landfilled somewhere.


Any others out there?

Give these at a baby shower.... if you hate the parent.

I have decided to start blogging about toys that I hate. There are toys that other parents should not let themselves be subjected to. Here are two of my least favorite toys:

First: The ball "popper" This toy looks interesting and non-threatening. The concept is that there is a little fan that blows air and when you press the red stopper, a ball goes floating up in the air, held delicately until you push it again, another ball pops up and shoots the other into the yellow and blue ramp. It looks really neat and works really well for a while. Until.... You lose all the special light balls that come with it and your toddler starts to shove things like golf balls into it and then has a temper tantrum because they won't float properly in the air when the stopper is pushed.

This toy was recently placed in our attic. It might reappear when my boys are a tad older and Mommy's Paxil dose is upped.

The second toy from hell nomination: The Parents Pound-A-Ball. Also known as Give Mommy the Need to Drink Heavily. Again, this looks like a perfectly normal, cool toy. You put the balls on the top, hit them with your squeaky hammer and they go rolling down the ramps. So what's the big deal? The problem is that anything fits in those holes and about 39 times a day, I deal with a crying kid who put a matchbox car in there and now the balls won't go down. No matter how you shake the damn thing, it seems impossible to get the stray toy out. I can always do it, but sometimes it is literally after 15 minutes and a Mike's Hard Lemonade.

So... buy this toy and give this to your kids. But don't give them any other toy or cracker or cereal, or anything smaller than about a two inch diameter. Because you WILL be trying to get the debris out. And you will curse.

Don't worry.... more to come!

In Agony

I delivered BL about two weeks late (depending upon how strict you adhere to the due date). So I knew when I was pregnant with EPT that it could get interesting. Literally at every appointment, I said, "And you won't let me go A DAY past my due date, right?" To which the OB would roll his/her eyes.

Lo and behold, my due date came and there was no EPT. My due date was actually my nephew's birthday, so we decided to be induced the next day.

I had been walking around at two centimeters dilated for weeks and was still that when I checked in to the hospital at around 7:30 a.m. So I had a feeling it would take a long time. I even refused to fill out all of the forms that said the date of birth. My luck, I'd write it in pen and EPT would be born just after midnight. The nurses chuckled at us, but BFH and I knew better.

Around 6:00 that night, nearly 10 hours after the pitocin drip was started, I was still only four centimeters. I told my husband to hit the road and get something to eat after the nurse checked me. Two centimeters in ten hours. Awesome.

So since the tiny hospital had a very bad cafeteria, BFH walked across the street to a fast food restaraunt. I was alone in my room (epidural intact, thank God!) when I heard a big POOP. It was similar to the sound of a knuckle popping, but multiplied by 10. I didn't feel anything, but it was... an alarming noise to say the least.

Nurses came racing in the room. They had lost EPT's heartbeat. I said, "Um. Did something just break," in my sarcastic tone but no one responded. A nurse checked me and I was 10 centimeters. We had to race to call in the doctor and BFH (who had just paid for his meal and came racing back with a burger in his coat pocket!). EPT was born after just 7 minutes of pushing.

An hour and a half later, I was walking down the hall getting us both coffee. It had been a long day. But I felt fine. I was a little groggy and I walked with a slight limp. But geesh. I just gave birth to a baby!

For weeks, I kept telling myself that of course I hurt - I had a baby! But it was getting worse. I couldn't get out of bed myself. Climbing stairs hurt. I just had a lot of pain. So I went back to the OB who sent me to an orthopedist.

X-rays confirmed that the POP was actually my pelvis separating. No wonder EPT came out so fast!

Now, 17 months later, I have had to wear a sexy compression belt, have had one surgery to remove a benign tumor (basically a lump of tissue and fat that had nowhere else to go when everything spread) and I sit in agony.

I am supposed to go three times a week for traction. My disk at L5/S1 is out and hitting nerves. An EMG confirmed that I have nerve damage on my right side and the nerves are being damaged as we speak (read, write?).

I drove over an hour to see a neurosurgeon who said that I could have surgery, but it would be just as effective epidural pain management. I then drove nearly an hour to meet the pain doctor who said he didn't understand why the neurosurgeon was not going aggressive if there was already nerve damage.

So here I sit. In pain, taking vicodin, sitting with a heating pad, taking hot baths. In pain. In pain.

I have reached frustration. I know that I can't live like this. But I have two boys (3 if you count my hubby!) and I need to just survive every day. So here I sit.

Ok. But what does that MEAN?

We were supposed to get our economic stimulus check sometime in May or June. But you know the IRS....

Between kids, preschool, playdates, housework, and all the other fun stuff in my life, I haven't been able to find time to sit on hold with the IRS. I finally got to call today.

Aside from the amusement that a song from the Nutcracker played over and over again for half an hour, it really wasn't that bad. The operator had a sense of humor and I was happy with how she dealt with the issue.

But, she said, "Now I just need to process the tray and once that happens, it will take 6 weeks."

Um, process the tray? Is there some little In/Out box on her desk that someone carries down the hall? Is that old lingo for how it used to work? Am I in a stack of papers with someone else? I had all kinds of mental images.

I'm the kind of person who sees things in my brain. If I meet someone, I want to know how their name is spelled. "Is that Michelle with one 'l' or two?" I see their name in my head. So the visual of a tray...

I wanted to know if it was a real tray. And if it was, I wanted to ask if it was glass or metal. I wanted to know if it was engraved.

I'm really struggling with this.

Please shop for me....

We are at a sippy cup impasse at our home.

We went through a very similar thing with our eldest who had definite opinions on the type of cup he wanted to use. Big Love learned very early on that if you beat a sippy cup against the floor, a window, or another hard object, he could get the valve out and then simply dump the cup everywhere.

EPT has just gone the route of removing the lid to ease the dumping. Cups like the Nuby "No Spill" (yes, it is actually called that) seen below mean that we're changing sheets and jammies in the middle of the night.So the debate.... I need a sippy cup that does not have a valve and does not have a soft spout that can be pushed down in to ease the dumpage.

Go.

Sharing Information with Strangers

I have been surprised by the number of people who share information with complete strangers online. Stay at home moms will post that their husband is away for a week. Single moms will advertise that there will be a teenage babysitter with their toddler. Women will tell where everyone where they have hidden their Christmas gifts in their home.

It makes no sense to me.

Someone recently posted in one of my mom groups a question asking about annual income. And everyone responded! I responded with:

"You really don't want to know. Nor do I think it is appropriate to tell.
We live very well."

Of course, another woman wrote, "Whatever" to my response. What does that mean?!

So I asked her to clarify her response. And she wrote, "Quit looking @ ours if you can't show yours." Was she serious?!

So I responded, "Ha! You had the option of not telling too. No one forced you. Sorry if you regret your decision, but I was always told to not discuss finances - especially with strangers."

Her response was, "Then why click on this post if you refuse to tell?"

I guess it's a little like road kill? You don't want to look, but can't help staring. These are the same women who will tell their children to not talk to strangers. But they're telling everyone under the sun what their husband's make. Does anyone get this mentality? I certainly don't!

Twitter

I am now on Twitter as IdentityMixed. Please tell me how to add it to my blog. I'm exhausted and bitter.

Soup?

I tend to commemorate the most emotional moments of my life by a bowl of soup. Don't you?

Thank you Chorus!

I totally needed a laugh! On Chorus's site, I found a link to the Sarah Palin name generator. If I was born to Sarah Palin, my name would be Mangle Blue Palin!

Because I need to be

I am buzzed.

My inlaws are here.

They were supposed to leave this morning, but their car broke down.

They are old. They are annoying.

I am drinking.

I Made a Little Mistake

So, the sociologist in me was curious about a year ago. I decided to join an online dating site under a fake name but with mostly real data just to see who I'd be matched with.

I thought it would be funny and I could show my BFH my other options in an event he pissed me off (like when he doesn't get his shoes on fast enough when I want to go somewhere or when he forgets that the liquor cabinet is empty and I am a stay at home mom). Anyway...

I keep getting matches even though I decided to tell them I was now "in relationship." And what's weirder is that the matches are not people I would normally find myself with.

I like the guys who are nerdy with an edge. You know, the doctoral candidate with one tattoo. Or the blog addict who drinks a little too much. Ones like my hubby.

But I keep getting matched with hardcore hunters, men who live off the land, little scrappy men who don't believe in bathing it seems. The kind of men who would expect me to live off of road kill and the small engine repair business we'll run out of our basement.

So did I totally hit off the mark with BFH? I don't think so... but I might just ask him to pick up a weapon.

VERY IMPORTANT!

Big Love wants to be cheese for Halloween! CHEESE! How in the world am I going to accomplish this task?

Someone.... FIND ME A COSTUME!

And, if you haven't figured this out by now, no way in HELL am I making it. I need a cheese costume and I need it now.

Dear Neighbor...

I truly adore that you love your dog. As someone who has done pet rescue for years, it means a lot to me that you rescued him and clearly love him. It is cute that he looks longingly at you out the window as you leave for work in the morning.

But can you stop honking, "Bye Bye" to him? You leave for work rather early. And we are trying to sleep.

When are you going to have kids? We can't wait.