Who Wants to Touch The Butt?

Last week, I extolled the various virtues of the Fred & Friends company, and listed all of their most popular items.  Then, I put one of those items up for grabs in a giveaway, and was treated to various and sundry crappy office stories from y’all, in your attempts to win this lovely item.  (Not that your stories were crappy, they were stories about crappy offices).

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Thank you for that.  It makes me feel just this much better about my own crappy job.  Only a little, though, because after a 3 hour brutal surprise trial on Tuesday afternoon, and then leaving work only to almost immediately run over a nail on the war zone city streets of this ghetto town, which necessitated sitting on the side of the road in rush hour traffic waiting for AAA . . . well, it has not been a stellar week at work.

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BUT . . . enough about my craptastic work environment . . . let’s see who won this prize for having their own crappy work story . . .

As always, I have employed the very distinct skills of my brilliant children to pick this item’s winner.  For this item, 5 was the one to employ his master picking services.

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And the winner of The Butt is . . .

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TABITHA CROW

Congrats Tabitha!!  Just send me your info at mistyslaws at gmail dot com, and I will send this super rad little toilet man to you so that you can use him however you see fit (we don’t judge here at Misty’s Laws!).  Although, based on your story, I’m not sure you will have anywhere to put him at work.  Might need to lose something on your desk . . . like your computer.

Enjoy!!

Get Your Balls Out of My Face!

My life is currently consumed by balls.

Baseballs.

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My 7 year old son is obsessed with all things baseball.  So, when his absent-minded mom missed the deadline for flag football sign-ups in the fall, we fell back on the sport that he has been wanting to play for a while now and that we had planned to sign him up for this spring.  Baseball.

The fall baseball was a deceptive tease of what was to come in the spring.  One practice and one game a week.  No biggie, right?  I mean, the coach was a little overzealous and all (scheduling a parent v. child scrimmage on a weeknight when I had just come from court and expecting me to play . . . in heels.  Um, no), but it was fine.

Then came the spring.  And we moved up to two games a week with one practice.  That’s a lot, and even necessitated the hubs to move around his normal Monday/Tuesday travelling schedule, but we’ve made it work.

But then . . . oh ho then.  His coach suggested that he might just be good enough to try out for a travel league for the fall, consisting of 7 year olds that were good enough to play against 8 year olds.  I was against this.  First, it is expensive.  Second, it is called a travel league, which means that we would be driving all over creation for these damn things.  Third, it was time to sign my youngest up for some type of actual sport, adding to the sports obligation schedule.  And fourth, 7 wanted to do football in the fall.

But my husband convinced me that he would take the brunt of the travelling part and my son decided that he would rather play baseball after all, so I conceded.  And he tried out.  And only after the try-outs did I get an email from his coach which explained that he was actually trying out for a 6 week summer scrimmage schedule with 3 game tournaments during the weekends and multiple practices during the week.  And then the travel team during the fall.

Wait . . . what now?

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Based on this current turn of escalated events, I can only imagine the list of requirements that will be outlined by his coach in future emails:

– Must wear full uniform at all times, including to bed, so that the baseball experience will seep into your pores, absorbing knowledge by osmosis (this includes glove, batting helmet and cup).

– Must legally change name to either Cal, Brooks or Boog.  Can keep current last name . . . for now.

– May only speak in baseball language.  i.e. “hey batter batter” and hand gestures depicting a runner’s ability to steal a base.

– Renounce all of your possessions except for those relating to baseball.

– Daily morning and evening prayer rituals with your head always facing in the direction of Cooperstown.

– A diet consisting only of hot dogs, peanuts and crackerjacks.

– Weekly pilgrimage to Camden Yards at Oriole Park to bask in the aura of the baseball stadium.

– 25-30 practice pitches into a bucket every night.  (This one’s real, sadly).

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Not to mention a holiday weekend that had no games scheduled, initially, so that everyone could enjoy a weekend off . . . from work, from kid’s sports, from running around.  But no, we can’t have that.  Not when there is baseball to be played!  So instead, we got a game at 8:30 am Saturday (and had to be at the field for pre-game practice by 7:45!), and a practice scheduled for Memorial Day.  That’s right, while everyone else is traditionally grilling and celebrating their day off (and honoring those who protect and serve), we get to go play baseball.  Some more.  Again.  Ad infinitum.

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Click photo for source.

This entire thing is going to drive me completely and totally batty.

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Anything taking over your entire life? 

Missing Snowmen

As I was preparing to leave for work a few days ago, my son asked me a question that hit me deep in the cockles of mi corazon.

He said:  Mom, are you going to come to my last karate practice tomorrow to see me get my belt, like last year?

Thwwwwaaaappp!!  That’s the sound of an arrow of guilt striking me right through the heart.

Of course, I had to respond:  “No sweetie, mommy has to work and won’t get home until after karate is over.”

And once again, I had to break my son’s heart just a little bit by telling him that mommy can’t be there for him when he asks me to.

This is not the first time I’ve had to miss one of my sons’ events because of my job.  And it won’t be the last.  It is just the nature of the beast of being a mom who works outside of the home.  There are many things that I can’t be there for.  And it is weighing very heavily on me.  Each time I miss another special event and once again disappoint my kids, I feel more and more like a horrible mother.  And while I know that the whole “super mom” thing is a total fallacy which only sets parents up for failure, not being able to participate in special events with my kids just makes me feel like I’ve failed.

A few weeks ago, I was fortunate enough to experience the joy of joining my kids for one of those special events.  It snowed on a weekend, for once, so I was able to go out with them and build snowmen, throw snowballs, make snow angels and then make hot cocoa for them afterwards.  It was a lovely day in which I was able to spend some real quality time with my kids, and just be a fun mom for a change.  Instead of the mom that is always running out of the door, headed to work.  Or the tired mom at the end of the day, home after a long commute and eternal day in court, cranky and snapping at them during dinner.

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Of course, this one snow day set a precedent in my 7 year old’s mind, so that the next time it snowed, on a weekday this time, he asked if I was going to go outside with him to build a snowman.  But it was a Wednesday.  And even though my kids’ school was closed, I still had to go to work.  So, I would be forced to miss the snowman building, which I reluctantly informed my son when he asked.  I was then once again treated to an all too familiar sight . . .  watching his face morph from hopeful anticipation . . . to disappointment.  I abhor that look on my son’s face.  Especially when it’s me who is the cause of it.  It carves a chunk right out of my heart each time I experience that sad puppy dog face of his.

Lately, I really feel as if I am missing so much of my sons’ lives.  Not just the special activities like snow days and karate belts, but the day-to-day minutia.  The everyday little things that a stay at home mom experiences, and gets frustrated with, of course, is something that I never really have to deal with.  And while most of that is just annoying or boring daily activities, and I don’t necessarily miss all of that, I still feel like a huge part of my children’s lives are just passing me by.

I am very fortunate to have an au pair.  Someone who is there to take care of my kids and tend to all their needs.  This way, I am able to work, knowing that at least someone is on hand and available to my kids at all times.  But there is a serious drawback to this, as well.  Like when my youngest calls out to ask me a question, and instead of saying, “mom?” he says, “Maria?”  The au pair’s name.  Because he is so used to calling on her, instead of me.  As far as I know, he doesn’t call her mom, but I assume that can only be the next step.  And it terrifies me.  I am no longer “mom, the caregiver.”  I am “mom, the neverthere.”  And I’m not sure how and when this happened.

I have always worked.  Before my kids were born and throughout their lives, I have always been gainfully employed.  It is part of who I am.  I am a lawyer.  A professional woman.  I have never identified myself as a mommy.  I mean, I am a mommy, but that never seemed to be the role that defined me.  I hear stories from stay at home moms about how they lose their name and become known only as “Junior’s mommy.”  I have never been “Junior’s mommy.”  I’ve always been Misty.  But lately, I have this crazy feeling welling up inside of me that is pushing against that sense of self.  A feeling that I want to be Mommy.  Not just Misty.

Really, for the first time in my children’s lives, I want to be home with them.  I want to be the one doing all of those little annoying daily things for and with them.  I want to be the one they call on instinctually when they need or want something.  I want to be there for them.  Not just for the special moments, but for all of the moments.  I want to be a mom.  Just a mom.

Wait, what?  Holy hell!!  Am I crazy???  Who the hell just wrote all that crap?  Did my blog get hacked?  I’m not even sure what is going on any more . . .

I may be having some sort of mid-life nervous crisis breakdown or something.  Somebody, please send some help.  Or some drugs.  I may be having an out-of-body experience right now.  I don’t even know who I am any more!

And how friggin’ bass ackwards am I?  Whereas, most stay at home moms quit their jobs to stay home with their newborn babies, and if they return to work, it is usually when the kids go to school.  Me?  Yeah, I work throughout my kids’ babydom, then decide I want to be home with them when the youngest is just about to start kindergarten.  I am the most appropriate, ever!

As you can see by the disjointed and schizophrenic nature of this post, I don’t really know what I want right now.  But this feeling of possibly taking on a new and previously undiscovered role in my children’s lives has been steadily and persistently surfacing in my mind as a possible option for what to do with my future.  But also, as much as it has become a real thought, it also scares the hell out of me.  On the one hand, if I were to take the leap and become a stay at home mom (oh my god!), I would never have to miss any more of those little moments.  The snowmen, the karate, the class parties and trips . . .  I could be present for all of that.  No more absent mommy.  No more, “Maria?”  But on the other hand, am I ready to quit my job, ending a much needed source of income, and completely abandoning all sense of professionalism that I have always maintained and strived to obtain?  Not an attorney and a mom.  But just a mom.  It’s a possibility.

Who knows what the future holds.  But the thought persists.  It is pervasive.  And I am considering it . . .

It’s My Birthday . . . So I’m Phoning It In

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Yep, that’s right.  It’s bad enough that I actually have to go to work on my birthday (the horror!), but I’m definitely not also going to try to craft a real post at the same time.  I mean, what do you people want from me?  Jeesh!

So, instead, I thought we’d just take a little walk down memory lane and revisit the post I created for my birthday last year.  If you are new around here, check it out as it is all about my past birthdays and the disasters that have resulted therein.  If you have previously read it, feel free to give yourself a refresher.  Especially since the hubs and I are going to Atlantic City this weekend just as we did last year, so it’s pretty much just last year’s birthday, redux.

Ghosts of Birthdays Past

And speaking of previous posts . . . also head on over to the lovely and talented Peg-O-Leg’s blog to check out one of my earliest posts, which is being featured there today on her “THIS one should have been Freshly Pressed” series.  While I’m not sure it is even up to the quality of most of her other submissions, I am nothing if not a shameless blog whore, so when I sent her my post and told her that today was my birthday, what choice did she have but to humor me and throw me a pity mention on her much too good for me blog?  She’s all class, that Peg.  So, check it out if you are feeling similarly charitable, and also make sure you read some of her stuff, as it is brilliant and thoughtful and wonderful.  Thanks, Peg!

I even earned this nifty badge!  Much better than those silly Freshly Pressed ones.  Pfft.  Who needs them anyway??  (If you are reading Oh Great and Powerful WP gods . . . I still do.  Love you!!).

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The Last Straw . . . to My Heart!

Ok, off to work grumble grumble.  Happy Birthday to me?

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Muy Frio

Cold.  But not just cold.  Not “hey, put on a jacket, it’s a bit nippy out” cold.  This is a cold that attacks all of your exposed skin with tiny sharp prickly knives.  A cold that will require an extra 10 minutes of preparation just to face it, wrapping up as much skin as possible with protective cottons, leathers and nylons.

Cold that feels like a physical presence you must move through and around to reach your eventual destination.  A destination that will lock out the cold and slowly thaw your freezing extremities.

A painful cold that you breathe into your lungs, only to then expel a cloud of vapor as the warmth visually seeps out of your body.

A cold you cannot even really contemplate until it hits you in the face upon exiting your home in the morning.  A cold that is reportedly 9° in the early morning before the sun has a chance to crest the horizon.  A cold that even late in the day, has only doubled to about 18°.

Cold that you will avoid unless absolutely necessary.  A cold that tries to trick you into disbelieving the reports of its brutality, appeasing and cajoling you with a bright and sunny day.  A cold against which the weak mid-winter sunshine has no power.

Cold that initiates a Code Blue in the city, enabling homeless and elderly to seek additional shelter, to avoid the very real chance of freezing to death on the streets.  A cold that forces water mains under city streets to break.

Cold like an ominous intruder, crawling over and peeking into your home, forcing your central heating to keep constant vigilance against this attempted menacing intrusion.

Cold that frightens you while standing in your kitchen late at night, when you hear the sound of an explosion outside of your home, while simultaneously seeing what looks like a dirty snowball flung against your back porch window. A cold that causes metal to be shoved and stretched by the frozen ice crystals of the caffeinated beverage within, eventually bursting through the twisted and sliced-open metal in an explosion of slushy soda.  A cold that freezes your own resolve to remove the remaining soda cans from the back porch and bring them into the warmth of the house, for fear that they will then explode and coat your kitchen with syrupy slush.

 

A cold that makes you long for the beaches and gentle breezes of summertime.  A cold that gives you amnesia, erasing all your memories of frolicking in shorts and flip-flops.  A cold that seems to last for an eternity.  To deny even the existence of spring, which seems like years, and not just a few short months away.  A cold that lives deep inside of you and refuses to acknowledge an eventual thaw.

Unrelenting.  Cold.

I Feel Pretty, Oh So Pretty!

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Well, it’s that time of year again.  That magical time after the holidays are over, when you’ve joyously celebrated with family and friends, drinking and eating your weight in cheese and wine, celebrating a new year.  But now, all of that frivolity and joy has come to an end, and it is time for your yearly trip to . . . depressionville.  I don’t know if it’s the cold, the dark, the after holiday let down, or for me most specifically, the post flu recovery, but there is just something about this time of year that seems to bring people down into the depths of despair.  There is sickness, and moping, and blues.

I am no stranger to these blues, as I currently seem to find myself similarly mired down in a deep state of funk.

But!  I may have found a way to combat this funk, at least momentarily.  I was recently reading some comments on a blog post (and for the love of Zeus, I cannot remember whose blog or who said it, otherwise I would totally credit them!), and a suggestion was given to write down 100 things that you like about yourself.  Which I thought was somewhat brilliant, since I find myself constantly running a mental check list of opposite items.  For example . . . Too fat, too lazy, Unappreciated at work, Not the best mom, Really not the best wife, Flabby arms, Large Ass, Ever widening hips, Crooked teeth, etc.

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See how easy it is?  I didn’t even have to think very hard about those things.  They just leapt out of my noggin at warp speed!  Which is pretty pathetic.  I mean, if I am constantly thinking negative things about myself, no wonder I’m walking around all mopey.

So, we are all going to try this exercise, starting with yours truly.  I am going to try to compile a list of 100 things that I actually like about myself.  I’ll start here with however many I can think of, and continue later as more things come to me.  And I challenge you to do the same.  List some things that you like about you.  You will be amazed at how many you can think of and how it will perk you up!

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100 Things I like about ME:

1.  I have adorable feet.
2.  I am a good friend.
3.  I always try to remember everyone’s birthday and always send a funny card to make them smile.
4.  I have freakishly tiny wrists which confounds medical professionals.
5.  I am highly knowledgable and skilled in my current profession.
6.  I am usually very polite.
7.  I kiss and hug my boys goodbye when I leave for work and before bed every single day.
8.  I tell my boys that I love them every single day.
9.  I have good skin.
10.  I have shiny hair.
11.  I make a mean veggie stir fry.
12.  I make world class spaghetti sauce.
13.  I’m not afraid to try new recipes.
14.  I’m a pretty good writer.
15.  I listen when people talk to me.
16.  I love my kids with all my heart.
17.  I love my husband, even if I don’t show it as much as I should.
18.  I buy and send random gifts to people just because they make me think of that person and I think it will make them smile.
19.  I send funny “thinking of you” cards to people when they are dealing with difficult times.
20.  I always try to say something insightful, funny or meaningful when commenting on friends’ blogs.
21.  I always try to comment on friends’ blogs, so they know that their efforts are valued and recognized.
22.  I often buy random things for my boys when I am shopping, just because I know they will like them and it will make them happy, even if there is no occasion.
23.  I treat my secretaries and other support staff with respect, and never demean or demand from them.
24.  I tip well . . . unless there is blatantly horrible service.
25.  I have yet to murder either my mother or my brother.  (Seriously, this one alone might qualify me for sainthood).
26.  I always say please and thank you.
27.  I make sure my kids’ schedules for sports, camps, birthdays, etc. is organized and that everyone knows where they need to be and when they need to be there.
28.  I schlep my kids to and from sports, camps and birthday parties constantly.
29.  I have 2 full time jobs . . . lawyer and mommy, both of which I do diligently and tirelessly (Ok, so maybe not tirelessly, but continuously at least!).
30.  I wash sheets and towels every week.
31.  I make dinner for the kids almost every night and make sure their lunches are packed and ready for the next day.
32.  I am a voracious reader.
33.  I pretty much know a song by heart after hearing it only a couple times, both words and melody.
34.  I have never once in my entire life worn leggings . . . and especially not ever as pants.
35.  I am kind.
36.  I am generous.
37.  I am thoughtful.
38.  I am good enough, smart enough and gosh darn it, people like me!  (Just seeing if you are still paying attention).
39.  If I stop at Dunkin Donuts on my way home (i.e. not on the way to work or somewhere else) I will most always pick up a coffee for the hubs.
40. . . . . . . . .

Phew!  Ok, that’s all I can do for now.  And believe me, I worked on that list for a while, continuously coming back to it when I thought of something else.  It’s hard.  But you know what?  I feel a little bit better about myself.  Once you look at the good things in black and white, it definitely lifts your mood a bit.

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So now it’s your turn.  I want you to list some things you like about yourself.  It doesn’t have to be 100.  And really, this comment section would get ridiculous if everyone did 100, but just do as many as you can.  Or, if you would like to do all 100, maybe make it your own blog post and challenge your own readers to do the same!  Do it.  It really will make you feel so much better.  The gauntlet has been thrown . . . prepare to accept the challenge, my friends!

Calamity Jane

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Well, it’s finally happened.  I’ve gone and done it good this time.  I’m not sure when or where or even how, but I went and pissed off the wrong person it seems.  Apparently, there is some witch or sorcerer out there that did not take kindly to my own personal brand of bitch snark, and has decided to punish me.  And the way in which the punishment has been doled out is in the form of a curse.  That’s right, ladies and gentlemen, yours truly has been hexed.  Let’s examine the evidence, shall we?

EXHIBIT A:

Basically this entire post!  In case you missed it, let me outline the pertinent points in the post:

  • I make an appointment at Urgent Care, then spend 3 eternal hours waiting to be seen by the one and only doctor working that day.  While I had the flu.
  • I try to have the Urgent Care fill my prescription, only to find that they were out of my medicine.
  • I have to go to CVS, that does have my medicines, but does not have my insurance information, and when I asked if they could pull it up in the system . . . discover that their system went down.
  • After waiting almost another hour for the system to come up, I finally get my meds and go to grab a couple things from the 70% off Xmas aisle on my way out, only to have the registers freeze up.

It was like I had some sort of black cloud hovering over my head that day.  It seemed as if everywhere I went, something went wrong or broke.

EXHIBIT B:

This past Sunday, I was in my living room and heard a crashing sound coming from upstairs.  Fearing it was my youngest son falling out of his bed, I ran upstairs to see if he was ok.  He was just fine, and wondered why his crazy eyed mom was rushing into his room when he was just trying to take a nap.  Overwhelmed by relief that my son was ok, and safe in the knowledge that all the living creatures in my home were unscathed, I didn’t think to investigate as to what the noise might actually have been.  However, later in the day, when I took my laundry basket upstairs to put away clothes, I walked into my closet and saw this:

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See those little holes there in the wall?  Yeah, that’s where that huge long shelf full of hanging clothes used to be.  Here’s a different angle:

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Yep, that suspicious crashing sound was actually the entire right side of my closet collapsing onto the floor.  And, because we just spent a buttload of money on Xmas, we don’t have any extra cash to fix it.  So I took the pile of sweaters that were sitting on top of that shelf (and weighing it down, apparently), threw them in a pile on the floor, and went about my business.  And I will be forced to ignore my tilted closet for a little while.  At least until I am no longer cursed, I guess.

EXHIBIT C:

About a month before Xmas, I got an email from a friend of mine who works for Zappos.  In that email, there was a 20% off coupon.  So, I decided that would be an ideal time to try to get some new shoes for court.  And the great thing about Zappos is you can order whatever you want, and then return whatever doesn’t work without having to pay shipping.  So, with that in mind, I ordered 4 pairs of shoes, figuring that at least one or two would work . . . and ended up with one great pair.  They are cute, they are sensible, they are comfortable (so key!) . . . and then part of the heel broke off after 2 days.  Crap.

But, because it’s Zappos and they are awesome, I called and asked if they could send a replacement pair, which they did right away.  But then the holidays came, and I wasn’t in court many more times, so the replacements were only worn about 3 times before Xmas and the death flu hit.  This past Tuesday was my first day back to work in weeks, and I wore my replacement shoes to court.  However, by the end of the day, I realized there was something wrong.  I was clicking as I walked.

So, I looked at the bottom of my heel, and this is what I saw:

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See that shiny screw head at the bottom of the heel?  Yeah, it used to be covered by a thick piece of grooved rubber, so that as I walk, I don’t slip and murder myself.   Luckily, the shoes lasted until almost the end of the day, which meant that I merely had to make it from my office to the parking garage without dying . . . which I did.  Phew! 

Might have to try a little harder, witchy woman!  I’m still kicking.  (Just not in those shoes).

So, as you can see from the above evidence, there is obviously some sort of bad juju upon me that is causing all of these calamities to occur.  To whomever I happened to offend, I say to you a heartfelt, “I’m sorry.”

Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa.

We good?  All’s forgiven?  We’re pals again, yes?  Good.  Now, can you please uncursify me at your earliest convenience, my friend.  Because this shit is getting really tiring.

The defense really needs to rest.

A Trip to Influenza-ville

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I got sick last week.  I was expected to return to work on Wednesday, after a long holiday break.  But my body had other plans.  It, instead, decided that I apparently needed to start feeling like death.  So, despite the fact that I was due in court, I called in to work and told them there was no way I would be able to come in.  Because of my impending death, you see.

The problem with my work, though, is they are kind of assholes about sick days.  In order to take a sick day, you must have a documented excuse.  A sick note.  Like I’m in grade school or something.  I figured I would just take a personal day if I had to, but I’d really rather not, since I’m trying to save my days for pending vacations planned for later in the year.  But at 5:00 am, I was not worried about any of that.  I just wanted to crawl back into bed.

Later in the day, probably around 4:00, my hubs mentioned that if I wanted to get a note, I should probably try to get over to the local Urgent Care place soon, to avoid the rush that would most likely occur after work.  I thought that this was an excellent idea . . . so I promptly fell into a 3 hour coma of a nap.  So much for that documentation.

I wasn’t too concerned about it, though.  You see, once I woke up and still felt like hell, I devised a plan.  I realized that I was not going to be able to go to work the next day, either, so I just figured I’d go over to the Urgent Care place the next day and get a note that would be good for both days.  I hoped.

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So, after a very restless night of tossing and turning, and the occasional fevered delirium dream (do you guys get those when you’re sick?  SO freaky!), I got out of bed and called to make an appointment at Urgent Care.  Which meant I had to get showered and dressed and be functional enough to get out of the house.  I was set for a 2:00 appointment.  I was hopeful that since it was the middle of the day, I would be home by 4:00 and back in bed.  Oh boy, was I wrong about that!

So, I get there exactly at 2:00, check in, and am told they are running a little behind.  Ok, no problem.  I’ll just sit over here in the corner and die quietly, so as to not disturb the other patients.  After about 45 minute of waiting, I hear the front desk girls talking to each other about how bad it was on New Year’s Eve, and how the wait was upwards of 3 hours.  She was saying that people kept coming up to the desk yelling at her, and how she was all, “I’m just the desk girl!  I have nothing to do with what’s going on back there!”  Hmmmmm.

So, after almost an hour of waiting in the lobby (and not rushing the desk to complain to the front desk girl, I might add) I was finally called back into a room.  Where I perched myself atop a foam padded, thin paper covered bench and tucked in to wait.  Again.  Luckily, though, there was a little TV in the corner that was currently showing the end of one of the Ice Age movies.  So, there was a distraction at least.

About 15 minutes later, a nurse came in to take my blood pressure, which involved multiple attempts (apparently I’m a vampire) of cutting off all circulation to my arm.  She then told me they were going to do a flu test.  Well, isn’t that fancy.  I asked her if that involved taking blood (one of my most favoritest things EVER!), but she assured me that it was just a swab in the nostrils.  Then, she proceeded to shove a SAMURAI SWORD UP BOTH OF MY NOSTRILS.  When I was like, “um, OUCH,” she just calmly said, “oh yeah, we pretty much have to hit your brain for this test.”  Ha ha, very funny lady.  Not quite as funny when it’s your eyeballs getting pierced.

At this point, I have already been at this place for well over an hour, so I ask her how long until the test is ready.  She tells me that she really can’t give me a time, but that the test itself takes 15 minutes.  She then left, assuring me that the doctor would be in to see me “soon.”

heads-sick-get-well-ecard-someecards

At some point during this interminable wait, a manager guy came in to apologize to me for the wait.  He went on to explain that they were so behind because they only had 1 doctor working that day, and that there were still 2-3 people in front of me.  Oh great.  Well, at least you’re sorry.

Finally, finally, an actual doctor came in the room.  Two hours and 45 minutes later, after watching the entirety of Ice Age: The Meltdown, I was finally seeing a medical professional.  (This, after another person came in to apologize again and tell me I was next in line).  The doc proceeded to tell me that the flu test came back positive and that I had Influenza A.  Then, she wrote me a prescription for some Tamiflu.  And asked if I wanted some cough meds as well.  Well, since I have been playing a rousing game of Who Can Hack the Loudest with my neighboring patient in the room behind me for the last 2.5 hours, I’m gonna say a big HELLZ YEAH to that.  Bring on the codeine!

So, when I asked if they could actually fill the prescription, she assured me that they could.  I was relieved that after spending 3 hours there, I wouldn’t have to stop at yet another place before getting home.  But as I went to the front desk, once again getting an apology from the manager, I was told they were actually out of that Rx.  Of course they were.  Because . . . reasons.

They then faxed the prescription to the CVS, so I could pick it up on my way home.  But, not being a complete moron, I called on my way to make sure they had received the Rx, which they had.  Hooray!  It might actually be ready when I get there.  And I might make it home in time to feed my kids dinner.  Speaking of which, I also put in a call to the Pizza Hut across the street from the pharmacy, so I could grab dinner on the way home as well.  And then, because it was 5:30 on a Thursday night, I then got to sit in rush hour traffic.  Fun times.

I get to the pharmacy and wait in the drive-thru lane, which only took about 10 minutes to get up to the window.  Hell, it was the shortest wait all day.  And they have my Rx ready!  Score.  Oh wait . . . but they don’t have my prescription info.  And since my job recently changed, I am now under my hubs’ policy.  But of course, I don’t have a card.  Of course.  Wait!  Can they just pull up my hubs’ info in their system?  He gets stuff from there all the time!  Which they say they can, but it’s gonna take some time to pull it up in the system.  I say that I’ll go grab the pizza across the street and come right back.  The girl tells me I might want to come inside when I come back, in case there are any questions that the manager needs to ask me.  So  . . . pizza, check.  Back to CVS, park and go inside, check.  And then stand in line behind 6 other people.

And when I’m finally called up, I explain that I was there before and was just waiting to get my hubs’ info pulled up in the system.  Which is when she tells me that her manager was trying . . . and then the system went down.  So I would have to wait.  And they didn’t know for how long.

Kill me.  Kill me now.

That was pretty much the end of me.  I had steadfastly held out through the hours of hellish waiting and waiting and waiting.  But when I could finally see the finish line, when they had my meds right there, when I had pizza cooling in the car, and was then told that I had to wait even more, with no idea of how long it would be?  Yeah, I was done.  I started mewling like a little kitten.  And I might have been delirious at this point, but I think I might have actually said, “please, I have the flu, I need to be in bed.  Please.”  To which she responded by apologizing to me.

((FACEPALM))

After waiting again for another half an hour or so, the system was back up, I had my meds, and I was on my way home.  To which I arrived at 7:00.  Where I had departed at 1:30 earlier that day.  Five and a half hours out and about in the world, and out of my bed.  Cruel is what it was.  Cruel.

But now I’ve got my Tamiflu, my cough medicine with codeine, and my warm and comfy bed.  Now, if I could just get rid of this death flu, all would be right with my world.

sick-girl

Vote for November 7th!!

Ah, the day after election day.  What a glorious, beautiful day.

blog.smithsonianmag.com

See, I am not a political person.  I find politics quite boring, and campaigning always leaves me feeling like I just watched two 12 year old girls having a slap fight.  It’s just not any fun for me at all to see all the name calling, dirt throwing and bickering.  If I wanted to watch that, I would just give one toy to my two boys and watch the games begin.  No thanks.

What with the incessant commercials playing non-stop the last few months, I am so incredibly sick of hearing about everybody’s side of things and how the other guy is so awful and will basically destroy the entire universe if elected.  Look, I’ve got news for you . . . you are all politicians.  Hence, you all suck.  The end.

In Maryland, we are at least spared most of the Presidential commercials.  Maryland is a staunchly Democratic state, and unless the Republican nominee was running against an actual donkey . . . yeah, even then it would probably still go Dem.  We have received a few Robocalls, but have been able to basically ignore those most of the time.  They were sneaky though, because they were using cell phone numbers, so you weren’t sure if it was a real person or not.  Basically, we just stopped answering the phone about a week ago.  Problem . . . solved.

But that doesn’t mean we haven’t had to deal with the onslaught of commercials regarding the issues to be decided in the State.  Most notably the race for State Senate, and Questions 6 & 7.  Question 6 is about gay marriage, and Question 7 (this is the biggie) is about whether we should allow a casino to be built in Baltimore (pro = keep our money in state and not in WV casinos / con = none of the money will go to schools as promised, etc.)  There have been no end to the debates on all of these races/issues.   And at the final hour, it got quite heated and vicious.  There is a lot of money in these issues.  There must be, for that kind of continuous and excessive airtime.

But all of that came to an end yesterday.  Election Day.  And now is a time of peace.  A time where I do not have to hear any more bickering either on my radio or my television.  Where we have our President decided for the next 4 years, whoever that may be (this post was written prior to the final decision).  Where our state either allows gay marriage or allows the bigots to win.  And where we either will start to build a casino, or have to wait until the next round of voting to argue about that issue.  Again.  But, the good news is . . . that it is over!!  No more commercials.  No more calls.  No more name calling.  No more headaches! 

God Bless America.

The Attack of Sandy Frankenstorm

So, not sure if anyone’s heard about this little storm we are about to get here on the East coast. It’s been in the news a bit, so you may have some idea of what I am referring to. But probably only if you are, say…..breathing and cognizant of the world around you.

weather.com

Sandy is, of course, a hurricane that is working it’s way up the coast. Not just that, but it’s supposed to combine with another storm coming into the coast, thus the christening of the term “Frankenstorm.” It’s gonna be a rough one, folks.

So bad, in fact, that most schools and some businesses already announced their intent to close for Monday……on Sunday morning. Before even a drop of rain hit the area. A little premature, if you ask me.

Additionally, people in general have been acting like Armageddon is coming. I went to Costco Friday night, when they were just starting to talk about this Frankenstorm in the news, and it was pure madness! I was not there for any storm prep reasons, but realized later that since they sold both bread and milk, people were there to stock up.

To add to the drama, my hubs is currently away on a business trip in Brazil, due to return on Halloween. He’s trying to get an earlier flight, but I’m not holding my breath. This kind of thing is actually not unprecedented. Two years ago, when we got hit with Snowmageddon, the hubs was in Toronto, and he got stuck there because there were no flights. He eventually had to rent a car, drive to Buffalo, then take a train down to Bmore. He’s trying to get a jump on it this time.

This is what he’s getting to see right now:

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Whereas, I’m here with his father, who lives in our basement and just turned 80 years old. Who also has nothing else to do the entire day but watch Fox News and The Weather Chanel. Seriously, those stations should be blocked for anyone over the age of 65. So, as the news stations got more and more heated about the dangers of the approaching storm, my father in law got more worried and frantic. See, the last hurricane that came through caused us to lose power, thus shutting off the sump pump and flooding our basement to the tune of $20k to fix. Accordingly, he is super mega stressed about us losing power. Based on history, he has some cause for concern.  So he asked me about it. Then he called all of his kids. Including my husband . . . in Brazil.  And since there was not much the hubs could do from there, my brother in law (the hubs’ bro) finally tracked down a delivery of generators to a Lowes that was happening early Sunday morning and got one for us. What a life saver! Now, maybe my FIL can relax.

Soooo pretty.

And then, to make it even worse, I needed to go to the grocery store. And the only time I could go was on Sunday afternoon. I was not looking forward to it. At all. I figured it would be a mad house. But I needed some fruits and veggies and some things for the kids’ lunches. And bread. Yeah, I know.

I was actually pleasantly surprised at the lack of chaos I encountered. Sure, there were lots of people, but more of a shopping on a weekend crowd, not a preparing for Armageddon crowd. So, I figured I was in the clear and I would find everything I needed. Until I got to the aisle with the water. Or, I should probably say . . . where the water used to be:

The weird thing was that there was plenty of milk, bread and TP. All that was completely depleted was the water. ALL of the water. It was crazy.

So, the kids are off, my work is closed, and pretty much the entire East coast is closed down. So now I just have to sit and wait, and keep my fingers and toes crossed that we don’t lose power and that the storm doesn’t hit us too hard. Stay safe out there everyone. I hope to see you on the other side.

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