She hasn't even started school officially and I'm learning so much.
First of all, let me explain something. Olivia is going to a private school. I can admit to being a bit of an education snob, and since we were used to spending the money on daycare, we could afford it. It's no more expensive (right now... it gets more expensive as you go...). We're hoping to move to a better school district before we're paying tuition on 3 kids.
Now, her school is little. 400 kids from 4K through 12th. I learned during orientation a few weeks ago that the problem with a small school is that it isn't easy to get lost in the crowd. Especially when you have 3 kids acting like they've just finished a Cafe Mocha or something. I'm sure the principal will have her eye on us.
Today was Open House. We got to go drop off the multitude of school supplies and meet the teacher. Let me go off on a tangent for a second about the school supplies. Olivia goes to a private school. I pay tuition for her to go to school. I understand buying the normal supplies like pencils and crayons. But paper towels? Copy paper? They can't afford that off of what we're paying? Hell, tack an extra $5 to the tuition and go buy the stuff in bulk at Sam's for Pete's sake.
Anyway.
So, in addition to meeting the teacher, I got to see a few of the other parents.
I am totally not private school material. Granted, Open House was a drop-in event over a few hours, so I missed more than half of the other parents. But the ones I saw were way out of my league. The moms who stay home and still have the money to shop for boutique clothing for their darling princess. I'm not saying that is bad. I'm saying I can't relate. I work. If I didn't work, we couldn't afford to send Olivia to private school. Hell, we couldn't afford rent. That's the life we've chosen. That's the life they've chosen. We might get along famously and become best friends... but I doubt it.
It is jealousy? Partly. But not entirely. Even if our household income suddenly expanded, I don't think I could ever really relate to the women I saw today. I am not into fashion or hair. I own like 3 or 4 pairs of shoes. I don't accessorize. The only manicure I've ever gotten was for my wedding. It would be really difficult for me to find something in common without digging down deep into their personality and I'm just not that outgoing.
I was a little sad when I looked at all the sign up sheets for Room Mothers and party volunteers. My job is pretty flexible and I could help out for some things, but it's hard to committ to it right this second. And there were 7-10 names on each list before I got there. There are only 14 kids in the class. There was definite jealousy going on inside me there. It's like I want to be involved but my antisocial side makes it a little difficult, especially when it's evident that I'm not needed.
And lastly, I wondered if I'm the only one who hasn't taught their kid how to get in and out of the vehicle by themself. Olivia can unbuckle herself. That's it. She isn't strong enough to operate the van door. She can't buckle herself and doesn't want to. When I pick her up and drop her off, I have to get out and let her out or let her in and buckle her up. A couple other parents were like, "so I don't even have to get out when I drop them off, right?" I guess they're going to have to just hate being behind me in the drop off lane for a while.
I feel like I'm going to be That Mom.
Sunday, August 16, 2009
Friday, August 14, 2009
As if I didn't feel bad enough...
Olivia is a tough cookie. She obviously has my level of pain tolerance - very high. She told me Wednesday night that her "butt" hurt. Her butt involves anything covered by her underwear... By the end of the night I was positive that she had a UTI.
BUT, like a dummy, when she woke up Thursday and told me that she didn't hurt anymore, I believed her. Didn't take her to the doctor.
Thursday evening, at almost 5pm, Isabelle and I left to go have some one-on-one time. We were barely 2 miles down the road when Bill called to tell me that I needed to get some cranberry juice for Olivia. OK... Then he informed me that she was crying in the bathroom and there was blood in her urine.
Luckily we were close to a stoplight so I could bang my head on the steering wheel without wrecking us.
So I told him to find the phone book and call the after-hours clinic at Children's Hospital. If she's bleeding I don't want to wait until the next day. She needed to go ASAP.
I'm very proud of Bill. He took care of it like a champ. He better watch out or he might find himself a new job as the family appointment maker.
We made it to the appointment, checked in and sat down to wait. The lady at the desk called me for something and Olivia tugged on my arm. "Mommy, my pants are wet." I was confused... maybe she sat in some water somewhere? No. She had an accident and peed on herself.
I know I had that deer-in-the-headlights look. I know I did. My brain raced trying to find a solution to this. She's been potty trained for almost 2 years, I don't carry around a change of clothes for her anymore. I thought there might be a Pull Up in the van, but I was pretty sure no clothes. Plus, we were next to be called back (they had this neat-o screen that showed who was up next) so I knew we didn't have time to trek out to the van to search.
Sure enough, they were out in a heartbeat to call us back. Olivia was just embarrassed as can be. So I told the nurse what happened. She said that they had some Pull Ups and she might be able to get a pair of pants from the hospital. She gave me a urine sample cup and said that when we were finished to go to room C4 (I swear that's what she said) and she'd have a Pull Up waiting for us.
Now, Olivia just peed on herself. There was no more urine to get a sample. We tried. Didn't happen. It just made her mad to have to pull up her wet clothes when we were done.
I found room C4. The light was off, no chart on the door, no Pull Up inside. I had that "this is going to be a LONG night" feeling and turned on the light and kept a watch for someone to come through.
Which took forever.
Another nurse finally came by. I told her I was pretty sure we were in the wrong room, my child is not happy marinating in her own urine, not to mention that it's almost her bedtime and she's getting bossy and cranky. She was an angel in scrubs. She couldn't find the Pull Ups, but found a huge diaper (Olivia did not care) and got some little kid sized scrub pants for Olivia and led us to B4, where the doctor was waiting on us (and a Pull Up). How often does that happen?
We talked about what was going on, and why there was no urine sample. The doctor left and came back with 3 cups of apple juice, a drinking cup, and a straw. She said "drink until it starts coming out." Yes ma'am. Olivia downed 2 cups in record time and announced she had to go potty. We took our cup and the "hat" (try explaining to a 4 year old that she's going to pee in a hat) and ran to the bathroom. She went (yay!), not much, but I know that they don't need a whole lot. Then it was like slow motion... she wipes... she throws the paper IN THE HAT. I'm diving across the room trying to stop her... NOOOOOOOOO! We managed to still have a little left, but you know I was ready to just beat my head on the bathroom floor by then.
The doc came back, announced that "whatever could be wrong with her urine is wrong with her urine." Blood, protein, all that jazz. She probably has had this for a while and never said a word. I should be used to this... her ear infections as a baby were always horrible by the time she ever let on that she was hurting. But it makes you feel like a horrible mother all the same.
We got our prescription and I left with my poor baby in her big ass diaper and scrub pants. =(
She fell asleep on the way home. Woke up screaming about 10pm. Yes, screaming. We almost went to the ER. I had her in the van, but the Tylenol finally kicked in and she fell back to sleep. I did manage to get the first dose of antibiotics in her. But it was awful. I think I'm pretty tough when it comes to dealing with my kids... I don't fall to peices when they scrape their knees, I can ignore them when they're having a fit, I can handle them crying, no problem... but to see her in real pain, knowing how tough she is... it still makes me want to cry now, after the fact.
I know she'll be back to her normal self today though. I, on the other hand, am exhausted, was late for work, and need some time to recover.
BUT, like a dummy, when she woke up Thursday and told me that she didn't hurt anymore, I believed her. Didn't take her to the doctor.
Thursday evening, at almost 5pm, Isabelle and I left to go have some one-on-one time. We were barely 2 miles down the road when Bill called to tell me that I needed to get some cranberry juice for Olivia. OK... Then he informed me that she was crying in the bathroom and there was blood in her urine.
Luckily we were close to a stoplight so I could bang my head on the steering wheel without wrecking us.
So I told him to find the phone book and call the after-hours clinic at Children's Hospital. If she's bleeding I don't want to wait until the next day. She needed to go ASAP.
I'm very proud of Bill. He took care of it like a champ. He better watch out or he might find himself a new job as the family appointment maker.
We made it to the appointment, checked in and sat down to wait. The lady at the desk called me for something and Olivia tugged on my arm. "Mommy, my pants are wet." I was confused... maybe she sat in some water somewhere? No. She had an accident and peed on herself.
I know I had that deer-in-the-headlights look. I know I did. My brain raced trying to find a solution to this. She's been potty trained for almost 2 years, I don't carry around a change of clothes for her anymore. I thought there might be a Pull Up in the van, but I was pretty sure no clothes. Plus, we were next to be called back (they had this neat-o screen that showed who was up next) so I knew we didn't have time to trek out to the van to search.
Sure enough, they were out in a heartbeat to call us back. Olivia was just embarrassed as can be. So I told the nurse what happened. She said that they had some Pull Ups and she might be able to get a pair of pants from the hospital. She gave me a urine sample cup and said that when we were finished to go to room C4 (I swear that's what she said) and she'd have a Pull Up waiting for us.
Now, Olivia just peed on herself. There was no more urine to get a sample. We tried. Didn't happen. It just made her mad to have to pull up her wet clothes when we were done.
I found room C4. The light was off, no chart on the door, no Pull Up inside. I had that "this is going to be a LONG night" feeling and turned on the light and kept a watch for someone to come through.
Which took forever.
Another nurse finally came by. I told her I was pretty sure we were in the wrong room, my child is not happy marinating in her own urine, not to mention that it's almost her bedtime and she's getting bossy and cranky. She was an angel in scrubs. She couldn't find the Pull Ups, but found a huge diaper (Olivia did not care) and got some little kid sized scrub pants for Olivia and led us to B4, where the doctor was waiting on us (and a Pull Up). How often does that happen?
We talked about what was going on, and why there was no urine sample. The doctor left and came back with 3 cups of apple juice, a drinking cup, and a straw. She said "drink until it starts coming out." Yes ma'am. Olivia downed 2 cups in record time and announced she had to go potty. We took our cup and the "hat" (try explaining to a 4 year old that she's going to pee in a hat) and ran to the bathroom. She went (yay!), not much, but I know that they don't need a whole lot. Then it was like slow motion... she wipes... she throws the paper IN THE HAT. I'm diving across the room trying to stop her... NOOOOOOOOO! We managed to still have a little left, but you know I was ready to just beat my head on the bathroom floor by then.
The doc came back, announced that "whatever could be wrong with her urine is wrong with her urine." Blood, protein, all that jazz. She probably has had this for a while and never said a word. I should be used to this... her ear infections as a baby were always horrible by the time she ever let on that she was hurting. But it makes you feel like a horrible mother all the same.
We got our prescription and I left with my poor baby in her big ass diaper and scrub pants. =(
She fell asleep on the way home. Woke up screaming about 10pm. Yes, screaming. We almost went to the ER. I had her in the van, but the Tylenol finally kicked in and she fell back to sleep. I did manage to get the first dose of antibiotics in her. But it was awful. I think I'm pretty tough when it comes to dealing with my kids... I don't fall to peices when they scrape their knees, I can ignore them when they're having a fit, I can handle them crying, no problem... but to see her in real pain, knowing how tough she is... it still makes me want to cry now, after the fact.
I know she'll be back to her normal self today though. I, on the other hand, am exhausted, was late for work, and need some time to recover.
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
A history of how Jennifer journals
I went digging for a missing photo album today. Still haven't found it, but I got into my old footlocker while searching and discovered Memory Central. Journals dating back to junior high school. Various memorabilia and worthless pack rat type stuff from things I did in high school. I flipped through a journal I had to keep while I was attending Arkansas Governor's School during the summer of 1993 and WOW. I don't remember half of what I wrote about. I barely remembered who I was talking about most of the time. And it was an assignment, so my teacher was reading all this mess. I'm embarrassed now, 16 (holy crap, 16!) years later.
When I was in junior high, we had a gifted and talented program (TAG) and the teacher was awesome. Ms. J is hands down the best teacher I ever had. She required that we keep a journal and we had to turn it in every week or something like that. She'd read it, make comments, give it back. I had never kept a journal or diary before, but I loved it. I have one small and two huge notebooks worth of journals from TAG. I've looked at them in the past few years, and it's embarrassing too. I suppose most adults are pretty embarrassed by their adolescence if they're totally honest about it.
After that, I kept journals off and on for years. When I was about 22 or so, I discovered online journalling. I feel really, really old saying that this was before anyone ever called them blogs. I actually learned a little html making my journal online. I still have access to all of it, but decided a long time ago that all of it is best buried in the deepest corners of the www. Not a pretty time in my life. I did have my first negative journal experience then though. A friend of mine found my journal online, I don't know how, and she read it. She was not really happy about some things I said about her. I was used to paper journals I could hide away and be completely honest in. Being online is a bit different. I've learned to never say something you don't want someone to see. Of course, now it's easier for me to make stuff private online... but I'm still really careful.
I've kept a blog on myspace. I journalled on cafemom a lot. I don't write paper journals anymore because it's easier for me to keep my husband from snooping online. Not that I'm keeping stuff from him, but you know...
I'm usually a lot happier when I can empty my head out. I don't do it much lately and I'm very, well, not happy. I never get on myspace anymore. I feel that I have to be extra careful on cafemom because there are some hateful, ugly women out there and I'm not into all that drama. So I think I'll use this space more. And maybe I'll be more likely to work on my 101 list too. I guess this is the next phase in my journalling life - a real blog.
And in 10 years, I'll look back at this and be embarrassed all over again. =)
When I was in junior high, we had a gifted and talented program (TAG) and the teacher was awesome. Ms. J is hands down the best teacher I ever had. She required that we keep a journal and we had to turn it in every week or something like that. She'd read it, make comments, give it back. I had never kept a journal or diary before, but I loved it. I have one small and two huge notebooks worth of journals from TAG. I've looked at them in the past few years, and it's embarrassing too. I suppose most adults are pretty embarrassed by their adolescence if they're totally honest about it.
After that, I kept journals off and on for years. When I was about 22 or so, I discovered online journalling. I feel really, really old saying that this was before anyone ever called them blogs. I actually learned a little html making my journal online. I still have access to all of it, but decided a long time ago that all of it is best buried in the deepest corners of the www. Not a pretty time in my life. I did have my first negative journal experience then though. A friend of mine found my journal online, I don't know how, and she read it. She was not really happy about some things I said about her. I was used to paper journals I could hide away and be completely honest in. Being online is a bit different. I've learned to never say something you don't want someone to see. Of course, now it's easier for me to make stuff private online... but I'm still really careful.
I've kept a blog on myspace. I journalled on cafemom a lot. I don't write paper journals anymore because it's easier for me to keep my husband from snooping online. Not that I'm keeping stuff from him, but you know...
I'm usually a lot happier when I can empty my head out. I don't do it much lately and I'm very, well, not happy. I never get on myspace anymore. I feel that I have to be extra careful on cafemom because there are some hateful, ugly women out there and I'm not into all that drama. So I think I'll use this space more. And maybe I'll be more likely to work on my 101 list too. I guess this is the next phase in my journalling life - a real blog.
And in 10 years, I'll look back at this and be embarrassed all over again. =)
Saturday, August 8, 2009
Discipline
Discipline. I'm not talking about my children... but they could use a little more than is dished out around here. Trust me. I'm talking about myself. It's something I've been thinking about alot lately. There isn't just ONE area I need to be more disciplined at - it's everything.
On Saturday mornings, my sister and I go walking or bike riding and it's one of my rare opportunities to have a real conversation. We were talking about our individual journies to lose weight. She's been far more successful than I have - she's lost about 30 lbs and looks great. I was talking about how I'm still getting over all the excuses. And I know that's what they are. There hasn't been one that I haven't come up with a solution to at some point or another. I haven't been able to make that true commitment to it just yet. I know in order to do it, I have to be hardcore obsessed with it and I am having trouble not seeing that as a bad thing. But even my doctor told me that if I have to be obsessed about it, then get obsessed with it.
Anyway, she mentioned a book she has been thinking about buying called Die Fat or Get Tough by Steve Siebold. I've been looking at it today and I might have to get it. There is NO sugar-coating to this book. He gives you 100 differences in the way fat people think versus fit people. And he's brutal. He doesn't let you fall back on any of the old excuses. He's a bit of an ass on his website, and he pisses me off a little bit just because he only had to lose 40 lbs and he's all smug like he lost 150 lbs. But then again, he lost 40 lbs and I can't really lay claim to anything close. I've read some reviews where people think he's just a bully and giving out common sense in a hateful way, but most reviews were kind of along my line of thinking - sometimes you need your backside kicked and there's really no nice way to kick someone's ass.
I know the book is about weight loss, but he is a motivational speaker focusing on business and that's where the principles come from. Being tough. No excuses kind of thinking. The principles could probably be applied across the board relating to most of my life right now. Because I have a ton of excuses. I can't do this because of my kids. I can't do that because I work. I put things off until I get other things done, and then find an excuse to keep me from doing that. I have all these plans and I'm sitting here waiting for them to happen. I need to start DOING. I need to stop wasting my time.
On Saturday mornings, my sister and I go walking or bike riding and it's one of my rare opportunities to have a real conversation. We were talking about our individual journies to lose weight. She's been far more successful than I have - she's lost about 30 lbs and looks great. I was talking about how I'm still getting over all the excuses. And I know that's what they are. There hasn't been one that I haven't come up with a solution to at some point or another. I haven't been able to make that true commitment to it just yet. I know in order to do it, I have to be hardcore obsessed with it and I am having trouble not seeing that as a bad thing. But even my doctor told me that if I have to be obsessed about it, then get obsessed with it.
Anyway, she mentioned a book she has been thinking about buying called Die Fat or Get Tough by Steve Siebold. I've been looking at it today and I might have to get it. There is NO sugar-coating to this book. He gives you 100 differences in the way fat people think versus fit people. And he's brutal. He doesn't let you fall back on any of the old excuses. He's a bit of an ass on his website, and he pisses me off a little bit just because he only had to lose 40 lbs and he's all smug like he lost 150 lbs. But then again, he lost 40 lbs and I can't really lay claim to anything close. I've read some reviews where people think he's just a bully and giving out common sense in a hateful way, but most reviews were kind of along my line of thinking - sometimes you need your backside kicked and there's really no nice way to kick someone's ass.
I know the book is about weight loss, but he is a motivational speaker focusing on business and that's where the principles come from. Being tough. No excuses kind of thinking. The principles could probably be applied across the board relating to most of my life right now. Because I have a ton of excuses. I can't do this because of my kids. I can't do that because I work. I put things off until I get other things done, and then find an excuse to keep me from doing that. I have all these plans and I'm sitting here waiting for them to happen. I need to start DOING. I need to stop wasting my time.
Thursday, June 25, 2009
The results are in...
They have been in, actually. I just was on vacation and never thought to update. Bad me.
On Monday, the 15th, the nurse called and let me know that I DO NOT have Hepatitis C.
Happy me. I still am blacklisted from donating blood ever again, but whatever.
She didn't say anything about any of the other tests he ran, like my glucose and cholesterol. So I'm running on the assumption that they were either fine or not bad enough to warrant anything other than diet and exercise at the moment. The doctor knows I'm trying to lose weight and is letting that be my treatment for my slightly high blood pressure (which could have been a small case of White Coat Syndrome if I'm to be honest).
So I have now had my physical for 2009 and can cross that off my list, whatever number it was. I actually am thinking of redoing a few things on my list. My list, my rules, right? I can make a few changes if I want.
On Monday, the 15th, the nurse called and let me know that I DO NOT have Hepatitis C.
Happy me. I still am blacklisted from donating blood ever again, but whatever.
She didn't say anything about any of the other tests he ran, like my glucose and cholesterol. So I'm running on the assumption that they were either fine or not bad enough to warrant anything other than diet and exercise at the moment. The doctor knows I'm trying to lose weight and is letting that be my treatment for my slightly high blood pressure (which could have been a small case of White Coat Syndrome if I'm to be honest).
So I have now had my physical for 2009 and can cross that off my list, whatever number it was. I actually am thinking of redoing a few things on my list. My list, my rules, right? I can make a few changes if I want.
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
#86 - Reconnect with Trina
Hot on the heals of almost completing the "Reconnect with Sam" item, I have had the other "reconnection" item dropped into my happy little lap. Here's the story...
In high school, my best friend girl-wise was Amanda. She still is. Our little friendship always seemed to be a part of a threesome (not THAT kind of threesome) with a few different friends filling the role of the Third Musketeer. One of our absolute favorite friends was Trina. Trina was awesome... funny, smart, had cool kinky curly hair (my hair is super straight - I love curly hair), and we all got along great. She lived out in BFE and you had to drive down this long, long, windy road that cut through a bunch of fields. Ultra creepy in the dark.
I guess I kind of lost touch with her after I graduated. She was a year behind me and when she graduated, she went off to college in Utah.
With all these social networking sites, I have found all sorts of people I went to school with. Even people I don't remember who remember me. But I could never find Trina. I tried emailing her brother, even. She had just fallen off the face of the earth. Amanda looked, too. Nothing. No Trina.
This morning I logged onto facebook and saw Amanda's status: "Fer! I found Trina!" Yes, people really do call me Fer.
After making me wait all day long, she finally sent me a message with a link to Trina's blog. I got her email off of it and sent her an email. She probably will think it's spam. LOL
I am so excited.
In high school, my best friend girl-wise was Amanda. She still is. Our little friendship always seemed to be a part of a threesome (not THAT kind of threesome) with a few different friends filling the role of the Third Musketeer. One of our absolute favorite friends was Trina. Trina was awesome... funny, smart, had cool kinky curly hair (my hair is super straight - I love curly hair), and we all got along great. She lived out in BFE and you had to drive down this long, long, windy road that cut through a bunch of fields. Ultra creepy in the dark.
I guess I kind of lost touch with her after I graduated. She was a year behind me and when she graduated, she went off to college in Utah.
With all these social networking sites, I have found all sorts of people I went to school with. Even people I don't remember who remember me. But I could never find Trina. I tried emailing her brother, even. She had just fallen off the face of the earth. Amanda looked, too. Nothing. No Trina.
This morning I logged onto facebook and saw Amanda's status: "Fer! I found Trina!" Yes, people really do call me Fer.
After making me wait all day long, she finally sent me a message with a link to Trina's blog. I got her email off of it and sent her an email. She probably will think it's spam. LOL
I am so excited.
Sunday, May 31, 2009
Old journal post - 12/20/05
I probably should edit out parts of this, but I won't. I'll just say that I was pregnant and I was extremely bitchy. If my mother in law ever reads this, I'm sorry for being so ugly.
Dog Crap
Ok, here's my advice for the day... if the first thing you deal with in the morning is dog crap, just go back to bed. The rest of the day will be dog crap.
I used to like dogs. My family started becoming a family of dog lovers. The kind who enjoyed taking the puppy everywhere. I'm still waiting for the cutsy outfits, but they've refrained so far. However, being around 3-5 dogs at a time wore me down and I wasn't so fond of dogs. Then we moved here to live with the world's stupidest dog ever. I can't stand him. He stinks, he's annoying, he gets on my nerves and in my way. I no longer ever want a dog. Especially after this morning.
I guess someone forgot that dogs have to be let outside every so often. Preferrably at least once close to bedtime. I got up and as I got closer to the bathroom, I kept thinking... it sure does smell down here. And not the usual waste treatment facility smell we get oh so often living down river from it. Once I was in the bathroom I recognized the smell. Dog crap. I just wanted to go back to bed. Nothing smells like dog crap but dog crap. It wasn't visable so I knew where it must be and I just didn't want to have to deal with it. But I had to. I pulled back the shower curtain and there it was. In order for me to shower and get ready for work, I would have to clean up dog crap. And I did. Gagging and holding my nose the whole time. Pregnant women and dog crap... not a good mix. Bill tried to tell me it was probably the cat because if the cellar door is closed and he can't get to his box, he'll use the bathtub. I've owned a cat. There is a fairly large difference between cat crap and large dog crap. This was dog crap.
Despite my gut instinct that today was going to suck, I went to work. And it did suck. I had a migraine, I had to deal with the stupid New York doctor's office, we did secret santa (I hate secret santa) and I went home early. I slept for 2 hours and had suffocation dreams. I dont' know why I have suffocation dreams, but from time to time I do. Maybe I have sleep apnea... I don't know.
Anyway, when I got home I noticed that my mother-in-law had wrapped presents. And put them under the tree. OK. Before the tree was ever put up, we had pretty much agreed on two things... 1... the ornaments should be hung high, out of Olivia's reach... 2... the presents don't come out until Christmas morning. Well as soon as the decorated the tree I knew it was only a matter of time. She had the whole tree decorated and she was not going to leave the bottom bare and Olivia just would have to learn to leave it alone. I think it's mean to tempt a child and then yell at them. I think it's unfair and I really hope Olivia breaks every freaking ornament and decoration that my mother-in-law has insisted on leaving within her reach. Luckily, Olivia does not yet understand presents and really hasn't paid any attention to them. Yet.
I just don't understand why she INSISTS on making the house non-babyproof. Every effort I make to keep Olivia out of trouble is wiped out. I buy cabinet locks. She won't lock them. I tie up the entertainment center doors. She cuts the ties. I meantion tying up another cabinet... one she NEVER uses... she said "I would really like to be able to get into things around here." Well, I would like my child to not poison herself with cleaning chemicals or cut herself on the glass she's bound to break out of the cabinet.
It's time for more Tylenol.
Dog Crap
Ok, here's my advice for the day... if the first thing you deal with in the morning is dog crap, just go back to bed. The rest of the day will be dog crap.
I used to like dogs. My family started becoming a family of dog lovers. The kind who enjoyed taking the puppy everywhere. I'm still waiting for the cutsy outfits, but they've refrained so far. However, being around 3-5 dogs at a time wore me down and I wasn't so fond of dogs. Then we moved here to live with the world's stupidest dog ever. I can't stand him. He stinks, he's annoying, he gets on my nerves and in my way. I no longer ever want a dog. Especially after this morning.
I guess someone forgot that dogs have to be let outside every so often. Preferrably at least once close to bedtime. I got up and as I got closer to the bathroom, I kept thinking... it sure does smell down here. And not the usual waste treatment facility smell we get oh so often living down river from it. Once I was in the bathroom I recognized the smell. Dog crap. I just wanted to go back to bed. Nothing smells like dog crap but dog crap. It wasn't visable so I knew where it must be and I just didn't want to have to deal with it. But I had to. I pulled back the shower curtain and there it was. In order for me to shower and get ready for work, I would have to clean up dog crap. And I did. Gagging and holding my nose the whole time. Pregnant women and dog crap... not a good mix. Bill tried to tell me it was probably the cat because if the cellar door is closed and he can't get to his box, he'll use the bathtub. I've owned a cat. There is a fairly large difference between cat crap and large dog crap. This was dog crap.
Despite my gut instinct that today was going to suck, I went to work. And it did suck. I had a migraine, I had to deal with the stupid New York doctor's office, we did secret santa (I hate secret santa) and I went home early. I slept for 2 hours and had suffocation dreams. I dont' know why I have suffocation dreams, but from time to time I do. Maybe I have sleep apnea... I don't know.
Anyway, when I got home I noticed that my mother-in-law had wrapped presents. And put them under the tree. OK. Before the tree was ever put up, we had pretty much agreed on two things... 1... the ornaments should be hung high, out of Olivia's reach... 2... the presents don't come out until Christmas morning. Well as soon as the decorated the tree I knew it was only a matter of time. She had the whole tree decorated and she was not going to leave the bottom bare and Olivia just would have to learn to leave it alone. I think it's mean to tempt a child and then yell at them. I think it's unfair and I really hope Olivia breaks every freaking ornament and decoration that my mother-in-law has insisted on leaving within her reach. Luckily, Olivia does not yet understand presents and really hasn't paid any attention to them. Yet.
I just don't understand why she INSISTS on making the house non-babyproof. Every effort I make to keep Olivia out of trouble is wiped out. I buy cabinet locks. She won't lock them. I tie up the entertainment center doors. She cuts the ties. I meantion tying up another cabinet... one she NEVER uses... she said "I would really like to be able to get into things around here." Well, I would like my child to not poison herself with cleaning chemicals or cut herself on the glass she's bound to break out of the cabinet.
It's time for more Tylenol.
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