Surgical Update And Other Total Randomness

Roughly three years ago I took The Boy Child to the hospital because he was having trouble breathing. He was quickly admitted and a course of treatment was started, but when he continued to decline instead of improve, it became apparent that the interventions that particular hospital was able to provide weren't going to be enough, and so they decided to transfer him to a larger hospital.

Getting strapped onto the ambulance gurney, purple hospital gown and all.

As I watched them load my son into the ambulance, I just kept thinking "I can't believe this is happening... again."

If you remember, my Girl Child was pretty sick as a baby and spent quite a bit of time in the intensive care unit. When The Boy Child was born, I had just gotten to a place with her where I felt optimistic about her future, and so as a precaution I had taken him in to see our geneticist. I wanted to rule out him having the same disorder that his sister and I have— or if he did have it, it was obviously important that I was aware of it.

When I took him to the appointment, he was so healthy that the geneticist decided not to run the outrageously expensive test, and by clinical diagnosis deemed him "not affected."

He was wrong.

Why Would I Buy That?

A few nights ago after I suffered a minor facial injury that I will take to the grave that I don't want to talk about, The Platonic Husband and I made plans to watch the comedy "The Sex Tape."

I'm the ugly peach color. For some reason it wouldn't let me crop the pics so they are haphazardly pasted together. Sorry!

And as usual, before we started the movie we started talking about everything under the sun, which was how I ended up telling her about these ridiculous clothes that Frisbee Boy's Mom had given me to try and sell (in all fairness they were also given to her, but still...)

"And there is no way anyone is going to buy these things," I explained to my Platonic Hubby. "Not unless I start shipping to the compound. I mean seriously, unless you are looking to go as a Duggar or an 80's inheritance queen for Halloween, no one is going to be buying these clothes."

So naturally, we decide that we must try them on.

He Is Still Hurting Me

I pulled into her driveway and waited for her to come out of the house. She did, slowly, and as she sunk into the passenger seat I could tell she had been crying. White knuckles gripping her purse as she whispered out a forced “hello” and then turned her head to stare out the window, clearly avoiding all conversation. I knew this was going to happen, I was prepared for it. I’ve seen it over and over again— same situation, different girl.

She’s scared, she has so many things running through her brain, so many things she needs to say, all burying her under the weight of the fear they bring.

So we don’t talk.

Now is not the time. She doesn’t need to talk right now, right now, she just needs to breathe. So she sits there, staring out the window, and I apologize for my singing before launching into a pre-selected playlist.

I’m sure she knows what I’m up to, just as so many before her have, but she doesn’t care, just like all the ones before her haven’t.

Celebrate With Me!

**I'm going to pop in here real fast and say that by the time this hits most of your inbox's, The Boy Child will be in surgery. I'll try and update on Facebook, thanks for all your messages. I've been reading them to him and he thinks it's very funny that he is getting his own emails! His sister is jealous, and that's been giving him an evil little grin.**

I know I’ve mentioned it on here a few times before, but every Monday I work at a chiropractic office. Oddly enough one of the chiropractors there is a guy that I went to high school with, and although he is a really great guy, an amazing chiropractor, and an active supporter of my nonprofit, my spine prefers a different adjustment technique so I see someone else in the office. In fact I "broke up" with his services by telling him "You know when you're having sex with someone, and you can tell that they are trying, and you know that they are really putting in the effort, but no matter what they do, they just don't do ya right? Well, I think we'd be better off as friends."

Because that made it less awkward.

Not that awkward bothers me.

(Click here for the other times I've embarrassed this poor man, including the time I made him believe I was a stripper or when I caught him looking me up in his year book). 

In fact I don't remember him from high school at all, yet as part of an extended prank I'm pulling, I have convinced him that we did in fact know each other and that he was very mean to me. I'll have to let you know how this all pans out, but in the meantime, NO ONE TELL HIM.

(And also, random, but do you remember when I was trying to get Mr. Attorney Man to think I was getting him an office rodent? Why the hell does anyone stay in business with me??)

But anyway, so yes, chiropractor, work there on Monday’s, set stage: Chiropractor is sitting at the secretary’s desk looking at the computer and I’m standing roughly two feet away.

Upcoming Surgery This Week

Talk about a whirlwind of a weekend!! Geesh. Is it Friday yet???

Oh no wait. Friday just passed.

Wowzers.

My Friday night ended like this:

A few friends brought tasty things and came over to chill out after a long week, and trust me when I say that it was a LONG week.

Aside from the regular grind of work/school/daycare/dance, I had to spend a little time at the cardiologist. Because I am a medical mutant and there are like 2 other people on the planet besides my kids and I that have the disorder that we have, I spend a lot of time letting doctors and med students analyze me. It really is a great set-up because the doctors get the chance to analyze a Real! Live! Freak! and I get access to medical care that medicaid otherwise wouldn't cover.

How To Ignore People: Lessons From The Checkout Line

I went grocery shopping today.

As I stood in line waiting to checkout, I looked over my items and I felt pretty confident in my purchases. I say "confident" because that's exactly the opposite of how I feel most of the time in the grocery store, but today, today I felt good.

I had two heads of lettuce, a cantaloupe, a bunch of bananas, 8 yogurts, two bags of cheese, 4 quarts of almond milk, two bags of pretzels, two packages of tortillas, 3 cans of beans, and a partridge in a pear tree.

Ok, I didn't have that last one, but I did have a pear. 4 of them actually.

So anyway, I looked over my cart and I felt good. I felt good because there was nothing in there that I felt would warrant people to judge me. If you have ever been on food stamps, you know what I'm talking about, I'm talking about what I refer to as a "splurge item." It's that box of cookies you buy so that your daughter doesn't feel left out in the cafeteria in school. It's the single serving of candy that your son earned from completing his chore chart. It's the ice cream you buy for yourself because your life sucks and sometimes you just want to forget about it and eat ice cream. Sometimes it's even the over priced gluten free bread that you buy because your family can't eat wheat. It's any of those things or the 900 million other items that people deem as unacceptable the second they see you pull out your food stamp card.

But today, today I had none of that.

And So The Adventure Begins!

This past month and a half has been a whirlwind to say the least. I'm not sure I have ever felt as far behind on... everything, as I have in the last few weeks, but overall I have to say that things have (finally) been going fairly well in a lot of ways.

First off, after Mr. Attorney Man put in hours upon hours of phone calls (I'd be lost without him), and I myself called my state representative, my state senator, and every other number I could get my hands on, the child support office finally got my paperwork fixed about 80% of the way. It's still not perfect, but at this point I'll take it.

With that I set about working to get my benefits reinstated. The Child Care office came through like a champ, and food stamps weren't far behind. They only reinstated me at about 80% of my original benefits because of the continued error with the Child Support Office, but hey, 80% is better than 0!

Having A Pretend Mom Rocks

Hey all, so it's Mother's Day over here in the US, and as many of you probably remember, I typically hate Mother's Day.

VERY MUCH DISLIKE.

But, I've made a little bit of progress. Last year not only was I pissed that I am a single mother, but I was also pissed that I didn't have a mother. Now although I'm still a single mother, and I still don't have a "real" mother, what I do have is a pretty darn good stand in for a mother, and as I've come to realize over the last year, having a surrogate mom is way cooler than having a biological mom.  It's obviously not the same as having a real mom, no comparison in many areas, but in the fun area having a surrogate mom can sometimes take the cake!

Frisbee Boy's Mom reads this blog as you know and after she read a few of my recent posts she gave me a call saying that we needed to go out to lunch asap because "you need a stiff drink."

See, how can you not like her??

That Time I Accidentally Did Porn

Last Monday I was driving to work and surprise, surprise, there was construction on the two lane road that I needed to be on. The entire road was down to one lane in some spots, meaning that everyone on one side of the road would have to stop and wait while the cars on the other side of the road took a turn driving. I'm sure most of you know what I'm describing, right? If so, you also know what I'm talking about when I mention the construction worker whose job it is to direct which side of the road is supposed to be driving — and he does that by holding up a sign that says "drive" on one side, and "stop" on the other side.

You must know what I'm talking about.

So anyway, I'm driving along, praying out loud that he won't flip the stop sign towards my side before it's my turn to pass, and as I approach Mr. Sign Man at the whopping 12mph that we are all driving at, sure enough he flips the stop sign towards me.

Stupid, stupid.

And as I'm sitting there, cursing out the stop sign, he walks over, pulls a piece of paper out of his pocket, hands it to me through my window, and tells me to have a nice day.

Your Legal Questions Answered

Hey, guess who finally got around to answering all of your questions? Mr. Attorney Man! Below I am pasting the unedited and uncut word document sent directly from the man himself, with the exception that I added in a few pictures. Although he writes a good post, the dude only sent me three pictures... all of his office. So if you wanted to see part of his face or anything, you'll have to jump back here.

If you asked a legal question, it will be in the first half of this post. If the legal jargon bores you, skip to the second half of the post for his answers to what he referred to as "the mushy gushy stuff." I will say, I'm almost embarrassed to post this, he was much too kind to me in his answers.

Brace yourselves, this is a long one! (And you thought that I talked a lot). 

Prayers Please

Hi!!

Last week I got that call from daycare, the one that every parent hates, the one that sounds exactly like "hi, your kid is sick, please come get him."

Blerg. "Ok, I'll be right there!"

I picked up The Boy Child and although he was running a bit of a fever, he didn't seem to have any other symptoms. I tried to give him some dinner, of which he refused, and then tucked him into bed. He tossed and turned all night, several times waking up totally disoriented, and when morning rolled around I was fairly confused and concerned as to what was going on.