Now THIS is my kind of medic-alert tag

If you don't let the world know you're a chocoholic, who will?

My theme song (aka: The most unlikely duo ever)

My favorite refrain is, "I need a nap." Well, now I need not be limited to a plain old catch-phrase. My mantra has been set to music. It's sung by Weird Al and Kate Winslet. Yes, that Kate Winslet.

This CD actually doesn't do much for me (although there are a few songs I like--Alison Krauss' "Evermore," Doshie Luther's "Wave Bye Bye," and the lyrics [not the actual song so much] to "Penguin Lament"), but "I Need A Nap," truly is my theme song.

No, I'm not a toddler, but damn it, I need a nap too!

People on this blog are much happier than they appear.

I know I tend to come across as quite the misanthrop on here. I swear that's not the case. To prove it, here's a list of things that make me happy.

1. Starbucks. More precisely, mocha frappacinos.

2. Kid giggles

3. Taking a break from my busy day to lie in bed and nurse the baby

4. animals. We came much too close to adopting another cat last weekend.

5. my pillow

6. music from the early 90s (think Liz Phair, Belly, the Breeders)

7. watching my kids work together

8. Chinese food

9. books, books and more books. To quote my sister, " If it has words and holds still long enough, I'll read it."

10. The designs here and here. No particular reason. I just like 'em.

11. the Internet

12. Old friends

13. cartwheels

14. Being in one of my moods. If said mood was induced by alcohol, this will most likely be combined with #13.

15. Blackberry Merlot

16. Someone who can finish your sentences and hear what you meant, not necessarily what you said.

17. When kids say/do things that may embarrass you at the time, but you crack up over later.

18. Photographs

19. Laughing. I don't care why I'm doing it, as long as I am.

20. Good company. Combine this one with #19 and I'm in heaven.

There ya go. That's my random feel-good post of the day/week/month.

Your daily dose of rhetorical questions.

Please note, this is pretty negative, but I'm actually in a fairly good mood. Please don't think this is indicative of anything larger than the fact that I'm an emotional sponge and I need a nap.

What has happened to our optimism? How did the idealism get beaten out of us? I keep thinking back to high school and college. We were so determined, so ethical, so set on saving the world. We believed we could do it. We really believed we could make a difference.

I want that back.

I'm still hopeful, but I feel defeated. Many of us do. When I read that Cindy Sheehan has dropped out of the anti-war movement, I completely understood.

Her words are biting, but I believe they are true. Sure there are those who want to make a difference (on both sides of this debate), but in my experience, there are far more who are simply not concerned.

Here's an example from my world: I went back to lifting weights after I broke down at the gym last week. When one of my best friends there noticed I was upset and asked why, I pointed to the t.v. where anchors were analyzing Bush's speech. She shrugged her shoulders, pointed to her IPod around her neck and said, "Oh, I didn't bother with any of that. I just listened to my music." Mind you, this woman can tell you who was picked on the Bachelor. She can recount, in great detail, the past few episodes of Grey's Anatomy. She could not, however, be bothered to pay attention to the news. What's even more baffling? Her father is retired military. I just don't get it.

From the time I was a toddler, I was concerned with correcting injustice in the world. I have vivid memories from pre-school, grade school, high school and very definitely college where I felt compelled to step in and take a stand. I always believed one person could make a difference.

Even in my darkest days, when I suffered through depression and my friends declared, "You're so morbid," I still had an ember of optimism. I was pretty down on myself, but I usually had great hope for the rest of the world.

Where did that go? I miss those college days of rallies, poetry, articles, and all around optimism.

Thanks for the mamaries

My son did the sweetest thing today. At bedtime, I sat down to nurse him. He latched on, sucked for about 3 seconds, came off, looked at me, signed "Thank you," said "Tank," and went back to nursing.

sigh


It's times like these that I love everything about motherhood.

Happy?

There is no such thing as a "Happy" Memorial Day. Why on earth do people wish each other a "Happy Memorial Day?" There's nothing remotely happy about it. It's a day to remember and honor our dead. The idea of a barbecue or a sale at the mall just makes my stomach turn.

Obviously, my thoughts turn to the military. I've been absolutely addicted to the military programming on t.v. this weekend.

This show was particularly powerful.

CNN also has this section: Coming Home: Families and War.

If you're lucky enough to have your family there with you this holiday weekend, please enjoy it. Just, please, don't forget that Memorial Day is a day to remember those we have lost. It is NOT merely the beginning of the summer season or an excuse for a sale.

I was having a good day, then Bush opened his mouth.

It never ends. I mean that in reference to being a military wife and in reference to the conflict.

My day started off well. I slept pretty well. We headed out on time. I ran longer than I ever have at the gym. I was in a great mood.

While at the gym, a breaking news update flashed on the screen. My heart skipped a beat. I held my breath. For a moment, the whole world seemed to stop. My husband is no longer active duty, but I'm still a military wife. I've become so conditioned to reacting in terror every time that happens. It's a part of who I am. Part of me is furious over that fact. Another part of me is comforted.

Then Bush appeared and started speaking. Normally, I cannot watch him on the news. I tried desperately to watch his State of the Union address back in '03 when dh was deployed, but I found that I got too riled up. His speech was full of "mistruths", misstatements, and outright lies. Today, though, I watched, because I so desperately hoped they had some good news about the 2 soldiers who are still missing. No such luck.

Bush talked about removing the deadlines. He used his obnoxious "Support the troops" mantra. He insisted that if we don't continue fighting, Al Qaeda will attack us again.

I was livid. When I punched the machine I was on at the time, I knew I needed to get away. I stepped outside in the rain and bawled. Called a friend, went back in, stood and stared as Bush continued speaking, heard some friends there talk about the situation like it was entertainment, sat down in the lobby and cried again.

It hit me so hard. I think part of the reason is that I don't have my guard up. When dh was gone, I had to keep myself in check. When you're in the middle of it, you have to stay calm (or at least something that remotely resembles calm) if you plan on being able to get through your day. I guess I've already started to take that wall down, so I had no buffer. It hit me HARD.

In the end, I went in to the nursery and hugged the kids. It reminded me so much of that day back in 2003, when missiles were first fired over Baghdad. My girls were babies. I watched them play all while I watched the news reports. Here were my little girls who fought for life, giggling and sharing cereal in front of a t.v. screen where reporters spoke of casualties. I hugged the girls back then and wondered what the future held for them amid all this violence. I still don't know, but years later, it still looks pretty bleak. Hell, it looks much worse now than it did 5 years ago.

AHHH. There is so much I want to say. There's so much I want to scream. I just can't right now. I'll write another entry later on political rhetoric vs. our life.

Although, I do want to say, I'm so glad for my husband. When I hear/think of those we have lost, I get the overwhelming urge to touch him. I just want to be in his presence. I want to be reassured with physical proof that he does still exist. I want to celebrate that. But at the same time, I want to mourn those who are lost and in my husband's arms is the safest place to do that.

When dh is deployed and I hear about casualties, but I can't touch him or even contact him, it makes me want to claw my skin off. If you've ever been in labor, it's like transition. You're overwhelmed by the intensity of the sensation and you feel as though you simply cannot do this. You can't relax. You can't stand any sensations. The tension is excruciating.

When he's home, I just want to run to him. It happened on Veterans' Day and today it happened again. I suddenly got the urge to touch him, to hold him. I even tried calling him at work to see if I could stop by. Couldn't get through, though.

A few hours later, I was able to speak to him. I told him how I was surprised by my reaction and I ranted a bit about Bush. Dh assured me that he understood because even though he's not active, we still have friends who are plus there's always a chance he could be called up again. He agreed with my rant completely. I got the same response from a friend, my sister and even my mom, but it was particularly comforting coming from my husband.

Like I said, I'll post more on the topic later, but for now, I want to leave you with this:

"Help us and save us all, and let us cling tightly to the virtue of peace."(Attributed to Rabbi Nachman ben Feiga of Breslov, 1773-1810)

There are no words.

The only appropriate word I could think of after reading this was, "NOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Body found in Iraq is Calif. soldier

Sharing Time: Victory in the mommy wars

There's been so much talk over the past few years about the "Mommy wars"--mothers judging one another. I propose we mount a counter-attack. Forget making that tongue-snapping noise of annoyance at other moms. Let's compliment them.

Don't look for the bad to complain about. Look for the good to praise.

I challenge you all to speak up and tell parents when you notice their kids doing something nice. Leave me a comment and tell me about the situation. Feel free to post the challenge on your blog with a link here. I want to hear lots of happy stories.

My sister and I have made a point of trying to do this for a year or two now. First off, when I read the first article about "Mommy wars," I wrote to a mom I've always admired and told her so. Then, when my sister and I went to the zoo and a little boy (maybe 6 or so) held the door for us, my sister ran over to tell his parents what he had done and to thank them. The boy was beaming and so were his parents. Another time, I noticed a girl of about 8 helping my kids in the playground. I went over to her family and asked, "Is that your daughter?" They admitted she was and I could just see they were bracing themselves for bad news. I explained how I saw her help my kids and how much we appreciated it. Once again, the family was very obviously thrilled. I heard them call her over and start to relay the conversation to her as we left.

So now, go forth and declare victory in the mommy wars. Screw this petty bickering. Keep your eyes open for kids doing something positive and make a point of letting the parents know that you appreciate it. Then come back here and tell me about it.

Photographs and jewlery combined? Bestill my heart!

Why have I never seen these before? I don’t want one. I want them ALL.

Smoy Photocuffs

I particularly like these:

• Kid Smoy (sure, I want these for the girls, but I want a few for me too)
• No one would see this belt 'cause I keep my 3-baby-birthin' belly covered, but I love that it holds a bunch of photos.
• You can't tell from the photo, but these are glittery. Ooohhhh
• I want one of these in just about every color.
• I've strayed from the look since I had kids, but these are very punk rock. Although, I'd probably alter them a bit.
  

Unveiling

Anyone have a bottle of champaign? We could smack it against the side of the computer to christen the blog. Then again, that could damage the computer, it would be a waste of champaign and um...we're Jewish. So maybe we'll have to rethink that. :-)

Welcome to the new digs. So, what do you think?

I opted to take the old blog with me rather than start over. It has, however, been renamed. I ran a few title ideas by my husband and my sister and they both agreed on this one.

Today marks our first full day as civilians. I'm still in shock. Lots of people around me are congratulating me, but that doesn't feel right. I'm relieved, but I'm not celebrating.

I don't know how to feel and I don't know where we fit anymore.

Forgive me for quoting this yet again, but obviously, this really strikes a chord with me (I mean, come on, I named the blog after a quotation of hers).

"Sometimes, you dream in Martian. Your time on Mars has gifted you with a new way of speaking, a new way of looking at the world. And it has robbed you of the easy comfort you once felt in your mother tongue.” Kristin Henderson's While They're At War; pg 131

Notes from a former military wife

The military part, that is, not the wife part.

This will be my last entry before redoing this blog.

This morning, after an insanely long wait and then even more time because no one knew what they were doing (aka an ordinary day in the military), my husband separated from the military. He is no longer active duty. He'll be inactive reserve for the next 2 years. After that, he will have no military ties (although he is a veteran). Even while he is inactive, he's basically a civilian.

He's thrilled. While he was career military, he had been miserable these past few years and it only promised to get worse. He has a new civilian job that he adores. He went so far as to take his uniform hat to work at his civilian job. He keeps it on his desk. That way, he insists, it will always remind him how much better this job is than the military ever was.

I'm sad and a bit shaken. We were a military family. He was supposed to be career military. It has identified us for a long time. My husband is a veteran. We survived deployments. We gave up so much. Hell, we gave up his retirement. We've even given up stupid little things (access to the military instillation).

I drove past his old office today. We passed the gates from the civilian side. I didn't pass through. I realized I may never again. I suppose it's a bit of a metaphor for our life. True, he has a new inactive ID card which gives him limited access, but as his wife, I no longer have a valid ID card. I can no longer pass through those gates on my own.

In a way, we've always been on the outside. Dh was older when he went into the military. He didn't enlist right after high school or go in right out of college even like so many do. So while he was fabulous at his job (he has all sorts of awards, metals and ribbons), he was never molded into a unit like those who have their personalities shaped by the military. He worked hard and wanted to make a difference, but it always seemed more like his own individual decision rather than group mentality.

As Natalie Merchant sang with the Maniacs, "They're so good at making soldiers, but they're not as good at making men." I explained it this way to a friend today: When it came to torture at Abu Ghraib, people fell in line and did as they were told. My husband is the type who sees beyond the orders. I believe he would have refused. While that makes him the man I love and a wonderful human being, it doesn't always make for the best soldier.

We're also card-carrying liberal Democrats. That makes us a bit of an oddity in the military. Actually, there are far more of us now than there were before the Iraqi conflict, but we're still the minority.

Add to all that, we're Jews. The estimates that I've read say that we make up less than 1% of the American military. There were times we felt VERY out of place as a result.

Now, though, we're completely on the outside. Even when you disagree politically or religiously, you're still one big military family. The similarities often outweigh your differences. Granted, this is true of many people, but for us, the similarities involve not just what hobbies you enjoy, where you shop, what you do/don't feed your kids, or even what you majored in in college. The common threads we share involve spouses in combat zones, being without them (often with no contact) for days/weeks/months/years, and watching the news endlessly (or avoiding it) in search of (or to avoid) any information about him/her. I've written about this before, though, so I'll just direct you there instead.

Kristin Henderson says it best:

“With the Hooah Wives (an informal group of military wives), she never had to explain or translate. A couple of words, and they understood the rest, because going to war, whether you’re the one on the frontline or the homefront is like going to Mars, and living there with the Martians, and hearing only Martianese being spoken. Still, you’re an Earthling, a very adaptable species, and before long you’re speaking the language and starting to feel at home in this place that at first had seemed so strange and otherworldly.

And then one day, you go back to Earth, maybe just for a visit, maybe for good, and as you step off the spaceship, all around you in the spaceport, you hear a Babel of voices, over the loudspeaker, passing you in the concourse, speaking in some strange foreign tongue, and all of a sudden, it hits you – that’s the language you grew up speaking. In conversations, you sometimes find yourself searching for a word, a word you should know. Sometimes, you dream in Martian. Your time on Mars has gifted you with a new way of speaking, a new way of looking at the world. And it has robbed you of the easy comfort you once felt in your mother tongue.” pg 131


Honestly, I'm glad it's over. I'm thrilled to be done with all the hoops we had to jump through, red tape, 3 am firings (guns not pink slips), combat boots, PTSD (which the military refused to treat effectively, but that's pretty standard for any illness, physical or mental), absolute terror and longing. I know the reality of it is that if he was still active duty, dh would have deployed again a month ago after just 5 months at home. I'm willing to trade the sisterhood of the military spouse for my husband's life. It was never sunshine and lollipops, but for a long time, it was our life. We have been "military." There are pieces of that I will always miss.

FTR: You'll notice that I created a "civilian" label for this post. I was avoiding it, but I suppose I can't any longer. So ladies and gentlemen, feel free to welcome me to the civilian world, because here I am.

Which one of us has the dirty mind?

My eldest daughter has made some things for me recently that have me wondering if I have the dirty mind or if she is the proud owner of such a thing.

You be the judge:

Snakes on a plane or penises on paper?


She insists these are snakes. I see a very different kind of snake--the trouser variety.

On the only day of Mothers' Day, my daughter made for me, this.


She used a candle stick cookie-cutter, but it came out rather questionable. Dh laughingly called me in to see it when he pulled the cookies out of the oven.

She should sell her handiwork. There's a huge market for her craftmanship at bachelorette parties, don't ya think?

Ch ch changes

I'm planning on changing a few things around here.

Dh will be a civilian soon and so much of this blog has revolved around being a military family. I want a bit of a fresh start. I'll be taking the old entries with me, but I just want a new name and a bit of a new location (still blogger, but I'll change the URL to reflect the new name).

I'm not trying to run from you, though, so if you want me to take you along for the brand new life in the adventures of being civilians, just leave me a comment and I'll pass along a new link.

For now, the plan is to make changes on Tuesday May 22. So just let me know by then and you'll get a golden ticket to the new digs.

A letter to mother-in-laws all across the land

Dear Mother-in-law,

Your daughter-in-law does not want to hear about the frequency and/or schedule at which you defecate.

She most definitely does NOT want you to announce that you are about to do so.

If you find yourself talking at length about such topics (at a restaurant, no less) and you notice said daughter-in-law is cringing and/or turning away, please do not, under any circumstances continue to torture her with such disgusting subjects.

Only in my dreams...

Am I the only one here singing Debbie Gibson thanks to the title?

And of course, a quick trip to YouTube doesn't help.



Dh is gonna think I'm on crack when he hears this from the other room.

He's really gonna question my sanity now that I just searched for old Tiffany videos. I worshipped Tiffany. Hers was the first concert I ever attended. LOVED her.

My Tiffany video-watching marathon will have to wait until after this post, though.

The real reason for this entry is that I've fallen in love with a bed. It's not an adult bed, mind you. It's bunk beds--EXPENSIVE bunk beds, but damn it, they're CUTE and they'd be absolutely perfect in the girls' room.

Kenridge Twin-Over-Full Bunk Bed

I want them in the Sea Grass green pictured in the photo.

Now pardon me while I drool over children's furniture.

When I'm stuck with a day that's grey and lonely. I just stick up my chin and grin and say, "The sun'll come out tomorrow."

I'm feeling a bit better today. I still think I'm far too big*, but at least I have a plan of action.

Went to the gym and vented to one friend who has lost 70+ pounds. She hugged me. Vented to another friend who's in a similar situation (unexplained weight gain despite working out really hard and she eats SO well), but she's skinny. Well, she's muscular and healthy, not anorexic or anything of the sort, but she's thin and she looks great.

She's a great influence on me. I was at the point where I was so depressed that I wanted to curl up and cry and just screw it all. She's at the point where she's pissed and she's not gonna take it anymore. We're motivating each other to do more. She's motivating me more directly, "Let's do another set with that ung-dly heavy weight," where as I'm motivating her just by giving her someone to hold her accountable. So far, it's working well. We just need to keep it up. I have every intention to do just that.

* I need to point out that the way I feel about MY body is not a reflection of the way I feel about anyone else's. I'm just saying that I'm not comfortable with the size I am currently.

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.

My husband rocks! He's smart. He's hard-working. He rocks!

He got his reviews from all the training he's been doing lately (that's why he has been out of state so often). He did phenomenally.

In addition to that, during his training, he actually requested the most difficult scenario and he aced it.

I know you people probably don't much care, but I'm damn proud.

He's smart. He's dedicated. He's hot (not just because he set himself on fire). And he's got a great ass. Yep, I lucked out. :-)

"Maybe one day I can have a reunion with myself. "--Sebastian Bach

Dh's flight was delayed last night. He didn't even leave until after he was supposed to arrive here.

The late arrival meant there was no uniting in our reunion.

Since we spent the day running around with family, that is still true.

And I'm still growling over that fact.

We came, we saw, we set things on fire.

My husband set his face on fire.

His mother suggested we grill today. While doing that, dh got burned in the face in a freak accident. He was smart and did a bunch of stuff that saved him from the worst of it.

It scared the hell out of me. I turned just in time to see the large flame jump out right at his face. When he turned and ran, I saw smoke still coming from his hair. His beard, hair, eyebrows, eye lashes, nose, cheek and arm hair (he put up his arm when the flame jumped) are all singed. His nose and cheek are pealing and the rest of his face looks like he's sunburnt (aside from his forehead which is where he held his arm).

We are damn lucky! We're also in good spirits. Dh keeps laughing about it and shaking his head in disbelief.

Today, we met his brother's serious girlfriend for the first time. Dh was introduced, "This is my brother. He set his face on fire."

Oh and get this, apparently, his dad did the same thing while grilling, but his story is much worse. He burned off his eyebrows completely on the day before his wedding.

Dh keeps insisting he's stupid. I don't think that at all. It was more of a freak accident than anything else. He's not stupid. He is, however, very lucky.

The in-laws are coming. The in-laws are coming.

Apparently, my Paul Revere failed.

I knew they were coming. I just had no idea they were already here. They called dh last night to let them know their plane landed and they were in the area. Problem is dh is IN A DIFFERENT STATE and had his phone off.

So after the gym, and feeding the big kids, and putting the baby down for a nap, but BEFORE my shower, I get a phone call from them. I figure they're just about to take off. I thought they were coming in tonight. No, they're 10 minutes away. Apparently, they got in last night. AHHHHHHHHHHH.

I don't care how much you adore your ILs, you still need time to prepare for their arrival.

So I took the fastest shower in my life, had the kids search the house for exposed unmentionables (they caught the pink panties on the floor, but missed the bra hanging on the bathroom door. I, of course, found that AFTER my brother-in-law had already been in the bathroom), and quickly tried to pick up what I could.

They spent the day here. We're all still standing. Woo hoo.

Dh gets here in a few hours. Thank you, G-d. I don't mean that in a "using G-d's name in vain" way (although in Judaism, we don't take that "commandment" to mean just saying His name. We take it to mean taking an oath in His name). I mean that in a prayerful way. "Thank you, G-d" is much shorter than the text of the Sheheyanu, but basically means the same thing (although the Hebrew blessing is much prettier when set to music).

I know I'm being selfish since my ILs haven't seen the kids in close to a year and a half, but still, I'd like to spend the weekend reuniting with my husband. And no, I didn't initially mean reuniting, but yeah, I wanna do that too--repeatedly--without interruptions.

I'm glad he'll be here to see his family (they haven't seen him since long before he deployed) and I'm also glad he'll be here because when there are two of us, we can activate our Wonder Twin powers to help deal with the stress.

Random link Tuesday

aka Random Link whenever the hell I feel like it.

Through Purple Goddess in Frog Pyjamas, I found this link: 254 uses for Vinegar. And counting.

Hu's on first...Bush & Rice

Hu's on first...Bush & Rice

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FAQs for morons

These are actual questions I've gotten lately. I've had the first question more than once, but one idiot even asked 1 & 2 combined.

1. Are they ALL yours?

What I said: Yes.

What I wanted to add: Three children do NOT constitute "All." Three is not a fucking excess of kids. When 2 of them come as a matched set (which is usually obvious because they like to match), then that's sure as hell not a lot of kids. Two pregnancies do not a huge family make (with some exceptions)

2. Have you figured out what causes that?

What I actually said: Yeah. For some of us, it's supplements and medications and medical procedures and doctor interventions.

What I wanted to add: Fucking moron!

The idiot at the mall who asked this combination of idiocy chuckled and walked away. So once again, I add: FUCKING MORON!

Now what?

The parents are gone and I don't know what to do with myself.

I'm ready to crawl out of my skin. All of a sudden, they're gone. It's quiet. The kids are in bed. I don't have any big plans for tomorrow. Now what?

I'm trying to get some work done, but the computer's running slow, so that's taking a while. I have music on, but it's not helping to break the silence.

This is the strangest thing. I feel like I need to get up and walk around. I feel tense all over.

Weird.

I know we'll get back into the swing of things relatively quickly, but I just hate it when visiting family leave. :-(

Now pardon me while I pout.

"So you are a super star. Get off the cross we need the wood."

I should have been furious, but I was just in complete disbelief. My mother is going to be the death of me. My 70-year-old mother threw a temper tantrum while I waited to take my daughter to urgent care.

Girl2 was sick. She threw up every 10 minutes. I couldn't get her to keep anything at all down. Even the electrolyte ice pops immediately came back up. She vomited bile. She was obviously getting dehydrated and she was lethargic. I was trying to take care of her while waiting for the doctor's office to open.

My parents were here at the time. My mother started ranting about her neighbor's granddaughter. Mom insisted the girl (who is about 3) should be in pre-school. I forget what I said exactly, but I made some comment about how the family obviously feels she's better with family (she stays with her grandmother during the day). Mom then complained about how the kid never listens to her grandmother. I managed to get mom far enough off the pre-school topic by discussing that family and reminiscing about them (they have lived near my parents for decades. I went to school with the little girl's mother).

Then mom has to throw all my efforts out the window by once again, out of nowhere, announcing, "Kids need to be in pre-school." I asked, "So when did your opinion change? My kids have never been in school. You've never had a problem with that." My mother blew up. She threw her hands up and announced, "I never knew I was such a fucking idiot." Mind you, my mother NEVER drops the F-bomb, so this was a big deal. She flipped out and stormed into the other room where she bitched about it loudly to my father.

I sat there, my sick daughter's head in my lap, in utter disbelief. WTF? My husband's away. I'm trying to take care of a vomiting dehydrated kid and you're not only insulting my parenting (which is strange because she also complains about how dh's cousin and his wife went back to work leaving their son in daycare), but then she hops on the drama llama and rides off leaving a cloud of hugely dramatic dust in her wake.

I ignored her, continued to run back and forth with Girl2 to the bathroom a few more times, then called the doctor. They sent me to urgent care. I took my daughter and left without saying anything to mom. I explained to my dad that I was leaving coffee, filters and cups out for them in case they wanted coffee. I hoped the gesture would help soothe the savage beast. I was not, however, going to give my mother another opportunity to throw a tantrum.

Granted, my mother has done this before with little to no provocation. I shouldn't be surprised, but this was a whole new low.

JSYK, Girl2 is feeling better. We spent 2 hours trying to get a urine specimen. No luck (the kid was dehydrated. Obviously we're not gonna get one). They wouldn't let us leave without one, though. So they gave her a huge glass of water which I had her sip slowly, but she still threw the whole thing up all over the place. The doctor threatened a catheter. I was not pleased. The nurse and I tried a few more tricks. Finally, after 10-12 bathroom trips, a trip to the water fountain, a humongous glass of water, turning the sink on while she sat on the toilet, putting her hand in warm water, and putting a warm washcloth on the girly parts; we got a sample. I'm so glad because we used up all our options. That catheter was the very next step. She has a UTI for which we got antibiotics, but we have no clue what caused the vomiting and swollen tonsils (those suckers are HUGE). We need to follow up with our doctor next week.

Hopefully, by then, her infection (and mom's drama llama) will be gone.

I'm still here

Lots going on around these parts, but I haven't left you to fend for yourselves.

My parents are visiting. We're super busy. And then my sister went and had a baby. :-)

I have a new baby nephew and I'm so excited. The kids are too. They got to meet him. Well, the big kids did. The wee one got left behind to bond with the grandparents.

Oh, this should tell you a bit about my parents and why having them here is both lovely and stressful:

Earlier in the week, I had a meeting. My parents are staying at a hotel 20 minutes from my house. They planned on coming over before the meeting. THEY GOT LOST. They needed to make the first right out of their parking lot on to one highway. Then they needed to follow that one to just one other high way. It's super simple. They have made this drive before. I have lived in this exact same house for years. They. got. lost. WTF?

Not only did they get lost, they got lost the DAY AFTER I SHOWED THEM EXACTLY WHICH WAY THEY NEEDED TO GO. They got REALLY lost. They went in the opposite direction for about 1/2 an hour before they realized something was wrong. Get this--right way = amusment parks, churches, civilization; wrong way = wide open spaces and Indian reservations. HOW THE HELL DID THEY MANAGE TO GET LOST?

I almost missed the meeting and I spent lots of time shaking my head in disbelief and bitching to my sister (who had not yet had the baby).

Hey, I know I shouldn't bitch too much. They're sweet. They mean well. They try to help. And when all that fails, they provide fodder for the blog. :-)