What else wants to happen

Around 1 am last night I discovered I have no heat. That was only because baby Boy's room was cold when I went to put him to bed. I come downstairs to turn the heat up and nothing happened. I looked at my temp. gauge we have, 66 degrees. I turned my thermostat up to 90 and I could hear the heat running but no air was flowing. I take Baby boy to bed with me and Big Girl ends up in bed with us because of a bad dream. Her bed was actually better than mine. She has a brand new thick down comforter that is warmer than mine. We get up and it is 56 degrees. We run out to Wal-Mart for heaters and a CO2 moniter. Of course Wal-Hellz is out of COs mon. Off to Home Depot we go, all unwashed (too fucking cold), B.B. still in jammies. We get home, he is grumpy. I let him take a nap, and after venture down to the depths of our house to check the furnace. The thing doesn't have a pilot light like I had hoped and I could not find the filter. There was spider webs all over the place. It took me 5 mins to get up the nerve to actually move down there. So now I have to call an HVAC guy to come out on New Year's day to anally rape me, oops, fix my furnace.

I get Baby Boy ready for bed and snuggled up. His little head is burning up. I take his temp. under his arm and it is 102.8, nice. I gave him some Tylenol and unzipped a couple of layers. He is asleep now. No other symptoms other than being a grump all day long. I guess we are heading to the ER tomorrow if there is no change. I have a feeling I'm going to have to cancel my appointment with my finacial aid advisor on Friday.

What to say, what to say...

This has been one of those weeks I wish I could just sleep through. Nothing profound happened, just the same ol', same ol'. Only I wish J. was here with us so badly. I knew how it would be when I signed on for this "job" but it does hurt. The tree is up, the gifts are wrapped and I know I have to be happy and positive for the kidlets. We just found out he won't be coming home a little early for R&R like we hoped he would be, so that was another blow.

Yesterday I found out my grandfather had a massive stroke and possibly will never come out of his coma. What is so horrible about the situation is I feel nothing. Nada, zip. I'm numb. When I get the call that he is gone I will feel the same. This man did nothing but drive my grandmother away from her family. He made her choose between him and us, she chose him over her only daughter and granddaughter. It is a long drawn out story that I won't get into here. I have seen them once in 14 years. That was because I had a momentary laspe of stupidity. When my Granddaddy was in the hospital I decided they should meet my then 3 month old daughter. At the time I was very emotional. I was dealing with undiagnosed post pardem depression and the stress of not knowing how my Granddaddy was going to be. When my grandfather opened the door he didn't recognize me. My grandmother was downstairs in the basement. When she come up to see me, she looked surprised, but not emotional, to see us. She showed little emotion over meeting her Great-granddaughter, whom she didn't even know about, for the first time. When I left, my grandfather followed me out to the car. The only thing he had to say to me was that I needed to get my mom over to the house. He wasn't going to be around forever and my grandmother needed her to take care of her. He then let me know that she needed to come over because when they are gone my mom will get everything. I haven't seen them since. She just found out about my little guy yesterday when my mom met her at the hospital.

I hate myself for not feeling anything about a family member passing. I don't know why I am posting this anyway. I want to cry for him, but I can't. I feel bad for my grandmother. She isn't in the greatest health and will have to either live alone or attempt to sale her house. She will expect my mom to help her.

I'm grumpy!

That is it. That pretty much sums up my day. I spent all last night moving furniture. I guessed since it is how many day before Christmas that I should put up the tree finally. I started moving furniture. I think I may have found Jimmy Hoffa's hideout under my couch, but that is besides the point. I started picking up some of the clutter and tried to put it in my Monica closet. I realized I have no more room. With all my furniture in the middle of the room, I started cleaning out my storage closet. I found my box of pictures. I had to go through them. Long story short, I gave up getting the living room straight, by promising myself the minute I got up this morning I would finish, at around 2:30. After being asleep all of 5 seconds, Baby Boy decided it was snack time. I think I racked out about 3:30 to be awaken to Big Girl and Baby Boy playing in my bed about 7:30. I tried to convince him he needed to go back to sleep, with somewhat good results. B.G. played in her room. B.B. wakes up crabby. I spent all morning listening to him bitch at me about everything. He takes a nap, in my lap, as always. I realize I have not only not wrapped my parents gifts, but I haven't loaded the pictures onto their SD cards. That takes me forever. I finally make it to the post office about 2 to find it closed. I had to use the kiosk while the kidlets enjoyed the echoing of the post office vestibule. Off to Walgreens where B.G. decides not to listen to a damn thing I say and B.B. tries to jerk everything off the shelves and won't keep his shoe or sock on. i had no less than 4 people stop me to ask where his shoe is and "oh, his poor little foot is going to get cold". I really wanted to say, I know. That was my plan, maybe his foot will freeze and fall off, that way he might slow down some. We finally make it home and I take my ass out into the freezing cold to drag in the Christmas tree and ornaments from our storage building. B.B. screams the entire time I'm going there. I get it all in and am now suffering from 3rd degree frostbite. He decides he needs another nap, B.G. wants to watch cartoons. I am now trapped in my chair and being tortured by Spongebob, her new obsession. He wakes up after about an hour or so. I start dinner, to him screaming. While doing that I put up the tree. I have to move furniture yet again. I move our floor lamp, where me being the genius I am, doesn't think to remove the glass light cover. The lamp tips over while I'm struggling to wiggle it by the wall and the couch. The glass hits our mantle and shatters all over the floor. He chooses this time to want to come into the living room. He screams until I get it cleaned up. I get the tree up, while he continues to scream, and half the damn side isn't lighting up. We eat. I'm not feeding him fast enough. He screams through dinner. I get him ready for bed, baby girl takes a bath. He decides he isn't tired anymore and wants to play. He pulls hair, hits face, shoves his binky in my mouth, all for the sake of not sleeping. It is now 11:00 and he has finally crashed. I still have to figure out what is going on with my tree and get the kitchen cleaned. I'm tired, I am grumpy, I just want to crawl into bed; which is now covered in clothes that I got started folding, but he decided he was tired of my room and started screaming, yet again. I give my poor tree 2 days before A). Baby Boy pulls it down on himself or B). my fat ass cat climbs up it, gets stuck, and brings it down to the ground.

Fuck it, I'm going to bed!

Why is it I feel like going on a week long bender after going to the grocery store.

It is almost like a switch flips in my sweet baby boy's mind. From the time we walk into the store he starts screaming and trying to pull things off the shelves. He starts grabbing at the tags on the shelves. Big girl seems to think she doesn't have to listen in the grocery store. I am dragging both of them up and down the aisles, one is screaming at the top o his lungs the other is agravating the crap out of him. One man actually stopped me to ask if it was his binky whisling at such a high pitch, one octave higher and only dogs would be able to hear it. I try to do this when Big Girl is in school, but that doesn't always happen. I get to the freaking end and they are out of the fucking veggie trays that I promised to take to Big Girl's class party. So that means I have to go to Wal-Mart in the morning. It will be the 3rd time I have drug my big ass up there. Walking into Wal-Mart makes my fucking eye twitch. As soon as I put Baby boy in the Jeep he was out. He didn't even make a sound when I unbuckled him and took his pants off. He took the liberty to leak through his diaper at some point in the adventure. Now he is in his bed, completely asleep with his jacket on and pantsless.

Dinner and a show

Tonight I had the privilege of attending the best show of the year, and being hand served the best meal. "The Littlest Christmas Tree" and fine dining on Cheerios. Big Girl made her debut today as Mrs. Claus. She landed her lines perfectly and most of her dance moves. Since Baby boy didn't feel he needed to sit in his stroller and miss the action, I strapped him on with the baby sling. During the course I was force fed Cheerios.

15 years ago (I can't believe I just typed 15 years!) I never would have dreamt I would be watching my baby on stage, speaking, dancing, and singing. I am so proud of her talent and her courage to get on the stage, walk up to a mic and say several lines. Plus she was just too stinking cute! It makes me realize how fast time is moving. After I got the kidlets in bed I loaded the SD cards I ordered to go in the grandparents' digi. picture frames. I stumbled across a pic of her showing off her big girl undies we took to send to her dad right after she potty trained. She was 3. I found pictures we took when we went to Garmish, Germany. She was only 2 then. I looked through Baby boy's newborn pictures. I cannot believe they are 1 and 6. I miss her as a baby. For some reason I started thinking about her pronunciations of words when she just started talking. Now she is an extremely smart, very articulate 6 year old. I miss my little boy being the wrinkly, tiny newborn we brought home from the hospital. Now he is a smart, crafty, active one year old. He never stops until it is nap time or feeding time.

What crack was I smoking?

After spending Thanksgiving with my friend and talking to her about going cloth, diapers that is, I decided to take the plunge. When I want to do something I want to do it NOW! I loaded up the kidlets and went to the Whole Foods store, where I bought a starter pack of the most adorable cloth diapers, G-diapers. For anyone not familiar with them, it is a good concept with a few flaws. The liner is flushable, compostable, biodegradable. All day, I would gaze lovingly at my little boy's cloth diapered tush toddling around and think about how I was single handedly saving the environment and banking the money spent on 'sposies at the same time. That was until the "incident". After I few hours and a good nap I figured it was time to see how well they work. We haven't had a leak so far. I sat him down and peeked in th diaper to see what was waiting on me. Oh my Lord! Baby boy was hiding something that looked like a chunky mud puddle. I couldn't put his little butt on the diapers, because well, it is cloth. I'm trying to hold him up, not get poop on the carpet or the diaper, and keep him from playing pay in the dirty diaper. I get things taken care of and then take care of "it". I didn't realize that he had leaked into the liner, it's now stained. I read the directions on how I have to separate the diaper (um... WHAT?) I get it taken apart, sort of, and flush. I be damned if it didn't stop up my toilet. I have my handy little stick that comes with the kit. You are supposed to swish it in the toilet. I shished my ass off and it still clogged up. After I took care of that problem I had to wash out the liner and diaper. Can I just say yuck! Now I am imagining that kind of yuck going through my washing machine. I spent all last night googling, looking, and posting about the perfect cloth diapers. I did get some good information and some great sites, but I don't know now. I mean, how many packs of diapers does he really go through in a week, 1, 2. I think I might be able to eat $16 a week to never have to do that again. Now I am stuck with a $25 pack of liners and 2 adorable cloth diapers. Who knows, I might trudge on and invest in the microfiber liners and some other diapers. We will just have to see. I can just hear J. now, I told you so. Blah!

Why you shouldn't go out in your jammies...

As usual I just jump in the truck wearing my jammies and with baby boy still in his to take big girl to school. Today it snowed, is snowing. We get halfway to school and BG tells me she forgot her book and doesn't want to pull her responsibilty piece at school. We go back and I'm trying to get her there before she gets a tardy. It's snowing right? Well I turn into the parking lot and start sliding. I slam right into the curb with my tire, but I don't knock over the traffic cone that was sitting on the curb, explain that one to me. It is completely knocked off the damn rim. She starts crying at asked me if we crashed. Yes baby, we crashed. BB doesn't make a sound. Her friend's mom saw it and took her in for me. This man comes running, well not actually running, but you know what I mean. He heard it pop. Now I panic. This is the third time I have done something to my tires since J. has been gone. I'm talking to him on Yahoo msg. on my Blackberry. BB is tired of not moving so he starts screaming, I'm in full panic mode now. I call J.'s partner who recruits another guy in the office to come to my rescue. They get to the school and my spare is flat also. Nice. They take my spare to my house to air it up, thank God I have an air compressor. They get it aired up, bring it back, change it, and follow me home. We get home and air up my other tire. It airs up and pops back on the rim, so no damage. They get it back on and head back to work. I love my friends. I'm afraid to go back out there to look at it. If I stay in the house I can pretend all is well.

Here is my poor tire.


Anyone want to contribute to the "A life-time bus pass for Courtney fund"

Sounds you don't want to hear in the dead of night...

Glass breaking, Earth shattering, and of course that ever so familiar vomit sound followed by the projectile vomit that hit me, the bed, and ended up all over the baby.

Let me back up. I picked up big girl from school Monday. She complained about her tummy hurting; a sick hurt and an owie hurt. She did her homework and went to the chair to lay down. She DOES NOT do this normally so I knew she felt bad. I baby her and rub her tummy. The next morning she somehow ends up in my bed. I wake her up for school. She tells me she still feels bad. I tell her if she doesn't go to school her friends couldn't come over to play like we had planned. She says ok. My baby is SICK. Off to the dr. we go. After the exam he concluded she has a virus that is just "ripe" to cause pain, vomiting, and diarrhea. Nice. So we go get groceries and go home. She has soup and goes to bed right after her bath, not begging to play or read. I hear baby boy about 2 in the morning waking up for his midnight snack. I go in there and am immediately hit by the foulest smell. (For dinner he munched on Ritz veggie crackers and Gerber meat sticks. They smell bad enough out of the jar, imagine mixed with a few body fluids.) My little guy has thrown up on himself in his sleep. I get him up, clean him up, change his clothes, and bed down for the night. He fell asleep while eating and I had barely dozed off when it hit, literally. He hit me in the chest. It ended up all over him, me and the bed. I change him and wipe him down again, change myself, and change the bed. He is now wide awake and notorious for crawling off the bed. We have a little "chat" and he finally falls asleep around 4:30. We wake up at 7:30 to begin our day. Big girl decides she feels ok to go to school. Baby boy decides he doesn't need no nap! He finally poops out about 45 mins. before we have to get Baby girl from school. She makes it through school and seems ok here and there. She did have a couple of times she was hurting. After a nice tummy rub she was feeling better. Now I have to figure out if it is a virus or a UTI that the dr. first thought it was. She has told me it hurts to potty. She went to sleep tonight with no arguing. Tomorrow she may go back to the dr. if she isn't any better. This is why I love the military.

Baby boy has no more sickies other than one bad diaper. Mommy needs a drink....