So first of all I have to tell you about my son's pediatrician visit.
So we get to the office, and the receptionist is just a darling. She always has been, and I'm sure always will be. She plays with my son as he runs around the room like a small crazy monkey boy, with me chasing him around like the large crazy monkey mommy. I hear my son's name, so I look up to the sight of the receptionist telling the doctor that I'm there, and the pediatricians annoying headshakes and exasperated tones as if she is saying 'Should I care? What does she want?'. This pisses me off, as I distinctly remember from my pediatrician days not dealing with this kind of snarkness. But whatever, I ignore it and go back to entertaining my running child who is now making laps around the small plastic table and pretending to breathe hard like he has run a marathon. (Which by that point, he had.)
We get called into the room, and a new lady comes in. She seems real nice and she asks me to set my son on the scale as he refuses to stand on the adult scale. So I do. And she makes astonished noises as she records that my son is apparently a whopping 46 lbs.
....
Really now? 46 lbs? You can't even be serious. But she was. When my mother in law said 'I don't believe that. Weigh him again.' So this time she decides to weigh my husband on the adult scale (he doesn't want me to tell his weight LOL) and then hold my son. She then tries to tell us that my son is infact 39 lbs....
....
And again my MIL is like... 'No. That's not right.' So we set him back on the baby scale, and it says 46. Yeah. 46 KILOGRAMS. She had it on the wrong setting, and was just going to leave the weigh in recorded at 46 lbs, when clearly, my son is NOT 46 lbs. He is infact 28.15 lbs.
So then the doctor comes in. I'm holding my son and she asks me what's wrong with him, at which point I explain to her that I feel that he might be having trouble with some acid reflux. But she's not even listening to me, because she's too busy getting angry at my son who is squirming around in my arms because she has just stuck a cold ass stethoscope on his chest. No, she did not breathe on it, no she did not rub it between her hands. She just shoved it under his shirt, no questions. After I've managed to still him a little, she grabs out the ear checker and tries to peer into his ears. However by this point my son is not only squirming but he's yelling, probably because the bitch jammed it into his ear canal. I can't blame him.
However, she really took the queen of the bitch title when she exasperatedly told me that I 'Need to hold his arms down or something because he's giving me trouble.'
What. The. Fuck.
She spent a total of 2.5 minutes in the room, and then told me in an annoyed voice that she was going to send him to a gastroentologist. No prescrip. No nothing, just send him to a specialist and get him out of her room.
We left the room and walked to the front desk where the receptionist was trying to find a gastroentologist who would take my insurance. She came up with several names, and as she turned to my son's pediatrician and asked her who she would like to refer my son to, I had the pleasure of having her give me a dirty look and tell the receptionist that 'It doesn't matter, any will do.'
I came home, more than a little pissed off, went online, found a new pediatrician with good reviews, called them and asked if they were taking new clients, called my sons insurance provider and changed his primary physician, then called the new pediatrician back and gave them all of my sons information and scheduled an appointment for tomorrow morning at 8:40 AM.
But here's the real kicker. When I was on the phone with my sons insurance provider, she told me 'Btw, just so you're aware it's showing in the system that your son is way overdue for several immunizations and a physical exam.'
I immediately called the queen bitch's office and told the receptionist (who I am actually sad to say goodbye to) that I was no longer going to bring my son to them and I needed the files transfered to the new pediatricians office. She told me to come in and sign a release form so that's what I did. I drove back to her office (only to find that she had left, leaving her staff there alone) and signed the papers. The funny part about all this? As I left the room and told the receptionist that I really appreciated her kindness, and I was sorry to cause her so much more work, she said 'You won't be the last one.' And gave me a knowing look, as if conveying that she understood the physician she worked for was a piece of crap.
I cannot tell you how much of a relief it is to have this woman no longer 'caring' for my son. And btw, I did ask for a copy of his immunizations, only to find that he is almost 8 months behind on 4 shots, and a whole year behind on his influenza.
There's no excuse for that kind of bullshit, and all I have to say is if you're going to be a pediatrician you must like kids. If you don't, you have no business in the practice and should move on to something else.
Monday, January 4, 2010
Pulling teeth to find a Dentist
So I awoke this morning with the knowledge that I would be making a few calls to doctors, and I would begin the search for a dentist. This might seem simple, but really it's not. You see, my son is on Medicaid, which is insurance provided through the state to low income families to children under 18. This is a great program, and I thank the good lord for it all the time. However. It is so hard to find anybody that will accept it!
When my son was born 6 weeks prematurely, he had two holes in his heart. One of the holes was just a valve that closed by itself not too long after his birth. The other is what is known as a VSD, or a Ventricular Septic Heart Defect. It is a hole between the chambers of his heart. This can cause all kinds of nasty problems if it becomes unstable, becuase it can push non oxygenated blood and oxygenated blood through the wrong side of the heart making all kinds of problems.
I am told the hole in my sons heart is BIG. When he was only a couple days old, and they did the ultrasound (it's pretty routine for premature infants), they immediately called in a specialist. This specialist happened to be Dr. Humes who is infact the head of the Cardiology department of Michigan's Detroit Childrens Hospital. He's a big deal. He is very upfront, and doesn't give two shits about your feelings, but he is the best that there is to be had here, and I cannot even begin to tell you the comfort I have in him.
I will never forget the day he sat me down in a room, my belly still hurting from the emergency c-section, and told me that there was a big hole in my baby's heart. That we might have to do open heart surgery. He made sure to hand me a book, and told me to read it. To learn about my sons defect, so that I understood the signs of when it was getting bad. So that I knew what to look for. But he assured me over and over, that it wasn't my fault. I felt myself tear up a few times, but I made a point not to cry. I wanted this doctor to know that I would not be a blubbering idiot. I would do whatever was necessary to help my little boy grow up big and strong, and as I think back now I'm pretty sure he was taken aback my my stoic silence.
The point is, he's the best, and since my son's birth we have been carefully monitoring his heart. The thing is, this man only takes ONE kind of medicaid. It is Health Plan of Michigan. I refuse to give up this healthplan, because I refuse to give up this amazing doctor who has so profoundly impacted my life. However, while he only takes this type of medicaid, many other doctors do not take it at all. My son has been seeing the same pediatrician since he was born, and I still to this day do not like her. She shows no care for my son, and several times has come into the room thinking he is a different age, and a different kid.
How is it possible to really pay attention to a child, if you don't know who the hell the kid is? I have gone back and forth with getting a new pediatrician because it has been so long, and this doctor knows my son's situation. However, when you're sitting there for 20 minutes after your appointment was scheduled, only to see the doctor pull up and get out of her car... it really makes you wonder where in the world her priorities are. I barely see her for 30 seconds out of an entire visit, just long enough for her to listen to his heart and then give orders to the nurses and walk out.
Look guys, I know that doctors are busy, but seriously? There are only two other doctors in the area that accept my son's insurance, and one of them I can tell you by experience is a complete quack. The other isn't board certified. So here I am, stuck with a pediatrician who doesn't give a damn. I'm not really sure what I'm going to do.
But I've gotten way off topic. The point was, nobody takes this insurance. I got a paper in the mail telling me that I had to pick a dentist for my son, so I begin the search by seeking out dentists in the area. But it's like nobody wants to send out the message that they help poor people, so you have to CALL every office and ask them if theya ccept medicaid.
At first they are syrupy sweet, and are all revved to help you. So you ask the question. 'Do you accept Medicaid?" And suddenly that sweetness turns to a nasty sour sound as they begin their replies. "No, I'm Soooorry, we don't take that. CLICK." as they hand up. Now, text cannot possibly convey the pure acidic, borderline hatred and distaste that they express. As if you are too fucking poor for their time. How dare you call them? How dare you waste their precious nail filing time at their desk? You, you who are poor and below the standard for normal human life.
I cried. I got this 4 times, and just broke down. It wasn't for me, it was for my son. Why did they have to sound that way? Couldn't they have been a little bit nicer? What had I done so wrong as to deserve their contempt and animosity? --Sure, it's foolish. I probably was overreacting, but I just have to tell you guys, they weren't nice. There did happen to be one that WAS really nice, and through her help I have found a dentist that I think will work really well, but the point was she was only 1 in the however many I managed to call. Only 1.
I know that people tend to look at my family differently when they find out that I get food stamps, and I have my son on medicaid. What they don't see is that even with all of our effort, we just can't afford things. I go to school full time, and my husband works full time. I was working until I got fired because our car broke down and we didn't have the money to fix it. Times are hard on everybody, and I am very blessed for the things I have. I can't understand why people are so mean to those who go out and seek aid. Am I such a terrible mother that I would put away my ego, swallow my pride, to make sure my son has a hot meal in his belly, and the doctors he needs to survive? And I often wonder if people realize what their meanness does to other people. Sure, I could feed my 'pride', and let my family starve, and tell my son 'good luck, you're not going to have any food today but hey... we've got out pride', but you know what? Kids don't care about pride. My son doesn't look at me any differently. He knows I'm doing what I have to so that he can be happy and healthy.
Why are adults so removed from the view of a child?
I hear it all the time. 'Yeah, my tax money pays for your food. Yeah, my fucking taxes pay for your kids insurance.' ...Yeah? Well you have to pay taxes ANYWAYS, shouldn't you be glad that your taxes are going to the survival of a child? That your taxes might one day pay to save my son's life should he need heart surgery? Shouldn't you be comforted in the knowledge that your taxes are preventing women and children from living on the streets, and eating garbage? That because of your taxes, children who would have otherwise died are now living? Without your taxes I would not have lived through my pregnancy.
But nobody looks at it that way. They look at it as if I'm stealing. Little more than a petty thief garnishing your hard earned wages. Well, I have worked, and my husband works, and we pay taxes. So why is it we are so different from you?
These are my thoughts and feelings, and I leave you to them as my son has to go to his doctor soon and we need to get ready. Be nice to everybody, you have no idea how your niceness might affect their day, and how wonderful it could be for them. Or for yrouself. We often overlook the good that can come from a single hug, or a simple compliment. My challenge to you today is to give out at least three compliments, and see if in some way it doesn't make you feel better about yourself. I know it always does me.
When my son was born 6 weeks prematurely, he had two holes in his heart. One of the holes was just a valve that closed by itself not too long after his birth. The other is what is known as a VSD, or a Ventricular Septic Heart Defect. It is a hole between the chambers of his heart. This can cause all kinds of nasty problems if it becomes unstable, becuase it can push non oxygenated blood and oxygenated blood through the wrong side of the heart making all kinds of problems.
I am told the hole in my sons heart is BIG. When he was only a couple days old, and they did the ultrasound (it's pretty routine for premature infants), they immediately called in a specialist. This specialist happened to be Dr. Humes who is infact the head of the Cardiology department of Michigan's Detroit Childrens Hospital. He's a big deal. He is very upfront, and doesn't give two shits about your feelings, but he is the best that there is to be had here, and I cannot even begin to tell you the comfort I have in him.
I will never forget the day he sat me down in a room, my belly still hurting from the emergency c-section, and told me that there was a big hole in my baby's heart. That we might have to do open heart surgery. He made sure to hand me a book, and told me to read it. To learn about my sons defect, so that I understood the signs of when it was getting bad. So that I knew what to look for. But he assured me over and over, that it wasn't my fault. I felt myself tear up a few times, but I made a point not to cry. I wanted this doctor to know that I would not be a blubbering idiot. I would do whatever was necessary to help my little boy grow up big and strong, and as I think back now I'm pretty sure he was taken aback my my stoic silence.
The point is, he's the best, and since my son's birth we have been carefully monitoring his heart. The thing is, this man only takes ONE kind of medicaid. It is Health Plan of Michigan. I refuse to give up this healthplan, because I refuse to give up this amazing doctor who has so profoundly impacted my life. However, while he only takes this type of medicaid, many other doctors do not take it at all. My son has been seeing the same pediatrician since he was born, and I still to this day do not like her. She shows no care for my son, and several times has come into the room thinking he is a different age, and a different kid.
How is it possible to really pay attention to a child, if you don't know who the hell the kid is? I have gone back and forth with getting a new pediatrician because it has been so long, and this doctor knows my son's situation. However, when you're sitting there for 20 minutes after your appointment was scheduled, only to see the doctor pull up and get out of her car... it really makes you wonder where in the world her priorities are. I barely see her for 30 seconds out of an entire visit, just long enough for her to listen to his heart and then give orders to the nurses and walk out.
Look guys, I know that doctors are busy, but seriously? There are only two other doctors in the area that accept my son's insurance, and one of them I can tell you by experience is a complete quack. The other isn't board certified. So here I am, stuck with a pediatrician who doesn't give a damn. I'm not really sure what I'm going to do.
But I've gotten way off topic. The point was, nobody takes this insurance. I got a paper in the mail telling me that I had to pick a dentist for my son, so I begin the search by seeking out dentists in the area. But it's like nobody wants to send out the message that they help poor people, so you have to CALL every office and ask them if theya ccept medicaid.
At first they are syrupy sweet, and are all revved to help you. So you ask the question. 'Do you accept Medicaid?" And suddenly that sweetness turns to a nasty sour sound as they begin their replies. "No, I'm Soooorry, we don't take that. CLICK." as they hand up. Now, text cannot possibly convey the pure acidic, borderline hatred and distaste that they express. As if you are too fucking poor for their time. How dare you call them? How dare you waste their precious nail filing time at their desk? You, you who are poor and below the standard for normal human life.
I cried. I got this 4 times, and just broke down. It wasn't for me, it was for my son. Why did they have to sound that way? Couldn't they have been a little bit nicer? What had I done so wrong as to deserve their contempt and animosity? --Sure, it's foolish. I probably was overreacting, but I just have to tell you guys, they weren't nice. There did happen to be one that WAS really nice, and through her help I have found a dentist that I think will work really well, but the point was she was only 1 in the however many I managed to call. Only 1.
I know that people tend to look at my family differently when they find out that I get food stamps, and I have my son on medicaid. What they don't see is that even with all of our effort, we just can't afford things. I go to school full time, and my husband works full time. I was working until I got fired because our car broke down and we didn't have the money to fix it. Times are hard on everybody, and I am very blessed for the things I have. I can't understand why people are so mean to those who go out and seek aid. Am I such a terrible mother that I would put away my ego, swallow my pride, to make sure my son has a hot meal in his belly, and the doctors he needs to survive? And I often wonder if people realize what their meanness does to other people. Sure, I could feed my 'pride', and let my family starve, and tell my son 'good luck, you're not going to have any food today but hey... we've got out pride', but you know what? Kids don't care about pride. My son doesn't look at me any differently. He knows I'm doing what I have to so that he can be happy and healthy.
Why are adults so removed from the view of a child?
I hear it all the time. 'Yeah, my tax money pays for your food. Yeah, my fucking taxes pay for your kids insurance.' ...Yeah? Well you have to pay taxes ANYWAYS, shouldn't you be glad that your taxes are going to the survival of a child? That your taxes might one day pay to save my son's life should he need heart surgery? Shouldn't you be comforted in the knowledge that your taxes are preventing women and children from living on the streets, and eating garbage? That because of your taxes, children who would have otherwise died are now living? Without your taxes I would not have lived through my pregnancy.
But nobody looks at it that way. They look at it as if I'm stealing. Little more than a petty thief garnishing your hard earned wages. Well, I have worked, and my husband works, and we pay taxes. So why is it we are so different from you?
These are my thoughts and feelings, and I leave you to them as my son has to go to his doctor soon and we need to get ready. Be nice to everybody, you have no idea how your niceness might affect their day, and how wonderful it could be for them. Or for yrouself. We often overlook the good that can come from a single hug, or a simple compliment. My challenge to you today is to give out at least three compliments, and see if in some way it doesn't make you feel better about yourself. I know it always does me.
Saturday, January 2, 2010
Just so you know..
So, I didn't have school today which was great because I found myself sleeping in. I cannot even express to you how wonderful it feels to sleep in on a saturday for me. It has been so long that I had almost forgotten how wonderful it was.
I woke up to my son bashing a toy against the wall. Now normally this might have annoyed me, but like I said... I got to sleep in! So I promptly took care of him and while he was terrorizing one or more objects in the room, decided to surf YouTube. Now I know that youtube is an aweful aweful thing, but frankly I don't care. I love to watch all of the people on there. Maybe it makes me feel more connected (pathetic I know) but I don't think that's the case. I think it's my insatiable quest for something I don't already know. I usually can be found scouring the contents of youtube for the newest makeup application technique, or a review on the newest MAC products. I'm not sure WHY I do this, because I don't own a single thing with a MAC label on it, or frankly, anything affiliated with MAC. But hey, as I watch these women and girls apply flawlessly pigmented color to their eyelids with a dizzying array of brushes I have never before TOUCHED, I feel a little less poor. Like I'm peeking in on something that I can never have but want so badly I can almost taste the freshly pressed powder on my tongue.
So I was surfing around like some crazed makeup frenzied stalker when I came upon a video that was labeled 'Christmas Haul.' And I gotta say. This really really bothered me. A Haul, if you are unsure, is when a person goes out and buys a bunch of new products. They bring it home and display their treasures for us poor shmucks to gaze at longingly and ask questions about when really we'll never own it in our lives. It wasn't the Haul part that bothered me. It was the fact that this girl was treating her Christmas gifts like... a Haul. I felt like the spirit of christmas had been sullied. Torn, spit upon and lit like a burning bush. Since when has the spirit of christmas been dulled so much that it is treated like a 'Haul'. I could almost imagine some greedy little gremlin poking its hands around at christmas time, 'GIMME GIMME GIMME' crossing its lips as it struggled to grab everything in its clutches.
I stared in wonder, and growing disguist as item after item was displayed. Hundreds of dollars worth the name brand clothing and shoes. More MAC makeup than I could ever hope to own in my life... to a 13 year old girl. Now maybe it was jealousy, or maybe it was just the frugal penny pinching hag that lives inside my body, but I got almost a little angry. I couldn't help but wonder what this 13 year old girls parents were thinking. What 13 year old needs designer jeans and pore minimizing lotion? What 13 year old needs foundation and blush? What flaw could possibly be on this girls face that she required these things?
My mind still boggles a little bit when I try to comprehend it. I mean... don't get me wrong, I'm not bashing a little girl. That is not at all my intention here, I'm just trying to understand WHY? Shouldn't little girls be getting bikes? I probably sound like a real jerk, but look at it from my perspective. I'm a mother. Sure I have a little boy, but at the same time... when he turns 13, what is he going to expect from me? 4 pairs of Air Force 1's? A skateboard signed by tony hawk? How can I possibly live up to these standards? And it got me thinking even more... what's going to happen the next year? Are we moving the car buying age to 14 now? Am I going to suddenly have to start wondering how I'm going to afford another car insurance payment?
I know this is totally unrealistic, but it's SCARY. It's scary that the standards have changed so much, but the money isn't there to match... and what about the appreciation? Is my son suddenly going to hate me because I couldn't afford to get him the best of the best? And what kind of parent would I be if he did start to hate me?
We parents always question what we're doing. Is it wrong, is it right? I'm not going to judge anybody else's parenting skills. I understand that as a parent we want our children to have the BEST of everything, but all of this really begs the question how much is too much? When should we decide to cut things off? I wonder a little how it would make that girls parents feel, if they saw her referring to her gifts as 'HAULS' instead of loving and well thought out presents. I know how it would make me feel, and it's not good.
I've rambled too much. I suppose this was my big thought for the day, so I'll leave you with it, and your judgement.
Love
Mommy Neva
Btw... why is a 13 year old allowed to make unsupervised videos on youtube???
I woke up to my son bashing a toy against the wall. Now normally this might have annoyed me, but like I said... I got to sleep in! So I promptly took care of him and while he was terrorizing one or more objects in the room, decided to surf YouTube. Now I know that youtube is an aweful aweful thing, but frankly I don't care. I love to watch all of the people on there. Maybe it makes me feel more connected (pathetic I know) but I don't think that's the case. I think it's my insatiable quest for something I don't already know. I usually can be found scouring the contents of youtube for the newest makeup application technique, or a review on the newest MAC products. I'm not sure WHY I do this, because I don't own a single thing with a MAC label on it, or frankly, anything affiliated with MAC. But hey, as I watch these women and girls apply flawlessly pigmented color to their eyelids with a dizzying array of brushes I have never before TOUCHED, I feel a little less poor. Like I'm peeking in on something that I can never have but want so badly I can almost taste the freshly pressed powder on my tongue.
So I was surfing around like some crazed makeup frenzied stalker when I came upon a video that was labeled 'Christmas Haul.' And I gotta say. This really really bothered me. A Haul, if you are unsure, is when a person goes out and buys a bunch of new products. They bring it home and display their treasures for us poor shmucks to gaze at longingly and ask questions about when really we'll never own it in our lives. It wasn't the Haul part that bothered me. It was the fact that this girl was treating her Christmas gifts like... a Haul. I felt like the spirit of christmas had been sullied. Torn, spit upon and lit like a burning bush. Since when has the spirit of christmas been dulled so much that it is treated like a 'Haul'. I could almost imagine some greedy little gremlin poking its hands around at christmas time, 'GIMME GIMME GIMME' crossing its lips as it struggled to grab everything in its clutches.
I stared in wonder, and growing disguist as item after item was displayed. Hundreds of dollars worth the name brand clothing and shoes. More MAC makeup than I could ever hope to own in my life... to a 13 year old girl. Now maybe it was jealousy, or maybe it was just the frugal penny pinching hag that lives inside my body, but I got almost a little angry. I couldn't help but wonder what this 13 year old girls parents were thinking. What 13 year old needs designer jeans and pore minimizing lotion? What 13 year old needs foundation and blush? What flaw could possibly be on this girls face that she required these things?
My mind still boggles a little bit when I try to comprehend it. I mean... don't get me wrong, I'm not bashing a little girl. That is not at all my intention here, I'm just trying to understand WHY? Shouldn't little girls be getting bikes? I probably sound like a real jerk, but look at it from my perspective. I'm a mother. Sure I have a little boy, but at the same time... when he turns 13, what is he going to expect from me? 4 pairs of Air Force 1's? A skateboard signed by tony hawk? How can I possibly live up to these standards? And it got me thinking even more... what's going to happen the next year? Are we moving the car buying age to 14 now? Am I going to suddenly have to start wondering how I'm going to afford another car insurance payment?
I know this is totally unrealistic, but it's SCARY. It's scary that the standards have changed so much, but the money isn't there to match... and what about the appreciation? Is my son suddenly going to hate me because I couldn't afford to get him the best of the best? And what kind of parent would I be if he did start to hate me?
We parents always question what we're doing. Is it wrong, is it right? I'm not going to judge anybody else's parenting skills. I understand that as a parent we want our children to have the BEST of everything, but all of this really begs the question how much is too much? When should we decide to cut things off? I wonder a little how it would make that girls parents feel, if they saw her referring to her gifts as 'HAULS' instead of loving and well thought out presents. I know how it would make me feel, and it's not good.
I've rambled too much. I suppose this was my big thought for the day, so I'll leave you with it, and your judgement.
Love
Mommy Neva
Btw... why is a 13 year old allowed to make unsupervised videos on youtube???
Friday, January 1, 2010
Bringing in the New year with a Dance
So last night I brought in the new year by watching the movie Hangover and drinking tequila until I was having trouble walking. (I have never been fully drunk in my life, but I have, on appropriate occasion, indulged in the merryment that is watching everybody else get drunk while laughing at the stupid things they do and or say.)
Anyways. So I that's how I brought in the new year, and if you haven't seen the movie Hangover, I highly recommend you do so. It was stupid and funny. I waited until three minutes until the count down to call my husband at work (he works security at night) where we counted down together to the sound of fireworks and drunken gun shooting. I can only hope that the bullets were not being shot AT someone, or will not fall from the sky later to pelt some poor SOB on the street corner in three days. Sure, this seems like a heartless thing to say, but lets be honest ladies and gentlemen, dying is a part of life and if it is your time to go, it is your time to go.
I woke up this morning on the couch where I had fallen asleep last night, the remote wedged firmly between my love handle and the back of the couch, and immediately wished I hadn't woken up, but thankful that I have no school today. And apparently no school tomorrow either.
I'm going to school for my cosmetologist license, which indefinately means that I have paid almost 17 grand to do hair and nail services on people all day on my feet. You might be thinking to yourself that it doesn't matter because most people have to do that. However, I would like to point out that most people get PAID for their work. I do not. I pay them, and if I don't get a tip I make nothing at all for my hard work, time, and effort. I'm willing to bet that most people would quit their jobs if they weren't making any money from them.
But I digress. I woke up only to crawl back into bed and try to get another couple hours of sleep before the baby woke up. I will say I successfully managed to get that few extra hours, and am in a far better mood because of it. Unfortunately though, My son threw up and now his whole bed and clothing has to be sanitized. He seems to be feeling better now, though, since he has been asleep for the better of 2 hours.
My husband and I have decided to bring the new year in by dancing our chubby butts off. What I mean is DDR. Dance Dance Revolution. Now, some of you might be thinking that this is a joke, but I assure you that it is far from a joke. I have dealt my husband some royal beatings in the game. I must say however that I use the term beatings loosely, as neither of us is very good at the game and are still on a beginners level. It still makes me giggle when he wins and gets all hyped up about beating me, blatantly ignoring the fact that we both really suck at the game and our almost two year old could probably take us to the cleaners.
But it is fun and I feel a little happier, and a little less stressed, and a little more connected so I suppose in the grand scheme of things there is a lot of good to be had from our dancing game. For those of you who don't own the game, I encourage you to purchase it simply for the fact that we all should revert back to a state of childhood every now and then, and this is preferrable to picking ones nose and chasing eachother around the house with it while screaming.
I hope that all of you are having a wonderul New Years Day.
Love
Mommy Neva
Anyways. So I that's how I brought in the new year, and if you haven't seen the movie Hangover, I highly recommend you do so. It was stupid and funny. I waited until three minutes until the count down to call my husband at work (he works security at night) where we counted down together to the sound of fireworks and drunken gun shooting. I can only hope that the bullets were not being shot AT someone, or will not fall from the sky later to pelt some poor SOB on the street corner in three days. Sure, this seems like a heartless thing to say, but lets be honest ladies and gentlemen, dying is a part of life and if it is your time to go, it is your time to go.
I woke up this morning on the couch where I had fallen asleep last night, the remote wedged firmly between my love handle and the back of the couch, and immediately wished I hadn't woken up, but thankful that I have no school today. And apparently no school tomorrow either.
I'm going to school for my cosmetologist license, which indefinately means that I have paid almost 17 grand to do hair and nail services on people all day on my feet. You might be thinking to yourself that it doesn't matter because most people have to do that. However, I would like to point out that most people get PAID for their work. I do not. I pay them, and if I don't get a tip I make nothing at all for my hard work, time, and effort. I'm willing to bet that most people would quit their jobs if they weren't making any money from them.
But I digress. I woke up only to crawl back into bed and try to get another couple hours of sleep before the baby woke up. I will say I successfully managed to get that few extra hours, and am in a far better mood because of it. Unfortunately though, My son threw up and now his whole bed and clothing has to be sanitized. He seems to be feeling better now, though, since he has been asleep for the better of 2 hours.
My husband and I have decided to bring the new year in by dancing our chubby butts off. What I mean is DDR. Dance Dance Revolution. Now, some of you might be thinking that this is a joke, but I assure you that it is far from a joke. I have dealt my husband some royal beatings in the game. I must say however that I use the term beatings loosely, as neither of us is very good at the game and are still on a beginners level. It still makes me giggle when he wins and gets all hyped up about beating me, blatantly ignoring the fact that we both really suck at the game and our almost two year old could probably take us to the cleaners.
But it is fun and I feel a little happier, and a little less stressed, and a little more connected so I suppose in the grand scheme of things there is a lot of good to be had from our dancing game. For those of you who don't own the game, I encourage you to purchase it simply for the fact that we all should revert back to a state of childhood every now and then, and this is preferrable to picking ones nose and chasing eachother around the house with it while screaming.
I hope that all of you are having a wonderul New Years Day.
Love
Mommy Neva
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)