Tuesday, April 27, 2010

Squish Squish, Moo

I am deciding whether we should teach Bobo some sign language so he can tell us deep thoughts like: "I hate you for not feeding me chocolate teddy grahams and in protest, I will hurl this binky at your head." Actually, he doesn't need sign language for that. That one is pretty clear.

Anyway, while trying to find a print out chart of some easy signs I could teach him, I found a video thing and discovered that the sign for "milk" is the motion one would make while milking a cow with one hand. I find this disturbing. Probably because I used to be the cow.

Mommy's Video Game

On Saturday morning, we arrived at Sears Appliance before they opened. When the clock struck 10 am, we entered and proceeded to spend money. We got a new vaccuum cleaner. I know! I am so excited because I am boring and a mom. But a new vaccuum.

On Sunday afternoon, it was all assembled and ready to go, so I vaccuumed the whole house. It has a little red light that shows you it's dirty, and the light turns green when the air being sucked in is no longer filthy. It's Mommy's New Video Game. Big Fun.

Also, I signed up for a cheap trial of XM radio, so I have video games and all the best of Hair Nation radio. Woo Woo!

Home Alone

Last Friday, I came home from work early for the Early Intervention meeting (some day, I'll probably be all like "EI this" and "ST that" but for now, I'm not down with the abbreviations like I am in TTC world). Anyway, I came home early for the EI intake appointment.

And Mr. Long-Suffering was already at home picking up and straightening so we wouldn't be embarrassed by our sloth. I got home before Linda the intake worker arrived, so we were home alone. We haven't been in our house sans enfants since January. It's a weird feeling. A free feeling. So, Mr. Long-Suffering comes out of the kitchen holding a Keebler Fudge Stripe cookie in one hand and a can of Redi-Whip in the other and makes an appetizer out of those two things and asks me if I want one. No KIDS. No KIDS. We can eat junk and not share and not pass down bad habits involving canned whipping cream.

Friday, April 23, 2010

Adventures in E*Bay

I don't know how much of my biographical information I have given you, so here goes: I cannot gamble. Well, I can. I could. I did. But, you know I am so frugal. So, when I lose, I get angry with myself.

When I was in college, I got a summer internship in Michigan (shout out to my Tri-County area peeps who have flown in or out of MBS Airport). Anyway, this caused me to live near an Indian Reservation and Casino. I enjoyed it much. Until I realized I had been sitting at the same blackjack table for 17 consecturive hours with nothing to eat and only little tiny juice glasses of non-alcoholic beverage served by entirely too-clad Native American women. I was up $40. I was always up. I never walked out of that casino with less money than I had going in, but it took all fricken day to earn $40. You see, I couldn't see my way to gamble more than $3 on any single hand of blackjack (splitting and doubling down, excepted). And time is money. But I was, perhaps, a wee bit compulsive.

Fast-forward to now. I work 90 yards from a casino into which I have never stepped foot (except the rare luncheon at the restaurant with coworkers). I've never gone into the casino part. Because I don't know whether I would be able to leave.

Did I also mention that I am a competitive jerk with a perfectionist complex? Oh yes, it's great fun to be seated at the table with me as I stack my chips into completely neat and symmetrical piles of only matching (or patterns!) colors.

So, it should not surprise you that I cannot go on ebay.

It all started on Easter. We had dinner here at our house. Mr. Long-Suffering washed dishes and broke one of my Waterford crystal flutes (two swans in the shape of a heart on the side). Anyway, I told him not to worry and I went to replacements.com Well, they wanted over a hundred dollars for one stinking flute. I am way too cheap for that, so I went to e*bay and they had a ton. I bid on a few and lost. Once I saw a price pattern developing, I realized I could win some. So I ended up bidding on something like 34 Waterford crystal champagne flutes. I won 3 pairs (6 glasses). None of which are the actual glass Mr. L-S broke. I say I had been planning on getting a few more flutes anyway. Which is true. But I was not going to do it this year. Oh well. It's done.

And that all would have been fine because I realized I now have enough crystal and I stopped bidding (because I have super self-control). But then I went back to leave feedback for my sellers. I can't believe I gave 5 stars to the guy who wrapped the glasses in scrap from his papershredder tainted with glitter, but I did. The glasses didn't break in transit but I nearly drove to the return address and dropped glitter all over his living room.

Anway, while leaving all this positive feedback lovefest, I noticed that there are people selling "Envelopes". Why in the world would you buy an envelope on e*bay? Because the people fill the envelopes with formula checks and coupons. Of course, you aren't allowed to sell those, so the people put the envelopes up on e*bay and send the coupons in the envelope as a free gift. Anyway, Bobo is 17-months old and still on formula (and soy milk) so I looked into it and turned into a competitive jerk. So, I closed the browser down and decided to come here and tell all. That is all. I have already spent an unholy amount of money this month and I don't need to be hanging out on e*bay wasting my time and money any longer.

Today was the intake appointment with the Early Intervention people. The date of the evaluation has been set as has the day for the review of the Action Plan. Those two meetings are 36 hours apart. The assessment was scheduled close to the deadline, so we're having the review on the deadline date. It's all so strange and weird. They want to know whether you'd like to apply for assistance. You get subsidized services if you make under $228,000 per year. So, uhhh, yes, I would like to apply for that but isn't that just my tax dollars coming back to me? Anyway, that's what is going on here.

I am a compulsive, competitive jerk. And Bobo still doesn't talk.

And Chuckles is turning into a master manipulator. Master. "Mommy, if I be your good helper all week, could I have a treat like a toy?"

Tuesday, April 13, 2010

There is Much That Needs to Be Said

Well, actually, there is not. But that will not stop me. I will not be deterred.

Chuckles contracted strep throat which sent us to Urgent Care on Thursday night. He ws a sobbing, mommy-loving, whimpering mess. I knew things were bad when he didn't want to eat his bribe, errr, medicinal rich, chocolate frostie from Wendy's. I wish I had followed my mommy instincts and brought him in on Wednesday but a kid with a sore throat and a 99-degree "fever" is not really something that would send most people to the doctor. Of course, most people have not memorized the vacation schedule for the pediatrician's office.

Friday I went to the pediatrician with Bobo for his M-CHAT. We're off of high alert for autism for the time being. We're going for a speech-language pathology work-up thing with the county's early intervention. This could wind up in speech therapy. That would be super. While Bobo and I were out having our one-on-one time at the Ped, the grandmas were at home with Chip.

When I returned from work Friday and gave Chuckles a bath, I noticed a rash. Friday evening is the worst time to discover anything wrong with your child because the on-call schedule has no pediatrician on Friday evening (Christmas, yes...Friday night, no). Anyway, a call to the on-call nurse and doctor and a new script for a different antibiotic was called in, but I didn't fill it.

I waited for Saturday to come around. I walked past the pharmacy on our way to see our pediatrician who was on-call on Saturday. The rash was Scarlet Fever. Really? Really? Who develops Scarlet Fever after already being on antibiotics for strep throat? Who does? Chuckles. That is who. So, I swung by the pharmacy to let them know I wouldn't be filling the script for amoxicillin that was called in Friday night. They mixed it with the water when I walked in the door figuring I was going to pick it up. Pink stuff, wasted. Oh well.

So, how frequent of a flyer do you have to be for the pharmacy staff to recognize you?

Anway, Easter was grand. The Bunny brought new Binkies for Bobo and a Transformer and underpants for Chip. There was a restrained amount of candy and the Grandmas kept themselves under control on the basket front as well. And my BFF gave the kdis Easter Bags and they were just so very very happy about it. It turns out Bobo has a mad love affair with crayons. Mad, I tell you. Give the kid a pen and some paper in the waiting room and he's amused for a good 15 minutes. Also, let him play in the sink in the exam room...another 15 minutes. And then, only another 40 minutes of waiting time to fill. I kid...it was only 37 minutes more.