A friend of mine asked me to update my blog... I have been a bad blogger.
So I will tell you all of the reasons that I haven't updated my blog.
1. My husband went to Canada to hunt geese last week. This left me home alone with four kids. I barely had time to pee.
2. I was in a training class last week, which meant I had to pretend to pay attention rather than write on my blog.
3. I went to see Mary Poppins on Sunday. I was surprised at how good the special effects were. No, seriously, there are special effects. Bert actually tap danced on the ceiling. Even if it is lame, I liked it and didn't take time to update my blog.
4. I had to make a Halloween costume for myself. I was an egg. Kenzie was a chicken. It was kind of funny.
5. My oldest son is turning 13, and thus, "birthday month" has started. We took him out to dinner last night, eventhough his birthday isn't until Wednesday. (see next reason)
6. Chad is going out of town (again) for work. Most of the time I don't feel the least bit sorry for him, but he has 2 3.5 hour layovers in Charlotte North Carolina. What will he do in Charlotte NC for 3 and a half hours. And I still don't feel sorry for him.
7. We had drill team drama which included me marching up to the administrator's office and making people cry. No, I didn't cry. But I wanted to kill. Still no blog entry... This is a fun story, but one I probably will not write down.
8. My boss has swine flu. At least she is staying home. So, my work day has been a little interrupted. But, I would rather take care of some other things then have her infect us.
9. Practice husband (ex-husband for those of you who don't know how I frequently refer to him) decided to show up to 13 year old's football game. I wonder... will he bring his new wife who is old enough for AARP? I don't have to be nice, do I? It will take lots of effort.
10. We have no food and will be eating pizza 2 nights in a row. At least I am ordering from different pizza places. :-)
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Office Poop
No, I am not referring to gossip. I am talking about plain old ordinary poop.
Normally I do not take time during the day to make a blog entry, but I can't wait another minute to say this.
Poop on your own floor, people. This bathroom is for the residents of the 17th floor only!
The team of people that I work with is on a special floor. It is the only floor in the building that has no cubicles and is partially rented. All of the other floors have very few offices, mostly cubicles, and are completed leased by the company. The floor was originally rented to accomodate overflow from the other floors and was leased for the short term. Few modifications have been made to it.
One special difference is our bathroom. The bathroom on our floor, while in the same place as the other floors, is reversed: where the women's room is on the other floors is where the men's room is on ours, and vice versa. Same set-up, just flipped.
There are 8 females from my company on this floor. (Probably 25 or so males.) There are but a few females in the other office on this floor. My office neighbor and I have noticed that we have had "visitors" in our bathroom. I started noticing it when I came back from maternity leave. Frequently, upon entry to the bathroom, you notice a particular odor. I checked and asked if we had had a sewer problem, or a leak, or anything else that could be causing the smell. No word on theat, so, I started to pay closer attention. When there are only 8 of you, it is pretty easy to spy an interloper.
After lunch today, I had to go potty. I walk in the door, and yep, there was the unmistakable odor of human waste. I hurried up to take care of my business. And watched through the crack of the stall door. The offender was not a resident of the 17th floor! As I exited the stall, a the lady was quickly washing her hands. She wouldn't make eye contact and quickly ran out the door. I poked my head out of the doorway just in time to see the stairwell door close.
Seriously, people from other floors appear to be coming to our floor just to use the facilities. How rude!
Normally I do not take time during the day to make a blog entry, but I can't wait another minute to say this.
Poop on your own floor, people. This bathroom is for the residents of the 17th floor only!
The team of people that I work with is on a special floor. It is the only floor in the building that has no cubicles and is partially rented. All of the other floors have very few offices, mostly cubicles, and are completed leased by the company. The floor was originally rented to accomodate overflow from the other floors and was leased for the short term. Few modifications have been made to it.
One special difference is our bathroom. The bathroom on our floor, while in the same place as the other floors, is reversed: where the women's room is on the other floors is where the men's room is on ours, and vice versa. Same set-up, just flipped.
There are 8 females from my company on this floor. (Probably 25 or so males.) There are but a few females in the other office on this floor. My office neighbor and I have noticed that we have had "visitors" in our bathroom. I started noticing it when I came back from maternity leave. Frequently, upon entry to the bathroom, you notice a particular odor. I checked and asked if we had had a sewer problem, or a leak, or anything else that could be causing the smell. No word on theat, so, I started to pay closer attention. When there are only 8 of you, it is pretty easy to spy an interloper.
After lunch today, I had to go potty. I walk in the door, and yep, there was the unmistakable odor of human waste. I hurried up to take care of my business. And watched through the crack of the stall door. The offender was not a resident of the 17th floor! As I exited the stall, a the lady was quickly washing her hands. She wouldn't make eye contact and quickly ran out the door. I poked my head out of the doorway just in time to see the stairwell door close.
Seriously, people from other floors appear to be coming to our floor just to use the facilities. How rude!
Monday, October 12, 2009
Monday Mornings
Do you ever leave the house and think, "I'm missing something..."
Wallet. Check.
Cell Phone. Check.
Breast Pump. Check.
Lunch. Check.
Kids. 2 of them. Check Check.
Cell Phone. Check. (yes I know I already checked that...)
Oh well. Go to work. Sit in traffic. Pull into parking garage.
Sick feeling in pit of stomach. I forgot my access card to the building.
Crap.
Text people on floor that might already be there. No answer.
I slowly get out of the car looking for an AL victim I can stalk to get into the elevator bay.
Ah Hah! Got one in my sights. Lady that has AL badge... Looks familiar. I think she works on 22.
Walk slowly. Not too fast, don't want to get in front of her, but don't want her to know she is being stalked.
We get on the elevator. She badges in. Sweet! I hit 17 and it lights up.
I get off on my floor. Crap. It's before 7:30 so I can't get in. Gary and Florence are already here, so I 'll send them an email from my handy dandy iPhone.
to: florence@work.com Are you at your desk.
Silence.
17 minutes later
from: florence@work.com Yes
to: florence@work.com I am stuck in the hallway. Can you let me in?
Seconds. I hear the laughter.
I spent 20 minutes sitting in the hallway. Yeah me. I had plenty of time for meditation and reflection. What a good use of my time.
Happy Monday.
Wallet. Check.
Cell Phone. Check.
Breast Pump. Check.
Lunch. Check.
Kids. 2 of them. Check Check.
Cell Phone. Check. (yes I know I already checked that...)
Oh well. Go to work. Sit in traffic. Pull into parking garage.
Sick feeling in pit of stomach. I forgot my access card to the building.
Crap.
Text people on floor that might already be there. No answer.
I slowly get out of the car looking for an AL victim I can stalk to get into the elevator bay.
Ah Hah! Got one in my sights. Lady that has AL badge... Looks familiar. I think she works on 22.
Walk slowly. Not too fast, don't want to get in front of her, but don't want her to know she is being stalked.
We get on the elevator. She badges in. Sweet! I hit 17 and it lights up.
I get off on my floor. Crap. It's before 7:30 so I can't get in. Gary and Florence are already here, so I 'll send them an email from my handy dandy iPhone.
to: florence@work.com Are you at your desk.
Silence.
17 minutes later
from: florence@work.com Yes
to: florence@work.com I am stuck in the hallway. Can you let me in?
Seconds. I hear the laughter.
I spent 20 minutes sitting in the hallway. Yeah me. I had plenty of time for meditation and reflection. What a good use of my time.
Happy Monday.
Sunday, October 11, 2009
Sticker Hell
I mentioned in a previous post that Cousin Marin introduced us to stickers. And earlier this week we had an unfortunate event with daycare where I was encouraged not to bring stickers. Well, Cutter is still carrying this obsession with stickers. But we have been weaning him... stand strong. Don't give him any stickers.
Friday afternoon we fell off the wagon. Chad bought a Halloween carving pumpkin because he knew that Cutter would have fun with carving one. But, there was a giant sticker on the pumpkin. You know, a really cute one that says "Pumpkin - $2.99" Cutter finds his way to the pumpkin and pulls it off and puts it on his shirt. And he wears this sticker for 2 days.
Today, Sunday, the sticker will not stick any more. Hailey, Cutter, Kenzie, and I go to Target to do some household shopping while Chad and Hunter do some work at the deer lease. Target has stickers. Hailey picked out some puffy stickers and some flat Halloween stickers. During the shopping trip we had to bribe Cutter with chocolate chips in order to pay for the stickers. He let go of the chips when we returned the stickers. On the way home from Target, we had sticker overdose. He stuck them all over his seat, on the window, and tried to escape his carseat to put stickers on the ceiling of the car. Thankfully, he was not able to accomplish this!
When we got home, I took the stickers away and was going to give him candy corn. As I opened the bag, the bag ripped and candy corn flew all over the kitcher.
"Shit!" I muttered.
And Cutter shouted back "Shit!" My new tactic - ignore.
"Cutter, do you want something to drink?"
Cutter walks to the drink frig and points "This!"
He was pointing to a beer, Miller Lite - not even a nice Belgian one.
Great. My 20 month old is addicted to stickers, swears, and wants to drink beer. And its all my fault!
Friday afternoon we fell off the wagon. Chad bought a Halloween carving pumpkin because he knew that Cutter would have fun with carving one. But, there was a giant sticker on the pumpkin. You know, a really cute one that says "Pumpkin - $2.99" Cutter finds his way to the pumpkin and pulls it off and puts it on his shirt. And he wears this sticker for 2 days.
Today, Sunday, the sticker will not stick any more. Hailey, Cutter, Kenzie, and I go to Target to do some household shopping while Chad and Hunter do some work at the deer lease. Target has stickers. Hailey picked out some puffy stickers and some flat Halloween stickers. During the shopping trip we had to bribe Cutter with chocolate chips in order to pay for the stickers. He let go of the chips when we returned the stickers. On the way home from Target, we had sticker overdose. He stuck them all over his seat, on the window, and tried to escape his carseat to put stickers on the ceiling of the car. Thankfully, he was not able to accomplish this!
When we got home, I took the stickers away and was going to give him candy corn. As I opened the bag, the bag ripped and candy corn flew all over the kitcher.
"Shit!" I muttered.
And Cutter shouted back "Shit!" My new tactic - ignore.
"Cutter, do you want something to drink?"
Cutter walks to the drink frig and points "This!"
He was pointing to a beer, Miller Lite - not even a nice Belgian one.
Great. My 20 month old is addicted to stickers, swears, and wants to drink beer. And its all my fault!
My Friday
Friday I was scheduled for a CT scan of the abdomen and pelvis. My urologist was looking for stones. This scan has been rescheduled three times due to problems with the machine, so finally after 3 weeks, I am getting this thing done.
I was asked to arrive an hour before my 8:00 am appointment time. Fasting. Nothing to eat or drink after midnight. So, when I got there, I was given berry flavored barium to drink. What a yummy breakfast... After half an hour, they confirmed I had consumed all of the liquid yumminess. The next battle was confirming that I was not pregnant. I had to sign 14 pages swearing to not being pregnant and then I was told that they couldn't do a pregnancy test on me because I was still breastfeeding. It might come out positive!?! What? I have never heard that before, but whatever, me and my not pregnant self needed to get a CT, so get ON with it...
Strip down to underwear. Put on really special gown that opens in the back. And then, walk down the hall. I need to mention that this office is where everyone goes for radiation treatment for prostate cancer. Yet again, I was the only female patient anywhere to be seen under the age of 40. Make that 35. (I am still under 35) So I get to prance down the hall with my panties hanging out the back right in front of the dirty old men that can't... well never mind.
The procedure is supposed to be painless. Enter the IV. Why don't the techs ever listen to the patient? They can never get an IV in my right arm. But everyone I tell this to must think it is a challenge, to be the first to conquer the right arm. Let's just leave it with I left Friday with holes in both arms and they were both bruised. Score: right arm 1, ct tech 0. Witch. I told you so.
After the scan is finished, they have you get dressed, but leave in the IV and wait in the waiting room. So, off I go - prance in front of old men, cover butt with clothes, go out to waiting room, all while keeping both arms extended. I wait 5 minutes, then they call me back to take out IV. (I am sure this super efficient process is so that some radiologist somewhere looks at the scan to make sure that it is good enough.) Only, when they called me, I was sitting in a chair that I had sunk into and couldn't get up. My arms hurt and couldn't quite grab on to the armrests. A nice lady, probably wife to one of the old men, offered to help me out of the chair. I must have really looked bad to have a 70 year old offer to help ME...
The IV came out and they handed me a CD. "Give this to your Doctor." It was labeled with my name and the date. I couldn't wait to get back to my computer and see what was on the disc.
I get back to the office, fire up my friend, Mr. Google, and start searching. I put the disk in the drive and it opens a mini-application and gives me a message..."Loading images X of 478". Sweet. I have 478 images of my guts to look at. Wow, they must really want to see my insides.
I start looking at the images. The first one looks like a regular X-ray. I see ribs, pelvis, and some shadows. I look at the outline. Great. Even in an X-ray, you can see fat rolls. How nice. The next one is a side view of me, which I can't see much of except a squished outline of my butt. I am certain it is a squished view because I know when I look in the mirror it is much more toned than that image portrays. And they say the camera adds 25 pounds...
The next images are slices of my insides, of which little is recognizable to my untrained and uneducated eye. I don't worry. Mr. Google knows everything and I am certain that I can find enough information on the web to formulate my own diagnosis.
Before I know it, an hour has passed. I can find my kidneys, spleen, liver, intestines and bladder. Maybe the stomach... not too sure of that one. But I do know for certain that I have 2 kidneys. Now, whether or not there are stones, that is for the professional to decide.
My diagnosis: The test confirmed it. I have kidneys. Having kidneys is a prerequisite to having a kidney infection, so that must be what it is. And I can't imagine what they billed my insurance company...
I was asked to arrive an hour before my 8:00 am appointment time. Fasting. Nothing to eat or drink after midnight. So, when I got there, I was given berry flavored barium to drink. What a yummy breakfast... After half an hour, they confirmed I had consumed all of the liquid yumminess. The next battle was confirming that I was not pregnant. I had to sign 14 pages swearing to not being pregnant and then I was told that they couldn't do a pregnancy test on me because I was still breastfeeding. It might come out positive!?! What? I have never heard that before, but whatever, me and my not pregnant self needed to get a CT, so get ON with it...
Strip down to underwear. Put on really special gown that opens in the back. And then, walk down the hall. I need to mention that this office is where everyone goes for radiation treatment for prostate cancer. Yet again, I was the only female patient anywhere to be seen under the age of 40. Make that 35. (I am still under 35) So I get to prance down the hall with my panties hanging out the back right in front of the dirty old men that can't... well never mind.
The procedure is supposed to be painless. Enter the IV. Why don't the techs ever listen to the patient? They can never get an IV in my right arm. But everyone I tell this to must think it is a challenge, to be the first to conquer the right arm. Let's just leave it with I left Friday with holes in both arms and they were both bruised. Score: right arm 1, ct tech 0. Witch. I told you so.
After the scan is finished, they have you get dressed, but leave in the IV and wait in the waiting room. So, off I go - prance in front of old men, cover butt with clothes, go out to waiting room, all while keeping both arms extended. I wait 5 minutes, then they call me back to take out IV. (I am sure this super efficient process is so that some radiologist somewhere looks at the scan to make sure that it is good enough.) Only, when they called me, I was sitting in a chair that I had sunk into and couldn't get up. My arms hurt and couldn't quite grab on to the armrests. A nice lady, probably wife to one of the old men, offered to help me out of the chair. I must have really looked bad to have a 70 year old offer to help ME...
The IV came out and they handed me a CD. "Give this to your Doctor." It was labeled with my name and the date. I couldn't wait to get back to my computer and see what was on the disc.
I get back to the office, fire up my friend, Mr. Google, and start searching. I put the disk in the drive and it opens a mini-application and gives me a message..."Loading images X of 478". Sweet. I have 478 images of my guts to look at. Wow, they must really want to see my insides.
I start looking at the images. The first one looks like a regular X-ray. I see ribs, pelvis, and some shadows. I look at the outline. Great. Even in an X-ray, you can see fat rolls. How nice. The next one is a side view of me, which I can't see much of except a squished outline of my butt. I am certain it is a squished view because I know when I look in the mirror it is much more toned than that image portrays. And they say the camera adds 25 pounds...
The next images are slices of my insides, of which little is recognizable to my untrained and uneducated eye. I don't worry. Mr. Google knows everything and I am certain that I can find enough information on the web to formulate my own diagnosis.
Before I know it, an hour has passed. I can find my kidneys, spleen, liver, intestines and bladder. Maybe the stomach... not too sure of that one. But I do know for certain that I have 2 kidneys. Now, whether or not there are stones, that is for the professional to decide.
My diagnosis: The test confirmed it. I have kidneys. Having kidneys is a prerequisite to having a kidney infection, so that must be what it is. And I can't imagine what they billed my insurance company...
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
Wud Dyu!
When your baby is born, you are so excited. And then what... You wait for them to do something. First it is, "Look, he can hold his head up." Then, "He rolled over!" Every day, week, month, and year brings a new milestone that, as a parent, you celebrate and use that milestone to compare your beautiful, wonderful, highly intelligent, and advanced child to those other not so cute or smart children of your friends and families.
Yes, you do it, too. We all do it. It is only natural.
Watching the communication skills of Cutter and Kenzie evolve is really fun for me. With Hailey and Hunter, I was learning and didn't really have fun doing it. (Maybe it was because I was too busy getting divorced, paying bills, going to school, and making a career, but that's beside the point.) Okay, Kenzie is only four months old. But I find myself signing to her and actually waiting for a response. They say that you should start introducing signs to them at four months, right? So, I am right on schedule. Chad laughs at me. He pops his head in over her and talks to her and she giggles and coos. "See, she's laughing at me." Well, of course she is. You are funny looking... She is smart. And she knows it. Kenzie thinks "Watch how fast I can make you run!" Puke flies out of her mouth. Chad jumps and runs for a burp cloth. Kenzie laughs again. She was right and she got a bonus jump out of the deal. So I am going to keep signing to her. She knows what to do when the time is right.
Watching Cutter talk and communicate with us is proving to be a daily laugh. At dinner Hailey was teaching him to say "ummm, ummmm, delicious." He now says, "Ummm, Ummm, DISHES!" when he eats. So if you hear him talk about dishes, he is referring to the good taste of the food, not wanting to clean up. He is a male, after all.
Every night before bed, Cutter kisses us good night. Then we say "Love you, Cutter." For several weeks he has just waved back. Now he says "Wud Dyu."
Wud Dyu. Love You. Close enough for me! My babies are the cutest and smartest kids in the world!
PS: Thanks to Cousin Marin, Cutter has developed a sticker fetish. Last night at national nite out, he got a police badge sticker from the police officers. He put it on his shirt. Then insisted it go on his pajamas. This morning he had to have it put on his clean shirt and wear it to school. I hope he forgets about it tonight. He can CLEARLY say "Sticker, I want my sticker..." and cry. Off to CVS to buy stickers...
Yes, you do it, too. We all do it. It is only natural.
Watching the communication skills of Cutter and Kenzie evolve is really fun for me. With Hailey and Hunter, I was learning and didn't really have fun doing it. (Maybe it was because I was too busy getting divorced, paying bills, going to school, and making a career, but that's beside the point.) Okay, Kenzie is only four months old. But I find myself signing to her and actually waiting for a response. They say that you should start introducing signs to them at four months, right? So, I am right on schedule. Chad laughs at me. He pops his head in over her and talks to her and she giggles and coos. "See, she's laughing at me." Well, of course she is. You are funny looking... She is smart. And she knows it. Kenzie thinks "Watch how fast I can make you run!" Puke flies out of her mouth. Chad jumps and runs for a burp cloth. Kenzie laughs again. She was right and she got a bonus jump out of the deal. So I am going to keep signing to her. She knows what to do when the time is right.
Watching Cutter talk and communicate with us is proving to be a daily laugh. At dinner Hailey was teaching him to say "ummm, ummmm, delicious." He now says, "Ummm, Ummm, DISHES!" when he eats. So if you hear him talk about dishes, he is referring to the good taste of the food, not wanting to clean up. He is a male, after all.
Every night before bed, Cutter kisses us good night. Then we say "Love you, Cutter." For several weeks he has just waved back. Now he says "Wud Dyu."
Wud Dyu. Love You. Close enough for me! My babies are the cutest and smartest kids in the world!
PS: Thanks to Cousin Marin, Cutter has developed a sticker fetish. Last night at national nite out, he got a police badge sticker from the police officers. He put it on his shirt. Then insisted it go on his pajamas. This morning he had to have it put on his clean shirt and wear it to school. I hope he forgets about it tonight. He can CLEARLY say "Sticker, I want my sticker..." and cry. Off to CVS to buy stickers...
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