I just looked at my phone and saw October 7th...I thought it said the 9th. Which would be fine, but it would make me 30. Which is awesome. I'm excited to turn 30; it just kinda snuck up on me with this baby stuff, house stuff, and work stuff.
In other news I'm pissed off at mandarin oranges. How can you be so tasty and then turn around and give me the worst heartburn ever? I thought it was a love-love kind of relationship, but no.
Nothing like Slacker radio playing the ever so random choice "Back That Azz Up" to get me motivated on the packing up my stuff front.
Thursday, October 7, 2010
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
Today's Realizations
The slowest customer in a store will beat me to the checkout line. Especially if I'm in a hurry.
I never should have stopped chewing up those fiber drops.
I'm pretty psyched that my son's middle name will be William...Yeah, after family and stuff, but also after a few of my favorites: Billy Joel & Bill Murray. I'd be pretty upset if my son opted to go by Bill though. His first name is pretty freaking awesome.
Whatever I take to work to eat for dinner will not be appetizing when it's time to eat.
The bugs between my house and the group home are filled with Krazy Glue or something. Those bitches make GLOBS the windshield wipers can't scrape off. Thank God it's cooling off; maybe they'll go hibernate or something.
Until I started packing up my clothes, I never understood why Josh scoffed at me every time I say, "Honey, I need new panties." They are EVERYWHERE. You see it here, in print/on the screen, whatever, MY HUSBAND IS RIGHT. I guess I like buying new panties. I thought all our money went to eating out on the weekends, but no. Our money goes on my butt. Literally.
With that, I'm crawling into bed. Who knows what I'll realize tomorrow.
I never should have stopped chewing up those fiber drops.
I'm pretty psyched that my son's middle name will be William...Yeah, after family and stuff, but also after a few of my favorites: Billy Joel & Bill Murray. I'd be pretty upset if my son opted to go by Bill though. His first name is pretty freaking awesome.
Whatever I take to work to eat for dinner will not be appetizing when it's time to eat.
The bugs between my house and the group home are filled with Krazy Glue or something. Those bitches make GLOBS the windshield wipers can't scrape off. Thank God it's cooling off; maybe they'll go hibernate or something.
Until I started packing up my clothes, I never understood why Josh scoffed at me every time I say, "Honey, I need new panties." They are EVERYWHERE. You see it here, in print/on the screen, whatever, MY HUSBAND IS RIGHT. I guess I like buying new panties. I thought all our money went to eating out on the weekends, but no. Our money goes on my butt. Literally.
With that, I'm crawling into bed. Who knows what I'll realize tomorrow.
Never too busy for a rhetorical question
So we got our house, inspections/appraisals done; next step: CLOSING...a week from today! We are really excited, but realy stressed because we haven't REALLY done much packing. So that's what I'm doing in my free time this week. I know I'll get too stressed out to function because it's just in my nature, but for now, all is good.
Except for 1 thing. Chloe and Tucker have the WORST GAS ever. And because they see I'm busy doing stuff, they wanna be right up under me. Next to me. Sitting on my lap. GAG.
Yeah, it's bad.
I'm also ready for my upcoming move at work. I'm excited and bummed at the same time, but I know it's for the best.
On the pregnancy front, some nausea has returned...mostly while watching TV. Sharks eating dead whale carcasses, and something I saw on My Name Is Earl. The smell of fried food and ketchup is the ultimate vom-inducing thought this week. Other than that, I'm pretty good. I just wish I could poop. Oh well, can't always get what you want.
Except for 1 thing. Chloe and Tucker have the WORST GAS ever. And because they see I'm busy doing stuff, they wanna be right up under me. Next to me. Sitting on my lap. GAG.
Yeah, it's bad.
I'm also ready for my upcoming move at work. I'm excited and bummed at the same time, but I know it's for the best.
On the pregnancy front, some nausea has returned...mostly while watching TV. Sharks eating dead whale carcasses, and something I saw on My Name Is Earl. The smell of fried food and ketchup is the ultimate vom-inducing thought this week. Other than that, I'm pretty good. I just wish I could poop. Oh well, can't always get what you want.
Sunday, September 26, 2010
Barf makes life more interesting.
**warning** longest blog to date; and it's not really that funny unless you're humored by moronic hospital employees. It won't hurt my feelings if you can't get through the whole thing.
So here we are, and it's been a few weeks. I figured out why my life has been so quiet lately: NO MORE BARFING. Maybe not ANY barfing, but most noticeably LESS barfing has been going on and I guess this pregnancy got kinda boring on the blog-front.
I would apologize, but I got the better part of that bargain.
If I had to tell a story that was nearly as entertaining but was barf-less, I've got one up my sleeve.
Rewind a few weeks ago. I was at work; you know, the sporadically chaotic job that I love so much...and it was my day to catch some kung-fu action in the baby. I freaked out & opted to go get checked out. I had to run by the main office to get the papers- the work related injury stuff...and I go to the place they tell me. I get there and the receptionist tells me that they don't have equipment to check a baby with. SUPER. So off to the ER we go.
Now I know that ER's are not known for their swift and friendly service, but the experience I'm about to go into was totally unnerving. We arrived just before 5; and I was immediately confused. No front desk, nobody handing out forms or paperwork. I signed in on this bunk little slip of paper and put it in this thing that was meant for time cards. After about 5 minutes I was called back...for paperwork. Nevermind being triaged, getting paid was more important than the welfare of patients.
The woman got all stupid and was like, "Why are you here, this isn't where you are supposed to go." Umm, you moron. Read that little piece of paper that was my referral from the place #1. Then she gets all wigged out because it's a workman's comp thing and calls for assistance. The woman who comes for assistance asks ME if the workman's comp people know I'm here. Umm, lady, I'm a patient not a paperwork specialist. She goes to call the front office of my employer and looks at me like I'm a beggar off the streets. "They aren't answering." I give her my best 'damn you're stupid' look and tell her everyone in that office leaves by 2 or 3. I could have told her that little tidbit of info if she had taken 3 seconds to ask me if anyone would be at that number after 5, but no, I guess she had to make herself look incompetent. After about 10 minutes and a lot of phone dialing, huffing & puffing, and smug shit eating half-grins, she told me, "I'm sorry, but we have to make sure we are going to get paid for this."
If it was not for that piece of plexiglass separating me from these two imbeciles, I would have done some bodily harm to them. Tears welled up in my eyes, and I got right up to the glass and said, "Use my insurance if it's easier or faster; I need to know my child is ok." I turn my head and tears of fury roll down my face. I'm pretty sure I left little half-moon imprints on my arms or legs or whatever body part I was holding on to. Even my husband had to take a step back. The woman with all the smart comments spouts off her best line yet, "You must have gotten kicked pretty hard, huh?" No. I made it up because I thought that dealing with you morons would make for a better day than being at work. All I could do was close my eyes. I can honestly not remember a time I was more livid.
So they give me this nifty little bracelet and send me back to the waiting room. After about 15 minutes they call me back to be triaged. The woman doing all the basic stuff at the station was virtually a robot. "How much do you weigh?" In an attempt at humor (bad idea) I say, "A lot." This little girl practically rolls her damn eyes at me. Um, girl. Do I really look like someone who keeps up with her weight on a daily/weekly basis? Do you think I have a mini scale in my purse that I hop on during potty breaks? Whoah, wait, I'm in a flipping HOSPITAL and you mean to tell me you don't have a damn scale?
Idiot.
She goes on to ask about how the injury occurred. Again, like I was the one lacking common sense. "Someone just kicked you in the stomach? And you're pregnant?" Like I'd fabricated this. I asked her if my employer's info was on her screen, and she said, "Yes, but that's not what I asked you." OMG. Who in this area has NOT heard of this facility. As I'm looking at her like I can see her last two brain cells duking it out, my husband says, "It's not a NORMAL kind of school, the kids can be aggressive...and they aren't like, NORMAL kids. They're special needs." I'm still staring at her as she asks what I do...was I a teacher? ARGH woman, it's not a NORMAL school! I tell her I work direct care. It's obvious she has no clue what I'm talking about, but she puts it in the computer anyway. What this has to do with being triaged, I don't know. Then she hands me off to this other woman who takes me to do a drug screen.
A DRUG SCREEN. I know it's a w/c thing and all, but I'm PREGNANT. What kind of crack do you think I'm smoking while I'm baking this kid? Seriously.
So I go to take this pee test and the nurse is actually really fantastic. We'd been there about an hour and she was the first hospital staff I didn't want to deck. Do you have any idea how hard it is to pee in a cup - not the typical doctors pee sample cup- when you can't see your lady parts? Peeing blindly. I get more on myself and in the lid than in the cup. I BARELY get enough in the cup for her to process the test. I go to wash my hands and yep, water's turned off. Fantastic. The nice nurse comes to my rescue by taking my pathetic pee sample and turning the water back on.
As we are waiting for the results, I go on to explain to her that I probably wouldn't be freaking out so badly if I hadn't had a miscarriage earlier this year, and that on account of that loss I expect another one at every turn. She goes on to explain that she had 7 miscarriages before she had her first baby- born still, but she now has 2 kids. For some reason she makes me feel better. After the test says I'm not hopped up on unmentionables, she releases me into a second waiting area.
During the HOUR we are sitting there, we see some dude with a swollen hand get taken back before me, some hospital staff taking her mother in law STRAIGHT back, and the guy in the room next to us dies. There is a swarm of folks running around like wailing and crying and calling people in tears. At least 3 security dudes make their presence known & I realize that I could take all three of them AND the bitchy intake morons at the same time. It almost tempts me to cause a scene, but I don't because I'm me.
After the next decade passes, some OTHER bitchy hospital lady calls my name and takes me back; WAY back - into the damn bowels of nowhere - to a room with a garage door in it. Literally, it's like a large closet with a garage door at the back and a bed in the middle out of obligation. Again, I make an attempt at humor and say, "Ma'am, do you have any creepier rooms?" The emotionless droid responds rather curtly, "There is nothing creepy about this room. This is a standard room." Ummmmm BULLSHIT. She tells me to put the wonderful hospital issue gown on and leaves. As I undress, Josh is standing by the door. The woman goes to barge in and Josh tells her I'm undressing. "EXCUSE ME SIR!" Josh's expression was priceless. The woman goes back to the opposite wall and lets up the garage door. Low and behold! Medical equipment! A sink! As relieved as I was that I really wasn't in a dungeon, I still thought it was a creepy room.
About 30 minutes later in come a parade of people in white coats. The doctor is likable, but is beyond difficult to understand. He inspects me for about 2 seconds and then leaves with his posse. After awhile another nice nurse (this hospital has 2?!?!) comes in with a doppler. After about 5 minutes she concludes that it's broken and goes to find a different one. It's damn 7:30 by the time we hear our son's heartbeat. We take some time and sob in relief. The nurse joins us.
She then suggests taking some blood to monitor some kind of levels or whatever incase my OB wants to look at them. She says, "Someone from the lab will be here in a minute and then you guys can go home!" Well yay, if that minute didn't wind up taking another flipping hour away from my life. The girl who comes in to take my blood is nice...(a #3?!?!) and goes on and on about how much she loves our facility; her brother was a client for many years. It takes her a minute to find a juicy vein, but that's normal for me. Then, as she goes to squirt the blood from the needle into the vial, something happens and blood goes EVERYWHERE. She is really embarrassed, but I'm impressed with how red my blood looks and how I am not ready to vomit everywhere.
It's 10pm before we get home.
If you haven't had a miscarriage, I don't expect you to understand, but that night our son became real to me. I'd seen his shape on the ultrasounds, and heard his heartbeat at appointment after appointment, but after you have a loss, it's hard to get attached and hopeful and excited about something that can be taken away again...no matter how much it makes you puke. That night I realized how very much I already care about my son, and how much our little family-to-be meant to me.
So now that I'm feeling this little hellion kick and turn and bump around, it is a lot easier to grasp the concept that this kid is on his way for sure. God willing.
Even if I'm not puking at every turn.
So here we are, and it's been a few weeks. I figured out why my life has been so quiet lately: NO MORE BARFING. Maybe not ANY barfing, but most noticeably LESS barfing has been going on and I guess this pregnancy got kinda boring on the blog-front.
I would apologize, but I got the better part of that bargain.
If I had to tell a story that was nearly as entertaining but was barf-less, I've got one up my sleeve.
Rewind a few weeks ago. I was at work; you know, the sporadically chaotic job that I love so much...and it was my day to catch some kung-fu action in the baby. I freaked out & opted to go get checked out. I had to run by the main office to get the papers- the work related injury stuff...and I go to the place they tell me. I get there and the receptionist tells me that they don't have equipment to check a baby with. SUPER. So off to the ER we go.
Now I know that ER's are not known for their swift and friendly service, but the experience I'm about to go into was totally unnerving. We arrived just before 5; and I was immediately confused. No front desk, nobody handing out forms or paperwork. I signed in on this bunk little slip of paper and put it in this thing that was meant for time cards. After about 5 minutes I was called back...for paperwork. Nevermind being triaged, getting paid was more important than the welfare of patients.
The woman got all stupid and was like, "Why are you here, this isn't where you are supposed to go." Umm, you moron. Read that little piece of paper that was my referral from the place #1. Then she gets all wigged out because it's a workman's comp thing and calls for assistance. The woman who comes for assistance asks ME if the workman's comp people know I'm here. Umm, lady, I'm a patient not a paperwork specialist. She goes to call the front office of my employer and looks at me like I'm a beggar off the streets. "They aren't answering." I give her my best 'damn you're stupid' look and tell her everyone in that office leaves by 2 or 3. I could have told her that little tidbit of info if she had taken 3 seconds to ask me if anyone would be at that number after 5, but no, I guess she had to make herself look incompetent. After about 10 minutes and a lot of phone dialing, huffing & puffing, and smug shit eating half-grins, she told me, "I'm sorry, but we have to make sure we are going to get paid for this."
If it was not for that piece of plexiglass separating me from these two imbeciles, I would have done some bodily harm to them. Tears welled up in my eyes, and I got right up to the glass and said, "Use my insurance if it's easier or faster; I need to know my child is ok." I turn my head and tears of fury roll down my face. I'm pretty sure I left little half-moon imprints on my arms or legs or whatever body part I was holding on to. Even my husband had to take a step back. The woman with all the smart comments spouts off her best line yet, "You must have gotten kicked pretty hard, huh?" No. I made it up because I thought that dealing with you morons would make for a better day than being at work. All I could do was close my eyes. I can honestly not remember a time I was more livid.
So they give me this nifty little bracelet and send me back to the waiting room. After about 15 minutes they call me back to be triaged. The woman doing all the basic stuff at the station was virtually a robot. "How much do you weigh?" In an attempt at humor (bad idea) I say, "A lot." This little girl practically rolls her damn eyes at me. Um, girl. Do I really look like someone who keeps up with her weight on a daily/weekly basis? Do you think I have a mini scale in my purse that I hop on during potty breaks? Whoah, wait, I'm in a flipping HOSPITAL and you mean to tell me you don't have a damn scale?
Idiot.
She goes on to ask about how the injury occurred. Again, like I was the one lacking common sense. "Someone just kicked you in the stomach? And you're pregnant?" Like I'd fabricated this. I asked her if my employer's info was on her screen, and she said, "Yes, but that's not what I asked you." OMG. Who in this area has NOT heard of this facility. As I'm looking at her like I can see her last two brain cells duking it out, my husband says, "It's not a NORMAL kind of school, the kids can be aggressive...and they aren't like, NORMAL kids. They're special needs." I'm still staring at her as she asks what I do...was I a teacher? ARGH woman, it's not a NORMAL school! I tell her I work direct care. It's obvious she has no clue what I'm talking about, but she puts it in the computer anyway. What this has to do with being triaged, I don't know. Then she hands me off to this other woman who takes me to do a drug screen.
A DRUG SCREEN. I know it's a w/c thing and all, but I'm PREGNANT. What kind of crack do you think I'm smoking while I'm baking this kid? Seriously.
So I go to take this pee test and the nurse is actually really fantastic. We'd been there about an hour and she was the first hospital staff I didn't want to deck. Do you have any idea how hard it is to pee in a cup - not the typical doctors pee sample cup- when you can't see your lady parts? Peeing blindly. I get more on myself and in the lid than in the cup. I BARELY get enough in the cup for her to process the test. I go to wash my hands and yep, water's turned off. Fantastic. The nice nurse comes to my rescue by taking my pathetic pee sample and turning the water back on.
As we are waiting for the results, I go on to explain to her that I probably wouldn't be freaking out so badly if I hadn't had a miscarriage earlier this year, and that on account of that loss I expect another one at every turn. She goes on to explain that she had 7 miscarriages before she had her first baby- born still, but she now has 2 kids. For some reason she makes me feel better. After the test says I'm not hopped up on unmentionables, she releases me into a second waiting area.
During the HOUR we are sitting there, we see some dude with a swollen hand get taken back before me, some hospital staff taking her mother in law STRAIGHT back, and the guy in the room next to us dies. There is a swarm of folks running around like wailing and crying and calling people in tears. At least 3 security dudes make their presence known & I realize that I could take all three of them AND the bitchy intake morons at the same time. It almost tempts me to cause a scene, but I don't because I'm me.
After the next decade passes, some OTHER bitchy hospital lady calls my name and takes me back; WAY back - into the damn bowels of nowhere - to a room with a garage door in it. Literally, it's like a large closet with a garage door at the back and a bed in the middle out of obligation. Again, I make an attempt at humor and say, "Ma'am, do you have any creepier rooms?" The emotionless droid responds rather curtly, "There is nothing creepy about this room. This is a standard room." Ummmmm BULLSHIT. She tells me to put the wonderful hospital issue gown on and leaves. As I undress, Josh is standing by the door. The woman goes to barge in and Josh tells her I'm undressing. "EXCUSE ME SIR!" Josh's expression was priceless. The woman goes back to the opposite wall and lets up the garage door. Low and behold! Medical equipment! A sink! As relieved as I was that I really wasn't in a dungeon, I still thought it was a creepy room.
About 30 minutes later in come a parade of people in white coats. The doctor is likable, but is beyond difficult to understand. He inspects me for about 2 seconds and then leaves with his posse. After awhile another nice nurse (this hospital has 2?!?!) comes in with a doppler. After about 5 minutes she concludes that it's broken and goes to find a different one. It's damn 7:30 by the time we hear our son's heartbeat. We take some time and sob in relief. The nurse joins us.
She then suggests taking some blood to monitor some kind of levels or whatever incase my OB wants to look at them. She says, "Someone from the lab will be here in a minute and then you guys can go home!" Well yay, if that minute didn't wind up taking another flipping hour away from my life. The girl who comes in to take my blood is nice...(a #3?!?!) and goes on and on about how much she loves our facility; her brother was a client for many years. It takes her a minute to find a juicy vein, but that's normal for me. Then, as she goes to squirt the blood from the needle into the vial, something happens and blood goes EVERYWHERE. She is really embarrassed, but I'm impressed with how red my blood looks and how I am not ready to vomit everywhere.
It's 10pm before we get home.
If you haven't had a miscarriage, I don't expect you to understand, but that night our son became real to me. I'd seen his shape on the ultrasounds, and heard his heartbeat at appointment after appointment, but after you have a loss, it's hard to get attached and hopeful and excited about something that can be taken away again...no matter how much it makes you puke. That night I realized how very much I already care about my son, and how much our little family-to-be meant to me.
So now that I'm feeling this little hellion kick and turn and bump around, it is a lot easier to grasp the concept that this kid is on his way for sure. God willing.
Even if I'm not puking at every turn.
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
SURPRISE!!!
To go back a week, the biggest speculation has been over what gender this kiddo is. All the puking and food aversions, most folks were convinced it was a girl. My friend Erin was SO convinced it was a boy (from the get-go) that she made me take one of those early gender prediction kits...It said girl. She stuck to her guns and was not swayed. My client with psychic baby abilities has also been saying it's a boy for a long time.
Anyway, the 'gender-determining' ultrasound was last week. The FIRST thing we see? A penis. We didn't have to guess or speculate; it was the clearest thing I've ever seen on that screen. One of my best friends from out of state surprised me by being there; and she (who knows probably the LEAST about babies...) BUST out laughing because there is just NO question! It is a boy!
We have selected a name, but we are not publicly disclosing it yet because we think it's just a matter of time before someone steals it :)
Anyway, I need to finish these chips and dip before Josh gets home so we can go have dinner at his parents house.
Anyway, the 'gender-determining' ultrasound was last week. The FIRST thing we see? A penis. We didn't have to guess or speculate; it was the clearest thing I've ever seen on that screen. One of my best friends from out of state surprised me by being there; and she (who knows probably the LEAST about babies...) BUST out laughing because there is just NO question! It is a boy!
We have selected a name, but we are not publicly disclosing it yet because we think it's just a matter of time before someone steals it :)
Anyway, I need to finish these chips and dip before Josh gets home so we can go have dinner at his parents house.
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Toilets only clog after they've been used
Saturday after Josh got home from work, we decided to go for Messican. As soon as we are seated we figure out that the two of us can no longer sit too comfortably on opposite sides of a booth. I'm not sure if it was my bump up against the table or the food, but jelly bean decided I couldn't eat. After we eat, we go to WalMart for our usual shopping excursion for the week. It didn't last too long; I made a mad dash to the bathrooms so I wouldn't vomit on anything expensive.
So we get home, lounge around a little and after awhile decide to hit the sack. Since I've been pregnant, I've had the ROUGHEST time sleeping at night. I take a couple of Tylenol PMs and go to bed. My sweet pooping machine of a puppy starts desperately crying around 2am...annoying, but whatever. I take Chloe and Tucker outside so I won't have to tag team bathe them in the morning. They kind of prance around a few minutes and come back. It didn't take long, but it was just enough time for me to kinda wake up enough to realize I was hungry. I seek out the leftovers from Casa Fiasco and chow down.
Now I'm REALLY not tired, so I go to hop on Facebook and get to chatting with one of my best friends. It's almost 5am before I realize, "holy shit, it's almost 5am." I bid her goodnight and go to use the toilet - of course I'd drank a few bottles of water for no apparent reason. Before I get to the bathroom, I hear the cat scratching to get out...of the bathroom. How the cat locked herself in there I will never know, but she was in there long enough to use the bathroom in bathroom. Fantastic; that was exactly what I wanted to do before I attempted to go back to bed.
I decide to pee first because you know pregnant bladders are not the most patient bladders.
So I go to pick up the brownies with some tp, and pitch it in the toilet. I then gag and nearly get sick because cat poop is about the nastiest, foulest anything ever created. So naturally the next step in the process is to flush the toilet.
The toilet does NOT like this idea. It kind of gags, and begins to swell with the inevitable. I decide to arm myself with the plunger and wait for the tide to recede. When I think the coast is clear, I jump in with a swift flush/plunge combo & watch in horror as the toilet decides it's time to puke on me. So there I am, hopping around, pulling up all the mats and stuff off the floor. I throw a towel or two down infront of the gushing mess and give up. I wash up and go to bed.
When I crawl up under the covers Josh says, "Where have you been for 3 hours? It's after 5am." So naturally I start rambling..."Well Tucker was crying, and then I got hungry, and then I got to talking to Jess, and then I had to pee and clean up cat poop, and then the toilet overflowed...BTW we're out of toilet paper." Lucky for me he was snoring before I finished my run-on sentence.
So we get home, lounge around a little and after awhile decide to hit the sack. Since I've been pregnant, I've had the ROUGHEST time sleeping at night. I take a couple of Tylenol PMs and go to bed. My sweet pooping machine of a puppy starts desperately crying around 2am...annoying, but whatever. I take Chloe and Tucker outside so I won't have to tag team bathe them in the morning. They kind of prance around a few minutes and come back. It didn't take long, but it was just enough time for me to kinda wake up enough to realize I was hungry. I seek out the leftovers from Casa Fiasco and chow down.
Now I'm REALLY not tired, so I go to hop on Facebook and get to chatting with one of my best friends. It's almost 5am before I realize, "holy shit, it's almost 5am." I bid her goodnight and go to use the toilet - of course I'd drank a few bottles of water for no apparent reason. Before I get to the bathroom, I hear the cat scratching to get out...of the bathroom. How the cat locked herself in there I will never know, but she was in there long enough to use the bathroom in bathroom. Fantastic; that was exactly what I wanted to do before I attempted to go back to bed.
I decide to pee first because you know pregnant bladders are not the most patient bladders.
So I go to pick up the brownies with some tp, and pitch it in the toilet. I then gag and nearly get sick because cat poop is about the nastiest, foulest anything ever created. So naturally the next step in the process is to flush the toilet.
The toilet does NOT like this idea. It kind of gags, and begins to swell with the inevitable. I decide to arm myself with the plunger and wait for the tide to recede. When I think the coast is clear, I jump in with a swift flush/plunge combo & watch in horror as the toilet decides it's time to puke on me. So there I am, hopping around, pulling up all the mats and stuff off the floor. I throw a towel or two down infront of the gushing mess and give up. I wash up and go to bed.
When I crawl up under the covers Josh says, "Where have you been for 3 hours? It's after 5am." So naturally I start rambling..."Well Tucker was crying, and then I got hungry, and then I got to talking to Jess, and then I had to pee and clean up cat poop, and then the toilet overflowed...BTW we're out of toilet paper." Lucky for me he was snoring before I finished my run-on sentence.
Monday, August 30, 2010
I'm surprised that Alanis Morrisett song didn't start playing...
So I get a text from my mother tonight. There is a little chitchat before I tell her I can send her the video I took at the doctor Friday; finding the heartbeat and all that. I go to email it to her as I am leaving work. I get an email back saying I typed in the wrong email, so I pull over to resend it.
As soon as I hit the send button, I see blue lights. Seriously? You pulled me over because I pulled off the road to send a text?
Holy hell.
As soon as I hit the send button, I see blue lights. Seriously? You pulled me over because I pulled off the road to send a text?
Holy hell.
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