May 6, 2008 by Marj Hatzell
My backyard used to look like this:
Now it looks like this, thanks to the husband:
Alas, we still have no back deck (A year later and we’re still out of money):
(If you look closely, you can see the hole Bugaboo is diggging):
We hope to remedy that soon. It could be worse. Remember, it used to look like this:
And I’m sure you cannot tell from the picture, but it leaned in several places, had no footers (the concrete supports for the posts, which means the whole freaking thing sat on the dirt) and was buckled and splintered. We lovingly referred to it as the “Beverly Hillbillies porch.”
But the deck is the least of concerns right now. This is what we are dealing with:
The miracle Cpap machine? Not such a miracle. He’s having panic attacks over using it. Even the old Mommy trick of sneaking in when he’s sleeping didn’t work. Today I talk to the sleep doc to see if we can turn the rate down and inch it up day by day.
Speaking of sleep studies, today Bugaboo sees the doc to see if they want to refer HIM for a sleep study. I can tell you right now, he has the same issue as Bug Boy. I just do not see how I’d get HIM to wear this freaking thing. Short of drugging him or hitting him over the head. And I hear that’s illegal.
You know that old adage, the best laid plans? Well, I certainly did not lay the plans well, that’s for certain. I PLANNED to take the kids to the playground so they could whoop it up and get the energy out of their systems. And we went. Except that they behaved like total heathens and embarassed me. And I was proud to say, “They are NOT all mine!” when they other mommies (glazed expressions, deer in headlights, all of them) snidely remarked on their behavior. Sometimes I just want to slap other mommies because they are so snotty and aloof. But I hear that’s illegal, too.
Tomorrow we have our six month appointment with our favorite Neurologist. He’s awesome, even if he does not take insurance. What I love is that he is thorough, knowledgeable and caring. And cute. And married. But then again, so am I. I am looking forward to problem solving some ways to lessen Bugaboo’s stimming (it is all he wants to do right now. I’m not kidding) and hand-biting. The hand-biting, it is mighty disturbing to watch. My super-happy-loving-smiley little guy is turning into a scary little guy, since his mood swings are OUT OF HAND right now. And I mean, MOOD SWINGS. One minute waaaaaaaay up and the next minute waaaaaaay down. Sigh. And I also want to discuss the same sort of issue about Bug Boy, except instead of hand-biting he is biting other kids and stabbing them with pencils. TADA!
The oil on the carpet gets better everyday. Today I plan on sprinkling something on it and letting it soak up. I’ve had powder and kitty litter recommended to me, so if I’m gonna do that I had better get something that smells good. It’ll be better than the hippy-love-den-mixed-with-simple-green smell that we have now. I think. Or not, since I hate cats. Not really hate them. Just don’t like cats when they are alive and climbing all over me and making me sneeze. The end.
And since I LOVE WEIRD SMELLS ( See what I did there? I was being facetious. Could you tell? ‘Cause I was) this is welcome news. I mean, it’s not like I already have a freaking throbbing sinus migraine due to the fact that the people in my neighborhood are cut-the-grass-happy. Right? RIGHT? NO WORRIES HERE, I JUST SEE DOUBLE AT THE MOMENT.
Speaking of people in my neighborhood (were we? We are now.), last night we found out that the police sergeant down the street, the one that has a boy Bug Boy’s age (and they were best buds in Kindy last year), is buying the rather large home across the street from us. That means they are breaking our whopping 1/4 mile or so record move and moving one block. Exactly. Like, twelve houses. I am happy about it, my not-exactly-law-abiding-husband-who-gets-many-speeding-tickets-husband isn’t thrilled. But I think he forgets that my BROTHER IS A COP. Hello? And my brother? Once pulled over one of my other brothers. So he’s a stickler for the law. They live about a block away from us and once we forgot Bug Boy’s car seat so just strapped him in the seat, since we were A BLOCK AWAY and he was not amused in the least. In fact, he went in the house so he could be truthful and say he did not see it if anything happened. This man is the very embodiment of my father and he has spent his entire life trying to avoid it. Funny how life works, eh?
Speaking of my parents, I haven’t talked to my mother in over two months. She tends to do this. She refuses to talk to us on the phone, has agoraphobia so won’t drive over and in her mind thinks she has talked to us or something (because I am sure she thought about it or dreamed about it) and so therefore remembers the conversation. And then she’s all surprised when she springs something on us, like, “I just got back from ROME!” And we’re all, “ROME? WHAT?” or “My legs keep giving out on me so I bought myself a walker because I SELF-DIAGNOSE because I’m a nurse!” and we’re all, “WHAT?” Yeah, good times, good times.
Speaking of good times, the husband and I decided that since it will cost us over TWO THOUSAND DOLLARS to fly to Utah to see his sister, and our kids are claustrophobic on planes and freak out, and they LOVE TRAVELING FOR TWELVE HOURS A DAY ( this is not sarcasm, they really love it) we are going to take a few weeks and drive across the country and see cool stuff like the biggest ball of yarn in Nebraska and Mt. Rushmore and corn fields and middle America and Yellowstone and stuff and then we’re going to come home and be all, “WHAT THE HELL WERE WE THINKING!” Yes, I realize that was one big, nonsensical, run-on sentence. I was a Special Ed major not an English major. Which means I am good at paper work and IEP goal and my handwriting sucks, but that’s ok, since I can type it all.
Speaking of running errands (shut up, I’m having a little trouble staying on topic because my ADHD is showing today) I gotta go do it. It’s gonna take me an hour to pick up scripts, hit the bank (where I embarrass myself every time I make a deposit because I don’t’ usually do the banking and I cannot remember our bank account number) and then get Bugaboo to the doctor. Because nothing pleases me more than being locked in a 9 X 10 room with Bugaboo for about two hours at the end of the day and then having to navigate my way home in rush-hour traffic and pick Bug Boy up and then fight my way home and then throw dinner on and then run out the door as soon as Darling gets home because I have to tutor.