tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14437422201579148952023-11-16T05:44:36.502-05:00The Blind Leading the SmallSometimes, you've just got to have a good laugh at what life throws at you. Plus, the venting is good for maintaining sanity. The doctors also recommend not banging your head on those bars on the window. Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger15125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1443742220157914895.post-24858250497360460172015-12-03T12:48:00.002-05:002015-12-03T14:00:56.439-05:00Call me EmporessI nominate myself Emperoress of the United States of America for one day. I mean, does it seem to anyone else that those running our country couldn't do much worse? Not to mention, the candidates shaping up for the next presidential election are not encouraging. Maybe if I set some of the major problems with this country on the right track the idiots running it can keep from screwing things up again too badly. Here is my platform for my 24 hours of change: <br />
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1. Election reform: All elections henceforth are general elections with no straight ticket votes. Identification is required to prove citizenship, but can be obtained for free at the local DMV. Also, all ballots are write-in; if you don't know their name, you don't get to vote for them. Cheat sheets are allowed. Free, bipartisan, fact based, community education classes and publications will be offered regarding the issues and candidates.<br />
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2. Donald Trump is appointed head of all military spending. I mean, talk about a niche that could use a healthy dose of capitalism. Federal law enforcement officers are equipped with better equipment than military members, and the price tag is generally 75% less. It is such a corrupt system of good old boys and greased palms. Good old Donald is also allowed to build his immigration wall along land borders with his own money if he promises to drop out of the presidential race. He's welcome to recoup some of his expenses with "Blackjack & Snacks" kiosks or whatever entrepreneurial efforts his little mop desires.<br />
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3. Immigration reform: Now that we have a wall, locking down illegal immigration should be a breeze. However, legal immigration will be encouraged, as consistent with American tradition. Basically, the only difference is, no more line cutting. An amnesty date will be set within 30 days of completion of the wall(s). Tax paying, rule following immigrants already in the country are allowed to stay and given a reasonable amount of time to earn citizenship. Citizenship will require a basic knowledge of laws they are expected to follow and a basic ability to translate & understand English, However, the test is open book. The test will not require memorization of arcane facts that most US citizens by birth forgot sometime around the 5th grade. Until these candidates are full citizens, any criminal offense of a violent nature or felony, violent or not, will result in immediate deportation. Any illegal immigrants past the Amnesty Date will be subject to immediate deportation. They will be allowed to "get in line" and enter the country properly unless they've been deported more than once. Law Enforcement are freely allowed to ask for immigration documentation from anyone without a state or federal issued ID.<br />
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4. Gun control: Use savings from substantial military spending reform to implement common sense, systemic gun control. Listen, this country is never going to be gun-free, I don't care how strict rules are. The only way to curb gun violence is to take the bull by the horns. Off the cuff, we could use the drivers license model of a six week course plus government moderated testing plus psych evals for Conceal and Carry licenses for handguns. No rifles in public (yes, I'm talking to you Open Carry Texas) and no semi-automatic weapons unless you are in law enforcement. Don't even start with me, NRA, you don't need them. You are required to keep your guns on your person or in a safe at all times, or face stiff criminal consequences. Personal firearm liability insurance is a requirement. But, the of Trump's military budget savings will be used to fund a branch of law enforcement responsible for civilian gun safety education & enforcement. You pull your gun out in public when there's not an emergency? You spend the night in jail. I don't care if you were just showing off your new Glock. As for those of you who want to limit magazine size, I have a message. You are a moron. Shall we also decrease the size of gas tanks in order to cut down on air pollution?<br />
A note on active shooter incidents: the media will be prohibited from publishing the identiy of any active shooters, but encouraged to laud any private citizens who (legally and carefully) protect other citizens in such situations. <br />
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5. Welfare reform: Increase welfare and food stamps by 15%, but require drug tests & 30 hrs/week public service volunteer work for those who are able. Accommodations will be made for those with physical and mental disabilities, but they will still be expected to contribute to the best of their ability. Additional psychologists and social workers will be provided to help people get on their. Marketing and PR folks will help us make hard workers within the program and graduates a point of national pride. Part of the work will be childcare & eldercare for other welfare recipients so they can do their own work. Childcare will have the added benefit of decreasing mental health costs for parents and include a simple educational curriculum for those not in public school.<br />
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6. Healthcare reform: Free preventative healthcare if you attend a 15 minute health education video (expanded health department system based on WIC model) w/ coffee & snacks provided (by organized volunteers...sign up genius, anyone?) This will pay for itself....<br />
Health insurance will remain a requirement, but will be free to those on government subsidies as long as they meet the drug and volunteer requirements above. Individuals will remain free to buy private health insurance. Persons choosing to not carry health insurance will be subject to fines in the form of increased taxation. <br />
Pharmaceutical and medical equipment companies will be subject strict regulations forbidding price gouging. Healthcare costs will be required to be equal for everyone, regardless of insurance status. <br />
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7. Income tax reform: Income tax erased. Simple, fixed percentage, Individual Federal Spending & Investment Profit tax implemented. Grocery food, charitable contributions and payment for professional labor would be exempt, but any products of manufacturing are included. Low income folks who traditionally don't file tax returns, but are buying cigarettes and cell phones, will start contributing. The wealthy who have been using loop holes in the tax law to made their income look much smaller than it is will have that nipped in the bud. Maybe an added benefit to this shift in thinking will be that product manufacturers will go back to making quality products that stand the test of time and more people will find work as repair professionals. There will be a higher tax percentage for those who do not carry health insurance, but to a lesser degree for those who participate in preventative HC program. Cigarettes, vape & tobacco will be taxed at a rate of 200%. Free tobacco cessation programs will be offered through the preventative healthcare program.<br />
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Businesses will be taxed based on profit as well, but at a low flat rate, which will benefit small businesses. A 2% profit tax would bring in a fortune from Exxon mobil, but allow a mom and pop diner with a tiny profit margin some breathing room. Significant tax breaks will be offered for those businesses with environmentally friendly practices. <br />
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8. Federal student loan forgiveness can be earned with hours of public service work. Government employees displaced by this and the welfare program will become public service volunteer coordinators. <br />
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9. Environment: Those making policy decisions on environmental issues are required to have at least an undergraduate degree in science and before each vote must pass an "issue quiz" based on recent & respected scientific research on the topic. <br />
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10. Congressional reform: Entrance exam, including IQ test, required. Attendance is required, and "day jobs" are not allowed. Before session, all congress members must attend a two week boot camp run by Marine Corps drill instructors. Assigned tasks will require team work to pass. Entrance exams and performance evaluations are mandatory and at the discretion of constituents who have demonstrated reasonable pertinent knowledge. Salary is achievement based. Oh, and no more passing laws and making sure they don't apply to them. If you decrease federal pensions? Guess what buckaroo, that includes you. You want to put a freeze on federal employee pay because you can't decide on a budget? You had better not be getting your paycheck. And remember, this is your only job now....<br />
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11. Public Education reform: Those making decisions about standardized tested and curriculum must have at least 5 years experience as a public school teacher. You must all be able to pass assigned standardized test at greater than the 90% percentile. If the kids are spending 8 hours in testing, so are you. Does it seem excessive now?<br />
A federal committee will be given the responsibility to study and incorporate effective education strategies from around the world. <br />
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I could go on....foreign policy? You have to have spent time there. In general, I suppose you can sum up my political positions in one sentence. Have the experts make the decisions. Doesn't that seem logical?<br />
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So how about that nomination for Emporess? Forget that, I appoint myself. The next day I'll start looking for a genie. I'll wish for world peace, nutritious food and common sense for all. <br />
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But in all seriousness, what do we have to do to get an infusion of common sense into the way this country is run?<br />
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Perhaps I have an inkling of what leads to the zombie apocalypse.<br />
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<em>" Everyone in congress agreed that the world respected academic and philosopher made a valid point when he said the country needed a fresh start. He was promptly dismissed from the hearing since Operation Fresh Start would be classified. Head of Viral Development was appointed from Big Tobacco, since after all, they are loyal campaign contributors and have scientific expertise from cigarette R&D. The manufacturing and distribution contract was awarded to Raytheon, since they made the lowest bid offer. Raytheon has since admitted that mistakes were made with the product's initial roll out, but point out that their contract states that pay cannot be withdrawn until 5 years or 5 genome patches and then requisitioned additional funding. They require 500,000 additional petri dishes at a cost of $750 a dish." </em><br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1443742220157914895.post-13108995364251140542013-10-03T12:12:00.001-04:002013-10-03T12:42:17.472-04:00Mean People SuckDear Kids,<br />
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If I'm showing this to you, someone has probably been mean to you today. The reason I'm writing this is that someone was really mean to me today. I tried to turn it into a teachable moment, but you're still pretty young and you were definitely disinterested. So, I'm going to try to organize my thoughts for the day when someone has hurt your heart and you're old enough for us to have this conversation. </div>
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Today I made a mistake. It wasn't a big mistake, in fact it was a tiny one. No one was hurt, no one was even inconvenienced. But an angry person was apparently really tired of a lot of other people making the same mistake and so he was nasty and ugly and yelled at me for awhile. He probably had other stuff going on, too. I wouldn't know. I imagine he thought yelling at me would make him feel better. But, I'm guessing it really didn't. There are some things I want you to understand if someone is ever mean to you, but also for when that moment comes that you really want to be mean to someone else. <br />
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<strong>1.</strong> <strong>Bad stuff happens</strong>. It just does. It's not fair, but it's how this world works. When you see the bad in people you'll be tempted to think they're all bad, but it's not true. Once I read you a story about Pickles the Cat. And the kind lady told the fireman that Pickles wasn't a bad cat, and he wasn't a good cat, he was a mixed up cat. Baby, we're all mixed up people. We have bad with the good. We've just got to keep trying to be good as much as we can and bad as little as possible. We live in a mixed up world. Mean stuff happens just like sickness happens and death happens and natural disasters happen. My understanding is that God made this world with good and bad things on purpose. This isn't heaven; it's not meant to be like heaven. We can't keep bad things from hurting us and that really sucks, but believe it or not, when we hurt God hurts too. He hurts because he loves us a whole lot so he hates it when we're suffering. Even though he made it to work this way. He knows that bad things help us become better people. God wants us to have to exercise the muscles of faith and grace and forgiveness and get strong. If we lived in some perfect utopia those muscles would never get used. Eventually we'd be like the blob people in Wall-E that can't even walk anymore. I'm not sure how it works exactly, but I think that in order for Heaven to be a heaven, we've all got to learn how to be loving and patient and forgiving so that we don't ruin it for everyone else when we get there. <br />
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<strong>2</strong>. <strong> Mean people suck</strong>. But, do you know why people are mean? There's a few reasons. First, people are born mixed up. You don't have to teach a baby to scream in fury, but you do have to teach them to share. The sweetest babies will slap and bite with the best of them until they're taught not to. I certainly didn't have to teach you guys how to fight each other and you're quite proficient. You guys can get your scrap on like crazy. We come programmed with some nasty. Perhaps it was necessary to ensure survival of the species on this Earth. We will always have impulses and emotions that make us want to do mean things and mean things are easy to do. On the other hand, we have to exercise those "be kind when you don't feel like it" muscles and exercise is work. Don't worry, just like exercise it gets easier and more enjoyable with practice. <br />
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The second reason is when you're angry or sad, being mean can feel really good. In fact it can feel great for a quick minute. But the huge major problem is after that delicious moment has passed you're going feel bad and guilty a lot longer than it ever felt good. Some people enjoy that short lived good feeling so much that they're willing to deal with the bad feelings later. They think it will work to ignore them, but that only works for a while. Often they're not conscious that's the choice they're making. But always be conscious, baby. Always listen to that soft quiet voice that tells you the truth.<br />
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Lastly, there are things that make being kind even harder and more work than normal. Do you remember how you felt today right after that person was mean to you? You probably wanted to scream and punch their face in. Today after that man was mean to me it took all that I had not to scream at him and make an ugly gesture and throw trash in his front yard. Oh, it was so tempting. I really wanted to throw a big fit. The only reason I was able to resist is that I tried really hard to be a good person even though I didn't feel like it. I had to remember that I need to extend grace to others not because they deserve it, but because God extends grace to me even when I don't deserve it. I want you to know that if you didn't do anything like that when that person was mean to you today, I am very proud of you. You are so strong already. If you gave into the seductive pull of fury, then I just want you to keep exercising. Know that if you can hold on and use that strength for just a little while that burning desire to be ugly will go away. And, that burn is building muscle. Soul muscle that you can be really proud of.<br />
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<strong>3.</strong> <strong>You will make mistakes</strong>. You can't always help it, you're human and you were purposefully made to be full of mistakes so that you could learn from them. The important thing is to a) realize it's a mistake, b) apologize and c) try to never make that same mistake again. Remember that people are allowed to be angry and sad about your mistake if you've hurt them. Apologies are important but they don't fix the damage. If you dropped a plate and broke it but apologized, would the plate still be broken? Even if you glue it back together it will never be the same. Just do the best you can and remember every day is a new chance to get a little closer to the potential God sees in you. Also know that a person's hurt feelings do not make it okay for them to hurt you back on purpose. Just like if anyone hurts you it is not okay for you to hurt them back on purpose unless you are forced to in order to defend yourself. In fact, if your goal is for that person to not hurt you like that again it is much more effective to let your anger go first and then tell them how they've hurt you. Notice I said more effective, not easier. Mean is the easy way out. If they care about you it will make them want to treat you better next time. If they don't try to treat you better, you need to accept that they may not care about you as much as they should. Even when they're trying they probably won't get it right for awhile, but as long as they keep trying you know they still care. It's even easier for people to be mean to strangers because there usually fewer consequences. But remember, all people are God's children and He and I both want you to treat them with respect for at least that fact alone. Also consider that if you have consequences to your conscience after being ugly to a stranger, you won't have the luxury of apology.<br />
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<strong>4. Sometimes people will be sorry, but a lot of times they won't be.</strong> Sometimes those mixed up good/bad people just refuse to let themselves realize they've made a mistake. Because if they admitted it to themselves, then they would have to feel guilty. No one likes to feel guilty. They will bend over backwards to justify their bad behavior. You can't convince them otherwise, it just doesn't work. No person can change another person, we can only change ourselves. Not only that, but there are some people who have had so many painful things happen to them in their life they feel like it has made them bad all the way through. These particular people were not as lucky as you and have had more than their share of bad things ever since they were a baby. A lot of the time these people stop even trying to be kind; they get too lost in all the bad. The only thing that makes them feel better is to be mean to others to try and make it feel more fair that life has been cruel to them. Sometimes these people work really hard to believe that they like the bad. But the truth is, it never makes them feel better. They are just so lost they can't see another way anymore and they've stopped looking. When you're being mad at one of these people I want you to remember to be sad for them, too. <br />
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<strong>5. When someone hurts your heart it hurts bad. I know. But there is one way to make it better. </strong>We're talking about the worst kind of hurt there is. Also, one moment of someone being kind doesn't affect you as strongly as one moment of someone being ugly. It's not fair, but it's like every good thing that happens to you is like a cup of water being poured into a bucket, but when you're hurt it's like someone kicked that bucket over. That's just the way it works. And the more you care about someone, the easier it is for them to kick your bucket all the way over. Conversely, the more someone cares about you the more power you have to hurt them. Remember this and be good and sweet and kind a whole lot more than you are mean. I won't tell you I expect you to never be mean, because no one can do that. Sometimes a little mean is going to slip out. It's what you do next that really matters. Maybe that's what has just happened to you. Perhaps someone you trusted has done this to you today. You flex your grace muscles until the fury has passed until you've successfully managed to move beyond the fist clenching moment where all you can think about is the meaner things you can do in retaliation. You can do it, you are more than your anger. When it has subsided, you'll be left with the sadness.<br />
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Since we're having this talk, you might feel right now like someone has kicked you in the chest. There's only one way for that hurt to start feeling better and it's a bit counter intuitive. You have to forgive them. I know, it sounds crazy. They don't deserve it! They're not even sorry! It doesn't matter. You're not doing it for them. The cold hard truth is that the person who inflicted this wound has probably forgotten all about it. If they haven't forgotten, they probably still don't care that you're hurting. We flawed humans can be so egocentric! As a result, you're the one struggling to carry the weight of the insult. You're the one weighed down by the pain. The key to moving on is letting go. Forgiveness is tough, but it's worth it. You're worth it. A life dominated by anger is no way to live. And remember the pay it forward aspect. God has forgiven all your transgressions. I bet there are some you're not sorry for. There's someone out there you've hurt and you don't even realize you did it. You didn't have to work to earn the right to be forgiven of every sin. Someone did all the work, but it wasn't you, you get to enjoy that benefit free of charge. You don't forgive others because they're deserving of it. You forgive others because you were forgiven. You do it because God deserves it, and he loves that person as much as he loves you. He sees the good in them just like he sees the good in you, and every little speck of good is precious to him. I always tell you I love you no matter what. You could become a serial killer and I wouldn't be happy about it, but you'd still be my sweet child. God's love is like that for each one of his mixed up humans, but even bigger. <br />
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"How do you forgive?" you might ask. Well, it's tough and you're going to have to work at it. You may have to give the situation a little space to breathe while you can adjust your perspective. Since you were born, sometimes it helps me to picture the people I'm trying to forgive as the innocent child they once were. It may help to volunteer at a homeless shelter or an oncology ward to make your problems seem smaller. It will definitely help to spend time in quite prayer and meditation talking to God and asking him to help you figure it out. Once I simply wrote over and over in a journal "I forgive (them)" and it got me one step closer. Depending on how hurt and angry you are, it may take a continued effort where you actively work on it. It makes sense, doesn't it? Don't most important things require that? Beware of anything that seems like it would be a quick fix. The work is worth it, after all you're regaining your freedom of spirit.<br />
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I hope this talk has helped. It has helped me to write it. But, I will still mess up and hurt your feelings sometimes and I hope you are always able to forgive me. Remember that the closer you feel to God, the easier earthly hurts are to weather. The more you work to know him, the more you will feel his support. In fact, I think part of the secret to true happiness is this: We were put on this Earth with a God-sized hole in our heart that leaves us feeling lacking. Many people try to fill that hole with earthly things to find happiness; possessions, substances, experiences, etc. But just like that infant toy you had called a shape sorter, the only thing that fits right in that hole, and makes you whole, is God. And like all hard things that are worth it, if you keep actively working on it, you will get there. <br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1443742220157914895.post-8194320625373374442013-10-03T11:05:00.003-04:002013-10-03T11:10:27.656-04:00Open letter to pharmacy chains<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Dear pharmacy policy maker and procedure designer, </span></div>
<b id="docs-internal-guid-2e84d49f-7eda-27c1-8837-980fd9dde8f1" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Having a kid who requires a controlled substance medication is tough. Some people, like me, have more than one and that’s even tougher. Take a minute to imagine that reality. Disorders, diagnoses, anxiety, specialists, medical bills, school problems, behavior issues and the list could go on. </span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The last thing I should have to deal with is spending a day driving around town looking for my children’s controlled medication to fill their prescription. </span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Let me paint the picture of why that happens. Typically when one of these controlled prescriptions is changed, it is not in stock at my local pharmacy. This is understandable considering it’s a new prescription. The pharmacist of course recommends trying a different location. However, because it is a controlled medication the pharmacists at the other locations are not allowed to give information over the phone about whether they have it available. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Not even to other pharmacists that work for the same company. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> Ergo, I drive from pharmacy to pharmacy to pharmacy to pharmacy….infinitum. Last time, I got “lucky” and found it at the eighth pharmacy. Today I had to accept that I couldn’t give my child what they needed when they need it. The end results my supreme frustration and more importantly my poor child has to suffer the consequences at school. </span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Why, you might ask, didn’t I ask the pharmacist is advance to order it? Oh, I did. I have. They apparently can’t order the medication unless they have a prescription that needs to be filled immediately. However a special order takes at least 5 days.. The response to “immediate need” is a week of wasted education. So then I start driving, and the next month we repeat the cycle. I begged the pharmacist at my store to order one medication a month ago- you know, after finding it on my eighth try across town I was desperate to not have to drive around a month later. It didn’t work. At the moment my fingers are crossed that she’ll only miss one school day of medication, but the pharmacist did not seem optimistic it would arrive when she expected it. </span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">What am I supposed to tell my daughter’s teacher? “She may be able to do her work without disrupting your classroom by Tuesday. Cross your fingers!” Can you imagine her reaction when I describe the problem? I’ll sum it up: incredulity. </span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Obviously, </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I understand the public safety implications of why controlled medications need to be controlled. But there has to be a smart way to make this situation tenable for parents. Can not some secure system be put in place through the store computers? Or how about this free idea, what about over the phone verification codes so that at least your pharmacists could call your other pharmacists with verified identity and locate these medications?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">All I know is that the current system is horribly broken. Myself and a lot of other parents of special needs children would really appreciate you fixing it. We have enough things to deal with that aren’t fixable. </span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1443742220157914895.post-64185663628310122812010-09-19T01:14:00.001-04:002013-09-18T15:23:16.049-04:0034 going on 14<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So I'm at the pool with Blue Eyes the other day. This by itself is a pretty big treat - having one child with you when you're used to three is a cakewalk. Plus, Blue Eyes can now touch bottom in the shallow end. Sweeeeet. Because I was not having to be hyper aware of multiple potential drowning victims, my mental filter was relaxed a couple of levels and I was able to digest excerpts of surrounding conversations. </span><br />
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</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Mental filter, you ask? Sometimes I really have it together and the kids are acting reasonably and I can simultaneously supervise/ parent my children and resemble a person with passable social skills.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">More often, I'm desperately trying to suck less at the supervision/ parenting part and what's left over is a blubbering mess of incomprehension. As a survival feature my brain is forced to tune out any and all sensory input and extraneous thought that does not pertain to keeping my children from being harmed while remaining sane. Today I actually asked a friend if she could watch my kids for an hour on Monday. When they're <i>in school.</i> Seriously? I mean, my brain is <i>broken.</i></span><br />
<div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://s858.photobucket.com/albums/ab148/blindleadingthesmall/?action=view&current=scale.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" target="_blank"><img alt="meter,scale" border="0" src="http://i858.photobucket.com/albums/ab148/blindleadingthesmall/scale.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Degrees of Mental Filtration</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But I digress. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">On one hand there's a couple of middle aged women sitting near me who were wafting words like "administration", "carpool", and "recipe". That's truly all I could tell you because similar to what I learn via osmosis from Sportscenter on a continuous loop, all that sticks are the highlights because I'm utterly disinterested.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Meanwhile, a group of tweens in the pool are having their own conversation. They're trying to figure out who sings that new hot pop song. Is it Drake or Taio Cruz? I'm dying to tell them it's absolutely Taio Cruz. Duh... Next they move onto the ubiquitous debate of Team Edward vs. Team Jacob and I'm practically popping out of my seat wanting to tell them <i>of course</i> I'm team Jacob because a) he's not cold and hard, b) Rob Pattinson is way over-rated, effeminate, scrawny and has bushy eyebrows, and c) Bella acts all weird and twitchy with Edward and acts like her normal self with Jacob. Again, Duh.... </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And it occurs to me. My body and life may be 34, but my mind is stuck at 14!</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I don't mean I'm still as stupid and naive as I was at 14. You know, when you believe that life is like a fairy tale where everyone gets their happy ending, vampires are sexy, and all that baloney... More accurately, I'm more interested in things that 14 year olds are <i>supposed </i> to be interested in, and <i>completely bored senseless</i> with "adult" interests. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Though, as I think about it, it goes beyond boredom. Adult concerns generate adult stress and adult anxiety. Reading Twilight is an escape, while reading the news is depressing. It is much more fun to dance in the kitchen to Taio Cruz than it is to sit around and wonder if mid-term elections will cause the current administration to change policy in an effort improve chances of re-election, and how that will affect us. I mean, compare the ideas. First thought- dancing in the kitchen- simple, fun visual. Second thought- blah, blah, politics, blah- my brain starts considering endless variables, and consider outcomes, and so on and so forth. All that thinking is work. And I'm already brain tired. No, I'm brain <i>exhausted.</i> </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">On one hand, being a stay at home parent and conversing only on a preschool level is enough to shrivel your grey matter. I feel like the longer I'm not in school or working the more my intellectual abilities atrophy. On the other hand, I feel like my mind is constantly stressed and overwhelmed. I think it's partly sensory overload from the noise and the chaos that defines my days. But it's more than that. As a parent, particularly as the primary caretaker of the children, you can never let your guard down. As you're asleep you're subconsciously listening for a cry in the night, dreading the coming rude awakening, and worrying that something scary could happen while you dared to doze off. I didn't even know that you could do these things <i>while you sleep</i> until I was a parent. The result is my mind is shot. You know how if you leave your computer on too long without shutting down it starts to get really confused after awhile? You call technical support and the first thing they tell you to do is to restart it? I feel like my brain is like a computer that never ever gets shut down. The power button was pulled off by a toddler. If my mind was an actual computer it would end up at the DMV on the desk of a fat lady with body odor and a nasty attitude. The intellectual atrophy combined with the complete inability to let your guard down is a one-two punch. KO!</span><br />
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</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So forgive me if my interest starts to wane when the subject turns to politics. I'm yearning for the days when the most stressful thing I had to work out was which ballad band had the hottest lead singer. I think I need a vacation.</span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1443742220157914895.post-80443430676210066422010-09-12T22:41:00.003-04:002010-09-19T01:22:18.580-04:00Dear Dirty Mistress<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">To the dirty, selfish mistress that is controlling my husband....again... </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I am not happy you are back in my life. I'll never forget the first time you reared your head. I was a newlywed and in the throes of married bliss when all the sudden you invade my marriage; you even have the audacity of invading my home. My bed, no less. My new husband went from a sweet, adoring, lovely man to a raging, psychotic freak. To say that my new husband was acting out of character would be a gross understatement. The screaming, swearing, pacing and throwing of household objects was completely out of control. I'm asking myself, "what have I gotten myself into?!?" He was a newlywed, for crying out loud, and suddenly didn't even want to look at me. I'm not kidding, I could have stood in front of him stark naked and he would more likely than not ask me to move out of the way. I was suddenly starting to understand that I was not the sun of his solar system as I had so recently believed. </span><br />
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</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">You left for awhile, and there were others that caught his eye- true- but for the most part he returned to his role as dutiful husband. Promises were made that he would not allow himself to be sucked in like that again. "I swear I don't care about (her) at all anymore. I'm over (her)" he said. We discussed his realization that he had made the heinous error of staking his happiness on short lived pleasure. He even acknowledged that your relationship was painful more often than pleasurable. He was like a junkie chasing the unattainable high. He would become enthralled by you, obsessed by you, wanting to see you all the time and thinking about you non-stop when you were not available...and then you would inevitably bring him crashing down with disappointment. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I was beginning to truly understand your power. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">You have never truly left. There have been long stretches of time where there has been peace in my home, only for the tension to rise once again when you begin to draw near. Every time it happens, I hope this time will be easier. Perhaps with some maturity my husband will have finally learned to distance himself. Every time, I am disappointed. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I've made some effort to share him with you. I've tried to become interested in you, to try to understand the appeal. I thought, perhaps if I can see what draws my husband to you so strongly, I can share in that experience. However, I've finally accepted that I am just really not very attracted to you. Even if I'd like to, I just can't swing that way. I've also noticed that you aren't very willing to share him. You really are a selfish, jealous, and possessive harpy. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Who do you think you are, getting your hooks into MY husband that way? Don't you care at all that he should really be spending that time with his children? His family? Oh, that's right, you've brainwashed him. You've got him believing that the children should spend time with him AND you. I can already see the writing on the wall. He wants my children to love you too. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Are you kidding me? Just leave their natural born mother out in the cold. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Soon I'll be the only one who see you for what you really are. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">You're like a Siren of Greek Mythology. You want to lure men in with your beautiful appeal and then emotionally wreck them on your rocky shores. You are a succubus. You sell euphoria to these men, but can actually lead to a serious deterioration of their mental and, sometimes, physical health. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Yes, I said "men" as in plural. You are such a dirty trollup you've been with almost every man I know. I know for sure you've done the same to my brother as well. Seriously? You must be the Supreme Slut of Whore Island. You make them all love you, but you love none of them. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">You know, I'm not going to protect your identity. The world should know who it is making all of these otherwise good men act like crazy mental patients. Other girls with dreams of happy endings should know exactly what they are getting into. You want everyone to think you're as wholesome as apple pie, but I know the truth. You're a big fat homewrecker. I'm going to spread the word. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>College Football, </b>you are such a bitch. Give me my husband back!</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1443742220157914895.post-57812521102084917572010-08-24T22:43:00.003-04:002010-08-24T23:10:34.066-04:00The Terror Twins First Day of School<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Silence. Beautiful silence. </span><br />
<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 16px;"></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 16px;"></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 16px;"></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 16px;"></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 16px;"></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 16px;"><h2 class="me" style="color: black; display: inline; font-family: 'Arial Unicode MS', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">si·lence</h2></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 16px;"><sup style="bottom: 1ex; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; height: 0px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; position: relative; vertical-align: baseline;"></sup> <span class="pronset" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><span class="show_spellpr" style="color: #333333; display: inline; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><span class="prondelim" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">[</span><span class="pron" style="color: #333333; display: inline; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><span class="boldface" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; font-weight: 700; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">sahy</span>-l<span class="ital-inline" style="color: #333333; display: inline; font-family: Georgia, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; font-style: italic; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">uh</span><img alt="" border="0" class="luna-Img" src="http://sp.dictionary.com/dictstatic/dictionary/graphics/luna/thinsp.png" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: text-top;" />ns</span><span class="prondelim" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">]</span><span class="pron_toggle" style="color: #333333; display: inline; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"> </span></span></span><span class="pg" style="color: #333333; display: inline; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 3px; padding-top: 0px;"><span id="hotword" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; position: static;"><span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; position: static;">noun,</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; position: static;">verb,</span> </span></span><span class="secondary-bf" style="color: #333333; display: inline; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><span id="hotword" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; font-weight: normal; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; position: static;"><span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; font-weight: normal; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; position: static;">-lenced,</span></span></span><span class="secondary-bf" style="color: #333333; display: inline; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><span id="hotword" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; font-weight: normal; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; position: static;"><span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="background-color: transparent; color: #333333; cursor: default; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; font-weight: normal; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; position: static;">-lenc·ing,</span> </span></span><span class="pg" style="color: #333333; display: inline; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 3px; padding-top: 0px;"><span id="hotword" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; position: static;"><span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="background-color: transparent; color: #333333; cursor: default; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; position: static;">interjection</span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 16px;"><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">1. The complete lack of screaming, whining or crying for more than the thirty minutes one's brain needs to recover from chaos</span></i></b></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 16px;"><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">2. The ability to hear oneself think, often followed by the sudden realization that one is capable of thinking of anything other than responding to the aforementioned screaming</span></i></b></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 16px;"><b><i><br />
</i></b></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;">I'm dropping the twins off today for their first day of school, having already dropped Blue Eyes off for his day, and all these moms are taking pictures and one is video taping their baby's first day of 2-day-2's. (I mean, at what age is considered the official "first day of school" anyway? To me, this is more like Mother's Day Out twice per week)</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;"><br />
</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;">Meanwhile, I just stopped at the curb for quick in-and-out action. I didn't even bring a camera. It didn't cross my mind to cry. I'm a little ashamed. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 16px;"><b><i><br />
</i></b></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;">What I did do was skip, hop and jump back to my empty car to wile away the next four hours <i>with no entourage</i>. I didn't do anything special. I went to the gym, I went school supply shopping (yeah, yeah, they're a little late), I dropped into another store to look around <i>on a whim</i>. And I enjoyed every minute of it. Because I was <i>alone. </i></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;"><i><br />
</i></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;">There was joy in pursuing the isles of Target taking all the time in the world that I wanted to compare blunt-tip child's scissors. I was able to meander down extra isles <i>because I felt like it</i>. My internal scream-o-meter was turned off. What is my scream-o-meter? It's like a countdown clock that runs on maternal instinct- an approximation of the amount of time I have to finish the current task before the terror twins start screaming and fighting and necessitate my leaving the store/ restaurant/ public place as quickly as possibly. </span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;">I got to walk into the YMCA without worrying about my children running in front of cars in the parking lot, or spending an excessive amount of time trying to herd them to the childcare room as they dart all over the place. For once I got to skip the routine battle about how the lollipops were for when we're <i>leaving, not now.</i> There was also joy in the simple act of running on the treadmill without worrying whether the child development worker would be coming up the stairs looking for me before I've finished my workout. "Sorry to interrupt you, but Guns has stripped naked and we can't get him to put his clothes back on." (That happened a couple of weeks ago) Though, I'd be lying if I didn't admit that some <s>small</s> large part of me didn't think that I was breaking some unwritten rule about not using my precious alone time torturing myself on a treadmill. </span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;">Then, the coup de grace, I got to <b>take a shower without any toddlers climbing in</b>. </span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;">Don't get me wrong, I'm not judging the mom with the video camera. First of all, I'm impressed with her ability to locate her camera and a tape, charge the camera and remember to get it out the door with her. That right there is a feat that I would not be able to accomplish without difficulty. In fact, I'm a little jealous. Maybe if I weren't so darn overwhelmed so often, I'd enjoy videotaping more or something. Maybe she has those mythical children I've heard of that are compliant little angels. The kind that started their life sleeping in their carrier no matter where they were and matured to the kind of three year old who enjoys doing what Mommy says, <i>the first time she says it.</i></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;">Or at least that's what I choose to believe to excuse my non-filmingness. </span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;">In my defense, as we near the terror twin's third birthday, I have to look back and acknowledge that it's been a rough three years. I got pregnant 9 days after Macho Man returned from a year long tour in Iraq. That was not exactly the plan. Don't get me wrong, we wanted more children, but Blue Eyes was only 18 months old, and we didn't even get to slide into new routine before the next big adventure was coming up. It was a rough pregnancy. I had early onset "pregnancy Induced hypertension" that evolved into pre-ecclampsia and pre-term labor. Let me tell you, hospital bed rest is not even a fraction as relaxing as it sounds. Not to mention I was miserably uncomfortable 24/7. Next comes the NICU for two weeks and pumping and making bottles in addition to spending weeks and months teaching the wee ones to nurse. They each woke up every three hours. Not three hours from the time they fell asleep, but three hours from the time they woke up last. By the time I tried to nurse, warmed and fed a bottle, burped, got them back to sleep and pumped I had about an hour to sleep <i>if</i> they were on the same schedule that night. </span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;">I continued to battle with severe feeding issues with Lil' Bit until she's about a year old. She turned out to have "hypotonia" from what is fortunately, in retrospect, a minor birth defect. You may have heard of it as "floppy baby". She couldn't hold her head up until she was five months old. Her suck was weak and ineffective for a long time. Frankly, the only thing between Lil' Bit and a feeding tube was her ex-pediatric dietitian mother's dogged determination. She also needed physical therapy until she finally walked at 19 months. What a beautiful day that was! Guns on the other hand was a great little eater, but had wretched colic. Just like his older brother. If you've had a child with colic, you know how awful that is- the incessant screaming with no relief. It's just soul-sucking. Gun's colic always peaked between 1-3 am. </span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;">Needless to say, there was not a lot of sleeping going on. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 16px;">There's a reason they use sleep-deprivation as a torture tactic. It is more debilitating than you can imagine, until you're chronically sleep deprived yourself.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 16px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 16px;"> Let's not forget that I was dealing with my second go-round with post partum depression, and Macho Man was dealing with is own post-war issues. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;">Meanwhile, Blue Eye's first indications of his Austistic Spectrum Disorder began to rear it's head. It began with repetitive behavior. He preferred to flip his cars over and spin the wheels ad nauseum. He wasn't interacting with other children and would flip when he was required to transition activities before he was ready. Mommy and Me class was a nightmare. Heck, with the sensory issues that come with ASD, brushing his teeth was a nightmare. </span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;">Oh, and speaking of rough times, I'm not even going to go into our moves (yes, plural, like 4 in three years) and another 8 month separation forced by Macho Man's job. </span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;">I feel like things are finally starting to get easier. We've lived in the same place for over a year. We've made some good friends. We're getting Blue Eye's ASD thing under control, finally. Lil' Bit is about to outgrow therapy she's doing so well. It's not so hard to go places, the five of us. (Three on one is still a different deal...) It's even fun. Our problems are finally starting to be normal people problems, like how the terror twins fight all the time. Sucks, but it's typical. Typical is great. </span></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Your twins are fighting like maniacs!"<br />
"I know, isn't it great?"</span></td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;">So, excuse me if I drop my kids off at school and do cartwheels to the car. It's not that I don't love my beautiful, sweet, adorable children. Their giggles and kisses are the highlight of my life. The last three years have been completely worth it. It's just that I've been looking forward to this moment since 2007, at four in the morning, promising myself that someday it will be easier.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 16px;"> Chanting: "y</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 16px;">ou can make it", "it will get better", "take it one day at a time and someday they'll be three and five". I knew that things could be worse; that things can always be tragic- but at the time, that was less consolation than it should have been. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;">I'll film their first day of Kindergarten. I promise. And you know, I'm not going to feel too bad about enjoying every moment I have of peaceful serenity this school year. I've earned them. And you know, three and five kinda rocks so far.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;"><br />
</span></span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1443742220157914895.post-7408531085321307772010-08-17T18:00:00.002-04:002010-08-24T22:58:00.846-04:00Disturbing 'cause it's true....<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Macho Man comes home from work, and surveys the scene....</span><br />
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</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"This place is like Disneyland for Pedophiles."</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Except minus the <s>loin cloth</s> diaper</span></td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It's true, my house is the pediatric equivalent of a nude beach. My children are determined to be naked as much of the time as possible. They find clothes to be, at best, completely unnecessary, at worst, a major inconvenience. They will walk out of sight for 2.3 seconds and return stark naked. I've thought of several possible rational explanations, but I'm still puzzling over the idea. Here's what I've come up with:</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">1. Maybe they're legitimately hot. We spend a fortune on central air, but since our home is about as energy efficient as a Hummer on NOS we have to keep it pretty warm if we want a prayer of keeping groceries in the budget. But yet, nudity seems to be a year-round phenomenon. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">2. Economy of motion? After all, every time they go to the bathroom it does require taking off the clothes, putting them back on. Not so difficult for me, but then, I don't have the fine motor skills of a 2 year old. Maybe they're just trying to save time and effort. However, this hypothesis doesn't explain why they strip in the kitchen, or in the backyard, or anywhere else nowhere remotely near a potty. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">3. Inherited exhibitionism? There is a rather notorious story of Macho Man's mother entertaining guests, only to be joined by a Mini Macho Man in boots and a cowboy hat. ONLY boots and a cowboy hat. He was reportedly rather proud of himself. I picture <i>that scene</i> at the beginning of 'Forgetting Sarah Marshall', but I think it's because I know him as an adult and have some difficulty imagining a young, innocent, Mini Macho Man. You know, I may be onto something here- we already know he's passed down other <a href="http://blindleadingthesmall.blogspot.com/2010/07/stand-by-me-moment.html">strange traits</a>. He's also been known to hang brain in a bar after a couple of drinks. No, you really don't want to know what that means- don't think about it too long. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">All I know is that I spend my entire day saying "where is your underwear?", "why have you not put on underwear yet?", "haven't I asked you 3,000 times to go get your underwear?". Because, sadly, I'm happy if they even have that much on. Underwear is such a battle, I don't have the energy to attempt full outfits unless there is an imminent departure planned. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I'm convinced this tendency towards nudity is carried on the y chromosome. Why else would the preoccupation with nakedness commonly persist into adulthood with boys, yet girls seem to grow out of it once female hormones begin to rise. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This begs the question, on an evolutionary level, what was the advantage of preferring nudity? Were the males less likely to be taken down by a saber-toothed tiger if there were no loin skin trailing behind them in the wind to grab? Is this kind of like the lesson we learned from The Incredibles; that superheros with capes were prone to tragic wardrobe malfunctions? </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Tsk. Tsk. Rookie mistake. </span></td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Were Neanderthal women into meat gazing? They only wanted to mate with the guys who could prove they had nothing to be shy about? Maybe just the really trollup-y ones, I'll hazard to guess. You know, the ones that evolved into those girls that hang out in country bars with their muffin tops hanging over their Rockies, or Ke$ha. Not to mention, all that brain would get awfully dirty hanging out all the time....</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Neanderthal skull before forensic reconstruction</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">After. The mouth seemed to form the words "I heart naked brain"</span></td></tr>
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</span></span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">All I really know for sure is that a naked kid just ran by. </span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1443742220157914895.post-77796365367743622442010-08-08T17:56:00.005-04:002010-08-08T19:58:32.727-04:00Man, the kids are on a tear today<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Holy Moly my kids are on a tear today. I'm worn out. Of course Macho Man is working. </span><br />
<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Lil' Bit has this nasty habit of joyfully pulling the keys off my laptop keyboard. As far as I can tell it's a compulsion. Kind of like if you or I were standing next to peeling paint we might have to resist the urge to pull it off. Sometimes I get lucky and can pop them back on. Other times one of the 12 important micro pieces are gone with the wind. I currently am missing the letter 'K'. At the time, I thought, no big deal- how much do I use the letter K anyway? Let me tell you, enough to be annoyed when you don't have one. I k (grr) know that she does this, and I take precautions, but she slipped past me for about 2 seconds while I was <s>yelling at</s> correcting the boys for something. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Some of Lil' Bit's best work<br />
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</tbody></table><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Blue Eyes is just hyper as all get-out. He also has decided that he's an alien now, and instead of addressing me as "Mommy" now addresses me as "the human". Such as, "Guns, go get your own milk ($#!) from the human". Again, something that has turned out to be more annoying than expected. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But Guns takes the cake (#$@%!!), as usual. First, he comes to me with wet hair. Just the top of his head, and I'm thinking how did he swing that? Exhibit A:</span><br />
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</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img src="http://im1.shutterfly.com/media/47a0d629b3127ccefa84323fc8b300000030O08AbtWjJkzaNwe3nwE/cC/f%3D0/ps%3D50/r%3D0/rx%3D550/ry%3D400/" /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Blue Eyes cleared it up for me when I asked him what happened. "He put his head in the toilet!" as he's convulsing in laughter. So immediately I begin the walk of dread. Let me explain. I have three children under five using that bathroom. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And they're not so great at flushing. In fact, the whole bathroom</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> is disgusting all the time. I would actually prefer an industrial bathroom with tile walls and a drain in the floor so I could just splash some bleach around and then hose it down. But, really, I'm convinced that the only thing that could truly get it completely clean is an atomic bomb pulled out of cold war storage. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://media.photobucket.com/image/atomic%20bomb/keithrauch/atomic-bomb.jpg?o=14" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" target="_blank"><img border="0" src="http://i879.photobucket.com/albums/ab351/keithrauch/atomic-bomb.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">What I'd like to do to my second bathroom</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Sure enough, you guessed it- Guns had clearly been playing in the toilet (he had left a few bath toys in there) and the water was a dark yellow. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Bath time. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Soon I put them down for a nap, and I get a little work done before deciding to take a little cat nap myself. Trust me, I knew this was a risky proposition, but I was exhausted. About 45 minutes later I'm woken to: "Excuse me, human? Gunner has gotten poop all over." </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Exhibit B:</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img src="http://im1.shutterfly.com/media/47a0d629b3127ccefa848090c84500000030O08AbtWjJkzaNwe3nwE/cC/f%3D0/ps%3D50/r%3D0/rx%3D550/ry%3D400/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My bedroom door. Passive aggressive much? </span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Guns, in fact, has gotten poop all over. He evidently woke up from his nap with a full diaper and decided to do a little impromptu poo art. In addition to the door, it was on the floor, on the nearby laundry hamper, etc, etc.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Bath time again. Also, let me just say, it is not fun scrubbing dried poo off of a door and a wall. It it amazingly resilient. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As I'm taking the miracle eraser to the poo wall, I'm wondering about how much poo I must eat and drink, breathe and wear every day. It must be everywhere. I mean, the kids poop all over their clothes, and then I wash them in the washing machine- then later wash everything else in the washing machine. Sanitary cycle or no, I'm pretty sure we're all wearing poo germs. It's not like they sell antibacterial laundry soap.</span><br />
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</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Worse, I learned in a food science class in college that the FDA has regulations for the maximum amount of human feces, animal hair, bug pieces, etc. that is allowed in foods packaged for consumption in the United States. So- think about it- that means that our government's foremost experts in food safety had to concede that all of those things are <i>already</i> routinely in our food, and had to settle for setting maximum allowable limits. Grossed out yet? Well, what ever the limit is for human feces, I suspect that we have far surpassed it in our home. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">If I really stop and think it through, it's inevitable. Yes, I scrubbed the devil out of the poo I could see, but did I <i>really</i> get every last poo molecule and live bacteria? Somehow I doubt it. Not to mention, Guns probably touched all kinds of things after his art project that I can't see. No amount of lysol wipes is going to get all that. Not to mention the surfaces, like my leather couches, that I can't nuke. The dogs and all of us are walking around on the floor. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Heck, the dogs are walking in the house from the backyard, so there's probably dog poo all over the place, too. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We're touching these surfaces that I can't locate and then climbing into our beds, touching our silverware and toothbrushes. The kids drop food on the floor, then pick it up and eat it all the time. And today's poo painting isn't an isolated issue for me- it's practically a national pastime at our house.. I clean poo all the time. Therefore, I eat poo. I drink poo. So do my kids- every day. I'm probably pickled with poo germs. And bad news, if you have a potty training toddler, or a kid that doesn't wash their hands that great, or pets, there's a good chance you do too. Sorry to point it out. Now that I think about it, I wish our whole house had a drain in the middle of the floor. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
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<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I think I'll be skipping dinner tonight. Hope you've already eaten...</span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1443742220157914895.post-60790352385464875572010-07-30T14:40:00.005-04:002010-07-30T15:00:06.285-04:00"Stand By Me" Moment<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My dietitian post reminded me of a <i>beautifu</i>l moment. (By <i>beautiful</i> I really mean revolting.)</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A little background: Macho Man has always had this hilarious gag reflex. If he sees something gross, or even thinks about something really gross he'll start retching. I don't mean gross like blood and gore- he can handle that. He's Macho Man. I'm talking about poop and boogers. He can't handle it. He'll tell you that he won't lose his cool with a gun in his face, but if he was flying a plane you could hijack him with a big green booger on your finger. For years I thought it was fake. It must be some sort of attention seeking behavior. I was still not entirely convinced even when he tried to change his first real poopy diaper and ended up with his head in the kitchen sink losing his lunch. I'm thinking: what an elaborate ruse to avoid diaper duty, but if he's determined enough to actually heave his guts up, I'll just change the farking things myself and hold it over his head to get him to do other stuff. (Isn't it bad that I think that way? Oh whatever, you know you do too.)</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The day I finally believed him that he couldn't help it was the day that this happened. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I had decided that Blue Eyes was going to learn to eat vegetables whether he liked it or not. I put a kernel of corn into his mouth and held it in with a hand over his mouth. I mean, come on, corn isn't even a real vegetable. My method sounds brutal, but I was gentle- and I was giving him lots of encouragement... "It's not so bad- taste it! It's the same thing as popcorn. You like popcorn...." He's crying immediately and begging to spit it out but I was convinced if I could just get past the first bite he'd realize it wasn't so bad. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Then he starts vomiting. Vomits 2-3 times on the floor. </span><br />
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</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Guns and Lil' Bit are sitting at the table with us. Gunner watches for a second then starts gagging and vomiting....vomits 3-4 times all over the floor. But worse, he's trying to escape the scene and runs over the carpet as he continues to vomit. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Next thing I know Macho Man comes in to see what's going on, and he starts gagging and vomiting in the kitchen sink. </span><br />
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</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Lil' Bit and I are just looking at each other in disbelief and I think to myself: Oh my. It's legit. And it's farking <i>inherited.</i></span><br />
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</i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I don't have to tell you who was cleaning up all that vomit by their lonesome. I won't be trying that again. </span><br />
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</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But I couldn't miss the similarity to a particular scene from the classic movie "Stand By Me"</span><br />
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<object height="385" width="480"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/STB4s7Qhf40&hl=en_US&fs=1?rel=0"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/STB4s7Qhf40&hl=en_US&fs=1?rel=0" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"></embed></object>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1443742220157914895.post-7068798718794042622010-07-28T22:26:00.002-04:002010-07-28T22:27:47.388-04:00I am Robot<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Me: So, Blue Eyes says to me today, 'I am a robot and this is my control button' as he points to his penis. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Macho Man: He doesn't even know how right he is. </span><br />
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<a href="http://media.photobucket.com/group/image/robot/OG6URI8JLK/robot210.gif?o=78" target="_blank"><img border="0" src="http://gi128.photobucket.com/groups/p172/OG6URI8JLK/robot210.gif" /></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1443742220157914895.post-50675224328481634662010-07-28T00:32:00.007-04:002010-07-28T22:34:44.984-04:00Highlight of the Day<div style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So, I registered the twins for Preschool today. It was iffy for a long time whether they'd be able to go to school, so it was a big day for me. Mostly I'm excited that they'll have the opportunity to go to preschool. With the problems that Blue Eyes has had with school, anything that helps the twins get a leg up is fabulous. But also...the idea of having all three kids in school twice a week (even for just a few hours) makes me want to do a happy dance!!!!</span><br />
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</span><br />
<a href="http://media.photobucket.com/image/happy%20dance/zRoToLeRaNcE/JimCarry.gif?o=305" target="_blank"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" src="http://i37.photobucket.com/albums/e95/zRoToLeRaNcE/JimCarry.gif" /></span></a><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Frankly, I'm surprised they let us enroll without suddenly remembering that they were full after all. I had all three kids with me, and the twins were strapped into the double stroller. The entire time I was talking to the director Guns was throwing an angry screaming fit. He was furious with the world. He had woken up in the morning on the wrong side of the bed and was punishing everyone in earshot for it. After quite awhile of getting no response from me as I desperately tried to have a semi-normal conversation with the director, the little fart did the one thing he knew would get my attention. He grabbed Lil' Bit's arm and bit the crap out of it. So hard that it left a bit mark where you could count his teeth. Right in front of the preschool director. And now I had two hysterical children with me.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I'm pretty sure she was mentally penciling in our first meeting to discuss Guns' "aggressive behavior". The follow up will cover how he told his teacher that he would "</span><a href="http://blindleadingthesmall.blogspot.com/2010/07/i-will-destroy-you.html"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">DESTROY HER</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">!", I'm sure. </span><br />
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</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">After 15 more minutes of both the twins screaming at the top of their lungs I had hurried through the paperwork and escaped. We </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">finally </span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">get home and about two minutes after I finally got them settled down and in bed for a nap, realized I had left my stroller in the preschool parking lot.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Of course.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Macho Man's comment: "Well, at least there wasn't a child in it."</span><br />
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</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This time...</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1443742220157914895.post-17588205885062852622010-07-25T19:39:00.000-04:002010-07-25T19:39:06.724-04:00Top Ten Things the Terror Twins Fought Over Today<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We had a full and fabulous day at the beach today, and although I'm sure it will be a glorious memory someday in hindsight, let me give you a little insight into the play by play. Here's a top ten list of the biggest fights of the day between the terror twins. Just this summer they have adopted the lovely habit of scrapping over EVERYTHING. I don't mean, whiney-ness, or tattling to Mommy- I mean full on, screaming slap fights followed by mutual melt-downs. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">10. A filthy seagull feather no doubt crawling with bird mites</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">9. Who gets to sit in Mommy's lap (this is all the time, so why should the beach be different? Just because there's something else to do??)</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">8. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A hole that someone else had dug</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">7. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The ownership of Daddy; "NO! MY DADDY!"</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">6. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Immediately following, who gets to shove Daddy's head underwater and try to drown him</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">5. The handle of a broken sand shovel</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">4. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The light green bucket- because the purple one, dark green one and blue ones are all completely unacceptable</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">3. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A slimy piece of deli meat coated in sand</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">2. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A dead jellyfish</span><br />
<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">1. Nothing. Absolutely nothing at all except a general objection that the other exists</span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But, they sure are cuties. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img src="http://im1.shutterfly.com/media/47a0d902b3127ccefafa5b90733a00000030O08AbtWjJkzaNwe3nwE/cC/f%3D0/ps%3D50/r%3D0/rx%3D720/ry%3D480/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Guns playing with his boat in a tide pool</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img src="http://im1.shutterfly.com/media/47a0d902b3127ccefafa4786732200000030O08AbtWjJkzaNwe3nwE/cC/f%3D0/ps%3D50/r%3D0/rx%3D720/ry%3D480/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Lil' Bit looking for shells<br />
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</tbody></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1443742220157914895.post-53499529442028419922010-07-24T10:18:00.006-04:002010-07-25T19:41:29.218-04:00You ARE Supermom, I can prove it.<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Is anyone out there feeling like a failure as a parent? Maybe you were tired from your date night last night where you had a couple of cocktails so you threw on cartoons, slopped some oj in sippy cups and dropped a handful of dry cereal on the coffee table? Oh, right that was me. Well, here's a little clip I watch from time to time to make me feel like I'm doing a rocking AWESOME job taking care of my kids. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Ok, yeah, I had to find my encouragement in a third world country. Don't judge. </span><br />
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<object height="385" width="640"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/zgxPe891-JQ&hl=en_US&fs=1?rel=0"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/zgxPe891-JQ&hl=en_US&fs=1?rel=0" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="640" height="385"></embed></object><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My favorite part is that at one point he looks like he's trying to push a cig on the smaller boy. "Come on man, all the cool 2 yr olds are doing it...." My kids are WAY safer on playdates, no matter how many toys they throw at your kid's head. </span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1443742220157914895.post-19695721741350545182010-07-23T15:16:00.001-04:002010-07-28T09:57:31.786-04:00"I will destroy you!"<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Well, as I promised, it's today's dose of our children humiliating us in public. I apologize to my Facebook friends, they already know the punchline. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Recently our family joined a new church. We went through the three week class and were to be introduced to the church on Sunday. Macho Man was out of town when the class was initiated, so we had to do it on our own two weeks later. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We had been encouraged to bring the kids up so that the church could 'meet' the whole family. My first thought was "NO WAY", but my inherent and misguided optimism wore me down. I realized it had been a mistake as soon as the service started and the REST of the sanctuary quieted down. We used every trick in the book to keep the kids relatively entertained for the 15 minutes or so until we were up. They were not quiet, but they stayed in the pew- and hey- we take our successes where we find them. FINALLY it's our turn, we're thinking it's downhill from here. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But we take the hymnal away from Lil' Bit as we leave the pew and she starts to whimper. Blue Eyes doesn't want us to take the iPhone away- he's busy blasting aliens. Guns is lying in wait. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">By the time the pastor starts asking us all the swear-in questions </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">with his microphone, </span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Lil' Bit is screaming "Give me my book baaaaaack!!!!!!!" repeatedly and trying to arch her way out of my grasp. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Macho Man is holding Guns when suddenly he scrunches up his face and points. He's seen the associate pastor in his robes holding some sort of ceremonial gold-cross-on-a-pole thingy. Well, in his limited 2 years of experience he assumes it must be a bad guy with some sort of weapon and shrieks:</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"I WILL DESTROY YOU!!" </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When the pastor doesn't respond Guns puts him in his place again. You know, in case he didn't get the message the first time. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"I WILL DESTROY YOU!!!" </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">By this time the congregation is a mixture of half laughing (have kids) and half shocked (didn't have kids). Macho Man and I were mortified. Especially Macho Man, as you can imagine.</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1443742220157914895.post-91900861525053952482010-07-23T08:35:00.004-04:002010-07-25T19:42:38.790-04:00"Dumber" living up to her name<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">First thing this morning I have to clean Guns up after he woke up with an icky #2 in his pull up. I get him all wiped up and send him to go get a pair of underpants while I start serving up breakfast. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Next thing I hear (Guns giggling) "She's licking my bottom!"</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Sure enough, instead of getting underwear, Guns is standing in front of the tv and Dumber is licking his butt like a kid with a popsicle on a hot summer day. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">*Gag*</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img src="http://im1.shutterfly.com/media/47a0d902b3127ccefafb3187535400000030O08AbtWjJkzaNwe3nwE/cC/f%3D0/ps%3D50/r%3D0/rx%3D550/ry%3D400/" /></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">num. num. </span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0