Codename: Zoey McBooty

I just returned from a lovely dinner out with Ginger. I am pretty sure by the end our waitress wanted to grab a glass of wine, pull up a chair, and pretend like she was just one of the girls. I don't know which part she was interested in more,

Could it have been:
Us talking about Gingers "Fuckbuddy", aka lovermuffin?
Us discussing the fact that this weekend my mom has embarked on a trip to track down the sister who doesn't know I exist?
The part where I exclaimed that I could write a four part series title, "most of my extended family is a piece of shit," under the pseudo name "Zoey McBooty"

Either way we had a lot of laughs. When we were talking about my family, and how most of them really suck great big donkey balls. Thats when I said, fuck, I could write a novel, NO WAIT, a series, a four part series even. One for each of my shitty families. I COULD BE THE NEXT HARRY POTTER SERIES! It was all quite funny and we giggle a lot about it, especially since I had just told her how I totally thought Harry Potter grew up to be quite the tasty treat.

Then we talked about how if I could just convince my parents (pretty much my only family who don't suck giant donkey balls) to move, I would be gone from this town faster then you could say laterfuckers. Everyone keeps giving me a hard time about not leaving my parents. I guess I just have a different relationship with my parents. I'm the type of person who generally doesn't make a decision in life with out telling them. I can't imagine living in another city and not being able to ask my mom every little thing. I also can't imagine having Brandon wake up and ask for papa and not have my dad only 7 minutes away to rush over and get him. That to me, is not an option. I need them, end of story, no I won't move away from them, but I will move with them. I guess some people don't realize that in the ENTIRE history of my life, my mom and my dad are the ONLY two people who have never, ever once EVER turned their back on me, not even for a second, not even for a half a second. And yet people can't understand why I don't just turn my back and walk away. But Ginger got it, she knew, she knows. Ginger knows about me and my parents. In fact, she knows exactly why I am the kind of parent I am. It's all I know. I only know how to parent with out never turning your back on you kid. In fact, I think I'm the same way in my marriage.

We talked about how bad I want to drink. How I want to drink more right now then I have at all in the last 2 years. July will be 2 years. We ordered fondue with white wine and I had to send it back. Not because it tasted bad, but because it tasted so good, I felt myself breaking down thinking, "well shit if I can eat this I might as well order a drink, whats the difference?" It was hard. It is hard right now, laying in bed, and honestly, if I don't write at this very moment, I'm not sure I can stop from going into my fridge and guzzling down the contents of the last bottle of liquor in my house. A bottle of Disorano, because this weekend when we cleared out all my liquor I told my husband, "No, not that one, not that bottle, because dear, if I ever do decide to fall off the wagon, it better taste really fucking good." Actually, I like to keep it to test my will power. Two fucking years I've been staring at that bitch, thats a lot of Goddamn will huh?

We talked about her lovermuffin (as I call him), and discovered that I used to call my cat that. We devised a plan for me to meet said lovermuffin. It felt good. It felt like high school.

It felt.

Like I was sitting there with my best friend. Sometimes I need that. I need a night out with her. With someone so very different from me (okay we both love chocolate and cheese and the food network but still). A night out with someone who just genuinely gets me. I told her how my mom said that if I moved I would lose my friends, and that I responded in a heartbeat that Ginger would come see me. She said I was right, and I knew I was. I know, that no matter where I go in life I can count on that. The crazy part is, we could go months apart and it would be as though I saw her yesterday. We talked about how right now, I'm unhappy with how so much of my family behaves. They don't act like family. They act like characters from The Hills, who are always having bitter, over the top fights over nothing. And how I have never cared until now, when I have kids, and they are affected.

We talked about how when I went into the hospital bleeding during my pregnancy she was the only one who came to see me. She knew, that no matter what I said, I wanted someone there, to just sit. So she did, she came, an sat and watched TV with me. For the rest of my life, I'll never forget that, me in the bed, her in the chair to my left, watching TV, just being with me. There might have also been some talk about pooping with the door open, but still, she was there, and we didn't have to talk. Believe it or not, sometimes I don't want to talk, I just want silence. Just. Quiet.

I've never wanted to run away as much as I do now. And I guess I'm lucky for tonight. I'm lucky I had dinner with Ginger. I looked forward to it all day and it surpassed my expectations. Thats how I've lived life lately, aim low so you're not disappointed, only today I had high hopes for dinner, because I knew who it was with.

On the way home, after I made her listen to Neil Diamond I made her listen to Miley Cyrus. And, like I promised, it got to her, it got in her blood, and before she knew it she was slightly bopping along. And right at that moment, when she said, you can go ahead and go around the block so you can finish blasting your song, even though she might have been late for her date with lover muffin, I knew, it would be okay. It will be. Things will be okay, as long as I always have some time, with a good friend, to drive around the block and blare my awful music while bopping along.

It will be fine. I will be fine. But, I can't promise I will stay in this town forever. And, I can't promise that I won't stop pretending things are okay when there not. I think I'm ready to take on the world.

(Side note, we actually talked a lot more about Ginger but I don't think its stuff that I should tell you since this is not her blog, its mine and it's not my business to tell).

((double side note, I have a sneaking suspicion this blog will get me in trouble, and I don't care, to those of you who want to get mad at me, I say two things, SHUT IT DOWN, and GO FUCK YOUR MOTHER))

Thank you all, and good night.

A deeper issue at hand

While I did state clearly in my title below that my anger was over something stupid there was a deeper issue there. I have every right to expect my waiter/waitress to know their food. As a consumer I have that right.

I have a son who is allergic to peanuts. Severely enough that I have to carry a Jr. Epi with me at all times along with loads of Benydril. My son can die from contact with peanuts. Does it sound like I'm making a big deal out of that, well I'm not. You can tell me it's a big deal when it is your child who is puffing up and swelling and itching and hysterical because they touched one small Reeses pieces to their mouth. Here are two examples of wait staff being incompetent, and a third of people just being ignorant.

1. A few months ago we went to sushi. My son came. We ordered all you can eat sushi, which comes with a salad, rice and tempura vegetables. My son wanted the rice and salad. I told the waitress at least 6 times that he was allergic to peanuts and we couldn't have the salad if it had peanuts. I was clear. She brought out two salads with peanuts on top of them. No where in the menu did it list peanut, it simply said an Asian ginger salad. I was very angry but nicely asked her to remove them. She said she would bring something else. She arrived with a second salad and I calmly asked her if it had any contact with nuts. She said no. I asked her please to double check with the chef. She came back and told me that actually, the dressing was made with peanut oil. Both times she set the plate directly in front of my son with in his reach. He is only 2 he does not yet recognize or understand what peanuts are. This waitress should have known what was in her salads.

2. This past friday I took my son to Ben and Jerrys. I was talking to two servers. I told them I needed their kiddie cone rather then one of their hand dipped cones because some of the dipped ones had peanuts and there could be contamination. He assured me, no no, it is safe. At that exact moment the owner of the store happened to walk out and hear this. He reprimanded both employees for telling me that, showed him that they have a completely separate cone because yes there is in fact contamination. He then advised them that they needed to get a separate scoop out of the back to scoop my sons ice cream because their other scoops are simply dunked in a bowl of water that could also be contaminated. Had he not done that, those servers would have gone on lying to customers. Even one small fragment of a peanut could have harmed my son, and the way the cones are dipped, all the toppings are mixed in the process.

3. A few weeks ago my son and I were visiting a local shop. We stopped in quickly to drop something off to a friend. I left the diaper bag in the car since I would only be a minute. The owner was present. The shop had one of those small candy machines next to the waiting area. My son asked me if he could have some. I replied, no because I know that some times those machines hold peanuts. I know this from last time my son simply touched one of those machines and broke out because one of the dispensers held salted peanuts. The store owner upon hearing me say no, replied, "oh it's okay there is only M&Ms, and Runts in there." I didn't want to chance it. Seconds later my son came to me swelling up, crying and turning red in the face. He had a small M&M shaped candy in his hand. Instantly I knew it was a Reeses piecees and not an M&M. I sprinted to my car grabbed Benadryl and came back to administer it. In the 40 seconds it took to do that Brandons bottom lip was swelling and rock hard and his top lip was beginning to swell. His eyes were swelling because he touched them with the hand that held the candy. It seems after I told Brandon no, he spied a candy on the floor, and being 2 he grabbed it and ate it. I then showed the store owner so he could be aware for the future. He argued with me that it was still an M&M saying he had been eating them all day, and it was him who had dropped the candy on the ground earlier in the day, but was to tired to pick it up. And in fact until he went and got more out of the dispenser and broke them open to see peanut butter in them, he was still holding his ground. That store owner should have known what kind of candy he was selling.

A forth example. My son can not get a flu shot. He was born with an allergy to eggs. There was an 80% chance he would grow out of it, and he is slowly. However when he was 1 year old I took him to his doctor to get his shot. My doctor luckily said, wait, no, he is allergic to eggs. All flu shots are currently bound together with egg white. He can not get a shot until he is over five and has had 3 years of negative results on an egg allergy test. Upon asking other friends I discovered, that most doctors, or nurses did not inquire about allergies before administering flu shots to their kids. As a doctor or nurse, you should know what is in the shot you are administering my child, and you should know to ask.

And while I'm ranting I have a final example. A year ago I went to dinner with one of my close friends who is allergic to most nuts. She asked the waitress if there were nuts in her brownie. The waitress said no. The brownie came my friend took a bite and was met with nuts. My friend inquired on the kind. The waitress replied, they were simply walnuts. My friends throat began to swell, we had to leave our dinner and go buy medicine for her. Later we were told the nuts were packaged in peanut oil. In fact, upon shopping for nuts at the store I've discovered the only brand of nuts with out peanut oil is Blue Diamond Almonds. Nearly every other brand of nut I have picked up, cashews, almonds, macadamia, walnuts, and so on are packaged in peanut oil. That waitress should have known the brownie had nuts, and she should have known they were covered in peanut oil, it says it clearly on their packaging THIS PRODUCT CONTAINS: MILK, WHEAT, PEANUT, TREE NUTS, AND EGG.

I think I have a right in all of these situations to expect my waiter, waitress, or store owner to know their product. It isn't asking to much. However, if they don't know it, rather then answering what they THINK, they should be respectful enough to say, "you know what, lets not chance it, let me ask for sure." Every waitress who has ever replied that way has gotten a lot bigger tip for worrying about my kids safety.

And yes, my rice having chicken stock in it, isn't deadly but its the principal. That waitress has no idea if I have an allergy to meat, or something contained in stock. I am allergic to anything with a pit. Olives, avocados, peaches and so on. If I tell them I can't have olives in something I shouldn't have to say, it could kill me, they should just find out and respect it.

An anonymous person commented on my blog that only 2% of Americans are vegetarians so restaurants shouldn't have to conform. However only 3% of America has peanut allergies, does that mean restaurants shouldn't worry about that either? How about the growing number of children born with other allergies, eggs, milk, soy, and shellfish. Are you going to tell every parent of every child, there are bigger things to worry about then their child's health? I have been a waitress. Before I even had kids and knew about allergies. I always treated customers requests with respect. I asked the chefs, I read labels, and I answered their questions correctly. I don't know about you, but I would hate to be the waitress who didn't find out and served a peanut oil salad to a child with a peanut allergy.

I also feel that until you have kids, and you are met with this situation, you probably don't respect it. You probably would say, then don't take your kids to eat. And that is fine for you to feel that way. However, you should respect my right as a parent to expect a healthy dining experience for my child. Yes anonymous, I made a big deal over my chicken stock, but it was due to an underlying situation with previous frustrations with wait staff. I hope that now you can read and understand, why some people do have to ask questions when they order food. I realize you probably brush me off as a pesky customer asking questions or being picky. You probably think that about a lot of people. However a lot of us have real concerns, real reasons. Will chicken stock make me die? No. Will chicken stock upset my stomach and make me feel sick? Yes. Will a product with soy in it hurt my friend Christy? No. But will it hurt the baby she is nursing? Yes.

Before you take the time to judge all of us picky food requesters maybe you should consider we have a valid reason for our concerns.

I'm mad...over something stupid

I'm mad. It is 7:50 in the morning. My mom is going to be late to work today. DO YOU KNOW WHY? Because she is driving clear up the Mt. Rose Highway for no good reason other then to buy me some ramen.

Yes. You read right.

Ramen.

Did you know that in all of Reno only one store carries vegetarian ramen? Nissin is the only brand that makes a ramen with out meat stock. Their oriental. However, even though every store in Reno stocks the chicken, beef, pork, shrimp, spicy chicken, creamy chicken, and so on, of the Nissin brand, for some reason they choose not to have Oriental. I assume it is because they also all carry the Maruchan brand, and in that brand they carry Oriental. Problem is, the Maruchan oriental ramen has BEEF EXTRACT.

And guess what?

I can taste it!

I've written about this before, but I want to again. I am so frustrated by the lack of vegetarian options. There is never a vegetarian soup option on the menu at restaurants. There is rarely a good cheese selection at sandwich shops. Most pastas, rices and risottos are made with stock, and most salads are now topped with bacon.

And fine. If you want to do that fine. I won't eat at your restaurant. I no longer eat McDonalds because they put beef flavoring in their fries AND hashbrowns. But what really really bugs me, is wait staff who don't fucking have a clue.

Me: Does the Parmesan risotto have meat in it?

Waitperson: No

Me: Can you please check (I don't do this to be a pain I do it as a test of ignorance on their part)

Waitperson: I'll check but I'm pretty sure it doesn't

Waitperson: I asked the chef and it only has chicken stock in it

Me: Yeah thats meat, thanks I'll just have a plain salad and some crackers.

It bugs me. It bothers me how a person can work in a restaurant and sell food and not know what the fuck they were selling. Don't try and fool me. Respect your customer and tell them the truth. Do you think I won't be able to taste the chicken, beef, or bacon in my meal? I don't like meat, thats why I don't eat it. It taste funny, looks funny, and smells funny. Kinda like dog shit. Are you going to tell me you wouldn't be able to taste and smell some dog shit in your rice? Ha. I'm sure you have all been trained so well to think that dog shit is a fucking delicacy. You know what? I have a good palate I know what is in my food. Dammit I should be on Hells Kitchen, I would kill that competition every time.

Do you watch that show? How about the episode where all those amazing chefs couldn't tell every fucking meal was made out of soy based meat product with NO MEAT! Are you serious? Is that what our world has come to? You tell us it's beef and we believe it's beef. YOU are the reason those people in Mexico selling cat on a stick and calling it chicken are still in business.

This weekend my dad and I were joking about the squirrels in my back yard. He was hungry and said he would eat some squirrel. I said, "I heard it taste like chicken". He replied, "No, chicken taste like chicken, squirrel taste like squirrel."

I wanted to kiss him right there because dammit, I'm so sick of hearing that shit taste like chicken!

And. While I'm bitching and moaning here, if I come in your restaurant and I order a fucking vegetarian taco, and you throw my tortilla on the grill you grill the chicken on YOU HAVE JUST RUINED MY ENTIRE MEAL! You fucking idiot, do you not think the tortilla doesn't now taste like nasty raunchy chicken? I've had to walk away from so many meals because something was messed up like that. It's just ignorance in the world of cooking. Pure stupidity, and also, it is just plain rude. Places like Tin Star grill, who prided themselves in having a vast vegetarian menu with tons of options, mushrooms, two kinds of beans, sautéed vegetables and so on, then they slapped my tortilla on the chicken grill.

I have one statement to make. I realize all cities aren't as fucking stupid as mine. I know places in Oregon and Washington offer real vegetarian food. Shit, they offer real cooked food from scratch (whole other rant). So yes, I realize not everyone has my gripe. I know some of you live in towns where people pride themselves on their food. I don't. I live in a town whose famous food is "the buffet." New York has pizza, Maine has lobster, Reno has buffet. We are a speedy, slap happy, poor quality kind of town and I hate it. I'm sick of it.

I would love to write a letter to my local editor asking our restaurant owners to wake up and make some good food, but, I'm not even sure the people in this town slow down long enough to read a paper.

Dammit, I just want some good food, that I don't always have to cook myself, is that to much to ask?

The Memory Keepers Daughter ** Spoiler Alert**

I've always loved to read. Since I was little. Until having kids I used to go through at least a book a week. Reading to me, was a great way to escape my own little reality for a while, and jump into something else. It was my way of having at least one happy ending a week. While I haven't gotten to read near as much since having kids, I have made an effort to keep reading as much as possible. When picking books I research them. I read reviews, I think on it, and of course, I look at the cover (duh). I would have to say, this is the first book I've been utterly disappointed in.

I really don't know how to describe it. The book was well written, it was a page turner, but, it was bad. The background of the story is, in 1964 a doctor delivers his twins. One is born mentally retarded and one is normal. He gives away the mentally retarded one and tells his wife the baby died. The remainder of the book, is basically the demise of the husband and wives relationship as she copes with the loss of her daughter and he copes with the magnitude of his lie. It is obvious that at some point the wife will find out he lied. That is where my disappointment lies. It took to long to find out. One major even happens before she finds out, and I feel as though, the author took to long. However, it is apparent that had the author not dragged out the reveal of the secret there would be no book.

My biggest beef of all, is the entire book is depressing. Even when the secret is revealed, it is depressing, when the mom and baby reunite, it is depressing, there is an air of sadness, there is no joyous moment, no time where I wanted to leap with joy. Even down to the last words I found the book depressing. I don't want to reveal all the events, or the ending, I'll just say I was sad the whole book. That is normally fine. Being sad is usually fine, because the author usually leaves you with some kind of overly happy ending, that you are left smiling through the tears. You are left knowing all the sadness was worth it. While this book is a page turner, I only turned the pages hoping that I would be uplifted soon. Waiting for the bait, something to lure me back in and make me say, "see it's not all bad." But it was all bad. Bad, bad, sad, depressing!

I guess that when I'm trying to take a break from the terrible things in my own life, and my own depression I'd rather not read a book that brings me down further and leaves me down. I can't decide if I recommend this book or not. Like I said, it was very well written, the author obviously has a gift, I just wish I would have walked away feeling less like jumping off a cliff and more like jumping for joy.

I still can't bweeth thwew my nose

Boy 2 at 6 months
Noticeably shorter, but he doesn't care, at least he isn't bald right

Boy 1 at 7 months
Much taller, but much balder

We are having a barbecue today. I just had to spell check barbecue, who knew there wasn't actually a "Q" in it, blows my mind man. I am still sick. Since I'm nursing I can't take anything but Robitussin DM and Tylenol (cough ahem, PLACEBO). What I wouldn't give for a DayQuil right now. Doesn't it sound heavenly? If only you could hear me now. I'm sexy. What with my plugged nose nasally tone that is often interrupted by my phlegmy cough and a hint of wheeze mixed in.

I made Ginger come over and make her famous potato salad. Then I made her make my scones for me, because the instructions were all, cut in this, and blend this, and separate bowl that, and I was all, PSSSH TO MANY INSTRUCTIONS, CAN'T MEASURE, STEP AWAY SLOWLY. Said scones did not come with enough cranberries and I'm left wanting to write the company and complain. I want to tell them, "hey two miserable cranberries per jumbo scone isn't gonna satisfy this fatty." Luckily I didn't have to buy any jelly for them, I have plenty of jelly on my thighs.

This year I'm trying to talk Rob into letting ME barbecue (with no Q) the food, as he has a tendency to get totally drunk and burn and/or ignite everything on the grill because he is too busy telling some witty anecdote about NOTHING AT ALL. I had my camera all posed and ready to take pictures of the disasters that are our parties. Only, it's raining outside so we moved the party inside, and the inside parties are not nearly as fun. I mean, if we are inside then none of my husbands friends can climb my fence and dive off, and splash around in the kiddy pool, and then let the other guys shove someone in the kids little car. And that was all one party, and all one guy. We can't forget the time that they all got drunk and took turns seeing who could punch the buff guy harder in the six pack, only most of them fucked up and punched him in his hip and ran away crying that they hurt their hands. We are some adults here, yes we are!

I just want the party to start because dammit, I want to eat my spinach dip and Katies cookies. Well I've gotta go now, people will start showing up in a half hour and, wait, HA, that would imply I knew a single person who was capable of being on time besides ME!

And oh man, I can't believe I forgot to write about how yesterday Ginger and I ran to the store (after she was 20 minutes late) and my husband called me to tell me I had company. Then Katie got on the phone and informed me, she thought the party was today and was standing at my house with her cookies and party hat on. I laughed, then told her it was totally okay, because she is pregnant and that constitutes baby brains! It was super funny though because Katie might be the most organized person I've ever seen, EVER. He he! She left her cookies for the pot luck (I swear I didn't eat any) and said, "Okay I'll be back tomorrow!" I reminded her tomorrow, that baby brains and all, she should try not to also be 45 minutes late, which just proves my point that everyone I know is always LATE!

An open letter to the last ten pounds

They say you are the hardest pounds to lose. Which isn't saying much since your other 40 friends just fell right off like a leaf in the wind. But you, oh you, last ten pounds, well your quite the little bitch. You have the meanest desires. You keep luring me to that chocolate bar in the freezer, or the pop tarts in the pantry. You make me lose concentration and forget I'm dieting. You keep coming back. You tease me with a 1 pound lose only to make me gain 3 pounds.

I want you gone. But I don't want to give up my candy, and bagels, and junk food. Tell me Mrs. last ten pounds, why can't you give me a free pass from my period while I'm trying to get rid of you? Why can't you protect me from getting sick and needing comfort food? Why do you like my body so much? I'm not nice to you. I don't parade you around for the world to see. I don't let you hang out over my jeans and brag that you are there. So why, why do you want to stay so close by?

I'll make you a deal Mrs. last ten pounds. If you leave me, and move somewhere else, like oh, say onto my 3rd% for weigh 2 year old, I will totally continue to feed my body chocolate and donuts. And, if you won't leave, can you at least redistribute somewhere like, umm, my brain, or my boobs. No wait, those are already big enough. Just leave!

Stop being a selfish stubborn little bitch and get off my body. I have some jeans I need to buy and I can't till you're gone! What did I do to deserve you anyway? It's not like I spent the last 7 years living on pasta and ice cream....oh wait, I did, but still. Fuck. Give a girl a break.

I went out in the sun and attempted to melt you off this last weekend. But noooo. Instead I just walked away with tan stretch marks and an extra pound from the sunshine fun food I ate. You're a slut, I see how you work.

Maybe you'll leave if I feed you something really yucky, like fish, or diet food. Thats it. Two can play this game asshole, if you won't leave I'm going to feed you nothing but rice cakes and apples FOREVER!!!!!

Life lessons

Lesson #9805863284niner

When you pierce your nose, and then get sick, don't rub your nose to much, or blow it to much. If you do this, your nose ring will poke the inside of your nose and cause a scab. If you're like me, you will not be able to resit poking your finger in your nose to touch the scab. This means you will have a scab for nearly 1 month because you are a little kid who must poke things when they hurt.

DEAR LISA- YOUR FIRED

DEAR LISA,
NEXT TIME I SEND YOU A MESSAGE THAT SAYS I'M FEELING SORRY FOR MYSELF AND I WANT TO EAT IT OUT, AND FOLLOW IT WITH A MESSAGE SAYING I'M GOING TO THE GAS STATION MARKET IT IS YOUR MORAL OBLIGATION TO STOP ME. SAY SOMETHING ABOUT MY DIET, AND MY FAT ASS. THEN, CALL THE GAS STATION, SINCE YOU KNOW WHICH ONE I'M GOING TO AND FORBID THEM TO SERVE ME. ALSO. WHEN YOU KNOW I'M FEELING LIKE EATING, STOP TALKING ABOUT FUCKING SMORES. BECAUSE OF YOUR LACK OF CONCERN AND NOT STOPPING ME I WAS FORCED TO BUY THE FOLLWING:
1 CHEFS SALAD
1 BAG CORN NUTS
1 PINT BEN AND JERRYS
1 FRESCA
1 PACK OF 2 DING DONGS
2 MINI ALMOND JOYS
1 MOON PIE (WTF IS A MOON PIE)
1 POT O GOLD (WTF IS A POT O GOLD)
1 BAG SIXLETTES
1 PACK OF GUM
1 BAG ALMOND M&MS
1 TOBBLERON BAR
AND ONE STRAWBERRY CHARLESTON CHEW

THIS IS ENTIRELY YOUR FAULT, ALL THAT HAPPENED BECAUSE THE STORE WAS OUT OF SMORES CANDY BARS AND YOU DIDN'T STOP ME. IT'S ONLY 14 SECONDS FROM YOUR OFFICE, YOU COULD HAVE WENT OVER AND DRUG ME OUT KICKING AND SCREAMING, BUT NO YOU INSTEAD REPLY WITH, "EAT SOMETHING YUMMY!"

YOUR FIRED! YOU ALWAYS DO A MUCH BETTER JOB REMINDING ME TO EAT HEALTHY AND WATCH MY DIET.

YOUR FIRED.

AM NOW HIRING FOR OPEN POSITION OF COUSIN!

NOT SINCERELY SHANNON!

Burger time

Feeling like a big ass burger check it out here.

Also someone inquired about my salmon the other day, you can find that here.

I was just making my husband some breakfast quesidillas (dammit meant to take a picture of those) and while shredding the cheese I may have shredded my hand. So I turned the grater over and there was a piece of my skin just chilling on it. I picked it up and dangled it in front of Rob. He was less then impressed. But don't worry, I think I got all the skin out before I wrapped it up to send to work with him.

We ran through the sprinklers this weekend and I ended up with some nice color on my shoulders and chest, aside from the part of my chest that has a chin shaped white mark on it. I'M HAWT! The annoying part is my legs are still bright white. BRIGHT WHITE PEOPLE, and I was in the sun for over 4 hours. We ran through the sprinklers till my grass turned more into mud and then I think he was having more fun squashing the mud then playing in the sprinklers.

My mom planted me a cute little garden with some veggies and stuff. I had a tiny 1 inch bell pepper growing. Brandon saw it and declared, "yum green vegtamable," picked it off and ate it. HE ATE MY BABY BELL PEPPER! Then spit it out and said, "thats not belicious." I was devastated to see my little pepper go. Shit head.

Codi is starting to pull up on everything. His favorite is to crawl over to my purse, or Brandons little couch and stand up on it. Only problem is, on the little couch he stands up then reaches over the back to grab something and falls feet over head on the hard wood. Then he screams, gets up and goes back and does it again. Scares the ever loving shit out of me because his neck bends back in a way that I thought only gumby could do. He had his 6 month doctors appointment yesterday. Here are the stats:
16.1 lbs 25% for weight
25" high, 10% for height
44.5 cm head 75% head.

Awesome so, we have a short chubbermuffin who will be a genius. Sounds oddly familiar, cuz it sounds like ME! The doctor gave me a list of things Codi should do between 6-9 months (I'm scanning it later to put it on here as a great way to remember this shit with out four gazillion pieces of paper). He can do all but three out of about 25 or more things. He doesn't eat solids, he doesn't sleep through the night, and he isn't quite picking stuff up using only his pointer finger and thumb. The doctor was shocked that he had already accomplished all his 9 month tasks. He actually sat up alone the entire visit just chewing on my keys. The doctor just kept looking at him like, "uh dude are you going to fall". He said to expect him to start pulling up towards nine months and I had to tell him how Codi already pulls himself up and then launches himself off things. Last night he was trying to climb steps. All in all it was an excellent appointment. He said not to worry about solids, we can do those when Codi is ready for it, and obviously the breast milk diet isn't making him thin or anything.

I asked him about Brandons teeth. His recommendation was that unless there are cavaties in the molars then don't knock him out. He said front ons can often be ground out or left alone all together.

In other news. Last night I was out grilling some burgers. My husband walked out to do something and almost stepped in a giant pile of green poop. Seems Brandon was outside going pee off my porch (he likes to pee off the porch cuz it's more fun and he can aim farther) when he decided he had to poop. So instead of running to the toilet, he just squatted down and took a giant green turd on my porch. Then he pulled up his pants and went about his business. Rob was totally not impressed. I had to put a plate in front of my face to hide the laughter and then run away in a fit of giggles. If your wondering why his poop was green, it was from all the blue otterpops he ate the last two days. Took me some time to figure that one out too! I'll save you the part about how he also pooped on his shoe, and how he had tracks in his shorts after that from not wiping.

Seriously, I just don't understand how some people could not want kids huh.

Notes of importance

Note one: Today while running through the sprinklers with Brandon, I had to stop and ask myself if that slapping sound was my thighs or my flip flops. I consoled myself with fresh cookies and pizza.

Note two: While visiting a friend who had just bought a new water slide complete with a spray gun apparatus, my son got frustrated when the other kids wouldn't share. His remedy to this was to drop his drawers, grab his entire package (berries and all) and AIM at the kids with his, "squirt gun," while yelling I squirt you I squirt you and shooting pee all over the kids and the slide. I was mortified, the other two adults there just laughed at it. PEE! HE PEED ON KIDS! WHILE SHOUTING HE WOULD SQUIRT THEM! WHILE HOLDING HIS STUFF AND THRUSTING HIS HIPS OUT AS FAR AS POSSIBLE TO GET THE MOST OUT OF HIS AIM!

How do I remember this shit?

Quite a few years back I had eliminated almost all of my female friends and was mostly hanging out with some guys from a rival high school. We became pretty close and it is safe to say they rubbed off on me. They got me into Southpark, and camping at the lake, and other random things. One of the really funny things they would do is just announce randomly they had to poop. Then, you know, go poop.

So. One day Lisa and I are driving to Burlington Coat factory. We are just driving down the road and I look over at her and decide to try out my new line.

"Man, I've got to take a dump." I say with a huge grin.

Lisa totally freezes and then says, "um, uh, okay."

I realize immediately that girls are totally not supposed to act like boys. I try and cover my tracks and be like dude sorry the boys say it all the time I just thought it was a funny ice breaker. She wasn't having it. She was in a total state of shock. And I don't know who was more embarrassed me for saying it or her for having to hear it.

But it got worse. Because while I didn't in fact have to poop I did have to pee, but I don't think Lisa believed that. So we get to Burlington and I set of to go pee in the fastest possible time so she knows I only peed that I wasn't in fact dumping. However. Burlington apparantly has a ton of people take products into the bathroom and steal them. So they had some kind of system going where you had to push a button and then look at the camera, show them your hands and they would let you in. Only I don't see the button. I just see two printed signs with a hand on the doors. I'm thinking, okay push here. So I push. I push and push and push and turn around and shove it with my butt. I REALLY HAVE TO PEE. So I'm also kind of pacing and crossing my legs as I push and push and push. So I walk over the the boys bathroom and push. Nothing. I knock, nothing. I stand there looking around like an idiot. I am not kidding when I say this took me at least 3 minutes. Finally I look up between the two doors and see a tiny red button that says push with a sign about the cameras. I push the button and now realize, these people have probably been watching me this whole time laughing. I get in, do my business and get out.

The whole thing from start to finish probably takes 5 minutes.

No matter what I said, I don't think Lisa ever believed that I wasn't in there pooping for 5 minutes. But I did learn, that girls should never ever ever try and act cool like boys and shout out, "I have to take a dump."

So tell me, have you ever said something totally ridiculous like this and if so what?

Dirty little secrets

Have I ever told you that I don't like fried eggs. Well I don't. And I don't eat meat. So this means I don't like most breakfast foods. And right now you're thinking, "well doesn't she like french toast?" And I do, or well, I did. But now, no. Know why? Because it is covered in FRIED EGGS! I bet right now you are all thinking, "now she's done gone really crazy", and you would be right.

I think I made one to many trips to IHOP where they don't give a shit about your food and had one to many french toasts with thick pieces of fried egg dangling off the side.

It's sad too if you think about it. French toast used to be my favorite, BUT ONLY when my grammie cooked it. She always kept special boysenberry syrup for me too, and heated it the good way, you know putting the jar in a pot of boiling water. I could eat pounds of her french toast. Looking back I'm sure she made it because I liked it, but probably mostly because it was cheap.

The point of this is, if you take me out to eat, and I have the choice between breakfast and lunch I always pick lunch. If you take me somewhere that serves both, chances are you will all be eating eggs as I slather my french fries in some ranch. I think this bothers a lot of people. Really. I actually have noticed people become uncomfortable when I order a veggie sammich as opposed to some rotten fried eggs and bacon. This whole situation poses another big problem. As much as I hate eggs and most other breakfast things, I love toast and hashbrowns. This leaves me always wanting to order a sammich with a side of toast and fried potatoes. Can I just tell you how much that is frowned upon. Scuse me waitress can you just bring me a plate of carbs with a side of fried carbs and a vat of ranch to drown it in, really doesn't sound as classy as I would like it to.

My second point is that my most favorite breakfast is chips and some kind of dip. For years it was salsa and cream cheese, currently it's canned nacho cheese. It took YEARS before I let my husband know I did this. I would do the obligatory, toast and hash browns, or bagel while secretly yearning for my breakfast of chips. That is why I think I knew Rob was it when I gave in one morning looked him dead in the eye and pulled out my Tostitos and salsa. Do you know all these years later he still looks at me just the same, as if I'm out of my damn mind.

Psssh. Whats he know though, he's a fried egg lover.

One of my favorite things though is that my cousin is just like me. She's the same as me in the way that we could both probably survive on chips and dip. What is amusing though, is that a typical morning conversation between the two of us if often spoken over the crunch of chips. It's gotten to the point where I can recognize the difference in a normal pause in conversation and a pause to wipe chips and salsa crumbs. We are so strange.

What is your favorite breakfast food?

Hi

I have this stupid little diddy of a song stuck in my head. It's a song all about cake on the show Lazytown. I won't do the whole Boinga thing to you guys though and play it for it to get stuck in your head.

I'm going through some stuff right now. And when I know all the concrete details I'll share it with you guys. It's pretty bit, and I don't want to be the sort of blogger who makes huge decisions with out telling ya'll.

But crap. Now I'm that blogger who told you I had a big decision and then just let you hanging out like some clean sheets. Only, after reading my posts you probably feel more like dirty sheets then clean sheets.

Can I just say that it is so frustrating you can't just think of something you want or need and have it magically created! There have been so many times while doing this mom thing, I've thought, "dammit, if only someone would invent this!" Now, Codi is pulling up to standing and if I left him alone to his own devices he could easily just climb right out of his bassinet. This leaves me sitting there annoyed because there isn't a perfect transition to solve this. On that same note I'm bothered there isn't a nice wooden bassinet the same shape as a travel light crib that would adjust for age. Why is it I could only get a teeny wooden rocking bassinet that would only last till he could roll, a stupid uncomfortable pack n play, or a crib that is too big to go by my bed. HOW HAS THIS NOT BEEN CREATED YET PEOPLE!!!!!!!

Codi is crawling and pulling up and doing all these great things and all I think is, NOOOOO my last little baby is growing up way to fast." I'm also thinking, "dude, stop hurting yourself," as he flops over on the hardwood or crawls into yet another corner.

Brandon is currently going through a phase I like to call seeing how far he can push my buttons, while seeing just how brave he is, mixed with some NO NO NO IT'S MINE, and a large dolip of FUCK YOU WOMAN I REFUSE TO DO ANYTHING YOU WANT ME TO, and instead will do exactly what he wants, when he wanrs and how he wants.

It's been real fun around here! Really they have been great. Honest, it's not like I've dreamt of shoving Brandon in the fridge over night in hopes of chilling his little attitude out.

And then just when he knows he's gone to far I hear a little, "I lub you mom, I lub you Codi." I look over just in time to see a smile that screams I'm just fooling you but your too stupid to know lady.

At this exact moment Brandon is whining for attention because Codi just woke up. 30 Second before that Brandon wanted me as far away as possible. I pick up Codi and suddenly it's all "hold me hold me, pay attention to me." His attempt at attention includes laying square on top of Codi saying "he likes it mom."

All I'm wondering is FUCK is there ever just a moment of Goddamn silence EVER!

Be back need to go make 5 cups of coffee in hopes of waking up. Probably have to put ice in it since it is 83 in my house and I'm to cheap to turn on the A/C this early in the morning.

Screech

I just wanted you all to hear this funny ass noise Codi has been making. It's only 1 minute long.

Screech from wilddreemer on Vimeo.

one and two

Boy one, pulling himself up in his crib at 6 months

Boy two, pulling himself up in his crib at 5 months

Boy one having his first bath in the big boy chair 5.5 months

Boy two having his first bath in big boy chair also 5.5 months

Close up boy one

Close up of boy two

Drowing you in photos

Daddy and Codi bonding

Someone (name rhymes with mom) gave him a cookie

Apparently Brandon thinks he can carry Codi

Today, my mom and Brandon went to check on the little sunflowers they had been growing. They just planted em outside, after they had sprouted them inside. This is what I saw a few minutes later, followed by Brandon informing me, "squirrels mean mom, they ate my plants!"
This, is his "mean" look

The way to a mans heart? While picking up dinner grab a sixer of his favorite beer, and hide one in the fridge. Then ask if he can please grab you the milk

The other way to a mans heart, duh, feed him

Brandon watering his garden

Cheeseball head

Papa teaching Codi to walk

And giving him driving lessons

Brandon wanted in too

How I normally look any given day after work

I just walked into Codi's room to find him standing in his crib. Later tonight I put him to sleep and laid him in his bassinet by my bed. I hear him giggling and rawring (video of this noise coming soon), and walked in to see him standing in his bassinet, holding onto my bed trying to get out. GREAT! Now where in the heck is the little shit supposed to sleep hmmmmm?

MISSION NOT ACCOMPLISHED IN FACT MISSION FAILED HORRIBLY

So this morning I got in my car and said, fuck it, I'm going to listen to my music and be cool. Real cool, not cool like, I saved $7.00 on this grocery trip cool but actual cool. So I plug in my Ipod, turn up my radio, roll down my window and....

Neil Diamond - I am, I said

Okay, Umm, Not cool.

Lets try again. I push next and.

Erm.

Ahem.

Cher - Jesse James

Fuck. This is not looking good. Blushing. Glancing around to see who is looking.

Okay. Come on Shannon pull it together you are cool. You can do this.

NEXT!

Enya - Oronoco flow.

I give up.

I fail miserably at cool.

Someone should take my ipod away from me. I don't even deserve one!

Excuse me while I go visit the itunes top 100 list so I can pretend to be hip and cool tonight while I drive home.

Block

How does that talking heads song go? "How did I get here?" I've been asking myself that a lot lately. How did I get here? While I love my life, I can't help but wondering how I ended up in this spot right here. At what point in my life did I wake up and say, "It's time to stop partying, having fun, sleeping around, and being irresponsible, and time to start changing diapers, going to bed at 7pm, spend my days rushing around, and grow up?" Really at what point do people cognitively stop and say, I want to turn my whole life around?

I'm suffering some sort of writers block lately. The things that are bottling up inside of me are things I don't feel comfortable writing about. Sharing my entire life with those around me is sometimes frightening. Sometimes I find myself feeling limited and restricted. This makes it hard to write freely. With husbands, parents, aunts and uncles reading, there are things I feel like I must keep to myself. I've already suffered a blow out with a family member as a result of things I've written. While he and I no longer talk I still watch my writing because I have never for a second believed that he stopped reading.

There have been thousands of times I've wanted to write about my birth father, but I refrain because of the anger that usual erupts from it. I've wanted to write about past loves or heartaches or current lingerings in my mind, but I don't because what husband wants to read that? There are times I've wanted to write about some of the fun I had when I was younger with the boys, but what dad wants to read that? Times I want to write about disagreements I have at work, or in my daily life, you know, have a sounding board for the comings and goings of my actual life, but I don't, because, I know better.

These limits leave me with blogging about my kids, and little things like my weigh, or clothes or what not. I can't blog about religion or politics because I feel too naive to discuss either. I will never claim to have a vast knowledge in those subjects, well, in many subjects for that matter. I don't often write about my kids, because while I realize a lot of moms come here to read, I also realize there is only so much, "oh look who crawled, walked, back talked, smeared poop on the walls today" talk people can take. Since so many blogs seem to be filled with that lately I try and moderate how often I do. Call it my lame attempt at standing out.

I've found myself being so nostalgic lately. Missing old friends, and habits, and the freedom and fun of being 16. I wouldn't trade my life in for anything but I miss those days. I was someone different then. Poetic, loud, boisterous, mischievous, unaffected, unaffraid. I may have always been depressed and I may have always had large swings, but back then I handled them differently. I wrote poetry, or stories, or letters to myself. I wrote out the sadness and soaked up the music I love. I listened to my songs on full blast, letting the words and beats over take my entire being. I had the time to put a CD on repeat and let a song wash over me 53 times in a row. But I always came out faster, and stayed out longer.

Now, I keep the music down so I don't hurt little ears. I don't have time to listen to a song all the way through let alone 53 times in a row. My days are now filled with raising two young minds. Molding them so they don't turn out like me. And if they do, giving them the tools to handle it better then I do.

I miss having time. Time to write a whole blog on one train of thought rather then write, then jump up to clean purposely spilled water, then write, then run to the pantry to put a toddler in time out for dumping expensive creamer on my floor. I can't keep a train of thought to save my life. I miss the time to lock the door, blare my music and dance naked in the shower for as long as I want. I miss so much.

I wouldn't give up my kids for anything. Does that mean that I have to stop missing the other things though? I don't want to be perceived as someone unhappy with their married family life. Because I'm not. I only wish I could mingle the two. Create some mish mash of that old free spirited girl with the boring mom I've become.

I want to laugh about my trip to the store with Ginger that yielded nothing but donuts, bread, pastry, and canned cheese dip. But instead of laughing I stare nervously at the things I brought home and think about the money wasted and how that could have just bought more milk, or meat, or vegetables. I want to spend hours oggling a tiny baby shimmying and wiggling across a hard wood floor, but as I do, I'm thinking, well gee, you really should be taking a shower right now, or doing dishes, or perhaps sweeping the floor one more fucking time today.

Do you have a happy medium. A place where your youth meets your present? How do you balance the two? Do you simply smother that 16 year old voice in your head begging to party and rock out, or do you let her come out and shine? How do you juggle the fun with the parenting? How do you let yourself enjoy small things with out feeling like a guilty mom taking time away from important things?

Am I alone in this? Do we all miss the selves of yesteryear? Do we all miss our tight jeans, and ass shaking walk, and first kisses, and long tasty nights with men? Do we all miss blowing money on crazy food and drinks rather then sensible things?

Like I said, I'm in a writers block. There are so many good stories in this head, they are just stories I don't think I will ever share. Trying to pic good stories out of my every day life, just reminds me how...mundane I am.

HAPPY MOTHERS DAY

I woke up this morning to find some new little treats in my yard. My mom planted some tomatoes, and flowers through out my yard. She also planted something I forget the name, but it is meant to attract honey bees, I wanted to do my part to help the bees. My most favorite part was my new basil plan, and my new lemon thyme plant that joined my rosemary plant. I have already been outside chewing on fresh herbs, (yes I chew on raw fresh herbs, I'm awesome).

I got my sweet baby Codi crawling over to me, he was just so sweet smiling and chasing me on the carpet.

Then my silly little Brandon went outside, ran through the sprinklers, and then to my delight, he shot himself in the face with the hose!

My mom also got me some tulips, my favorite flower

And finally, my husband helped my kids get me a much needed pedicure!

You guys think I'm due for one?

Now my husband is out buying me a bagel. Here's how that went.
Me: K tell em I want an everything toasted with plain.
Rob: Okay an everything bagel toasted with plain cream cheese
Me: NO an everything toasted with plain
Rob: Thats what I said
Me: No you said bagel, you don't say bagel, you're at a bagel shop obviously your buying a bagel, it's bagel lingo silly,
Rob: Cool an everything bagel with plain cream cheese toasted
Me: Sigh, he soooo doesn't get bagel shop lingo **shakes head**

I am now sitting here on my couch watching the Oprah sandwich showdown. I'm salivating, and I'm wondering why I didn't send Rob to the sammich shop, or no even better to the deli for loaves and loaves of fresh bread and cheese.

Come to think of it, Ginger is coming over soon, I think I will drag her to the store for some bread and cheeeese!

I'm a little slow this morning, we went to a birthday last night and I have a hang over.
No not that kind of hang over, I don't drink.
Two words:
CHOCOLATE FOUNTAIN!

Am now suffering severe sugar crash. Fierce sugar hang over. Please bring me two Tylenol, a glass of water and a plate of greasy bacon, eggs, hashbrowns, and toast.

Both babies are sleeping right now, I'm watching Oprah, drinking coffee waiting on bagel to arrive.

Life is good!

Blackout

I'm posting at work. I don't care. It's five minutes and I need to write this while its fresh, while the hurt is still there.

I yelled at Brandon this morning. I yelled at him because he wouldn't brush his teeth. I grabbed his arms with force and put him on his stool and shouted. I feel like shit. I want to cry. I hate myself for it. I know, I only yelled, I didn't hit him, spank him, even slap his hand, but to me it's worse.

I hate these days. The days where I can't get a handle on my emotions. Where I start the morning feeling hot and cute and sexy and happy, and in an instant I snap. I change. I'm horrid. I feel it coming on, I can't control it. I want to make it stop, even as I'm yelling at him, I'm yelling in my head STOP IT SHANNON STOP GET CONTROL. I just pulled into work and I feel my defenses going up. I already know I will be hyper aware of him today. I will protect him, keep him from trouble and be extra nice. I don't want him to feel worse then he already did this morning when his own mom shouted at him.

I'm going on an internet black out today. Don't instant message me I won't be there. I need to do some work, hear some music and be alone with my thoughts. No one elses, no idle conversation, just push it aside and work. I have to think, clear my head. Move on from this morning and pull myself out of this.

I'll be back tomorrow, but for today, just leave me alone. Let me stew in m own anger at myself. I need to be a better mom.

Later.

Baby steps

I was just watching an old episode of Oprah on Tivo and I am totally appalled. It is about families who waste stuff. Not just a little waste BIG HUGE GIANT ENORMOUS HUGE WASTE. As in, if it has been opened for more then three days they throw it away before grocery shopping again. They did this every week. Every single week they would bring in giant black garbage bags and clean out their cabinets. Half boxes of cereal GONE, half bottles of soda GONE, any left overs GONE, if their daughter had the father drive to the coffee shop and pick up a bagel, then changed her mind before he got home the bagel was GONE. No one would eat it, no one would just pack it in their lunch, it was just tossed in the trash. Their heater was held at 82, all the lights and tvs were on even if no one was watching. One kid alone used 7-8 water bottles a day. She had a closet with over 100 tank tops and about 50 of them had tags on them. Some of her clothes she didn't even remember buying or owning.

Oprah's solution was to make them go one tiny week with out some stuff. No cell phones, video games or computers (unless for homework), and only one hour of TV a day for the entire family, and only one TV on in the whole house. No shopping at all, and they had to eat what they had in their house. The heat could not go over 70. While I think it was a cool concept I really think they should have done it for a lot longer then a silly week.

While watching this one of the things that came to me, was the same reoccurring theme I've noticed lately. That theme being, you need to start early with kids rather then wait until they are fifteen, sixteen, seventeen or even eighteen to try and repair the damages caused. Meaning that waiting until your child is fifteen to say, sorry, no TV, phones, computers and so on IS A VERY BAD IDEA.

Now that I'm done watching the show I've thought of the small changes I've tried making lately. I've stopped using water bottles, I'm trying to ween myself off paper plates and bowls. I'm recycling my plastic utensils at work, and recycling all paper, plastic, glass and aluminum I can at home (this is new, I used to say recycling took too much effort), and trying to use less water. I never throw food away. I take it to work and give it to one of my guys, or take it to family I know will eat it, or send it to work with my husband and he gives it to all his friends. I hate throwing stuff away now. When I grocery shop I only buy exactly what we need so nothing ends up wasted. No longer do you open my fridge and see wilted lettuce or veggies, or rotten cheese. No more buying fruit for looks and then letting it mold, I eat it all up. I buy 5 apples. One for every work day and that is it.

The strange part is how much I enjoy this. I really enjoy doing good things. I enjoy using green household products (side note does anyone know a good green kid safe product that cleans pergo floors?), and I enjoy recycling. I like knowing I'm doing a little something to help my kids future.

However I want to do better. I want to turn off the lights, and TV's and computers. I want to take shorter showers. I want to recycle more, I want to be careful about what I put back into the earth. Mostly I want to do whatever I can to make it so my kids still have an earth (even if my mom just told me they will probably just get bombed and drafted and killed anyway (because that didn't help my anxiety any)). I'm trying to teach Brandon to turn off his lights and Tv when he isn't in his room. When cooking in the evening I open all the curtains and use natural light. I want to do better. This is hard!

What about you? What small things do you do to help the earth? What changes do you wish you could make? What great tips do you have? Any fun little advice? Also, does anyone know where I can buy envirosacs locally? They are mostly sold out online, and I'd rather not pay shipping, and then have to pollute the earth with the delivery trucks and what not when I can just grab them during a routine shopping trip.

Probably only funny because I dislike her so much

Click here

A real parenting issue

Instead of talking about how my husband flooded the kitchen filling his water bottle up the other night, or how Brandon slathered a freshly bathed Codi's head in rash cream we are going to talk about dentists instead.

Even though we brush Brandons teeth every morning and every night, he has still developed a cavity. It is right between his two front teeth. I guess the spot I'm most at fault was listening to my adult dentist when they said you didn't need to take kids to the dentist until they are three. After visiting the childrens dentist I've learned you in fact need to take them as soon as that first tooth comes out. You do this because they can seal each tooth as it erupts. The childrens dentist let me know that most adult dentists don't want to deal with small children so they tell parents to wait until they are 3 thinking the children will be easier to handle. I must say that my child isn't going to be easy to handle at any age.

I would like to talk about Brandon's first visit to the dentist and then discuss their plan of action and my response.

We arrived at the appointment 15 minutes early at 8:45. We went into the waiting room and Brandon played with all of the toys. Numerous children came in after us. All of them were seen before us. By 9:20 I started looking towards the reception desk. Finally at 9:25 she informed me that she went back and asked what was going on because she felt bad for me. It was clear Brandons attention was waining and she didn't like people being late. The receptionist let me know that the doctor had another new patient in front of me and the appointment ran long because they like to take time with new patients.

At about 9:28 we were taken back. We were met with two assistants. One to handle me and one to handle Brandon. We were taken into a private room with a door, they referred to it as, a "quiet room." One assistant took Brandon to her equipment and showed him each tool. She let him turn on the suction, and the other tools and touch everything. While she was doing this the other assistant was going over care, procedure and what would happen with me.



From there they walked us out to a little sink station. They had three different size sinks and he got to go to the shortest size. First "his" assistant painted some purple disclosing liquid on his teeth. We were given a bag with a toothbrush, some fluoride toothpaste, a disclosing tablet to try at home, some children's dental floss, a flossing toothpick, and a 3 minute timer.



The assistant had me remove the toothbrush and put some toothpaste on. She asked me to show her how we brushed at home. However at this exact moment Brandon happened to turn around and realize he was standing 5 feet away from the lady blowing up balloons. His attention was lost at that exact second. I was highly frustrated with the entire thing. I thought a childrens dentist would be slightly smarter then to place balloons in the line of site of a child who had yet to be examined. We rinsed him up and went back to the exam room. I was informed the dentist would be right in.

About 20 minutes later Brandon had completely lost all attention and patience and had become consumed with getting a balloon. The dentist still hadn't come in and I was getting phone calls that Codi was refusing a bottle and starving. At this point he had been with out food for probably 3 hours as he was asleep when I had dropped him off with my mom. I stepped out of the room to ask what the hold up was. They told me that they were trying to place a crown on a small child and would get in soon.

Another 10 minutes later the doctor came in. Brandon promptly asked for a balloon. She attempted to examine him but he was over it. So, because of their tardiness my child did not receive X-rays or a cleaning. The doctor opened his mouth, saw the cavity and informed me he needed to have both front teeth crowned and that he would have to be knocked out to do so. I was totally shocked. I had seen the cavity myself and assumed he would need a filling. But crowning two baby teeth seemed a bit much to me. I inquired about it and she told me that since he was so little he wouldn't be able to hold still long enough for a filling, and because of the location a crown would be better.

My next question was, "Excuse me by why in the fuck do you think you need to knock my child out?" I was told that he was too small and would be too wiggly to be consciously sedated. I asked about the laughing gas and why he couldn't sit in my lap. She simply replied, "no he needs to be knocked out." She had the assistant get him some balloons and told me I needed to go and schedule immediately for his crown. I walked towards scheduling in a daze. When I arrived in the private discussion room I informed the lady I had a nursing baby at home who needed food and I would come back. I scheduled an appointment for Tuesday and left.

After this I flew to Oregon cleared my mind and then came back to deal with the dentist. After doing a lot of thinking I went back to meet the scheduling lady. She went over the whole thing. Brandon would have to have the crown done at a hospital. He will be put under via IV. The risks and so on, and of course cost. Let me first say, that I don't give a shit about cost when it comes to my kid. If they had said we have to do something for him and it will cost you one arm, I would have gladly handed over my arm.

Finally the lady gave me a chance to speak and I presented my concerns. Here are the things I said:

I think he is to young to be put under period. This is my child, my entire life, my whole world and you want to knock him out over some teeth, I think not.

He will be 3 in about 3.5 months. Even at three he will be able to sit still longer, and at 3 and a half he would be able to sit still even longer. Why did no one discuss with me the possibility of sealing the teeth and seeing how long we could hold off, to possibly avoid knocking him out?

If we were able to hold out for longer then wouldn't laughing gas be a possibility if he simply sat in my lap and I restrained him if he began to wiggle?

Why are they trying to schedule to do a crown on two teeth with out doing an X-ray, and cleaning and full exam? When I asked this her reply was, "well they would just do all of that while he is under and if he needs more fillings they will accommodate." Umm, okay so now you want to put my child under for an extra extended period of time to do X-ray's because your office was too late to do them during his scheduled visit. Again, I think not.

I DON'T WANT TO KNOCK MY TWO YEAR OLD OUT!

Finally the lady asked me about scheduling. She remembered my last visit and asked if at anytime I was informed of how much time it would take. I replied no. Then I said, "you know even if you had told me, and I had brought my infant along to nurse, you were still about 45 minutes late total and that still was a burden in my day, also because of this my son got less care and treatment." She apologized and said she would talk to everyone involved because she really could relate to my frustration.

The final verdict was this. I set a follow up appointment for Brandon in three months. He will be 3 at his next visit. They will check the status of the cavity. As of now it is not bothering him, should he start complaining it hurts before then I will take him in and re-evaluate. She will present my questions to the doctor and they will call me to follow up about prolonging the crowns until he is possibly old enough to have it done while awake.

Now I would like to ask all of you, what would you do in my place? Would you allow your child to be knocked out? Would you wait like I am? What would you do. I plan to contact his pediatrician and another children's dentist for some second and third opinions.

Emery, I remember you dealt with something similar with Ezra, how did you handle it and how did it work out in the end?

I'm asking for assvice here so let me have it people!

How to grocery shop like a pro

Step 1: Arrive at store only to discover you have forgotten to put your Moby Wrap back in your car after trip to Oregon. Stand there realizing you have two kids in your car.

Step 2: Scratch head for a while before deciding to us the only logical shopping cart for your trip. Grab this.Step three: Attach baby to base of cart inside of his car seat. Coerce two year old into putting the ill placed kites right at the front door back and get in beg him to get into his little car.

Step four: Enter grocery store and immediately try and wrangle two year old back into his car as he has just jumped out and gone flailing at top speed toward a stupid balloon posted right in the front of the store IN HIS REACH.

Step five: Realize the store is out of the apples, oranges, onions, and potatoes you want. Beg and plead with your child to please stay in the cart.

Step six: Purchase a watermelon in place of Clementine's. Consider purchasing back brace to lift said watermelon.

Step seven: Get suckered into buying Diego Yogurt drinks because stupid grocery store places them low on the shelf making them eye level with small whiney children.

Step eight: Crowd isles while you pry tiny foil lid off said yogurt drink because two year old refuses to sit still unless he gets to drink yogurt RIGHT NOW NOW NOW NOW NOW NOW NOW.

Step nine: Go to check out. Pry numerous candy bars from sons hands because stupid ass grocery store places candy in reach of tiny fingers. Finally finish and attempt to maneuver stupid ass cart to your car. Looking like this,
Step ten: Watch in horror as your son flings yogurt and yogurt container out of cart all over himself and parking lot.

Step eleven: Go to clean up yogurt and discover that two year old has stolen pack of gum opened it up and eating over half of it.

Step twelve: Confiscate said gum, march two year old back to store to pay for it then throw it away to teach two year old NOT TO STEAL.

Step thirteen: Get back to car go to unpack bags and see that bagger has packed your bags like this,
Yeah, because that doesn't look healthy (there was actually two more items in bag but I removed them so you could see the copious amounts of milk and creamer).

Step fourteen: Repack bags so they are actually liftable and unload groceries. Put kids in car and get inside.

Step fifteen: Scan receipt and realize check charged you .96 per pound for watermelon as opposed to .47 meaning your $5.00 watermelon just became a $9.00 watermelon.

Step sixteen: Decide that $4.00 isn't worth dragging kids back to store, and wonder why you still shop here since this is the 5th time in 4 months they have fucked up your receipt.

Step seventeen: Get home and take inventory of everything you forgot at the store while wrestling with child. Start new list of things to buy, realize you need at least 7 things and you were just at the fucking store.

Step eighteen: Realize you still have one child covered in yogurt and must bathe him. Attempt to cram groceries into fridge and rush to bathe child.

Step nineteen: Realize you need to bathe baby also. Give both kids a bath, and discover you look like a disaster yourself, and have had a pretty rough day.

Step twenty: Take photo to show the world how totally unglamorous you are on a daily basis after chasing a two year old and nursing a baby.

Step twenty one: Wait three days AND THEN remember the watermelon rolling around in your car.