Conversations on a Friday Night

Backstory: Aaron is not good at home improvement projects, specifically plumbing; meanwhile, I'm hopped up on muscle relaxers and pain meds from the doctor...

Me: Are we going to put this table together tonight? We need to get the fucking box out of the way of the kids. They're going to break it or break themselves!

Aaron: Yea... I know...

Me: Well, its too fuckin' heavy for me to do it myself, otherwise I would have done it already!

Aaron: Yea... Okay

Pushing, moving, cussing of said box; ripping it open and dissecting the pieces.

Me: I don't think I can do this by myself; you know, I really try to pretend I'm a badass, but I'm not.

Aaron: Yea, I know.

Me: Jerk!

Aaron: Well, its true!

Me: Get. The. Fuck. Out. Of. My. Way.

Me, putting the damn table together all by myself, while he read the damn instruction manual.

Me: I'm such a badass!

Aaron: Are you sure you did it right?

Me: Fuck yea I did it right!

Aaron: Huh. I guess you are a badass.

Me: This is so going in my blog.

Aaron: Oh shit. I forgot you're still doing that.

Me: Oh yea, that's going in it too.

Dr. Feelgood

So, yesterday? Not a good day. I do not like you yesterday.

The cause? My "Brain Aneurysm". Not that I really have a brain aneurysm, mind you: but my doctors keep testing me for one, or multiple... they are just convinced they are gonna find one in my head at some point.

And why, you may ask, do they think I have said brain aneurysms? Because I get desperately out of whack, chiropractically speaking, and must get adjusted. And the pain I experience, along with the weakness on the left side of my body, makes everyone think I'm having a stroke or I have a brain aneurysm.

Oh yea, fun stuff.

In any case, my family doctor decided it was high time to get me drugs for those days that I can't get to the chiropractor immediately. And those drugs? They are good drugs. Even better than whiskey.

And that's saying a lot in this house.

Drooling...

So I for the last 40 minutes or so I have been drooling over cupcakes... and it just stuck me: this is, in no way, going to help "Project: Defatting My Fat Ass".

But it looks so good...

Overheard at My House

"Mommy! You're sunglasses have windows!"

Knowing More than Others

Why is it that most of our friends and family think that:

A. We are not properly taking care of Darwin

B. The doctors don't know jack

C. Darwin REALLY DOESN'T have allergies, the tests are lying

-and-

D. He has "something else, I don't know what, wrong with him"

Now, I know they think they mean well, but most of these people live hundreds of miles away and only see us a few times a year. Or if they live close, they still don't even see us once a month.

But yeah, sure. You know more than we do. You know more than the doctors do. Okay. Because THAT really makes a lot of sense.

A Little Piece of Advice

When Sears charges you $110 to install a dishwasher and offers a $99 rebate on the instalation.... DO IT!

Hope

Things are not going well lately, but I'm trying to cope the best I can.

Katrina has affected me deeply, despite not living anywhere close to the south and not knowing anyone effected. But yet I am having nightmares and guilt issues, and am constantly wondering about what I feel I could be doing if I were closer. My heart goes out to each and every person touched by this tragedy.

On Friday we think we got a clue to the "puzzle" that is Griffin -- his speech teacher recommended getting him evaluated for Sensory Integration Disorder. I read some information on it and it seems to fit him to a tee.

Today we took Darwin back to the allergist and got over 80 allergy tests and two panels ordered. We also got referrals to a higher allergist and pediatric gastrointerologist.

So... we have hope in our house. And I have hope for the south as well.

Sssssssmmmmmile

Oh speech therapy is going fantastically, thank you very much. Being the incompetent Mommy I am, I forgot to do Griffin's speech therapy all weekend and we had to do it right before school this morning.

And the baby? Well, he's developed the fine skill of screaming bloody murder for not getting what he wants. I'm pretty certain Darwin has entered the WONDERFUL stage of toddlerhood.

Aaron, being the lucky bastard he is, is out of town on a business trip. We are going to start calling them "Daddy Vacations" in this house.

With Cake, Balloons and Pumpkins!

Griffin went to Preschool Orientation today. He got a "party invitation" in the mail a few weeks ago for it and its all he's been talking about. This morning he asked if he got to go to his preschool party today I said yes, to which he immediately replied, "Preschool Party! With cake, balloons and pumpkins!" I don't know where in the hell he got the pumpkins idea, but whatever works for him. But after preschool on the ride home he told me its wasn't a real party "Becau-use they no have cake. No balloons. No pumpkins. Incompetent preschool."

Guess I'm gonna have to teach them how to throw a real party.