I’ve been trying to get on here & write a blog entry for the entire week, but I’ve been in such a foul mood. There are so many things I want to get off my chest, so bear with me while I try and sort it all out.
First, the weather. Oh my effing gawd, the weather. It hasn’t been above freezing since December 27th, and there aren’t any thawing days in the 10-day forecast. By the time it does finally warm up, we will have gone 45 days or more with temperatures below freezing. It’s like living on a polar ice cap, and I’m so sick of it I could SCREAM!!
Last Sunday, the husband and I left the little tyrant at home & braved the -30 windchills to look at cars. The lease on his truck is ending in May, and we’re trying to get a feel for a payment plan on a new SUV. And by a new SUV, I mean new to us. Not new new. Anyway, someone obviously forget to send a memo to the car dealers in Wisconsin, alerting them to the terrible economy and financial crises. Used car prices are higher than ever, with financing rates at an unimaginable 9%. Come on. I am not buying someone else’s castoffs for $3,000 less than a new vehicle, with high miles & a jacked up interest rate. Ugh. Five years later, and I could STILL kick him square in the backside for leasing, instead of buying.
(By the way – is “crises” the plural form of “crisis”? Or is it “criseses”? Crises never looks right to me.)
So, after our eyes froze open & our noses turned to snotsickles, we decided to grab an early dinner at our favorite Italian restaurant. We had a coupon for $10 off 2 dinners that was set to expire, & we wanted to take advantage of a babyfree dining experience. There were only 2 other couples in the entire restaurant, so we grabbed a table & waited for one of the 8 or so waitresses to come & take our order. I asked for a Pepsi & a glass of water, while the husband ordered a beer.
As soon as I took a drink of my soda, I realized she brought me Diet Pepsi. I was really thirsty, so I drank it without complaining to the waitress. Big mistake. The artificial sweeteners in diet soda give me horrible headaches, and I should have just asked her for a regular soda. When she brought out our food, I asked her for a regular Pepsi; and the bitch brought out diet again.
Now, the first time, I’m willing to let it go as an innocent mistake. But after the second time, I’m sure she went back to the waitress’ station and laughed it up about bringing the fat cow some much-needed diet soda. Even now, five entire days later, I’m mad at myself for not calling her out on it. We left her a minuscule tip; but I can’t help feeling like I should have asked to speak to a manager or something. It wasn’t loud in there, so I know she heard me just fine.
Why do people have to do that? Why must they always go for the easy target of the fat girl?????
I still haven’t committed to Weight Watchers. I just can’t find the time to sit down & really read all the orientation materials. I’ve scanned it over about 10 times, but it’s not sinking in this time. Most days, I barely have time to grab a pop-tart or a couple pieces of string cheese for breakfast & whatever leftovers happen to be in the fridge for a late lunch. I try not to snack between meals; but sometimes, I only have time to graze on whatever happens to be in the cupboard. Who the hell has time to keep track of calories AND fat grams AND fiber AND put it all in the points calculator AND log it all down in a journal?????
Does this happen to other people, too? Do you suddenly find yourself putting *your* needs last, even though your health is suffering for it?
In baby news, Mason has started his insufferable whining phase. When combined with his never-ending crying phase, I find myself fantasizing about trading him in for a golden retriever puppy.
Tuesday afternoon (or was it Wednesday?), he scared the crap out of me. I left him in his crib, on his back, kicking his feet & happily watching his mobile spin around. As is customary for him, he suddenly had a change of heart & started screaming bloody murder. Unfortunately, these wild mood swings aren’t that unusual, so I ignored him & kept on washing the bottles.
About a minute later, he started hyperventilating & I could hear him screaming and gasping for air. I ran through the kitchen to check on him; and he had somehow pulled the blanket off the side of the crib and over his face. Looking back, he wasn’t in immediate danger of suffocating (even though my heart literally jumped into my throat when I saw him with the blanket over his head); but he was scared to death. I still don’t understand how it happened. We play peekaboo with the blanket all the time; but something about having it over his face really frightened him.
Where did I leave that Worst Mother of the Year application again???
He still hates the exersaucer. And the jumper. And the walker. And the 3-stage super seat. And having momma more than 18 inches away.
But he loves to stand up (supported, of course). And roll over. And chew on absolutely everything, including his own feet. And he worships the dog – if he sees her walk by, he’ll start going “Heeeeeeyyyyy” in this really high-pitched girly voice. It’s so sweet.
And his hair is getting more unruly by the day. We now have matching bad hair days.
And he loves to mimic us. If we take a big breath in & let it out with a noisy sigh, he’ll try and do the same. If we sing to him in his rocker, he’ll try and sing back to us.
Okay, enough about the baby. I still have many more things to vent about.
What the hell is the deal with this woman having octuplets, when she already has 6 children at home and lives with her parents????? I read today that her husband is about to be sent back to Iraq, and she’ll be left with 14 children to look after. Even with nannies, how is she going to find the time to give each one the love and attention they’ll desperately need?
I know it’s none of my business and I’m not the one raising them (blah blah blah), but it makes me wonder if she’s mentally unstable. I can understand having 4 embryos transferred during IVF, but more than that seems far too high of a risk for the mother and the babies. And please don’t tell me it’s all in God’s plan. If it were God’s plan, she would have gotten pregnant without using science and technology.
I’m a huge believer of fertility treatments, when they’re used responsibly. I would have done anything to have a baby, and support all women turning to ART or IVF or whatever the proper acronym is for infertility. But this? It just seems wrong.
I wish insurance companies would cover IVF. Just one cycle per year, with a maximum transfer of two embryos per cycle. I think it would cut way back on these premature multiple births, saving the hospitals and the insurance company millions and millions of dollars. The money shouldn’t matter; but what will the cost be for the octuplet’s stay in the NICU? I would think in the vicinity of $20 million.
And I’m not trying to sound self-righteous about it. But something about this woman and her unethical fertility doctor makes me incredibly judgemental and irritated.
And on today’s news? The hospital at the University of Wisconsin Madison is going to start performing late term abortions, up to 23 weeks. And no, they don’t make the distinction “to save the life of the mother”. Any pregnant woman can walk in there and have a living, breathing, kicking baby sucked out of her uterus. In fact, they’re anticipating doing 100 of these each year. My God. At 6 weeks, I saw the flicker of my son’s heart beating. At 20 weeks, I saw his face and his features and learned I was going to be having a boy. At 23 weeks, I was starting to get ready for his birth. The idea of ending his life at that point in the pregnancy is unfathomable.
Also on today’s news? Someone stole a 32-inch plasma tv from the children’s hospice ward at a local hospital. What kind of a person steals from dying children? What is this world coming to?
Oh, one other thing. I started working on our income taxes this week. When I tallied it all up, our out-of-pocket medical costs in 2008 were $15,006. We spent Fifteen Thousand Dollars on doctor’s visits and a hospital stay and insurance copays and prescription drugs. No wonder our pantry is stocked with ramen noodles and cream of mushroom soup.
One good tax credit? If you qualify for the 7.5% medical deduction on the itemized federal tax form, you can also take credit for all the miles driven to various appointments and pharmacies. It’s not a huge amount, but it’s something.
Oh, God, I forgot something else. In the last week, I’ve had to file FOUR disputes with paypal over formula that I bought on ebay & never received. Actually, I received one case, but it was the infamous moldy batch (more on this to follow – am very unhappy with Enfamil). What the hell, people? If you’re going to sell your sh*t on ebay, you damn well better be able to ship it. And not four freaking weeks after I buy it and IMMEDIATELY pay you.
And one other thing that royally p*sses me off? People who sell their formula coupons on ebay. What kind of greedy futhermucker signs up for these coupons, only to turn around and sell them for a huge profit. Seriously. Selling $15 in formula coupons for $12.00? Which you obtained by LYING about having a baby? I’m all for trading the coupons you aren’t going to use, but selling them (EVEN THE EXPIRED ONES!!!) is beyond ridiculous.
Whew. I feel about ten pounds lighter now. Got anything you want to rage about?
It’s a neck pillow, but I want to put 3 of them down the long side & 1 of them on the short side of Mason’s crib. He keeps bonking his head on the wood slats, and he’s getting a bruise.
