Tired and Complicated

Well, the hubby is in the hospital... diabetic complications which have resulted in a never-healing foot ulcer becoming infected for the third time in less than two years.  The minimum he will be there is a 23-hour observation (which would mean home tomorrow evening-ish).  THANKFULLY, they will be referring him to a wound care clinic upn discharge, so that *hopefully* something will finally start heading in the right direction for this nasty, ulcerated right foot.  *shudder*

Actually, his doctor while I was there was the ONLY doctor in that ER that actually *did* anything for my pain, and got me to the point that, even though I arrived not even able to stand, I walked out of the building on my own.  Sweet.  And his nurse (former drummer, apparently!) really kicked some major bedside butt since he spent a solid 10 minutes answering any questions I had regarding Ralph's treatment and such.

At least I know that he BIG man is being taken care of.  The LITTLE man... eek.  We didn't have the greatest of days... once AGAIN.

Just before getting ready to head over to the hospital to bring Ralph a couple things (including something to eat - YUCK!  They gave him a "cold-pack lunch" that apparently tasted like it had been in someone's SHOE all day), I walk into the computer room, not only to find Grey standing in my office chair... but standing there with his fingernails painted.  Well, more like every finger from the knuckle to the tip painted.  YES... and it was up on the SECOND shelf of the compter hutch, which means that in the whole five minutes *maybe* that I was out of the room, he HAD to have climbed onto the desk ITSELF at least briefly.  *sigh*

Did I mention that he also got streaks of red, shimmery polish all over a BRAND new pair of gripper socks from Old Navy??  And *somehow* managed to get nail polish in a stripe up the inside of his thigh??  Aaaaand... (here's the kicker) he got a nickel-shaped glob of nail polish that just *barely* managed to not seep all the way through on the crotch of his UNDERWEAR.  I don't get it... was this child trying to paint hib nuts?!?  GEEBUZ!!!

So, I head to the hospital, blah blah blah... Watch the last 20 minutes of House (THAT'S how much he should appreciate me, damnit - I left to bring him food knowing FULL well that I'd be missing HOUSE!!), hang out a bit more to make sure I talk to both he nurse AND the doctor.  Great.  No problem... 8:25, gonna head home... Aaaaand, I arrive home to a *very* in trouble little boy.

He used PAM for HAIRSPRAY.  (How he even GOT into it is beyond me.)  He now looks like a greaser... and all because I *refused* to give him a bath at that moment in time, right before bed, since bathtime is a HORROR when it comes down to washing his hair.

Someone want to borrow a really CUTE three year old who's in the middle of a preschool "PMS" phase?!?