Why I Hate Doctors... or Do They Just all Hate Me?

Today I spent a good 2 hours on the telephone attempting to follow through on the demands, er, ADVICE, that my hubby's doctor gave me on Monday after DH told me that he really DID like his doctor, and had nothing but great luck with him

Rule #1. NEVER trust your husband's physician-selecting advice. EVER.
Rule #2. If the doctor who enters the room IGNORES your child... run.
Rule #3. If the doctor's combover entails more hair on the top of his head than anywhere else... he's NOT going to be very savvy as to what new technology holds.

So, as I stated last week, I managed to see a FABULOUS ER doctor. One that if he were a clinic physician, I would claim him as my own. Alas...

I wound up at the crabassed doctor who needs a razor and NOT a comb.

"So, why are you here?" --- as he LOOKS at the actual LIST I had prepared pre-visit.

"Who GAVE you Dilaudid?!? *I* don't prescribe that." Well, hell.

"You're on Xanax AND Valium??" Well, the Valium was started last week as both a muscle relaxant and an anti-anxiety... "Oh, well *I* don't think you need that."
WOW! He's PSYCHIC! 5 minutes into the visit and he hadn't even TOUCHED ME... yet he's making judgement calls. Faaaaaboo.

"Doctor, I'd like to switch anti-depressants if possible to something that would allow me to titrate off them without severe withdrawls, since planning another child is in our near future." Ready for this one??? "SEE A SHRINK."

SO, what did I gain from this? MOTRIN. More of the SAME anti-depressant. And Xanax... which in all honesty, the Valium did a MUCH better job all around.

I feel WORSE after having seen the doctor that before, because his last words to me, literally, were, "Find a pain clinic - though that may be difficult because of YOUR insurance. I don't know what to tell you about the insomnia, call a Sleep Clinic. But again, insurance issues are likely. And don't forget about the Shrink."

Now, is it just ME, or would YOU be just a step above livid too?

I haven't seen a psychiatrist sine I was *12* - when I was first diagnosed with depression. Yes... at 12.

BUT, I have an appointment... on September 22nd. So I have another month of being on the drug from hell.

I called *3* pain clinics. One is 'at their limit.' One's number is disconnected. And the other? The extension I was given never answered.

After all that... I was literally AFRAID to even BOTHER with finding a sleep center.

The BEST part? Because the aforementioned doctor failed to note that the Xanax and Valium are for different issues - I can't get the new Xanax script filled until the Valium supply runs out. On Friday. Joy oh FRIGGIN joy.

Tomorrow is going to be spent, once again, on the telephone. I just hope that, oh golly oh gee, SOMEONE out there can help me. Because otherwise? I am going to track down my ER doc and get personal suggestions from HIM. He seems to be the absolute lone soul in this field right now that GETS ME. *sigh*



On a lighter note, Greyson provided some entertainment while in the waiting room at Dr. Doom's. He was the youngest child in there, by at least 2 years, and one little girl took it upon herself to climb underneath a row of waiting room chair against one wall. What did my little man do? He crouched down, and shouted, "This is NOT a playground - those are CHAIRS. Come out from under there and SIT on them, not UNDER them."

I thought I was going to die laughing... especially when her mother muttered a, "He's right, you know."

There was also a boy waiting with his father, a child who DEFINITELY should have had a MUCH better understanding of *personal space*. However, it seemed that he was determined that Grey's new Thomas hat from over the weekend was his new matcchbox car ramp - while STILL on Grey's head. After about the secomd time, again, my verbose little boy looked the child in the eye, and came up with THIS one:
"This is my HAT. Cars do NOT belong on MY hat. And you are TOO close to me, and I would like you to go away now."

My face HAD to have been beet-red at that point. Grey then proceeded to grab a Sports Illustrated off the shelf and climb into the chair next to me.

Of course, 5 minutes into his 'reading,' he proclaimed it was "boring because it only has pictures of this man wearing necklaces."

Yep, you guessed it - he was talking about Phelps. =D

He SO deserved the Wendy's he got for lunch on the way home. And now I have a picture of 2 pirates at a birthday party off the side of the bag (what's wrong with this picture??) taped to his dresser since he decided it would be a good idea to save it until NOVEMBER to use for his party. *shrug* Whatever you say, Munchkin, whatever you say.

Thomas the Train... and the camera that looks like Thomas ran it over

We were in Rockford all weekend.  Then took a trip to Union, IL to the railway museum so the Munchkin could ride on Thomas the Train and try with every breath in his body to convince me to spend $13,485,201.17 in the gift shop tent.

I got FANTASTIC PICTURES!

But.  There's ALWAYS a but.

When I got home... the LCD viewscreen looked like I had casually laid the camera on the tracks JUST as Thomas was getting his groove on.

I don't even think that I can upload the photos to the computer... off the $200 camera that is less than a year old.

Everyone... cry with me now.

HOWEVER, I *am* ordering a new camera in the next couple days (thanks to my GODSEND of a *kinda* godmother who offered to send a check to help out).

SO, you will see pictures.  Someday.  I promise.

In a world of hell and hatred...

Someone like Crystal comes along.

She's been running a "Pay it Forward"-ish contest (which quickly became a "make-every-childs-dreams-come-true" plan, which began, simply enough, with her daughter leaving her Game Boy & games at Red Robin.

There's absolutely NO way that I could summarize the process beautifully enough on my own, so why don't you check it out here: http://boobsinjuriesanddrpepper.blogspot.com/

Crystal has made my day, my week, my month... hell, maybe even my year, by granting my sweet little boy the gift of a Nintendo DS system for his upcoming birthday - one that we SO would not have been able to afford on our own, considering the constantly growing bills from car issues, medical FAILS, and just that random bottomless pit that is debt.

I have now officially named her my new Internet BFF.  Really.

Send her some love.  Send her some chocolates.  Send her your first-born... okay, maybe not that last one.  But a stripper maybe?

Word of the Day... and Thought of the Day for August 21st

*dexterous* (DEK-stuhr-uhs)

adj. 1. Skillful or adroit, mentally or physically.
2. Right-handed.


*Thought of the Day*

The most important scientific revolutions all include, as their only common feature, the dethronement of human arrogance from one pedestal after another of previous convictions about our centrality in the cosmos.
~Stephen Jay Gould, paleontologist, biologist, author (1941-2002)

Oh, the wonders of medication...

Today, I've been in a rather happy place.  A place filled with very LITTLE pain, considering that just yesterday evening, I was diagnosed with not ONLY the slipped disc that I already knew about just kinda... JUTTING out of my spine... but also a HERNIATED disc in another location.  Toss in a rather compromised sacroiliac joint (with an added bonus of possible, nay PROBABLE cartilage tearing in said joint) and some mad pressure being put on my sciatic nerve...

Well, let's just say that I could not WALK into the ER.  Or even through the ER.  The wonderful invention of the wheelchair was my ultimate savior for an hour or so, until I got *lifted* into an inflated hospital mattress.  Where I was then given not one, but TWO injections of morphine and a *godsend* called Valium.

Oh, the wonders of medical science.

Since the original injury to my back over a year ago, I have not been *this* close to honest comfort even ONCE.  Granted... I am still shuffling a bit, and transitions for sitting to standing and vice-versa send a great deal of PAIN through my leg, back, and hip... the fact that I am WALKING while standing at more than a 45-degree angle?  HEAVENLY.

I think I have found two new best friends.  In amber-colored bottles from Walgreens.  YUM.

Of course, this afternoon, my dad informed me that apparently, the Dilaudid that I am taking along with the Valium... is pretty much like being on heroin.  Actually, in medical references, it's *8* times stronger than morphine and about *3* times stronger than heroin.

I don't know whether to be happy that a doctor finally realized that my pain was indeed THAT bad... or terrified that I actually NEED meds THAT strong to control my pain.

All in all, right now... I just happy that the simple task of STANDING UP doesn't send me into gut-wracking tears.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

On another note, I think I am going to start a "Word of the Day" segment...  on the premise that while being a stay-at-home mom, I'd swear that I can see small fragments of gray matter being expelled from my ears at an all-too-rapid pace from a lack of adult conversation, intellectual input, and just general *child speak* practiacally 24/7.  Maybe, just MAYBE, this will help me regain control of my once linguiphilistic existence. =)

Word of the Day for August 20th:

*myopic*  (my-OP-ik)
adj. 1. Nearsighted, unable to see objects at a distance clearly.
       2. Shortsighted.  Lacking foresight.  Narrow-minded.


ALSO, My Thought of the Day:

*How can a society that exists on instant mashed potatoes, packaged cake mixes, frozen dinners, and instant cameras hope to teach patience to their children?*

Random Funny

more cat pictures

Why, oh WHY?

My mind has been running on crazy mode around here lately... besides the obvious malignant stressors that abound, I have been slowly planning Greyson's 3rd birthday - even though it's not until the end of November.

Why?

Well, with moving last year, we kinda missed out on both Halloween AND throwing him a party.

Poor kid.

So, we're taking Halloween one step further and using the costumes were are planning over again for his party.

What does he want to be?

Jack Sparrow.  Funny.  So, instead of going and being the typical choice for a POTC character (did I just use an acronym for Pirates of the Carribean?  Crap - I AM addicted), I'm going to be Tia Dalma.

So, tonight, I asked Ralph who he wanted to be... and after whining about "Why can't *I* be Jack Sparrow?" - LOL - we determined that, hey, Barbossa would work pretty well.

But not after I was reminded that he has a show on Halloween.  So I'm REALLY hoping that trick-or-treating ISN'T actually ON Halloween.

So, he's dressing up for the show.

Not as Barbossa.

But as this:

Captain Spaulding from House of 1000 Corpses & The Devil's Rejects

I *HATE* clowns.  Completely, utterly, DESPISE clowns.  They TERRIFY me to no end.

But the really frightening part??  THIS is the man behind the makeup.

Sid Haig

If you add 30 years to MetalliDad... Sid Haig IS my husband.

Note the bald head.

Note the facial hair.

Note the FRIGGIN' guitar!!

I wonder if Ralph's mom ever crossed paths with good ol' Sid...

And what, exactly does this say about me?!?   ROFL

A few funnies...

Just because, well... I *need* them.

And, just because it is, by far, one of THE coolest tattoos I have seen in a LONG time...

I get by with a little help from my friends...

Or at least, I'm hoping to.

Today we found out that Ralph has Diabetic Retinopathy... we really won't know to what extent, or if it needs further treatment, until he sees an Optometrist with a retinal specialty.

At best, it could just need monitoring... ie, pupil dialation as such every six months.  At worst, it could lead to blindness.

Also, my grandmother's ex-husband called us today, after finding out that my grandma is in the hospital (and apparently, didn't let anyone know - he literally checked area hospitals looking for her since he couldn't find her).

He told my mom that "she won't be there much longer if she doesn't agree to dialysis."

I have been trying to maintain *some* air of sanity after both of these kicks to the gut, but I'm wearing a little thin... especially since Grey is sick and has just been pushing one button after another, chipping off more and more chunks of my patience as the days go by.

His attitude has GOT to stop... but I seriously don't know what to really *do* anymore.  He tends to take EVERYTHING we say and flip it back around on us... so it quickly becomes HIM who is trying to place limits and telling US what to do or NOT to do and say.

How DO you explain to a 2-year old that really, it only goes ONE way?!?!

So, I think I just need an internet hug today.  *sigh*

Friday Fill-Ins

Thanks to a new blog I stumbled upon, Friday Fill-Ins, I will now make my humble contribution...

1. You know you're old when your child tells you that you are "Big - like dinosaurs and elepahnts."  I think he may need a lesson in ratios..







2. My heart is divided between ignoring all matters of logic and actually being able to WALK after RibFest tomorrow.






3. MORE SLEEP is what I need RIGHT NOW!






4. I have felt the shallows, I have known the depths of chaos.






5. Gah, won't these people ever stop talking?!?!






6. GET OUT as soon as you can!






7. And as for the weekend, tonight I’m looking forward to more sleep - I hope, tomorrow my plans include RIBFEST and Sunday, I want to have a blast with my friend from Canada and her two kids!

Misadventures...

Seeing Taggart the other night brought back a lot of memories... specifically "High School Music" memories (not to be confused with High School Musical memories... THAT I am less of an expert on!). I think I've come to the conclusion that either a) I just had some REALLY kick-ass teachers, or b) we as a group (music / theatre kids) got WAYYYY more lenieency and trust than we more than likely should have. Heh.

While thinking back on the first time I ever met Mr. Taggart, it in turn, made me think of Mr. Grosberg. AKA Grosberg. (I'm seeing a major trend in only referring to my music teachers by their last name, with no title attached. Hmm.) Grosberg was the director of my summer band camp when I was in middle school, and was the band teacher at the high school.

So, of course, even though I didn't take band anymore in high school... I still got to hang around and torture... I mean, CHAT... Grosberg.

One day, while having nothing else to do - actually, I *think* we were supposed to be working on a duet for an upcoming choral competition - the band room was EMPTY. Toooooo much can come out of an empty room. Trust me on this one.

A friend of mine and I decided it would be a good idea to turn the ENTIRE band room upside down. LITERALLY.

All but the music instrument lockers and the chalkboard that was permanently mounted to the wall was flipped on it's head - and hell, I even took the time to rewrite everything that WAS previously on that board upside down.

Music stands were precariously balanced on their trays, chairs were teepeed with legs in the air... we even went to the extent of turning all the music in the folders (and the conductor's binder) upside down.

Now, as I look back, I'm afraid that I was the immediate bad influence in this particular situation. You see, the first semester of my freshman year, my MOM taught in the same building... and for one of her co-teacher's birthday prior to the band room stunt... we turned everything in her classroom upside down and filled all the desk drawers with confetti. Lots and LOTS of confetti.

So, technically... it's my MOM'S fault. (Ha! She'll LOVE that one!)

Anyhow, I thought that Grosberg's head was going to pinball around the room after he walked into his newly-redecorated room. He literally had a tantrum... and I casually strolled out of the room, since "Hey! I'm not even IN this class! Seeeeeya!"

Yes, I am evil like that. Apparently, the first 15 minutes or so of class was spent with the students all right-siding everything in existence.

Good times.

100 Things

A friend of mine just did one of these... and since I have seen them various places, I thought that maybe, since I have a few readers now (Thanks - all 6 of you! ROFL) that I would throw out a list on myself, as well...

1. My full birth name is Larissa Anne Smith.
2. I chose to take my husband's name when we got married, because I was tired of being "another Smith."
3. Now I have to deal with people TRYING to throw the Italian spin on my last name... and botching it completely.
4. About 95% of the people I know, including my parents, don't EVER call me by actual name.
5. They call me "Lari."
6. My friend Brandon started that WAYYYY back in junior high, all because he couldn't remember how to spell my whole name - so he stopped after the "i."
7. I've had ONE significant other that refused to call me Lari.
8. I think it had to do with an inner homophobia.
9. He's getting married (again) on Halloween.
10. My hair has been 9 colors over the course of my life.
11. 3 of them, bizarrely, were COMPLETELY natural.
12. I started out life as a brunette.
13. In 6th grade, my hair turned BLONDE.
14. Now it's red.
15. I think I'm a mutant.
16. Not really.
17. The very first time I dyed my hair, I used unsweetened Kool-Aid.
18. That shit does NOT wash out of towels.
19. It was Black Cherry.
20. I think my mother wanted to kill me that day.
21. That didn't stop me from doing it one more time with Kool-Aid.
22. I moved on to Manic Panic in high school.
23. I also bleached streaks in my hair the same night I bleached a very dear friend's hair.
24. We bleached it right after shaving her head.
25. Then we went to a high school dance wearing matching lingerie.
26. I think we intended on being evil that night.
27. That's right. We WERE evil that night.
28. Don't ever go to the Rosecrans Motel in IL. Even if you're just looking for someplace to party.
29. The A/C units there have the sole purpose of making you fear for your life.
30. Okay, they weren't THAT bad. But we did think it would fall out of the wall.
31. I have only actually feared for my life twice.
32. Once was during my only car accident.
33. My 6-month old car was TOTALLED by a cabbie.
34. He claimed that he had glass in his eye from hitting me.
35. There were no broken windows on his car.
36. The second time was when I woke up during emergency maxillofacial surgery.
37. They really didn't believe me when I told them that I needed higher levels of pain killers.
38. I woke up with hand-shaped bruises on my shoulders from being restrained while they upped my doses.
39. I still have 2 scars on my neck from where I had drainage tubes coming out of my face for 5 days.
40. That's the longest I have ever been hospitalized - 6 days.
41. That's also the longest I have ever been away from my son.
42. The second longest time I was hospitalized was when I gave birth to him.
43. Greyson will be 3 this November.
44. Greyson was our second choice for a name.
45. My first choice was Aiden.
46. Only a few people know the reason behind me loving that name.
47. I have some incredible memories from that time in my life.
48. I can't even think of the word ALPHABET without hearing a very twisted song in my head.
49. It has NOTHING to do with the ABC's.
50. It has a lot to do with cows and strap-ons.
51. Actually, that's really ALL it has to do with.
52. I have some demented friends.
53. They are also very treasured friends.
54. I don't see them nearly as much as I'd like to.
55. There are numerous reasons - but I love them all immensely.
56. Sometimes I really wonder how the hell we all ended up where we are today.
57. Then I realize that it doesn't matter, anyhow.
58. Sometimes I really wish certain people would be more open.
59. I think people say they understand, when really they don't.
60. I have an deep-rooted fear of loss.
61. I've found that not much I can do will affect who or what goes away.
62. I try anyways.
63. Sometimes, the only thing that connects with me is music.
64. Some of my absolute best memories have a connection to music in some way.
65. I met my husband because he was touring in the same band as my ex-boyfriend.
66. Many of my other great memories come from being in Theatre.
67. I think at least half of my friends that knew me back then got to see my mostly nude due to costume changes.
68. One of the best memories has to do with music AND theatre.
69. It's all about the Star-Spangled Banner.
70. I still tear up whenever I listen to a beautiful version of that song for this reason.
71. I also get teary while listening toMetallic's version of "Tuesday's Gone."
72. Sometimes when you're really drunk, it doesn't matter who can and cannot sing.
73. Unless you're at a Karaoke bar.
74. The last time I sang Karaoke was in Scottsdale, AZ.
75. Actually, that's the last time I sang in public.
76. That's a sad matter, since I was booked to be the opening act for "The Fourth Tenor" in Detroit before I got pregnant.
77. I think the fact that I wasn't able to do the show was the catalyst in ending a long-time friendship.
78. I can't watch a tree fall over ( or hear anyone mention a tree falling over) without practically doubling over in laughter.
79. I also have a very difficult time keeping a straight face anywhere near a Chuck E. Cheese.
80. I would have laughed at you if you told me I was going to wind up with my husband 4 years ago.
81. I *did* laugh at someone who thought I would end up with my husband 4 four years ago.
82. I think that was one of the only intelligent assumptions that person ever made.
83. That person is the sole reason why I haven't gotten my bachelors degree yet.
84. I actually miss college.
85. I've changed my major since then.
86. I think that maybe I can sing while I do forensics.
87. Maybe I'll become famous for it.
88. I doubt it.
89. I hate watching myself perform on video.
90. I actually hate being photographed, too... but it makes me sad that I don't have more photos of me with my son.
91. I don't have a lot of my old photos anymore.
92. Someone threw them away.
93. All the photos I tried to take while in Colorado came out defective.
94. The same thing happened to someone else with the same camera.
95. I *really* miss Colorado.
96. Every time I think of Colorado, I think of Indiana Jones.
97. Indiana Jones doesn't wear purple shorts, though.
98. Apparently, teachers get angry when you leave small boxes of Lucky Charm outside their hotel room door.
99. Okay, maybe only teachers that look like hairy leprechauns do.
100. Teachers who call you from China's heads blow up when you tell them that 16-year olds are claiming to have affairs with them.
101. Apparently, you can procure arsenic in liquid form.
102. If you can, it doesn't work.
103. There is one name that I will run away screaming from.
104. I should have learned from the first experience.
105. Then again, I should have known there was something wrong with a woman who wanted to be friends after her boyfriend left her for me.
106. Never give in to the temptation of a large crowd of women.
107. I just realized that I have typed more than 100 things!! LOL

Your turn!!! (GAH, did I get WAY random, or what?!?)

*Whew*

GAH. After another night of Greyson trying *desperately* to stay awake until the NEXT DAY (and nearly making it, I might add - if only he had held out for another 15 minutes!), he chose to start his day after less than 7 hours of sleep. Yes. He *is* 2, and this was his demand.

He barely ate anything for breakfast - even though he woke me by SHOUTING into my ear, "MOMMY! I'm HUNGRY! Get up NOW!!!!" Riiiiiight. Attack of the grape-sized gullet, once again, apparently.

He then spent the next 3 hours leaping from his bed to mine, over a 18" chasm, and rolling into a somersault, nearly falling off the edge of the bed, and sometimes, rolling right into the wall.

He was unfazed. He was WIRED.

After many attempts at getting him to eat, oh, ANYTHING... we broke down and went grocery shopping.

You would think that we had entered the world's largest All-You-Can-Eat buffet. (Well, I guess to him, it is.)

He INHALED a banana, a LARGE roll, a piece of string cheese, and half a bag of rice cakes. Oh. And drank half a bottle of water.

In about 90 minutes.

He *still* didn't fall asleep on the ride home.

In the midst of putting groceries away, I found him using a screwdriver (that he had moved a chair CLEAR across the room to get to) to take apart his LeapFrog Computer.

Obviously, I took it away... and then it all went spiraling downhill.

Around 6:30pm, he started screaming.  I mean, SCREAMING. 

Have you ever wondered what the approach of the Apocalypse sounds like?  My guess it that it's very similar to the sounds coming out of that 30-pound little boy.

It did not stop, not ONCE, until 7:45pm, when he passed out while SITTING UP.

I thought I could breathe then.  I was sorely mistaken...

He woke again at 8:15pm, with the words syllables being screeched out of the gaping maw that used to be his mouth being, "I WAAAANNT THE SCWEWWDRIVAHHHHH!!!!"

This was closely followed by similar demands for Propel, his Gia & Papa, a DVD, to sleep in MY bed, for me to sleep in HIS bed... you get the picture.  This phase went on for about an hour & a half, until I finally thought that the voices chanting "Run Away!" in my head were going to win. 

I took him to GRANDMA.  lol

Oh, SURE.  He was fine with her.  Because?  SHE ISN'T HIS EVIL MOMMY, apparently.  Thank goodness *Gia* spent time talking to him about how little sense it made for him to yell at his mommy for everything, when there was no connection WHAT SO EVER.

*sigh*

It's now midnight.  He's only been asleep for the night for... wait for it... 30 minutes.  That's right folks!  He was awake for *16 hours* with 30 minutes of a COMPLETELY fake nap.

I think we bought more alcohol at the store today.

Wait... I KNOW we bought more alcohol at the store today!

It won't be here very long... *bwahahahaha*

A Slight Twist...

Since Moo decided to post the "Girl Crush" post a bit ago, and rope me into doing one of my own... I thought, HEY!  Why not just share our *major* hunk-hottie obsessions as well???

No admission to same-gender beauty necessary!  =P

So, here we go...

Johnny Depp.  One word. YUM.  (I have also referred to him as "bang me like a screen door in a hurricane" hot in the past!)

Shia Lebeouf.  Damn his role in Transformers for turning this once-child-star into something worth a little drool.  I know, he's younger than me.  So what?  Wanna fight?

Christian Bale.  Yes, he *has* made the most recent Batman movies just *that* much more appealing to me.  Hell, I had the hots for him in American Psycho.

James Hetfield.  OMG.  I have wanted this man for the last 10+ years of my LIFE.  One of my favorite memories is STILL of being pressed against the stage at a Metallica concert and having him flick sweat onto me.  Gross, I know.  But GAWD.

Edward Norton.  Eek.  Seeing him in American History X just plain DID it for me.  End of story.

Tim Curry.  Okay, okay... not your "typical" hottie... but there was something about his role in Rocky Horror Picture Show that left me with a new opinion on men in lingerie... ROFL...  just more proof that I am, indeed, a sick twist.  AND!  I don't even mind that he played "IT."  (Can't sleep, clowns will eat me...)

Sean Connery.  This man is old enough to be my grandfather, and I'd STILL throw one at him.  hehe.

Adrian Paul.  My GOD, did he make Highlander just THAT MUCH MORE yummy?!?!

And now for a slight change of pace...  These are people that I HONEST-TO-GOD KNOW.  Yes, yes, I have drooled.  LOL

"Scrap Iron" Adam Pearce.  I have known this man since my freshman year of high school.  He was yummy then, and he's yummy now.  LOL

CM Punk... AKA Phil.  Met him numerous times, hell - had the opportunity to DATE him.  Shame on me.

Colt Cabana... AKA Scott.  Had the chance to date him, too.  I mean, REALLY now.  What was I THINKING?!?!

So, now... who are *your* celebrity hotties?!?

The $9.00 Martini. Or, I Got to Hear Some Great Music!

So, I managed to make the trip out to Mt. Prospect to see Taggart. And it was definitely time well spent. He's just so much fun to be around, and his stage presence is infecting with as much fun as he *obviously* has while playing that guitar and singing his bluesy heart out.

But, really people? A $9.00 martini? Eek. And that was the cheapest one on the list. Of course, I HAD to try one. And while I'd definitely partake of one again - I would *not* spend a whopping $9.00. Uh uh. Nope. C'mon, the only alcohol in it was some sort of citrus stuff and Midori. The rest? Pineapple juice & OJ.

Maybe it was the fact that they had the actual cop car from The Blues Brothers somehow precariously suspended high above us that made the drink so expensive? Or the endless supply of other movie paraphenalia? Hmm.

Anyhow, it was a good time. He still, amazingly, looks the same (minus the tangle of curls down his back) - which, with the haircut? Makes him look like Vincent D'Onofrio. Honestly.

Am I the only one who SEES this resemblance?!? Hehe.

Memories and reminiscing...

I'm going to see my former choir director from my freshman year of high school play in Mount Prospect tonight with his blues band.

It was *supposed* to be NEXT Wednesday, but somehow... either I just had a major brain fart, or I missed the "memo."  No biggie.

The REAL biggie is that he lives in Richmond, VA.  So the fact that he's going to be a short car trip away?  FANTASTIC.

You see, Taggart (okay, so we were SUPPOSED to call him Mr. Taggart, but, well... you'll understand the lack of applied conformity here soon.) wasn't what you'd call 'conventional.'  He wore a tie-dyed t-shirt and jeans to work almost every day.  You'd find him in the hallways during passing period and times when he didn't have a class, sitting in the middle of the hallway, strumming away on his acoustic.  He had long, unkempt, CURLY dark hair, and you could spot his "Five O'Clock Shadow" from half a mile away.

He was our "rocker."  He was an idol.  He was just plain FUN.

It really was Taggart's drive for music that got me so completely into it, myself.  While I learned over the years following his leave (I only had him for my freshman year before he quit and moved) that, okay, maybe he wasn't the greatest CHOIR director when it came to teaching styles... he definitely still makes my top 5 best teachers list.  He was fun, freespirited, and most of all, compassionate and caring.

Never have I known another "non-special education" teacher that really, truly adored and made so much effort to work with some of the most difficult students to teach.  It was amazing.

You see, at the time I started high school, my Mom *taught* in the same building.  But she taught special education.  Some of them with pretty obvious and tangible needs.  But when they walked through the door to his classroom, all bets were off.  He'd have them singing, clapping, and laughing right along with him as he gave them a break from struggling with school to just plain enjoying themsleves and having a great time.

The funny thing is, that when I was in 7th or 8th grade, I was in a summer band camp.  (One time, at band camp... ROFL)  Yes, I know - it just SCREAMS geek, doesn't it?  But really, our shit ROCKED.  C'mon - we learned a huge Looney Tunes medley!  hehe  Anyways, I remember showing up a little early one day to find this hippie-looking, scruffy guy trying to tell a bandmate of mine a way to get better sound from her trumpet.  And it WASN'T our band director.  I could tell by the look on HER face that she didn't know who the hell he was, either - but here he was, all up on her instrument... and making us all wonder who let the homeless guy in off the street.

The school year started, I walked into my freshman Choir class... and lo and behold... there was our "bum."  =P

The next year forged a deep, intimate love of music in me that had only been a few smoldering embers here and there before.  Sure!  I played piano, clarinet... but this?  This was DEEP love for the music that was coming from within me, using no instrument other than my breath and my own voice.  I was addicted.

I haven't seen Taggart since 1996.  I just recently started talking to him again, after having lost touch when they changed locations within Virginia - but actually used to email and call back and forth every so often until that point.  He's just someone that I kinda bonded with, on more than a "teacher-student" level. 

Here's to great memories, and rekindling a friendship that maybe only music could find...  even though he's old enough to be my dad, I'm so proud of the fact that he is making a living by doing nothing but PERFORMING.  He has always been a great musician, and now I get to dedicate some of my time doing nothing but supporting that fact.

If you have the chance - check out his website: Chicago Cy

Here's to what should be a great night!  (And a break from what has been my HELL the last 2 days!)

Cheers!!!

I'm so excited, I just can't stand it!  He

But WHY, Mommy?!?

Argh.  I was just sitting here thinking about the probable number of times that the Munchkin has asked me "why" just in this past week alone.

I think I'm safe at rounding it out to, oh, 19,476 times.

And you think I'm exaggerating.  (Okay, maybe *just* a little.)

In all my years of teaching preschool, preceeded by volunteer work (and actual PAID work!) in Special Education for the local public school district... NEVER have I encountered a child that is so fascinated by language, especially at this young an age.

He's only 2 1/2 (okay... a LITTLE more than that - he'll be 3 at the end of November), for pete's sake!

I honestly cannot think of a single word that he connot pronounce correctly.  Of course, he still has *his* names for certain things... like Pop-Tarts.  Oh NO, they are NOT Pop-Tarts, Mom.  They are "toasty pops."  Silly boy.  I guess it makes sense when you think about it... they go in the toaster, and then 'pop' out.  I get it.  It's just cute.

But the most maddening thing by far?  This WHY tirade!  I have never been bombarded by a slew if 47 "Why"s in one sitting from a 2 year old before this child entered my life.  And the greatest part is?  HE. KNOWS. IT. ANNOYS. ME.  He'll start supressing a giggle about 5 or 6 "why"s into the conversation.  But does it stop?  NEVER!!!

For instance, one day I made a comment about a photo being taken "before you were born."  The response?  "Yes, I *was* born."

Well, yeah... that's why you're here.  But, ohhh no... it didn't end there.

"WHY was I born?"   Ummm... LOL

"Because Mommy & Daddy decided that they wanted a special little boy, just like you, to love and take care of."  Nice save there, huh?  Not nice enough for him.

"But WHY?"  Eek.

"Because we loved each other SO much, that we wanted to share that love with you, too."

A pause, as he contemplated this fact.

"You love Gia.  Gia was here before I was born."

*smacks forehead*

You see, Greyson has a *total* understanding of the fact that MY mom = HIS Gia (grandma).  It doesn't phase him one itsy, tiny bit knowing that I was once a baby, and that Gia shares 2 roles.  I will make a comment to DH about "Mom," and Greyson immediately chimes in with, "Gia?"

He *is* having a slight bit of difficulty when it comes to the concept that Gia was once a baby, too... even though he knows that Gia's mommy was *my* grandma.  Eh.  He's only 2.

The other night, we were looking through a box of photos that my grandma had, that I have now kinda inherited, since she passed away in October 2004.  There were, of course, plenty of photos of me, taken anywhere from infancy through high school.

After flipping through and minutely studying each and every one, he spoke up:

"You know what, Mommy?  I LIKE you as a baby."

"Gee thanks, kiddo.  What about liking me as your Mommy?"

"You got big."

LOVE the logic on THAT one, there, little one.  And I love you even more for having the un-jaded ability to speak so freely.  =)

The Dark Side of Diabetes

Apparently, last night's tirade was completely unbeknownst to MetalliDad.

This isn't the first time that's happened... where later, upon being confronted by things he has said or done... ALWAYS mean, hateful things... he has given me this *look*, and been totally clueless at to what happened, what was said, and especially WHY.

I've had it.  While part of me says, "Hey, at least it wasn't a CONCIOUS attempt to be the biggest asshole on the planet!" - another part thinks it's even scarier.  And a little worse, maybe.

So, a little history here.  Shortly after I was in the hospital in July 2007, I wound up taking MetalliDad into the ER because of *nasty* sores on his feet that, with me having worked in surgery at a podiatrist's office... had me almost gagging.  There was an obvious infection going, and it had started making his right leg swell.

He was diagnosed with diabetes... and his blood sugar was a whopping 380mg/l.  Whereas the diagnosis wasn't really a surprise to me (both his parents were diabetic), how he wasn't in a coma from the sugar levels being so high, I STILL don't understand.  He felt *fine* other than the foot pain.  Eek.

Anyhow... this past May was the first time that he had been made aware of MANY just plain *ugly* things he had said or done.  And he had no idea.  Pending the insurance fiasco getting itself worked out... he agreed (and actually suggested *himself*) that he would look into if a doctor felt he needed medication for this apparent "mood disorder."  Especially since, according to him, his father became extremely mean for the last few years before he died.

June, he woke up, and essentially laid into me without provokation.  It was UGLY, and I felt like I had been slapped by every word that had come out of his mouth.

Last night, it was the same... except that this time, it had a shadow of violence beyond just the words he used.  He wound up yanking my arm in an attempt to snatch the tv remote from my hand, and then proceeded to fastball it at me as I tried to leave the room.  I'm amazed that it is still in one piece after the impact it made with the dresser as it whizzed past my side.

This morning when he got up for work, everything was normal.  He leaned over to give me a kiss goodbye, asked if we were still planning on going to the optometrist after he got home, and went on his merry way.  He called on his way home from work, and was pleasant, had no problem with the fact that I honestly was in a bit too much pain to feel like dealing with the eye doctor, and ended the call with an "I love you."

So, after dinner, when the subject hadn't yet been breached (and I was doubly depressed from what *should* have been a fantastic dinner gone-wrong), I brought up the fact that, after last night, I was done.  He needed to make an appointment with his doctor for the sole purpose of figuring out WHAT THE HELL HIS PROBLEM WAS.

His response?  "Why?  Last night again??"

I was... dumbfounded.  How could this man become Mr. Hyde without his being aware of the fact?  What the hell was wrong?  Could it even be fixed?  SHIT.

So, off I went to the internet before soaking all my pains away in a hot bath (or at least trying to).  And, lo and behold, I find this:

Apparently, there is strong research that shows that blood sugars of 70mg/l and lower can result in anger, violence, etc... and a high probability if being unaware of the behavior.

Nice.

Now, we may be on to something.  But what to DO about it?  Do I make sure he eats a little something before going to bed, in order to elevate his sugars throughout the night?  Do we suggest to the doctor that his evening dose of medications be lowered in order to correct this problem?  Do we *still* bring up and advocate for a mood stabilizer?!

While I am slightly relieved at this information, I am also just as frustrated.  It's great if I can pinpoint what is causing the problem... but in the end, it still doesn't take away the fact that I have been driven into the ground by his words while he spit insults and attacks on my grave.  *sigh*

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
To top it all off, Greyson had another night from HELL.  And this time, it was worse than last night.

While trying to get him to even *lay down* - he told me to "leave him the fuck alone."

Obviously, he was well aware of what was being screamed at me the previous night and chose to use this phrase to punctuate his OWN speech.  Fabulous.

He got his very first - and hopefully, his very last - pop on the cheek.  I know.  I feel horrible about it... but ya know, when you have your *2 year old* flinging such a horrible statement at you... Well, hell.  I regret that it happened, but it could have been worse.  I don't think I have been angrier at him than at that point in time.

He didn't fall asleep until almost 1am.  I'm exhausted... from every possible angle, and in every definition of the term.  I feel like I've been torn from the line, and left lying in the mud.  Something *has* to change... and I don't know where to start.

Well, I know where, but even from that point... I have the feeling I am on a long, winding road.

I love my husband.  I have forgiven a BIG mistake, and am not about to throw away the second chance that I have given him without benefit of the doubt - and intervention.

I adore my son.  But honestly?  He has just had too much fun pushing every. last. button. the last few days.

I have already been diagnosed with depression, panic disorder, and anxiety disorder.  I have chronic pain.  My migraines are returning from the vacation they took back when I was pregnant (which, while I admit was a NICE long trip, I was really hoping that they would *love* it so much, they wouldn't come back!).

How much more can I take?  I haven't been feeling like I have any support (besides from some of you LOVELY ladies that read and post comments here!  THANK YOU - more than you will ever know!), and my well is running dry.

It seems that with every up, I am shoved down further than before.  I am *really* trying to look for that silver lining, but lately... it's been a pretty torrential storm.

Rainbows *are* real, right?  Anyone care to send a little sunshine my way?

What to do...

I have had one of the *worst* days in a LONG time. 

I woke up this morning with my back simply screaming at me, and I wasn't able to turn my head to the left AT ALL or shrug my left shoulder...

Greyson woke complaining of a headache, and barely touched his breakfast OR lunch... he didn't want to do much other than lie in bed and watch cartoons...

We got in a decent nap, but he was just kinda "off" all evening - still not too hungry, clingy, and a tad on the whiny side.  Which isn't normal "him" stuff... plus, he felt a little warm - so I chose the safe route and gave him some Tylenol.

Now, for when things get *really* ugly.

Bedtime rolls around, the hubby's already hanging out in bed watching WWE when Grey & I come downstairs.  No biggie.  Greyson starts up his usual "nightowl craziness" (so at least SOMETHING helped him feel a LITTLE better - LOL).  But then Ralph started to fall asleep, so I got Greyson into his bed, etc etc.

He was *squirrel central*.  The child would NOT lie still, would NOT stop talking, just plain was antsy and goofy.  So finally?  I told him I was going to lie down, because honestly, it was bringing me almost to tears sitting there with him because of the pain all day.

And he SWORE at me, under his breath.  This has been going on for the last week or so, where he'll mutter "Damnit" in response to something that just apparently PISSES. HIM. OFF.

And I had had it.  I told him that the next time I heard that come out of his mouth, that there was going to be some soap in there to replace it.  End of story.  You may NOT say words like that.

Then, in an expansion of my frustration... I changed the channel.  GOD FORBID.

Cue the MAN:  What are you doing?!
Me:  I didn't feel like staring at wrestling while you slept.
Him:  I wasn't sleeping.  How the hell can I sleep when you're YELLING AT GREYSON EVERY TWO SECONDS?!

Umm... yeah.  Okay.  At this point, he had been asleep, off and on, for about 30 minutes.  But denied it.  Like usual.  No surprise there.

However, he then proceeded to GRAB the remote out of my LEFT hand (yes, the one connected to the f'ed up shoulder) and grabbed my hand with it.  OUCH.

More words flew, and it ended in him THROWING THE REMOTE *AT* ME and demanding that I "go the fuck upstairs *before* I pissed him off."  Ummm... does anyone see a problem with this statement?

Yes, I admit - that came after I called him an asshole.  But?  I call it like I see it.  There have been a lot of shithole situations in the recent past, and one BIG thing that's standing out in my head (especially now) is that HE made a promise that HE has yet to fulfill... and there is no longer anything preventing him from doing so.  And honestly?  It pisses me off... but more so, IT HURTS.

I feel downright UGLY right now.  I just came back up from getting Greyson to sleep... because when I went back down to check on him... ONE was snoring, and the other?  Well, let's just say he was hanging out watching Adult Swim.  At 11 pm.  Nice.

So, I was told to GET OUT, but then also apparently the responsibility of getting the little man to sleep?  STILL MY JOB.  FROM UPSTAIRS?  Hmm.  I don't get it.

It took me 45 minutes of finding new batteries for his "moon light," getting him some milk, curling up with him IN THE TODDLER BED, and back rubbing before he finally decided to call it a night.

Now, here I am.  Angry, saddened, depressed, confused, in physical, mental, and emotional pain... wondering where the HELL it all came from.  Well, knowing where it came from... but what started it.

It's one of those times where if Grey weren't around... I think I'd run away.  Really.  He keeps me here a LOT...  and I've expressed that before.  I just don't know if it's really sunk in.

Here's to wishing me SOME sleep... though right now, I don't know if I can handle climbing into my own bed.  *sigh*  I might be looking at a 4am bedtime after DH leaves for work... ugh.

Greyson does NOT like rhinos...

As he *bluntly* announced today at the zoo.

Everything else, though! Eee! What fun. LOL

I am completely bummed because Brookfield Zoo had to go and take out the friggin' FROG statue before you get to the North gate... and so, um, we *totally* did NOT meet up with the people we were supposed to meet up with. Because seriously, NO FROG.

Oh. And the fact that we were running a bit late and I couldn't find where the hell I wrote down their cell numbers. *smack*

But! We had a great time with Greyson's friend Hunter, and his mom & grandma (who was visiting from NY). I think I got more sun today than I have almost all summer... and I LOVED every minute of it.

Boo hissssss at the STILL long lines at the Stingray Bay... I didn't get to touch the little bastards AGAIN this year, because, well... 45 minutes to wait in line? Umm, I don't think so. Not with a 2-year-old.

I thoroughly scared my husband by informing him that the Wolf Spider that they had displayed in the Swamp exhibit... yeah. They live in our yard, too. He has now proclaimed that he is NOT mowing the lawn ANYMORE. Big baby.

Anyways, a great time was had by all (well, except for the spider reveal, oh! And the fact that we also have stick bugs... ROFL!), and this year, Greyson didn't scream when the waves came crashing down in The Living Coast! Hooray! We was SO enamored with every single underwater creature... he is going to have a BLAST when we take him to Shedd next month (September 15th? Anybody? It's a FREE day!)...

What did YOU do today? Anything fun?!?

It's All Moo's Fault...

That now I have to do an entry on girl crushes.

*sigh*

So, here goes my top 5 (in no particular order!):

Amy Dumas

Megan Fox

Alicia Keys

Gillian Anderson

Nikki Cox

Hmm.  I *could* go on.  REALLY.  But these will have to do.

Thanks a LOT, Moo!  =P