Hospitals, Starbucks, and Tents

Work sucked, can't say much more I may get fired.

Our Cody-bear left today, Nina called me devastated as she left the airport from dropping him off, I couldn't get my arms through the phone, I just wanted to hug her. I heard the tears, the sobbing cracked my soul in two. But this was expected, and there was nothing we could do but deal with his leave and try to understand that this is his duty. She crossed over to answer a call from my other sister Mara, and I lost the call, when she called back hours later, she was better, time does wonders.

Kristi, my cousin's wife, (she was MY BFF first, before she crossed over to the dark side) is being admitted into the hospital today for the birth of their first born, God help us, Jonel (my cousin) has started the daunting task of warding off little boys from his daughter. I called Kristi earlier and Jonel picked up, telling me that they were in the hospital and the baby was born an hour ago, this was all well orchestrated bullshit from his part, but he had me going and Kristi just said "Why do you listen to anything he says." And then laughed uncontrollably. Oh Kristi how I miss you.


Originally Jonel wanted to name their firstborn Panettone (Christmas bread) but by Divine intervention, Kristi put her foot down, they will name her Kameron. Tomorrow I hope to meet the new little princess, knowing that he father will make dating impossible and her mother will be the best friend she ever had. This is good. He sent a message that they were still in the garage, Kristi was having cold feet about getting the party started. The nine months have come, and there is no turning back now, Kristi say yes to epidural, it will be a good thing, Kameron may just be an only child.


Ms Kelsey (my son's girlfriend) was admitted today also, except she is going in for a rare condition that affects her spine, her fingers and toes get numb, and I think this is the fourth time this year she has been hospitalized. Kelsey please get better, I hope that this is the last time you have to get shipped off to the children's ward, you really do fit in quite well, but you need to get healthy. There isn't much more I could say on that either, she is a ray of sunshine with a touch of valley girl. Hearing her talk makes me smile, laugh and become confused all at the same time, I just can't always follow her, like she has boarded the Yellow Submarine, and here I am a passager following her in her little crazed trip, she is fascinating.

Mike D has a new game, aside from throwing all of the books on the floor, he goes into the pantry for canned food Jenga, taking all of my canned foods and making towers until they fall, he does this over and over, until my mother in law walks in and scolds him, the tantrum begins, she argues with him, who begins to cry bloody murder and then she looks to me for help, I hand him the cans, she prays to saints about how I don't understand the dangers of the weight of the cans and his little feet and hands, I open the pantry. I tried to donate her over the computer, no takers yet. Mike D is still the undefeated champion at canned food Jenga.

Starbucks was great tonight, we wanted to go to Barnes and Noble, walked in, ordered coffee, as they served the coffee, the over head speakers announced "The time is 9:45, the store will be closing in 15 minutes." So we headed to Starbucks. Not anywhere I would like to drive through, first our little Tuty (my cousin, the quiet one) sits at the table and says nothing, Mara looks for a dollar in her purse, I selfishly think she is getting Diego the habitual chocolate chip cookie, and she decides that she just wants water, she only had a dollar (we are all a bunch of broke bitches) I blush a shade of crimson asking for the cookie, I ask Tuty what happened with Mara, thinking she looking for the guy with the molestache, (for some reason my sister is attracted to furry men, this barista lives under the bridge and doesn't own his own razors, I will drop off a gift bag of Gillette come Christmas, and they must look underweight and in need of a bath, she likes the sickly folk, a good old Florence Nightingale) "No, we almost hit someone." Well there it is, when Mara has to deal with an event that makes her nervous, she starts shaking and that is why she needed the water. Tuty went to back up at about 80 mph by mistake and my sister shouted, "Y la vieja, what happened to the old lady?" As she said this, the blurred image of an elderly person appeared an inch from the window, there is the vieja (old lady) apparently the restaurant next door doesn't have a drink limit, there was an array of cars that would back out and go forward, and attempt to turn with little space available. So the old lady must have lost her car, or just was wondering the parking lot, I am sure they don't allow loitering. We never saw her after that. Then an SUV hit another car backing out, the lady ran in and out of the SUV, to the restaurant, left a note, walked around, the parked car sat there with the note, minutes later, another car came very close to hitting it again, we all watched, Starbucks is more like a stadium where you drink coffee and people watch, the parking lot is it's own drama series, and usually there is a man in the middle of the parking lot dancing and singing in tenor tone. What an eventful place to sip java and stare at hippies, foreigners, and rich people with dogs and lots of yoga outfits. Not all Starbucks have this kind of entertainment.

My little Diego turns to me "Mommy, I need to take a bath." It's almost eleven and he has to be bathed by the time my husband gets home, so we leave in a mad dash. Oh Diego, my little killjoy. After the bath, my husband walks through the door, gets into his pajamas, and takes an Ambien, and here we go...

From the bedroom I hear my name, "The ziti was great, I am going to have more." Have at it, I am on my no carb kick, it's been oh 5 hours since I have had rice, so I try to prolong the diet, usually I don't eat carbs for 23 hours of the day, I break down every so often, not sure that the diet is working though, as per the scale at work. I walk into the living room to the picture below, my husband has been in kahoots with DIego about building a tent in the living room, what is wrong with this picture? Tents do not hang from the ceiling fan. I know I have had my share of quirky ideas, when Tito and his friends wanted to slide down the stairs in the crib mattress I was waiting at the bottom, ready to catch flying little boys, but this is a little over the top. As I watch and wait, my husband is downing a bowl of ice cream, the ceiling fan ready to crash down on their little pow wow, if mike d were here and decided to flip the switch, the motor would go into over drive, setting the roof on fire, and there goes the house. Firetrucks and all, what is he thinking, Ambien why do you do this to me, you are supposed to put him to sleep, not make him believe he is invincible. After a couple of minutes, he is sprawled out on the sofa, fast asleep, the tent has been demolished by me, and tomorrow there will be a little chat about the dangers of tents and ceiling fans.

Good bye Cody

I told my mom my mother in law may be going to Korea, she is now going to try to talk her out of it, MIL's sister isn't doing too well, but my mother can't handle mike d, and asked me to look into daycare, knowing he may be kicked out by the end of his first day.
Yesterday she took mike d to my grandmother's and there was a fight underway with my 2 yr old and my grandfather, gramps gave him a cookie, he would crumble it to pieces, my grandfather would pick the crumbs up and give him another one, after 5 cookies they began shouting at each other and my mother lost her flip flop somewhere along the way. Then she told me she found the dvd's, all fourteen or so, he managed to shove them all between her mattress and springboard, then she went on about how he once again spilled the entire container of salt on the floor, while chasing poor London the wonder dog. Where was she when all of this was happening, if you contain the fire, it won't spread. Think woman, think.
Needless to say, he runs around in the way an escapee would at shutter island, then comes to the shack I call home and can't do too much damage. I wonder if my mother in law is leaving to go on a getaway from all of us, I would. Hauling her luggage shouting korean obscenities at us as she walks to the airport, I can see her now.
Leaving me to the challenge of the day, my brother in law cody is leaving to afganny tomorrow and I can't bring myself to tell him good-bye, I have known him for little over a year but my sister Nina is a different person because of him. He has come into her life and lightened up her world. The fact that he is leaving is devastating, we aren't military at all, the closest we get is when my grandmother spits at a picture or a pinata that resembles Fidel Castro. So this is not something we are familiar with.
Cody came into our lives out of nowhere. With a crew cut and a body full of bold tattoos, (Nina said "wanna see his cock?" and low and behold, there was a fucking cockadoodle doo rooster cartoon tattooed on his stomach, great ice breaker) we clung to him as we had never seen our Nina so happy and in love, she was different, this was her first boyfriend ever, and he was so different, so daring. He would walk into a room and she lit up like the glow sticks at a rave party. She met him at a party and they hit it off, next thing you know there was all kinds of sexcapades I only see in movies, she went from little Nina to the whore next door faster than Cinderella soliciting for stiletto pump glass slippers, well it's what she did isn't it, doing everything that we would never expect.
It was refreshing to see her like that. She grew up quick. Then came the news that rocked Columbia, she was getting married, he had little time, she had to answer and did so before he deployed, they thought he would leave sometime in December, problem was, they had only known each other for four months and there was nothing she could do but say yes or no, following her gut, and thinking with her heart, she accepted the proposal and they married October 2009, the ceremony only attended by immediate family, otherwise the beach would look like a hostile take over of Cubans that fell off their floaties coming into shore, there are about 90 of us, and when we get together it can be loud and confusing, if you close your eyes, it's like a really bad case of schizophrenia, all the voices drive you mad.
December came and went, but Cody didn't, they enjoyed their time together as newlyweds, they spent every moment glued at the hip. He liked watching TV army movies, and she would read or study. The time again came where he was going to be deployed, but now they are married, she is going to college and they were living with my sister Mara. The decision was made to move in with the man behind the moustache (my dad) and the toothless wonder (my mom, who just had 3 teeth extracted and is looking for a trailer, please DO NOT tell her I called her that, she is already devastated that she looks like a "homeless") and so now they are one big happy family, slamming doors, fighting over the laundry and pretty much avoiding each other at all costs. Family is entertaining. And now Cody is leaving, actually leaving, we never thought it would happen because of the first time, and we never thought the day would come so quick. I don't want to get all teary eyed, and I don't want to say good bye, instead we are going to plan something when he gets back, in January, so that we can welcome him with some kind of a trip to get him to unwind and relax. God Speed Cody Bear, we will pray for you and miss you everyday that you are gone.

Sundays with Mike D

Sundays are not my favorite, my husband works till late, and my mother in law parades the casino donating her social security, and I am left with no car and a little imp. I did all that I could to maintain the messiness to a minimum, struggling like a turtle trying to stay under the shell (for those who know me, yes that turtle) but the time comes when you just have to stick your head out of the shell into open waters. Much as I tried to hide, I was still here.
Like usual, I started at the bedroom, finding a spot where Juno declared territory, looked like a bottle of Joy dish washing liquid spilled, but dry, eww. As I changed the sheets, a pair of shoes came flying overhead, followed by socks, Mike D standing at the entrance of the bedroom pointing and shouting "Bye" over and over, I pick up the shoes and haul him to his room. He tries to grab hold of the wall and ends up taking the drapes with him. Not sure how they stayed up. I unleash the beast. He ran into the bottom bunk, popping his head as he went, not stopping to whine. He must have a high threshold for popping his head, he does this alot, he watches TV, I go back to the bedroom.
As I move to the kitchen, cleaning the fridge, a war for the onions ensues. Apparently little Mike D has a knack for anything round, after pulling and tugging the net bag rips, sending onions flying everywhere, and Mike D off with God knows how many. I choose to let him be and pick up the mess on the floor. Knowing I will smell the damage tomorrow.
Lunch is broccoli with cheese, he smells the food and appears in front of me out of thin air, like the butler on Mr Deeds, I give him a piece, he disappears and comes back, when I get up I notice a mountain of broccoli in the middle of the kitchen, not even Juno is tempted. I open the fridge and he cuts me off, where the hell does he come from, my little climber is now half way up grabbing the kraft cheese bag, another war. I give him a little plastic container with sprinkles of cheese and he takes off to the room, the familiar bump follows. A little later I find Mike D feeding Juno an onion, trying to get the poor mutt to eat it. Kicking and screaming, I take him to the bathroom.
He lines up all the bottles, making sure each touch. D jumps in and not satisfied, Mike D greedily moves the collection and puts them on the ledge in the corner. They don't fit and he begins doing the crocodile death roll in the tub, D is laughing hysterically. I let him cry and try to help, the bottles are upright and he wants them upside down. I did not discover gravity, but he now wants me to defy it. I start hiding the bottles behind the toilet until they fit. I let them play and D is now handing Mike D the hose, when the time is right, he switches the water and Mike D is sprayed, blinking blindly and performing another Oscar winning meltdown.
After getting brand new pajamas on, he hands me the keys, "Bye" I don't do much, he tries to open the door and sits in the stroller. Arching back and forth, "Bye" over and over. It wouldn't hurt to take him outside, I sit him on one chair and sit on the other, he inches toward the rain, I sit him back down. He slams his head back and I just sit and watch. Wanting to lash out and spare the rod. He notices that I am not paying attention and makes a mad dash to the stairs, plopping himself in a puddle. Drenched he holds onto the side rails and I pry his little fingers, getting him out of the rain, I lift him, he kicks, I can't even open the front door. I wait for the police, knowing that a neighbor must have dialed the save this poor child from my evil grasp. The screams were enough to halt the squirrels from their sexcapades in the trees. I am sure anyone who had the view, watched and shook their heads in astonishment. Bath number two. Getting out of the tub, I notice a rash, welts all over his back, later discovering, it was just from his tantrum. This child will end up getting me a rap sheet. No doubt DCF will show up and question me eventually. These will be my statements and proof that I need to be sent away. Preferably to some resort for moms who need to be sedated that serves liquid lunches.
My mother in law walks in and makes her way to his room. Now the child is sitting on top of a box on top of his table. She screams out and pulls me to the room, if she was so worried, why didn't she grab him when she saw him. I get him out and he slams his head into the bed again. "Oh My Gawwwwd, el va ser nene bobo." (Oh my god, he is going to be an idiot) she lectures me on head injuries and the trapeze feat he attempts on top of the table. He hands her the container with cheese and she is off to re feed him. In my mommy daze, I must not have closed the bag. She picks it up in a corner and my kitchen floor is orange. I look at her from the sofa and wait, watching her put a handful back in the bag. How she hasn't contracted salmonella is a miracle in itself. I snatch the bag nicely and get a plate, Juno can have the cheese.
She leaves and returns with rice and sautes it with butter, the children have been served. I throw out the saved cheese surely full of hair and dirt and push it deep into the trash, so she doesn't put it back in the fridge. We do this every so often with cereal. Very gross. If something hits the floor, do not put it back in the box back in the pantry. This battle has gone on for years. She never tells me when it happens, because she knows I will throw the whole thing out. After hiding the cheese, now it's just me. I manage to just sit. Not caring about food or water, just want to have downtime. She tries to giddy him up on her back and he saddles up in no time. It is now close to 11 pm and my eyes are painfully glazed over. She leaves and I lay down for a minute. My house smells like an armpit, and I contemplate going onion hunting, when I opened my eyes it was 7:30 am, and I was late, and so the week begins with a triathlon in my house, in 6 minutes, I threw together a bun, dressed, brushed teeth, grabbed the cell and keys and hauled my ass to work. Let's see what the week has in store for me.

Hello Harry

The line was not only ridiculously long, but most of it under under the blazing Florida sun. At 9AM this isn't the most thrilling way to spend my Saturday morning. We have already bribed Diego enough to get him on the new ride, 3 rides promised by the end of the day(why wait 2 hrs so he can sit at the side) he runs around in the little splash area, so do the other kids, including my husband. We wait in line with our yellow tickets, proof that we were in line, they are weeding out line impostors. I remember my red plastic refill cup at the checkout counter. Nooooooo!!! Now it will cost me another $8 to buy one and have the one dollar refills. I wonder if I can run to the front and back to them in line, I may go into heat seizures, this idea is not bright, must be the sun. I then wonder if anyone will notice if I snatch one from the garbage or a stroller, (well why do people need five or six of them, not fair) I look to my husband who must see the spacely sprockets in my head turning with a rusty creak, he gives me the stink eye, so more refills for me.

As we walked in to Harry land I was overwhelmed and clueless as to what I was looking at. I have only seen 2 or 3 Harry Potter movies, so we had to rely on Kels to describe the scenes, the costumes and the different rooms in the castle to us. There were little children dressed as wizards and many of the guests looked like the 3 main characters. Sometimes so much that I had to do double takes, everyone drank Butterbeer, which is just a butterscotch frosty, not bad, beware of brain freeze.

The ride was great, but again, I couldn't follow Harry on his broomstick, I just wasn't too sure what our mission was, but flipping around in the seat was fantastic. The area was filled with owls and wands, the line for the wands was about an hour long, this so that you could go into the store, have them make fairy music in the background and a light shines on you, there you have been Harry-ized, then you select your wand, give your credit card, and you are now a wizard.
There is no wizardry going on in my house aside from my grandmother or mother in law and their potions for ailments. So since neither are with me, there will be no wand purchasing. I can do the same thing at home for free by putting silverware in my glass tupperware and shaking it (fairy music) and a flashlight (the wizard gods shining down on you) then I will give you a chop stick and you are a proclaimed wizard, bippity boppity.

After that we rode on the water rides, getting soaked I put my hair in a bun and now there is another Olive Oyl for the ride, Bluto's Barge's, the entire time I was teased about being part of the attraction, and my husband retorted that I need to make up my mind about Bluto and Popeye, and other not nice things. The guys went into the bathroom and the girls sat at the picnic tables, we all knew that wearing jeans, would not give us the happying of going potty, if the wet jeans could be peeled off, there was no question they would stay off. We would never be able to pull those babies back on. Exhaustion was evident in all our faces. Nina and the gang grew tired quickly and left to go home, we stayed with Diego and the reminder that we would do two more kids rides, including ET.

We head to the Simpson's ride, and begin the line, 45 minutes, we walk up and around and end up again in the sun, no shade nearby. The foreigners behind us huddle under an umbrella, probably making fun of us, I am sure we looked close to collapsing, holding on to the bar rails and wiping the sweat off of our face. We conclude that one of the characters must have thought up the layout for the ride, because who ever decided to have the line zig zag in the direct way of the sun is a fucking ritard. I try to find from where a breeze is coming, and begin to envy my darling sister in her quick sprint to the car, wondering why I bribed my son with more time here. The family in front of us smells like a bunch of belly buttons. The smell is gut wrenching. (It's the closest I have come to smelling a dead body, well I imagine as such, just dig your finger into your belly button, rub it in, then smell it, now not only are you an idiot, but that smell will take many washes with soap and alchohol to come off, that's what they smelled like) These woman, probably were from one of those anti deodorant countries, the more they moved, the more I smelled their floral aroma in the air, I am no longer looking for the breeze. I suck on my drink, (a Homer Simpson cup, just $15 because I allowed my husband to pick it out, and the kicker is it holds less than the $8 refill cups, maybe they called his ass up to get ride layout plans) it only has ice and a lingering taste of soda but it's the most I can do to avoid the stench. We walk up little by little the entire time dodging the air, I see the sweat dripping and the back of their clothes getting wetter and spottier. They must make trial size Febreeze, next time it will be on my list. But how will I spray them, oh in one of those bottles with a fan the kids use to refresh themselves, but then I have to remember to not let the kids play with it. I am sure Febreeze is toxic or something. No I will just spray the stinkies and camoflauge my ninja spraying tactics with the kids water bottle, genius. We get into the air conditioned ride and head in the opposite direction of the belly button family.

After that ride we went home, picked up mike d, who fell asleep in the car and pass out. It will be a while before I go back to visit Harry, too many issues to deal with. I look at my Homer refill cup and will make sure we use it the most that we can. As for Febreeze, we have a date with the laundry tonight.

Trip to Orlando

Harry Potter World is here and my brother in law will be deployed in a couple of days, what better way to spend the weekend than Orlando theme parks.

Tito (my 17 yr old) got off work at 8 o clock, he walks through the door, I am still packing. Recently, he was at grad bash at Universal and he has a free one day two park ticket, it sits in his room and he brings it out to me, we look over it, it says that the black out dates are for the month of July only. Technically, it's not July so we have just come to the conclusion that his girlfriend Kelsey can go. We look at each other and call over my husband, yelling his name and asking that he has an open mind. This is all he needs to know that the plans are changing. He looks at the ticket, and wonders how we didn't realize this before. Well, honestly we never really read it I said, and the thought just hit us. His itinerary is now bothered and the world is falling apart.
"I am fine, but we will need to take two cars now." Is all he says. I run around and call Nina, she and Cody are coming with us, and will need to take their own car, and I have to call Kelsey's mom before Kelsey does to ask permission. I really would love to take her, everyone loves Kels.
I call Nina three times, she never picked up. I called Kelsey's mom, got the ok and ran around getting my stuff together, forgetting the razor and pajamas. Remembering now to threaten my son's privates if he tries to pull a fast one on me, I have told him before that if he doesn't wait for marriage his peepee will fall off because I said so, I never really had a good reason, but promised him this would happen.
We get to my parents house, and I bump into Nina walking in. I tell her and she is ok, but this was not planned so we all start to scramble. Tito went to pick up Kels, and we wait outside, now packing her car. My husband waits in my car to tell me that we are almost on empty and we must go to get gas now, since Nina's husband, Cody, told me that they weren't expecting to drive and they need gas, I tell my husband that they also need to go, we wait out side and I sit in Nina's car, "You don't need gas." She looks at me puzzled, "They don't need gas, they are a quarter tank to full, and three quarters to empty." That made perfect sense to me, but my husband looked at my dad for clarification, "She is three quarters full." my dad says, my husband looks at me and mumbles and takes off. Calling me 20 minutes later, he is waiting at the gas station for us, while we wait for him to return. (Never on the same page) He tells me to wait, he is down the street.
He drives up and I get in the flea, we take off, I find out that my husband has another woman in the car. One who provides services rather well, as he put it. He has named the GPS Esmerelda, and I detest the bitch. He fought the entire drive there with the GPS and blue tooth, never getting both to work. It seems that the minute I stepped into the car the blue tooth quit on him. This is a gift I have, for some reason, I can be near things and they break. We argued most of the way there, until the blue tooth finally worked, then he went to put in on the visor and the whole thing came apart, he was left with a wire in his hands and a wife laughing her arse off. I stared him down because the entire way there, as Nina put it, we were driving ms daisy to orlando and they followed.
The hotel room is ten miles past the park and two toll booths after the theme park area of Orlando, we lose cell phone connection and try to keep up with each other but can't. Being the impatient person that he is, we waited for ten seconds at a corner, called Nina and continued to the hotel. I called Nina who said she saw us as we took off and lost us, my husband was checking into the hotel and I pulled the keys out of the ignition till we knew where Nina was, she was now in the parking lot unable to get into the parking area, when I got to the parking lot, not realizing she somehow got in, I got out of my car and ran to hers to give her a pass but it was pointless she was already inside. Both cars went to park and I went on foot.
We get to the hotel room and the boys take off to walk around the hotel, leaving me, Nina and Kelsey to show off pics and talk girlie stuff.
Then Kelsey takes off her weave and shares it with Nina, they play dress up in front of the mirror, and Kels explains all of Harry Potter to us, we ask her questions and this only confuses her. She can't get the ages right and is frustrated, because we don't understand her explanations.
Having not enough pillows I call the front desk, after multiple tries, I realize that the phone is disconnected and being slow at this sort of thing, I don't even try to connect the phone, I take off on my own to find help. I leave the room and wander on the floor, finding the maintenance room open. There are empty boxes, ice makers, linens, all kinds of stuff, I look around, close the door, and turn on the light, look outside, look inside, feeling like I am in a horror flick, waiting for some creepy teenager to pop out of nowhere, I am still alone and scaring myself, finally getting the nerve to grab 2 pillows and 2 blankets and run like hell to the room, hoping not to get arrested for helping myself to the staff quarters.
I strategically make their beds on opposite sides of my bed, I can watch Kelsey and my husband watches T.
After bathing I realize that I have forgotten my pajamas, no one has any extra so I am off to sleep in my day clothes. And they are all dirty and I am clean, so I just have to wake up extra early to bathe again. I toss and turn watching kids shows, missing my laptop. They have wi-fi but I have no laptop, I blog in my mind, sorry but I forgot what I blogged.
An hour later they drunks have arrived, T is 17 so not him, he had soda. And why he paid two dollars for a tiny soda is just dumb. But he did.
All the boys go to bed, and as my husband changes channels he drops the remote on Diego's face, he screamed and cried causing my husband to play fight to get him to stop sobbing. Meanwhile, down on the floor, Kelsey is wondering if someone will crawl in through the window and murder us. I try to reason with her and Tito is having gas issues. I talk to Kelsey and have her explain to me, who would climb in on the fourth floor, and why have we been chosen. Cody and Nina are now arguing over the covers. All I heard was Cody say "Shut your whore mouth woman!" That was all it took to have me laughing. Diego and my husband are now wrestling and I decide that it is best I just sleep on the floor, the bed just isn't big enough. I look at the space Kels is in, and decide it's better to sleep with T, he is closer to the air conditioning.
I ended up freezing my tata off because the blanket wasn't thick enough and my overgrown child has a gas and snoring issue, so sleep has not been good. How am I going to make it through tomorrow at the park if I can't get a good night's sleep, breathing is an issue right now, and I'm not the one snoring.
The next day, my loving husband had jungle noises wake us up at 6:30 am, he sets the phone on some weird noises and we appear like the set of a zombie movie. We aimlessly bump into each other, losing shoes and packing and brushing teeth, some of us growling and barking at each other, Harry Potter here we come.

Withdrawal

I woke up Monday to a dreadful nightmare. The kind that you don't just wake up from, very real and I realized that I was no longer dreaming as I brushed my teeth. I can't explain the horror, except that I saw a murder. This was no easy dream to wake up from, for the rest of the day I was in sorrow. The images still fresh and as I type this now, I remember an arm and the blood, and of course the bathtub. This is where the basketcase part suits me. These dreams were frequent as a kid, and now not so much. I tried to talk about it but the words just wouldn't come out, I don't know that I can be completely honest with people when this happens. I knew the murderer and the murdered, very close to home and very disturbing. Can't say more, but the details are vivid.
I wrote my sandcastle poem to cope, that is what I do. I have many poems like that, people may deal in many ways, this is how I deal.
Back to Monday, I did get headaches and I did have anxiety issues. By lunchtime I remembered that I hadn't taken my Paxil, not since Friday or Saturday, I still don't know. I am not embarrassed to say I take this medication, I have been on them for about a year and have been doing great, handling anxiety and controlling panic attacks, I haven't had one in months. My Xanax should be taken 3 times a day, but I take it when I start to feel nervous and anxious, which is often, but rarely 3 times a day.
Usually the weekends come and go with the household drama and I forget to take anything. I check my purse and figure I left them at home. I call the doctor's office (yes, the hearing aid one) because I know I am well over due and discover that I haven't seen him since December and now he doesn't take my new insurance, they try to schedule me as a self pay, it's not an option for me. Nor is it a big deal to switch him, I showed up to his office, told him stories, he would squint trying to make out my words, then review his file and give me a script, the relationship was good, his understanding of me, not so much. I hang up and decide to wait till I get home.
They are not anywhere I can see in the house. I check under the beds for fear that mike d got a hold of them, completely pissed at myself for not remembering where I put them. They are usually on top of the microwave, way out of his reach. But I could have left them somewhere else, as difficult as the bottle is to open, I am sure that he used it as a rattle and probably hid them or threw them out in the trash. (My husbands wedding ring, has not been seen since last March, we think he may be behind this mystery too)
I shake, and tremble throughout the day Tuesday, not sure if I should just quit taking them, if you have ever had withdrawals you know what I am going through, pure hell. Headaches, sweating, the zaps in my head, slight vertigo, not too much.
Today I called the pharmacy, unable to take any more, I had nausea all morning, I had another nightmare, this one not so bad, I couldn't eat lunch (major problem) , there is no refill on file. SHIT! I called the PCP during lunch to find that the office is closed till 3pm for a meeting. (splendid idea doctor, fucking dandy)
I call the insurance company and explain my dilemma, I had to call the EAP (employee assistance program) line, they are really nice, they deal with crazies all the time, I am not always one, but right now borderline, I am sure they have been trained to handle situations like me. They ask me for a summary, I explain the lost medication, the lack of a doctor and the withdrawal symptoms, they ask "Do you feel like you may be harmful to yourself?" I think, the urge is always there, "No." "Do you feel like you be a harm to those around you?" They don't know my coworkers, "No." "Are you being abused or physically harmed?" I think of my family and the mental agony they put me through, not the pain they are referring to, "No."
If this is your career, and you do this everyday, shouldn't your little department brainstorm different ways to ask what they want to ask, for example, here I am withdrawing, ready to jump out of my skin, unable to calm down and finding myself breathing deeply throughout the day to catch the anxiety and avoid another embarrassing moment at work (one of the last attacks happened in a meeting, thank you Nikke for bringing me back to reality that day) wouldn't it be better to ask, "With how you're feeling, when you are at your worst, if your mother tells you that you don't know how to wash dishes, how would you react?" or "With how you are feeling, if someone cuts you off, do you think you may run them over?" or "With your anxiety in full gear now, we need to know if you have children, and how do they behave?", asking me these types of questions, catching me off guard and noticing the silence at the end of the line, knowing I am wondering how to respond, they would probably get me seen right away. They really need to screen the calls better, who answers yes to those questions, it's embarrassing. She asks for my address and emails me a list of doctors. Not the chatty Cathy that is getting anywhere with me.
The doctors were a disaster, one only takes children, one only works with the elderly in skilled nursing facilities, two didn't take new clients, six of them weren't able to see me until August or early September, and I left messages for about ten.
The you-must-be-fucking-joking mode is on now. I go about my business and at a quarter to five, get a call back, an appointment for July 7, winner, winner, chicken dinner.
I get home and pop a Xany, they are really good to me, I google the withdrawal symptoms, insomina no, vivid dreams check, confusion during waking hours check, feeling of existing out of reality check, memory and concentration issues check, panic attacks not yet, mood swings no, dizziness and vertigo check, feelings of shock (the zaps) check check check, gosh, I think I am batting a thousand.
I go to a wake and have to leave early, this is too much for me to handle now.
Home is home, mike d hasn't napped and is screaming from being so tired, but he won't fall asleep, I walk away and ignore him, I lie down, my menstral disease is also here, I am ready to just pass out and not wake up till mike d is in school, but the chances are slim.
There is no solution to this problem, I could've avoided this by many things, keeping my meds in one place, keeping my appointments, not sure what else.
I scramble the house searching, and remember my beloved husband's ambien orgy with the food, he took his pill, it was on the fridge. I get a chair, lift my self up, praying I don't fall and end up driving myself to the ER with a broken bone, the chair is like a bar stool, and I am pretty heavy. I look at all the paperwork, a mess that I refuse to deal with now, and I found my Paxil. God the past couple of days has been pretty tough, and now I just need to hold myself together for 10 hours to have the dosage back in my system and me back to being somewhat normal.
I now just wait for mike d to get picked up, to bathe Diego, get his lunch ready, fold laundry and I can sleep, and wake up tommorrow (although sometimes I wish I wouldn't) for another day of being me. Good night everyone, please take care of yourselves. Love me.
And to all of those that I have ignored or snapped at, or if you have found me unquestionably annoying and paranoid in my fear and hopelessness, you know who you are, I hope you now understand and forgive me.

Meeting Makeover

Clad in my gray drawstring pants, I faxed, worked, went on break and sat in my cubicle cave with no worries.

Not sure I remember who, probably Sonia, looked at me and asked if I remembered the meeting. Obviously the answer was no. Today we were visited by management and I wore flip flops. I run back to my desk and start person by person, asking who has clothes to change with.

Do you have clothes in your car, are you going home for lunch? I interviewed everyone.

My attire is the gray drawstrings, a roxy shirt, brown flip flops and a bun. Disaster from top to bottom.

No one is available to dress me, but they point out that a definite improvement is necessary.

Haydee, the local avon rep hands me a clip for my hair, then others donate mascara (i never use it but they strongly suggest it), Nikke the powder, lip gloss, and shoes.

I looked at Nikke from top to bottom, she had my body style, my size, and was wearing my color, gray and black. I set up a change to switch shoes and shirts between meetings. We were scheduled for the same time, all I had to do was get approval to go to the earlier meeting and then I could play Clark Kent in a cubicle instead of a telephone booth, this is a call center, same difference.

She hesitantly agrees, we both have tank tops under our shirts, so there was no chance of blinding any staff members. They would be blinded by the Cullen skin tone, as neither of us have seen much sun.

Perfect.

I try to convince my superior to switch my spot and he just tells me I look fine to wear a sweater. There is no i in team , I needed this dammit, I grab a white knitted sweater and walk around like an elderly librarian showing off my new garb. They all shake their heads, this just won't do. I am handed a navy blue sweater and pass the test.

Knowing that I will not be able to change the flip flops I must remember to stay in the back and not show off my feet, the bohemian orange toe nails practically glowing in the dark.

Half hour before the meeting I run to the bathroom with my camouflage gear and begin the transformation. My hair is let down and I wet it over and over again, it's like wetting a bristle pad, the water doesn't seem to soak in. My shirt is now wet and the sweater is more needed now than before. The mascara is a challenge, after clumping it on, I try to fix it and now have prominent bags under my eyes, not exactly what I was going for. I pull out the powder and realize that I am not the most pale of the bunch. The contrast is remarkable. I try over and over again, switching from the eyes to the powder. When the time is up I look into the mirror. My eyes widen in shock. This is the look I tried so hard for on Halloween, when I dressed up as a dead person. (this was a last minute fix, I hosted a Halloween party and all of the invited showed up before I had time to buy a costume)

Hands down I am now a shoe in for a cast member on Beetlejuice's Graveyard Revue. A musical at Universal with dancing monsters unearthed from the grave.

My hair resembling that of a wet cat. Or dog running around trying to dry itself by rubbing all over the floor.

I run back to my desk with my team and return the donations. I have left them all speechless. It's still an improvement, which should tell you alot. We walk together to the conference room when our time is up. I walk into the room and lean against the wall, hoping to mold myself into it and disappear.

When the meeting starts, a gentleman up front stands and offers me his seat, right in front of the manager. There is no table, there are just seats scrambled in a semi-circle. I decline, he insists (I was the last one standing) I decline again and state "I've been sitting all day, I prefer to stand." The manager turns toward me and tells me to sit. I sit.

Way to plan out my cover-up, the only thing I could think of is to sit with one foot under my large bottom, at least covering up one. The other foot is firmly held as back as I can under the office chair. It takes about 5 seconds for this grueling exercise to develop a foot cramp, right at the arch of my foot. I cringe and smile.

The meeting that was all of 20 minutes seemed to last an hour.

I will never use flip flops again. But this was already told to me by my superior. Shameful day at work for me. I did everything I could to try to ostracize myself and did nothing more than get put on a platform in front of the whole team.

My hair was still dripping wet when I came back to my desk.

The meeting went well, but I don't know that I actually paid much attention with the foot cramp kicking in. As my peers walked by, I got a couple of snickers, most were in on my charade and all found it astonishing how I ended up at the front of the group. And so the dark cloud has won another battle.

Sandcastles

She is sitting in the sandbox
Talking to the trees
With tales full of solitude
Faint whispers in the breeze
Today she is a princess
Royal and pristine
Looking out the window
She is locked up and unseen
Sees herself above the moat
The castle sits atop a hill
Awaiting princes that do not exist
Where she is kept against her will
She hollers from the tower
Through the forest in her mind
Knowing soon they'll find her
In a sandbox, the whole time
The delusion lasted briefly
Her fingers dig into the sand
She hopes to find the body
At a grave site she now stands
The tombstone is eroded
She drops down to her knees
Birds take off and ravens caw
Sudden rustle in the leaves
A little boy walks toward her
Big brown eyes and shaggy hair
Moving closer to embrace her son
Grasping hold of the thin air
She calls his name out hoarsely
Digging furiously in the sand
Determined to unearth him
Bloody nails sting her hand
Her parents stare in horror
Their weekly visit held inside
The orderlies must intervene
They hear her "Come back, please don't hide"
She is held down and sedated
Three grown men must take her down
She is buckled and restrained
Searches for a body never found
Her parents lost a grandson
The boy just drifted into the sea
Their daughter never gave up hope
Nor did she let go, stuck in grief
The memory is locked in place
With flooded guilt she's paralyzed
They went out to the beach one day
That's when she let him slip her mind
She is alone inside her thoughts now
They drag her by, she's in a daze
She hears his voice, and knows she's not alone
She floats among the crashing waves

Monday Rainy Monday

It's pouring outside. I usually don't mind it, I would prefer thunder and lightening, and a good book, and a bottle of wine (or rum), and babysitters. I can never get all of these in complete unison. It would be the equivalent of hitting the lotto for me, babysitters being that power ball number.

Because of the weather today, my mother in law has decided to hibernate here in my living room, just until the rain lets up. There is spicy Korean ramen noodle soup on the stove, the world poker tournament on television and the tales of all that mike d has done repeated to me over and over again. As I blog, and don't listen, she nudges my knee to get my attention. I CAN HEAR HER JUST FINE.


The below image is of her hand after budging and pushing my knee, getting my complete attention. I tried to snap it as quick as a could.




Why is it that cell phones and laptops are just fashion accessories to her. To most of my elderly family, the antiques that walk and converse with me see these technological devices as if they were just earrings or a book (but one you are holding, not reading) I don't know if I am making myself clear and try to indulge myself into the laptop. I type some more, she speaks louder, I glance and gaze intently into the screen, she pushes the screen down so I can see her. I wish it wasn't raining now. Do you see how close she is??? Yes Yo Gabba Gabba is on the TV, but when he leaves she goes back to poker, it's exhausting, they actually fight over what to watch and wag the control at each other, both dialects foreign to me.


When she finally gets the hint and quiets down, I let out a sigh of relief, in complete error. Now she is arguing with the poker players, giving orders like General Tao, and I now remember what my husband tells me. When she is seeing the hands, she knows what the best bet is, and what they should do with the cards. I am not a poker player at all, the extent of my card expertise would be playing TUNK with my cousins, oh and that stupid never ending war game. I do not like to play that in this house, there is nothing but cheats and liars when it comes to card games and board games, and sore losers to put american idol rejects to shame.


This is why she is the one sole little woman at the hard rock on the weekends surrounded by big men in cowboy hats and dark shades (personally I think she may intimidate them, little do they know), they sit stone cold and have the poker face and use it well, she has her ego inflated with this stupid show and once she sits down, there is no screen to give away the other players' hands. She sits with her cigarettes, smoking away her time and her social security. Probably cursing at them leaving them to understand only the word "estupid", she uses that alot. Pity for her.


I take note that she is not budging and is quite comfortable, and I decide to go to my parents house. My sister is about to go to the gym, and a light bulb (usually blinking because it's about to short) goes off and she brilliantly asks me to walk around the block. I am trying to get away from crazy, and she wants to go walking in a monsoon. I decline the offer, and wonder if she's been outside.


She goes off and I stay with my parents, my mother points to to 2 packs of m&m's, "Take those to Diego, they are from Mikey!"


"Mike got him m&ms? How did he manage that mom?" (I knew exactly where this was leading, but had to ask, because I had to know how she did it this time)


"We were at the pharmacy and he grabbed them while I paid. He was sitting in the cart and I just walked out." This in the most nonchalant tone ever spoken. We have been through this, obviously not getting through to her. We have an assortment of toys and candy that over the years, the boys play with and grab at the counter and she pushes the cart forward and walks out. She always says she never noticed until they got home, but I can almost see her handing out the goods and making a quick getaway after grabbing the receipt.


I scratch my head and put the candy in my purse. My mother has bathed Mike D and dressed him fittingly with the t-shirt Mara gave diego many moons ago.

An hour later, I am back home with the poker queen and she is now watching her korean soaps. None of this we understand, the colors are pretty and the music usually 80's or techno, I manage to let it go. I don't have the heart to ask her to leave. She made ramen with spinach leaves for Mike D and I try to feed him, she shakes her head and tells me "That's not how he eats it. I will hold the plate and he will think it's mine, then he will eat it." The child is a mooch, she is once again correct in her assumption. She pretends to eat it and he doesn't leave a drop, or noodle.

I hear her mouth out the words, "New Yooo Estay" she says something I don't understand and tells me she doesn't like the t-shirt. It's a t-shirt, she holds it close, as if the words will change and shakes her head. I explain it was once Diego's and one of my favorite, besides it suits monkey boy. She pursed her lips and says nothing. The shirt stays on.

Diego takes a bath and eats a hot dog, he has one on a bun, one without, he must be feeling daring today. (God please tell me what the name is of my TV show is, and what are the ratings? Somebody up there must be rolling on the floor.) Mike D refuses to eat hot dogs, but eats hot dog buns, biting holes into the sides and preferring that I feed it from above him like an open mouthed bass, he also hides them in the drawers, the kitchen pantry and once in the toilet. Diego eats hot dogs, no ketchup, no bread, so for today, the request is rare. I run in a fury to hand over anything edible out of the ordinary, this is an adventure for him. I forgot to warm the bread. "Bread's cold." He declares. "You forgot." He added, 5 seconds in the microwave clears up that trivial nonsense.

I jump on the laptop and notice a chat, open it up and my sister Mara types "Oochie Coochie" Now why would she send this, has she forgotten who is on the receiving end. I type back to her as normal as hello, "I see you are smelling your coo, or tickling it." LOL galore, "Blue Lagoon" Well that clears up a nasty thought, I respond, "Good, glad you cleaned up that phrase for me."

I don't ever hold back on chatting, so just take me with a grain of salt. My conversations have been compared to the yellow submarine, trippy. And no one really knows what I am talking about, like I am in my own little world, but everyone welcomes me here, so it's all good. It's weird though when I follow myself and everyone else gets lost. I am almost like a braille map, only few knowing the true meaning.

Back to reality, my mother in law, argues for minutes with mike d, I insist he stays, she insists he leaves. I am walking around the house like a crippled person with a two year old standing on my foot, holding on desperately to my knee. She offers him keys, legos, and food. He gives up after choosing the keys.

This image is to prove my words, this is mike d with the korean chariot, he only leaves the house in this manner, and only falls asleep on her back. She thrives on his need for her, and I really can't complain, they are one and the same, little people, speaking odd languages, being as self centered as any of us could be, my angel sleeps now and life is good.

Father's Day at my house

Today is Father's Day, I celebrated with my husband yesterday, today he works till 11:30 pm, ironic how I spent today as a single mom. I miss him, but duty calls and he has to work, so tonight I will see him, waiting with bells and whistles when he walks through the door.
My husband is a phenomenal father, and my father is amazing. I wouldn't change either for the world.
My father is an excellent example of what a perfect father is, he is known as the man behind the moustache and me and my sisters fear him, not in the physical way, in the oh-god-i-hope-i-never-disappoint-him kind of way, he knows everything, and we know when stupid ideas come up, we still follow through, he rescues us when we hit bottom and we dread the lectures, they are long and boring and juiced up with guilt. This is where I count the tiles on the floor and wonder what I will have for my next meal. We have learned to deal with it.
My husband is learning the ropes with me, parenting is not easy, and we talk about everything, it's good to marry your best friend. We may not be the most conventional parents but we do the best with what we have. And we get through it without killing each other along the way. I hope if I ever end up on Snapped my hair is straighted, otherwise I would be guilty by appearance.
For father's day I performed a miracle for my husband yesterday cooking something I have never made before, his favorite dish: codfish serenade. Cold codfish, desalted with olive oil, onions and bananas, Spanish people call these bananas something else, they are green and you boil them and they aren't sweet, but are served with olive oil and garlic, they aren't supposed to come out like play doh, but they did, and he ate them, and the rice with pigeon peas (gandules) resembled mashed potatos, but he ate them too and ate them some more and ate again till the food was gone. (see below)
We drove around looking for a good milkshake after dinner and he refused to pay for the expensive ones, although those are the best, so we spent the money driving around aimlessly and ended up at wally world, I enjoy people watching, and this is the place to go. We saw trannies and size 24 woman wearing size 20 shorts, with 5 kids and one in diapers no shoes, it's just astonishing to watch. I did notice an act of kindness, the lady that looked like she was flossing her ass with the hot shorts bumped into a gentleman with a tattoo under his eye (due to fear of caught staring, I don't know of what) and she said "Excuse me!" This took me by surprise because when I say "pardon me" the words make me invisible, no one ever says anything back, maybe they have never heard the word pardon and I am taking them by surprise. Needless to say, he nodded at her and smiled back, I counted 7 teeth where the two front ones were supposed to be, and none on the bottom, maybe his teeth decided to migrate to the top to be seen more, needless to say he must not have a good dental plan. The economy and society is really going to shit. Just as a plus for you, I have not been to the dentist in many many years for fear of the drill, the scraping sounds they make in my head, and the shot to the gums. Let my teeth fall out, maybe the wall creatures will be nice to me.
We decide on butter pecan and chocolate and vanilla, coming home to make our tasty treats, home made milkshakes are wonderful. I left the boys do their thing and do not ask about the ingredients. My husband knows me far too well, bringing me an adult beverage instead, like rum and diet soda, lite on the soda part. While the baby is being babysat and diego is on the desk top, we watch some investigative shows and feeling frisky I make gestures to the bedroom, we tip toe away and I start with a sensual massage (hey, it's his father's day, he asked and thanks to our recent er visit, I oblige as this is the gift, his day, it revolves around him, just for today) After cursing in my head that he actually found the message oil, I hear the faintness of his breathing, he has fallen asleep, he lightly snores. (Ok, here is the deal, I snore loudly, grizzly bear like, and he has insomnia, we just don't mix, he takes his ambien every night and I really can't tell that he has until he hits this wall, like a very weird high, sometimes amusing, but not today)
I wake him up and threaten to blog about this and he wakes up and brings up the fucking socks. (well hells bells and poppycock!) The argument is brief and we go back to the couch to watch a movie. (playtime is over) I pull up the laptop, completely disinterested in television, and watch him get up from the sofa to get some ice cream, after the ice cream, he had mushed rice and cold fish, a heaping of a serving, then finishes it off with a root beer float, we are now out of vanilla. We go back to attempt the first try and lets just say we looked like the commercial for the fire and ice stuff, where they are reading a book, then they look like they spent the day at one of my family functions, completely drained and disoriented. I have never had to work so hard and pulled out all the stops, but it worked.
He pulls up his cell phone and tells me about an application he has downloaded by mistake (appropriately so) and it has to do with cyber babes and pick up lines, most being cheesy and then this one: Women are like hurricanes, they come in wet and wild and when it's over they leave with your car and half of your shit. How nice.
Ambien, why have you turned my husband into a hoover vacuum power tool at night, he eats everything in the fridge, he eats everything except what he is supposed to eat, and why do you make it so difficult for me to bring out the man that I once knew, you have replaced him with a comatose drunk, he is like that obnoxious person you stay away from at the club but can't help but watch, waiting for him to pass out so that there is peace and you can finally go out to the dance floor and shake your rump without him popping up out of no where doing the nasty rump bump dancy dance. You have come into my universe and maliciously tampered with all my planets, nothing goes right. Why are you always fucking up a perfectly lustful night?
I have hidden the pills and maybe tonight there will be a little less effort on my part. I can't complain too much though, as my bestest friend in the whole world is Xanax. I love her. How else would I get through the days?

War Secrets Revealed

Diego had Cocoa Pebbles and Mike D had breakfast in bed, without a diaper. Today was the first day of potty training. (it only lasted 3 hours with good reason, the Yo Gabba Gabba under-roos were a 3 pack, all 3 are now washing)
We watched Alice in Wonderland (anything ala Tim is fabulous) and had a brief intermission thanks to Mike D, after 3 puddles, and 3 under-roos, we went to the diapers. He knows that all morning I have chased him around (most of the time he was running and flopping in his glory) he came out of his bed room with what looked like a Cocoa Puff. (the fact that we don't eat Cocoa Puffs should have been a clue, but that's what it looked like) He pitched it at me, landing it on my pajama pants. After noticing it was bigger than a Cocoa Puff and not as well rounded, I jumped up in horror, staring at my poo flinging wild monkey boy. Picked up the poo puff and threw it in the garbage, found him in the corner digging out another poo puff and handing it over to me, he was so proud. All morning I have been saying go potty, not get potty and throw it at mom. Mileg (the husb) right next to me, why not target him.
Back to the tub, the fourth time today, my water bill will be crazy between water time and bath time.
We finish the movie and call my dad to see if he is home, hoping to give him his father's day gift since Mileg works tomorrow. My husband has him on speaker and my dad tells us they aren't home, they are on the way to my uncle's new house. He asks for me, and the phone, still on speaker is handed over.
Why Mileg didn't have those damned head phones on is beyond me. My father laughs and says "Does Mig know about the socks, doesn't he smell them before putting them on?" Who smells their own socks before putting them on really, this was absolute brilliance. (see laundry wars blog) My husband's eyes grow within his head about double the normal size. (Oh shit moment, where are the handlebars to hold on to) and his head tilts to the side, the beginning of madness in his eyes. I stutter and laugh (well, what the hell else am I supposed to do, WHO TOLD DAMMIT???)
"Um, and how did you know this?" Obviously my blog has hit the parentals and now nothing is sacred, that house is like a chicken coop, once the hens start clucking away there is no one safe from the damage.
"Mara read it to me." He is laughing, and my laptop now confiscated. Hearing the silence and the tone in my question, he said "He's there isn't he?"
"Yes dad, he is right here. No he didn't know, but now he does." We hang up and I am giggling uncontrollably (Kristi style), I can't help it, I know that with the cat out of the bag, I need to just let him read the damn thing, I also know that I have no choice.
"You have 30 seconds to pull it up." Still laughing, but because he has no clue where it is, what my dad meant, or how to find anything on my blog.
I pull up the blog, there is little, or no time to delete, while I searched he had one hand on the laptop, he wasn't letting go.
He read the blog, smiled, looked at me and stopped smiling, read some more looked to me again, not amused at all by the excellent blogging story. "I have gotten lots of buzz on that one, everyone brings it up at one point or another."
He looks away and retorts on it, threatening my Ann Taylor and black and white polka dot dress (note to self: hide them when you can) I knew at one point this would come back and bite me in the ass, but it will not stop me from the war that has begun in this house months ago. And I will not wash twice and lightly starch (has he gone batty??? I can't iron, he knows this, I have burnt a number of his clothing articles before, he must be joking) I say let the smelliness continue. Oh and if you have any ideas on how to take this little WWL (World War Laundry) to the next level, go ahead and post, I would love to take it up a notch. (bonfires are out of the question, as we have attempted to burn things before, like papers, and have done nothing more than send charred pieces of mail with security information miles and miles into the Tampa Bay area, let's just say that got out of hand, never use lighter fluid and a trashcan full of paper to use in order to discard it because you burnt out the shredder from putting way to much paper through, think people think)
***Let me just add to this, after laughing about the revelation of my tactics, he looks over and asks me, "Well have you been washing my underwear at least?"
"Yes honey, I have my limits." He says back, "No, por si las mosquas?" In english "In case of the flies." Poor thing, although the image of flies following him around is ridiculously amusing. Like that little charcter on Charlie Brown, pig pen or something, ay to dream and laugh.

Juno's ER Visit

Diego called me frantic last night, he found Juno in a pool of vomit. "Mommy he is really sick, this is really really bad!" All I could muster was "I'll be right there." Within three minutes I was home. What I found was difficult, there were puddles all over the floor. Thinking back I don't remember dealing with this and a dog (kids yes). I bathed Juno and wrapped him up in a blanket, holding him as he shook and shivered. I tried to soothe him, not doing a very good job. I was nervous. In one hand was the dog and in the other the laptop, I was looking up all kinds of at home remedies for dogs. Not sure of anything, especially what he may have eaten. (learning from online research that dogs can get gastrointestinal problems, far too many for me to understand)


I picked up the phone and called my mom, she has a dog. She met my question with silence, then after a moment said maybe Imodium (for a dog?) that was all she could suggest, asking me what he ate, if anything was missing or chewed on. "If he went out side and ate a frog, he's done. That's bad." I hung up, back at square one.

I placed Juno on a towel and cleaned up the messy spots. Clorox in one hand, towels in the other. He slept little and kept coughing and getting sick over and over again. The hubs walked through the door at 11:45 pm totally clueless, time flew and I didn't call him like I normally would on his drive home, he thought I fell asleep and didn't call either (this is a typical exercise for us, we never get it right, when I sleep he calls) After pacing and googling we find a 24 hr animal ER hospital. I get Juno's papers and the hubs gets the leash, well attempts to. He goes to the box with all of Juno's things and can't find it, there is no where it could be. I knew this and in his quest reminded him that the last time I saw it was when they went to the park, about two months ago.


And here begins the rant : The kids don't take care of anything, this is unbelievable, how could they lose it, Diego is buying another leash, wah wah wah wah wah wah(the charlie brown teacher has taken over his vocal cords) I don't hear anything else. McGruber has brilliantly come out of the closet with the handle from the camera bag. We leash up Juno, line up the backseat with garbage bags and rush to the ER, walking into the doors at 11:58pm. Almost midnight.


For two hours we waited, we talked, we wondered, and cried. (ok so only I chose to cry but that's because Diego was fast asleep and the hubs was busy playing "bubble it" on his cellular device, I left mine at home, go me!)


The assistant walked in and went over the different options after his evaluation. They wanted to admit him, that is all I heard, I don't remember anything past that. My father would go into convulsions if he heard what they wanted to charge us for admitting him. ($1200.00 actual price a little less, oh and no payment plan, at this point Juno was a goner) She stepped out and we went over the list. I obviously thought he had a blockage in his insides, especially with the coughing and choking sounds. On the other hand, since we got him into the car, there were no signs of illness, he was doing fine. We opt to take him home with no x-rays ($200) we go over what to do and not to do and from under the plastic waiting room chairs, we hear the rumbling of Juno's stomach, the waves of nausea taking over him and the look in his eyes. The doctor pointed out the dehydration and that he probably won't drink when he gets home because of this. She offered to get an x-ray to make sure that there is no plastic legos or hot wheels in there(or clothing), they will be able to see air pockets and areas in him and can tell if there is something stuck. We ok the x-rays, they take Juno. They walk in 5 minutes later asking for permission to give him a shot for nausea, he was getting very sick on the table and they needed us to give authorization. We do, she leaves, the realization and possibility that I might not see him kicks in again, jumping and playing and fighting with me when I do laundry, all the memories when he was a royal pain in my ass came back and I was sad to think of possibly putting him to sleep. If they did have to perform surgery, we would have no other option, there was no way to pay for the operation. Tears stream as we waited for 15 minutes. The assistant came back with the camera bag leash and Juno at the end, poor guy was miserable, his tail said so, it was just lagging along with him. She handed over the leash and said that there was nothing evident in the x-rays to suggest he has an obstruction. She said that he may just be sick and usually with the shot they gave him he would be ok within 24-48 hours. They also injected him with liquids to help with the dehydration. I was ecstatic.

The assistant stepped away to get the vet and we pet Juno, on his back were two cold lumps of liquid, like two blisters under his coat, I have never felt anything like that, and couldn't help myself from petting the same area over and over, wowed to no end.

The assistant came back, "Could we email the papers to you, one of the patients went into cardiac arrest and the doctor is performing CPR right now, she won't be able to go over it with you, unless you would like to wait?" Fantastic, its 3 am and I am ready to leave, still stuck on the patient that went into cardiac arrest and CPR, this was surreal to me. Really, IV's for animals, CPR? I need to get out more.


I got home smelling like dirty laundry and scrubbed before bed at almost 4 am. Juno in his crate and my husband eating my dinner and his dinner. I slept thinking of Juno, a new found respect for dog owners.

Today I get home and begin to cook some rice for him, my mother in law looks over, I tell her what I am doing and she said she just doesn't understand. In Korea dogs eat rats, get sick and you give them a raw egg, that is the remedy. We don't know what we are doing. I disagree and feed him the rice, he isn't eating a grain of it. I go off to put away laundry and come back to Juno devouring a plate of rice with raw eggs, gagging at the site, I look at my mother in law who goes into a lecture of what to do with sick dogs. She is so happy he is eating her concoction, smiling away knowing that she was right. I am just happy he is eating.

This will be the last dog I ever have, I can not begin to describe the things that he has destroyed, mauled and knocked over. The kids love to blame him on things too, and as for Diego he comes around once an hour with the dropper to give him 10 ccs of pedialyte. Diego suggests we make soup for the dog and himself. This was a good idea, except the dog didn't eat the soup and the soup ended up on the floor while we chased around Juno to get 10 drops of water down his throat. Mike D looked like he was in a Japanese steak house sauteing stir fry, hands in the noodles and the fork dancing and clanking away on the floor, missing only the ridiculous hat. So Mike D had soup today, one accomplishment, Juno has yet to get sick, another accomplishment, I missed my husbands call to deal with all this madness, that is definitely a win. Why (even though I often do) would I stop handling the chaos to pick up the phone and hear him ask me "What are you doing?" and fighting the uncomfortable silence. "I am doing laundry, cleaning up Mike D's food art from the floor, keeping Diego's popcorn from killing Juno, keeping the raw egg and rice left over away from Mike D and his kitchen creation, and hoping that by Monday I will have found time to shave, even if it's just below the knee!" I didn't say that, but he knows, do I really have to remind him that I am not sitting on the sofa airing my tata. So maybe it was a good thing I missed the call.

Welcome Home

This morning was great, Juno was sick and I was late, again.

Rushing into work I almost hit a white van merging into my lane, the bad thing about having a Yaris is that no one sees you, you are like a flea in the road, a nuisance only getting in the way of others, well I have somewhere to be too dammit!!! Sometimes I wish I could push a button and turn into a Tonka Truck (see big rig) and run them over or scare them like a Stephen King movie come to life.

I managed to hit a curb and prayed the rest of the way that I wouldn't get a flat.

Work was work, it was like a Yaris, in the way of my day.

I sit down to a quiet house, hoping that mike d is sleeping and I can have a couple of minutes of pre blog time. But alas, my dreams are shattered. The chariot arrives on his korean stallion. Mother in law walks into the kitchen and slowly drops him off in the kitchen. She begins to tell me how smart he is, the child is gifted, will be curing cancer in no time. (especially since it basically it chased him down and he pissed in it's face)

History-Mike D like all of my children is multi lingual, at least now - in the beginning. Tito spoke Spanish till he was 5, then went to Villa School and had to learn English, and there went that. Diego spoke Spanish and Korean and then at 4 met Dora and the Wiggles, and well there went that too. Neither of them speaking till later in life (like 3) Diego almost had to go to a speech doctor for his lacking vocabulary. They are fine now, but speak mainly English understanding little of the other stuff. Mike D, is special, he listens in English, Spanish and Korean, but he doesn't understand a word, he is not the best communicator, if he wants to change the channel, he bops you with the remote, if he wants to have something from the fridge, he hangs from the handle (I am waiting for that too soon fall off like most of the other handles in the house) and you could tell by his actions he wants something from the dridge. Yesterday he brought me cans of tuna from the pantry, I don't know why, he doesn't eat tuna, he wasn't hungry, he just kept bringing me tuna, here is the not the best communicator example.

Mike D says one word Bye, when he sees you he says bye, when he leaves he says bye bye, that is the extent of his vocabulary, being the little turd that most 2 year olds are, sometimes he will throw out a "Da-Da"clearly inflating the hubsters ego, I ignore it. He is twenty six months old, should I really make a big deal about it.

Mother in law calls him out of the pooping corner under the nightstand and he runs into the living room, spinning in circles, leaning forward as if under a bridge, it's the oddest dance. But he owns this and she gleams.

She begins to set up for the performance, she bends down a little and says (in spanish) "Watch, watch this, watch what he does...one...two...three...four"

Immediately Mike D say "Bye"

"You saw that, you heard him, he counts!!!"

Considering that just moments ago, this grandmother exraoridinaire just handed me a plate of scramble eggs mixed up with rice and 6 tablespoons of butter, with the egg shell she used placed on the top of the pile, like a cake setting, except the bride has a knife and is chasing the groom, what is that, how is this supposed to look edible or inviting, there is still yolk residue in the shell. (Gag!!!)

Listening to her say five and bye, I find myself unable to distinguish either word, I can see what her dilemma is, I am not overly impressed. She just kept saying "Did you hear him?" I just smiled and nodded, why burst her bubble. Just this weekend my mother showed me the same trick. Except she laughed because she knew that he had not accomplished such a grand feat.

I smile at my mother and law and she goes off to play with mike d under the covers in my bed, I follow and join in, realizing that I am suddenly in the middle of a great game of turtle. Remembering that she lost her sense of smell years ago.

She is thrilled at the prospect of a dirty diaper, telling me how he hasn't gone all day and must have waited for me to get home. She grabs her keys and goes out back. Such a splendid welcome home.

Note-Last night my hubs read my blog and said this, "It's funny, it's light, it's entertaining, the fucked up part is that it's true."

(It's finally ok to be followed by the dark cloud.)

Diego Appt

Yesterday when I got back to my desk from lunch I noticed a missed call, the number was familiar. I quickly called and a friendly voice answered, "Elementary School, can I help you?"

Diego's school was calling, odd, the school year is just over and we recently were issued a paper that he is needing to re-enroll into the school, maybe that's the reason. I never thought that would cause a phone call. I introduced myself and she put me on hold. When she came back to the line she asked when I could come in to meet with Mr L.

Knowing that my husband was home I told her that he could make it in the following morning, I scheduled it for 10AM and called the hubster, no answer...called him and texted him about ten times before giving up, wondering if the dog finally swallowed the phone. He called me back and agreed to the time, 10 AM was fine. I asked if he was ok, sick, mad, dying, basically in my own language asking him why he wouldn't pick up the damn phone, apparently sleeping beauty was resting and missed the calls. No more to say on that.

I called the school back and rescheduled, wondering why in the world they wanted to schedule an appointment in the first place.

Not five minutes went by and Ms Secretary called me back telling me it was very important that I attend also. I asked her what the meeting was about, was placed back on hold and left to wonder. I remebered screaming at him for helping mike d flood the bathroom. Could he have told them that I was possessed by a demon, I surely remember the look on his face when I asked him "How in the world can you sit there and allow Mike to water the bathroom like a garden, all I did was grab your pjs, how did this happen?" Obviously in a more ogre-ish tone. And his poor darling face retracted, leaving his eyeballs in place and widening with each yelped syllable, and 4 chins were visible from not being able to bring his face any further into the back of his head, I had the poor thing cornered. I imagine I looked like a Linda Blair stunt double, causing the angel some mommy dearest nightmares. Oh lord, they would surely haul my ass to jail over the vile threat to an innocent.

"We need to go over some results with you, Mr L said it would be best if both parents attended." She basically couldn't tell me any details. What results was she talking about. I asked her to elaborate more on the testing and results and she basically just said that he would go over everything the following day.

(History-We had a major move of house, schools, location, everything about a year ago, Diego has left his dear friends and to this day asks to move back, causing a rip in my heart and a tear in my eye. He has no friends in this new neighborhood, and frankly, would get run over by a vibrating car bouncing along the street in this new area. They speed by and would never hear or see him playing in the street, the cars just hop scotch on by the house in bright flourescent colors, like shooting stars with epilepsy)

I manage to get the full name of the gentleman and begin to dig into this weird call. The next call I make is to my sister, seeing that she can google and I can't do that or email. Nina takes the info and calls me back (thank god I didn't call Mara, I would have put her into an anxiety coma with my jitters going full gear)

Nina calls me back, Mr L is the school psychologist, fear and dread immediately kick in. She has no information to give me, I ask if one of the counselors (she works in a psych office) can see him in the event of an emergency (see jumping to conclusions)

Now mind you, I have no idea what they may want to tell me, nor what kind of news they have. All I know at this point is that Diego needs both parents to see the school psychologist and they are revealing test results with no other information or details at all. I quickly go into Bita (my alter ego, like slim shady but gothy and female) and my eyes swell up with tears, my craziness has been handed down, my angel is upset and never told me anything about anything. I get up from my desk and call the hubster, we can't figure out what is going on.

My mind is racing, wondering how bad it's been for him, the move was really tough.

That night (last night) I blogged busted lip to get my mind off the subject. I hope it was an enjoyable read, I enjoyed writing it. I had a few shots of rum, thought of all the sorrow I put him through and went to bed close to two AM completely guilt ridden.

We wake up, I have coffee and dress like a mom for the meeting. How could I have missed this, how did I not see the changes, where were the red flags? We talk about all the possibilities on the short drive, get out and have a seat in the office. We wait for Mr L, hand in hand, worried sick about the horrible news. To think my 8 yr old has been seeing a school psychiatrist and I never knew it? I asked the secretary about how the test came about and she said that we signed papers for evaluations. When school starts there are so many papers to sign that you think you are merging a corporation and sometimes aren't sure about what you are signing. And I honestly probably just scribbled away wanting to be done. He did need speech therapy for his lisp, his tingers were a treasured memory and now he has no problems with fingers and other words that were once cute synonyms for his toddler years.

Mr L comes up and lets us into his office. There is a file the size of a phonebook on his desk and his hands were crossed on the file. We shook hands and he continues. My eyes focused on the file.

"Diego is a very special child. He obviously had some difficulty in the beginning of the year, his adjusting has been better and he is fully cooperative. When I talk to him, his smile is just huge, such a change from the little boy who once was struggling to fit in."

I sit and listen about how wonderful my child is, (I know this, please get to the part where we get a diagnosis) he mentions the results and how in a second we will go over them. I continue to watch the file in terror, how much time were we going to spend here, was I going to have to admit him to Memorial after the appointment, I began to make a mental note of pajamas, DS, and charger, etc.

He looks up and says, "I wanted to start by asking how the doctor's visits were going?" Doctor's visits, my eyebrows go into "The Rock" mode and I look over to my husband, also puzzled. I know that Mike had tons of appointments in the past with the cancer issue and I know that back then it completely consumed our lives, but I never imagined it affected Diego, we tried to shun him from that until the results (see misdiagnosis) were confirmed. But that was soo soo long ago. How did this still linger, I thought this part of our lives was behind us? Maybe Diego is just worried, or maybe he is thinking of the hospitalization 6 months ago. I look up and the psychologist takes note (finally) that we are clueless. My hubs explains that we don't know what doctor he is talking about, none of us on the same page. He looks at us and asks what the teachers' name is, we confirm it, and then he opens up the mega file. I look over with my bionic eyes (thank you lasik) and realize, they have the wrong Diego. I look over to the hubs "Babe, wrong D, not our D." I whisper because I am not sure how to tell Sigmund Freud about their mistake. In my unique reaction, I hold my head back and begin to laugh hysterically. My husband looks like he is about to explode, I couldn't hold it in. I just listened to the apology over and over, and understand that he didn't set the appointment. Not all his fault. He doesn't go more into detail about the poor child whose poor parents were about to go through a 24 hour waiting game. I pray for them in this time of sorrow, I couldn't imagine actually having this happen, I mean I was ready to admit him to the psych ward, white suit and all.

Thankfully, we went to the office picked up the papers for the enrollment and saved the visit, at least we accomplished something. My husband was fit to be tied, absolutely enraged that they could make such mistake and waste a perfect morning, how dare they disturb his sleeping time. So our Diego is fine, and another Diego is in need of some sort of therapy, I think, he never really got that far. I hope that Sigmund Freud can help him through this turbulent time, and I also hope they call Dora and Boots when they go to make the call to the family, surely being the little explorer she is, she will choose the right contact information, and the right folder, grab your backpack, lets go, you can find the way. What a morning, what an ending, another day in the life of Bita.

Unwelcome Guest

These four walls hold a life that is slipping away
My convictions of blame, drove me out, I’m insane
They all say that I’m mad, but can’t see that I’m pissed
And I heard that I’m sad, and it’s you that I miss
So for once in my life I have nowhere to turn
Contemplate on what leads in this lesson to learn
Now you woke up this girl I forgot that I was
And I knew I was here, but got lost, fell in love
I can scream as I kick but you’re not by my side
You have brought her to life, with her begs suicide
Now she’s here and I’m losing control once again
Only thoughts of an end rule my thoughts, fill my head
I can’t breathe, I can’t sit, I just toss and I turn
With these marks on my arm from the flesh that I’ve burned
Its my way to inflict all the damage I’ve done
I’m so scared of myself, but there’s nowhere to run
For a moment I wish I could bring it all back
All the sex, all the smiles, lay my head on your lap
Now I go on each day wishing I was an us
But your not here no more so I don’t give a fuck
Where you went I don’t care, I just know you left me
In a nighmare to live, with the scenes that I see
I can’t eat, I can’t sleep, I just hate who I am
It repeats in my mind, starting off with your plan
But I didn’t believe you would go through with it
You just grabbed me and screamed and demanded I sit
Then you went off and told me I fucked up your life
That you wished I was dead cause I do nothing right
As I sat there the tears, just rolled down off my face
And the sight of the gun made my heart start to race
But I did nothing more as the gun met your head
I just held you and rocked, as you sat there and bled
You know that’s how they found me, arms holding you tight
They made sure I let go, but I put up a fight
If you wanted me dead, why’d you leave me behind
Like a sentence for death, traumatized for all time
Glossy eyes, empty visions of the stains that aren’t there
Now I’m locked up alone, and they know I don’t care
With IV’s dripping slowly and me in a daze
I still know what you did and it won’t go away
Funny though I’m now gone and she’s taken my place
Drinking in all the sorrow, enjoying the taste
I can see from afar that it’s not really me
Plays along as she waits for a chance to kill me