Emancipation of A Drama Queen

Most commercials suck, badly.

Instead of opening with a large, overstated and dramatic monologue, I’m just going to say it.

This fucking commercial has been pissing me off since the first day it hit the airwaves. Watch, then we will discuss….

The most validating thing so far is within the comments posted on YouTube under the video. It seems I’m not the only one who gets pissed when watching this lame ass commercial. I want to rip that woman’s face off (ok, not really the woman, but the annoying bitch character that the underpaid actor is portraying).

I’m not completely a traditionalist in that I think women should be submissive to their husbands and should vacuum in high heels, wear skirts every day, have a drink in hand as he walks through the door and dinner on the table waiting.

However, I happen to despise it when women treat men like the little woman in this commercial is treating her fake, on-screen husband.

I feel a major soapbox revival coming on and I’m trying to squash it because after I post things like that I go back and read them and cringe at my pompous idiocy in trying to convey some lame point that really doesn’t matter. So, just know that it bugs the shit out of me to watch commercials like that where women have to twist and turn things that men say knowing damn well they they are men and don’t always say things the right way. It’s just that simple!

You know what I would have rather seen in this commercial? Here, this is how it should have gone…

“So, I see you are eating Multi-grain cheerios? Trying to lose weight?”

“No! Fuck-off jackass! It’s just a healthy cereal so I’m eating it! When you drink light beer should I ask you if you are trying to lose weight?”

“Well, light beer does have less carbs and calories, so maybe I should start drinking more of it. Good point!”

“Yeah, you do that. And I’ll keep eating these fucking Cheerios and pretend that it’s going to make my heart healthy and potentially shrink my ass so I can fit into my wedding dress again.”

“Heh! That’s not going to happen sweetie.”

“Fuck you. Go get drunk and leave me alone.”

See? This commercial would have been much more believable. There is no superiority on either side and it’s probably a much more common conversation. Husbands and wives are supposed to be honest with each other, right? If I can’t have an honest conversation with my husband then who can I have one with? Lip service and denial is bullshit. If there are an extra 30 pounds on my hips and 20 pounds on his belly, so what! But don’t act like it ain’t there! Ok, I’m getting off topic.

My point is, women know that men don’t speak the same language as us, so why bother twisting words and CREATING fights! When your man comes home from work and looks at you and says, with all seriousness, ‘where’s my dinner bitch?’ and then you notice lipstick on his collar and his belt buckle, THEN you can pick a fight.

Now, commercials like the following might seemingly start out as incredibly annoying. And then there comes a day where you know all the words to the jingle and you find your self on the toilet pooping and singing it in your head.

“F-R-E-E that spells free, credit report dot come baby!”

I just want to see more honest commercials like this. That’s all. Is that too much to ask? You know, along the lines of bullshit commercials that insult my intelligence and try to make me believe that being 110 pounds is fat, Kelloggs can start kissing my 150 pound ass up the right side and down the left.

They like to make commercials featuring 115-120 pound women who are on the verge of either skipping breakfast because they think they are fat OR they are on the verge of a late night snack that might add .28 pounds to their hips! OMG! The horror!

Do ya’ll remember the one of the woman in the red shirt whose button pops off while in her kitchen before work? She didn’t even have big boobs! That commercial must do wonders for the girls with eating disorders. Then there is the one where this skinny little woman comes running into the kitchen and her roommate chastises her for missing breakfast and says something like, “you can lose weight by eating breakfast!” or something along those lines. Yeah, because we all know that 105 pounds is overweight.

Don’t get me started on toilet paper commercials… the new Quilted Northern commercial is a gem. This one features nice looking women washing their hands and grooming themselves in the mirror while smiling and looking so jovial because they just WIPED THEIR ASSES WITH QUILTED TOILET PAPER! Subtlety is fine, but give me a break. When it comes to toilet paper, constipation medication, diarrhea meds, hemorrhoid cream and feminine products we don’t need subtle hints or demonstrations. Just flash the package on the screen, tell me where I can buy it and be done with it.

I hate watching live t.v. Shows on DVR are like eating popcorn chicken from KFC. You get all the crispy goodness and yummy meat without the nasty bone and cartilage. DVR is like going to Wal-Mart and finding a good space right away without meandering up and down the isles for 10 minutes. DVR is like never, EVER getting junk mail, or bills.

I suppose that is enough metaphors. We all know the importance of DVR.

When I was born the gods looked down upon me and said, “Blessed be this child! Bestowed upon her will be a sense of humor, pasty skin and a lifetime of bonehead idiocy.”

The one constant in my life is my gift of forgetfulness at the worst times. It never lets me down, however, the subjects of my forgetfulness pay the highest prices possible.

This weekend should have been smooth and flawless. Since I was mostly in charge of the plans I should have known that somewhere along the line I would mess up the ride. One small, unobtrusive little parking garage ticket would create a large chain reaction of events that caused hubs to spit fire and and curse my very name.

The plan was supposed to be easy: the boys and I would drive into the city, park in a garage, meet hubs for a quick hello at his work and then head on our way to see my sister who was in town with friends for the big Kenny Chesney concert at Soldier Field. Then hubs would meet up with us after work, we eat a quick dinner and then hubs takes the boys back to the garage to pick up the car and head home while I stay the night in the city with my sister.

So, I drove in, found a garage, parked, got the boys out and into their stroller and made my way to hub’s building for a quick hello. I even made sure I sent hubs a picture of the parking garage sign with the address so he knew exactly where the car was parked. Pretty smart huh? Taking a picture of the parking garage sign with my phone and then sending it to his phone? I was so proud of that. Anyway, after we left hub’s work the boys and I started our walk to my sister’s hotel. Insert mistake number one and two… misjudged distance of hotel and wore the wrong shoes. We walked 12 blocks to the hotel. 12 long city blocks in wedge sandals that are not comfortable after the first hour, or after the first block while pushing an incredibly cumbersome and heavy stroller. Mistake number three and four… packing an overly heavy overnight bag and not realizing the front wheels of the stroller were locked which was causing severe strain to manuever it (it kept the front wheels from turning so it was like trying to drive a car without power steering and trying to turn it).

The stroller was loaded with one kid, a heavy bag, locked front wheels and a sauntering 4-year old in tow. Did I mention that it was hot and humid and I was wearing jeans and walked 12 blocks? I had sweat dripping from places that I didn’t even think could sweat. Did you know that your ankles can sweat? Well, I finally made it to the Hilton on Michigan avenue. My sister was waiting for us in the lobby… that large, sweet air-conditioned lobby! I chose to call it Heaven for awhile. We made our way to the elevators and once we reached the 12th floor we began to disembark… but that is when Monster decided it was a perfect time to drop his little toy car down the gap between the elevator floor and the hotel floor. It took about 5 seconds for it to hit the bottom… and yes, I stood there, in the elevator, with the doors open, waiting to hear it hit the bottom.

Once in the room, I rested my aching feet and tried to cool off. The boys stretched and unwound a little bit of their pent up energy and my sister and I caught up a bit. Then it was time to meet hubs for dinner. We ate and I gave him the car keys so he and the boys could head home. It was all supposed to be smooth sailing from there. It started to rain a bit so my sister and I hailed a cab so we could head up to the Mag Mile to meet up with her friends who had been shopping there all day. We got out in front of the Coach store and my eyes temporarily glazed over at the sight of all the gorgeous purses. That was my last moment of peace for the next, um, 4 hours or so.

At that moment, hubs called me on the phone. I expected to hear something like, “got the car, we are on our way, the boys are already asleep…”. Instead I heard, “Hey babes, where’s the parking garage ticket?”

My heart instantly traveled from my chest to my feet. The ticket should have been in the truck… but, he couldn’t find it. Our connection was bad so I had to call him back a few minutes later. He still couldn’t find it. Mistake number five….at some point, while sitting on a chair in the Gap, I saw the ticket in the outside pocket of my purse. My heart leaped out of my feet and started running for the doors of the Gap and out in front of a bus plowing down Michigan Avenue.

First of all, without a ticket, you have to pay the MAXIMUM fee for the garage which is typically $50 (instead of the $24.00 it should have cost us). Paying $24 for parking in this kind of economy is painful, paying $50 is much worse. Secondly, things like this make my husband’s blood boil… because I am forgetful like this quite often. Once I saw the ticket I called hubs very reluctantly and said, “Um, I have the ticket, right here, in my purse.” Some words were spoken but I didn’t quite hear them, or I chose to block them out. Finally I said, “I’m hopping in a cab and I’ll bring you the ticket.”

This is where it gets worse, which I wasn’t sure was possible. Unfortunately the connection was bad so I didn’t hear him confirm what I just said so I wasn’t sure if he was saying, “Do not come here or I will rip your face off…” or if he was saying, “Fine, get here fast!”

I tried calling him back several times over the next half hour. I spent 30 minutes walking the streets with my sister and her friends in and out of stores trying to reach my husband because I didn’t think hopping in a cab without his confirmation was the best thing to do in case I got to the garage and he had left anyway.

HE spent 30 minutes waiting for me in the garage because he assumed I was on my way, like I had said.

While I was in a Walgreen’s waiting for my sister and her friend to find rain ponchos for the concert, hubs called asking where I was. Translation: “where is the cab that you should be in right now on your way to this God-forsaken garage to give me the damned ticket that I should have found sitting in the truck in the first place!!!???”

My flattened little heart on Michigan Avenue then got up and jumped into the Chicago River.

So, he WAS expecting me this whole time. He was sitting in a stuffy parking garage with two tired little boys waiting for me to bring him a ticket so he could pay $24 instead of $50 while cursing my name under his breath.

I think I blacked out at that point and don’t remember anything he said after that. But I think I had a nightmare that involved a large angry dragon standing over an attractive, red-headed damsel tied to a spit turning over hot coals. Something like that, anyway.

It was done after that. A few short text messages were exchanged and he was on his way home with the boys. Hubs and my poor children spent over an hour in that fucking garage waiting for me to bring them a ticket that wasn’t coming and searching for the garage office so he could tell the attendant that he didn’t have a ticket and wait while they told him how much he really owed in lieu of a lost ticket. They didn’t even accept the camera phone shot of the ticket with the ticket number and date stamp that I sent hubs to try and alleviate the situation. In the end, it was only $34 which was good, but the time that was wasted was priceless.

As the girls and I made our way back to the hotel I began thinking…. what would hubs do in my situation? See, normally I would spend the evening sulking and beating myself up over this and trying to call him 85 times to see if he was still speaking to me. But then I thought, that is what pussies do!

Did I really want to be that pussy? No way! I messed up and hubs was mad and there was nothing that was going to change it. Now was the time to suck it up, do what hubs would do! DRINK!!!!! Say fuck it all and DRINK!

So I did. The girls and I had a nice evening and while I didn’t enjoy paying $9.50 for each glass of wine, I did it, because at the bottom of those glasses was something worth a lot more… Not stressing about hubs being pissed off at me!

Of course, with a screw up of this magnitude comes about 4 weeks worth of snide, passive-aggressive reminders of how much I messed up though… but I can handle those.

The important thing was that for one night, I wasn’t a pussy. This is a major triumph in my book.

Here is a shot of the elusive ticket that caused so much grief:

Thankfully, this is how the rest of the weekend turned out, after the dust settled, the hangover wore off and sleep was had by all…

Lately my boys have been coming up with some zingers that make me laugh till I pee.

Yesterday, I came downstairs and my younger son, the Monster, said, “Mama! This friggin’ train won’t work!”

Hey, it could have been much worse.

Yesterday, as we were driving around town running errands, my older son, DramaBoy, asked if we could go to McDonald’s and get a toy. I replied, “Honey, we don’t have a lot of money to go around right now.”

His reply? “Mama, can we go buy some more money?”

Oh if only it were that simple! “Hi, excuse me, I would like to buy that pallet of hundred dollar bills over there….. how much is it? …. 25.99? …. Perfect! Load it into my car please.”

A few days ago, Monster came running into the room and said, “Mama! A.J hit me! And I got mad and kicked him in the leg!”

Well, there ya go.

Today I was showing the boys pictures of the skeleton on the computer and trying to explain bones to them. DramaBoy has been curious about bones so I decided to start teaching them a little bit about the skeletal system. I had a good picture of a skeleton up on the screen and began pointing to certain bones and then showing him where they are on his body. Out of the blue he says, “I have a bone in my willy!”

Speaking of willies, the other day the boys were overheard at the breakfast table bantering with each other…

“I have a big fat willy!”

“No I have a big fat willy!”

Really? Already comparing?

Now, in my latest fashion of combining several different things into one post, I now move onto my week of bad luck.

Well, maybe it wasn’t so much bad luck as just karma rearing up to bite me in the ass.

I’m driving down the road and a serious group of hillerds starts crossing the street… I’m talking skinny dude in a wife beater with a beer belly and smoking a cigarette, larger woman with gigantic, sagging ta-tas with a tattoo across her cleavage and she was donning an old black tank top and missing a bra. She was pushing a baby stroller with a baby that may or may not have been wearing clothes and then the entourage with them were all variations of hillerds.

Now, before ya’ll start chastising me for makin’ fun of the hillerds, let me just say this, God love the hillerds, ok? I’m part hillerd myself. Hillerds are people too. I love Larry the Cable Guy! This group of people just perpetuated the hillerd (redneck) stereotype. Opportunity was beating down my window and I opened it, ok?

But, God made sure I was properly punished, immediately. As I was sitting at the stoplight watching this group of people cross the street, I was laughing to myself inside and secretly making fun of them. At that moment, my open window provided the perfect opportunity for a certain pain in the ass fucking seagull to shit inside of my truck onto my door panel and thus splattering onto my arm and leg. Talk about a great aim. Stoopid seagulls!

The next incident is payback for something, I just haven’t figured it out yet. I was behind another car at the bank’s drive-thru waiting for my turn. Monster was in the back seat and asked me if he could hold my stuffed moose that rides with me on my console. I grabbed the moose and turned around to hand it to him. This is when my foot came off the brake and I didn’t know it until I hit the car in front of me.

ARGH!!!!!!

The woman in front of me yells out, “Girl!! What is wrong with you!?”

First of all, I deserved that, completely. Secondly, I don’t take well to being yelled at by strangers, so, in a completely mature and admirable fashion, I screamed back at her. I’m not sure what I said, but I didn’t swear, I know that much. I was merely yelling at her because she was yelling at me but I was saying things like “I’m sorry!!!” and “It was an ACK-SI-DENT!!”

She proceeds to yell at me, “Well you should put your car in park before you deal with your kids!”

Oh. Hell. No.

Again, I know I deserved that but I do not take well to strangers lecturing me either. Yes, the proper thing to do is put the car in park and then deal with the kids. However, how often do we think that fast or actually do that? I was just handing something back to my son so putting the car in park to do that 1 second task didn’t dawn on me… which proved really bad, I learned my lesson.

So, I yelled back at her some more and told her not to lecture me, it was an ACK-SI-DENT, again. I accentuated that word more than one time. Her daughter who had gotten out of the car to try and diffuse us was telling me not to scream at her. So, I looked at her and said, “She is screaming at me!”

Blah blah blah, this went on for a good five minutes. She was yelling that she just bought this car and yadda yadda yadda. I said I was sorry, AGAIN, and told her there were two tiny scratches on her GIGANTIC PLASTIC BUMPER from the bolts of my front license plate. That’s it.

This whole time my heart is racing and the adrenaline is pumping hard and I’m shaking. I was totally embarrassed more than anything and when I’m embarrassed I get VERY defensive. It’s not a trait I’m proud of because I come out being the complete idiot. Regardless, I was completely admitting fault, of course, and said I’m sorry over and over again.

Finally she finished her business, she moved ahead and parked and then I conducted my business and pulled up next to her to finish our fight. We were both a bit more calm by then, thank goodness. I don’t know if she will actually file a claim or not. By the time I got over to her again she claimed that this was her grandson’s car. Huh? Whatever.

I think it’s time to start becoming a much nicer person. Do they have a 12-step program for this? Will I have to make a list like Earl Hickey and start redeeming myself one thing at a time?

We have ants. I cannot find where the little fuckers are coming from therefore I cannot annihilate there evil little pest nest. So, I simply kill every little brave soul that emerges from the hidden lair and hope it sends a message back to the colony.

Soon, soon I will find them and finish them off.

Now, let me skip ahead to the free stuff part. My husband often comes home from work in the summertime with giveaways from the streets of Chicago. Apparently companies love standing out on the streets promoting their products and giving away freebies to those lucky folks who pass by. Generally the freebies have been things like protein water or packaged food samples or gum. This summer, however, they have kicked it up a notch. Hubs has recently come home with FOUR (4) Reynolds Handi-Vac starter kits and TWO (2) of the Glade Scented Oil Light Show air fresheners.

You can imagine how happy this has made me. The Handi-Vac things are awesome. Hubs did give two of them away to another commuter on the train, which was nice. But, I did find a use for BOTH of the Glade air fresheners, of course.

Then, while I was away, my box of free Suave products arrived from the “In the Motherhood” site which I adore. I got shampoo and conditioner, lotion and hairspray! This was perfect because when I got home I realized I was out of lotion and found that my hairspray had somehow been engaged while being man-handled and thrown into the bottom of the airplane thus it sprayed the entire contents inside of my bag.

I love free shit. Sometimes it arrives right when you need it.

Now, onto the stupidity part, which also happens to involve the strawberries and the Reynolds Handi-vac.

We went strawberry picking this weekend. We picked a shitload of strawberries just like we do every year. The next day, Hubs and I stood in our kitchen cutting the tops off of the berries so we could pack and freeze them. I decided this was a perfect time to try out my new and free handi-vac. I ripped open the overly-packaged handi-vac, bypassed the instructions and started loading strawberries into each of the 3 bags provided in my starter kit. Then I grabbed the handi-vac and soon found out how to position it just right over the little circle on the bag and viola, the air came out perfectly and sealed our strawberries up nicely. I was in love. We have the food saver and it is incredibly cumbersome and a big pain in the ass compared to this hand-held deal.

Fast forward about 30 minutes and all the strawberries are packed, sealed and on their way to the freezer. That’s when I decided to grab both of the handi-vacs and start acting like they were pistols and I blew at each end as if I had just one a gun-fight. Then, all of sudden, something strange happened. It was as if my 32-year old self floated out of my body in a nano-second and was replaced by a 5-year old. My reasoning and critical thinking skills were deactivated and the little portion of my brain that controls impulses was shut off.

In a matter of a split second a message was relayed to my right hand and said, “stick it on your face and see if it sucks! DO IT! DO IT NOW! I bet nothing happens!”

It did work, and something did happen. The tender skin of my cheek was sucked into that hand-held handi-vac quicker than I could blink. I stood there for a second, speechless, and in a little bit of pain and then began trying to devise a way to get this thing detached from my face. I made a little grunting noise and said, “uh-oh” and hubs looked at me. Then, we both started laughing so hard we couldn’t breathe.

Finally I decided to just try the old “rip the band-aid off fast” approach and off popped the handi-vac from my face. I was left with a small red mark for a few minutes and thankfully not a giant, quarter-sized hickey that a turtleneck would not cover up.

Then, we continued laughing until one of us peed a little. That would be me, the one who birthed two children and can’t sneeze without peeing a little.

Considering the stupidity of my actions I feel pretty confident in saying that those ants have a good chance of survival if I’m the one trying to kill them.

Lastly, we have Uncle Raul. We had a family gathering yesterday at our house to celebrate Father’s Day. Uncle Raul shows no restraint in his story telling or cursing even when the children are around. No biggie… we still love him. So, last night, after everyone had left, Monster was sitting on daddy’s lap and proudly proclaims, “Uncle Raul’s gonna kick A.J’s ass!” (A.J is DramaBoy).

I do have it on video on my phone, but I’m not sure if I can post it. You’ll just have to trust me.

Thanks Uncle Raul.

The prognosis on my step-dad is great and he is doing really well in the rehabilitation facility. I miss him already.

We are back home now. The boys and I flew in on Tuesday and then spent the day yesterday with hubs. It was very nice to be home, the whole family together again and enjoying our time.

Today, it is officially back to normal…. Me vs. the children, Round 1. They have been little pills today but I proudly proclaim that I have handled them extremely well.

It is a sauna here, though. Hot, humid…. ugh. I’m going to say something that I usually enjoy slapping other people for because I grew incredibly tired of hearing it, but alas, I now vividly see the logic and feelings behind it.

At least it was a dry heat in Phoenix. I reveled in the dry heat. It wasn’t as bad as I thought I remembered it being. Then, I came home to this thick, sticky air of the Midwest and sweat drips between my boobs. Gross.

Regardless, I am damn glad to be home! I think I missed the comfort of my own bed the most. I love my  bed! I had to pry my body out of it this morning and I whimpered slightly as I walked away.

So, life resumes. I even took my obligatory trip to the Wal-Mart so I could satiate my mad desires for some shampoo and watermelon toothpaste for DramaBoy who practically vomits anytime another flavor of children’s toothpaste passes his lips. Oh the demands of four-year olds.

The important thing is that we made it back home in time for Father’s Day and, almost as important but I’m not labeling it more important so as not to offend my dear husband, is the TASTE OF CHICAGO! I live for this event every year. It’s a pig’s food lover’s paradise. For me, it’s Heaven. When I die, if Heaven has Targets and the Taste of Chicago, then I will be one happy little angel. Hell would be a Wal-Mart parking lot and a television that only shows reruns of M*A*S*H.

Oh, and my anniversary is the end of this month, too. Five years of marriage, a milestone! The traditional gift is wood. The modern gift is silverware. So, I’m thinking of getting him some wooden shoes from Holland and pickle fork. He’ll love ‘em.

First things first, Father’s Day. What on earth do you get the man that has no problem telling you that your gift sucks if he doesn’t like it? Hmmmm?

Anyway, let the randomness come to an end. Peace out, as DramaBoy likes to say now… Thanks to Uncle J.

I’m still alive, in case anyone is wondering. I have just been too lazy and to busy to write anything.

First things first, my step-dad is doing fantastic and was just moved to the neuro rehabilitation wing of the hospital and will be there at least 3 weeks, depending on his progress. He will be going through physical, occupational and speech therapy vigorously 6 days a week. But, his recovery has been so good that we all know he can handle this.

He is still his same-old joking self and flashes his big smiles all the time now. But, he does say things that make zero sense quite a bit too. So, there is a long way to go. He does know everyone who comes to see him and will flip off the nurses and doctors once in a while as well. He doesn’t really know what happened to him yet and doesn’t quite remember things from day to day either. But, he is getting there.

I was not aware of this until recently, but only 20% of people that have an aneurysm like his survive it. And, with his exact condition and the severity of the one he had, only 5% survive. He has beat the odds all the way around by what I truly believe was a miracle. It just was not his time to go… but we don’t know why he had to go through this at all yet. We are just greatful he is still with us and will more than likely make a complete 100% recovery. It’s hard to believe that a little over 3 weeks ago he was hooked up to every possible machine and tube you could imagine and had undergone 2 brain surgeries and a few other procedures to correct other issues.

Now that he is doing so well and in rehab, the boys and I are heading home. We leave Tuesday to get back to reality and regular life. We are all excited to get back but I am very sad to leave as well. I will miss my family so much, again! Being here all this time, and during the summer heat for the first time in years, I’m pretty sure that this is where I want to be, eventually. But I will let the hands of fate handle it from here on out.

As for my home, well, if you watched the new today chances are good you saw a report about tornadoes hitting the south suburbs of Chicago. I know it made the news here in Phoenix even. Well, that would be where I live. All the pictures they showed and all the reports of touchdowns were within about 1-2 miles of my house. Hubs was in the cellar with the dog for a little bit I think. The overturned cars and semi on hwy 57 were about 2 miles south of where I live. The 57 runs right through my village. The picture of the apartment building missing a roof is about 1/2 mile from my house and it happens to be one that I pass every day when I take DramaBoy to school. A car wash was practically leveled about 1/4 mile from my house. Trees are down everywhere and roads are blocked and will be for a day or two. For some reason, thank God, everything within a few blocks of my house is fine, not even any trees down. So, the tornado that went through just made a straight line about 1/4-1/2 mile south of us. I’m a little weary of what I’m going to see when I get back on Tuesday. Things should be fairly cleaned up by then but maybe I can snap some pictures.

Here is one article on the weather - Bad Weather

In other news, tonight I made 70 flautas (rolled tacos - a common Hispanic food) for my sister and her friends. They were having a little party tonight and I offered to make them since they went over so well last time I was here. But, one girl, a complete and total bitch who seems to think she is God’s gift to everyone, apparently did not like them and made it well known. She actually had the audacity to stand two feet behind me, literally, as I was making them, whispering to her boyfriend, in a nasty tone, that they were just all grease and she couldn’t eat them. Did she not think I could here her?

Just before that, I was walking to get to the stove and she was passing the same way and said “Excuse me” in such a ratty ass tone that I wanted to drop kick her fat ass to the fucking moon. I said nothing, because she was on the phone and I thought maybe there was a chance she was saying it to the person on the other end. Then, after I heard her bitch about the grease I was making and subsequently order 5 fucking pizzas (no, those aren’t greasy at all) I knew the bitch had said “excuuuuuse me!” to me, directly. Cunt.

Who the fuck comes to someone else’s house, bitches about the food and then orders pizza! You don’t have to like what is served but most people would politely decline and then eat whatever they could and at the worst, leave early and hit a drive through! At least that is what NICE FUCKING PEOPLE DO!

Then, as I was leaving everyone was thanking me and blah blah blah and the stoopid bitch actually had the balls to say “Muchas Gracias”. She said it nicely but puh-leeze! Don’t be fucking phony, or sarcastic.

Ok, goodnight.

Today is DramaBoy’s 4th birthday. The bitter part is that Daddy is in Chicago and he is in Arizona. I can imagine how sad this makes hubs feel which also makes me sad, for both DramaBoy and hubs. While I can’t do a thing about the distance between us, I can do everything within my means to make sure DramaBoy has a wonderful birthday.

I am taking both boys to lunch today and I’m also picking up my nephew so he can join us. There is a pizza place out here called Peter Piper which is very similar to Chuckie Cheese’s, except Peter Piper’s pizza is MUCH better. So, the boys should all have a good time today.

Then, this weekend we are having a rather large birthday party for him. It will be his first one ever celebrated here and with my family. That is the sweet part.

Another bitter part of this tale is the fact that my step-dad cannot be part of the festivities. He has had yet another setback and will not be out of ICU for at least a week. Yesterday they discovered another brain bleed on the left side of his brain. It is not an aneurysm, just a small bleed. But, this means they had to put the drain back in his head and monitor him closely. Also, the possibility of putting a shunt in his head is strong, but not definite. His legs are still severely swollen because the clots in both legs and the fact that they can’t treat them with blood thinners because of the bleeding in his head. These two issues are continuing to work against each other. However, none of these issues are unexpected or abnormal. They are just hurdles the doctors and my step-dad have to keep jumping over.

Even though daddy is not able to be here and my step-dad is critically ill, I have to plan a birthday for my little boy. It feels awkward to be planning something fun while two very important people cannot be with us. Daddy isn’t here to bake his special birthday cake like he does every year, so I have to go and get a store-bought one. My step-dad isn’t here to provide comic relief and the best grilled hamburgers and hot-dogs on the planet so someone else will have to fill those big shoes.

So, even though it isn’t a perfect birthday, even though daddy can’t be here and grandpa is still sick, I hope you have a great birthday buddy. I will do everything I can to make sure it’s a good day and that you have a great party this weekend. Your Auntie has already bought some things to make sure you and all the kids have a great party because she loves you and is very excited about being able to finally celebrate your birthday with you.
Happy Happy Birthday Big Man! I LOVE YOU!!

So, yesterday I was, um, indisposed in my mother’s bathroom. As I was reading an article in Good Housekeeping on how to reduce debt I discovered that the toilet paper was gone. This is always a frightening discovery once you are already stuck on the commode.

Luckily, since I’m a huge proponent of toilet texting and just the general fact that my cell phone is almost always on me (nowadays anyway), I had my cell phone with me in the bathroom. Don’t judge me and don’t ask to use my phone, OK?

I made a phone call to my mother, 25 miles away at the hospital.

“Um, ma? You are out of toilet paper. Where can I find more?”

“Where are you?”

“I’m in your bathroom.”

“Well, check under the sink or the cabinet over the toilet.”

“I did, it’s all gone.”

“Then there is more in the hall closet.”

“I can’t get to the closet.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m in your bathroom?”

“Are you on the toilet!?”

“YES! That is why I had to call you to see if you had an secret hiding places for spare toilet paper in your bathroom!”

“Good lord!” she erupts into laughter. “Well, call Ann then! Have her get you some more.”

“Duh! Good idea, thanks. Bye.”

Ann is my step-dad’s mother who lives with my mom and step-dad. She was in the livingroom. So I called her on the house phone.

“Hi Ann, can you do me a favor? Could you leave me some toilet paper outside of my mom’s bathroom door? She’s out and I’m stuck.”

Again, a large eruption of laughter thankfully followed by a merciful supply drop of toilet paper.

Whew!

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DramaBoy’s birthday is on Wednesday. Grandma Ann was asking him how old he is going to be.

“I’m gonna be 5.”

“No you aren’t, you are going to be 4 buddy!” I told him.

“No, I don’t like 4, I want to be 5.” he replied seriously.

So there you have it, he gets to pick his age now. I personally don’t like being 32 so I want to be 25. See how easy it is?

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On a serious note, my step-dad has had a setback. We were hoping he would be moved to a regular room yesterday, however, that didn’t happen.

They did a CT scan and found some hydrocephalus on his brain. I think that is basically water on the brain, but in his case I think it was spinal fluid. So, they had to put the drain back in his head to drain this fluid out.

But, before they were going to reinsert the drain they found his legs to be very very swollen which is a tell-tale sign of the blood clots in his legs. Once again they were faced with two problems that work against each other…. blood clots and fluid on the brain. Treating the clots with blood thinner would have potentially resulted in another massive brain bleed. Not treating the clots and simply draining his head would result in severe discomfort from the swollen legs and probably other problems.

Last night they decided to balance it as best as possible by inserting the drain into his back (between some vertebrae) in order to drain the fluid without invading the brain again and giving him limited doses of blood thinner to reduce the clots. The clots cannot travel to his heart or brain because the screens that they put in place, which is good. So, now, the spinal fluid is being drained out of his back and it essentially creates a suction where the fluid will then drain from his head and down his spine and out the tube.

Apparently this means he will still be in ICU for at least another 5 days. The trend continues, fix one problem and another arises to complicate things. Despite this, he is doing well and actually eating solid foods. His sense of humor is lingering in there but he tired and still a bit cranky.

I cannot go see him anytime soon because I am getting a cold. I haven’t seen him since his breathing tube was still in. So I have not seen him conscious or talking yet and I’m really disappointed about that. Hopefully I will get to see him by the end of this week though. I’m not even sure he knows I’m here yet. His visitation has to be kept low and to immediate family only because if he sees unfamiliar people that he doesn’t see all the time he has to try too hard to process that information and it’s not good for him. I will never forget the last time I saw him. The look in his eyes will be ingrained in my head forever. He looked stunned, confused, baffled and pitiful because I think he was trying to figure out why I was there. I don’t think he has a clue that I flew down here for him. I want the next time I see him to be easier for him to process.

My step-dad is doing much better and just might be moved to a regular room tomorrow. That is another huge step in his recovery. The tube in his head that has been dubbed the “brain drain” was finally removed today. This is what was draining all of the blood from his head over the past 11-12 days and I was told that approximately 2600ml of blood was collected from his head. This is equivalent to about 2.7 quarts or over a half gallon of blood.

Can you imagine having a half gallon of blood inside of your skull crowding your brain? If he would have collapsed from the burst aneurysm 24 hours earlier than he did he would have been camping with my mother and their friends and would probably have died. Had he collapsed 30 minutes later than he did he would have been driving to work and would have died and potentially injured or killed others on the roadway. Had the aneurysm burst 45 minutes earlier than it did then he would have been asleep and he would have died.

The timing of this burst aneurysm could not have been more perfect, if it had to happen at all because any other time besides 4am after getting out of the shower would have meant certain death and our circumstances would be completely different right now.

His recovery is going incredibly well and he is impressing all of his doctors and nurses by displaying a great deal of physical strength for a man who has been bedridden for 12 days and virtually comatose for 90% of those 12 days. He is talking a bit, passing his assessments of motor skills and actually reading things and watching t.v. However, today was not a good day for him.

After an intense brain injury like this people tend to develop a wide range of issues, each just dependent on the patient and the damage done but generally common in all ICU patients. One typical recovery right of passage is something called ICU psychosis. After being hooked up to various monitors, having tubes inserted into every orifice and almost complete sedation for a lengthy period of time, patients become agitated, cantankerous, confused and generally not pleasant. This is the phase my step-dad is in. My mother spent 2 hours today fighting with him to relax and stay in bed. Since he was free of his “brain drain” and the other various tubes and was no longer being sedated he was essentially trying to escape. He is still confused and very irritable. He was swearing at the nurses, thrashing around in bed and just being unruly. My mother finally had to cancel all visitation for him today until further notice and she herself left the hospital by late morning to come home.

Thankfully, my mother is well versed in hospitals, patients, recovery and generally cantankerous men. This doesn’t phase her at all. She is holding up remarkably well, however, my sister and I can see a change in her. It’s subtle but there, lingering around her. Her spirit is a little darker than usual. Her jovial presence is a little less jovial than usual. As soon as she gets her husband back she will return to normal, though.

Today was the first day that she and I actually spent time together outside of the hospital. For the first week I was here I was with her at the hospital almost every day. We hung out in the waiting room, took walks around the hospital campus with the boys and tried to keep each other company. In the last week she has been at the hospital all day and I have been home at her house or staying with my sister so I would only see her at night just before bed, if at all.

Today, before she came home I cleaned her house, cleaned her bathroom, did her laundry and tried to keep things in order for her. It was the least I could do and I wish I could do more. Somehow, cleaning her house and doing her laundry just doesn’t seem like enough. This evening she and I went to the store together though and I saw a little bit her old self return. It was nice, if only brief. She bought some closet organizing stuff and we came home to start working on her closet. So, I sat in her room, on her bed watching her organize her closet. It was hard work.

I handed her some of her new special hangers.

I trimmed my bangs.

I made fun of her severely outdated shirts.

I tried her size 8 shoes on my size 9 feet.

I watched Law and Order Criminal Intent, because it was on, not because I enjoy it.

I painted my nails.

When she was almost done I said, “I’m glad I could help you ma!”

She was sarcastically greatful and handed me her shoe organizer to open for her.

“I can’t, my nails are wet.” I replied quickly. Then I handed it off for someone else to open.

I thought she was going to piss herself. Come to think of it, I thought I was going to piss myself. We enjoyed a hearty and much needed laugh, if only for a brief, you-had-to-be-there moment.

I’m still not sure when I am returning home. Things with my step-dad need to be a lot better before I can even consider leaving. I just hope that things continue to get better every day and that we have no setbacks. We all miss him terribly and want nothing more than to see him walk through the door with his trademark smile and witty commentary.

Soon…..

My apologies for waiting so long to update. I haven’t felt like typing it all out and have just generally been lazy.

Ok, my step-dad is doing really well. He is still in the neuro-ICU and will be there another week or so. The doctors are incredibly happy with his progress so things are looking really good right now.

Over the last week he has been through hell and back. The two aneurysms, severe bleeding in the brain, two other procedures that needed to be done to fix other things they found while taking care of his other problems and that damn breathing tube jammed down his throat all this time.

He had the two angeograms done to insert coils into his brain that fixed the aneurysms and then the next day they found a blood clot in the tissue at the site where they inserted the instrument to perform the angeogram. The clot was not in the arterial system but in the tissues next to his vein so it wasn’t severe, but needed to be fixed. So they did that procedure right in his room. Then the day after that they found DVT in his legs. DVT is basically just blood clots and very common. So, they had to perform ANOTHER procedure to insert screens into his veins to filter the blood so that the clots would not travel up to his heart or brain. All of this occurred in about 4 days time.

After that he was kept heavily sedated, fed through a tube in his nose and breathing with the help of the breathing tube in his throat. We visited him throughout the week and just held his hand, tried talking to him to see if he understood we were there all the while knowing he was confused and not really coherent.

But, two days ago the breathing tube was FINALLY removed! It was a HUGE milestone day and we were all excited. Needless to say my step-dad was so happy to have that damn thing pulled out. He hated it. I have not been able to get to the hospital since Sunday but I hear he is doing well, trying to talk, knows his own name and said it, knows my mom and his daughters and finally understands that he is in the hospital.

I hope to see him really soon but my mom has her car again so I’m without a vehicle. Since my step-dad’s breathing tube was removed my mom has finally come home to sleep at night. She was at the hospital 24/7 for the first 8 days. But, after he was able to breath on his own she felt comfortable enough to leave at night. She goes back early in the morning now and comes home around 9pm. It’s a big step for her.

At this point I’m just trying to help where I can, but not really sure I’m doing anything. I don’t plan on going home until I know my step-dad is doing well, either in a rehabilitation facility or home and that my mom doesn’t need me.

Right now, he is still in a critical phase but really improving well and might be in a regular room by next week. After that we have to wait and see what he needs in the form of therapy, if any. Currently he is showing signs of a slight motor loss on his right side but seems to have his sense of humor still. We were all worried that he would be a different person for awhile. That he wouldn’t be funny and might be bitter and grumpy and confused. Normally he is a jovial, happy guy who is always teasing and joking. He has incredible facial expressions and loves messing with people. It seems as though that has not changed, thank God!

I have read each and every comment left and I truly appreciate all of your concerns and prayers. They mean a lot to me and my family. I will try to keep everyone updated better.