"Do you have to poop?" I just asked Tom no more than ten minutes ago.
He gave me a surprised stare from the couch. "Um?" He raised an eyebrow in question.
I gave an impatient sigh. "I'm about ready to put that Lysol cling stuff in the toilet bowl and if you have to go, it'll ruin the whole point."
Seriously, one time I had put that Lysol stuff in and no sooner than I had circled it around the bowl than Tom was strolling into the bathroom, whistling and happily closing the door behind him.
I didn't want that to happen this time. I'd just like to have clean toilets for at least a few hours before Tom goes and puts his boy germs all in it.
So anyhow. Cleaning toilets isn't the only thing I've done today.
No, I've done a lot.
In the morning I headed to Gymboree for their Baby Sale. For those who don't know they have $10 and $20 price marks for children up to 5T. Plus you can use a 20% off coupon which makes the $10 items $8 and the $20 items $16. (I know a lot of people can figure that out on their own. But if you're Math Stupid like I am, there you go.)
Tom was actually awake which is rare. Usually he sleeps during the day. But since he slept through most of the night he was on the computer.
So I told him, "Great! You're up. You can watch the baby. Here," I said and plopped a confused Natalie on his lap.
She immediately reached her arms back up for me.
Hey? Her look clearly said. Don't I get a say in where I go? I want to go with you.
But going shopping with Natalie is not fun. She's not old enough to appreciate the act. And my Gymboree is incredibly small and her stroller is mammoth sized so I'm constantly running into human beings or racks. Then Natalie always wants out of her stroller and announces that fact with a loud shriek that causes adults to wince and young children to clap their hands over their ears and shout, "Mommy! That baby is LOUD!" while shooting Natalie a dirty look. So then I have no choice but to pick her up WHILE pushing the stroller. And then I continue to bump into racks and people and seem to say, "I'm sorry," every two seconds.
"I'll be back," I promised Natalie and gave her a kiss.
She started to whimper. Her arms were still in the air, demanding to be picked up.
When she saw me heading for the door she looked utterly horrified and slid off Tom's lap even though Tom was all, "It's okay, sweetie. You can hang out with Daddy.."
Natalie toddled after me, her whining increasing with each step.
Her arms were still in the air.
It's heartbreaking, really. I mean I'm flattered she likes me so much but sheesh, sometimes I need a break.
"I love you. I'll be back," I said and reached for the front door.
Now Natalie was flat out crying.
Mommy is leaving without me. MOMMY IS LEAVING WITHOUT ME!
I rushed out the front door and shut it behind me. I heard a heartbreaking wail followed by a, "It's okay, sweetie. Really. Daddy is here!"
The crying continued as I walked to my beloved PT Cruiser.
I felt guilty as I slid behind the wheel.
But that guilt began to dissolve as I got closer and closer to the mall.
Almost there. Clothes! Cute clothes!
After I parked I went right through the mall and walked quickly to Gymboree.
I'm a woman on a mission was what my walk clearly showed to the other people.
And then there it was. Gymboree.
I walked in and headed right for the new line. Immediately there were ten things that I wanted.
But I can't...
*Le sigh*
And again I wished that I were rich and could grab whatever I wanted.
My store hadn't quite put out the entire line because, as the sales assistant told me, "We just got it in yesterday at 4:30."
Goodness.
So some things were missing which I asked about. But they just walked in the back and got the things that I needed.
I got another Gymbuck. And some uber cute clothes. And yes, I'll post pictures of Natalie in them tomorrow. Right now she's napping.
Then I called Tom and asked what he wanted for lunch. I told him I was just getting Chinese food in the mall and he said he'd take that too.
"Really?" I asked. "I thought all you liked was sweet and sour chicken.."
"No. I like sesame chicken now. Remember?"
Oh right. See at my Mom's house we ordered Chinese food. As usual, all Tom wanted was sweet and sour chicken. But then I prompted him to take a bite of my sesame chicken.
"It looks slimy," Tom said, wrinkling his nose at my outstretched fork with a tiny piece of chicken on the end.
"It's delicious," I promised.
Tom leaned over and sniffed it. "It smells."
"It's DELICIOUS," I repeated.
Then he took a cautious bite. Surprise washed over his face. "Actually," he said, chewing thoughtfully. "That's pretty good."
So then he added another Chinese dish that he liked to his tiny list.
(So far it's sweet and sour chicken, sesame chicken and beef fried rice. Oh and egg rolls, depending on how they're made.)
"I'm really an easy person to get food for," Tom told me over the phone.
Huh? Really? EASY?
That is not how I'd describe Tom. I mean the man only likes about 20% of foods in the world!
I ended up getting him a combo with rice, sesame chicken and sweet and sour chicken.
For myself I got lo mein, sesame chicken and bourbon chicken.
Yum.
Of course I also picked up my sweet tea from Chick-fil-a.
I'm stunned that there are people who don't even know what sweet tea is. One time I got some sweet tea and this lady behind me went, "What's sweet tea? I know what tea is but what's in sweet tea?"
Um.
I explained it to her and she wrinkled her nose. "Ew sugar," she said.
Ew SUGAR??!!!
How about YUM sugar!
Oh well, more sweet tea for me.
(She's probably one of those Splenda users. I tried to make sweet tea out of Splenda and I'm sorry, but it's disgusting. It has a really strange after taste.)
Then I headed for home.
I walked through the front door, bracing myself for the house to be a complete disaster and Natalie to be on the floor sitting in her own filth while pitifully going, "Mama," every few seconds.
I saw none of that though.
No, Natalie was happily playing with one of her toys and the house wasn't that messy. Of course Yogo Bits were scattered all over the floor but that's nothing compared to what I've seen the living room look like before. Tom was stretched on the couch watching Spongebob. I don't know how he can watch the same episodes over and over. If I see that episode where Spongebob takes Pearl to prom one more time I think I'll scream.
When Natalie saw me she came over with a big grin on her face.
"Did she cry long?" I asked Tom.
"Nope. Only about five minutes and then she and I just snuggled for a bit and watched Spongebob."
Ahh. Good.
Then we ate lunch. Natalie ate a few bites of lo mein and rice and then insisted that she was done.
*Sighs*
I wish the girl would eat more.
Then while we were eating Tom said, "We should go to Target."
Huh?
You have to understand that my husband is not big on shopping.
So after we ate we headed for Target. And I figured out why Tom wanted to go to Target. He wanted Madden 09 for his PSP.
"Well you DID get all those clothes," he pointed out.
I did pick up a shoe organizer for Natalie since a lot of their college stuff was 50% off.
And now I'm home and I've cleaned some toilets.
Wouldn't you know that Tom just announced that he has to use the bathroom?
I shot him a dirty look and he went, "I'll clean it afterwards. I promise!"
Ugh. Living with a man can be so disgusting sometimes.
Thursday, September 4, 2008
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
The Cyst Appointment
So on Thursday I went in to get the cyst under my eye removed.
I left early so I could browse Barnes and Noble in peace before my appointment. To sort of calm me down because I was still worried about the NEEDLE that was going to be injected under my EYE.
I'm a nerd so my stomach started bubbling with excitement as I pulled up in front of Barnes and Noble and parked. Of course I love it there. It houses one of my favorite things: books. I could spend hours in there just browsing all the different titles and then relaxing with a book while sipping a sweet beverage from the Coffee Shop that is located within the store.
When I pushed open the front door I was hit by the scent of coffee. Mmmmm. I don't like coffee (sometimes I wish I did--those iced coffee drinks look delicious) but I have always loved the smell. I headed for the fiction section and started looking at all the colorful books. Of course it's dangerious territory for me to look at books. I inevitably want to get one and I cringe when I peer at the cost. Shouldn't a bunch of bound paper be like five bucks or something? Why do I need to fork out $20 for one book? It doesn't make sense. But it doesn't stop me from looking. Or buying.
Not even five minutes later I already had about ten books that I wanted.
What did I end up settling on?
Mainly because I love all things Henry VIII. I cannot wait for the new season of The Tudors to begin.
Of course I wanted more than one book. But I do have willpower. Or rather a Voice of Reason who constantly pipes into my head when I find something that I decide that I must have.
Do you really need that, Amber? Are you sure, Amber?
I was tempted to order a drink called the Triple Chocolate after I had checked out. It's something that I've had before and it's delicious. And topped off with whipped cream. I like to pretend that there aren't a lot of calories in it because I only order a small. But usually something called TRIPLE chocolate has at least five hundred calories. Some of the health experts are all, "If you MUST order that unhealthy drink get it without the whipped cream. That can save you fifty calories."
But hello? If I'm already going all out I may as well add on the fifty calories. Plus what's a drink without whipped cream on top?
I decided not to order the drink not because I was being good. But because I had to be at my appointment in twenty minutes and I didn't want to have to quickly gulp it down. I like to savor drinks like that. And trick myself into thinking that because I'm drinking it slow, that there is no fat content to it.
I headed for my appointment and walked into the building. I checked in and then took a seat. I picked up an old People magazine and started flipping through the pages while my feet clicked against the floor nervously. An old lady across from me frowned at my restless legs over her plant magazine. It looked like she wanted to say, "Lands sake. If you keep up with that your legs are going to walk off without you!"
I couldn't help it though. I was scared. I started to chew my fingernail but then stopped.
I can't chew on myself in public. It's gross.
I was called back about five minutes later. I was led into a room by a doctor who introduced herself and then started touching at my face.
It was a little bizarre. Just seconds after saying your name a perfect stranger is invading your space and poking at your skin.
I was slightly taken aback as she squeezed at my cyst.
After a few seconds she had a name for my cyst which for the life of me I can't remember.
Then she asked for assistance and another woman came in.
"I'll need the four punch," she told the help lady.
The FOUR punch?
What in the world--??
The doctor explained what all would happen.
It involved needles (eek), a tiny knife (DOUBLE EEK) and that four punch thing she had mentioned.
"I'm just," I said, nervously and swallowed, "I'm just going to keep my eyes closed."
I figured that would be best. Because if I saw the needle coming at me there is a good chance that I'd suddenly leap from the chair and go, "You know what? The cyst isn't bothering me. I think I'll go now. Many thanks," and run on out of there.
So the doctor pushed a button and my chair went back. I quickly squished my eyes shut as if I was worried that she'd automatically produce the scary needle--as if she kept needles in her pocket or something.
"First I'm going to rub the cyst with alcohol," she explained and I felt wetness under my eye.
"Then I'm going to mark it," she continued and I felt a marker tip.
"And now here comes the part that might sting for a second.."
The NEEDLE.
Oh my GOD the NEEDLE.
Oh my--
"And we're done.."
Oh.
I could barely feel a thing.
Then I think she took that four punch thing because I felt pressure on my cheek.
Then she found the cyst and went, "Ahh. It's coming out beautifully," which made me feel better.
And then she stitched it shut.
"All finished," she said and I opened my eyes.
My cheek felt a little sore but nothing horrible.
"Do you want to see it?" she asked me.
It?
Oh. The cyst.
"Sure," I said cautiously. I mean did I REALLY want to see it? What if it was disgusting and ewww SLIMY?
Then she reached over and showed it to me with a pair of tweezers. It looked like a tiny tiny kidney. Seriously. Though it was white.
"Some cysts are a cottage cheese like substance," she explained as my cyst dangled in front of me. "Some are firm like yours."
Interesting.
I was told to come back in two weeks to get the stitches removed.
Fun.
I was also taught how to take care of my stitches and then I was sent on my way.
It only took about twenty minutes. It was only 3:20 at that point and I had told Tom that I might not be home until around 5:00. I debated heading back to Barnes and Noble--I mean he wouldn't know how long my appointment was. He didn't know how long it took to remove cysts. I could totally get away with it and have my Triple Chocolate drink
But my Voice of Reason piped up.
Amber, that's not nice. Go home.
And I knew I'd feel guilty.
So I headed for home.
I felt a little embarrassed when I pulled up at the base gate to show my ID card. I was worried the guy checking my ID would be all, "What happened to your FACE?"
But as it was I had a tired looking troop who just wanted to go home check my ID card. He barely even glanced at me.
Tommy had just arrived home when I drove up. He glanced at my face and went, "What HAPPENED, Mommy?"
And Natalie kept pointing at it.
Tom went, "Aww you're cute with your tiny stitches."
Would you believe that I've never had stitches before? (Well except for on my crotch after I pushed out my kids.) It's surprising considering on how much of a klutz I am.
Tom even made dinner. Nothing fancy, just Sloppy Joes.
Of course it's a little weird going out with stitches. Some people have glanced over and obviously they're curious but they don't want to ask in fear of being considered nosey.
But I'm okay. I haven't gone blind.
"I TOLD you it would be fine," Tom said, rolling his eyes at me.
"You just never know," I replied seriously.
Because you don't. I really should refrain from watching those scary medical shows on The Discovery Channel. I don't really need to know that sometimes a scalpal can be left inside you on accident. I really don't.
I left early so I could browse Barnes and Noble in peace before my appointment. To sort of calm me down because I was still worried about the NEEDLE that was going to be injected under my EYE.
I'm a nerd so my stomach started bubbling with excitement as I pulled up in front of Barnes and Noble and parked. Of course I love it there. It houses one of my favorite things: books. I could spend hours in there just browsing all the different titles and then relaxing with a book while sipping a sweet beverage from the Coffee Shop that is located within the store.
When I pushed open the front door I was hit by the scent of coffee. Mmmmm. I don't like coffee (sometimes I wish I did--those iced coffee drinks look delicious) but I have always loved the smell. I headed for the fiction section and started looking at all the colorful books. Of course it's dangerious territory for me to look at books. I inevitably want to get one and I cringe when I peer at the cost. Shouldn't a bunch of bound paper be like five bucks or something? Why do I need to fork out $20 for one book? It doesn't make sense. But it doesn't stop me from looking. Or buying.
Not even five minutes later I already had about ten books that I wanted.
What did I end up settling on?
Mainly because I love all things Henry VIII. I cannot wait for the new season of The Tudors to begin.
Of course I wanted more than one book. But I do have willpower. Or rather a Voice of Reason who constantly pipes into my head when I find something that I decide that I must have.
Do you really need that, Amber? Are you sure, Amber?
I was tempted to order a drink called the Triple Chocolate after I had checked out. It's something that I've had before and it's delicious. And topped off with whipped cream. I like to pretend that there aren't a lot of calories in it because I only order a small. But usually something called TRIPLE chocolate has at least five hundred calories. Some of the health experts are all, "If you MUST order that unhealthy drink get it without the whipped cream. That can save you fifty calories."
But hello? If I'm already going all out I may as well add on the fifty calories. Plus what's a drink without whipped cream on top?
I decided not to order the drink not because I was being good. But because I had to be at my appointment in twenty minutes and I didn't want to have to quickly gulp it down. I like to savor drinks like that. And trick myself into thinking that because I'm drinking it slow, that there is no fat content to it.
I headed for my appointment and walked into the building. I checked in and then took a seat. I picked up an old People magazine and started flipping through the pages while my feet clicked against the floor nervously. An old lady across from me frowned at my restless legs over her plant magazine. It looked like she wanted to say, "Lands sake. If you keep up with that your legs are going to walk off without you!"
I couldn't help it though. I was scared. I started to chew my fingernail but then stopped.
I can't chew on myself in public. It's gross.
I was called back about five minutes later. I was led into a room by a doctor who introduced herself and then started touching at my face.
It was a little bizarre. Just seconds after saying your name a perfect stranger is invading your space and poking at your skin.
I was slightly taken aback as she squeezed at my cyst.
After a few seconds she had a name for my cyst which for the life of me I can't remember.
Then she asked for assistance and another woman came in.
"I'll need the four punch," she told the help lady.
The FOUR punch?
What in the world--??
The doctor explained what all would happen.
It involved needles (eek), a tiny knife (DOUBLE EEK) and that four punch thing she had mentioned.
"I'm just," I said, nervously and swallowed, "I'm just going to keep my eyes closed."
I figured that would be best. Because if I saw the needle coming at me there is a good chance that I'd suddenly leap from the chair and go, "You know what? The cyst isn't bothering me. I think I'll go now. Many thanks," and run on out of there.
So the doctor pushed a button and my chair went back. I quickly squished my eyes shut as if I was worried that she'd automatically produce the scary needle--as if she kept needles in her pocket or something.
"First I'm going to rub the cyst with alcohol," she explained and I felt wetness under my eye.
"Then I'm going to mark it," she continued and I felt a marker tip.
"And now here comes the part that might sting for a second.."
The NEEDLE.
Oh my GOD the NEEDLE.
Oh my--
"And we're done.."
Oh.
I could barely feel a thing.
Then I think she took that four punch thing because I felt pressure on my cheek.
Then she found the cyst and went, "Ahh. It's coming out beautifully," which made me feel better.
And then she stitched it shut.
"All finished," she said and I opened my eyes.
My cheek felt a little sore but nothing horrible.
"Do you want to see it?" she asked me.
It?
Oh. The cyst.
"Sure," I said cautiously. I mean did I REALLY want to see it? What if it was disgusting and ewww SLIMY?
Then she reached over and showed it to me with a pair of tweezers. It looked like a tiny tiny kidney. Seriously. Though it was white.
"Some cysts are a cottage cheese like substance," she explained as my cyst dangled in front of me. "Some are firm like yours."
Interesting.
I was told to come back in two weeks to get the stitches removed.
Fun.
I was also taught how to take care of my stitches and then I was sent on my way.
It only took about twenty minutes. It was only 3:20 at that point and I had told Tom that I might not be home until around 5:00. I debated heading back to Barnes and Noble--I mean he wouldn't know how long my appointment was. He didn't know how long it took to remove cysts. I could totally get away with it and have my Triple Chocolate drink
But my Voice of Reason piped up.
Amber, that's not nice. Go home.
And I knew I'd feel guilty.
So I headed for home.
I felt a little embarrassed when I pulled up at the base gate to show my ID card. I was worried the guy checking my ID would be all, "What happened to your FACE?"
But as it was I had a tired looking troop who just wanted to go home check my ID card. He barely even glanced at me.
Tommy had just arrived home when I drove up. He glanced at my face and went, "What HAPPENED, Mommy?"
And Natalie kept pointing at it.
Tom went, "Aww you're cute with your tiny stitches."
Would you believe that I've never had stitches before? (Well except for on my crotch after I pushed out my kids.) It's surprising considering on how much of a klutz I am.
Tom even made dinner. Nothing fancy, just Sloppy Joes.
Of course it's a little weird going out with stitches. Some people have glanced over and obviously they're curious but they don't want to ask in fear of being considered nosey.
But I'm okay. I haven't gone blind.
"I TOLD you it would be fine," Tom said, rolling his eyes at me.
"You just never know," I replied seriously.
Because you don't. I really should refrain from watching those scary medical shows on The Discovery Channel. I don't really need to know that sometimes a scalpal can be left inside you on accident. I really don't.
Thursday, August 28, 2008
The Needle Under My Eye
So today I have to go in to get that cyst under my eye removed.
It's pretty small and not terribly noticable. But when my Mom came to visit she freaked out about it and said I needed to make an appointment to get it removed.
So I did.
The base hospital doesn't do things like that so I was referred to a place about twelve minutes away.
I made Tom drive me to it so I'd know exactly where to go. I'm awful at finding things even if I do have directions. Seriously. Tom says I'm a horrible map reader. I've sent us into the boonies more times than I care to admit because the map looked like it was telling me to go one direction when we were meant to go another.
"Sorry," I always say to an annoyed Tom when he has to turn the truck around.
So he showed me where the Skin Clinic was. It turned out it was right down the street from McDonalds, where we frequent.
Tricare (our insurance) sent me a list of what would be happening at the appointment.
Doesn't this sound scary?
SHAVE SKIN LESION
DESTRUCT PREMALG LESION
That scared the crap out of me. I'm going to have a NEEDLE injected into my face an inch below my eye. And SHAVING??!!
I try not to worry about it. I calm myself down by going, "Okay. You pushed two human beings from your vagina. Granted drugs were involved but to get those drugs I had to have a HUGE needle in my BACK. If you can go through that, you can have a small needle injected one inch from your eye..and look on the bright side, at least I don't have to show my crotch to a bunch of people! It's just your face that is going to be examine.."
But then I start to panic again.
A needle is going to be injected ONE inch from my EYE!
"I could go BLIND," I told Tom seriously.
He rolled his eyes, used to my antics. "You won't go blind."
"But..but..suppose the needle accidentally pierced my EYEBALL and I go BLIND?" I continued, wringing my fingers together nervously.
"That won't happen," Tom said calmly.
Sometimes I wish he'd get frantic with me instead of sitting there all serene-like. It could have been that he was also trying to watch some boring program on The Military Channel too. It was about (surprise surprise) World War 2.
"What if the left side of my face stays numb..FOREVER?" I finished this question dramatically with a sweep of my hand for emphasis.
Tom wasn't even phased. He just blinked and scratched his leg. "Won't happen."
I gave up and started reading a book. I tried not to think about the needle that would be ONE INCH from my EYE the next day.
Tom is watching the kids while I go and get this done. At first there was a bit of a problem with that. I had made my appointment and reminded Tom when he phoned from work to say goodnight.
Then he went, "Damn," and I knew something was wrong.
"I have firing that day," he informed me simply.
I can't tell you how many times I've had to reschedule my appointments because Tom had something COME UP on his DAY off. Heaven forbid that I attempt to plan something on his DAY OFF.
It's not his fault. It's the military, really. I love the military most of the time but it irks me when I can't even plan a thing on Tom's days off for fear that something will come up.
So I yelled at Tom over the phone. I used the f-word a number of times which I only do if I'm really angry.
Tom said he'd try to work something out.
Thankfully he was able to reschedule his firing.
Last night I reminded him to stand outside at 3:30 when Tommy comes home from school.
And to make sure he gets Natalie up at 3:00 from her nap because if she sleeps longer than that then it's hell trying to get her to go to sleep at night.
I wasn't fully sure if he was paying attention because his eyes remained on the television screen.
"Okay, so what time do you need to wake Natalie up from her nap?" I quizzed.
Tom looked annoyed and pulled his eyes from the TV. "Amber. I know how to take care of my children. Thanks."
Which is true but he isn't left with them that often so I'm never sure if he's aware of the schedule. He's more of a let them go free type of guy and I know if roles were reversed and I worked and he stayed home, he'd probably not even HAVE a schedule. And the kids would still be awake at (gasp) ten at night and he'd be all, "They'll sleep when they're tired."
Eek. Just EEK.
(My kids are in bed by 830 thankyouverymuch. And some nights 8:30 can't come soon enough.)
I also asked him to start dinner if I wasn't back by 5:00. I should be as my appointment is at 3:00.
"But just in case there are..." I lowered my voice all dramatically. "Complications."
Tom furrowed his eyebrows. "Amber. They're removing a cyst smaller than my pinky nail. There won't be complications."
"I could bleed heavily," I said with a sharp nod.
"I doubt it."
I suppose it's a good thing that he doesn't get excited with me. If he said something like, "Crap, you COULD bleed heavily and there is a chance you COULD go blind," I'd be in a worse panic than I am now.
"If I do go blind in my left eye, I'd still have my right anyway," I said. I closed my left eye and peered at Tom with only my right. "I'd be okay with just one eye. Jennifer only has one good eye and she's just fine."
Tom gave me a Look. "Amber. Everything will be okay. Seriously."
He's probably right.
(Though the whole needle an inch below my eye is still freaking me out a little bit..I'm not good with needles to begin with..)
To cheer me up, I'll share some pictures of some of Natalie's fall outfits.
It's pretty small and not terribly noticable. But when my Mom came to visit she freaked out about it and said I needed to make an appointment to get it removed.
So I did.
The base hospital doesn't do things like that so I was referred to a place about twelve minutes away.
I made Tom drive me to it so I'd know exactly where to go. I'm awful at finding things even if I do have directions. Seriously. Tom says I'm a horrible map reader. I've sent us into the boonies more times than I care to admit because the map looked like it was telling me to go one direction when we were meant to go another.
"Sorry," I always say to an annoyed Tom when he has to turn the truck around.
So he showed me where the Skin Clinic was. It turned out it was right down the street from McDonalds, where we frequent.
Tricare (our insurance) sent me a list of what would be happening at the appointment.
Doesn't this sound scary?
SHAVE SKIN LESION
DESTRUCT PREMALG LESION
That scared the crap out of me. I'm going to have a NEEDLE injected into my face an inch below my eye. And SHAVING??!!
I try not to worry about it. I calm myself down by going, "Okay. You pushed two human beings from your vagina. Granted drugs were involved but to get those drugs I had to have a HUGE needle in my BACK. If you can go through that, you can have a small needle injected one inch from your eye..and look on the bright side, at least I don't have to show my crotch to a bunch of people! It's just your face that is going to be examine.."
But then I start to panic again.
A needle is going to be injected ONE inch from my EYE!
"I could go BLIND," I told Tom seriously.
He rolled his eyes, used to my antics. "You won't go blind."
"But..but..suppose the needle accidentally pierced my EYEBALL and I go BLIND?" I continued, wringing my fingers together nervously.
"That won't happen," Tom said calmly.
Sometimes I wish he'd get frantic with me instead of sitting there all serene-like. It could have been that he was also trying to watch some boring program on The Military Channel too. It was about (surprise surprise) World War 2.
"What if the left side of my face stays numb..FOREVER?" I finished this question dramatically with a sweep of my hand for emphasis.
Tom wasn't even phased. He just blinked and scratched his leg. "Won't happen."
I gave up and started reading a book. I tried not to think about the needle that would be ONE INCH from my EYE the next day.
Tom is watching the kids while I go and get this done. At first there was a bit of a problem with that. I had made my appointment and reminded Tom when he phoned from work to say goodnight.
Then he went, "Damn," and I knew something was wrong.
"I have firing that day," he informed me simply.
I can't tell you how many times I've had to reschedule my appointments because Tom had something COME UP on his DAY off. Heaven forbid that I attempt to plan something on his DAY OFF.
It's not his fault. It's the military, really. I love the military most of the time but it irks me when I can't even plan a thing on Tom's days off for fear that something will come up.
So I yelled at Tom over the phone. I used the f-word a number of times which I only do if I'm really angry.
Tom said he'd try to work something out.
Thankfully he was able to reschedule his firing.
Last night I reminded him to stand outside at 3:30 when Tommy comes home from school.
And to make sure he gets Natalie up at 3:00 from her nap because if she sleeps longer than that then it's hell trying to get her to go to sleep at night.
I wasn't fully sure if he was paying attention because his eyes remained on the television screen.
"Okay, so what time do you need to wake Natalie up from her nap?" I quizzed.
Tom looked annoyed and pulled his eyes from the TV. "Amber. I know how to take care of my children. Thanks."
Which is true but he isn't left with them that often so I'm never sure if he's aware of the schedule. He's more of a let them go free type of guy and I know if roles were reversed and I worked and he stayed home, he'd probably not even HAVE a schedule. And the kids would still be awake at (gasp) ten at night and he'd be all, "They'll sleep when they're tired."
Eek. Just EEK.
(My kids are in bed by 830 thankyouverymuch. And some nights 8:30 can't come soon enough.)
I also asked him to start dinner if I wasn't back by 5:00. I should be as my appointment is at 3:00.
"But just in case there are..." I lowered my voice all dramatically. "Complications."
Tom furrowed his eyebrows. "Amber. They're removing a cyst smaller than my pinky nail. There won't be complications."
"I could bleed heavily," I said with a sharp nod.
"I doubt it."
I suppose it's a good thing that he doesn't get excited with me. If he said something like, "Crap, you COULD bleed heavily and there is a chance you COULD go blind," I'd be in a worse panic than I am now.
"If I do go blind in my left eye, I'd still have my right anyway," I said. I closed my left eye and peered at Tom with only my right. "I'd be okay with just one eye. Jennifer only has one good eye and she's just fine."
Tom gave me a Look. "Amber. Everything will be okay. Seriously."
He's probably right.
(Though the whole needle an inch below my eye is still freaking me out a little bit..I'm not good with needles to begin with..)
To cheer me up, I'll share some pictures of some of Natalie's fall outfits.
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
The First Day of First Grade
Well, he's gone.
Tommy that is.
He started his first day of first grade this morning.
I remember when he started preschool. We were in England at the time. He was three-years-old and was able to start so early because they wanted to start him on speech and occupational therapy.
He was still in Pull Ups for goodness sakes!
Then we moved to Wyoming and he went to preschool:
He never had any problems going to school. I thought he might tear up and scream for his Mommy but he never did. He calmly would climb on the bus and give me a firm wave goodbye.
I'm fine, Mom.
Then came Kindergarten:
And he had his fair share of challenges. I began to receive weekly phone calls.
Tommy won't stop crying at school...
Mrs. M****? We're having issues with Tommy. He continues to cry and disrupt the class..
It wasn't easy. I began to dread the ringing of the telephone. I'd find myself tense up the minute the phone started tingling and my heart would drop when the school name would appear on the Caller ID screen.
Mrs. M****? Remember when you gave us permission to test Tommy? Well he tested that he most likely has autism...
But it wasn't all bad news. One time his Resource Room teacher told me that he was understanding how to tell time faster than the first graders that she was teaching.
He's obviously very smart...
I've always known that. He could write his name at three. When he was four he'd tell me simply that two plus two was four.
Sometimes it's just hard to get him to sit so he can concentrate on the work.
Tommy! Please sit still and do your homework!
I can't, Mommy! My legs say no!
Mrs. M****? I can't get Tommy to focus long enough on the work...
I know I'll probably receive a good amount of phone calls this year. I'm prepared for them at least. Last year they all of a sudden started and I was taken by surprise.
Last night we went to Back to School night and we found Tommy's classroom.
He found his cubby and his seat.
"Mommy? It says Thomas. I'm Tommy," Tommy said, pointing at his name tag that was taped to his spot.
The teacher overheard. "It's because we're going to learn how to spell your full name," she explained.
Tommy looked a bit miffed. "But I'm TOMMY not THOMAS." He spit out the name Thomas like it was something horrible.
"I'll definately call you Tommy," the teacher promised. "But this way you can learn to spell Thomas."
Tommy thought about this for a few seconds. Then he whispered to me, "But I'm not Thomas." He was probably thinking, "Why do I have to learn to spell a name that I don't even LIKE?"
His teacher seemed friendly. She's aware of Tommy's issues. I spoke to her in low tones while Tommy explored the classroom.
"...had issues with crying last year....most likely has autism....sometimes it's hard to get him to focus..." I murmured.
She nodded knowingly. "I know." She gave me a sympathetic look. "I read his chart."
Of course. I imagine the high needs children folders are placed on a table and are evenly placed with teachers. In my warped up mind the teachers glance through the folders and go, "Eek. This one cries. Please someone else take him.."
I'm sure it doesn't go like that. I'm almost positive. But I can't help but worry that teachers are scrambling to get away from teaching someone like Tommy.
Tommy was awake before I even came in and got him this morning. I opened his door and he jumped down from his bed, already dressed in the outfit we had picked out the night before.
Tommy was quite serious about what he wanted to wear. I'd bring out a pair of pants and a shirt and he'd shake his head and insist on something else. Then he couldn't decide what shoes he wanted. The Sketchers or the Nikes?
"Sketchers BREATHE!" he informed me, holding one.
I was confused at first and asked him to elaborate.
"On the commercial. It says that Sketchers BREATHE," he said importantly.
Oh.
"Are you ready for first grade?" I asked him, trying to muster enthusiam in my voice. Because admittedly, I was half asleep and wanted to crawl back into bed.
"I'm ready!" Tommy answered, sounding a little like Spongebob Squarepants.
We went downstairs and on auto-pilot I started pouring him a bowl of Froot Loops. It's what he always has. Then I paused, in mid-pour.
Should I offer a special breakfast since it's his first day? I'm sure all the good mothers out there are making fresh pancakes and eggs for their children..
Guilt washed over me and I placed the cereal box on the counter.
"Tommy?" I asked. "Would you like some eggs?"
I felt like I should offer it. Even though I was half asleep and would probably accidentally drop a shell in the mix.
"No thank you," Tommy said. "Just cereal."
Oh thank goodness.
So I handed him his cereal and he ate while I took a seat beside him at the table.
"And remember. You need to learn to have patience," I told him, sipping at my water.
"No crying," Tommy said between bites.
"No crying," I repeated.
Of course he would do this before Kindergarten and I'd feel hopeful thinking, Maybe this is the day that he'll get better. Maybe this'll be the day that he doesn't cry. But then he'd come off the bus with tear stained cheeks and my heart would drop. And then the phone call would come.
"If you raise your hand and the teacher doesn't call on you, that's okay," I continued.
It was something that would cause meltdowns last year. He'd raise his hand and the teacher would call someone else. Then he'd shriek and cry and carry on to the point where he'd have to go into time out. Where he'd still shriek and cry and say, "Please let me come back!"
I insisted on taking pictures before we walked out to the bus stop. I suppose I could have driven him on the first day. I know a lot of parents do. But I believe riding the bus is an important part of growing up.
We walked to the bus stop and Tommy seemed a little nervous. He stood beside me and muttered out hellos to the people who greeted him.
And then the bus came and he stood in line. I gave him a hug and he told me, "Mommy. I have to go.."
Then I had a flashback of him as a baby:
As the bus pulled away I couldn't help thinking, "Where did the time go?"
I stood there for a few seconds after the bus pulled away, feeling saddened that my little boy was growing up.
But then I had to get on with my day so I took a deep breath and walked home with Natalie on my hip.
"Don't you grow up too fast," I informed her.
She smiled at me and I realized that she was getting another tooth.
We went grocery shopping and I picked up one of these for Tommy:
To celebrate the first day of First Grade.
To celebrate..growing up..
Tommy that is.
He started his first day of first grade this morning.
I remember when he started preschool. We were in England at the time. He was three-years-old and was able to start so early because they wanted to start him on speech and occupational therapy.
He was still in Pull Ups for goodness sakes!
Then we moved to Wyoming and he went to preschool:
He never had any problems going to school. I thought he might tear up and scream for his Mommy but he never did. He calmly would climb on the bus and give me a firm wave goodbye.
I'm fine, Mom.
Then came Kindergarten:
And he had his fair share of challenges. I began to receive weekly phone calls.
Tommy won't stop crying at school...
Mrs. M****? We're having issues with Tommy. He continues to cry and disrupt the class..
It wasn't easy. I began to dread the ringing of the telephone. I'd find myself tense up the minute the phone started tingling and my heart would drop when the school name would appear on the Caller ID screen.
Mrs. M****? Remember when you gave us permission to test Tommy? Well he tested that he most likely has autism...
But it wasn't all bad news. One time his Resource Room teacher told me that he was understanding how to tell time faster than the first graders that she was teaching.
He's obviously very smart...
I've always known that. He could write his name at three. When he was four he'd tell me simply that two plus two was four.
Sometimes it's just hard to get him to sit so he can concentrate on the work.
Tommy! Please sit still and do your homework!
I can't, Mommy! My legs say no!
Mrs. M****? I can't get Tommy to focus long enough on the work...
I know I'll probably receive a good amount of phone calls this year. I'm prepared for them at least. Last year they all of a sudden started and I was taken by surprise.
Last night we went to Back to School night and we found Tommy's classroom.
He found his cubby and his seat.
"Mommy? It says Thomas. I'm Tommy," Tommy said, pointing at his name tag that was taped to his spot.
The teacher overheard. "It's because we're going to learn how to spell your full name," she explained.
Tommy looked a bit miffed. "But I'm TOMMY not THOMAS." He spit out the name Thomas like it was something horrible.
"I'll definately call you Tommy," the teacher promised. "But this way you can learn to spell Thomas."
Tommy thought about this for a few seconds. Then he whispered to me, "But I'm not Thomas." He was probably thinking, "Why do I have to learn to spell a name that I don't even LIKE?"
His teacher seemed friendly. She's aware of Tommy's issues. I spoke to her in low tones while Tommy explored the classroom.
"...had issues with crying last year....most likely has autism....sometimes it's hard to get him to focus..." I murmured.
She nodded knowingly. "I know." She gave me a sympathetic look. "I read his chart."
Of course. I imagine the high needs children folders are placed on a table and are evenly placed with teachers. In my warped up mind the teachers glance through the folders and go, "Eek. This one cries. Please someone else take him.."
I'm sure it doesn't go like that. I'm almost positive. But I can't help but worry that teachers are scrambling to get away from teaching someone like Tommy.
Tommy was awake before I even came in and got him this morning. I opened his door and he jumped down from his bed, already dressed in the outfit we had picked out the night before.
Tommy was quite serious about what he wanted to wear. I'd bring out a pair of pants and a shirt and he'd shake his head and insist on something else. Then he couldn't decide what shoes he wanted. The Sketchers or the Nikes?
"Sketchers BREATHE!" he informed me, holding one.
I was confused at first and asked him to elaborate.
"On the commercial. It says that Sketchers BREATHE," he said importantly.
Oh.
"Are you ready for first grade?" I asked him, trying to muster enthusiam in my voice. Because admittedly, I was half asleep and wanted to crawl back into bed.
"I'm ready!" Tommy answered, sounding a little like Spongebob Squarepants.
We went downstairs and on auto-pilot I started pouring him a bowl of Froot Loops. It's what he always has. Then I paused, in mid-pour.
Should I offer a special breakfast since it's his first day? I'm sure all the good mothers out there are making fresh pancakes and eggs for their children..
Guilt washed over me and I placed the cereal box on the counter.
"Tommy?" I asked. "Would you like some eggs?"
I felt like I should offer it. Even though I was half asleep and would probably accidentally drop a shell in the mix.
"No thank you," Tommy said. "Just cereal."
Oh thank goodness.
So I handed him his cereal and he ate while I took a seat beside him at the table.
"And remember. You need to learn to have patience," I told him, sipping at my water.
"No crying," Tommy said between bites.
"No crying," I repeated.
Of course he would do this before Kindergarten and I'd feel hopeful thinking, Maybe this is the day that he'll get better. Maybe this'll be the day that he doesn't cry. But then he'd come off the bus with tear stained cheeks and my heart would drop. And then the phone call would come.
"If you raise your hand and the teacher doesn't call on you, that's okay," I continued.
It was something that would cause meltdowns last year. He'd raise his hand and the teacher would call someone else. Then he'd shriek and cry and carry on to the point where he'd have to go into time out. Where he'd still shriek and cry and say, "Please let me come back!"
I insisted on taking pictures before we walked out to the bus stop. I suppose I could have driven him on the first day. I know a lot of parents do. But I believe riding the bus is an important part of growing up.
We walked to the bus stop and Tommy seemed a little nervous. He stood beside me and muttered out hellos to the people who greeted him.
And then the bus came and he stood in line. I gave him a hug and he told me, "Mommy. I have to go.."
Then I had a flashback of him as a baby:
As the bus pulled away I couldn't help thinking, "Where did the time go?"
I stood there for a few seconds after the bus pulled away, feeling saddened that my little boy was growing up.
But then I had to get on with my day so I took a deep breath and walked home with Natalie on my hip.
"Don't you grow up too fast," I informed her.
She smiled at me and I realized that she was getting another tooth.
We went grocery shopping and I picked up one of these for Tommy:
To celebrate the first day of First Grade.
To celebrate..growing up..
Friday, August 22, 2008
So I'm Home...
Am home.
Just got home, actually.
Had Taco Bell for dinner. Grilled Stuffed Burritos rock. With lots of fire sauce, of course.
Was half asleep on plane and muttered, "Can't wait to get home and see Jennifer.." Tom was all, "Um? We're not living in England anymore. You won't be seeing Jennifer.." Oh.
Last night we were packing. Really, Mom was packing. Mom folds things quite nicely. I, on the other hand, don't have the patience to make things look so nice. But Mom folds things like nothing, making creases and all that..giving me more room to stuff the things that I bought.
Yes, I bought. We went to the Outlet mall and I popped into Oshkosh and Gymboree. Oh and The Children's Place. Cannot help it that companies keep making such cute clothes. But had a coupon to every place that I went at least.
Oh, last night I was in the room "helping" Mom pack. Really just standing there while she neatly folded. She prefers it that way. I just end up messing things up and then she has to politely go, "Really. I can handle this," which, in her language means, "Don't touch! For the love of God, don't touch and ruin my lovely creases!" Anyhow a beetle ran over my hand and I screamed at the top of my lungs.
Mom was not amused. She jumped and screeched, "WHAT?" and looked like she was about to pass out.
"Beetle TOUCHED me," I gasped out.
Mom not amused. "Amber. We only scream in an emergency.."
WAS an emergency. Ugly beetle TOUCHED me.
Picked up Max before coming home. Was a little tired and told the lady, "Need to pick up Max the Cat.." Um, DUH, obviously he's a cat. Is Cat CLINIC that he's in. Only cats are there. The lady kind of gave me a bewildered look but brought Max out. Max not pleased to be in cage. Meowed most of the way home.
Had a fun trip. Went to Texas and spent time with parents and Mom took me shopping and to The Melting Pot. Good thing about not being at Texas is no more Olympics. Wait. Tom might watch Olympics. Damn. No more Micheal Phelps=bored out of her mind Amber. Blahh..
Had fun at beach too. Was at a beach in Port Aransas. Called Mustang Island. Took tons of photos. Will post soon.
Must go finish unpacking.
Am way way behind in Big Brother. Thankfully DVR worked and recorded all the episodes. Don't know who is still in or out. Hope that Jerry is still in. Am quite amused by Jerry's soft voice.
Just got home, actually.
Had Taco Bell for dinner. Grilled Stuffed Burritos rock. With lots of fire sauce, of course.
Was half asleep on plane and muttered, "Can't wait to get home and see Jennifer.." Tom was all, "Um? We're not living in England anymore. You won't be seeing Jennifer.." Oh.
Last night we were packing. Really, Mom was packing. Mom folds things quite nicely. I, on the other hand, don't have the patience to make things look so nice. But Mom folds things like nothing, making creases and all that..giving me more room to stuff the things that I bought.
Yes, I bought. We went to the Outlet mall and I popped into Oshkosh and Gymboree. Oh and The Children's Place. Cannot help it that companies keep making such cute clothes. But had a coupon to every place that I went at least.
Oh, last night I was in the room "helping" Mom pack. Really just standing there while she neatly folded. She prefers it that way. I just end up messing things up and then she has to politely go, "Really. I can handle this," which, in her language means, "Don't touch! For the love of God, don't touch and ruin my lovely creases!" Anyhow a beetle ran over my hand and I screamed at the top of my lungs.
Mom was not amused. She jumped and screeched, "WHAT?" and looked like she was about to pass out.
"Beetle TOUCHED me," I gasped out.
Mom not amused. "Amber. We only scream in an emergency.."
WAS an emergency. Ugly beetle TOUCHED me.
Picked up Max before coming home. Was a little tired and told the lady, "Need to pick up Max the Cat.." Um, DUH, obviously he's a cat. Is Cat CLINIC that he's in. Only cats are there. The lady kind of gave me a bewildered look but brought Max out. Max not pleased to be in cage. Meowed most of the way home.
Had a fun trip. Went to Texas and spent time with parents and Mom took me shopping and to The Melting Pot. Good thing about not being at Texas is no more Olympics. Wait. Tom might watch Olympics. Damn. No more Micheal Phelps=bored out of her mind Amber. Blahh..
Had fun at beach too. Was at a beach in Port Aransas. Called Mustang Island. Took tons of photos. Will post soon.
Must go finish unpacking.
Am way way behind in Big Brother. Thankfully DVR worked and recorded all the episodes. Don't know who is still in or out. Hope that Jerry is still in. Am quite amused by Jerry's soft voice.
Friday, August 15, 2008
Real Quick
Popping in real quick.
At the beach in Texas.
Have not been eaten by a shark. (Yays!)
Period started though. My body hates me. Already knew that my body hates me so I packed the proper items ahead of time to deal with disgusting mess.
Saw new line over at Gymboree forum. Am in trouble. Want most of new line. Thank goodness that special 30% off sale starts Thursday for everything in store.
Got Tom to say I could buy new line because he went out and played Bocce Ball and left me with two kids. Called him a few choice words and then he said, "Calm down, what do you want?" and I said, "To shop the new line." He agreed. So it all works out.
Was able to watch a movie with Tom and cousins yesterday. Saw Tropic Thunder. Was silly. Ben Stiller is amusing. Ate tons of popcorn.
Tonight Tom and I are picking up Quiznos for everyone. Should be interesting on picking up 10 subs at once. Especially when some people are all, "No onions, no olives, no mushrooms." Am close to saying, "Just pick these things out"..do not want to tell poor Quiznos worker "no this and that" and confuse him further..
Natalie has been waking up during the night. Her goal? To kill me with lack of sleep.
Olympics still on. Wish they would go away. Am tired of Olympics.
Micheal Phelps nice to look at though. News says that he has hands nearly as big as a dinner plate. Am immature so wonder if other parts of him are just as big.
Am about to walk on beach with Tommy. Cannot swim though thanks to mother nature. Or Eve, if you believe the whole women being cursed bit.
We leave on Sunday.
Then we go back to Wyoming on Tuesday.
Is only 48 DEGREES in Wyoming!!
Will be a total shock.
Been in the 90s the entire time we've been here.
Better head off. If anything major has been happening, leave me a note.
At the beach in Texas.
Have not been eaten by a shark. (Yays!)
Period started though. My body hates me. Already knew that my body hates me so I packed the proper items ahead of time to deal with disgusting mess.
Saw new line over at Gymboree forum. Am in trouble. Want most of new line. Thank goodness that special 30% off sale starts Thursday for everything in store.
Got Tom to say I could buy new line because he went out and played Bocce Ball and left me with two kids. Called him a few choice words and then he said, "Calm down, what do you want?" and I said, "To shop the new line." He agreed. So it all works out.
Was able to watch a movie with Tom and cousins yesterday. Saw Tropic Thunder. Was silly. Ben Stiller is amusing. Ate tons of popcorn.
Tonight Tom and I are picking up Quiznos for everyone. Should be interesting on picking up 10 subs at once. Especially when some people are all, "No onions, no olives, no mushrooms." Am close to saying, "Just pick these things out"..do not want to tell poor Quiznos worker "no this and that" and confuse him further..
Natalie has been waking up during the night. Her goal? To kill me with lack of sleep.
Olympics still on. Wish they would go away. Am tired of Olympics.
Micheal Phelps nice to look at though. News says that he has hands nearly as big as a dinner plate. Am immature so wonder if other parts of him are just as big.
Am about to walk on beach with Tommy. Cannot swim though thanks to mother nature. Or Eve, if you believe the whole women being cursed bit.
We leave on Sunday.
Then we go back to Wyoming on Tuesday.
Is only 48 DEGREES in Wyoming!!
Will be a total shock.
Been in the 90s the entire time we've been here.
Better head off. If anything major has been happening, leave me a note.
Monday, August 4, 2008
The Bat Outside Our Door
Okay so I was talking on the phone yesterday with my Mom.
I was standing outside as the children ran around. I try to let them enjoy being outside while they can because Wyoming weather is not nice in the Fall and Winter.
I was in the middle of chattering to my mother about how excited I was to see her on Thursday..
And then I saw it.
This big black THING above my door.
I let out a bloodcurdling scream.
"WHAT?" my Mom screeched. I pictured her sitting at the table over in Texas with a hand clasped to her heart in surprise.
I screamed for about one minute. No joke. I just couldn't stop. You all know that I have issues. This is why I know I could never be on that show Scare Tactics. I'd have a heart attack for sure. (For those who don't know it's an amusing show on the Sci-Fi channel that plays pranks on people...like one time they pretended an alien came down and another time this wolf creature thing jumped out of a block of ice..)
"There's a...a..THING on top of my door," I managed to spit out while at the same time screeching and going, "Ew ew ew!"
"A thing?" Mom repeated. "Are the children okay? I thought something happened to the kids!"
Oh.
Ooops.
"No the kids are fine," I said.
But I was sort of lying. Because since I had screamed it had sent Tommy, who has sensory processing disorder and doesn't like loud noises, into hysterics. He was croutched down with his hands clasped over his ears going, "What HAPPENED?" over and over.
Natalie was just staring at us with confusion.
What the HELL kind of family did I join?
"There's something above my door," I gasped out.
At this point I was hiding in the garage with the kids. As though I were afraid that the thing would swoop down and attack us all.
"What sort of thing? Is it a bird? I'm sure it's just a bird. I did notice you had a little nest in the corner of the house," Mom said in her calm tone. You have to understand that my Mom LOVES creatures. ANY creatures. She'll easily take a spider into her palm like it was nothing. She has this little bug trap that she keeps in the house to nurse insects back to health. Apparently she helped this praying mantis with a bad leg. When I was there last time there the thing was sitting on the kitchen counter.
Yes I screeched and went, "What IS that thing?" because I hadn't realized anything was IN it.
"Oh. My praying mantis. It was hurt," Mom said like it was a common thing to do. To NURSE frightening bugs.
Mom has even talked about getting a TARANTULA because she thinks they're cool.
"But don't worry, we'll wait until AFTER you're visit," she assured me when I gave a frightened squeal over the phone.
I've seen enough sitcoms to know that when a spider is involved, it'll usually break lose causing mayhem.
Granted my life is not a sitcom. But I have rotton luck and I can just see Mom going, "Oh rats. My tarantula got loose.."
And then cue me immediately leaping up onto the kitchen table and screaming at the top of my lungs.
I'm embarrassed because I hate acting all girly like that. But I just cannot handle spiders.
But back to my story.
I assured Mom that it was NOT a bird above my door. I know birds. I mean I may not have a college degree yet (I'm like six credits shy of having one..) but I know what a freakin' bird looks like.
"Are you sure?" Mom pressed. Because after all she has not one but TWO college degrees.
"I'm SURE," I said firmly.
"Could you go over and describe it to me?" Mom continued.
As in..get CLOSER to that THING? Was my Mom INSANE??
"It was black and nasty!" I shrieked.
I heard Mom chuckle softly. "I know but...describe it. I can probably tell you what it is.."
This is true. Mom has so many animal books in the house that will describe exactly WHAT spider it is. Or WHAT beetle it is.
"Okay..but if I get bit..." I warned her.
"You won't," Mom promised.
And because she's my MOM I obliged and crept over to the creature after telling the kids to stay in the garage.
"What's happening? What IS it?" Tommy said, his voice laced with fear.
"Amber. You're traumatizing him. Must you scream like that when you see a bug?" Mom asked.
"I can't help it. And this is NOT a bug, Mom. It looks like a BAT.."
I crept closer, my heart rate increasing.
"Okay," I said, my voice all shaky. "It's, um, black. And it looks like it has some white fur on it and...EEEEEEEEEEEE!"
Then I started freaking out again because I swear I saw it MOVE.
I booked it back into the garage.
"White fur?" Mom repeated. "Hrmmmm...can you take a picture of it and send it to me?"
As in..GETTING CLOSER TO IT AGAIN???!!!!
Was she not comprehending that it was BLACK AND NASTY??
"Okay. But I'm pretty sure it's a bat," I told Mom.
"I DON'T LIKE BATS!" Tommy screamed.
"I wish I were there. I'd sweep it away for you," Mom said in her Mom-like voice.
I wish she were here too.
"But if it is a bat, keep the kids away from it. Bats carry rabies," Mom reminded me.
RABIES?
Of course I knew this but I was so focused on it being BLACK AND NASTY that I didn't even think of rabies.
What if the bat bit one of my kids and they started foaming at the mouth???
What if the bat bit ME and I started foaming at the mouth!???
I mean I'd probably get a rabies shot if I got bit. But I heard rabies shot HURT. I HATE needles.
"I'll go take a picture and send it to you," I promised Mom.
We hung up a few minutes later.
I was still shaking.
I told the kids to get inside.
"But I wanna play," Tommy fumed.
"Tommy. There's a BAT outside our door. Come inside.."
So I had to deal with a cranky six-year-old and a one-year-old who wanted to go back outside.
Ugh.
I managed to take a picture of the thing and sent it to Mom:
She called about an hour later when Tom was waking up.
"That's a bat," she assured me.
I had to bite my tongue from going, "Duh.."
"Just don't touch it. It could carry rabies," Mom said again.
Great.
I can't go outside because of a potentially rabid BAT.
"Is the bat an omen not to fly on the airplane?" I said all dramatically to Mom.
She laughed. She's used to my antics. I mean she lived with me for eighteen years after all.
"It's not an omen," she promised.
"But..it could be..I mean when does a BAT rest above someone's door? It's telling me something. It's saying 'Don't fly, Amber. It's not safe'". I started to get frantic at that point so Tom took the phone from me and talked to my Mom.
Then he hung up and I started pacing the room.
"If I were on the TV show Lost a bat above the door would MEAN something," I muttered.
Tom rolled his eyes. "We're not on a TV show though. It means nothing. It just means it was flying along and got tired and didn't realize where it was." He was speaking to me like he speaks to our children.
I cast my crazed eyes at him. "Will you get rid of it? Get the broom and shoo it away?"
Tom shook his head. "I ain't going near that thing!"
"Fine. If it bites one of us and we die of rabies, I hope you can live with yourself," I snapped.
Honestly. Sometimes I wish I had a more manly husband. Granted he's manly in the sense that he likes action movies with lots of blood and guns. He thought The Notebook was "as gay as they come." He thinks grown men should never wear argyle sweaters and mocks the ones that do. And men who wear loafers with TASSLES on them really freak him out.
"Um. My dad wears moccassins with tassles," I once pointed out to him.
"Well. I'm just saying that I could never wear them," Tom said firmly.
But when it comes to bugs, he doesn't want to deal with them. He won't admit that spiders freak him out even though I know they do.
Heck, one time there was a spider in our house and we had to ask the NEIGHBOR to take care of it.
He was greatly amused. (The neighbor, I mean.)
So basically we all hoped that the bat would fly away at night.
But it did not.
When Tom came home this morning he said it was still there.
And at that point he had had enough. Probably my whole, "If one of us dies of rabies I hope you can live with yourself" speech got to him.
So he said he got a broom and the hose in case it started attacking him.
I can just picture him armed with a broom in one hand and a hose in another looking all determined.
He approached the bat and smacked it with the broom.
He said the bat opened its eyes, which "really scared the shit out of me" and then HISSED.
Oh man.
If it had HISSED at me I'd have run in the other direction screaming with my arms up over my head.
But my husband, who is trained for war, continued to bat (teehehe) at it with the broom.
More hissing.
Then Tom sprayed it with the hose and it finally dropped down. And started WALKING TOWARDS TOM.
I think Tom was freaked out at this point.
But when he told me the story he said he just went into the garage and got the shovel. Then he sweeped the bat onto the shovel and carried it into the back fields.
He said the bat was still hissing and baring it's fangs at him.
He said he threw it in the field and came back home.
I picture him throwing it in the field and running like a little girl back into the house in case the thing decided to CHASE him.
But thank goodness the bat is gone.
Unless it tries to come back for revenge or something.
I hope not..
I was standing outside as the children ran around. I try to let them enjoy being outside while they can because Wyoming weather is not nice in the Fall and Winter.
I was in the middle of chattering to my mother about how excited I was to see her on Thursday..
And then I saw it.
This big black THING above my door.
I let out a bloodcurdling scream.
"WHAT?" my Mom screeched. I pictured her sitting at the table over in Texas with a hand clasped to her heart in surprise.
I screamed for about one minute. No joke. I just couldn't stop. You all know that I have issues. This is why I know I could never be on that show Scare Tactics. I'd have a heart attack for sure. (For those who don't know it's an amusing show on the Sci-Fi channel that plays pranks on people...like one time they pretended an alien came down and another time this wolf creature thing jumped out of a block of ice..)
"There's a...a..THING on top of my door," I managed to spit out while at the same time screeching and going, "Ew ew ew!"
"A thing?" Mom repeated. "Are the children okay? I thought something happened to the kids!"
Oh.
Ooops.
"No the kids are fine," I said.
But I was sort of lying. Because since I had screamed it had sent Tommy, who has sensory processing disorder and doesn't like loud noises, into hysterics. He was croutched down with his hands clasped over his ears going, "What HAPPENED?" over and over.
Natalie was just staring at us with confusion.
What the HELL kind of family did I join?
"There's something above my door," I gasped out.
At this point I was hiding in the garage with the kids. As though I were afraid that the thing would swoop down and attack us all.
"What sort of thing? Is it a bird? I'm sure it's just a bird. I did notice you had a little nest in the corner of the house," Mom said in her calm tone. You have to understand that my Mom LOVES creatures. ANY creatures. She'll easily take a spider into her palm like it was nothing. She has this little bug trap that she keeps in the house to nurse insects back to health. Apparently she helped this praying mantis with a bad leg. When I was there last time there the thing was sitting on the kitchen counter.
Yes I screeched and went, "What IS that thing?" because I hadn't realized anything was IN it.
"Oh. My praying mantis. It was hurt," Mom said like it was a common thing to do. To NURSE frightening bugs.
Mom has even talked about getting a TARANTULA because she thinks they're cool.
"But don't worry, we'll wait until AFTER you're visit," she assured me when I gave a frightened squeal over the phone.
I've seen enough sitcoms to know that when a spider is involved, it'll usually break lose causing mayhem.
Granted my life is not a sitcom. But I have rotton luck and I can just see Mom going, "Oh rats. My tarantula got loose.."
And then cue me immediately leaping up onto the kitchen table and screaming at the top of my lungs.
I'm embarrassed because I hate acting all girly like that. But I just cannot handle spiders.
But back to my story.
I assured Mom that it was NOT a bird above my door. I know birds. I mean I may not have a college degree yet (I'm like six credits shy of having one..) but I know what a freakin' bird looks like.
"Are you sure?" Mom pressed. Because after all she has not one but TWO college degrees.
"I'm SURE," I said firmly.
"Could you go over and describe it to me?" Mom continued.
As in..get CLOSER to that THING? Was my Mom INSANE??
"It was black and nasty!" I shrieked.
I heard Mom chuckle softly. "I know but...describe it. I can probably tell you what it is.."
This is true. Mom has so many animal books in the house that will describe exactly WHAT spider it is. Or WHAT beetle it is.
"Okay..but if I get bit..." I warned her.
"You won't," Mom promised.
And because she's my MOM I obliged and crept over to the creature after telling the kids to stay in the garage.
"What's happening? What IS it?" Tommy said, his voice laced with fear.
"Amber. You're traumatizing him. Must you scream like that when you see a bug?" Mom asked.
"I can't help it. And this is NOT a bug, Mom. It looks like a BAT.."
I crept closer, my heart rate increasing.
"Okay," I said, my voice all shaky. "It's, um, black. And it looks like it has some white fur on it and...EEEEEEEEEEEE!"
Then I started freaking out again because I swear I saw it MOVE.
I booked it back into the garage.
"White fur?" Mom repeated. "Hrmmmm...can you take a picture of it and send it to me?"
As in..GETTING CLOSER TO IT AGAIN???!!!!
Was she not comprehending that it was BLACK AND NASTY??
"Okay. But I'm pretty sure it's a bat," I told Mom.
"I DON'T LIKE BATS!" Tommy screamed.
"I wish I were there. I'd sweep it away for you," Mom said in her Mom-like voice.
I wish she were here too.
"But if it is a bat, keep the kids away from it. Bats carry rabies," Mom reminded me.
RABIES?
Of course I knew this but I was so focused on it being BLACK AND NASTY that I didn't even think of rabies.
What if the bat bit one of my kids and they started foaming at the mouth???
What if the bat bit ME and I started foaming at the mouth!???
I mean I'd probably get a rabies shot if I got bit. But I heard rabies shot HURT. I HATE needles.
"I'll go take a picture and send it to you," I promised Mom.
We hung up a few minutes later.
I was still shaking.
I told the kids to get inside.
"But I wanna play," Tommy fumed.
"Tommy. There's a BAT outside our door. Come inside.."
So I had to deal with a cranky six-year-old and a one-year-old who wanted to go back outside.
Ugh.
I managed to take a picture of the thing and sent it to Mom:
She called about an hour later when Tom was waking up.
"That's a bat," she assured me.
I had to bite my tongue from going, "Duh.."
"Just don't touch it. It could carry rabies," Mom said again.
Great.
I can't go outside because of a potentially rabid BAT.
"Is the bat an omen not to fly on the airplane?" I said all dramatically to Mom.
She laughed. She's used to my antics. I mean she lived with me for eighteen years after all.
"It's not an omen," she promised.
"But..it could be..I mean when does a BAT rest above someone's door? It's telling me something. It's saying 'Don't fly, Amber. It's not safe'". I started to get frantic at that point so Tom took the phone from me and talked to my Mom.
Then he hung up and I started pacing the room.
"If I were on the TV show Lost a bat above the door would MEAN something," I muttered.
Tom rolled his eyes. "We're not on a TV show though. It means nothing. It just means it was flying along and got tired and didn't realize where it was." He was speaking to me like he speaks to our children.
I cast my crazed eyes at him. "Will you get rid of it? Get the broom and shoo it away?"
Tom shook his head. "I ain't going near that thing!"
"Fine. If it bites one of us and we die of rabies, I hope you can live with yourself," I snapped.
Honestly. Sometimes I wish I had a more manly husband. Granted he's manly in the sense that he likes action movies with lots of blood and guns. He thought The Notebook was "as gay as they come." He thinks grown men should never wear argyle sweaters and mocks the ones that do. And men who wear loafers with TASSLES on them really freak him out.
"Um. My dad wears moccassins with tassles," I once pointed out to him.
"Well. I'm just saying that I could never wear them," Tom said firmly.
But when it comes to bugs, he doesn't want to deal with them. He won't admit that spiders freak him out even though I know they do.
Heck, one time there was a spider in our house and we had to ask the NEIGHBOR to take care of it.
He was greatly amused. (The neighbor, I mean.)
So basically we all hoped that the bat would fly away at night.
But it did not.
When Tom came home this morning he said it was still there.
And at that point he had had enough. Probably my whole, "If one of us dies of rabies I hope you can live with yourself" speech got to him.
So he said he got a broom and the hose in case it started attacking him.
I can just picture him armed with a broom in one hand and a hose in another looking all determined.
He approached the bat and smacked it with the broom.
He said the bat opened its eyes, which "really scared the shit out of me" and then HISSED.
Oh man.
If it had HISSED at me I'd have run in the other direction screaming with my arms up over my head.
But my husband, who is trained for war, continued to bat (teehehe) at it with the broom.
More hissing.
Then Tom sprayed it with the hose and it finally dropped down. And started WALKING TOWARDS TOM.
I think Tom was freaked out at this point.
But when he told me the story he said he just went into the garage and got the shovel. Then he sweeped the bat onto the shovel and carried it into the back fields.
He said the bat was still hissing and baring it's fangs at him.
He said he threw it in the field and came back home.
I picture him throwing it in the field and running like a little girl back into the house in case the thing decided to CHASE him.
But thank goodness the bat is gone.
Unless it tries to come back for revenge or something.
I hope not..
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