We are stranded here in the cat infested home of HDH (HotDrHusband's) father's house. Said father left HDH's mother and has remarried (aka Traded Down as in BIG TIME). The Freak (her code name and accurate description) is a long time Percocet junkie having somehow extorted from some poor family practice doctor a lifetime supply of Percocet in return for minimalizing his encounters with said Freak and her multiple fabricated illnesses (including hole in neck, trip to ER on Xmas Eve for a sinus infection, etc.)

We drag our 19-mth-old son on a plane flight from hell so HDH's workaholic dad can spend no time with him or us, leaving us to rot with the narcotic addicted freakshow.

It turns out, when you take 18 Percocet a day, several things happen:

1. You operate equipment (read: car) like SHIT.

2. You tend to have conversations with yourself, interrupting people with stories they don't really care about.

3. You tend to have odd sleep patterns, causing you to wake up at 3 a.m. for a bowl of Cream of Wheat (while walking around like this pasty fucking vampire in a bathrobe).

4. Narcotics are VERY constipating; therefore, despite ingesting gallons of prune juice and boxes of laxatives, you end up shitting handfuls of pebbles most days followed up a weekly torrest of diarrhea that makes you the absolute expert in location and condition of public restroom facilities in the entire fucking city.

5. Said person keeps volunteering to watch the toddler. Now I don't know about you, but if on the babysitter employment form under the line "please name extra-curricular activies put taking 18 Percocet a day", it seems pretty fucking unlikely that person would get the babysitting gig. I'd rather leave the kid with Michael Fucking Jackson.

So ... HDH has decided to have what is loosely determined as a "Come to Jesus" talk with his Father. In other words, if we cart toddler out here again and get stuck in the cat infested hell hole (as we are both allergic) with Narcotic Addicted Freak Show for several days waiting for his presumably retired ass to come home from a 10 hour day of work to spend an hour with his grandson before bedtime, then we will be inheriting their fortune much quicker than his Father thought.

Transcribed by HDW, while HDH paced back and forth ranting and raving. All is accurate, though. Very.

SIDENOTE FROM HDW:

After typing this, I hear HDH walking away, sneezing about 14 times in a row, then announcing to the cat, 'FUCK YOU CAT'. Oh jeezus.

......... for toddlers.

Apparently, the new thing (or at least the newest to hit our neighborhood).

"In Yoga classes, Kids learn how to concentrate, relax, while exploring and developing their own roles and personalities --Their bodies are flexible and their minds are open to absorb everything we give."



(I refused, by the way.)

This is an open letter to the man who had our phone number before us:

You have the world's shittiest credit report. We have phone calls monthly looking for your stupid ass! I tell them that you don't live here, that we've had our phone number since January of '02, and yet, they still call. They don't believe me. They think I'm lying, I'm sure ... that I really am protecting your crappy ass self.

Idiot.

On the Bronco's vs. Giant's game today:
Fucking hell.

Regarding our niece:
Off vent today and doing well.

Regarding the stretch of highway between Raton and Texline, as well as the five hour drive with a 19-month-old kid:
Fucking hell.

On arriving Friday evening in SmallTownTexas for cousin's 2nd birthday party:
My baby bit her within an hour of arrival.

On the trains blowing their whistles, trucks (using their J-Brake's, youmotherfuckers) between hours of midnight and 6:00 a.m.:
Rot, you bastards.

On the baby's projectile vomiting episode outside of Pueblo:
.....

You get the idea.

But, we're HOME!!!

Our (almost) one-year-old niece ingested last night (on accident, of course) some oil from a glass candle holder. When she swallowed it, she choked and she then threw up. I thought this would be a good thing, but apparently, not so much - as she aspirated it and it gave her little baby lungs a good coating.

After two different hospitals and some ambulance rides, they got her stablized and put on a ventilator. Apparently, her oxygen intake should be at 21 (room air) and it was at 40 (so she had 'modest' support, as HDH stated).

They felt that she had made some progress today and truly feel she'll be fine, but needs about five days or so to really get this junk back out.

All of this happened in SECONDS. My sister-in-law went around the corner to use the bathroom and the baby toddled out, into the living room, found a glass holder they had forgotten they'd even had.

God knows that only a few of you read this. But, it's IMPORTANT to tell your friends and family that you need to get on YOUR hands and knees, crawl around as if you are the kid, and look for anything that might be of interest (ie: BAD) for them.

Conversely, accidents happen and it's important to make sure you recognize this, too.

So, prayers for Baby J, folks.

I was talking with my cousin last night on the phone. It always starts out as a "real quick" call, but we end up on the phone well over an hour, laughing hysterically. She is my age, used to live right down the dirt road from me while we were growing up.

The Baby and I are headed to visit her in Texas this weekend. Her baby is turning two and insisted that My Baby be there for her party. (When asked if she really knew where he lived, she said: Yes, Momma. HIS HOUSE!!) We are going to stay with the whole fam-damily ... my aunt, my other cousin and her daughter, and my cousin's family. It will be nothing short of funny.

ANYWAY ...

We ended up on the subject of "getting our first period" stories. Riveting, I know. I told her I didn't care one way the other when I got the actual thing; I was mostly concerned that I had to go back out and finish mowing the lawn.

After she got hers, she was sleeping in the bottom bunk, and her siblings were up top. They waited until she started to fall asleep, leaned over and yelled, "PERIOD MAKER!! PERIOD MAKER!!"

I was crying laughing last night.

This is why I couldn't fall asleep. I would think of this and laugh all over again. It wasn't so funny with HDH had to get up this morning at 5:00. I didn't go back to sleep so well after that. Eh.

Regardless, kids can be cruel. But God, it's funny now ...

I'm so suprised. Really now! What's the world coming to when my former Bronco Roman-OW-ski admits 'roid use???

What's next??? Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny aren't real? The Tooth Fairy is a bunch of hooey?

Say it isn't so.

Tonight is the fifth anniversary (oooooh lawd!) that HDH and I have been a couple. Five years ago he made me an incredible dinner - risotto - (even carmelizing the walnuts for the salad), saw the movie "Almost Famous", and the rest is history, as they say.

Tonight, HDH is trying to eat his leftover risotto and trying to keep the baby from eating all of his. I'm trying to type this as baby is taking envelopes from a desk drawer and handing them to me, saying "GO GO GO!". He's always wearing his outfit that says "little devil" complete with horns and a tail.

It's a wonderful world.

From Clairebell's Blog:

Directions for the game:Go to Google "Images." Type in the following and post the first (or your favorite) picture the search engine finds.
- The name of the town where you grew up
- The name of the town where you live now
- Your name
- Your Grandmother’s name (pick one)
- Your favorite food
- Your favorite drink
- Your favorite song
- Your favorite smell


Town You Grew Up In (and incredibly accurate, I might add):

Town Where You Live Now:





My Name:


My Grandmother's Name:



My Favorite Food:


My Favorite Drink:


My Favorite Song ("Fortress Around Your Heart"):


My Favorite Smell:



It's a fun little game ... you should play!!

PEER PRESSURE!!!

The wedding I talked about earlier in the blog actually took place this weekend. I didn't think it would. I honestly put off having my dress altered or making child care arrangements because I sincerely believed they would come to their senses and not go through with the wedding. I was wrong.

As I am very emotionally drained and tired from this whole debacle, I will give you the highlights (or whatever you'd call them):

FRIDAY:
- We arrive in time for the rehearsal dinner, busting balls to get up the hill (mountain) for the event. When we arrive, no one is there. Call Groom. Groom says he's pissed everyone off and there is no rehearsal dinner now.

- Seems the Groom pushed more prenup stuff and made the Bride mad, prompting a screaming match at the actual rehearsal that we missed. Seems the rehearsal took from 1:30-3:15.

- HDH and I take baby and go to eat at an Italian place back in town. The baby wrecks the table and everything around it. I downed two glasses of red wine, quickly.

- Arrive back at the Lodge, put baby to sleep and meet Groom and other wedding party people (no bride) at the bar for drinks. Groom is wearing 70's regalia and has full on Afro for fun. It is funny. Until Groom gets beligerant and turns into a very drunk Groom in Afro, insulting his entire wedding party and announcing as this is his 4th marriage, he "definitely should have married that other girl" because their baby "isn't his anyway".

- HDH rolls into bed about midnight, pissed at whatever insults the Groom was throwing at him and other groomsman, exclaiming, "That is the reason why you don't give Indians firewater!" (as Groom is part Indian from Alaska)

- Groom comes to our room at 3:30 and proceeds to yell into the bedroom window, "HDH! OPEN UP THE DOOR! I GOTTA PISS REAL BAD, MAN!!". He could not find his room. I see an image of drunk man in his afro heading to my bathroom, proceeds to go for about 1 m. 30 secs, all the while saying, "Oh God. Oh yes. Mother fuck!! Right there ... " and repeat. Comes out of bathroom and instead of going to where HDH is not-so-patiently-waiting in living room, walks into the room where I am, into closet and proceeds to talk to HDH in there.

- Groom has now fallen asleep on our hideaway couch, hasn't woken the baby, which is about the only good thing I can say of a night when I got roughly 3 hours of sleep.

SATURDAY:

- We go to a nearby town for breakfast. We run into Groom's stepdad and other groomsman. Have a nice breakfast, lamenting about the previous night and how maybe, just maybe, this isn't a good idea at all.

- Get phone call at 11 that morning from the Bride, yelling at me for not calling Matron-of-Honor (as I'm the other bridesmaid, and I still don't know why - I don't know her at all) this morning to help decorate. My answer? I don't KNOW the matron-of-honor, have no name, no phone number, and NO IDEA they needed help.

- Return to lodge and meet up with a very nice MOH and her husband, who say they didn't really need the help. They had to decorate a fence with white tulle. MOH's husband remarks, "It looks like toilet paper. And with the wind picking up, it looks like ass. I'm taking it down" and does.

- Somewhere between 12-2:00, I get ready, manage to send MOH to get ready and help the Bride get ready. Her mother isn't watching the little baby. The daughter from previous relationship and friend are playing in other room. Tell Bride to get into dress. Not listening. Wedding starts at 2:30. She starts getting ready at 2:27. I ask her if she's ready, she says, "Eh. Not really". In regards to MARRYING HIM.

- I stick my finger with a safety pin and tell her I can't get her dress on until it stops bleeding or someone else helps me out. MOH shows up in time, helps me with this, and I do think I got blood on her dress while she was screaming at me.

- Bride wants veil in a certain way. Screams at me for not putting it in right. I tell Bride to stop yelling at those of us trying to help her out.

- Bride remembers then she has to pee. So I take off her underwear and get her to the bathroom. She just leaves them off.

- Apparently, directions were printed out wrong, so no one is showing up for the wedding (which is late starting anyway). There is also an accident on the major interstate, so the service is postponed for another hour maybe? I don't know. I lost track of time.

- Meanwhile, HDH is keeping our 19-mth-old son entertained somehow. God bless him.

- Wedding finally goes off. I'm holding my son and he's picking the flowers and feathers out of my bouquet. The best man's cell phone goes off during vows.

- Daughter from previous relationship turns to me mid-service and announces she is going to throw-up. Turns out, no one fed her lunch, so she's sick to her stomach. I give her crackers and she perks back up.

- HDH didn't get the shoes with his tux or the right color pocket square, so is wearing sandals with black socks.

- Everyone is supposed to put rocks in a bowl of water, letting the love into the rocks and letting them ripple in the bowl. Someone asks if they can just throw the rocks at the Groom instead.

- The plan after the wedding was to get into a van, go farther up into the mountains, hike through some nasty trails, up and over boulders, for better photos. Thankfully, this didn't happen.

- Reception was nice. Lots of peacock feathers and lavender roses. Someone starts the head table's tablecloth on fire.

- There's a very cool red fox that almost comes into the reception.

- Groom hears I took off his wife's underwear before wedding and asks if I saw anything, like "the hot style job" he did a few night's before. I told him I didn't, and he should grow up. He says, "Too bad. That would have been HOOOOOOOOOOOOT".

- We go home at 8. We get a 10:30 window knock from Groom who wants his wig and glasses back. Says to HDH, "Dude! Come out and play!". HDH says, "Aren't you supposed to be WITH YOUR WIFE on your wedding night?".

SUNDAY:

- We pack our asses up and get the hell away from it all. We get down before the first major snowstorm of the year hits. There are jams all along the interstate.

THE END

Looking back on my high school yearbook photos, it's easy to see why I wasn't asked out for any movies or parties. Nice 80's fro, music geek, content to stay home with my family on a Friday night and watch the Golden Girls. I didn't miss much, but when Valentine's Day rolled around, I was miserable.

All of the steadies and the just-boinked-last-week-so-I'll-buy-something-I-guess relationships were front and center at our school. For awhile, the FHA people offered Val-o-grams; you could buy a note to put on your heart cookie and have it sent to the person you liked. It was HUGE to have a "?" under the name.

When you were dating in the big leagues, you got roses. The entire day you'd hear the school secretary on the intercom paging all the girls to the front office for their flowers. I knew I'd never get one - I wasn't dating anyone - but still, I imagined one day some secret person I'd never noticed before would send me a giant bouquet and we'd live happily ever after.

One Valentine's Day at school, I used my .10 to call my mom and cry. I was devastated that all my friends were liked by a boy and I wasn't. I wanted to come home. She wouldn't let me, naturally, but told me to 'just hang in there' and I could come home soon.

The last hour of classes, I was sitting in the school gym waiting for the last bell. The school secretary walked in a single rose in a vase. Everyone was looking to see where this gift would go.

And to who did it go?

Me.

And it wasn't from any boy in my class, or even that one kid I loved from afar at track meets. Oh no! It was from my dad. The note read, "I wanted to be the first guy to give you a rose. I love you, Dad". I was speechless. I was thrilled and excited beyond words. Everyone wanted my rose instead. I wouldn't have traded this simple gift for all the 20 minute relationship roses given that day. This love was a love that last forever. It's a special love between a dad and a daughter, and if he hadn't already, he captured my heart then.

My dad died ten years ago, quite unexpectedly. He was only 49. I miss him every day. Today, he would have been 60.

So, Happy Birthday, Dad, wherever you are. I love you. I miss you. I will treasure you and all you taught me for the rest of my life.

My friend in Texas told me to get a webcam so we could see each other, the kids could see each other, all that wonderful stuff.

But then it occurred to me: What if I forget to turn the thing off? What if I sit down to check my email post-shower - like now - completely nude.

Not good. Not good at all.

We took the baby to the ice cream shop on Saturday night. Neat neighborhood place. A guy plays his guitar out front and all the kids dance to the music.

We let our son (now 18-mths) run up and down the sidewalk while we were eating ice cream. He was screaming and running and clapping his hands, totally wound up.

HDH says to me, "Do you think he's ... um ... normal? Are ALL kids his age like that?"
I tell him that yes, he's a toddler, and he's busy.

HDH says, "Good. I was afraid he'd be like Rain Man or something. You know, 'Twenty minutes to Wapner'" .....

At our neighbor's house last night, my son was eating a stick of the blue chalk. The little girl (4) came to me and said:

"I hate to be the one to tell you this, but he is most definitely going to have blue diarreha in the morning!"

Followed by:

My son was babbling along, and she said, "You know, I think he's speaking of mixture of English AND French".

She's FOUR.

It was hysterical.