Monday, September 26, 2005

Burn, Baby, Burn!!

I never sleep well on the Hubster's travel days.

I think it's some sort of sympathy misery. I hate to travel. I love vacations.......but the trains, planes, and automobiles part of getting there is frustrating as Hell. I hate airports, I hate layovers, I hate tight connections, I hate having to take shuttles within the airport, to the rental car place, or to the hotel. I hate not having total control over everything. I get just as uptight when he travels as when I travel. (I'm getting stressed right now thinking about all this....)

So anyway, I'm usually awake until he arrives at his destination and calls to let me know he made it. Only then can I relax and get some decent sleep. As luck would have it, his flight yesterday wasn't scheduled to arrive until 3 a.m., Hawaii time, which gave me plenty of time to kill.

Some time around 2 a.m. I got the brilliant idea to try a few things for this week's PhotoFriday challenge, "Burn". I decided it would be okay to play with fire, and photograph the results. I spent the next hour experimenting with candles and flames until my One-a-Day Coke wore off.


I won't show you what didn't work - after looking at them again this morning, the bad ones are really bad. Last night this was my favorite, and (fortunately) I still like it today.

Sunday, September 25, 2005

Opportunity Knocks?

Today the Hubster left for a week on the Mainland. I had barely returned from the airport when this happened:

Diva: Mom? I've been thinking about something a lot lately.

Me: (Knowing it can't be good) Okay.......

Diva: I was thinking....... After I get my braces off..... (long pause)

Me: Yes?

Diva: I really, really want to get my nose pierced.


So, any guesses what The Marine will say to this little request?

Saturday, September 24, 2005

Hmmmmmmm........


Destructo: Da-da?

Me: Where's Da-da?

Destructo: Da-da? (Does the cute shoulder shrug, palms up, "I don't know" gesture.)

Me: Da-da's at work.

Destructo: Ohhhhhh.....Beach!

------------------------

(Later)

Destructo: Da-da?

Me: Where's Da-da?

Destructo: Da-da? (Again with the "I don't know" gesture.)

Me: Da-da is in a meeting.

Destructo: Ohhhhhhh.....Beach!

------------------------

(Even Later)

Destructo: Ah-Ha? (His nickname for the Blonde One.)

Me: Where's Ah-Ha?

Destructo: Ah-ha? (Yet again with the gesture....)

Me: Ah-ha is at school.

Destructo: Ohhhhhhh....Beach!


Hmmmmmmm..... Makes me wonder if there's something they aren't telling me.

Wednesday, September 21, 2005

Drama, Anyone?

The Wildcard has inherited my intense fear of all things pointy and sharp, especially those found in a doctor's office.

So on Tuesday when I got The Call, I knew it would get ugly.

The Call was from the Wildcard's school. Apparently his health records were "lost" while being transferred from his previous school to his current school. (I won't get started on the "lost" health records because that's a rant for another day - let's just say that the two schools don't play well together, and I think the Wildcard is stuck in the middle.)

Anyway, the health aide (remember, this was on Tuesday) informed me that there was no record of the Wildcard ever having a school physical or PPD test, and if he didn't meet this requirement by Friday he would not be allowed to attend school after that date.

Normally that would be somewhat manageable. However, the Wildcard has had the flu - the Intestinal, Gotta Go NOW!!! Flu - since Saturday. He was absent from school on both Monday and Tuesday because of the flu. I really didn't want to take him for a physical and PPD while he was sick, but I had no choice.

On Tuesday when I told him about the PPD, he threw himself on the floor and appeared to have some sort of spasm thing going on. There was moaning and wailing, and tears galore. He eventually recovered and moved on, assuming if he forgot about it, so would I.

Today he went to school, but only because it was a short day and his teacher gave him unrestricted bathroom access. When he got home we headed over to Medical for the PPD. After I pried him out of the MomVan, I collected his medical records in record time and headed to Immunizations to discover that there was absolutely NO wait for immunizations! (This has never happened before.)

So, we went back to the little immunization room and waited a few minutes while they did the paperwork. The Wildcard chatted nervously, and seemed surprisingly calm. And then it happened.

The Immunization Guy (sorry, it's late and I'm drawing a blank here...) turned around, almost in slow motion, and the Wildcard caught a glimpse of the needle.

All Hell broke loose.

The Wildcard hit the floor and began the wailing/tears/spasm thing again.

So now I'm trying to peel a 10 y/o off the floor while the Immunization Guy and The Other Immunization Guy are just kind of standing back watching the whole thing. They eventually stepped up to help, but the three of us were no match for a determined 10 y/o. Immunization Guy got on the phone to call for reinforcements, and two more guys were there within seconds.

I think this is where the Wildcard knew he was outnumbered. He finally gave in, climbed back into the chair, and offered up his left arm.

A few seconds later, when it was all over, Immunization Guy tossed out the usual, "That wasn't so bad, was it?"

The Wildcard looked him straight in the eye and screamed, "I have to go poop!!! And it's coming out now!!!"

Exit, stage left.

Divine Friday

I'm (finally) back to PhotoFriday, and this week's topic is "Divine".

I wanted to choose something that wasn't religious, chocolate, or Bette Midler (the three things that immediately come to mind when I hear the word "Divine".

Last night I was watching the sun set behind the mountains, and I remembered a Divine photo I had taken last time we lived here. It was late in the day and the Blonde One was at baseball practice. While we waited, the Wildcard and I tossed a baseball around, kicked a soccer ball for a while, and found ways to pass the time at the baseball field. We watched the clouds move in, and hoped the rain would hold off until practice ended. As the sun began to set, I snapped
this photo.

Monday, September 19, 2005

Ahhhhhh....the Neighborhood Busybody

So we have a Busybody.

The Hubster and I have started peeking out the windows before leaving the house, just to make sure she's not waiting, lurking, looking for someone to chat with.

It's pretty pathetic, really.

When we first moved in, the Hubster and I would have our quiet time sitting on the porch in the evening, watching Destructo play in the front yard while the sun set. Then one day the Busybody came by, introduced herself, and plopped down on the steps to chat with us. She told us about all of the neighbors, the neighborhood kids, and even their pets. She had the inside scoop on everything and everyone. She wouldn't stop talking, and she wouldn't leave, so we eventually took Destructo inside for the night.

The next few evenings were more of the same, so we opted for after-dark walks with Destructo instead.

I've casually mentioned her to several neighbors, and they all just roll their eyes and give me the "better you than me" look. I cringe when the doorbell rings, because half the time it is the Busybody. She usually wants to sit and talk about random stuff while I clean the house, chase after Destructo, or make dinner.

One morning she spotted me as I peeked out the window and she began waving enthusiastically, like that would be enough to lure me out of my house.

Fortunately, I was able to wait until the school bus came by and took her off to school.

That's right, I said School Bus.

The Busybody is ten freakin' years old.

If she were an adult I could easily blow her off, but how do you tell a kid that she is annoying the hell out of you and she really needs to go play with the kids her own age? There are at least a dozen girls her age in the neighborhood. Her family seems normal, so I don't think it's a matter of craving attention or anything like that. The girl just likes to hang with adults, and no one has ever told her that she's not one.


Instead, we all cower in our houses and don't tell the new neighbors to look out for her.

Friday, September 16, 2005

It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like....

While at an office party during our very first Christmas in Hawaii, the Hubster's administrative assistant (a woman who was born and raised here) made the comment, "It just doesn't feel like Christmas because it isn't raining."

As someone who grew up in the Midwest, where Christmas usually involved snow, ice skating, and layers upon layers of clothing, that comment just seemed odd.

Fast-forward to today.

This week has been mostly rainy and overcast, and today was no exception. The Diva and I had to go to the 'other side' of the mountain because she had an eye appointment with a specialist at Makalapa.

(She had been in to see our Brilliant Doctor a few weeks ago because she had a white spot on her eye, and her eye was very irritated. He diagnosed it as a probable case of
this, which is caused by over-exposure to the sun and can be rather serious, and wrote her a referral to a 'real' eye doctor. So we worried for three weeks. The real doctor took a look at it, declared that she had something in her eye, and removed the spot with the aid of some numbing drops and a Q-Tip. We're very relieved that it wasn't anything serious, yet annoyed that Brilliant Doctor failed us yet again.)

It was still drizzling on our drive home to the Windward side. As we came out of the H-3 tunnels, we could see the clouds trapped up against the mountain below us. We drove down the mountain, through the clouds and rain and watched the temperature drop into the low 70's. When we got part way down, at the point where we usually have gorgeous views of the bay and ocean, the normal blues and greens of the water were replaced by gloomy greys. It pretty much looked like a dreary, miserable day.

However, this is where the Diva and I looked at each other, smiled, and shared a common thought:

"It really feels like Christmas today!!"

Bring on the hot chocolate and Bing Crosby!!

(Only 99 Days Until Christmas!!)

Wednesday, September 14, 2005

Eavesdropping

So, today I am in the commissary for the second day in a row. It seems we were out of dog food, and since I am hands-off with StupidDog, I had no clue.

For those who have never been on a Marine Corps base, well, there are rules for everything. The kids joke about being issued a protective plastic bubble as soon as we moved on base, and they aren't too far off. Bike helmets, reflective clothing in the evening/night/early morning hours, no cell phones while driving, everything is covered. There is even a dress code.

Posted at the entrance to the commissary, exchange, package store, post office, everywhere, is a sign showing inappropriate attire. It's mostly common sense - no bathing suits, no PT gear, pants must be worn at the waist, no bare midriffs, cutoffs, etc. It's basically just good taste, and I've only seen two people denied entry - one for wearing PT gear, and one wearing a bikini top.

Anyway, I'm in the commissary today getting dog food. As I passed a soup display, a well-endowed, very pissed woman came storming down the aisle toward a friend she spotted near the soup display. The well-endowed woman was wearing a too-tiny, pink spaghetti-strap top and what was possibly her daughter's jean skirt.

My Blog Fodder Radar immediately kicked in. I picked up a can of Progresso garlic chicken soup and studied the ingredients while the two women talked. Apparently the Well-Endowed Woman (WEW) was almost denied entry to the commissary because of her choice in apparel. Her equally trashy Friend sympathized with her.

WEW: They said I couldn't come in here dressed like this!!

Friend: What's wrong with the way you're dressed?

WEW: I know!!! That's what I said!!

Friend: I mean, look at the way other people are dressed.....(scans the area and can't find anyone else wearing hoochie outfits)....I've seen a lot of people wearing questionable outfits.....

WEW: I know!! They told me to go look at the sign to see what was not acceptable. So I did. I mean, it's not like my bra straps are showing (sadly, there was no bra involved) or anything like that.

Friend: You look just fine to me!

WEW: The girl there, she said I wasn't allowed in because my midriff was showing.

Friend: Your midriff?

WEW: Yeah. Like, your belly. But she pointed to my boobs when she said my midriff was showing. So I said, "Honey, this ain't my midriff. This is cuh-leeeeavage!!!"

Tuesday, September 13, 2005

Got Chocolate?

Sometimes, like when you are on your deathbed, you have to give up control of things. It's normally not an easy thing for me to do, but the Hubster had total control for two solid weeks and I honestly didn't care that my kids were wearing wrinkly clothes or that the gunk wasn't cleaned out of the kitchen sink drain every night. I assumed things could be 'fixed' once I got better.

I never anticipated the chocolate milk dilemma.

The Hubster, being the good Daddy that he is, decided that Destructo might like chocolate milk instead of the boring, old white milk that Mommy gives him.

I discovered this a few days ago when I was getting some water from the refrigerator. Destructo, seeing the open door, came running over and snatched the Hershey's syrup from the refrigerator door. He held it up to me, pointed at the brown cow on the back of the bottle and said, "Daddy."

I snickered, thinking he was calling Daddy a brown cow, then tried to remove the syrup from his death grip.

Instead I got an argument. "No, no!! Daddy. Milk!"

Later, when I asked the Hubster about it, he admitted that he had been giving Destructo chocolate milk "for about two weeks".

So now I'm trying to wean him off the chocolate stuff. (I'm really not ready to split my chocolate six ways yet.) I've tried going cold turkey but he won't drink plain white milk, so I've been slowly cutting back the amount of chocolate he gets in his milk.

Sometimes it works, sometimes not so much.

Like this afternoon, at nap time. He was over-tired and hasn't been feeling well, so I thought I could sneak in some white milk without him noticing. He held his ba-ba* while we read a book, then I plopped him and the ba-ba into bed**. He was half asleep before I left the room.
I listened on the baby monitor to see if he would drink the milk. There was nothing but silence for a few minutes, then it began...

"Uh-oh!"

"Ma-ma?"

"Milk. Ba-ba."

"Ma-ma!!"

"Da-da milk."

"Uh-oh?"

"Da-da ba-ba!"

And this is when the ba-ba hit the floor.

Oy. I think this is going to be more difficult than I imagined.



*He refers to his sippy cup as a "ba-ba". Please don't e-mail me and tell me he shouldn't be taking a bottle at his age - anything you drink from is a "ba-ba". Cups, soda cans, water bottles, they are all ba-ba's.

**Okay, I put him to bed with a ba-ba. Please don't e-mail me and tell me how this will scar him for life. He was sick, I was sick. It was necessary today.

Friday, September 09, 2005

Date Night (For Old People)

Today was the first day I've really felt like leaving the house, so the Hubster and I decided to have a Date Night.

Sort of.

I didn't feel like going far, so we decided to stick with a local restaurant.

And since the Diva works at a local restaurant and gets a 50% family discount, we chose that one.

And because Destructo hasn't been out of the house much in the past three weeks, we took him along.

So we headed off to 'surprise' the Diva at work. It was obvious she wasn't expecting us.

The restaurant where she works has a walk-up counter where you place your order, then you wait for your number to be called to pick up your food. She's the Perky Cashier who takes the orders.

It wasn't busy when we arrived, and she was chatting with fellow employees. As soon as she saw us, she got The Look on her face.

The Look, as in "Oh my gosh, I cannot believe this is happening to me."

As we approached the counter, I distinctly heard her say, "Oh.....You're here." Like we were invading her territory.

Anyway, we ordered, ate our dinner, and headed home again without embarrassing her too much.

As soon as she got off work tonight, she called and asked how we liked the food. After we talked for a few minutes, she said, "Mom? Did you notice the surfer-looking guy helping behind the counter?"

I told her I had noticed him - he was college-aged, had the same moppy, sun-bleached hair as the Blonde One, and was just sort of wandering aimlessly.

She started giggling and said, "Well, he thinks you're hot."

Muhahahahahah!!! I really need to get out more!

Thursday, September 08, 2005

Happy (Belated) Birthday To You!!

The Diva turned seventeen yesterday.

It doesn't seem like seventeen years since she made her grand entrance, done her way, of course.

She was due on August 25. The Hubster was away in Virginia ten weeks that summer for Officer's Candidate School and was scheduled to come home on August 19. Me, being the stubborn one, decided there was no way she would be born before the Hubster returned. She, being even more hard-headed, chose to show everyone that SHE was in control of the situation and would be born when she was good and ready. (Not much has changed in seventeen years.)

Just a note here - if you have a co-worker who is past her due date, it is annoying as hell for her to come to work every morning and be greeted with, "You STILL haven't had that baby?!?" Duh.

Anyway, the days passed, then a week, then Labor Day weekend came and went. I woke up that Tuesday dreading the thought of going to work yet another day. This is when I discovered that my water had broke, and we rushed off to the hospital. For what, I have no idea.

We waited all day for something to happen, anything. We got nothing, not a single contraction. The Hubster was in law school at the time and it was the first day of the new semester, so he went off to class that afternoon and again that evening. The doctor promised to induce first thing Wednesday morning.

So, bright and early the next morning, they started the IV to induce me. We waited again, and again we got nothing. They upped the dose again and again.....nothing. The Hubster went off to class and returned (his school was just down the street from the hospital). The decision was finally made to do a C-Section, and at 4:44 p.m. our little Diva arrived - all 9 lbs, 7 oz of her. We have pictures of her sprawled out in her little bassinet in the hospital nursery, acting like she owned the place. (Not much has changed in seventeen years.)

She has always pushed the limits. She walked at 7 months. She taught the Blonde One all the parts of the human body (on a very detailed chart she drew) when she was 4 y/o. She organized the neighborhood kids and printed a newspaper when she was 6 y/o. The list goes on - it was always something she wanted to do, and she had to be the one in charge. (Not much has changed in seventeen years.)

So, yesterday was her birthday, and somehow she made sure everyone knew it was all about her. They aren't allowed to have lei at school, so her friends covered her in Mardi Gras style beads and a "Birthday Girl" tiara, which she wore all day. There were bouquets of flowers and her car was decorated in streamers and balloons. She came home briefly after school to change into a new outfit so she could go out for dinner with her friends. There were gifts, cake, and more balloons. It was totally her day, and since I'm still not 100% I was okay with that.


The moral of the story? Watch out......it doesn't take long for this:
Image hosted by Photobucket.com
to become this:
Image hosted by Photobucket.com.



Friday, September 02, 2005

So.......

No meningitis.

I went to the Doc whatever-day-that-was with flu symptoms, dehydration, a bad cough, and difficulty breathing. My blood pressure was 60/40, which freaked me out. My pulse was 131, which freaked me out more. It kind of explained why I was having whiteouts and my fingers/toes were numb.

Anyway, the brilliant doctor looked in my mouth, my ears, and listened to my lungs.

Then he gave me Sudafed (a generic, btw).

So, the next day it was out to the ER for a real doctor.

I was there 9 hours, but it was totally worth it. In addition to the nasty 2-week flu that's going around, I had bronchitis, I was severly dehydrated, and just to top it all off, I had pinkeye.

The past week has been spent mostly in bed, or wandering around like a 90 y/o/ lady - either wrapped in a blanket or stripped down to nearly nothing, depending if I was chillin' or sweatin'. I lost my voice and couldn't speak for five days, I couldn't open my eyes because of the pinkeye, and I had a cough that sounded like I was either going to swipe you with a giant paw or try to mate with you.

One day in the middle of it all, I was trying to play with Destructo so the Hubster could have a break. I still couldn't open my eyes or speak. We were playing with plastic frogs, and at one point I stopped and said, "This is a frog. Can you say 'frog'? He looked right at me, squinted his eyes, and whispered "fwog". I'm afraid he's going to think 'frog' is a word that always must be whispered.

Then there was the day he was watching me hugging the toilet and doing my thing. When I was done, he brought me a tissue for my nose. Ten minutes later I found him in the Diva's bathroom yelling into the toilet and waiting for me to bring him a tissue. Smartypants.

Anyway, I'm still only at about 60%, but I can see and I can talk (sort of). I was hoping to be well enough to go to the boys' soccer games tomorrow, but am not sure on that. I don't want to push it and have a setback (stupid confession - I already did that once). The Hubster and the kids have been wonderful about helping, but I'm ready to be 'normal' again.

I feel bad because I missed so much this past two weeks. The kids all started school (without all their school supplies). The boys had their first games with their new soccer league (they finished their other season undefeated!!). The 5-K that I was going to run with the Blonde One and the Wildcard? The Hubster had to do it. I was disappointed because it was the Wildcard's first 5-K. He finished first in his age group (he was the only one) and almost in the top half overall! The Blonde One was 33rd overall and third in his age group! What else? We closed on the house and were very lucky to find perfect tenants. At least they seem that way so far.....

Anyway, enough. I need to get some sleep. Just wanted to let you all know that I'm still here, and for the most part improving every day. Thanks for your prayers and good thoughts.