When It Rains It Pours

Friday the Thirteenth:

Night’s grandmother was killed in a car accident and we had to use IRA money to fly him home to Alabama. IRA money that needs to be paid back by September 10 or we get hit with taxes and fees.  $1500.

I broke a tooth. $175 to put a temporary in that will hopefully last until I can get a crown that will probably cost over $500, not to mention I’ll probably need a root canal too.

Our washing machine broke. No clue how much it’s going to cost to fix and if we might be better off buying a new (used) one off craigslist. But can you really trust craigslist for stuff like this? Where would I even GO to find a cheap (under $100) washing machine?

I’m teetering on the “what’s next?” and “that should be enough misfortune for now, thank you” fence.

Sometimes I wish I was a “famous blogger” so I could justify asking random strangers for money, but that’s not how it works, is it?

No fault but my own.

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I was going to go to BlogHer

But then my much anticipated $5409 tax return that I was supposed to get on February 16th was delayed. “Something was incomplete,” said the kind person on the phone when I called for an explanation. “How can that be? I filed electronically?” “It just happens sometimes,” she replied, with sympathy. I thanked her and was instructed to keep an eye out for a letter from the IRS detailing my omission, which I was to complete and return with all speed, whereupon it would be processed and I would get my return within 6 – 8 weeks.

I owe my dentist in the neighborhood of $1600 on March 8th, only because they were willing to do the work on me when I assured them I’d be getting my tax return this month. Now I’ll have to put off the rest of the work until I get the check, which just stinks. It’s hard enough to eat as it is, so I might be going back on a liquid diet for a while. Hey, I needed to lose weight, right?

Speaking of losing weight, I was doing really well on my diet. I had gotten down to 182, then the tooth problems started happening. It’s really hard to chew certain things when teeth are hurting on both sides. I ate a lot of ramen. Subsequently, I gained some of the weight back. I’m not terribly upset, I was expecting it, after all, and I didn’t gain THAT much back. I’m still under 190, at least. We were going to try to pick up the diet again on Monday, but the lack of tax return has put us in the dubious possession of a big fat goosegg in our bank account until payday, which is next Friday. Thankfully, everything that was coming out automatically has already come out, so we won’t be overdrafting anything. I don’t mind having no money, it’s when I get in the red that I start to get upset at myself.

We did just join Sam’s Club (definitely worthwhile, if only for their $1.77 a pound boneless, skinless chicken breasts. What a deal!) and stocked up, so we’re fine for groceries. I have a full tank of gas, so I know we’ll be just fine. It’s just annoying that I was told when I submitted my taxes that it was fine and the IRS had accepted it, and it was being processed. “You should recieve your return on the 16th” proclaimed the website, right up until the day of. When the day passed and there was no deposit, I started getting nervous. Oh well, now it’s just a waiting game.

As I write this I can hear my daughter playing Edvard Grieg’s “Morning Mood” on the violin. She started taking lessons at the beginning of the school year in August/September, and she’s progressed amazingly fast. She’s auditioned for and gotten into a special pop strings group at school. They do stuff like Crocodile Rock, it’s pretty cute. I’m just so proud of her and I hope she keeps it up. When my 2 older kids come to stay with me for summer, I’m going to try to find her a place to continue lessons. My middle son wants to dance, so I’m going to try to find lessons for him too. He needs some way to burn off lots of energy.

The past few days have been difficult for me mentally. Since the 16th, I’ve been depressed and had horrible insomnia, coupled with a few incidents of erratic heart behavior. I was at the doctor’s yesterday and got a prescription for Lunesta. It’s a a love/hate relationship as I get used to the stuff again. The first night it zonked me out in ten minutes but left me groggy for several hours after I woke up. Last night it took me a half hour to fall asleep, but I only stayed groggy for about a half hour when I woke up. The main thing I don’t like about Lunesta is that it leaves a funny taste in my mouth all day. Tonight I think I’m going to try taking just half. I was suppose to go get tested for ADD/ADHD on Wednesday, but of course, suddenly did not have the money for the test.

On the good side, I did get one bill paid off completely, so that’s one out of the way. When the tax return comes in, we should be able to pay off almost all of the medical bills. I’m so excited about that. We’re well on our way to being out of debt. We’ll even have my truck paid off in about 2 years, just in time to be looking to move up to Alabama. Ugh. I can’t wait to get up there and have a house with some land that I can make my attempts to be self-sufficient on.

I’ve rambled enough for now, I think. I wish I could afford to have someone do a site for me that didn’t involve a .wordpress. domain name.

Epic

Such a little word, such a big meaning (kinda the oppostite of abbreviate, huh?). After stumbling onto the Bloggies via Redneck Mommy, I’ve plunged headfirst into the blog of a woman whom I envy SO much, it’s downright humbling.  It started with a post about potatoes and escalated from there. I’ve spent the past couple hours entranced in an EPIC tale of romance, so much so that when it came time to give Little Man a bath, I was actually disappointed I didn’t have a way to read them in the bathroom.

Would that I had a fraction of the wit and eloquence that Ree has. Would that I had a fraction of the land she lives on! Now more than ever I want to get up to Alabama and get some acreage and settle. I’m desperate to settle, to STAY in one place for longer than a year or two. To actually be able to unpack all my things and have a HOME instead of this place that we happen to be living.

Maybe then I could wax poetic about my gorgeous 5 acres of Decatur/Hartselle and the awesome mobile home we got while I wait for the construction company to finish making my Hobbit-hole. Seriously.

PS – Little Man pooped in the bathtub tonight. That was awesome.

A Glimmer of Sense?

Well, we just got back from the neurologist.

The doctor was really nice, very professional, and took a lot of time to ask us questions and examined Little Man very thoroughly. The drive is a bit much but I think it’ll be worth it.

It’s not my imagination, at least. He said there is definitely something up with Little Man’s fine/gross motor movements. He said that the muscles in his legs are underdeveloped in his hips, over developed in his upper legs, and underdeveloped on the lower legs, which leads to that froggy pose. He’s got some issues with his hands as well. Too hard to describe exactly but he’s not picking things up quite the way he should.

He’s recommending we start physical therapy now, and in about a week (after they get authorization) we need to make an appointment for an MRI/spinal MRI. This time we’ll be able to get it, it says on there anesthesia as needed. There are also a whole other slew of blood tests that need to be done.

Speaking of which, we STILL haven’t heard back from the pediatrician about the x-ray and the bloodwork that we had done before. Hottie called them but they haven’t returned our call yet. I’m looking for a new pediatrician.

Bottom line, yes there is something, and now we can start taking the steps needed to figure out what it is, and from there, how to treat it.

I Love Being A Woman, and then some.

This post is going to be mostly complaining about my bodily functions. If you don’t care to read about a stranger’s bathroom habits, then just click here. If you’re willing to put up with it while I vent, then feel free to continue. It’s my blog, and I’ll complain about my poop if I want to.

As I said previously, this weekend was an adventure and a half, with my 9-year-old daughter and 6-year-old son visiting me for the first time. Both my son and my daughter are very bright, but I can see little quirks of their psyche that I can’t help feel guilty for. Hopefully with the help of my Hottie we’ll be able to give them a firmer foundation and help smooth some of those odd spots a little. We’re starting by letting them pick out their own beds and decorate their side of the room how they want.

Moving on.

We went to Texas de Brazil for Mother’s Day. Briefly, this is a place where you sit at a table and roving servers bring around giant skewers of meat and ask if you want some. It’s all you can eat, and they also have a huge salad bar with lots of things besides salad. The soup of the day was lobster bisque, for example. They also bring you these warm bananas that have sugar and possibly cinnamon on them, to help “clear your palate” between meats. Yeah right. They’re very tasty, I asked for extras of those.

I have, up until this point, been sure I’m more a carnivore than a vegetarian. I love meat, and I love rare meat. I grew up on the tri-tip roadside BBQs of California, and my step-dad used to buy big bags of it to freeze and make roasts and jerky out of. Needless to say, I stuffed myself at the restaurant.

The next day I felt a little queasy, but I chalked it up to nervousness at getting an IUD. What a nightmare that was. I’ve never really liked male gynecologists, for obvious reasons. So while he’s down there doing horrible things to my uterus, I’m writhing in pain and squeezing the nurses hand. Twice the whole thing came out before the IUD stayed. Each time I feel like someone is punching me in the stomach. I find out later I had a good reason to feel this way.

The doctor leaves the room. I can barely get my legs out of the stirrups and onto the table. I roll onto my side and start shaking uncontrollably. I have a hot bowling ball in my uterus. Finally I feel like I can get off the table. As I bend over to put a pad on my underwear, I start getting the feeling of impending doom. I tell the nurse, “I’m going to be sick,” and frantically try to pull my pants on. I grab my shoes and she clears a path to the bathroom for me.

I spend the next several minutes reaquainting myself with dinner. I decide that I need to both chew my food better, and stop eating meat. Finally one of the nurses knocks and asks me if I’m okay. I stagger to the door and tell her yes, I just need a minute or three. Turns out she’s the ultrasound tech who is going to check to make sure the IUD is in the right place. I finish up in the bathroom and shuffle to the room with the ultrasound.

This is a great ultrasound room. If you’ve ever had one, you’ll know that typically the machine is off to your right and you have to break your neck trying to see the screen. This room has a large plasma TV on the opposite wall from the bed, so no neck-breaking is necessary. I see my uterus on the wall, and the shadow of this thing… uh oh. The nurse is frowning. She keeps rechecking the same place!

“Tell me it’s not in the right place.”

“It’s not. I need to get the doctor in here. See this? It’s supposed to be here. It’s actually down here, in the muscle.”

The doctor had impaled the inside of my uterus with the IUD. Fortunately it didn’t go THROUGH, which, as I understand it, is a rare occurance. She fetches the doctor, I tell him to take it out and don’t worry about trying again.

He pulls the thing out, and I immediately start to feel better. Not fantastic, but the hot bowling ball has been reduced to a minor cramp. The doctor wisely writes me a prescription for birth control pills instead, and the nurse fetches me some advil. By now I sense that my snugglebug is getting hungry, and just as I’m about to ask the nurse if I can borrow a room for a while, another nurse brings my Hottie and the Snugglebug to me!

Nursing is a comfort to both of us, and I waste no time. I’m feeling better by the minute, and when we leave 20 minutes later I’m almost feeling human again. An hour later and I feel fine. We head back to the apartment to decompress and let the little man catch a nap, and I try decide where we’re going to dinner. Finally I make a decision I will later come to regret. “Let’s go to Red Lobster.”

Dinner was great. I had crab legs and a potato. Little did I know that the two days of indulging would swiftly come back to haunt me.

Cue this morning. I wake up about 7 with the urgent need to violate the toilet. With no effort at all, I do so. And I continue to do so about every half hour, with little to no warning. Just “GOTTAGONOW!” I’m disgruntled because I had to work today, and it’s hard to type when you have to get up to go to the toilet every 30 minutes. On top of that, someone switched my toilet paper to sandpaper. Fortunately, Boudreaux’s Butt Paste works just as well on bottoms abused with sandpaper every half hour as it does on diaper rash. Dehydrated badly, I send Hottie to the store for Gatorade and Pepto, a sure sign of my desperation because I hate to take any kind of medicine if I can help it. Later I send him back for some cottonelle wipes and chicken noodle soup.

I just finished eating the soup, I’m feeling better, but my butt is still on sandpapery fire. As I keep telling Hottie today, “Never again.”

What’s that sme— Oh.

Yesterday was an interesting day, inasmuch as one of my days can be interesting. For one thing, my phrase of the day was “Have you pooped yet? No?” My son is usually very regular, and for the past month or so has done all his pooping at around 1pm every day. For the past two days, he decided to hold it in, for whatever reason. So I was often checking his diaper to see if he’d done the deed yet.

It wasn’t until about 11 pm at night, after fighting with him to get him to go to bed, that he decided to finally let loose. The problem is, I didn’t notice right away. I had him sitting on my lap facing to the right, to burp him, which he did quite happily. Then I noticed I could smell that very distinctive breast-fed-baby-poo smell. But when I leaned forward and tugged the leg of the diaper, there wasn’t anything to be seen!

“Hmm…” I thought to myself. Then I realized that one of my hands was wet. THEN I realized that the poo had shot up the back of his diaper, coating the back of his shirt AND my lap.

Thank goodness I was wearing pants.

I managed to shuffle him over to the changing table without any collateral damage, and got both of us cleaned up. Needless to say there is a load of laundry in the wash right now, and Spray-n-Wash with Resolve is excellent for poop.

 I didn’t get much done yesterday, though I did manage to pack a couple more boxes up. There’s about a month to go and still at lot of stuff to go through and get rid of or pack. I’m nervous about moving but at the same time I can’t wait to get out of here.

I just got finished visiting with my mom. She’s a wonderful lady with an amazing green thumb, which, unfortunately, didn’t get passed on to me. I’ve actually managed to kill cacti. We had a nice lunch and chit-chatted. She’s going to Ohio tomorrow for a while, she’s got a little condo there which is very nice. I can’t blame her for wanting to get out of Florida. This place gets worse every day.

The funniest thing about our visit today was when she leaned over the top of my head and announced I had a grey hair. My first real grey, I’m so excited. She yanked it out but there’s a few more hiding in there. I haven’t decided if I’m going to accept them, or yank them out, or color them. I don’t mind the grey, really. I’ve seen some ladies with very attractive natural silver hair, so hopefully I’ll end up being one of those.