Gaga For Lulu

Why is The Big Guy so damn difficult at times? All I want is some cooperation, but no, he has to push the envelope and irritate the flippin’ shiznit out of me. I wonder where M3 gets it from? Men are just a different breed sometimes. Don’t get me wrong I love him to death, but come the hell on!

Why does an AM crap take 40 minutes? Mind you, that is with the shower running the whole time, and laptop in tow, so I have no hot water and have to Lysol the keyboard. Yeah thats right, he is gross. And why is his only morning responsibility to shit, shower and shave? Honestly!

This leads me to his lunch time escapades, which are about 90 minutes long at whatever restaurant he wants, all by himself, in total silence. Hell, he can even take a pee afterwards if he wants. And then I get a whiny ass phone call or email, or even twitter message, yes he is now twittering me, that he has to attend a 3 hour meeting. Boo hoo!!!

I would love to say, “I really don’t give a flying wet poo”, but I play along and say my I love you with as minimal complaining as possible. We have to keep The Big Guy happy. If he is happy, we are happy!

5 PM and I am at my wits end, the kids have usually taken control of the house and I am looking out the front door for that maroon ass Saab to come around the corner. Now, why have I not learned my lesson? He comes in, I get exited to see him, and I get “I will be right down, I’m gonna go to the bathroom”. “Oh, I ‘m sorry, I guess your 2 shits and hours of silence wasn’t enough for you, jackass?” I know that is not totally fair, he makes the bulk of our income, but damn it, I want a turn in the bathroom without a critique of my pubs, hysterectomy scar or smelly doo.

Dinner is served. I hear, “I had a big lunch, I’m not that hungry.” I am seeing red by now. Why do I even make dinner? Next week they are all getting ding dang hot dogs and macaroni.

I can’t complain too much about dishes or bathtime because he does help with that. I would assume that is why after bathtime he heads back to the bathroom and gets on the computer oblivious to night time routine and The Tribe’s fury running around the bedrooms. Is he hearing impaired? Or just stupid? And what the hell is wrong with his flippin’ ass? How many poops can one man take?

Get the hell up and help! “I am not your Mommy, if you want that go live on Roger’s Street. I don’t want to have to tell you, just do it.” Lost cause, but I still repeat it at least 4 times a week.

Now I feel kinda bad shittin’ all over My Big Guy as I look at him laying next to me in bed, all cute flipping in between NCAA b-ball and figure skating, hee hee. His hair is all cut and he shaved a new goatee, smells kinda good, well sorta good. Oh boy, I can feel my anger receding and my stupid self is getting all lovey dovey. Yeah, it’s on, chicka chicka bow bow, LOL!!!!

A couple quick freakin’ questions before I head out on my next expedition:

1. Are spaghettio’s considered a real lunch?

2. How can The Babe draw a mural on the wall 3 feet from where I am sitting without me seeing her?

3. Why does the sound of M3’s voice sound like fingernails across a blackboard?

4. Why does the nurse at The Boss’s school call me at least once a week?

5. When will “together” time be HOT again?

6. Why do I hate bobble dolls, that was for you Big Guy?

7. Why does a government meeting for the The Big Guy last 3 hours discussing agenda and a meeting about resuscitation status and life support last 15 minutes?

Finally,

8. Do I even care what the answers are?

Ok good news. First, my mom had her knee replaced this AM and it went well, I just talked to her and she is gorked up on Dilaudid, some fine medication! I hope she is nice to those nurses and doesn’t give them a hard time, I told her they would medicate her ass into sleep if she does, just kidding!!!! Second, apparently The Big Guy still has it. A nice lady hit on him at lunchtime, to bad she was 75 +years old. She eyed him up and down and asked what size he wore, and told him he was the best lookin’ guy in the place. By the way, I could see her cataracts they were so thick! Haha.

Funny news now, well actually funny story. I took the younger part of The Tribe and The clan, my 2 nephews, to Costco at lunchtime. I had to return some clothes and The Big Guy met us there for lunch. I know, how freakin’ cute. He would never admit it but he just can’t get enough of me, LOL!!!! Of course I made 3 bathroom breaks, why the hell not. Why can’t they all pee at the same time? So, in the bathroom with The Babe and my oldest nephew, Chub Rock (he is 31/2 and 30 lbs, so not so much chubby!), we had an Anatomy lesson:

The Babe: Screams, “I go pee pee in potty, my ghina go pee pee, it smells, it smell nasty”.

Mommy: “Shh, keep your voice down, we will take a bath when we get home. Make sure you wipe good”.

Chub Rock: Who is now taking his turn, “I go pee pee to, but my pee pee comes out my wienie. See.” To The Babe.

The Babe: Loudly screamimg: “Ooohh, His penish is gross, not like daddy’s (I should hope not), his wienie is white.” I have no idea what the hell she is talking about, my husband is of English decent, but whatever.

Chub Rock: “Aunt Kendra (I should have just told him to be quiet at that point) my wienie is straight in the morning when I get up. It sticks out like this (pulling his poor little doohicky in all directions)”.

Mommy: “Shhh, we will discuss this later (holding back laughter).”

The Babe: “I want a wienie like his, no more ghina (sweet mother of pearl, why me?).”

We come out of the stall and I have 3 older ladies just shaking their heads, I honestly think they were disgusted with me. Like I can control what comes out of the mouths of 2 little snot noses. I so wish The Big Guy would have taken them to the bathroom, he would have had a frickin’ heart attack. Why do us Mommies get all the fun?

The Big Guy can still surprise me every now and then. He holds a full time day job contracted to US Army as an IT type project manager. He has also had a company on the side for the last 3 years, a web development, SEO, web commerce type thing. Well, this “thing” as I call it has been fairly successful and has more than supplemented our income. So when I went to his site yesterday to check out any new information he had posted I was surprised to read this, “While it’s been no secret to some, Fresh Yields has temporarily closed it’s doors. Well, that should be door, since it was just the front door to my house”.

What the hell? The Big Guy has decided dedicate his site to his own blog, a blog for Steve, and offer his Internet services no more, at least for now. I was shocked. This is why I love this freakin’ guy, he can annoy the living shit out of me and then go and do something like this for the good of our family. Since his business has slowed over the last few months, there has been no fighting, a lot more kiddie time, and a much better attitude on The Big Guy’s part. All has equaled a lot less stress!

I did what any good wife would do, commented on his blog. LOL!! After that and a good cry, I am a little sad for him, he is a very proud man and I know this decision was a small blow to his ego, I gave him a call and thanked him. Later on I thanked him some more, bow chicka bow, wink wink (just kiddin’, we really fell asleep, that was just me daydreaming for a second).

His first post on his site, Fresh Yields, was an explanation on how he came to this decision. The second was the point of this very flippin’ long winded post of mine. He wrote about Mommy bloggers. He is so damn funny. Now, the article was very complimentary to myself and all of the blogs that usually visit me and the ones’s I frequent. But then he went there and commented on “the white keds wearing”(I’m sorry if he offended anyone, we don’t wear them around B’more anymore) type of do good Mommy’s that paint the world a beautiful shade of pink. You know, the ones that have horseshoes up their asses and shit rainbows. I actually do know some people like this and I would love to piss on their parade, haha.

Go check it out, he called most of us The Joan Jett’s of blogging, hee hee. No, I don’t frequent her music but do take it as a compliment. I must admit, The Big Guy is pretty damn funny. He is witty and very real, no surprise since he is married to me, Queen Bitchy Pants!

I can’t believe I am writing about this. It is somewhat embarrassing, but as you all know, I am as real as real gets! I had an appointment with my internist on Friday AM. He is this cute little guy, only a few years older than me, 3 kids, 5′4″ and about 150 lbs. I could pick him up and put him in my big ol’ 5′9″ pocket. But he is good for someone like me, yeah I said someone like me.

First strike, I’m a nurse. Second strike, I am outspoken, loud and opinionated. I know that is hard to believe, but I am telling the truth. LOL! Third strike, I have a BioPsychology degree and know all about mental health, medications that go along with it and therapeutic strategies. Why then can I not “fix” myself? Who the hell knows.

So Friday AM, rainy, tired from work the day before, 14 hours or so, stressed about what needed to be accomplished that day, and quite honestly just plain old worn down from this crazy life that has been mine for the last 2 and a 1/2 years. In I walk to the doctors office, Dr. Shorty Pants comes in and asks if his 7 year old daughter can come in for our visit, she was with daddy for the day, spring break. He has no clue what I am there for, I say ok, always wanting to make everyone happy.

Here we go, flood gates open and I am trying with all my force to keep all those freakin’ tears back. Thank the sweet lord he could see the angst on my face and asked his daughter to leave the room. I went through an entire box of kleenex’s, 2 glasses of water, and 40 minutes of my very kind doctors day. Why was I so upset? I..have..no..idea! I was there to discuss my anxiety issues, I feel like an elephant is on my chest some days, I swear I am going to stroke out one day. Anywho, I was questioning medication, or a partial lobotomy. The Big Guy will tell you the latter would work better.

After all this boo hooing and blubbering on, trying to shoot down every possible suggestion he had, I told you he was good for someone like me, I agreed to try Effexor XR. It is an SNRI, he thinks I have a serotonin issue, I think I have a damn brain issue! I started the ding dang medicine right away, gulped it down with a big ass diet coke, called The Big Guy to let him know I was officially crazy and now on this medicine, cried hysterically for another hour, had a root canal finished and 2cavities filled, apparently my teeth now suck too, and headed home to research the medicine. Please show me some reason not to take it. Nothing good, so I decided to be compliant.

Hip hip hooray, it works. Now, normally the medicine would take about 3 weeks to see a full difference, but since I was on a different medication already, I am really not all that freakin’ crazy, I will feel the effect quicker. Not to mention, prescription meds hit me hard!

Getting back to the present, oh hell yeah it works. I had 2 bowls of cereal spilled, 3 messes of juicy dog shit, 2 temper tantrums, could not find my keys, watched The Babe try to eat The Big Guy’s deodorant and stepped in a puddle of piss, who knows who it is from, with brand new socks on. Did I lose it? Did my chest explode and my eyeballs roll around in my head till I couldn’t see anything but red? Nope, I just cleaned the stuff up, checked if poison control was necessary, kept looking for the keys, and wore tennis shoes with no socks.

Is that an accomplishment, you ask? For someone LIKE me, damn skippy!!!!

My hair is 80% fixed. Edward scissorhands came on over and spent 3 hours trying to fix her big ol’ boo boo. It is looking much better, a little darker than my real color but not pink, magenta, fuchsia or violet. And that is a freakin’ miracle. She did a pretty flippin’ wicked cut too. I feel bad, she is good usually, but damn did she mess my do up! This is the last you will hear of my hair, I promise. The new do better get me some “together” time! LOL!!!!!

The Big Guy gave me 5 minutes of his precious ass time. It was at the beginning of the Maryland game, so he gets a big ol’ flipin’ star. Turn your volume up and laugh away. Yes, I was born and raised outside “Balmore”. And yes, The Tribe has my nasally voice. LOL!!!

M3: “Dexi, get of off Cleo!!!! Daddy, Dexter is trying to jump up on Cleo’s back.”

Mommy and Big Guy: “Hahahahahaha, they are just playing”

Mommy: “Dexter, put that pink ham rocket thing away, you are so gross.”

The Big Guy: “Dexi, you make me proud”

Whatever, another Saturday morning in The Crazy household. We are watching the neighbors dog, Cleo, while they are in Europe. Hell, am I doing something wrong? Anywho, she is carrying our dog’s, Dexter’s, babies, and is due in a week and a half. Oh yeah, we even had a freakin’ wedding with her in a yellow dress and Dexi in a bow tie. You trying to explain this to The Tribe. We could only come up with this ridiculous story.

My hair has become even pinker, with violet undertones. I guess as the dye is washing out it is changing the color again. Edward Scissorhands is coming to “fix” it later. Who the hell knows what color it will be tomorrow. Remember, I have never dyed all of my hair before, so I think I am handling it well.

Mental note to self: The Big Guy does not like change, at least not pink hair change. Won’t get any lovin’ till it is fixed, he can’t stop laughing! He is an assnugget.

Ah, poopy paradise was a hell of a good time once again. Even with my ding dang purple hair. We had a good line up for playing hard ball. It was one of those days where you would usually hold your pee for 4 hours. I say usually due to the fact that I had the poops all day and frequented the porcelain bowl, thanks Bug Guy.

The cottin’ pickin’ chief was running the joint, and what a fine job she did regardless of eyeing a certain doctor up in very inappropriate ways, she is a bad girl! Even during CPR, I would bet the farm that she could still toss her hair in his direction with a smile on her face. Trixie was in action. She always keeps it real by keeping Head Man Toucan Sam under control. That would be our illustrious leader. I swear when he sashays down the hall, all you see is a beak and white cape, ie. long jacket, following him. Beautiful site.

Thank the sweet lord that Suddenly Susan worked with me all day. What a group I had. 90 years old and wants to know where his sex pill is. The hell if I know, I thought that thing was dead by now. It was a hard one to turn down, “You wanna get up on my noodle and I will spin you around”? Dirty old man. Haha. I didn’t get to work with The Fashionista but she was there. And as always, she was looking fine! Even with scrubs, she had herself some bling around her neck. I yearn to be stylish like that.

There was RN Quinn The Medicine Women, Greg Focker, Mr. Chaps RN, The Ghost Whisperer, Mrs. Biatch, and finally The Newbie. Bad day for most of us. Bumble was there with her sarcastic wit which made for some laughs. There was a lot of shit, mucous, drainage and as always annoying ass families. Good God, why do they act like they are the only ones on the face of the earth. “Do you know how sick my daddy is, he has a heart condition?” “Well, yes I do, it is a hospital, he is on a cardiac floor and the mother fudrucker tried to bite, hit, kick and stab me with a straw, but hell yes I will jump at his every whim, Mrs. Realistic.” Now, I would never say that out loud, but are these flippin’ people out to lunch?

I propose a question, how can you put a catheter in, dress a foot, wipe shit from a butt, get a new cup of water, give a pain pill, rearrange a pillow and draw blood all at the same time? If anyone knows, please clue me in! Yeah, that patient was a treat. And by the way, I know preschool teaches please and thank you, but I am only to assume that it is a new lesson. LOL!

And my favorite thing is when you get asked questions that are so blatantly obvious you want to laugh, but you must act concerned and thoughtful. Now I know many of you can not relate directly to this, and probably think I am Nurse Ratchet, but sometimes it is all too frustrating and overwhelming. I do care for my patients, I treat them like I would expect my parents or grand parents to be taken care of. However, sometimes, “come on”! “If you do CPR will you break any ribs. If you shock her and do CPR on her chest, but don’t put a tube down her throat, will she breath,. When do you think she will die, like tonight or in the next week?” Are you kidding? I am not God, nor a fortune teller. I want to ask if this is inconveniencing them, or if they have some where to be.

You know, at the end it is scary and having someone to hold your hand, I can just suppose due to frequenting it, would be nice. We should all know what we want in that situation and make sure your family does. Finally, don’t ask us nurses questions you don’t want answered. We are more likely to tell you the truth. If you want smoke blown up your ass, find a doctor and ask them.

You asked for it! Here I am, violet hair, pasty skin, dark circles and all. Be gentle, it was after working 13 hours in poopy paradise with 3 hours of sleep under my belt.

You can’t get the full effect! It is brighter in person. Damn skippy.