The problem with getting my butt out of bed before noon, and getting all my work done by noon, is that by 2:30 in the afternoon, I’m exhausted. Doc Mick says it’s because I took my Roxanol and that will cause sleepiness. Well, duh. But I wasn’t expecting it to make me sleepy since I have taken narcotics in pill form before, and they never really did anything like this to me before.
Some problems have come up at home. Mainly involving an argument about child care for Chloe, between Dennis and I. See, he called my mother over yesterday to watch Chloe while he slept off his pain meds and I was at the store. My mother and I do not see eye to eye about how a child should be raised, and she did something that neither I nor medical science agrees with, and it ended when I banned her from our home. I demanded to know why Dennis let her around our kids. Dennis said she was the only one who would watch them. I said they would have been better off alone than in her care. They certainly would be safer.
But I choose not to reveal what she did, least someone wants to make my flesh world a little harder. There is no more danger to my kids, the house is clean, and we’re reaching for that happy ending.
Today, Chloe was able to go back to school. I was able to organise the bedroom, so the closet doors shut without the laundry basket in the way. Dennis is going to the studio after a while, and there’s really nothing for me to do but try to nap away the effects of the Roxanol.
A Day About Nothing
I wonder why Doc Mick upped my medication from Vicodin to Oxy? I have not taken any, too scared of the unknown side effects, but I’m curious as to why he’d do something like that. He also just gave me a bottle of Oxy in his office yesterday, in case I couldn’t make it to the drug store. I have a headache right now, but the hard parts are over. I won’t be needing anymore surgeries or procedures done for another year. I’m really happy about that. Does it mean that I’m getting well? The doctors I have rarely tell me anything. Doc Mick just drugs me and tells me to close my eyes and ‘not watch’ the procedures. But my morbid curiosity takes over, and I watch. This has annoyed him in the past, and he ups my dosages. I go back to see him Monday to get the stitches pulled. Then it’s over. I don’t go back for another year or so. Lucky, lucky me. I finally find a doctor who takes my pain seriously and gives me treatments that actually work and I can only see him once a year. That’s a good thing, I hope.
The weather has been strange here. It was “cold” yesterday and today. 68 was the high. For August, that’s not bad. It was October weather in the middle of summer. I’m torn between shutting the air conditioner off and turning it on after having a hot flash. The weather has made me restless. My sudden lack of pain has made me energetic. I want to go out and play in the nice weather while I can, but I devoted myself to solving the problems at home, first.
My monkeys have transformed to monsters. They trash the house. Let the dogs out the front door, where there’s no fenced yard. Turn the pet rat loose in the house. Dump food out of the cabinets and ice box. Dump trash out of the cans. Pull the sheets off mommy’s bed. Chloe even unplugged my bed; in both areas, and when I laid down today, water gushed out of the mattress all over me! All of them, except for Hayley, are acting up. No amount of sending them to their rooms or locking things up seem to help. When all else fails, they tear up the carpet and peel the wall paper off the walls. This transformation has come because mommy and daddy are mad at each other and they can feel the tension. They’ve guessed that if mommy and daddy are mad at them, we can’t be mad at each other anymore. It’s brilliant, really. They have outsmarted and out numbered us, and their plan worked. For now. There are deeper issues that have to be surfaced, and those issues aren’t going to be resolved overnight, nor will they be solved in front of the kids. We’re going to talk about this. Not tonight, because I’ve got a migraine starting, but soon.
I joined Digg. Add me?
Surviving
I am lethargic. Tired. Worn out. I still have a good nine pages of paper work to finish before tomorrow and I have to re-do the work schedule through May. Sucks to be me, the one who takes home her paper work to finish. There are such nice distractions at home. A comfy bed. A soothing bath. Kids screaming in the other room. I keep reaching for tomorrow, because tomorrow will make it all worth while.
So if you’ve noticed that my comments are short, sweet, to the point, or just plain missing, that is why. I’ve tried to perk myself up with coffee, tea, a bread stick. Nothing works. I am forever in Zombie mode today.
Add that to the fact that my phone is in the shop because I cannot get a signal on it, and it drops the calls that do get through, I’m just plain tired. I had better not be this tired come tomorrow.
There might be some other excitement tomorrow: Today is Chloe’s first day of school. She was not very happy about it, at all. 
This is my cleaning challenge for today:
While I was sleeping this morning, the three monsters (Chloe, James and Ashe) took all of the videos, DVDs and audio CDs out of the entertainment center and scattered them in front of the living room chair.
The man of the house says I have to clean this up, even though he sat there and watched them do it, while laughing and encouraging them to trash the living room. Oh, and I have to do it before he gets home tonight at 9pm, or he’s going to bag up my movies, DVDs and audio CDs and throw them out for the trash.
Now… It’s 110 degrees here and it’s too hot for me to clean, and I’m too fat to clean naked. I’d much rather sit in front of the air conditioner and relax all day, watching cheesy 80s horror flicks, but someone has to crack the whip around here. The three guilty parties are banished to their rooms and Mother Terrible (me) is just waiting to hear any hint of fun or happiness come from their rooms so I can barge in and put a stop to it. Yes, the dad is ‘grounded’ too. I don’t know for how long, since I’m going to take it out in the number of days equal to the number of hours it takes me to clean up the mess. If it takes me four hours to clean it up, he’s grounded for four days. Fair enough. 
No time like the present to get my butt in gear and get to work on that mess.
Another Guilt Trip
Ick. James didn’t quite make it to his potty in the bathroom today, and had an accident in his pants.
I used nearly an entire roll of toilet paper to wipe his ass clean, the entire time trying very hard not to throw up. Seriously, I don’t know how the kid could hold so much! Eventually, a gag escaped my lips and Dennis asked if everything was ok. “This shit is making me sick,” I replied, somewhat quietly. To which James replied very loudly, “I SORRY MOMMA! I DIDN’T MEAN TO POO!”
What is up with these kids and their guilt trips? Am I just that gullible?
Back To My Heart
It seemed appropriate that the storms came today. The rain was on the west side of the house, but the dreary skies were on the east side. It’s going to be a dreary, starless night. I never quite miss the stars as when it is cloudy at night. Other nights I take them for granted. I take many things for granted these days. By day I clean house, organise things, and work on my research. By night I have nightmares. Ghosts from other times haunt my dreams and remind me of a past that I regret. Mistakes don’t mean a thing, if you don’t regret them, but I have regrets. There are times when I wonder if I should have stayed a little longer or said something a little more comforting. The ghosts wake me up in the night. Sometimes they don’t leave until well after dawn. There is nothing I can do to stop them from their visits. I cannot calm them. I cannot even calm myself.
The storms are starting back up. Chloe is deathly afraid of thunder and sitting right up against my leg. Through the rumbling thunder, jar flies are singing in the distance. That doesn’t comfort her. It’s my cue to go work on dinner. I can’t cook it until Dennis gets home, but I can make it and put it in the fridge until then.
Chloe threw up again today. This time she threw up on her black and white butterfly rug. I can’t wash that rug, so I rolled it up and threw it away. I don’t know what’s wrong with her. She seems to be throwing up watery fluids and food, when she does. I want to blame the heat for her sickness, but I really can’t because she wasn’t outside for very long today. I wonder if she’s eating too much?
She didn’t want me throwing away her rug, and she begged me not to, but what choice did I really have?
My SkullCandy earbuds went out today, so I had to get another pair. I kind of like them. They block out the background noise, so I can tune everything out that I don’t want to hear. Ignorance is bliss.
Le dîner Est Sur
Remind me to hurt whoever is behind the database on Dreamhost. I can’t do shit today, concerning my blog. It’s pissing me off. Almost as bad as the traffic on the side streets here.
But I blame that, mostly, on my already-foul mood and the fact that my dad’s car has no air conditioning and I was hung over. Now that I’m home and have no where to go, the sun is hiding behind the clouds and the threat of rain is heavy. The bad things started the night before my birthday. I’ll start from the beginning.
Around 10pm on Sunday night, Chloe came to me as if she were going to give me a hug, but when she got on my lap, she puked buckets of sticky spaghetti on me. She puked two more times before I rushed her to the bathroom. Out of frustration, I flopped a feather bed in the tub and told her she was sleeping there. I showered in my bathroom and went to bed. A thunderstorm was rumbling by outside.
I woke up at 4am on my birthday because I had a wet top sheet in the bed. For those of you who weren’t following my blog in April of 09, my water bed mattress exploded (the second one in three years) and I broke my knee trying to drain it. So when I woke up to a wet top sheet and the fitted sheet drenched at the corner of the mattress, I assumed that the mattress had a leak in it somewhere. I jumped out of the bed, tried to wake up Dennis, with no success, and raced downstairs to get the siphoning hose to start draining it, assuming that he would be pissed that we’d have to spring for a new mattress. I couldn’t find the siphoning hose, just the old hoses from the washing machine. It was pouring rain outside now. For some reason, I went back to bed. I turned on the light. Dennis was still sleeping good, the wet stain on my side of the bed had turned into a puddle. Fuck. I unplugged the bed. Just then, I saw a drop of water fall from the ceiling. The bed wasn’t leaking, the ceiling was! I was so happy the ceiling was leaking! Weird, I know. But it’s going to be cheaper and easier to hire someone to fix the roof rather than buy a new water bed mattress, drain our mattress, haul it away, and fill up a new one.
The ceiling in the bedroom leaked before, I don’t know why I didn’t think of that before hand. For the time being, I put down a towel, and drifted back off to sleep. I woke up an hour later, water logged, and had to get up and put a bucket down on my side of the bed. Then I had to put my feather pillows in the dryer because they were soaked.
My birthday went by pretty uneventful. Chloe got well, and became a terror today. She’s been pinching her little siblings, and then poured Vitamin Water on my desk, so I had to go and buy a new modem today. She’s on perma-punishment until things calm down. It’s nothing cruel. She just can’t hang out with me while I play on the web and watch Saw movies (she doesn’t really watch them; she usually “writes” in her diary, but the menus of the DVDs played all day yesterday). Baxter is still alive. We can’t find a vet to put him down. He doesn’t seem to be suffering, just weak. Lethargic. With a scar on his face. He eats, he sleeps, he pisses frequently. I guess if he were a human, he’d be in his 60s or 70s, so he’s earned the right to be a sleepy, hungry, pissing old man. Other than that, he’s not cold or has weak lungs (rats tend to get weak lungs). His colour (in his tail and paws) is good. He doesn’t have any abnormal, offensive smells. Still, there’s one more vet I want to try, in the next town over. They closed at 6pm today, so I’m taking him tomorrow. If nothing else than for a check up.
I ordered a custom dessert for dinner tonight, but I was four minutes late getting to pick up dessert for dinner, so they canceled my order. FOUR MINUTES and they CANCELED a PRE-PAID order and told me to come back TOMORROW. WTF?! I blame that on the bad traffic here. Every bridge and highway to the bakery is torn up, and there are “detour” signs everywhere. Plus I got lost and had to drive through the back roads home. I chose to take my dad’s car rather than my Ninja because I didn’t want to balance boxed brownies and cakes on my lap while speeding through these back roads. Guess that was a fool’s error. It’s ninety-eight degrees here and that’s multiplied by the greenhouse factor when you’re in my dad’s car because the air conditioning doesn’t work, so the windows are down. There goes the UBV/UVA protection from the windows. I had to buy a 100+ SPF waterproof sunblock so I wouldn’t die of sun poisoning from riding in that car. Three days ago, I rode as a passenger in it, and my arms were so sunburned they blistered, peeled, weeped and turned deep red. Now they’re covered in freckles. I don’t have “normal” freckles. They’re little brown rings. My freckles don’t have centers.
I got my birthday present(s) today. They came in a day late, and I have a couple more on the way. Mostly books. Although I did get sex last night. Drunk sex is better for me lately. But only if I get drunk with the booze mixed with Coke (soda, genius) and before Star Trek comes on. Star Trek is better when you’re drunk.
Bitch, bitch, bitch. Complain, complain, complain. I’m not aging gracefully, am I?
Actually, it has to do with me being off the narcotics for a couple of days. I can’t take anymore until Monday. That’s a long ways off when you’re going through withdrawal. I can’t even say that I’m thinking clearer because I’m not.
I’m uploading birthday pictures to Flickr. All of you who are spectators need to add me as a contact. I don’t bite, much. 
Plus, I have several pictures that are members/friends-only.
In the meantime, I’m going back to dumping the tables in MySQL. It’s driving me nuts that I can’t do anything with WordPress because I get errors or it flat out lies to me and says one thing is done, but that doesn’t show up on my site and when I log back in, it’s back. Be it a comment that is not screened or an entry that I was told was deleted is still there. Unlike Greymatter/MovableType/Blogger, I can’t just log into FTP and delete the page manually. It’s stored in the database, and I hate dealing with Plesk databases. Think warm thoughts for me.
Jamie aka: The being known as Wonder Girl, 30, mother of four, wife to one, she is a senior biomedicine student who is learning to fit in in the world around her. After nearly three decades on this planet, she still doesn't know where she belongs. Best friend of Matt, sarcastic, spoiled, apathetic, kutie brat, babe. Just your average woman, living in a not-so-average world, surviving by her incredible super power of being able to see right through you while
accomplishing more tasks than you ever thought imaginable. She is the being known as Wonder Girl and she is speaking, I believe. More? Aren't you brave!
