LASIK HELL

I haven't blogged in a while because nothing interesting has happened to me. Now, finally something has.

My brother got LASIK surgery on his eyes and declared it a piece of cake. Please understand my brother is a wimp. First class baby. He wimpers at a stubbed toe (claims it is broken) and then cries foul at all doctors' knowledge, saying they're all "dumb."

So if he could do it, so could I.

Off I go for the initial evaluation. The first office told me it would take 2-3 hours. For what? Just the evaluation? "Yes ma'am," the receptionist replied. So I cleared an afternoon (i.e. paid a nanny to watch the girls) and sat in the waiting room for an hour. Fianally I got up to ask the receptionist to reschedule.

"Didn't we tell you it would be 2-3 hours?" she snapped.

"Yes, and you haven't even started. I don't have 3 more hours to spare." I wasn't in the least bit rude.

After rescheduling, I did more research and chose another doctor to do the procedure. Ends up it cost $1100 less to do it there. I don't know why, but I liked that.

The initial consultation revealed I am an excellent candidate for the surgery (my cornea, like my thighs, is nice and thick).

I set up the date for the surgery. I guess they thought I had all the time in the world, because I was sitting in that office being shuffled from one room to another for 4 1/2 hours. FINALLY, the procedure was done. No big deal, just like Brother said. Piece of cake.

Husband drove me home and I was blind all night. My eyes stayed dilated forever. I wore the silly goggles to bed and woke up at four am with them on the floor. Oh well, I thought, and just rolled over to go back to sleep.

The next morning I really couldn't see. And something wasn't right in my left eye. It hurt. But I'm tough. I can handle it. I got the girls up, dressed and fed and put them in the car. I then drove one block and realized I was too blind to drive. No wonder they told me not to drive the day after the surgery. So I called my nanny, and being the saint that she is, she came running. She drove me to the doctor's office and waited with the girls for two hours for me to be seen. The doc looked at my eyes and told me my flaps (of cornea, which they removed to laser the eyes) had shifted and needed to be repositioned. Okay, fine. Let's do it.

Back into the O.R. and back with the numbing drops. He repositioned the flaps and this time placed some tight fitting contact lenses over them to keep them in place.

Thanks, doc. I'll see ya Tuesday.

Twenty minutes I'm moaning in agony and holding my head between my knees in the minivan. The nanny saint gets me home and put me right to bed. I take one of the narcotics that they gave me (and which I laughed about because Brother didn't need pills) and waited for them to take effect. Nothing. Meanwhile, I had all the lights out, the pillows fluffed and the goggles on. Throbbing, weird pain behind both eyes and IN them. OOOUUUCCCHHHH.

I took another narcotic and twenty minutes later went into lah lah lah land. Uuuggghhh. No wonder drug addicts like this stuff. I didn't hear another sound until husband came home four hours later wondering where the kids were.

"I don't know, honey, but I'm feeling better" I slurred.

Actually, I did know, but it just took a minute to figure it out. They were with the nanny next door (she had to babysit the neighbor's kids that night). So husband went and got them and kept them calm and quiet all evening long. I wore those awful contact lenses for 48 hours and then called the doc and asked him to please take them out, which he did (on a Sunday evening). Now, they're out and I'm slowly seeing better. The pain is also just about gone.

That is the last time I do anything just because Brother did it. The last time.

Anxiety Attack

So I'm on call tonight. A call comes in from a woman who says she is having an anxiety attack. Luckily, we have electronic medical records and I can access all of it from my home computer. So while we were talking I tried to find her in our system.

"What did you say your last name was?"

"Oh, it's Smith. But my maiden name is Jones. I just got married."

"Well, I can't find you in our system. . . "

"My appointment is soon. They told me I couldn't get in for three weeks. So, I'm having this anxiety attack, and. . . "

"I'm sorry, but we can't treat someone we've never seen before (plus we don't give narcotics or anxiolytics during call hours). I also find it hard to believe you couldn't get an appointment for three weeks."

"That's because I'm a new patent. That's what they told me."

"I'm surprised by that. I had two new patient openings today. I could have seen you."

"Believe me, I would have come in. Now about that anxiety. . . "

"I cannot give you anything. I'm sorry."

"Ohhhhh noooooo! What am I going to do? Oh noooooo. Now what????" Despair dripping from her voice in thick dramatic drops.

"Well, you can go to an acute care facility like Physician's Care."

"Are they open 24 hours? Ohhhh, what will I do?"

"They are not open 24 hours, but they are open now. It's 8 pm."

"Well," she said rather huffily, "Just cancel my appointment then!"

She didn't have an appointment.

This type of thing has happened to me before. A young lady convinced me she was my partner's patient and I called in a narcotic. Stupid! Stupid! She wasn't our patient at all. But now they can't fool me. I just love this system! It's really great, though, because I can access a patient's medical record while on call. No question about what mdication they're on or what their last labs were. It's wonderful.

And in other news, Priya is using the potty! She has a magic "Royal Potty" which plays a short fanfare when she sits down and a very dramatic one when she does the deed. It's real handy except when Anjali is crawling over and putting her hand in the bowl. . . Yuck.

But I have decided some people I know need a "Royal Potty" in their own homes. They're so proud of their deed that they sit there for about 2 hours savoring the moment. Then they talk about it and actually have a debate about when one should move one's bowels. Who cares, I ask. I certainly don't. But some people feel very stongly that these things should happen at the same time every single day. Usually right after breakfast. They also claim you can "train" your body to do this on schedule. Ok, how? How do I will my bowels to move?

I guess if I can't will mine to move I can will my daughter's to move in a potty rather in her "big girl underwear."

"I Don't Like this Place"

Happy Anniversary to us. Six lovely years husband and I have been married. We're not even having that six/seven year itch. I think that's because we're too busy. . .

To celebrate this monumental occasion we decided to venture out to the mountains of North Georgia and rent a cabin for the weekend.

Remote location? Yes. It was near Ellijay which is a tiny town known best for its apples.
Rustic, yet comfortable? Definately, there wasn't a DVD player and the fireplace was not gas.
Romantic? Hardly. At least not with two toddlers in tow.

We couldn't leave until husband got home from work and it is about a two hour drive. The directions were rather confusing. I got three different sets: from Google, Mapquest, and Yahoo. E McPan would have been proud. We finally decided to go with the directions Joy, the lady from the cabin rentals, gave us. We had to "stay on Walnut through Chattsworth until it dead ends. Turn right. (At a dead end?). Go left on 762 and then right. (When?). Go over the bridge and turn left right before the Hardees. (Hmmmmm). But we made it all the way to Ellijay and then turned onto Vanilla Lane (our cabin was on this street). But when they named it "Lane" they meant "dirt road barely wide enough for your car in the middle of nowhere" Lane.

No problem. We can do this. Joy's directions said to take the lane "to the end" and then take the "right turn off down the hill. Your cabin is the one in the middle." Hmmmm. After turning off twice to the right and not finding a cabin we finally got to what we thought may be the "end." To our right was a road that plummeted into the darkness at an alarmingly steep grade. No way. Surely she didn't mean THAT road. I got out of the car and tried to peer into the darkness to asertain if a cabin was down there. Husband asked me what I saw.

"Nothing. It's dark. I really think this is the way though."

He, I have discovered, is no Boy Scout. No roughin' it in the woods of Georgia for this guy. He did not want to take the chance going down that hill. I was getting so frustrated that I wanted to just drive the minivan myself. But I kept my cool and called Joy.

"Umm, Joy? We're lost. I've followed your directions and we're just not sure if this is the right path. "

She proceeded to repeat to me the exact same directions she had written down. I think she was reading them off her paper.

"But, Joy? Is the driveway to the cabin down a steep hill?"

"Well, it's not THAT steep. . . " Hmmmm. No help there, Joy.

Finally,I convince husband to go for it and we creep down the steep hill at a snail's pace. Ah ha! The cabin! It was down there!

The next morning we finally get going at around 11:00am to go to an apple orchard. I loaded up the girls and we drive off. Half way up the hill we get stuck. It's so steep I really think we're going to topple backwards. Our front wheel minivan is no match for this. Of course, it doesn't help that husband is barely moving the car. He tried two more times and then I tried (after we got the girl's out, of course), but no go. I called Joy again.

"Umm, Joy? We're stuck. We didn't know we needed to have a four wheel drive to get up this hill."

"Oh, you can do it! Just get some weight in the back of your van and creep on up. We do it all the time." (What weight did she want me to put back there? I don't generally keep extra weights in my car. Just on my butt and thighs.)

"We've tried for an hour, Joy, and it just won't work."

"Well, there is a way to do it. Now, it might sound crazy, but. . . " I interrupted her at this point and told her I wasn't going to do anything crazy with my minivan or my family. Husband excitedly told me to tell her we were just going to go home and wanted a refund for the second night's stay. Bingo! He found a way out! So I told Joy all of this and asked her to call a Tow Truck to help us out. I also asked if this happened before.

"Oh, no. Never."

"So where do I tell the tow truck company to come?"

"Just tell him you're next to Steve Smith's place."

Hmmm. How would a tow truck company know where Steve's house was in the middle of the woods unless he had been asked to go there 45 times before????

Anyway, a man and woman from the third cabin walked up and I told them our tale of woe. He smiled a very toothy grin and assurred me we could get up the mountain and wouldn't need a tow truck.

"Just take it on up and go on the outside of that last turn. You can do it!" Big toothy grin. Luckily, he offered to do it for me but let me ride along. We sped so fast up that hill I almost peed on myself. What a rush. Once were were at the top he just put it in park and said "Nice van you got here." I was too busy catching my breath to thank him for not killing me.

So we went on to the orchard (a total bust - completely campy. They didn't even have caramel apples!) and then went back to the cabin. I was determined to stick it out. This time we didn't take the van down the hill but left it at the top and walked our stuff down. I'm sure our friendly neighbor enjoyed a good laugh from that one. But husband was happy. He got to watch football and I got to play with the fire. The girls got to skip their naps and pick up sticks in the woods. At least it was a beautiful setting right next to a stream. Needless to say, as we were leaving Priya said, "I don't like this place."

So does this mean we won't be camping anytime soon?

Army of One

Yesterday I did more before 9:00am than most people do before 9:30.

I stained my deck (which was fun because nobody bothered me and I listened to great music). Okay, so I didn't stain the entire deck by 9:30, but I got started around 8:30. That's something.

Then, if that wasn't enough, I got a wireless network adapter for my Tivo, so I can publish pictures on our TV. It only took me 2 weeks and 1/2 tank of gas to figure out which adalpter was compatible with Tivo. The guys at Office Depot didn't have any idea what to tell me, and when we looked it up on the internet we didn't realize we had the wrong one (twice!). Husband was convinced it wouldn't work, but I perservered. I even submitted my rebate online! Welcome to the 21st century!

Not only that, but I also took a cooking class called "Fall into Flavor." It was a demonstration class in which this great chef cooked some Pumpkin/Apple soup, pork tenderloin with dried fruit and a great glaze, and Acorn Squash with some sort of wonderful Licquor melted in the butter. All of this was topped off with a wonderful Apple Blueberry Dessert thing. He used some type of pasty paper that was impossible to work with. I walked away thinking, "Gee, that was neat, but I won't make any of it. Husband hates bland food (soup was very bland), Husband hates pork, and I simply can't mess with phyllo pastry. Maybe I'll make the Acorn Squash dish for Thanksgiving. MMmmmmm. Who wants to come to MY house?

90 days

Today I saw a very interesting patient.

"You won't believe what all has happened to me in the last 90 days. In July, my wife committed suicide. I was in Arizona at the time and she was in Texas. So I moved out of our house in Texas and put my things in my folk's house in Biloxi. You can guess what happened then. I lost about 60% of it all in the hurricane. Then I found out I have renal failure and need a translplant. I'm here for a referral to a nephrologist."

Now THAT'S a bad summer.

I've learned to ask patients a lot of questions about their family, homelife, and career. It really gives me an idea about who they are and what they have to deal with.

Today a lady told me she has three children.

"Well, one is deceased." she added.

"What happened?"

"She was murdered. By her broher-in-law when she was 30. She had three kids and was trying to leave her husband. His entire family is very tight in the town she was living in, like the Little Mafia. Her brother-in-law told her she absolutely would not leave and he shot her. And to my dying day I think her husband was involved."

"Why?"

"Because he took an overdose of just the right amount of sleeping pills to put him in the hospital the day before her murder."

"Where are the children now?"

"They're with their father. He remarried and is very happy, apparently."

But the story that stays on my mind is the one a lady in her early 60s told me a few weeks back. All I asked was how many children she had.

"Three."

Pause.

"But actually one died."

"Oh, how awful."

"She was two years old. I went to take a shower while she was napping and she climbed onto the stove and turned it on. She had never ever done that and I don't know why she did it then."

This was a very soft spoken woman who worked at the local fabric store. I actually met her there and have seen her there often since she came into the office.

"Her little dress caught fire and she died in the hospital four days later."

She was crying at this point, but didn't say anything further about it.

It's a story I will never forget.

Stripes

A few weeks ago I spent all kinds of money on a new hairdo with highlights. This morning I asked Toddler what color hair I had and she replied "Mommy has Stripes!" Nice.

Toddler also has learned that treasures exist in her nose. She'll pull out one such slimy treasure and say "What's this?"

"It's a booger. Gross. Don't put your finger in your nose. That's yucky." A comment that means nothing to her because she promptly sticks her finger right back up in there and asks yet again "What's this?"

What is it about Toddlers and repeating the same question 46 times in one hour?

Double Stroller

I went to Texas with the girls and while I was gone my nurse quit. So I had to learn how the urinalysis machine works this morning. That was fun.

I learned a lot on my trip. Everyone in the airports were so friendly when they saw me trudging along dragging two toddlers in their car seats on wheeled luggage carts. Then, when I turned too sharply and toppled one child over or tried to squeeze them into a small elevator the helpful people would say something brilliant like, "You know, I have two children (a friend with twins, two grandchildren, etc) and I use a DOUBLE STROLLER." They would say DOUBLE SROLLER loud and slow to make sure I understood.

"You don't say? Wow. . . "

I especially liked people's helpful advice when they told me why Little Bit was screeching. Not crying and not screaming. Just screeching. "She's teething (ears are popping, hungry, tired, etc)." Again, I would just nod dumbly and say "Yeah, poor thing. . . " when I knew she was none of those things. She was perfectly happy. She screeches like that all the time and I can't get her to stop. All it does is bother her big sister, who covers her ears and starts to cry herself, saying things like "Stop Screaming! My ears hurt! I'm not listening! I'm having a HARD TIME!!!"

Aren't we all?

We went to the State Fair of Texas and I had wonderful fair food. Corn dog, Tornado Fries, Caramel Apple with nuts, Nutty Bar, Pralines and hot dogs. I can't remember what I fed the girls, but I at least I ate well.

I think I'm going to suggest we make this a yearly tradition (the State Fair, that is).

I also enjoyed our visit to my brother's house. If I knew how to link I would link to his blog. Anyway, he went to the Burning Man week and wanted to tell us all his stories, but we were in mixed company. He's like a man reborn. Maybe I'll go that sometime. First, I must lose about 30 pounds and get a tan. Because people don't wear clothes there.

Cool Dat Dude

I found out today that Special K reads my blog. "You can stop talking about me now," she tells me. How does she read my blog without a computer?

She is still a small person with big debt. She claims her sister is a smaller person with bigger debt. What do you say E McPan?

We treated some evacuees in our clinic today. One man was initially in the Astrodome and decided to come to Chattanooga. I asked him how he decided on that and he said they had representatives from different cities offering transportation to their towns. He had never been here, but liked what the representative said about the place. So here he is. Wow. Most of the evacuees I've talked with do not want to go back.

I have found the Red Cross efforts extremely unorganized. The left hand does NOT know what the right is doing. . . Can anyone say FEMA?

This weekend I'm going to a girl's weekend away to Atlanta. The "girls" consist of all the moms from our playgroup. Twenty four whole hours of shopping, dining, and sleeping. Heaven. Lucky for me it will be on my birthday, so I can really have fun. Maybe I'll drink an entire Margarita, or sleep in until 8:00. I might take a 15 minute shower!

Special K and I went to Wal Mart today. She has decided the Wal Mart near my house is the best in town. I ROCK! Cool dat dude! That's the Bomb! Too bad I can't talk about her anymore. She's much more interesting than me.

Gee your skin is pretty

We have a lot of evacuees in our city. So I went to Red Cross to volunteer and had to go to a short class about "How to be a Volunteer." During the class the frazzled Volunteer Coordinator told us no less than three times that "These are not REFUGEES, these are EVACUEES!! They're one of us! The word refugee means someone from another country. These are AMERICANS!!!" Several people in the class started nodding and saying "Amen!" under their breath. Was anyone arguing with her? Did we walk in the class loudly discussing the "state of the refugees. . . "?? Anyway, small point, but it had to be made.

We have two shelters right now with about 150 people between them and loads and loads of people scattered in homes/hotels throughout the city. I really like my new office because the people in it are WONDERFUL. The owner is a Nurse Practitioner and she came up with the idea to have evacuees come to our office for medical care. She even worked out transportation with buses from her son's school. Needless to say, the Red Cross is thrilled. They're thinking about 300 more evacuees will be flown in soon, but it's just a rumor.

And on to other news. . .

Special K has left the building. She moved out two days ago and is in her new apartment with her new roommate, bed, couch and an assortment of other furnishings. Here is a list of things I discovered about her during her stay.

1. If she could choose any food to sustain her for the rest of her life it would consist of cereal, bananas, powdered donuts, honey buns, and tea.
2. She is the world's biggest slob (but swears she will keep the shared space in her apartment neat).
3. She is addicted to the internet (and doesn't own a computer).
4. She know her GAP.
5. She often talks like an '80's Valley Girl who just took a hit of amphetimines (i.e. I can't understand her and when I do I don't know what some words mean).
6. She is a very little person with very big debt.

The End.

Now she is living across town and will come visit periodically, I guess. Toddler asked about her today, so I think we'll have to visit her soon. Her roommate is African American, and when Toddler met him she walked up to him and said "Ohhhh! Your skin is so PRETTY!!" He smiled benignly and said "Thanks. Your eyes are so blue!" She looked at him knowingly and said "I know. . . " Oh, what to do?

Insufficient Funds

Yesterday I tried to withdrawal funds from my checking account to pay the nanny. I was told I had insufficient funds. WHAT??? I don't have any money? That's right, the ATM replied. You're flat broke and no money in this machine has your name on it. Don't ask again.

So I walked back to Special K's car (since mine is getting the dent knocked out and repainted) and called to see how many checks had bounced. Four, the man told me. Hmmmm. What's the damage? $224, he replied. Okay. I'll go right home and tell Husband. He'll be SOOOOO excited to hear the news.

Special K is a pro at bouncing checks and told me all about when I should deposit a check to cover my @#* for the next few days. I don't think I've bounced a check for over 15 years. Maybe I've never done it. Luckily the Pro was with me.

Meanwhile, the Scary Storm came last night and dropped a bit of rain and a few gusts of wind on us. In West Texas winds of 50 mph were common. Here a wind gust like that causes absolute panic. But that's because it knocks down every tree within three feet of a power line. So I've had sporadic power at the house today. Where is FEMA when you need them? Do I qualify for disaster relief? I need to pay a few bills and have INSUFFICIENT FUNDS. . .

Gee Your Hair Looks Terrific

I have a great haircut. I think.

Yesterday I went to a new person for my haircut since mine wasn't working. This was stressful since it is really hard for me to find a hairstylist willing to work with my mop. Most stylists tentatively approach my head with a look of trepidation mixed with genuine fear while they reach out to touch the wiry stuff with words like "Gee, your hair sure is thick/coarse/grey/wiry/unruly, isn't it?" Hmmmm, you don't say? I've never noticed. . .

Anyway, Special K and I drove thirty minutes to go to a stylist a patient of mine highly recommended. It took forever to color and cut and I was running so late I had to ask my nanny to let my fav neighb watch the girls for thirty minutes since she needed to leave. And of course on the way out of the parking lot I hit another car. Yes, I have already put two obvious dents in my brand new minivan.

Husband was incredibly nice about it. He has learned that getting mad at me does NOT help. I feel bad enough about it without his comments. So he quietly inspected the damage and suggested I just get it fixed. Easy. I sure like him. . .

He never did comment on my hair.

Which Knees?

I was on call this past weekend when the pager went off late Friday night. The text message said the patient's knee was swollen. When I called her back she told me both her knees were swollen. I wasn't really awake when I asked,

"Wait. Which knees are swollen?"

She hesitated for a second and said "Um. . . the right AND the left?"

Oh, to have an idiot like me as your doctor.

Later Sunday evening Special K (little sis) came home from work and filled Husband and I in on her love life. There she was in her size 2 jeans (which were too big, by the way) and her top which showed off her collar bones, since that's one of her better features. Husband and I were both exhausted and sprawled out on the couch while the girls crawled all over us like ants at a picnic. Anyway, it seems a young man at work has a crush on Special K, but he won't do anything about it except follow her around and tease her. Meanwhile the gang from work went out to a gay bar and the ONE single guy there (who happens to be quite cute) hit on Special K. He then came into her place of work yesterday, which infuriated the Boy With Crush. AAAhhhh, the Drama. As Special K told us this story and expounded on the difficulties of balancing said Love Interests I reflected on what different lives we have. My joy of the day was crawling around after Little Bit playing chase. She loves that game. I hadn't had a shower and my weekend outfit wasn't really flattering. I couldn't remember when I contemplated the Delimnas of my Love Life, or if I ever had any to begin with.

I'm not complaining, though. I prefer chasing Little Bit any day.

Gymbaby

Today I took Toddler to gymnastics. Ooohh what fun we had. When she walked across a balance beam and then slid down a mat into the foam pit I almost wet myself with pride. I have visions of her competing at the elite level and working for the olympic trials in 12 short years. All because she can hang on a bar like a monkey.

I need a life.

I Don't Like Blogs

So Little Sis was sitting on my floor last night while I read our sister's blog. "Have you read E.McPan's blog lately?" I asked.

"I don't read her blog." she replied with a resolute look on her face.

"But it's so funny! She is a riot!"

"Don't you KNOW? I don't like blogs." she huffily replied. "They're just an excuse for people not to have conversations with each other and instead talk into a computer without forming relationships. . . blah blah blah"

I find this comment very interesting coming from a young woman who spends 86% of her time in her room grooming herself or reading a novel or something or other. When she does venture out it's to answer my questions with one word sentences or "I don't know." Sigh. Huff. Eye rolling. The relationships aren't forming too rapidly somedays. Maybe if I email her we'll get somewhere. . .

At least I know I can talk about her all I want on this very public forum. She'll never stoop so low as to read it.

Summer of Slovenly Appearance

Hello Internet World. I am alive and kicking. I've just been busy/lazy/distracted and haven't blogged in a while. Here's the scoop. My very little sister is visiting this summer and it has been a real eye opening experience. She is five feet tall and weighs somewhere between 97 and 99 pounds. The last time I weighed that was in fifth grade. True story.

Anyway, she is very fashion/makeup/beauty conscious and I am not. You would think I would have a thing or two to teach her since she is thirteen years younger than me. Not Happening.

I've discovered I should tweeze my eyebrows, get pedicures for my feet, wax my upper lip and hairy chin, and consider a tan. I cannot for the love of mankind wear horizontal stripes (or wide vertical ones) nor should I wear any heavy fabrics. I've learned to avoid busy material (especially if the background is dark or the print is large) because it just makes me look larger. I need to stop wearing clunky boring shoes and try for a little bit more heel and pointier toe (but not too pointy!). Pants must be low on the hip and dark. No stripes. Not high waisted.

While learning all of these things in the middle of a rather hectic shopping binge last week she finally turned to me and asked "Don't you ever groom yourself?"

I just grunted in my big hairy apelike way and went back to picking ticks out of my hair.

But I am getting better. The other day I picked out a shirt and asked her if it would be okay. "NO!" she shrieked with a big heavy sigh. I slowly went to put it back when she grabbed it and asked "And WHY isn't this one good for you?" in her best most patronizing tone.

"Because the neck line is too high? It's too busy? The grade of fabric is too heavy????" I answered quite desparately.

"Right" she said. Then she waltzed off to another rack of clothes. I was left there sweating. Which one was it? What's the answer? What do I do???


Med school was easier than this.

TiVolution

I frequently become upset with Husband because he watches so much TV. It has taken several months, but we have succeeded in keeping the TV off until the girls go to bed. So when he finally gets to watch, the pickins are somewhat slim. I therefore decided to buy him the TiVo system so his TV watching would be more efficient. I mean, come on, how many episodes of CSI and American Chopper can one man watch?

I put the entire system together yesterday and it only took eight hours. I now understand video/audio cables, IR cables, and cable boxes in general. After hooking everything up (no small feat with our entertainment system arranged the way it is) I dutifully answered every little question it asked about our cable program, zip code, area code, cable box, etc. I thought it might ask me my favorite color. I was ready. But it worked at the end of the day. Awesome. I rock.

Last night he set the programs he wanted to record in case he misses them. Guess what he put in?

CSI and American Chopper.

Lovely.

Potty Talk

Toddler is almost ready to potty train. As such, we have many discussions about poo poo and pee pee. Here are a few examples of these actual conversations.

"Mommy change diaper! Mommy change poo poo diaper!"

"Okay, come over here so I can change it and put a fresh one on. Oh my, this is a poo poo diaper!"

"I wanna see it! I wanna see it! I wanna see poo poo diaper!"

"Okay, I heard you. But be still so I can clean you up. There, now see it? It's a big poo poo."

"Yay poo poo diaper! I wanna flush it! I wanna flush it!"

"Okay, calm down. Let's go in the bathroom. There it goes, now you can flush it."

"Bye bye Peeya's poo poo! That was a BIG poo poo! Bye bye poo poo!"

This happens every single day. I must always show her what her body eliminated, rather it is urine or stool. She just wants to see (but then, don't we all take a little peek?). What gets bad is when she discusses my body habits in a public bathroom. We were in Target the other day when this very thing happenned.

"Mommy needs to go to the bathroom. Mommy's going POO POO!!!!"

"No, Priya, I'm not. Now please don't talk so loud. . . "

"OOOhhh, Mommie's going poo poo! Flush Mommie! Bye-bye Mommie's poo poo!!!"

I just cringe as we walk out.

When Little Bit gets a diaper change she has to see that too. And she likes to help clean her up. I don't think I'll let Little Bit know that little detail when they're older.

Toddler is also in a "everything must be clean" phase. If her bib gets dirty when she eats she insists I change it.

"BIIIIB! Mommy change Peeya's bib! It's durrrty! Hurry Mommy! Hurry!"

We may go through three bibs during one meal. She won't listen when I try to explain the purpose of the bib. It simply MUST be changed NOW.

It was a bit of a trying weekend. Her ears are both infected, again, and she was wheezing so bad we had to start steroids and breathing treatments. I'm really praying I don't get the "We need to think about tubes" talk from her pediatrician when we go in tomorrow. Ugghhh.

What I learned today

Today I learned how to fix my printer. All by myself.
I learned how to apply for a new medicare provider number, how to apply for malpractice insurance, how to hire a nurse, and how to arrange for a date with my husband. We're going to see Star Wars.

I still need to learn how to obtain private insurance credentials, how to work with electronic medical records, and how to get Little Bit to eat more solid food without throwing up all the time.

I've mastered how to choose the wrong paint for my wall (should have gone with eggshell finish), how to kill a plant, and how to nurture a sick Beta fish back to health. Okay, no nursing involved. I just fed it and it survived. But I did learn how to transfer it to another bowl without causing major stress to the poor thing.

I've learned how to hold an impromptu pool party involving three different pools and seven children without anyone drowning. Steep learning curve there.

I want to learn how to grow pretty fingernails and lose 15 pounds.

I'll soon learn what it's like to take Toddler to "Mommy and Me" gymnastics class. Wish me luck.

That's it. I start my new job on June 20th, officially. Private practice here I come!

Toddler in the garden. She loves her new garden gloves. Everything in pink. 

Little Bit really does smile. Just not for pictures. . .