And Seven Years Later

I haven't posted in about seven years.  A lot has happened since then.  We've moved - built a new house (not an old one, obviously) and the girls are now officially in middle school.  Anjali is graduating from fifth grade next week.  Graduating. From. Fifth. Grade. And the school is serious that this occasion deserves attention.  I told her she didn't graduate from anything because fifth grade was not hard work.  Graduating from college is hard work - that deserves a party.

Anyway, Priya is now officially a seventh grader - I let her play hookie on the last day of sixth grade because they weren't doing anything anyway, so what was the point?  I also missed work due to a school picnic (the last one at the girls' elementary school) so Priya and I went shopping.  She enjoys spending my money.  We bought items for summer camp.  Both girls are going to their first sleep away camp this summer for one week (thank you Jesus).  I've asked them to consider a four week stay, but this is all they can handle.  Really?  You really want to stay home and sleep until 11:00 and then watch TV and eat cereal all day?

"Yes, Mom.  We do."

The rest of the summer is filled with multiple camps to keep them busy (which were difficult to find given that they are old enough to feel too old for camps but too young to do anything on their own).  It's not been easy but I think we have a good plan.  We have Archery Camp, Adventure Camp, Photography Camp, Space Camp, sleep away camp, and Aquarium Camp.  I'm several thousand dollars poorer, but they will be busy and engaged learning new things to keep their soft brains from rotting.

We are growing a garden in the lot we purchased next door.  It is a raised bed garden and we are trying to grow tomatoes (like everyone), zucchini squash, Japanese Eggplant, regular ole' eggplant, strawberries, peas, beans, cauliflower, broccoli, kale and various Indian vegetables that are a mystery to me.   We are making many mistakes but will not worry about our losses.  Consider this a learning season. I go out there every day and putter around placing poison on the plants getting eaten by the beetles and considering transplanting one of the 15 or so tomato plants we have.  They are too close together and will not produce much fruit that way.  Just my opinion.

And we have two guinea pigs.  Flo (for Florentina in case we want to call her Flo or Tina) and April.  They are just two overgrown rodents that require weekly cage cleanings and twice daily feedings.  They bite when you pick them up and poop everywhere.  So yes, we are stupid.

That's it for now.  I really don't think my little life is interesting, but I feel I've neglected this blog long enough.

Sam's New Love

So I bought reusuable grocery bags. They're wonderful in that they are sturdy and hold lots of groceries. Plus, they fold up into a little pouch that I can throw in my purse. My problem is that I never remember to throw them in my purse. I'm constantly standing in the check out line thinking "Darn! I forgot my bags!" I just don't think Al Gore would be proud of me right now.

I've also discovered silk nails. What a wonder. I've had acrylics in the past and hated how thick they were. I haven't had anything on my nails for close to four years but finally decided my own nails were never ever going to grow. So I went in to the Nail Salon and the lady recommended silks. They're thinner and look like my own nails. They're pretty strong too. Plus, they last longer. I win all around! Except for the clickity clack sound they make when I type. I hate it. We have electronic medical records at work so I'm typing all day and clacking along quite loudly. It always reminds me of those obnoxious ladies that check you bags at the airport. There they are with your life in their manicured hands staring at the screen and clickity clacking along for ten solid minutes. Then they turn to you and say, "Now what was your name again?"

Sometimes I'll be typing along and tell my patients to just hold on one minute while I Google their problem. Tee Hee. If they look uneasy I reassure them that I got my medical degree online so I know what I'm doing. . .

Sam came to town with a "friend" this past weekend. She is awesome! I really like her. She is a deaf graphics designer who is Asian! And she is very very nice. She lives in Atlanta, and since I visit there often I may ask her to give me a few lessons in ASL. Maybe then I could understand half the stuff Sam says to me. . .

Medical Humor

Here are some funny stories from the work place:

1. The other day a drug rep came in to give us some samples of a sleep aid. I told her the only complaint my patients had about the drug was that it had a horrible aftertaste. She said she had a great solution for that.

"Just take it with something acidic like orange juice. . . or coffee."

Hmmmmmm. I don't think I've ever thought of taking my sleeping pills with coffee.

2. Another time I had a patient whose wife was worried about getting a biopsy of a tumor that was found in her breast. She asked her husband if he was going to the hospital with her and he reached over and patted her shoulder lovingly and said,

"Don't worry, honey. I would never miss your autopsy. . . "

True story.

3. Our lab tech was delivering some lab results to me when she said she couldn't believe this lady had genital herpes. I explained that she got it from her husband.

"But she has been married to him for like 25 years! They didn't have herpes back then, did they?"

4. During my first visit with a patient I was going through her medical history and found out she had had a double mastectomy due to cancer. That small fact must have slipped my mind a few minutes later when I asked her when her last mammogram was. She quickly began patting her chest and said

"I can't get those anymore, can I?"

5. Another time I was doing a pap smear and could not locate a women's cervix.

"Have you ever had a hysterectomy, ma'am?" I asked her.

"No."

Hmm. So I tried to locate it again and again, to no avail.

"Do you still have your uterus?" I asked.

"Oh, yes!" She replied, quite cheerily.

Finally, I asked, "Did you get your womb taken out?"

"Yes, several years back." Good thing, because I certainly can't find your cervix!

Gee Your Car Smells Terrific

So the van stunk for three days after the Vomit Debacle. I took Anjali's carseat back out and washed the cover. Sumeet smelled everywhere and couldn't find anything. I deemed that a useless endeaver since he has a poor sense of smell anyway. We were going to dinner Friday night when I stopped Sumeet so I could empty the little car trashcan I have up front.

"You didn't empty that??!!"

"Oh!" I replied "I didn't! Do you think that's where the smell is coming from?"

Of course, HE was the one who cleaned the car. HE didn't empty it either.

Okay, Mike. I know you're loving that one. Stupid doctors and all that.

I talked to Mom today, Mike. I'm not sure if I was on your list of Horrible Children, but apparently I'm off now. I think it's because I give her drugs.

Elicia, if you're reading this, good luck on your move! I'm very excited for you and JC and Peyton. I want to send you a moving package, but I'm going to wait until I ge your new address. You're getting a real dishwasher!! Wow! And all new appliances! Yay!

How does your urine smell?

So yesterday I'm driving the girls to school and Anjali starts coughing. She tends to have a sensitive gag reflex and eventually throws up her oatmeal and milk I so painstakingly made for her. It's everywhere and smells wonderful. I'm halfway to school and have to quickly decide if I will lose more time going back home or if I should risk it and hope I have an extra set of clean clothes in her book bag.

I risk it.

When I get to the school I strip her down in the parking lot and put another outfit on. Yay for me! I didn't get any vomit on my clothes, either.

Then Priya decided to throw a royal tantrum. About nothing. It wouldn't have been a big deal except she refused to budge from the center of the parking lot, right in every car's path. When I finally managed to drag her into the preschool she bolted right back out and stood again in the center of the parking lot. Arms folded. Mad as Hell.

Meanwhile I had very nice parents and teachers offering to help me with Anjali while I chased Priya down. I forgot about the gross vomit soaked dress and ran back to get Priya. She was angry because I didn't let her walk in "by myself." Oh yes, that's an excellent reason to risk life and limb in such a manner. Good call.

After walking her back in and trying not to lose my cool in front of everyone, I found Anjali's teacher holding her vomitus dress with two fingers quite delicately. She calmly found a plastic bag for it and gave it back to me without a word.

I'm so lucky that Priya decided to throw her fit at her school. If I had been in an airport or the mall I would have been embarrassed. As it was, everyone there understood and was so nice about it.

A few days earlier I had taken Priya to my office for the afternoon after her doctor's appointment. She loves to hang out at the front with the receptionist and draw pictures. There she was drawing away when a patient came to the window and told her hello and commented on how well she was drawing. Priya said thank you and the patient turned to the receptionist and said "My urine smells like sh**."

Okay. Who does that? Did you not just talk to a four year old child sitting two feet from you? What is your problem?

Anyway, the receptionist was pretty disgusted and hurried to get the patient out of there before she could say something else.

Priya knew it was a bad word and put both her hands to her mouth in mock surprise. Now, how would she know that? I never say that! I say just about everything else in the book, but never that one.

Do I?

How to be a Good Parent

The girl's preschool is sooooo busy. They're teachers send home information each day in their book bags about what is going on and what I need to do for the next class. If I were a good parent I would empty their book bag the minute they came home and prepare appropriately. Instead, I open the bag ten minutes before we leave for school and then frantically run around getting whatever they need for class that day. They're in preschool, for goodness sake! Today they were having animals from the zoo visit so they needed fruit or a vegetable to feed the animals. Next week is Teacher Appreciation Week, so I needed to sign up to substitute teach one day, or bring food, or help prepare gift baskets, help prepare a luncheon, etc, etc. If I had been prepared I would have known that I needed to have some gifts ready TODAY to put in a box for the Teachers. Instead, I was running around looking for an extra scented candle or lotion to give. Thankfully, I don't use many of my candles, so I grabbed a few votives I've never used. I thought it would be tacky to grab a half used bottle of lotion, though. Thank the good Lord Above they are only in school two days a week for three very short hours each. . .

We had our Girl's Weekend in Gatlinburg and I think I won the award for spending the most money. 75% of it was for clothes for Sumeet. Poor thing, he only has 237 shirts and 55 pairs of pants. So I had to replenesh his closet at Banana Republic. You can't beat a good sale at BR. It helps that he wears a size small in shirts and 30/30 pants. I called him to ask him what he needed and he started barking orders: "Go to the clearance rack in the back. They're having button down shirts for $19.99 now. I need these colors: blah, blah, blah" I asked about a pair of pants and he says "Are they Martin fit? Do they have the blue stripe on the inside? How much? No, that's too much. Wait! Go ahead and get them. I guess I'll use them. They're LIGHT tan right?"

My goodness. It's just clothes!

You're just too qualified to make good money

So Kat had a good job interview yesterday. Everyone cross your fingers for her. I've never seen one person go on so many job interviews and come SO CLOSE to getting a job before in my life. She gives her resume to everyone and then sits back and waits. Usually they tell her she's overqualified, which just frustrates her. It' s amazing how different each job is, too. This one is for the managing editor of a magazine. No, she doesn't have a journalism degree, but there you go. They asked her how she came up with her writing style and she said it just pops out of her head. I believe it. You should hear what just pops out of her mouth.

I'm going to Gatlinburg for a girl's weekend with several friends (we're all Moms with kids in the same playgroup). We've been in a playgroup for several years now and gotten to know each other pretty well. We're going shopping, eating out at a nice restaurant and then staying in a cozy cabin in the mountains. I think we're going to listen to Barry Manilow and the Bee Gees while we dance around in our pajamas drinking wine. I'm super stoked!

Oh, and Sumeet is going to be on TV tomorrow. He'll be shooting a segment about colorectal screening or some such thing. He is not too excited about doing it. How can you sound cool when you're talking about a tube in someone's nether regions?

As for me, I have my mug plastered on a billboard in Soddy Daisy (yes, that's the name of a town north of here). We're trying to attract patients for our new nurse practitioner. We're all wearing bikinis. He, he, he. Obviously, that ploy won't work.

Oh, and I had the oddest dream last night. Figure this one out. I dreamt the whole family met at IHOP for open bar. But they weren't serving alcohol. They were serving pancakes (especially the Rutti Tutti Fresh and Fruity). I was miffed because Mom and Pam would eat their pancakes at the bar and then disappear, making me pay the tab. How rude.

It's time for a new look. I guess if I'm going to blog correctly I should change things up a bit. So here goes. I hope you like it.

Some input would be appreciated, but I understand if you look at it and say "Whatever" and click on You Tube to watch some kids slam into fences or something.

I assume only family is reading this, but I've learned a few people accidentally stumble onto it and stay for a nanosecond before roaring off. In that regard, I want to link Kat's Myspace page onto it, but don't think I can. Plus, I've never seen it and doubt she wants the family to view it. She says she put the girls on it once. Hmmmmm. I feel so old when I'm around her. She is much more technology savvy than I am and patiently tries to teach me what she can. She is the only person I've ever sent a text message to, or received one from. It's weird. If you have something to say, why not just call?

Anyway. Husband looked at my tan today and asked how long it would last. I told him seven to ten days. "Don't you bathe?" he asked.

Greedy

I am trying very hard not to fill my most interesting blog with "kids say the darndest things." But here I go anyway.

Yesterday Anjali was playing with Priya's barbie doll. Priya was drawing a picture. When she saw Anu with her doll she demanded she give it to her. I tried to reason with Priya, but it was no use. So I told Anjali she had to return the doll to Priya because Priya didn't want to share and was feeling a bit greedy. Anjali then stomped over to Priya and yelled "Priya! Don't Greedy Me!!"

Poor Anjali had "poo poo problems" all weekend. When her new nanny asked her if she had gone poo poo in the potty she grabbed her bottom and said "No, it just stayed up in there!"

Last night Priya was upstairs in bed and asked me to get her Barbie doll for her. I asked her which one, since she has two. She said, "You know, the one with legs." Oh. Okay. That narrows it down.

And on another note, I've had several compliments from people regarding my "tan." Of course, when people asked if I was at the beach over the weekend I didn't pop up with a lie about being in Jamaica or something. Instead I told them it was a fake spray on tan. Which always led into a discussion about tanning products in general. What is my problem? When am I going to learn to just lie effortlessly?

Mike, great joke on Hillary.

Oh, and Hill and Chase, you should know Priya talks about you all the time. Your picture you sent at Christmas is in her play room. She wanted to draw a picture of each of you and wanted to know exactly how many freckles each of you have on your face. I couldn't answer. She drew you a picture of a turtle instead. You should get it in the mail soon.

It takes a lot of work to be this beautiful

-Dolly Parton in Steel Magnolias.

I feel this way many times and not because I'm beautiful. Today I got a Mystic Tan. I had to. I put some shorts on and it scared me. No one should be allowed out the door with legs that white.

It was my first time at that tanning salon and the 16 year old extremely tanned and uber thin employee decided to give me a tour. Even though I told her I wasn't interested in tanning, just the Mystic Tan. The spray on. Like what Ross went through in Friends. So I reminded her of this when she showed me the Super 980,000 watt tanning bed that they only allowed you to use a maximum of 8 minutes every three months.

Hello.

Why would I want to get into that?

She was mystified that I didn't want to get a "real" tan. No pun intended.

Anyway, it was a scary experience. Three spouts blasting this cloud of brown stuff five times over each side of my body. I couldn't breathe. But I guess I got an even tan. I'm not orange.

But now that my face is tan my blonde moustache really shows. So I need to wax that and have the red blotchy goatee for 36 hours. Then I need to color my roots because they're pure white. I just colored three weeks ago. Three weeks.

I need acrylic nails because mine won't grow. I got Lasic surgery to get rid of my glasses and vaneers on my teeth because I thought I looked like a rabbit with my super wide front teeth. Nothing on me is real. My hair, nails, eyes, teeth and skin are all colored.

I don't know what the point of this post was, but at least I posted. Right, Mike?

But I have a great personality!

If someone says "I don't photograph well" aren't they just saying they're ugly? And if you say you don't "test" well in school, are you simply stupid?

Why do we say "heavy" instead of fat? And "older" instead of just old?

I've found myself talking to 89 year old patients at work and saying things like "Most older patients have such and such problems. . . " Usually the patient looks at me real patiently until I finally break down and say, "Okay. You're old. I won't beat around the bush." I'm glad they paid good money to hear that professional opinion.

Speaking of opinions. . .

A patient called me for my opinion because her radiologist said she should not have a biopsy of her thyroid nodule and her endocrinologist said she should. When she told the endocrinologist's nurse what the radiologist said the nurse told her she just needed to decide who she trusted most; her endocrinologist (who does this every day) or her radiologist. She was a little miffed at the nurse's attitude and asked for my opinion. After dispensing with my wise advice I told her to call the nurse back and tell her she wasn't going to trust either specialist's advice and was only going to trust her Internist! Har! Har! We're the bottom of the Ego Totem Pole in the medical world, so I enjoyed that brief power trip. She didn't make the call, by the way.

Are they twins?

I get that question a lot when I have the girls with me. I always explain, that "no, they're not twins, they're just close in age." The other day we were in line at Sam's and after hearing this bit of news the man in line behind me asked me if I was going to have a third child. Now, isn't that a bit personal? Did I ask him when his next bowel movement was going to be? But I patiently explained that "No, I think we're done with these two."

"Oh," he said "you can't afford it?"

What kind of question is that? How is any of this his business?

Happy Birthday Hillary! Sweet 17!

A New Post, Mike!

Mike says I don't ever update my blog. C'mon, I wrote an entry in May of 2006. How often does he want to read something about my life?

Here's a fill in. Priya turned four years old a couple of weeks ago. She is four going on 14. We'e aleady fighting and I'm usually the one stomping off to sulk because she won't do what I want her to. She is going to a private school next year and she is going to wear a uniform every day. Yes, Mike, it's true. She actually had to apply to this school and go through two evaluations to get in. How do they evaluate a three year old? Who knows, but she passed. I hope they didn't see her pick her nose. She does that a lot.

Anjali is two years old and always wanting to one-up Priya. She is almost as tall as Priya and they really almost look like twins. She is almost potty trained and now grabs herself when she needs to go to the bathroom. I'm actually glad because I get a 30 second warning before I rush her into the bathroom. She also has curious habit of "riding" her blankee. I will include a picture when I can, but she looks like a dog dry humping a stuffed animal. My brother-in-law insists she gets some sort of pleasure from it. I told him that was gross, but did notice she likes to go t a quiet corner and do it about five times a day. If she likes it, good for her.

I'm working part time and I'm I just started with a new nannie for the girls. She is 67 years old and has LOADS of experience. The girls love her already and she seems very enthusiastic. It's very hard for me to even trust another person with the girls. They've had the same two nannies for three years and no other babysitters except for other family members.

Kat lives about 20 minutes away and comes over about 1-2 times a week. She babysits every other Saturday for us so we can have a "date." Last Saturday we went to PF Changs. It was wonderful. Poor Kat. My friend's daughter is 12 years old and several inches taller than her. She ribs Kat about it every time she comes over. Kat can't even reach her height with her 8 inch wedges on.

That's it.

Pam and the boys are coming over in two weeks and I absolutely can't wait. I'm thinking about all the fun things we can do but not planning anything. We have the Acquarium, the Carousel, the fountains, Discovery Museum, Tow Truck Museum, Train Museum, and Chattanooga Duck amphibious touring vehicle (it drives down the street and floats on the river). Only in Chattanooga.

I'll make every effort to post more interesting things when they happen. The girls are watching American Idol right now. Priya is sitting next to Sumeet asking him every thirty seconds if "that guy can sing." Sumeet said "no" since it was Sanjaya. Priya doesn't understand why. So she asks that about every singer. Every thirty seconds. Meanwhile, Anjali has put on her toy drum and is serenading us with her rendation of "We can go on Parade." That's her own song. The same five words over and over and over.

See why I don't post more often?

Going Postal

It's been a long time since I've written. I guess time got away from me.

We're going to London in August for a wedding. So, being the prepared little Girl Scout that I am, I began the process of getting passports for the girls a few weeks ago. Good thing I did.

First, I needed passport photos. I took the girls to a photo shop where a nice lady had them smile brilliantly and then snapped the shots. The pictures were adorable and I was thinking of submitting them to the "Cutest Children in the World" contest I heard about on the internet. But her boss took one look at the photos and said "That will never do" with a hint of disgust to his voice. He then proceeded to stand Priya in front of the white backdrop very carefully and tell her not to move.

"No, move your head this way. THIS way. Now look right at me. No, HERE at ME. Put your arm down. DOWN. Don't smile. Now keep very still. STILL!"

What part of "This kid is three years old" did he not understand? It was even better when he got Anjali to stand very still and not smile. I think he scared her into submission. He ended up with shots of two very somber looking children. They look scared to death. He then whipped out his ruler and measured their heads in the pictures and declared "barely satisfactory." Oh, Thank Goodness.

I then looked up all the criteria for obtaining a passport for a minor. Ends up you have to have the child's official birth certificate (with a raised seal). We had never requested Anjali's birth certificate so we had to do that and wait a few weeks for it to come in. I've felt it many times just to make sure the seal is raised. Is it raised ENOUGH? Will they accept it?

I went back to the government website and read that both parents must be present at the government agency (post office) in order to submit the application. The application could only be submitted at CERTAIN post offices too. So we arranged our schedules so that we could both submit the application with the photos and the birth certificates at the RIGHT post office during WORKING HOURS.

That magical day was two days ago on a Saturday morning (squeezed between breakfast and Priya's first swimming lesson). We get into the post office and the unfriendly postal worker tells us passports are accpeted by APPOINTMENT ONLY on Saturdays. No exceptions. Two people are in line behind us. No exceptions. So I ask if there are any apppointments that we can make.

"No. None here and none (across town.)"

"Well, can we make an appointment in three weeks (which was the only time we could all get together again)?"

"No, we don't make appointments that far in advance."

I was getting exasperated, so I said "I wish this had been on the website."

"Oh, it's ON the website. Everyone says that, but we looked yesterday and it's THERE." She looked quite smug when she said it and in that instant I wanted to reach across the desk and choke the very oxygen out of her lungs.

But instead I turned four shades of red, my face pinched into a very tight glare and I stormed out of the office without a backwards glance. A nice elderly asked my "Are your daughter's twins?" as I was leaving and I just barked "No!" and kept going.

That showed HER. See if she ever mistreats ME in the post office again.

We are going tomorrow to try again. At a different post office. On a Tuesday. Cross your fingers. . .

More Great Quotes

We're really having some trouble getting Priya to obey since she turned three. After our upteenth "time out" in the "naughty room" last week she was cradled in my lap crying dramatically. I told her she is a big girl now and is three years old. She sobbed and said "I want to go back to TWO!"

Meanwhile, Anjali is toddling around in the background yelling "TIME OUT! TIME OUT!" at the top of her voice. That's all the poor child knows about.

I don't think brother Mike had this problem with Hillary or Chase. They were perfect, just like him when he was a toddler. And I don't remember any of my other siblings having so much trouble obeying.

Maybe Mom will correct me on this one.

Like a Butter Dream

Priya likes to sing "Row Row Row Your Boat" and finish it off with "Like a Butter Dream." She also had an interesting conversation with her Grandma last week in which she told her she did something just like her.

"You're just like me, Grandma!"

"No, Priya, I'm not like you." Mom teased

Priya smiled coyly and said "You do too like me Grandma."

If she is especially upset about something and crying dramatically she likes to ask for a kleenex to "wipe my big tears" which are "comin' down!"

She is teaching the dramatics to her sister who likes to copy her every move. Anjali, however, has developed a great meltdown technique in which she throws herself face first on the ground in utter dispair. Sometimes she hesitates a second to make sure the landing isn't obstructed by a sharp object. I'm glad she has the forethought to think about that. I'm really proud.

First In Class

Brother is going to love this one.

Two days ago I spent the night in a parking lot. On purpose. Registration began at 8am Saturday morning for a wonderful preschool that had very few openings. It's an old preschool with a great reputation that is also the only nationally accredited school north of the Tennessee River in Chattanooga. Worth the wait, right? I hope so.

I got there at 7pm and there were already 11 cars there. Although I'd like to say it was tough and I was bored or cold or whatever, the truth is I loved it. I had all kinds of time to talk on the phone, chat with other parents, and watch the world's longest movie about the world's craziest man (The Aviator). That was the most peaceful night I've had in months.

And with all that I still got wait-listed for Priya's class. Anjali got the last spot in hers. The director told me to be positive, as I would pobably get Priya a spot. Oh goodness, we will see. . . .

And What Do You Do?

So Husband and I just got back from Vegas. We left the girls at home with the in-laws (yes, it took three adults to take care of two toddlers!). I had planned this trip out to the last detail and couldn't wait to get started.

Of course, the first thing that we did was wait. Literally. We flew to Charlotte and our flight to Vegas was delayed. We were supposed to leave at 11:30, but the sign said 2:00pm. No problem. I'll wait.

Then the sign said 5:00pm. Okay, what's up? The plane is in need of mechanical repair, the nice gentleman tells us. Of course. Mechanical repair. And it won't be repaired at all so we're getting a different plane at 5:00pm. Lucky us.

Two margaritas and four hours later we board the plane.

While in Vegas we played a little black jack and watched a hilarious hypnosis show. Then we went on a helicopter tour of the Grand Canyon. Beautiful! But halfway there I got air sick. Ughhhh. I kept taking deep even breaths and willing myself not to throw up. We landed in the Canyon and had a Champagne toast. I drank Sprite. The nice pilot asked if I was sick.

"Yes," I said.

"Does this happen often to you?" He asked.

"All the time. I get sick on boats, planes, back seats of cars and now helicopters. . . "

"Did you take anything before we left?"

"No." I replied as I rubbed my arms to keep warm. I was freezing in the Canyon and only brought a short sleeved shirt.

"Oh, brilliant." He smirked. "And what is it you do?"

"Uhhh. I'm a doctor. . . "

Yeah. My brother is going to go off again on that one. I may as well own a cat and vote republican now. That would complete the Moron of the Year Award in his mind.

I was queezy for the rest of the vacation and didn't feel better until I slept 10 hours in my own bed.

Here are some great quotes I picked up from our trip:

Our Bus Driver: "Next stop, the Flamingo! Slots of Fun!"

Hypnotized woman singing a song about her favorite body part: "Do your t_ts hang low, do they wiggle to and fro? Can you tie them in a knot? Can you tie them in a bow?"

Saleslady in Forum Shops trying to sell me some cream "Ma'sm, are your nails natural?" Anyone who has seen my nails will understand that one.

Temper, Temper

Tonight I was getting the girls ready for bed when Priya asked me why the hair brush was broken. I hesitated because I hated to tell her the truth. That I lost my temper and threw it on the floor two weeks ago after she refused to put on her pants or some such thing (I don't remember what made me so mad, but I can say it was likely something she did).

"I"m not sure why it's broken," I stalled.

"But why is it broken, Mommie?" She has found that she must repeat her question 49 times in order to get an answer.

"I just don't know, Priya. Now put your shirt on. . . "

"But why is is broken, Mommie"

"Well. . . it's because I lost my temper one day and broke the brush."

She thought about this for a minute and then said, "But what happened to your temper? Where is it? Don't worry, Mommie, it will come back. You'll find it one day. . . "

Oh, I hope so. I really really hope so.

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.