Just dippin' in real quick to say hi and farewell... Well, I'm not really gonna go to Texas and just stop blogging... Had you fooled though, didn't I? However, just in case anything happens to me, like my flight goes down or whatnot, let me just wish y'all the best and happiest and most productive of lives, okay?
It's been a rough week for me. I had a little tense episode with the neighbor over Ryan marking up their wall while he was down there and A's dad punishing Ryan right in front of us without discussing it with us first (had he simply done that, he would have known that Ryan had already been punished). I don't know what moron leaves an ink stamper in a room alone with two five-year-olds and expects the walls to stay perty anyway, but who am I to judge? You'd think she'd never heard of the Mr.Clean Magic Eraser sponge, eh? (FTR...we went to the store and BOUGHT her one, though, so she'd be able to experience the awe.) I wanted to rip the guy a new one but decided to wait until I get back from TX to tell him he overstepped a boundary (I mean, I'm all for scaring the shit out of kids to keep 'em straight and whatnot and letting them suffer their own consequences... but a little notice would have been nice... not only did it suck, but it made us look bad authority-wise... like that guy is OUR parent, too and that random people are allowed to punish our children without our knowing/permission... okay... I'm letting it go now before I get all pissed off again.)
And then there was the horrific experience with the OB/GYN yesterday. Long-story-short, he had me strip down to my pubes (with my hoody, winter scarf and tennis-shoes still on *eye roll*) right there in the exam room (even though he had a bathroom). He pretty much yelled at me the whole time for even being there because, as he said, it was "too early." Trust me, I didn't want to be there, but it was his secretary who sent us there. Then, when he did the VAGINAL ultra-sound, he actually answered his fucking CELL PHONE while the fucking WAND was inSIDE of my you-know-where. He was pissed at having been called, "yet again" and when he let the caller know that, he shoved the wand further up inside me and took it out on ME. I felt like I was being raped. I spent the rest of the day crying and sleeping it off.
Needless to say, I'm looking into getting a sage-femme (midwife). As it turns out, OB/GYN's don't deliver babies. They follow your progress up to six months and after that, you go to the hospital for your care (WITH or without your midwife). Well, fuck that. I don't need no damn doctor if he ain't gonna be there to catch the fucking baby anyway, right? I'll get me a "wise-woman" to follow my progress, do my sonogram and whatever blood tests need to be done and catch my baby when it comes flying out--as they usually do. When it comes right down to it, I know HOW and WHERE the baby comes out. I don't usually need to talk to anyone or hold anyone's hands or anything. I just close my eyes, concentrate nice and hard on feeling every second of my body working to do the thing it was MADE TO DO and when it comes time to push, I curl myself into a letter "c" and pop that puppy right out. Like shellin' peas, yeah?
So, anyway, right now, I'm cookin' and cleaning. Sam has threatened to feed the kids on canned ravioli while I'm gone and I'll have none of it. I'm making four quiches (two that'll stay in the fridge and two that can be frozen), a lasagne, a big pot of lentil/potato/carrot soup, and an apple pie (maybe two). I might also make a gratin cuz those are good and keep well. But just to compromise, I bought some jars of organic ravioli, organic pasta and organic pasta sauce... You never know.
I'll hit y'all from Stateside. I got lots of peeps to see and only a week to see 'em. I can't WAIT. And stay tuned to see if I make it past mile three on the half. Tee hee hee...
Oh, yeah... Should I die...Chris Boudreaux and Barbara Wright are the only people on the planet other than myself who knows my laptop password... Y'all don't let my shit go unpublished, okay? That's all I ask. I die, publish my shit, yeah? Thanks.