Monday @ 2PM

Well, I just can't take it anymore. My hair. It's going. I'm not going back to the 1/2 inch spikes yet, but I'm getting a serious haircut. Short. Layered. Cutting the waves right on out of it. I just don't have the patience to deal with it anymore. It won't do what I want it to and I've given it every chance, so it must go. I miss the "wash and go" thing. Bad. If the hairdresser screws it up, there's always the "do at home" spikes to revert to. So, say good-bye to the hair....

Surprise visit pics!

My little guy has started eating fruits and veggies. I just want him home so bad! He's 5 months old today and already the boy needs a haircut!

Too, two, to

Today I was reading a post (not an adoption post, so don't get nervous that I'm about to dis you) by a woman talking about being sick. Now, I've seen many a misuse of the English language IE: using the proper form of the word to/two/too; or there/their/they're; or are/our (that one blows me away every time). Really, there are too many to even mention. I won't even go into misspellings-there's a reason God made spellcheck and, I admit, I use it religiously. I'm sure I've made a few errors on occasion. But. Good lord in heaven. This post had me laughing for quite a while. The woman was saying that she had been so sick that she had to go to the hospital for an IV. The reason she was sick (she's fine now, BTW. This happened years ago)? Swollen limpnotes. Limpnotes, people. The words are Lymph nodes. I just keep picturing saggy paper with writing all over it clinging to her body.

Pimp my ride

I have yet to put my Disney stuff on my new minivan. Have I mentioned that I'm a Disney freak? Well, yesterday I did put my "Been there done that going back" bumper sticker/magnet on it and, of course, my personalized plate is on it, but my Jeep was decked out with quite a few things. When I was researching the minivan, one of the things that was touted about it was the "built in antennae". As if that's a good thing. I want an antenna because of these:

Those, my friends, are antennae toppers. What the hell am I going to do now? I'm at a loss and a little depressed about it. I had briefly thought about not getting the car because of the no antennae thing. Sad, I know.

Nothing more exciting to write about...

I ordered a new cell phone today. It does stuff. More stuff than my current phone. Not that I'll necessarily use said stuff, but I want to know I can. I'm adding a line to my current plan because I have over 8000 rollover minutes saved up. I'm not kidding. I totally over-estimated my phone usage, or non-usage actually, when I signed up for the plan and the 13 year-old in the house really kinda needs a phone.

But I digress.

I had the brilliant idea that, since I'm not thrilled with my current phone, I'd get a new one with a new line and give Katie my old phone and just switch the SIM card. Brilliant, I tell ya. Simply brilliant. Go me.

47?!

So I was feeling a little "funny" the other night so I figured I better check my sugar. Yeah, it was 58. A little low, but not very alarming to me since I've been as low as 17 (while I was sick and puking my guts up) and still walking and talking (although not very clearly or balanced). I try to not over-do when my sugar is low because I then end up in the 300s, but sometimes you just have to keep shoving candy in your mouth until that horrible feeling goes away when you're really low. As I said, though, 58-pfft-nothin' to it. So I grabbed 3 Hershey Kisses and the peanut butter. There is nothing better to me than chocolate and peanut butter together...well maybe that DQ Blizzard that has Oreo cookie chunks with Reese's Peanut Butter cups in it (that I take 10 units of Humalog for...pretty pathetic that I have my coverage down for this treat, isn't it?). But I digress. The little snack didn't do much, so I moved on to a granola bar. Didn't help and I felt like I was dropping lower. Now, I know some of you may be thinking that i should have OJ or milk, or some damn thing. Uh-huh. I only do that in an extreme emergency, otherwise I'll go for the candy every time. When you can't have it whenever you want-unless you want to bother taking a shot for it (and I never want it bad enough to do that...except the Blizzard, of course)-you take it when you can get it....well, I do anyway. So, I'm wandering around the kitchen looking for something, anything, that'll work quick. That's when it happened. I spotted the bag of Skittles. DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY GRAMS OF SUGAR ARE IN SKITTLES?! I didn't. I checked the label. Forty-seven muhfuckin' grams! That's a 4 and a 7. Forty and seven. That is unbelievable note to self-Kevin is never having a bag of Skittles. Thank goodness there was only half a bag left 'cause this is where the overdoing for me would have come in to play. So I ate them. That did the trick. I've never mentioned, though, that every night before bed, I read. While eating two peanut butter cups. At this point, if I didn't have them, I'd bottom out in the morning. So it's therapeutic, really. So I had them while I was reading. Do you know what my accu check was the next morning after all that? Ninety. yes, that's a 9 and a 0. 90. Perfect. Go me.

I have no idea why I wrote this post....

Social Visit pics

I just got my June Social Visit pictures. Every time I get these pics, I fight the urge to fly down there...

For privacy/safety of the FM, I cropped her out of a few.

Watching him grow through pictures just sucks...

Click to watch my latest montage...



Kevin 2-4 months old

Yes, I did

I know you've all been wondering if I ever mowed the field that I call my lawn....yes, I did. The Pug is thrilled. The Border Collie now looks bored. The Rottie doesn't even notice.

Let me tell you about my pets...WAKE UP...ahem, as I was saying....

The Rottie is truly a pain in the ass. I'm sorry, but she is. I know it's not her fault...she was abused by, not one, but two, previous owners. She needs therapy. She is the most nervous dog I've ever laid eyes on. This leads to "stomach issues". She gets diarrhea every weekend because I have to go to work. It's a damn good thing that I don't have to work 5 days a week. She will then eat grass all. day. long. You'd think that, by now-after 5 freakin' years, she'd figure out that I'll be back. But no. No, she doesn't. Not only does she get nervous about that, but, God forbid, anything at all changes in the daily routine. She gets all worked up. It's pathetic because it starts a domino effect with the other dogs. I honestly don't know what I'm going to do when Kevin comes home.

The Border Collie doesn't give a crap that I'm leaving for work. She's the smart one. She knows I'll be back. No biggie. When I get home she'll sit in front of me with eyes that look just like the cat in Shrek. So sweet.

The Pug will cry and squeal like a stuck pig when I'm leaving, but gets over it as soon as my car leaves the driveway. She'll survive as long as she gets a snack from Roni and then it's like "Tami who?"

The Pug keeps trying to take over the Alpha role with the dogs. It's a problem because the Rottie is Alpha right now. Does the Pug not see the size difference? Dumb ass. I know you're not supposed to interfere in this whole thing, but there is no way I'm going to let the Rottie prove herself to the Pug. The whole thing is too scary to contemplate. The Pug usually starts it by, behind the safely of a baby gate, she starts growling at the Rottie. Did I say "stupid fuck" yet? If I catch it early enough, I simply take the gate down and the Pug is all "What? I didn't say anything?" And promptly sticks her ass in the Rottie's face as submission. It diffuses at this point. If I don't catch it quick enough, I've had to pick the Pug up and carry her away as she attempts to squirm over my shoulder yelling obscenities to the Rottie. She honestly thinks this is the thing to do. Sigh.

The Border Collie stays out of it for the most part, but, if push came to shove, she's got the Rottie's back. They are the best of friends. If the Rottie is outside, the BC will sit at the door waiting for her to come in. If she takes too long, the BC will scratch at the door impatiently. When I go to lock the Rottie in the dog room, the BC will go with her in solidarity. It's cute and sad at the same time because if the Rottie has to go because of Kevin, I think the Border Collie's heart will be broken.

I'm going to have some decisions to make and I'm not looking forward to it....

Sniveling & Whining

I don't know why today is so tough for me. Kevin will have been in PGN 6 weeks tomorrow and 4 weeks since his resubmission after his KO. Hopefully, he's halfway through...if there's not another KO. Another 4-5 week wait until I can hope for the OUT call. Maybe my feeling down has to do with a couple of KOs that I've seen on the boards that came at 8-9 weeks. I feel just awful for those people. They had to have thought they were getting their OUT call because of the timing. How devastating. It terrifies me to think of that happening. It has put me into a funk. I thought about making another visit trip, but, by the time I could arrange to go, the 8 weeks will be up...so I wait and pray. Just wait and pray. It's all I can do, really.

Is there an engine?

Whoa! I obviously don't know diddly about strollers! I looked at a couple online that were suggested to me and I just have one question....Is there a motor on these things and maybe some foot pegs so I can ride on the back?! I can't believe the cost on some of these things. I love you guys, but...did you miss the line about me being frugal? OK, OK...tell me this...how much do you use the thing? I'm trying to think of when I would use it....hmmm...I guess in theory I'll be taking him for nice-weather walks. It certainly would be good for me, too! The perfect motivator to get some freakin' exercise thinking of how much the thing cost and I need to get my money's worth out of it by taking my sweet baby boy outside for some nice walks. Other than that? Seems like a lot of trouble just to run in to stores....I don't know....is it?

I do want to thank you all for boosting my confidence that it's OK to start buying stuff. The phone didn't ring with a KO today, so it's all good.

I couldn't help myself...

...so tomorrow I'll be blogging about my latest KO. We all know what happened the very day I bought the minivan...a KO. Today I bought this:

It's Disney so there wasn't much I could do, but to buy it. Besides, I started picturing having to buy every single thing I'll need after getting OUT of PGN, and I'm starting to panic. So, there ya have it...my first gear related baby buy. I have already decided that I'm going on the cheap for some things....I am not spending a bloody fortune on a crib that'll never be used again. I'm just not. I'm going to buy a convertible crib, dammit. At least I'll feel I got my money's worth out of it. Yeah. I'm frugal. I'm not going to buy a changing table. Dang! Those things are ridiculously expensive! Polls done with mothers that I know all show that is a huge waste of money and one they've regretted the most. I also don't want a whole high chair....I want this:

Practical. I don't really have the space for a high chair. The one thing I won't go on the cheap for is the car seat. That'll go by safety ratings first. I'm torn on the stroller thing. I need a decent one that's still manageable for me to handle weight wise. I'm thinking of the Disney trips, people. Unless I just get an umbrella stroller and rent in Disney. Hmmmm. I don't know if he'll actually need the bigger kind, or not, by the time he gets home...not sure what to do on this one.

Well, that was a thrilling post...

Don't put off until tomorrow...blah, blah, blah

I am a procrastinator. I wish I weren't, but I'll work on changing that about myself tomorrow....

The grass in my back yard strikes fear into my Pug because it's so high. She may get lost. The Border Collie stalks through it likes she's a wolf giving wolf-like signals to the Rottie, who is frustrating the Border Collie because she just doesn't get it, to quietly surround the rose bush before going in for the kill. I really need to cut it. Seriously. Problem is I'm only off of work 5 freakin' days a week. Where will I find the time?! OK, to be fair....this is where I justify shit to myself...Mondays and Fridays are a bust. I work 16 hour shifts on Saturdays and Sundays (Sundays are actually longer, but those are my "official" hours). On Mondays, I'm absolutely exhausted and really try not to schedule a thing rather than walk around in a daze and drool in front of people. Fridays are my "prep" days. I need to rest up for my upcoming weekend schedule...so I try not to do anything then, either.

So, today I got a little something accomplished and it has only taken a couple of months to make my move. I bought paint, like, two months ago to paint the dining room. And there it sat because if everything that I need isn't immediately available to me, I say "fuck it""I'll do it later when everything I need has somehow conveniently found its way to where it's supposed to be in order for me to continue". Then I plop my ass back down at the computer again. It's a sickness. But. Today I actually bought the rest of the painting supplies I needed. I brought them home and set them in the corner to compliment the paint cans. Aaaand plopped my ass down at the computer. After a little while, I realized what I was doing and furtively glanced over my shoulder wondering if I actually heard the paint sigh. Alright. I did it. Well, not the whole room. don't be ridiculous. I did the ceiling. Well, not the edges, but I did do the whole rest of the ceiling even though I heard the computer calling me back. I resisted even though I was quivering through the temptation about halfway through. Now my neck and upper back are killing me.

That should buy me some time before I have to start the walls...

I've gotta stop!

I am making myself absolutely bat-shit obsessing over trying to anticipate when Kevin will be home. It's a foolish thing to do because PGN is totally unpredictable. Sure, there are averages, but there are also crazy waits in that black hole. Then I read posts on the message board saying that PGN has been letting people OUT after a much shorter wait than the original 8-9 weeks I was figuring on. After my first KO, I've been back in for 2.5 weeks...some speculate an OUT after 4-6 once you're back IN. So, off I go...stomach in knots, thinking 1.5 more weeks puts me at 4 weeks! Whoa! Settle down little lassie. I know that it's silly to think that way, but it's hard not to. It's much more realistic from me to be figuring, at least, another 5.5 weeks. I know that. I do. Why can't I make my heart go where my head is?

Holy crap!

I have a tree(?) in my yard that is trying to take over the neighborhood. I don't think it's really a tree, although it's as big as one, it's more like a mutant weed on steroids. It started out harmless enough, but it is completely out of control now. It grows some kind of berries on it....I have no idea what kind they are, but the birds love them. Apparently, they feel the need to sit directly above my brand new minivan and eat and shit continuously. I swear I have never seen so much bird crap on a car that was clean one day and is now absolutely covered in it on the passenger side and roof (thankfully the branches don't extend to the driver's side). Needless to say I will be taking my chainsaw pruners to that puppy tomorrow. I'm not going for aesthetically pleasing either. I'm going to hack off as many branches as I can reach and, God as my witness, if I can get that monstrosity cut down, I will. Wish me luck that I don't lop a finger off.

Taken aback....

I've been waiting for Kevin's 4 month doctor update with pictures. Looking at his latest pics took my breath away. He's sitting up in them and has wonderful neck control. He's also rolling over now. Those two things show wonderful development, but were also a punch in the gut. I wasn't prepared for it and it brought tears to my eyes. I miss him and I want to go see him. I don't know what to do. Part of me says to wait it out, part of me says to go....

This is the doctor's update:

a very active and alert 4 month old baby boy shows a normal development, he shows excellent control of his neck muscles and will keep the head very straight in the midline when pulled to the sitting position, he likes to look at his fingers and will put them in front of his eyes to do so, reaches out for things that if he manages to grab will immediately go into his mouth, I am told that he is able to roll from his stomach onto his back. He continues to enjoy being talked to and will smile and make some vocal noises in return. I found him in good health with an otherwise normal physical and neurological assessment, his weight is 10 lbs 15 oz, length of 59.8 cms and head circumference of 38.7 cms.

Just a wee bit freaked now...

The night before my visit trip to see Kevin, I was sitting at the computer (as usual) and I heard my cat thumping around on the floor. Now, that might not seem unusual to most people, but my cat is lazy...

I look over my shoulder to the right and didn't see anything unusual so I went back to what I was doing. Then. I heard her do it again so I turned around and, as I did, I heard several soft squeaks. Uh-oh. There it was...a baby mouse. Now, I am not a squealing-run-around-jump-on-the-furniture type. I felt sorry for it. Kitty was tormenting it and I was about to make it my mission in life to save it. In the meantime, I didn't want to let Roni or Katie know that there was a mouse in the house because they are the squealing-run-around-jump-on-the-furniture types. So. Thankfully, Roni was in the tub and Katie was in her room. I got up and batted the ever-full-of-energy-now cat away from the mouse. She kept stalking while I kept trying to shoo her away. The little mouse didn't know what the hell to do. It finally made its way under the treadmill and stayed there while Kitty crouched and stared. I went back to the computer until Kitty got bored and left the scene. When she left, I went and looked under the treadmill...I can only imagine this poor mouse's perspective. I moved the treadmill because I have to catch this mouse because my mother's coming in the morning to baby dog-kid-house sit while Roni and I go to see Kevin. When I moved it, he made a run for it and I did this runningandslideacrosstheflooronmyknees move like a crazed disco dancer. I got my hands around it while Kitty ran to see my treasure. That's when Katie came down the steps. Damn.

"What are you doing?"

"Nothin'"

"No, really, what are you doing"

"Nothin', now shut UP!" (I did NOT want Roni to hear this).

"I don't want to know."

"You're right. Now, get the frig upstairs" Aaaaand, the mouse got away. Sigh.

Back to the computer I go. Roni's out of the tub and I'm praying the little guy goes off into the sunset wherever it is where mice go. Find a crevice for Cripe's sake.

But no.

About an hour later, Roni's at the computer and I'm standing in the doorway talking to her about the trip. Out of the corner of my eye I see Kitty in her commando/stealth position. Roni is oblivious. I spot the mouse. The dumb fuck was sitting in the middle of the floor again right behind Roni's chair. I dove for him and caught him on my first try. Mostly I think he gave just himself up. I bolted to the back door and, I don't know what I was thinking, but I threw him out the door. Dumb ass. He landed on his side. Hard. I watched as he got up and kinda limped a few steps and then fell over. Then again. And again. I was consumed with guilt. Did I save him only to kill him? I walked back through the house, head hanging but trying to act like nothing happened, when Roni said, "What did you just throw outside?"

"Nothin'" (I'm so damn clever)

"Tam, seriously, what was it?"

"OK, it was a little baby mouse that I was trying to save from Kitty."

"Awwww."

Wow....you could've knocked me over with a feather. I mean, where was the screeching-jump-on-the-couch-and-call-the-damn-exterminator reaction I expected?! So. I ran outside and picked the poor little guy up and showed him to her. She was all, "we have to save him and it's cold outside...he'll die" The problem was we leave the country tomorrow! I cannot leave the mouse with nowhere to keep him in the house while we're gone. His eyes were bulging out of his head...I think he was in shock and I really expected that he'd die. We decided on a shoebox for the night with a blankie towel and see what's what in the morning.

The next morning I opened the shoebox and his eyes were normal mouse eyes and he was acting like, well, a mouse. We saved him! OK...it was after I almost killed him, but still.

The reason I'm getting a little freaked...as the title suggests...is that I caught another yesterday afternoon-sans the drama. A smaller one even. I took him outside. That's not what the problem is...there was a 3rd that my border collie-turned-wolf caught last night. Even smaller. This started the song "Ben" in my head that I haven't been able to shake, and visions of the movie Willard. Are you old enough to know what I'm talking about? 1971 movie, but it was remade in 2003....this is the song (originally sung by Michael Jackson)...http://www.willardmovie.com/winmedia_ben_300.html and this is a the vision in my head:

I was in a quandary because I simply cannot kill an animal knowingly. No poison where they get eaten up from the inside out. No trap that snaps their neck. Today we bought some "ultrasonic pest control" devices. I hope they work....