My boy is EIGHT today!

He was pretty surprised at his cake.



This morning I made him chocolate chip pancakes with hearts cut into them for breakfast, as per his request. Supper tonight will be sweet n sour meatballs & french fries (also his request. A weird combo but it is tradition that the birthday boy or girl gets to request their meal).



So the short term income people were fucking me over stating I had to start work today for 4 hours. My regular shift is only 5 hours. Huh? How does that equal half a shift, like my fucking doctor wrote on the forms? I talked to the medisys people on Friday and the woman was totally uncool about it - said there was no way that my company would allow for 2.5 hrs and it would HAVE to be four.

So of course I'm upset - I can barely do groceries without needing a nap afterward, whiskey tango foxtrot over.

I called my boss on Friday and he said there was "no way in hell I will allow you to come back in those conditions" and "sit tight, I will handle this" and "the medical insurance company is probably pissed that we are taking the business away from them and giving it to another company" and "DO NOT COME BACK UNTIL I CALL YOU".

I called today and left a message to see what was going on - he called back and said that he was looking into it, that HR agreed with him and said there was no way I should come back all at once, that they could even set it up that I only come back 1 hour and then work my way up slowly at my own pace. And that the medical ins co could suck it. Ha and HA. So he said even if I don't get a call back in enough time today, he would *winkwinknudgenudge* give me hours as if I had (knowing full well that I've on more than one occasion stayed an extra hour and never put it on my time sheet - this is strictly a quid pro quo move on his part).

The only reason he is being so cool about this is because he knows what I am usually like - I'm that person that comes in even though I'm dying, I'm the person that is cool about staying extra time when it's needed, and I'm the person that gets a METRIC FUCKTON of accolades from fellow employees, brokers, and lawyers that call in.

He said he would rather eat glass than see me come in before I am truly ready.

So yeah, basically, health wise, I'm better than I was say 2 months ago, but still not fabulous. I am more or less biting through the pain and trying to get my life back in order. The amitriptyline isn't doing shit for my sleeping, the doctor wants me to go up to 30mg by next week to see if that will work. And during the day I get to suck back the gravol for the dizziness and extra strength advil for the pain and just pray my vision/hearing doesn't go off on me. It isn't much of a solution but what can you do, right?

I've also been set up with "telephone counselling" that may/could eventually turn into "counselling in an actual counsellor's office", depending on my needs. The first call from them was kind of weird, it was this whole "please tell me your life story and the principal characters in it" and the lady on the other side was ok but also went into tangents about herself (which I totally expected to happen - next time you talk to me, ask me what I really think about counselling). It was ok in that I got to complain to a semi-neutral ear, but bad in that, here we go again, I do more listening than talking and feel like I've wasted my time because they aren't really listening, they are pausing until there is a gap and then talking talking talking. Ugh.

Ok, time to go pick out a movie to watch with the kids (read: fall asleep to).

Happy Birthday!

Happy Birthday, Stephen Colbert!

I'll have an update on what has been going on with me health-wise later on. It's too much to explain and frankly I don't have much energy for it, as I just got back from my doc's office and I'm feeling the meds finally start to kick in.

This Friday is C's 10th birthday. Where the hell did 10 years go? And who gave her permission to up and grow some curves? What happened to my baby? Dammit.

Something I need to be thankful for is all the support I've received, you know who you are. I owe you a million.

Went and saw Juno on Sunday with my friend Hammer. Since both our husbands had no wish to see it, but we both did, we decided to go without them. There was a bit of a fun mix-up as far as meeting up at the theatre, but we made it and all was well. Except the popcorn. That sort of tasted like it had been festering there for a year or so. But I digress.

The movie was good, though terribly unrealistic. Full of clever lines, and some things I could relate to and remember. I can see why it got so many accolades, but at the same time it isn't life-changing work here. It was just a good, clever movie that I enjoyed. You know what I found terribly amusing? Jason Bateman singing Hole's "Doll Parts". Fantastic.

I've been pretty busy and there is just so much that I am tired even thinking about writing it all down. I think it must be a tradition for me that my February is always rife with drama, doctors, and depression. I think that last bit just comes because of the former two.

Tonight is a parent council meeting, it's the dinner one where we all go meet at a place I would almost never eat, and exchange pleasantries we don't mean, and skirt around issues we have skirted around a million times before. Somehow Hammer managed to get conned into going though, so at least I'll have someone there that is beyond the "small talk" stage with me. It isn't that I'm a snob, or anything like that. It's more that... oh I can't explain it and there's no use trying. I just feel like I'm on a very different wavelength from most of the parents there. I don't know if it's an age thing (if someone tells me I'm just a baby one more freaking time I swear to God I'm going to punch them with my little baby fist. I'm 31 years old for crying out loud and I've likely seen more than most of the women there could dream of, thank you very much. Except you Hammer, you can call me a baby, I get that you don't really mean it) or if it's just that I don't care how much money a person makes, or what their husbands do for a living. I don't know.

I was driven home from work last night by my boss. She had a co-worker follow us home, and she drove me home in my neon. I literally saw stars and only stars - focus was impossible and my head felt like it was being crushed in a vise. My right arm was tingling, then it was on fire, then it went numb. Then the same thing happened to my face. I got in the door after she brought me home and I crashed on the couch. Hard. S brought me some meds and then I managed somehow to crawl up into bed.

I don't remember much after that except for S waking me up telling me he had to go to work, and I had to at least get myself on the couch so that there was parental presence among the young fry. I told C that I couldn't take her to guides and she said ok, that was fine. Then she called her friend Z to say she wouldn't be going, and Z said they could come get her. You know how there is that friend that would just drop everything to help you? That is Hammer. I can't even tell you how glad I am for her, I keep meaning to do something nice to thank her but there isn't enough time for me to even breathe lately, and I know she doesn't expect anything in return (she knows I would do the same for her in a heartbeat) but I still want to.


Ok, time to get the kids off to school. Thankfully my vision is back, although my head still hurts. Aren't tumors fun?

So!

I got my birthday present from S a month early... and I'm not going to complain one bit becauuuuussseee:

IT'S A NOTEBOOK COMPUTER!!!!!!

HOLY EXPLETIVE!

I was just so shocked I sat down and cried. S found this slightly amusing but he was also happy about my reaction- it meant that he got the right thing, haha. I have been wanting one for so damn long, and every time it looked like I'd squirreled away enough money to do so, something would come up like the car needing repairs or the kids needing something or getting massive traffic fines (*cough*) so I always end up putting all those other things before my needs (welcome to Motherhood, right?). As a result, I'd pretty much given up on the idea of ever getting one.

And then I came home on Monday and S was looking stern and said that we needed to go upstairs to talk... right now. This had me worried and confused because I had no idea what was wrong but he looked pretty upset. So we went up into our room and he still had this really stern look and he said "you know how [S's bank] called me about my [credit card] recently?" (they had called on Friday asking him to confirm a purchase, I took the call but they wouldn't tell me anything because I wasn't the card holder. This happens a lot when he orders computer parts online so I thought nothing of it). And then he said "Well, my stuff from [online computer resource] came in..." and I said "Uh-huh. Annnd?" because it wasn't making any sense. Then he said "Well, it wasn't for me..." and then he made me sit down and handed me a big box. I had no idea what it was - I figured a new monitor, at best.

So when I opened the big box and found a smaller box inside, I was flummoxed. I opened up the littler box and out it came... and I just sat there looking at it and I looked at him and he said "I wanted to wait, but I knew there was nowhere I could hide it on you here, and you've been wanting one for so long, I couldn't wait to give it to you..."

I just sat there and looked at it and cried. He went on to say that he knew I always wanted one, so that I could take my writing with me, and he wanted to encourage me to write more. He said that he knew it was one of the things that truly made me happy, and he wanted to encourage that as well. I kept apologising for crying and hugging him and crying some more. Eventually I got myself together but I was so damn overwhelmed and happy I couldn't help myself. He was a pretty good actor - I was convinced something was seriously wrong.

Of course, now that I have it, I am suffering from Block - hello there Irony, been a while. Don't make yourself too comfortable now.

My kids have to be "assessed" by an "occupational therapist" on their "fine motor skills" because their writing is apparently "a concern and illegible at points". Right, because when you are 6 and 9 your penmanship needs to be impeccable. Give me an effing break. S hit the roof when I told him. I gave in though and signed the damn document, hopefully they can get this "assessment" over the summer.

Hammer made an interesting point - the school is losing a lot of their special needs kids this year, so they are probably grasping at straws to keep their funding. But anyone who's met my kids would hardly find them to be falling under the "special needs" category. But whatever.

Also, report cards came in and their grades decreased (not so much for K, but definitely for C - her teacher is a cow, as some so delicately put it. Remind me to insert rant here later).

Ok, time to go do work type stuff I guess.... I find it hard to pull myself away from this thing though...

SHINY TOY HURRAH