Happy Wheezer, Techno-challenged,When Drama Queens Attack...

Slap my mouth and call me Fred -- apparently we are the last parents on the block to have a child diagnosed with RSV. I cannot even count how many people told me they or their children had been through this -- there is even slang, "NEB", is apparently the jargon -- there is no "we had to put him on a nebulizer" -- oh no my friends; it's very much, "we had to NEB him", or "he was "Neb-ed". Tell me, is there new jargon for "out of the loop", cause obviously I am. I fear my MOTY rating just dropped several notches (with many more to go -- keep reading).

Anyway, Jax went back to "doc", was apparently slightly better than yesterday (though not to the naked ear), but not quite "better enough", so she put him on STEROIDS. Super. Now, along with teething, flu-shot fever, and general 6 month crankiness, I also have to be ready for Roid-Rage?? All this news, and it was only 10 am. However, I was being assured by doc that he was a *cringe* "Happy Wheezer". Please -- do not even get me started.

So, swell -- another office co-pay, another med that I am being FORCED to PAY to have to pump through my fragile, fat-but-delicate little baby. Oh woe is me. *violins in the distance* Luckily, our ped has her own unique brand of "special humor". She laughingly told me not to worry -- the roids (sounds so much cooler than "steroids" -- damn, I've been hit by the NEB bug) will only be taken orally for 3 days, so no worries over enlarged testicles or anything. ha. ha ha. Has she seen the size of his irregular nut? Sorry for being crass (elders), but it's just been that kind of a day.

Okay, so we crossed that bridge, then zoomed over to gymnastics so Ryan could torment other children her size (and bigger) while I looked on proudly. Truly, at this point in the day (11 am), I was giggling with maniacal glee when she refused to let a little boy take his turn on the parallel bars -- totally(and need I say obviously) pretending not to hear or see him (VERY Phoebe Buffet).

*pause -- must go tend to the CRYING "Happy Wheezer"*

Needless to say, Ryan had to be pulled aside and "talked" to (but only one time --improvement!). Then again, so did I. Truly. As if my day that started at 3:15 am, (if it ever really ended from the night before -- I'm not sure; does 2 hrs. sleep qualify as a proper transition period from one day to the next??) needed any more "moments", the instructor pulled me aside in the hallway afterwards to inform me that we had not paid for this month yet, and could we please do so lest our daughter be dropped from the class?? WHOA NELLIE. For some reason this totally triggered a brain fart of the highest degree in moi, and I quickly replied by muttering/stuttering something along the lines of "yuh huh we did", "husband.. croupe.. check", "receipt.. NEB.. receipt". Think Milton from Office Space: "but that's my stapler...".

I then proceeded to spend 5 agonizing minutes digging through my purse, desperately searching for the freakin' receipt. They better be glad I couldn't find it, or else they would have seen a performance reminiscent of my mother at Burger King , circa 1985: "I am NEVER coming back to this establishment!!! What horrible service! I cannot believe they pay you people!" (Hey, when the woman says no onions, she means no onions. ) Lucky for Ryan, too. I seem to remember wishing I was dead during said performance, circa 1985.

Anyway, I did find the carbon copy of the check, which I presented to them with much conviction (Whatever. I'm a total wimp. Again, I reference the BK Fiasco of '85), they corrected their records, and all was copacetic. For the time being.

Okay, so gymnastics puts us 2 more notches down on the MOTY scale, for those of you keeping track. Lunch was decent, with the exception that I forgot to go get the Roid prescription filled (another notch south). Now this is when the fun really begins. Around 1:30, as the kids are napping and I'm finishing off my lunch, followed by an Almond Joy purchased after yesterday's Doctor's visit (did I mention I'm an emotional eater?), I completely lose my mind. I've suddenly realized that the prescription I was supposed to have given Jax this morning has yet to even be filled, as it is sitting in the back pocket of my jeans, which needed unbuttoning due to the Almond Joy. I can take no more of this. Silently raging, and not wanting to disturb my kids while they are being on their best behavior (read:asleep), I take out my frustration on the VCR. Why, you ask? Well you see, not only am I superb at this mothering business, I also happen to be a klutz of the first order. Not just the fall down, tripping- on- your- own -two -feet klutz (puh-lease, I passed that milestone back in the 9th grade), but the George Costanza kind of klutz. You know, the one where you just can't believe stuff like that would really happen to someone, or that someone could be SO STUPID?? Well, believe it. I'm right up there with Homer Simpson, Larry David, Bridget Jones, et al. Want proof -- pay attention:

About 2 months ago, I was gathering our library books and videos to return to the library when I managed to accidentally drop an Aladdin video on the couch. No big deal, right? Well, you wouldn't think so, but then again, you're not me. Apparently a piece of that black thing on the VHS that covers the inner tape broke off, and I got called on it by the Head Librarian. And let me tell you -- she ain't no Spring Chicken. I used all my best defenses ("how do you know I broke it? It looked perfectly fine when I dropped it off" -- minus 3 notches), and still I got hit with a $26 fine. $26 for a crappy not-even-the-real-movie Aladdin video that I ended up purchasing at Amazon for a mere $10. But even then, when you add shipping and the library's BOGUS processing fee of $8 -- you know, to cover the charges of putting on a new bar code and entering the number into the computer; the TRUE fleecing of America -- it still ended up costing me $24. So I swore "never again"!! But, naturally, one month ago, our VCR stopped working suddenly -- with a tape from the library still inside it. Since then, I've been renewing it online every two weeks, but I reached my limit last week, and now it's overdue, and costing me 40 cents a day. So today I finally call Best Buy and Circuit City to find out if they can help get the tape out, which they will, but both for the price of $29. I wouldn't even purchase a brand new VCR for $29, and that fee is just to get the tape out -- not even to fix the damn thing. Of course, there is NO WAY I am going to go back to the library without that tape -- I would rather spit in my own eye -- so I decide to take matters into my own hands. Literally. See Pics: Step 1: "In the Beginning..." A very "AARGG AARGG AARRGG Tim-the- Tool- Man- Taylor" moment as I successfully remove the cover of the VCR.




Step 2: "Ummhmmm...Yes, I see... Well, clearly this does not belong here, as it obviously came off much too easily when pried..."

Step 3: Problem Located. "If I could just get this white gizmo doo-hickey thing to move , I could just 'pop' the tape out..."

Step 4: I Am Woman. Hear me roar.

BTW -- All objects in last pic are still in exact same spot right now, 9 hours later -- w/exception of rescued VHS; it is SAFELY tucked away in library bag. Should probably clean up before Shawn (aka"Bull In China Shop") comes home. Mom saves the day with no extra charges incurred -- VCR was already broken, so that doesn't count. Move one space up MOTY ladder.

Now, slide 3 spaces back down as I realize at 3:30 that I still haven't dropped off roid prescription at pharmacy. Shit. Come with me as I search for my daughter who is holding funeral services for all 3 of her Ariel mermaid dolls, singing "Oh, you are dead. Oh no. You do not know that I am the witch and the spinning needle and the ugly stepsister!! I can help you, if you can DREAM..." (all on one note, all at loudest level possible.) This where "Drama Queens Attack"comes in. I tell Ry that I'm sorry to interrupt, but we really must get in the car so we can go drop Jax's prescription off so that he can get his meds asap. To this, she runs to her brother, screaming, "Jax!! Are you dead?? It's me, Ryan!!! Can you hear my voice???" I am now the definition of frazzled, so I try to pull her off of him, to which she replies by screaming bloody murder. so of course I send her to her room. While she's away, I'm rushing to put Jax in his car seat and I hear the most gut-wrenching sobbing coming from upstairs. Christ on a cracker. What now??? I run up to her room, where she is flailing about on her floor, tears streaming, crying, "Daddy!! Daddy, can you hear me? I need you Daddy! Daddy help me!! Please come home!! Answer me, Daddy!! Daddy, I NEED YOU!!!!"

I couldn't make this stuff up if I tried.