List Sunday... on Saturday!!!

Yeah, I know; I'm a couple weeks late and a day early.  Get over it.

So here's the List of Shit I Would Really Appreciate You Not to Touch When Visiting Your Friend or Relative in the Hospital:


1. The electrical outlets.  Yes, I know, for as much as a hospital stay costs, you'd think they'd have enough outlets for all the medical equipment PLUS your laptop, cell phone, your kid's GameBoy, your kid's cell phone (aside from the fact your five-year old has a cell and GameBoy, why the hell are you bringing him to your grandma's isolation room again?).  And even though most places provide free Wi-Fi now, that doesn't help much if you've got about 10% battery life left.  I get it.

However, there are some rather important things plugged into those outlets.  Your husband's IV pump, the anti-embolism boots, the LAL mattress so granny doesn't get a decub, telemetry euipment, et cetera.  If something's plugged in, don't unplug it. Please and thank you.

2. Speaking of IV pumps, leave the buttons alone.  I know, every time Junior moves his arm, the occlusion alarm goes off, which can be really annoying while you're trying to catch the latest scores of your game of choice on the television.  But you know why that alarm goes off?  It lets me know that I need to adjust Junior's position or check the tubing so he keeps getting his antibiotics.  And no, I can't "turn that thing down."  I have several other patients I'm either charting on, medicating, educating, or otherwise attending to.  I need to hear the alarm if I'm in another room, so please keep your fingers off it.

3. Any buttons, lights, or dials on the ventilator.  I know, your sixteen-month old thinks the lights are soooo pretty, and it's great fun to hear all the clicks on the dials (again, why the hell is your sixteen-month old chilling in the hospital again, crawling all over the floor while you're on facebook and your comatose 98-year old grandfather is on life support because you guys just couldn't help talking grandpops out of signing a DNR?) but the machine is breathing for grandpa/Junior/spouse and you need to leave the goddamn dials alone.  


4. The dial on grandma's oxygen tank.  It's at two liters per minute, the doctor has ordered two liters per minute, and it needs to stay at two liters per minute.  I know, it sounds low; I mean, what good is two liters per minute?  Well, first, O2 is prescribed, so if doc says it stays at two, that's not a fluid number.  Second, if granny's a severe COPD'er, it needs to stay low, because if you turn it up, her brain's going to think "Hell, we're gettin' enough air from that little tube thingie, so I don't have to tell her lungs to work anymore" and she'll stop breathing.  No, I'm not making that up.  If you want to fully understand the mechanics of respiration and the effects of severe COPD/chronic bronchitis/emphysema, go to nursing/med school (no, Google doesn't count; in fact, please stay off WebMD, WikiMed, or whatever other follow-the-symptoms website you've been 'educating' yourself on; I'm sick of hearing how your cousin's symptoms point EXACTLY to cancer.  Everything points to cancer on the internet).

5. Your girlfriend's narcotics.  I get it; you've got a headache/sore knee/ingrown toenail, and your girl's 5mg of oxycontin would be just the thing to take the pain away.  But, she's lying there having just had her abdomen laid open because you swore "I'll pull out babe; promise!" and she ended up with a Cesarean nine months later because her GD resulted in a twelve-pounder.  She deserves to be blissed out on narcs for a while, because I highly doubt you'll be spending the next twelve months getting up with Dale Earnhardt Junior Jr. when he's hungry/wet/dirty/ready to play at three a.m.

I'm sure I've got more, but I've got family shit to do and a husband to make out with.  More later, peeps.

No, we're not Scientologists, either...

A couple days ago in my 'Bad' Parenting List post, I'd mentioned that the Vs will not be going to vacation Bible school (VBS).  Over the past few days I've had a couple notices put on my front door with an invitation for my kiddo to attend a VBS week at a local church.  As we're non-theist/atheist/Satan worshippers-by-default, I chucked them into the trash along with the rest of my junk mail, and pretty much put them out of my mind - Until Today (cue suspenseful music).

After getting Little V down for a nap and Vlad settled in with some Harry Potter, I started to do some virology homework.  When I glanced up from my computer, I noticed an official-looking dark sedan making its way down my driveway - and as any military wife can tell you, I instantly went cold all over.  I sat at the computer, unable to swallow or breathe, until the knock came at my door.  When Vlad ran to the door and announced "Hey, some old ladies are here!" I'm not ashamed to admit that I almost fell on the floor because my muscles, which had been rigid from head to toe, instantly relaxed.  It took me a second before I could answer the door.

Okay, the scary part's over :)

Anyway, I got to the door and opened it to see a couple ladies standing there (maybe a few years older than me, so thanks, Big V) smiling and holding Bibles.  Oy, vey.

Lady #1: "HI! WE WERE JUST CHECKING TO SEE IF YOU'D GOTTEN OUR INVITATION TO ATTEND OUR VACATION BIBLE SCHOOL IN JULY!"  I blinked. "Um, hello; did you used to be a cheerleader?"  Lady #1 flashed me a big smile, and if she hadn't been holding her Bible she probably would have given me spirit fingers. "WELL YES! HOW'D YOU KNOW?!?!?!?!?"  I smiled back and replied, "I'm a really good guesser."

Lady #2 cleared her throat. "We have a van that will be picking up and dropping off all the children, and they'll be given snacks along with their other activities. My children just love going every year!"  I gave her a patient smile and replied, "That's nice, and I appreciate the invitation, but we're not interested."  Both women looked a bit taken aback.  "Well, it sure is a lot of fun! We'll have games, and they'll do a craft each night, and they'll also get to participate in a play, which parents just love to watch on our final night!" #1 exclaimed.  "I'm sure they do," I replied, "but we don't go to church. Thank you for the invitation though."

At this point, most people would probably say "You're welcome, please call back if you change your mind," and leave.  However, these women apparently took my remarks as a challenge, and decided to proceed accordingly.

Lady #2: "Well, we do believe we have a calling by God to bring as many people as possible into His fold. May we come in and read to you a few verses that might explain a little better our mission here on earth?"  I shook my head. "No thank you; I'm really not interested, and I prefer to tend to my children's moral needs without interference from other organizations."

Lady #1 (cheerleader smile still in place): "Oh, but it's not just another organization! Our church has a great turnout every week, and we have people from all kinds of faiths that like to attend! It's really informal, our pastor's really young and our young people just adore him! We're open to all kinds of people, and one of the reasons we have such a large youth gathering is because we're a little more progressive than what you might be thinking of with more traditional churches."  #2 chimed in: "In fact, it might be a bit of a break for you, to relax and let the kids run around with a bunch of other kids and just have some fun!"

They both waited with expectant smiles.

I leaned against the doorway. "I do have a question."  Both ladies leaned forward.  "If a Scientologist came to your door and invited your kids to vacation Scientology school, would you let them go?"

They both looked aghast.  "Absolutely not!" they both said, nearly in unison.

I smiled.  "And I am absolutely not interested in sending my son to Vacation Bible School.  Thank you," and gently closed the door.

List Sundays!!

In order to try to get myself to blog a bit more, I'm going to pilch an idea from some other blogs I've seen; namely, to initiate a "_____ Day".  As I truly adore lists, making lists, buying special notebooks for lists, and finding those cute list pads that you magnetically attach to your refrigerator, my special day is going to be List Sunday.  So here goes...

My 'Bad' Parenting List:

1. The Vs watch a lot of tv.  In fact, it's my favorite babysitter.  You cannot find a human that will actually watch your kids for $49.99 a month, so it's quite a steal.

2. Although I'm a brilliant cook, I have not actually made a meal since we moved into our new home (qualifier: Husband is still in Korea, so I've really no one to impress, as the Vs will eat anything that is semi-edible; with Vincent, it actually doesn't even have to be edible).  My freezer looks like it did when I was still bartending and going to nursing school.

3. I spank.  I've also gotten over my issues with disciplining in public; rather than dealing with a meltdown in the middle of Walmart and treating the masses to toy-denial-induced hysteria from my children, we march straight into the nearest bathroom to be "corrected".  I've gotten many a knowing look from other parents as I frog-march Vladimir (with him screeching all the while "No, No, NOOOOO!!! I will STOP! Please DO NOT DO THIS!!! WHY oh WHY?!?!?") into the ladies' room, and to date, no one's called CPS to inform them that *gasp!* someone's being beaten in the bathroom (although with the way he carries on with one whack to the bottom you'd think I was yanking his toenails off one by one).

4. Both Vs got formula.  I just didn't feel like breast feeding.  Tried it, got tired of it, switched to a bottle.

5. When Big V trips and falls, I tell him to shake it off.  We save the boo-boo kisses for active bleeding.

6. Both Vs cried it out when it came time to get a sleep schedule going.  Vlad slept through at about five months, Vincent started at two.

7. We eat processed, non-organic, carb-and-calorie loaded foods. They're delicious.

8. As long as no one's way nakey, Vlad is allowed to watch PG-13 movies.  Does that make me a hypocrite, that I allow guns and gore, but no naked boobs?  Do I sound like I really care?

9. When the Vs yank the head off of a Barbie or run her over with a tank, I do not freak out and tell them  to "be nice to Barbie!" or assume that they're going to grow up to be mysogynistic jerks. They do the same thing to GI Joe and Iron Man.

10. I'm pretty sure Vlad has never sung "The Wheels on the Bus Go Round and Round"; however he knows every word to "Supermassive Black Hole", "For Whom the Bell Tolls", and "Get Low".  Vincent head bangs right along with him.

11. When Big V was being bitten nearly every goddamn day at daycare by the same kid (YES!! HE WENT TO DAYCARE!! THE HORROR!!) I did not have a meeting with his teacher or the director in order to "explore" the reasons the little shit was biting my kid.  I told him to punch him in the nose the next time.  Yes, I got a call a few days later about the kid's nose being bloodied.  Guess who never got bitten again.

12. When my friends bring their kids over to my house, they are well aware that I will feed their kids Cheetos, let them watch Indiana Jones, and probably hear me yell "Dammit!" when I burn myself/stub my toe/trip over the baby gate.  As far as I know, no one's banned from my house yet.

13. I appreciate my children so much more when I'm not around them 24/7.

14. They watch SpongeBob.  I watch it with them.

15. When it comes to playing sports, I am That Parent.  I like to Win.  If we don't Win, we will practice even more.  Their coaches will love me.

16. My kids will go to public school.  When they come home with the Columbus Day fairy tale, or any other edited-for-U.S.-children "history," I will correct the sanitized version of events.  Their teachers will love me.

17. Sometimes, we forgo the bath for a quick baby-wipe swipe-down, usually when I'm ready for them to Go To Bed Now.  Nine pm is me time, no exceptions.

18. We are not Christians, and no, the Vs will not be going to Vacation Bible School "just for fun!"  I think Jesus was probably a pretty cool dude before he was written up as a divine savior of all mankind.  No, I don't care if that offends you.

19. I am not my children's "friend." I am their boss.  That is all.

Repost if you agree. For real, this time.

I'm not a big one for reposting my own work; even though I'm not a regular blogger, I usually have something different enough to say that it isn't necessary.  However, in light of the new drug testing for welfare recipients law that was recently signed by Gov. Rick Scott, I thought I'd dig this one up, as my views on the subject haven't changed one iota.

What I find even more reprehensible is the common prejudicial thinking that resulted in this law: that if you are poor and struggling, you must be an addict too.  What about mandatory testing for all elected officials?  What about testing for those hefty land subsidies, often handed out to the very people who bitch the most about "welfare parasites"?

Interestingly enough a February report from the Center for Law and Social Policy found that legislative proposals to drug-test TANF recipients are, in fact, based on stereotypes, and not evidence:
          "Proponents often claim that drug testing will save money; however, this is based
            on a false assumption that many applicants will be denied benefits. Random 
            testing is a costly, flawed, and inefficient way of identifying recipients in need 
            of treatment"

Another thing that keeps getting glossed over is the fact that if these parents lose their benefits, it's their kids who won't eat.  "But Aleah, won't this MAKE them put their kids first, before their addiction?"  Do I really have to answer that?

Overall, I wouldn't have such an issue with this if it made testing mandatory for EVERYONE: everyone elected to a government job, everyone receiving federal grants, everyone drawing unemployment, everyone getting those farming subsidies, etc. etc. etc... and WOW! Think about the money the government would save then!!!

So, here's my "repost if you agree!" response.

from January:

Did you know that "Kentucky just passed the best law ever! to be on Food Stamps, Medicaid, or Cash Assistance for your Children or Yourself you have to pass a DRUG test. Now every other state should do the same. Re-post if you agree and are tired of people taking advantage of the system to be fucking lazy and do drugs"?  Yeah, I didn't know that either.  And interestingly, when I checked Snopes, I discovered that not only had Kentucky not passed that law, but a federal court ruled in Michigan that a similar law violated Fourth Amendment rights against unreasonable search and seizure.

"But wait!" you say. "Why can't the government mandate that you can't be on drugs if you're getting 'government handouts' that come out of my hard-earned tax dollars?" (these comments usually from the same Second Amendment-loving anti-government people who literally shit their pants at the thought of an individual mandate on health insurance). 

Well, let's explore that.  If you want to place drug testing restrictions on so-called "government handouts", we're gonna have to test people who are drawing unemployment, those who get those niiiiice farm subsidies, every single person on Medicare, anyone getting veteran's benefits, housing subsidies, temporary relief from foreclosure, and a number of other government assistance programs.  'Cause they're all fucking lazy, right?  And if someone pees dirty, we're going to yank that assistance, because their kids don't deserve to eat, right?

Actually, according to this lady, you shouldn't even be breeding if you're getting a government handout. This is what she had to say about people on welfare:
"For the welfare losers: If you can't afford to feed, clothe, or shelter yourself or your family without the aid of the government (and therefore, the taxpayers), then it should be COMPLETELY within our rights to drug test you. Drugs are illegal (as stupid as it is, yes, weed IS illegal in the U.S., but that's a separate issue), and you should not be using welfare money to break the law. You should be allowed NO luxuries, such as booze, cigs, candy, drugs, etc. You should get a basic landline phone and an answering machine, not an iPhone. You should be put on mandatory birth control until you're off the government dime. You already had children you can't afford, you don't need to make more. GET. A. JOB! Making life as shitty as possible for those who abuse the system might encourage them to get off it."

Well, (raising hand), I am one of those people who was on welfare.  My older son, who, according to Ms. Anderson, shouldn't have been born, was fed through WIC and other programs while I went to nursing school.  I had a government handout that helped me pay for heat, helped with my rent, and helped put him in daycare so I could work weekends at the Elks and spend my weeknights studying  (yes, every goddamn night; I have the GPA to prove it).  I was lucky enough to have a mother that paid for nearly all of my tuition and a grant from the Single Parent Program that gave me nearly a thousand dollars to help pay for my nursing books.  I dressed both myself and my boy with clothes from the Salvation Army, and my aunt's mother did my hair for free. No, I didn't do drugs, but I occasionally bought a bottle of $9 Moscato to sip before bed. 

I am so sick of people judging those who are less fortunate than they.  I am tired of people throwing out "lazy" and "leeches" and "parasites" when talking about people who are on government assistance.  Sure, everyone knows "someone" who pops out a kid every 11 months and uses their child support money to buy a Blackberry, but contrary to popular opinion, those people are not the norm.  MOST of them are like I was, trying to make ends meet. To suggest that someone would want to be on welfare is absolutely amazing to me.  You have no clue how humiliating it is to go to a public assistance office and tell them you need help, or have the receptionist at the doctor's office tell you loudly that they need to see the latest copy of your kid's medical card. 

For those of you who think that way, I won't change your mind.  Years of prejudicial thinking and watching Fox News have and will continue to feed your biases.  What I will do is continue to teach my children compassion, and tolerance, and empathy, and they will teach their children the same.  And in a few years, when you're in my hospital, receiving care that's paid for with Medicare and other government-subsidized monies, I will care for you with compassion, and tolerance, and empathy.  No judgment here.

Vladisms, Part 4

Culled from my facebook statuses... see parts one, two, and three as well.

Vlad (upon being told that he will not be having PopTarts for lunch): "I am being OPPRESSIONED!" Me: "You are not being oppressed. I am guiding you in choices that you will be accountable for when you're an adult." V: "I got RIGHTS." Me: "No, you do not. You will do as I say, dress how I choose, and eat what I tell you to eat." V (triumphantly): " 'Zactly. OPPRESSION." :-/

Vlad (tooting): "Heya Mam, I tooted!" Me: "What do you say when you toot?" Vlad: "I tooted."

Vlad (hovering suspiciously over my shoulder): "Um, hey. Don't look in the kitchen, okay?" Me (still doing homework): "Why?" V: "Well... Maybe there's a fire but don't get mad!" Me (jumping up to find the smoldering remains of my magazine next to the candle on the kitchen table): "VLADIMIR THERE'S A FIRE!!!" V: "I just told you..." (a pause). "You're mad, aren't you."

Vlad (to lady at commissary): "Hey, you got some boys for me to play with?" Lady: "No, but I have a little girl who can play with you!" V (eyeing Little Girl up and down): "Well, how fast can she run?" Girl: "I run FAST and I PUNCH you too!" V (to lady): "We'll take her but she got to wipe her own butt, okay?"

Vlad (streaking past me into my room): "Mom I gotta poop in your bathroom okay?!?" Me (standing up and peering down the hall into his bathroom): "Why; what's wrong with yours?" V (yelling from my bathroom): "I don't want to mess up my experiment!"

Vlad (explaining why he removed his closet door from its hinges): "If there's no door, no monsters can come out." Me: "I can't prove 100% that monsters aren't in there. But what if I told you the chances were very tiny?" V: "Well I don't think there's lots of starving kids but I always eat all my pizza." Me: "But you don't eat all your meatloaf." V: "That's for the starving kids. They need the good food."

Me: "Vlad, can you hand me a diaper please?" V: "Um, no." Me: "It's right there." V: "Can't." Me: "HAND ME THE DIAPER. Furthermore, you need to be a little more helpful; your future wife will appreciate it." V: "Not gettin' married. Or be a doctor." Me: "What are you going to do when you grow up, then?" V: "I'm gonna be an evil genius. I will be awesome. And I will not change diapers." Me: "Good luck with that."

Vlad (munching contentedly on a banana): "Heya, Chief, you think weiners ever get as big as bananas?" Me (choking on my Sprite): ... Vlad (still pondering): "Or do they stay kinda hot-dog size?" Me: "Well. Um. You have a lot of time to grow." Vlad: "Awesome."

Vlad (sprawling with Vincent in my closet): "Chief, me and Vincent, we're just best friends, aren't we." Me: "Aw, that's sweet, V." Vlad: "Yeah, we're gonna share everything; towels, crackers, all our girlfriends..." Me: "Chill out there Charlie Sheen."

(this next post isn't Vlad, but will be, in a few more years):
Husband (looking at the mini cinnamon rolls): "Wow, those are tiny babe." Me: "Yeah, I made two packages 'cause remember when I got them last time? I didn't realize they were mini ones, so I put them in the oven and sort of hoped they'd get bigger." Husband: "They're not penises, babe."


Vlad: "Heya, Chief, how does Voldemort and Megatron blow their noses?" Me: "Um, hm. I actually have no idea." Vlad: "I bet they got lots of boogers then. That's why they're so mean." Me: "That could very well be." Vlad: "And they had a bad childhood."

My carry-on has essentials such as my iPad, laptop, gum, change of clothing, etc. Vladimir's carry-on has Spiderman, Big Show, a shield, a pirate hat, an Army cap, and ONE sock. Why just one? "Well, I prob'ly won't lose two, I always lose just one. So I'll just have the one. Just in case."

Vlad: "Hey Chief, send Vincent outside with me so we can do our Guy Stuff." Me: "What, exactly, does Guy Stuff entail?" V: "We're gonna shoot squirrels and stay out of the road and play with Lassie and get dirty and Vincent will prob'ly try to eat her food." Me: "Sounds like a plan. I'll get his jacket."

Vladimir (upon seeing a fully equipped bull): "WOW. That's gotta be the biggest wiener I have EVER seen." Me: "Definitely bigger than a banana."

Lilly: "Aunt Lee-yah, DD won't share any of his crackers with me!" Me: "Share your crackers, Vlad, that's not nice!" (V hands one to Lil) Me: "Now, what do you say, Lilly?" Lil: "Thank you, David!" Me: "And what do *you* say, Vlad?" V: "Stop bein' a tattle-tale."

Vlad (as I'm scrubbing his back in the bathtub): "Hey, my weiner needs washed." Me: "You already washed it, twice, V." V: "Well, it needs washed again." Me: "If you would spend a fraction of the amount of time washing behind your ears and your knees as you do on your weiner, you would be an exceptionally clean boy." V: "Well, washin' my ears and knees ain't as fun!"

Verizon chick to Vlad: "Do you need a cell phone too buddy?" V: "No, I don't want lots of girls callin' me all the time, or sendin' pictures and talkin' and stuff" Verizon chick: "Oh I bet you'll change your mind in a few years." V: "Definitely not. Ever." Chick: "Even when you're a grown up?" V: "Nope. Women are crazy."

(as we walk out the door) Vlad: "Heya, Chief, I think you forgot your pants." Apparently he has never seen me wear a dress :-/

Vlad: "Chief, after I'm done pooping I'm not gonna wash my hands 'cause I'm gonna destroy Megatron." Me: "How is not washing your hands going to help you do that? You ARE going to wash them, by the way." V: "He will die a messy and dis-GUSTIN' death from a STAPH infection!" Me: "Staph in feces is usually nonpathogenic. Wash your hands." V: "FINE. I'll just use a GUN, and it will be A LOT NOISIER."

(watching Kill Bill 2 AGAIN; after Bill's Superman speech) V: "Actually Superman ain't the only one." munches popcorn. "Optimus Prime is a real hero." Me: "Well, what he's saying is that the other guys are normal, and they turn into a hero; Superman is normal as his disguise. Optimus Prime isn't a disguise." V: "Yes he is; he disguises as a semi truck!" Me: "Wow. I just got pwnd by a five-year old."  Vlad: "AND, Bruce Wayne and Tony Stark don't actually have special powers, they are just rich and geniuses so they can be Batman and Iron Man. Peter Parker is just accidentally a superhero 'cause he got bit." Me: "Interesting. Well I hope if you accidentally get super powers you will use them to be good, and not bad." V: "I won't be bad, 'cause then you will put me in time out and won't let me watch tv." Me: Batman and Iron Man must have pretty good moms, then." V: "Yeah. Or just really cranky."

Girl at KFC: "Do you want two breasts, or a breast and another piece?" Vlad (piping up): "Well, a'course she wants two; why would she only want one?" KFC chick (who was possibly a bit clueless): "Well, the two breast meal costs a little more, guy." Me: "You are certainly correct."

Me (trying to keep Vincent corralled as I search for a diaper): "Vincent, sit! Stay there!" Vladimir: "Vincent, roll over!"

Me (upon seeing the cereal Vlad spilled onto the floor): "VLADIMIR! Clean it up NOW." Vlad (to Vincent): "Now see, when she talks like that, you got to listen, 'cause she is ANGRY."

Officer: "Do you know why I pulled you over?" Ever Helpful Vladimir: "well she didn't stop all the way at the red sign and she's prob'ly goin' too fast. And she said shit when you got your lights on her." Officer: "He don't miss much, does he?" Me: "No, he doesn't. THANK YOU VLADIMIR." V: "it's no problem."

Vlad (to counter chick @ McDonald's): "Hey, this Kung Fu Pamda guy? He don't do what the 'structions say; it does not work!" Dudette: "Um, sorry, I can let my boss know..." V: "Just let 'er know, and if you have any more questions just call my mom's phone. I know a lot about toys; it's kind of my job."

Vlad: "You're beautiful, Mommy." Me: "Aw, thanks, love." V: "Am I beautiful?" Me: "I think you are, but some people would probably say you're handsome instead." V: "What's handsome?" Me: "It's a word that describes usually a good-looking man, and beautiful a good-looking woman, but really either one can be used for either sex." V: "What's sex?" Me: "Ask daddy."

Since I've Been Lazy...

... well, not lazy; I've been moving, working, getting school set up (gonna be a doctor, people; go me!) and chasing my now-walking one-year old all over the place.  Thus, I'm a little behind on my posting.  So, until I have a bit to settle down and catch you all up on AleahWorld, I'm posting a couple guest posts... one from a birthing blog called Birth Without Fear, which I am no longer allowed to comment on (I'm also not allowed to comment on her facebook page because of some common sense I was posting on this thread; my comments were deleted so if you wander that way, you'll miss a good portion of the conversation - though I'll be happy to fill you in if you'd like).

Anyhoo, Mrs. BWF (whom I affectionately refer to as Mrs. Boof) recently reposted a blog written by her husband, (Mr. Boof), lamenting his personal battle with husbandly male postpartum depression that was only healed by watching his wife's home birth.  After laughing my ass off, a *cough* friend of mine ;-) made her husband write about his own personal journey with male PPD, which was posted at The Mama Tao - which is a great blog; if you like parody and have a sense of humor, you'll love it.  My *cough* friend also wrote a few other guest posts for Mama T; a few neato ideas for breastmilk and a personal favorite, Battle Hymn of the Dolphin Mother.

A word of caution: if you're über crunchy and can't poke a little fun at yourself sometimes (or get offended when others do so), Mama Tao might not be for you.  And if you do read, and get offended, please leave me a detailed comment about it.  Please.  Peace out, people; I have a virology course I am just dying to get started on (end sarcasm) ;-)

Walmart and Sleep-Deprivation

So I have flesh-eating bacteria in my throat: Streptococcus pyogenes.

Y'know, strep throat :) Although I would love to launch into a captivating discussion on Group A beta-hemolytic bacteria and other opportunistic pathogens, I have a feeling that many of those who read my Blonde blog aren't coming here for lectures on M proteins and lipoteichoic acids (in fact, according to Google Analytics I get a significant amount of hits from people googling "blonde no clothes" and such); thus I will move on.  I had to mention the strep, though, in order to explain why I did what I did next.

I have a somewhat "different" sense of humor; things that others may not find funny, I will find highly amusing, and yes, at times, my humor is kinda sophomoric.  However, when I am tired (I'd just come off a 6p to 6a shift) and sick (flesh-eating throat bacteria), my sense of humor gets a bit more, um, lethal :)

So, I went to the doctor, got a prescription for antibiotics, and went to the Walmart pharmacy, because everyone knows I love Walmart.  Now, when the NP had written my prescription, she'd asked if I was on birth control, and I told her not right now, because my husband's stationed overseas.  She merely remarked "Okay, you don't have anything to worry about then."

Cut to the pharmaceutical tech at Walmart.  When I went to the window to collect my medication, she asked me to sign for it, and then asked, "Are you still on birth control pills?"  Once again, I patiently said that I wasn't, right now, because my husband's overseas.  She casually remarked, "Well, either way, just be sure to use a backup method for a week after you stop taking your antibiotics."

I admit, I could have just nodded and left.  However (remember, sick, sleep dep, sense of humor?) I did not.  I set my little white prescription bag back down on the counter and leaned forward on my elbows.  "Are you insinuating that I might have an extramarital affair?"

She blinked.  "Um."

I continued: "Or, maybe you actually can get pregnant off a toilet seat? Or, I might accidentally stab myself with a penis? Like a needlestick, only with more consequences?"

At this point, the Walmart pharmaceutical technician was looking around her, possibly hoping the pharmacist would wander over, or another tech would appear.  I smiled.  "I get it; the divorce rate is close to fifty percent, I'm cute and have big boobs, and maybe the nose ring makes me look like I'm the type who might get freaky when my husband's out of town.  However," I pulled out my iPhone and clicked open my screensaver to show her the picture of Husband that graces the front of my phone:

"since I am married to someone who looks kinda smexy, and is intellectual to boot, I can probably contain my freaktastic urges until he returns from saving Korea from the horrors of a possible invasion of North Korean Communist Hordes."  and with that I collected my antibiotics and skipped toward the exit.

I'm horrible, I know.