Vladimir Does Walmart

This all occurred during one - ONE, trip to Walmart. I'm going to start podcasting my errand runs.


Me (as we walk into Walmart): "Vladimir, you're to behave in here. I mean it; no running, no dancing, BEHAVE. You got that?" Vlad (saluting) "Yes, SIR!"

As we enter the store... Vlad: "Chief, I am A ROBOT. A ROBOT. A ROBOT." Me: "Well robot yourself out of the middle of the walkway, please." Vlad: "I. CAN NOT. I NEED KY JELLY FIRST." Lady passing by: "Did he say KY jelly?" Vlad: "YES. IN THE BOTTLE WITH THE RED CAP."

As we walk through the school supply aisle, we pass a black gentleman with his daughters. Vlad (planting himself in the middle aisle, palm outstretched): "HALT, O DARK NIGHT." Me (closing my eyes, wishing I could quietly disappear): "I am so sorry..." Dude: "It's cool; he'll learn, hey?" Vlad: "SILENCE, HEATHEN." Me: "OH, my god, Vladimir! I am SO SORRY; we are from a really tiny town in the midwest..." Dude: "No worries. Keep fightin' the good fight, little man." Which was about a thousand times more polite than he had to be.


Vlad: "Chief, we're under attack! Save yourself!" (takes off down the crafts aisle). Me: "VLADIMIR, STOP! THIS INSTANT!! GET BACK HERE!" Vlad (turning around, salutes me again): "Yes, my Evil Queen." We continue through the store. Other people start to notice our passage. 


Walking past the underwear aisle, Vladimir yanks a size 48DDD off a rack. "Check me out, I look SEXY!" (prances around with the bra wrapped around him like a cape). Me (in a furious whisper): "Put it back! Put it back!!!" Vlad (holding it aloft for all to see): "This is GINORMOUS. This belongs to the lady with THE BIGGEST BOOBS EVER." Me (no longer whispering): "GODDAMMIT! PUT IT DOWN!" Vlad: "Okay, okay. It's really like a big parachute though. Huge."


Entering the baked goods area... Vlad (making explosive noises as he pretends to shoot imaginary foes): "Take THAT, MEGATRON!" (continues blasting) Me: "Vlad! Stop shooting!" Vladimir: "But I gotta kill all these Decepticons, they are EVERYWHERE!!" A younger couple, probably too young to have kids of their own, start laughing. Me: "Kill them SILENTLY." Vlad: "Well I'm sorry but there's just no way to shoot a bazooka silently."


Spying a tiny old lady looking at the bread selection: "Look, Chief! She looks just like Yoda!"

As I look at the cereal, I realize Vladimir isn't by the cart. I look around just as he hops on the back of a woman's motorized shopping cart. "MOTHER! I GOT A RIDE HOME OKAY?"

Almost to the exit, when Vlad spies a cardboard girl in a football cheerleader's uniform. "Chief, check out her BOOBS. They are GINORMOUS!" Me (grabbing his arm and propelling him out the door): "Stop talking about boobs!" Vlad: "Why?" Me: "'Cause it's rude, Vlad, okay?" Vlad (patting my chest): "Okay. I'll just look then."

I really need a drink.

The Vladisms, Part 5

If you're just now joining The Vlad Chronicles on LBB, see parts one, two, three, and four.  


Me (spying a turtle in our yard): "Hey Big V, go check out what's in the yard!" Vlad: "Oh my lands; it's a SEA TURTLE!!" Me: "Um..." V: "I got to hurry and get out there before he gets away!" Me: "I think you have plenty of time. Now don't touch him; do you remember why we don't touch turtles?" V: "Cause they maybe got SALMONELLA!" Me: "That's my boy!"


Vlad (to Walmart greeter): "Hey, can I get a sticker?" Greeter: "Well sure, little guy, here you go!" V: "Cool! Do you have some suckers?" Greeter: "I sure do, here you go!" V: "Thanks! You got any money?" Me: "Vladimir!" V: "I said 'Thanks'; didn't you hear me?"


Vlad (wandering back into the living room for the umpteenth time): "Chief, I can't lay down and go to bed, 'cause I have a pain, right here, on the part of my head that I lay on." Me: "Lay on your face." V: "But I have a SKELETON injury! And my blood vessels hurt!" Me: "Let me guess. Another episode of Criminal Minds will cure it." V (settling on the couch): "You're gonna make a good doctor, Chief."


Coach to kids: "Okay, just go out there, relax, and have fun!"
Me (ten minutes later, screaming at Vlad): "RELAX!!!! The coach said RELAX; HOW ARE YOU GONNA HAVE FUN IF YOU DON'T GET THE BALL?!? AND RELAX!!!"


Vlad: "Chief, look at the deer! Is it a girl or a boy?" Me: "It's a girl. Boys have big racks on their heads." V: "I thought the girls had the racks?"


Vlad (who's supposed to be in the outfield): "Hey can I just stand right here when she hits the ball?"


Vlad: "Hey, Chief, what do people taste like?" Me: "Um. I'm not sure. I've never eaten one." V: "Do people ever eat people?" Me: "Well, yes, they're called cannibals. Endo-cannibals eat only within their tribes, and exo-cannibals only eat their enemies." V: "But what do they TASTE like?" Me: "I'm not sure, Hannibal. Use a lot of ketchup."


Vlad: "Can you go over the hills really fast? It makes my pants feel funny."


Vlad (struggling to pull on a pair of shorts): "Chief, I'm just growing up way too fast!" Me (looking closer at the shorts): "No you're not. Those are your brother's shorts." Vlad (pausing with one foot and part of his calf wedged into the shorts): "Well DARN IT. I thought I was gonna be a giant or somethin'!"


Vlad (yelling from the living room): "Hey Chief, me and Vincent, we're playin the crazy bird game!" Me (thinking he was on the iPad): "Ok!" *a pause* V: "Hey, we need more pillows for Vincent to land on!"


Vlad (to a rather flamboyant young man wearing a multicolored scarf): "Hey dude, do you like to Taste the Rainbow?" Dude: "Every chance I get, sweetie."


Vlad: "Hey, these trees smell just like an air freshener!"


Vlad: "Let's practice our Scary Faces in case we see vampires or salesmen tomorrow, Chief."


Vlad: "Chief, how very awesome would I be if I just had two giant long pokey fingers on both of my hands and could walk all over the ceiling?" Me: "Um." V: "Very awesome. I know."


Me (putting in The Goonies): "Vlad, you are gonna love this movie. I used to watch it when I was young!" V: "Oh, man, is there at least colors in the movie?"


Lady at Safeway (to Vlad, who was moving items in the aisle out of her way so she could get through): "Well you're certainly a helpful young man!" V: "I am NOT a man. I am a DUDE. And she" (jerking his thumb over his shoulder at me) "is a CHICK." Me: "I *wish* I could say we are from California." :-/


Vlad (to a very well-preserved [Botoxed] lady at the market): "I like your shoes!" Lady: "Well thank you, young man." V: "Actually, I am a DUDE. And hey, did somebody pinch your butt or something?"


Vlad: "Chief, how come Darth Vader went over to the Dark Side?" Me: "Cause they had cookies." Vlad: "Oh. Is what you used to get Daddy to the Dark Side?" Me: "No. I wore something SPARKLY."


Vlad: "Chief, I gotta look at all my clothes and see what I wanna wear for school." (after perusing his shirts and pants): "I don't know; maybe we need to go to the store for some more." Me: "You are truly my son." V: "No. I am not buying purses. Just shoes."


Me: "That is IT, Vladimir. You are OFFICIALLY in trouble." Vlad: "No, wait, can it not be official? That way Daddy won't have to know!"

Noshing on a bit of crow here...

Suffice it to say, liberal pregnant smoker basher from earlier rather summarily pointed out to me that my views on vaccination (or parents who choose not to) are an imposition on choice as well.  Point taken, my friend. We all have our hypocrisies; I'll own mine as I demand others do it :).

Liberals Can Be Judgmental Assholes Too!

...or, someone was being a dick on Facebook today. Surprise.

I expect certain people to be judgmental asshats.  I expect it more often from certain subtypes, like call-center "customer service" reps, strict sectarian religious zealots, and the extremely conservative right.  Unfortunately, as I was reminded today, this also occasionally includes my fellow atheists and liberals as well.  Here's what happened.

As I scrolled through my news feed, my eye was caught by a dude who'd friended me a while back after some comments I was making on PolitiFact.com. As you likely surmised by my mentioning that he was a (facebook) friend, he's quite liberal.  I've never interacted with him much beyond commenting on one another's links occasionally, but today I saw a rather shitty, close-minded statement from him that drew my attention like a thong-wearing Dick Cheney out for a stroll: "Just got in fight with pregnant woman who was smoking."

Huh. To make sure I was understanding his intent, I wrote "Because she was smoking?"  To which a like-minded twat on his page replied "pregnant and smoking."

Now, I've never smoked - amazing, as my entire family does.  I did a little happy dance when Illinois enacted the non-smoking laws for public places, because I don't like the smell, and yes, second hand smoke does have detrimental effects on others.  Ditto for smoking's effects on unborn children.

However, I've had family, and many friends, try to quit.  I've had pregnant friends who smoked during their pregnancy - and were counseled that while eventually quitting would be best, cutting back would be a better choice while pregnant.  Why? Because quitting smoking IS incredibly stressful, and quitting cold turkey during pregnancy (and any other time) can raise blood pressure (a transient effect normally, but no bueno in pregnancy), fuck with your hormones even more, screw up your metabolism, and cause intestinal issues which lead to cramping (another undesirable effect in pregnancy).

Yes, there are risks to smoking while pregnant.  There are risks to everything while pregnant: you can't drive, eat, stand next to a microwave, use a computer or cell phone, drink coffee, have sex, not have sex, snort cocaine, drink chocolate milk, or work as a stripper while pregnant.  Yet, some people do. And as a nurse, sometimes I want to shake the shit out of people who have modifiable health habits that they can't, or won't, change, even when their health is negatively affected. I battle with that internally a lot.

But who the fuck are you to judge a perfect goddamn stranger on the street, who's doing something that you don't fucking agree with, take her to task, and then say "Oh, but it's about the BAY-BEH!!" Unless you were present for the conception or are the one carrying the child, you need to shut the fuck up.  You don't know what she deals with on a daily basis, you have no clue whether she's trying to quit or not, and you have no goddamn right to point a finger - at anyone.

This is ESPECIALLY hypocritical coming from someone who professes to love personal choice, who supposedly resents intrusion by others on the moral and social decisions a person makes, and who gets all up in arms when the far right-leaning political candidates start stomping on a woman's right to choose.  Guess what?  "Choice" does not cover only what you think it should.  It's an all or nothing deal, and when you start bitching about conservatives impeding your choices and freedoms, you need to remember  that should include everyone - black, white, male, female, legal, illegal, rich, poor, and yep, pregnant women too.  You don't like it? Well I'm sure women all over would love to hear you pontificate on what a woman should and shouldn't do during pregnancy.  Just as soon as you yank your dick off and grow some ovaries.

I'm Getting Old

Had a bit of an awakening today.  For a change, I had only one V with me (the younger; Big V went with Husband on Guy Errands) so I was looking forward to being able to do a little light shopping/perusing with only one child trying to do headstands and trying on every single pair of shoes they could find.

After wrestling through the aisles at Marshalls, I decided to walk through Kohl's before going to Target for the things that were actually on my list.  Ostensibly I was window shopping for school clothes for Big V, but first, I decided to find a new shirt to wear on my lady date with Cora and Lisa next week.  As soon as I walked in the doors, I turned left to walk through the Junior's department, and came to a dead stop.

There was not one item of clothing in that department suitable for me to wear.  As I flipped through racks of Candies clothing, Yes I'm Single and No I'm Not Interested t shirts, and spaghetti-strap camisoles with the legend "Juicy" across the boobs, my heart sank as I realized that as a thirty-two year old mother of two, I probably did not need a t shirt with a pair of rhinestone eyes cleverly appliqued across the chest.  Ditto for the chocolate satin halter top and the Your Boyfriend Thinks I'm Hot tank top.  Head down, I pushed my seventeen-month old across the store to the Misses department, where I found a sleeveless Vera Wang knit top that covered enough cleavage so my husband would let me out of the house next week.

AND a Sublime t shirt.  I'm not THAT old.

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.