Dr. worst-in-the-world & her unruly patient

 i've been sick the past few days. pretty much deathbed sick. well, deathbed by my terms. and by my terms, i mean hypochondriac terms. and by hyochondriac i mean that's what lee thinks i am. i very well could be, i suppose, but let's face it i'm not. 
 i contracted strep somehow forever ago & about every other month, it seems, streptococcus likes to ruin my life. i can usually sense it coming but this time it just hit me. like a total sucker punch. no warning. i was in bed for two solid days & after countless, useless baths, severe cold meds, & up to my eyeballs with guilt, i had had enough.

so friday night, feeling like i would never be cured & lying in bed, i told my kids i needed medicine. thus began a grueling round of doctor/patient play. london was first.

she asks, "what are you symptoms?"

i reply with, "headache, achey body, sore throat. there's a medical book out on the couch if you need it." (i was browsing thru the book to diagnose myself. i have strep, no, scarlet fever, no, rheumatic fever, no...hypochondriac? nah)

she then proceeds to take notes & head out of the room. after a few mintues she returns with, "well, i looked in the book and it seems you have cluster headaches."

"cluster headaches? ok. well i feel pretty lousy so can i have my pain killers now? i'm in pain."

"yeah, in about, oh, 2 hours."

"2 hours! what kind of hospital is this?! i can't wait that long, doc."

"should we make it 3 hours?" yes, the doctor actually threatened to withold my meds. what a crock. i mean, really. then she leaves me her extension of 957 in which to reach her, should i "need anything else."

ok, well, her turn is over. she's fired, to say the least. let's see if scarlett can do better.

"hi. i'm dr. joseph. what's wrong with you?" good start, i guess.

"i'm sick. my throat hurts, my body aches, & i need medicine."

"ok. does your sore throat make you feel happy or sad?"

"sad." she then proceeds to write she is sad on my medical chart.

"looks like you have cluster headaches. well, i'll just be out here if you need me. my number is 957."

i start to throw a fit and scream, "no! i need my medicine." london decides to call security so i calm down. there's no way i'm letting them throw me in the looney bin. i mean, i only suffer from cluster headaches. let's not overreact.

i'm calm and dr. joseph decides to give me my medicine and ask, "does your medicine make you feel happy or sad?"

"happy."

she writes she is happy on my chart.

can you see why i adore my children? they have these incredible imaginations.

i really should play with them more often.

gettin' fresh & not fresh at fresh market.

pet-peeve#1: don't sell me four-kind shredded cheese container, only to bring it home to then ask myself, is that bleu cheese crumbles or mold, to then look at the expiration date: january 26, 2010. mold. because that only means i have to drag my ass (and by drag i mean drive the 0.5 miles) back to the store, unload heavy baby, complain about your false advertising (albertson's changes to fresh market to then sell moldy cheese?), and then have me reeling over pet-peeve number 2, below.

part a: when i'm standing in the grocery line, don't stand one inch away like you know me. you don't know me. i can guarantee it. and even if you did, the only person who should be standing that close is my husband, pants down. yes. see that ring right there on my finger? that stands for i'm married. part b: when i move a bit farther up the line? that stands for i'm moving away from you & you should stay where you are so i can have my own breathing air. we don't need to mix our molecules & air cause, remember? i'm married. happily. and besides, i don't do that on the first standing-too-close-to-me-in-line. if you didn't notice the ring, which by the way is not my wedding ring cause i lost that, then the fact that i'm holding my 15 month-old son in my arms should be your next clue. that should tell you i'm at least involved. but i guess that could mean that i'm easy. which could be the very reason you are standing so close, stealing my air. ew. move along.

note to self

self: sending a text to your best friend saying that you just farted for the first time, where lying about it was clearly not an option, in front of your daughers, who thought it was hilarious, will most likely be read by said best friend's 8 year old daughter, who will then say, "mommy? you got a text from raina." pause. "and it was funny." great. now everyone knows that moms do, in fact, fart.

note to every other mom out there: do you fart in front of your kids? i have always been able to play it off, like, "oh that? that was just the house making noises again," or "i just moved the chair and it sounded like a toot! isn't that funny??" and luckily for the naivity of my children, they totally bought it. everytime. plus, i told them that mom's never fart.

my morning cup of coffee.

this morning i woke up to this:

(lee) "i had a pretty funny dream last night."

(me, half asleep) "yeah? what was it?"

"i dreamt that i had a band-aid on each of my pinky toes. and i took them off.

and they smelled soooooo good."

im.press.ive, i know.

and difficult to go back to sleep after hearing something so inspring.

kids.

i am fiercely in love with my kids. i find myself wanting to spend more and more time with them lately. yeah, sometimes they annoy the hell out of me, make me want to rip my face apart, or better yet, their's, or dare i say? send them back. but there has been no greater joy in my life than having my 3 gorgeous children. well, except for the day i got to have sex with my husband for the first time, which was in fact, our wedding day, which was in fact a beautiful & glorious day.


yesterday scarlett and i were trying to play SORRY while atticus crawled around all over the floor, destroying anything that got in his way. he came over to us and started pulling on the table cloth, where the game was sitting, almost pulling the entire thing off. scarlett got up, picked him up and said, "here. i'm just going to give him to the toys."


later, we were all just lying on the floor being silly, normal stuff. you know, like addy trying to regurgitate his graham crackers into my mouth, slobbering everywhere. so we got out the camera and recorded this. (important note for the end of the video: he's just learning to nod when you ask him a question.)







i love that his head practially falls off his neck.
we then proceeded to play with some mustache i found hidden in lee's pocket. i guess he wanted to surprise me for role play night? he likes to dress all good cop/bad cop sometimes.

speaking of "does this make my ass look big"?

the past few days i've been unfortunate enough to catch a glimpse of my love handles, muffin top, or what have you, that just won't quit. when this happens i want to shout at lee or the kids, "who left the cottage cheese out again?!" only to smack myself with reality that, hey! that's me there. this throws me into an obsessive frenzy. we're talking like, amy-fisher-shot-joey-buttafuoco's-wife-in-the-face obsessive. and then it makes me go all lorena bobbit.

and when this happens i usually beat myself up about it, vowing to try harder to be a little better ;) only to treat myself with not one, but two, bowls of cocoa krispies for breakfast, lunch, or dinner. or all three, if i'm feeling really awesome about myself. it's one continuously vicious cycle.

i'm going on a cruise in like 4 months. if i get all healthy & do it the right way, that's only a 24-lb loss. then that thought just throws me back into the frenzy and i get all orangey-birdy in a factory cuckoo for coco puffs.

but i'm willing to try. cause that is like losing 2 dress sizes, which is like losing two whole nicole richies. cause we all know she is scrawny as hell. and we all know how. sometimes i wish i could lack morals like her.

but my mama taught me better.

ingenius liars.

"does this make my ass look big?" and instead of just throwing up on me with "no, your ass makes your ass look big", he says, "i think you look hot."

he thinks total genius. i think total avoiding the question here. and he thinks, dodged that one. and i think, if you had said yes i would have drop-kicked then b*tch-slapped you faster than you could say just kidding and if you had said no, you have a nice one well, then i still would have drop-kicked you. repeatedly.

then i think, total genius. i'm a total. genius.