It's A 'Mummy-Fail' Kind of Day

Humble Readers...

It's been one of those kinds of days, and it's not even time for afternoon naps yet.  Can I just tell you how much I'm looking forward to going shopping at Cost.co tonight?  I need out...

Here's the run-down of what's been happening around the hobbit-hole today:

• I have had to put Ginny in time out no less than three times already today for poking Pip until he screams, for playing in the garbage can, and for throwing her lunch on the floor. 
• I was sitting on the couch pumping, with Pip laying beside me sucking my finger to keep him from fussing.  Ginny, in a moment of sheer jealousy, decided she wanted to sit beside me, and so she SAT ON THE BABY!!! 
• I have had to start channeling my inner guy... In an effort to prevent Ginny from taking her diaper off through her clothes during her nap (and getting rabbit-like turds all over her room like yesterday... I swear she was playing marbles with them yesterday.  ICK!!!!) I have resorted to covering the tabs on her diaper with packing tape.  Only during naps, I swear!
• Ginny has recently discovered the wonders of climbing.  She's also discovered that she can move the kitchen chairs.  You do the math... I've been heart attacks at regular intervals. 
• I am sick to death of saying 'Don't touch' or 'No, no, no'.  And why, oh why, does she have to step on my toes multiple times a day?

And just when I think I can't take it anymore, Ginny gets all cute and tries to walk around the house in my shoes. 

I love being a mummy.  Children are a blessing.  I love being a mummy.  Children are a blessing. 

Gotta run.  There a little girl has just started screaming from bonking her head on the floor. 

Not What I Was Expecting: Pippin's Birth Story

Greetings Humble Readers...

Life is slowly beginning to resemble something akin to normal around the hobbit hole.  At least as close to normal as things can get these days. 

Not that I'm complaining one little bit!

My Beloved has been a superstar over the last several days (not that now is any different than any other time).  He changes diapers, plays with Ginny, helps me with feedings & pumping & formula, cleaning, cooking, and everything else that I can't do.  He even took the first late night shift at home with Pippin so that I could sleep.  I don't know what I'm going to do when he goes back to work. 

I'm so incredibly thankful that our time at home has been relatively peaceful and calm, considering that there is a new little hobbit around.  Our time in the hospital was anything but.  Let's just say that if we hadn't already decided that our family was done with two, there is NO WAY IN HELL I would go through that again. 

(Fair warning... this is a little bit rambly)

When I got to the L&D ward on Thursday, it was a zoo!  The place was jumping... and this was at 6:30 in the morning.  I got settled in my room, which sadly turned out to be a shared room.  Normally, the scheduled c-sections get the private rooms, but not this week. 

The lab came and took blood, and I had to get into my gown and everything.  I was scheduled for 11:05am, but they ended up coming to get me about an hour early. 

My mom walked down to the surgical waiting area with us, and then it was just my Beloved and I.  We sat, looking oh so stylish in our hospital garb.  First the surgical nurses came and talked to us.  Then the anesthesiologist came and talked to us.  Then Dr. W came and talked to us.  And finally someone came and took me into the OR. 

Before I knew it, I was up on the OR table, having needles jabbed into my spine repeatedly, as the anesthesiologist attempted to get me numb.  It took five jabs, after the local, before I felt the effects of the drugs.  My feet felt like bricks, and my legs were all tingly.  It took a little while after that for them to get me situated, and for them to bring my Beloved in. 

Just after my Beloved took his seat at my head, they started the procedure. 

And I could feel it. 

(Let that sink in a little.) 

Yup, I could feel them cutting into me.  I could feel it as they cauterized the opening (felt like an electrified metal comb sliding over my stomach repeatedly).  It burned, stung, and generally took everything I had to not scream.  I told the anesthesiologist through clenched teeth that I could feel it, and he said, 'Yes, you'll feel some pressure.'  Ha! 

That's when they (Dr. W, her assistant, nurses, etc) started telling me to not move, specifically my legs.  And that's when the anesthesiologist finally clued in that something wasn't right.  He stopped them for a minute, injected me with some sort of local freezing, and they continued.  But it was too late.  I could feel them poking, prodding, pulling, and cutting.  It felt like it was going on forever.

When they finally got our wee little man out, I was almost too freaked out to even realize it.  I remember Dr. W commenting on his hair, and calling him by name (she had asked for our chosen names before the surgery), and saying that he was a lot littler than we all thought he would be.  My Beloved got up and went to the table where they had Pippin. 

Dr. W and her assistant got to work on the tubal ligation.  I tried to focus on the little bit of our wee guy that I could see, but I could still feel it.  My Beloved and Pippin were whisked from the room fairly quickly at that point, although I did get to give Pip a quick kiss on the forehead. 

I don't remember a whole lot from when they took me out of the OR, but I very clearly remember both Dr. W and the anesthesiologist telling the nurses in the recovery room that my spinal was 'very patchy' and that I was in a great deal of pain (no sh!t).  Every time the nurse pushed on my abdomen I was very vocal.  Less than five minutes in recovery and I could feel it when she touched my navel.  Not fun.

I was on a lot of pain meds for the first 12 hours.  I felt really stoned, and the word 'fundus' started to bring tears to my eyes (the nurses were pressing on my stomach every two hours).  I wasn't able to get out of bed until after 8:30pm, and that was only to take two steps to a wheelchair so that I could go to the NICU to see my boy. 

While I had been in recovery, the nurses had checked Pip's blood sugars and discovered that he was sitting at 1.1 (very scary low).  He had been taken to the NICU immediately, and they began giving him formula and iv dextrose.  They were also monitoring his vitals regularly (due to his irregular heartbeat). 

I was able to get as good a night sleep as I possibly could, while alternating being stoned and in pain, because my initial roommate had been discharged.  It wasn't until the next morning that the psycho-biotch-from-hell moved in. 

The first thing I heard from her was an expletive laden diatribe leveled at her boyfriend as to why his parents were already at the hospital when she specifically told them not to come.  The next 36+ hours were filled with her shrill voice bickering with her boyfriend, her family, his family, and the nurses.  She also had lovely personal hygiene issues (including sucking back snot as loudly as she could, and not washing her hands when she would come out of the bathroom).  Oh, and she made more than one comment to the atmosphere at large about how it would be so nice to be able to have nurses look after her baby so she could get some rest (as if having a child in the NICU, even for a short time, is at all conducive to rest). 

On Saturday morning, when the nurses wheeled Pippin into my room, I was so happy, I practically jumped out of bed to get to him, until my incision reminded me that I couldn't do that yet.  We had a good morning and afternoon, making our first attempts at breastfeeding (I had been pumping up to that point) and spending a lot of time just holding and looking at him.  That night, I had a bit of a meltdown... I couldn't handle my roommate's obnoxiousness and all I really wanted was quiet.  Pippin was fairly mellow, only getting really upset when we had a bad go round of bf-ing.  Saturday also brought the advent of jaundice, but that seemed minor in comparison to everything else. 

And as I told you previously, we were given the all clear to head home on Sunday morning. 

It's hard to believe it's all over.  I'm so incredibly thankful that he's here, he's healthy, and that we are both able to be at home.  Our little family is complete. 

In the News: Things That Make You Go Hmmmm...

Howdy Humble Readers...

I hope all is well in your neck of the woods.  Things around the hobbit hole are not too bad.  Winter is making what is hopefully it's final death throes.  Yes, it's snowing again.  I just can't help but hope that this will be the last round of the white stuff until next Christmas.

Anywho, I don't normally watch much television news, but I do read a lot from different websites throughout the day.  Local, world, entertainment, odd stuff... I read it all (or most of it anyway... some of the economic news is a bit over my head).  And recently there have been two stories that, when looked at together, make me angry, sad, and fearful.

The first story is about the actor, Jamie Waylett, who played Victor Crabbe in most of the Harry Potter movies.  It turns out that he was involved in the rioting that happened in London last summer.  He was caught on tape sharing a bottle of champagne that had been looted from a vandalized grocery store, and also carrying around a bottle filled with 'petrol with a rag for a wick'.  Although he was cleared of any charges in relation to the fire-bomb (which apparently he had no intention of throwing... hmmmm), he was convicted of 'violent disorder' and 'handling stolen goods'.   

For his crimes, Waylett was sentenced to serve two years in prison.

The second story is about Graham James, a former junior hockey coach who has been convicted of sexually assaulting former Calgary Flames star Theo Fleury and others during the 1980s and 90s. He was in a position of power and authority over those who should have been able to trust him, and he took advantage of that.  His actions sent those boys down a road that no one should have to walk.  Fleury and his cousin Todd Holt, another of James' victims, both turned to drugs and alcohol to help deal with the memories of their abuse.

For his crimes, James was sentenced to serve two years in prison.

Am I the only one who sees a problem here?  Yes, I know that these court cases were handled in different countries... but really?  The same sentence for rioting and sexual assault on a minor?  

I am completely flabbergasted.

Hobbit-ish Potpurri: Weekend Recap

Howdy Humble Readers...

Well, we ended up having a relatively unproductive weekend.  Friday night ended up being a write-off for me in terms of sleep (I have been dealing with stuffy sinuses at night and it makes sleeping very challenging).  I dozed off finally some time after four in the morning, and Ginny decided that 5am would be a great time to wake up (I think she actually had a nightmare, but timing's a biotch!).  She dozed off again around 6, I got less than three hours sleep.  Ugh.  It made for a completely wasted Saturday.  I ended up having to send my Beloved to do the grocery shopping on his own and didn't take a shower until four in the afternoon. 

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One funny thing from Saturday... I took a nap while Ginny was napping, and I had a bizarre dream about my mom being 7 weeks pregnant right now.  Particularly crazy as she had a hysterectomy more than 20 years ago.  I told her about the dream when I called to wish her a happy birthday last night, and I don't know if it was the wine she had with dinner, but she thought it was the funniest thing she ever heard. 

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I seem to be a walking mess of minor injuries.  I'm nursing a bit of a goose-egg on my forehead.  On Friday, Ginny decided that she no longer wanted to sit on my lap, and threw herself backward rather unexpectedly.  I can safely say that she no longer has a soft spot on her skull.  Ouch!!!  I've burned myself in the kitchen more times in the last week than I have in the last six months.  I think I have tendonitis in my right thumb (and of course I'm right handed, so that makes all kinds of things a challenge).  And, oh yeah, I think I wrenched my back/hip a bit... I've had a stitch in my side for the last 24 hours.  I'm a mess, I tell ya!

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If you've been here a while, you know that I had challenges with breastfeeding Ginny.  Granted I had a lot of strikes against me (being obese, GD, a failed induction, c-section), but I still had some pretty high expectations of myself, and ended up really beating myself up about it when I finally gave up after three months.  I totally get that 'the breast is best', but for some women, it just doesn't always work the way it should.  Soooo, when I read this article the other day I almost jumped out of my skin in anger and frustration.  Apparently the La Leche League in New Zealand is so powerful, that it has forced changes to a national non-smoking ad campaign, all because it shows a dad bottle feeding his child!  I was just completely flabbergasted.  The commercial wasn't to promote a brand of baby formula or bottles.  IT WAS TO PROMOTE HEALTHY LIVING!!  And somehow the sight of a father feeding his child was so offensive and controversial that it had to be removed from the ad campaign.   (ok, rant over)

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Confession time... I love America's Got Talent.  Love it.  So, of course, I am now watching Canada's Got Talent (a shameless rip off, of course).  I love the good, the bad, and the truly terrible.  But, I have to ask... what is the deal with people sticking strange things up their noses in the name of entertainment?  I just don't get it!  :)

The Fun Never Stops

Hey Humble Readers...

I think I am destined to have complicated pregnancies, that's all there is to it. 

Progesterone deficiency resulting in recurrent pregnancy loss?  Check!

High blood pressure?  Check!

Insulin dependant gestational diabetes? Check!

And new as of last night...
Raging kidney infection and possible kidney stones?  Check!

It started with dark urine over the last couple of days, which I thought was just a result of not drinking enough water.  Then I started passing tiny little blood clots in my urine (anyone recall that "spotting" I had last week?  Likely tied to this and not vaginal bleeding at all). 

AND THEN... the pain... oh heavens!  The only way I can describe it... you know that stitch in your side you get when you run?  Well, imagine that only a hundred times worse.  Thankfully, each time it came on it only lasted about an hour.   Drinking water seemed to be the only thing that made it at all bearable.

So I was able to get in to see Dr. B today, and do you know what he said to me when he walked into the exam room?  "Oh, you're looking well today."  Grrrr....

Long story short, he wants to treat the kidney infection (massive antibiotics), and see what happens from that point on.  If I start vomitting (oh joy... m/s has finally just vanished, and this could bring on more vomitting??) or can't tolerate the pain I'm to go to the hospital and be put on an IV.  Greeeaaat...

Honestly, I'm thankful that this isn't something that could do harm to our little Halfling 2.0 and that I was able to get in to see my doctor as quick as I was.  I'm just tired of feeling like things might just be leveling out when something new comes along. 

I want to enjoy this pregnancy, not constantly be trying to balance meds(this one twice a day, that one 4 times a day on an empty stomach, the other three times a day evenly spaced, insulin injections, eat now and test glucose in two hours) and eating and water and sleep. 

I apologize for the whining.  I'm just not feeling well and that is reflected here. 

Have You Ever Wanted To...

really cause someone pain? 

Humble Readers, I'm not a violent person.  And I don't think I am a vindictive person, either.

But there is someone who, although I only know him indirectly, I really REALLY want to kick in the nads.  HARD.

This person has hurt a good friend despicably, hurt her while she's in the midst of other immense pain. 

It's not my place to tell her story, but my friend needs a lot of prayer and good thoughts sent her way right now.  And pray that if I ever see the a$$hole I won't do something I will regret. 

(I know this post is random, but I have been sitting on a well of anger all day, and I needed to vent a little)

The Hobbit vs. The World: Breastfeeding Rant

Good Evening Humble Readers...

Before I start this post I have to say... I have never breastfed a baby, but I plan to.  And as an owner of a pair of milk-producing breasts (in comparison with, say, John Goodman) I think I am allowed to have an opinion. 

Over the last week I have heard a lot of opinions expressed about breastfeeding in public.  I have read blog posts, news stories, and heard some opinions that just shock the poop out of me.  And today, I saw a trailer for a national tv news story about it.  Who knew it could be so darn controversial?

The gist of all the stories I have come across is that breastfeeding in public should be restricted, if not outright banned. 

I'm sorry, but I just can't believe this. 

Yes, I am a relatively conservative hobbit, and no, when I am breast feeding I don't plan on just whipping my b00bs out any old time and place.  I plan on using some sort of a cover up (even that's not good enough for some of the people complaining).  But to say that a mother doesn't have the right to feed her child in public just makes me cranky. 

Apparently, it makes people uncomfortable. 

Well, you know what makes me uncomfortable?  Seeing every tom, dick, and harry's butt crack!  Men and women alike.  If your skinny jeans don't allow you to bend over without showing half of your ass, then I think you need to reconsider your wardrobe.  But you can bet that would never make the CTV and ABC evening news. 

There are two very extreme sides in this debate, and I don't fit in either camp.  I'm not (and I really and truly do not mean to be offensive here) a militant 'breast is best' person.  I don't disagree that breast milk is best, but I know that breastfeeding is hard, especially at first.  I watched my sister struggle in frustration and pain, and ultimately switch to formula after her son was getting more of her blood in his mouth than her milk. But I have read several comments from women who say they don't even see their breasts as private parts and that exposing them is no different from exposing one's arms or legs.  I just can't get that argument at all.

Nor do I identify AT ALL with one commenter who said that 'those women need to get a life' and that it's 'inappropriate in the extreme'.  In my opinion, the people who find breastfeeding in public offensive need to get their minds out of the gutter, because that's the only type of thinking that makes it offensive. 

There are plenty of things that I do in the privacy of my own home that I would never do in public, but that doesn't make them wrong.  Yes, I think that we need to be aware of our surroundings and be respectful of others.  Absolutely! 

However, no one has the right to tell me or any mother where and when and how I can feed my child. 

Okay, rant over for now.

Truth In Advertising

Good Afternoon Humble Readers...

This post is just a little bit of an irrational gripe. 

Those infomercial hosts/tv huxters just drive me around the bend.  Bi.lly May.es' voice used to be enough to make me leave the room.  That Vince guy with the onion chopper... totally aggravating... And don't get me started on the Sn.uggie.

But today I saw the worst advertisment ever starring one of those huxters.  It's got that guy with the British accent and it's for a drain snake.  Yes, I see the value in having something like that around the house and that at some point in my future I might actually purchase one, but do they need to show the nasty manky clump of gooky hair coming up out of the drain?   Repeatedly?  Just the thought of that makes me want to gag on my best day... but on a day when I'm battling to keep down the crackers and water I'm living on... YUCK!  We all know what clogs drains, and we know what it looks like when it comes out.

Ok, rant over... 

(I think I need to go back and lie down before I use too many more elipsis)

Blame It On The Olympics... Again

Okay, Humble Readers... I'm mildly irritated.  Maybe a little more than mildly...

The Canadian government, in its infinite wisdom, announced yesterday in the Throne Speech (similar to the State of the Union Address) that on Parlaiment's agenda this year is going to be a debate about the gender-inclusivity of 'O Canada'.  Specifically the line, 'in all thy sons command'. 

Really?!?!  This is what our government deems important enough to address from the throne? 

I may be opening myself up for attack here, but I will admit that I don't consider myself much of a feminist.  Yes, I believe in equal pay for equal work (but that isn't just a gender issue), and that all people deserve to be treated with equity, with the same respect and care.  And I see how language plays a role in those perceptions. 

But come on...

I think, if our government was so concerned about social equity they would spend time and energy rectifying the lack of support in our country for single mothers and the lack of funding for child care.  They could address the fact that 43% of adults in Canada are functionally illiterate.  What about the ever present health care and unemployment issues?  Heck, they might even look at the whole adoption and foster care system, and how it should be streamlined and improved.

In this day and age, I have bigger things to get knickers in a twist about... Stressing out about the language in our national anthem that was written at the beginning of the last century is not on the top of my worry list. 

And why did this whole situation start in the first place?  Because we heard the anthem so often at the Olympics and the Honourable Mr. Stephen Harper latched onto it as a pet project.  Or maybe a distraction tactic?

The Hobbit vs The World: And These People Are Allowed to be Parents?

Good Evening Humble Readers...

Maybe I'm being overly sensitive here, but...

I was minding my own business. At work, doing the bookselling thing. I catch a glimpse of the headline on the local newspaper sitting on the desk in our office... "Name My Baby!"

The story, on the front page, is about a woman in a neighbouring community who is 23, 28 weeks pregnant with her second son, and is just absolutely flummoxed on what to name her newest little one. Apparently she and her partner chose the 'perfect name' when they named their first son, and now they just can't come up with anything else.

In an effort for their child to not be nameless at birth, she has instituted a local contest. She even indicated that doesn't want the name to end in particular letters, presumably because they wouldn't work with her last name.

Honestly, I stopped reading at that point. I didn't read about what her grand prize would be or when her deadline for submissions would be. I was just disgusted.

What the story and her contest say to me, admittedly a very biased infertile, is that she cares so little about the child she's carrying that she can't be bothered to come up with a name for him.

If she wants names, I've got names. Names that I have carried in my heart for years. Names that I still cling to as beacons of hope. I can also give her the names of numerous babies, longed for and loved and cherished... babies that my bloggy friends never got to hold that have names.

The least a mother can do is put some thought into naming her child, and not make it a publicity stunt.

I would like, 12 years from now, to be a fly on the wall when she has that conversation with her son... "no, I didn't name you. We drew your name out of a draw box. Your brother's name was perfect, so we didn't even try."

Ok, rant over.

The Hobbit Vs. The World: How Do You Spell Fiasco?

H1N1!

Humble Readers, if someone actually spent more than 5 minutes of thought into how these clinics were going to run, I would be very surprised.

Our little city's second H1N1 public vaccine clinic was today. It was held in one of the bigger churches in town. My Beloved and I got to the church at 7:45am. It was still dark (0ne of the things I'm still not used to living here on the flatland... the sun doesn't come up until well after 8 in the fall and winter), and -6 degrees. We were prepared to wait outside until the doors were scheduled to open at 9am.

When we got there, the line up was already more than halfway around the parking lot. The people at the front of the line got there at 5am. By 9:30am there was a traffic jam on the cross street and the highway, and they were turning people away.

We ended up having to wait outside, in the very chilly morning, for more than two and a half hours, before we actually got into the church. My toes were so numb they hurt, and my poor Beloved's ears were redder than a tomatoe. When we got inside the church, we ended up having to wait another two and a half hours in line, just to get to the gymnasium where we were given a number (853 & 854, respectively) and were able to sit down. There wasn't even a separate line for people in wheelchairs, for pregnant women, or the elderly.

Did I mention that I was supposed to be at work at 11am? (and guess who hates to be late for anything?)

I hadn't eaten breakfast, and all I had to drink was some peppermint tea that I thought to bring last minute. I was starving, which I will admit made me cranky. Sitting in a very echoe-y gym, surrounded by a lot of stressed out moms with fussing children in tow (not that I blame the moms or the tots). When we finally got called up, I was about ready to lose it.

We got our shots, and were supposed to then wait there for 15 minutes, just to make sure that we didn't have a reaction to the shot. Of course, we didn't and we took off as quickly as we could. My Beloved dropped me at work, 2 hours late (still having not eaten) and I had to get right down to it.

The whole time I was there, I kept thinking that they could have come up with some better way to do this. They health minister was on tv the other night saying how they weren't expecting the response they have gotten. That they were not able to anticipate how inadequate their plan for dispersing the vaccine was. HOW IS THAT POSSIBLE?? He's the same guy who went on tv a couple of months ago with the dire predictions of how many people were expected to be hospitalized or even die from this. Grab a clue!

(And don't even get me started on all the people who are saying they aren't going to get the vaccine because they have heard that it will cause sterility or birth defects or will turn you into a monkey... Gah!)

I ended up staying at work until close, to cover for our GM who went home sick, so at least I made up the hours I missed. I'm tired, my arm really hurts at the injection site, and my back is aching in that distinctive pre-AF way.

I just have to keep telling myself it could have been a lot worse. It could have been snowing like it is now. *sigh*

This cranky hobbit is off to bed. Hopefully everything will be normal when I wake up in the morning.

Hobbit-ish Potpurri: Roadtrip Rant

Good Morning Humble Readers...

First up, I want to say thank you for all the support yesterday. It means a great deal to know that there are others out there who understand that these days are challenging, but need to be commemorated. Thank you for all your kind words, prayers, and virtual hugs. They really helped me get through the day.
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Yesterday's gong show of epic proportions actually started on Monday night, when I got home from work to find Lake Linoleum in my kitchen. After pulling everything out from under the sink we discovered that the cold water line to the sink was leaking pretty badly. Of course everything under the sink was wet and nasty... cardboard boxes that the garbage bags come in disintigrating as we tried to move them. The plumber is here now, and I'm sure I won't get out of this one for less than $150.
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Sleep was in short supply on Monday night, so needless to say I was fairly grumpy yesterday morning. When my Beloved knocked the towel rack off the wall in the bathroom, AGAIN I was more than a little perturbed. I love the man, but he certainly isn't a handy man, so before I took my shower I had to deal with the pain in the butt (the towel rack, not my Beloved).
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Due to some poor planning and lack of attention to detail on my part, I had to make a spur of the moment mad dash to Calgary to go to the Passport office. Driving almost two hours just to deal with downtown Calgary traffic, a half hour trying to find parking, to spend a whopping ten minutes in the office going over my application. That's beyond irritating. My passport will be here in two weeks, thank the Lord.
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I knew vaguely where the passport office was, as I had been there once before 8 or 9 years ago. I typed "passport canada" into our GPS, expecting to get the address and directions. The silly thing came up with the passport office in Edmonton, and then the one in Regina (that's in Saskatchewan). Nothing for Calgary. Piece of crap gadget. Thank heaven for smart phones.
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There is a new shopping mall on the north side of Calgary. I thought, after my frustration at the passport office I would treat myself to a little retail therapy. I'm still looking for the perfect purse for our trip, and I wanted to see the new store from my store's chain that is an anchor for the new mall. I finally get out of the downtown core, almost out of the city, find the correct turn off, and make my way toward the mall... only to get into the parking lot and see signs that it opens to the public today. I was one day too early! Grrr
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The rest of the trip home was a challenge. I was in a foul mood, and I thought that some loud music would help. I was bouncing back and forth between a couple of country stations and a top 40 station. While on one of the country stations I heard a song that put me over the edge. I don't know the title, and I didn't recognize the artist, but there was a line about how the singer was so thankful for the son his wife had given him. I started bawling and it didn't stop for more than an hour. I'm just thankful that highway 2 is pretty much a straight shot from Calgary to Red Deer.
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One other thing from yesterday that would have been just a minor irritation on any other day... I wanted to listen to a book on cd while I on the road. I grabbed the right cd before I left the house, but when I put it in the car stereo it wouldn't play. I was so pissed that I almost chucked the cd out the window.

Really, it's almost laughable now. Almost. Today is another day, and once the plumber leaves I will be able to maybe do something with my day. I will be back later with my Show & Tell post...

The Hobbit vs The World: Two Big Annoyances

Good evening Humble Readers! Your friendly neighbourhood hobbit is irked tonight. Beyond irked actually... pretty pissed off!

Now you may be asking what can get under the skin of a relatively even-keeled hobbit? Well let me tell you...

First up... you may recall that I mentioned that a member of our leadership team at work gave notice a week ago. I was happy for her because she was leaving for a good reason, but I was concerned that someone in her position (in the management heirarchy, she was one level above me) would only give two weeks notice, especially when she gave notice the day before our general manager went on vacation.

So fast forward one week... how many shifts has she shown up for? One and a half. She called in 'sick' for two shifts, and then just stopped showing up. When one of the other managers called to see what was going on, after getting the voicemail run around, she finally owned up to the fact that seeing as our boss wasn't in, she wasn't going to come in either. She was just done. But, oh... 'it's nothing personal', and you know what? She 'still loves us all tons and tons'... Pardon me for saying so, but BULLSHIT!!! And really, the not personal bit? All I could think of was that line in 'You've Got Mail'... ''saying that it's not personal only means that it's not personal to you. It's very personal to me." The remaining three of us have had to juggle our schedules, rearrange our personal lives to cover for her lack of responsibility and respect. And let's not even get started about how she's not going to be able to use any of us as a reference...

Alright, so the other thing that is pissing me off today... read this story. It's ok, I'll wait.

Ok, done?

Are you as disgusted as I am? Yes, I have taken the source into consideration... Fam.ily G.uy is not known for being socially conscious. I know that it's an irreverent and purposely shocking show. I don't watch it for a reason. Infertility, surrogacy and abortion... anyone see anything joke-worthy in that list? And this is the show that was nominated for the Best Comedy Emmy? I applaud Fox for pulling the episode from the broadcast schedule, but it's still going to be out there... on the season 8 dvds. Gah!

Thank you, humble readers, for letting me vent. I needed to get those things off my chest.

How could you, Bones?

Hello humble readers...

Well, I believe I've turned a corner with the Crud. I'm pooped, tuckered, and generally wiped out, but breathing is much easier today. I am at the point where I'm sure that if my ears would just pop all would be pretty much well. Thank you all so much for your kind words and warm thoughts this week.

So, in my drug induced stupor this week I have spent most of my time curled up on our couch with my fuzzy blankets, multiple boxes of triscuits (to scratch my throat), strawberry popcicles, tissues, and industrial size jugs of OJ. I haven't been able to read because I can't seem to focus on the words on the page (which has also contributed to me being a bad bloggy-friend this week too, so sorry everyone!), so of course I have been watching waaaaay too much tv. Star Trek, Rachel Ray, various home improvement shows, and of course CSI (because it's on EVERYWHERE!) have all filled my hours.

Last night, when I was beginning to feel slightly human again, I got very excited because I realized that I was actually going to get to watch Bones. I have always loved that show, but with my work schedule and the changes in the show's time slot, I haven't gotten to watch it all that often this year. So, I settled into the cushions, ready to enjoy a good and disgusting episode of dead bodies and the sexual tension between Booth and Bones.

The episode started off encouragingly. An extremely decomposed dead body in a wine cask. Fabulously gross! I actually had to turn away a few times. Okay, so cut to the obligatory relationship part of the show... Booth and Bones in Dr. Sweets' office for their weekly therapy session. And what does Bones say? 'I want to have a baby.'

The long and the short of it is... Bones decides she want to have a baby, but doesn't want the baggage of the 'ephemeral emotions' that go with doing things the old fashioned way. She, in her usual tactless, clueless way, tells Booth that she wants to have his baby because he is the ideal breeding partner. They then go through the whole bit about does he want to have a baby but not be the daddy... the whole time assuming that it's a given that she will get pregnant. At one point she even says 'I could be pregnant in a month'.

Not even taking into account that she has only decided that she wants to do this yesterday (in tv-land), apparently she was already able to get in to a fertility specialist, has been ok'd for IVF, had Booth drop off his sample, had it analyzed (28 million, and he was proud... ha! some of my friends' hubbies in the blogosphere can beat that without trying!) and found out that he has good motility. At the rate she was going, I was just waiting for the shot of her walking out of the bathroom at the Jeffersonian with a positive hpt at the end of the show.

Talk about trivializing ART! I was so disgusted! I know that there is an overriding assumption out there that IVF is an 'easy' option, but come on! I have always been so impressed with that tv show... entertaining and yet nasty crime drama... lots of pseudo-science to keep me intrigued... but this just totally irked me! And I've never even gone through IUI or IVF. I was so offended, for myself as an infertile, and for all my friends who struggle month after month with this battle.

Shame on you, Bones! Shame on you!

(yes, I realize that it's just a tv show... but it still really bothered me)

Posting for the sake of posting...

Hello humble readers...

I'm just posting this because I feel mildly guilty for not having posted in almost a week. I've been grouchy and every post I've started has sounded whiny and petulant. My life is good, I'm just in a bad mood and lots of little things are pissing me off. If I didn't know better, I'd swear I was pms-ing.

I'm here.

I'm just in hiding.

I really need a good laugh. There's your challenge... make me laugh! PLEASE!

Whatever Happened To Miss Manners?

I have been growing more and more cynical about our society over recent years. Maybe I'm hitting that age where everything isn't as good as it was when I was a kid. Maybe I'm destined to be a grouchy old bat who yells at little kids (please God, I hope not!). Maybe my expectations are just too high. Maybe I've just worked in retail too long.

What is wrong with people? Where have all their manners gone?

No one says thank you. No one says excuse me. No one picks up after themselves.

Let me give you an example of how far our society has fallen. A few nights ago, Valentine's Day actually, my Beloved and I went to a movie. I knew that the main theater in our small city has notoriously slow lines for tickets and concessions, so I planned accordingly. We arrived early and my Darling One got in the concession line while I stood in the ticket holders line outside the theater. While in line people pushed past me to get to the ladies room without so much as an 'excuse me' or a 'sorry'.

Then there were the 'crowders'. You know who they are. The people who have no understanding of personal space and persist in bumping you with their elbows or purse or whatever while they are in line behind you. No matter how many half-steps forward you take to move away from them, they just take it as a cue to move even closer.

And once I was finally in the theater, things went from bad to worse. First there was the man behind us who was loudly shoveling popcorn into his mouth... and chewing with his mouth open. *ICK* There were the two teenage girls sitting two rows in front of us texting each other throughout the entire movie. Then we were serenaded by a chorus of burps and belches and other disgusting chewing sounds from every side. And finally, there was the I-need-to-pee-every-ten-minutes-because-I-just-drank-a-large-Coke girl in our row.

People, the movie theater is not your living room! If you are that free with your bodily functions in the privacy of your own home, that's one thing. But please, don't subject the rest of us to it!

Another area that continues to shock me is people's behavior in a retail environment. I know that I am jaded in this area but sometimes people can still amaze me in their lack of manners. People interupt conversations, they snap their fingers at me when they want assistance, they pull product off the shelf and leave it on the floor. They get grumpy at me when I ask that they return to the coffee shop in our store to get a lid for their drink (Hello... our product is paper... one drop of your venti half-caff mocha with extra caramel drizzle and a book is ruined!). Then there are the ones refuse to get a lid, spill their coffee, and don't bother to clean it up or even ask for help in cleaning it up. People use language that twenty years ago would have had them banned from any store, and they verbally abuse my staff (no, a 16 year old cashier is not resposible for the difference in Canadian and American pricing and calling her a b*tch isn't going to get you anywhere except escorted out of my store).

And my personal favorite... parents who bring their children into our store, plunk them down in front of the toy table in our kids department, and then wander off to go look for something on the other side of the store. We are not babysitters! Heaven help us if something happens to one of these little abandoned angels while mommy is off perusing Oprah's latest pick.

Ok, so this post has wandered a bit. Basically, it comes down to three things...

Say Please!

Say Thank you!

Live the Golden Rule!

(And for those who have forgotten... Do unto others as you would have done unto you!)

Ok, rant over... for now.