To The Snoochie Booches Who Used to Own This House....

You might remember, if you've been around here for a few years, that back in 08 we fought the box spring battle that truly, felt like the ultimate box spring battle. We survived, and even bought another mattress and box spring since then, getting them up and down the stairs with relatively little drama or tears.
But our box spring broke apart last month and had to be replaced.

The husband has serious arthritis issues and his back bothers him quite a lot, so he did a lot of bed shopping and then I followed up and we picked a bed we thought we both liked it. So paid them the crazy amount of money for the bed that was required, getting a GOOD bed this time, and had it delivered.

We anticipated a certain amount of drama getting it up the stairs. It was, after all, thicker than the previous mattress and box spring so it wouldn't wiggle as easily but still, we had to knock out some of the ceiling when we moved in, we felt we knew the drill.

We led off with more of the ceiling being knocked out there over the landing, and a hole accidentally getting punched in the drywall. This wasn't a good start.

But still, we felt like we had a good grip on what we were gonna do. The oldest boy and his dad tried for four hours to get it upstairs. When I got home got the mattress up - but the box spring would not go.

This is the box spring perfectly wedged between the ceiling and stairs. It wouldn't go another inch. No matter what. Because it was thicker than the old one, we were right - no wiggle room. It was stuck and would not budge no matter what we did. We needed inches - and not that many. But how?

Funny story here. Upon pulling up carpet - we learned, that the PREVIOUS owners of this house had done exactly the same thing. You should've seen the way these stairs were put back together. It's like if you and a buddy got drunk and made stairs. So we were hopeful that this amount of space would do it.
But it didn't. So the husband put the stairs BACK and we went to bed. And then the next night....

We did a few more steps. But again, this wasn't enough for the box spring to go. So, after taking down all these stairs, my husband had to put them all back again so that the kids could use the stairs safely and we all went to bed AGAIN (btw we were sleeping on the floor with our new mattress).

It was the third night, the third magic night that the husband sorted out exactly which the previous owners had taken out to get THEIR OWN beds up and down. Once we got the box spring past halfway - UP IT WENT.

So, you Snoochie Booches who used to own this house. WHAT A BUNCH OF JERKWADS YOU ARE.

Ugh. Every single day we find some other jacked up thing they hid I swear.

But, the bed is awesome. It was almost worth it. BUT NOT QUITE.
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To The Snoochie Booches Who Used to Own This House....

You might remember, if you've been around here for a few years, that back in 08 we fought the box spring battle that truly, felt like the ultimate box spring battle. We survived, and even bought another mattress and box spring since then, getting them up and down the stairs with relatively little drama or tears.
But our box spring broke apart last month and had to be replaced.

The husband has serious arthritis issues and his back bothers him quite a lot, so he did a lot of bed shopping and then I followed up and we picked a bed we thought we both liked it. So paid them the crazy amount of money for the bed that was required, getting a GOOD bed this time, and had it delivered.

We anticipated a certain amount of drama getting it up the stairs. It was, after all, thicker than the previous mattress and box spring so it wouldn't wiggle as easily but still, we had to knock out some of the ceiling when we moved in, we felt we knew the drill.

We led off with more of the ceiling being knocked out there over the landing, and a hole accidentally getting punched in the drywall. This wasn't a good start.

But still, we felt like we had a good grip on what we were gonna do. The oldest boy and his dad tried for four hours to get it upstairs. When I got home got the mattress up - but the box spring would not go.

This is the box spring perfectly wedged between the ceiling and stairs. It wouldn't go another inch. No matter what. Because it was thicker than the old one, we were right - no wiggle room. It was stuck and would not budge no matter what we did. We needed inches - and not that many. But how?

Funny story here. Upon pulling up carpet - we learned, that the PREVIOUS owners of this house had done exactly the same thing. You should've seen the way these stairs were put back together. It's like if you and a buddy got drunk and made stairs. So we were hopeful that this amount of space would do it.
But it didn't. So the husband put the stairs BACK and we went to bed. And then the next night....

We did a few more steps. But again, this wasn't enough for the box spring to go. So, after taking down all these stairs, my husband had to put them all back again so that the kids could use the stairs safely and we all went to bed AGAIN (btw we were sleeping on the floor with our new mattress).

It was the third night, the third magic night that the husband sorted out exactly which the previous owners had taken out to get THEIR OWN beds up and down. Once we got the box spring past halfway - UP IT WENT.

So, you Snoochie Booches who used to own this house. WHAT A BUNCH OF JERKWADS YOU ARE.

Ugh. Every single day we find some other jacked up thing they hid I swear.

But, the bed is awesome. It was almost worth it. BUT NOT QUITE.
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Battles

I fight these battles that don't matter. I think everyone does it, to some extreme or another. I find myself more and more fighting them with the twins.

It's not because I want to be in charge. It's not because I want them to obey me (I do).

I'm realizing now, that it's because I'm fighting the battle I CAN fight, as the one I want to fight I'm powerless  against.

It's a management lesson that definitely applies to parenting. Managers under pressure, stress and strain tend to freak out and act like lunatics over the small, insignificant things they CAN control when other BIGGER things start exploding around them.

For instance, I was once part of a company that had a huge project (if you worked there you know it as THE MOVE). We were supposed to move our warehouse, from one place to another over the course of three days. After three weeks and Armageddon raining down on us to the point of mental collapse of everyone involved, the president of the company walked through my department and literally freaked out because someone had a coat hanging on the back of their chair. Employees were not allowed to drape their coats on the backs of their chairs.

HE FREAKED OUT about how we all knew the rules and he had never better see this again. I really liked him then and now, and was lucky at that time to have enough tenure in leadership to recognize what was happening, and just say "ok" and let it go. I was also lucky enough to be good enough friends with him to taunt him mercilessly about it a couple of years later.

As a parent, I just caught myself fighting with an 8 year old autistic boy who was screaming OPEN DOOR OPEN DOOR. Why? Because there was a spare sippy cup behind the door. He didn't need it. He didn't really want a drink he just wanted the cup. It's sitting on the floor beside me right now. For about five minutes, I held fast to "By god NO I AM NOT OPENING THAT DOOR YOU ARE NOT MAKING ME OPEN THAT DOOR" as I finished up getting clean post bath clothes together.

The cup was something I could control.

I can't control autism. It controls me. But I find myself more and more making these bad choices, fighting the wrong things, because autism won every single round without even entering the ring.

So I shut my mouth and took his hand and walked over to the door, while he looked up at me wild eyed - certain he was in BIG trouble. I opened the door, let him get the cup and then asked him what he wanted to watch on TV.

I have to do better than that. I lost the war. I should stop fighting the battles that don't matter.

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Battles

I fight these battles that don't matter. I think everyone does it, to some extreme or another. I find myself more and more fighting them with the twins.

It's not because I want to be in charge. It's not because I want them to obey me (I do).

I'm realizing now, that it's because I'm fighting the battle I CAN fight, as the one I want to fight I'm powerless  against.

It's a management lesson that definitely applies to parenting. Managers under pressure, stress and strain tend to freak out and act like lunatics over the small, insignificant things they CAN control when other BIGGER things start exploding around them.

For instance, I was once part of a company that had a huge project (if you worked there you know it as THE MOVE). We were supposed to move our warehouse, from one place to another over the course of three days. After three weeks and Armageddon raining down on us to the point of mental collapse of everyone involved, the president of the company walked through my department and literally freaked out because someone had a coat hanging on the back of their chair. Employees were not allowed to drape their coats on the backs of their chairs.

HE FREAKED OUT about how we all knew the rules and he had never better see this again. I really liked him then and now, and was lucky at that time to have enough tenure in leadership to recognize what was happening, and just say "ok" and let it go. I was also lucky enough to be good enough friends with him to taunt him mercilessly about it a couple of years later.

As a parent, I just caught myself fighting with an 8 year old autistic boy who was screaming OPEN DOOR OPEN DOOR. Why? Because there was a spare sippy cup behind the door. He didn't need it. He didn't really want a drink he just wanted the cup. It's sitting on the floor beside me right now. For about five minutes, I held fast to "By god NO I AM NOT OPENING THAT DOOR YOU ARE NOT MAKING ME OPEN THAT DOOR" as I finished up getting clean post bath clothes together.

The cup was something I could control.

I can't control autism. It controls me. But I find myself more and more making these bad choices, fighting the wrong things, because autism won every single round without even entering the ring.

So I shut my mouth and took his hand and walked over to the door, while he looked up at me wild eyed - certain he was in BIG trouble. I opened the door, let him get the cup and then asked him what he wanted to watch on TV.

I have to do better than that. I lost the war. I should stop fighting the battles that don't matter.

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For the Love of God

You know that scene in Clueless where they accidentally get on the freeway and the girls start shrieking hysterically? Or any horror movie where the heroine just saw something so unimaginable that all she can do is scream and recoil in horror?
That's just happened when I served the twins THIS...

For the Love of God

You know that scene in Clueless where they accidentally get on the freeway and the girls start shrieking hysterically? Or any horror movie where the heroine just saw something so unimaginable that all she can do is scream and recoil in horror?
That's just happened when I served the twins THIS...

Then There Was My Foot

I would describe it as comedy except it's not funny. I would worry about having developed a wee bit of Munchausens's syndrome except that, I'm really not enjoying it not even sub-consciously I promise.

My never ending parade of doctors goes on though,  I think at 43 you require more doctors than at 33 or 23. This SEEMS to be true. I've seen more "ologists" in the past six months than I've seen in my whole life.

The neurologist who treated me for the brain cloud has declared me brain cloud free. That's a good thing except for the fact that they don't know why I got dizzy and my brain got numb and stuff. So, we'll call that the Brain Cloud and move on I suppose.

Then after my surgery last week which I survived, it was on for a follow up to my rheumatologist who rocked my life by adding more vitamin D to my world . I had some blood work done to check my levels and turns out, even after the monster doses I took and my daily supplements I'm still freaking low, at 22 which is just above the line of MADLY deficient. So back to mega doses and then more mega doses plus daily supplements. I told her that I really felt much better, but since my level was like 12 last time, she said "Think how great it's going to be be when you feel GOOD." So I guess YAY for that eh?

While I was there, my foot came up.

Funny thing about my right foot. It's really hurt for a long time. New shoes hurt. Old shoes hurt. I got the new shoes because I thought it was the old shoes. I have sneakers and work shoes and summer sandals with a wedge heel. They all hurt a bit. Some more than others.

Another funny thing, my rheumatologist is a wee woman with the ability to put your thumb into your flesh into a way that makes grown men weep. So I showed her where my foot hurt, and she put her thumb so far in my foot I think the nuckle was hidden and wiggled it around while I GASPED FOR AIR AND PRAYED FOR DEATH, and then said "Oh, that's a break. Did you break your toe or anything recently?"

Yes I did. IN 2011.

So, xrays and a bone scan to determine the extent of the break is coming and then we figure out what to do ABOUT MY FOOT

F

M

L

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Then There Was My Foot

I would describe it as comedy except it's not funny. I would worry about having developed a wee bit of Munchausens's syndrome except that, I'm really not enjoying it not even sub-consciously I promise.

My never ending parade of doctors goes on though,  I think at 43 you require more doctors than at 33 or 23. This SEEMS to be true. I've seen more "ologists" in the past six months than I've seen in my whole life.

The neurologist who treated me for the brain cloud has declared me brain cloud free. That's a good thing except for the fact that they don't know why I got dizzy and my brain got numb and stuff. So, we'll call that the Brain Cloud and move on I suppose.

Then after my surgery last week which I survived, it was on for a follow up to my rheumatologist who rocked my life by adding more vitamin D to my world . I had some blood work done to check my levels and turns out, even after the monster doses I took and my daily supplements I'm still freaking low, at 22 which is just above the line of MADLY deficient. So back to mega doses and then more mega doses plus daily supplements. I told her that I really felt much better, but since my level was like 12 last time, she said "Think how great it's going to be be when you feel GOOD." So I guess YAY for that eh?

While I was there, my foot came up.

Funny thing about my right foot. It's really hurt for a long time. New shoes hurt. Old shoes hurt. I got the new shoes because I thought it was the old shoes. I have sneakers and work shoes and summer sandals with a wedge heel. They all hurt a bit. Some more than others.

Another funny thing, my rheumatologist is a wee woman with the ability to put your thumb into your flesh into a way that makes grown men weep. So I showed her where my foot hurt, and she put her thumb so far in my foot I think the nuckle was hidden and wiggled it around while I GASPED FOR AIR AND PRAYED FOR DEATH, and then said "Oh, that's a break. Did you break your toe or anything recently?"

Yes I did. IN 2011.

So, xrays and a bone scan to determine the extent of the break is coming and then we figure out what to do ABOUT MY FOOT

F

M

L

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I Think The TSA Stole My Face Soap

I signed up for the Target Summer Beauty bag this time around, and I admit, it was pretty awesome. But to me the big win was discovering Aveeno smart essentials daily scrub. It is probably the best facial scrub that my 43 year old face has run into in years. I raved about it on plurk when it came out. So imagine my chagrin when, after having taken it to New York with me that I couldn't FIND it when I returned home.

At first I thought that I had left it in the suitcase I carelessly left unpacked for about two weeks. But then I finally got around to unpacking it and going through my sundry chick bags of this and that to no avail. NO AVEENO CLEANSER.

This was about the time that my husband pointed out the sticker on my suitcase, saying the TSA had opened and inspected my bag.

Those jacks at the TSA who were TOO LAZY TO SIGN UP FOR THE TARGET SUMMER BEAUTY BAG STOLE MY CLEANSER.

What a bunch of jerkwads.

That's fine. I will buy more. TAKE my cleanser you ne'er do well. AND MAY YOU NEVER HAVE A DAY'S LUCK WITH IT!

I've asked Eddard Stark to convey my feelings on this.

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I Think The TSA Stole My Face Soap

I signed up for the Target Summer Beauty bag this time around, and I admit, it was pretty awesome. But to me the big win was discovering Aveeno smart essentials daily scrub. It is probably the best facial scrub that my 43 year old face has run into in years. I raved about it on plurk when it came out. So imagine my chagrin when, after having taken it to New York with me that I couldn't FIND it when I returned home.

At first I thought that I had left it in the suitcase I carelessly left unpacked for about two weeks. But then I finally got around to unpacking it and going through my sundry chick bags of this and that to no avail. NO AVEENO CLEANSER.

This was about the time that my husband pointed out the sticker on my suitcase, saying the TSA had opened and inspected my bag.

Those jacks at the TSA who were TOO LAZY TO SIGN UP FOR THE TARGET SUMMER BEAUTY BAG STOLE MY CLEANSER.

What a bunch of jerkwads.

That's fine. I will buy more. TAKE my cleanser you ne'er do well. AND MAY YOU NEVER HAVE A DAY'S LUCK WITH IT!

I've asked Eddard Stark to convey my feelings on this.

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