A Week of Crappy Events

I don't know anything about the Lemony Snicket books. I know that Jim Carrey was in the 2004 film, "Lemony Snicket's A Series of Unfortunate Events". This was unfortunate enough for me not to catch the movie, seeing as how I detest Jim Carrey. I haven't been able to stomach him since his Ace Ventura role. I'm pretty sure that the Anti-Christ has that, Cabin Fever and District 9 on his list of all time faves. Of course, my husband loves Jim Carrey. Just another example of how different our senses of humor are.

Anyway, I've thought of the title of this movie for the last several days, seeing as how I have encountered my own series of crappy events in the last week. I have to blog about it because I have to vent. And if I cant insert some sort of humor in it, I am liable to weep.

Let's start with last week. I've already blogged about my hatred of winter here. That hatred grew by leaps and bounds when both of my children came down YET AGAIN with a junky cough, pouring yellow nose phlegm, and crabby moods. Their regular pediatrician was not in so we decided to take them to the hip new walk in clinic. Worst decision of my life since ordering the fish plate at the local gas station. 

Oh, this clinic is advertised as being just out of this world. Their slogan is "We treat you like family." Only if you are Christina Crawford. Google it if you must. It's a "Mommy Dearest" reference.

So, they have a movie theater and a poor old lady that brings you an array of beverages or snacks at your command while you wait. She was running rampant when a little fat boy kept bugging her with requests for Slush Puppies and Cheetos. I wanted to deck his lazy mother for letting him bother the poor lady over and over again. Besides, he should have been drinking slim fast and eating air. He had a 63 year old's waistline and he was eight.

So, we waited. And we waited. And we waited some more. I checked out the window to see if the rapture was taking place, since the only people I saw leave the waiting room was a group of nuns.

The loveliness of free coffee and Star Trek on the big screen wore off after the second hour. My girl was hawking up loogies all over the slide and the boy had poured a gallon of snot in the block bin. As a mother, it breaks my heart every time my child sneezes or coughs or exhibits some sign of discomfort. My kids really felt bad. I had lost all patience after 120 minutes.

We finally made it to a room, equipped with a flat screen television and Sid the Science Kid (which I also loathe), and we waited some more. The doctor came in and I could tell from the moment she opened her mouth that she was a nit wit. I wasn't aware that Diesel College offered medical degrees. She said that the boy's ears were clear and that the girl probably just had some sinus drainage. I knew she was wrong. I just knew it. Call it mother's intuition or just being the type of person that "needs" to be right, but I knew she was wrong. I said, "alright", but yeah, I knew.

Forty five minutes later, she sticks her head back in the door to tell us that the kids' strep tests were negative. Yeah, that's nice, but you never tested my kids for strep. Seems she had my kids mixed up with some other snotty kids down the hall. Turns out she didn't attend Diesel College. She just read the cliff notes for the book, "How to Doctor For Dummies."

Ten minutes later, a lady comes in to do the strep tests and blood work. Turns out the tests were negative, so we were thrown some antibiotics for an Upper Respiratory Infection and shown the door. We made it to the pharmacy, and the pharmacist tells me that the fruit loop doctor prescribed the wrong antibiotics for the boy. She'd written him something that was meant to cure an elephant's syphilis- it was way too strong for a 23 month old. I was livid at this point. I had to wait another hour, with sick and tired children, while our pharmacist made some phone calls. She finally got it straightened out, and I vowed right there that the new age hippie walk in clinic could keep their snack bar and theater and flat screen TV's and restaurant buzzers. They could also kiss my ass.

Let's fast forward two days later when my little boy woke up covered in hives. His regular pediatrician was available, so we headed that way. Turns out his ears WEREN'T clear. He was suffering from an ear infection and a sinus infection, plus he had a scorching case of hives because he was allergic to the weird antibiotic that fruit loop prescribed. Our good old trusty pediatrician prescribed our usual penicillin, some Benadryl for the rash, he made some vague references that he was disappointed that nit wit hadn't correctly diagnosed his illness two days ago. I made some not-so-vague references that I agreed.

My boy still isn't 100%, but he is getting better. However, it took 3 days of unfortunate events and meds and dumb ass doctors before he got better.

While wiping snot from my daughter's nostrils yesterday, I discovered the 1/2 carat colorless center diamond in my wedding set was gone. My heart broke, my mouth cussed, and the search was on.

I was home all day, so the stone had to have fallen out in my house. My family combed the place for hours yesterday. I even told the girl I'd buy her a Nintendo DS if she found the diamond. Talk about incentive! (We were going to get her one for her birthday anyway. She isn't that spoiled).  She was on hands and knees, requesting a magnifying glass, and combing the area....to no avail.

When I say we searched, I mean we searched. We looked in places that I haven't laid eyes on in years. And being the obsessive compulsive cleaner that I am, I was in turmoil at the dust bunnies rabbits hares jackrabbit  jackalopes behind my piano, the stray appetizer platter beneath my oven, Jimmy Hoffa under the refrigerator. I was nervous. I was nervous that my diamond was missing and I was working myself into a nervous frenzy at the dust and shit I was finding beneath all of our furniture.

I went nuts. I started pulling out furniture, digging out old attachments for my grandmother's 1982 Electrolux, and cleaning like a crack addict. Then, hubs and I cut open the vacuum bag and sifted through every disgusting fiber of filth that I had sucked up throughout the house. I even checked his belly button. No diamond.

Ironically enough, we'd signed up for a Rainbow Vacuum presentation that night. The guy walks in with his 2500 dollar magic water machine and he shows me how much more dirt and stray fiber his Rainbow can suck up than my 30 year old Electrolux. I started to panic. I needed this vacuum to find my rock! My vacuum doesn't work wonders like this Rainbow. Even if it is the price of a 1999 Geo, I needed it. The hubs wasn't sold. He kidded that he'd buy the Rainbow if the salesman actually found the diamond, but either way we'd be out a couple of grand. But, Rainbow guy didn't find it. Heartbreak continued to set in.

I woke up this morning, stone still missing, kids still coughing, and I felt as if my head was going to blow off my shoulders. I'd never felt sinus pressure as intense as I did today. I thought about calling the ER to see if I could come in for a voluntary CAT scan. Something just wasn't right in the noggin.

I made it to the doctor, got a sinus cocktail shot and some antibiotics, and I felt better with a few hours. However, my son decided to act like a butthole all day. He threw chicken strips all over the back seat of the car, he chunked Thomas trains left and right, he fell out on the floor in a full fledged "that kid needs an ass whipping" temper tantrum, he screamed and fussed and raised hell all day. I know he still feels bad, and I am constantly loving on my boy because he means the world to me, but I loaded him up and drove to my mother's with every intention of leaving him on her doorstep for the day. She wasn't home, so we had to come back home, since I realized I left my grocery list on my kitchen counter anyway. That was probably a blessing because I didn't want him flipping out in the grocery, throwing buggies around like the 2 year old Hulk and holding a pizza cutter to the produce guys throat because they didn't have any ripe bananas. I'm pretty sure he was capable of that kind of thing today.

After we cried, we both took a nap, we made up, we shook hands, we hugged, and we were in love again. But, for the first 7 hours of the day, we weren't too fond of each other.

I just got done combing the house...AGAIN. I've crawled around 2600 square feet with a magnifying glass, flashlight, vacuum, and prayer for the last 4 hours. No luck. To add injury to insult, I also have rug burn on my knees. There is just nothing else I can do.

Did I mention that my floors are so clean that I just almost slid down and cracked my skull on our hardwood? Oh, and the boy managed to unplug my phone charger, which is unfortunate because I am going to have to move out the bed to plug it back in so it will reach my nightstand.  The boy also stepped on my laptop and cracked the screen. I am typing now through an feather shaped black blob. Oh, yeah, and I dropped an open can of ravioli on the floor. Plus my diamond is missing. I still haven't made it to the grocery store. And my kids keep pouring snot. All of the army crawling is making the slipped disc in my back hurt. Plus a furry cat bastard strewed garbage all over my yard. And the girl got yogurt in her freshly washed, de-tangled, and blow dried extremely long hair. And the antibiotics have given the boy diarrhea and diaper rash. My husband told me to go to bed. Gladly.

But my floors are clean. I'm thinking of licking the hardwood under my couch just for a sense of accomplishment.

**EDIT-One night after drafting this, poor baby boy's fever spiked and he developed an awful croupy cough. I spent a long, sleepless night watching him feel terrible. We were the first people through his pediatrician's door the next morning. They were all super awesome to work us in and treat my sweet boy. X-rays showed that he has bronchitis and a mild case of pneumonia. He was given the bad boy of all antibiotic injections, along with his oral antibiotic, and is clinging to mommy and resting all day. I'm confident the Lord is going to restore all of our health SOON! We've all had enough.

And PS-Son, I'm sorry I called you a butthole up there. I had no clue you were coming down with bronchitis and pneumonia. Mother of the year award goes to...NOT ME!