Blondecisions

What I won't do for my stinky pup

My dog STANK. He was so ranky again it was time for an emergency bath session. But the hubster and I both hate bathing him in our tub and I don't want the mess in the kitchen. I win because I'm the wife, so hubby wants to try a new angle to get out of scrubbing on his knees. Off we went to a new place in town that caters to pet owners where we were told they had coin operated washing areas.

When we were pointed to the clerk to buy a token, I think my eyes narrowed in expectation of the bad news. I wasn't all that pleased with the amused look by three clerks that we were bringing in a froo-froo dog to wash as it was. Women's intuition, shopper's experience or whatever it was activated my bullshit radar. We were rung up for a $12.00 self service wash. Not a wash by a professional, but a self service wash.

The horror hung on my husband's face as he scanned my mood and the register over and over. Horror, amusement and intermittent hope that I would be crazy enough to buy it and let him out of the tub washing hell; I flatly refused. $12 bucks is nearly half of a wash, cut, dry and nail trimming at the groomers. $12 to wash my own dog?!

I don't care what look I got from the guy. I was nice about it. I nearly don't care that they stood around talking about me for a while. I really don't give a hoot. I can get my car washed for half that price by four men. I sure as hell am not paying $12 to wash my own dog.

Hostage Salary

I'm so ... pissed I cannot think straight. Ok, ya'll remember two weeks ago I told you my husband’s ex company is holding his paycheck hostage? He left them and they’re threatening lawsuit; and all because we want to move to where I can be surrounded by family and friends while his career has him flying all over the states and working long hours.

He was supposed to go to a meeting in person where they were supposed to do an “information transfer” with a promise he would get his paycheck. My husband’s been trying to play by their rules, though he did not complete his two weeks when they started threatening lawsuit. He left – though I think it looks bad for him – he left because the workplace was volatile and he saw what they did to the last guy who stayed his full two weeks.

He met their demands, went out of his way, and STILL no paycheck! They want him to sign a paper that states he is not going to a competitor (and maybe more) and when they receive the signed paper they will issue his paycheck. I do not see how this isn’t illegal! How they could have a lawyer draw up this paper and not blatantly tell them this isn’t allowed.

So off to the labor board in CT he goes. Except we don’t have his paycheck which we need. The millionaire company owners do not care about a dad who lives paycheck to paycheck. All they see is dollar signs and they just lost one of the guys that make them those dollar signs, even though hubby gave them ample opportunity to keep him employed. He told them it’s nothing personal – this move was a family decision – and when they didn’t follow up or make an attempt to accommodate (and it was reasonable to think they could) he moved on another job offer.

Despite the fact that it IS in his contract (the original one) that says he is not allowed to go to competition, this ex-company has denied having him in employment for the past two years when another company tried to sue them for the same thing – employing him. So the turnout might not be all happy happy. But it would be nice to at least have this paycheck! The rest will come later. If the hubster has to find another job, at least we’ll be in Cali. He’s had other interest in him out there, so it will all be ok. Breathe with me now… it will all be ok!

Now, about that paycheck….

Gina Bina
www.blamemama.com

Memory lane: My horrific OB GYN

I was chatting with a girlfriend about male OB/GYNS and how some are so out of touch with what a woman needs. Some are downright mean and nasty. I'e had a few run ins with them. It reminded me of what I went through over 10 years ago (yiles! that long?).

I was 18 and having a miscarriage of my first 13 week pregnancy. Devastated, I had to go to a doctor because a miscarriage is where the midwife’s duty ends and you go to her backup

OB

(for the CMWs who deliver in the hospital anyway). I went to the backup doc who was this huge man. Maybe 7 foot tall and well over 300 pounds with these HUGE hands. HOW any woman could survive those hands for a whole pregnancy….

Well I’d been going thru the labor for several days and when I stood up from the car in the parking lot, I “delivered.” I was just a little girl of 18 ready to take on the world until the world took her on…what did I know?

It ended up in the toilet when I was trying to clean up and they were PISSED they had to fish it out. The nurses left me bleeding in a room for quite some time and I had to ASK for some kind of padding. They then left me sitting naked from the butt down on a blue pad.

My husband (high school sweetheart/mistake of my life) had missed work and had gone back so mom was with me. This doc was CRUEL. He told me mean things and said it was a waste to have testing done on the “thing.” I was sore inside from several days of labor pains and when he stuck his meaty hand in there I freaked. That bastard held me down by pushing on my stomach with his other and pretty much yelled at me.

Then we sat out in this more common area where patients and nurses were walking around and he’s asking me what my blood type is and what the father’s is. Do I even KNOW who the father is? Can I find him, etc… Mom is just looking really shocked, I’m freaked out and feel trapped. Of COURSE I knew who he was.

Ok. Granted I looked like I was 12, but come on, people….look at my chart!

Then he asks if I am going to be following up with (the midwife). The whole time he never spoke to ME, it was to my mom like I was mentally challenged (by all rights I must have been by default at that point!). He asked if we would be following up for birth control, “so this doesn’t happen again.”

Finally my mother realizes what he’s getting at and she freaks out and tells him to look at the ring on my finger and that when I WANT IT TO, it WILL HAPPEN AGAIN. And then of course he was shocked and calmed down, but the whole thing was completely unnecessary. I was still speechless. To this day I kick myself for being such a wallflower and allowing him to traumatize me.

You know, I am not into suing people, but if that were me TODAY? Oh yeah, I would have sued. And perhaps it would have never gotten that far. I mean look at the difference, some OB playing taps on my knees about 6 years later gets his head ripped off, but I was speechless with this guy.

But that’s not all! I no, no, I am not done.

10 months later,

T.

needs to come out. I have Toxemia and am being induced. The labor is 9 hours and going all wrong, his heart beat starts to dip, so we go into an emergency cesarean. GUESS who is still the back up for my midwife? So I have this jerk in the OR with me. I am fully awake having had a spinal and he’s loudly complaining that he was supposed to be on vacation at 9:30pm and I am keeping him! (T was born at 10:35pm).

He also told the kindly Dr. H. that he was taking too long to get me stitched up and “doing too good of a job.” Now the interesting part is, Dr. S. stitched my right side and Dr. H. my left. Interestingly I had pain around my right ovary and at the stitch site for YEARS afterward. Just on the right.

Dr. H. thought it might have been a line of scar tissue attached to my ovary, but what about the stitch site? Weird, huh?

He never came to see me in recovery either. And when I was in there having A. 3 years later, I heard Dr. S. out in the hallway just berating nurses and yelling.

Now the REALLY ironic part of this all… I’d heard the medical group dropped Dr. S. when he demanded a raise and he ended up being the doc on call for the local women's b

irthing center

. He was in the paper being quoted saying something about the experience a woman needs in childbirth. A whole touchy feely piece about how she needs gentleness and support. I could have DIED! I nearly called the birthing center right then to tell them what he did to me.

So there's my walk down memory lane. My three birthing experiences, though not ALL bad have left me with a huge desire to do it again, at home, the right way with little intervention and a lot of peace. I'm nuts.

The FedEx/LL Bean Fiasco

My town made a terrible boo-boo in planning when they put Dutchess TERRACE one block over from

Dutchess AVENUE

.

FedEx delivered a $100 LL Bean package to my neighbor and so the kids have been playing in the snow in their soccer cleats while I wait on the boots. 5 days after they were delivered I finally looked it up to see what was taking so long and realized it was marked as delivered.

I called LL Bean and they’ve issued a new shipment. I called FedEx and they said they would call back (and haven’t). My hubby went to the neighbors who wouldn’t open the door and growled at him. He wasn’t all that sure it was a MAN or a WOMAN. We don’t know for sure, but I assume if FedEx SAYS it was delivered, then my neighbors stole my package. I want to file a report but don’t know if I have enough to do so.

I noticed a police car on that block next to the house yesterday but don’t know if it was THAT house and about the package. I wonder if FedEx filed a report.

This leaves my kids in the cold, literally and my first order with LLBean goes on record as a flop so if anything else ever happens… blahh.

PLUS now I wonder what ELSE has gone there and never been given to me? I get stuff all the time for them… cable guys, pizza guys… and I get packages all the time that I wasn’t expecting due to NFO.

I want to move-- and fast :)

Right after I wrote that, I refreshed the tracking page and it was delivered! Except there was NO package. I walked around the block and STOLE my box off their porch. Is that legal, even if it's mine? I see he just pulled in too... thank goodness I missed him.

Now imagine my embarrassment as I am skulking over there, checking out a box on the porch and carrying it off.

I called FedEx and am calling LL Bean now. FedEx said this has been a problem with our local terminal so the driver's being reported :(

There was a note on the box to deliver to TERRACE, not AVENUE too. He ignored it.

Thing is, my husband gets FedEx stuff a lot. I wonder if some haven't shown up... he doesn't know when work is sending things.

I may put in a report with the police after I talk to hubby about the "lost" package #1.

Would you?

I'm a Crone. A Hairy, Clumpy Old Crone.

I found an elephant sized hair this morning on my face, right above the right side of my top lip. It was so long, I didn’t give it time to evaluate the situation; I just grabbed it and yanked. The sucker came off with a snap and I felt a twinge. I freaked! This thing was at least a half-inch long!

Was it really connected to my face? I entertained the thought that it was glued on by my last chocolate therapy session, or maybe even drool. Nighttime drool for a married woman is easier to take than a hair growing out of her face at record speed!

Did I grow this enormous hair overnight? Or maybe it’s been that long since I really looked closely. I’ve completely let myself go, haven’t I? I mean, who really says they don’t care if they drool at night? Who says that unless they’ve given up all hope?

I must have been so severely traumatized last month by finding two tiny blonde hairs had sprouted on what used to be a cute oversized freckle that I hadn’t examined my face closely in that length of time. But how could a hair grow so fast?

And the cute freckle! The little sucker has begun its right of passage into the gnarled ‘beauty mark’ my aunt always flaunted. Anyone who calls it a beauty mark knows what it really is! A clump of pigment that people stare at when your boobs are no longer desirable. You start scaring children, disgusting men, and becoming fodder for younger women to talk about. Holy shit! That’s why everyone’s been staring at my face!

It’s a beauty mark! It’s no longer cute. It’s protruding from my face and will probably double in size within 5 years and grow black hairs. I’ve completely lost my youth and I haven’t even celebrated my thirtieth birthday yet.

I am hairy and clumpy, and I need steel reinforced bras to hold up the old gals. I might as well stop pretending that I am going to find the skin beneath the scales on my heels. I might as well throw away the makeup and just pretend I look better ‘natural.’

How is it that Madonna doesn’t look like me? Why does Joan Lunden look better than I do? These women are in their fifties! I don’t remember seeing hairs all over my mother’s face. I might as well transplant Brook Shield’s eyebrow trimmings to my chin and get it over with.

I’ve gone from maiden to matron to crone in a decade. I’m not fit for the human race.

Whistled at by Phone

This morning a man wolf whistled at me. He used his phone. He literally whipped out his thing and pointed it at me; and the phone whistled! Then he put it away and watched my expression. I did what any sane woman in the Post Office on a Wednesday morning would do – I ignored him.

Never mind that I attract older weirdoes, let’s focus on the phone for a moment. That’s a new one that I must say I have never before witnessed. Instead of saying something, following me out to my car, or just generally trying to make eye contact and share a ‘moment’, he was so bold as to whip out his technological device and whistle at me. In public! In front of a postal worker and several patrons no less!

I heard him speak to someone there, so I know he had a voice box and a tongue with which to form a “Hello, Gorgeous!” or something equally as baleful. Ok, so maybe he wouldn’t just say “nice knockers” or “how about some coffee – in bed?”

But then again maybe he would have if he weren’t so busy trying to impress me with a phone. Do I look like I could be so easily impressed? Do I have a sign on my forehead that says, “Please, all Weirdoes, try to impress me with whatever is in your pants!”

Dear God! Maybe I do! Maybe I have sunk so far; let myself go that much. Did he even LOOK at me? My saddlebags are better than the leather version! I could hold a week’s worth of water in the hump on my back. My hair hasn’t seen the stylist in 8 months, I slapped on some eye shadow to hide the graveyard tan I am working on, and I was wearing a jacket I stole from my mother! Is this village really so small that I am considered a high caliber gal?

I want to go back to that Post Office, find that man, and whip out my own phone. Look! I have my own! I want to know why he thinks it will impress me so much. I want to know what school of romance and social education did he go to that taught him whistling at a woman – by phone or otherwise – is acceptable today. I want to know that he looked at the same person I saw in the mirror this morning.

I wonder if I can get the whistle installed on my phone.

New line of adultery greeting cards

I'm all for filling a niche and a need. After all, that's why Natural Family Online is so successful and that's why my biz partner and I are launching a new greetings line for Balter Baby next year. But this one is just plain... crazy. I can't imagine after the initial novelty wears off that it will be anything profitable. http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/8973962/

How Rude!

My parents were here on Thursday evening until Friday night and supposed to leave today at noon. My husband and I were sleeping on the third floor because the 'rents were stationed in my bedroom. It's so hot up there, we had three fans going.

My youngest (4) came up to wake us up at 9am, and when I got downstairs my oldest told me my parents had left much earlier! Not only is it RUDE to just leave 4 hours early, to leave without saying goodbye, and to leave like you're stealing away in the night, but they left my kids alone. WTF?

I know they have their heads up their asses right now, but this takes the cake. They just LEFT while we were asleep. What if there was a fire and we didn't know what was going on? Or at the very least the boys were fighting? We can't really leave the boys alone because T. could be in a wicked mood and be very aggressive. We can't hear anything up wthere with three fans on, and two flights up from the kids.

My mother wasn't perfect. She wasn't dangerous or neglectful - just absent. My brother and I could babysit ourselves at 7 and 8 years old, whereas I would never leave my kids alone at that age. We talked about that even just two nights ago when they first got here.

T. is going to be 10 next week and there's no way that I could have left him alone 2-3 years ago, and won't leave him alone now... and yet after knowing that, they just leave.

Can't say as I am not glad they're gone - they stress me out BIG TIME right now.

And yesterday while I was gone for a few minutes my mom cut my son's hair (luckily just around the ears). It looks terrible! All chunky because she didn't have hair scissors. I don't know what's wrong with her. I plan to take them to the barber in 3 weeks, just before school starts (I think we have 25 days left of summer vacation).

Then she got pissed because we told her it was awful... even my husband told her how bad it looks.

Sexy Wench - I am Jealous

I noticed this woman looks JUST like a friend I left behind a couple of years ago, so I started reading the blog. Then I realized she's 42! Must be the Alaska air, because this wench looks like the older sister to her teenagers. Lucky woman! I am 29 and look like road kill.

Make that bloated road kill. The kind that has been sitting in it's own gases under the sun for a few days.

Let's just hope no one squeezes me.

There is no joy left: brownie batter

I bought a 99 cent box of brownie mix (luxury) to enjoy this week (cure my hell) while I move towards (spiral to the depths of hell) my period. I don't find great pleasure in much during this time and I look forward to sitting in my chair, with a big bowl of brownie batter. I might bake up half (or whatever is left).

Being a bit crabby today (my head was spinning 360 degrees and I vomited green stuff all over the curtains while pulling the hair out of my dog's ass one by one to hear him howl) my husband decided to make a peace offering.

I should have sensed the box being opened; the contents being emptied. I should have smelled the chocolate being formed in the bowl and poured into a pan. I should have known the oven door was opened for MY desecrated brownies.

But alas, I didn't know until it was too late. And he brought me literally a half a teaspoon's worth to lick off the spatula. Needless to say I ran to the stove, cursing all the way. I grabbed the pan in a furry and was left with a scorched middle finger... to which I prominently have displayed in my husband's direction as it cools.

The BASTARD.

Might I mention my husband's threatened my computer unless I write in this Statement eau Brownie Stealing Joy Sucking Dickhead-o that he didn't KNOW that's what I bought the brownies for. :ikely story. Hasn't he seen me before trying desperatley to suck life into the organic, yogurt No-Pudge Brownies? Ohh and he just KNEW I was going to blog this... as if I have nothing better to do than blog all day.

So rise up, girls. Grab your brownie batter and eat all ya want. My joy may be gone, but yours can be just beginning.