Alternatingly Numb and Panicky

Sorry I haven't been around. Believe me, I would have like to have been - we have been sitting at the hospital. Waiting. Pants' daddy had triple bypass surgery today along with an aortic valve replacement. Scary. he had been complaining of shortness of breath and a sore throat whenever he exherted himself and they thought it was acid reflux. (Silly doctors, we all know that only causes you to lip sync on SNL!) Anyway, they did the treadmill and CT Scan to rule out heart issues and they both came back fine, so they sent Pants, Sr. home with some reflux meds and called it a day.

He came back to the Dr. and said it wasn't helping at all, so they scheduled a heart cath, just to be sure. Yesterday, they discovered he had 80% blockage in two arteries and 70% in another one. As well as his valve was calcified. So they went in this morning and took care of all that.

Unfortunately, he isn't doing as well as we had hoped or expected. They had some issues with the site where they took the vein to use for the bypass and he bled alot into his leg and his BP dropped after surgery. Long and confusing Dr. speak story made short - he is going to be on the ventilator and doped up a day or so longer than we and the staff expected - and that would be the best case scenario.

Pants is a very strong man. He is handling this well, but I know he feels so helpless. We all do. I am worried he will keep it all inside. And while I do think it is best to put on a strong front for his mother and sisters, I want him to know he call fall apart in front of me if he needs to. We just have to sit and wait to see if it all heals like it is supposed to and that is very scary. I am alternating between feeling certain that all will be okay and then worried that Pants will have to suffer through the unexpected loss of his father like I did. Or even worse, his father never returning to the man he was. Which is much larger than life. I do have a gut feeling that it will all be okay and that it's just going to take a little longer recovery than we had planned on.

But it is scary to look around the ICU waiting room at his whole family. They look so lost and uncertain. And I feel like a bit of an outsider, even though I am not, simply because I don't know how to fix it or make it better. It just seems so sudden, which it is, and it's like a fog. I know people every day have this surgery and it is no longer as serious as it once was with the strides made in medicine. But I don't know anyone in my family or close friends who have had this surgery, so I don't know what is normal and what should be a major concern.

I guess part of me feels like since I know how stressed and scared they are, having been through it, I should be able to say something to make them feel better. But I don't have the words. I am just being there and trying to keep his mom upbeat and confiodent and watching Pants closely. I know the hazards of keeping it all in and they can be devestating. I just wish I knew what to say, but until we have some definative answers, I am afraid to say too much. Besides, I know how helpless I felt when my Daddy was in the hospital and I would imagine that no one could have said anything then that would have made me feel better. I hope just my being there is enough.

Anyway, please say a prayer or light a candle - whatever you believe in - for Pants, Sr. I will be in and out going to the hospital to stay and trying to keep the boys' schedules as normal as possible. I will post more when I know it.

Pants and I thank you for your kind thoughts.

Some People You Just Can't Reach...

Pants gets Maxim magazine. It is actually a good read and I enjoy it too (when you overlook the obvious inferiority complex and body issues that arise from turning it's glossy pages) and I really love a little segment they do every month where they print random idiotic comments and conversations they have overheard. Every time I hear something that I think would be perfect for that forum, I should write them down. People never cease to amaze me. And while my quotes occasionally require a bit more detail than those of the pages of Maxim, I still think they are somewhat entertaining.

I plan on posting them randomly every now and then. Just for fun. And because it always makes you feel just a little smarter when you can laugh at someone else's expense and total stupidity. Does me, anyway.


Overheard in the front yard:
Mr. Labeler standing near a big ass oak tree that has dropped probably 10,000 acorns in the last two days: "Are these little nut looking thingys the things that grow those trees?" He's a teacher, people.


Overheard at the office:
"My daughter has a really beautiful singing voice, she is just off key most of the time. But when she does hit the right note, it's so pretty." ??? What the hell? So every 200 notes or so, she is good?


At the grocery store:
Seafood manager: "Yes, ma'am. We do have some fresh salmon that just came in today shipped straight from Washington."

Stupid lady who pronounced the "l" in salmon: "State or D.C.?"
Yep, they pulled those little bastards right out of the Potomac as they were heading upstream to spawn......


On the phone with an agent:
"Do you have a market that will write a process server? He serves people with papers and serves some penises?" ...... I think he meant "subpoenas"

Big Yellow Diesel Freedom

Yes, yes. Pants and I are back and had a wonderful time. I'll talk more about that later, but there is a much more pressing issue at hand.

Small Pants has begun attending the Pre-K program at Medium Pants' school. They had one class set up at the first of the year, we applied, he was screened, but didn't get his name drawn. They opened a second class a week or so ago and he got picked for that one. Agonizing decision, because I absolutely adore his preschool teachers and the director. They love my Small Pants with all their hearts and have taken such good care of him. But Medium Pants will be starting Middle school next year, and the thought of Small Pants getting on the Elementary school bus alone was stressing me out. Way out. So when the opportunity arose for him to get a year under his belt with Medium Pants keeping guard, I felt it was the best decision. Along with the fact that he will already have friends there when he starts Kindergarten next year.

He started Monday. I took him in and met his new teacher and made a big deal about his classroom, his cubby and his new X-Men backpack. We had planned on him riding the bus eventually, but I wanted to walk him in the first few days. He's only four. While he had been beside himself with excitement for the past three weeks, he suddenly got a very pinched look. He willed himself not to cry, but his face was really struggling not to crumble. For the record, so was mine.

I told him to have a good day, hugged him and left. It was a very long drive to work and I kept feeling like I was forgetting something. It may have just been deodorant, who knows. Anyway, while I know he was fine within minutes of my leaving, that look on his face was etched into my retinas for the rest of my day.

Pants picked the boys up and Small Pants was bubbling over with tales of his first day at "real school." He was even excited about the cafeteria, poor little disillusioned soul. It did make me feel better that he seemed to have a good time and I felt even better this morning when he was again excited to go to "real school." But today...... he wanted to ride the school bus. With his older brother.

I weighed the terror of watching my tiny baby climb onto that big yellow bus against the fact that I would now only have to drive straight to work and not to the daycare first........ He was going to ride it at some point in time anyway....... "OK, Bus rider you are!!" I said.

We waited this morning at the end of the driveway, along with the three other boys on our street who ride the bus too. Small Pants could not contain himself. It can only be described visually as if he were a dog on a chain. Frothing and jumping - doing the very best he could to snap that chain so that he could run and bite the mailman in the ass. He hopped and sang and danced. The bus came down the road ever so slowly and after the other boys got on, I presented my last child I will ever have to Ms. Emily, the bus driver. She smiled and said hello to him, and he sang hello to her back. He plopped down in the front seat and waved good-bye to me as insanely as if he were 19 and going to Florida for Spring Break with a pocketfull of cash and condoms. So long, Mom, see ya later - I am outta here, Lady! Dear God, I thought he was going to snap his little arm off.

I smiled (a weak attempt at one, granted) and told him to have a good day and walked back up the longest driveway in the world. Halfway up, the bus began the familiar beep beep beep signaling that it was backing up and I turned and waved at his window. It was still dark out and I could just barely make out his smiling face waving madly at me. Sadly and predictably enough, that lump in my throat grew and tears began struggling to leave my eyes.

I know it's not actually Kindergarten, but it sure as hell feels like it. And I know they have to grow up sometime, but I didn't realize it would happen so quickly. I also know that I would have been pissed if he had clung to my leg and screamed the entire time I peeled him away from me and stuck his ass in the seat. But still, it is hard. This will be my last baby, and he is no longer a baby. He has now truly joined the ranks of "The Big Boys" and shows no signs of regression.

I walked back into my home and shut the door. It all seemed foreign now - very unfamiliar, like I wasn't even in my house. Then it suddenly dawned on me what was different. For Christ's sake - I am all alone and it is quiet in here!! Woohoo! Sweet Baby Jesus, this is great! I have twenty - count 'em - 20 - whole minutes to myself before I have to leave. Alone. I can sing along to the radio at the top of my lungs, I can walk around in my undies, I can poot without shame or suffer being told it was not as good as Daddy's, I can pee with the door wide freakin' open. This is the life.

So I felt better. And now I do believe that every weekday morning, when I hear the rumbling of the Sweet Diesel of Freedom, I will say "Have a good day and I love you." And after I hear the familiar beep beep beep of the lucious gear they call "reverse," I will smile and say "Hot Damn! This is great!"

And Yet More Neighbor Analysis

It's been a long time since I told a story about my neighbors. Rest assured, they have been very entertaining, just nothing worthy of putting in writing. I just do not understand some people. I try and try and then I just have to shake my head and move on.

The Labelers - you know the ones - are an odd bunch. He is freaking meticulous about his car (and let me just cut in and say, it's a used Honda Acord, pleasant means of transportation, but it is no Porsche) and washes it atleast three times a week. Three. He screams if anyone gets anywhere near it. Not that there is anything wrong with taking care of your things...usually. But by contrast, consider the following:

Their house is a complete pig sty and that would not be any type of exaggeration on my part. There are black rings in their toilets, food all over the floor, dust on everything, counter and table tops covered with food and dirty plates and not one clean spot in the sink because it is full of a weeks worth of crap. Plus it has a funky smell - Gee, you think? It is so filthy that they keep the door to their room shut all the time - never opened. That's where they pile everything. Scurvy City - I am not lying. Fear Factor could come in there and ask people to eat something and I would bet half the contestants would back out or fail. Seriously, I know I like a clean house, but when your husband (who always leaves his socks under the ottoman and has difficulty hitting the toilet when peeing) says it is disgusting, you know they are way past the "slightly cluttered" stage. They were both on vacation for 10 weeks during the summer and never touched the broom. Must have been a Battlestar Galactica marathon on Sci-Fi Network or something.

Their yard is always a mess as the guy refuses to weed eat any of the grass around the house. (I think the only reason he even bothers to cut it is because it's a riding mower.) It was almost up over the a/c unit a few weeks ago. And he wondered why "it's just not cooling like it should." When he cuts the yard, but doesn't pick up any limbs or toys. It's pretty noisy when he does cut his grass. Imagine our surprise (sarcasm) when he commented that the mower was messed up. To top it off, it's not just spewing oil, but he ran into the house and broke the wheels off the front. Ok, how damn obliviously fast do you have to be going to hit the house that hard and break the mower?

So now, he wants to borrow Pants' fancy ass John Deere riding mower. The love of his life. He would park it in the bedroom if only I would allow it. I am so afraid. Pants feel obligated to lend it to him because when we first moved Pants borrowed his a time or two before he picked out just which green and yellow husband stealing whore he was going to purchase. But he didn't break it.

Here's the scenario - Label Boy uses the mower, runs over women, small children and God knows what in his yard and returns the mower. Pants cuts our grass the next day or so and LO AND BEHOLD....the mower isn't running right or is all out of whack. Labeler will never admit he did something to it. Never. Here is how I know-

Their son Spaz broke Medium Pants PS2 steering wheel by turning the wheel so hard it snapped. He is a hamfisted little maniac and I prefer he not play with our boys stuff. Anyway, that damn thing cost us about $75 so that wasn't going to just slide (like the 4 beanbag chairs I witnessed Spaz split and when his mother was told about it, she just shrugged and said, oh, sorry) so Pants mentioned it to Mr. Labeler. He said "Sorry about that." Pants paused and after a minute or two said "yeah, me too, because it wasn't cheap." Labeler said, "Oh, so you want us to replace it?" Pants said "Yes, as I would replace any item of yours my kids damaged." He and she bitched about it and implied we were lying until Spaz told them in front of us that he did break it. Long story somewhat shorter - four months later, we had a new one. FOUR months. They were pissed they had to do it and shopped for a used one on e-bay. A new one was sitting at Best Buy for $50. Finally, after Spaz was caught trying to choke Small Pants, they went and bought us the new one - as a peace offering, I am sure.

Yes, you read that correctly - he was choking my young son and about to hit him in the head with a rock when Medium Pants stepped in and stopped it. And yes, Small Pants is not allowed to play alone with Spaz anymore and Medium Pants has been given the green light to intercede with whatever force necessary if it happens again. She called the next day and apologized 28 times. I said the old boys will be boys thing and then said that either her son would get over this aggression towards mine who is 2 years younger, or mine would end up beating his ass one day. And he could - the boy is a tank.

But hey, they replaced the PS2 accessory!

So, given that, you can see my apprehension about allowing him use of the beloved Deere. If he does do something to it, it will take a week or two before he admits it and then, he will take all winter to replace it or pay for repairs. I have suggested that Pants just cut his grass for him until he gets his fixed. It's almost the end of the season and there will only be two or three cuttings needed before winter anyway. Care to place a wager on the chances of Labeler getting it fixed in the off season?

Anyway, the point of this post was to ask why someone would be so anal about his car, but yet live in such filth.I just don't get it. But I do know that when we have cook outs and she asks what she can bring, I always give her something that can be purchased at the deli. I wouldn't eat food from her house or off her dishes unless Joe Rogan was standing there with $5000 for me. And then it would be difficult.