No, I'm not talking about the Real Housewives. I'm talking about the battle that is going on in my own home, between me and Little Missy, the elderly Yorkie we adopted last September. 9 months later, she is now known as Little Messy, Stinky Pete, the Puxatawny Pooper or That Little Shit, depending on who you're talking to.
For the first 12 years of her life, Little Missy was the pampered baby of an elderly lady. The woman never let her out of the house---she carried the little miscreant around, hand-fed her, and let her poop and pee wherever she wanted. When the woman passed away, her niece took the dog until she could find her a home. Which she did with dispatch, probably due to Little Messy's unpleasant habits.
The next family had small children, but they only lasted 8 months with her. They tried to crate train her, but she barked all night. They couldn't leave her out of the crate unattended, because she did her business all over the house while they were sleeping. They ultimately put her in diapers and let her sleep on their bed. They thought she was deaf because she refused to respond to them (she's not, she just ignores everyone unless it suits her). Finally, the owners couldn't take it any more and decided to put her down if they couldn't find her a new family.
Enter dumbasses one and two. Which would be me and Hubby. Since I had trained our other 3 dogs (2 yorkies and one delicious noodly mutt) with military precision (the power of cheese, you know, or that failing, the bunny slippers from hell), I smugly figured I could teach that old dog some new tricks and she'd fit right in.
Man plans, God laughs. That little shit has been trying to train ME, as she has all her past peeps.
After the first month---we had her spayed, had breast tumors removed, and when the vet tried to clean her teeth, they all fell out but ONE (apparently all the previous owners took her to be groomed regularly, but never got around to taking her to a vet---her health was sadly neglected and she was in pain), she got acclimated and decided to try to assert herself as the queen bee in the house.
But there's only one Alpha B*tch here. And that would be me.
Every morning at 3 a.m., she starts barking. Not little ladylike yips, mind you, but shrill, piercing, ear-splitting yaps. And she does some kind of growly thing in her throat that brings to mind Linda Blair in The Exorcist. You keep expecting her head to twirl around as she rasps "Your mom sews socks that smell!"
She's incessant and she ultimately wakes up everyone in the house. Except Hubby. He snores so damn loud, that even if Chernobyl happened next door, he'd sleep through it.
At first we thought she had an old bladder and had to go to the bathroom. I'd put her out, and she'd just stand at the door and bark. You might think I should leave her out there until she did her business, but in the winter time, she'd turn into a pupsicle, or an owl might carry her off into the night.
I'd let her back in, and put her back in her crate. And the yapping would begin again the minute I left the room. So for the sake of everybody else's sleep, often times I'd busy myself in the kitchen or living room, because she wouldn't DARE bark if I was there. Many a dark gloomy morning I've sulked over my coffee and contemplated buying a cattle prod, but that would prolly kill the old thing daid.
The worst part is that we can't leave her locked up all the time. But there is NO time when she's alone and quiet to make an opportunity to praise her. So when we ultimately let her out, it just reinforces the behavior ("if I yap for 3 hours they'll let me out!") Ugh.
My latest solution, now that the weather is warm, is to take her crate outside into the garage once she gets going. There she can bark her damn fool head off and the only thing she'll bother is herself.
Every time I let the dogs out to potty, she runs under the couch. We have to grab her and physically put her out there before she figures out what we're doing. I am DONE trying to dig her out with a mop. She'll peek her head out from under the couch to see if anyone's around, and if she sees me, she'll turn around and squirm back under there. If nobody's there, she'll come out and poop on the carpet. Then run back under. Hence the name the Puxatawny Pooper.
We have learned to keep all the bedroom doors closed because about an hour or so before bedtime, she'd go hide under someone's bed. And they'd get the rude awakening when she started barking at 3 a.m. UNDER THE BED!
Since Hubby sleeps through the racket, it's his job to trap and crate the little stinker at night. Frequently when I get up, the couches and loveseat are pulled away from the wall in his quest to capture her.
Other than that, I have to admit she's a sweet old thing. She likes to cuddle, and farts a lot, but that's not her fault. Since she doesn't like to share or play well with others, the other dogs just ignore her.
But this is the last time. No more crotchety old dogs. Because no good deed, etc. etc.
How's YOUR week?
I've been running around the past week trying to catch up and comment on blogs I've been neglecting. A couple of days ago, I went back to my friend Rootie's blog and made a revolting discovery.
She'd deleted my comments.
Well no, not really. They just didn't show up. I went to every other place I'd been commenting, and none of them showed up on blogs that had Wordpress.
I did a little troubleshooting, and the best I can figure is that suddenly Wordpress has decided that I'm a spammer and has blocked my IP address.
I'm not sure that I'm the only one this is happening to, but if you feel like you're a little light in the comment department, check out your spam catcher in your comments section. You have to mark "this is not spam" for it to unblock IP addresses.
Feh.
Ok, I have to admit it. The Real Housewives are my guilty pleasure. If you don't partake, run away now! This will bore the mold off of you!
I got hooked after the Big Kid was sick and I couldn't bear to watch any show (hospital, drama, etc) where peeps were dying.
There's nothing like watching spoiled society women roll around in the dirt like the rest of us philistines. My hubby won't watch it willingly, so when the new season of Real Housewives of New Jersey started up, I got my buddy KL hooked as well (gotta have SOMEBODY to dish it with!)
This is my take so far this season...
Danielle (or Helen, or Nancy, or whatever her real name is)
If you looked up the definition of narcissist, this woman's picture should pop up first on Google. Every person in her life is a planet revolving around herself as the sun. Every event in the world is designed to have some sort of impact on her whether it be good, bad or ugly. She whines about the state of her finances, but is "too pretty to work".
Her gorgeous 15-year-old daughter makes the cover of a fashion magazine, so she holds a celebratory luncheon to congratulate herself. WTF?
Her only redeeming quality is that she's managed to parent two smart, seemingly stable daughters. Too bad they have to take care of her mentally and emotionally, because she is a nucking futjob.
Caroline
Self-styled matriarch of the group, she talks mainly in pronouncements. "Me and my family are as thick as thieves". "If you hurt my family, I'm going to come after you."
Seriously, she's Uncle Junior Soprano with boobs.Impressed with her prospective son-in-law Vito. He must really love their daughter to go around their backyard in formal wear and pick up dog poop.Theresa
This chickie annoys me. She has weird eyeballs, and we all know I have a phobia about eyeballs. Cute but stupid. Not a pretty person on the inside. Second only to Fran Drescher in the screechy "I'm gonna poke a pencil in my ear if you don't STFU" department.
But I have to give her some props. She goes into labor, wakes her husband up to take her to the hospital, and then MAKES FRENCH TOAST for her daughters while endlessly waiting for him to get off his hairy coffee-drinking ass. If it was me, the coffee and french toast would be spurting out of the stump that used to hold his head and I'd be driving my own bad self to the hospital.
And she is obsessed with vaginas. Hers and everybody else's. On one hand she calls Danielle a "prostitution whore" who must have a vagina as "big as the Lincoln tunnel", and on the other she brags (?) that her husband "has to have it at least once a day" even though she's about to pop out their fourth kid any millisecond.
Somebody should tell this doofus that if 100 cars travel a road, or one car travels it 100 times, the wear and tear is all THE SAME TO THE ROAD. Your "tunnel" may be quite a bit more high mileage than Danielle's, Sweetie.
Jacqueline
I can't really criticize her too much because it would be like kicking a puppy. Sweet woman who gets bossed around a lot by her in-laws. Hubby seems to be a good guy with a smart head on his shoulders. She should let him deal with her spoiled, self-indulgent, self-entitled daughter for a change and go get a pedicure.
Dina
I think Dina is going to be the wild-card this season. I didn't like her last year, but I think her decision not to have her husband or child(ren) participate this year is an admirable one. She's very zen right now, but I'm wondering how many episodes it will take for her to go bat-shiat.
Dina's an interior designer who seems to specialize in Mafia Bordello. Not that there's anything wrong with that. I kinda like it.
So how many of YOU are watching this season?
Heard around the house:
Little Guy: Mom, you're my favorite EVER!
Your favorite what?
Little Guy: My favorite Mom!
But I'm your only mom.
Little Guy: Well then you're still my favorite!
_____________________
The Aspiring Adult: Mam (He's not quite up to calling me mom, but he doesn't want to call me Aunt Atiila)? Me and Dom (his best friend) have decided to do what we call "Manly Mondays".
Manly Mondays?
TAA: Yeah, we're going to do manly things like wash our cars and then go over to Wild Wings and eat chicken wings and check out the chicks (they have a really rude rating system).
Later I get a phone call...
TAA: The wind is blowing too hard to wash our cars. Can we come home and bake a cake? I promise we'll clean up the mess!Don't you want to save that for Wifely Wednesday?LOL
I recently read an article that asked, "Is it Smart to Sleep with Your Pets?" The conclusion the author came to seems to be "no".
While I agree with one commenter who stated that the article seemed like a not-so-thinly veiled advertisement for pet beds, I was somewhat surprised (and amused) at how offended about 95% of the commentators were.
Ok, and I admit, I was a little grossed out too.
We're not cat people, so I really don't have an informed opinion about that. We have 4 dogs, and they sleep in their own beds.
This is why:
1) We wash the dogs once a week. We clean their beds once a week. Even so, the amount of dirt and crap they track into the beds is not something I want to be rolling around in.
2) Hair/fur/hitchhikers. On the sheets, on the pillow, in my mouth. No. Absolutely no.
3) True story. A friend I knew in my younger days had this happen to her. While sleeping over at a boyfriend's house, they woke up in the night and decided to get frisky. With her on top. Sometime in the middle of all of it, she felt a cold nose up her crack, and then a long wet tongue.
Bloop!
Apparently boyfriend's Great Dane heard the commotion and innocently wanted to check out the fun and games. Which of course sent my friend screaming off into the night.
...AND HAS SKEEVED THE HECK OUT OF ME FOR ALL TIME!!
I don't want a third party in my bed, much less my room if we decide to be spontaneous. Yeck.
Here are some of the comments from the article and my response:
"Their unconditional love is worth every slobber and paw in the face."
I slobber enough on my own, and Hubby has been known to inadvertently slap me around in his sleep. Any additional "unconditional love" like that and I'll never get a wink in.
"No greater thing than to feel you dog next to you at night, petting her and finding your hubby's hand there as well."
I don't want anything between me and my man when we're finally alone together at night. Except maybe a pillow when he's been eating burritos.
"I'm with you, been sleeping with dogs and cats some 50 years and can't imagine sleeping alone. If a significant other can't deal with that then they are not very significant."
So you're "alone" when you're sleeping with your significant other? Would you feel less lonely if he slept in a squirrel suit or licked his own balls in bed?
"I will ask my husband to sleep in another room, but NOT my dogs or cats for that matter!"
The great Karmac sees a divorce lawyer in your future.
"I have eight cats and seven sleep with me on a queen sized bed."
They don't do it because they love you. They're just waiting for you to die in your sleep so they can eat you.
So my friends, do you furbie or not? Waiting for the rocks to be thrown! LOL
Hubby's mom passed away peacefully on Wednesday afternoon. They had just moved her from the hospital back to her apartment and had set up hospice care. Hubby was planning on spending the night (they had moved a hospital bed into her living room area).
He changed into his sweats, sat down next to her and took her hand. A couple of minutes later she slipped away.
I can't think of a more peaceful way to go---in your sleep with someone you love holding you to usher you out of this world.
Go gently into that good night, Mom P.
I didn't want to disappear for another week without saying goodbye.We got the news yesterday that Hubby's mom is dying and spent the day trying to get a last-minute flight to the east coast.Thanks so much to all of you who commented, called and emailed about our guy. Your words are so kind and uplifting.Hope you all have a peaceful week.ATM
Just wanted to fill everybody in on what's going on with my oldest son, Big Kid---a little more than 6 months after he was admitted to the hospital with complications from H1N1. You've all been so kind in comments and emails, so I wanted to update.
He's still on oxygen almost 20+ hours a day. When he's down at Kitty's house (about 2000 less in elevation than our house), he can go off of it for about an hour and a half tops with a saturation level of about 88---which is in the normal range for most of us. Then inexplicably it suddenly drops to like 68 or 70, which is low enough to be hospitalized. It's not gradual, it's just happens immediately.
A couple of times they've been out (and not planning ahead with the tank on hand) and he's just fallen over, gasping.
My boy.
We had him evaluated cognitively and neurologically recently. It was time----giving him time to recover and to see what the possible long-term damage from oxygen deprivation might be.
This morning we got the results.
His neurological diagnostician is one we've seen twice before. First when Big Kid was about 13, and had a psychotic episode on his stimulant meds that had treated his ADHD initially. It wasn't working anymore, and at puberty, he started compulsively washing his hands until they bled.
The next time was about 4 years ago when Big Kid had a breakdown away at college and was hallucinating. He was ultimately diagnosed with bi-polar disorder and a panic disorder.
So Big Kid went through an intensive neurological testing process again.
And I've been crying all afternoon.
He's got new pronounced attention and short-term memory deficits. His processing functions have significantly been impaired---meaning that whatever information he retains can be only be accessed with an extended amount of time to get to it.
His fine motor deficits are mostly caused by the loss of spatial recognition. He can't place 3 blocks on another without it all falling down.
Bless his heart. While the doc was giving us his findings, my boy got really confused and scared. We were sitting next to each other on a loveseat in the doc's office and he grabbed me and said, "Mom, does this mean that I'm mentally retarded now?"
I'm sad. I'm so sad.
Big Kid remembers when his mental functions were better. He's frustrated by it all, and scared. Yes, scared.
The doc has made many recommendations as to testing (recommended a brain scan among other tests) and cognitive therapy.
So we're going to have to start a new phase now.
I'm sorry to be such a baby. I just need to get this despair out of my system. I can't cry in front of him, I have to be strong. But I can spill it all to you guys.My boy. My precious boy.
I just don't get it. I really don't get it.
The question came up when Tiger Woods' infidelities came to light. Now it's come up again and it's bugging the heck out of me.
First of all, shame on you, David Boreanz. You're a real prince. Not. Coming clean in public about multiple affairs (and calling your girlfriend while your wife was giving birth is especially heinous in the halls of douchebaggery) to avoid being extorted doesn't mitigate what a dirtbag you are.
That said, here's what's been boggling my mind.
One woman, who Boreanz allegedly "hooked up with 2 or 3 times", started asking him for money. She hired Ho to the Ho's attorney Gloria Allred who contacted his attorney and demanded a 6 figure payout.
Oddly enough, Allred represents another one of Boreanz's alleged rolls in the hay in a similar case against Tiger Woods (Allred is representing several of Woods' alleged flings in monetary suits). Apparently Woods and Boreanz both rode this particular hobby horse (although not in the same room). ugh
What I want to know is under WHAT legal theory Allred is basing these claims on?
I could see it if one of these sisters was successful in her quest for celebrity seed and was filing a paternity suit for child support. Ugly, yes, but she'd have a legal claim to a piece of the pie.
But if it's money to keep quiet about the affairs, then isn't that blackmail or extortion? Which is illegal, of course.
Or if it's money for "services rendered", isn't that prostitution? Sleep with a celebrity and you're entitled to get paid? Again illegal, at least in 49 states.
Although she herself is a ho of the first order, I can't see Allred, as an officer of the court, demanding illegal settlements in cases that are so much in the public eye.
So what in the world is her legal theory regarding these claims?
Anybody know?
As many of my long-time blog friends know, I not only advocate for those who have disabilities, but for the restoration of equal civil rights as citizens in this country to adult adoptees. This is going to be a little long, so if you don't want to invest yourself, back out now! :-)
I'm an adoptee and have been in reunion for about 8 years. You can read a letter to my birth mother here.
I'm not interested in having a debate with those who think they know the history and legalities of adoption in this country, but here is a crash course on it for those who aren't familiar with it.
Relinquishment of a child and the adoption of a child are two separate legal acts. Once the birth parents relinquish their rights to a child, they no longer have any say in ANYTHING about the child at all. Ever. They have NO MORE rights over the child. If the child languishes in foster care until they age out of the system and is never adopted, they will receive their full records, including their original birth certificate with all of their birth information. There is no expectation of privacy on behalf of the birth parents, and there never was, legally.
There has never been in any state at any time a document produced that guarantees a birth parent anonymity from any of their offspring. Once they relinquished their rights, that was it. That was and almost until now, the law across the land.
Records started being closed to outsiders AFTER an adoption was finalized around the late 40's or so in many states, mostly because of the shame of infertility, illegitimacy and basically to protect the new adoptive family from those pesky birthmothers who might show up on their doorsteps for Sunday dinner.
Adoptees were then issued a new and falsified government document that stated that our adoptive parents ACTUALLY gave birth to us. And our original birth certificates were locked away, meant never to be seen again.
Therein lies one of many things that are wrong with closed adoption. I didn't spring into life the day my adoption was final---almost a year after my birth. To quote adoptee activist Abigail Lovett, "I existed before that."
Since then, adoption in this country has become a multi-billion dollar industry. The industry has a vested interest in keeping the cash cow going. They are afraid that if records are open to adult adoptees that women will choose abortion instead of adoption. Published studies from reputable institutions have already disproved that. States that have open records have an equal or lesser rate of abortion than closed records states. Not more. Don't believe it? Show me reputable studies, not anecdotal quotes from industry shills. I bet mine will trump yours.
But mostly the industry (including the Catholic Church) is afraid that systematic abuses from the past will come to light if records are opened. There is a lot more about the "baby scoop era", etc that I'm not going to get into here.
Unlike today, where there is mostly open adoption of domestic infants (where the adoptive and birth parents have met each other and maintain some sort of contact), the era where I was adopted from (late 1940's to early 1970's) is full of secrets and lies.
My birthmother was told that there was a family waiting for me. My prospective parents were "both psychologists" and waiting to take me home from the hospital. She thought I'd have free therapy for life. ;-)
Instead, I was placed in foster care for a few months. My eventual parents---who had requested a boy---were called and asked if they'd be willing to take a girl. The "pedigree" that my parents were furnished with from the agency said that I was of Irish and German descent.
In reality, my birth family is Scottish, English with a little French thrown in. But who would ever know?
I was born in a closed record state. I've already found my birth family, and I didn't need my original birth certificate to do it. Thousands of adoptees and birth families are finding each other every year without the benefit of open records.
But today, even if I walked into court in the jurisdiction where I was adopted with both of my mothers---adoptive and biological by my side---to ask for my birth records, I would be denied.
Why?
Because the law says that as an adoptee, I am forever a child and need to be protected from my own personal information. It doesn't matter that I own my own home, own other property and a business, pay taxes, carpool, can own a licensed gun, am married, have children, am allowed to drink, could join the military if my butt wasn't so big and am allowed to vote.
In the eyes of the state, I will forever be a child.
Every other citizen in the U.S. is allowed access to their own original record of their birth. But not adult adoptees. This is not a reunion issue----many adoptees have no wish to reunite and a large number of us don't need our sealed records to find our birth families. It's a civil rights issue. Why are some citizens more equal in this country than others? Why are you more "special" than me? Why does the state get to decide?
The opposition to open records (those vested with the "cash cow" or in hiding the industry's shameful past) now claim that if adoptees were granted their birth records, it would violate the privacy of birth parents. They want to give birth parents a new legal right they NEVER had before---one over another adult citizen of this country.
Enter Illinois Representative Sara Feigenholtz, who sponsored a bill that, as blogger Bastardette writes, "has eviscerated adoptee civil rights in the state." It has turned adult adoptees into two separate classes of citizen---the haves and the have nots. It has given birth parents NEW rights over the children they relinquished all rights to decades ago.
Currently 8 states have open records to adult adoptees. Kansas and Alaska have never closed their records, and the other states have opened theirs in the last 10-12 years or so. Those states certainly haven't imploded with the horror of restoring rights to its citizens. Most of the countries in the industrialized world have opened records to their citizens and they haven't been blown off the map.
Adoptee activist Lori Jeske from Washington State wrote to Rep. Feigenholtz at her state contact email address expressing her dismay that a fellow Democrat wouldn't stand up for the rights of ALL the citizens of Illinois.
This was Feigenholtz's response, reprinted with Jeske's permission.
---- Original Message -----
From: Sara
To: Lori Jeske
Sent: Monday, April 26, 2010 10:00 PM
Subject: Re: HB 5428
Lori:
Thank you so much for your kind remarks about HB 5428.
We will pay for your travel and housing expenses if you will come here and start working on a new bill that completes the effort so that all adoptees get their obc. Are you ready to move to Illinois and sacrifice your life to work for adoption reform for the next fifteen years in the frigid winter tundra of Illinois?
Would you consider giving Representative Feigenholtz the key to your (delusional) Eutopian world where all ungrateful bastards think it's easy to pass a bill that makes everyone happy AND CAN ACTUALLY PASS ? Pass a law? what a concept !!
Many Illinois born 65+ year old adoptees will get their birth certificates BEFORE THEY DIE--- very soon.
We will tell them that you would prefer to throw good under the bus while waiting for perfect and that you think they should wait a little longer.
Good luck in Washington state with your efforts. We can hear the unsealing now.......
NOT.
___________________________________
This is why you, Representative Sara Feigenholtz are this week's Asshat.
You're such a professional and a real class act.
NOT.
P.S. It's U-T-O-P-I-A-N. Snap.
Oh it's been a busy month. The level of pollen has been reportedly higher than usual, and boy-oh-boy do I feel it! Unfortunately with my heart condition, I'm not able to take any kind of cold medicine, so I've been going through each day with any number of kleenex falling out of my pockets for the dogs to pounce on and destroy.
Big Kid is really struggling with this semester. Unfortunately, his biological dad's company (who insures him) refused to let him take off a semester to recover from his illness so he's been having a lot of difficulty getting through his classes, even though they're online. His professors have been understanding, but his grades are awful and this is devastating to him.
He's still on oxygen 18-20 hours a day, and he rarely remembers what he had for dinner the night before. My boy.
Little Guy turned 20 a couple of days ago. ::sniff sniff:: He's gotten a type of grant that will pay an employer to hire him for a couple of months so he's very excited at the possibilities of working here in town.
Last week he did something really fabulous and I just wanted to share...
Remember when I wrote about how using the telephone scared him?
On Mondays, the van picks him up at 12pm for his afternoon classes. He usually goes out a little early to wait for it, and when I looked out the window at 12:10 I didn't see him, so I thought he'd gone. I took my concrete head to bed and dozed off.
At 1:00 I woke up to find him standing next to my bed.
"Didn't the van come?" I asked him sleepily. "Why didn't you wake me up?"
It's ok, Mom. I took care of it.
"What? We need to call them?"
I did it myself, he said proudly. I didn't want to bother you.
It was amazing! He actually looked up the high school number in the phone book, dialed the phone, and asked for his teacher. When it went to her voicemail, he left her a message saying that the van hadn't come.
This was really a huge, huge step for him. I'm so thrilled!
So how have YOU all been?
I was browsing through AOL's headlines when I came across this article regarding Celebrity No Pants Day.
Is this a joke? I looked all over for a disclaimer, but didn't see one.
Most of these people I can see dropping their drawers for whatever reason. They don't need a reason. They're ho's.
But Oprah Winfrey---who could arguably be considered the First Lady of Television? It's like seeing Queen Elizabeth in a thong. Improbable and I have a hard time believing that she'd do something so lacking in dignity.
The one that really baffles me is George Clooney. He must have had one hell of a manscaping job, because, well heck---I'm envious at how smooth and taut his lower half is. And he must have microscopic testicles, because he just ain't carrying a package down there.
What do you think? Fake?
Gah!
You know, I'd mostly retired those darn things. Big Kid and Little Guy are practically cooked and grown, and The Happening Dude is a very capable and independent guy. This week, I've had to break the Bunny Slippers of Doom out not once, but twice, to kick some heinie.
The Happening Dude, who now wants to be referred to as "The Aspiring Adult" is on spring break. He's applied to and been accepted to the local community college to attend their nursing program. Their waiting list is long, as their program is excellent. His plan is to get his CNA (certified nursing assistant) certificate first, so that maybe he can get work in the field while going through nursing school.
The college has a new associate degree program called "Allied Health". While on the waiting list to get into the nursing program, our Aspiring Adult can get his CNA certification, phlebotomist certification and basic EMT certification, as well as taking the core classes required for an Associates Degree. Win/win all the way around for him.
He had an appointment with an advisor a couple of days ago. Since I had to take Big Kid to ANOTHER appointment down in the city, he rode down with me, and I dropped him off at the campus. When I picked him up, he was fuming.
The "Allied Health" program is brand new. It is listed on the college's website----not hidden in the nursing program---but with it's very own tab under degree programs offered. Apparently the advisor wasn't up-to-speed on the program because he insisted that it wasn't something the college offered. Although he had a computer right there in his office, he refused to go to the campus website and look it up when the Aspiring Adult asked him to. He hadn't heard about it, so it wasn't available, thank you very much, if you don't want to get on a waiting list for the nursing program, well then get out of my office.
::sigh::
Had to get on the horn and do the whup ass thing.
For the last few weeks, Big Kid has been obsessed about getting a new cell phone.
Mind you, during the last year and a half, I've been paying for a phone that has all the bells and whistles. At least the phone does. The 59.99 plan that I've paid for through Verizon that actually costs 79.99 after all the taxes and fees, only covers phone and text. Not downloads or data transfer.
After getting monthly bills of around 150.00 last year, I started taking money out of the small monthly stipend we give him to pay for the overages. Of course, when he was in the ICU, there were no excess charges, but I started again after he got out and went back to Kitty's.
I didn't get why he needed a new and better phone, since the plan he was on didn't really allow for all the new, cool stuff he wanted to use. It just didn't make sense. Plus I've got 6 months left the phone contract, and I don't feeling like paying 200 bucks to cancel it. So I said no---at least if you're expecting ME to pay for it. Hang it out until the contract is up, and we'll see if we can upgrade the phone and get a more reasonable calling plan.
But no. He and Kitty in their infinite wisdom, bought a new, cooler phone from a used cell phone place for $150.00. He had to have the---uh---I don't know---software? changed so he could go on a month-to-month plan with Cricket. I had him bring back the phone I was paying for, and the Aspiring Adult took it over and agreed to make the payments. Since he actually has a couple of jobs and all.
Anyhoo, Big Kid got the new phone on Wednesday of last week. Found out that with Cricket he couldn't use all the bells and whistles, and then suddenly on Friday, the phone went dead. He took it back to where he bought it, and they reset it. Except when he got home, it was back to its original factory settings (Sprint) and it wouldn't work with Cricket.
Over the weekend, he figured that a month-to-month plan with Cricket wouldn't work with what he wanted, and decided to explore what offers Sprint had.
He typed in the serial number and found out that the phone had been reported as stolen.
Called me yesterday to ask my advice, and I told him to take the phone back (he hadn't even had it for a week) with his receipt and demand his 150.00 back. If they wouldn't give it back, then we'd sue them. No biggie.
Talked to him this morning, and asked if he'd done it. He'd taken the phone back, told them that Sprint said it was stolen, and they offered him 45.00 to take it back.
And he did it. Gave them the phone back for 45.00. Arrrgghhh!!!
I said that he wasn't quite right in the head since his illness. He thought it was his only option.
When I found out, I put on my killer bunny slippers and opened up a can of whup ass.
Called and talked to a sales associate. Asked to talk to the manager.
The manager "wasn't available".
So I asked for her full name, and asked the associate to spell it.
Gave her my name and phone number. Told her I was in the middle of filing a police report regarding their selling of stolen goods and taking advantage of a person who had disabilities. I would appreciate a call back from the manager before I filed it. Gave them 10 minutes.
I got a call in 3 minutes.
Explained the situation to the manager, and she said the Big Kid could come in and pick out another phone. Said that she'd be there and personally take care of it.
I sarcastically said that I expected that he'd be getting a "clean" phone and one that hadn't been stolen. She assured me that he would.
I thought she'd say, "Well of course we don't sell stolen phones!"
You just WON'T believe what she actually said.
Not, "If we inadvertently get a phone that's been stolen, we notify the company and try to return it."
She said, "well that's why we changed the service to another carrier. You can't get a plan with the same company if the phone has been stolen."
WTF? Seriously.
Even though this worked out for us, Hubby is friends with the DA down in the city. He's going to give him all of the information tomorrow and let them handle it.
On a note with a high yuck factor, now that the Aspiring Adult has Big Kid's old phone, he went about deleting the old data and picture files that were stored there in order to make it his.
Unfortunately, Big Kid didn't get around to deleting the pics he took of Kitty in the bathtub before turning the phone over.
I kept the Aspiring Adult from poking his own eyeballs out, but he has definitely been traumatized.
See, like I said before---Big Kid is just still not right. WTF was he thinking?
Arrggh.
Sorry I haven't been around, but I've had 12---no kidding---12 appointments regarding all the boys in the last week and a half. 9 of them were down in the city, which necessitates a minimum 45-minute drive each way.
Here's a funny. After days of warm weather, on Sunday night, we had 8 inches of snow. Monday morning, Hubby backed my car up the steep driveway (I'm a good driver, but a notoriously bad backer upper. All the crushed solar lights that line the driveway are a testament to that). He scraped my car off, kept it running to warm it up for me, and lifted the hood to check the windshield wiper fluid because the trek down the mountain was promising to be muddy and messy.
What did he find?
Rabbits. Live rabbits.
Really. They were laying on top of everything to find shelter from the snow.
Last year, I wrote about Big Kid's court case for disability benefits. Although he's been treated for his disabilities since Kindergarten with full documentation, and he has been extensively treated since his breakdown away at college, we had to go to court.
Even though 4 doctors and therapists who have treated him for over 10 years and a 5th doctor EMPLOYED by the social security administration to evaluate him on THEIR behalf concurred that he had a significant impairment that necessitated benefits (his medication alone costs over 500.00 a month without insurance), he was denied.
Why? Because he told his doctors that the only time he felt emotionally "normal" was when he smoked pot. He confessed to them that he would seek it out whenever and wherever he could. All of them agreed that self-medicating is not abnormal for people who have bi-polar disorder (one of his diagnoses). However, some pencil pusher with the SSA decided that he was only bi-polar because he smoked pot. The judge agreed.
Our advocate got a bit pissy with us because Big Kid had confessed this information to his docs.
But really??? WTF? If you can't tell your medical professionals---who are trying to make you better---then who the hell can you confess this to? All of his doctors got a bit indignant over the whole thing, because they KNOW that smoking pot doesn't cause the genetic disabilities that Big Kid has.
So for the past year during the appeal phase, Big Kid hasn't gotten high. He's been ready for a pee test 24/7.
Yesterday, we had several appointments. Big Kid was out of oxygen, so I brought a replacement tank down from the mountains. Kitty brought him to a location between her house and mine, so we could do a quick changeover and then I could run him around to his meetings.
We changed the tanks and then made a revolting discovery. Kitty forgot the "key" that opens the tanks in her other purse. Oy. We had to run all over kingdom come oxygenless to find a hardware store in an area none of us was familiar with. Finally we found an AutoZone and bought a pair of pliers.
Anyhoo, after our morning meetings and lunch, Big Kid had an appointment with his neuropsych. A couple of months ago after he got out of the hospital, I wrote about an issue we had with this doctor and his staff. Although I thought things were smoothed over, I might be wrong.
He basically accused Big Kid of being high at his appointment. The kid was tired from the lack of oxygen incident, and from all of his other meetings (we were at the college, and the campus is HUGE---he had to do a lot of walking). And on top of that, since his illness, he's just not right. He still has significant short-term memory problems, which is what we've been telling his doctors. He's set up for a complete cognitive and neurological evaluation in a few weeks.
The problem is not that the doctor thought Big Kid might be high. He was rambling in disjointed trains of thought which has been the norm since he got sick. The problem is that the doc might have put in his NOTES that the kid *appeared* to be high. Since we're submitting new evidence to support his disability appeal, when the SSA requests doctors' notes, they're going to specifically request anything that has to do with pot.
So today I have to convince our family doc (who has taken over Big Kid's recovery treatment) of the necessity of ordering a urine test at a lab immediately, so that we have documentation to support our assertion that although the boy might have appeared to be high, it was an effect from his illness, not from recreational drugs. And then I have to drive down from the mountains AGAIN to take him to pee in a cup.
Sigh.
How's YOUR week?
xo
I've been having a few random thoughts rattling around in my brain, and thought I'd see what your take is.
Since I take law classes, I pay a lot of attention to lawsuits and court cases that are in the news. One thing has frequently puzzled me.
In many lawsuits over the past few years regarding the death of a child (either a minor or adult child) brought by parents, they often claim among their damages "future earnings" of said child. And they're often asking millions of dollars.
I can understand their pain and suffering, and wanting to get punitive damages if their child was killed by someone else's negligence. Really, really I do.
What I want to know is---as far as REAL damages are concerned after hospital or funeral expenses, etc...
Number one---what makes them think that their child would have grown up to be a multi-million dollar earner? Were there certain expectations because the child was gifted in some way? In one lawsuit in the last year, the "child" was like 24 and worked at 7-11.
And number two---what kind of parent expects their child to support them once the child has the potential to earn money? It's one thing if a parent is old and infirm, has few assets and the child is doing well financially. Maybe they might have expected $100,000 tops in help. But seriously, who expects their 21-year-old to start supporting them as soon as they get a job?
How do they justify that to a court, and to themselves?
Just wondering.
_________________________________________
When I first started going on the internet, I made an agreement with Hubby. I wouldn't post identifying information about us.
Especially when I started blogging.
I HAVE posted a few pics of our guys, but only after they turned 18, and only with their permission. I suppose if someone was totally intent on stalking us, they would have a bit of luck if they went back quite a few years to gather info.
What I DON'T get is people who post a bunch of pictures on their Facebook page or blog of OTHER people who aren't their personal family members and include identifying information without asking permission.
This has happened to us twice.
One was a BBQ we held for a certain function. One of our grills is on our front deck, and the person took a picture that happened to include our house number in the background and then proceeded to name everyone in the picture with a "this was taken at Mr. Attila's house in the beautiful blah blah development" on his blog.
More recently, another friend posted a bunch of candid pictures on his Facebook page which included us and named us by name.
I just happened to run across them, because neither Hubby or I really do the Facebook thing. I have an account simply because I get a lot of invites and I don't want to be an asshat and decline them. LOL
Yes, only invited people are allowed to view the friend's pictures. But I really don't appreciate being posted there without my permission, and neither does Hubby.
I wrote a nice email asking our friend to take them down. He got quite pissy about it.
So what's the netiquette (sp) about this?
Anybody know?
No, I'm not talking about the Real Housewives. I'm talking about the battle that is going on in my own home, between me and Little Missy, the elderly Yorkie we adopted last September. 9 months later, she is now known as Little Messy, Stinky Pete, the Puxatawny Pooper or That Little Shit, depending on who you're talking to.
