Brain Barf

May contain traces of nuts.

Tuesday, August 29, 2006

Blogger Blame

It seems when I have a uniquely amazing, life altering idea, the blogger beast will not cooperate and I get the dreaded, but all too familiar, "this page cannot be displayed."
Either I am getting old, or my residents are contagious.
By the time blogger finishes rehab, I can't remember my epiphanic revelation, and I end up posting about dead fancy tumor rats.

I could have changed the world, but I forgot.

This is one of those moments, SOoooooo, what are your thoughts on fungal infections on your genitals, inner thighs and buttocks?
Hmmmm?
(and what about those delusional people who blame blogger for being boring instead of delving into their own anxiety induced coma?)

Tuesday, August 22, 2006

Bring on the Beano

While waiting at SeaTac today for my oldest daughter to arrive, I caught a bit of CNN.
A great reminder of why I don't allow television programming at home.
When Bush's lips even move, I feel the country losing IQ points.
Like his comment about Iran pursuing nuclear energy/weapons.
Something to the affect that if a nation chooses to defy the UN, there are grave consequences...Wait...UNLESS it's the US and you are GWBrainless, with a personal agenda wanting to invade Iraq, then it's OK.

PAH-lease.


I only lasted a few minutes before I GAAHHH'D loudly and started searching for something pointy in which to shove in my eye sockets and/or eardrums. Semi-peace was found in one of the many perfectly placed Starbucks, where I soothed my not-allowed-bottled-waterlessness-nerves on a Tangerine Frappuccino...but still felt miniscule amounts of guilt about that Free Trade shit.

The important thing is that my daughter is home safe, and for the first time in months, my entire family is under one roof.
I'm thinking blueberry pancakes for breakfast, after the mandatory morning bed routine, where all SIX of us try to fit in one Queen sized bed and engage in snuggling/farting/tickling/giggling contest, with possibly a few inappropriate jokes told by yours truly.

Friday, August 18, 2006

*The day I never/always knew would come.

My oldest daughter has come into contact with her biological father*.

The sperm supplier tracked down my Father (not too hard to do in Utah with a very Mormon surname, so why did it take 14 years, although I'm glad it did and wish it would have been longer or never).
My Dad called me, I asked her, she said, "umm, OK".
She's at the age where it's her choice.
The fun parental fine line of protection and free will.
It's peeling off a scab on my brain that won't ever truly heal.
I am a 32 year old, who was a naive, stupid, messed up 16 year old, that made choices that my daughter now has to deal with, and I can't fix or change it now.

I know this isn't about "ME", but, surprisingly, being a single/teen Mom at 16, wasn't easy.
Besides all of the normal life/financial difficulties, I had a very negative stereotype to deal with made much worse by living in Mormon world.

Still not about me, but I resent, after 14 years of very hard work, he saunters in and gets to enjoy the person she has become.

Whenever she asked me questions, I never spoke negatively about him, out of respect for her DNA...But it sucks to see her find out for herself.





Monday, August 14, 2006

UpPrune (because I don't like dates)

My boy is doing good. He didn't have to be admitted to the hospital.
Although his entire nail bed and below is now exposed, the wound is looking much happier. Thank you Cephalexin (except for the diarrhea).

My work angst is decreasing, mostly due to a very uncomfortable rant at staff meeting.
Not much has changed yet, but I feel better now that I opened my mouth (quite big) and some people became very uncomfortable and other people became very interested.
I'm finding that QMM's (quality management memos) are easier to sweep under the rug than a big fat disgruntled mouth (that just happens to be RIGHT) spouting off in a room full of people, that like it or not, have to be responsible.
I don't understand why people who don't have compassion, or empathy choose to work as a nurses aid instead of Taco Bell? The pay is the same! The smells are better! The uniforms are just as tacky!
Of course there is the ever present opinion of my charge nurse (who just got wrote up) that I have an unrealistic work ethic and "care" too much.
I have taken that as a compliment for the last five years.
If my epithet states: She worked too hard and cared too much, I'm OK with that.

My oldest daughter is still visiting her Grandpa in Utah. I survived him, and hear that she hasn't suffered any permanent injuries yet. Although he did make her go to three hours of Mormon indoctrination today...But that may take a few years for the damage to surface. :o)

We are going camping for the next four days.
Whenever we go to Whidbey Island I think of Jo, and collect a few shells for her.

Thursday, August 10, 2006

Fuzzy

In my blogger history, this is the second time, where I have enough extra swirling around in my brain to spew it into internet text twice in one day.
Useless info, but still twice...
But, I feel it is a very very important topic/question.
Why do my dogs feet smell like tortilla chips?
I love dogs enough, and sniffed around enough to know that this smell isn't exclusive to my dog.
Oh, and by the way, Miss Fish, Petunia found a new home.
She was never truly happy with us.
She ran off constantly.
She displayed her discomforts with her surroundings by shitting ALOT and everywhere often, including jumping onto beds to do her duty/doody.
I'm not one who thinks that pets, or any animal, are disposable.
When I get a "pet" I'm in it for life.
BUT, the fish wasn't happy.
From the day when we rescued her from the animal shelter, she made it clear that she had needs that we couldn't meet.
She is a "lap dog", and our laps are in constant motion.
She required a much less active life style than we have.
I.E., go to the lake, the Golden Retriever swims, the wiener dog sinks.
In the two+ years with her, she was the perfect dog in everyway except her lack of sphincter control.
She is with an older couple, Wal-Mart greeters even, who have other wieners.
We have visited and she is content.
I'm happy that we had our time with her and rescued her from the doggy dungeon.
I thought I would be sad, but find that I am happier now, now that SHE is happy (and no more warm doggy nuggets to step in).
Jack the Rat, of the former partnership of :Jill and Jack:, died today.
She, being a fancy rat, who are prone to tumors, and like her cohort, had them.
She lived more than two years, and was a great pet.
She loved riding on our shoulders and eating French fries and Cherrios.
Like Jill, we made her a coffin/box and crayoned our sentiments on it, and had a service.
My life, and my family would be much less without the fuzzy critters we share it with.
But, why tortilla chips?



Wednesday, August 09, 2006

The beginning of the end*

*Written in classic Keri melodramatic sarcastic form*
There are those times in life where the world stops spinning for a moment, but your head doesn't.
Your mind quickly reviews every past event.
You face the future with a new respect.
Time is more precious than triple lattes from Starbucks.
Twin A, lost his first, and front tooth today.
(that will surely help his speech issues)
It's in a zip lock baggy under his pillow.
He has his two older sisters tooth fairy experiences to draw from.
My parents didn't do the tooth fairy thing, so of course I go overboard.
The dude thinks it's Christmas Eve.
He's already decided where and what to spend his lost calcium money on.
The boy is going to the dollar store tomorrow, to get more bang for his buck.
He's thinking "army men", and lots of them.

GAWD I love this life.


He'll need that finger when he get's his drivers license.

Today...I had nothing planned. Yesterday I drove to Seatac and back to send my oldest daughter off to visit family. Seven hours of driving, got home at 3am, YAY!
But today...I was going to Sleeeeeeeeeeeeepp..ppp. With intermittent napping.
Instead I took Twin B to the doctor for a sudden un-explained wound on his finger.
I have 7 year old twin boys. They constantly have something ugly going on, but this is different.
I always see icky oozy stuff at work, but not like this.
I don't know how it got there, he doesn't know how it got there.
It is on his right middle finger near the nailbed.
I first noticed it Sunday evening, it looked odd, and I cleaned it, and bandaged it.
I was gone all day Monday.
Tuesday morning it had GROWN.
Think black oozy crater with an angry swollen red ring around it about the size of a pencil eraser.
I told the doctor that I thought it was either a spider bite (OH MY GAWD) or some sort of wound with a nasty bacterial thing going on.
The doctor was stumped, but thought that it might be a spider bite or one of those aggressive bacterial things.

He got an antibiotic shot in his cute pudgy ass, (he was brave, I wasn't, but I faked it) and is on cephalexin four times a day.
The Doc drew a circle around the edges of the "wound" and if it doesn't show marked improvement by Friday, my boy has to be admitted to the hospital for IV antibiotics.
This isn't going to happen, because I have been emitting Mommy death rays from my eye sockets at all spiders and bacterias in the Pacific North West.

Monday, August 07, 2006

The Full Monty

I've always struggled with mild depression...Well, mild usually.
I also struggle with seasonal depression.
I feel in my bones the aching grind of summer's last efforts.
I hate being tied to a "kids in school" schedule.
I love having the freedom of sleeping in late, and when we finally wake up, we pack up and head to the lake on a whim, and swim until we are exhausted, but snuggle on our beach towels to watch the sunset, and then come home and pile on the ONE sofa, even though there are two others, and watch movies until we start twitching and drooling.
Back to depression: I really don't, at this point in my life, feel like I "suffer" from depression. Sure, summer ending sucks, Aunt Floh sucks, but I generally take the hills and valley's in stride. I really AM one of those happy, annoying, never-stop-smiling people that you would like to punch.

I really FEEL...GOOD.
Just, sometimes, the downslide sucks me in.
This hasn't always been the case, and I can't believe I'm telling the internets this, because, I'm very self conscious/self aware when it comes to my depression issues.
I feel like it is a "weakness", and weak things are OK, unless they apply to me.
But, you know my blog, I get nekkid here.
There was a time, about six years ago, where I had been treading for far too long, and I had the depression quicksand in my lungs.
My twins were 1, my girls were 7 and 5. I was moving from my home/family/support system, away from the most beautiful place on the planet, Seattle, into the Eastern Washington Desert...Not by first choice.
Sagebrush sucks.
My husband got transferred. I had to quit my job, that I had worked my way up for six years, and started at as a single Mom. Quitting this job was leaving a whole other family. But that's a different story.
Anyway, my husband, back in his sensitive years, knew how hard of a time I was having. He knew how hard I had worked for my job position, he knew how hard it was having young super needy children, and how MUCH I didn't want to sell our first home and move to the desert, away from my family/friends = free babysitters. :o)
He rented us a beach house, at our favorite beach and arranged babysitters for an entire weekend. WOW.
The ocean is usually very therapeutic for me.
This time though, it was in the dark depressional spring fever month of February, with ALL of the other issues hanging over me.
I woke up before dawn and went down to the beach alone.
The tide was high.
It started snowing.
I started crying.
I saw the waves, water, snow, sand and cold in a way I had never seen them.
It was a door.
An exit door.
An easy way out.
Just walk into the wet cold and don't look back, breathe it in.
I waded in up to my waist.
I could never do pills, or guns, but this was something that could look like an accident, and therefore not haunt my children AS much.
I wonder sometimes if the painful cold shakes hadn't kicked in...?
I have to remember this.
To clearly know where I am going, I have to remember where I've been.
I'll never allow myself to wade that deep again.
*Getting dressed*


















Thursday, August 03, 2006

Who knew?

I guess I feel like posting twice in one night?
I work in a job where people frequently burn out.
I've been a nurses aid for five years, in the same hospital.
I'm ALL ABOUT THE RESIDENTS/PATIENTS.
I don't do this job for the $$$, and really, there isn't any to made as a nurses aid.
I applied for this job 5 years ago to get a break from the daily wife/mother humdrum.
The old farts make me happy and I make them happy.
Instant Karma and gratification on both parts.
But I am getting burned out, exclusively because of my co-"workers".
I work with a lady who is honestly the laziest person I have ever know (besides my "mother") who takes joy in broadcasting that she has been here 3 years less than me and makes $3 more an hour more than me. No problem, I'm not it for the money and she is nice to the residents.
My problem is that the general quality of staff has taken a nose dive.
I now work with other people who skate the line of neglect/abuse.
You say, such is the life/trend of long term care facilities?
The DNS and Head nurse say my ethics and work standards are unrealistic?
I say, don't fuck with my old farts.
1-866-EndHarm

Wednesday, August 02, 2006

Restriction rocks.

Is it so wrong to enjoy SO much the grounding of my oldest daughter?
I have the computer!
I have the home phone!
I don't have to listen to her cell phone ringing 4.8 million times a minute!
I don't have to sign her out, so I can sign myself, and then click the "remember me" button TWICE, because she does the same thing.
She is grumpy and sick and has been in her room most of the day.
Is it really so wrong to completely enjoy this?
This is the first time she has been grounded this year (because she is generally an awesome kid), but I should do this more often!

Neutral, but angry.

Anyone who knows me, knows that I am an inherent smart ass. I tease everyone about everything, all the time, no exceptions! Everyone gets a nickname like it or not (email me if you aren't sure of yours :o) )
I can't help it.
It's just a part of my personality.
Of course then, I tease my children and boy have they learned to give it back.
It's the best game in the house, a great stress reliever, and often a way, to deal with difficult topics.
BUT Poop on a log, parenting is hard.
One of the decisions I made when I became a parent, with much influence of the way I was raised (ultra orthodox, right wing, my way or the highway, self righteous Mormon) was to always, no matter how I felt about it, allow my children to choose their own religion.
I felt (past tense) I was successful in this.
My oldest daughter chose what church she liked and I drove her to youth group every Wednesday night, and church every Sunday at dark thirty.
I paid/drove/supported her in her winter retreat, and summer bible camp this year. I bought her binoculars to aid her in her search for Jesus (this is the teasing part that was previously mentioned).
My biggest fear in all of this was that my child may adopt the "holier than though" attitude, and become judgmental....Because those things suck ass in general and aren't the attitudes that I want my children (or anyone) to have.
After the she came home from Bible camp this week and after the big fat argument we had tonight, I'm afraid that my biggest fear is coming true.
Even though her postcard from camp, where she drew a picture of herself with binoculars, and said, "MOM! I found Jesus", apparently I tease her too much on this topic.
FOLKS, I have reigned myself in and bitten my tongue to a bloody pulp, because I feel that religion/beliefs are incredibly personal, and no one else's business.
I don't care who/what/why anyone believes in, as long as it makes them happy.
Even when they knock on my door, I let them in, and I give them my time and ear, out of respect, and what my older and younger sisters endured as Mormon missionaries.
I will drive her to youth group every Wednesday, and church every Sunday at dark thirty. I will continue to support her in her religious pursuits.
BUT even Canada and Switzerland get pissed off sometimes.