September 21, 2006

Survey of Grey’s Anatomy

After watching the season permier of Grey’s Anatomy tonight, I decided that Meredith will choose Finn the Vet. Even though Derek “McDreamy” gave a heart wrenching speech that he “chose wrong” when he had to make his choice, my feeling is too little, too late.

While I thing McDreamy is also a good choice, I’m still mad he insinuated that Meredith is a whore because he’s jealous of Finn.

What do you think???

Also, I think Dr. Korev will become and ob/gyn. I can feel it. He’s in love with the concept of saving babies and I think I’m starting to like the pompous ass.

As for Izzy, I think she’ll eventually come back to Seattle Grace, but it will take some time. A lot of time.

A Day in My Life - Tuesday

This was my Tuesday. If anyone wants to be me for a day, here’s a sample itinerary.

6:35 a.m. - Alarm goes off. Hit snooze several times before finally shutting it off and lay in bed for a bit longer.

7:05 a.m. - Stumble downstairs to the bathroom, use the facilities and then shower — letting the hot water gradually wake you up enough to function for the next ten hours.

7:15 a.m - After towel drying, stand in front of closet for 10 minutes contemplating what to wear. After several minutes of frustration, settle for whatever is clean.

7:19 a.m. - Brush hair, brush teeth and apply light make up. Realize shirt you have on has a small stain. Looks like tomato sauce. Remove shirt, apply Zout and toss article in hamper. Find another shirt.

7:22 a.m. - Proceed to Dawson’s room to wake him up. Listen to toddler screech and protest that “baaaby sweeeping”. Search for toddlers outfit in his disorganized dresser. Finally find a matching track suit. Dress child and realize pants are a million sizes too big. Lecture child for failure to eat properly which would enable him to grow. Upon finding appropriate pants to match sweatshirt, haul Dawson to kitchen to feed him cereal. Listen to child whine that he wants bubbey-guh (bubble gum) instead. Curse Auntie Rachel for bring bubbey-guh into the house.

7:35 a.m. - Wrestle jacket on child and carry him to the car. Listen to him chatter and sing all the way to daycare.

7:50 a.m. - Drop child off at daycare and conquer the tears of separation anxiety (him, not me).

8:01 a.m. - Head upstairs to work. Realize you’re already late punching in. Listen to callers complain, ALL DAY LONG. Start praying the day goes by faster.

9:15 a.m. - What feels like hours later, look at the clock and realize it’s only 9:15 and you still have 6 hours and 45 minutes left in your work day.

10:00 a.m. - Head to the break room and grab a vending machine snack. Watch 15 minutes of “The View” to see what Rosie’s hair looks like.

10:15 a.m. - Back in the trenches. Listening to more crabby customers yell about insurance claims that haven’t been processed/paid/settled, whatever.

11:30 a.m. - Login into daycare Nanny Cam to see child having fun with his classmates. Decide that a child’s life is underappreciated and you should have enjoyed being a kid when you had the chance. Watch Dawson eat lunch and then take a nap. Start wishing you could crawl downstairs and nap with him.

2:00 p.m. - Head outside to smoke a cigarette. It’s either that or tear your hair out. Gossip with others about the debut of Grey’s Anatomy on Thursday and vote on who Meredith will choose: The Vet or McDreamy.

2:15 p.m. - More crazy calls. SSDD.

3:58 p.m. - Pray that the call you are currently on doesn’t take longer than two minutes. Start rolling your eyes at everything your caller says, trying to telepathically hurry the conversation.

4:01 p.m. - Quickly turn off your computer and don’t even attempt to straighten your desk. Punch out and race downstairs to pick-up Dawson. Weave your way through many children to your child’s classroom. Fight the tears of joy upon seeing each other again (me, not him).

4:15 p.m. - Strap child in car and head home. Listen to him chatter and sing all the way there.

4:48 p.m.- Haul Dawson into the house, let Murphy outside to pee. Listen to Dawson command “Puuuuppaaaaay, out side! Now!” Fight with child to get him back into the house now that the dog has finished his business.

5:00 p.m. - Change clothes (both you and child) and make dinner for child.

5:15 p.m. - Clean up macroni and cheese mess from high chair. Head to bathroom with Dawson to clean his face and hands, attempt potty training and then give up as he resists. Change Dawson’s diaper (a wrestling match in itself).

5:20 p.m. - Use the bathroom while Dawson insists on handing you toilet paper, and flushing the toilet for you. Laugh hysterically as he waves to the toilet paper going down the pipes. Wash hands (both you and child).

5:30 p.m. - Briefly watch Rachael Ray’s 30-Minute Meals to get ideas for dinner you’ll make for yourself and husband. Set up crayons and coloring books for Dawson to color (mostly on the table).

6:00 p.m. - Start prep for dinner. Listen to Dawson scream that he wants bubbey-guh. Again, curse Auntie Rachel for bringing candy into the house.

6:30 p.m. - Finally get Dawson situated in the living room to watch “Elmo’s World” so you can finish dinner.

6:33 p.m. - Hear cries and barking coming from the other room. See child standing on coffee table with the dog’s toy in hand teasing canine by swinging rope toy in circles. Remove child from table, hand dog toy to said dog and instruct Dawson to “Watch Elmo already! Mumma is making dinner for Daddy.” Field millions of questions from toddler. “Where’s daddoo?” (working), “Where’s Nanna?” (at home), “Where’s Poppa (at home), “Where’s Ray-del” (I don’t know!)

6:50 p.m. - Finish dinner, keep warm until husband’s estimated arrival.

7:00 p.m. - Doug arrives home, tell him dinner is ready. Instead he changes clothes, heads to basement to get a beer and returns 15 minutes later. Ask him what he was doing, to which he replies “Getting a beer.” Ask him why it took so long, to which he replies, “I don’t know.” Shake your head and wonder if he has amnesia.

7:35 p.m. - Finally sit down at the table to eat. Repeatedly tell dog to “sit” and “get down”. Offer child more to eat as he didn’t finish Mac & Cheese from earlier. Concentrate on watching “Dancing With The Stars” on television as you eat with the family.

8:00 p.m. - Give child a wet wipe cleansing as hubby does dishes. Change Dawson’s diaper and wrestle him into his pajamas. Grab his blanket, sippy cup and 3 books to read before bed.

8:25 p.m. - Read the books (okay, pretend to read so you can finish watching DWTS) and attempt to put child to bed. Listen to him cry for 10 minutes to get “Out, mumma!”. Wait a few minutes and let him run around the living room for a bit to burn off some energy.

8:45 p.m. - Finally get child to bed. Head to living room to watch Boston Legal uninterrupted with hubby.

10:00 p.m. - Watch a few minutes of the news and fall asleep, in your clothes, on the couch. Wake up at 6:45 a.m. the next day, still on the couch, in your clothes. Curse hubby for not waking you to tell you to go to bed (he just wanted the whole bed to himself. GRRRR).

Man….I’m boring. What is a typical day in your life like?

September 20, 2006

Busy Monday

I spent Monday completing various errands and the day was busy, busy, and busy.

First we went to Dawson’s two-year check-up, scheduled at 11:00 a.m. Rice Medical Center always sends an appointment reminder letter a week before the scheduled visit to ask us to “kindly arrive twenty minutes before your appointment time to allow efficient check-in”. I interpret this as a tactic to get people to arrive on time in general.

Very often in our community, people show up late or not at all to their doctor’s appointments. I’ve been a patient at Rice Medical Center for many years and sometimes I’ve overheard the appointment coordinators complaining about so-and-so not showing for their 3rd scheduled visit. I’ve also noticed that a majority of the late patients are on government medical assistance, such as Badger Care, which means they don’t pay for their health care. I’m assuming the no-shows are Badger Care patients as well.

I understand that many in our community cannot afford health insurance, but cannot fathom how they can just blow off free health care. RMC will still bill my insurance for my appointment time whether or not I show up, but they can’t do this with the State of Wisconsin. Why not? Because you can’t bill the government for services not rendered. I thin Governor Jim Doyle should pay the insurance claims with that bribe money he accepted.

Dawson and I arrived at the facility at 10:30, half and hour before our scheduled appointment. Since our credit union has a branch office in the medical center, we headed to the third floor to withdraw some money for the other errands we needed to complete afterward. We made it back downstairs to Family Practice in less than 5 minutes.

I waited patiently in the check-in line and confirmed that Dawson had an appointment with Dr. Reed. After verifying our address, phone number and insurance information the appointment coordinator finally told me the nurse would call us shortly.

The nurse didn’t call Dawson’s name until 11:15. FIFTEEN MINUTES AFTER OUR SCHEDULED APPOINTMENT. I was irate. I don’t normally get angry over late doctor’s appointments, but when you send me a letter telling me to arrive twenty minutes early and I do, there is NO excuse to make me wait 15 minutes longer!

I decided to wait until I cooled off before I complained. The nurse weighed Dawson in at 25 ¾ pounds and then measured his height. I was still irked and forgot to write down how tall he is. She then led us to an examining room and told me Dr. Reed would be in shortly. She didn’t lie; she walked through the door two minutes later. The nurse must have sensed my agitation.

Dr. Reed checked Dawson’s ears, mouth, and eyes and then listened to his heart and lungs.

“He’s growing perfectly,” she said. “He’s still in the 25th percentile for height and weight, so that’s good. The State of Wisconsin is now recommending the Hep. A vaccine, do you wish to have this done today?”

I hadn’t prepared for this. I didn’t give Dawson any Tylenol to counteract the pain of another vaccination, but I agreed just to get it done with. The nurse came in and made me hold Dawson’s arms and legs while she brutally poked him. Normally my child doesn’t bleed, but Dawson jerked away after the shot and got a spot of blood on his sleeve. Poor kid. He will never forgive me. He had such big tears and I started to cry because I remembered the pain of my tetanus shot last week.

After I calmed him down with graham crackers and an “I survived vaccination” sticker, I went to schedule his next check-up and then politely mentioned my dissatisfaction with the late appointment. The coordinator didn’t even apologize. She just looked at me and said, “Well, we often squeeze in Med-Assist patients and you need to expect a delay.” I need to expect a delay? What? I was now angrier than before the appointment.

I took a deep breath and said, “Listen, I understand that RMC sent me a letter telling me to arrive twenty minutes early. And we did. I understand that other people can’t afford insurance and need to seek medical care, but I do NOT understand how you can just fit these people in and make the rest of us – the ones WHO PAY for our health care – wait for you to decide to see us.”

Immediately I felt terrible for what I said. I was too harsh. Then suddenly, a woman behind me with three children in tow said, “We’ve been waiting 45 minutes for our appointments, and still no one has called us. I agree. We have to pay for our health care and we should be just as important.”

So, now I’m a health care activist or something. I thanked the woman for voicing her opinion and left quickly.

After the RMC fiasco, Dawson and I went to the Scrap Shack, a scrap booking supplies store and found some cute die cuts for his photo album. We then headed to Wal-Mart to have Dawson’s pictures taken. He was so adorable with his sly smiles. This boy never smiles during professional pictures. He reminds me of his daddy because Doug never smiles either. Doug just smirks and then complains when he looks ridiculous in his photos. Veronica the photo technician had to pretend to tickle me to get the Doodlebug to crack a smile.

After photo hour, we did our shopping. I bought some Halloween decor, pumpkin lights (for carved pumpkins), treat bags for the trick-or-treaters, some girly necessities, miscellaneous groceries (Shhh! Don’t tell Doug!); and Dawson wanted a gigantic bouncy ball that was on clearance for $2.50. Since he had to have that nasty vaccination I gave in. I’m such a sucker.

We paid for our items and then walked across the foyer to Subway (our super Wal-Mart has this and a Cost Cutters right inside the store). I got a turkey sub to share with my Doodlebug. He mostly ate his Goldfish crackers, but that was okay with me. He got a shot remember?

When we got home, the Doodlebug was exhausted and took a nap. I cleaned the house from Sunday’s party. The dishes had piled up and needed to be done. When the Bug woke up I vacuumed and when I was done I felt like I actually accomplished things that day. Now I was free to read books to Dawson. Instead we went outside to play kickball with his new, gigantic bouncy ball. What a good, but busy, day.

September 17, 2006

The Birthday Party

Today we had a mini-birthday party for Dawson. His actual birthday was yesterday, but since I had to work we celebrated today. Just my parents and my brother and sister came over as all of Doug’s family members were out of town or on vacations. I didn’t mind this at all. Less housework and cooking to do.

I did most of the prep work for today’s meal last night. I made a gigantic lasagna. Simple and easy. The hard part was making Dawson’s cake. I will never, ever make a cake again. I’m an excellent baker, but cake decorator I am not. Nope. Not one bit. Here’s what my attempt looked like:

Needless to say no one really cared what the stupid cake looked like because it tasted sooooo good. I of course, couldn’t have too big of a piece because I was still suffering from the after effects of last night’s frosting overdose from eating my mistakes.

Dawson had a great time. Simply because his Poppa was over to smother and shower him with affection rough house with him and play “wrestle mania” (gently of course).

We bought the Doodlebug a bicycle that he won’t get to ride until he’s forty. Three years old if he grows a foot. Our reasoning was that he has way too many little toys cluttering his bedroom, so a bike is something he can look forward to riding. Okay let’s face it. I got the Power Rangers bicycle on sale and Dawson loves it.

Nonna and Poppa bought him a toy tractor (actually four tractors) and some clothes he’ll wear when he’s 17. This is because my mother buys everything big. “To grow into,” she’ll say. I don’t mind, I can wear the stuff in the mean time.

Auntie Rachel bought him a winter coat and snow pants. Thank heavens, because he outgrew last year’s coat fast! She bought it a size too big. I’m hoping it will last two years.

I’m tired now. Entertaining sure is draining. Even if it is my low maintenance family. Good think I have tomorrow off, I can rest. Or not. Dawson has his two year checkup tomorrow and he’s getting his portraits taken at Sears. Or Walmart. Which ever isn’t busy. So much for taking it easy.

“…Mumma…this bike is toooo big for me….”