Thursday, February 28, 2013


Adrianna had her tubes put in last week, and the surgery went off without a hitch.

While we were sitting in the waiting room at 6am, I realized not for the first time that my children are very different. In the 20 minutes we were just sitting there, Adrianna alternated between sitting on my lap and standing right next to me, and the loudest she got the whole time was while singing the ABC song. I am quite certain (by which I  mean, this is what happens every other time we do stuff like wait in waiting rooms in the last 5 years) that Kristina would have been running all over the place, climbing all over the furniture, and throwing at least one fit in that same amount of time of not-directly-entertained waiting. And I should probably admit that this difference wasn't a particularly bad change of pace for me that morning..... 

As a parent, this was my fourth time going through the song and dance of surgery with a child, and therefore I wasn't nearly as freaked out by the conversation with the anesthesiologist as I had been the first time when Kristina got her tubes in. I don't know if the part of "mom freaks out less when they say you could die" is a perk or not from being the second child.

However, Adrianna did manage to be uniquely and ridiculously adorable when she convinced the nurses that her Little Mermaid doll also needed a hair net as part of surgery prep.

She also convinced the very same nurse that her ears REALLY hurt post-op, despite the standard issue Tylenol suppository she got, and managed to get a dose of baby Vicodin before being released.

Thus she spent most of the car ride home singing Old McDonald Had a Farm with nonsense noises for the animal sounds and laughing hysterically at it each time. I'm still not sure whether I was a good parent or a failure for not capturing this on a video just because I was "driving" during it.

Once at home, I took her out of her car seat and stood her on the ground for a moment while I reached back into the car to pull out the rest of our stuff. She promptly fell over and bonked her head on the car. Luckily, she looked more confused than anything, and then started laughing hysterically again when I suggested I carry her into the house.

(Good news world! She's going to be just like me a happy drunk!)

After getting into the house and showing off her intoxicated state to my parents, I managed to convince her to sit on the couch and watch a movie (since she wasn't exactly having much luck with the whole standing/walking thing right then).

And once the Vicodin wore off, she seemed to be back to her normal not-taking-a-nap-despite-mommy-wanting-one self. A couple days of antibiotic drops and occasional pity dose of Tylenol saw her signed off as all better, with a follow up ENT visit in a few weeks just to make sure placement is set for the tubes themselves and to discuss when to re-screen her hearing.

The best part, however, is that one of her preschool teachers already said she's noticing an improvement in her language skills. Here's hoping... 

Tuesday, February 19, 2013


Sometimes, all you can do is get through today.

Get through tomorrow.

Get through the end of the week.

Worry about next week and how you're going to get through it next week.

Do what you have to do to make it through today.

Get up tomorrow and do it again.

The days add up.

Weeks and months and even years pass.

Not quickly, not painlessly, but they pass.

Time continues on, life continues to be lived.

You just have to get through today.

And then wake up, and get through tomorrow.

And then next week.

And maybe somewhere in there something awesome will happen.

Maybe somewhere in there you'll get a decent nights sleep and not be running on caffeine and desperation alone.

Maybe somewhere in there you'll remember what it's like to think past tomorrow.

But it's ok if it doesn't happen today.

Do what you need to do to get through today.

Do what you need to do to get through tomorrow.

A day at a time.

And it's ok to say, I'm sorry, today is already filled with everything I can possibly do, I will try again tomorrow.

Tomorrow will come soon enough after today.

Saturday, February 16, 2013


Yesterday Adrianna said her name when we were driving home.

It was the first time I have ever heard it say it in such a manner that your average not-accustomed-to-Adrianna-and/or-small-child-speech person would probably be able to pick up on what it is.

Which, you know, is KINDA a big deal for us.

I suspect the speech therapist at the elementary school has been working with her on it, with the clear breakdown of each syllable manner in which she started saying it over and over again in the backseat.

But that doesn't matter in the slightest, she can say her name!

I've been watching her, and noticed something.

She has gotten quite chatty at home or preschool or with me much of the time, but will absolutely refuse to speak to other people, such as doctors, at all. And I think it's because strangers often have trouble understanding her, so somewhere along the line she just stopped being willing to even try and now just gives them a cold stony stair of contempt when they ask such things as "and what's your name?"

(She will, occasionally, hold up the appropriate number of fingers if asked how old she is, but certainly not with anything resembling a smile on her face....)

There has also been some concern over her ability to hear clearly, as she's had a real problem with her ears being chronically filled with fluid even when it hasn't been infected, and they've given her multiple tests which keep showing the same lack of eardrum movement and her inability to hear low pitches.

So she's having tubes put in on Tuesday, to both help with recurring ear infections and to see if the drainage alone improves her hearing.

The ENT (ear nose and throat doctor, your buddy when your kid has issues like giant tonsils from hell and ear infections) told me he has seen kids in the past with similar hearing/speech concerns, and that once they put in the tubes they could suddenly hear a lot better and within weeks had a marked improvement in language.

So we'll start there.

She'll get the tubes put in, and then her hearing will be retested afterwards.

And if there are still concerns with it, then we'll look at what has to be done going forwards.

The next step would probably be a much more involved hearing screening done at the big Children's Hospital down in Denver, where they actually sedate her for the test (apparently it is sometimes challenging to get an accurate picture of hearing impairment in small children... I can't believe they think 3 year olds are sometimes uncooperative).

I also need to contact Boulder Valley Child Find, which did her initial assessment and has provided the services thus far, and see if she can be a candidate for year round speech therapy through their program (and if not, look at having her work with a therapist out of pocket during the summer, since the preschool program only follows the regular school schedule).

Wednesday, February 13, 2013

Life is Like a Box of Chocolates

I think I'm going to spend the next three days locked in my room with heart shaped boxes of chocolate and whiskey reading my favorite romance novel, The Shining.

But Marty, you say, isn't The Shining the one where he gets manipulated by ghosts and tries to kill his wife and son? 

And to that I say, yes, yes it is, for that is how I like my romance reading, batshit crazy AND homicidal. 

While buying my heart shaped boxes of chocolates today, I also considered getting myself some flowers as well, but that seemed like a bit much.

After all, I don't want to set my expectations to high here, otherwise I'll just disappoint  myself next year if I forget that I need both roses and chocolates. 

Oh, and I almost forgot, nothing says Valentine's Day like vintage insulting cards, so I should totally send myself one of those too. Just because they're awesome in that delightfully demented way......

Roses are red
Violets are blue
Hate mail Valentines really rock
And here is one just for you 

Ok, that was kinda a shitty poem and I didn't even bother with a picture.

But remember, I have to keep my expectations of me low, otherwise I'll constantly be trying to live up to some commercialized ideal that would require real work and personal effort, and I just don't know how much of that I can give myself right now. 

Now where did those truffles go......

Friday, February 8, 2013

A Monumental Moment at the Park

This past weekend was a gorgous Colorado no-this-isn't-really-winter one, and the girls and I took full advantage of the crystal clear blue skies and warm sun to spend a few hours at the park down in Boulder.

However, this visit was much more than simply taking advantage of an unseasonably warm day.

For years (years!) I have been bringing books with me to the park, with that faint hope that maybe I'll be able to read a little bit while my children happily frolic with their own amusements.

This was the first time it ever actually happened.

Usually I get a page or two down, but never anything as substantial as almost two CHAPTERS in between the need to referee and catch escaping toddlers and the demands for pushes on the swings.

And a big part of why things went so smoothly this particular day I think was because of the park we were at.

Scott Carpenter was affectionately known as the rocket ship park back in my youth, and a generation passing hasn't changed that in the slightest.

However, as a parent I now have a whole new appreciation for the cage factor of its design, as I got to focus more on reading and less on the keeping tabs on two highly mobile little specimens racing all over the place, because there just isn't anywhere for them to go from the top level of the rocket. 

I would also just like to sincerely thank Adrianna for being every bit as capable of getting down again as she was getting up, as going up inside that thing just isn't as exciting 20 years later and may or may not be seriously pushing the limits of "spaces my hips actually fit through".

My world is going to be awesome this summer.

Wednesday, February 6, 2013

The Failure of my Diet

I have a terrible diet.

It has gotten so bad, my coworkers have started to marvel how on earth I stay the small-ish size that I am.

But see, it's not so simple.

I have continued to drop pant sizes the entire time I've worked at Target.

At this point, I end up looking in the mirror and thinking I'm too skinny half the time.

(There's just something about being able to see my ribs that creeps me out a little....)

But as I have unintentionally gotten into pant sizes I have never worn before in my life, I've also been giving myself free rain to eat whatever the hell I want in some faint hope of gaining enough calories to offset whatever ridiculous amount I must be burning at work every day.

(Or I have a tapeworm, but that idea gives me the willies big time so I am soooo going with the excessive calorie burning explanation for the time being.)

Which is how I have ended up eating meals like this every day for lunch.

And apparently, people start to notice such meals when repeated often enough.

As a result of getting lots of shit for liking my stupid hotpockets and cupcakes this daily dietary critiquing, I started to eat different food to get them to shut up and leave me alone thought it might be good for me to try and eat a little bit healthier.

But it doesn't work.

See, I pay three times as much for a chicken Caesar salad, poke at it a little, and eat maybe close to half before declaring myself most definitely done with lunch.

Because I just don't LIKE salad very much.

Occasionally a salad is nice (I legitimately want to eat one once every month or two), and it generally falls under the category of "stuff I will eat when it's socially expected for me to do so".

But that doesn't mean I actually like it. 

So I end up eating less food than ever, which also does not help the part where I think I'm not eating enough calories to support my physical activity level due to ever-decreasing ass size.

Monday, February 4, 2013

Why I Adore Nan

Nan is a blog buddy of mine, who keeps her own crazy little world over at The Wrath of Mom.

If memory serves (and trust me, this is a vague guess at best...), I happened across her blog when I was browsing the internets for information on scurvy looking tonails, and somehow got totally hooked on her hilarious and insightful commentary on life.

And after leaving a comment or 12, she wandered her way on over here and became one of my favorite blog visitors.

Or so I think. I could be totally wrong in how we found each other on the interwebs. Maybe she is awesome enough to tell us the REAL story of how we became blogging buddies, as I am clearly just not on my game on this one.

But back to the point of this post...

She's one of my favorites mostly just because she leaves me comments like this [in response to yesterday's post]:

Sounds like it's time to start dating customers. Which brings up the question: in what department would you find the best single males over the age of 21? In the men's department undergarment area? Perusing high end electronics? By the condoms? Maybe you could get in good with the pharmacists who could tip you off when someone with a premium benefits package purchases some medicine NOT related to an STD.
Oh, the possibilities are endless!

After I stopped laughing, I was all about how I totally gots a couple buddies back there behind the pharmacy counter, that's a GREAT idea!

Ok ok, my first thought was the time when I got asked whether we sold airplane carry on size lube and that other time I overheard college students discussing whether the economy sized condom box would be enough for the upcoming weekend and subsequently how I now avoid the condom aisle like the plague whenever possible, but the pharmacy part just seems so much classier. And believe me, we care about keeping classy on this blog.... *ahem*

I also may need to give some serious consideration to the clientele shopping in electronics. If only I understood more of the questions they ask me....

"I need a cord for __[big complicated thingy of which I only vaguely grasp that it has something to do with computers]__"

"Well, let me just show you where ALL our computer cords are over here (and hope to hell you spot it immediately and don't expect me to magically find it for you)"

Sunday, February 3, 2013

The Drudgery of Dating and Coworkers

I have not been much for writing blog posts about my dating life.

Sure, for all those reasons of privacy and of perhaps not wanting to exploit every single emotion I have on a public web forum for the world to see.

But really, it's just because there hasn't exactly been much going on.

At all.

And I'm starting to realize something.

I don't think I actually like dating. Or I'm just really bad at it. Either way, the Love Life of Marty hasn't exactly been generating what we like to call "blogging material".

Well, at least not in so far as "fun exciting (and/or horribly embarrassing mishaps)" real life stories are concerned. There have been a few brief moments I thought I would share about the subject though, as it's about all I have for blogging material besides more "look how adorable my children are" posts (which, of course, are always awesome, but I'm a fan of diverse blogging.)

(Also, sorry, I've been quite busy and tired this month, and it takes a toll on my ability to write even the rambling chaos I normally call 'blog posts', much less eloquent soliloquies to my dear friends.)

In the offstage Target employee area, a poster appeared for us to write our New Years Resolutions on.

Personally, I'm not much for making (much less keeping) such resolutions, but when pressed I went for the smartass approach and sarcastically said:

Sleep with less coworkers. 

I meant it much more as a joke than as any sort of actual goal for myself. However, it certainly wasn't a talking point that I was going to be allowed to backpaddle from once said, and thus a robust discussion of my Target Love Life began.

Turns out I have a WAAAAY better one based on rumors, gossip, and wild speculation than I happen to actually have. 

But those are minor details, to be sure.

Then came the part where I was asked why I hadn't written it up on the board for the world to see (because clearly, the collection of people sitting in the breakroom right then just weren't enough to witness such resolve). My justifying of how it was something HR would undoubtedly black out as inappropriate was turned into a look at the finer allusions of language, and ultimately it was decided that me writing "nap with less coworkers" would be ok.

After all, napping is totally different than sleeping, apparently.....

But never fear, for then it was pointed out that the proper grammatical structure of that sentence should be "nap with fewer coworkers".

And it was about this point that I made a speedy exit from the break room, and began eagerly counting down the days until it's warm enough to hide away with my book outside again.

(What can I say, I'm super wimpy when it comes to sitting out on snow covered concrete in below-freezing temperatures.)

However, the analysis of the Love Life of Marty was not done, for after I managed to convince a few particularly interested individuals (don't bother with harlequin paperbacks, just get up close and personal to me seems to be a theme for more than one....) that my "Love Life" was essentially in traction for the time being, they decided to help.

Which meant a riveting discussion of the entire male cast of Target.

Turns out that my lack of dates might be partially influenced by the general shortage of single men over the age of 21 working at Target, as subject after subject was slashed down for this very basic criteria.

Add on the petty details like Target hierarchical rules and personal interest on either side, and it was just a sad state of being.  

However, given this it should be fairly simple to keep that (horrible) New Years Resolution I unintentionally made.