Ninapintasantamaria's Blog

{December 28, 2010}   My very 1st Corvette!

Hi, all! Since you last saw me, I learned to drive! Papa Ralph got me a car!


I also learned how to take off my clothes. Mommy says all I need is a pole. Does she want me to hang my clothes on it?


{December 27, 2010}   Have you ever…

Just sat and thought about how your life would have been different if…? Yeah. I do that a lot. It’s not that I’m unhappy, exactly, but more that I’ve got so much more potential. I feel like I get disrespected at work, which bleeds over into my home life. I get irritated by the minutiae of the day and the fact that I work around a bunch of rude-ass people who can’t even answer you when you ask a question, or act like they just didn’t hear you and either talk over you, or do precisely what you asked them not to. I realize I have control issues, but I’m really tired of fighting for it. Here and at work. I feel like no one gives a shit what I think should be done, but then when I just take care of things myself(doing my best not to inconvenience everyone else), I’m called pushy, overbearing, bitchy, inappropriate, etc. Then, when I explain why I do what I do, (which I’ve spent my whole life coming up with justifications for everything I do and everything I want mostly because I despise people bitching at me and I always felt like if my parents had explained why more often, I wouldn’t have been nearly as sneaky, conniving, bitter, put upon, etc.), either they don’t want to hear it, or it’s ignored and they just keep right on bitching. Hmmm….most of this is reminiscent of home. I’m sorry, one of my pet peeves is people who act like you never even spoke when you ask a question. Dammit, I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t need the answer! If it’s not a good time, say that. Politely. Then get back to me. (‘Hang on’, ‘just a minute’, etc are all perfectly appropriate.) I’m sorry that ‘men use up their quota of words during the day’ or whatever crap that is. I don’t have time for that. I’m not just talking for my health. I’m not asking questions I already know the answers to, or I wouldn’t have asked, jackass. Answer me, or tell me where the information is, and I don’t need you telling me how much better someone else is at [fill in the blank] whatever I’m asking about, or how I can just look and know, or how it’s common sense. It’s not, or I wouldn’t be asking, fucker! Suffice it to say, I’m feeling a bit put upon, today. I’m tired of justifying myself. Time for the world to justify to me, a bit.

I read this book a long time ago, called Seven Habits of Highly Effective People. One of the big topics in it was how to “Seek first to understand, then be understood.” I want to do this, but I feel like I’m being roadblocked everywhere. Maybe I should have read Dale Carnegie’s “How to Win Friends and Influence People” instead.

Yep. Shitters were full. Anyway, you’ll all be happy to know I survived breakfast with my MIL, and no one had to part with any hard-earned cash to bail me out of the pokey! *insert extended applause here* It was actually a pleasant time. I’m starting to feel the inklings of an out of body experience, here. Surely there couldn’t have just been two major holidays made pleasant by my MIL, right?

In other news, my SIL is pregnant. Yep, my brother is having another rugrat/tricycle motor/yard ape. I’m so excited for them, but they just sold all their baby stuff in a yard sale! I offered my bassinet and stuff for their use. I know where they live.

I had some bleeding last week. Spit spotting for about 3ish days. It would go hours, almost a whole day, then start up again. This was accompanied by twinges from the right ovary. Hmmmm…….Anyway, it was like two, maybe 3 days after I had the IUD out. Surely not…..

Off to cart Grumpy McStinkypants to Grandmama’s for Christmas dinner. *beleaguered sigh* YCU has to go to work. This should be fun. But! But! He can entertain everyone by saying ‘Papa’. So I’ll let you know how it goes.

{December 22, 2010}   On taking oneself too seriously…

Today, I walked to the anesthesia workroom and asked two young ladies there for an item that lived there, I just didn’t know where. Apparently, they were CRNA students. The response I got was “We’re not anesthesia techs.” Ooooo-kay, could you tell me where it is and I’ll just get it myself? I mean, really? What, pray tell, does that have to do with the price of tea in China? What, you’re too good to help me find something, or just hand it to me since you most likely still know where it is, despite your deficiency in manners?


This week, I was asking one of the surgeons about his daughters, how they were doing, what schools they’d been accepted to, and whatnot. He told me, and I asked if it would be for a volleyball scholarship and he stated “No, I pay the school, and she can play on the team if she wants.” Gotta love those politics. So I made the comment that all that grace and coordination stuff had passed me by, and I had to settle for just being a smart kid! To this, he responded: *sigh* “That just means that if you were single, and I were single, I’d have to pass on you, because I just couldn’t dilute my gene pool with someone who wasn’t an athlete.” True story. Straight-faced and everything! He meant it! His general rhetoric is all about how he’s amazing, his wife’s gorgeous, his girls are wonderful, and they’re all better than you, etc, etc. It was funny. I mean, seriously? As if I was offering! Another surgeon today told me that if I was ever to become husband-less, I would need to change my ways if I hoped to ever have another one. Wow. Really? Because I stand up for myself and have expectations that he behave like a grown-up? This makes me an Undesirable? Really? Boys are stupid. I said it in high school a lot, which is probably why I didn’t have a lot of dates, but it really is true. *sigh*

My MIL has invited herself, her husband, and my stepson over TO MY HOUSE for Christmas morning. To cook in my kitchen. And my husband has to go to work at 1pm. And I have to grin and bear it. Wahoo. Would you all mind pooling your resources to bail me out? Great.

Earlier this week, my husband called me at work and was angry that I’d forgotten to bring the diaper bag in from my car. Oops, sorry hon. I told him he could come pick it up, then go to his event. To which he responded “I’m not driving all the way down there for that.” People, it’s a 15 min drive to my work. Yes, really. I know. But I called him back, and reminded him that there was a bigger bag in our closet, he could throw some diapers, wipes, and clothes in that, and still go wherever it was he needed to go. He didn’t want to do that either, because I should have just remembered, etc, etc. I hit the roof. Over the phone, at work. There were witnesses to my disgrace. They laughed. So, I said. What you’re telling me, is that you’re not really that motivated to go anywhere, because you’ve turned down two perfectly viable options. You just wanted to call here and bitch at me because you had nothing better to do. Damn it, fix the problem, grow some problem solving skills, and don’t bother me with stupid shit like that! I don’t have time to deal with it, and if I’d been the one stranded, I’d have gotten my happy ass in my car, driven to wherever you were, retrieved the bag, and been on my merry way without bothering him in the least! Small child! ARRRRRRRRRRGH!

Fletcher has learned to climb on his new toy box and take down all his books! As we speak, I’m trying to figure out how to attach a rock to his head so he doesn’t grow up. I’ll let you know what I come up with.

I started an IV yesterday. IN ONE STICK. I’ve not started an IV in at least 5 years. Someone please jump up and down for me and clap, before I explode and just start tooting my own horn! Loudly! I’m only pleased as punch, a little bit. Just a little bit. Like ridin’ a bike, baby! (Oh, yes, I am a nurse and all, but anesthesia usually does that for us in the holding room, so it kind of eliminates it from our job description. This CRNA needed an extra pair of hands, and mine were the only ones available.)

I hate the dogs that live in my house. Actually, hate is a strong word. They’d be fine if they lived outside and I didn’t have to clean up after them. Unfortunately, if YCU had his druthers, they’d be in the bed with us. Eww. They roll in their own poop, they’re not sleeping in my sheets. So there. The Heinz-57 mutt is still not potty trained (big dogs make bigger messes, in case you didn’t know), chews on everything, is destructive (we had to clean up outside where he dug in the trash and broke glass jars and other dangerous items), and is generally a pest. He does not understand ‘NO!!’ or ‘GIT!!’, or any other commands that generally stop dogs from doing stupid things like eating poop, getting underfoot, or sniffing in inappropriate places. He does all these things with gusto. Sometimes, he even does them all at once. Moving him forcefully (not exactly a kick, and hopefully not painful) is the only thing that works getting him out from underfoot, but it lasts like a second, and he’s at it again. I’ve scolded him more than once that if he trips me and hurts the baby, he’ll be an outside dog for the rest of his days. (Because dogs speak English. Yeah.) I had a dog that lived in a homemade doghouse outside for 10ish years, and she did fine. (My brother was old enough to take care of her himself, and she wasn’t my mom’s or dad’s responsibility. Most of the time.) The other dog, the pug, is cute, and reasonably well behaved, and we’d just gotten him potty trained when YCU brought home this puppy. (I’m talking, like, a week, here.) However, he sheds. Rather, he molts. I sweep, and there is another dog in my dustpan. I was finally rejoicing about not having to clean up after 2 dogs, and he brings home this puppy that we don’t have time to train or clean up after. Does my husband see the wisdom in having not brought him home? No. Does he try to find someone who has time to take care of him? No. So, I refuse to do anything with the dogs except let them out (because I don’t want the smell in the house). YCU can feed them when he gets home. See? Told you. I’m horrible, but I just can’t get past the fact that my husband brought him home, and as far as I’m concerned, he can take care of them both. I’ve never really been an “Animals in the house” kind of person anyway. Lots of maintenance, lots of cleaning, can’t get them clean without getting the whole bathroom filthy (because they have to be bathed, even in the winter, or they smell, which also takes a lot of time), and then they won’t stay still long enough to get dry, so they go and rub their wet, nasty dog smell on everything in the house before you can get them back in their crate or outside. (Yes, I have issues. If I could plastic wrap them, like that commercial, they could live in the house. I would be ok with that.) I like animals, I just don’t like them in the house with me. My horse had her own house. I liked that.

Could everyone stop by and leave some encouraging words for my friend May? She’s in need. Great, horrid, terrible need. Thank you, in advance.

Hi all! Fletcher, here! Mommy’s taken to calling me Cranky McStinkypants, lately. Hmmmmph. That may be, but I’ve got two (count ’em, TWO) new toofs to show for it! It’s only fitting, after all, I’m all big and ONE now! Papa Ralph brought me a toy box and a real box! I love cake. Mommy says she’s trying to get a video of how I act when someone in the room is eating cake and NOT SHARING. That makes them terrible, awful, no-good, very bad mean people. I also love all my new toys. I’m walking, too! Well, almost. I can hold onto stuff and walk. Mommy says I can stand by myself, but I fall as soon as I realize it. I said “Papa” and “Bye-bye” this week! I’m mad at the babysitters too. Do you know they won’t share their dog food with me? And I’m the McStinkypants? Hmmph! Now, how to get all big and two…..

{December 12, 2010}   God, I hate this time of year.

I think we’ve covered Kroger Alerts here before. Or rather, Fletcher has. I tried to get out tonight to get my antibiotics (to fight off a sinus infection [yes, another one]) and people here don’t know how to drive for anything. PSA: You have to creep down the hills (on the brakes, people, no gas involved), and not lose momentum because you’re gonna need it to get up the hill. *sigh* I saw cars off the road, in the ditches, spinning tires, one moron in a truck almost backed into me. I know how to drive in this stuff, but no one else does, and I don’t want to stand out in the cold waiting for some police officer to get there, knowing he can’t drive in it either after some moron in a truck with no weights in the back and no chains on the tires plows into me. Run-on sentence, much? I turned my happy little butt around and came home. Anyway, Fletcher’s birthday party went great. He smashed cake, we ate cake (he had his own, don’t worry)ice cream, and pizza, he opened more presents (and, again, played with the box) and a good time was had by all! I know. I’m a flawless party planner. I should go into business. (Whatever. It was for a one year old who thought his best gift was a paper plate!) He’s got two more teeth, which explains the excessive crankiness, and he’s consistently cruising now. My friend sent me the cutest little pic of Fletcher and his little cohort at the babysitter’s. I present:


{December 5, 2010}   My baby…

is turning 1!!! In 4 days!!! We’ve made it! Without any ER visits! So, I’m a little excited. Just a little. Anyway, we had the first of 2 birthday parties today. We went to the MIL’s and had cake and milk. Fletcher loves cake. Pics to follow, but trust me, it was precious! I didn’t even have to show him how to open presents. I guess that skill’s genetic, cause, boy, he had it down! And then he played with the box. *sigh* Some things are universal, I suppose. My MIL was very well-behaved and we had a nice time. I know, I’m as shocked as you. I can only hope this lasts till Fletcher graduates high school, at least. I know, I’m a real pessimist, but most of you have been with me for the other meltdowns in appropriateness she’s had, so, I mean, really? What else did you think was gonna happen, right? In other news, Fletcher has his 1 year old dr’s appt next week, on the 14th, and I have an appointment to have my IUD removed the same day. (Gulp!) We got to eat with my dad and his new girlfriend (Yes, I know, he’s nuts. He will never learn.) in honor of my sister’s birthday yesterday. She seemed ok. But so did the last two. Ugh. (Dear God, please make my dad have some common sense this time please? Thanks.) Oh, yes. Just call me Wilhelmina Faulkner. “My son is a puppy.” Albeit, a darling one.

I am a puppy.  Apparently.

{December 2, 2010}   Nothing is happening.

My life is boring. I work all the time, I clean when I have the energy, I watch my son get into everything he can get his hands on while brushing off the dog hair he accumulates at the babysitter’s. I have a puppy instead of a little boy. This is my life. (I’m never going to get away from dogs, am I.) So, this week has been trying for little ole me’s patience. I’ve had to work with my OR husband (who drives me just as nuts as my official one, I’d kill him if we actually had to work together.) who thinks it’s funny to throw stuff in the floor for me to pick up (Yes, I have to, it’s a safety hazard, namely for me.), throws trash in my sponge bucket (we have to count sponges to make sure we leave with the same number we got there with, and it’s real easy for sponges to get wrapped up in trash and get thrown out thereby causing the patient an unnecessary x-ray), and generally goes out of his way to irk the hell out of me. I dropped more than a few f-bombs that day. Also, he and the first assistant in the room were treating me like it was my first day. “Nina, go see the patient!” Already done. “Nina, mix your meds!” Also already done, just waiting for you to get your lazy ass in there and set the table up so I can give them to you. “Nina, go get started on your paperwork!” Really? I can have the paperwork done within 10 minutes of starting the case. So, if you like, I can go sit on my ass and do a crossword puzzle while you two bust ass and get this room ready for the case, but that’s not how I generally like to do things. I actually work when I come here, so how ’bout you let me in on what your “master plan” is, and we’ll get it done that much faster, eh? Seriously, these guys acted like I’d never been in an OR before. The next day, I walked into a room to give a lunch and it was like a chinese fire drill in there! (Am I allowed to say that anymore? I’d hate to think I was being offensive, that’s just the expression I’ve always heard. Maybe I shouldn’t use it anymore. Onwards.) When she finally left to eat, I had the drugs given, the charting done, the room organized all within approximately, oh, say, 7 minutes. My job is stressful sometimes, but really? Not that demanding, thought-wise. You just have to plan ahead and learn the preferences of the surgeon and try to meld them with what’s right for the patient, but that’s another story. I don’t understand this concept of running a room that no one can hear themselves think in, but whatever. Yesterday, I had to contend with a moody, pregnant scrub nurse who was cranky that I opened up the case supplies (yes, they get this petty) and she wanted a break. I apologized, and offered to sit in the room while she took her break, but she was pissy the whole day. Then the CRNA wanted to be all commando and wouldn’t listen, treated me like her maid (‘Nina could you plug this in for me? I can’t reach it.’ She was sitting in a chair with her legs crossed.), got pissy when I called the anesthesiologist (which we’re required to do)before she expressly gave me permission, then when I tried to help her hook up her monitors she acted like I was an idiot and actually took it away from me! I do not feel the need to help her anymore. I refused to call on the next case, and I got my paperwork done while the patient was going to sleep. Her bossy, bitchy ass can call her own damn doc over the walkie-talkie! So there.

et cetera