Ninapintasantamaria's Blog

{February 11, 2012}   Hi, remember me?

HAPPY NEW YEAR!…Oh, wait, I missed it. Well, I’ve been busy, ok? What? Anyway, Sabrina’s rolling over now, and discovering her feet, Fletcher’s been panhandling in church (more on that later!), and learning to jump and do headstands! I’m having visions of stitches and blood in my future…wait, that could just be Monday. *sigh* No news yet on the department transfer at work, but now it’s looking unlikely to happen for at least 6 months. *sigh* The hours between 4 and 6pm have become the Witching Hour around here. Nobody’s happy, everybody screams, guess they’ll go eat worms…! YCU hurt his back last week, so that’s been fun. Now he’s convinced he’s old and breaking down. He’s 36. I know. I can’t convince him any different. Bless his heart.

So, Fletcher. What can I say about Fletcher? He’s a little hambone, but we knew that already. I walked into the new(ish) babysitter’s house one day to find Fletcher and his little friend Liam both sitting in the bad chair across the room from each other. When I asked what happened, she told me that she’d told them to pick up their toys and they simultaneously threw something at her! He’s learned to hit and throw things when he’s angry now, (I can only assume from the other little boy, we do our best to behave ourselves in front of the offspring) so we’re trying to break that bad habit. So, panhandling. Yeah, my son could make a killing on the side of the road, I tell ya. We went to Sunday School this week and they have a little collection jar there that the kids put their SS offering in every week. They love to hear the coins jingle. Fletcher loves that thing. I can give him 6 pennies and that jar, and he’ll stay occupied all through SS. Yes, I know he’s supposed to be paying attention, but he’s 2. It’ll come in time, right? Anyway, we got there early, and he grabbed the jar first thing. We went upstairs to the devotional and as I was greeting some fellow churchgoers, I looked up and danged if every one of those old men in the Amen Corner wasn’t cleaning out their pockets, giving him change! I’m pretty sure my face went white as I squeaked “My son is panhandling at church!” His teacher said she’d start a collection for the snacks and just let him head the committee. I have new pictures! Look!







{December 2, 2011}   Well, I was all excited…

and, as usual, it was too good to be true. Tennessee has breastfeeding laws, and I was all excited thinking I could go pump whenever I needed to, and that my employer was required to let me go. Not really. I’m so upset. It says they have to let us have unpaid breaks, but only if it doesn’t disrupt business as usual. So they really don’t have to, because anytime you take a break as an OR nurse, you’re interrupting business as usual because they have to relieve you in a room, or the patient might roll to the room later, etc. Why even make a law if they can’t be more decisive than that? So now, I’m back to square one, trying to finagle time during a busy day without being dependent on my employers to provide it. What happens is I get stuck in a room with no relief, full to bursting, and I just have to suffer because they keep effing firing everybody and they have no help, and the charge nurse won’t come relieve you for a few minutes because they’re too busy “managing”. I need more control than that. I need a job where it’s not imperative that I be stuck and dependent on someone else’s good graces to take care of bodily functions.

I’ve decided to transfer up to the ICU and eventually go to school to become a CRNA. I hate school with a hairy passion, but I hate my job right now worse. I was dreading going back to work, I’m not focused, and I don’t want to be there. I have to force myself to get up and gird my loins for work every morning. You spend waaaaaay too much time at work to be unhappy,in my opinion, so it’s time to do something new.

In other news, Fletcher’s beginning to realize that Sabrina’s not going away. He is not amused. Alas. I have new pictures. My offspring:







{November 10, 2011}   If this happens one more time…

Y’all are gonna have to send the paddywagon after me. OMG. I don’t DO critters. My husband had the audacity to be working in my time of dire need, so I had to get rid of the mouse (and sweep and mop the floor) myself. I had to pull out the rubber gloves and everything. The damn thing tried to attack me and do you know it was the size of my pug? Huge mouse. I hate mouses.


{October 21, 2011}   What I’d like to do…

and what I actually did were at war with each other, but it worked, for now. Yes, folks, I’ve had another run-in with the crazy neighbor. He tried to call the codes/restriction department for the city and get us fined for working on a car outside the garage (to the side of the house). We got the letter while I was in the hospital, and initially, I wanted to run out of there in my backless gown and whoop his ass. Personally. Yeah, it was the dope talking, I know. However, after I calmed down, I wanted to go to the H.ustler Hollywood store, buy a footlong d.ildo, and wrap it up with a ribbon and a note:

Dear STUPID NEIGHBOR, You are cordially invited to go f.uck yourself. Here’s a little gift to get the party started! Love, Nina and YCU.

So, maybe it wasn’t the dope talking, but I digress. Anyway, the letter stated that we had to work on the car on gravel/pavement that wasn’t a sidewalk (the whole sideyard is gravel), and it had to be enclosed on 3 sides ( let’s see…rock wall, rock wall, house, check!) and the car couldn’t be unregistered (well, I’m pretty sure that stickers on the license plate that say 2011 aren’t out of date yet, buy who am I to make that call?). Does all this sound stupid to anyone else? My husband confronted the guy and was informed that Stupid Neighbor and our other 2 adjoining neighbors had had a meeting about us and that no one wanted to live around us because we were so trashy. WAIT A MINUTE. HOLD THE PHONE. Just who the HELL you callin’ trashy? How dare he? I’m sorry, but he didn’t have any meeting, cause the other two neighbors wave at us when they see us and ask about the kids. Sorry, jackass, you’re nothing but a controlling, bullying, hypocritical person of suspect parentage, and you don’t get to threaten us. If I want to paint my house orange with purple polka dots, it’s MINE, motherfu.cker!! Anyway, so Monday, when he was mowing our grass (at 8am, no less), I marched out there in my bathrobe and bare feet and ordered him off our property. I also threatened to have him arrested for trespassing if he ever showed up over here again. He started spouting codes and policies, to which I responded: “We’re not in violation yet, so you can leave. NOW!” He then started spouting how Jesus loves me and God will take care of my family…whatever. I informed him he was a hypocritical bastard and gave him the “You’re #1” sign, then walked back in the house. Haven’t laid eyes on him since, but…you know we will again. He apparently has Alzheimer’s where we’re concerned. My next move is to call the police and tell them he’s been peeping in my windows. Which he technically has, since he takes it on himself to push our trashcans up from the road each week and he has to look right in the windows behind the cans…But that’s only if he shows up again.

I leave you with this:


He seems to be adjusting well.

I do. And did I mention that I love my doctor for giving me one? My maternity leave’s starting today. I have cankles, my bp’s up a little, everything hurts, and Little Miss Stubborn still hasn’t turned. So. Unless I think she’s turned by Monday morning, I’m to show up Tuesday morning to Labor and Delivery for a c-section.

Yesterday was horrible. Suffice it to say, EVERYTHING went wrong. I don’t think I had a single case go correctly, specimens got confused, equipment was malfunctioning, we thought we were ready but weren’t, as we didn’t have all the stuff in the room, you name it, it happened. I ended up in tears in the assistant director’s office, just needing a break. I just sort of unloaded. I’m stressed out, burnt out, and tuckered out, and I’m so glad I don’t have to see that place for at least 8 weeks, I can hardly stand myself right now. So. My plan is to pack a bag, clean up, straighten up, and put up, and relax for the next few days.

{September 7, 2011}   And the countdown begins…

I’m 35 weeks and 1 day, today. She’s decided to show her butt again. As in frank breech. Wheeeee! NOT. Otherwise, she’s perfect. Fletcher’s decided he hates going out to eat, and showed out spectacularly at the Logan’s Roadhouse on Monday. Prostrated himself in the floor and everything. Yes, with the peanut shells and God-only-knows-what-else on the floor. *sigh* Once we got to my grandparents’ house, they have a piano and a big room to run in, so problem solved. He could just run around. They gave me a shower a few Sundays ago, and my spawn was pilfering off the refreshment table. You can’t take him anywhere.

{August 9, 2011}   And on the 3rd day…

she rested. Yep, I got sent home early today because there were no more cases, and I was on call till 5pm, so I couldn’t go pick up Fletcher, so I indulged myself with a little light reading and a nap! It was nice. The swelling in my legs and feet is getting a bit worse, so I’m sitting with my feet propped up now, and plan to go to bed early. I’m also thirsty constantly, so I’m drinking water. I woke up last week and couldn’t wear my rings, so I guess it’s starting.

This morning I awakened to the sound of my child’s early morning food retrieval alarm at 5:57. I have to leave by 6am to get to work on time. Yay. So I raced out the door with no shower, and no breakfast. When I got to work, I was assigned to a 7:30 case, but we were ready and counted by 7:05. I don’t have to be in the holding room till 7:20, so I went for breakfast in the cafeteria. At 7:15, the charge nurse comes in there and tells me that the general surgeon opening for the neurosurgeon was there and ready to go. {{{{ARRRRRRGH!!!!}}}} So, I toss my breakfast, and hotfoot it to the holding room. When I get there, there is no History & Physical on the chart, which we have to have to roll to the OR, and the neurosurgeon and his P.A. are under the impression that their case started at 8:00. So I could have easily eaten my meal. This did little for my already irritable disposition this morning. Could anyone have confirmed that the patient was ready and all necessary paperwork was accounted for before I was summoned? I mean, really? Was that really necessary?

In other news, Fletcher seems to be doing great at the new sitter’s. I’ve walked in twice to find him cuddled up in her lap (which he almost never does at home, but it is becoming more frequent since he’s been going there. I wonder if no one ever held him at the old place. Hmmm…). I’m so jealous. But, it just goes to show he likes it there, I guess, so it’s ok. This lady’s been taking care of kids for a long time, and is like a stricter version of my grandma (who absolutely everyone loves), so I guess she has the touch!! She laughed when I told her we’d have to get one of those dry-erase boards that says “We’ve been accident free for X amount of days!” My son is a human wrecking ball. Kaboom.

*beleaguered sigh* Last week, I picked Fletcher up at the sitter’s, and he had a black eye. I was properly horrified, however, they explained that he’d tripped over some of his toys and fell head first into some of his other toys. Several weeks ago, I picked him up(after dropping him off early) and they told me he’d slept so long, and they knew I’d be there just any time, so he hadn’t had lunch yet. I dropped him off at 6am, and this was 2:30-3:00. Um. Yeah, that’s a long time for someone his age to go without eating, folks. So then, this past Friday, I picked him up, and he came around the corner and ran to me, while they were all sitting in the living room, not following him around to watch him. Most days, I have to change his extremely wet diaper when I get there. Then I found his sippy cup from that morning, still containing the remnants of his first cup of milk. (I only know this because my husband put a scoop of his protein shake in it. Fletcher likes the chocolate taste of it. I’ve asked politely that he not do this again, as it will likely turn Fletcher into the Incredible Hulk.) Then, there was only one diaper missing from the diaper bag all day. If all these things were isolated incidents, I could see letting it go, but they aren’t. So, today, we dropped him off with a new babysitter. More expensive, naturally, but we’ll just have to rough it. I still have to go over to the old sitter’s house and pick up his toys. When I left this morning, he was happy and playing, so I didn’t worry. But when I got there, his other eye was black, and there was a cut beneath it! I know my child’s a klutz, and can trip over his own feet, so I’m not blaming the old or the new sitter for that, after all, kids are gonna have accidents. But…*sigh*

{July 12, 2011}   All’s quiet…

so far. Fletcher’s learned how to blow kisses, but he holds his hand up to my mouth instead of his own. *sigh* It’s still cute, what can I say? Sabrina’s still butt down, as far as I know, hopefully not to stay, but that would be my luck. I’m just tired all the time, but that’s ok. I’ll make it. So the SIL had her baby this week…at home. It was an unplanned home birth. Yeah, I’ve been trying for 2 days to wrap my head around my computer nerd brother who probably doesn’t know how to do CPR delivering this baby in their bed, but I’m drawing a blank. When I asked him about it today, he said that Little Burrito was out before he could even get to the phone after her water broke, and that he didn’t have to do much at all. Mom and baby are ok, came home from the hospital today, and doing fine! Never a dull moment with this crew! My GTT came out fine, Sabrina’s echo was declared “unsuspicious”, and all’s well…for now. Oh, Fletcher got his daddy good! YCU was giving him a bath while I ran to the grocery store. I wasn’t gone 45 minutes, and apparently, complete hilarity ensued. When I returned, YCU was glaring at me. What? I said. “Fletcher shit in the tub.” Ok, I answered. Evidently, there were undigested raisins in said poop, and Fletcher, in all his infinite wisdom, thought to himself “I made food!! I’m magical!” and tried to scoop up the raisins. YCU got to him just in time, but being naked, Fletcher immediately responded by peeing on YCU! Yeah, I wish you could have seen YCU’s face, I laughed so hard I had tears rolling down my face and was holding my belly whilst laying on the bed. So now, YCU has declared baby baths a verboten activity if it involves himself, and refuses to assist in any way, for fear of being excremented upon. It was glorious, I couldn’t have gotten better if I trained Fletcher myself!

Hi, all, Fletcher here!! Mommy says I’m gonna be a big brother!! As long as I’m still the center of attention, I’m all for it!! I’m not exactly sure what a big brother does, though. Does that mean I’m bigger and I was here first, so it’s all mine? I think so.

Mommy wrests the computer from sticky hands: Well, the jury is back, and: It’s a girl!!! So, now to figure out how to clothe her and feed her and still keep Fletcher from flashing everyone on a regular basis due to it being his sister’s turn this week to get diapers at the store. *sigh* I got definitive proof today of her female-ness. I had an appt yesterday, and things went well. My doctor was 85% sure she was a girl, but wasn’t positive. Today, I had another u/s because I was kneed in the belly by a patient that was coming off the OR table fighting and in trying to restrain him (Yes, I had help, I don’t have a death wish!), I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. So, how was everyone else’s day?

et cetera