Pizza isn't comfort food when it makes you violently ill..

Today, like the rest of the past few weeks, has been insane. Here is a little bit of a recap of today that pretty much mirrors the last two weeks, and will project on to the rest of this month:

Melodrama had the entire house up before morning Taps to pile into our extremely depressing car and drive two hours to Atlanta. If you live in Georgia, or have ever been to Atlanta, you understand. It wasn't exactly my dream morning.
We get to 400, and BAM! - traffic. Lots and lots of traffic. Of course Ass-band wasn't exactly helpful; Why would he be when he knows I'll just put on my Super Mom cape and do everything with a smile?

So after dealing with a missing doll, cup, and stray M&M, we finally get there.


OHMYallegoryforgodDUDE!!!!! They have full-time super cool therapy dogs that just sit on really funky couches next to massive fish tanks all day. Melodrama was so excited about life at the moment of eye contact with the animals that we spent 30 minutes standing around in a massive lobby with a volunteer and several other screaming children. Cue anxiety hives, exhaustion, migraine, and general unhappiness. Now, to elaborate, I love my daughter more than I love caffeine, right? I don't love crowds, screaming and squealing noises from well over a dozen children, and I'm allergic to dogs.
Yes, the dogs were amazingly friendly and over-enthusiastic about my toddler hanging from their necks, the fish were gorgeous, and the volunteer that lead us to Lab was super understanding of Melodrama's ADHD. No, I wasn't having a good time - especially when there were other mothers there trying to ask me strange and semi-personal questions.

"How old is your daughter? You look exceptional for a young mother."
"How did you lose all the baby weight?"
"How do you keep your piercings in?"

To answer your extremely nosy questions, Mom-zillas:

- She's two; Yes, I'm pretty banging for a young Mom.
- I don't sit on my ass eating cupcakes and Twinkies all day. I get up off my lazy ass and stay moving ALL DAY. Thanks for the compliment - albeit it wasn't delivered in a very considerate fashion.
- I just fucking do.

All in all, Melodrama came out two vials of blood lighter, 20 + stickers and band-aids more decorated, and exhausted both myself and Ass-band. It was a rather eventful day that I can't even continue typing for fear of reliving it in my mind and becoming even more wiped out.


I get home to e-mails that won't wait - nice right? I am now going to be hosting a very awkward visit from my Dad and my Step-Mom. This should make for one hella fantastic blog when I return from the land of Children's Hospital of Atlanta next week sometime.

Melodrama just informed me that I should be cleaning up her mess thanks to Ass-band; I guess I should get on that now.


Anyone have any M&M's I can give her to quell the screaming and running around? hehe.. yeah.

Will You Provide Treatment For Us?

My life is apparently destined to suck ass at all times for some reason. I'm feeling like ass after my excursion outside the homestead today. Apparently, I didn't eat this morning - yes, I know, I ignored myself and didn't eat. I'm not going to make excuses, but you try not getting to sleep because of stress/worry/ZA noises outside until almost four in the fackin' morning, getting up before the sun decides to make its daily debut, then trying to wrangle a slightly stupid husband and a very hyper child into a very small car to drive through Atlanta "nightmare" traffic to Scottish Rite Hospital. I might as well have one of those enclosed golf cart-ish tiny cars with as much room as we have in it.

Traffic, albeit not the best, wasn't the worst. Only problem there was I budgeted our time for "bad" traffic, and we ended up getting there like two hours early. Enter stage right - the waiting game. I've never been so bored, or quite so exposed in my life. I might as well have been naked with how people were staring at me. I don't think having an alternative view on how a mother should look really deems all those gawking rejects necessary. Yes, I have a child. No, I don't wear jeans up under my boobs, weird sweaters, and a Farrah feathered hairstyle. I don't think it's necessary to take my piercings out, or cover my tattoos, just because my body made a little person. Stop staring at me like I'm 1940's Germany and you're a fleeing minority.

I'm not going to burn your house down, I'm not going to rob you, and I'm not going to hurt you - though I may talk rather sternly to you like a mother chastising her child because you let your kids run around a very large facility unchecked, and are therefore putting them at risk to be hurt by others.

Yes, obviously my piercings, tattoos, and normal clothes make me a bad mother; yet I've always got my child in check, I'm always watching her, and she's healthy, happy and intelligent. Thank you for your concern, though, stranger. Now please fuck off. Go raise your own child, and I'll keep doing what I'm doing with mine.

When we finally got to see her doctor, I was so happy we I went through all the driving/staring/planning stress to get to that point. He's amazing. Rudy likes him, I like him, and Husband - who cares? He is really good with her; not demanding but polite. He treats her like she's an intelligent child who isn't too stupid to understand simple commands like "sit just like that", "take your shoes off for me", etc. He is also going to get her taken care of, come what may, by the first week of October. Hooray medical competence! Husband doesn't like him as much as I do because he's younger. Guy is like in his early 30's, but he's probably been in college since he was 16. He's extremely intelligent, and he knows what he's doing. Something we haven't seen in any other specialist since Hawaii. He also treated me with respect and not like an overly-concerned parent. I greatly admire someone who treats me like I'm of a higher understanding than a high-school dropout.






I'm desperately thirsty and nothing sounds good but Sonic. I think I'm about to take a blogging break for a huge sprite. Yes, I take snack breaks during my blogging. I'm a dork.