Faggots on the Third Floor

Violation?

2009-07-12T19:22:00.002-04:00

So it's been asked, many times before, why I feel the way I do about cutting my child's hair. For those that know me well, it comes as no surprise why I feel the way that I do.
The "my" in my children denotes the legal and ethical responsibility that I have to them. It does not in any way permit me ownership over them or their bodies, and does not allow me to arbitrarily decide what parts of their body, however "insignificant," that they get to keep.

Hair does not damage children. It does not in and of itself cause them discomfort or health risk. Hair, left alone, is just hair. Fingernails, left alone, cause pain and inconvenience, so fingernails get cut. Hair, properly cared for, is just there.

I do not feel that it is my right to remove things from my child. Most people realize and understand that, holistically, this is how I view the body. I don't cut off their genitals, I don't poke holes in their ears, I don't draw on them with needles, I don't scar their bodies. I don't cut their hair.

Is this to say that I feel hair cutting parents are cruel, indifferent child abusers? Not in the least. Because unlike piercing ears or removing the end of the penis, a haircut really does involve no physical pain and the hair will continue to grow. A haircut, no matter how drastic, is not permanent. So it doesn't bother me to see kids get their haircut. It bothers me for people to assume a boy must have short hair and a girl must have long, because that is no different than a boy must play with guns and a girl must play with dolls. Gender stereotyping doesn't happen in my household. But for people who chose to cut their kids' hair, for whatever reason, it doesn't bother me.

I don't cut things off of my children. I leave their bodies whole and leave them with the ability and the right to make those choices for themselves.

So why did we get his hair cut? Because the ends were frazzled. They were damaged and tangly and scraggly. It made his hair healthier to remove the dead, damaged ends. He was a part of the decision, he watched Ben get his hair cut, cut Jessie's hair and even a piece of Carolyn's. He understood that it would only be a little off the ends, that his hair would still be long (and blonde, he was very concerned about that), and he watched in a mirror the whole time. He didn't get upset until people started making a big deal over it, but that is who he is. His personality is to be bothered when he is the center of attention. But he was on board with the process and we didn't force him to do it. Highly different then tying him down and cutting things, for sure. But for me it was a break, or rather a detour, from what I feel about a child's right to his or her own body. Yes, hair will always grow back and there is no pain involved, which is why I'm accepting of the situation (or the choices of other parents to cut their kids' hair). It's just sooner than I would have liked it to be done because he is not at this point in time able to make fully conscious, aware decisions. I would have liked for it to be done at a time when he was able to ask for it himself.

It will never be truly cut, unless it reaches a point where it is causing him discomfort or true annoyance (because, at that time, it would not longer be a benign nothing, but a problem that needs to be rectified), unless he asks for it done. And it would need to be a conscious, aware decision that he makes with the maturity of a child who knows what is involved (that it can't be put back on, that it will feel and look very different, etc). But knowing him, and how much he loves his hair, I doubt that time will ever come.

3y11m... Charlie's first haircut

2009-07-11T20:05:00.003-04:00

No, you don't get before and after pictures. Not yet anyway. I have no after pictures, and even if I did I don't know where the camera is. And even if I did I don't know where the software CD is for the camera and I got a new computer so I can't upload them to my computer. And I don't want to mess with AJ's computer.

So yes, Charlie got his hair cut. And I hated doing it and I felt guilty about it and still do. It's not really any different. Just the ends in the back. I thought about an inch normally but looking at the clippings it's closer to 2.5 inches. I think it really looks like a girl style now, because it's level across the back instead of jagged and uneven like it was. But the ends were frizzy and frayed, and our family friend who is a stylist was at the beach with us and had her kit. He was totally fine during it, but got really upset after. So then I got upset and cried because he was SO heartbroken. He was angry at us, with damn good reason. After about an hour he was still so upset over it I took the bag to Carolyn and had her put the hair back on. Yeah, I lied to him, but he's happy now. And, newsflash, I also bring the Christmas presents and the Easter basket.

So he still has very long surfer boy hair, and now the ends are a little healthier. It went against my parenting and personal ideals and I'm having an issue with feeling like I violated him, but what's done is done. He's still super cute, though.

Banner and other layout nonsense

2009-07-08T09:37:00.003-04:00

I used to keep my blog really cool looking. I knew a fair amount of HTML at one time. Alas, I have slipped. Those pictures in my banner are nearly two years old. I need new pictures, like yesterday. But I don't have the time or knowledge anymore to make a new banner.

Can someone make me a cool banner? I'll give you lots of cute pictures of my cute kids. I'll even mention your coolness in my super cool blog.

My blog used to be super cool. Then I started working for The Firm and stopped updating often. Then I let it slip slowly into an abyss that I can't seem to find my way out of, but I'm trying. But maybe a fresh new look would help. I need to do the overall layout (maybe I should finally upgrade to the "new" one-touch editing that Blogger rolled out over a year ago?), but mostly I need a new banner.

So, if you don't mind payment in good thoughts and car seat advice, could you make me a banner? Email me and let me know what you need.

Michael Jackson's children

2009-07-07T22:25:00.003-04:00

So, by now I'm pretty sure everyone that knows anyone that has internet access or any form of TV/radio contact knows that Michael Jackson is dead. Long live the king of... whatever he was. So was Thriller a movie, or a song, or a book, or what?

Much has been made of his unfortunately named children. Is there enough money? Did they see him dead? Are they really his kids? Do they even exist at all? Who will they live with? Well I'd like to take up the cause of that last question and the pathetic piece of shit that is Debbie Rowe.

Okay, I get that she only birthed the first two children. I get that she only has legal rights (uh, maybe?) to the first two children. But there IS a third child. Remember him? We all saw him dangling over a porch railing. Now, he might not be her crotchfruit, but he IS a child. And he IS the younger sibling of the first two. And, in my world, siblings belong together.

I can't believe the cold heartedness that would cause someone to seek custody of two children and separate them from the third. What happens to poor little Blanket? You only want the ones you sold? Did you ever stop to think that maybe, just maybe, they might remember the third kid and wonder where he went?

Siblings belong together. We're not talking about 9 kids being parceled out to aunts and uncles with kids of their own. We're talking about three children, well provided for, going to a childless woman. Good jesus, the first and third have the same name even, she won't have to be bothered with remembering anything new.

Now, whether she would be a fit parent or not is irrelevant at this point. She became unfit (at least in my opinion, which is the only one that matters, at least on my blog) the moment she decided it was okay to shatter the remaining family these children had left, by separating siblings. If she wanted the first two, whether she had a legal right to the thid or not, she should have petitioned for all three. She should have been motherly enough to declare that these children belong WITH each other and TO each other. She should have been willing to open her home to her children AND their siblings. Because being a parent means putting your kids first. She should have put their right to an intact family (as intact as it can be from here on out) over her desire to only ~~profit from~~ be burdened with the first two.

If my sister or SIL were to die, and her husband have more children down the line, then those kids would be part of my family as well. And if their father died and someone needed to take the children, we would want ALL of them. Annabelle and her new siblings, Zachary and Tristan and their new siblings (but good god, I hope Mike never breeds again). And if the new wife wanted them, then by all means they would stay. Because keeping siblings together is the best possible outcome when a parent dies. They shouldn't be split.

And for that reason and that reason alone, I don't think Debbie Rowe should ever get those children~~'s money~~. Give them to the persob who wants ALL of them.

Cute carseat pic

2009-06-30T22:56:00.001-04:00

DSC01716
Originally uploaded by splashandwally.

I want to change him into another seat, he won't go for it. He loves his Marathon.

I want one

2009-06-27T23:29:00.002-04:00

Now, I am historically not a fan of Dorel (Cosco, Safety 1st, Eddie Bauer). They're previously made low quality, high recall, difficult to use items. But in the past year they've been improving a great deal, and I've had my eye on them.

Well now... wow.

http://airprotect.safety1st.com/index.php

First off, rear facing to 40 pounds. Yes, forty pounds. Charlie is just barely over that (and, actually, he varies enough day to day that he might occasionally be under it). Charlie has been forward facing for nearly two years, because he outgrew everything else. This seat would have taken him rear facing to 3.5 years old, and Charlie is a big kid. Most kids would probably make it to 4 years old rear facing in this seat. That's HUGE.

But, then we've got those air cushions. Now, Britax is trying something similar, but their attempt is, IMO, a total gimmick. The Safety 1st seat seems truly innovative and amazing. And the crash tests they show on the website are pretty impressive. I'm damn near sold.

Now, the price point, at $250, is a bit steep. Seeing as how Graco recently released a 40 pound RF seat (MyRide 65, lamest name in the history of lameness) for ~$160, Dorel is pushing it. But they've routinely sold the Alpha Omega/Eddie Bauer 3n1 nightmare for $180-$200, so $250 for this seat isn't that out of line and I am sure people would pay it. I would happily pay $400 for a great car seat, but I am not the standard consumer.

And, it comes in orange. ORANGE. I recently bought an orange seat, but I kinda wish I'd known about this one at the time.

No real review, of course, because I haven't gotten my hands on it yet. But from what I see, I'm really liking it.

A better day, by far

2009-06-26T16:57:00.003-04:00

I had to take the whole day off for the water heater guy who ended up not showing until after eleven.

First order of business- Sammy is home, safe and sound. The crack is slightly over half an inch, but he's showing no ill effects. He doesn't even have a bruise. Charlie bruises if you stare at him too hard, Sam can have a baseball sized lump and a broken bone, and no discoloration. Aj had to take him to the pediatrician within four hours. Huh? I could understand the next day, but four hours? And then not again for a week. Heidi said he can do whatever he wants, just keep some tylenol in him for what, one would assume, must be a killer headache.

New water heater, yay! Of course, they don't make them small enough to fit in that closet anymore. So we can't really close the closet door easily, but it'll do. I'm sure it's not the most efficient one on the market, but it's gotta be better than the last one. We didn't pay for it, so I'm not complaining too much.

So, we survived the excitement. Charlie is happy to have his brother home, Sam is (I guess) happy to be home, I had a shower. Charlie scored a Leapster, 3 games, and a Horton Hears a Who DVD, as well as 3 ICEEs. Mommy appears to be okay as well.

At least this day will be OVER in an hour*

2009-06-25T22:59:00.001-04:00

* GMT-5

First off, my baby is in the hospital right now. Yes, my baby. My little baby. My tiny, sweet, perfect little baby is in the hospital. With a skull fracture.
How did this happen you ask? Hell if I know. Audrey was changing his diaper, and he was on the changing table strapped in and she was holding him. Her hand was on him as he fell. And our changing table (which we rarely use) is in the only spot in our house that has tile. So he fell 3.5 feet onto concrete, flat on his head.
So I just get a phone call, baby screaming, Audrey stating she's bringing Sam to the hospital. So I told my boss I had to leave and went over to the ER to wait. She pulled up about 10 minutes later and the first thing I notice is my baby rear facing in front of an airbag. And of course I yelled at her which I shouldn't have, but all I could think (and, unfortunately, I said) "well, if they were in an accident, we wouldn't even have to worry about this because he'd be dead." Yes, I've apologized.
So, he had a CT while I took Charlie for lunch. I got back, and we were both thinking we'd be on our way. Till Flora comes in, the PA for the neurosurgeon. And she introduces herself as the PA for the neurosurgeon. And, while I know logically that a neurosurgeon would be consulted for a skull fracture, it freaked me out big time. But, she said he had a fairly significant fracture, needs to stay overnight, needs a full skeletal x-ray, social services needs to get involved...
AJ goes home to get overnight stuff and take Charlie to my dad's house, I stayed there with him. Social services arrives, goes through the typical "infant with a skull fracture" interview, I feel confident that she knew we didn't bash his skull in. She has a baby born same day, so she was asking me all about what Sam does motor-skills wise. X-ray came in to take him and I didn't want to let him go because he was sleeping and I didn't want more radiation and the social worker was standing there stating she didn't need it for her report (it was mostly to check for signs of previous abuse). Well, I let them take him.

Alright, so after we got Sam upstairs and checked in, I went back to work for an hourish. Then went and got Charlie from my dad, and took him to Target and bought him a Leapster. He was so upset, and it had certainly been traumatizing for him because he was right there when it happened. I wanted to make him happy, I knew he wanted a Leapster (thanks, Julie), so I got him one and a few games. Come home for jammies for Sam (AJ totally spaced on bringing clothes for the baby) and I can't park in the driveway because there is a wild angry swarm of hornets in my garden. AJ found this out from the mailman who got stung twice yesterday and now won't deliver our mail without proof of extermination. Come inside, get everything, head back out with a kid who hasn't eaten, hasn't napped, and smeared toothpase in his hair. Oh, and he insisted on wearing jammies and no underpants.

I got back to the hospital and my in laws were there. Visited, then AJ and Charlie went downstairs for dinner while I stayed with angel. Yabber with the nurse who informs me that Sam can't sleep with AJ which I know is gonna cause a fight sometime tonight, and they're getting a roommate as well. And there is no bathroom in that room. I promise. No toilet even.

So I bring Charlie home, crying that he wants brother. I get him inside and tell him he can play for a few minutes. Then we hear this noise and he asked me what it was. It was coming from our only closet, and the only thing in our only closet is our water heater, manufactured in 1971. So I opened the closet, and yes, that sound is running water, in case you were wondering. Well, I don't know what the hell to do. AJ would, of course. See, AJ comes from a family of doers. I come from a family of payers. Her parents fix things, my parents pay other people to fix things. So, AJ could have fixed it, but she's at the hospital with our baby with a skull fracture. I called her dad, he can't do much for me over the phone. So I walked to my neighbor (he's an a/c repairman and the nicest guy ever). His front yard smells like something died, and his wife answered and all I said was "I need Larry and a wrench." She laughed at me and sent him out. He came over and cut the circuit, managed to turn it off, and got a hose hooked up to drain it. The hose that has been sitting under my coffee table for 8 months. The hose that was intended for Sam's water birth. I've been meaning to get rid of that thing, good thing I didn't. AJ called the power company (we knew it was on its way out, so we bought the $3/month insurance on it about 5 months ago) and they said they could be out tomorrow. Wellll... the ring on the bottom is rotted out and the seal on the top won't close. I'm pumping this scalding hot water into the tub with the intent to add some cold water and bathe my kid at some point. Well, it ain't gonna work, so the only thing we could do was cut the main. So, I filled up a pitcher and now I have no water. The power company guy will be out tomorrow to replace it.

So I go to put my baby to bed, my big baby, and you've never heard pain until you've heard a 3 year old cry out for his brother. Crazy with grief and fear and promising he'll be good if I bring Sammy back. I showed him a video of Sam on my phone thinking it would help, all he did was rub the screen and cry "sammy... I want brother... sammy... please come home brother." It took over half an hour to get him to sleep, just kept crying out for brother.

So here I am, eating ice cream and wanting a shower. I can't go to work tomorrow and I have NO PTO to spare (vacation) but oh well. I gotta get the water heater fixed, I gotta take care of Charlie. He was supposed to go to my dad but now that I have to wait here for them to do the water heater, I might as well not go at all.

So, that's my day. And the dog just pooped on the floor. I can't even flush it. Ah hell, I forgot I can't flush the toilets. Great.

Tubular

2009-06-20T13:23:00.005-04:00

Sam has had half a dozen ear infections in four months. He's been on abx for the past month, three different oral before moving to injections, and still wouldn't go away. Ruptured eardrums, 40% hearing loss, and non-stop screaming screaming screaming. Won't sleep, won't be happy.

So... we consented. I was SO against it. I hate ear tubes. But... my kid was miserable. So, Thursday he had the tubes put in. He raged for hours afterward, he must have felt like an adult dropping acid. But Thursday night he slept through the night. Friday night he woke up a few times to eat but went back to sleep (versus before, when he would wake up screaming every hour).

So, my baby has been surgically modified. I don't like it, but it's done. It appears to be working so far. His hearing should return to normal or slightly sub-normal (there is scarring) and for now he appears happier.

Pretty baby

2009-06-10T22:30:00.001-04:00

Crazy boy
Originally uploaded by splashandwally.

Getting ready to jump in the pool.

And then he did what? Fascinating!

2009-06-10T22:28:00.001-04:00

Really?
Originally uploaded by splashandwally.

Charlie's telling Sam a story about "the train driver got trashed and Harry Potter fell off the train"

I don't believe he was using the word "trashed" in context. At least, I hope not.

Hi

2009-06-02T21:55:00.001-04:00

DSC01042
Originally uploaded by splashandwally.

Dimples!

Growing up

2009-05-27T10:32:00.001-04:00

Last weekend we spent with Cathy and Beth and their beautiful daughter Hannah. The kids had a blast together, conquering Disney World one mickey shaped waffle at a time. Hannah was precious. Sweet, sassy, smart, and absolutely adorable. Blonde hair, blue eyes, and so much baby pudge. Squishy cheeks and arms and just that delicious baby pudge. Charlie was such a fat baby, with tons of baby pudge. I knew he'd thinned out over the past year, but until seeing him next to Hannah I didn't really realize by how much. Putting the two of them next to each other, it was exceedinlgly obvious. Hannah, at 2y11m, still looked like a baby. Charlie, at 3y9m, looked like a little boy. It broke my heart a little bit, actually. She'll lose her baby fat shortly, Charlie still had it at her age. Her moms won't even notice. It'll just happen, like it did with Charlie. And next time they visit and see Hannah next to Sam, they'll realize that this outwardly visible vestige of babyhood has gone at some point, without them even realizing it.

My baby doesn't look like a baby anymore. He looks like a kid.

Charlie used to love WonderPets. It was his favorite show for over a year. Linny, Tuck, and Ming Ming were our good little friends. I still remember how shocked I was when I discovered that Linny was a female.

Monday, he asked to watch TV. I saw we had a new WP taped, so I started it.

"No, mama. I don't want WonderPets. That's a baby show. It's Sammy's show."

A baby show. It's a baby show. And with that, he declares that he is no longer a baby. He doesn't have his baby fat anymore, he doesn't want his baby show. He's growing up.

It's not fair.

How big is Sammy?

2009-05-23T15:48:00.001-04:00

DSC00957
Originally uploaded by splashandwally.

Or, baby stick-up.

Am I raising a fairy?

2009-05-23T15:47:00.001-04:00

DSC00971
Originally uploaded by splashandwally.

I have no background story for this picture. Don't ask.

Doctor =/= God

2009-05-22T20:22:00.004-04:00

Care suggested I write about this. Oh boy can I write about this.

So, recently we've got the boy who is missing, and mom who is wanted for arrest, all to avoid chemotherapy. Boy has 90% chance of being cured says doctors.

Boy has 10% of dying.

Now, doing math, it seems only logical that boy should have chemo. 90% is nothing to sneeze at. Unless you're in the 10%. That 10% didn't get there by pessimism. That 10% got there by thousands of children going through hell and not coming out the other end. 10% of children who, presumably, were willing and compliant. 10% of parents who willingly handed their most precious creations to the doctor gods that promised a cure. 10% of children who endured burning chemicals, bleeding mouth sores, hair loss, nausea, lethargy, cravings, fear, pain, and medicalized torture. 10% of children fighting for that 90% survival rate. 10% of children who lost. 10% of children who spent their final weeks, months, and years on this earth in pain and terror. 10% of children who didn't go home. 10% of children who died of a "highly curable" disease.

For those 10% of children, there is 10% of parents. 10% of parents who hold their child down for tests. 10% of parents who explain through tears that the pain is for the best. 10% of parents who endure sleepless nights worrying. 10% of parents who bankrupt themselves with medical bills. 10% of parents who try to save some of the locks as the fall out on the pillow. 10% of mothers and fathers who can do nothing but sit and watch while their child slips away. 10% of parents who have to face the end of the world and somehow wake up the next day. 10% of parents who have to plan a funeral. 10% of parents who have to watch their child's body lowered into the ground. 10% of parents who bury their soul along with their child and wait decades for their bodies to catch up.

10% doesn't seem so insignificant anymore, does it?

Now, let's determine when it's worth it. It's worth it when truth is presented and consequences weighed and all parties consenting. When the parents, and child, see that 90% at the end of the wall of fire and decide that it's worth walking through the flames for the chance to grab it.

And let's talk about when it's not worth it. When the parents have researched and determined it's not in the child's best interest. When the child is old enough to make decisions and decides not to do it. When the patient is non-compliant. When the family is willing to go on the lam to protect the child from the doctor gods.

I gave my child to the doctor gods for nearly two years. I traveled all over the state to fall at their feet. I presented my beautiful son and his broken body to the power of those that knew more, knew better, than I did. I gave everything I had in the quest to heal my world. I would have done anything, said anything, been anything, given anything, to fix him. I would have carved my own skin off my body if it would help. I would have given him to the doctor gods and died myself in order to cure him.

I learned about IgA and IgE levels, I learned of diseases like Wiskott-Aldrich and Hermansky-Pudlak syndrome. I pored over studies of platelets. I researched drugs and treatments. I searched for siblings, and found them, and still had no answers.

I told the doctor gods that the drugs made it worse. I told the doctor gods that I really thought it was his immune system, not his skin. I told the doctor gods about the bruising and the bleeding.

I sat in the ER and was told my son had leukemia. Then it was Wiskott-Aldrich syndrome. Then it was possible Job syndrome. Within days of leukemia, I was begging to go back to it. The highly curable disease that killed my mother I at least knew about. People understood leukemia. Never would I think that a mother would pray for her child to have leukemia. I prayed to a god I didn't even believe in to please make it so simple.

I finally began stepping back from the doctor gods. I had long since made the decision not to vaccinate our child. I knew that vaccination was a spotty science, and given his current immune status, it was not something we were willing to even entertain. But one doctor kept pushing a particular vaccine. A highly reactive vaccine. He could never give us a reason why, other than he wanted to see how he would react. My child. My precious human child. And instead of driving to PetSmart for a little white mouse (not that I approve of experimenting on mice, in fact, I actually don't), he decided my little white child would do just as well. We refused, several times, and were issued an ultimatum: do the vaccine or leave the practice. We picked up his records 3 days later.

We went to another doctor god. One fresh out of med school. Fresh. Like, hadn't even made the first loan payment fresh. But there was something about her. She wasn't a doctor god yet. She was barely a doctor. But she remembered that obscure little disease in the lower left hand corner of page 493. And with one blood test, she had her teeth in it. And she got it. With one test. And she confirmed to us that had we listened to the first doctor god, the one who had used my precious angel as his own blood supply for two years, he could have died from the vaccine. At best, he would have wound up in the hospital, very ill.

We no longer bow to the doctor gods. We use them in our quest to heal our child. We benefit from their knowledge, experience, compassion, and skills. We value their input as we decide what is best for our child. But we no longer present his body for their manipulation.

I know my child. I know every curve of his body, every beat of his heart, every strand of his hair. I know how he likes his bananas peeled, how he likes his lotion applied, how he likes his back rubbed, what songs and stories he wants at bedtime. I know every every scrape and bump, every stitch, every test, every trip to the hospital. Every drug, every reaction. I know him. I know everything a human can know about another. And that is something no doctor could ever know.

I make health decisions for my child. I advocate for him every moment, every day. I seek out every option. I give my soul to the journey of healing his body of this defect. I make his world safe. And I protect him from the doctor gods.

There is also the situation in which people feel it is part of the plan. I have a friend with a severely 'damaged' child. Born at home, all was perfect with the birth. But the child was born not breathing. Midwife called the ambulance immediately and began trying to revive the baby (and I will stop here and state that this would have happened in a hospital anyway, as something happened during her journey through the birth canal, and no hospital could have stopped that). The mother states that she felt the entire time the MW was calling the hospital that this was wrong. She want to stop her. She states to this day that her biggest regret is letting the midwife call the ambulance. She felt that her child was destined for that brief frame of time, those moments between her birth and death. She messed with the plan, she changed things. And her child lived. Lived a short, brutal, painful, horrible existence.

Until someone faces the serious illness and possible death of their child, they know nothing. Until a parent sits there staring at their greatest love and joy and contemplates life without that joy, until they have to swallow their pain and decide how to proceed with the ultimate life or death of all they care about, then they know nothing. Until they have held that fire in their hand and had to set it to the side or walk right through it, then they are in no position to judge or dictate how a parent handles the treatment of a critically ill child. Even if there is a 90% cure. 90% leaves a very battered, pained, destroyed 10% on the other end.

Many people, doctors and others, know what is best for a child like Charlie. Know how best to care for a child like Charlie. Can make better decisions for a child like Charlie. No one, nowhere in the world, knows what is best for Charlie. No one but his mother and I. We are the only people alive who can care for Charlie. For the person and body he is. And we make these decisions for him. And we agonize over them, but we ultimately decide if he can make it through the fire or will perish in the flames.

*Charlie is our child, mine and AJ's. We make decisions for him together. However, I am writing about my experiences and thoughts, therefore "I" and "my child" are used. Rest assured, I do not dominate his health care life and I make no decisions on my own.

Stupid people on CL

2009-05-22T16:56:00.001-04:00

I get that everyone wants a bargain. I understand that people who buy from CL intend to do a little bargaining. I understand that I probably won't get my listed price. So I price it more than what I want, since people would rather pay $100 from $130 than $100 firm. Because they have small brains.

Anyway, I get all that. But why, really, why... when I post something for less than half the original price (and by less than half I mean nearly $300 less, and it's a hoppin' item that people covet and it flies off the shevles) would someone then offer me $200 less than my asking price. Really? $200 off is your first attempt? I don't even feel like blessing that with a response. So you do believe this item, which you could buy new for $650 (plus tax!), should be yours for the bargain price of $125? Because you really want it? Wow.

No, you can't have it. Boo hoo for you. Offer me a little closer to the asking price, and we might talk.

(this was more shocking than when I tried to sell a NIB Britax Frontier for $200, and was offered $75 because "I really need that seat for my son." Um, no.)

(Yes, I routinely sell things on CL. Car seats mostly. I buy them, play for awhile, review, learn, and then have to get rid of them. So it's not unusual for me to sell a 3 month old seat for 1/2 or less retail. But dude, don't try to undercut it even more when you know you're already getting a bargain)

Give me something to write about

2009-05-22T08:44:00.001-04:00

My blog used to be so popular, so funny, so well read. I've gotten into a rut lately and want out but I can't think of anything comical/offensive/informative/cute/bizarre enough to write about.

So, someone give me a topic. Any topic. The reproductive habits of a sea slug if you must. I promise I'll write you a great blog about it.

Cool dude

2009-05-15T07:10:00.001-04:00

DSC00793
Originally uploaded by splashandwally.

Pray for my sole

2009-05-14T10:48:00.001-04:00

I think my favorite shoes might be dead.

I've glued the black rubber sole back on a few times, but mostly just peeling around the edge. AJ keeps telling me to replace them but my feet are so big that it's hard to find comfortable shoes for a reasonable price. These tennies are about 4-5 years old. I another almost identical pair (look the same, except they have silver accents instead of blue), but those are men v women and the arch is just ever so slightly different. Those are comfortable, but not as comfortable as these. These are perfect.

Well, today half the back ripped off. The sole, that is. I put it back on with envelope glue (the only thing I have at my disposal) and it's not really working. Gonna try super glue again when I get home.

My sole is in danger. Please, please, pray for my sole.

Birthday is booked

2009-05-12T22:12:00.001-04:00

7 days, 6 nights at WDW for Charlie's birthday trip. On site, with all dining included. I have to call in three weeks to book dining, it goes fast. But I can only book 100 days in advance.

I have no clue what we're going to do there for so long. But at least we can go slowly, sleep frequently, and eat heartily.

He'll love it. My big almost four year old boy.

By the way, I've got a kidney for sale if anyone is interested. Very clean, barely used.

The moment you become an adult

2009-05-09T12:11:00.003-04:00

A friend of mine is trying to get pregnant. I'm very excited to see her have a baby and be a mommy. We were talking about work last night and she wants to transfer to my hospital. I was extoling the virtues, and I got to the on-site subsidized day care.

"Subsidized day care?!" she half shrieks, half gasps. A dreamy look came over her face and she kind of squeaked a bit at the prospect.

And I had to tell her... this is the moment. The moment you will always remember. At this exact moment, when you drooled over subsidized day care, this moment you became an adult.

Now I just need to get her to come!

$380

2009-05-04T11:32:00.001-04:00

A happy boy
Originally uploaded by splashandwally.

That's the cost of Disney passes. Per person. For one year. With a Florida resident dicount.

And moments like this make it so so worth it.

Anyone wanna go to Cozumel with me?

2009-05-01T13:15:00.001-04:00

I'm sure hotels are dirt cheap right about now... we can probably live like princes for a pittance.

In case you are worried about your health, visit this site. It will answer all your questions and let you know if it's okay to book a 5 day/4 night stay with rental and flight for $129/pp double occupancy.*

*(okay, I totally made that up, but I bet they exist!)

SVU

2009-04-29T08:39:00.001-04:00

Wow, can you think of a more implausible story line? I haven't ventured over to MDC, I want to... I so want to... I just want to see the carnage.

I like the show, even last night's episode was entertaining. But talk about scare tactics and outright mistruths. Eh, I'm still skipping vaccines thankyouverymuch.