The good, the bad, and the WHAT THE F***

Boxer is giving me a nap. Not something that happens very often. Especially at this time. She's been quite a cranky mess today, as well as last night. I didn't get much sleep. Nor did she. I think SB was the only one who actually slept. But that's because he was on the couch. Perhaps tonight I'll take the couch, if cranky-pants sticks around. I suppose I should be following the advice that has been bestowed upon me since I brought her home from the NICU; "Sleep when they sleep". But alas, I'm over-tired, and I have way too many chores to do. So instead of sleeping, or sweeping, I'll sit here on my lazy ass and give an update....

Let me take off my Forrest Gump brace so I can perch my laptop comfortably.

Yes, Forrest continues to be in full-effect, and no progress has been made in healing the numerous injuries I have. I went back to the Orthopedic guy to ask what I can do, and he clearly said "The ONLY thing that will help is to go on crutches and stay completely off the knee for at least 2 weeks, and then follow-up with intense physical therapy". Yea ok. I'm not sure what planet my ortho lives on, but it certainly isn't the isolated and desolate one that I inhabit. I wouldn't be able to be on crutches and chase after a baby unless I had help. Which I do not. So that remedy is moot. When I reminded him of this, he said "I cannot help you any further. Surgery may ease things up a bit, but that isn't a guarantee. I think you should go for a second opinion because I'm out of ideas". Hmm. That's great. Cause I'm shit out of luck.

{I guess that's part of "the bad"}

Limping around like Forrest has been even more challenging lately, as Boxer has decided to take the hell off! She isn't technically walking yet, but she's a step away from doing so. She's crawling faster than a roach does when the lights are turned on, and cruising around the furniture at such high speeds that she sometimes appears to be nothing more than a blur. One minute she's there, the next she is not. She can walk around the coffee table like no other. She is at the point where she lets go and attempts to walk across the floor. She has failed miserably at this, but continues to try. This kid has got guts. Another favorite thing for her to do is climb the steps. The WOODEN steps. Which leads to many bruises and falls and leads me to search around for my bottle of Klonopin. Poor Boxer looks like she's been in the rink with Rocky a few times over. My cell phone is battered and beaten from all the abuse it receives, as phones and remotes are her favorite toys, along with the cat bowl. Fun Fun Fun. But all of this is actually fabulous news. Because she is doing FANTASTIC for a preemie. All of her new PT's, OT's, and speech therapists are very impressed with her progress, and claim she is doing phenomenal for a micro-preemie. Aside from her daredevil antics and never-ending energy, she is babbling constantly, says "mama" all the time, and knows 10 or so words, even if she can't speak. When I ask her where the ceiling fan is, she points to it. If I tell her to get her shoe, she does. So she's a gutsy kid with brains. {Hmmm..wonder where she gets it from?? TOOT TOOT goes my own horn}. She's still a petite little chic; we haven't made it to 20 pounds yet, and she's not very tall, but that's ok. When I was younger I always wanted to be short and thin. I also wanted blue eyes. Irony at it's best! Now, if we could only find baby gates that fit our odd-shaped doorways, strange crooked steps, and weird sloping floors, I would really let her loose all the time without grimacing in pain as I chase after her while Weird Al's version of "He's Gump" plays over and over in my head!

{I guess this part of the "good"}

Speaking of the new house, things here have gone well {even if it is a bit like the "money pit" in which things fall apart all the time}. The only thing I'm NOT thrilled about is the neighborhood. Now, I am a Queens girl at heart. I was born and bred there. I lived there most of my life, save for the 4 or so years I was out in Las Vegas. But basically it's been all about Queens. For those of you outside of NYC, I'll let you in on a little secret: Queens people normally cannot STAND Long Island. We have our pre-conceived notions of what people are like out in the Island: Snobbish; bitchy; unfriendly; strange; bizarre; cultish. And that's being kind. SB is a Long Island boy, and he assured me that my stereotyping of the "Island people" is incorrect.

If this was "The Gong Show", SB would have been MAJORLY gonged for that tidbit.

God do these people SUCK! W.T.F!! I have tried to be nice. I smile at people. I say hello. For fuck's sake, I have even said "Good Day". I hold doors open for others. I wave. I let people get in front of me while at the light if they need to. And what do I get in return? BACKS turned to me. Nasty looks. Cold shoulders. What is WRONG with these Islanders? Seriously. I'm assuming it's the water. Because the water out here smells and tastes like a dirty pool. Here are some fabulous examples of the hospitality I have received from the Long Island community:

**Cue intermission music as it is now several hours later. The nap that Boxer gave me was less than 30 minutes. Some things never change. End intermission music**

Ok, where was I? Oh yes, a few examples of the courteous and friendly folk that I have encountered in these here parts:

1) I went to Kohls searching for an area rug to put in Boxer's room. I saw a bunch of rugs, but that all looked like they shed. I found one that was non-shedding; however, it did not have gripping on one side; it was like a toss rug. Reminded me of a blanket. There was an older woman looking at the rugs with her hubby. I heard her say she wanted the same color as the one they already have so they can put them side by side. So I decided to ask her a question.

Me: Excuse me, sorry to bother you. But you seem to be familiar with this rug. How would you get a rug like this to stay put on a wood floor?"

Cranky old bitch: I do not work here.

Me: I know, but you seem to be familiar with this particular rug. How do you keep them on a wood floor without sliding?

Cranky old bitch: I don't have to tell you. Figure it out yourself. I'm busy.

Uh. Yea. Thanks.

{this is most certainly part of the "what the fuck!"}

2) Drove to Starbucks and carried Boxer in so I could get coffee. The woman in front of me on line was holding a baby close to Boxer's age, who was wearing the same exact hat as Boxer

Me: Aww look Boxer!. The little girl has the same hat. {to woman} She's so cute! How old?

Bitch with a baby: no words uttered here. Turns back to me. Swings baby to the other side. Hides baby. Ignores question

Me: Boxer. Did you see that? Remember what she did. And don't ever do it when you get older. Because it's obnoxious. And rude.

Ugh.

Don't even get me started on the Mom's group that I joined out here. Apparently, I am too "toxic" for them, and my child will be "dumb" because she eats formula. She will grow up to be a mutant because she wears pampers and not cloth. This broad who called me from the Mom's group literally interviewed me, and then insulted Boxer and I, left and right and right and left. It took a good 10 minutes before I told her where to go, and how to get there, with a cloth diaper and organic shirt shoved up her haughty judgemental ass.

And this is just the tip of the iceberg.

Thankfully, the people who live on one side of me are extremely cool, and I love them! They have a 4 year old little boy, and I see us hanging out tons once the weather gets nice. The chic on the other side of me? Total bitch. I bet she's the daughter of the old crab from Kohl's.

Again, it's the water. I am counting on it. I want it tested.

I met another nice woman when I took a drive to the beach with Boxer when it was nice out one day. She was very sweet. She told me she frequents the park there once the weather gets warm. I hope to see her again. Also, the new hair dresser I went to was crazy cool. She may have turned my head into an orange disaster, but I forgave her, exchanged numbers with her, and will hopefully find a friend in her as well {even though I now have to drive back into Queens to have my old hair dresser fix this hair, lest I be mistaken for Bozo the Clown or Ronald McDonald in error}.

My teeth continue to be a bother, and the drive back into Queens once a week is NOT exciting me in the least. Oh the joy of spending over an hour in the car {sometimes longer in traffic} just so I can sit in his torture chair and have him drill and mold and yank and stick needles in my poor swollen gums. I would find another dentist out here, but this dude takes my insurance, AND, we have already paid for 3 of my crowns that he now has.

Wow. I have so much more to say and not any time left. It's late, I'm tired, and I feel as if I should clean up a little before attempting to sleep and saying a little prayer that my Boxer sleeps better tonight than last night.

I'm sure you're all well aware of the promise I'm about to make. But perhaps I shouldn't make the promise, as I always seem to break it.

Ah, what the hell. I promise I will update more often. I hate writing entries so far in-between. My frazzled brain and 2 remaining brain cells can never remember all the things I wanted to say.

Til next time. Here's an updated pic of Boxer. I am still considering going private. In the interim, I'm keeping tabs on all your ass's!!