Happy Birthday To Me!

I am no longer the Answer. But that's okay. I won't panic.

This morning Laston took me to the casino while the kids were in school. We did slots for an hour and a half or so and had their great buffet lunch (of which I was actually able to eat a fair bit, surprisingly, given the Gaping Maw of Doom in my upper right quadrant).

Laston doesn't really grok the appeal of the slots because there is no skill involved. I find that although we had fun, it was even more fun with "the girls" (my mom, my aunts, and my female cousins). And while we enjoy Tulalip, I'm told that Angel of the Winds is really nice and we should try it. The whole activity is, however, a twice-a-year kind of proposition for me, and I think from now on I'll let the hubs take me to dinner and a movie, and The Girls will be my casino-going companions.

After Abby gets home from school, does her homework, etc., we're meeting Leanna and her mom at Red Lobster (since we didn't manage to get her mom the birthday dinner we promised her a couple weeks ago, we're combining them). Should be fun. Assuming Lizzy is awake by then; I wonder what the preschool/my mom did to her while her dad and I were out playing.

Gratitude

• I am grateful that even though he thinks it's silly and kind of boring, my husband is taking me to play in the casino tomorrow for my birthday.
• I am grateful that my kids are (basically) healthy and happy children
• I am grateful that although there is a huge hole in my face and the whole thing is starting to throb again, I have graduated to noodles with mushrooms.
• I am grateful that my sister-in-law Laura bought me books written by my online friend Laura for my birthday
• I am grateful that my four-year-old daughter made me a birthday card - and will not let me open it until tomorrow
• I am grateful that grandma takes Abby to swimming lessons most weeks - and often out to dinner afterward
• I am grateful that - thanks to my husband - I can stop robbing Peter to pay Paul, (Paul's been paid off) and pay Peter myself from my UI checks... especially because Peter in this context is my mom
• I am grateful that my kids will happily eat leftovers for dinner when I'm too tired/sick/throbby to cook properly... as long as nothing touches anything else (Lizzy's having a slice of bread and butter, a strip of bacon, a stick of cheese, four baby dill pickles, and a pear)
• I am grateful that although I get points taken off, my school is understanding about late assignments due to dental surgery
• I am grateful that in spite of my unwilling housewife status, I have a home in which to practice the art of housewifery
• I am grateful that my dentist is pleased with my progress, and so is my academic adviser

So, God, Universe, Karma, Powers that Be, Whomever? Thanks, bud.

Why So Serious?

It's a valid question. Please note that in the oh-so-flattering picture to the right, my facial muscles were relaxed; I really did look that bad immediately upon leaving the dentist's office.

Here's the thing. There is extensive work required in my mouth, mostly because I lost my night-guard when I moved house about six years ago, and therefore (since I'm a grinder/clencher, or I wouldn't need a night guard in the first place), I tend to pop old fillings loose in my sleep. Crud gets under these and they get infected. This particular one started really hurting a few days ago, and it turned out to be two teeth (numbers 3 and 4), in the top right quadrant. One of them needed to be extracted and the other a root canal. Okay, pain in the... neck, but doable. Even when it turned out they both need extraction.

Disclaimer: this is where tonight's post is rather less family-friendly than usual, because my internal monologue is both profane and obscene, especially when I am in the throes of pain/terror/nitrous oxide. You have been warned.

Dr. C is nice, and his voice is soothing. Which is good, 'cause, you know, dentist and all. Goddammit. I mean I like them and all but this is getting way too frequent, and...whoa, what the fuck is that thing? Is that what they call 'dental pliers'? I sure hope so 'cause it looks more like blacksmith tongs from this angle! Hey. Hey! Those don't bend! Knock it off! (interjections show excitement or emotion, they're generally set apart from a sentence by an exclamation point, or by a comma when the feeling's not as... ). Oh right, I'm supposed to raise my left hand if I need a break - oh shit, I've lost track of which is my left hand. Hmm.... this one, right? I mean left, tee hee. Oh forget this right and left shit, my jaw aches...

And so it went for three hours or so. Complications. Turns out that one of those teeth had a root that went all the way through my gum and bone into my sinus cavity. So this becomes an even more delicate procedure, since we don't want to turn the damn thing into a tunnel. And after the surgery is all done, and the whatsit-caine has worn off, it hurts all the way up into my right nostril, not to mention the extraction area itself, my jaw, etc. I suppose I'll never sleep again; they gave me prednisone to reduce swelling along with the antibiotics and painkiller narcotics.

On the up side, they may have found the root (pun definitely intended!) of the recurring sinus infections I've had my entire adult life. And wouldn't that be cool?

As the World Turns

Or is it the Days of Our Lives? No matter the title, today was super busy, tomorrow promises to be trying, and Thursday I'll be able to Get Things Done. I had extra money too, as my state's governor just upped the unemployment pay by $25 a week... and paid us back pay all the way back to March. Since I started collecting UI in April, this made a huge difference in my UI check this week.

So today I took Abby to the bus, took Lizzy (now feeling better but still Dropping her Spoon) to Grandma's, and took the cat to the vet. They treated her for fleas and had a blood and urine panel taken. Doc thinks she probably has a kidney infection (common in cats her age and the probably cause of the inappropriate pottying), and/or hyperthyroidism (because she's lost 2lb she didn't have to spare; she started at 8lb 4oz). Test results tomorrow morning. She also has a head cold, poor thing. And the vet accepted a down payment and a payment plan. Times are hard for all pet owners, apparently.

I went to Costco and got a few things (out of Costco for under $60 is always good), and Safeway came to me with a few (all right - a lot) more. We have fresh veggies, fresh fruit, fresh meat, fresh bread, canned goods, boxed goods, frozen goods, a couple treats (chocolate chip light ice cream and mini-marshmallows), "personal paper products", a twelve-pack of man-size socks, stuff for Abby's lunch box, stuff for Lizzy's contribution to snacks at preschool, and the hubs' Diet Coke.

I went to the dentist for tooth pain. A gazillion of them (all right - three of them) need to be worked on tomorrow (and then they will make me a night guard so I don't grind any more fillings loose). I got my hair cut so I look like a professional when job hunting, too. But my cat is going to be okay, my pantry (and fridge and freezer and fruit bowl and hubby's sock drawer) is full, and I feel much much better about life today.

So... I need to go fill this Rx, get some soft food for tomorrow, and I have enough cash left to buy a couple of DVDs - I'm thinking Phineas and Ferb Across the Second Dimension for the kids, and for me? Well, for me there is always my Marvel hero of choice - at least in the movies!

Poor Kitty

As shown here, Tiger is not the world's healthiest (or smartest or most graceful) cat. Which she just demonstrated by inappropriate urination. Generally, if and when she does this, it's on a patch of carpet next to the room where we keep her litterbox, and is a heads-up to me, her mama, that she is unhappy with the state of her litterbox, her water bowl needs a wash, there's a scary pair of shoes between her and the box, the door is closed, etc.

Not this time. This time she leapt onto the table and used a pile of Abby's old (finished, graded, and returned) homework as her toilet. Not okay, cat. But it does suggest that there's something going on - a bladder or urinary tract infection for instance. (Stop that - I cleaned and sterilized the table. Good heavens.)

So she has an appointment at the vet tomorrow. Abby wondered what happened to the stuff she brought home from school and I had to tell her that Tiger is sick, peed on them, is going to the doctor tomorrow, and might not get better. Her reaction was typical for my sensitive-but-still-eight little girl - first she said "Oh no! If she dies I'll be so sad!" followed fairly quickly with "can we get a new cat if she dies?" (the answer to that, by the way, is "not until we have a house with a yard"). I'm not looking forward to telling Leanna this Friday when she comes for the weekend, should Tiger die.

Tiger's been with us since October of 1998, when she was "about 6 months old", so she's older than any of our girls. My mommy-side is upset and sad (yes, yes, I know it may not be serious) and the 10% of me that is practical is able to deal. I have to remember that although 13 is not ancient for a cat, it's no spring chicken either. And that Tiger has never been the World's Healthiest Cat; she seemed old even as a kitten

So Tiger is in her bedroom (the laundry room) for the night already. Abby and her (extra super noisy whiny today) friends are cleaning and hoping for Treasure Box rewards. And I'm trying not to scream at them for arguing as they clean, because I know I'm a little oversensitive.

Things I've Learned...

...or re-learned in the last 24 hours.

1. Although my husband is very supportive about my going back to school, my mom is more so. She does a lot. I've always known it but because of a paper I wrote this week, it was more obvious.
2. I'm not a fan of characters who cast from hit points.
3. Four-year-olds trying to get their big sisters' attention by waving metallic ribbons in their faces are not tolerated at Chez Gamers' Babes. This behavior results in immediate time out.
4. I can play computer games with one or two kids in the house, because they play alone or amuse each other. When there are three or more, the dynamic requires more of my direct attention.
5. My ex-husband is an expert at picking out Halloween costumes (or clothes for that matter) for our eight-year-old daughter Abby. These clothes/costumes satisfy her taste (slightly goth and girly-pretty), my sense of practicality (long sleeves and pants), and his moratorium on "sexy", because she's eight. 
6. Even though Abby is not intending to hurt Lizzy, the mere fact that she is twice Lizzy's size can cause (minor) booboos (as in picking her recalcitrant sister up to move her out of the way results in tears even though there is no actual injury).
7. Nine-year-old neighbor boys doing all the voices for the characters in Super Mario Brothers 3 (except Princess Peach, which he allowed Abby to do) are hilarious.
8. Eight- and nine-year-old children can be literally blown away when it's gusty in Seattleish. Abby and her friend took out the garbage for me and were actually blown off course into a blackberry bush, resulting in scratches.