The Pig

Ian went to Hammer's for the first time last week. Hammer's is this well known store in Clinton - there's some jingle about it, I can't remember it exactly but it's something like, If you haven't been to Hammer's, you haven't been to Clinton. Or maybe it was the other way around. I had the following conversation on the phone a bazillion times growing up (as my maiden name is Hamner).

Me: I would like to place an order
Other person: What's your last name?
Me (articulating very carefully): HamNer, H-A-M-N-E-R
Other person: Oh, does your family own Hammer's?

Sigh.

So anyway, how do you describe Hammer's? It's kind of like a Goodwill except the cloths are new and/or damaged (but not all of them). They have racks and racks of clothes crammed in, sizes are all mixed up, and often there's only one or a few of the same style. They also have tables and bins of cloths, but are they folded or stacked up?  Nope, they are literally just heaped up in a pile. Sometimes theses piles are, I kid you not, higher than my head. The prices are a little odd, thing aren't $1.99 or $2.99, they're usually $1.88 or $2.88. I have to admit, on a marketing perspective, 0.88 is enticing. Oh, and hanging above the tables and racks, the prices are displayed on white poster board, usually written out ornately with neon colored markers.

They also have shoes set out on tables, but you generally have to pay fairly close attention that:

1. The shoes advertised on the box are what's in the box
2. There are actually 2 shoes in said box
3. Both shoes are the same size (and color - watch out for navy and black, the lighting in there is flourescent)
4. And, most importantly, that there is a left foot shoe and a right foot shoe in the box (I have personal experience with this dilemma)

The prices for the shoes at Hammer's are usually written on the underside of the shoe in ball point pen.

What's pretty awesome about Hammer's is the clothes and shoes are actually pretty darned good quality. It might be last years fashions from Belk, but who cares when it's 75-90% off? They also get damaged cloths, i.e. perhaps the person sewing the clothes maybe had a smidgen too much to drink and possibly sewed and extra pocket on the back, or randomly put an extra stitch on the pant leg. They also stock clothes with stains on them (this makes me a bit uncomfortable, but alas) or tears. All of these clothes are on the racks and in the bins, so anytime you find a piece of apparel you like, it's imperitive to look it over carefully. It really is kind of like a treasure hunt.

I think the shopper madness that everyone talks about during the holidays (which I have never personally experienced because I avoid all shopping during that time unless it comes from Amazon), originated at Hammer's. They used to advertise their specials on the radio, and I can remember one incident in particular where they got in a bunch of really nice, brand name table linens. Apparently that day there were people lined up down Main Street, and fights broke out over the linens. It was on the news and in the local papers.

In 6th grade they got a shipment of Guess jeans. These were THE jeans to wear in 1992 if you were an awkward 12 year old trying to be popular. They cost $80 in the fancy department stores. Every middle school girl in Anderson County had plans to visit Hammer's that week. If memory serves me correctly, the story was a tractor trailer truck had overturned and spilled Guess jeans all over I-75. I now suspect that story was probably made up by a 7th grader.

My mother, bless her, took me and I got my pair. For $11.88. They were purple. And my crowning glory for a year. Or two. Then, in 8th grade I discovered Nirvana and Pearl Jam and decided that all brand name cloths were a waste of money, so I cut them off into shorts and ripped the logo off the pocket. Such a rebel - but I wore them until I was 16 or so.

Hammer's used to be in the older part of Clinton in this neat old building with creaky hardwood floors and exposed plumbing. It was 2 levels, the stairs going down to the lower level had a hand written sign with an arrow pointing down that said "BARGAIN BASEMENT." That was where my favorite spot was - a table with a mound of cloths - a mix of men's, women's, and children's cloths - with a sign above that simply said, ".88!!!." I have a Banana Republic shirt I bought as a junior in high school, that I still wear (it's a bit tight since I had Ian, but by golly I can still wear it!).

About 10 years ago it moved to the site of the former Piggly Wiggly grocery store on the opposite side of town. That made me a little sad, I'm sorry but the new building just doesn't have the same character. I mean, come on, there's no more Bargain Basement!!!

Side note about the Piggly Wiggly: Is that not the most awesome name for a grocery store?? It was a chain,  and folks around here affectionately referred to it as "the Pig." My brother worked there when he was in high school, and I remember years later him telling me about the late night "turkey bowling" that took place. It involved 2 liter Cokes and a frozen turkey. Nice. I thought here were no more Pigs in existence, but alas I was wrong. We have a friend that moved to a small East Tennessee town. He threw a party over the summer, and sent us a message saying, "Do not wait until you get here if you want nice beer, the Pig doesn't have a good import selection." Glory be, the Pig lives on!

Anyway, so although Hammer's is now in the old Piggly Wiggly, I guarantee there is still a large portion of Clinton that refers to it as "the Pig."

In addition to clothes and shoes, Hammer's also sells some other things. Like every flavor of Moon Pies imaginable, a few other random grocery items, silk flowers to be put on grave sights, DVD versions of every cowboy movie ever made. In the spring they get in a huge shipment of strawberries (yum!). My mom made a batch of freezer jam this past year and it was delicious.  And - the point of this entire post -  they have a ridiculous number of rugs in all shapes and sizes.

We have a small space in the living room set aside as a place for Ian to play. I've been spreading out a quilt over the hardwood floor, but as he is getting more mobile, it's getting more risky getting up and down off of the floor. Quilts on polyurethaned floors are slick, slick, folks - especially when you're picking up a 20+ pound squirmy baby. For J's, mine, Ian's, his Meemaw, and Mamaw's safety I decided that we needed to get an actual rug.

I've been looking at Home Depot, KMart, WalMart, but I just couldn't find anything in a style that I liked that was under $90. I am not paying that much money for something that is like to be accepting pee, poop, spit up, vomit, food, and goodness knows what else. Then, I remembered that rugs at Hammer's.

So I packed the fatty up in the car and off to Clinton we went. This was his first visit out of utero. I went once when I was about 6 months pregnant, but I didn't stay long. Maybe it was the hormones, but the clientele that day looked like they had just left rehab. Not kidding. Thought I was going to get mugged in the store. This visit was much more pleasant. It was LOL day. Nope, not what you're thinking. It was Little Old Lady day at Hammer's. And there's nothing better to a little old Southern lady than seeing a fat baby in a baby carrier that will flirt with anyone. I think he made about 10 ladies' day.

And we found a rug! For 29.95 (the rug prices always end in 95, and are written on the underside of the rug in black marker)! Not too shabby looking, eh?

And although it has a defect he doesn't mind in the least.

He's happy as long as he can play with his toys!

Finally

Finally, after 4 months of intense focus, concentration, and physical exertion, he can finally get his foot in his mouth.

Because, apparently, sucking on your big toe is awesome.

8 Months

Dear Ian,

As of yesterday you are beginning your 8th month on this earth. How is this possible - it wasn't long ago that you weighed less than The Phoebe Cat!

And what a month this has been.

Shall we recap?

Probably the most significant accomplishment this month has been your ability to sit up on your own. As long as the Boppy pillow is behind you, you can sit up safely.

At least until you catch sight of a toy that's out of your reach. Then you're likely to throw your whole self towards it and face plant. On the hardwood. . . .We still sit pretty much right with you.

Still no crawling yet, which is a OK with me for now. Besides, you do just fine rolling . Last week you rolled over to the book case and picked out a few cookbooks to chew read. We are starting to baby proof the house now.

Food has been fun - we have continued to introduce more items, and you now even eat some of the food you didn't like before. But the best has been letting you eat food with more texture. And those banana flavored Puffs made by Gerber? I think you would eat the entire can in one sitting if we let you.

We spend a good portion of the day playing in the floor with your toys. Favorites?

Monkey puppet.

He's so soft, and it's sweet that you give him hugs.

Talking cookie jar.

You can put the cookies in, dump them out, then bang the cookies together - they make a glorious noise!

The little piano the neighbors gave you for Christmas (so nice of them).

Folks keep saying that you're going to be a football player, but we still think you might be a musician.

You have become the expert at knocking blocks down. You patiently wait for us to stack them up, then it's on.

You hit an all time low with the sleeping this month. It's really insane impressive how little sleep babies can function on. Is it your teeth? Growth spurt? Developmental overload? Who knows. I really thought I was going to lose it, but maybe (I'm a little scared to say it) it's getting better. Just this past week you slept 3 night from 8pm to 5am. I can deal with those hours.

Naps are hit or miss. You NEVER just slip into a slumber like the majority of babies do, unless you drift off while nursing. Otherwise it's a fight. But, we do know that you are a happier baby in general if you take a few naps during the day. Oh yeah, and your mom is learning how to take naps, too.

I thought you were trying to wean from nursing this month, but it turns out you were just tanking up at night  so much that you just were too busy to be bothered with nursing during the day. Sure enough, the nights that you sleep most of the night, you nurse during the day. I am so relieved, I'm not quite ready yet to give up on nursing.

Oh how you love your baths now!

We'll be moving you to the big bathtub this month, you've almost outgrown your baby tub. We have to cover up the faucets on the kitchen sink so that you don't grab them.

You are starting to mimic us, too. Sometimes it's sounds, but now you will drum the table and clap your hands after we do. We get ridiculously excited over this.

You waved bye-bye for the first time this month, and it was to a complete stranger! But just yesterday you waved bye to your Meemaw - I think it made her day.

We can take you to restaurants now! Hooray! Well, we wouldn't take you to Regis or anything formal, but you've been to breakfast at Razzleberrys, Chik Fil A, and to the Three Rivers Market. You think you're big stuff sitting in that high chair. I tell you what.

I don't know how much you weigh now, but it's a lot. And since you still prefer to be on my person most of the time, momma has some seriously toned arms. I need to start putting you on my legs and doing sit ups so I can get some toned abs. You are still chubby, but your body has lengthened enough that you don't look quite so beefy as you once did. And I'll be, you do have a neck!

But your cheeks, they are still glorious.

I love you so.

January in East Tennessee

Yesterday it was 60 degrees outside. Crazy East Tennessee weather for you.

I figured out that it wasn't too difficult to get the jumper through the back door, and Ian was pretty content to be outside. So many things to look at!

And it felt sooooo good to be outside a little.

Ouch, Yuck, and Wow

Yesterday at work I got the giggles.

This was after I had been staring at the anus of a dog for 30 minutes - yes, I get paid to do this.

It was one of those days at work.

One of the best things about my job is that every day is different, and yesterday was certainly no exception.

Since my primary job is surgery, I generally spend the first part of my morning performing physical exams on each patient. One patient was a petite, long haired, black kitten. She was terrified - pupils dilated, hunkered as far into the corner of the kennel as she could manage. Her cage card read Mollie, and highlighted beside it was the word "CAREFUL." In vetspeak careful really means watch your butt - this animal may freak out when you try to touch it, i.e. - bite, scratch, run, go crazy, etc. This is not the patient that you would reach in and casually scratch under the chin - you could end up with a lacerated hand.

I retrieve these patients carefully, going very slow and with a towel. So, I opened the kennel door very slowly, and using a calm, quiet voice say, 'Hi Mollie, such a sweet, pretty girl.' I get the cage door open about 3 inches when she suddenly becomes airborne, and traveling with great velocity flies over my head. Man, that was fast. It took me and the tech about 10 minutes to catch her. It wasn't until we had her safely in a crate that I noticed my left hand was bleeding from a large scratch that went across the top of the hand in between my fingers. The tech also mentioned I had a scratch at my hair line. I guess I instinctively put my hand up to protect my face, and the kitten ended up using me as a spring board to get out of the kennel. Oh well, scratches are part of the job, but I am lucky she didn't get my face or eye.

Animals that get freaked out like that don't generally get a presurgical exam, we wait until they are under anesthesia for everyone's safety. Mollie was not an exception, and after we had her under and were shaving her belly I realized that I was going to have to inform the owners that they might need to think of renaming Mollie Wally or some other more masculine sounding name. Yup, Mollie was a boy. This scenario happens at least a couple of times each year, and it's always an interesting conversation to have with the owners. It's not bad news, and I guess it's not really great news. The owners always seem surprised and slightly embarrassed, and I assure them that it's nothing to worry about, it can be difficult to assess when they are young, etc.

I was about done with my spays and neuters for the day when they let me know I had a laceration repair to do. It was what we call and BDLD scenario - big dog attacks little dog (this is generally brought on by little dog thinking he can take on big dog). Luckily, this dogs injuries were not life threatening. The dog had a lovely laceration on her back above the base of her tail, but had a pretty nasty 2 inches, deep laceration just alongside the rectum.

So, here I am hunched over, my face 6 inches away from this dogs butt, sewing it up. The tech is standing beside me with the glorious job of holding the tail up and out of my why. I started giggling, and couldn't stop.

Oh, and did I mention that I saw a 17 year old Schnauzer yesterday? He was such a sweet boy and didn't look a day older than 12!

Crunch

So, can you imagine going from an all liquid diet- and only one type of liquid at that - to suddenly experiencing a variety of tastes and textures?

It must be mind blowing. 

When we moved on from rice cereal to pureed foods, the expressions and reactions were priceless. Peas? Yuck. Vegetables - what is this stuff you're trying to feed me? I can't tell you what it is to see a baby gag and literally shudder when eating butternut squash. But mixing it with apples? Oh yeah, now that's more like  it. I think we could mix anything with apples and he would eat it.

He likes just about anything sweet. His first taste of prunes and those eyes got big, the mouth opened as wide as possible, and those arms and legs? They straightened out, went rigid, and literally shook with excitement.

But the best by far has been feeding him actual solids. We gave him some banana flavored rice husks and oh my, suddenly he had something he could hold, and he could feed himself.

Except, this presented some new dexterity challenges.

Sometimes you just need Dad to show you how it's done . . . 

Bye Bye

We've been working on getting Ian to wave bye. Anytime anyone leaves, we say 'Bye Bye' while simultaneously waving his arm. We've been doing this for months, and every time we do it his fat little arm flops limply as we try to make him wave. I always feel ridiculous, and he sometimes looks at us like we're looney. Well, not really, but he usually smiles. I'll do just about anything to make him smile.

It's become kind of an automatic reaction, a Pavlov response of sorts. Complete strangers will say Bye Bye to him and I automatically take his arm and make it wave.

Anyway, Tuesday I was running some errands. As I was heading out the door of one store, there was an older gentleman sitting on a bench near the exit. He looked at Ian and smiled, and by the man's reaction Ian must have smiled back. The man beamed, waved, and said, 'Bye Bye.'

And Ian waved back.

I swear.

The first time my baby waves at anyone and it's a complete stranger. Awesome.

At least he doesn't freak out when he sees strangers. He loves to smile at everyone, and most of the time they smile back. I mean, you can't help it, right?

You're smiling right now, aren't you?

I thought so . . . . .

A Phoebe Cat Update

This has been an incredibly stressful couple of weeks. Ian's sleeping hit an all time low, naps have been more of a fight than they usually are, and he's decided that he's not interested in nursing during the day. And then Phoebe got sick. I have been an emotional wreck.

Last Friday evening Phoebe could barely walk. After I put Ian down for the night I went and got her, and I put her on my belly and she just sat there for an hour. She never sits in my lap that long.

I thought when we got up Saturday morning she would be gone. I didn't say it to J, but that's what I thought.

She was still on J's coat in the morning, but when she saw me she weakly meowed, stood up, and came over to me. It was then that I noticed she was shuffling, moving like she was walking on eggshells. That's what animals with arthritis and joint pain look like.

As the day went on I was able to get her to eat and drink if I brought the food to her. She wasn't eating her normal amount by any means, but she was eating some.

This is where Facebook can really be of use. Remember my classmate who made a forum for all of us working moms? I sent out a message to them to pick their brains, gave them a complete history and all of her clinical signs. I wish I could give all of them a big virtual internet hug, because I think I have a diagnosis.

A little over a week before all these symptoms began, I took her in and vaccinated her. It's very unusual, but some animals (and it's usually dogs more so than cats) can develop an immune mediated polyarthritis following vaccines. That is, the body responds to a component of the vaccine by attacking the joints. In cats, it is most often a result of the FVRCP vaccine - what we call the feline distemper vaccine. This is a combo vaccine, protecting the cat against several common viral causes of upper respiratory tract infections. It's thought that it is the calicivirus component that can result in the arthritis.

I have personally never seen this type of vaccine reaction before in cats. When I went in to work on Monday, I mentioned it to my boss who has been in private practice for almost 25 years. He hasn't seen it either. Crazy stuff, I tell you.

So, the condition is usually self limiting, meaning that it will probably resolve on it's own. Treatment is supportive care and anti-inflammatory medication. I started her on oral steroids and the results so far seem promising. She now gets up several times a day to eat, and she will eat her dry cat food now. She is drinking PLENTY (steroids make you very thirsty). She still moves very stiffly, and you can still it is uncomfortable for her to get around.

But she is acting more and more like the Phoebe cat.

So, looking back on when this all started, I don't think she was primarily anorexic - I think her joints were hurting her so bad that she didn't WANT to get up and go eat or drink.

So what do I think about vaccines? Well, Phoebe won't be receiving the FVCRP vaccine ever again. But I'll still be vaccinating all of my patients. Remember, if it was indeed the vaccine that caused her joint pain, it still an EXTREMELY unusual and uncommon side effect. I still think that for my patients the benefits of the vaccine outweigh the risk. Phoebe had received this vaccine MANY times before, with no ill effects. If I have a patient in the future that responds the same way, I will probably recommend discontinuing the vaccine for that cat as well.

No vaccine is 100% effective, and no vaccine is 100% safe. But vaccines are still an extremely important component of pet care. Even if you pet is indoor only, or is never exposed to other pets. Get your pets examined and vaccinated yearly. Remember that you can carry in viruses and bacteria on your person - your shoes and clothes are excellent vectors. Vaccine side effects are uncommon, and pharmaceutical companies are constantly researching ways to make vaccines even more effective and safe. Life threatening vaccine reactions, like anaphylactic reactions are so rare. I've seen one in 5 years.

So, we are hopeful. She seems to be feeling better. I still don't know 100% for sure if it was the vaccine that caused this, but at this point it's the most likely diagnosis.

She may have to share her world with Ian now, but she is still my furry baby.

Here is one of my most favorite pictures of her. I am nursing Ian, and she has decided she wants some lap time, too.

She has really done so very well with him so far. She was so scared any time a child came to our house before we had him - she'd be under the bed for an hour after they left. We figured when we brought him home from the hospital she would spend the next month in hiding. Surprisingly, she has taken in all in stride. That may change once he starts crawling (he is SOOOO close) and walking.

We love our Phoebe cat.

A Sick Kitty

Our Phoebe cat is a sick kitty. I have no idea what's wrong.

She was fine Saturday, but Sunday morning she wasn't at the window asking to be let in from the sun porch. Phoebe is a stickler for routine, so I knew something was up.

She slept most of the day Sunday, but did eat dinner. Monday I was at work all day, but I think she slept most of the day, and didn't eat or drink anything. Tuesday she seemed better, but by Wednesday I knew that what ever was bothering her wasn't going away. She was slightly dehydrated and had stopped grooming.

But no vomiting or diarrhea, just lethargy and poor appetite.

I should know better, right? One thing I always tell clients, cats mask health problems extremely well. It is in their nature to fake being happy and healthy, even if they aren't - in the wild, the weak don't survive. For most kitties, if they act like they don't feel good, they feel twice as bad.

She's somewhere around eleven and fat, so it wouldn't be surprising for a major health issue to show up. Funny thing is, I took her to work with me about 2 weeks ago, vaccinated her, and ran a full panel blood work on her, and it was 100% normal. I'm thankful that I have that blood work as a baseline. This is why I encourage clients with senior pets to run a senior panel at every yearly visit, to give us a baseline if they get sick and so that we can catch organ issues before they cause major problems.

Anyway, back to Phoebe. I took her to work with me yesterday. Normal xrays, only abnormality on blood work was a lot of protein in her urine. Hmm, there are a lot of causes of that, but there are no other indications of kidney/urinary issues. No straining, no infection. I gave her some fluids and brought her home.

This morning I got out that canned food, even stunk the whole house up by warming it up in the microwave. Normally she would be clawing at me to get to the canned food. Today I had to pick her up and carry her to the food, where she to a few bites and walked off. She was walking like her belly hurt.

I didn't work today, but she got an ultrasound anyway. I didn't see anything significant -  no obvious monsters in her belly that I can find, anyway.

So, she got some more fluids and a whole lot of medications like antibiotics and upset tummy meds, because I don't know what else to do. I am also putting her on appetite stimulants tonight.

It's frustrating. I've done all the tests baseline tests. And yes, I don't have to pay a lot of money for these tests because I am the one interpreting them. But I still don't have an answer.

And my kitty is sick. This sucks. Unfortunately, sometimes that's the way the cornbread crumbles.

She's taken over J's wool coat for the time being. She hasn't really moved from it in 4 days.

It makes me sad.

I'll Stick With Doctoring, Thank You

It's really nuts how many of my classmates from vet school have had babies this year. Several weeks ago one set up a Facebook forum for those of us who have had kids and are still practicing medicine. This classmate had the opportunity to purchase the hospital where she was working. Catch - she was due with her first child in a few weeks. She asked what we all thought.

Me? I have zero desire to own my own clinic. The thought of trying to manage a practice and deal with a baby who thinks sleeping is for sissies just makes me nauseated. However, several of my classmates are doing just that, and I think it is amazing. They are superwomen. Me, at the end of the day I need to be able to leave work at work, for my own mental sanity. 

All this made me think of my first job. The one that I kept for way to long, but the one that I FINALLY had the guts to quit. See, I was only full time doctor there, the owner was only present on Saturday mornings. So that meant during the weekdays that I worked I got to be the business manager. Hooray (note, I wasn't told this when I took the job). With zero training in business! I took two economics classes in undergrad and made a C in each one - after the curve.

The whole being in charge thing was quite a downer. It was really stressful for me, especially being fresh out of school and having to work by myself. I was ultimately responsible for the fate of 2 receptionists.

The first was lying on her timesheet. We had started having employees clock in and out on the computer, and she somehow figured out how to go in and manually change her log in time. So she would arrive in to work at 8 am, but change her log in time to 7:40 am. One Saturday morning the owner conftonted me with this info, and I had to verify that she wasn't arriving to work quite that early. She got sacked. She now works at another area hospital, and the few times that I have spoken with her on the phone she is quite curt with me. Yay.

But it was the next receptionist that takes the cake. The following incident was honestly really sad, but I can look back on it with a grain of salt now. She was in her mid forties, and a very nice person. She had never worked as a receptionist before, but was actually quite good at it. Good on the phone, very organized, loved animals, etc. My only complaint was that she was 5-10 minutes late to work EVERY day, and she lived a quarter of a mile down the road.

She had been there about 2 months when one night she called me at home out of the blue to tell me how much she loved her job. It was quite apparent over the phone that she had been drinking, but she wasn't rude or anything. The next day at work she nor I mentioned the phone call.

I quickly forgot about it a moved on, I didn't mention it to my boss.

Then that fateful Wednesday morning, I pull into work 15 minutes early to see her car already in the parking  lot. Well day law, I think to myself, She's turning over a new leaf and is going to start coming to work on time!


Then I notice her car, which was parked across 3 parking spaces with the drivers side door swung all the way open. And the driver was nowhere to be seen. I walked in to the building and the reception area was full of clients and their pets. Our treatment room was separated from the grooming room by a glass door, and I walked back just in time to watch her slip and fall by the grooming sink. Not too unusual, there was often a lot of water on the floor back there. Besides, she was smiling and was quickly back on her feet.

I proceeded the get ready for the work day. Then, M, one of our techs, tapped me on the shoulder. Her face was beet red. 'T is piss drunk,' she tells me,' And she's up front. In front of clients. On the phone, slurring her speech.'

Well, great. I called the owner of the hospital, who remember worked somewhere else during the week. He told me to fire her. That still blows my mind, that he didn't even come in to do it himself. No no, let the newbie doctor do it, that what she's getting paid $20k below the national average for.

I quickly pop in up front. Trying to look calm and composed on the outside while in my head I'm completely freaking out.

Me: T, I  need you in the back. Now.

T: Um, I'm chegging pebbles innu.

Me: That's okay, M will take over for now and help them get checked in.

She reluctantly stands up and stumbles towards me. I have to take her arm to help her back into the treatment area. Not kidding.

And of course the office is on the second floor. Of course. I start to help her up the stairs. She resists and starts crying, 'I dona want to go up sdairs.'

Remember, this woman was in her mid forties and I was 27 at the time.

We finally make it to the office and I help her into a chair and shut the door. How do you even begin this conversation?

Me: T, have you been drinking?

T: Ummm, I was drinking lasss night . .. .

It was then that I noticed she had a 32 oz styrofoam cup filled with a mystery orange drink.

Me: Did you go to bed last night?

T: I dona remember.

She leans over, grabs my hands, and gets her face about 3 inches from mine. The smell of liquor nearly makes me fall out of my chair. Her eyes well up with tears.

T: PLEEEZ. dona fira me. I LOVE thiz job.

It was at this moment that any inkling of a desire to own my own practice was shot down the tubes.

Me: T, what choice do I have? You came to work impaired, and you interacted with clients. This is unacceptable. You made a very bad choice this morning, all you had to do was call in sick.

T (wailing): oh god, oh god, oh god, I luv this job sooooo much.  PLEEZ dona fir me.

She continued to plead with me for a while. She also informed me that she had dropped her kids off to school before coming to work. Scary. I told her that I had to see appointments  for the rest of the morning, but that I would drive her home during the lunch hour. I made her give me her keys. Before seeing the morning appointments I went out and moved her car into one parking spot.

I had to call and apologize to all of the clients she had interacted with that morning. That was lots of fun. One lady told me that her kids went to school with T's kids, and it had been rumored for years that she had had a drug and alcohol problem.

I saw the morning appointments, and realized by noon that I hadn't seen T for some time. Her car ws still out front, so she had be around somewhere.

I found her in the loft of the old barn that sat on the back of the property. In the loft, smoking a cigarette. We're lucky that barn didn't burn down. She was impressively still very intoxicated despite a 3 hour span. I think that mystery orange drink was probably spiked.

It takes me 15 minutes to coax her down from the loft via the rickety 50 year old LADDER. I walk her to the parking lot, where she goes back and forth between calling me a bitch and telling me that she loves me and that I have pretty blue eyes.

I took her home, and as I pull into her driveway I noticed that her house was probably 3 times as big as my own house, in a very fancy subdivision. She leaned over and gave me a hug and tells me how sorry she is. I told her that I was sorry too, that I hated this. I encouraged her to go get some help, she clearly needed it.

And then she tried to kiss me. On the lips. I told her to get out of the car. Any semblance of sympathy had left me and now I was just plain mad.

I was mad at her for being so stupid - she drove her kids to school in that condition!!! I was mad at myself for driving her home - that wasn't smart on my part at all, she could have gone completely psycho on me. And most of all I was spitting mad at the owner of the practice for not dealing with all of this himself. I was taken advantage of. That was one of the few times I actually stood up for myself in the 4 years that I worked there.  I told him I would NEVER do anything like that again.

So yup, I'll take a case of diarrhea over drunk employees any day.

So Fast

Good grief he is fast with those hands.

I really like spicy food, and I guess he is destined to as well.

A few weeks ago we were eating dinner. That is, all 3 on us. He was nursing, and I was balancing my plate precariously above him, enjoying a ham and pineapple pie. This is how we roll with dinner, at least how we have since he was born. It's about the only way we can all eat dinner at the same time uninterrupted. He's getting too busy for such things now - i.e. he wants to eat what we're eating.

So, back to the pizza. I have my plate balanced above the nursing baby sprawled across my lap. You know the pepper they always put in the pizza box? Well, this week I had made claim to it. However, quick as a flash a chubby little hand reached up from underneath the plate and snatched the pepper. Seriously, he didn't even touch anything else on the plate. It was like he knew where that pepper was!!! Fortunately, I was quick enough to snatch it back before it ended up in his mouth.

Similarly, last week were partaking in some take out Mexican. This time Ian was sitting in J's lap. In a span of about 5 seconds, Ian had grabbed the salsa bowl, spilled it all over the table, dipped both shirt sleeves (white, mind you) in it, and shoved one fist in his mouth. The salsa was thankfully mild, but had a little kick nonetheless. Ian looked more surprised that anything.

And yesterday we drove to Chattanooga to visit some friends, during lunch was successful at grabbing my container of vinegar slaw and flinging it everywhere. Luckily, my friends have 2 children under the age of 3 and didn't mind the slaw all over their brand new carpet. And their dog was kind enough to clean all of the evidence before I could get a towel.

So I think this week we are going to start eating at the table instead of sitting at the couch. You know, like grown ups do. Ian will be in his high chair with his own food.

What Are The Odds?

The end of last week our house was overtaken by a bunch of folks who installed a new HVAC system.

And we didn't pay a penny for it. Nada.

How might that be possible, you might ask? We won a sweepstakes.

Apparently sweepstakes are real - people actually win them.

It's a pretty rad story, if I do say so myself.

Let's start at the beginning. So, I had Ian at the end of May, and for essentially the first 6 weeks or so I did nothing besides sit on the couch with him. He nursed pretty much all the time, or slept (until the witching hour of ~8pm, when he would decide to cry for 2-3 hours straight).

While on the couch I did a whole lot of internet surfing and magazine reading. Home improvement is kind of our hobby, and by far the most awesome magazine available is This Old House. The June issue had an announcement for their annual Big Giveaway. They were giving away 40 different prizes - all sorts of stuff from a $50 set of caulk, to new kitchen cabinets, to even a historic home. You could go online every single day and register to win until the contest closed on August 31st.

So, almost every single day, while nursing the baby (multitasking!), I would get online, enter all my contact information, and register to win each prize. You had to select each prize individually, so it took a got 10-15 minutes each day - at least initially. By August 31st I had some mad mouse clicking skills and could get it registered in about 7-8 minutes.

All the while I am doing this there is a little voice in my ear, whispering , Tina, this is a complete waste of time. 

Meh. What else did I have to do?

August 31st came and went, and I completely forgot about it. Then, one day towards the middle of October Ian and I were waiting for J to come home from work. If the weather is warm enough we try to sit in the porch swing and watch for his truck to round the corner.

J had just walked onto the porch and said hello when the phone rang. He picked it up, listened for a moment and said, 'May I ask whose speaking? . . .Hold on a sec.' His eyes were as big as saucers as he handed the phone to me, 'Give me the baby, you need to take this call.'

It was the the sweepstakes company, informing us that we were a winner. And we had won one of the nicest prizes, a new Trane heating cooling system, including installation.

It also came with the Clean Effects whole house air filtration system, which is essentially a super fancy HEPA filter that is built into the duct work system. It also came with the ComfortLink II touch screen thermostat - it has soooo many functions, and because it's wireless I can go check the 5 day forecast any time.

It's pretty awesome - our existing HVAC system was close to 20 years old, and although it was still working it had already been repaired once this year. Had it failed, we would have been able to replace it, but there's no way we would have been able to get a system this nice.

I mean really, what are the odds?

Happy Birthday, Peepaw!