Unexpected Encounters on the Interstate

Remember that one time ABL flipped me off for merging? (If you don't, click here)

Apparently my weirdo escapades weren't over with that experience. 

Justin and I decided that since Sam was at Susan's tonight (much love to you SMACK!) and since it is August and I don't want to cook (shout out to myself!) that we would go somewhere out to eat tonight. As we discussed where we wanted to go, we were both in agreement that it needed to be somewhere we couldn't go with the boy (not that we don't love you, older version of Sam who hopefully doesn't remember being allergic to everything).

What did this mean?

Larry's Pizza... 

where there is a sign as you walk in that announces they cook with milk and nuts and make no apologies for it. Ahhhhh Larry's. 

As we are driving on the interstate to get to Larry's, I notice I'm going 54 miles per hour. 

The speed limit is technically 65. Err'body goes 75. It is understood. 

So why am I traveling so slowly? 

Because the car in front of me is. 

So I went around them. 

And what I saw as we were passing them by was enough for me to take notice, for sure. 

Justin and I were talking as I was passing about what in the heck they were doing that they felt it necessary to go that slowly on the interstate. As we were rounding the side of them, I noticed the silhouette of two older women and had that shameful thought to myself of, "Well that explains it." 

I admit it. I thought it. 

And I was wrong. 

Because while they may have been old, that was not why they were going so slowly. 

Upon further investigation, the lady in the passenger's side seat was preoccupied in the mirror, presumably fixing her hair AND applying make-up simultaneously. 

That could be distracting for a driver. 

But I doubt the driver noticed because she was a bit preoccupied herself. 

Justin and I thought it was profound enough to 1) blog about and 2) re-enact. 

You're welcome. 

That's right folks. She was brushing her teeth. 

Now I know people who do this in the car. It isn't all that weird. 

But when you are going 54 MPH on the interstate, and someone passes you, and you CREEPILY turn around and make eye contact as you are going to town on your teeth... that's the stuff awkwardness is made of, right there. 

PG list of times I don't want to make eye contact with you: 
1. As you pass gas audibly
2. As you readjust yourself in the downtown area
3. During or immediately following bathroom time (stall crack peepers anyone?)
4. While shopping for family planning or feminine hygiene products
5. While running to Walmart w/ no make-up in sweats
6. While eating a popsicle and/or banana
7. WHILE BRUSHING YOUR FLINGING FLANGING TEETH... ESPECIALLY WHILE DRIVING

And also... WHERE WERE THEY GOING?! 

You would think if one is doing hair and make-up and the other is catching up on their dental hygiene, that they must be headed somewhere important. Was there a sale on Polident? Were they headed to a date from their online dating profile? Did their red hats finally arrive across town? And why was there not time to brush before they left but there was enough time to grab the toothbrush on the way out?! Answers people! I need answers! 

Let me tell you folks, once again this proves that multi-tasking is a myth. Had they just driven the speed limit and gotten to wherever they needed to be, they could have brushed their teeth and fixed hair much quicker while not operating heavy machinery. However, my night, and yours, would have been far less entertaining. 

Samisms... Oh the Samisms...

I know kids say weird things... especially toddlers. But per capita, mine says more than the average toddler.

I'm going to narrate these happenings the best I know how to. Please remember that I'm going to be piecing this together through a series of texts I've received from Susan and a small bit of conversation on the phone.

More background: As explained on the previous post, I have no social life in August. I have no free time in August. I work, eat, and sleep in August. Not much else happens. I love it and it is amazing but it is EXHAUSTING!

Since Susan is rad and awesome and junk, she helps me A LOT during August. This week is move in week so we are wrapping up training, moving students in, and then entertaining them and getting them ready for college life. This is the crux of "hectic" so he tends to stay a few nights with Susan so I don't have to drop him off at 6 am and pick him up at 8 or 9 pm at night on some nights.

So he is staying the night tonight and he stayed last night. And this is what happened at Susan's...

They were sitting down to dinner and were about to say the prayer.

Susan: Sam do you want to say the prayer tonight?
Sam: I don't know how.
Susan: Sure you do. You say one here everyday at lunch.
Sam: Yeah, but this is dinner and we never say one at my house for dinner so I don't know how. Jonah can do it.

Pause: This little situation does not paint me well, lol. Do we pray at dinner? No, we don't. I love me some Jesus. I'm thankful for the gifts and blessings. But I despise repetition and it is very important to me that prayers are genuine. I'm in a state of prayer for most of the day anyway, but I just don't like the idea of praying the same prayer for every meal. I hate when it turns into that and it inevitably does, so I pray on my own time.

And clearly my son has picked up on it, but hasn't picked up that we are in the Bible belt and people have thoughts on the heathens that don't pray at meal time! Gah!

Unpause

When Jonah was done praying, Sam erupted in laughter. Why? Because Jonah SAID the prayer and didn't SING it.

The prayer they say at lunch?

God our father, God our father
Once again, Once again
We bow our heads and thank you, We bow our heads and thank you
A-men, A-men

Sung. Not said. Shame on you, Jonah.

At dinner time, they also do the "Best and Worst" where you go around the table and say the best and worst part of your day (I'm totally stealing this. I don't know why I never thought of applying this to family dinner time, but I didn't. I use this in class all the time.)

When it was Sam's turn, she was unsure if he would get it. His responses were:

Best: Spending the night for 2 nights at Susan's, playing with his ping pong ball (that he stole from me), eating dessert, cantaloupe, and playing with his friends.

Worst: Going to time out 2 times, having to share his ping pong ball with Little Lilli, not eating dessert, and not drinking orange soda during the day since Susan made him wait until supper.

I'd say he understood the game just fine!

I need to end with a bang so last story of Sam staying the night at Susan's...

Sam needed to go #2 and he is still not coordinated enough to wipe himself. He called for Susan who began the cleaning up process. Then he squealed like a girl and said, "STOP! You're wiggling my giblets!"

Goodnight!

Bubby's Rough Weekend

Last weekend was pert bad for the Bubs. (This week is pert bad for me at work... this month...whatever... so this is why you are just hearing about this)

Justin scheduled a wedding to shoot in Fort Smith back in the spring for August 3. When he told me the date, I thought, "There is no way I can do that." Folks... August is the month I basically don't exist outside of work. There is no time off. There is no sick. There is only work.

And it is hands down the most fun month out of the year. I get to train the hall directors and the RAs and move in the residents and then train them... it is what fun is all about, actually. But it is LONG and I work LONG hours and LONG weeks (read: no days off really).

But, I found a way we could actually go out of town for that weekend and it not spin the Earth off of its axis. Which worked out nicely as I kind of dig the "Earth spinning on its axis" thing.

I left work a few hours early on Friday and got us packed up and headed to pick up Sam at Susan's so we could get to A-town Friday night.

While on the interstate, I get a call from Susan. She says, "Hey... so this is your first 'come get your kid and take them to the doctor' call."

Because every parent wants to hear that...

She goes on to tell me he has fallen and busted his eye open on the corner of the couch. It isn't his eyeball necessarily, but it is right beside his eye and it is bleeding a lot and looks deep... like can see the muscle deep. As she continued describing it, she said it isn't wide at all. It would only take one or two stitches, but it is so deep she is concerned.

Well piss.

I call our doctors office to be told they are closing for the day (it was 4:35 pm) and that I needed to take him to the ER.

Boooo.

So I called an after hours clinic (because I'm a rebel and I DON'T FOLLOW INSTRUCTIONS!!!) to which I was told to take him to the ER, they don't treat for trauma.

Bummer.

When we got to Susan's, he had stopped crying and it had sort of stopped bleeding (leaking is a better way to describe it).

Because I'm a rebel and because it had pretty much stopped bleeding and because I had talked to my sister (a nurse) and my friend's husband (a nurse anesthetist) and because ER copays are DAMN expensive and because the pharmacist advised using steri-stitches on it with some triple anti-biotic cream... we did just that.

Don't be jealous of our mad steri-stitching skills, mkay?

I rode in the back seat with him on the way to Alma. We stopped and had dinner at "chickalay" and visited with Michelle for a bit. We watched Meet the Robinsons. And kept blotting his eye b/c it kept leaking! But it finally stopped around 11 pm that night and we were able to rest.

Because of this eye drama, we decided I should probably hang back from the wedding and take care of Sam. I'd hate for my good friend/cousin Ashley to not only have to make sure he stays safe and doesn't eat something that he's allergic to (milk and nuts) but also make sure he doesn't bust his face open again. And playing outside seemed like a bad idea.

So we stayed together and played all day. And he was HIGH. MAINTENANCE.

I told Justin he had it easy just shooting a wedding. Good. Grief.

We went to bed that night before Justin got home. When we laid down, Sam said his throat felt funny. I thought it was a ploy to stay up longer and talk so I made him lay down and go to sleep.

Then he woke up around 11 pm gasping for air, barking like a seal, seriously CAN. NOT. BREATH.

This is not my first rodeo in the "kid can't breath" arena. I immediately spring to action. I jerked him up out of the bed and headed for the freezer to stick his head in it and get his throat to calm down (great way to get some relief for croup if you didn't know that already).

Didn't help. He could not get a breath.

Meanwhile, I'm not a multi-tasker. Like I can't talk and do something at the same time. This includes telling my husband what is going on as he watches HORRIFIED and demanding answers. Not that I blame him, I just had a wee bit of tunnel vision at the time.

I try and try to get the kid to breath and we just can't make it happen. I tried to get him to focus on taking a sip of water... nothing. Finally I tell Justin to get my dad or Debbie to take us to the hospital.

Justin gets the car as cold as he possibly can and we head towards the ER. When we got there, they took him back to triage and immediately ordered a breathing treatment to happen in the triage room. It started getting better. He was talking now, though still audibly wheezing.

Respiratory comes back and gives him an inhaler and spacer.

Translation: They gave him meth. His second dose of meth for the night.

He was BOUNCING off the walls. Literally, at one point, he was up in my face, tongue hanging out, hands at either side of his face just making silly faces and noises. In my face. Like an inch from my face.

After we got the clear x-ray of his lungs back and were expecting the doctor to come discharge us, I made a joke to him, "Sam, if you don't call down I'm going to push you off the bed!"

First off... I was clearly kidding. I say crazy crap to him all the time. He says crazy crap back. It is super fun.

Apparently I said that seconds before he wanted to attempt a triple lutz off the side of the ER bed, because OFF HE WENT INTO THE FLOOR!

I lunged for him, barely caught him by his feet about two inches before he hit the ground head first... and I've scratched his face. Major.

Can this kid catch a break!? Geez...

So he was looking something rough there for a few days... or a week... whatever.

We are doing much better now. He got to sleep in our room for about a week b/c it freaks me out him waking up like that and, according to him, "It makes me so happy inside to sleep with momma!"

I think it made us both happy inside... no matter if he wakes up at 3 am crying, "MOMMY!!! Please keep me safe!"

Melt. My. Heart.

Angry Baptist Lady Called the Cops on Me and Flipped me the Bird!

I'm still laughing as I write this.

You are probably thinking, "Good grief, Rikki. What did you do to this sweet old lady?! Did you run her over in your car?! Did you kick her puppy?! What?!"

I merged.

That's it. I exercised my right to remain on the road when a lane ends.

Now you are probably thinking, "Well Rikki, did you merge like an asshole?"

Valid question.

Answer: No, no I didn't.

I was driving on the access road from Bryant to Little Rock. I was in the left lane and angry Baptist lady (ABL) was in the right hand lane. The lane is about to end so I looked behind me to see if anyone was near me and I see ABL at least two car lengths behind me. I turned my blinker on as I continued to look behind me, just in case.

She sees my blinker then gasses it.

*giggle* Oh no. Not happening.

So I went on and got over.

Should I have let her pass me on the right hand side when I mid-way through a merge?

Possibly.

But that would have resulted in me sitting on the side of the road waiting on ABL to pass me. That seems absurd.

What transpired after this is only meant for SNL skits...

This lady, who couldn't have been a minute under 60 years old, flips me off like it is her JOB!

Waving it at me... mean scowl on her face.... she is giving me the SUPER FINGER!


 Seriously. This is happening.

And I can't hold my laughter! It was one of the most ridiculous sights I have ever witnessed. She was so angry!

Dear ABL,

I'm sorry I utilized my right to remain on the road and gave you ample notice to see this was happening. I sincerely hope you weren't late to your appointment to get the stick surgically removed from your ass.

Sincerely,

Momma w/ a Dude Name

Apparently seeing me laugh about the situation didn't set well with her. I wish I could have held it in for her sake, but it was too darned funny.

Clearly my laughter equated the response of me setting her on fire... because then she angrily lunged at her phone so she could take pictures of my license plate! I have no doubts she then called the police to turn me in.

Dang law abiding citizens... merging and junk... we are a menace to society!

I feel like I'm forgetting something... let's see...

Oh yeah! How did I know she was Baptist?!

Because when she raced around me at her earliest convenience, she was sporting a sticker from her church on her bumper! :-)

Way to represent, ABL. Way to represent.

As someone so eloquently put it this morning, way to let your light shine!

Kindergarten Can be Scary for a Budding Fireman

Kindergarten: 

Kindergarten is borderline obsession in my house right now. And has been for six months or so.

I hear, "Momma when can I go to kindergarten?"

And, "How big will I be in kindergarten?"

And, "When I am 5 years old, I get to go to KINDERGARTEN!"

Things didn't get much better when he spent the day with my friend Jenni and her daughter in a 1st grade classroom one day. Lord help me, I have a DORK on my hands!

On the way home today, he says, "Momma, when I am big, and in kindergarten, it will be SCARY!"

I said, "It will? Why?"

Sam: "Because I'll be bigger in the kindergarten."

Me: "Ohhhhhh..."

Sam: "I've been waiting for too long to be in kindergarten! I am waiting and waiting and waiting!"

Me: "You aren't old enough to be in kindergarten yet, honey. You can go when you are five years old." 

Sidebar: This has caused him to not care at all about turning 4, except that means he is one year closer to 5 so he can go to school. Otherwise, four years old is whack.

Sam: 'When I am 5 and I go to kindergarten, I will only be a little scared." 

Me: "But you will love kindergarten. I think you'll be very good at it."

Sam: "Why?"

Me: "Because you are very smart. You think about things and figure them and solve problems and that makes you smart."

Sam: "Yeah, I am smart."

Me: "Yes you are. So will you still be scared in kindergarten?"

Sam: "Yeah, but I sure can figure things out in kindergarten!"

This kid... too much cute...

Fireman Sam

During our bathtime routine, we've developed a little game where Sam puts a bucket on his head, pretends to be a firefighter, and asks me, "What's the problem?"

I then point to an arbitrary place in the shower where he squirts it with water really quickly or dumps water on it really quickly and then asks again, "What's the problem?" (He's a very efficient firefighter.)

Tonight went like this:

Sam: What's the problem?

Me: Oh I'm so glad you are hear! My house is on fire!

Sam: Splash. What's the problem?

Me: My goodness! My  kitchen is on fire now!

Sam: Splash. What's the problem?

Me: My trash is on fire! Help me, please! 

Sam: Splash. What's the problem? 

Me: (growing weary) Someone set my dog on fire! 

Sam: Splash. What's the problem?

Me: (taking a deep breath... working up a way to stump him) Fireman Sam! I'm so happy you are here! A guy came into my house and stole all of my clothes and then sold them on ebay! When he got the money he ran all the way back to the house, put the cash on the front door step, and then set it on fire!"

Sam: (blankly staring at me) (pause) Well, Momma. Then that guy went jail. (points his finger at me)

This kid... I swear...



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