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My birthday - as told by this original e-mail and microsoft paint.
So I think I'm going to take [Mr. Cheeks] to
school today, he was doing much better yesterday, running and laughing
and playing. This morning I'm up doing good, on time, but [Mr. Cheeks] is
whiney and clingy and generally out of sorts. I chalked it up to him
trying to wake up at 4 am. So we get in the car, I get Kaden's car
seat installed so I can pick him up for day care too. We pick him up
and then after we've passed all of the gas stations, my gas light comes
on, even though when I left the house I had 1/4 tank. After we've
ridden 25 minutes and are close to the school, he starts throwing up.
So I have to stop at a gas station, pump gas and clean him up. He's
crying and screaming and Kaden can't figure out what the deal is. I
call [TP's] step mom, who says I can bring him back to her house AGAIN.
After I go in the day care, drop Kaden off, and get [Mr. Cheeks]'s extra
clothes, I take his throw-up shirt off and we're on our way for another
30 minutes trip back to [grandparent]'s. Just as we pull back on
to the interstate he starts throwing up again. A LOT OF THROWUP. [ed. note - visual aid below] 
I'm trying to drive, merge and throw blankets and the shirt I already took off to keep it from getting everywhere. He's crying, I'm trying not to have a wreck. [ed. note - visual aid of CPA face below]
We finally get to [grandmother]'s and I have to get a towel so he doesn't get anything on me, because by now it's 8:10 and I have no time to go home and change clothes. We get him undressed and ready to get in the bathtub, I throw all of his clothes and blankets in the washer and I manage to get to work by 8:40. He's screaming because he wants me to hold him and I can't.
We're going out to eat lunch today, so there's an hour and a half, and then cake at 2 and then I made him another Dr's appointment at 2:45, so I'll be lucky to get 5 hours of work today. At least [grandmother] is going to meet me at the children's clinic so I don't have to truck it all the way out there to get him again.
I get to work and my computer gives me some battery error, but it's not a laptop, so I have no idea what the heck is going on there.
I called and talked to [grandmother] and I could hear him crying in the background, he was starving. So we're trying crackers to see how it goes. My car is going to be foul in this 100 degree heat [again with the ed. note - it REEKED] by this afternoon. I go from being here by 7:25 like I like to be to dragging in at 8:45.
Someone save me. Please.
It got better though. My sister brought me a cake:
It was very tasty. And cute. It was accompanied by four bottles of margarita mixers, which we broke open as soon as the kiddos were in bed.
The best birthday present of the day was this:
MY HUSBAND IS GETTING A JOB OFFER IN THE MAIL TOMORROW AND WILL BE HERE SOON!!!!!
And Mr. Cheeks gave me the f'in cold he has, which means I now feel like dog crap. TP will be here this weekend to do a bunch of stuff around here while I have to work. That is the full report at the CPA household.
29 years ago on August 23rd, my mother pushed my giant head out without the benefit of drugs. (Have you seen my head? She deserves a medal.)
In 29 years I have done these 29 things:
I'm sure there are a ton of things that I need to do in the next 29 years, but I'm too worn out to pontificate on them.
Mr. Cheeks is better. He gets to go back to school tomorrow. My office mates will take me out to lunch and we'll have strawberry cake at 2 pm CST. You can eat strawberry cake then too, and if anybody asks, you can say it's Kelly's birthday...
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And before I forget, two people who have actually met me and can attest to my stellar-ness have given me some awards.
Amy decided I was a rockin' girl blogger. I'm not sure what the qualifications for "rockin'" are as I am an old lady in a 29 year old body, but she seems to think I am deserving. Like deserving 2 months ago, and I didn't even know it since I had no computer.
Angela also seems to think I am nice. I certainly try to be. (Exemptions for (1) mother in laws and (2) morons at the drug store). At least this one I caught up with before it was time to change the calender.
I don't think a person could ask for better blogging friends. Even when I haven't posted for 2 weeks, they always comment and are there for me when I am having a conniption fit about something totally inconsequential. And they never laugh at me for being dumb.
I feel so behind on blogs. There's no reading or posting at work, and I feel like I can't get caught up at home in the few minutes I have after Mr. Cheeks goes to bed. I miss you guys. And I'm coming back in full force soon (and bloggers everywhere groan...) Don't give up on me yet!
I was thinking today of how I was going to write this entry about how lovely it was to have TP here this weekend. He was helpful and fixed my steamy dryer (it means the hose isn't venting! Who knew! I just thought it was super powerful!), how I didn't have to change more than one diaper when he was here, and how he let me take a nap while his mother was here, and the hot air balloon I saw on my way back form the office early Sunday morning, and the hope from a prospective employer of a call back in two weeks with a possible offer.
But oh, hell no, we can't just have a pretty, uneventful weekend of buying my nephews shoes, dogs getting out the front door and us having to chase them down, Sonic, and beer. No, that will just not do. The universe decided to bestow upon me a sick child.
Yes, the daycare called today and said Mr. Cheeks looked like he had pink eye and there was BLOOD COMING OUT OF HIS EAR. Hello. In case you missed that - BLOOD COMING OUT OF HIS EAR.
And wouldn't you know it, it's Monday, the first day of school here, and absolutely no one will take a new patient at 3 pm on a Monday. I know it's not their fault, but my baby had blood coming out of his ear. AND I DON'T WANT TO WAIT UNTIL TOMORROW. IT COULD BE HIS BRAINS LEAKING OUT. I called four or five places, often with my office phone on one ear and my cell phone on the other - once with the same place on both phones on hold both ears. Someone suggested I try the after hours clinic at the Childrens' Hospital. Which I did, and after several minutes of questions, the nice lady on the phone, who I'm sure could hear the slight tinge of panic in my voice, said we could come in at 5:45.
I went inside and picked up my poor child who was in a crib so he wouldn't infect anyone else with his pestilence, and we came home to let the dogs out and feed them, and then go to the doctor. It was not the madhouse I expected. We signed in by touch screen, paid our money and were seen within 10 minutes, even though we were there almost 30 minutes early. The doctor was quick, and most importantly, he commented on how cute Mr. Cheeks was several times. He even reached out and touched the back of his head to feel his hair, like he just couldn't help himself. (I don't know what the deal is with Mr. Cheek's hair, everyone seems to think it is awesome baby hair, but I have no idea why. It's just like my hair, and I'm sure he will grow to hate it's unyielding weight and heat retaining properties soon.) Anyway, he couldn't even see in the ear because it was so gunked up, and said it was probably an ear infection that had ruptured his ear drum. I had neglected to mention that his ear drums had already been ruptured - by a surgeon - several months ago. We cleared that up and were on our way. We were out of there by the time our actual appointment was supposed to have been.
You know how I hated CVS in Alabama? Well, We have a NEW WINNER of the most hated pharmacy. Walgreen's on JFK. When you bring in three prescriptions, wouldn't it make sense that you need them quickly? You would think so, wouldn't you? Walgreen's on JFK, you obviously have never heard of such a novel concept, because you told me I could wait for an hour in the store. And when I said I would just come by and pick them up later thinking I could give the kid some dinner and a bath and do the convenient drive thru, you upped my wait to THREE F'IN HOURS. Lady, those prescriptions are for a 17 month old. He will not be awake at nine o'clock this evening when you have suggested I come and pick these up. I'm sorry but, "It's Monday and we only have three people" does not cut it as an excuse. If it's like this every Monday afternoon wouldn't you think to have more people there? Huh? What I wouldn't give for the morons at CVS right now.
So the Cheekiest is going to have to stay home for the next few days with his Geng-Geng (Don't ask me where that came from, we had nothing to do with it.) and my Dad is going to pick up the prescriptions and drop them in my mailbox tonight, so we can all get some rest. I should have seen the imminent disaster coming when Mr. Cheeks woke up at 9:30 last night and cried for 2 hours. He never does stuff like that and I thought it was just the combination of Daddy leaving and runny nose/cough that he has been hanging on to for a few days. But it was probably the gunked up ear getting ready to explode.
Anyway, TP is in Las Vegas this week for his pool tournament, and he brought the dogs to Arkansas. So now it's single parent CPA, (2nd) tax season (like 2nd breakfast! Only less tasty!), and three dogs. It's going to be a long month. God, please let my husband get a job in two weeks so he can come and live with us. And let them pay him lots of money and pay to move all of our stuff. Or let him win 10 million dollars at the progressive slot machine in Vegas. Amen.
This surprised me as I was coming back from the office at 7:15 in Sunday morning, picking up work. I came around the entrance ramp and boom there it was.
When TP was here this past weekend, we did a lot of stuff to the house, getting all moved in and putting things where they needed to go. My sister and her boys were coming over in the afternoon to hang out before we all went to my Dad’s to eat. So Haley calls and says “I’m on my way over” and I let her know I’m on my way to the house too. My mother in law is making us a curtain for over the kitchen sink, when the morning sun comes through there, it’s like an oven. I had several folded up pieces of fabric to test against the guacamole walls, and I also had three Smirnoff Ices left my in laws refrigerator. Since I actually had a refrigerator at this point, sitting at the new house all empty and cold-like, I decided to take those three bottles with me to get the fridge broken in right for all the alcohol it would be asked to contain during its lifetime. As I stepped out the font door, my Croc flip flop caught on the small step on the front stoop and I went down, my face speeding towards the ground at an alarming pace. I had to a sacrifice something, it order to keep from doing a face plant, and I reached out with the arm that held the three bottles of my sanity, and one of them went flying. I tried to save it, but it was too late. It shattered into a million pieces and my knee looks like I’ve been in a motorcycle accident.
This is not quite as bad as the time I fell in the middle of downtown Birmingham during lunch time when I was pregnant with Mr. Cheeks. That time, I had blood running down my leg and my whole knee was numb for a few days, except for when I tried to take a bath or a shower, and then it was on fire. I didn’t have any problems in the baby department after the fall, so I didn’t even call the doctor, but the next time I went in, I told her what had happened. I guess she thought I was talking about a little trip and scrape or something, but when she came around the table, she said, “Man, you really did fall and hurt yourself!” It was probably a 6-8 inch diameter, road rashed, bruised up, scabed up, and gross looking knee. If a lady who looks at hoo-has pushing out babies all day takes a look at your leg wound and says it looks bad, you know you took a spill.
Instead of posting, I wen to bed early to recuperate from Monday night, and instead of posting last night, I went to Little Rock and bought school supplies for Kendall who will be in Kindergarten, and drank 1.5 margaritas at On the Border. We didn’t get home until almost 10, Mr. Cheeks didn’t want to stay asleep and I was almost with The Deathly Hallows, so I went ahead and stayed up to finish it. Until 11:50. And then I was so pumped up from reading it that I had to calm down with some Janet Evanovitch. Until 12:10. And then Mr. Cheeks woke up again in the middle of the night.
(Seriously people, he is almost 18 months old, shouldn’t he sleep through the night on a regular basis? He wakes up almost every night. And I’m not talkin’ a little whimpering cry, this is a “OH, SHIT, SOMEBODY’S GONNA GET ME!!! MOMMA!! MOOOOMMMMAAAA!!” cry. He just gets himself more and more worked up, and he sure as hell isn’t falling asleep on his own in the evenings, he has to sit in my lap for 20 minutes to fall asleep. He’s in a toddler bed, so I can’t just plunk him in there and hope for the best, he’ll just climb out. He goes to sleep at daycare by himself and sleeps on a cot, but I have no idea how to duplicate this at home, nor do I know how to make him stay asleep. But I digress, back to my original excuses…)
So there are several things about the new house that I love. Some of them probably would not be your first choice of things to love in a house, but remember I have been living in a 1,100 sq ft shoebox for the past 5 years.
1. This plug.
I love this plug. It is in my bathroom, and even though it is on very ugly wallpaper that some moron tore up and left holes in (my dad is going to fix it for me by putting up some grass cloth wallpaper soon) it is actually IN THE BATHROOM, which I haven’t had in 5 years. For some insane reason the gay guys who redid our Birmingham house did not put an outlet in the bathroom. Not that it was big enough for you to actually raise your arm in, but still, I would have like to have dried my hair in the bathroom, with the door shut so as to suffocate myself not to disturb the rest of the household. What I think probably happened is that there was an outlet on the light fixture and in their “fixing up” they decided to put in a not from the 50’s light fixture that didn’t have the convenient outlet most normal people like to have in the bathroom. BUT I HAVE ONE NOW. And since it 40 hundred degrees here, I have to wash my darn hair every day now. And dry it.
2. This room.
As you can see, it is extremely messy. My nephews and Mr. Cheeks play in here a lot. And make a huge mess. But guess what? I can shut the door and the mess magically disappears! Not like Birmingham, where the mess is in the living room and the dogs eat the toys and you step on blocks when you go into Mr. Cheeks’ room. When the rest of our furniture is released from its house-selling duties, this will be an actual spare bedroom. But for now, it’s full of toys. And I love it.
3. This bathroom.
I know, I know, it’s yellow, but look at the cute fishies! And the cute towels with names on them! And I don’t have to share it! I have my own bathroom. My very own tub in which I don’t have to bathe with little squirty fish and rubber duckies. However I can’t take a bath in my tub at the moment because the drain is broken. We bought a new one, but when TP tried to take the old one out, the little cross piece at the bottom broke out so he can remove it until he gets a tiny hacksaw and saws it out. Which he will do next weekend.
4. The kitchen.
Here it is in all its guacamole glory (the walls are all textured and avacado colored. I crave Mexican food all too often now). Look at all these drawers! Yes, most of them are too small to put a whole lot in, but at the old house, I only had two drawers. One for silverware, and one for junk (like 374 beer bottle tops and the threat of cutting my finger off with a concealed pizza cutter). I can put dishtowels or foil or something in them. And there’s a garbage disposal! With a switch and everything! I haven’t had one of those in years, we have to scrape all our food in the garbage, and worse, carry that little strainer thing to the trashcan with little gross food stuff in it. And cabinets galore. There’s even this nifty little thing, which I suspect will be used by TP to lay all of his important (and I use that term very loosely, like, synonymous with “junk”) papers on it.
And leaving them there for months at a time until I yell at him that I’m throwing his stack of last year’s birthday cards, receipts from Chan Lee’s, and pool “8 on a break” patches in the trash unless he does something with them, which usually means he puts them on his dresser to for another 3 months, and I throw them away while he’s not there (not the patches though, we save those for when blue jean jackets come back in style and I can sew them on one for him). That’s true love right there, folks.
There’s also this nice backyard and a reasonable front yard, although it does have a bunch of crepe myrtles in it, and I hate crepe myrtles. All their little crepe-y flowers everywhere drifting all over your car and stuff. Stupid trees.
Anyway, that’s the house. We like it, and I’ll like it even more when the rest of my stuff gets in it, including my husband.
I had such good intentions of posting tonight. Pictures of the new house, of my horrible mangled knee from tripping, tales of Mr. Cheeks going to school for his first few days. And then I had to go and buy a mattress, and my Dad brought me over some sheets and my nephews stayed, and they wanted milk, and Mr. Cheeks wanted to climb in the chair and bang on the keyboard, and I opened the refrigerator to get something and the juice fell out and busted all over the floor, I don't have a mop, and Swiffer wet cloths don't pick up sticky juice, and someone needed a bath and there are two other little boys who wanted to play in the bathtub too, and I need to read some more Harry Potter, and it's 9:37 and I still haven't had anything to eat for supper, and, and, and...
So, pictures tomorrow.
