I'd rather have a new hammer

So at one point early this week, I was once again in a minor snit over some non-major but highly asinine thing The Paperweight had done. You would think after 13 1/2 years I would have totally gotten used to it by now, but thing is, I never did. I'm forever asking, occasionally myself but often out loud, the eternal question
WHY?!?!
Why does The Paperweight insist on making life difficult for his kids and the mother of his kids? Why does he consistently make promises we know he will never keep? Why does he insist on lying about the stupidest stuff that is soooo easy to confirm or deny? Why is never on time with the child support? Why does he insist on screaming in your ear when you answer the phone? And a million other everyday annoying/ frightening/ evil things he is and/or does.... Why? WHY? WHY?!

This week, after years of asking, therapy, meditation, and prayer, I finally received the answer. Surprisingly (or not) it came from The Boy, who looked at me during my minor snit with one incredulous eyebrow raised and calmly said,

"Dad's a tool"

huh?

The Boy rolls his eyes, speaking slowly as if I had minor brain damage,
"He's a tool. He acts like a tool. He acts like a tool because he is a tool. Birds act like birds. Fish act like fish. Dad acts like a tool."

The Boy should be President, you know.
So the good new is, I no longer have to, literally or figuratively, beat my head against the wall trying to figure out The Paperweight and/or his motives. The bad news? He is such a tool.

It must be nice...

As I was outside the front entrance of my office building this afternoon, I was passed by a large refrigerated truck. Underneath the company's name, which I shall not mention in this litigious society, was the announcement of their product:

"Gourmet Quality Ice"

Um...
There are actually enough people in Pittsburgh that demand this product in order for this company to exist?

Some people have way too much money.

Spec writers specialize in naps*

So that leg cramp persisted for a few days. Tuesday, I started having trouble breathing and tightening in my chest. As the child of a registered nurse, I was pretty sure these were the symptoms of something bad and a quick visit to WebMD's Symptom Checker confirmed what I needed to do next…
"If you are experiencing calf pain associated with chest pain or shortness of breath, please seek emergency medical attention".

So I headed up to my friendly neighborhood ER and 18 hours, 3 doctors, a transfer to a different hospital, blood work, a CT scan and a dobbler ultrasound later it was confirmed that despite my fears of dropping dead at any second, I did not have a blood clot. Yea, me!

It was determined, however, that I did have some fluid in my lungs (which was causing the breathing problems and tightening) due to a case of bronchitis that I was unaware that I had. The leg pain, they are assuming, is due to a vitamin deficiency 1) because I've been lazy about taking them and 2) being sick was causing me to need a higher dosage. So I've spent the last two days on antibiotics, an expectorant and mega doses of vitamins and my breathing is easier, the chest & leg pain are almost gone and I have this sexy phlegm I'm 'expectoring' to boot. Thing, who is coming up for a visit tonight, is such a lucky man...

*This title, obviously, has nothing to do with the post. It just makes me giggle.

WACKITY SHMACKITY DOO

Things I've learned this week:

If you clean your office desk, your boss will assume you don't have enough work to do and will give you another project to work on.

What that mysterious song is The Girl has been singing while she packs her lunch box; the theme song to The Fresh Prince of Bel Air.

The Paperweight can, at least once in his life, keep his mouth shut - it being in the best interest of his daughter.

You can get Girlfriend to propose to you by buying her a Snickers bar.

Leg cramps at 2 am will make you cry and beg for mercy.

More then I ever wanted to know about yawning, courtesy of The Thing.

That The Paperweight and 3 Hole Punch are living together, courtesy of The Boy.

David Gray rocks.

You can get The Boy to clean his room, including the closet and under his bed, without argument if you take him out to breakfast first.

Curtains are expensive.

So where was I?

End of summer picnic introducing the kids to Thing's family.
Met the ex girlfriend.
Got a speeding ticket.
Yep, there we are...so anyway...
The Girl started Kindergarten and, as you already know, she did wonderfully well. And that trend is continuing (knock on wood). The new news? The Paperweight, who insisted despite my protests on keeping his morning 'shift' with the kids for the last 21 months in order to see the kids more and to keep things as 'normal' as possible after the divorce, decided on the evening after the first day of school that he would no longer be able to get them off to school.
Short notice much?

So after he pried the fork from his skull and the bleeding slowed...

No, not really. This has actually been positive in a lot of ways:
1) The Paperweight does not come to my house every week day anymore. Yea! At most, I see him about once a week, when he comes to pick up the kids and/or his mail. No, do not ask why he still has mail sent to my house. That's a post for another day.

2) I get to see both kids in the morning - for about an hour to an hour and a half a piece - before going to work.

3) This is especially cool for The Boy because it's the only one-on-one time we get. He catches the bus before The Girl even gets up so I set my alarm for the same time as he and we have coffee together before he leaves every morning. 4) This is especially cool for The Girl because she is officially no longer The Baby and is ALL GIRL. And it all happened overnight. She now asks for my opinion on clothes, frets over accessories and has me spend time fixing her hair; things she previously loathed and which I, of course, am much better at then The Paperweight.

5) This change in routine means I had to change my hours at work, giving me an extra 1 1/2 hours of sleep in the morning.

Cons?
It blows. It's hard. Every second of every day is scheduled and filled and overflowing. While pushing my hours back enables me to spend time with them in the mornings, it also pushes in to my evening. Bad enough on it's own, but also pushes in to rush hour traffic which I had previously been avoiding. I now get home 2 hours later then normal (and this is with not taking a lunch; I've been working straight through for almost 3 weeks now). I, of course, want to spend every second with the kids as possible before they head to bed so everything else gets pushed back as well. Thank God Wal-mart is 24 hours - I do my shopping after The Girl is in bed now (I just got back as a matter of fact). My house is filthy, I'm tired, I'm cranky and though I realize there is a curve while I 'get used to it', I just don't know if I can handle this.
It is officially 8 months and 19 days until the kids last day at school...which could potentially be my last day at my current job. Then it's off to be with my love.
8 months and 19 days...
I think I can. I think I can. I think I can.

Guess what?

I updated my links finally. Aren't you proud of me? huh? huh? Aren't ya?
All dead links are gone and I updated some that needed updated and it only took me....well, I know one link on there has been dead since November...Oh like you're not busy...shuddup...

But if I missed any, please let me know. And, since I'm in a housekeeping mood, leave me your link if you aren't currently listed.

*************************

And in more exciting news...
Yeah, who am I kidding. I've got nothing.
I do have a whole Paperweight vent but I'm not feeling very vent-y at the moment. And this deserves my full on bitchy attention. I drained myself during my 20 hour tirade about the little-dicked cop who gave me a speeding ticket yesterday and saying I didn't use my turn signal while changing lanes 3 times. Which is TOTAL BULLSHIT because I'm totally OCD when it comes to that. I live in Butt Fuck Egypt by a bunch of cornfields and I still signal to turn in to my driveway. And I was doing 57 in a 50 zone...but he didn't pull me over then. He followed me another mile where the speed limit drops to 40 as you are going down a hill and then clocked me and pulled me over at the bottom of the hill. And even though I had a clean record, he still nailed my ass to the wall and gave me 4 points.

Seriously? If there are any officers of the law reading this, take my advice - don't be a dick. This is why people have no respect. This is why people won't cooperate. This is why people don't report shit. If you're bored enough to harrass middle-aged women on their way home from working a bazillion hours, go read a book.

Ahhhhh guess I had some bitch left in me after all. I'll have to save it and write about Paperweight tonight.