Invariably when any area of your life seems to be going along just right, something, somewhere in the realm of your existence will go wrong. Not always horribly wrong, just wrong.
Today I'm going to specifically refer to getting a full nights sleep. That area of my life has recently become very much "just right" since Sweet Tater now is almost 9 months old and is sleeping through the night. Wahoo, you say.
Yeah, right.
DH and I still haven't managed to get her to sleep through the night in her own bed. There she sleeps about 2 hours and then wakes up periodically for about another 2 hours before deciding she's used up her small amount of patience with us and enough is enough. She wants the comfy bed and the side by side automatic heaters known as Mommy & Daddy. Not only does she want things her way, she wants them that way now. Preferably 10 minutes ago. She'll wail and sound like her life is over. Until you put her in our bed where she promptly rolls to her tummy, snuggles in and sighs. Right back to sleep.
The rest of the night is somewhat restful, interrupted periodically by either little fit smashed up against your side, face or back or by her head as she lifts it up and then drops it like a lead weight onto whatever surface is near....pillow, mattress, elbow, face, doesn't matter. So you slide her back to the area in the middle designated for littlest people and go back to sleep. Great.
Well, last night when I was finally able to call it a night (very interesting book had caught my attention and wouldn't let me go until the end ~ I absolutely love Nora Roberts!), I climbed into bed only to discover my DH and my DD were both battling to see who could snore the loudest. That's right, deuling snorers right there in my bed. Go ahead, laugh but I will tell you this, the little one almost outdid the big one. DD is about 1/3 the size of her daddy but she has a set of lungs that will make you cringe when she's mad, smile happily at her when she's babbling, and sigh with disgust when she's snoring. Gets that from her daddy because I certainly don't snore like that unless sick or pregnant. After about 15 minutes of that lovely lullaby, I grab a few pillows and head for the couch.
Wait, it gets better. You thought I was writing about my issues with my DD, right? Well, hang on because this is where the topic shifts to DS.
Just as I get comfy on the couch and start to drift into that in-between land, I hear little feet padding across the kitchen floor and heading in my direction. Low and behold, here comes Tater clutching a white stuffed seal and Little Bear. Once my voices pierces the sleep induced fog around his little mind, he turns around in the hall and comes to me in the living room. Decides he wants a drink. Yeah, right. He had to pack up his buddies of the moment to come and get a drink. Likely.
So we get a drink of water and head back into his room where he promptly askes me to lay down with him. Sure, I think, he's still 1/2 asleep, he'll be out like a light in less than 5 minutes. Boy, do I know my son. I lay next to him for a total of about 5 minutes and he was gone. As gently as possible, I climbed out of his bed and tried to miss the squeeky parts of the floor when I leave his room to head back to the couch. Thinking it sounds quiet, I check my bedroom to see if I can rejoin DH and DD....no such luck. They were just taking a short intermission before the snore fest continues. Back to the couch I go.
Again, get comfy and start to drift...only to hear Tater calling for me.
At 1:45 am, I got a lecture from my son about staying where I said I'd stay (a.k.a. in his bed with him) and not leaving. Then he proceeds to tell me I can't lay next to him but need to sleep at the bottom of the bed. I invoke the right of parenthood and tell him he's nuts and I'm going back to my bed. He is a big boy and needs to act like one and sleep by himself in his bed all night. No real argument from him, so I tuck him in again (4512th time of the night) and head back to the couch.
I only had to get up 2 more times last night but not for the kids...well, the biological ones. Pepper decided she needed some "Mommy" time too, at about 3 am. She didn't want to go outside, she just wanted to have some petting from me. Sigh.
Well morning arrives and my eyes feel like they are filled with half a beach of sand and I can tell, I'm almost going to be cranky. Almost. All is well, Tater wakes up and comes padding into the kitchen headed into the living room. I get my morning hugs and a kiss. Great day.
Then it starts. The endless litany of "Mommy can you..." "Mommy, I need..." "Mommy, I want..." and let's not forget "No, Mommy, I don't want to..." Trying to maintain my cool and be "Little Mrs. Positive Pants" I do my best to accomodate without being ridiculous. This works well until he decides to throw his jeans in the trash because he doesn't want to wear those, he wants to wear the ones he had on yesterday. "Little Mrs. Positive Pants" has left the building and has been replaced by late for work and now ticked off me. I informed Tater that if he wanted to see 5, he would return to the bedroom immediately and put on those jeans that I just took out of the trash. [Thankfully, DH had taken out the trash just moments before and the can was empty or I think I might have strung Tater up by his toes]. It took a couple more carefully worded threats and one very ominous look for him to decide enough was enough and to get dressed. Now that I'm officially late, I head down the stairs after another quick snuggle and smooch from Sweet Tater who always wakes up smiling and happy.
Smooth sailing from here, right? Wrong. Tater "forgot to give me a kiss" so has to chase me down the stairs. Two kisses, a hug and a few reminders about using only "kid" words and not to play with a certain boy who likes to wail on him, and to mind his teacher, etc. and I'm out the door. DH was returning from feeding the animals and I looked somewhat harassed apparently. He smirked and told me to have a good day to which I responded, "He's all yours, good luck."
Never has work looked so much like a haven. So I'm officially cranky and have already told a few co-workers it's wise to steer clear of me until approximately ... um, lunch. It's somewhat comical now but brings back memories of my mother saying to me, "I'm not Mommy, I'm Suzy today!" because I was OVER being called Mommy this morning.
Have a wonderful day and I hope this makes you smile!
Thursday, February 28, 2008
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
9 things that annoy....
I got this from a friend and sort of re-worked it to fit my style.
1 People who point at their wrist while asking for the time.... I know where my watch is pal, where the heck is yours? Do I point at my ears when I say I can't hear?
2. People who are willing to get off their butts to search the entire room for the T.V. remote because they refuse to walk to the T.V. and change the channel manually. Come on, no wonder obesity is running rampant in our society.
3. When people say "Oh you just want to have your cake and eat it too". Absolutely! What good is cake if you can't eat it? Of course, it would be better for my rear end if I didn't eat it! :-)
4. When people say "it's always the last place you look". Of course it is. Why the hell would you keep looking after you've found it? Do people do this? Who and where are they? It's also obvious they have never been to myhouse where the 4 year old is VERY inventive with his places to put things. Ask me for a tape measure. I be able to find a $50 bill before I'd find that. Ask the 4 year old...he'll be back in a minute with that, a hammer, and a screwdriver.
5. When people say while watching a film "did you see that?". No idiot, I paid $12 to come to the cinema and stare at the sticky mess on the floor.
6. People who ask "Can I ask you a question?".... Didn't really give me a choice there, did ya sunshine? No need to change this one!
7. When something is 'new and improved!'. Which is it? If it's new, then there has never been anything before it. If it's an improvement, then there must have been something before it, couldn't be new. Besides, the darn thing probably doesn't work anyway.
8. When people say "life is short". Compared to labor with no epidural, you bet life is short.
9. When you are waiting for the elevator on the top floor of a building and someone asks "Going up or down?" Uh, hello? What planet are you residing on?
1 People who point at their wrist while asking for the time.... I know where my watch is pal, where the heck is yours? Do I point at my ears when I say I can't hear?
2. People who are willing to get off their butts to search the entire room for the T.V. remote because they refuse to walk to the T.V. and change the channel manually. Come on, no wonder obesity is running rampant in our society.
3. When people say "Oh you just want to have your cake and eat it too". Absolutely! What good is cake if you can't eat it? Of course, it would be better for my rear end if I didn't eat it! :-)
4. When people say "it's always the last place you look". Of course it is. Why the hell would you keep looking after you've found it? Do people do this? Who and where are they? It's also obvious they have never been to myhouse where the 4 year old is VERY inventive with his places to put things. Ask me for a tape measure. I be able to find a $50 bill before I'd find that. Ask the 4 year old...he'll be back in a minute with that, a hammer, and a screwdriver.
5. When people say while watching a film "did you see that?". No idiot, I paid $12 to come to the cinema and stare at the sticky mess on the floor.
6. People who ask "Can I ask you a question?".... Didn't really give me a choice there, did ya sunshine? No need to change this one!
7. When something is 'new and improved!'. Which is it? If it's new, then there has never been anything before it. If it's an improvement, then there must have been something before it, couldn't be new. Besides, the darn thing probably doesn't work anyway.
8. When people say "life is short". Compared to labor with no epidural, you bet life is short.
9. When you are waiting for the elevator on the top floor of a building and someone asks "Going up or down?" Uh, hello? What planet are you residing on?
A few words to clarify....
Here are just a few definitions to refresh the men in our lives as they seem to have some difficulty comprehending the meanings of these words...and many others.
Responsibility - noun [ri-spon-suh-bil-i-tee] 1. the social force that binds you to the courses of action demanded by that force. 2. the proper sphere or extent of your activities. 3. a form of trustworthiness; the trait of being answerable to someone for something or being responsible for one's conduct.
Responsible - adjective [ri-spon-suh-buh l] 1. answerable or accountable, as for something within one's power, control, or management. 2. involving accountability or responsibility. 3. chargeable with being the author, cause, or occasion of something. 4. having capacity for moral decisions and therefore accountable; capable of rational thought or action. 5. able to discharge obligations or pay debts. 6. reliable, dependable, as in meeting debts, conducting business dealings, etc. 7. answerable to or serving at the discretion of an elected legislature or the electorate.
Respect - [ri-spelt] noun 1. a particular, detail, or point. 2. relation or reference. 3. esteem for or a sense of the worth or excellence of a person, a personal quality or ability, or something considered as a manifestation of a personal quality or ability. 4. deference to a right, privilege, privileged position, or someone or something considered to have certain rights or privileges; proper acceptance or courtesy; acknowledgement. 5. the condition of being esteemed or honored. 6. respects, a formal expression or gesture of greeting, esteem, mor friendship. 7. vaor or partiality. verb 1. to hold in esteem or honor. 2. to show regard or consideration for. 3. to refrain from intruding upon or interfering with. 4. to relate or have reference to.
Consideration - [kuh n-sid-uh-rey-shuh n] noun. 1. the act of considering; careful thought; meditation; deliberation. 2. something that is or is to be kept in mind when making a decision, evaluating facts, etc. 3. thoughtful or sympathetic regard or respect; thoughtfulness for others. 4. a thought or reflection; an opinion based upon reflection. 5. a recompense or repayment, as for work done.
Lie - [lahy] noun 1. a false statement made with deliberate intent to deceive; an intentional untruth; a falsehood. 2. something intended or serving to convey a false impression; imposture. 3. an inaccurate or false statement.
Responsibility - noun [ri-spon-suh-bil-i-tee] 1. the social force that binds you to the courses of action demanded by that force. 2. the proper sphere or extent of your activities. 3. a form of trustworthiness; the trait of being answerable to someone for something or being responsible for one's conduct.
Responsible - adjective [ri-spon-suh-buh l] 1. answerable or accountable, as for something within one's power, control, or management. 2. involving accountability or responsibility. 3. chargeable with being the author, cause, or occasion of something. 4. having capacity for moral decisions and therefore accountable; capable of rational thought or action. 5. able to discharge obligations or pay debts. 6. reliable, dependable, as in meeting debts, conducting business dealings, etc. 7. answerable to or serving at the discretion of an elected legislature or the electorate.
Respect - [ri-spelt] noun 1. a particular, detail, or point. 2. relation or reference. 3. esteem for or a sense of the worth or excellence of a person, a personal quality or ability, or something considered as a manifestation of a personal quality or ability. 4. deference to a right, privilege, privileged position, or someone or something considered to have certain rights or privileges; proper acceptance or courtesy; acknowledgement. 5. the condition of being esteemed or honored. 6. respects, a formal expression or gesture of greeting, esteem, mor friendship. 7. vaor or partiality. verb 1. to hold in esteem or honor. 2. to show regard or consideration for. 3. to refrain from intruding upon or interfering with. 4. to relate or have reference to.
Consideration - [kuh n-sid-uh-rey-shuh n] noun. 1. the act of considering; careful thought; meditation; deliberation. 2. something that is or is to be kept in mind when making a decision, evaluating facts, etc. 3. thoughtful or sympathetic regard or respect; thoughtfulness for others. 4. a thought or reflection; an opinion based upon reflection. 5. a recompense or repayment, as for work done.
Lie - [lahy] noun 1. a false statement made with deliberate intent to deceive; an intentional untruth; a falsehood. 2. something intended or serving to convey a false impression; imposture. 3. an inaccurate or false statement.
Thursday, February 21, 2008
10 years and she never did it...until 2 days ago
Anyone who lknows me, knows how much I love my animals. My dog Pepper is especially close to me since she's my first dog. Pepper is a very spunky Border Collie who was rescued by my vet's office and given to me. I've had her since she was less than 3 months old.
She used to go to work with me back in my western wear retail days ~ she looked so cute with her bandana collar! She's been on countless trail rides and even more countless car rides. She's had play dates with other dogs. Before I married and we bought our first house in the country, I used to take her just about every where with me so that she wasn't cooped up inside. If you are familiar with Border Collie's you know that a cooped up and bored dog is a disaster in the making.
Not that we didn't have our fair share of incidents but she is absolutely the best dog anyone could ever ask for. Very mild mannered and loving. Easily taught - that worked best with the "no kisses on the mouth" and sitting. Stay was not an easy one. Smart as a whip and twice as agile. She could stand on the top rail of a split rail fence before she was 2 years old. Boundless energy and ears that despite their flop, could hear anything!
Well, she's getting a bit older and starting to have issues with her knees. I should be more diligent in providing her with glucosamine/chondrotin pills but with two kids, a full time job and a hubby, it's hard to remember my name, much less to give the pup a pill. Alas, winter is especially difficult for her as her knees get stiff. So my alternative is to bring both dogs in at night when it is exceptionally cold outside. I'd have them in most every night during the winter but DH is not a fan of inside dogs.
Especially now.
Two nights ago, I brought the dogs in, put their cedar beds in the kitchen and fed them. All was right in their world. Apparently not, Pepper decided she was thirsty and ... wait for it...she went and drank out of the toilet. At first I was unsure of what I was hearing. Then I heard the click click clicking of dog claws as they returned to the kitchen through the hardwood in the hallway. When I went out and asked DH if I was hearing impaired, he responded "Nope, your dog just drank out of the toilet." Eeewwww. Still needing proof, I walked into the bathroom and sure enough, water on the seat. NAS-TY!
She was scolded for it. I told her she was a bad dog and not to drink out of the toilet again. Yes, I speak to her like she's my child and she is...my oldest and cheapest one :-)
Well, she decided last night about 2 am that I meant not to drink out of the bathroom on the main level of the house. So she politely went down into the basement to use the toilet down there for thirst quenching. DH was NOT pleased to say the least. When I got up and stumbled to the head of the stairs, she was at the bottom looking at me like..."Uh oh, I guess I didn't think about that long enough."
I again scolded her but this time I also told her no toilets and then promptly washed and refilled her water bucket. Yes, I washed it and refilled it at 2 am. Gotta keep my pup happy.
Doc slept through all of it...spoiled rotten thing that he is.
So that's my little story for today.
I found a couple errors in my calculations for "Smoke Breaks" so stay tuned for that. I want to re-check my math. (My sister is laughing right now and shaking her head.)
She used to go to work with me back in my western wear retail days ~ she looked so cute with her bandana collar! She's been on countless trail rides and even more countless car rides. She's had play dates with other dogs. Before I married and we bought our first house in the country, I used to take her just about every where with me so that she wasn't cooped up inside. If you are familiar with Border Collie's you know that a cooped up and bored dog is a disaster in the making.
Not that we didn't have our fair share of incidents but she is absolutely the best dog anyone could ever ask for. Very mild mannered and loving. Easily taught - that worked best with the "no kisses on the mouth" and sitting. Stay was not an easy one. Smart as a whip and twice as agile. She could stand on the top rail of a split rail fence before she was 2 years old. Boundless energy and ears that despite their flop, could hear anything!
Well, she's getting a bit older and starting to have issues with her knees. I should be more diligent in providing her with glucosamine/chondrotin pills but with two kids, a full time job and a hubby, it's hard to remember my name, much less to give the pup a pill. Alas, winter is especially difficult for her as her knees get stiff. So my alternative is to bring both dogs in at night when it is exceptionally cold outside. I'd have them in most every night during the winter but DH is not a fan of inside dogs.
Especially now.
Two nights ago, I brought the dogs in, put their cedar beds in the kitchen and fed them. All was right in their world. Apparently not, Pepper decided she was thirsty and ... wait for it...she went and drank out of the toilet. At first I was unsure of what I was hearing. Then I heard the click click clicking of dog claws as they returned to the kitchen through the hardwood in the hallway. When I went out and asked DH if I was hearing impaired, he responded "Nope, your dog just drank out of the toilet." Eeewwww. Still needing proof, I walked into the bathroom and sure enough, water on the seat. NAS-TY!
She was scolded for it. I told her she was a bad dog and not to drink out of the toilet again. Yes, I speak to her like she's my child and she is...my oldest and cheapest one :-)
Well, she decided last night about 2 am that I meant not to drink out of the bathroom on the main level of the house. So she politely went down into the basement to use the toilet down there for thirst quenching. DH was NOT pleased to say the least. When I got up and stumbled to the head of the stairs, she was at the bottom looking at me like..."Uh oh, I guess I didn't think about that long enough."
I again scolded her but this time I also told her no toilets and then promptly washed and refilled her water bucket. Yes, I washed it and refilled it at 2 am. Gotta keep my pup happy.
Doc slept through all of it...spoiled rotten thing that he is.
So that's my little story for today.
I found a couple errors in my calculations for "Smoke Breaks" so stay tuned for that. I want to re-check my math. (My sister is laughing right now and shaking her head.)
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
Are we having fun yet?
Sorry for the absence but it's been a bit of a nightmare at my house.
Got a call from daycare on Friday that Tater had a fever of 101.6.....not good. He was crying and shaking and wanted him mommy or daddy. Frantic phone calls ensued to locate the hubby who was MIA. Done with work for the day but without his cell phone. A brain explosion caused him to leave it at home. Finally found him 30 minutes later AFTER daycare called back and said Tater's fever was 103.8.....fear. That's what I felt. Fear compounded by worry and guilt that I was not already there. Doctor wanted to see him so hubby picked him up and off they went.
One finger prick, one nose tickle (flu test) and one throat culture later and we knew....nothing. Doctor thought it was strep but the test results aren't due in until Monday. Hmm, great. What do we do now? Doctor says go ahead and treat for strep since that's what her gut says.
Lovely.
So we made him a nice "sick" bed on the couch and let him snuggle up there until he passed out. I ended up sleeping on the floor in the living room with him on the couch....not fun. Hardwood does not a comfortable bed make.
Saturday was not bad. I juggled trying to keep the kids far enough apart so that Sweet Tater doesn't get this mess. Thomas was acting fine, no major complaints but you could tell he just didn't feel well. A realtively decent day until just after bedtime. He woke up sweating badly (great! Fever is broken) and clawing at his throat. Refused to drink anything, take any medicine, suck on a popsicle or even a lollipop...that's some serious pain if he refuses candy. Sent DH out for throat spray after a frantic call to the doctor's answering service. Of course, that's some nasty mess so you know it was an act of God that he took more than 1 swallow.
Another night on the floor beside him because he was so restless I was afraid he'd wake up and start crying which would wake up the baby. Not very conducive to sleeping but then, neither is getting up every 3 hours to administer medicine to a 4 year old who screams like a banshee when his throat hurts. Which, incidentally it did EVERY time he woke up. Wonderful.
Sunday was another subdued day spent watching every Bob The Builder DVD we had while trying to keep him quiet and away from his sister. I made a mad dash for sanity in the form of grocery shopping and returned with two new Bob dvd's so I was an instant hero until he realized I didn't come home with the requested green Power Ranger. Sigh. Can I take a nap now? Bury my head in the sand? Something?
By Sunday evening it appeared that he was on the mend....or rather, that the antibiotics he cried about having to take had done their job and kicked the virus out. Good. Whew! Now, to get ready for the next day...the dreaded Monday.
While I was gathering up Emmalyn's supplies for the daycare, DH announces he's not feeling very well. Probably just tired. I didn't pay much attention to him because he never gets sick. Boy was I wrong.
I was woken up by DH about 4 am...he was writhing and moaning and shivering so much that I thought he was in labor and delivering a litter of puppies. He swore he was burning up with fever and about to die. Well, I felt his forehead and he was fine. By the time I got up about 5:45 am, he was determined he was going to die and that I should plan the funeral. Again, I didn't pay much attention to him but instead started to check on Tater.
Tater popped up out of bed and informed me he wanted cereal, a biscuit and pancakes for breakfast. No fever, said his throat didn't hurt and repeated his breakfast demands. Ok. So he was good to go back to daycare with his sister. Now to get them both together and piled up into the car so that I'm not TOTALLY late to work. Thomas didn't like that idea until Daddy told him that he had to help mommy with Sweet Tater. That I didn't know what to do in the mornings since I don't take them anymore. That seemed to molify him for a bit.
Tater spent Monday at daycare as did the Sweet Tater. No problems at all.
DH on the other hand, didn't need a funeral but did go to the doctor. No help there. He didn't have the flu, didn't have strep but did have something really nasty. Thanks for the obvious, can we get the co-pay back? He's still hanging on today and feeling a bit better.
Tater's test results finally came back today (Tuesday) and it wasn't strep. No idea what it was/is but keep going with the antibiotics. I guess I'll go fill those antibiotic prescriptions now for DH...wonder if I can get one for me without getting this mess? I'm not feeling 100% and I know my body is fighting something. I'm determined that I won't get sick.
So that's why I haven't been blogging. Not that I don't have topics....lots of good ideas coming up. I'm still going to post about smoke breaks....so keep watching.
Got a call from daycare on Friday that Tater had a fever of 101.6.....not good. He was crying and shaking and wanted him mommy or daddy. Frantic phone calls ensued to locate the hubby who was MIA. Done with work for the day but without his cell phone. A brain explosion caused him to leave it at home. Finally found him 30 minutes later AFTER daycare called back and said Tater's fever was 103.8.....fear. That's what I felt. Fear compounded by worry and guilt that I was not already there. Doctor wanted to see him so hubby picked him up and off they went.
One finger prick, one nose tickle (flu test) and one throat culture later and we knew....nothing. Doctor thought it was strep but the test results aren't due in until Monday. Hmm, great. What do we do now? Doctor says go ahead and treat for strep since that's what her gut says.
Lovely.
So we made him a nice "sick" bed on the couch and let him snuggle up there until he passed out. I ended up sleeping on the floor in the living room with him on the couch....not fun. Hardwood does not a comfortable bed make.
Saturday was not bad. I juggled trying to keep the kids far enough apart so that Sweet Tater doesn't get this mess. Thomas was acting fine, no major complaints but you could tell he just didn't feel well. A realtively decent day until just after bedtime. He woke up sweating badly (great! Fever is broken) and clawing at his throat. Refused to drink anything, take any medicine, suck on a popsicle or even a lollipop...that's some serious pain if he refuses candy. Sent DH out for throat spray after a frantic call to the doctor's answering service. Of course, that's some nasty mess so you know it was an act of God that he took more than 1 swallow.
Another night on the floor beside him because he was so restless I was afraid he'd wake up and start crying which would wake up the baby. Not very conducive to sleeping but then, neither is getting up every 3 hours to administer medicine to a 4 year old who screams like a banshee when his throat hurts. Which, incidentally it did EVERY time he woke up. Wonderful.
Sunday was another subdued day spent watching every Bob The Builder DVD we had while trying to keep him quiet and away from his sister. I made a mad dash for sanity in the form of grocery shopping and returned with two new Bob dvd's so I was an instant hero until he realized I didn't come home with the requested green Power Ranger. Sigh. Can I take a nap now? Bury my head in the sand? Something?
By Sunday evening it appeared that he was on the mend....or rather, that the antibiotics he cried about having to take had done their job and kicked the virus out. Good. Whew! Now, to get ready for the next day...the dreaded Monday.
While I was gathering up Emmalyn's supplies for the daycare, DH announces he's not feeling very well. Probably just tired. I didn't pay much attention to him because he never gets sick. Boy was I wrong.
I was woken up by DH about 4 am...he was writhing and moaning and shivering so much that I thought he was in labor and delivering a litter of puppies. He swore he was burning up with fever and about to die. Well, I felt his forehead and he was fine. By the time I got up about 5:45 am, he was determined he was going to die and that I should plan the funeral. Again, I didn't pay much attention to him but instead started to check on Tater.
Tater popped up out of bed and informed me he wanted cereal, a biscuit and pancakes for breakfast. No fever, said his throat didn't hurt and repeated his breakfast demands. Ok. So he was good to go back to daycare with his sister. Now to get them both together and piled up into the car so that I'm not TOTALLY late to work. Thomas didn't like that idea until Daddy told him that he had to help mommy with Sweet Tater. That I didn't know what to do in the mornings since I don't take them anymore. That seemed to molify him for a bit.
Tater spent Monday at daycare as did the Sweet Tater. No problems at all.
DH on the other hand, didn't need a funeral but did go to the doctor. No help there. He didn't have the flu, didn't have strep but did have something really nasty. Thanks for the obvious, can we get the co-pay back? He's still hanging on today and feeling a bit better.
Tater's test results finally came back today (Tuesday) and it wasn't strep. No idea what it was/is but keep going with the antibiotics. I guess I'll go fill those antibiotic prescriptions now for DH...wonder if I can get one for me without getting this mess? I'm not feeling 100% and I know my body is fighting something. I'm determined that I won't get sick.
So that's why I haven't been blogging. Not that I don't have topics....lots of good ideas coming up. I'm still going to post about smoke breaks....so keep watching.
Friday, February 15, 2008
Working Mom's Rant
Ok, I'm climbing up on my soapbox today because I am just plain mad. No, make that plain pissed off!
God has given me two of the most beautiful children ever created and I thank Him for them every day. I wouldn't take a billion dollars for my two kids....ever. Parenting is not all roses and laughter. I don't expect it to be. It's even more difficult when both parents have to work full time.
Working parents have an additional set of "issues" to deal with along with the fear of the children being taken care of at daycare, being raised right, knowing all they need to know to be productive members of society, guilt over not having more time to spend with the children, etc. Working parents also have to deal with co-workers who don't have kids and, frankly, JUST DON'T GET IT!
I don't want special consideration because I'm a working mom. I don't expect everyone to be sympathetic to constant colds, last minute doctor's appointments and sleepless nights. I certainly don't expect you to understand when I come in with a smear on the shoulder of my blouse because of one last minute "extra" hug, a hug which I cherish and wouldn't go without even if it meant losing my job.
What I do expect is for you to keep your opinions to yourself because if you have never walked in my shoes, you can not possibly know what my life is like. I expect you to respect the fact that, although you don't, I made a choice to become a parent and I'm not going to ignore that responsibility. I expect you to respect me and the fact that my day doesn't end when I leave work. It ends when I finish all my duties on my "second" job, the job I love the most and don't get paid for. My life doesn't revolve around this place that pays me for my time and intelligence. I have more than a life outside of this building, I have a legacy. That's right, I have a legacy.
That legacy is so much more important than anything I will do or not do today. That legacy is the reason I get up in the morning before my children, lay out their clothes, pack their bags and then often drag myself away BEFORE I get kisses and hugs. That legacy is the reason that I go home at night and fix a decent meal most of the time, make a grocery list, wash a load of clothes and try to find enough time to play a bit before bath time and bed time stories. That legacy is why I try to close my eyes and count to 50 if I have to in order to keep from screaming at a select few who live for their jobs.
So don't go mouthing off over my having to leave suddenly to pick up a sick child at daycare or having to come in late because of a doctor's appointment. I find it not only reprehensible but absolutely infuriating to hear from my co-workers that according to one or two, I am hardly ever around or that I'm not making a good impression because I put my children before my job.
You may decide that your career is your life. That is your choice and I respect that. I even respect you for your decision to follow that path. But it's not for me so don't try to make me look bad because I'm not on the same path as you are. Give me the respect I deserve as a working mom with two jobs ~ the first in the business world and the second, and most important, raising my family.
~~~~~I wrote this several days ago when I was a trifle aggitated. I have calmed down but still think this deserves some blog time.~~~~~~~
God has given me two of the most beautiful children ever created and I thank Him for them every day. I wouldn't take a billion dollars for my two kids....ever. Parenting is not all roses and laughter. I don't expect it to be. It's even more difficult when both parents have to work full time.
Working parents have an additional set of "issues" to deal with along with the fear of the children being taken care of at daycare, being raised right, knowing all they need to know to be productive members of society, guilt over not having more time to spend with the children, etc. Working parents also have to deal with co-workers who don't have kids and, frankly, JUST DON'T GET IT!
I don't want special consideration because I'm a working mom. I don't expect everyone to be sympathetic to constant colds, last minute doctor's appointments and sleepless nights. I certainly don't expect you to understand when I come in with a smear on the shoulder of my blouse because of one last minute "extra" hug, a hug which I cherish and wouldn't go without even if it meant losing my job.
What I do expect is for you to keep your opinions to yourself because if you have never walked in my shoes, you can not possibly know what my life is like. I expect you to respect the fact that, although you don't, I made a choice to become a parent and I'm not going to ignore that responsibility. I expect you to respect me and the fact that my day doesn't end when I leave work. It ends when I finish all my duties on my "second" job, the job I love the most and don't get paid for. My life doesn't revolve around this place that pays me for my time and intelligence. I have more than a life outside of this building, I have a legacy. That's right, I have a legacy.
That legacy is so much more important than anything I will do or not do today. That legacy is the reason I get up in the morning before my children, lay out their clothes, pack their bags and then often drag myself away BEFORE I get kisses and hugs. That legacy is the reason that I go home at night and fix a decent meal most of the time, make a grocery list, wash a load of clothes and try to find enough time to play a bit before bath time and bed time stories. That legacy is why I try to close my eyes and count to 50 if I have to in order to keep from screaming at a select few who live for their jobs.
So don't go mouthing off over my having to leave suddenly to pick up a sick child at daycare or having to come in late because of a doctor's appointment. I find it not only reprehensible but absolutely infuriating to hear from my co-workers that according to one or two, I am hardly ever around or that I'm not making a good impression because I put my children before my job.
You may decide that your career is your life. That is your choice and I respect that. I even respect you for your decision to follow that path. But it's not for me so don't try to make me look bad because I'm not on the same path as you are. Give me the respect I deserve as a working mom with two jobs ~ the first in the business world and the second, and most important, raising my family.
~~~~~I wrote this several days ago when I was a trifle aggitated. I have calmed down but still think this deserves some blog time.~~~~~~~
Thursday, February 14, 2008
All Play & No Work
Ok, so I really mean "A Whole Lotta Play & Notta Lotta Work" but had to make it shorter :o)
I am married to a wonderful man who is a few years older than me by the calendar and many years younger than me maturity wise. I know, you're saying, "Boys mature slower than girls" well, at some point boys become men and the process should be completed. I mean, seriously. A man in his mid to late 30's should not be playing like a college kid.
I'm not talking about bar hopping or silly things like that. I'm talking about playing with the buddies ~ having "boy" night EVERY week and weekend trips to hunting camp, fishing camp, and 4 wheeling camp. The constant round of "grown up" play that men seem to invariably find themselves unable to live without.
Recently a girlfriend of mine who has been married less than a year remarked upon her angst over her husband’s choice of free time activities. I could only smile and say, "Welcome to my world" as I remembered the last 9 years of the same issues. I also remember, not so fondly, the time after the glow of wedded bliss had dimmed and I realized that the play wasn’t going to come to an end anytime soon. Hmm, I guess my friend just got to that point.
Well ladies, I’m here to tell you that there is something genetically added to us that makes us immune to the call of the playgroup. I call this a playgroup because it is always several of the friends who seem to gather for the activities. Just like a kid’s playgroup.
Yes, God seems to have created us with the responsible gene as well as the nurturing one. The gene that makes us look first at what needs to be done at home or with the children or what the bank account can handle under the already frightening burden before bouncing off on the next adventure.
That does not mean that we are immune to fun or that we have no desire to play and have a good time. Alas, we automatically see that there are dishes to be done, laundry to be washed, dried, folded and put away, floors to clean, grocery shopping to be done, children to be played with, etc. We have been made to think of our responsibilities as adults, wives, moms, daughters, aunts, friends, employees, etc. as binding and non-transferable…or should that be non-shirkable? More often than not, instead of a wild shopping spree at The Shoe Warehouse, we think "Hmm, Soandso really needs new jeans." Or "Gas has been so expensive lately that I need to cut back and not spend anything on myself this month." Here’s a better one, "I’m off from work early, I think I’ll take the kids to the park before we go home." Sound familiar?
Well, I’m here to tell you that there are some women who don’t think that way just like there are some men who DO think that way. But the law of averages is on my side, folks. Most men don’t think that way. Instead it’s usually, "Hey, I’m off early and so is Buddy A. I’ll call him and see if we can go four wheeling for a few hours today!" Who cares that the laundry is set to take over the house and the dishwasher is preparing to picket the front yard! It’s time to play!"
I could go on about this for hours and include the jokes and bets made by my family and several close friends as to whether or not my husband would leave "Boy Night" if I went into labor on a Monday. But, I am gainfully employed and thus must return to my daily tasks. Just remember this, we love them despite their neurotic need to recapture their days of playing in the mud with the friends on their Huffy bikes. We love them despite the fact they can sit in a recliner all day watching the ENTIRE Star Wars movie package and never once get up to do more than pop some popcorn and crack a beer. They’ll walk around the laundry pile to get to the cabinet that holds the hunting and fishing gear so they can run out fly fishing the next morning at 5 am. We love them despite the fact that they listen to the movies in surround sound so loud your ear drums will pop but are tone deaf to the buzz of the dryer telling them the towels are indeed dry enough to fold and put away.
So love them because it’s not going to get much better. My mom will tell you, she’s been married going on 50 years to one and he still doesn’t get it!
BTW, I usually cram these little bits of wisdom out during a "smoke break" which also happens to be my next topic. So I’m getting off my soapbox to return to work but tune in tomorrow…it’ll be a good one!
I am married to a wonderful man who is a few years older than me by the calendar and many years younger than me maturity wise. I know, you're saying, "Boys mature slower than girls" well, at some point boys become men and the process should be completed. I mean, seriously. A man in his mid to late 30's should not be playing like a college kid.
I'm not talking about bar hopping or silly things like that. I'm talking about playing with the buddies ~ having "boy" night EVERY week and weekend trips to hunting camp, fishing camp, and 4 wheeling camp. The constant round of "grown up" play that men seem to invariably find themselves unable to live without.
Recently a girlfriend of mine who has been married less than a year remarked upon her angst over her husband’s choice of free time activities. I could only smile and say, "Welcome to my world" as I remembered the last 9 years of the same issues. I also remember, not so fondly, the time after the glow of wedded bliss had dimmed and I realized that the play wasn’t going to come to an end anytime soon. Hmm, I guess my friend just got to that point.
Well ladies, I’m here to tell you that there is something genetically added to us that makes us immune to the call of the playgroup. I call this a playgroup because it is always several of the friends who seem to gather for the activities. Just like a kid’s playgroup.
Yes, God seems to have created us with the responsible gene as well as the nurturing one. The gene that makes us look first at what needs to be done at home or with the children or what the bank account can handle under the already frightening burden before bouncing off on the next adventure.
That does not mean that we are immune to fun or that we have no desire to play and have a good time. Alas, we automatically see that there are dishes to be done, laundry to be washed, dried, folded and put away, floors to clean, grocery shopping to be done, children to be played with, etc. We have been made to think of our responsibilities as adults, wives, moms, daughters, aunts, friends, employees, etc. as binding and non-transferable…or should that be non-shirkable? More often than not, instead of a wild shopping spree at The Shoe Warehouse, we think "Hmm, Soandso really needs new jeans." Or "Gas has been so expensive lately that I need to cut back and not spend anything on myself this month." Here’s a better one, "I’m off from work early, I think I’ll take the kids to the park before we go home." Sound familiar?
Well, I’m here to tell you that there are some women who don’t think that way just like there are some men who DO think that way. But the law of averages is on my side, folks. Most men don’t think that way. Instead it’s usually, "Hey, I’m off early and so is Buddy A. I’ll call him and see if we can go four wheeling for a few hours today!" Who cares that the laundry is set to take over the house and the dishwasher is preparing to picket the front yard! It’s time to play!"
I could go on about this for hours and include the jokes and bets made by my family and several close friends as to whether or not my husband would leave "Boy Night" if I went into labor on a Monday. But, I am gainfully employed and thus must return to my daily tasks. Just remember this, we love them despite their neurotic need to recapture their days of playing in the mud with the friends on their Huffy bikes. We love them despite the fact they can sit in a recliner all day watching the ENTIRE Star Wars movie package and never once get up to do more than pop some popcorn and crack a beer. They’ll walk around the laundry pile to get to the cabinet that holds the hunting and fishing gear so they can run out fly fishing the next morning at 5 am. We love them despite the fact that they listen to the movies in surround sound so loud your ear drums will pop but are tone deaf to the buzz of the dryer telling them the towels are indeed dry enough to fold and put away.
So love them because it’s not going to get much better. My mom will tell you, she’s been married going on 50 years to one and he still doesn’t get it!
BTW, I usually cram these little bits of wisdom out during a "smoke break" which also happens to be my next topic. So I’m getting off my soapbox to return to work but tune in tomorrow…it’ll be a good one!
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
A Mommy Moment...in a not so happy place!
That was my thought at 11:30 pm last night after several hours trying to get SweetTater to sleep.
I'm telling you now, it was not a fun night in my household. I was tired after working 10 hours at Cat and going home to attempt dinner and play time with the kids. Maurice decided he needed "play time" also but the adult variety so off he went for a boy night with Cliff. Leaving me with one very pissed off little boy, one teething baby and one growing headache.
It got better.
SweetTater had filled her tummy with her night-night bottle and was comfy in her jammies...dreamland awaited. She wiggled a bit but finally gave up the fight about 7:45 pm. Late for her but not too bad.
Tater went to bed relatively easily after a few tears for Daddy to tuck him in to bed. After promising that Daddy would indeed come in the minute he got home, he settled down. It only took a few threats to keep him in bed until sleep finally overtook him.
~sigh~
Finally, a chance to soak my still healing foot and possibly chat with my BFF for a few minutes. It took me about 15 minutes to get everything situated and settle my foot in the warm water. 15 minutes later all hell broke loose. Just kidding.
SweetTater decided she'd napped enough and wanted her mommy and she wanted her NOW. 5 minutes ago would be better. 8:40...hmm, I bet she's woken up because her little mouth hurts. Some Orajel and a few teething tablets should calm her down enough to let her drift off to sleep, right? Wrong. She calmed down all right...and then decided it was time to bounce on my bed while pulling my hair. About 15 minutes later, she decided it was not fun anymore and she wasn't happy again. Lots of crying ensued...and I mean lots. Nothing worked...holding, rocking, humming, singing, none of it. Ok, time for the big guns....infant Tylenol. After another 20 minutes and no change, I called DH and asked him to come home. I was not cutting the mustard with our daughter and I was calling in reinforcements. The Queen was NOT happy and I was slowly going crazy. DH didn't make me feel better by telling me (like I hadn't thought of it already) that her mouth probably hurt (DUH!) and to just give her a bottle.
Another 20 minutes later, I gave in and made a bottle. She took about 6 ounces and was quiet for a few minutes while watching "Just Desserts" on Hallmark with me. A belch and a dry diaper later....she was ready for more entertainment. Daddy finally arrived home and she took one look at him, held up her arms and started that pitiful little cry designed to weaken any man's heart. He went to the bathroom and by the time he came back she was letting the neighborhood know she was displeased with her father. He took her out to the living room to our play mat (AKA a full size egg crate on the floor covered with a comforter) and proceeded to play with her for a while.
He got exasperated when she still wasn't sleepy at 10:45 so he decided to put her in her bed to "cry it out" ~ AM, I don't know how you and your DH managed to do this and not rip your hair out by the root running screaming through Greenbrier.
I took it for 10 minutes before I went in to discover she had FINALLY ..... managed to get herself into a seated position from laying on her back. First time doing this. I calmed her down, changed her diaper AGAIN and asked for 4 ounces of formula thinking we were surely on our way to some ZZzzz's. She had a couple ounces before deciding she was done with that and just wanted a tight snuggle. It took me until 11:30 to get her asleep enough to put her down. WHEW!
I know now why some mothers eat their young....J/K!
I guess I have forgotten what it's like to fight an infant for sleep. I don't like it!
Anyway, I hope this made you giggle a bit and makes your day brighter.
I'm telling you now, it was not a fun night in my household. I was tired after working 10 hours at Cat and going home to attempt dinner and play time with the kids. Maurice decided he needed "play time" also but the adult variety so off he went for a boy night with Cliff. Leaving me with one very pissed off little boy, one teething baby and one growing headache.
It got better.
SweetTater had filled her tummy with her night-night bottle and was comfy in her jammies...dreamland awaited. She wiggled a bit but finally gave up the fight about 7:45 pm. Late for her but not too bad.
Tater went to bed relatively easily after a few tears for Daddy to tuck him in to bed. After promising that Daddy would indeed come in the minute he got home, he settled down. It only took a few threats to keep him in bed until sleep finally overtook him.
~sigh~
Finally, a chance to soak my still healing foot and possibly chat with my BFF for a few minutes. It took me about 15 minutes to get everything situated and settle my foot in the warm water. 15 minutes later all hell broke loose. Just kidding.
SweetTater decided she'd napped enough and wanted her mommy and she wanted her NOW. 5 minutes ago would be better. 8:40...hmm, I bet she's woken up because her little mouth hurts. Some Orajel and a few teething tablets should calm her down enough to let her drift off to sleep, right? Wrong. She calmed down all right...and then decided it was time to bounce on my bed while pulling my hair. About 15 minutes later, she decided it was not fun anymore and she wasn't happy again. Lots of crying ensued...and I mean lots. Nothing worked...holding, rocking, humming, singing, none of it. Ok, time for the big guns....infant Tylenol. After another 20 minutes and no change, I called DH and asked him to come home. I was not cutting the mustard with our daughter and I was calling in reinforcements. The Queen was NOT happy and I was slowly going crazy. DH didn't make me feel better by telling me (like I hadn't thought of it already) that her mouth probably hurt (DUH!) and to just give her a bottle.
Another 20 minutes later, I gave in and made a bottle. She took about 6 ounces and was quiet for a few minutes while watching "Just Desserts" on Hallmark with me. A belch and a dry diaper later....she was ready for more entertainment. Daddy finally arrived home and she took one look at him, held up her arms and started that pitiful little cry designed to weaken any man's heart. He went to the bathroom and by the time he came back she was letting the neighborhood know she was displeased with her father. He took her out to the living room to our play mat (AKA a full size egg crate on the floor covered with a comforter) and proceeded to play with her for a while.
He got exasperated when she still wasn't sleepy at 10:45 so he decided to put her in her bed to "cry it out" ~ AM, I don't know how you and your DH managed to do this and not rip your hair out by the root running screaming through Greenbrier.
I took it for 10 minutes before I went in to discover she had FINALLY ..... managed to get herself into a seated position from laying on her back. First time doing this. I calmed her down, changed her diaper AGAIN and asked for 4 ounces of formula thinking we were surely on our way to some ZZzzz's. She had a couple ounces before deciding she was done with that and just wanted a tight snuggle. It took me until 11:30 to get her asleep enough to put her down. WHEW!
I know now why some mothers eat their young....J/K!
I guess I have forgotten what it's like to fight an infant for sleep. I don't like it!
Anyway, I hope this made you giggle a bit and makes your day brighter.
Chocolate chip WHAT?
Ok, so this morning's soapbox is about chocolate chip muffins. Totally my opinion. You may agree or disagree, your choice!
Who the heck eats these things? I mean, seriously, do chocolate chips really belong in breakfast foods? Not in my opinion. You go into your local bakery or in my case the dining center downstairs in my building to get something for breakfast that is not soaked in fat and sugar. Don't necessarily feel like a bagel since there are only two flavors. Toast is unappealing as well. So I look over at the muffin selection. Hmmm, my interest is peaked. Warm baked goods always peak my interest. After a few moments deliberation, I select a very nice looking blueberry muffin. Don't ask me why I didn't just grab the closest one but it's kind of like picking a chip from the tortilla chip basket at the Mexcian restaurant...you have to have THAT ONE.
Anyway, I grabbed my muffin, some Promise spread, and a banana. I'm ready to make my way back to my desk for my well deserved breakfast treat. After slowly making my way to my desk (the fashionable "boot" makes a pace faster than a snail almost impossible), I slowly peel off the paper cup to discover....
.....my blueberry muffin is not blueberry at all!
It's chocolate chip! WHAT THE HECK?
A feeling of disgust overwhelmed me and I sat starting at my muffin for a moment. Truly deciding if I was going to attempt to eat it or just chuck it at the next person who walks by...this made me smile. Alas, I like my co-workers so decided against pelting anyone with a chocolate chip muffin. Besides, my tummy was growling. Deciding it was better than nothing, I broke off a piece and took a bite.
GAG!
Seriously, chocolate chips do not belong in a muffin. They are nasty in breakfast foods.
Butter did not help.
After managing to choke down about 2 bites of the muffin, I decided it was a lost cause and circular filed it.
The banana was great and thankfully, I have a couple packets of oatmeal if I decide I have to eat something else.
I will finish by saying this...chocolate chips do not belong in breakfast foods. They belong in cookies and other baked DESSERTS or SNACKS!
I'm climbing off the soapbox now. Have a great day.
Who the heck eats these things? I mean, seriously, do chocolate chips really belong in breakfast foods? Not in my opinion. You go into your local bakery or in my case the dining center downstairs in my building to get something for breakfast that is not soaked in fat and sugar. Don't necessarily feel like a bagel since there are only two flavors. Toast is unappealing as well. So I look over at the muffin selection. Hmmm, my interest is peaked. Warm baked goods always peak my interest. After a few moments deliberation, I select a very nice looking blueberry muffin. Don't ask me why I didn't just grab the closest one but it's kind of like picking a chip from the tortilla chip basket at the Mexcian restaurant...you have to have THAT ONE.
Anyway, I grabbed my muffin, some Promise spread, and a banana. I'm ready to make my way back to my desk for my well deserved breakfast treat. After slowly making my way to my desk (the fashionable "boot" makes a pace faster than a snail almost impossible), I slowly peel off the paper cup to discover....
.....my blueberry muffin is not blueberry at all!
It's chocolate chip! WHAT THE HECK?
A feeling of disgust overwhelmed me and I sat starting at my muffin for a moment. Truly deciding if I was going to attempt to eat it or just chuck it at the next person who walks by...this made me smile. Alas, I like my co-workers so decided against pelting anyone with a chocolate chip muffin. Besides, my tummy was growling. Deciding it was better than nothing, I broke off a piece and took a bite.
GAG!
Seriously, chocolate chips do not belong in a muffin. They are nasty in breakfast foods.
Butter did not help.
After managing to choke down about 2 bites of the muffin, I decided it was a lost cause and circular filed it.
The banana was great and thankfully, I have a couple packets of oatmeal if I decide I have to eat something else.
I will finish by saying this...chocolate chips do not belong in breakfast foods. They belong in cookies and other baked DESSERTS or SNACKS!
I'm climbing off the soapbox now. Have a great day.
Press "1"
It's soapbox time again for me. This is not necessarily a "Mommy" blog but I'm fired up so here goes.
Today's subject is "Press 1 for English and Press NOTHING for a live person"
Recently I have had to make a few phone calls to the mortgage company and insurance companies. No big deal, right? Ordinarily it wouldn't be if you needed to check a balance or payment date or even a payment address. But if you have a question that has more depth...sit back and get comfy. Hope you have a speaker phone because you are going to be there for a while.
A simple phone call immediately takes on an annoying quality for me when the first thing I have to do is press 1 for English. MY OWN LANGUAGE. A language spoken fluently throughout the world and I have to choose it. I'm calling from the US to a company located in the US and still have to choose the language in which we both speak! Don't even get me started on US based companies who now outsource their customer service overseas...I'll rant for hours about that.
But I digress.
I believe that this particular annoyance is probably consider such by the majority of callers regardless of the purpose for their call. I'm not going to spout off about how we live in an English speaking country and that immigrants should be required or at the least greatly encouraged to immediately develop a rudimentary working knowledge of the language widely accepted as THE language in this country. That being said, if you need to establish an account that might require calling into a customer service center, you should first have to speak the predominant language of said business in order to fill out the paperwork and establish the account!
How in the world would I establish electrical service in Zimbabwe or Brazil if I did not in fact know enough of the language to communicate my need! Of course, I am one of those pesky intelligent, educated people who would learn basic phrases BEFORE I went to said country.
I think I have a solution to the "Press 1 for English" problem.....make speakers of other languages press 1!
"Thank you for calling XYZ Company. We value our customers and would like to expedite your call as quickly as possible. If you speak a language other than English, please press 1. For English speaking customers, please hold the line for the next LIVE representative to assist you."
That leads me to my next rant....how hard can companies make it to get to a live person on the phone. In this day and age, most people first go to the internet to attempt to answer their question. If I'm calling you it's because the basic information on the internet could not answer my question or correct my problem. So running through 10,000 voice prompts to review the same basic information IS NOT NECESSARY. Give me a choice to speak to a live person. And don't, I repeat, don't hang up on me after making so many "wrong" choices.
I called my mortgage company to ensure the receipt of our new home owners insurance policy and it literally took me 30 minutes to get to a live person. That was after two other phone calls in which I was never able to get past the voice prompts and got hung up on both times. I swear, I wanted to throw the phone across the room. Thank goodness I wasn't calling from my cell phone or I'd have run out of minutes.
Another lovely experience recently was also with my mortgage company. I needed to fax some information to a specific department. Fine, the fax number was supplied to me over the phone by the actual person it took me 30 minutes to get. It was also available on the internet. No problem. Now three weeks have passed and there have been numerous attempts on my part to confirm the receipt of the information I faxed but.....wait for it....I can not obtain a phone number for that department to call them. The live person I was able to reach again in customer service told me that they don't have a phone number. Only a fax number. Apparently whenever anyone in the company needs to speak to these people they have to fax them also.
Sounds like Nirvana, doesn't it? Never have to talk to annoying co-workers again...make them fax you!
So now I sit and continue trying to figure out why I haven't heard anything from them regarding my fax and how I can get in on the "fax only" action.
Here's a thought...I bet if I don't pay the payment, I'll have more phone calls than Ma Bell!
In a nutshell, I don't want to press 1 for English and I want to speak to a live person within the first 2-3 minutes of my call. That's it. I'm not asking for miracles here. Just a live person to speak to in a relatively short period of time without having to key in more numbers than the national debt. Oh and, I'd also like to request an English speaker on the other line.....a fluent one. But that's another blog.
Today's subject is "Press 1 for English and Press NOTHING for a live person"
Recently I have had to make a few phone calls to the mortgage company and insurance companies. No big deal, right? Ordinarily it wouldn't be if you needed to check a balance or payment date or even a payment address. But if you have a question that has more depth...sit back and get comfy. Hope you have a speaker phone because you are going to be there for a while.
A simple phone call immediately takes on an annoying quality for me when the first thing I have to do is press 1 for English. MY OWN LANGUAGE. A language spoken fluently throughout the world and I have to choose it. I'm calling from the US to a company located in the US and still have to choose the language in which we both speak! Don't even get me started on US based companies who now outsource their customer service overseas...I'll rant for hours about that.
But I digress.
I believe that this particular annoyance is probably consider such by the majority of callers regardless of the purpose for their call. I'm not going to spout off about how we live in an English speaking country and that immigrants should be required or at the least greatly encouraged to immediately develop a rudimentary working knowledge of the language widely accepted as THE language in this country. That being said, if you need to establish an account that might require calling into a customer service center, you should first have to speak the predominant language of said business in order to fill out the paperwork and establish the account!
How in the world would I establish electrical service in Zimbabwe or Brazil if I did not in fact know enough of the language to communicate my need! Of course, I am one of those pesky intelligent, educated people who would learn basic phrases BEFORE I went to said country.
I think I have a solution to the "Press 1 for English" problem.....make speakers of other languages press 1!
"Thank you for calling XYZ Company. We value our customers and would like to expedite your call as quickly as possible. If you speak a language other than English, please press 1. For English speaking customers, please hold the line for the next LIVE representative to assist you."
That leads me to my next rant....how hard can companies make it to get to a live person on the phone. In this day and age, most people first go to the internet to attempt to answer their question. If I'm calling you it's because the basic information on the internet could not answer my question or correct my problem. So running through 10,000 voice prompts to review the same basic information IS NOT NECESSARY. Give me a choice to speak to a live person. And don't, I repeat, don't hang up on me after making so many "wrong" choices.
I called my mortgage company to ensure the receipt of our new home owners insurance policy and it literally took me 30 minutes to get to a live person. That was after two other phone calls in which I was never able to get past the voice prompts and got hung up on both times. I swear, I wanted to throw the phone across the room. Thank goodness I wasn't calling from my cell phone or I'd have run out of minutes.
Another lovely experience recently was also with my mortgage company. I needed to fax some information to a specific department. Fine, the fax number was supplied to me over the phone by the actual person it took me 30 minutes to get. It was also available on the internet. No problem. Now three weeks have passed and there have been numerous attempts on my part to confirm the receipt of the information I faxed but.....wait for it....I can not obtain a phone number for that department to call them. The live person I was able to reach again in customer service told me that they don't have a phone number. Only a fax number. Apparently whenever anyone in the company needs to speak to these people they have to fax them also.
Sounds like Nirvana, doesn't it? Never have to talk to annoying co-workers again...make them fax you!
So now I sit and continue trying to figure out why I haven't heard anything from them regarding my fax and how I can get in on the "fax only" action.
Here's a thought...I bet if I don't pay the payment, I'll have more phone calls than Ma Bell!
In a nutshell, I don't want to press 1 for English and I want to speak to a live person within the first 2-3 minutes of my call. That's it. I'm not asking for miracles here. Just a live person to speak to in a relatively short period of time without having to key in more numbers than the national debt. Oh and, I'd also like to request an English speaker on the other line.....a fluent one. But that's another blog.
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