Just flip the switch

As you know, I live in Antarctica.  When you live in Antarctica the only thing you think about is warmth.  You dream about it when your head is on the pillow, and you dream about it as you are driving down the street.  Connecticut...Antarctica, potatoes...patatoes.  Same difference, right?

So I don’t know how to work our thermostat.  I don’t want to know.  I am too afraid if the Chief gives me a lesson, I will always be changing it to my comfort level, which is 86 degrees.  Me, knowing how to work the thermostat = higher bill.  Higher bill = angry husband.  Angry husband = no one to take me out to eat.  No one to take me out to eat = I starve.  I starve = me turning into a stick figure.  Me turning into a stick figure = more coldness.  More coldness = grouchy wife.  Grouchy wife = wife starting to take out grouchiness on others.  Are you gettin‘ the drift here?  This is a bad deal, all around.  SOOOO, instead of changing the thermostat, I run up the propane bill by running the fireplace.  Or.  So.  I.  Thought.  

It recently got very cold here, cold enough that I walked over to the fire place and flipped the switch.  Lazy American, all I need to do is flip a switch. So I go to flip the switch and nothing happens.  I grabbed the remote and try again.  Nothing.  There is a switch on the wall next to the fire place.  It says: Remote...On...Off.  If I switch it to “remote,” I can turn the fireplace on and off with the remote.  If I switch it to “on,” it simply turns on.  Then I have to get up and turn it to “off,” to get it on.  So I flip it to “off,” wait a few seconds and flip it to “on.”  I wait.  Nothing.  What the hell?!?  I do the same thing again.  Nothing.  I flip it to “remote,” and grab the remote and push the button.  Nothing.  

Now what?  I stand back and close my eyes and try to wish it on.  Still nothing.  Well, this isn’t going to be easy.  I stomp, kick, and scream.  Still nothing.  I go over to the warranty drawer, and find the manual that the previous homeowners left us.  I open it up and try to find the troubleshooting section.  Nothing.  I walk over to the fireplace and pull the bottom vent off.  There is a red pilot button.  It says DO NOT PUSH.  I push it.  Just kidding, do you think I am that stupid?  I go back to the manual, and it says to make sure the battery is in the little box under the fireplace.  I peer down into the darkness looking for the black box.  YES!  I found it!  I grab it and slowly pull it to the front (it is attached to wires).  I flip it over, and there is a place for the battery, but there is no battery.  What the heck?  I KNOW we had this fireplace working last winter.  Did Little Man steal that battery?  If you have a son, you know that you will go to use something and find the batteries are missing.  Boys have something that runs dead, they go to mom and dad’s stuff and open it and steal out the batteries.  Surly, he didn’t think a fireplace would require a battery...there is NO WAY he would think to open that vent and look for a battery.  I decide to go with my gut.  It never had a battery in it to begin with.  I go back to the manual.  In small letters at the bottom it says: Some fireplaces do not require a battery.  Relieved, I look for a number at the bottom to call the company.  I find one.  

Thinking this is about to be fixed after a quick phone call (it’s not like it’s Comcast), I pick up the phone.  I am on hold for ten minutes.  The lady looks up service technicians around me.  She gives me three numbers.  I call the first number.

Me: Hey there.  Ummm, I need you to fix my fireplace.

Technician: What is wrong with it?

Me: It doesn’t turn on.

Technician: Did you try the “on” switch?

Me: Nope, I didn’t think to do that.  I thought folding my arms and blinking would do the trick.  

Technician: ...silence....

Me: Yes, num nuts, I tried the “on” switch.

Technician: What happened?

Me: Are you serious?  Nothing, that's why I called you.

Technician: I mean, did you hear clicking?

Me: No.

Technician: Can you see a small flame under the logs?

Me: Dude, if I saw a flame, I don’t think I would need your very helpful assistance, now would I?

Technician: Okay, I can come out next Thursday.

Me: Today is Wednesday, so you are coming tomorrow?

Technician: No, the following Thursday.

Me: I’m cold now.  I can’t wait until next Thursday.

Technician: Do you have a heater in your home?

Me: Yep, but I don’t know how to work it.

Technician: Your heater is broke too?

Me: It’s not broke, I just don’t know how to work it.

Technician: That’s a whole different company.  I can come out next Thursday at 2:15.  Will that work?

Me: Can you hear me when I say, I am cold NOW?

Technician: You can always call your propane company.  They also fix these things.

Me: Excellent, thank you for your...Click.

I go into the Chief’s office to find the number for the propane company.  I call them and am told that someone will be out the following day at 2:00.  Excellent.  I grab my blanket and wait.  

Next day rolls by.  Two o'clock rolls by.  I called the company and ask them where my technician is.  Long conversation short, they tell me there was a mistake with the scheduling.  He will be out the next day.  I explain I don’t get home until 4, so it would need to be after that.  They schedule me for 4:15.  

Next day comes by.  My phone rings at 3:55.  I missed the call because I was still in front of students I was tutoring.  I call back at 4:00, no answer.  The guy left a message and said he was 15 minutes from my house.  I try to call him again.  No answer.  I go home and wait for him.  He never shows up.  Now I am peeved.  I call the company.

Me: It’s me again.  I was supposed to have a technician out yesterday, he never showed.  You rescheduled for today and he isn’t here.

Customer Service: Just a minute.  Let me check....He said he called and you didn’t answer.

Me: So that means he doesn’t show up?

Customer Service: Just a minute...ma’am he is already out of the area.

Me: Okay, well tell him to get his happy ass back to my house.  I am here, and I was here at 4:15 like we agreed.  He doesn’t get to call and decide not to come.  I called him back and he didn’t answer.  I left a message, and haven’t heard back from him.

Customer Service: I can have someone out tomorrow.

Me: Get a manager on the phone NOW.

Customer Service: Hold please.

Customer Service Manager: Can I help you?

Me: I am sure you have been updated on the account.  I will NOT be pushed off another day, get someone out here NOW.

Customer Service Manager: I am so sorry about this.  I promise you, he will be out tomorrow.

Me: Wow, you guys are on my shit list right next to Comcast.  

Customer Service Manager: I assure you, we will have this taken care of tomorrow.

Tomorrow comes, along with a freaking hurricane.  So of course, he doesn’t show.  Power is out anyway so there is nothing he can do.  A couple days after the power comes back on, I call them back and arrange for him to come out the following day.

The following day finally arrives.  The Chief, Little Man, and I are sitting at the kitchen table eating.  There is a knock at the door.  I practically run to the door to get him in the house.  I try to be angry, but the dude is really nice.  He comes in walks over to the fire place and stares at it.  I almost told him, “Dude, I tried that, it doesn’t work.”  Then he speaks.  

Nice Dude: Do you have a kill switch?

Me: Yeah, right in front of you.  I already tried that.  I may have been born on a Tuesday, but not LAST Tuesday.

Nice Dude: No, I mean a kill switch.  For emergencies. 

Me: Oh, you mean this one?  This one that I labeled “Fireplace Kill Switch” when we moved in?  You mean this one that is currently on OFF?

Nice Dude: That would be the one.  Do you mind flipping it up for me?

Me: Sure!

Nice Dude: You’re good to go.  

Me: Are you telling me that I have waited two weeks, for you to come out and tell me to flip my stupid little master switch to ON?

Of course the Chief and Little Man are rolling around laughing.  The Chief looks at the guy and says, “Welcome to my world."  

Bastards.  They are ALL bastards.

Just so you can see how far apart my kill switch is from the fireplace....Kill switch is the last one on the right.

Nemo

The Chief decides to go out of town, two days before Nemo shows up.  Sweet guy, right?  

Wrong.  

This is supposedly the worst snow storm Connecticut has seen in over 100 years.  And yes, it was.  The Little Man and I watched the snow pile up last Friday night.  The power flickered off and back on four times.  I was terrified we would lose power.  Luckily, God decided not to add humor to an already bad situation.  We woke up Saturday morning with power, and three feet of snow surrounding us.  Molly is the first one to attempt the snow.  Fail.

Knowing it is supposed to continue snowing all day, I decide to head out with the four wheeler to start the plowing.  Someone’s gotta do it, and it isn’t like the Chief is around.

This Texas girl thought a silly little snow plow would be able to push through three feet of snow with no problem.  WRONG.  Again.  

I think I got stuck a total of eight times. 

I’m positive the neighbors were laughing at me.  

One offered to help me with her snow blower.  

Another brought her little pup and offered to help push the four-wheeler out of the mess of a pile of snow.  I turned her away too.  Are you seeing a trend here?  Remember that story about the man who was stranded in the ocean and felt that God would save him?  Yeah, so a boat comes by and offers him a ride and he says, “No, I am okay, God will save me.”  Then a helicopter comes by and drops him a cage to climb in, and he yells up, “No, I am okay, God will save me!”  He ends up dying.  He gets to heaven and asks God, “Why didn’t you save me?  I trusted in you!”  God tells him, “I tried to save you, I sent you two lifelines and you turned them away you Jackwagon!” (minus the Jackwagon).  Yeah that was me today. I thought God would just save me and make all the snow disappear.  He sent me two lifelines, and I turned them both down.  Instead of dying though, I just ended up shoveling the shit out of some snow.  Awesome.  

We started at ten in the morning and stopped at one.  Then we went back out at three and stopped at six.  We finally got a path wide enough to fit a car through.

In the meantime, I am cursing the Chief for leaving me to dig up Nemo’s shit.  All. Day. Long.        

Yes, Yes. This is what I live with.

Little Man: Why is the bag of chocolate chips in the freezer?

Me: Because I don’t want the mice to get in them.

Little Man: Why? Is chocolate bad for them?

Sometimes I wonder if a punch in the face
would knock some sense into him.

Baby Toddler

I know I have blogged in like for-ever.  Life gets busy.  I have like thirty blogs in my head ready to write, but then I come home and have 65 papers to grade.  Work comes before play...so the blog gets the back burner.  

I finally gave birth to the toddler.  I say toddler because he was 10 pounds, 6 ounces.  I knew he was big, but that big?  

My mom came in town to be there for the birth because that is just who she is.  The Chief said all along, that I better get a birth partner because he wants nothing to do with that part.  I didn’t argue it, because he was clear from the beginning.  He would support my decision to be a surrogate, but he didn’t want to have anything to do with the birth.  I didn’t challenge that.  

So, I talked my doctor into inducing labor on the 1st of January, even though the baby wasn’t due until the 6th.  I had already had two sonograms that confirmed we were dealing with a massive baby.  I was terrified that I would have to have a c-section.  I had a c-section with the first surrogacy (twins), and it was a horribly painful recovery.  I remember it being the worst pain I have ever endured.  So I knew I didn’t want to go through that again.  With the second surrogacy, also twins, I was able to have them the way God intended.  So I assumed this last surrogacy would be the easiest of all, because it was only one baby.  One. Very. Large. Baby.  I thought inducing early would prevent me from pushing a ten pound baby through my vagigi.  I figure at most, nine pounds.  

So mom and I show up at the hospital at eight in the morning.  I was all showered, shaved, toenails painted, and ready to go.  They stab me with the three inch straw that they call an IV, and we are ready to go.  The doctor comes in about 10ish to break my water, and the party gets rockin’.  The contractions start in, and the pain starts.  I ask for the epidural about 12ish.  At about one, I notice that I can’t feel my legs, or my stomach, or my chest.  The nurse is in checking the monitors and I let her know.  She grabs a wet cloth and touches it to my thighs, “Feel this?”  Then moves up a couple inches and asks the same thing.  By the time she gets to my chest she decides it is time to call in the anesthesiologist.  

Ten minutes later, the anesthesiologist informs me that this hasn’t happened to her in over eight years...like that is supposed to make me feel better.  Apparently she gave me a spinal instead of an epidural. The difference?  An epidural numbs you from the waist down, but you are still able to move your legs and feel some pressure.  With a spinal, you could throw me off a two story building and the only thing I would feel is my face bouncing off the concrete.  Awesome visual right?  So they stop the drip all together in fear that when it’s time to push, I won’t be able to because I won’t feel anything.  

Three hours later I am starting to feel again.  They call the anesthesiologist back in.  She decides she is going to stay and give me tiny droplets at a time so that it doesn’t numb me all the way again.  This would be great except she isn’t doing it fast enough.  The contractions are coming every two minutes and the pain is almost unbearable. 

*Side note: The Chief, who said he wanted no part of the birth, showed up at the hospital about an hour after my mom and I got there.  His reasoning?  He just thought he would hang out for a while.  So he sat quietly in the corner during all this drama with his ipad.  I have to say, it was wonderful having him there up until this point.  I hated him seeing me crying in pain.  I want to be strong for him, and I felt so weak and helpless.  

Back to the pain-holy hell.  You might as well have been stabbing me in the gut with needle-nosed pliers.  It probably would have hurt less than the contractions.  I was so afraid the couple, who were waiting in the room next to us, would hear me screaming in pain.  Each time a contraction came I turned my face into the pillow and screamed my head off.  Can I just say that when they portray birth on TV, I always laugh and turn to the Chief and say, “That is NOT how it is in real life.  Women don’t scream like that.”  OMG, I was that idiot woman on the television!!  

An hour after screaming in the pillow, the doctor shows up.  He checks me and says I am almost there.  I close my eyes and imagine punching him in the teeth-the only way I can get through him being in the room with his smiley face.  He tells me that they are going to turn my body in different ways in an attempt to move the toddler down further so I can push.  He says, “An hour of changing positions, then an hour of pushing.  After pushing for an hour, if the toddler doesn’t move down we will have to take you in for a c-section.”  

So an hour of repositioning goes by with contractions every two minutes.  I am still feeling every one of them, and the pain is only getting worse.  After an hour of repositioning, I turn to my mom and say the dreaded words, “I can’t do this anymore.  I want a c-section.  I don’t think I can physically survive three more contractions. Please.  I want a c-section.”  

Being the mother she is, she tells me I am almost there and that I can do this.  She tries to convince me that he is moving down and I am getting ready to push.  She reminds me how much I don’t want the c-section.  She convinces me to push for the hour, and then let the doctor make the call.

I then turn to my fabulous nurse and start, “I want a c-section, call the doctor.  I am done with this.  I don’t have the strength to continue on.  Please.  Call the doctor.”  

The nurse looks at my mom, who shakes her head no, and  follows the same speech my mom just gave me.  At this point I am convinced they are conspiring against me.  They want me to die.  They are tired of listening to me, and they want me to suffer.  I am a horrible person and this is paybacks...kharma.  All the hell I put my mother through as a teenager is coming back to bite me in the ass.  But I can’t figure out what I did to the nurse.  Why does she hate me so much?  Did I call her a horrible name when I was busy cursing into the pillow?  Did my mom pay her off?  What the hell was going on here?  Trying to be as sneaky as I can, I look at my husband, who is sitting quietly in the corner completely focused on the ipad.  I call his name.  He looks up.  I give him the finger wiggle and he gets up and heads over to me.  Not caring that my mom is standing there, and the nurse is standing there, I say to him, “I need you like I have never needed you before.  I want a c-section.  I can’t do this anymore.  Mom isn’t listening to me.  Cody (the nurse) isn’t listening to me.  I can’t do this.  Please tell my mom to tell the nurse to tell the doctor to get his skinny smiley ass in here and cut me open and take this baby elephant out of me.  NOW.”  

My sweet husband, the adorable Chief, looks at me with adoring eyes and says, “I don’t think you have reached your thresh hold of pain yet.”  I close my eyes and imagine stabbing him in the eye with a catheter.      

So the pushing begins.  I get in the position, and the Chief runs out through the side door to join the couple in the safe room.  I start pushing.  Ten minutes in, I start the begging again.  The pain is so unbearable.  In my mind, I know I will not survive this birth.  I am going to leave my own child motherless.  There is no way I can do this anymore.  I beg my mom, who just shakes her head and pats me on the leg.  Then I beg the nurse, who looks at my mom and simply turns away.  She doesn’t even have the balls to look me in the face and tell me no.  She just simply acts like she can’t hear me.  I am convinced that neither of them can hear me.  I hear me, but they can’t.  My mouth is moving, but nothing is coming out.  I am on my own.  I am on my own to die.  Thirty minutes later (twenty minutes before my hour is up), I turn to the nurse and say in my most threatening voice, “Call the doctor right now.  I am done.  I want a c-section.  Don’t you dare look at my mother.  I am 31 years old, and I am telling you to get the doctor on the phone right now.  NOW.“  In fear of losing her life, she reaches for the phone.

Five minutes later, the doctor comes in all happy and smiley.  You know what he has the guts to say?  “Your time isn’t up yet!  You have twenty more minutes of pushing!!”

“Are you shitting me right now? Come a little closer doc and I will show you pushing!”

He comes to the bed and checks me.  “Yeah, he isn’t moving down, we are going to have to take you in for a c-section.”

“Ya think?  Haven’t I been saying that for the last hour, ladies?”  

“I commend you for trying,” he says sweetly, “but this is the end.”

About 45 minutes later the toddler is yanked from my body.  They allowed everyone to be in the room.  The Chief was positioned at my head next to my mom, and the mom and dad were standing off to the side.  Everyone got to see it.  The horrible birthing experience ended with tears on all sides.  Every second of pain was worth seeing that mom and dad stand over their little baby and talk to him with tears rolling down their faces.  Their day had been made, and my pain magically disappeared.  

So. Worth. It.