Wednesday, December 14, 2011

Starbucks Daily: Can I Please Have A Do-Over?

Man, I sure wish I could re-do this morning's commute to work.  I had no idea I could have so much rage.  It didn't start out all that bad but it ended with me sitting here in shame and wishing I was a nice person. 

Yesterday, taking the twins to day care, I had to take a left at Forest and Abrams.  I was waiting for the cars to pass and just as I was about to turn (dang, that one guy just won't get out of my WAY) the car behind me laid on his horn.  I hate the drivers in my neighborhood.  I actually flipped him off, which I never do.

This morning I was waiting on the car in FRONT of me to turn left so I could hopefully go too and not get stuck behind the incredibly long red light at this same intersection.  I noticed that for about, oh, 5 seconds there is actually a green turn signal right before the light turns yellow (is that new?).  The car in front of me didn't see it, of course because they obviously weren't paying attention, and the light turned yellow.  Enraged, I laid on my horn as he turned and I shot out behind him - and realized I was THAT GUY.  You know, the one from yesterday who honked at me because I probably had that same green arrow and didn't see it.  So, I feel bad.  But moments later it's forgotten. 

I get the kids to school and make the painfully slow trek to work.  It's misting today.  People here forget how to drive when it's not sunny, or bright, or hot. 

I get to Starbucks, like I do every morning.  Today the line for the drive-thru is so long it's backed up onto Inwood.  I wait in line like everyone else.  As I get off Inwood and close to the actual que lane, a white Chevy Tahoe pulls up and seemingly wants to cross our long, tight-nit line.  There is a business just to the left and I feel kinda bad for those people who can never seem to get into their parking lot due to Starbucks' success.  So, remembering my honking to the previous me from the morning before, I decide to let her cross over.  Annnnnnd she cut in line.  She actually cut in line.  THE BITCH CUT IN LINE.  I was not the only one honking at her now.  She waved.  Well, that made it all better. 

In my daydream, I got out of the car and knocked on her window to tell her she's just cut in line in front of 8 cars and that it wasn't cool.  That I thought she just wanted THROUGH or I wouldn't have let her in.  Again, I told her it wasn't cool and wiggled my finger at her. 

No, none of that happened.  I just sat there HATING her.  I even rolled down my window (while it was drizzling outside) so she could better see the HATE in my eyes.  She finally pulled up to the order microphone AND SHE FREAKING ORDERED 5 DRINKS AND FOOD.  OHHHH I hated her.  I even thought about ramming her with my car.  Would that drive up my insurance rates?  Probably.  So, no, I won't hit her.  I'll just continue to HATE her in my car.  I can feel my adrenaline pumping and I'm sure I could lift a building. Well, maybe a small one.  I even had that roaring in my ears that some people talk about.  I was so mad.

She finally got all her drinks and food payed for and, after chatting with the Starbucks guy, left.  I heard her say "I'll see you tomorrow".  OHHHH, now I hated her even more if that's even possible.  She's a regular.  She KNOWS better.  She's obviously one of those women who always get what they want and doesn't give a flipping damn about anyone else. 

I drove up to the window fully intending on telling the Starbucks guy what she'd done (like that would make a difference) and, as I handed him my card and opened my mouth to say what for, he told me that she'd paid for my order.  What?  He said that she'd told him what she'd done and that she felt so bad (obviously not bad enough to get out of the line) so she paid for my order.  Damn it.  She'd made herself feel better and successfully made me feel like crap.

I am actually ashamed of myself.  I allowed this woman to control my emotions while I could have been initially upset and then just shrugged it off.  She wasn't making me late to work.  She didn't harm me in any way.  But instead, I was filled with hate and loathing.  I don't want to be that person. 

Can I please have a "Do-Over"?

Saturday, December 10, 2011

Ghost in the House

Paul believes in ghosts.  He even believes they are here in our house.  Every so often he'll hear or see something that he can't explain and he'll tell me about it.  I must be the least other-worldly sensitive person on the planet because I have NEVER witnessed anything that can't be explained.  I've been told it's because I'm stubborn.  This is something that happened today that still has me a bit freaked out.

Sean had a bad day which means we ALL had a bad day.

The boys spent the night with Pop and Didi last night so Paul and I could go out for our 5th wedding anniversary.  Mom said they both woke up at 5:00am so when we got there at 9:00am to pick them up they were back asleep!  This, of course, wasn't part of my plan.  Usually they don't take their nap until after lunch.  I'd planned on taking a shower and wrapping my present for the Baby Shower I was attending today after they went down for their afternoon nap.  Now, that wasn't probably going to happen.  Oh well.  Rarely do things go as I planned.

All the way home from Mom's house Sean cried for his Didi.  When we got home he cried for cookies.  He cried for Milk.  He cried for Christopher's cookies and milk.  He cried when I held him.  He cried when, exhausted, I put him down.  He cried during lunch.  He cried watching a video.  He cried when Paul told me to just go take a shower and I left the room to get ready.  He cried all "bleeping" day.

While I was drying my hair, Paul came in and told me he put Sean down for a nap.  He didn't know what else to do.  Sean must be tired because we'd tried everything else.  I could hear him howling in his room as Paul told me this.  He took the baby monitor and Christopher into the TV room and I turned the hair dryer on because I can't stand to hear my baby cry. 

I finished getting ready and snuck into the kitchen.  I was somewhat shocked that Sean had settled down and was hopefully asleep.  I was about to leave and I needed to let Paul know I was headed out.  I didn't want Christopher to see me in case he got upset that I was leaving, so I did what any of the kids today would do.  I called my husband who was in the very next room.  He told me to be careful and then said something odd.  He said "When you went in to check on Sean was he already asleep?"  I told him that I didn't go into the room to check on him.  There was a silence pause and then he said that a little while ago he glanced at the monitor to check on Sean because he'd quit crying and he saw a long sleeved ADULT hand in front of the monitor's camera and it was making a patting motion.  Like it was patting Sean down to calm him.  The camera is positioned so that if Sean is at the side of the crib closest to it there is a blind spot.  I don't like it, but there isn't a better way to position it without mounting the camera on the ceiling.  I told him that he must have seen Sean's hand and I left for the Shower.  I won't go into the rest of the evening after I got home, but even after this second nap Sean cried nearly non-stop until he and Chris went "Nite Nite" at 7:30pm.

After the kids went to bed, Paul told me he was positive it wasn't Sean's hand in the monitor and was I SURE I didn't go in to check on him?  I told him I never went into the room.  And he was starting to scare me.  If he really did see a hand then someone was in the house.  I made him go check every room and closet we hadn't been in today.  Of course, no one was there.  He believes it was a ghost or perhaps Sean's guardian angel calming him down and getting him to sleep.  I wish there was some kind of backup in the monitor where we could rewind it and check, but there isn't.  I just have Paul's word that what he saw was real.  Of course I didn't see anything.... as usual. 

Wednesday, December 7, 2011

The Crazies

As a diabetic, I sometimes have these "lows". What this means is that my blood sugar goes below normal and I become stupid. Normal people rarely leave the comfort zone of 70-120 BG. I've been as low as 33 that I know of. There is a real danger of seizures and comas with these low readings. Actually, anything lower than 60 is a health risk. I say I become stupid because when I'm this low I forget how to do things. Like talk. Instead of saying "I'm not feeling well, would you bring me some juice or fast acting carbohydrates, please", I point and say "uh" and you're left alone to interpret.

This is something that happened about a year ago. I have my husband's word that everything is true, to his best interpretation.

We'd been arguing. This happened more than I would like to admit when the twins were first born. I have a self-destructive side that emerges when I feel threatened. I remember thinking that he was being really mean and that I didn't deserve it. Honestly, I can't tell you what the argument was about anymore. I'm sure it was simply that we were both exhausted all the time and on each other's nerves. So, I "forgot" to eat.

This argument escalated and, at some point in our "discussions", Hubby said that I abruptly stopped talking, went into our bedroom and just got into bed. So, he started doing laundry. He said that he would look at me as he passed through the bedroom and he just assumed my glazed, vacant stare was me staring icicle darts at him. I guess he missed the drooling. After a while, he'd had enough of my silent treatment and he came to talk to me. He said that I just stared at him and wouldn't talk. After a while he started to get mad. Then the crazy started.

He said I shouted at him to leave me alone and I crawled under the covers and started to cry when he touched me. When he wouldn't leave me alone I rolled across the bed (still under the covers) and fell off the far end. When he heard the "thump" he started thinking that maybe this wasn't normal behavior for me. Hmmm. Maybe she's... low? He started asking me if I was alright and did I need something to eat. He said I just shook my head and jumped up and ran into the bathroom. I'm sure I slammed the door. Maybe twice. He came after me (stubborn man). He said when he opened the door I was nowhere to be found... until he saw my feet sticking out from under the hanging clothes in my closet. Shhh. I was hiding.

He went to the kitchen and got me something to drink. He brought it back to my hiding place (damn, he found me). He opened the can and told me to drink it. I apparently tried to play slappy with him. Somehow he got me to drink the can OF SLIMFAST. Ok, we had apple and orange juice in the refrigerator, but a chocolaty weight management drink was his choice. He SAYS I wouldn't drink it because I thought he was trying to poison me, but I think that even in my delirious state I was offended at his beverage offer.

I gagged it down with pushy assistance and he got me out of the closet and back into bed. At some point I actually joined this story. I remember talking to him and then not really knowing why I was in bed. By this time I was lucid enough to test and I was still only in the 60s. I asked him to get me something to eat because I needed to get higher. He brought me cheese. *sigh*