Can't Live With Them and It's Illegal to Kill Them!!

“If I were a Stay-at-home-Dad, things would get done a lot better around here.”

Um… What??

Did I hear that right? Did he really just say that?

As a matter of fact… Yes. He. Did. And I just stood there staring at him, completely and utterly dumbfounded. I couldn’t laugh at his stupid ass, I couldn’t snicker, grin, glare, or even roll my eyes. I just stared… blankly… stupefied… in awe that those words actually, factually, realistically came out of his mouth.

After a few moments I managed a weakly irritated, “Oh Really?”

And he just smiled a very confident smile. I could literally feel every fluid begin to boil in my body. So I found something that needed to be taken to the kitchen and I left the room, leaving him alone on the bed. I collected my thoughts, took a few deep breaths, and returned for debate.

“Sooooo… what… you think I sit here on my ass all day watching soap operas and eating bon bons? Do you actually have ANY idea what I do??”

And he says, brace yourselves ladies, “Well I’d be able to manage my time better than you. I’d feed the kids, play my game for 15 minutes, wash the dishes, play my game for 15 minutes, do a load of laundry, play my game for 15 minutes, it would be EEEEASYYYYY. I would LOVE staying home all the time. I could do WHATEVER. I. WANTED.”

So now I AM. TOTALLY. LAUGHING. And at the same time I am completely irritated by his insolence. I can feel myself getting incredibly defensive too but I have nothing to throw at his stupid fat head. Here HE is telling ME that MY housekeeping skills are just not up to par when HE DOESN’T. DO. ANYTHING. ANYWHERE. EVER! Not even at work! For fear of incriminating him, I cannot go into detail there, but I will say that I know for a FACT that he has the easier job between the two of us.

During this conversation my head is wandering into his little fantasy land and I can completely see this vision of the house in my head: the beautiful hard wood floors covered in so much who-knows-what that you can't even see the color of it; the dining room table piled high with dirty dishes, his laptop, and misc. kids games; the kitchen and both bathroom trash cans overflowing to the floor with trash; the kids wearing pj's they put on a week prior and never took off; the kids' rooms completely thrashed; drinks and snack packages scattered all over the end tables and floor; UPS and FEDEX boxes piled up outside the front door; frozen pizza boxes stacked up on the stove; every cupboard door opened in the kitchen and the contents crudely dissected all over the kitchen because the kids were starving and tired of waiting for daddy to get up to feed them; and my darling husband sitting comfortably on the only clean spot of the couch with the coffee pot and a half gallon of vanilla coffee mate right next to him, playing the newest released version of Killzone on the ps3 for his 153^rd consecutive 15 minute period.

“Do you know how many times I sat down today?? 4 times, and that was ONLY while I was feeding the baby. I don’t sit on my ass and do nothing all day, I am constantly working, and the kids are always undoing everything. There is no way you’d be able to do what I do, let alone do it better!!!”

The conversation went on, he insulted my wife skills some more, my cleaning skills, my time-management skills, he stood his ground, certain he’d be a better housewife than I. I know better. But I told him I’d love to let him have a try. If I ever find my dream job, where I can make what he makes or more, he can gladly stay home and try to prove me wrong.

Here is an example of his laziness. When we first moved back out to NV we stayed with his parents for 3 months while we were deciding where to go and what we wanted to do. We had no kids and no debt at the time. He literally sat on his ass the entire 3 months playing EQ3 with his Dad. I played with them also, but I stopped to spend time  scrapbooking with his mom, visiting friends, and living. He played the game for the 3 months. So I already know he’ll make a lousy housewife. And it’s not that he can’t do it. Because he can. He’s actually a fantastic cook and can clean great when HIS friends are coming over and wants to impress THEM or when he wants to get laid. He just chooses not to do these things 99.9% of the time.

He’s just too lazy to be a good housewife. He had 4 days off last week and played his computer game for 75+ hours. That meant he stayed up ALL night 3 of the nights to play it. He slept for about 12 hours the entire time. He did keep the baby for me and let me sleep but when he fed the baby, he propped the bottle in his mouth while in the basinet right next to him so he didn’t have to stop playing his game to feed him. So how exactly does he think he’s going to beat me in my job if he can’t stop playing a game for 20 minutes to hold and feed his son? Men are idiots! I’m gonna make him a list of everything I do, and then I’m gonna take a week’s vacation with some girlfriends. We’ll see what he does. LOL!

Eye Doctor: Aggressive Persistence or Potential Scam?

When the baby was around 6 weeks old, the hospital told us he almost had Stage 1 ROP. There was a pediatric opthamologist who came to the hospital EVERY Thursday to monitor his eyes until he went home. In my state-of-mind, I sort of freak out about everything with him. All I knew was it was something to do with his eyes.

I met the eye doctor the week before Draikaiden was released from the hospital. I watched the exam he does. It’s not something I ever want to see again. I’m one of those moms who wants to take all the pain for my babies and I literally cried during his exam. His eyes are numbed, thankfully, but it’s still one of the most unpleasant things a newborn, or anyone for that matter, could go through. Just to give you a clue, they have to see the back of his eyeball. Yeah. Now run with that visual.

So, during this exam the eye doctor tells me that he needs to continue to see the baby EVERY week even after he is released from the NICU. I said it probably was going to be difficult to do weekly given our location of 3 hours north of Vegas, but we could probably do biweekly. He was hesitant, but agreed to that.

So, we made our first visit out of the hospital, waited in the waiting room for almost an hour and a half, me with ALL THREE MONKEYS along with at least 15 other sets of parents and their babies and toddlers, got the exam done, and were scheduled to come back in 2 weeks.

Two weeks came, we couldn’t afford the trip. I called to cancel this appointment as well as 3 others. I got a return call from a receptionist in the eye doctor’s office. The conversation is as follows. I am changing names for obvious reasons of incrimination even though I think everyone should know who this eye doctor is.

Me: Hello?

Her: Is this Mrs. LaRue?

Me: Yes.

Her: This is Mabel from Dr. Lyle’s office. You needed to reschedule for Draikaiden?

Me: Yes. We won’t be able to make it down to Vegas this week, so how about next Friday?

Her: OK, What time would you like to bring him in?

Me: Anything around 1 pm?

Her: Oh, he only sees babies until 10 am.

Me: What??? Really?? OK, so I guess 10 am it is.

Her: OK. I have you down at 10 am for Friday the 11^th.  Now, you’re not going to be able to make it down at ALL this week?

Me: (puzzled) Um, No, that’s why we need to reschedule.

Her: (suddenly sounding disappointed) Well, I’m just gonna have to pass this message onto Dr. Lyle and see what he thinks about it and see if it’s OK if you reschedule.

Me: (laughing) Well, Dr. Lyle can think whatever he wants to think, it won’t change the fact that we don’t have the money to come down to Vegas THIS week!

Her: OK, well I’m just gonna let him know this, because I don’t think he wants the baby to go unseen for another week. (keep in mind at the beginning of the call we already rescheduled)

Me: (completely baffled) Look lady, you can PASS this message onto to him, but it’s not going to change ANYTHING. We can’t come down there THIS week! I’ve had to cancel 3 other appointments as well. We can’t afford the trip!

Her: Well these visits are extremely important for your baby, he needs this special care!

Me: I understand that, but this cannot be helped. It’s not like I’m trying to be an ass here, we just can’t afford it.

Her: You know Dr. Lyle is the ONLY Dr. in ALL of Las Vegas who does this sort of thing for the babies right?

Me: Um, ok, wow.

Her: And there are only 400 Doctors in the US who do it because no one really cares about this sort of thing.

Me: Wow.

Her: So I’m just going to let the doctor know this and see what he thinks then.

Me: It’s not going to change anything.

Her: This appointment is Extremely important!!!

Me: Well then, why doesn’t Dr. Lyle make a trip up to Tonopah just to see my son?

Her: Oh… well… he doesn’t usually make trips like that.

Me: Well then, I guess he’s NOT going to be seen THIS week!

Her: I don’t know where you’re coming from or how much it costs you but isn’t there any way you can make it work?

Me: (feeling my skin getting hot) We live in Tonopah! That’s THREE HOURS NORTH of Las Vegas. And we have a TRUCK! So it’s just over a $200 round trip for us. And my husband works Fridays, so I have no other care for my other 2 kids.

Her: Well, what other days is your husband off?

Me: Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday.

Her: Well can’t you come down here today then?

Me: (WTF?!?!) Um, no, we don’t have the money THIS WEEK!

Her: Well can’t your husband get an advance on his paycheck?

Me: (shocked) What?? No!!!

Her: Listen, I’m not talking to you from the Doctor’s office, I’m talking to you Mother to Mother, he really needs to be seen this week, this is very important.

Me: (LIVID but calm) I understand he needs to be seen, but we DON’T. HAVE. THE MONEY. To come down there and WON’T UNTIL the 11^th.

Her: OK, well if anything changes, you just bring him right in, don’t even make an appointment.

Me: How’s that going to work? Dr. Lyle is ONLY in the Office on Monday and Friday and ONLY sees babies until 10 am. So If I miraculously get money dropped into my account next Tuesday, he won’t be in his office to see him!

Her: (puzzled) Well, you just let us know if you can bring him in sooner.

So, after that wasted, extremely irritating 5 minute phone call, I started to do some research. ROP stands for Retinopathy of prematurity. It basically means that the eyes are underdeveloped, and of course they are, he was born 15 weeks early. At Stage 1 and Stage 2 there is NO treatment. The eyes can only be monitored with visits every 3-4 weeks. According to the paperwork we got from the hospital, Draikaiden doesn’t quite have Stage 1. So there is NO treatment! So why does THIS doctor want us in there EVERY 2 weeks even when we can’t afford the trips?

Let me briefly backtrack. The last few weeks in the hospital, several of the nurses warned me that THIS doctor is one of the ones who will actually turn us into CPS (Child Protection Services) for not attending the appointments. Hmm. Curious.

And then at our first visit to our pediatrician, he said Stage 1 ROP is completely normal in preemies and he’ll be just fine. I told him that the eye Dr. demands biweekly visits and will turn us into CPS. He laughed and said that he is just making sure he is getting a pay check in these troubling times. Um… Whoa!!! I hadn’t thought of it that way.

So then after the wasted 5 minute phone call, I got with our insurance company. I spoke with a wonderful woman who did some research for me. Turns out, there are 2 other pediatric opthamologist in the Greater Las Vegas area who do the SAME thing. So we are now scheduled for a second opinion with a doctor who doesn’t exist!

I made my husband call the other eye doctor and cancel the existing appointment and let them know we won’t be returning because we found another doctor who is In-Network with our insurance company. Since then, they have called MY cell phone twice to dispute this and try to get the information for this other doctor! I’m not telling them anything and I won’t even answer their call.

The Light and the Darkness

I have seen the light and still I deny it. Some people may call that mental illness. I’ll call it stubbornness.

I slept in a bed with the shadow of the hand of God on the ceiling above me. I think I was 4. It was so perfect. Stretched out the entire shape of my ceiling. Not a single flaw, not a single part of it angled down the wall. I checked to see if my hands were under the covers, they were. I checked to see if anything was at the window, nope. Nothing at my door. Lamp wasn’t on. There was no other explanation. I called for my Dad, he turned on the light, and it was gone. He turned out the light, and it was still gone. Peculiar. I felt no fear, only confusion.

I’ve seen a group of LDS elders lay their hands on a 3-month-old child burning with a fever over 102 degrees pray to God to heal her, and within 20 minutes her fever was gone.

I felt the van approaching oncoming traffic with a rush I can’t even fathom while I was unable to even breathe and had no control or strength in my body, and then it just stopped itself.

One pound Six Ounces. Everyone, through photos, has watched this little miracle grow. There is simply no other explanation than God.

I’m not preaching, trust me, that’s just not me. I get irritated when people preach to me.

I have seen the dark. I have lived in it a vast majority of my life. It’s not a pleasant place to be. It’s not comforting. It’s not warm or peaceful. It’s not somewhere anyone should enjoy being. I’ve been there: by choice, by force, absentmindedly, unconsciously, subconsciously, sober, intoxicated, medicated, under extreme stress, while irrevocably depressed. I don’t like it there.

I have seen the devil. You may laugh, but I cry. He’s the man who touched me when I was 7. He’s the boyfriend my mom had when I was 9 who beat the hell out of her all the time. He’s the friend who introduced my husband to crystal meth when he was a teen. He’s the drug dealer who sells my mom and entire family pain killers every week. He’s my cousin who steals from the rest of the family. He’s the scumbag in Vegas who robs people on a daily basis. He’s the eye doctor who’s running a scam on preemies taking advantage of the families. And he’s probably somebody you know as well. Probably somebody you don’t want to know.

All I know is the Light is wonderful, God is peaceful, and the Devil can go to Hell.

Hard Decision

Some people read this. Many don't. I have trials. After trials. After trials. God tests me. I guess he thinks I can handle it. I'd like him to know that I'd love a break. But you have to be careful what you ask for. The last time I asked for a break, it was my 12th thoracic vertebra that was broken followed by my pelvis. God does have a sense of humor. Bless His heart.

I have my family together. It's been a little over 3 weeks since my preemie came home, you'll have to read the previous posts to catch up. This life has been one hell of an emotional roller-coaster for me. And it's still not over, Thank God.

I have a lot on my mind. Quite honestly I am on the verge of a mental breakdown. This is where I need to decide what is most important in my life. I love to dabble in many things, and these many things are leaving me stretched pretty thin. I've made a list of priorities which I'll post here. On this list are things I will be focusing on in the order they appear on the list.

1. Family

2. Homeschooling my children

3. Fitness

4. Kallio Kalleidoscapes

5. Company Networking

6. Personal Time which includes crafting


As you can see, blogging did not make the cut. I just simply do not have the time to keep up with a blog reading 20-30 pages a day, writing posts at least 5 times a week, keeping a company going, while raising 2 toddlers and a preemie, and hitting my fitness goals, having personal time, being a seductress to my husband, a maid to the entire household, a chauffeur that drives 6 hours round trip for doctors visits once a week, is up 3-5 times a night with the baby, up at sunrise with the other 2, the chef, the shopper, the referee, the butt wiper, the trip planner, and everything else you can think of save for the person who goes to work and changes the oil in the cars.

I love writing. And I have loved this experience. I have grown to love a few of the women who have actually given me the chance and listened to me. And I hope through email we can remain friends.

At the end of February I will be closing down my site. I have one more post to make before I do. I wish everyone in blogland the best.