I learned a couple of things this past Thursday. First of all, my body doesn't react to novocaine like a normal person's body would. *breaks out into song* Novocaine.... for the soul.... before I sputter out.

The dentist gave me one round of shots which included about 5 different insertions of the needle. He left me there to drool on myself and came back about 5 minutes later. "Is it numb?" "Eh... kinda." "Open... can you feel this?" "No..." "How bout th..." "Ahhh!!!" "Okay, let me numb you up a little more."

2 or 3 shots and 5 minutes later and we went through the whole thing again.

3rd time's the charm right? Nope.... it aint...

4 times? How about 4 times? nooooop.

The fifth time, he was apparently done screwing around. He got out a 20 foot long needle, jammed it into the back of my mouth and out of instinct, my right leg flew up through the air and almost kicked him in the head.

This one did the trick. I was suddenly numb from my shoulder to the top of my head. My bottom lip was laying in my lap, my tongue was hanging out like a dog in the hot sun and my nose had swollen to 10 times its size. Or at least...that's what my face felt like.

While he was gone, doing whatever it is that dentists do while they're gone, my body started shaking violently. The doctor came back in and told me that the shakes I was feeling were due to the numbing agents. I told him "oh I us ought I us cold" and then I wiped my mouth.

He pulled the tooth and led me out to the receptionist where I paid my bill and tried to sign my name. That was almost an impossible task because I was shaking so hard. When I tried to give my debit card to the woman, I looked like a 2 year old playing keep away. "You can't have it. Try to get it. You can't catch it." LOL Then, signing my name?? Ha!!!

Went out to my car and it took me a good 2 minutes to get the key into the lock. Another minute to get the key into the ignition. I drove about 5 miles to Wally World and by the time I got there. I had stopped shaking. It might've had something to do with the fact that I set the heater to 90 degrees. But I'm not sure.

Here's where I should explain that I'm normally a decently happy person. If you and I make eye contact, I'm 99% guaranteed to smile at you. Having a smile on my face just makes me feel better. Well... with half of my face numb, I wasn't doing a whole lot of smiling. I was actually trying to avoid it because, well, I looked like a freak. LOL

At one point, there was a woman coming towards me with a cart. We were doing the shopping cart dance where we'd each go to the same side and then turn back to the other side trying to avoid each other. This would usually cause me to laugh, and I was laughing, only it was just on the inside.

What the woman saw was some ticked off looking freak of a woman, barrelling at her with a shopping cart, obviously ready for a good game of shopping cart chicken. I could see the look on her face change from being a little giggly to "I will not be defeated!!!!!"

I pulled my cart over to the side and let her pass me. She pushed her cart by as though she'd just won the gold medal in the House Wife Olympics.

Tomorrow.... Walmart Field Trips For Rich Kids

But for now... please enjoy Novocaine For The Soul by Eels.

So, Monday morning, I woke up and began contemplating suicide. It wasn't a question of whether or not to do it. No. That decision had already been made. The questions were How? and Where?

The Ol' Man was home, so at least the kids wouldn't be on their own. That was a good thing. And the pain. The pain would be gone. That would be a good thing, too. All I wanted was for the knife to be taken out of my ear. The pressure behind my eyeballs to be gone. The throbbing pain in my temple to stop. I wanted to feel my right arm and use my hand again.

I walked in circles and pressed on my ear. I held my neck and tried to rub the pain away. It wouldn't stop! Nothing would make it stop!! I thought I was going to vomit from the pain. But then a rush came over my body. I started to sweat. I couldn't see. I couldn't hear. I sat down on the bed... I passed out.

Moments later, how long I'm not sure, I woke up. The pain had not stopped. PAIN!!! Physical pain like I've never felt before. I've given birth to five children without so much as an aspirin to ease the pain. But this!!! This was the most horrible pain in the world. It had to be.

I started taking pills just to make the pain go away even just a little bit. At 8 I took 4 ibuprofen. At 8:30 I took 3 Tylenol. At 9:00 I took some Tylenol with codeine. At 9:15, I took some hydrocodone. At 9:30 I screamed at a 3 month old baby and told her to Please.Just.Shut.Up!!!!!

At 10:00 the pain started to subside. My brain was finally starting to function again. I could see things clearly and was starting to feel tingling sensations in my hand again. I welcomed the tingling because it meant that my arm would surely return to fully functional soon.

The most surprising part of it all was the fact that my mouth didn't hurt. My tooth, the one that lost a 10 year old filling and cracked in half a few months ago, it didn't hurt at all. The gums that were red and swollen and surely infected, they didn't hurt either.

I had called for an appointment weeks ago but the soonest I could be seen was at the end of March. On Monday, when I thought there was no choice but to just end the pain myself, I managed to get an appointment for that afternoon.

They gave me antibiotics which seem to be helping. They were also kind enough to give me some pain medicine that, well, let's just say that for the first time in 3 months, I slept through the night.

This morning, I went back to their office and after being given 4 different rounds of shots to numb my mouth, they were finally able to extract it.

So here I sit.... typing to you. Pain mostly gone..... Just being thankful.....

Did you ever feel like you were completely alone in this big world? For the past week, that's how I felt. Right up until 2 nights ago when comments started flooding in from the most wonderful people!! You guys are just so awesome! I'll never find the right words to explain how much your comments mean to me. So I will just say... Thank You!!!

Now... seriously... we gotta move on to something else. Cuz those posts weren't me. Well, they were me. They just weren't the normal, happy, clumsy, goofy goober, Chris that ya'll know. Yes, I said goofy goober. And...??

So, check this out. I just got back from Wally World. While there, I saw an older woman on one of those go-cart thingies. She looked quite confused and I could tell she was trying to find something but was having no luck.

Being the kind, sweet person that I am (shut it) I asked if I could help her find something.

"Yes honey. Thank you. I'm looking for vaginal..."

My brain took over and interrupted the sound entering my ears. "All personnel please report to Giggle Control. All personnel to Giggle Control. This is not a test. I repeat... This is not a test."

"I'm sorry. What was that?"
"Vaginal irrigation products. I asked another young lady but she said she'd never heard of such a thing."

Now, at this point, being a farm girl, I'm picturing this ol' lady sitting out in the middle of an irrigation ditch. I was also wondering if she was fighting off the urge to scratch herself.

I remembered that I'd seen some coochie cleaner over by the family planning stuff. So I moved over to that particular aisle and told her I had found it. I assumed she'd turn her little motorized cart around and come pick some out. Instead, she stayed at the end of the aisle and asked me to get one for her. Ugh....

So I look and of course there's not just 1 brand. There are 4 or 5 brands plus the store brand. This is not a decision I should be making for another woman. Especially since it's not a product I've ever purchased for myself.

So I informed her that there were quite a few choices and again, hoped she would drive down the aisle and make her selection on her own. She named off a brand and I went to grab for a box.

Then... I realized that now there was a choice of 1, 2 or 4 bottles per box. Ugh.... So I asked her which count she wanted. She said "Get the one with the most bottles."

"All personnel please report to Giggle Control!!!!"

She probably just wanted to save money by buying more than one bottle or maybe she just wanted to avoid this entire ordeal for a few more months... but in MY head I'm imagining flies swarming this woman's crotch as she swats at them and asks for the BIG box!

So I go to grab the BIG box and I see that there are different uhm..... okay flavors is TOTALLY the wrong word. Uhm..... Different fragrances. Yes, that's it. Fragrances.

At this point, I just grabbed one. I wasn't about to ask the woman if she wanted to smell like vinegar, tulips, roses or vanilla.

Vanilla... lmao.... vanilla goes good with yeast, doesn't it?? Bahahaaa

In closing, I should probably point out that yes, I know douche isn't just for "nasty" people. It's more like preventive maintenance so you don't BECOME one of the nasty. But... I'm a 10 year old boy trapped in a 30 year old woman's body. I have issues... Lea-me-alone

The whole thing started off yesterday, when Luigi, my 3rd grader, told me about a spelling game they play in class. The students line up, the teacher says a word and as a group, the students spell out the word, each taking their turn at the next letter. If you get the letter wrong, you sit down and you're out of the game. The last person left standing is the winner & they get a prize. Cool beans! Makes sense & it's a good incentive for learning.

Now, here's the catch. If you're the person who says the last letter of the word, you're also out. How is that fair? How is that right? You correctly answer the question and you're punished for it? Yeah... okay then.... And then Luigi informed me that they play this game 2 or 3 times a week and so far he's been one of the "winners" a grand total of 3 times. There are only 6 kids in his class so this number is outrageous to me.

Apparently Luigi shares the same enthusiasm over losing and missing out on a prize. He was being stubborn about something and his teacher had the nerve to say "You're just mad because you didn't win the game." Yeah... well I'd be mad, too. And actually... I am.

After that discussion, he handed me a note. It was a letter that he had written to me as part of his punishment for his atrocious behavior at school yesterday. In addition to having to write this letter (and have it signed) he wasn't allowed to play at recess. Care to guess what he did? You'll never in a million years guess.

Luigi.... was holding his breath. Yeah... that's all. Just holding his breath. No apparent reason. Just sitting at his desk... minding his own business & holding his breath. Here's how our conversation went:
Luigi: Are you mad?
Me: No. Just don't do it again if she has such a problem with it. What exactly did she say to you?
Luigi: She said "do you think that's funny?!?!?"
Me: What'd you say?
Luigi: *shrugs*
Me: You should've just been honest and said yes.
Luigi: *giggles* I did.
Me: Well good. She shouldn't have asked such a stupid question.

Okay... so that's all fine and good. Maybe something about what he was doing was disrupting the class. I don't know. The recess thing kinda ticks me off, too. But what really makes me mad is this letter. It said something like "Dear Mom. I am writing to tell you that I got in trouble today for holding my breath. I should not do this. I could pass out and have to be taken to the hospital. I could also die. Now I know why I should not hold my breath and I will not do it again."

It was at this point that I realized that he was lectured about how dangerous it is to hold his breath. It was also at this point that what I've been saying this entire school year was confirmed! His teacher, is an idiot!!

Hello!! McFly!!! You absolutely cannot die from holding your breath. Not unless you were to pass out and hit your head on something. And in that case, your death would be caused from a fall, not from holding your breath. If he were strangling himself, totally different scenario! But your body is equipped to say "Alright, you're being an idiot. I'll take over from here." And at that point you will either gasp for air or you will, in fact, pass out. (I would bet $1,000 that 95% of the people in the world do not have the will power to hold their breath to this extent.)

Next up came his math homework. "The school has 14 books. There are 3 classrooms. Divide the books equally between the classrooms and give the left overs to the library."

So, being the math whiz that he is.... He says "That's 4 books per class and 2 for the library." Good job. Problem solved. Move on.

No. No. No. First he has to draw a picture and separate the books into groups. When I see him drawing these pictures, I always imagine him being an accountant and drawing a thousand little pictures of dollar signs on his notepad, dividing them into groups and counting them. It's just ridiculous!!

So, after he draws the picture, he has to write sentences to explain the steps he took to figure out the answer. THEN he has to explain WHY he took those steps. BTW, this caused a 5 minute discussion about why it's not okay to simply write "Because it's the right way to do it." LOL

That simple little math problem, the one he answered in 10 seconds, took 45 minutes. Fifteen minutes were spent on him trying to explain to me how his teacher wanted him to do the problem. (Which was TOTALLY jacked up) Another fifteen were spent on me trying to explain that mathematics is the one and only universal thing on Earth with a couple "Your teacher is a moron"'s thrown in there for good measure. Five minutes explaining the polite way to tell his teacher that she can feel free to give me a call!!!!!!!! And the rest of the time trying to come up with a reason besides "Because it's the right way to do it."

This isn't the first time that he's come to me with math problems and explained the genius way his teacher wants him to solve the problem. My biggest issue is that the things he's learning NOW are just the basics that will be needed in the future. It ticks me off to no end to know that she's teaching him the incorrect way to figure out problems and he'll have to relearn all of those skills, the right way.

Okay... Last part of this rant. There are MANY more examples that I'd love to share with you but at this point, my post is already way overdue for an ending.

This year, they've started learning cursive handwriting. Now, think back to when you were in school. Do you remember the big letters that they put above the chalkboard? The ones that demonstrated the correct way to write letters? The ones that, even though it's been 20+ years since you stared at those letters for 7 hours a day, the image is still imprinted in your brain?

Okay... now... imagine that I told you that even though you see those letters all day, every day, you are NOT allowed to write the letters in the same manner that you're seeing them. No. No. No. You must refer to the handwriting book that you've been given.

To me, that's the equivalent of putting a huge poster on the wall that says 2+2=5 and then expecting the students to just remember that the answer is incorrect.

Why???? WHY would you do that????????

End Rant...

Oh hey -- BTW -- I put up the new Site of the Week & Post of the Week at Text Imps yesterday. Make sure you check it out. And pay VERY close attention to the Site of the Week. It's important!

ETA: I should also point out that I love teachers! I think they're under appreciated and under payed. I'm just saying..... this one..... Luh-who-zuh-her!

You know what I call this? A crying shame!!

Do you see it? Right there? In front of the dog?

Right there!!! The brown thing!! Yes!! That's chocolate!! On the floor!!!

Someone wasted a perfectly good piece of chocolate and I am NOT happy about it.

And if you look closely, you can see that the rest of the chocolate is already gone from the heart-shaped box. *sigh* Such a tragedy.

LOL - Someone was apparently running around half naked during this picture. I just spotted a pair of pants, too.

I can't wait for the dog's molting too be done! The house is covered in hair. If you think the rug looks bad, you oughtta see my black bed spread. It's gray now, from all of the hair.


And this picture? This one is a true testimate to a few of my many skills. That's right. Skills I say.

First, we have the skill of being able to serve meals for days without the need for the dishes that are piled in the sink.

And, if you don't count being able to stack 12 plastic bowls, 3 glass bowls, 3 saucers, 8 glass plates and 1 plastic plate in a single dish drainer as a skill... well... then I suggest you show me what passes for talent 'round these here parts.

And when you're done with that, head over to Text Imps. I finally got the Post of the Week and Site of the Week added a couple of hours ago. Sorry about the delay.

Oh.. AND.... There's a new post up at Christian's Kingdom, too. He had his stuff ready for posting over a week ago and I ... well... I kept forgetting to post it for him. I finally found a program to make his recordings quieter. I thought his last recording was going to make my ears bleed!!!! So I HAD TO find a way to fix that.

Make sure you come back tomorrow. I think I've come up with a new blogging game (or maybe you call it a carnival) that ya'll might like.

Well look at me. I'm just little Ms. Bossy today aren't I? Visit this, visit that, come back tomorrow.

Why are you still here??? Move It Mister!!!!!!!!

Since this is a fairly new blog and most of you know nothing about my personal life, let me give you some details so that this story will make sense to you.

The Ol' Man has 3 very annoying little yipper dogs that annoy the piss out of me. They're constantly under foot and in my bed and the only thing they're good for is waking up the baby. They bark at anything, everything and nothing.

I have a German Shepherd. She is my dog! She's a good dog and only barks & growls when it's actually warranted. (i.e. When a Sherrif shows up at your door at 11pm and you're home alone and he's looking for your husband to make sure he's gonna be at jury duty the next day.... ugh.. idiot)

I'm not a big gun person, so you'll have to bear with me while I explain this. You know that chuck-uh-chuck sound that a shotgun makes when you pull that thingy back so you can shoot it? You know... when you pump it?? Chuck-uh-chuck? You know what I mean right? Well, one particular gun that we own, that chuck-uh-chuck sound is VERY loud!!! The Ol' Man tells me that I never really need to load the gun. Just make that noise and "the bad guys will run away." LOL

aNyWhO... Saturday morning at 5:00 (before the sun comes up and before my brain starts functioning) my dog barked and woke me from a sound sleep. Then she started growling. And then... my front door opened. So I jumped up out of bed half naked... grabbed the gun... reached up and grab 2 shells... slammed them into the gun and CHUCK-UH-CHUCK BEEYOTCH!!!

"CHRIS!! IT'S ME!!!!! DON'T SHOOT!!!! CHRIS!! IT'S THE OL MAN!! PUT THE GUN DOWN!!!" Apparently mama gets a li'l gun happy when it comes to pruh-tectin her babies.

So let that be a warning to you!! If you say you'll be here at noon, don't come walking in the house at 5 in the morning. And if you enter my home while I'm sleeping, be sure and call out "CHRIS!! DON'T SHOOT!!" before you come to kill me.

This shotgun of mine is still loaded. I suggest you mosey on over to Text Imps and check out who we picked for Site of the Week and Post of the Week yesterday... before I hassa bus' a cap in yo ass.

... And I mean that in the most loving way. =D