Reinvented

Getting R out of the house sometimes is an impossible feat. The day that of the Pow Wow at the Day Break Star Center at Discovery Park was no difference. He sucked it up and went.

Arriving at the park we were greeted by no less than two people telling us to enjoy the fry bread and than followed into the area of the Pow Wow by a group of people talking about fry bread. We needed fry bread. R got in line and an hour later returned by fry bread with cinnamon and a Navajo pizza made with fry bread. This nectar of the gods must be made with crack. It’s amazing. It is now the official food of my life.

Oh, and there was some dancing. Amazing dancing from various tribes across the US and Canada. It was a bit intoxicating to watch. I’m already chomping at the bit for next year. I will be front row and center waiting to see the dancers.

First let me start out by saying I don’t live in a bad neighborhood. In fact I live about 15 minutes outside of downtown Seattle, so my area is populated with all kinds of people. My neighborhood is safe, but I wouldn’t recommend walking down poorly lit areas at night. With that said I have lived in bad neighborhoods. I lived in downtown Los Angeles when it was skid row and prostitutes hung out behind my building. A few years later I was living in gang infested Highland Park were a huge drug bust took place a few houses down from me and shortly later a gang related shooting/murder as I walked out of my apartment. There are reasons I’m dark and twisty.

In the last year our landlord has gotten desperate in filling apartments and standards have been, well, let’s say lowered. Months ago the ATF showed up and took out someone. They had been planning it for a while. We heard the helicopter flying low for months prior to the bust. From my days in Highland park I knew something was up.

The other issue is the apartment above mine. A women and her toddler lives there. When she moved in so did her boyfriend. We could hear banging and stomping at all hours of the night. Oh, and crashes loud crashes. We questioned what was happening, but there was little that we could do. The boyfriend was kicked out and the apartment was quiet again until about 6 or so weeks ago when I heard a huge crash. Sorry to say I just though “crap here we go again.” It wasn’t until later we found out that the boyfriend kicked down the door and was arrested by the police. That’s where today’s story starts.

After taking a much needed walk I returned to my apartment only to find a neighbor, D, running down the stairs with his son and two other boys. Frantic he told me the police were coming and asked me to watch the door and the kids. I got downstairs with them and started to piece together some information. There was a scream from the third floor and D called the cops.D reappeared and said it came from the third floor towards my side of the building and that’s when I realized what was happening and quickly filled the police in on the ex-boyfriend. D and the police ran inside. People began yelling out the window when they saw the police show up asking me what was happening mostly because they heard the scream too. The kids started yelling about a murderer loose in the building and talking about blood. One little boy was almost in tears because he didn’t want his mom killed. Crap. I’m not good at these things. I never know what to say, but I got them to shut up and sit in one area until.

D came running back out to cover the door and look to see if he went over the fence. Nothing. No one could find him. Apparently he knocked down two doors (apartment 310 and 309). He tore up the first apartment and went into the second one where he got into a fight with the tenant because he was looking for his “stuff.” After that I have no clue what happened. We don’t know where the woman is or her child. We don’t know where he is. I really don’t know if she was home at the time.

When I came back up from watching the door R barricaded it and we woke Bug. There is an emergency exit next to our apartment and Bug’s window is the right next to it. We don’t want any “visitors.” We made sure that everything was clear and left on the way out finding D and his wife B on the stairs. B told me how horrible of neighbors 309 and 310 are and she suspects that they are selling “stuff” there.

So, where does that leave us? Dark and twisted? Yes. Scared. Hella yes. Not sure what to do. R is a level-headed person. Much more so than I am. So when he is freaked I am too. We are afraid of what happens if the guy comes back with a gun. Or what if he  comes back, but to the wrong floor? See all dark and twisty.

When we came back we ran into a Marine who lives in the building. Was he freaked? A bit. Shocked was a better word to describe it.  He told us to get a gun. Something I dislike.

So, back to where that leaves us. I’m not sure, but I don’t like this one bit. Those upstairs neighbors need to go. The people in this complex need to stop propping the door open. And that ass better stop knocking down the door. This isn’t his home. I refuse to let him take away my sense of safety.

Coming home from the hospital was no picnic either. The first week home I weighed 7 pounds less than when I was pregnant. Hmmm… that’s exactly how much Bug weighed. Wasn’t I suppose to lose more? My god I was peeing like I was 9 months pregnant and bleeding even more. Magically by the time I was three weeks old I had lost almost 25 pounds and that hasn’t budged since. Even worse by the time Bug  was  3 months old I still needed to lose 25 pounds. Bang head against wall.

No, it gets worse. My friend is getting married in September and I am in the wedding. Even better I get to wear a strapless halter dress. Cue dramatic music. Being that she is getting married in Pittsburgh and I live in sunny Seattle my dress fitting was done via phone and although the lady I talked to she sure knew how to make me a stuffed pig ready to be cooked.

Her: “So what are your measurements?

Me: ” Well my bust is 42″ my waist is 37″ and my hips are 42″.”

Her: “Hmm… Are you sure that you got them professionally measured.”

Me: “Um, yes?”

Her: “Well you are a very different size. So, what is your height and weight?”

Me: “I’m 5’2″ and um (in a bit of a whisper) 170 pounds.”

Her: “OH, well than…”

Me: “Well, I did just have a baby so I’m loosing weight.”

Her: “Hm. When did you have this baby?”

Me: “Well, (a bit defeated) 6 months ago…”

Her: (cutting me off) “I see.”

Me: “Well I’m also breastfeeding  and will be stopping right before the wedding so I know that my sizes will change by than. That what my doctor said.”

Her: “Well, in case that doesn’t happen let’s go with a 22w.”

Me: Having a minor heart attack.”A 22w?!?!”

Her: “Well we could go with something smaller. In case you do lose some weight. Remember it is easier to take a dress in than to make it bigger.”

After talking we negotiated it to a 20w. Crap. Really? Seriously? My ass is losing the weight. In the last few months I have dropped to 162 pounds. Go me! 12 more to go before September to get back to my pre-prego weight. I can do that. Only 4 pounds a month. What I would really love is to get down to my ideal weight and walk in 130 pounds of sexiness, but lets face reality. I love doughnuts way to much to hit that by September. Time to get on the WiiFit.

My issue is that he is just a very cranky, pessimistic human who is miserable and wants the world around him to be such. Oh, and the things that come out of his mouth are just embarrassing.  The last time he came to visit he said something to a volunteer from a cat shelter so angry that the guy’s face turned red and he walked away with his hands in fists. The guy didn’t ask for money, D thought what he said was hilarious. At Bug’s birthday party last week all he did was complain about the bathroom, the food, the weather, the parking… you name it he was bitching about it.

This weekend was, um, interesting. Although he did have his kinder moments he did crack endless jokes about grandma death (she is 91), insult R about trying to eat healthier, and give me endless crap about R not wanting to smoke pot with him 24/7. Yes, he blamed R wanting to exercise and smoke less on me because that is a bad thing. Add to the him call Bug a dummy because she is too young and stupid to read and tell Grandma and Aunt that we are only saying around so long to get a free meal (don’t even get me started on this cheap ass) and I’m surprised that I haven’t blown up on him.

Even R, who adores him and never has a bad word to say about D vented to me. Bug has the same bed time each night, 7pm. So, what time does D schedule dinner? 6:45 pm. Yes, 15 minutes before Bug’s bedtime and informs up 5 minutes before hand about this. R asks D if they could push it back 15 minutes so that we can get Bug ready and put her down instead of starting her bedtime routine at 7 pm. He refused and demanded that we hold her and eat. Um, not my daughter. When she is tired she screams and throws things. My daughter is not passive. So, instead of just pushing back eating to a time when he knew that Bug wold be asleep he threw a fit. R was furious and wouldn’t tell me what was said but I did hear him yell something about “not being on baby time.” His famous words. No, I don’t expect the world to revolve around the baby like mine does, but damn give us some notice and we can work around things. However, it seems that D always tries to push against it. He demands us to do things when he hears that I’m putting her down for a nap and fights with me over using a car seat. Yes, he thinks it is crazy that we “seem to think that everywhere we go she needs to be in one.” Forget the fact that it is the law.

Okay, I need to stop. No more rants. Actually I did do some fun things this weekend and I’ll post some great photos soon. Now that I got that off my chest and we only have a few more hours before leaving it is time to think good thoughts.

Sometimes I feel that fate is trying to tell me something. Usually I try to ignore it unless I know it is going to turn out wonderful or delicious. This time it turned out delicious.

Years ago when I first came to Seattle I walked by this restaurant that was packed to the gills and had a long waiting queue outside to boot. I kept on walking. The whole time thinking about what could be so great about this place? Fast forward to last year when R started talking about this place called the Crab Pot. We had to go. Than it showed up on Man vs Food on the Food Network. We saw that episode no less than 3 times when his parents came to visit and asked where they could take us for his birthday. “The Crab Pot!” He cried. So, that is the story of fate and The Crab Pot.

The crab pot is famous for their Seafeasts. It is bucket of food that they drop on the table and you just have at it. Or in other words R’s dream come true. We ordered the The Westpoint which came with crab, corn on the cob, mussels, clams, potatoes, prawns, and spicy sausage.  Words fail me on how delicious it was, but let me put it this way. When we left it was 2 hours after Bug’s bedtime, but she was so happy eating that she didn’t care.

More, thank you.

Yes, we stood in line for 90 minutes. Yes, I would happily do it again. Is there any place that you would stand in line to wait to eat at?

I know that this is a shot in the dark, but here I go:

For a while I have been reading a blog called the Still Point. I don’t know what it was about that blog but after reading it and posting a few comments I started to feel like the person behind the blog was an old friend. About 2 months ago she was thinking about shutting down the blog and started a new one. On there she left an email to contact her for anyone interested in the new blog. Of course all this happened during Bug’s insane couple months of teething and seizure scare (which has turned a corner for the good. The doctor thinks it may be a behavioral thing now not a seizure but that is a story for another day.) Anyway a few weeks ago I went back to her blog to send an email, but the entire thing was shut down. So, I’m asking anyone out their if they know how to get in contact with her? Her blog was The Still Point and she has another one called the Whiling Dervish. If anyone knows how to search for her on WordPress or has the contact info  please send it my way.

Thanks

The other thing that is on my mind is Bug’s EEG. There has been a bit of a change in the works for what is going to happen. Now we only need one EEG (part of it sleeping and part awake) and an appointment with a nurologist. Her EEG is Monday and I’m torn up. I know that she will be fine, but I also know that this test is going to be trouble. Bug isn’t a calm baby by any means. She is loves people, but is terrified of doctors and after talking to my doctor and the person who was booking the appointment she is most likely going to be sedated. That is the part that is getting to me. My momma instincts are kicking in and I feel as though I need to protect her from it.

Somehow I put the thought out of my head for a week. The EEG didn’t exist  in my work until I got a call yesterday as a reminder for the appointment and R brought it up. It was so far in the back of my head that part of me felt like I was hearing about this for the first time.

Enough with the sad talk. I’m in Portland for the week and have a party to prep for when I get back. I haven’t done much for other than decide on the cakes I’m making and buy paper plates. Why do I feel like this party is going to bite me on the ass? Party planning can’t be this easy. Oh, and no one at the party knows about Bug’s tests! This is going to be a looooooong weekend. Head up. Smile on. This is just one bump in the road that we will be over soon.

The big thing is that she has been doing something strange. She has been dropping her head. As innocent as it may sound I have been told that as a “new mother” thinking “any new thing she does is cause for worry and is usually just inexperience.” This is crap. A momma knows when something is wrong and something IS wrong. This isn’t just her bobbing her head. My 11 month old is acting like a new born. Her head will violently fall forward 4-5 things in a 10-15 minute period time and she acts like nothing happened. This stated a month ago and stopped when teething stopped. A week and a half went by and along with new signs of teething and sure enough a new tooth poking through (we are shooting the tooth fairy on sight now) the head bobbing came back. The difference this time was that R saw it too. It scared him. Really scared him. The other thing is that happened was she started to slump a bit in the shoulder every now in then with the episodes.

Today I got her in to see her doctor and she was concerned. She said she thinks that it may be seizures. She wants to test for that before exploring other areas and I would have to agree. Now Bug is looking at 2 EEGs and a MRI. And of course one she will need to be sedated for and all 3 of them I will need to be sedated.

Where does this leave me? A mess of course, but happy. I know that depending on the type of seizure it is that may be serious, but more likely than not it is something we can handle. It’s bad, but not a death sentence or something that impair her for life . On the other side of this if it is a seizure it isn’t anything to take lightly and the bigger question: why? When is enough enough? Bug isn’t even a year old and we have been through a premature birth, a crooked foot, colic, jaundice, being readmitted to the hospital, acid reflux, and now this. Is their ever an end? Or are we getting the bad stuff out of the way now? Please let that be it. I want to pay my dues now when she is to young to know or remember.

Grrrrr.

On another note Bug has now been teething for 6 weeks straight. Tooth number 7 popped through 3 days ago. That makes 5 teeth so far in this round. Grrr. I am over this. Bug, R, and I have all happily agreed that we could live a happy life with her 7 teeth. No more to college.