sight isn’t always necessary

I just can’t seem to get enough of venting lately.  It’s like I’m a pressure cooker gone way past the pressure it can stand, and at any moment I’m going to totally explode.  To vent on this blog is to save my sanity, so I write.

We went for a little trip on a train today.  It was originally thought up as a “treat” for Connor for not freaking out all the time, but that was scrapped when we went to the doctor for his stomach issues.  We still decided to go on the train trip though, and just have a good time traveling via a method we usually don’t get much of around here.  Michiganders love their cars!  Anyway, we took the train into Royal Oak, and because Craig’s parents live close by they came out to dinner with us before we caught out train back.  The train trip was fun, though Connor forgot his backpack (or I forgot it, but it’s easier to blame it on Connor) and was bored the majority of the time, and walking around town for the first 20 minutes or so was fun as well.  Then we had to meet Craig’s idiot parents.  At first I could cope; I just bit my tongue a lot, nibbled at it a bit, holding back little curses from exploding out of my mouth.  By the end I was full-out choking on the profanity vomit that I wanted to let fall out of my head.  I think I did a good job of looking like a sane functioning person, but inside I was going wacko.

Katelyn, when you had a crush on Craig in the beginning, you really did yourself a favor by introducing him to me.  Believe me, this shit with his mother is a serious curse.  I’m thinking Tom probably was a better choice for me, at least as far as mother-in-laws go.  Your mom likes me.  Maybe I still have a chance…  Shoot.  Who put this ring on my finger!?!

Anyway.  Ok, so first Craig’s mom stresses that the day is “Connor’s big boy day” and it’s all going to be about celebrating him.  I guess way back when we mentioned a train, Craig said it would maybe be a prize for having a month of good days, not freaking out at night about having a stomachache.  He never told his mom that the plan changed, so I guess I’ll give her the benefit of doubt.

*slight irritation*

Then we find a restaurant – Monterrey’s – and go inside.  Elly was asleep in her stroller, the first time she had been sleeping for the entire day, less the 15 minute nap she took driving from our house to Ann Arbor.  I guess there’s a rule at that restaurant that no strollers are allowed at any table, and whereas I can understand the usefulness of that rule, I did not want to wake Elly up for a stupid meal.  The hostess looked down at Elly and noted, “Oh, her eyes are open, I think she’s awake.”  Ugh.  So I picked her up and she immediately lay her head on my shoulder, obviously still very sleepy.  Craig’s mom came up and yelled (because she has but one volume), “Who’s my sweet little baby?”  Then Craig’s dad came up and shook her hand and said something else asinine and loud, and I had a little tiny flip out.

*more irritation*

“Papa!  She’s still sleepy, I was hoping I could keep her calm for a little while longer before we sit down?”  They both looked shocked (all the while they were both totally ignoring Connor), and I explained that she hadn’t slept much, and though it’s fun to do those things with her, her exhaustion will eventually creep up and I’ll be the only one to be able to calm her… nothing gets through though.  Bah.  By this time her head was up, she was spitting out her pacifier, so I gave up.  I handed her to Munga.  I called Papa back over (he walked away looking depressed) and told him it was okay.

*feeling like crawling out of body for a while*

We sat down.  Craig’s mom told a charming story about how some place they walked by down in Royal Oak was “full of homeless people”.  Then she told another charming story about how all of their idiot friends are gone so (and this was a funny joke, I guess) they were considering calling up some other douchebag friends they used to associate with years ago, but had a falling out with.  She mentioned about six times that they are going camping tomorrow and suggested an additional six times that we should visit them while they are camping.  I briefly interjected that it’s supposed to storm all day tomorrow, and rather than reply to me, she just talked in a baby voice to Connor about how “we’ll just snuggle up in the camper then!”  Fuck no.  “Our doggies, you guys, your doggie, it’ll be so much fun!”  Fuck, fuck, fuck no.  Then she mentioned that one of our old teachers’ granddaughter (Mrs. Falucca) fell out of her crib and broke her leg.  It was all very stimulating conversation, really.

*chewing violently at inside of cheek, hoping the pain will distract me enough*

Then the food came.  Connor ordered a children’s Mexican pizza, which was about six inches across.  We always have been pretty firm about getting him to eat some good food during every meal, but with Craig’s parents I’m willing to make an exception, because it’s easier to allow Connor to eat a crappy meal than to deal with their looks and comments about it.  They act like I’m some kind of fucking nutcase (which I am, but for different reasons) for wanting my child to eat a vegetable.  Anyway, his mom really stepped on my authority right away, because she told Connor that he only had to eat a QUARTER of it.  That is literally ONE BITE for Craig, maybe two bites for me.  Tiny.  A snack.  That stupid fucking bitch.   Uggggghhhhhhh.

*chewing my face now more than I’m chewing my food*

Finally I had enough.  I got up to take Elly to the bathroom to feed her, and Connor needed to go to the restroom too so he and Craig stood up to go with me.  They got back to the table well before Elly and I did, and I guess Craig did tell his mother and Connor that he had to eat more food than just a quarter of the little pizza.  His mom is so fucking passive aggressive though, so she’s making these little comments to Connor the whole time like, “Okay baby, only these two little more bites, and I know you don’t want to but it’s just a tiny bit, sorry baby boy!”  Like he’s suffering.  It’s a fucking pizza, bitch.

*trying to find a happy place*

We got up to leave finally, and I was a few paces behind everyone exiting the restaurant.  When I caught up, Connor help up a huge handful of after-dinner mints, exclaiming, “Look what Munga gave me, mom!”  It was about as many pieces of candy as he had bites of dinner.  Did anyone know that Connor has been having stomach issues lately?  Because I thought it was pretty clear.  And the last I heard, a buttload of candy was not the remedy for stomach pain.  Craig’s mom thinks that eating only 3/4 of her humungous sour cream burrito (barf) was “taking it easy” though.  And they didn’t take Craig to the doctor when he was 13 for his Crohn’s until he was shitting blood (sorry, it’s just true).

*can’t find mental happy place, so considering going to Noir Leather because I know they won’t follow me in*

My venting is almost making me feel better.  One last thing.  When we went back to the train station, Connor was acting up.  I’m sure it was because he was exhausted, but I had to make him sit down to prevent him from hurting himself or Elly; he was just acting crazy.  Craig’s mother is just SOOOOO passive aggressive – the SECOND I had to discipline him, she says to Craig, “Why don’t you let us take him for the night?”  Oh yes!  Please, take our first-born son!  He doesn’t need a carseat.  All he needs is candy, and your amazing “Munga-love” that you talk so much about!  Oh, and scary movies!  Please, take him, so that you can let him watch movies like Ghostbusters and Freddie Got Fingered, which are the most child-friendly movies of all time!

(Don’t even ask about Freddie Got Fingered; luckily it doesn’t actually involve Connor… yet.)

*puked in my mouth a little, swallowed it back down*

Craig firmly said, “Mom, we don’t have a carseat.”  End of story.

I write all of this down, with a little twinge of humor, because I’m trying as hard as I can to cope with my life, but when exposed to those people I have a real problem with everything.  I can’t talk about it with Craig because he really just sits there and randomly changes the subject, not ever acknowledging that I have done a good job of putting up with that shit again.  I can’t call my mom and complain because she takes Ann’s side, or at least is WAY too sympathetic with Ann, 95% of the time.  Nobody else listens long enough.  I don’t usually talk a ton, but I need some serious decompression time when I deal with my in-laws.  This blog is all I’ve got.

Craig’s parents are coming over to go to the air show tomorrow, and though I should be studying for a pharmacology exam, instead I’m blogging about how much I dread tomorrow because of those douchebags.

On Mother’s day, Craig’s mom had a fit because we didn’t go to her house to see her. Ahem. Because she’s the only mother around.

On July 4th, which unfortunately happens to be my birthday, she and her husband traveled to Indiana for a camping trip. They couldn’t get into the campground in the state park near where my parents live, so they were camping somewhere 45 minutes away. We went to Indiana for the 3rd and 4th, and we had to come back on the 5th because Craig had to work. So. We traveled 2 hours on the 3rd with a four year old and an infant, and when we got to Indiana we wanted to relax… which we did. We didn’t know where Craig’s parents were camping until late that afternoon, actually, when Craig finally talked to them and they insisted that we visit. Craig tried to politely decline. They were disappointed, but didn’t sound pissed. They also insisted that we come out the next day (my birthday) because they had a present for me, but Craig said that I really wanted to spend time with my family on my birthday, and we were having a big barbecue, so he invited them to come. They didn’t give an answer.

On the fourth, the day began wonderfully. Craig made me an awesome breakfast, which Sandy and Jean came over to share with us, so we had a big feast in the morning. We spent the day playing with toys, going over to Sandy’s house to play with the dogs, and getting stuff ready for the barbecue later that day. Craig talked to his mom in the afternoon to see if she was going to come over, but she gave him the lame excuse that she wanted to “let Liz enjoy the day with her family”, so they were just going to stay at the campground. Whatever.

Craig bought me a HP Mini for my birthday, and a sweet new stethoscope. Yay! Dinner rocked, and there were pretty cool fireworks that night.

Ok, so July 5th, we had to leave by lunchtime so that we could get home in time for Craig to take a nap to prepare for work that night. He talked to his mom that morning, because she was really hoping to get us to come out to their camper sometime, and they were going to be at the state park that day. Craig told his mom that we had to leave by noon, and she whined that they weren’t going to be at the campground until noon, and he basically said “Well, sorry mom, can’t do it.” She was pissed.

A week later, they were traveling home from their excursion in Indiana and called Craig to see if we could all meet up sometime that afternoon. Craig had to work that night, and Christine was visiting so she and I and the kids were going out to lunch, so it wasn’t really an opportune time to visit with the in-laws. Craig told his mom that he had to take a nap for work, but they were more than welcome to stop by for a while if they wanted to. His mom reluctantly agreed, and they hung up the phone.

About 5 minutes later, his mom called back but for some reason Craig didn’t answer the phone; I think he was in the bathroom. She left a message and basically said “Oh, forget it, *sniff sniff*, we’re not coming. Bye.”

I guess the fact that we didn’t drop everything in our lives to cater to his psycho mother was too much for her to handle. UGH.

Ok, so LOOOOONNNNNNGGGG story short, we got some tickets to the air show tomorrow. I suggested to Craig that maybe we should ask his parents if they want to hang out, just to smooth things over with them. He thought it was a good idea. But THEN I brewed on how shitty they are a little, and I wanted to take back my suggestion because I can’t stand those fuckers, plus I’d rather take Christine and Russell to the air show because they are WAY cooler.

Breathe, Lizzy.

Just a little crazy venting, really. I just hate it that they said yes, and I really want to go see the Blue Angels tomorrow, but at the same time I wish I could be someone else and see the Blue Angels away from my family, because my family will have shithead company, and I don’t want to be anywhere near them. Fucking douchebags.

Whoo! That feels better.

We have been having problems lately with Elly sleeping. She doesn’t go to sleep easily – it’s a struggle for both Craig and I – and then she wakes up 3 to 4 times a night on top of that. Most nights I end up taking her into my bed and sleeping next to her, and she’s happy to be near me. I already have one child that was terrible about sleep for a long time, and it seems to me that we have another one… and I honestly don’t have any idea what to do about it. I am not willing to let her cry it out, even though about thirty people have suggested it. It’s just not for me, and that’s that.

Ok, so I’m not writing this to get suggestions on what to do, because I’m pretty good at scouring the internet for crap information and I’ve read it all by now. Seriously – I did a buttload of research with Connor, and another buttload of research for Elly. I’m on research and information overload.

What I’m irritated about with all of this is that in the middle of the night when I’m up with Elly, tired beyond tired and rocking an 8-month old baby, I’m thinking about how other people seemingly have perfect babies and I’ve been blessed with two poopy sleepers. As if I have the space in my brain to waste thinking about how other people either do or *think* they do have it better than me.

Anyway. A good show is on TV. Gonna watch it.

I really feel emotionally drained and crazy today, so rather than calling everyone I know and giving updates over and over, I’m just going to write this here.

Connor is apparently fine.

We were worried about a multitude of things, and all of the testing didn’t help to calm those fears, but after a lengthy discussion with a pediatric gastroenterologist today, it seems like he’s maybe just…

constipated?

I don’t know. All of the symptoms were all over the map, and the strange lab values were all together not indicative of any one thing. He had strange values in his differential white blood cell counts, but the actual cell counts weren’t abnormal enough to warrant any concern. He’s anemic, but that’s normal for his age, weight, and family history. He doesn’t have any of the indicators of celiac disease, irritable bowel disorder/Crohn’s/ulcerative colitis. His x-rays on Monday didn’t indicate any problem with backed up stool, but apparently there was a bunch of stool seen in the CT scan today. His history didn’t seem like constipation was the cause, but it was the only thing that made any sense right now.

And this was a really good doctor! Or so we both felt.

So now, we’re less freaked out. But all of the freaking out all week seems to have culminated in a huge whopping flop of a diagnosis, and I’m just exhausted. Connor was prescribed Miralax, but it’s such a silly drug that it’s actually not even covered by insurance anymore.

We’ll see how this all pans out. I hope I answered whatever questions you may have about it all in this post, because at least tonight, I don’t have the energy to relive it all again.