Daycare Frustration

Arg, it is so frustrating trying to find a daycare provider. Up until now my mom has been watching Khai, however, he's really working her physically. Today she's laid up in bed with a jacked up back. This all came about yesterday and ended with me having to come pick him up at noon. This morning when I went to drop him off, she could barely get out of bed. Called into work again and who knows what will happen tomorrow. My plans for taking next week off have been cancelled so I can make up the time lost this week. The rest of my morning today has been spent looking at daycare centers, home care, all that crap. I might as well quit my job and stay home rather than work a full time job just so I can pay for childcare services! Good grief.

I really don't know how SAHM's do it... what do you do all day long to keep your child entertained?? I can barely make it thru this post without him climbing all over me and the laptop and sticking everything in his mouth and his fingers up his nose.
Thankfully Barney has just come on and i've secured him in my lap... whatever the lure of that damn dinosaur is...I don't know and I don't care. He's quiet and content for the moment....

Picture of The Day: I love Khai.

Damn Management

The water drama continues....
So now we sit and wait. Wait to see what the people below us will decide to do. I called our insurance company yesterday and he said no claim has been filed and to just sit tight. Okkk.
In the meantime we get a certified letter from the condo management - it's a bill for $125 for the locksmith they had to call to break into our unit. They said that because they didn't have a phone number for us, they were forced to call the locksmith. I wrote them a letter back telling them that "Marty" from their office called only once and left a msg saying she tried numerous times to reach us and has finally found our number on a check we sent them. So my question is, how did she try to reach me numerous times? Obviously I wasn't home...so knocking on my door would get her nowhere. And she says she didn't have my number until after her attempts.
Thing is, they DO have all our numbers. If they would have simply opened up my damn file. In the amount of time it took her to hunt down my check, call the locksmith, wait for the locksmith to get there and break into our place...she could have pulled my file, called me and I would have been there. As far as i'm concerned they can pay the bill themselves.

Humpty Dumpty The Rolly Polly

Good God... how did this happen again?? See
Mommy Don't Cry for time # 1. Can I feel any worse? First he falls, then I flood the house, then he falls again. Sigh* These middle of the night rolls are getting out of control, but I feel like the evil mom letting him cry away in his crib. And him cuddling up to me nice and tight at night is the best feeling ever.... until he let's go and decides to take a dive off the bed.

I Officially Hate Water

First Khai falls out of bed at 3am and scares the shit out of me. It took me all night and the whole next day to recover. I wondered what kind of mom am I? How did I not hear him stir?? I ALWAYS hear him stir! But not this time. 3am he's up and rolling around and then BOOM.....followed by WAAAAA! My poor baby landed on all fours and he has no clue what just happened to him. Everything is ok now. He's totally fine and most likely has forgotten the incident. But for me, his 8 month birthday is marked by his first fall. Sniff Sniff.Then, as if the AC problem wasn't bad enough, I've gone and flooded the kitchen... not just our kitchen but the condo downstairs too. Perfect! Sleep deprived and in zombie mode I managed to leave the sink water running before I left for the day at 7am. 2pm the lady downstairs comes home to find her ceilling about to collapse. The idiot condo people can't find our number and eventually call a locksmith and break into our unit. John and I both have issues with that. What does make me laugh is I wonder what went thru their minds as they all barged into our home to see not just water everywhere but our skulls, knives, dolls in caskets, a huge chunk of bloody meat on the counter top, Dora or Barney or whoever blasting on the TV and Khai's toys sprinkled with baby rice puffs all over the floor. Thankfully the people downstairs are a really nice couple or this could go a lot worse than it already is. John went to check their kitchen out and it looks like the whole ceiling has to be replaced, walls painted, and dining room carpet steamed. Arg. Ahhh, but its not over yet! No, no. That would be too easy. So then I come into work. Exhausted, I want to make some coffee - but there is no sugar! Ok..so I go to buy a soda from the snackbar. Pull a coke out of the mini fridge and somehow the side of the can gets pierced and coke is fizzing and flying everywhere. The can explodes on me and I'm frantically looking around, getting sliced in the finger by the can and throwing the can in the trash next to the fridge. The trash can now starts to leak and soda is spilling onto the carpet outside of someobody's office. I pickup the can and run down the hall, soda flying out everywhere, from inside the can, from the bottom of the can... Into the kitchen I empty the trash can into a bigger can and now there's soda all over the counter and floor. After cleaning it up I take a look at my new injury. Long and deep...right on my middle finger. Someone is telling me fuck you. It's not even noon yet...

I Like Monkeys

I like monkeys.

The pet store was selling them for five cents a piece.

I thought that odd since they were normally a couple thousand.

I decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth.

I bought 200.

I like monkeys.
I took my 200 monkeys home.

I have a big car. I let one drive.

His name was Sigmund.

He was retarded. In fact, none of them were really bright.

They kept punching themselves in their genitals.

I laughed.

Then they punched my genitals.

I stopped laughing.
I herded them into my room.

They didn't adapt very well to their new environment.

They would screech, hurl themselves off of the couch at high speeds and slam into the wall. Although humorous at first, the spectacle lost its novelty halfway into its third hour.
Two hours later I found out why all the monkeys were so inexpensive: they all died.

No apparent reason.

They all just sorta dropped dead.

Kinda like when you buy a goldfish and it dies five hours later.

Damn cheap monkeys.
I don't know what to do.

There were 200 dead monkeys lying all over my room, on the bed, in the dresser,

hanging from my bookcase.

It looked like I had 200 throw rugs.
I tried to flush one down the toilet.

It didn't work.

It got stuck.

Then I had one dead, wet monkey and 199 dead, dry monkeys.
I tried pretending that they were just stuffed animals.

That worked for a while, that is until they began to decompose.

It started to smell real bad.
I had to pee but there was a dead monkey in the toilet and I didn't want to call the plumber.

I was embarrassed.
I tried to slow down the decomposition by freezing them.

Unfortunately, there was only enough room for two monkeys at a time

so I had to change them every 30 seconds.

I also had to eat all the food in the freezer so it didn't all go bad.
I tried burning them.

Little did I know my bed was flammable.

I had to extinguish the fire.

Then I had one dead, wet monkey in my toilet, two dead,

frozen monkeys in my freezer, and 197 dead, charred monkeys in a pile on my bed.

The odor wasn't improving.
I became agitated at my inability to dispose of my monkeys and to use the bathroom.

I severely beat one of my monkeys.

I felt better.
I tried throwing them away but the garbage man said that

the city was not allowed to dispose of charred primates.

I told him that I had a wet one.He couldn't take that one either.

I didn't bother asking about the frozen ones.
I finally arrived at a solution.

I gave them out as Christmas gifts.

My friends didn't know quite what to say.

They pretended that they liked them but

I could tell they were lying.

Ingrates.

So, I punched them in the genitals.
I like monkeys.

Oof.