For sanity's fucking sake

I feel as though, once again, I have my very own stalker.

Wait…let me rephrase that. My MUNCHKIN has her own stalker. Yes, already, at only 16 months.

This person’s name…MIL.

Let me begin by saying she is driving me up the mother fucking wall, across the ceiling, and back down again. She has to know every single itty bitty detail of munchkin’s existence. And it doesn’t help that the hubs fuels the fire by telling her nearly every single itty bitty detail.

For example, last week’s night with Linda Blair. Hubs told MIL about it, so the next day, FIL sends an email to me. I reply with what happened and how munchkin was doing, which was perfectly fine. MIL decides to send me an email about it later in the afternoon, to which I did not reply because I was actually working. At around 5:15, MIL calls. I was rocking munchkin, so I missed her call. Forty-five minutes later, MIL calls again. This time munchkin was sleeping in my arms, so I didn’t answer. Another 45 mother fucking minutes later, she calls again. This time, I was cooking, and my phone was nowhere near me. I called her back about 20 minutes later, and guess what…she is on the other line and doesn’t answer. I’m thinking, unreal. FIL calls me like 10 minutes after this. We talk a little more about munchkin and the dinner we had together just the night before (they were here the 3rd – 6th…all these effin phone calls took place the 7th). I say goodnight to FIL, and we hang up. Less than five minutes later, MIL calls me for the fourth fucking time, I shit you not. I see her name on the caller ID and think, YOU’VE GOT TO BE SHITTING ME!!! What does she want to know? The same shit I just got through telling FIL. He told her everything I said, but she “just had to talk to me herself.” Ho-ly smokes.

So Friday rolls around, and the hubs is deployed for his every-eight-weeks-two-week-tour. The munchkin and I decide to go visit him for the weekend because of Easter. I get a text from none other than MIL while I was driving asking if I was getting off early. I carefully texted back, “already on the road.” Oh, I have to say that the night before, she sent me an email telling me to let her know when we left the house to go see hubs and when we arrived at said destination. Ho-ly balls, my own mother doesn’t keep tabs on us like this. When we arrived, I asked the hubs, “Have you spoken to your parents yet?” “No, is something wrong?” he replies. I immediately texted my FIL for fear of another effin phone call. I didn’t hear back from him until around 9:00 when he texted, “Good. We were just getting ready to call.”

On Sunday, we left the hubs around noon (it’s about a three hour drive). I got a phone call from none other than my MIL when we were only 20 minutes from home.

MIL “When are you leaving?”
Me “I’m driving now.”
MIL “Is the hubs asleep?”**
Me “How the fuck would I know? I’m DRIVING.” No, I didn’t really say this, though I was TOTALLY thinking it. I said, “I have no idea. We’re only 20 minutes from home.”
MIL “Oh, well, I called him a few times, but he didn’t answer.”

Hellllloooo?!? He’s probably sleeping for Christ’s sake! He works the 11pm-6am shift, woman!! She then proceeds to go on about something, and all the while the munchkin is getting cranked up. She is so ready to get out of that car seat, and it’s all I can do to keep her occupied. MIL hears her getting upset, acknowledges it, but doesn’t stop talking. She keeps going on about the stuff she’s collecting for the munchkin to use while we are on vacation in a few months. Do I give a rat’s ass right now? Um, no. Is it illegal to drive and talk on the phone in my state? Hell-to-the-yes. Does she know this? Ding ding ding!! My frustration was mounting when she finally says, “Well, it sounds like you’re nearly home, so I’ll let you go.” Praise the sweet Lord for His mercy.

Is there really any question as to why my phone stays on vibrate 24 hours/day?

**Obviously, MIL did not say “the hubs,” but for sanity’s sake, his name will be left out.

"People interest me. Conversations don't."

You may recall a snippet of a post where I spoke of our live commentator during the Olympics.

Well, she's back.

Alls I was trying to do last night was catch up on a couple of my shows. Oh, before this, she told me that she's been watching House reruns, so she wanted a little update on why certain people were missing, what was going on, etc. First I watched One Tree Hill (I just LIKE it, ok?). She was gracious enough not to ask too many questions about the show, but she still wouldn't SHUT UP. She talked and talked and talked. I even paused it a few times so my full attention could be focused on her. And it's not like she was in the next room - she was sitting on the other couch and could clearly see that I was watching this show. Even though I knew better, I decided to watch last week's House. I should honestly just re-watch that episode. I usually keep the volume at 8, but she kept saying, "What, what?" So I had to repeat everything back to her. I finally cranked that bitch up to 16. What makes it worse is when it was over, she says, "Don't you just love watching tv with me? You can't hear, can't pay attention, have to crank it up..." and then giggles. I just smiled and told her to watch whatever she wanted.

Private Practice comes on tonight, but maybe I'll just wait until next Friday to watch it.

Endangered Boobies Month

In honor of the Endangered Boobies Month (not to be confused with the month honoring extinct boobies), I'm going to talk about my MIL.

In October 2006, during a routine checkup, it was discovered that MIL had a small spot on her breast. It was biopsied and found to be cancer. Luckily, though, it was Stage 0. Now you're probably thinking, how is there a Stage 0 in cancer? Well it was so minute and so contained that they caught it in its earliest stage. I think it was just a few cells (few can be a couple hundred, mind you) that began clumping. The doctors told her that it was so early that she never would have found it during a self-exam.

At the end of November, she had the mass removed. In December, she began radiation treatments. By February, the skin around her breast, underarm, and the bottom of her arm were red and raw - like a really bad sunburn - and she was constantly applying cream to keep it manageable and somewhat bearable. During all this treatment, her dad was struggling to stay alive and eventually passed on February 15th. I don't know if she ever told him that she wasn't well. By mid-March, she completed the radiation treatment. By the end of April, she found out her first grandchild would be born in December, and her fear of the cancer was multiplied by a million. Every six months since, she has gone through rigorous testing to ensure that the cancer is still gone. She just finished another round of testing (bloodwork, MRI, ultrasound, etc.) and feels even better about being healthy again. She said to me that with each round of tests, she begins to feel better about the results, and instead of it being a burden, it's becoming a reassurance. I asked how long would she have to do the twice-yearly testing, and she said that she has a friend who was just cleared of her twice-yearly testing after 12 years of being cancer-free. It becomes a long, arduous part of your life...but better safe than sorry.

Off the top of my head, I can't think of anyone else in my life that has dealt with this. She has no idea if it runs in her family because her mother was adopted. Her mother died of cancer but not of the breast. I believe it was stomach.

Because of her experience, she hates Breast Cancer Awareness month and all things pink. I don't know if it has something to do with being diagnosed during that month and then every time you turn around you're reminded of it with all the pink crap everyone makes or what, but this just isn't her favorite month anymore. Anyway, she's an artist and has decided to paint a piece that will be donated to a cancer wing at a hospital near where they live (I believe its the hospital she had all her care at). When they went to Europe in May, she took lots of picture of the neat door knobs in London. The title of her piece..."Knockers."

She is one creative lady, and though I may bitch about her, I do love her dearly.

And I'm grateful to God that she's well.