Shoot me in the face...

There are a lot of things I would love spending 4 hours out of my day doing. Like sleeping for instance, or blogging. Googling pictures of the Hoff (meow). Maybe read some books, work on my tan....shoot, I'd even do laundry over what I had to do yesterday. We spent four friggin quality hours teaching Mason how to.....are you ready for this.....swallow a flippin' pill!!!!

For the record, I'd rather stab myself repeatedly in the eye with a dull pencil before doing this again. I'm pretty sure those 4 hellish hours have won themselves the title of 'Most frustrating experience of my mothering career'. It's a pretty prestigious award, so why don't I explain how I received it, in case anybody out there would like to try for one.

This last weekend Mason was given a new medication. The old one wasn't meeting his current needs so we felt it was best to try something new. Well. Apparently Mason didn't agree. The new pill is hardly any bigger than the old pill. But it's not a pill that can be crushed or chewed, it has to be taken whole. It's smaller than a tic tac, just to put things in perspective. So yesterday morning while getting ready to send my little heathen off to school we had him take his pill. Or try to. Over and over and over....

He couldn't...no, make that WOULDN'T take it. And short of waterboarding the kid, we tried EVERYTHING! He put it under his tongue, back of the throat, head tilted back, wrapped it with food, drank through a straw, you name it....we tried it. He must have gone through 4 glasses of milk and juice trying to get it down, to no avail, might I add. An hour and a half into it he had managed to throw apple juice all over the kitchen, spit milk all over us, spill water all over himself, and STILL hadn't swallow the pill. By this time Mason's crying, he's late for school, I'm bawling, Jordan's frustrated, and the pill is sitting on the table taunting us.

So I did what any over emotional and crazed mother would do....I took him to the doctor. Now I love our doctor, he really is amazing and has done so much for our children. Buuuuuut the last time I took him in because I was concerned about the medication and weight loss he prescribed ice cream before bed time. Yeahhh. I guess I shouldn't have been surprised when he prescribed BRIBERY yesterday. WTF? So my kids a turd, won't take the friggin pill (when I know he can because he's ALWAYS taken pills) and not only do I have to give him ICE CREAM but I have to buy the little delinquent a TOY??? That's it...I need to see some diplomas or evidence of schooling because that's a steaming pile of dog crap. So glad I paid a $20 copay for that crap. But I'll try it. Because I'm desperate.

So we tried again last night. Only this time we used tic tacs so he was just having candy instead of the dreaded medicine. Again, we tried everything. We tried so hard to make it FUN! We wrapped it in candy, hid it in applesauce, offered him treats, toys, MONEY....ANYTHING. Sigh. Nothing worked. So one crazy mother, one exhausted son, one sexy father (yeah I said it), four horrid hours and endless tears later....we called it a day. I guess I shouldn't have been surprised when Jordan came out this morning with this fantastic ghetto rigged creation....


The pill launcher 3000. Simply stick it to the back of the mouth and push the lever in and this high powered machine launches that pill straight to the back of the throat, wash it down with some milk, and you're good to go. No if, ands, or buts. The crazy thing is that Mason loved it! He thought it was cool!! WTF? So mommy gives you candy, toys, sunshine, and friggin' rainbows, and I get NOTHING! But daddy chokes you (not really, no need to call cps just yet) and you think it's COOL??? Sigh....whatever works. At least he took the dang pill.

Operation: Iron Stomach

I've reached my breaking point and it's not going to be pretty. I have been SO patient. I have tried SO hard...but I'm on the edge folks. It's been some time now since Dr.X ruined my life and took away all things delicious and delectable. Telling me some hogwash about 'allergies shmallergies' and 'IBS' , having to change my diet and what not. What a bunch of crap. And I have to say that I've been pretty dang good about heeding this quack's orders...but if I don't have some friggin dairy and loaf of bread I'm gonna lose it. It really hit me last night when we took the offspring to the Rite Aid to treat them to some delicious Thrifty's ice cream (it's like heaven in your mouth in case you've never tried it) when all of a sudden my emotions over came me and suddenly I was angry. Frustrated and angry. It has been SO long since I've had a meal I've truly enjoyed. It's been SO long since I could just peruse the pantry and sit down with a smorgasbord of snacks. But I think the most frustrating part is, is that it has been SO long since I've truly been satisfied after eating.

So....I've devised a plan. I'm scheduling a cheat day! Mmmmhmmmm....It's gonna be glorious!

Diet? Pffftt....What diet??

Bust out the dairy, bring on the gluten, screw all the allergies....it's on like donkey kong!!

Hello lover...oh how I miss thee...let me count the ways....

Oh I can see it now!! A giant bagel slathered in cream cheese for breakfast. A grilled cheese and milkshake from In n out for lunch..mmmm...a baguette with spinach dip for a snack...yeah, now I'm really talking dirty....I have to admit I'm slightly drooling and shaking in anticipation....even getting a little gassy just thinking about it...stupid IBS.

I heart you too delicious....one day, you will be mine...

I may even throw in some fro yo and a pizza just to really seal the deal. I figured I'd have to spend all day on the throne anyway. Like they say, you do the crime you pay the time. I don't even care. I'll eat a friggin sandwich on the pot. It's totally worth it. I mean if I'm gonna get sick from eating a piece of cheese, I may as well eat the whole pizza, right?!

I wouldn't even have to leave....I could blog to my heart's content...

But don't worry. I'll take the proper precautions. I'll take my special concoction I've dubbed the Operation: Iron Stomach. I'm using the heavy artillery to fight this battle folks. The pepto, the prescription, the imodium, chased with a shot of Maalox. I think it's safe to say, there will be casualties. But it's a sacrifice I'm willing to make. A girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do! And this girl's gotta eat some frackin dairy before she loses it!!

Ok. I feel better now. I just had to vent...I'm gonna go google pizza now and lick the moniter. Hope you guys are having an awesome weekend! And a big fat hug to all the new readers, thanks for hanging out!

My Ritalin love affair...

I'm not sure who's happier it's Friday, me or Mason's new first grade teacher? That poor poor dear unsuspecting woman. Maybe I should buy her a fruit basket to try and win her over! Because by the time Mason's done with her she's gonna need therapy and a straight jacket. I'm just speaking from experience. Because in case you didn't know, while Mason is a funny, loving, sensitive, and giving little boy..... he is also a bouncing off the wall, never stops talking, doing a little jig in the corner, holy crap do you ever stop moving, little bit of sass with a whole lotta crazy little boy. Needless to say Ritalin is my best friend. My BFF. We were destined for eachother...if we were a celebrity couple our name would be Riticia. But I digress...

So now that school has started, that means his Ritalin dosage goes up a touch. I was really concerned about this because my little man is a friggin stick. He makes Kate Moss look chubby. Ok, not really that skinny, but I wanted to say that. But he's pretty thin and I was concerned that raising his dosage would cause him to lose more weight. (Don't we all wish we had this problem?) So I called up the trusty pediatrician to talk about some options for Mason and you know what he tells me??? (This is the part that life's just truly unfair)


He tells me that I need to give him a big bowl of ice cream with a big cup of milk EVERY night before bedtime.


Sphincter says what?!


Yup. Ice cream and milk. That's why doctor's get paid the big bucks. He went through YEARS of higher education to prescribe that treatment. He proceeded to tell me some bull about how it will make up for the calories he loses during the day...blah blah blah. Don't mind me, I'm just jealous.

But do you realize what that means for him?? That means that on days like today where he proceeded to:

- fart in class and tell everyone about it (that's my boy!!)
- bust out his lunch in the middle of class and start eating while the teacher is in the middle of a lesson!
- tell the crossing guard all about how mommy was nekked
- and throw a colossal fit over who knows what...

that he gets to have a huge bowl of ice cream??? WHAT THE FRACKITY FRAK?! This is like every parent's worst nightmare. What did you say Mason? You punched your brother in the mouth? Here, have some ice cream. You were playing with matches in the neighbors garage? Why don't you tell me all about it over a bowl of ice cream. This higher dose better be worth it!! Or else Riticia will be breaking up! Keep your fingers crossed for today!

peeee essss- I'm a guest blogger over at Made You Blush....go check it out!

peee eessss essss!! Holy crap today's my day!!! I'm featured at Project Mommywood as a finalist for Mommy blogger of the year!! (i'm still trying to figure out who was riding the crazy train that day and nominated me!!) Go check it out!!! My baby blog is up against the big dogs!!

I'd rather give birth...

This whole back-to-school thing has just thrown me off! Showering before noon??? That sucks!! And less time for blogging? Well that's just stupid. However! I do need to tell you about today...

For starters, I HATE going to the dentist. I detest it. LOATHE IT! I would rather give birth to triplets than go to the dentist. Well today I had to go to the carnival of horrors and get a temporary crown put it. I've had this appointment scheduled for weeks. Circled in black marker with unhappy faces on my calender....mocking me. At last the time arrived.

I took a deep breath and stepped into the office when the anxiety hit me like a ton of bricks. As I sat in the chair waiting for the doctor to come in, his assistant came in to do the prep. His gorgeous assistant. Sigghhh. As if coming in wasn't hard enough, now I have to stare at her while she vacuums spit out of my mouth? Perfect. Why couldn't I get the haggard looking chick in the other room?! This was already off to a bad start. I was ready to just cut my losses and make a run for it. Who needs teeth, right? Meth addicts don't, why do I? But the doctor came in...dun dun duuun!

He was ready to get the party started, let me tell you! 4 shots of novacaine later we were having a rousing game of 'how many metal tools can we stick in alicia's mouth at once'. Loads of fun. Truly. I would have been paying more attention to the game if I didn't have the lovely assistant staring at me with her giant doe eyes while spit and residue splattered all over my face and in my hair. I'm pretty sure I had a booger or something because I swear lovely assistant Bambi was looking up my nose the whole time. It didn't help that I had to fart so I was squeezing my butt cheeks together like there was a hundred dollar bill between them, in fear of letting out a silent but violent! Dang IBS.

Once the dentist had done his dirty work he left me in Bambi's hands so she could place the temporary crown. This would have been fine except for the fact that Bambi was completely incompetent. As she set, reset, and removed the crown time after time after time after...you get the idea....well I thought I was going to hog tie the chick with floss and make a break for it. I can just see the headlines...."Crazed drooling woman goes on dental floss rampage"....But on the bright side, in between the pain and the frustration I caught some pieces of the Beach Boys 'cocomo' playing.

FINALLY she set the dang thing and told me to rinse. I threw back the mouthwash and began to swish it around when I noticed it dripping all over the sink and my shirt. Apparently my mouth was still numb and I was drooling...slightly...a LOT slightly. Let me tell you I make one heck of an impression. I looked like the Joker on crack with half my mouth slightly curved down with a line of dribble running down. But at least it was over...for now!

All I know is the next time I go, Bambi better go frolic in a field or something because there's no way she's touching these pearly whites again!

Peeee Esss: I've been a bad blogger, there's a lot going on, but I will be back commenting soon!

Our ER Anniversary...

**WARNING: Not for the squeamish!**

My kids have their timing all wrong. They never seem to do the things they should do when Daddy is home when he IS ACTUALLY HOME! Nooooo, heaven forbid. They save it all for me. Whoopity-frickin-do. All the diaper explosions. All the projectile vomiting. All the trips to the ER. Yup, all for me. And since we are falling upon the one year anniversary of our worst ER trip to date I thought that I would tell you a little tale.

It was mid-August of last summer and I was around 5 months pregnant with Little Miss Presley. It was early in the morning and Jordan had left not too long before for work. Boogie was still asleep in his crib like the angel baby that he was, before the devil's juice started pumping in his veins on his second birthday that is, and a 4 yr old little Mason was running a muck like he normally did in the morning.

Now I hadn't been awake long and as I was waddling my way to the bathroom, probably picking my wedgie at the time, I could hear Mason running laps around the living room, through the kitchen, and around the front room. Round and around and around and WHAM!

My heart dropped into my stomach.

Then came the shriek.

I ran to the front room and saw Mason standing there, head gashed wide open. And I mean WIDE open, dripping in blood. I know!!! ON MY CARPET!! I kid. I joke. Settle down. I was concerned about him first, then the carpet.

As I swept him up in my arms and did a quick assessment of the situation I found that Mason had ran straight into the corner of the tile counter. He had hit with such force that he literally cracked the tile OFF OF THE COUNTER. To this day it is still cracked and serves as a daily reminder to not run in the house! But I digress...

As I held him bleeding in my arms I did the first thing that came to mind. A towel! I needed to apply pressure to the wound, that much I knew. But I was terrified! I didn't know the severity of the wound and my crazed pregnant hormones were on an emotional rampage. Struggling to stay calm and bawl at the same time I ran next door to the neighbors house. I pounded on the door and my neighbor came out and went into emergency mode as soon as he saw the state Mason was in. The next few minutes were a blur. The Mrs called 911. The Mr held Mason and applied pressure to his head. And I...well...I looked down to realize that I wasn't wearing pants. Nope. There I was in their living room, their 6 kids staring wide eyed at the entire situation, sitting in my skivvies and a pajama top. Sighhh. Of course. At the time, that was the least of my worries.

By the time I secured Boogie with the Mrs, found a pair of pants, and borrowed some shoes we were herded into the ambulance on our way to the ER. Now you're probably wondering how Mason was faring through out all of this. Let me just tell you. HE LOVED IT! In 2 minutes flat he had won the hearts of the firefighters (yeah, they came out for it too, this was a big deal in our town that morning) and of the paramedics. As they strapped him to the gurney they adorned him with stickers and a stuffed animal. What did the crazy pregnant chick with mascara running down her puffy face get? Nothing. Except maybe a few judging looks and a couple of tsk-tsks.

As we pulled into the hospital parking lot I see Jordan and I breathed a sigh of relief. Then I remembered he had taken his motorcycle to work that day and after doing the math in my head I'm afraid to even ask how fast he was going. All I know is it was WAY faster than legal, or safe for that matter!

After assuring every firefighter, paramedic, nurse, and doctor that I didn't beat my kid we were settled into a room. Mason basked in the attention and the staff was more than willing to give the sweet little boy with the horrid gash any and every thing he asked for. 3 stitches and a row of staples later we were on our merry way home. On the bright side, he did sit on the couch for the rest of the day, giving me a little and much needed break.

So the moral of the story: always wear pajama bottoms to bed in case your kids decide to bleed profusely from the head before breakfast!

My happy little camper nestled onto the couch for the day...

This was part of Mama Kat's writer's workshop, go on and check her out!

Mmmmmm lettuce...again...

I officially hate my bowels and greatly dislike Dr. X. But on the bright side, I'm not on this journey alone (more on that later). So it's been almost 3 weeks since Dr. X rained on my parade and laid the smack down on my bowels. Since finding out I have IBS, am lactose intolerant, and have allergies to seafood I've totally re-vamped my diet. Oh, did I mention I'm not a meat eater? Thankfully I've stopped having spontaneous hothole things have gotten a lot better in some areas. BUT...and there's always a but...other symptoms are still showing and I've been so bloated that I look 6 months pregnant! No joke.

So another chat with the doctor and guess what he says....I HAVE ALLERGIES TO GLUTEN!! You're kidding, right?! No. Not kidding. Curses bad words and more curses. But because I don't have any friggin choice like the good girl I am I followed Dr. X's orders and today was my first official day 100% gluten free (and dairy and every other delicious food in the world). And you know what? It was faaaabulous! No bloating, no crazy trips to the porcelain throne, no hot mustard gas. Maybe I should write Dr. X a thank you card, with love, from my bowels.

It's been an adjustment switching over to a pretty strict vegan diet, but I'll have to admit I feel so much healthier! Plus my kids are totally eating so much better too! And I don't think I've ever eaten so much rabbit food fruits and veggies in my entire life. Luckily I live close to several health food markets so I've been able to spend a buttload of money find some awesome vegan products so that I can actually eat something other than lettuce.

The bright side to this....due to what I found out at the doctor, a friend of mine recently went in to her doctor because she had been experiencing similar symptoms and never knew that there was a cause behind it until I got diagnosed. Guess what? She's allergic too!! At least we get to starve together find new great foods together, like this organic gluten-free non-dairy rice dream "ice cream" I'm eating right now! Whoop whoop! So thanks for all the kind words and suggestions! If any of you happen to have some vegan recipes you'd like to share I would love to try them out!!

On a random note...did anyone catch America's Got Talent?! AWESOME!! Of course it's awesome, the Hoff is on it...he's such a dreamboat...swoon.

Jillian, will you accept this rose?

No ice cream at this party!

I've been having "issues" for a while now. It's gotten worse after each pregnancy, so finally today I went to the Doctor to find out what the heck what going on. We'll call him Dr. X, in lieu of doctor/patient confidentiality. So I go to Dr. X's office and he asks me what brought me in...here goes!

I proceed to tell him that I think I have food allergies because my stomach CAN NOT handle food anymore. I eat, I get stomach cramps, I get mudbutt. Yeah, I'm getting personal, whatever, we're all friends, right? I tell him how badly I get gas...don't worry, I smell like roses on a spring day, and I tell him how my abdomen swells so badly I look friggin pregnant! Which is NOT the look I'm going for! But the worst part is the pain. I mean, lying on the floor in the fetal position, eyes watering, punched in the gut pain. So after a long visit, an hour of talking about "stool" (sick and wrong), and answering about 800 questions, you wanna know what this quack said?!?!

IBS....what, you didn't hear me? I said IBS....still can't hear me? IBS!! That stands for Irritable Bowel Syndrome...Sweet mother of Benjamin Franklin!!! That Doc has lost his mind! THEN...he proceeds to tell me that by looking at my food diary I'm also lactose intolerant and to stop eating dairy products. Um, ok, so after 25 years of existence my body just decides it doesn't like dairy?! Eh...I don't think he understands. Thursdays are Cookies and Cream frozen yogurt day at the Big Spoon. You want me to give that up?! No milkshakes, no ice cream, no yogurt, no cheese?!?!

I've lost my will to live...just shoot me in the face now and bury me with a hunk of Gouda tucked in my hands. What kind of life is a life with no cheese?! Sigh...

So Dr. X has ordered me to keep a food diary, which I've dubbed The Captain's Log (get it...log. poop. IBS.) I thought it was clever...so that way I can tell what foods my body is rejecting. And a new medication to take on top of that. BOO!

So I guess that Mexican food tonight isn't such a great idea, huh? I'm off to go throw a pity party for myself...and no, there won't be ice cream at my party....

Farewell, my sweet delicous friend...