All of My 2,000, er, 2001 Parts

Ava’s really into naming obscure body parts lately. I don’t know what’s up with it but I’m going with it. We’re sitting around last night and she’s pointing to her calf, elbow, bicep, traps, hamstrings, nostrils…you get the idea…and asking what they are. She knows most of them, it’s just a fun game for her to play. So she looks at me really seriously, points to her forehead and says, “What’s this?” I’m all, “That’s your forehead.” She’s like, “No mom, on you, what is that?” I’m all, “It’s my forehead Ava.” And she’s all, “No mom, what are the stripes on your forehead?”

I’ll be starting a Botox fund for anyone wishing to make donations. Man…that really sucked. Total blow to my little ego. But it reminds me of this one time at band camp….kidding. It does remind me of this one time when I was around 5 or 6 years old and spiral perms were the “in” thing. So my mom decides to go get one and it was a really big deal. I’m all excited and wanting her to hurry up and get home so I can see how it looks. She pulls up and gets out of the car. I go running towards her….stop dead in my tracks and yell, “Mom…you look like a poodle!!!” Apparently this was not a compliment because it totally made her cry. Bad analogy I guess. She ended up going inside and washing her hair to try and wash the perm out. I feel really bad about that. It probably looked awesome and I was just not used to it. I guess Ava saying something about my “stripes” is karma at it’s best!

I Called Starbucks

Okay….so Ava is going through this really weird phase where she gets upset about random things. First it started when Mike and I were in seperate cars. She would start crying because whoever’s car she was in, had to “win” to get home. But she would be panicky the whole time in the car, “Daddy’s gonna win!!! He’s going to win.” And I’d tell her, “Daddy’s behind us…he’s not going to win. And besides I’m basically Mario Andretti in a mom-mobile.”

The next phase was she wanted to be the first kid to school, which she NEVER is because she takes forever getting out the door. Okay…lie…we both take forever getting out the door. And I’ll tell her, “Ava, if you don’t hurry up, we’re going to be late.” So she takes her time and then on the way to the car she starts crying, “Who’s going to beat me to school? I’m not going to be the first one there.” And when I say crying…it’s real tears and everything and she’s really upset.

So this morning I tell her if she hurries up and gets ready, we can make a special trip to Starbucks. She gets really excited and tells me she’s going to have a blueberry muffin! I’m a little shocked because she’s really into “batick vanilla scones” right now. And for those of you not privy to 3-year-old linguistics, batick = petit. So she’s really happy and then all of the sudden she starts crying and says, “There’s not going to be any blueberry muffins left!!!!!!!” I don’t know what the deal is with all this worrying. So I tell her they aren’t going to run out but she won’t listen.

So I did what any mom would do…I told her I would call Kathy (our neighborhood Starbucks barista) and tell her to set one off to the side for us. I made the fake phone call right in front of Ava and she calmed down a little. So we show up to Starbucks and I show Ava that there are indeed blueberry muffins left!!! Except that she notices Kathy wasn’t actually working today. I might have lied to her and told her Kathy was in the back making coffee. But that’s a good lie, right??? Right?????

I LOVE Urgent Care

Is anyone else saying, huh? Who the hell loves urgent care? NOT.ME. I leave work early on Monday to get in before the mad rush that occurs after the doctor’s offices close. I walk in and it looks pretty slow. I’m thinking, “Awesome, I’ll be in and out quickly.” Okay…seriously…I’ll wait while you all finish laughing.

So 2 hours later I’m ready to lay down on the floor and die and they finally call my name. They take me to this room that has an examining table with a pillow. I promptly lay down and the nurse comes in a few minutes later and takes my blood pressure. I’m so sick…literally I’m trying to remember the sequence of events but I felt so bad I think my brain was on a vacation or something. My brain was like “Screw this…you’re so sick even I’m checking out.” So I manage to sit up long enough for them to take my blood pressure and temperature. The nurse says the doctor will be with me shortly.

At this point I’m really hoping the doctor just doesn’t show up because I’m laying down and laying down feels really awesome. Just leave me here…I’ll check myself out when I feel better. The doctor shows up and I don’t even have the energy to sit up. She asks me what’s going on. I tell her, “I’ve been so sick. I couldn’t even get out of bed for two days. I’m pretty sure it’s the flu or something. I can’t breathe…I’m dizzy. Basically I’m sure I’m dying.”

She looks in my ears, looks up my nose, looks at my throat and says, “Well, you’re getting better.” How can she say that? She didn’t see me when I wasn’t sick, so how in the hell can she have a reference point of what better is? Right???? Her basis is that I said when I first got sick I couldn’t get out of bed and now I’m out of bed, so that means I’m improving. At this point, I’m really ready to thump her in the forehead and I’m a pretty docile creature. If I felt like I was getting better, I wouldn’t have waited two hours to be seen!!! I know what better feels like…I DON’T FEEL BETTER!!!!!!

Anyway, my aftercare instructions…ha…aftercare…ha…were to take benedryl and if I still felt sick after 10 days to come back and she would prescribe me some antibiotics. I have four more days to go before I make it to 10 days at which point I’m going back in there and coughing on her. I hope someone holds out on her antibiotics for 10 days!

BandAids

Oh how I wish that I still had Ava’s innocence sometimes. The innocence that truly believes a kiss and a bandaid fixes all things that hurt. She hasn’t experienced heartbreak yet or the loss of a loved one. Tonight we are going to funeral viewing for a dear friend’s father, who died unexpectedly. And viewings for me are really hard. It always reminds me of when my grandmother died 3 years ago. It brings back the emotion, the sense of loss that I feel and the memories of how hard that time was for me. It also brings back good memories but thinking of her always lands me in the same thought: She’s no longer here. I don’t get to call her and brag about how smart and beautiful my little girl is. I don’t get to call her and listen to her just talk, as she did SO WELL! I don’t get to call her and ask what the hell kind of plants I won’t kill. I could go on and on about the things I don’t get to talk to her about or all of the things I loved about her or how much I miss her, but that won’t serve any purpose. Instead I choose to see the silver lining…the relationship I’ve built with my grandfather. You see…my grandma did ALL the talking and I do mean ALL the talking.

Apparently when my grandma died, my grandpa had no idea I actually loved him as much as I did. I think he felt like all I ever thought he was good for was fixing the go-cart I’d rammed into a tree or soaping down the driveway so I could get a good slick-kart track going. And I can say, he was definitely good at those things, but he was like this foundation in the background of my life…always there…always level…always strong. And since grandma did all the talking, he just listened. My whole life he just listened. Now…truth be told on the days before her funeral and the day of her funeral I was so sad. Like walking through Wal-Mart lost and crying sad. And now that I think back, I’m pretty sure I was so sad for him. I couldn’t imagine loving someone as much as those two loved each other and then losing them. So while I miss my grandma more than I can find words for, I’m grateful that I’ve had the opportunity to do for my gramps what he always did for me…just listen.

I guess all this viewing stuff got me thinking about her and him and how hard it was and still can be at times. I don’t envy my friend. If losing my grams was this hard, I can’t imagine what it would be like to lose my pops.

P.S. I love you dad!

LifeCall

Does anyone remember that commercial for LifeCall? The one where the elderly lady pushes that button and says, “Help! I’ve fallen and I can’t get up!” I’ve been that lady for like five days now. I’m sure most of you thought I fell off the face of the earth. And I kind of did. I really forgot I had a blog until this morning.

I woke up Thursday morning, showered and got ready for work. I felt a little “off” but that’s not really unnatural for me. I drive Ava to school and now I’m feeling weak. I get to work and sit down and think, “Holy crap…I’m sick.” Sick is actually an understatement. I felt so bad I sat at my desk for a 1/2 hour trying to decide if I felt okay enough to drive home. In a span of three hours I went from feeling off to feeling like I didn’t know if I had the energy to make it to the elevator. I finally made it home and spent the next two days in bed. Literally…I could barely find the strength to get out of bed to make it the bathroom, which is a mere 10 steps from my bed. Saturday I thought I was on the mend and then Sunday I woke up to a horrible head cold/sinus infection. I can’t tell if it’s all the same sickness or two different sicknesses.

I finally decide to go to the doctor and see if he can give me something. So why is it that you can never get in to see your doctor the day you are sick? It’s crazy. I really think the doctors office should be treated like triage. I’m just saying, if a girl with an ingrown toenail is coming in I think they should move her appointment to the next day for the girl who is pretty sure she’s nearing death. But I suppose that’s what they make urgent care for. So I call my health insurance people, who tell me there are no urgent care centers in Los Angeles. I’m not joking. That’s what they told me. Now I know, for a FACT, there are two within walking distance of my office. And I would like to reiterate I asked the guy, “None that are in my network?” And he said, “No m’am. None in the Los Angeles area.” How stupid can someone be? Apparently common sense isn’t so common. Don’t you think that sounds a little off? I can understand if I live in the middle of nowhere and in my small town of 14 people we don’t have an urgent care center. But LOS ANGELES???? Things that make you go hmmmm.

On a side note, my 3 year old sees me getting out of the shower the other day and says, “Mom, I think your boobs are getting bigger.” Score for me!

I LOVE BACON

I love bacon…no really…I don’t think you understand. I. LOVE. BACON. I absolutely cannot cook bacon in the house because there is no way I can not eat every piece I cook and this usually means I eat so much (some might say a pound, but why bother counting) that I can actually feel my blood pressure go up. I’m not kidding. I love bacon so much that my dad tells me on Sunday, “I have a present for you.” I show up and he gives me two jars of bacon salt. Yep…you read that right, bacon salt. It was fantastic on my salad. And the best part is it’s low sodium. I don’t know how they do it folks but man, it’s awesome. And I thought it was the best invention ever until I got this picture in my email this morning. That should give you an idea of how much I love bacon. When friends email you bacon things perhaps it means you have a problem…I dunno. But this picture really throws me for a loop. I’m not sure which is better, the bacon salt or the bacon pancakes. Perhaps, I will make this and then put some bacon salt on it. Either way, I know what’s for breakfast Saturday morning…

Worst. Night’s. Sleep. EVER.

I really don’t know what was up with Ava last night. I fell asleep at 10, well, at least I think it was 10. There’s no real way of knowing what time you fall asleep I guess. Anyway at 10:30 she starts crying. I do that thing where I pretend like I don’t hear her to see if Mike will get up and go check on her. (Honey, if you’re reading this I really don’t do that but it’s funny and people like to laugh.) He apparently was doing the same thing, so I ended up going in and covering her up and she went back to sleep. Somewhere around midnight our bedroom door swings open and she goes to Mike’s side of the bed and is all, “How am I….who’s going to help me…I need to get in your bed.” So Mike puts her in the bed and I forgot to do the body pillow trick I learned. It’s where I take my body pillow and build a barricade between me and her and she ends up attacking Mike all night. She was ALL OVER ME…ALL NIGHT!!!! I swear at one point I woke up thinking, “How can a little girl who is 3 1/2 feet tall make me feel like I’m drowning and suffocating all at one time?” She had her head on top of my face, one leg wrapped around my waist and both arms around my neck. I swear I felt like an koala bear carrying her young. I pry her off of me and push her towards Mike’s side of the bed and I might have whispered, “Daddy misses you” in her ear to give her that extra push. I put the body pillow barricade up and somehow I wake up this morning and she’s on top of me again!!!! I swear…it’s magnetic forces. It can’t be explained any other way. No 3-year-old is that clingy in her sleep, right?

One of My Faves

This is a recent picture of Ava and her friend Zya and it’s one of my favorites. Just wanted to share! 🙂

It Isn’t All About Ava

Yesterday I was thinking about Ava and the fact that one day she is going to grow up and get her period. With this period she is going to have to go see the gynecologist. All men, I’m warning you, you can stop reading here if you are embarrassed about girly bits but I’d like to take a moment to remind you that we have girly bits and every now and they are going to be topics of conversation. If you don’t like it, too bad.

Anyway, it got me thinking about my first trip to the girly bit doctor. I was about 13 or so and I wake up in the morning in extreme pain. Like I can’t even walk, can barely see straight pain. I start screaming and my mom comes running in my room and I tell her there’s this horrible cramping going on. And for those of you that are wondering, it wasn’t because of a monthly visitor. So she rushes me to the ER. I feel like I should tell you guys here that my dad was in the Air Force (go Dad!) and we went to a military hospital, which is younger-ish doctors from what I remember. So anyway, they check me for appendicitis, blah, blah, blah. And then they determine I need my girly bits checked. I have no idea what this means. So the nurse comes in and my mom is there and she asks me if I want her to stay with me. I say no because here is my chance to prove I’m an adult, right???? So mom leaves.

The nurse hands me the paper gown drape thingy and tells me to undress from the waist down. I’m thinking, “No problem!” I get undressed, hop up on the examining table and wait for the doctor. He (YES HE) walks in and sits on his little stool, tells me to put my feet in the stirrups and scoot my behind down to the edge of the table. I’m following instructions well so far. Except that my knees are locked together like Fort Knox. So he lifts up the paper thingy to start doing his exam and pauses. Then he excuses himself from the room and says he’s going to go get my mom.

In my 13-year-old mind, I’m thinking, “Oh shit! I’m dying! That’s why he left to go get my mom. I’m dying!!!!” So my mom comes back in the room, without the doctor. I’m scared to death and she says to me, “Honey, you have to take off your underwear.” HUH??? I HAVE TO DO WHAT???????? But…but…but he’s a man and those are MY girly bits and I don’t want him to see them!!!!!!!!!!

Don’t ask me what I was thinking leaving my underwear on. I mean, really, did I think he had x-ray vision? Come to think of it, that would be awesome if doctors did. It would make that girly bit visit so much easier to schedule.

Blog Name Change

Mike calls me this morning and says, “Babe, you should change the name of the blog to Life With Ava at Starbucks” Why would he say this, you ask? Well, Ava provides alot of material for this blog during our trips to Starbucks.

I’m not sure if everyone knows who Weeman is, so I’ll just say that he was on Jackass and here’s his picture:

He’s a really nice guy and frequents the same Starbucks I do. One day I heard him in there talking about how he was opening this taco shop: Wee-man’s Chronic Tacos. We decided to try it out on Sunday, took Ava and got her a quesadilla. Anyway, this morning Ava and I are in Starbucks and we’re walking out and he’s coming across the parking lot. I KNOW my child and I’m thinking, please don’t say anything about his size…please wait until we’re in the car. Of course she’s staring him down and she’s got this curious look on her face. He walks past us and she turns around and is watching him walk into Starbucks. This is what happens next:

Ava: Mom, did you see that little boy?
Me: Ava, he’s not a little boy. He’s a little person, but he is a man, not a boy. Remember where we had a quesadilla on Sunday…that was his restaurant.
Ava: Mom, he is a little person but he has a big, fat butt!

You guys, I almost died. I don’t think he heard her…I really don’t but I felt horrible. And I tried to explain to her that we don’t use the word fat, just like we don’t use the word ugly. I was really embarrassed and I wish I could censor her on things but I’ve realized that every time something like this happens, it’s my opportunity to teach her better.