Category Archives: Examples of Crazy

Land Not For Sale

First, I have a back-story, but you can skip to the break if you want the short story.

In 2004 Sparring Partner and I bought 10 acres of prairie. The 20 acres adjoining ours were owned by DrC. Over the next two years we built and moved into the home where we currently live. DrC decided to sell his 20. His Realtor, in a case of mistaken identity, asked Sparring Partner’s dad if he was interested in buying the 20 acres next to him. But those acres were next to him, they were next to us. Follow?

SP’s dad, an entrepreneur to be sure, instead of correcting the Realtor that he had the wrong Surname, decided on a whim to buy the 20 acres himself. My FIL never built next to us as had intended to make arrangements to either let us buy the property outright or leave it to SP in his will. Unfortunately, he never followed up on that intent before falling terminally ill and dying a couple years ago. The property became part of the family Trust by default.

A year ago we agreed to buy the 20 acres from that Trust. It was a very difficult decision financially because if FIL had “sold” it to us before his death, he would have done so at whatever his cost had been, which relatively and frankly speaking, was almost nothing. Instead we ended up having to pay appraised value because it was part of a Trust. I agreed to this with the stipulation that we would immediately turn around and sell 10 acres off to defray the cost.

My husband, being the sentimental kind of guy he is, even though the property wasn’t anything more than an acquisition to my FIL, had our Realtor list the property exorbitantly high. He decided that if I was going to make him sell the land, he wasn’t going to let it go easily.

We are not quite to the break, if you’re still following along. This fall we received our first offer, but nearly half of what it was listed. Sparring Partner was so insulted, he refused to even counter. A couple of weeks later, the same buyer made a legitimate offer, albeit still too low. We countered. They came back a little higher. We countered. They came back a little higher. We did not counter. Yes, it was a joint decision. We determined that the potential buyer made the offer because it was their first and preferred choice. Acreage in the area with distinct advantages like ours, are rare. We were convinced we hadn’t heard the last from them.

BREAK (FINALLY!)

Last week, we received an offer to buy 10 acres we had listed for sale. It was from the same people (with the same Realtor) who had made an offer several months ago. There was some countering on both sides, but on Friday we accepted their offer. Our Realtor emailed the paperwork to us to review, and then early this afternoon she forwarded an attachment of a map confirming the property that was to be sold. As soon as I opened the file, my stomach dropped. Due to an inaccurate description, the buyers and their agent had thought they were purchasing the 10 acres adjacent to ours instead of the lot furthest away.

We immediately called our Realtor and told her of the error. I am so disappointed by what I’m sure will be this as a deal-breaker. I’m angry at how careless and irresponsible both the Realtors were for not catching it and misrepresenting the property. Finally, I am just heart-sick for the buyers themselves. We’ve seen them walking the property more than once with a couple of small children and people who were likely their parents. They are a young family hoping to build a home. They’ve stood and watched the sunset on what they thought would be the location of their deck. They probably made announcements this weekend, and even when they went to work this morning, the week of Christmas, that they finally found where they will raise their children.

I wouldn’t want to be the buyer’s representative right now trying to explain how he screwed up, but I feel even worse for that family.

Along Came a Spider, Who Sat Down Beside Her, and Told Her to Chillax

The little lightbulb in my daughter’s nightlight burnt out the other day, so I took it out of her room to replace it. As I screwed in the new bulb, I noted how quickly it warmed up (the switch was on), you know, as lightbulbs tend to do. The nightlight is actually a paper-mache’-like material over a wire frame in the shape of a duck. I’ve had it since Doodicus was a baby. I returned “Ducky”, as he is fondly referred, to Aitch’s room. She was thrilled I was able to fix it so quickly especially since it was during bedtime and she’s afraid of the dark.

All was well. Until I started thinking about how hot that bulb was. I returned to her room and touched the outside of Ducky to test for heat, but there was none. I left her room again. The more I thought of that bulb, the more freaked out and anxious I became. If my brain could type, this is kind of what it would look like:

what if the bulb gets so hot it starts the duck to smoldering. the smoke detector in her room should pick it up pretty quickly since it’s on that side of the room. would it burst into flames? it’s by the door so how would I get into her room to save her? could I calmly instruct her to get on the floor and crawl out to me? would she pass out from the smoke so she wouldn’t be able to help herself? Dood would try to go in there so I would have to make sure he’d go outside and stay there, but I know he would freak out and try to come back in and that would waste precious time. both her windows are accessible without a ladder. how would I break the windows? the lawn chairs on the deck. I could pick them up and throw them through the window. but that would create a unwated airflow and feed the flames already engulfing her bed! the garden hose. the hose is right outside. I would smash the windows and spray her room. when will I call 9-1-1? would Dood be able to do it for me? would he remember our address or be able to explain to them how to get to us on that rural road? ohmygodthewholehousehasgoneupinflames! galkdjaflksjflwjtopuiwjljldjlfuuuuuccckkkkkkkk!!1;11!!

Eventually the panic attack subsides and I feel a bit foolish for worrying about it at all.

This morning I was thinking about Doodicus and wondering how old he’ll be when he eventually becomes more self-aware and responsible without us constantly reminding him to finish eating, combing his hair, flushing the toilet, and putting on the other sock. Self-control. He has none. What if in six years he still has no self-control; no way to audit his impulsiveness? What if he meets a girl who is looking to manipulate someone like Dood and gets pregnant. Of course, we would help them take care of the baby. But what if she wants to have an abortion, or give the baby up for adoption? Both of these are legitimate options she would have, but both of them make me cringe inside.

I’ll admit it makes me really uncomfortable with the idea of someone else making the decisions about my “blood”, which is so utterly ridiculous for me to say. In fact, I would have to call Bull Shit on myself. Need I remind you that Aitch has at least one half-sibling that is NOT her brother, Dood? The same woman who donated her eggs to us also donated them to another woman from our clinic, and she, too, got pregnant. Aitch doesn’t just have a half-sibling, she was a twin.

I rarely think about it, but sometimes, like today when I think about the fate of my non-existent grandchild, I get my brain wrapped up in it. It’s why I’m writing about it now. Have you ever unwittingly walked into a spiderweb? That’s what it feels like in my head right now. I’m hoping by writing it down, it sweeps the thoughts away, at least for a while. At least until the spider comes back and puts up a new web.

MY HEAD JUST EXPLODED

There are days that I get so angry and worked up, I can barely complete a simple task *.

I am angry that I have to consider a job opportunity 30 miles away. Maybe not a big deal to you city dwellers who are accustomed to a two hour commute one way, but this farm girl with a penchant for instant gratification will find the drive an equivalent of water boarding.

I am angry that the people yelping the most about the healthcare reform are those who HAVE healthcare. A (conservative) friend of mine said that the reform will just make those who don’t have insurance (because they are on Medicaid or don’t have a job) more likely NOT to get a job. It’ll “keep e’m lazy”, she said. Hey, that’s just awesome. Thanks for lumping me in with that group. So reward those who are on Medicaid by letting them KEEP Medicaid and let the few like me who don’t qualify for any healthcare without facing bankruptcy suffer for the many. Perfect answer.

I am angry that the people who proclaim their patriotism the loudest are the ones who love to throw around endearing terms like “King Hussein”. I get the whole “freedom of speech gives me carte blanche to spew my verbal diarrhea”, but don’t preach to me how you think this whole country is going in the shitter because of “King Hussein”. It’s going to the shitter because you’re an ignorant, fear-mongering, vitriol-filled, a-hole that does nothing but BITCH to anyone who will listen instead of educating yourself.

In addition to the previous paragraph, I’m angry about the endless and utterly ridiculous comparison of President Obama to Hitler. See both the Rude Pundit’s and Suz’s posts for a couple of succinct and eloquent summarizations.

I am angry that some ignorant woman believes she’ll carry her twelve fetuses to term and give birth to them NATURALLY and that she’ll get to hug them, and squeeze them and call them George, Jr., George III, George IV, etc., etc.. Actually, I’m sure that the healthcare in Tunisia is quite topnotch, especially since it must be an international hub, squeezed there between Algeria and Libya. Anyone else find it unbelievable that the expectant mother claims to be carrying six boys and six girls? I doubt that she’s even beyond 9 weeks, much less far enough along to make out the sex of each baby. I bet Suelman is pissed to be not just one-upped, but four-upped!

I am angry that while a certain Holy Roller Christian Blogger pleaded for forgiveness for stealing content from another More Famous Blogger under the guise of, “I just read her book and her words were so true!”, no one seems to have noticed that Holy Roller stole the words of another Not As Famous Blogger and since now Holy Roller is moderating her comments, her readers are faithfully continuing to follow her and stroking her poor, sweet, innocent head and telling her how wonderful and God-fearing she is and “of course we forgive you as you certainly meant no harm to More Famous Blogger who is siccing her evil minions upon you”… and I want to fucking choke someone. If she stole from two bloggers, she’s stolen from more and no one seems to care.

I am angry because I care that no one cares and that I shouldn’t care. It’s none of my damned business anyway, right?

I am angry that I’ve procrastinated until the very last evening before school starts to write my son’s name on 64 fucking crayons and sharpen 48 fothermucking pencils (oh, and yes, I have to get his name on them, too) and resist the temptation to just shave XBoy’s head bald tonight while he sleeps since there won’t be any time to get it cut according to the school’s policy before Wednesday morning! Not to mention that the yard hasn’t been mowed in three weeks and I am out of diapers. Well, *I’m* not out of diapers; ZGirl is.

* And dammit! Why the hell can’t I get two goddamned paperclips separated?! It’s not brain surgery!

…and so…

Just WHAT exactly are YOU angry about today?

EGYPT AND BUM-F*CK EGYPT

A few weeks ago, I read this news story about a woman whose daughter became a victim of international parental kidnapping 12 long, harrowing years ago in which time she hasn’t seen her little girl since:

Janet Greer can remember with devastating clarity the day that her 3-year-old daughter, Sarah “Dawsha” Elgohary, was supposed to return from a weekend visit with her father. And when Sarah didn’t show, she remembers the exact moment when she realized the child’s father, Greer’s Egyptian ex-boyfriend, had stolen the child away from her.

“Right then, I knew my life was over. I knew he had her. I fell down on the ground. I fell down, because I knew she was gone,” Greer told “Good Morning America” before beginning to cry uncontrollably, just as she had that day. Greer’s ex-boyfriend, Magdy Elgohary, had, without a word, taken the girl to live in Egypt.

She has kept every one of Sarah’s toys but cannot bear to look at them. Her little girl may not even speak English anymore, she said.

“I didn’t see the baby teeth come out. I didn’t see the first day of school. I didn’t do Mother’s Day. Nothing, nothing at all,” she said. “He took that all from me, and he robbed it from her too. He robbed her of her mother.”

It breaks your heart, doesn’t it? If you are a parent, imagine what you would feel if your child was taken from your side and moved to another country where you probably could never see them again. The country’s political system does nothing but throw out red-tape and excuses. They may even cite “what’s best for the child” as a reason to not reunite the mother with her child.

Guess what?

It happens here in the U.S. as well.

Last week the Nebraska Supreme Court ruled that Maria Luis, an illegal immigrant from Guatemala, should not lose custody of her children after she had her rights as a parent terminated when she was deported back to Guatemala in 2005 . . . WITHOUT her children, an infant girl and a then 6 year old boy:

In Luis’ case, the Supreme Court said it was not enough for the state to argue that the children would have fewer opportunities in Guatemala. The state also had to prove that Luis was an unfit parent — a burden the court said the state had not met.

The record showed that the state made no efforts to reunify Maria and the children, largely because the State Department of Health and Human Services “thought the children would be better off staying in the United States,’’ the court said.

“But so long as the parent is capable of providing for the children’s needs, what country the children will live in is not a controlling factor in determining reunification.”

Again, I imagined myself in that situation. My son is 7 and of course ZGirl is still just a baby. After five years, my son might still know me. My daughter? She not only wouldn’t know me, but she certainly wouldn’t be affectionate towards me. She wouldn’t understand me as she would speak a different language. I would miss seeing XBoy grow into a young man. I wouldn’t have experienced my daughter’s first laugh, first steps, learning to skip…just IMAGINE it, that total sense of loss would be perpetuated every day you were apart as well as every day after you were together. These little strangers you had loved all your life who may never love you back.

How could this have happened? The foster system will give every allowance possible to a biological mother and/or father  who breaks every agreement, every promise, even the law, just so that the system can do “what’s best for the child”, which is reunification with the bio parent(s); and yet it was this same system who on their high-and-mighty moral pedestal believing that any third world country’s mother simply could not be better than one of our own born and bred citizens of this United States of America acting as a foster parent.

The state’s argument? the children’s American foster parents could give them a better life than they would have in Guatemala.  

We are so fucking full of ourselves, aren’t we? Somehow automatic lawn sprinklers, disposable diapers and video games trump a the bio mother who fought the State of Nebraska for five years to get them home to be with her and her two older children. And hell yeah, she beat the big boys and will be (if it hasn’t happened already) reunited with her children.

She is said to be ecstatic about their final return, but will her broken heart ever heal after having her children ripped away from her at so young an age for so long? In Echoing Greer’s statement in regards to what her ex-boyfriend did to her, the state and the system’s overinflated by ego robbed these children of their mother. Care to guess who will pay the ultimate price for a county judge’s original ruling – no doubt based on prejudice and little else? It’s sickening and probably no one on behalf of the state learned a damned thing.

DEAD HORSE

I know you are sick to death of the now infamously dubbed Octomom, but I just have to get this off my chest. She told Dr. Phil (who I also think is a raving dipshit) that she went through this most recent cycle because after having six children, she wanted “just one more”.

Because having the seventh child would have completed her and filled some empty bullshit void in her life that for whatever reason the other six had not.

And then there’s this:

She claims that she had six embryos transferred each time with the octuplets supposedly the result of a FET, right?

Then there are the six other kids at home and from what I understand that means that she went through five other successful cycles (since one cycle produced twins).

She couldn’t have possibly done five fresh cycles, transferring six embryos each time which resulted in pregnancies of singletons and then completed a frozen with the left overs and produced eight babies…could she have?

This doesn’t even account for the possibility, a very, very real one, that she had other transfers (fresh and frozen) that were not successful.

So I’m confused. It doesn’t help that she’s a pathological liar, or at least perceived as one. I’m just trying to figure out how she could have done so many fresh IVFs and then ended up with only six frozen for one last final hurrah – if you will.

I’d give anything to be able to snoop through her medical records from that clinic. I would even love to know what her cause for infertility was, even though I’ve read she couldn’t have children because of ovarian cancer.

Which of course leads me to ask, “What the feck?” I mean, if she had ovarian cancer and she was rendered infertile from the treatment (whether it was nuclear meds or radiation therapy or surgery), she wouldn’t be able to use her own eggs, right, since they would have been destroyed?

Oh, wait, you mean she lied about that, too?

Anyone care to take a shot at the questions, which I will bullet out to make it simple:

What is the cause of her infertility?

How many fresh IVFs did she do?

How many eggs were retrieved with each fresh IVF?

How many frozen embryo transfers did she do?

How many embryos were transferred with each FET?

And just what kind of magical glue or caulk did her doctor use to directly implant these frozen embryos? I’m thinking that if we ever did a FET with Pokey, I might want to see if my clinic can get my hands on it since clearly we would end up with at least two babies.

YOU (T)OR US (GET IT? UTERUS!)

Amid the chaos that is Nadja Suleman and the man formerly known as “her doctor” (once they find out who the hell s/he was) and Mom Logic’s decision to let someone ILLogical  spout off about how women who are pro-choice are hypocrites for mourning a miscarriage, I’m feeling a bit owly.

Everyone has a right to their opinion. I’m all about having my own opinion even if, and especially, if they aren’t necessarily popular opinions.

I was asked what I thought about Suleman by a friend tonight and I told her how I was pretty outraged by the whole thing. She said that it was completely irresponsible for a woman of already six children to have eight more when she clearly could not afford them. I had to defend Suleman on that point. There are hundreds of thousands of women who cannot “afford” to have any more children, or even the one(s) they have. Just look at our country’s overburdened welfare system and you will know it’s true. Let’s not even talk about the number of women  who prostitute themselves to feed their drug habit instead of investing in birth control or clean clothes and food for the babies that result. We can not enforce regulations fairly on moral beliefs.

Who is to say that Suleman now has TOO many babies? Some think two is too many. Take a look at what China was doing in the late 70’s as part of their population control policies. If that makes you wince, even just a little, then you would have to agree that no one has any business telling anyone else – regardless of their obvious level of CRAZY – that they are not allowed to have more than X number of children.

As for Gina’s post at Mom Logic. Besides an obvious ploy for increasing their technorati ranking, Gina’s statements are nothing more than an attempt to incite readers, to get a couple hundred of commenters expressing their outrage (or not). Again, Gina is entitled to her opinion and I won’t even give Mom Logic the benefit of a link. But I will tell you this: if Gina was someone I knew in real life and she said to my face,

If you are going to defend the right to abort babies, you don’t have the right to be upset when yours dies.

I’d punch that cunt right in the fucking face.

OCTOPUSSY

I would like to officially thank Nadya Suleman and her “doctor” for giving reproductive endocrinology, and all associated artificial reproductive therapies, a bad name. Or should I say, an even worse name.

Rest assured that her actions and decisions, and the actions and decisions made by her “doctor”, will significantly impact ART in the immediate future for all state-side REs, and unfortunately, their patients who are probably all just a tad less psychotic. Yes, I do think Nadya is psychologically deficient.

Nadya?

You SUCK.

Big time.

CRAZY SUMSOFBITCHES

Here’s what is crazy to me:

The men in the credit consolidating commercials all seem to be sporting hair plugs. What is wrong with a receding hairline anyway? I think balding men are kind of handsome. I also think if you were going to go with an “actor portrayal” you would use regular looking Joes and Janes, not some idiot who spent way to much money to look as if someone used a sharpie to draw in his hair. 

Couples who either do the family bed or co-sleeping thing. To each their own and all that jazz, but just from the few times Mr. DD has put ZGirl down where he was sleeping to calm her down, it’s about as relaxing to me as if someone had stuffed a raccoon and weasel into a pillow case next to me – what with all that snuffling, snorting and flailing. And that’s while she’s sleeping.

Packaging on baby bottle nipples. “Most like Mother’s breast.” Interesting, since I’m sure my nipples are not a strange shade of green, or clear, or hard, or cold. You can bring evidence of the contrary upon my death.

My father-in-law’s political opinions. I’m not sure even where to start but for him to have to even contemplate that our next president may be (shhhhhhh) black, or the VP may be a (gasp!) woman must make his brain spin. Last night he told us that he was talking with a friend of ours who this year decided the private school tuition was too high so he put his girls into the public school. This father then complained that it seemed as if the kids spent 2/3 of their class time reading, to which my FIL responded, “It’s because of that bullshit about the ‘no children left behind’ (an act signed by Bush in 2001).” What an ignorant ass.

Related to above, schools that are anal about the supplies kids are to bring with them. You want me to put my son’s name on each individual crayon and pencils, and not his initials since if the item is found by another student they won’t know who the initials belong to?…Right. I know for a fact that the crayons my son brought home at the end of his kindergarten year were not all his. And the pencils? Cripes, with so many parents giving out pencils instead of candy for Valentine’s or Birthday’s, I have enough pencils to side my house with.

Lastly, I admit that I am also one of the crazy sumsofbitches. I finally downloaded the BookSmart program by Blurb and I have found a new diversion. I’m making ZGirl’s baby book. I will make one for XBoy. I think I’ll even make a book for each year he’s in school and download pictures of his crafts and homework to it instead of saving paper that will eventually end up as nesting material for mice (I speak from personal experience). It’s better than scrapbooking! Wait, I don’t scrapbook because that’s C.R.A.Z.Y., too (no offense).

MOTIVATIONALLY SPEAKING

I honestly did consider calling the clinic and telling them about bleeding/spotting. Isn’t it “funny” how so many of those who have experienced multiple miscarriages always seem to have early pregnancy bleeding of some kind of another?

I’ve had absolutely none. Zip. Nada.

Now that’s not saying that occasionally I don’t feel something and make a dash to the bathroom in blinding fear. I would also have to confess that during those all-too-frequent breaks, I flash myself in the mirror just to see if there are any new veins; any darkening; any “swelling”, to which there is nothing new. One of these days I will forget to lock the door.

I also considered calling my old OB on a favor and ask for a Mercy Scan. Unfortunately, I cannot get over the jinx I think surrounds that particular machine as it was the one that found that Vivienne had died and that we supposedly had an empty gestational sac with Wolf.

Now let’s say that I did get a Mercy Scan with the OB and found that Murdock did indeed crash and burn since Thursday. What then? I would have to call the clinic and tell them that out of desperation I went behind their back for a scan? I would feel foolish. Illogically so, but still.

Here’s what I must do instead.

I have to practice believing that this could work out. My counselor (who again has not called me back since the last time I had to cancel due to a conflict – and no, I won’t be going back) said that I don’t need to figure out what to do if the donor cycle doesn’t work, but how do deal with what happens if it does.

In less than four days after my scan I was out of my mind with worry. If I was to get a scan tomorrow, would that really tie me over until next Thursday? By the weekend, I would be in the same mental state. I would have 24 hour reassurance – max. That is my fate right now as someone who is pregnant (by technical terms) but has had nearly impossible success in staying pregnant.

At least this way I am practicing that positive reinforcement. If I get lucky next week and actually get to see something besides a yolk sac then it will be a couple more weeks where I will repeat this whole process again, but at some point I’m either going to have to trust in this pregnancy (or not once proving otherwise).

One last rather morbid caveat: if by the next ultrasound it is confirmed that Murdock became the last victim of a Body Gone Bad, then I’ll be able to say I made it to 8 weeks.

This will either work or it won’t. There’s no middle ground, so I’m trying really, REALLY hard to convince myself it will but I assure you, Tony Robbins isn’t going to be knocking on my door to award me any prize for Positive Thinking anytime soon.