Archive for the ‘Vents and Rants’ Category

Its after midnight, and I have to get up in just over 5 hours to get ready to go to the doctor. So why am I still awake? For the same reason I’m waiting to go to the doctor. I’ve had a nasty cough for days now, that’s steadily gotten worse, and its to the point that I’m not sleeping, having contractions and abdominal spasms after a particularly bad coughing fit (this happens a few times a day) and I’m miserable and losing my voice. Other than that, I’m not sick AT ALL. Its just a weird cough. I’m hoping he can give me something I can take for it, and that I might get a chance at another ultrasound to check on the baby. I wasn’t able to bring myself to ask for a picture on the 29th and the 30th ultrasounds (of May) because I was so upset about the bad news about the baby’s heart.

I was going to rant a bit about being called a liar lately, and wrote the longest post I’ve ever written on this blog, but I’ve decided to let it go for now and just say a few things. I know the truth. My doctors all know the truth. My insurance company knows the truth (and probably wishes they’d never heard of me). The government knows the truth since after reviewing my medical records from different hospitals and doctors and clinics, even different states, they approved me for disability in less than a month’s time.

I’ve been a bit of a hypochondriac the last two years, and that’s my own fears and low self-esteem coming out there. After not going to the doctor for years except to have a baby, I finally go, and almost die. Now, every little twinge makes me wonder “but what if it might be…?” and I go into panic mode. Definitely my own fault for being so annoying in that aspect. Not pretty, not nice to be around, but it definitely does NOT make me a liar.

The person with the little nasty emails (you know who you are)…kiss my foot and get a life. Find something better to do than to harass someone who has enough on their plate. You don’t know me at all (probably don’t even know my real name), and making bets on when my lies will end and how, and finding humor in my current situation, makes YOU the sad individual(s), not me. There are times I wish I were lying, simply because my life would be easier. Oh well.

And, I really hope when all is said and done, that you realize you were wrong, and have the guts to at least apologize to me in private. If not, well it just proves my point about how sad you are. If, God willing, this baby is born alive and has a chance at a future with whatever Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia can do for us, don’t expect pictures. I won’t put my child’s pain out there just to have you accuse me of trying to elicit more sympathy or “faking some proof.” So keep your emails to yourself, and snide comments posted elsewhere. No matter how bad you’ve made me feel the past 3 weeks, know that I would NEVER wish this on you or your child.

For those of you who are still praying for us, thank you from the bottoms of our hearts.


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gets harder and harder to do lately. My depression has been kicking my butt. I’ve actually gotten out a lot the past few days, running errands, getting things done, that sort of thing…but I just can’t shake this bad feeling. I want to go find a deep dark hole and crawl inside. Hopefully this will pass pretty soon.

Many of you know (cause most of you who read this are members) but I’m a member of a parenting board, and have been since February 2002, when I found out I was expecting my little Bekah. This board has meant a lot to me over the years, and I’ve made some dear, dear friends there. I always knew if I needed someone to lean on, someone to listen, someone to give me advice, I could go to this board.

Well, lately not so much. The little things are annoying me. I was turned on rather viciously one too many times…”misunderstood” one too many times…and got one too many nasty private messages. While most of the ladies there I will care about and continue to give hugs and encouragement to, the rest, well, they have their lives, and I have mine. I guess what hurts the most is that ladies I thought were my friends are the ones who turned on me so terribly. Someone forwarded me some chat logs and emails and I really wish they hadn’t. I wouldn’t have read them if I’d had any warning at all. This all happened a couple months ago, and its gotten harder and harder to go to the board and be positive and offer hugs and prayers and support when only the same very few people would respond to my requests for hugs and prayers, and others shunned me completely. I agonized over the board every time there was a drama…I tried to keep the peace but if I got upset and offended and lashed out, I was castigated and flamed in a big way. I’m not perfect…never claimed I was…

Regardless…its all just gotten to be too much.  I’ve been being pushed out of it ever since I was in the hospital so long and people worried that the old board would be messed up since I was the owner, and a move was made last year behind our backs. Yeah, sure I’m an admin still, but everyone knows I don’t help on the board anymore.  I feel so freaking useless.

I guess what really bugs me is the talk…the crap. Sure, I know I can be a real wench, especially if I’m swinging…but in general I really am a nice person and would bend over backwards to help someone, friend or stranger. I decided to back off the board because many people think I’m backwards, racist, just plain ignorant. That’s fine…but I have a big enough problem with an inferiority complex as it is…I don’t need it from people I thought were, if not actual friends, at least had some care for me after all this time, since I had a lot of care and concern for them. Reality sucks, wouldn’t you agree?

So…the board situation is a lot of what’s been wrong with me the past couple months. My blogging has reflected it as well…I don’t have the interesting and amusing posts I used to have. I don’t really have much of anything when it comes down to it. Before I do something stupid and lash out while having a bad mood swing and completely alienate the rest of the board members, I figured it was time to step back and just try to figure out what I need to do for myself now.

On another note…Social Security called me Tuesday, and it looks like things are moving along quickly now. They submitted my claims for my physical allegations, and needed more information about my mental ones. I’m not so sure I’m going anywhere with the mental issues…I’m not in therapy, and told them I wasn’t because our insurance doesn’t pay, and I can’t afford $42-45 a visit. They said they may want to send me to one of their doctors…that’d be great but I let them know I have to have a driver wherever I go. I’m hopeful my lack of medical care for the bipolar won’t hurt my case.

So anyway, that’s kind of where I’ve been the past few weeks. Some of my board friends read this blog and have been worried about my absence…so I included the explanation…even though I know I probably shouldn’t have vented about a couple of the really little things that have irked me, I needed to, and hopefully my words won’t get taken out of context and deliberately misunderstood. But then…I make it so very easy don’t I? I’m not the best in the world at expressing myself, and that usually causes my downfall in some way.

Happy Thursday everyone.

***Edited at 4:00 pm to say that my problem is NOT with my board exactly. My problem is that I’ve been home for months, unable to work, unable to drive, in near-constant pain, and my depression has gotten the better of me lately. The nasty stuff that was said to me, publicly and privately a couple months ago, has added to my depression. There’s been NOTHING negative said to me lately…I’m just really down, really in need of something, and I don’t want to alienate anyone more than I already have. I needed to vent, so I did. Much of what I said has been bothering me for months/years and I just finally had all I could handle so to speak. The folks on the board are genuine and great people…I’m just having a really hard time right now.***

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Someone posted this story on my board earlier. I couldn’t decide what to write about, and as a veteran, and a kid who had more fun playing with my cousins’ and neighbors’ G.I. Joe dolls than my own Barbie dolls, this story strikes a nerve.

VIN SUPRYNOWICZ: G.I. Joe was just a toy, wasn’t he?

Hollywood now proposes that in a new live-action movie based on the G.I. Joe toy line, Joe’s — well, “G.I.” — identity needs to be replaced by membership in an “international force based in Brussels.” The IGN Entertainment news site reports Paramount is considering replacing our “real American hero” with “Action Man,” member of an “international operations team.”

Paramount will simply turn Joe’s name into an acronym.

The show biz newspaper Variety reports: “G.I. Joe is now a Brussels-based outfit that stands for Global Integrated Joint Operating Entity, an international co-ed force of operatives who use hi-tech equipment to battle Cobra, an evil organization headed by a double-crossing Scottish arms dealer.”

Well, thank goodness the villain — no need to offend anyone by making our villains Arabs, Muslims, or foreign dictators of any stripe these days, though apparently Presbyterians who talk like Scottie on “Star Trek” are still OK — is a double-crossing arms dealer. Otherwise one might be tempted to conclude the geniuses at Paramount believe arms dealing itself is evil.

(Just for the record, what did the quintessential American hero, Humphrey Bogart’s Rick Blaine in “Casablanca,” do before he opened his eponymous cafe? Yep: gun-runner.)

According to reports in Variety and the aforementioned IGN, the producers explain international marketing would simply prove too difficult for a summer, 2009 film about a heroic U.S. soldier. Thus the need to “eliminate Joe’s connection to the U.S. military.”

Well, who cares. G.I. Joe is just a toy, right? He was never real. Right?

On Nov. 15, 2003, an 85-year-old retired Marine Corps colonel died of congestive heart failure at his home in La Quinta, Calif., southeast of Palm Springs. He was a combat veteran of World War II. His name was Mitchell Paige.

It’s hard today to envision — or, for the dwindling few, to remember — what the world looked like on Oct. 25, 1942 — 65 years ago.

The U.S. Navy was not the most powerful fighting force in the Pacific. Not by a long shot. So the Navy basically dumped a few thousand lonely American Marines on the beach at Guadalcanal and high-tailed it out of there.

(You old swabbies can hold the letters. I’ve written elsewhere about the way Bull Halsey rolled the dice on the night of Nov. 13, 1942, violating the stern War College edict against committing capital ships in restricted waters and instead dispatching into the Slot his last two remaining fast battleships, the South Dakota and the Washington, escorted by the only four destroyers with enough fuel in their bunkers to get them there and back. By 11 p.m., with the fire control systems on the South Dakota malfunctioning, with the crews of those American destroyers cheering her on as they treaded water in an inky sea full of flaming wreckage, “At that moment Washington was the entire U.S. Pacific Fleet,” writes naval historian David Lippman. “If this one ship did not stop 14 Japanese ships right then and there, America might lose the war. …” At midnight precisely, facing those impossible odds, the battleship Washington opened up with her 16-inch guns. If you’re reading this in English, you should be able to figure out how she did.)

But the Washington’s one-sided battle with the Kirishima was still weeks in the future. On Oct. 25, Mitchell Paige was back on the God-forsaken malarial jungle island of Guadalcanal.

On Guadalcanal, the Marines struggled to complete an airfield that could threaten the Japanese route to Australia. Admiral Yamamoto knew how dangerous that was. Before long, relentless Japanese counterattacks had driven the supporting U.S. Navy from inshore waters. The Marines were on their own.

As Platoon Sgt. Mitchell Paige and his 33 riflemen set about carefully emplacing their four water-cooled .30-caliber Brownings on that hillside, 65 years ago this week — manning their section of the thin khaki line that was expected to defend Henderson Field against the assault of the night of Oct. 25, 1942 — it’s unlikely anyone thought they were about to provide the definitive answer to that most desperate of questions: How many able-bodied U.S. Marines does it take to hold a hill against 2,000 armed and motivated attackers?

But by the time the night was over, “The 29th (Japanese) Infantry Regiment has lost 553 killed or missing and 479 wounded among its 2,554 men,” historian Lippman reports. “The 16th (Japanese) Regiment’s losses are uncounted, but the 164th’s burial parties handled 975 Japanese bodies. … The American estimate of 2,200 Japanese dead is probably too low.”

You’ve already figured out where the Japanese focused their attack, haven’t you? Among the 90 American dead and seriously wounded that night were all the men in Mitchell Paige’s platoon. Every one. As the night of endless attacks wore on, Paige moved up and down his line, pulling his dead and wounded comrades back into their foxholes and firing a few bursts from each of the four Brownings in turn, convincing the Japanese forces down the hill that the positions were still manned.

The citation for Paige’s Medal of Honor picks up the tale: “When the enemy broke through the line directly in front of his position, P/Sgt. Paige, commanding a machine gun section with fearless determination, continued to direct the fire of his gunners until all his men were either killed or wounded. Alone, against the deadly hail of Japanese shells, he fought with his gun and when it was destroyed, took over another, moving from gun to gun, never ceasing his withering fire.”

In the end, Sgt. Paige picked up the last of the 40-pound, belt-fed Brownings and did something for which the weapon was never designed. Sgt. Paige walked down the hill toward the place where he could hear the last Japanese survivors rallying to move around his flank, the belt-fed gun cradled under his arm, firing as he went.

Coming up at dawn, battalion executive officer Major Odell M. Conoley was the first to discover how many able-bodied United States Marines it takes to hold a hill against two regiments of motivated, combat-hardened infantrymen who have never known defeat.

On a hill where the bodies were piled like cordwood, Mitchell Paige alone sat upright behind his 30-caliber Browning, waiting to see what the dawn would bring.

The hill had held, because on the hill remained the minimum number of able-bodied United States Marines necessary to hold the position.

And that’s where the unstoppable wave of Japanese conquest finally crested, broke, and began to recede. On an unnamed jungle ridge on an insignificant island no one ever heard of, called Guadalcanal.

When the Hasbro Toy Co. called some years back, asking permission to put the retired colonel’s face on some kid’s doll, Mitchell Paige thought they must be joking.

But they weren’t. That’s his mug, on the little Marine they call “G.I. Joe.” At least, it has been up till now.

Mitchell Paige’s only condition? That G.I. Joe must always remain a United States Marine.

But don’t worry. Far more important for our new movies not to offend anyone in Cairo or Karachi or Paris or Palembang.

After all, it’s only a toy. It doesn’t mean anything.

Vin Suprynowicz is assistant editorial page editor of the Review-Journal and author of the books “Send in the Waco Killers” and “The Black Arrow.” http://www.abebooks.com/servlet/SearchResults?kn=arrow&vci=51238921

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Yesterday was a pretty rough day at work.  I got there and just had a feeling of doom and gloom as I walked through the door.  Bekah is sick and I thought about using that as an excuse to just leave several times, but I didn’t, I stayed.  I wish I hadn’t…although the day got better as it wore on.

I checked my schedule for the week after I get back from Vegas when I got there, and I have ONE 4.5 hour shift scheduled for the entire week.  I told my manager, and he acted completely unconcerned.  “We still have time.”  Yes, I know we still have time, but I know how he works.  He doesn’t want to fix it until the week before, and the week before I’ll be in Vegas and can’t remind him.  It isn’t right at all.

Once again we were really short-handed…I went and worked on a register to help get lines down for the first two hours I was there.  At that point, it was time for my break.  The lines suddenly backed up again, one CSM was on lunch, another was Lord knows where (she disappears a lot…doing stuff but its stuff that could probably wait), and one went to another register.  That left me.  I finally found my manager again and threw my palm pilot at him and my keys (he needed them for the podium) and went to another register for another two hours.  I’d told him if he’d run the podium I’d get on register and he said no, and tried to find cashiers for me…then a few minutes later came back and took the podium LOL.  So when it was time for my lunch, I went on my break (only 2 hours late…4 hours after arriving at work).

Oddly enough, my mood had improved considerably because working with the customers made me feel better.  I just wish I could do it every day…I’d go back to cashiering…but it hurts too much.  I could barely walk when I left work last night.

Two hours after my break, I HAD to go to lunch because at 6 hours, we get a meal exception and get in trouble for not going to lunch within 6 hours.  Labor laws.  I was the only CSM on duty.  One was at lunch (she’d left for lunch around 6:05 and didn’t come back until 7:40), the other was doing a 90-day-evaluation (for 45 minutes!!!) and I knew I was about to get into trouble.  My manager walked by and I grabbed him and asked him to run the podium again so I could go to lunch.  I told him I didn’t want to get anyone into trouble but I was about to get a meal exception…at that point, the first CSM (at lunch) came back.  He’d asked where everyone was…I told him at lunch and doing an evaluation.  As I was walking past Customer Service I saw him talking to the CSM doing the eval and it looked like he was aggravated, and I heard “Why did you leave Kandy alone on the floor that long?” or something to that effect.  Wonderful.  Then when I walked back by I saw the two CSM’s talking heatedly…they both looked at me and shut up.  Even better.  I threw my hands up and went to lunch.

I came back from lunch and they acted fine, but I was still upset.  Several times in the whole shift I almost walked away from the store.  I was battling the thing I always battle with bipolar…I work a few months and then get aggravated and walk away or cause a scene.  I managed to bite my tongue (quite literally) but it wasn’t easy at all.  At one point I was in Money Center crying about it.  I was counting down a drawer for an audit…no customers or anything, and my ex called.  I answered it and gave him Justin’s cell # so he could call the kids and hung up.  Maybe 45 seconds on the phone at the most.  One CSM walked up and looked at me as she handed me an audit sheet while I was talking to him, giving him the number.  I had the phone tucked into my shoulder and was bent down counting the drawer…NO ONE could see me unless they were standing in the Money Center.  She walked away and less than a minute later I was paged to call an extension, where yet another CSM fussed at me about being on my phone in Money Center.  I didn’t deny it, but told her I knew it wasn’t a cashier that told, I knew who it was.  She said “It WAS a cashier!”  I said “Maybe at one time” and hung up on her.  I’m so sick of everyone trying to get everyone else in trouble.  The two gals in Money Center completely backed me up…they knew there was no way a cashier, even one walking by, could have seen me on the phone.  I see other CSM’s on their phones all the time…I got THREE calls from my dad while I was working yesterday and I didn’t answer them…I only answered the ex because I knew he wanted to talk to his kids.

So I’m at the point where I usually quit a job or walk away in such a way that I’m not eligible for rehire.  It frustrates me because for the most part I still enjoy working.  It frustrates me because since almost dying last year, I have turned my life around and made a LOT of changes, and have worked harder at this job than at any other I’ve ever had.  I’m doing my best to do the right thing, and keep getting in trouble for trumped up stupid stuff or stuff that I haven’t said or done, but have been accused of by … jealous folks?  Who knows.  Maybe I’m just an easy target because I’m the new one.  I don’t know…I know that some things I’ve deserved…I did talk a bit too much at times and was careless with phrases that were misconstrued and came back to bite me in the butt.  I’ve since stopped most of my talking, and now I’m “stuck up…power tripping…not friendly.”  I can’t win LOL.

Anyway…I have bills I have to pay…but I don’t think I’ll qualify for disability based on the bipolar because mine isn’t all that bad.  I have bad swings, but not that often anymore.  Any kind of stress though does seem to set me off somewhat.

I hate this.

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are a funny thing.  Obviously they vary from family to family…and lots of different things happen.  My family however…well I suppose we’re “normal” but I don’t think we really are.  I grew up in a really dysfunctional family…and as I suppose is typical in a dysfunctional family, I thought we were totally normal.   When I got older and started sleeping over at friends’ houses, I realized that we weren’t normal…not as much as we could have been at any rate.

I don’t really want to get into all that at this time, but I do have something bothering me.   My mother is perfect.  Seriously.  Well, she thinks she is anyway.  Not a day goes by that she doesn’t criticize my parenting, my husband, his parenting, my job, my in-laws, and most especially, my father.  My dad isn’t perfect, Lord knows he wouldn’t be a guest of the federal government if he was…but he’s my dad.  I know his faults, and I really don’t need to know his sexual exploits 30 years ago.

So anyway…yesterday was Grandparents’ Day at Bekah’s daycare.   Justin told his mom she could take Bekah home, because she had Allee (Bekah’s cousin) and needed Bekah to help entertain her.  Mom got into an argument with her, AT the daycare, and said that she didn’t get to see her as much as Justin’s family, and SHE was going to take her.  My mother-in-law specifically told her that Justin told her to pick Bekah up…and finally just backed off because it was getting heated.  Next thing I know, I turn around at work and see Mom and Bekah.  I knew then it was gonna hit the fan.  Mom took Bekah back of course…she only had her about 2 1/2 hours, but the damage had been done.  I got it from both sides on the way home…Mom talking about how huffy MIL (mother-in-law) was when she dropped Bekah off, and Justin furious over the whole situation.

I don’t think I ever mentioned this…when I was in the hospital last year, fighting for my life, I also had to mediate my mom and MIL.  Mom stayed with me in the hospital the entire month and a half I was there…Justin slept in the room on weekends so Mom could go home and check on Mamaw and such, but for the most part she was there every day, and we never got along better.  Justin and his mother stayed a few blocks away with family friends.  During the day for the first two weeks, MIL sat in my room, and it became a competition between her and Mom (while Justin was at work) as to whose children were the brightest growing up, who did this, who did that, who could get to the doctor first and find out all the juicy details about my impending death, etc etc etc.  To give Mom credit, she never accepted that I was going to die.  MIL had Justin making funeral arrangements practically.  There was a huge difference in their approach.  I was a nervous wreck before my third surgery, so somewhere around week 2 or 2 1/2.  I finally lost it one day and just started crying.  I only got to see my children 3 times (only twice for Bekah) the entire 6 1/2 weeks I was in the hospital.  I could hear everyone saying I was going to die, that they were going to send me home on hospice care “until the end,” etc etc, and I just couldn’t handle all the stress anymore.  Once I had a good crying jag, I was ok, but it was a lot for me to deal with…the constant daily torture (I’ll get into all that one of these days when I can bear to look back on it all)…the fear that I wouldn’t see my children grow up…the tension between the two mothers.  It really was a battle of wills.

I really don’t know how to handle this.  Mom has lost a lot over the past few years.  She buried my first stepdad in 2001…lung cancer.  She remarried, and buried him in December…sudden, massive heart attack.  Three months later Mamaw died, and Mom had a wreck trying to get to the nursing home.  My brother and sister-in-law mooch off her and drain her financially.  She seriously needs therapy but only sees that everyone else does.

On the other hand, Justin’s mom is a good Christian lady…a little judgmental, but who isn’t?  I’ve never forgiven her or Justin’s sister for something that happened during my pregnancy, and that’s my hangup, and I know it.  To my knowledge they’re unaware of it.  Of course I’m not good enough for her baby, but I doubt anyone will be good enough for MY children either LOL 😉  I don’t conform to all of her wishes though…and I let it be known when I disagree with something, although never in a rude or overbearing way.  I don’t kiss up though, and I suppose that doesn’t help matters.  We live on my in-laws’ land, and that’s put a lot of pressure on me.

Oh I can’t even get into all the problems…I just don’t know how to deal with competing grandmothers.  My mother-in-law feels she has no say-so over things Jared and Katie do at school…that my Mom will always overrule her…and now she feels like its the same with Bekah too (Jared and Katie are step-grandkids to my mother-in-law, but she feels like they’re her own, because they were practically babies when Justin and I got married).  Mom feels like since we live on their land, my in-laws get to see the kids all the time.  Yes, the opportunity is there, but its not the case.

When I’m down, I don’t want anyone around.  I’m a loner (who loves people…go figure…what an oxymoron) and I don’t like surprise visits from anyone.  My home is my sanctuary…and I tend to hide in it.  My in-laws have figured this out about me (or Justin’s told them) and they don’t come by unless they’re invited.  That’s awkward too, but hey, I never claimed to be sane.

I need to make boundaries for my mother…the problem is that when I do, she overreacts and takes it badly.  She had a heart attack and mild stroke after losing Mamaw…and she’s having serious heart trouble now.  That hangs over my head.  If I upset her and God forbid, she DIES, even though in my MIND I’ll know I was right, in my heart I’ll never forgive myself.  I can’t live tied to her whims, and I realize that…but I feel like I can’t be really pissy with her until she’s healthier.  The problem is that if I hang on, hoping for her to get healthier, it may never happen.  I don’t think she does any of this intentionally.  My mom doesn’t lie…not that she realizes it anyway.  However I’ve witnessed on more than one occasion that she sees things in her own way…as we all do…but with her its really really distorted.  We’ll both see and hear the same thing, and have two completely different interpretations.  Hers is usually very dramatic.  I tend to inherit her tendency to drama…but she says its all from my dad’s side since he had all the crazies in his family (he’s got multiple personalities and clinical depression…his mother was bipolar like me).

My MIL backs off to keep the peace in the family…but its making a gulf between Justin and me…and this isn’t a good thing in a marriage that is already strained in so many ways.  It takes a good man to put up with a wildly swinging bipolar gal who regularly goes off her meds (I haven’t been back on them since the whole cancer and all last year…so I’m going on … hmmm it’ll be two years without meds in February).  I don’t want my MIL to feel like a second-class citizen…but neither do I want a confrontation with my mom.  I’m such a coward.

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is not fun today.  My oldest daughter is 11…and looks 16.  EASILY.  She’s really grown the past few months…her short, fat little legs are almost as long as mine (and I have a 33-inch inseam), and she’s got curves in places I don’t even want to think about.  Yeah, she still has a little belly, but my lord her waist is small, and looking at her from the side or back makes me want to shoot any male who even THINKS about looking at her.Therein lies my dilemma.  I can’t find “decent” clothes for her.  Its hard even to find decent clothes for my 4-year-old!!!  Everything shows the crack of the butt even when they DON’T bend over, and a shirt that is my daughter’s size is so tight/short on her that I won’t allow her to wear it.  I’m having to resort to trying to find “cute” shirts in the women’s section for her just so I can get her a size small that won’t be so tight on her that I feel its obscene.  I see so many cute things in the juniors’ section, but they’re not decent for an older teenager (in my opinion), so putting them on my 11-year-old is out of the question.  Bathing suits are almost impossible.

The kicker is going into the children’s section for underwear and finding thongs in a size 4 or 5…GIRLS.  Yeah, for our little girls!!  What possible non-sexual reason is there for putting a thong on our toddlers and young girls?   I can’t think of any to be honest.  Oh I’ve heard someone hear and there say “but my baby’s underwear crawls up her butt…a thong would be a solution” and I don’t buy it.  I just can’t see how panties that crawl up your butt could be any less comfortable than a piece of material that is DESIGNED to do JUST THAT!  *sigh*

I turned into my mother overnight…when did that happen?

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Yeah, you read that right.  After a crazy Labor Day weekend, I need to think of a way to recover.  Let me explain.

 I worked 2:00-11:00 p.m. Thursday night.  Not too bad actually…it was rough because the computer messed up the schedules a couple weeks ago, and while our manager KNEW about it, he did nothing about it.  This is not unusual.   Why is it a problem?  Well the computer scheduled people who haven’t worked for us for weeks, if not months.  In addition, people were scheduled who had been terminated recently, and the new hires we had worked 1-3 shifts and never came back.  Who would under this kind of stress?  OK well *I* did but we already know I was desperate for a job and a reason to “live” again after almost dying last year.  But anyway, all in all, it wasn’t a *terrible* night…just a little rough.

 Friday, I worked 2:00-11:00 p.m. again.  Kinda sucked working that shift two nights in a row, but I’ve complained about my schedule enough.  Friday was the worst night I thought I’d had since working at Wal-Mart.  We were very short-handed, and management was unconcerned, other than screaming at us to find cart-pushers and cashiers.  We did the best with what we had, and we CSM’s left work drooping.  When I left at 11:00, we had overnight workers hopping on registers, and the lines were past the clothing.  It was crazy.

Saturday, I redefined my “worst night ever” at Wal-Mart.  I got there (3:00-11:00 p.m. this time), and was immediately put on a register, along with every other CSM on duty.  Managers were running our podium, and since my former front-end manager was doing the main running, things went REALLY smoothly (she knows what she’s doing).  After a couple hours, we had the lines down enough that the CSM’s were able to get off the registers…but the night got worse because the lines came back up and NEVER went back down.  I had no cart pushers (again) and hardly any cashiers.  Management was screaming that we needed buggies.  I looked a manager in the eyes and said if he wanted the buggies out of the lot and into the store, then he and the other male managers on duty were free to go push them in.  He stared at me in shock, started laughing, and rounded up the male managers and out to the lot they went…at which point *I* was in shock.  But hey, we got buggies into the store!!  Normally, when I leave at 11:00 p.m. we have 3-4 registers open.  When I left Saturday night, we had 12 open…and the lines were into the clothing.

 Sunday, I worked *gasp* 2:00-11:00 p.m. again.  How is this fair??  Especially when you see what time I worked Monday.  But anyway, I got to work…and Oh…my…Lord…it was the worst yet.  I had to close by myself after 10:00 (previously I had someone else with me until 11:00) and had it not been for the awesome CSM that left at 10:00, I would have been there past midnight or even later.  Once again, we didn’t have cashiers or cart pushers, and customers were beyond rude and impatient.  Who shops on a holiday weekend and expects NOT to stand in line?  I mean HONESTLY…I think every resident of the area decided to shop at Wal-Mart on Labor Day weekend.  I was so tired when I staggered out of there at 11:00 p.m. I forgot to clock out.  Oops.

Monday…Labor Day…I have to be at work 5:30 a.m. until 1:30 p.m.  I LOVE this shift normally…but not when its preceded by an 11:00 p.m. shift.  I got home around midnight…in bed by 12:30…and watched the clock change until it went off at 3:30 a.m.  I couldn’t for the life of me get to sleep because I knew I was only going to get three hours sleep at best, and just couldn’t get my brain to turn off.  Normally when I open, I take two Tylenol PM around 7:00 p.m. the night before, go to bed, read, watch a little TV, and manage to pass out by 8:30 or so.   This was the third time I’ve had to close then open though, and its so hard on me.  I did go ahead and take two regular Tylenol when I went to bed, knowing that I’d have a headache Monday, and sure enough, I sat up Monday and my head was already aching.  Add to that AF made her monthly visit on Sunday night (of COURSE) and I got to work Monday not feeling in the best of moods.  AF is not kind to me.  Sunday was ok, but Monday was not.  AF is VERY VERY heavy for me the first three days.  Yeah that’s nice.

So anyway, I get to work at 5:30 Monday morning, and realize there’s no other CSM until 8:00, and then after him no other CSM until 3:00 p.m.  Lunch and breaks were going to be almost non-existent.  I started crossing off all the cashiers that either weren’t employed by us anymore, or soon wouldn’t be because they hadn’t been showing up, and by the time I got off at 1:30, I had crossed off over half of the cashiers scheduled for those shifts in between.  The day was not looking to be a good one.  In actuality, we were “ok” until about 9:00 a.m. and then the crowds hit.  A manager came up and yelled at me to open every register…I told them (disguising their gender here) to manufacture some cash registers and cashiers to run them and I’d open them.  They looked at me then pointed to two registers and told me to open them.  I told them I couldn’t…they’d been broken for weeks and we’d tried to repair them and couldn’t, and had called NCR repeatedly and no one had come out for repair yet.  They told me to find some way to get the lines down, and I told them to feel free to find an available register and hop on it.  I was a lot nicer than that, but I was pissed and they knew it.  Next thing I knew, I had a lot of associates from the back of the store who knew how to run registers coming to the podium and offering their services so I could give my cashiers breaks.  I love that manager.  They could have busted my chops and instead went and found some help for me.

 I was dragging big time, headache had escalated to a migraine, and I was having to go to the restroom every 30-45 minutes due to AF (I kid you not…she is NOT kind the first three days).  I was hungry (my sausage biscuit combo I got around 9:30 was RAW in the middle of the sausage patty so I didn’t finish it), my head was killing me, I was exhausted, and I was getting disgusted at rude customers.  I literally had customers standing in line at every single register we had (we opened the two broken ones in the end…one we could take cash or checks only, the other we could not take checks on), and the customers are yelling at me that we need more help.  What the heck?  We had over 30 registers with customers and cashiers, every single register on the front-end was open…how did we need more help?  We were not this busy at CHRISTMAS.  I kid you not.  I worked all hours during Christmas (I was a regular cashier then), and we had bad lines, but NOTHING like this.  The customers were just making it worse by grumbling and griping.  I guess I don’t understand the mentality.  If I were in a hurry, I would NOT go to Wal-Mart on a holiday weekend, and if I had no choice, I certainly wouldn’t gripe and moan about them not having enough help when EVERY register was open and running.  Oh I’d gripe and moan, but it’d be at ME and my lack of forethought and planning.

 OK so maybe I just think I’d be that way…I’m not sure to be honest.  I do know that for years I’ve refused to shop at Wal-Mart during holiday seasons because of the crowds.  When I had no choice, I’d go in the middle of the night if at all possible.

 Regardless, it was the roughest weekend I’ve had yet, and its going to take me a while to recover.  Vegas can’t come soon enough!

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