miss-odd-jen-ny (misogyny)

which is pretty close to the truth. i hate other chicks. 'cept'n my heather...and my taba & tara & laura and the people that i already love. but, if you ever just want to know "the truth", heather would be the one you need to talk to.

gaaaaah. i was going to post more, but i got some stuffs i need to go do.

oh, oh, wait - I FORGOT.

so yesterday, i had just got out of the shower and was supposed to meet a friend to get a bite and shoot the shisty, when heather called my cell. i picked the phone up and did that, "oh, i'll call her right back after i get done _______ (insert girly activity here)." then, my brain went, "ANSWER IT - NOW." so, i'm all, "ok, cripes, you don't have to get pushy," and when i pushed the "taketh thoust call" button, all i can hear is crying on the other side.
now, when SHE calls ME crying, my brain goes into overdrive. i forget how to talk and do simple things like breathe and hold in my urine and stuff.
so, she's crying, and i'm like, "OMG! WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU???" and i finally get out that sophie has eaten some of her meds, and they're heading out to go to children's er. but it was her ritalin, so i wasn't nearly as worried as i think she was. well, actually, it turns out, she was more pissed off at herself than anything. and i don't know if i was supposed to tell you about the ritalin. so, hj, kill me later.
so, i'm haulin' ass down 65, get to children's, and as i'm running across the hamster tube (you know, that thing in the air that goes over the street?), and ricky had just bought me these old school reebok tennies, and they didn't have ANY traction on the bottom, but i didn't know that until i'm tearing out the door and nearly kill myself on the way down the stairs (and by kill myself, i mean, literally kill myself by falling and almost breaking my neck). so i'm running around the carpeted hamster tube (dammit, what is the NAME of that thing??), and i go to round the corner, and my feet come flat out from under me, and i land right on my big, fat, padded ass. so, i jump up, and i'm like, "ok, ok, i don't care if anyone saw me." so, i go to round the next corner, a little slower this time, and BLAM! fat + gravity = crashing blow to nonexistent ego. i picked myself up this time, realizing that not only have i fallen once for the people watching below, but twice. it was like being broadcasted on the big screen over times square in nyc. well, not QUITE that big, but big enough.

so, i walked quite rapidly to the doors and made it safely through.

i get downstairs, and heather's sitting in the er waiting room, bawling, filling out that gay form you have to fill out, while your child is at death's doorstep. only sophie wasn't at all close. she was standing there with heather's bag ("MY bag") on her shoulder, arm straight up in the air (to keep the bag from falling off), and staring at heather like, "what is this woman's problem?" and i walked up, and she said, "JIMMY!," and runs to meet me, and i pick her up and look in her face (she's totally fine), and then help heather fill out the rest of the form. then we take sophie back to triage, and they put the world's next tiniest bp cuff on her arm. in the meantime, heather tells me the story, and it goes a lil somethin' like this:

sophie came upstairs while heather was doing something and gives her her emptied wallet, which is not unusual - she always opens it up and pulls all the cards out (and makes outrageous purchases on ebay - jk). so heather says, "you silly girl, what are you doing?," and sophie opens her mouth and sticks out her tongue. heather laughs and says, "you crazy girl, i don't think you swallowed my cards! come on, let's go downstairs and get them." so they go downstairs, and when they get down there, heather either opened the zipper part of the wallet or noticed it was open, and she looks inside. she said she remembers there being 2 ibuprofen and 1 ritalin in there, because she had seen them the day before. when she looked now, there were only the 2 ib's.
before i go on, i'd like to mention that sophie, at 2.5, is incredibly articulate. conversation with her is absolutely fascinating. but, i digress. so the conversation takes this turn:

"did you eat something out of here?"
"was it a square?"
"was it a rectangle?"
"noooo. it was a CIRCLE!"
"oh, ok (panic sets in). what color was it?"
"it was WHITE!"

so, they call poison control, they say she'll probably be ok, but better safe to take her to the er, just to make sure. and that's where my story picks up.

anyway, they were there for about 2 hours, monitoring her heart rate, bp, resp rate to make sure nothing changed or went into some danger level. i told heather, "well, the worst that could happen is she could concentrate really well and solve world hunger." once we got back there and talked (almost immediately) to a doc (who happened to be head of poison control at chsys), everyone kinda breathed a sigh of relief. i went to take the boys home and watch them until heather and lee were able to come home, and sophie got PISSED. she pitched and cried and screamed, and i felt horrible - not being able to be with my girl during her trying time!

so everything's fine now. i'm going to get up off here and try to get something done, since i'm a lazy fattie with no goals in life but to eat doughnuts and cake.

will update more as events warrant...

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