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There's the picture... do I really need to elaborate? Do I really need to mention that, yes, it was the Old Lady's turn to take Miss O to yet another birthday at the shit-spewing Hellmouth that is Caesarland but, SOMEHOW, she woke up sick this morning and just couldn't muster the energy needed to survive 2 1/2 hours at that life-sucking anus of a party destination?
Must I go into the fact that I, while not necessarily at the pinnacle of healthitude myself, volun-fucking-teered to lead the girl, headlong into this festering fistula of a food franchise for a nearly three-hour-tour of inedible disks of diarrhea-dough, scabies-ridden circus freaklettes, parades of pallid pederasts and a mind-melting onslaught of unrelenting bells, whistles and epilepsy-inducing light flashes?
Perhaps I'll just show you the reading I registered on the Caesarland-Fun-Meter at about, oh, the ten-minutes-into-the-party mark:
At my next reading, a half-hour later, the meter burst into flames, melted into an oozing green puddle and then morphed into a small, leather-winged gryphon that proceeded to dine on my will to live.
But, Miss O came home with a pair of plastic fangs, a rubber fish and a bottle of bubbles that will all end up in the garbage in about 18 minutes, so it was all fucking worth it.
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 After months and months of showing typical signs of teething (like drooling and excessive biting) our little man finally showed his first teeth. YAY!!! When the first tooth finally made an appearance I felt like he had been teething for the longest time ever (he showed first signs of teething at 4 months!). Anyway the first two are out now and this week we've had some very rough nights as he is now getting another two (or so we think).
I found it very frustrating to witness the extremely slow process of teething without ever seeing anything until the very end. Through all of this I picked up a somewhat useful trick to find out how far along the teeth are. Basically give them something see-through to bite on, like a transparent plastic cup. Usually you can tell where the teeth are as they are biting on it. Not that it makes those nights any easier but at least you know the teeth are coming :-) -Stef
 This weeks product review is on Safe & Sound Car Seat, Pyper has just about grown out of her capsule, Im a bit sad about that, we have to buy another one, so that is more money but once again its based on safety so what can you do!
Renee's parents brought this for us, and to be honest its a very good looking car seat. You would have to be stark raving mad to buy this product. Pros * Do last for a long time if your child doesn't get past 18 kg's
* Sturdy big and bulky
* Its blue and if you spill things on it doesn't get dirty as easy Cons * Had to pay to get the hooks put in to strap the
* Only reclines in the back facing position
* If the straps are in the hook, you have to literally put Pyper in over them like a high jump track star.
* They are expensive.
* Big and bulky
* It has a 3 point (6 straps) harness that you have to just about push into Pypers chest to get it secure! ... read more >>
By Bill  As the parent of a toddler I'm continuously shocked by my misconceptions of what kind of parent I was going to be back when I was yet to have one. It's something we all go through when we start thinking about kids. I remember seeing a parent lose control once at a retail store and thinking "If that was my kid there would be none of that. No sir! My child will know who the boss is" Which didn't turn out to be too far from the truth, because let's face it we both know he's the boss. I'd visit friends with children and look around in amazement at the warehouse of toys that dared to take over their entire home. Again I'd say, "My child will know the joys of playing outside. Forget video games and personal DVD players. My child will like to read and will be able to carry on an actual conversation without referring to Pokeman or Yugi-o" Two years later Blue and Steve seem to be on an endless hunt for the latest clue and it's a wonder the wonder pets ever get turned off. ... read more >>
The other day when I came home I found our son Noah had discovered Flat Eric (which up until that point had been used as a door stopper). So I thought what a great idea to reuse all the old stuff that we accumulate over the years and try them out with kids. Altough most of these things are probably "old" for us - they can be great for kids and they haven't seen them before of course. 
Obviously it has to be safe to use with children - but perhaps think of your kids when you make your next trip up the attic. If they don't like it you can still throw it out. -Stef
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You can stop reading here if you don't want to read yet another self-absorbed post about my ridiculous health. If you are still reading, then you really need to find something better to do with your fucking time.
I don't want to get into the whole thing, but the last week or so has been the pig-fuckingest shitfuck I've experienced in a long time. My numb extremities have gone from mild annoyance to "gee, this might actually be the goddamn thing that does me in."
But that's not the even the part that pisses me the fuck off the most. I blame my current state of doom and gloom on this fuckhead of a surgeon who took the fat sample outta my stomach. I went for a follow-up appointment with this dickface so he could look at the little hole/bald patch he had carved in my belly. I was expecting to pop in and pop the fuck out.
So, he's almost done pokin' around, and then he goes, "Oh, hey, I got the pathology report! Looks like the found something!" Like he was all excited and shit. He hands me a copy of the report and says, "Looks like you might have amyloidosis! Okay, see ya later!"
What the shit?! And when I asked him what the fuck that meant, he says, "Oh, I don't know. You'll have to follow up with your doctor. See ya!" And this is on last Thursday. I couldn't get ahold of the hematologist, so I got to spend the weekend, sans Old Lady, with my pathology report and my good friend, the innernecks. BAD weekend.
I start looking this fucking thing up and it fucking blows, lemme tell you. There's nary a positive story with this fucker. Lots of chemo, lots of stem cell replacement, lots of memorial guest books to sign. I was working myself up into a fretful lather, the spawnage are running around like meth-addled bush babies, and the Old Lady was in fucking Chicago, living it up big-city-style. My lid had officially flipped its own lid.
But here's why the Old Lady is, and forever will be, the goddamn yin to my yang... the beans to my cornbread... the R2 to my D2... the fucking Engelbert to my Humperdink -- she called on Thursday night and we talked about the test results and shit, and she gets in the car the next day, blows off her conference and drives the fuck home. Against my protestations, I might add. That lady is the goddamn shiznit.
So we both sat around all weekend, depressed, doomed and glued to every fucking relevant/irrelevant case study we could find online. I don't know when or how the spawnage got fed, bathed or dressed, but somehow, they did. It was the longest fucking weekend ever, basically.
Today, I talked to both the pathologist and the blood doc. They said that while the fat pad results were indeed kinda shitty, the bone marrow test was totally clean, so that was a positive. The kicker is, Count Von Bloodula wants me to go to the goddamn Mayo Clinic for a few days to get all the same tests done again, plus a whole slew of new fucking tortures, at their fancy amyloidosis clinic up there. It's gonna be fucking biopsiriffic!!
We go to the doc to talk about what exactly is gonna go down on Thursday. In the meantime, I'm trying to stay away from Google, and I'm popping Xanax like fucking Mike & Ike's.
There -- wasn't that a fun little story?
As a reward for getting through that steaming turd of a post, I will leave you with a drawing that I caught Mr. Z and Miss O doing together last night. Miss O wielded the red marker, Mr. Z the black. If everything turns out well at Mayo, I'm thinking of getting this tattooed across my chest in their honor, for somehow making me laugh my ass off during all this fuckshit.
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