you gotta be kidding me

Dear Bimbo at the Doctor’s Office*,

I woke up to my phone vibrating across the nightstand at 3pm yesterday.  That was your first mistake.  I saw that it was you so even though I was still half (or more like three-quarters) asleep, I answered.  See, my alarm doesn’t go off until 4pm and that hour makes the difference between 6 and 7 hours of precious sleep, every bit of which I need.

Moving on.

Next, you told me that the results from my one hour glucose test were “abnormal” and asked if I had ever done the three hour glucose tolerance test before.  Look at your notes, bimbo.  I did it barely over a year ago.  I say “yep.”  You then proceed to tell me everything I need to do to prepare for the test.  I just told you I have done it before and surely you can hear the boredom in my voice as I lazily attempt to validate your rules and instructions with monotone “mmm hmms.”

Lucky for you, you tell me I can come in on Thursday at 8am.  No, this is not ideal…but when is it ever ideal to have to sit at the doctor’s office for 3 hours?  On my day off.  When I should be spending time with my son.  At least you didn’t try to FORCE me to come in on Tuesday or Wednesday, when I would have to work right before and again that night.  (Last time I had to do the test, they basically told me I had to do it the next day or my baby could die and it would be my fault.  Then took 4 days to call me with the results).  Unlucky for me, I will be going on no sleep, having been up all night the night before, and starving because I can’t eat after midnight.  Not to mention that I will have to pay an extra $23 to the babysitter for my little kid to go on a day he normally doesn’t, thereby losing the cash and the coveted time with him.

Sidenote:  I say “lucky for you” because I was prepared to go off on your bimbo self with a speech about how I don’t have to come in for the test the next day and how I’m not going to miss a day’s worth of sleep over the test.  I was going to tell you that I already know how to monitor my blood sugar and how to eat as if I have been diagnosed with gestational diabetes.  I was gonna rub it in your face if you insisted that I come in the next day that it takes you people FOUR days to get test results back sometimes, therefore I don’t feel the need to stop on a dime to make you happy.  That’s why I say “lucky for you.” 

Moving on.  Again. 

So far, none of this is sounding too cool.  And it’s all your fault, bimbo at the doctor’s office.  I have done well.  I’ve tried to watch what I eat this time.  I cut out sweet tea (for the most part).  DO YOU KNOW HOW BIG OF A BIG FREAKIN’ DEAL THAT IS?  I have gained like 11 fewer pounds so far than I had at this point during my last pregnancy.  I’m rocking this. 

So after you tell me all the dumb stuff you have to tell me and I’ve had a moment to think about all the dumb stuff as mentioned in this I’m-mad-at-you-because-everything-is-all-your-fault-even-though-it’s-not-but-I’m-going-to-blame-it-on-you-because-it’s-not-my-fault-either-and-I-don’t-like-having-no-control-over-my-health-and-my-body letter, you ask if I have any other questions.

Yes.  Yes, I did. 

Bimbo At The Doctor’s Office:  Oh, okay. What’s your question?
me: What’s the cutoff?
BATDO: 140
me: And what was my reading?
BATDO: 143
BATDO: nope. 
BATDO: yep.
sad silence during brief moment of realization
BATDO:  I’m. um. sorry?  Maybe the three hour test results will come back normal?
me:  See you Thursday.


(There’s no “click” anymore.  It’s the gentle tap of my fingertip on the smooth plastic display that says “end call” in red.  But if I’d said “GENTLE TAP,” you wouldn’t have understood, would you?  It just doesn’t have the same appeal).

Clearly, I was not able to go back to sleep after you dropped that bomb on me.  Being well-rested when you are pregnant AND work third shift is priceless, so the way I see it you owe me WADS of cash.  Plus the $23 for having to have a babysitter on a day I shouldn’t.  You’re a crummy, crummy person, bimbo at the doctor’s office. 

you suck and everything bad is all your fault,

*disclaimer: I’m sure the bimbo at the doctor’s office is a perfectly lovely human being. 

is it just me or…

was our waitress Saturday an idiot? Here’s what happened.

The menu item that I settled on was a salad that came with some kind of herb vinaigrette.  That did not sound delicious to me, so when I ordered I said something like this:

“I’ll have the [blah blah whatever it was called] salad, except can I get the sun-dried tomato vinaigrette?  On the side, in case I don’t like it?” 

She seemed to have no trouble understanding my question, therefore I thought she understood my request.  She bobbled off like the airhead that she (apparently) is and a few minutes later our salads come out.

My reaction:

“Oooh, this looks goo-”

I toss my salad around with my fork and observe that it is soaking wet, covered in dressing.  Covered in something that is clearly not the sun-dried tomato vinaigrette, which she did bring on the side.  The waitress bobbles by again so I grab her attention and ask:

“Um? I’m confused.  Does this already have dressing on it?

“Yeah…the herb vinaigrette comes on it.  And I brought the sun-dried tomato vinaigrette on the side.”

I sat there, dumbfounded, with a wrinkled brow just long enough for her to bounce away.  What planet must you live on to assume that when I order a different dressing from what is on the menu, I want it in addition to the one that is mentioned in the description?  How much salad dressing can one person use?

Clearly, she knew that she missed the mark because she trotted past our table about 50 times without ever checking to see if we liked our food or needed anything.  Meanwhile, I overheard her asking all of the tables surrounding us if their food was okay.  Honestly, I wanted to blow up.  Not over the dressing mistake so much as her reaction to the situation.  Finally, while I was on the phone for 30 seconds with my mom, she came back and asked husband if he wanted a refill on his drink.  She didn’t bother to make eye contact with me.

If I hadn’t been in such a hurry to get to my in-laws and see Peezy after our baby-free early Valentine/Friday night/Saturday morning date, I would have definitely complained and waited for them to re-make it.  But I didn’t.  The herb vinaigrette dressing actually wasn’t bad.  If I’d hated it, I certainly would have said something.  It was just the principle of the matter and her response to it that pissed me off. 

Am I crazy here, people?  Based on what I ordered, is there any reason to believe that I still wanted the herb vinaigrette?

As a side note, Happy Valentine’s Day!

love, love, love,

the name thing

In my job, I take down names.  That’s not the only thing I do, but I pay special attention to names.  I like names.  Maybe it’s because I’ve got an unnamed baby in my belly, or maybe it’s because I try to stash each name away in case I hear it again.  It never ceases to amaze me how many kids have different last names from at least one of their parents.  Sometimes kids have different last names from both of their parents.  Sometimes there are homes where 3 kids and both parents have the same last name and only 1 kid has a different last name.  Do they feel totally left out?

I understand that sometimes there are totally wonderful reasons for having a different last name from your kid or your parent, but in so many of the families that I deal with, it seems like the moms are just haphazardly going from one guy to the next for the sole purpose of having as many kids with different names as they can.  I don’t get it.  If you aren’t in a committed relationship with the dude, and don’t plan to be, why not give the kid your own last name?  At least there would be some unity with the kids.  I grew up in a family where all four of us had the same last name so I never knew any differently, but I remember thinking it was bizarre when my friends had different names from their parents.  Maybe the kids that have the different names don’t know any different and don’t care?  Any feedback on that?

And my next thing about names…what is wrong with people?  It is not necessary to include hyphens, apostrophes, and/or random capital letters in names.  It is not necessary to name all 7 of your kids after yourself in some way or another.  I have come across some of the craziest, made up sh*t in my job.  Why would you MAKE UP a name?  We were talking about names the other day and I was telling the da da about some of the crazy names I’ve heard at work.  He had a great idea…he said that every time someone wants to add a new name to the world, they would have to pay $25,000 to register it as an official name.  If you did not want to choose a name that had already been previously registered, then you pay the fee.  If you don’t want to pay the fee, you choose from the list.  LOL.  I’m not sure that will ever happen, but it’d sure make things simpler.  Have you been on lately?  There are thousands of names to choose from.  Come on people, choose from the list.