Dr. Better-Shape-Up-Jackass

We all know how much I love my beloved OB/GYN – Dr. SoNice. I love him with all of my heart. And up until June – I loved every other doctor in his practice. Just not as much as him. Which is a good position to be in. Then, I met Dr. Jackass with my last miscarriage. I began hating him with all of my soul.

Well – now it’s time for the rotation portion of this pregnancy. I have to see each doctor in the practice at least once in case I need them for the birth part of this pregnancy. It’s a good practice, when you don’t desperately hate one of the doctors. Which I do.

I was trying to decide what to do about Dr. Jackass. On one hand – I have every right to refuse to see one of the doctors. On the other hand – what if he’s the only one on call when/if I go into labor? If I did need him when he was on call, and I still hated him this much, it would make the birth of my child marred by hatred and conflict. Whereas, if I give him another chance, maybe he’ll redeem himself. Rumor is – his patients love him. Most are shocked when they find out he is the doctor in the practice I hate. Maybe he had a bad day. Maybe he’ll be beyond awesome this time around. Maybe he’ll leave his jackass tendencies at the door. If I don’t give him a chance to be better – then I’m going to be in a bad place if the worse-case scenario happens and I need him.

So – after my visit with Dr. Hyper today (the kind of doctor I would love if I was a normal pregnant woman) – I made my appointment to visit Dr. Jackass in four weeks. Chances are, I’ll never have to see him again. Out of five doctors, chances are one of the ones I love will be on call if I have an emergency. And since I’m planning on scheduling a c-section, hopefully we’ll be preemptive and won’t have those emergencies. But – if I do need him – at least I’ll have given him a chance to make nice.

Or at least given myself a chance to kick him in the balls. We’ll see how I feel that day.

We don’t say douchebag.

jambo.png

Our family has always been in the habit of making up words or phrases to Goof-i-fy our lives. My husband does it the most often, as he was the one who started adding “-pants” on the end of any adjective to indicate an EXTREME AMOUNT of that descriptor. Like, “That song is crappy-pants.” Or, “You are acting crazy-pants.” It is something we all did for awhile, but it has since faded as various other bizarre phrases take it’s place.

When MrZ started using flickr he started using the word, “Jambo!” as some sort of exclamation or curse word. It didn’t occur to me to ask where that came from until after it had been used for several weeks. When I finally asked he said, “It’s Swahili for ‘Hello.’ Flickr told me. I like the way it sounds.” If you use flickr, you know what he’s talking about. If you don’t – whenever you log into flickr – it says “Hello!” to you in a different language and then indicates what language it is using. MrZ saw, “Jambo” one day – and it stuck.

Of course – as NikkiZ has started developing her language exponentially in the last few months – she started saying, “Jambo!” as well. Usually just repeating it when MrZ yelled it at a video game or proclaimed it enthusiastically when eating ice cream. Unfortunately – that is not the only exclamation she has picked up a long the way.

Now – let me clarify – I am no saint when it comes to cursing. I probably use the word “ass” or “crap” 100 times a day. But – I don’t do a lot of yelling profanities. MrZ keeps his daily language clean, but loses it when driving or watching sports or playing games. Because he is usually yelling his infractions, they are the ones she tends to notice and repeat. For awhile – ignoring her worked. MrZ would yell, “Dammit!” and she would follow suit. We would ignore her and she’d continue whatever else she was doing and never repeat it again. Of course, about a month ago she started experimenting with this. Because she’s evil and recognized we were ignoring her for a reason.

One day – she and I were in the dining room and MrZ was playing video games in the living room. He yelled, “Dammit!” at the television and she immediately looked at me and did the same thing. I ignored her and she did it again. And again. AND AGAIN. Eventually she stopped but I knew I would have to come up with a new technique. The next time he did it (probably five minutes later – the games he’s been playing lately seem to bring out the sailor in him) I said to him, “Daddy – don’t say that. Say, jambo!” So he did. And so did she.

That worked for awhile with most inappropriate exclamations. Of course, she would sometimes correct him, “Daddy! Don’t say that, say Jambo!” but we preferred that over the alternative. Then – one day he called someone on TV a “douchebag.” NikkiZ immediately repeated it. I tried to ignore her because that was a word I thought it best she forget. But no – she said it 10 times. All while looking at me while I was trying my best to act like I didn’t hear her. Finally I broke down and said, “Nikki. That is not a nice word. We don’t say that word. We said, ‘jambo’ – remember?” So – what did she do? She started saying, “We don’t say douchebag. We say jambo.” Over and over and over again. Much better – right?

She is quickly grasping the concept of words we don’t say. Unfortunately, she sometimes assumes anytime someone yells that they are saying a bad word. Last night MrZ yelled at the dogs to, “Hush!” Nikki says, “Daddy – we don’t say that. We say, ‘jambo!’” So – I had to explain to her that “Hush!” and “Be Quiet!” are okay things to say. To which she said, “OH. But we don’t say douchebag.”

No honey. We don’t.

Thank god she’s not in daycare anymore.

Jambo!
I added this picture to this entry several weeks later after seeing this banner at the Knoxville Zoo.

Update: Case workers will be investigating me soon.

We decided to wake NikkiZ up before MrZ went to work so he could see how she slept. When I opened the door to her room, she was sleeping on the floor near her toybox. We started laughing and she immediately ran towards us in a sleepy haze. We asked her, “Why are you sleeping on the floor? You’re supposed to sleep in your bed! Not next to the toybox!”

Well – she has translated the incident in her own mind. When she helped me wake up her brother she exclaimed, “I’m s’posed to sleep in bed, but I slept in the toybox!” She seems very perplexed about the situation and ending up somewhere other than the bed. She keeps saying, “Mom! I’m s’posed to sleep in bed?!” Like, Dude. How did that happen?. It’s actually quite cute and hilarious if you don’t know that backstory when she tells a stranger, “I slept in my TOYBOX!” I keep saying, “Not in the toybox, near the toybox.” I’m not sure if that matters in the long run.

Night One Out Of The Crib

Well – about 7:30pm last night – NikkiZ asked to go to bed on her Diego sheets. She does ask to go to be sometimes, but we thought that was a good step towards a successful night in her non-jail bed. We all three tucked her in to celebrate the big moment. She didn’t seem to be phased. We haven’t heard from her since. This is like the ease at which we transitioned her from co-sleeping to crib-sleeping. Something I dreaded for months and turned out to NOT be a big deal at all. My life mocks my anxiety.

We did have a glitch in the evening as halfway through The Biggest Loser weigh-in, the power went out. We found all of our flashlights, which all had dead batteries. AWESOME. We replaced the batteries and all but THREE were still dead. Can you tell we don’t get power outtages often? (I still don’t know how the weigh-in ended: SAVE ME!) After getting candles lit in all the bathrooms and tripping over objects on the floor (Me) at least 900 times, we all three settled in on the couches to read (Me) or watch iPods (MrZ and LilZ). I was trying to decided whether sleeping on the couch would keep me close enough to NikkiZ that I’d hear her wake up or if I should just sleep on her floor. I knew last night was not a night she needed to be able to wake up and me not know it. I also had no desire to put my giant pregnant body on a hard floor. Right as I was starting to get tired and needing to make a decision, the power came back on and I headed to my own bed. THANK GOD.

But she slept through it all (obviously) and is still sound asleep. I’m wondering if when she wakes up, she’ll start out crying like she typically does or if she’ll just get up and start playing. She’s always been a bad waker, she wakes up upset in all situations. She doesn’t just talk or play in her crib until I come get her. She wakes up and immediately starts crying and/or screaming. I’ll be curious to see how she wakes up this morning. She’ll probably have ever toy and book out and spread out all over her bedroom before she even calls my name. Freedom is intoxicating for a toddler, you know.

A girl and her new sheets.

Can you tell someone is excited to ditch the crib?

We’ve been busy today moving NikkiZ’s stuff into the BIG bedroom so we can paint for LilZ to take over the smaller bedroom. Since chaos is going to reign over this transition in the next few weeks (we paint this weekend) we decided we might as well take her out of the crib amidst the insanity. We can’t really afford to buy a twin mattress or bed right now, so we just decided to buy her some new sheets and put the crib mattress on the floor. We thought the new sheets would help her distinguish the BIG GIRL BED from the BABY BED. I decided to let her pick out the bedding with only a small bit of suggestion from me. (I could not allow her to choose that BRATZ stuff…it scares me so.) She chose two crib sheets: Dora and Diego. A Dora blanket, and a Mermaid pillow case. After I took her crib apart and put her mattress back down in her nearly empty room, I thought she was going to have a heart attack. Like Wait. When you said “No Crib” you actually meant it?. THEN — I put the new sheets and blankets on and she went KRAZEE. She is so very excited. Oh — to be a kid and so easily amused again.

Who am I kidding? I’m still on cloud nine from the new bedding my mother-in-law gave us for Christmas.