Dr. Karen Giardino in Williamsville, NY

If you live in or around the Buffalo, NY area and are in search of an endocrinologist, please heed my warning - do NOT see Dr. Karen Giardino, member of Meadowlands Endocrinology. This practice is highly negligent, completely unprofessional, and doctors and staff do not follow NYS rules and regulations pertaining to medical practice and procedure or to the release of medical records. The staff are anything but knowledgeable and medical care received is well below what is expected from a board certified medical professional. Do not place something as valuable as your health into the hands of Dr. Karen Giardino and/or Meadowlands Endocrinology in Williamsville, NY.

End of my PSA for the day. Ugh. Off to find a new COMPETENT endo so that my thyroid levels can be accurately monitored, ensuring that I don't lose this baby. Good grief.

*disclaimer - all information in this post about dr. karen giardino is based strictly on my own experience with her and/or her practice. i have no facts that will prove this is an ongoing issue, so if you're looking to sue me, don't bother - i got nothin'.

Asking for good thoughts and prayers

There was a massive earthquake in the Eastern Caribbean yesterday, including the island of Martinique. My baby sister is currently there for a study abroad program through college. Thankfully she's okay, but I know she's worried. I'm asking for all of you out there in blog land who believe in some kind of higher power to please keep her and her fellow students (as well as all of those involved in the quake) in your prayers/thoughts...for a safe remainder of her stay and a safe trip home. Thanks.

Roses are red, violets are blue, I'm a schizophrenic, and so am I

Gotta love psychologist humor.

People amuse me. I suppose that it's partly due to my educational background (holla for a currently useless Master's in counseling psychology), but also partly because I consider myself incredibly socially awkward and introverted, and there's something cathartic about observing others' idiosyncrasies and neuroses.

There are two specific types of people who really tickle my funny bone. The first is people who are passive-aggressive. What's the point? We've all done it, but there are some people out there who turn such behavior into a real art form. It really is funny, though, to watch someone try to intentionally piss someone off, or hurt someone, or push someone's buttons, all because it makes them feel better about their pathetic state of being. Humorous. Why do you think Marie on Everybody Loves Raymond got some of the biggest laughs?

My favorite people are the habitually schizophrenic. I say habitually because they've paid their shrink to give them a less forbidding diagnosis it's my opinion that there's a little somethin' going on upstairs, but when it has been observed on a pretty consistent basis, it's hard not to have that professional personal opinion. I often notice that passive-aggressive behavior and habitual schizophrenia go hand in hand. Now, I don't know who reads this blog (unless you openly admit that you're my stalker, as one faithful reader recently has - hi stalker!), so if you take offense to my post...well, tough. It's my blog. Chances are I'm *probably* not talking about an observation I've made about you, since I've most likely never run into you in person. I can say, though, that I'm not referring to anyone in my family. Unless you're my husband, because I do find him to occasionally fall into this category, but this particular post isn't about him. Although it could be. In any case, when I encounter these types of people, I feel as though I've had a run in with Sybil (no, this isn't about me, either. Although it could be.), and it brings such excitement to my day, but I can't say anything because then people will know that I think they're nuts.

Side note - If you haven't had the experience of watching Sybil, I highly recommend it. You'll never look at your mother or enema bags the same again.

I also enjoy the people who are abusive to their children in public. Disclaimer - I don't enjoy seeing the children being treated the way they're being treated. "Enjoy" was completely facetious. End disclaimer. In any case, I can't narrow it down to a specific demographic, but there seems to be some kind of trend in the different types of people I see doing this. The best place to see these people? The malls or the grocery stores, but in other places, too. You'll know them. Usually moms, acting in ways that vary from the "benign" (smacking your child across the mouth or on the hand) to grabbing the child by the hair or around the arm in such a way that you just know will leave a red mark (if not a bruise), and usually saying something like "I'm going to punch your face in if you don't knock it off" or "Shut the &$*@ up - I'm on the phone." It all turns my stomach, really, and in my gut I know that these children will grow up only to perpetuate the cycle, have their own 6 or 7 children, and treat them the same way.

Four pieces of toast later, this post has gone in a direction completely different than I had intended. I guess we're all a little bit schizo sometimes.

I guess we're all a little bit schizo sometimes. Wait...didn't I just say that?

To the extreme I rock a mic like a vandal

Pregnancy. Gotta love it. Why is it, though, that pregnancy is filled with extremes, from one end of the spectrum to the other, and, with each subsequent pregnancy, said extremes come earlier and are much more...well, extreme?

Take, for instance, morning sickness. For the majority of this pregnancy, I haven't been able to look at a crumb of dry toast without running to the toilet to throw up things my grandmother ate. However, there have been days, like today, where I can't seem to get enough to eat. There I was, sitting on the couch while the baby slept, innocently watching LMN, and before the movie was over, I had eaten an entire ball of port wine cheddar with almonds (God bless those holiday cheese balls) and a pomegranate. I feel like Grover running back and forth in an empty room saying "near.....far....," except for me it's "eat.....puke...." and I'm running from the fridge to the toilet.

Another blessing? You leak when you're pregnant. From every oriface imagineable. Except when you're not dripping/juicy/overly lubricated, you're dry. As a bone. In the desert those Kid Nation kids call home. Extremes. Diarrhea. Constipation. Runny nose. Dry nose. Leaking God knows what from God knows where, only to be faced with the oppostie dilemma the very next day.

Weepy. Homicidal. Insomnia. Exhaustion. Get me that Duggar woman on the phone. I need to know why she did this...what, 17 times? It's a wonder she's not holed up in the nut hatch somewhere.

Gift giving

Instead of buying mass-produced, possibly lead-tainted items this holiday season, take a different route - check out this website:

http://www.etsy.com

I'm not selling anything (Are you kidding? My idea of being crafty is making coffee filter "stained glass" things with vinegar and food coloring. Thank you, Mr. Wizard.), but I see a few things I'll likely purchase. If you stress out over buying gifts like I do, this site might be a godsend. Unique gifts, free of lead and other toxins...unless you find that one seller who thought it would be funny to put arsenic inside their sock monkey.

21 + 10

So yesterday was my birthday. Another year older and another year wiser, right? On some things, at least. Being a mom has definitely made me wiser in areas I never imagined. Of course, there's that mommy-brain thing - you know, the thing that makes you unable to recall your own name at times, makes you call your child by the cat's name at times. Mommy-brain. Makes even the most intelligent person feel (and sound) rather dumb sometimes. I've become a bit wiser when it comes to finances. I've become quite economical (read: cheap) in the last year. I've come to appreciate things that are truly important and have begun to place less importance on the cosmetic, the trivial, and the things that do nothing for me or my family.

But surely I can't be 31. Impossible. Didn't I just get married? Didn't I just graduate from grad school? Or better yet, college? 31 is 9 years away from 40. 31 implies grown-up. While I've definitely grown up (and out, ugh) in the last year, I certainly don't feel like a grown-up. Like an adult. I still laugh at inappropriate times, I still find those Helen Keller jokes impossibly funny, I still burp like that guy on The Simpsons, I'm still messy, I still like to be loud and make noise...those aren't the characteristics of someone who is grown up. A kid at heart, I guess, is what I'll always be. Not so bad, is it?

Happy Thanksgiving! May you all count your blessings and have much to be thankful for on this day. I know I do!

Thanks and giving

It's that time of year!

Thanks, whomever, for making us move to Buffalo. I appreciate the promotion you gave my husband, but why couldn't you have offices in a better city? One of the nurses at the OB's office saw that I moved here from NYC. "What brought you to Buffalo?!" she asked. My reply? "Satan." She nodded in empathic agreement.

Thanks, China, for trying to kill my kid.

Thank you, housing market, for going to pot when we really need our own house. Shape up after the first of the year, would you? There's a house in Amherst that has my name on it. I'm over apartment living, and I refuse to bring a newborn home to this place. Annoying dogs and gangster music do not a happy baby make.

Thank you, maternity clothes designers of the world, for making this winter's clothing line the most hideous I've ever seen.

Thank you, Writer's Guild, for screwing up my evenings. My favorite shows are all into reruns. Now what am I supposed to do? Greedy bastards.

Thank you, BBQ pork roast that I made last night, for smelling like an autopsy. Add that to the list of foods I'll never eat again.

Oh - this was supposed to be about giving, too.
Thank you, whomever, for giving me morning sickness again. Vomiting at least once a day for the last 13 or 14 weeks has been a real treat, let me tell you. Oh, and the crippling nausea that goes along with it? Score one for you. Really. You haven't lived until you've thrown up rice.

I jest. I kid. Mostly. Sure, these are all things that I'm bitter about but I like to look at the humorous side of them. In reality, I have so much to be thankful for this year. First and foremost, the sweet baby boy sleeping in the next room is the biggest blessing I've ever received. I think I was too tired from newborn Nat last Thanksgiving to really take the chance to reflect on what I was thankful for, and so I'll make up for it this year. I'm sure this time next year I'll also be giving thanks for Gumdrop (who has a name, I just need to find out the sex before I can start calling him/her by its chosen name).

We're spending the holiday with my parents and younger sister. This will be the first time in a few years that we'll be there for Thanksgiving and I'm excited. Thanksgiving was always big in our house. We weren't able to go last year because I was still on "travel restriction" from my c-section, and Nat was only 3 weeks old, so we stayed put in Brooklyn. My father will inevitably have come Christmas tunes blaring when we get there. Hopefully we'll get there in time for Nat to see some of the parade. We'll definitely look for Santa at the end. There'll be good food and the feeling of being home again. Since the birth of Nat, I've definitely gained a new appreciation for family...things seem to mean more to me, certain things are more important now than they used to be. The notion of carrying on/starting new holiday traditions with my own family excites me.

Rent the movie Home for the Holidays. If yours is one of those families who puts the fun in dysfunctional (and let's face it, everyone's family is like that to some extent...and if yours isn't, well, then, that's your dysfunction, weirdo), then you'll appreciate this movie.

Happy Thanksgiving, blog world. Travel safely, enjoy your friends or families, and may you have plenty to be thankful for. :)

Medical un-professionals

It took 2 idiots nurses to obtain a blood sample from the baby today. From a finger poke. These women were idiots. One looked like a tranny and barely spoke comprehensible English - I'm convinced she must've gone no further than the 8th grade and obtained her "degree" from Jim-Bob's Skewl of Nersing. She actually had the nerve to YELL at my son when he started crying and wiggling because what she was doing was hurting him. Because she was incompetent (she poked the finger in the wrong place), nurse #2 (not a tranny, but she was more interested in my Uggs than anything else she did) had to step in and give it the ol' college try. My baby's blood was going everything BUT the little vial...nurse couldn't manage to hold it still enough (the baby's hand wasn't moving) to collect what she needed so she told me they'd have to poke again. Yeah - um, no. Two fudge-ups are quite enough, ladies. You've got enough, you're not poking my kid again. Nurse #2 then switched her focus from my shoes to everything her 1 year old does that my baby doesn't do. Maybe if she put as much attention and interest into taking care of what she needed to do, the little situation wouldn't have happened. I don't care about your daughter. Do your job, nursey, and get the hell out of my face.

Vocabulary

Nathanael has spoken his first real word other than dada, mama, caca, and baba.

The word is "kitty."

Except it comes out "titty." I love it.