I Always Feel Like Somebody's Watching Me

For Christmas I received an iPod Touch from Mr. Schmitty.

Wow. That sounded dirty and I bet quite intriguing for those of you who are technically challenged.

Anywho. I heart this gadget so very, VERY much. I love listening to my tunes while I play games and read blogs. I can even play Bejeweled Blitz and update my staus on Facebook without leaving my bed.

It is the perfect toy to suck the time right out of your day!

And with Wi-Fi connectivity you can even play games against other lazy human beings and not just the game's computer player.

My favorite game at the moment is Words With Friends, which is much like Scrabble. You can create a game with a random opponent or you can enter the screen name of someone you know.

A feature of the application will also let you connect through Twitter and Facebook to announce to all of your friends that you are looking for opponents.

I did this numerous times and had just one nibble. Mochamomma took the bait. Great, I was going to have to play against an assistant school principal, one whom...who...um? (see, she's got me all sorts of confused) was previously an English Teacher.

I really needed to begin other games. There was no way I was ever going to win against her. I started to search with names of bloggers I know or stalk.

After a few failed attempts, I got a hit. DawnsDiversions is one of my favorite people in the blogging community. YAY!! I sent a request to her and such began my arse beatings our daily games. She is a WWF's master.

Dawn gave me another name to punch into the keypad, JonniBaloney, who I wished lived near me, because I KNOW we'd be BFF's for life. How do I know this? Because she collects points for using words like TURD. And then she points it out, making sure I am aware of it, and then giggles like a school girl. Totally awesome chick in my book.

TheMomJen is, of course, younger than me ('cause really? everyone seems to be) but we do have the same amount of spawn children, who are all around the same ages. She must be as nutty as me, as when you become outnumbered in the kiddo department, well craziness is a given. Oh and Jen? This cuter than bunnies girl is a fantastic photographer!

Adriennevh is my Facebook buddy. She and I gift each other Farmville items, Cafe World food, and Mafia Wars energy packs. So, this? Totally inevitable. She's my homegirl.

And finally, MissBritt. This woman, she is my blogging hero. She makes me laugh, cry, and most of all think. And now that I'm having to use MY brain to challenge the likes of her, I'm REALLY having to think. I can't be using words like dog, hat, and TURD with her. Okay, maybe TURD, I don't know, she might giggle at that too.

Words With THESE Friends has become my total addiction. I play, I lose, and I re-match.

But I noticed something the other day and it kind of creeped me out.

I was sitting on the ummmm...throne and was playing a round of WWF. What? I gotta do something to pass the time.

Suddenly I had this overwhelming feeling that I was being watched. I looked around. I was alone. (Yes, believe it or not, with three kids and absolutely no privacy, I.WAS.ALONE!)

The hair stood up on my arms. I looked down at the screen on the iPod and a chill ran up my spine.


Could she see me? My hero, Miss Britt? DID.SHE.KNOW.I.WAS.POOPING?!

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!"

I quickly turned off the power and put the iPod, face down, on the vanity.

The word TURD is no longer funny.


P.S. I am MrsSchmitty on Words With Friends....challenge me to a game....you'll walk away feeling like a genius!

A Mother's Anxiety

As you all know, W. was born with a heart defect. At only five days old, he needed to undergo a heart operation.

It was a life changing experience for me.

We spent two weeks in the Children's Hospital of Philadelphia. We searched the faces of the doctors and nurses for answers. Did our baby have a future? As we listened to machines beep, we watched our baby fight for his life.

And he did just that. He battled through it like a heavy weight champ.

We went home, only to return two weeks later. He had developed an infection in the wound. He needed to be opened back up.

When I left CHOP the first time, I did so thinking (praying?) that I would never return. Yet, there I was again.

From that point on, for a very long time, if W. so much as sniffled, I would begin to panic. What's wrong? Is he okay? Do we have to go back there?!

It was irrational thinking, I know. But with time and biannual checkups, my worries faded.

He is now almost twelve years old and we've never been back. We are truly blessed, as W. is living a healthy life.

He is so healthy that he has decided to join the track team at school. Of course, due to his medical history, the school physician needs clearance from W.'s cardiologist, Dr. A.

Dr. A. has strongly recommended that W. take some tests to permanently clear him for all sports in school. An MRI and a Nuclear Stress Test were ordered to be performed at CHOP. He'll most likely need anesthesia for the MRI. He'll most definitely need IV's for both.

I could picture the ICU in my mind. I could hear the beeps of the machines. I could smell the hand soap that I used so many times that my hands became raw.

The familiar knot returned to my chest.

As I type this, Mr. Schmitty and W. are on their way to Philadelphia. I needed to stay here to care for my other two children.

It is killing me not to be there. But I'm thinking, they are probably better off without me.

I Wonder If Our Insurance Will Cover That

My boys can be somewhat obsessive at times.

When their minds lock on to something, you'd better go run and hide because they are going to drive you completely batty.

They will talk incessantly about it. They will ask over and over and over again if they can have it, do it, see it, touch it, eat it, buy it, or use it.

It's enough to drive me to drink. Not that I need an excuse for that.

A friend of W.'s recently got glasses. All of a sudden, my boys went blind. They begged and pleaded for me to take them to get glasses, "RIGHT AWAY!"

T. feigned headaches. W. began squinting at the television.

"Your eyes are totally fine!" I informed them. "T., you just had yours checked at the pediatrician. And didn't you, W., just have the school nurse perform eye exams?"

They looked at each other and then back to me, in unison they whined, "Moooommmm! Our eyes are bad now!"

I rolled mine and walked away.

For the next three days they pestered me. "Did you make us appointments with the eye doctor yet?" and "When are we going to get our glasses?"

W. must have gotten tired of me telling him that the doctor was out of the country because on the fourth day, the school nurse called.

"Hi, Mrs. Schmitty? I have W. here. He's saying that he's having problems seeing the board in class and that he's been having headaches."

Oooooohhhh, that little booger!

I asked the nurse if they had just recently given the eye exams. She told me they had and he had done fine.

Ummmm hmmmm.

I explained the situation to her and asked her to send his ass him back to class and that I would beat speak to him when he got home.

About thirty minutes after I hung up with the nurse, the phone rang again. I saw the school's number on the caller id.

"Mrs. Schmitty? I just gave W. another eye exam. I'm going to send home a letter that recommends he be examined by his doctor. His vision is 20/50 in both eyes."

I burst out laughing.

"Thank you, I'll take care of everything."

Upon arriving home, W. handed me the letter from the nurse. "Did you make my appointment?"

"Don't worry honey, I'll handle it."

It's been two weeks since I received the nurses recommendation letter. Both boys have moved on to obsessing about the new flavor of gum they want to try. Their headaches are gone. The squinting has stopped.

At dinner last night I said to W., "Wow! It was truly amazing how you read that small print on the television last night! I guess your eyesight has been restored! It's a miracle!"

He grinned his special, I can't lie to mom because she knows me too well grin.

"W., I am going to make an appointment for you with a doctor."

"You are?" He questioned.

"Sure, you need to go see a proctologist to get an enema because you are full of poop!"