Gits and shiggles
It's been a rough last couple of days.
Found out Monday that sometime during the weekend, Robbie was taken for his first haircut without my knowledge or consent. You wouldn't believe how pissed I am about this.
Apparently, Duck didn't know about it either until afterwards, but I'm not sure if that makes it better or worse. Yes, it makes it better because there was no malice towards me in it, worse because what kind of fucking IDIOT do you have to be to think it's okay to take someone else's kid to have their hair cut WITHOUT talking to them about it first???
I don't care if people are family or not, people have absolutely NO RIGHT to cart their grandson, nephew, cousin, whatever, to have something done to their appearance without first discussing it with both parents. Even if something got into his hair, which seems to be the story, it doesn't matter. Talk to the parents first because there are other ways to get shit (literally and metaphorically) out of hair than just cutting. My family has been in childcare for over 30 years, they know how to handle things.
Ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous.
What makes it all the more stupider is whoever did the cutting did one hell of a shitty job. The front is completely crooked, his bangs are askew in a very visible way, and they used clippers at the base of his neck to even out his hairline and failed miserably. His hairline is now longer over one ear than the other and the clippers left irritated looking bumps.
All I have left of his curls are in a little plastic baggy. I appreciate the thought, I really do, but what was the thought process behind this? "Hey, we just took these peoples kid to get his first haircut without their permission, we better get some of the hair clippings or else they might get pissed."
I'm...aghast. I really am. There goes the pictures I was planning to get him scheduled for. There's no way I'm taking him in to get professional portraits done with his hair like this. It's going to grow out first.
People make me want to shoot myself in the face at times. Or, actually, shoot them in the face. I'm not suicidal, but I do have homicidal tendencies.
In other shitty news of the literal sort, Robbie has had diarrhea since Monday. I'm thinking stomach bug or more teeth coming in (maybe, finally?) because he's otherwise not sick. He's still eating and drinking good, just has the shits. It got a little bit worse on Tuesday morning, but has gotten better since then. He's averaged one, maybe two big poops like that all day, but that's it. I've been giving him at least one bottle of Pedalyte a day when he has a bad big poop and referred to the BRAT diet his doctor told us about earlier this year when he was so sick he had it coming out of both ends. BRAT = Bananas, Rice, Apples and Toast. I'm just giving him more of those foods in addition to his regular diet, which seems to be what's taking care of it. He had a big poop after he got up today, then for breakfast had some eggs, yougart and Dutch Apple Dessert and it has been better since then.
My suspicion of a stomach bug was further confirmed today when both mom and dad cam down with General Stomach Bug of Death. If Robbie's is a stomach bug, he only has Private First Class Stomach Bug that has only been out of basic for two months and has been stuck behind a desk because he can't even make a baby have more than a minor case of the shits. So, in addition to the duties of mom, I'm also playing nursemaid to two very sick adults. They are at that point where they are both weak and can do little else but lay down between mad dashes to the bathroom, and it's at the point where they are not so much mad dashes as they are feeble hobbling. I even cleaned the kitchen. Pick your jaws up off the floor, I know I didn't shock some of you quite that much since you've seen me clean before.
Things did turn around, however, when I got a phone call around 7:30 from Melissa at Sam's. I go in for my orientation paperwork tomorrow at 12:30. Woot! I'm still not sure if they are going to make me do the whole orientation or just the paperwork though. The interview wasn't really an interview, it was me sitting there, signing forms, and bullshitting with Sheila and John. I guess we'll see tomorrow. I'm not going to bother dressing up this time since it made no difference last time. I had the job basically before the interview, they just had to go through the formality of it and get it set up so I could get my drug test done. So, considering this is probably going to be the same way, I'm not going to bother. Though I may want to try to find a pair of Non Holy Jeans to wear. I ripped the ass out of my Only Moderately Holy pair on Sunday, but that's another story for another time.
Found out Monday that sometime during the weekend, Robbie was taken for his first haircut without my knowledge or consent. You wouldn't believe how pissed I am about this.
Apparently, Duck didn't know about it either until afterwards, but I'm not sure if that makes it better or worse. Yes, it makes it better because there was no malice towards me in it, worse because what kind of fucking IDIOT do you have to be to think it's okay to take someone else's kid to have their hair cut WITHOUT talking to them about it first???
I don't care if people are family or not, people have absolutely NO RIGHT to cart their grandson, nephew, cousin, whatever, to have something done to their appearance without first discussing it with both parents. Even if something got into his hair, which seems to be the story, it doesn't matter. Talk to the parents first because there are other ways to get shit (literally and metaphorically) out of hair than just cutting. My family has been in childcare for over 30 years, they know how to handle things.
Ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous.
What makes it all the more stupider is whoever did the cutting did one hell of a shitty job. The front is completely crooked, his bangs are askew in a very visible way, and they used clippers at the base of his neck to even out his hairline and failed miserably. His hairline is now longer over one ear than the other and the clippers left irritated looking bumps.
All I have left of his curls are in a little plastic baggy. I appreciate the thought, I really do, but what was the thought process behind this? "Hey, we just took these peoples kid to get his first haircut without their permission, we better get some of the hair clippings or else they might get pissed."
I'm...aghast. I really am. There goes the pictures I was planning to get him scheduled for. There's no way I'm taking him in to get professional portraits done with his hair like this. It's going to grow out first.
People make me want to shoot myself in the face at times. Or, actually, shoot them in the face. I'm not suicidal, but I do have homicidal tendencies.
In other shitty news of the literal sort, Robbie has had diarrhea since Monday. I'm thinking stomach bug or more teeth coming in (maybe, finally?) because he's otherwise not sick. He's still eating and drinking good, just has the shits. It got a little bit worse on Tuesday morning, but has gotten better since then. He's averaged one, maybe two big poops like that all day, but that's it. I've been giving him at least one bottle of Pedalyte a day when he has a bad big poop and referred to the BRAT diet his doctor told us about earlier this year when he was so sick he had it coming out of both ends. BRAT = Bananas, Rice, Apples and Toast. I'm just giving him more of those foods in addition to his regular diet, which seems to be what's taking care of it. He had a big poop after he got up today, then for breakfast had some eggs, yougart and Dutch Apple Dessert and it has been better since then.
My suspicion of a stomach bug was further confirmed today when both mom and dad cam down with General Stomach Bug of Death. If Robbie's is a stomach bug, he only has Private First Class Stomach Bug that has only been out of basic for two months and has been stuck behind a desk because he can't even make a baby have more than a minor case of the shits. So, in addition to the duties of mom, I'm also playing nursemaid to two very sick adults. They are at that point where they are both weak and can do little else but lay down between mad dashes to the bathroom, and it's at the point where they are not so much mad dashes as they are feeble hobbling. I even cleaned the kitchen. Pick your jaws up off the floor, I know I didn't shock some of you quite that much since you've seen me clean before.
Things did turn around, however, when I got a phone call around 7:30 from Melissa at Sam's. I go in for my orientation paperwork tomorrow at 12:30. Woot! I'm still not sure if they are going to make me do the whole orientation or just the paperwork though. The interview wasn't really an interview, it was me sitting there, signing forms, and bullshitting with Sheila and John. I guess we'll see tomorrow. I'm not going to bother dressing up this time since it made no difference last time. I had the job basically before the interview, they just had to go through the formality of it and get it set up so I could get my drug test done. So, considering this is probably going to be the same way, I'm not going to bother. Though I may want to try to find a pair of Non Holy Jeans to wear. I ripped the ass out of my Only Moderately Holy pair on Sunday, but that's another story for another time.