That La Kid

wishin' an' hopin'!

2012 in review

The stats helper monkeys prepared a 2012 annual report for this blog.

Here’s an excerpt:

600 people reached the top of Mt. Everest in 2012. This blog got about 3,300 views in 2012. If every person who reached the top of Mt. Everest viewed this blog, it would have taken 6 years to get that many views.

Click here to see the complete report.

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bruce’s first visit


I’d like to say that Bruce wasn’t all that impressed with Disney World, but you know… I think, actually, he was.  He was impressed with the things he saw and the stuff he heard, the sweet smells of Main Street and lots and lots of time with Daddy, Grandpa, Gran, Aunty Cray Cray and Uncle Haley.  I think he was actually very impressed.

I’ve said all along that I would withhold judgement on other mommies until after I had put in my time.  Well, now that we’ve spent our 10 days running around with the stroller, let the criticizing of others commence.

It’s not that difficult, people.  It’s really not.

Halfway through the trip we traded our diaper bag for a backpack.  Tom said it’s much less convenient during changing time – and he may be right.  But it was a whole lot easier to carry.

Baby swap was a snap, when we needed it.  Half the time, Gran and Grandpa weren’t interested in taking their ride turn.  They just wanted all the Bruce they could get.

Not ONCE did I change Bruce in full view (and smell) of throngs of tourists.  Don’t have to.  There is a little piece of heaven on Earth called the Baby Care Center at each park.  Even if the Baby Care Center is by Pizzafari and you’re over at Chester and Hester’s in Dinoland, USA, the bathrooms are all clean and big and just really nice.  And I have learned since having a kid that they are kind of predictable.  Feed him, he’s going to poop.  So, we feed him, change him and do whatever we want to do until it’s time to eat again.

You know what irritates me more than anything else?  Strollers.  I guess they irritate me as much as bad drivers.  I wonder if there is some correlation between people who suck at driving cars and people who suck at driving strollers.  It’s not that complicated.  Disney has the most sophisticated system that I’ve ever seen anywhere for handling the stroller derby.



At the Hollywood Hills Amphitheater, where they perform Fantasmic for you and 8199 of your closest friends nightly (sometimes two shows), there is a stroller parking lot with numbered rows.  It was incredible.  Anyway, Tom took the baby and threw the diaper back-pack over his shoulder while I went and tossed the stroller in the lot.  It’s not that tough.  I watch other people struggle with it and it’s like watching an infomercial.  All the other ways to remove the hair from your legs are just too tough.  The one lady gets hot wax all over her entire bathroom, the other one cuts herself… yeah, maybe that’s because she’s not standing in the shower and the shave gel is on a dry leg – but I digress.  Watching other people deal with their own stroller is very similar to watching one of those infomercials where the person just can’t figure it out.  That miracle product you’re looking for?  That’d be a brain.  It’s not that difficult!  Pass the baby to someone for a second, fold up your stroller.  B’BAM!  Done.  You KNOW you’re going to have to take all of your crap out of it before you fold it up – so, hey – don’t put a bunch of crap in it!


There was one lady, and I’m not talking shit about her – I feel bad, but anyway there was this one lady that had a real rough go of it.  She was probably my mom’s age.  She was a grandma, but her grandson was way older than Bruce.  Still in a stroller, though.  So, anyway… we are waiting for the Old Key West bus on night at Epcot.  We didn’t have the baby that night.  No stroller.  When we got to the bus stop she was the only one there.  She got on the phone and was cussing the crap out of somebody.

The bus pulls up.

She immediately went into, “Well, I don’t see why you can lift those wheelchairs up and down all day but I have to take him out of the stroller…”

(Remind me to complain about the wheelchairs in a minute.)

The bus driver just kept saying, “It’s federal law, I’m so sorry, it’s federal law.”  She just did NOT want to fold that stroller.  Some beefcake walks over in an orange reflective vest and is all, “is there a problem here?”  The bus driver kind of motions at him behind the lady’s back that it’s okay.  Eventually she takes the kid and gets on the bus while the driver and the beefcake try to fold the stroller with everything in it.  They take out some Disney bags and start putting clothes from the stroller basket into the bag and there are not one but two foam swords for this one little boy and his Kidcot Perry thing…. just a mess.  She is slamming stuff around and she looks at us and says, “you all are going to have to wait!”  We didn’t care.  Clearly she was having a bad night.

We all eventually got on the bus.  Tom and I talked about how unhelpful we were and how embarrassing it was for all parties involved.  At the first stop, our stop, we walked up to the front of the bus and sat beside her and told her we’d be happy to help.  She was crying.  She said they just left her.  Her daughter went to get her purse and when she couldn’t find her way back to wherever they were she just went back to the resort.  Left her kid and everything.  The kid had been playing in the fountains so he was in his underwear wrapped in a blanket.

When we got to the bus stop, the daughter was waiting.  As she got up Tom and the bus driver helped with the stroller, I grabbed the wet clothes and swords… then here comes the daughter.  Yanking the stuff from our hands, she said, “Sorry I’m a bad MOM.”  The way she said it… I just… ::sigh:: I know it was a long night for that family.


At Hollywood Studios on another night, these ladies were struggling with their stroller in the tram line.  One lady, Auntie, was like twice as wide as I am.  There were two little girls.  They were all over the place.  The Cast Member loading the tram said that they needed to be behind the yellow line, looked at me and said, “someone should probably take their hand.”  My dad said very, very loudly, “They’re not ours!”  Their mom was like, “I think some of the cast members just get on too much of a power trip…”  I THINK YOUR BRATS NEED TO BACK THE F UP BEHIND THE YELLOW LINE.  Have you not been doing this all day?  I should give them some credit for folding up their stroller, but not until they had already missed one tram trying to do it.  Dad whispered that Auntie thought they were taking over our lane, too.  Anyway… “Ladies and gentlemen, lower your head and watch your step…” Dad and I jumped on immediately.  Tom got trapped behind them struggling with the stroller somehow.  Auntie cuts Tom off and jumps on the tram closing the door behind her.

Tom eventually got on, but not before Dad had to point out to Auntie that the tram seats seat 5 adults, and there were 3 adults and one little girl in ours.

This is basic stuff, folks.  Stay behind the yellow line.  How are you not conditioned by now?  Every attraction has a yellow line and someone is always trying to cross it and cast members have been saying, “behind the yellow line” to somebody in the room all day.  How have you not learned?  The CM’s not on a power trip… he doesn’t want a lawsuit and job loss on his conscience because you couldn’t keep a handle on your kid.  And hey, if Auntie is as big as a house and you brought the stroller from hell, maybe you want to plan ahead and grab two rows, eh?  Or that double row in the front.  If you rode the bus TO the theme park and they made you fold up the stroller, guess what?!  Yeah!  You have to fold it up for the ride home, too!

We were champs.  We had a great team.  I grabbed the bag, Gran grabbed the baby, Tom folded the stroller and Haley ran it over to stroller parking.  Even when Haley and Mom weren’t with us, Tom and I handled it.

It’s not that complicated!  Handle it!


…so much more to post, stay tuned!


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december 7

…the day I put my mom’s ring back on!

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a day that sucked

We walked away from that whole thing looking like the idiots… but I’m getting ahead of myself.  Maybe this should be a “you suuuck” post.

I didn’t sleep at all last night.  Thirty minutes, maybe.  Bruce literally kept me up all night.

Bruce had a follow-up appointment scheduled today about his butt.  You know, that whole thing at Levine?  They made an appointment to make sure everything healed up alright.  We didn’t schedule the appointment, they made it for us at the hospital.  We just did what we were told.  (And in hindsight, this whole Obamacare thing scares me even more.)  We already had an appointment scheduled for his 2 month check-up, happens to be tomorrow, at Providence Pediatrics, Bruce’s regular doctors.  They made this appointment in addition.  Okay, we thought, the doctor wants to follow-up.  Makes sense.  Dr. Wolanski was the same way with my c-section.  Bruce’s very first pediatrician in Virginia wanted to see him a couple of days after we left the hospital to check his weight and jaundice.  ANYWAY… we did what we were told, and what we assumed was the right thing, the best thing, for Bruce.

So, we get there and parking is ri-goll-darned-diculous.  There’s a garage, but not a lot of spaces and it’s just complicated.  Our appointment note said to arrive 20 minutes early, but we got there right on time.  As soon as we walked in I felt weird.  Why do so many people in here speak spanish?  ::Shrug::  Didn’t think much of it.  Tom went to registration, I took Bruce in his car seat and sat down with my back to the majority of the huge waiting room.  They asked for his parking pass and insurance card.

Tom came and sat down and the lady at the desk called him back after a minute or so.  Tom came back and had me lean in so he could whisper.  I forget his exact words, but he said that the lady said Bruce was kind of a special case, and most of the people there didn’t have healthcare.


Tom was like, “how did you know?”  I said, “well, look around.”  I’m not saying anything about anybody – just that it was just a rough crowd.  We sat in the waiting room for about an hour and a half, then in a patient room for another 30 minutes or so.  They asked if we had a recent height and weight.  Uh… you’re the nurse.  Aren’t you supposed to get that?

We saw the doctors and they were asking lots of leading questions.  Kind of coming at us with a, “so, what are you doing here?” attitude.  To which we responded with a kind of, “you asked us to come,” attitude.  It was kind of awkward.  At some point Tom said that we were just following up after the surgery, and they said that everything looks great.  Something like 10-30% of these things reoccur.  It was 30 seconds, “Hi, how are you? Let’s get a look.  Looks fine. Any questions?  You’re free to go.”  The doctor didn’t even shut the door behind him when he left.  Typically they let us know when we should come back and tell us to take our time if we need to feed or change Bruce.  There was none of that.  Just, “we’re done. Get out.”  Really awkward, really weird.

It’s stupid.  We were already scheduled to see his regular doctor the next day.  We thought we were seeing the surgeon, not just some random guy.  Bruce’s regular M.D. could have looked at his butt crack and said, “Everything looks fine.”  And we wouldn’t have had to wait 2 hours – on top of having to visit another doctor the very next day.

It’s all coming together.  We had to twist some arms to get them to send a hospital billing rep to our room when we were trying to check out of the hospital.  I guess they just assumed we had no insurance when they made the appointment because we hadn’t filed it yet.

We just looked so dumb.  And it was dumb.  We were taking valuable time away from poor people when we have a perfectly good doctor that we are scheduled to see in our fancy-schmancy Ballantyne area tomorrow anyway.  We trekked all the way to Uptown, struggled with parking, waited 2 hours, and then got WTF looks from everyone JUST for a lesson on sociology and economics.


They called Tom this afternoon, reiterated that CSC was a clinic, and didn’t know how to process his insurance.  LISTEN.  YOU GUYS told US to come there.  WORK IT OUT.

What was the point in asking us to get there early?  We really should have gotten there at 7:15 for our 8:45 appointment.  Who makes that big of a mistake?  How do you book someone an appointment at a free clinic without even asking them?  Why the heck wouldn’t we do a post-surgery follow-up with THE SURGEON?  I guess that’s a tough question to ask.  I guess they don’t want to call it the clinic because of the associated stigma.  Guess what, we didn’t have time to spend TWO HOURS in a free-clinic waiting room because Tom’s insurance-paying-self had A JOB to get to!  Got to get to work so he can pay those premiums, so we can sit in our South Charlotte waiting room for 15 minutes instead.


They had nothing to do with the surgery.  It’s just a regular pediatrics office.  What we did there we could have done anywhere!  We could have done that TOMORROW at our nice, cushy, local, regular pediatric office!  We are going there anyway! Go to 05:10 and watch until about 06:30.

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