the bill:

we had a very frustrating weekend, you and i. and your daddy, too.
friday night two things happened that were key to this story:

1. your daddy bought a new truck.
2. i fed you spaghetti.

those things aren't related in the way that you would probably immediately visualize. no. you didn't throw-up spaghetti in daddy's new truck. that would have been far less agonizing and waaaay less costly. you and i aren't the types to do things the easy way. or be cheap, either. we are NOT cheap girls.

lately, getting you to eat has been one of the most grueling, intensely frustrating, and altogether hateful parts of my day. 3 times daily. i get so mad at you when you politely shove my hand away as i try to fork over some food. i mean. it's not rude at all the way you do it. it's rather sweet. "iiiiiiim through!" you proclaim with a little shove.

no. you have haven't had one bite. you are NOT through.

the only thing you want in your body is milk. and though infants can live on milk alone...toddlers can't. and i know this. and honestly? i don't really care if you starve. it's not MY tummy growling. or MY low energy. or MY malnutrition. but? it IS me that is being scrutinized by your doctor...and your mimi.

and i don't like that kind of judgement on me. it's not fair for you to refuse ALL the food and then i have to be the one to suffer for it. and so? this is the whole of my frustration: i don't want the judgement.
i typically end up giving you an ultimatum. do you want to go to bed? or do you want to eat your food? your choice.
and darnitall if you don't always choose bed.
but while you sit in your crib crying, i fester in my resentment towards your little stubborn eating preferences. at which point i always turn the battle inward onto myself: since i've put her to bed and she is straight up SQUALLING in there...do i give her milk so she doesn't die from hysterics? or do i just sit here, with both of us crying uncontrollably? it's all really rather ridiculous, jovie. if you would just EAT SOMETHING then all of this pain and suffering would be spared.

[i am SO GLAD that i am able to get onto you for this when you actually read this and are able to understand. and i fully expect you to either call me or come to me or text or email a giant "i'm sorry i was a brat, momma".]

but until then, i will battle you with your dinner.

on friday night while your father was out buying a truck - becoming a MAYN. a truck-driving, junk-hauling, errand-running, meat-eating MAYN - i was holding out the forkfuls of pasta begging you to take a bite as you bawled. those little tears in your eyes and that "momma? WHY????" look on your face - ugh - so irritating.

you opened your mouth to take a breath to rev up the crying and i shoved the fork in. i then waited in breathless anticipation. will she spit it out? will she swallow it?

oh my god you sneezed. ew. gross.

that was NOT the desired effect. spaghetti was all over the place and you pulled a big chunk out of your mouth that (i thought) came from halfway down your throat. so fine. you win this one. just because that was gross. and, if i'm being honest? slightly tragic.
so milk and snuggles it is. let's just go to bed and work this out tomorrow.

speaking of tomorrow....

the next day was a busy day filled with a friend's birthday party and your dad was using his truck to do manly things. you know. going back and forth to lowe's 800 times to get things to do man-projects around the house. he was so proud of his truck. he even was more than happy to take the two of us to Ikea to buy large items that we don't need just so he could use his truck to haul them. RAWR.

and thats where things went south.

after we purchased a few large items at the store, he took you and all the diaper bags and purses and such to the car and i waited with the large furniture bits at the loading dock for you guys to come with the truck. and i waited. and waited. and...then?

i see him running towards me. no truck. no jovie.

"where is jovie?"
"in the car. where is your phone? oh god it's in your bag. in the truck"
"why is she in the car and not with you?"

before he could answer, he was running into the store.
i'm a smart girl, jovie. i was able to use context clues to figure out that he had managed to lock you in the truck. which was kinda funny until i realized (milliseconds later) that you were probably in there with the ignition off. in the shade it was 110 degrees out. so that means in the car it is roughly 130 degrees which means you are slow-roasting in a truck that i don't have a spare key to.

PANIC!!!

immediately, my head was flooded with thoughts of the nightly news and yahoo new stories of children left in cars in the heat and dying within an hour. and child protective services coming and taking you away. and going to jail for child endangerment. then more gruesome visuals like my dog Hummer that was hit by a car, and how i would ever be able to even talk to your dad again after he kills you. and....it got ugly in that 10 second period that all of those thoughts crashed onto me.

and i saw out of the corner of my eye as i was frozen there in the loading dock..your father running back to the car. do i go? do i stay? do i leave this huge cart of junk that we don't need? do i take it with me? there's a rock!!!! bust the window! of the new car? YES THE CAR! who cares about the car?! this is your daughter! man. a locksmith will be expensive and they take forever to get where you need them to be, but a window is expensive-er and messy. and shatters of glass in jovie's eyes and mouth and....


before i knew it was was running with a dolly of furnishings being pushed with one hand and a giant landscaping stone in the other. ikea workers were yelling at me because i ran off with the stolen stone...i didn't even pay them any attention. this is my daughter!

so your dad punched the window with the rock. and nothing happened. not even a scratch. the truck moved. you laughed inside the car. but the window was perfectly intact. so he punched it again. and again. and again. at this time, we had drawn a small crowd. people gawking at a man beating up a car with dealer tags still on it. and a woman screaming "OH MY GAWD! OH MY GAWD!" over and over on the top of her lungs. i am sure we were a silly site. i mean, at least you were laughing at us. we making all the loud noises and yelling and jumping around being silly...you probably thought "man! my parents are so silly! look at them entertaining me! dance monkies! dance!"

finally, in what seemed like 3 hours but was more like 10 minutes....the window was broken, your dad unlocked the car (cutting his hand and arm up pretty good, too) and you were a big ball of sweat in my arms. safe and sound. what a relief that was. that you were OK.

but you weren't.

as i was putting you to bed the night of the truck window smashing, i noticed you had a stuffy nose and you were having trouble breathing. i could easily see a big ol' white booger in your nose, but the nose-booger-sucker thing that we have wouldn't make that stubborn thing budge. i had your dad help hold you while i tried to suck it out, but you were out of control angry about it, which seemed a little excessive, really...it's just a booger. or was it?

you know what. that is some THING in there. a toy? a bean? your brain?
it called to memory the story your nana tells me about the time i shoved a peanut up my nose. i was about your age when i did it. so in humor, i called her to tell her that the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. she didn't see it as funny and actually told me to take you to the ER.

wait...what?!

and duh! why didn't i think of that? if it's a small toy, you could accidentally suck it back into your lungs and choke on it. or if it's a bean, it could sprout in your nose like the story your great grandma used to tell me about your great uncle Robert getting a bean stuck in his nose. he had severe infection because of this bean and when they finally were able to get it out, it had sprouted roots and was beginning to grow in his sinuses. which. i always thought that was a tall-tale, but your nana made me a believer that night when she told me to take you to the hospital.

so. we did.

it was rather awkward there. none of us were worried about it. you were happy to play on a big beg and watch cartoons and your dad and i sat in the chair by your both of us playing on our phones. we were just doing what we were told to do, and i think your dad and i both felt it a little over-the-top to take you into the emergency. but. whatever. it's only money, right?  : /

the doctor had us wrap your little body tightly in a blanket like a burrito so that you couldn't move your arms and legs. your dad held your feet in place, i held your little arms and body and the nurse held your head while the doctor used a little scissor-like tool to dig the "thing" out of your nose.

she got some of it in one try, but not all of it.
so she filled a nose-booger-sucker thing full of water and shot the water through your other nostril trying to force the rest of the "thing" out. got a little more, but not all of it.

we inspected the object that came out. ha! remember the spaghetti sneeze from friday night? yeah. i had forgotten that, too. apparently, you sneezed a chunk of noodle (about an inch long) into your sinuses and it was stuck there.

graceful.

anyway. the doc had us make an appointment with the Children's Hospital ENT for the next day, where i found out that if she couldn't get it out, they would have to operate. lucky for you and my wallet she was able to fish it out while you sat in my lap your legs trapped between mine and my arms wrapped tightly around your body and a nurse holding your head still.

girl, you are strong when you are pissed off. i think you get that from me.

so. moral of the story? food is expensive. especially food that isn't eaten. if you'd just EAT YOUR STINKING FOOD, you wouldn't have to have metal things shoved up your snout. and if i'd just let you not eat, i would save a lot of money.

to date, for all the junk you have put us through in the 19 months of your life, you owe us:

-$5000 in health insurance deductibles for pregnancy and labor/delivery fees
-$5000 in health insurance deductibles for the first er visit that i never wrote about....but it was that nasty staph infection you had a few months ago. and man. THAT was a nightmare. : (
-$450 for a new window on daddy's truck
-$50 dollars for the new tinting on the window on daddy's truck
-$10000 to me for pain and suffering you cause for not eating like a normal fat baby would and getting yourself locked in a giant rotisserie.

but don't worry. i'll just garnish your allowance for the first 18 years of your life. that should just about cover those costs.