The dog days of winter

My dog. My precious little 11lb dog. Has a flea. Literally...a flea. She spends her entire day scratching herself to death. It's making her smell. Like Fritos and milk. I don't know what to do for her anymore. I've bathed her. I've given her flea medication. She can't take it anymore. Neither can I.

Take me out to the...get me the hell out of here!

It should have said ball game but...I'm over it. As if my life isn't crazy busy enough, I took on the task as board member for the youth baseball league. Someone please slap me and tell me why I signed up for this. So far I have learned that the boys get all the titles in this world while the girls do all the leg work. Having partial OCD doesn't help the situation either, considering that everything I do, I feel the need to make it perfect. Which left me at the office until one o' clock in the morning, without pay and surely not any self gratification.

And the coaches...oh the coaches. Grown men. That act like children. Some of them, I think, believe that coaching a youth league will somehow benefit them on future resumes. They take all of this way too serious. It's a game. It's children. Get over your whiny grown up behinds and understand the concept that we aren't saving lives here.

But...at the end of the day, it's my fault. I signed up for this. Again, OCD is making me keep doing it. Probably until the end of time. Brudder has seven more years and Boog starts next year...you do the math.

I don't want to pay them!

My life is a constant stream of medical mayhem. Medical bills are consuming my life. At one point I figured if I ignored them, they would go away. That didn't happen. As I look over the three that are currently due and calling my name, I'm trying to figure out how in the wide world of sports that hospitals can charge so much! I'm obviously in the wrong business...that is for sure.

It's mostly the Boog man that is making my life constantly drown in medical debt. If I can make it this whole year (crossing my butt cheeks) without him having to go to the hospital, I'm going to consider it a good year. I hold my breath at every fall this kid makes. I don't get it either. My oldest son has NEVER been to the hospital. He hasn't broken anything or needed to get his body sewed up anywhere. He has never been sick enough to need to be in the hospital. He's almost eleven so I'm thinking odds are looking good. The middle kid has cost me very little as well. A bout of an unknown illness kept him cooped up for a few days and he's needed stitches once. The kid has played soccer, basketball, football and baseball for years and has survived all the bumps of that.

But the little one...he's my walking disaster. He's been hospitalized with Rotovirus...stitched for his second birthday and stitched again for his third. He just turned four so it's a new year for new injuries. I'm going to remind him when he grows up and becomes rich and famous that he owes me a lot of back money for the mental and financial anguish he has put me through. Lucky for him he is cute and gives the best hugs...oh yea and I'm his momma and love him to the moon and back.

The envelopes are sealed and I'm going to suck it up and pay them. I still don't want too. I'm moving to Canada!