An Old-Fashioned Dose of Testosterone

Have I mentioned how much I love my husband? My husband rocks! He is dedicated to me and the girls, he has a work ethic like no other, he holds himself to the same standards he expects of others, he has a deep faith, a solid sense of order and responsibility, and a FABULOUS sense of humor. I love my husband. I love him more than he will ever understand and more than I could ever express without sounding like a sickingly, sappy Hallmark card. All of these wonderful attributes of my Husband will occassionally go out the window. This usually happens when he is hanging out with the boys (I mean guys... no I think boys is more appropriate) and most often when our friend Mr. Bacardi is present.

Case in point, a few weeks ago we were invited to a friend's home for a family gathering celebrating our friend's birthday. Kids were welcome and present, burgers on the grill, women gabbing in the kitchen, kids running in and out of the house, and boys on the back porch enjoying the moment and a few toddies. The child-size 3 wheeler was brought out for all of the kids to get their adrenaline fix before dinner and then a great meal. Of course with the short days, by the time dinner was finished, it was too dark to get back on the 3 wheeler because of the lack of lights and the potentially dangerous terrain. My Husband did the dutiful, protective Dad routine. "Girls, this is unsafe. You will not ride that thing this late because you could hurt yourselves." I think he even threw out phrases like good choices vs. bad choices- very, very solid parenting. I was proud, the girls understood, moved on to the next fun thing and stopped whining. SCORE ONE FOR DAD!

The night moved on, Mr. Bacardi became very generous, and the poker table came out. The four letter words started slipping more and more and so I thought it was time to round up the kids and head home. I encouraged my dear Husband to stay and enjoy his friends. One even offered to drive him home after the game.

Around 2 AM I get a phone call. I can't really understand what my Husband is trying to tell me... I just understood 'three wheeler', 'ouch' and home. He mercilessly put our friend and the Hostess of the night on the phone and all I heard was "I am so sorry- please don't be mad at me." These words at any time are not good, but combined with the lateness of the hour- spelled disaster. Somehow, the boys (and you will understand now why I have chosen that term) had thought it a great idea for them to take turns riding the child-size three wheeler around the yards. Three men over 6 foot tall- my Husband is 6'4"- felt they could squash their bodies one by one onto a tiny machine and run at full speed. One friend decided to take on the Step By Step Toddler slide- the slide (may it rest in peace) did not stand a chance. My husband decided the best choice was to mow the neighbor's lawn with his face, shoulder and teeth. God Bless testosterone.

Anyway, they threw Hubby-Mine into a cab, which brought him home. The next day he was swollen and bruised and nursing a bit of a hangover. The road rash on his face brought up many questions from the girls. Without missing a beat, Hubby merely responded "You girls kept pestering about riding the three wheeler at night and did not believe me when I said it was dangerous. So, to show you what can happen, I rode the three-wheeler and ended up getting really hurt. I did this all to prove to you that I was right about the danger." Boy, were the kids impressed. On Monday, his shoulder was still really rough, and he went to the ER because we were concerned it had dislocated. Fortunately, it was a severe sprain and he was able to get it to 'pop' back as the day went on.

I teased, but I did hold back. He was, after all, hurt and I did not want him hurt ever. At the same time, I am pretty apathetic when people get hurt from pure stupidity. His face healed, his shoulder became better, and the only memory was the stained-beyond-repair shirt he was wearing that night. I still can't bear to throw it out because our 5 year old picked it out for him for Christmas. (I didn't mean for that touch of guilt to come out- sorry babe!) We hit the point where we can laugh heartily with our friends about the incident- which I am sure will be added to a long list of- Lordy, Did My Husband Really Do That?

As I said, the incident was becoming a distant memory when I received a call from insurance yesterday regarding the Hospital visit. They wanted to know about the nature of the injury. Was it an accident? Did it happen at work? In a car accident? Could the liability be passed off to another insurance company? My answers:

Yes, it was an accident.
No, it did not involve a car.
No, it did not happen at work.
No, there is no other liability.

"Well, Ma'am, what was the accident a result of?"

My answer--- "I hope stupidity is a category in your computer."

Addicted...

I have prided myself on not being addicted to any 'bad' things in life. Yeah, Yeah, I understand that addiction of any kind is wrong, bad, damn me to hell sort of stuff, but I am not addicted to illegal substances or alcohol. (Since I am above- well above- the age of 21, this substance is not illegal but still on that very bad list). I do laugh about my 'addiction' to Dr. Pepper. I honestly cannot go longer than 4 hours without one. I do laugh about my 'addiction' to physical affection- no goodnight kisses from my girls each night can send me in a tailspin. But yesterday I did discover an addiction I did not realize I had.

Is there a meeting for "Technology Addicts"? Let me explain. On Saturday afternoon my phone fried. I mean fried- possessed. It was flipping from one screen to the next, I could see that calls were coming in- but I couldn't answer them. I could try to text people to let them know my phone was fried, but it kept cutting me off after two words and zapping away my message. I cried, I laughed, I got really pissed off! I had never realized how dependent I was on my cell phone. I have many friends who don't even talk on the phone anymore- we just text. A line here, smart aleck comments there. On the weekends, this goes on for hours- on American Idol nights, Phil and I text back and forth with C. and J. for a couple of hours. Phone calls make you miss things, texting allows you to multi-task. Plus, I don't know anyone's phone numbers anymore. They are all plugged safely into my contacts list on my phone. Do you know what happens when you don't have phone numbers? You can't even use the archaic land line because you don't know what number to call.

The frustration was intense, the need for medication was rising. And then, the white knight arrived! Verizon. We had switched to this cell phone provided in October. Phil hated T-mobile, I am apathetic- I think most cell providers suck in one way shape or form. My family is on Verizon, and so are a lot of friends, which makes calls free. So switch we did. Verizon was able to find us local numbers- something T-mobile was unable to accomplish in almost three years. We got great deals on new phones- and they give teachers a discount on everything. But the biggest white knight moment occurred on Sunday.

Phil and I drove over to the store expecting to have to purchase a new phone- $100 not in the budget. So we were bummed, but knowing that the cell phones are our main source of communication with one another- there wasn't another option. I walked in and met Jose. Jose was dealing with a gentleman whose puppy had decided to bite through his Blackberry, and was able to multi-task and help me at the same time. I was amazed I could still stand- after all, customer service is non-existent these days- much less finding someone who could actually handle two customers simultaneously. Jose asked me what happened. I explained that my phone was fried, that I was lost without it, that I had only had the phone since October, that I did not abuse it by throwing it across the room or submerging it in water. I didn't push it past it's limits- hell, I don't even know how half of the functions work! He asked for the phone- which even with it not working, I had a hard time handing it over. Then he left.

I began to panic. The Verizon man took my phone and left. He went behind the security door. I began to sweat, my stomach began to flip in a very bad way. What do I do? The man has my lifeline. After what seemed like an eternity. He came back and handed me a brand new phone. He told me my contacts were switched over, to call customer service to get the ring tones I had downloaded re-downloaded for FREE, and then asked- Is there anything else I can do for you today? Holy crap.... I love Verizon! My addiction is back. I am reconnected to the world. I am happy.