I've had a weird couple of weeks. Between the end of school, the husband's surgery, and everything that has been going on, I have felt a little more scattered than normal.
I have a few articles that I need to write for my freelance job, and it has been difficult to even accomplish one article a day (I was churning out 4-5 a day without difficulty earlier this year). I reread what I write and I wonder what the heck I was trying to say.
The husband is recovering from his surgery, but his blood pressure, which was never a problem before has been really high ever since the procedure last week. He is supposed to go back to work tonight, but this morning he is back at the doctor to try to get some answers. I am certain that my concern over him has contributed to my recent scatter brained days.
I've been distracted and disjointed. My oldest daughter had asked about going to a church camp a few weeks ago and I told her that she could, but I just needed to sign her up. This past weekend, we were talking about doing something later this week, and she said "Well we need to do it before Thursday or I won't be here." I was like "What? Where will you be?" She looked at me with her 9 year old attitude and said "Very funny mom. I'll be at camp!" Gulp. I had totally forgotten about camp. So Saturday I starting calling around very frantically to fellow church members to try and see if it was possible to still get her in. Luckily, there was ONE bed left in the 9 year old cabin. Whew. If I had to tell her that I had dropped the ball on camp after she was so very excited, I would have felt like a total looser. More so than usual. She is going to love it and I know that she'll have an awesome time since they're going to have some sort of talent show. She regularly does little skits and then ends them by saying "Aaaaaand scene."
It's Summer and I should be sleeping late...but I was up at 6:15 this morning and I will be all this week. My oldest signed up for a day camp with the local police department. (And just as a side note, when the cops called to remind us about his camp starting today, I had a mini heart attack because I never get calls from the cops.) I think that this will be good for him, but I just wish that it started around noon. My oldest is the rule guy. He's a legalistic. So spending a week with the cops will be heaven for him.
The 6 year old has been quirkier than normal lately, and it has been a great stress reliever. She has this little bitty toy that she has been carrying around for over a week (it is smaller than a Monopoly piece). It is a whale, that she has named "Quail." Yep, "Quail the Whale." If it were anyone else I would tell you that this made absolutely no sense, but with her it is perfectly normal. She has also developed a very unique style of dress this Summer -- black and white striped shirt with lime green bike shorts that have white polka dots for example. Again, if it was anyone else, it would seem weird. She and her little brother are hilarious together -- lots of pretend play and witty banter between them that makes me smile.
And then there's the youngest. I am beginning to worry about how he is going to do when he starts kindergarten next Fall. He is super smart, but he is mischievous. He loves Monty Python and the Holy Grail, Looney Toons, and already has a firm grasp of sarcasm. And while this is very entertaining at home, I am concerned that his teacher might not appreciate it when he utilizes his sarcasm and humor with her. I just think that when he walks up to her and says in a husky whisper "I'm Batman. My parents are dead." or "Obviously, this means war." she may not get the joke.... And based on his love for Monty Python's Holy Grail, I am just waiting for the call where I have to explain why he would tell his teacher: "I didn't vote for you. You can't expect to be a teacher just because some watery tart threw a sword at you." (All of which is in the realm of possibility since he has said that crap (and more) to me.
See? Distracted and disjointed. I have no idea what the point of this post is. It's just....random.
This is me...
I'm having a mom moment....
Tuesday, June 11, 2013
Monday, June 3, 2013
I'm Still Alive.
I know. I suck. I haven't blogged in a month.
The truth is, I have something to write about, something that has been gnawing at me, something I have been obsessing over, etc. -- but I can't write about it without sort of "airing dirty laundry" that isn't all mine to air. It has to do with my great aunt's estate, and it has been occupying a huge chunk of my time since last Fall. I'll just say that people are greedy. And annoying. And have a twisted view of what they "deserve." I mean, if someone leaves you something -- ANYTHING -- in their will after they passed away, be grateful. You didn't work for it, they did. It is free. Gratis. And not everyone has acted like an idiot, most of us have been thankful for what we have received.... But I can't talk about it in detail. Sooooooo.... yeah. Moving on. Let's recap the last month....
There's been other stuff going on too. Like school's out and my kids are all home and driving me crazy. My husband had the idea that we tell them that if they keep their rooms clean that they could stay up until 9:30. I hated to point out to him that it is Summer and I have never "made" them go to bed in the Summer. Ever. I mean, I appreciate that his work schedule is more conducive to parenting, but he's a little late to the bedtime game -- I've been flying solo in this whole dinner/bath/bedtime routine for more than 11 years. And it is so very hard to get them all to bed 9 months out of the year, that during these three months that there is no school, we all sort of embrace our inner night owl. It is not uncommon for my kids to be up at 11 or 12:00 at night during the Summer, because I'm up that late. And because I want them to sleep late the next morning.
My husband is having surgery today. He sees an ENT regularly because he needs tubes in his ears. He walked into the Dr. here and the Dr. says "So, we're here to talk about your nose?" And my husband said "Um....no. I'm here about tubes in my ears. What's wrong with my nose?" Apparently, he has a horrible deviated septum. So, this afternoon he's going to have that fixed. I'm hoping that it helps with his snoring. It'd be nice to sleep through the night when he's home. (So my kids are at my mom's for the night, so I am certain that they'll be in bed by 9:30).
I have also somehow injured my back. I have a bulging disk. It hurts, but the good thing is that I finally have an excuse for sitting around and doing nothing. I am seeing a chiropractor 2-3 times a week, and I'd go everyday if I could because I always feel so much better after I leave. He puts this electrode thing on my back and it feels like just little thumps, but it interrupts the pain receptors. Unfortunately, it only lasts about an hour and then it starts hurting again. He also uses ice which I HATE, but I can't deny that it makes it feel better. Before I went to see him, I was using heat which was the exact wrong thing to do. I'm trying to do what he says, but I am sort of enjoying saying "Can you....because I can't do that with my back."
So now you are all caught up. I do have some funny stories to share, and I will try to do that as I have time, but it is so very difficult to write with the minions running around saying "Mom, can you....?", "Mom, can I....", "Mom, make him stop....", and "Mom, tell her to..." and my freelance stuff has to take priority. Yep, I'm still doing freelance work, although the flow has slowed down. It's actually a good thing that it has since the kids are home and it makes focussing on anything for more than 2 or 3 minutes difficult. As I was working on that this weekend, I was having difficulty finishing an article because I was trying to read it out loud (something I do to make sure that it flows well and sounds natural) and I kept getting interrupted with questions like "Mom, who are you talking to?" and "Mom, I have no idea what you're talking about..."
Sigh.
The truth is, I have something to write about, something that has been gnawing at me, something I have been obsessing over, etc. -- but I can't write about it without sort of "airing dirty laundry" that isn't all mine to air. It has to do with my great aunt's estate, and it has been occupying a huge chunk of my time since last Fall. I'll just say that people are greedy. And annoying. And have a twisted view of what they "deserve." I mean, if someone leaves you something -- ANYTHING -- in their will after they passed away, be grateful. You didn't work for it, they did. It is free. Gratis. And not everyone has acted like an idiot, most of us have been thankful for what we have received.... But I can't talk about it in detail. Sooooooo.... yeah. Moving on. Let's recap the last month....
There's been other stuff going on too. Like school's out and my kids are all home and driving me crazy. My husband had the idea that we tell them that if they keep their rooms clean that they could stay up until 9:30. I hated to point out to him that it is Summer and I have never "made" them go to bed in the Summer. Ever. I mean, I appreciate that his work schedule is more conducive to parenting, but he's a little late to the bedtime game -- I've been flying solo in this whole dinner/bath/bedtime routine for more than 11 years. And it is so very hard to get them all to bed 9 months out of the year, that during these three months that there is no school, we all sort of embrace our inner night owl. It is not uncommon for my kids to be up at 11 or 12:00 at night during the Summer, because I'm up that late. And because I want them to sleep late the next morning.
My husband is having surgery today. He sees an ENT regularly because he needs tubes in his ears. He walked into the Dr. here and the Dr. says "So, we're here to talk about your nose?" And my husband said "Um....no. I'm here about tubes in my ears. What's wrong with my nose?" Apparently, he has a horrible deviated septum. So, this afternoon he's going to have that fixed. I'm hoping that it helps with his snoring. It'd be nice to sleep through the night when he's home. (So my kids are at my mom's for the night, so I am certain that they'll be in bed by 9:30).
I have also somehow injured my back. I have a bulging disk. It hurts, but the good thing is that I finally have an excuse for sitting around and doing nothing. I am seeing a chiropractor 2-3 times a week, and I'd go everyday if I could because I always feel so much better after I leave. He puts this electrode thing on my back and it feels like just little thumps, but it interrupts the pain receptors. Unfortunately, it only lasts about an hour and then it starts hurting again. He also uses ice which I HATE, but I can't deny that it makes it feel better. Before I went to see him, I was using heat which was the exact wrong thing to do. I'm trying to do what he says, but I am sort of enjoying saying "Can you....because I can't do that with my back."
So now you are all caught up. I do have some funny stories to share, and I will try to do that as I have time, but it is so very difficult to write with the minions running around saying "Mom, can you....?", "Mom, can I....", "Mom, make him stop....", and "Mom, tell her to..." and my freelance stuff has to take priority. Yep, I'm still doing freelance work, although the flow has slowed down. It's actually a good thing that it has since the kids are home and it makes focussing on anything for more than 2 or 3 minutes difficult. As I was working on that this weekend, I was having difficulty finishing an article because I was trying to read it out loud (something I do to make sure that it flows well and sounds natural) and I kept getting interrupted with questions like "Mom, who are you talking to?" and "Mom, I have no idea what you're talking about..."
Sigh.
Monday, April 8, 2013
The Best of Friends
I do not have a funny tale today, or a freelance horror story like the last post, or a social commentary like the one before that. What I do have today is laundry. Time sensitive laundry since the 4 year old wet the bed last night. But before I get started in earnest on that, I wanted to come and tell y'all a little story about these 2 awesome "older" ladies that I met last week.
Last week, I had to go to the doctor...the LADY doctor. I hate going to the gynecologist. It is my least favorite appointment of the year. Any appointment that involves a paper sheet and stirrups just sucks. I was a new patient so I got there really early to do all of the necessary paperwork. I had to ask the receptionist where to list the birth of my last child since there was only room for 3 on the form. When I sat back down to finish, I noticed these 2 ladies staring at me.
I was not in the mood to be friendly. I was at the gynecologist. But I smiled back at them, I can be polite without being friendly, I thought. This was the cue that they had been waiting for apparently: as is the norm in my life, I am a "Chatty Cathy" magnet.
"When are you due?" one of them said with a smile.
Yep, I am not pregnant. Nor have I been pregnant in nearly 5 years. So I looked up at them both smiling expectantly and said deadpan "July, 2008." (Which was when my youngest was born.)
This took a second to sink in, and then they apologized profusely and laughed hysterically. Then they asked about my kids.
"You have FOUR kids?" the graying brunette asked in amazement.
"Um, yes." I replied a little tersely.
"My, my -- I could not imagine. We both had 2. Not together, of course. Hahahaha." the obviously expertly dyed blonde said.
I offered a wilted smile, hoping that we weren't about to become best friends or something.
"We're best friends." (were they reading my mind??!) "We've been best friends since grade school. We married best friends, we live on the same street, our oldest kids married each other." the blonde offered up.
"I guess we're sort of attached at the hip." reaffirmed the brunette and they both giggled like school girls.
My paperwork now finished, I was intrigued by this pair. What were they doing here together at the gynecologist together?? So, with nothing to lose, I asked "So, do you both have appointments today?"
"Yep, but we do go to separate exam rooms." And there was that school girl giggle fit again.
"So besides being incredibly fertile, what do you do?" The brunette asked.
"Yes, do you work outside of the home? I imagine that with 4 kids you have your hands full." inquired the blonde.
"I do have my hands full, but I am a writer. I work from home, usually in my pajamas, surrounded by kid clutter and laundry."
This piqued their interest.
"Steamy romance novels?" smirked the brunette, "I don't suppose the stork brought those 4 kids." followed by another chorus of giggles.
"Um, no." I laughed nervously. These two were a lot more feisty than they appeared in their coordinated fashions from Cato. "I doubt that my romance novels would be very good. All of my characters would end up pregnant by the third chapter. Mostly I write content for web pages."
"Oh. That sounds sort of boring." the brunette said disapointedly.
"Well, I also have a personal blog where I share funny parenting stories and satirical social commentaries." I said, hoping to redeem a little of the coolness factor. "And I've written some children's books; but they've been rejected by every publisher I've sent them to."
"Maybe you should try romance novels" the blonde responded. "Does your blog have a lot of followers?"
"A few," I said. "I quit watching the numbers because it makes me crazy. I have a little over 3,500 followers on Facebook though."
"So let me get this straight -- you just write down what happens during your life as a mom, and strangers read it? What for?" the brunette asked. The concept of a blog seems to have confused her a little.
"Yeah, well, other parents read it. It either reminds them of the days when their kids were young, lets them know what they have to look forward to, or it makes them feel normal by knowing that they aren't the only ones dealing with parenthood insanity."
"Parenting is many things, but there is no 'normal' when you're dealing with kids," the blonde offered.
I gave them the address for the blog, and we talked about some of the stories I had written. They were obviously est friends -- they finished each other's sentences, speaking in tandem, a perfect rhythm of years together. But still I wondered -- the gynecologist? Together? I have some really great friends that I love to spend time with, but I prefer to face the stirrups alone. I had to ask because I am nosey: "So, why come to the gynecologist together? It seems an odd choice for a girl's day out..."
They smiled at each other and tilted their heads like there was some secret between them. Something that they were going to tell me, but I would never fully understand.
"Five years ago, I was diagnosed with cancer." the blonde said.
"Oh, I'm sorry," I said, now sort of regretting that I had asked.
"She was here alone when they found it, alone when they told her 2 weeks later and explained the treatment options, and alone when she had to tell her husband." the brunette said patting her friend's leg.
"Well, I am an adult..." the blonde began.
"But you're my best friend. You shouldn't have been alone. And since I wasn't here, you didn't tell me until after they confirmed it. You carried that for nearly a week by yourself, and then you had to tell [your husband, your kids] and then me." I felt like I had intruded into something private between these two...
"I beat it, though," the blonde said to me with a smile and clasping her friend's hand still on her leg.
"Yes you did." the brunette said.
"She came to every appointment after that. She stayed in the hospital with me when I had surgery, sat with me through chemo, even sat on my bathroom floor and held my head over the toilet while I got sick."
"Just like college," the brunette said, and the school girl giggles were back, but both of their eyes were glassy.
"Anyway, when you are old ladies like us, there is always a chance that they might find something. We don't take any chances. Ever since my cancer, we schedule our appointments together -- gynecologist, mammograms, even eye doctor and dermatologist. That way, we never have to face bad news alone. After each appointment, we go out to lunch or to dinner and have a drink to celebrate another good report, until the day that we need the drink to face what lies ahead." The blonde seemed almost wistful. "Besides, its not like [our husbands] want to come with us."
"No, they don't have time. All that golf won't play itself."
And they laughed again.
I found that my eyes were a little full too, threatening to overflow when I smiled at their jokes.
I was called back shortly after that. They said that they would check out my blog and I told them that I may write about them. They were gone when I got out. I haven't been able to stop thinking about them. What a testament to friendship.
I hope that I am that kind of friend.
I want to be that kind of friend.
And I hope that I have friends like that who will be there for me.
I think that I am blessed with more than one.
Last week, I had to go to the doctor...the LADY doctor. I hate going to the gynecologist. It is my least favorite appointment of the year. Any appointment that involves a paper sheet and stirrups just sucks. I was a new patient so I got there really early to do all of the necessary paperwork. I had to ask the receptionist where to list the birth of my last child since there was only room for 3 on the form. When I sat back down to finish, I noticed these 2 ladies staring at me.
I was not in the mood to be friendly. I was at the gynecologist. But I smiled back at them, I can be polite without being friendly, I thought. This was the cue that they had been waiting for apparently: as is the norm in my life, I am a "Chatty Cathy" magnet.
"When are you due?" one of them said with a smile.
Yep, I am not pregnant. Nor have I been pregnant in nearly 5 years. So I looked up at them both smiling expectantly and said deadpan "July, 2008." (Which was when my youngest was born.)
This took a second to sink in, and then they apologized profusely and laughed hysterically. Then they asked about my kids.
"You have FOUR kids?" the graying brunette asked in amazement.
"Um, yes." I replied a little tersely.
"My, my -- I could not imagine. We both had 2. Not together, of course. Hahahaha." the obviously expertly dyed blonde said.
I offered a wilted smile, hoping that we weren't about to become best friends or something.
"We're best friends." (were they reading my mind??!) "We've been best friends since grade school. We married best friends, we live on the same street, our oldest kids married each other." the blonde offered up.
"I guess we're sort of attached at the hip." reaffirmed the brunette and they both giggled like school girls.
My paperwork now finished, I was intrigued by this pair. What were they doing here together at the gynecologist together?? So, with nothing to lose, I asked "So, do you both have appointments today?"
"Yep, but we do go to separate exam rooms." And there was that school girl giggle fit again.
"So besides being incredibly fertile, what do you do?" The brunette asked.
"Yes, do you work outside of the home? I imagine that with 4 kids you have your hands full." inquired the blonde.
"I do have my hands full, but I am a writer. I work from home, usually in my pajamas, surrounded by kid clutter and laundry."
This piqued their interest.
"Steamy romance novels?" smirked the brunette, "I don't suppose the stork brought those 4 kids." followed by another chorus of giggles.
"Um, no." I laughed nervously. These two were a lot more feisty than they appeared in their coordinated fashions from Cato. "I doubt that my romance novels would be very good. All of my characters would end up pregnant by the third chapter. Mostly I write content for web pages."
"Oh. That sounds sort of boring." the brunette said disapointedly.
"Well, I also have a personal blog where I share funny parenting stories and satirical social commentaries." I said, hoping to redeem a little of the coolness factor. "And I've written some children's books; but they've been rejected by every publisher I've sent them to."
"Maybe you should try romance novels" the blonde responded. "Does your blog have a lot of followers?"
"A few," I said. "I quit watching the numbers because it makes me crazy. I have a little over 3,500 followers on Facebook though."
"So let me get this straight -- you just write down what happens during your life as a mom, and strangers read it? What for?" the brunette asked. The concept of a blog seems to have confused her a little.
"Yeah, well, other parents read it. It either reminds them of the days when their kids were young, lets them know what they have to look forward to, or it makes them feel normal by knowing that they aren't the only ones dealing with parenthood insanity."
"Parenting is many things, but there is no 'normal' when you're dealing with kids," the blonde offered.
I gave them the address for the blog, and we talked about some of the stories I had written. They were obviously est friends -- they finished each other's sentences, speaking in tandem, a perfect rhythm of years together. But still I wondered -- the gynecologist? Together? I have some really great friends that I love to spend time with, but I prefer to face the stirrups alone. I had to ask because I am nosey: "So, why come to the gynecologist together? It seems an odd choice for a girl's day out..."
They smiled at each other and tilted their heads like there was some secret between them. Something that they were going to tell me, but I would never fully understand.
"Five years ago, I was diagnosed with cancer." the blonde said.
"Oh, I'm sorry," I said, now sort of regretting that I had asked.
"She was here alone when they found it, alone when they told her 2 weeks later and explained the treatment options, and alone when she had to tell her husband." the brunette said patting her friend's leg.
"Well, I am an adult..." the blonde began.
"But you're my best friend. You shouldn't have been alone. And since I wasn't here, you didn't tell me until after they confirmed it. You carried that for nearly a week by yourself, and then you had to tell [your husband, your kids] and then me." I felt like I had intruded into something private between these two...
"I beat it, though," the blonde said to me with a smile and clasping her friend's hand still on her leg.
"Yes you did." the brunette said.
"She came to every appointment after that. She stayed in the hospital with me when I had surgery, sat with me through chemo, even sat on my bathroom floor and held my head over the toilet while I got sick."
"Just like college," the brunette said, and the school girl giggles were back, but both of their eyes were glassy.
"Anyway, when you are old ladies like us, there is always a chance that they might find something. We don't take any chances. Ever since my cancer, we schedule our appointments together -- gynecologist, mammograms, even eye doctor and dermatologist. That way, we never have to face bad news alone. After each appointment, we go out to lunch or to dinner and have a drink to celebrate another good report, until the day that we need the drink to face what lies ahead." The blonde seemed almost wistful. "Besides, its not like [our husbands] want to come with us."
"No, they don't have time. All that golf won't play itself."
And they laughed again.
I found that my eyes were a little full too, threatening to overflow when I smiled at their jokes.
I was called back shortly after that. They said that they would check out my blog and I told them that I may write about them. They were gone when I got out. I haven't been able to stop thinking about them. What a testament to friendship.
I hope that I am that kind of friend.
I want to be that kind of friend.
And I hope that I have friends like that who will be there for me.
I think that I am blessed with more than one.
Tuesday, April 2, 2013
Live and Learn
As most of you guys know, I have a freelance writing job that sort of fell into my lap. It has been very educational and I am still enjoying it very much. I have been blessed with a lot of work to get the client's website up to date and as a result I have been able to take care of many things that we were holding off on -- new tires, medical appointments, and replacing some broken and worn out things around the house. It has also taken the pressure off of those last few days before the husband gets paid where we eat Ramen noodles for dinner. However, the initial surge of work has slowed down and I have extra time on my hands so I have started looking for more freelance clients. There is a website called Elance where I created a profile on Friday, and before noon on Saturday, I had my first job. These are usually not long-term contracts like the one that I have currently, and they're sort of all over the map as far as the subject matter is concerned, but I was up for the challenge.
You need to know sort of how Elance works -- a company (or individual) posts a job detailing what they need, how long it needs to be, and when they need it. Then the freelance writers submit a proposal for what they would charge. The job poster then contacts the freelancer saying that they have accepted their bid, and sends payment into a sort of escrow account. As soon as the funds are in the escrow account, the writer sees that the job has been funded and gets to work. As soon as the work is completed, the client releases the funds and the writer can collect. Sounds pretty easy right?
Yeah, I screwed it all up (though not without help from my client) -- and I learned some valuable lessons in the process.
The proposal that I submitted was for five 500 word articles. I got to work immediately since the deadline was 24 hours (I did not realize that I should have waited until the job was funded before starting). The client sent me a list of article topics and they were weird -- IRS Marriage Penalty, Allergic to Histamine, Marriage Tax Penalty (almost the same as the first article), Cost of iPads, and Advanced Pilates DVD. I wondered what kind of company this could possibly be, but whatever, they were paying me to write not question the topics. She also sent me a template to follow. I had to research the topics on my own and compile an article. This was very similar to what I do with my regular client, so it is not like I was flying blind.
When I opened her template, I should have known that something was wrong. The format was for an introduction, 6 paragraphs of text, a conclusion, and a final paragraph containing statistical data. The template specified that the paragraphs were to be 4-8 sentences long. That is a about 48 sentences per article on average. Unless I was going to write sentences like "The dog died," this was going to be way longer than 500 words.
And it was -- the first article was 924 words. I sent it, along with a message that said in part:
(I know what you are thinking -- why didn't I just tell her to forget it. Well, this was my first job on Elance. Clients can rate you and your work after the project is completed and I did not want a bad review right out of the gate).
I send her a message, along with the 4th article (because in my mind, we have an agreement that I plan to honor), and I wait while I work on the final article. And I wait. And I wait. Sunday night, I get a message from her. She did not address the discrepancy in funds, but instead sent me a different template for the final article. At this point, I want to be done with her, so I finish the final article (in the now new template) and send it along with a message:
Lesson One: do not begin work until funds are in escrow.
She claimed that the work was late because I accepted the job around noon on Saturday and the work should have been completed by noon on Sunday (she also said "I don't care if it was Easter, you agreed to 24 hours."). It also did not matter to her that she did not provide me with the templates or respond as to whether or not she wanted me to continue when I raised questions until hours later.
Lesson Two: be sure that you know exactly when the deadline is and do not start the work until you have all of the information necessary to complete it.
Then she basically called me naive (a fair assessment, apparently) saying that "I would learn about how things work in the freelance world" and that she rarely ever uses the same writer twice (probably because no one would ever work for her twice).
Lesson Three: Know that the ethics of people most likely do not match your own -- be wary of accepting jobs from strangers.
I was appalled. I had no idea that people who claimed to be professional were such conniving sneaks (I had a few more colorful words for her, but *I* have some sense of decorum). I relayed these events to a good friend of mine and she said "Google her and see what comes up."
So I did.
She is a freelance writer.
Apparently, she takes on jobs, contracts them out on Elance and then sells them on her site at a profit. And she doesn't have to work at all. I thought, this woman is the most dishonest person I have ever worked with. So I sent an email to the Elance customer support people notifying them of what had transpired. I told them "I do not know if this violates your policies, but I definitely felt violated by the experience." Apparently it doesn't violate anything since I have not heard back from them.
Now, my long-term client and I do not always agree, but she is honest and fair. I rarely have to wonder about what is going on, I know that she will pay me, and I feel that we have a relationship. I have spent hours researching SEO and marketing techniques for her -- things that I don't get paid for -- because I want her business to succeed. Her success means more work for me, so I am willing to go that extra mile. Not to mention that all that research ultimately helps me in writing for her because I learn about trends, keywords, etc. that I work into the articles I write to hopefully boost her SEO. I do not have to worry about her cheating me, and I don't think that she ever worries about me cheating her.
I hope that there are more clients like that out there.
I hope that I do not become too cynical and jaded to recognize them.
And I hope that karma smacks down the sneaky cheat that took advantage of me on Elance.
You need to know sort of how Elance works -- a company (or individual) posts a job detailing what they need, how long it needs to be, and when they need it. Then the freelance writers submit a proposal for what they would charge. The job poster then contacts the freelancer saying that they have accepted their bid, and sends payment into a sort of escrow account. As soon as the funds are in the escrow account, the writer sees that the job has been funded and gets to work. As soon as the work is completed, the client releases the funds and the writer can collect. Sounds pretty easy right?
Yeah, I screwed it all up (though not without help from my client) -- and I learned some valuable lessons in the process.
The proposal that I submitted was for five 500 word articles. I got to work immediately since the deadline was 24 hours (I did not realize that I should have waited until the job was funded before starting). The client sent me a list of article topics and they were weird -- IRS Marriage Penalty, Allergic to Histamine, Marriage Tax Penalty (almost the same as the first article), Cost of iPads, and Advanced Pilates DVD. I wondered what kind of company this could possibly be, but whatever, they were paying me to write not question the topics. She also sent me a template to follow. I had to research the topics on my own and compile an article. This was very similar to what I do with my regular client, so it is not like I was flying blind.
When I opened her template, I should have known that something was wrong. The format was for an introduction, 6 paragraphs of text, a conclusion, and a final paragraph containing statistical data. The template specified that the paragraphs were to be 4-8 sentences long. That is a about 48 sentences per article on average. Unless I was going to write sentences like "The dog died," this was going to be way longer than 500 words.
And it was -- the first article was 924 words. I sent it, along with a message that said in part:
7 paragraphs plus an introduction and conclusion, all 4-8 sentences each, is considerably more than 500 words. I understand that this is a trial, and that we have an agreed upon price for these 5 articles, and I will honor that. However, should we continue our work relationship, we will need to discuss content and pricing in more detail and find a happy medium that we can both live with.I didn't hear from her for six hours. Then, at about 9 PM, I got an email saying yes -- continue with the other articles. Not knowing exactly what the rules were about the deadline, I stayed up and finished 2 more of the 5 articles thinking that I would finish the rest after church on Sunday. So, 3 out of 5 articles done, a total of 2,569 words written and submitted, I go to Elance to check my inbox and see that she has funded the project. At less than half of what I bid and that she had accepted. I am pissed.
Let me know if you want me to continue with the other topics
(I know what you are thinking -- why didn't I just tell her to forget it. Well, this was my first job on Elance. Clients can rate you and your work after the project is completed and I did not want a bad review right out of the gate).
I send her a message, along with the 4th article (because in my mind, we have an agreement that I plan to honor), and I wait while I work on the final article. And I wait. And I wait. Sunday night, I get a message from her. She did not address the discrepancy in funds, but instead sent me a different template for the final article. At this point, I want to be done with her, so I finish the final article (in the now new template) and send it along with a message:
She responded with a message saying basically "Tough." She said that I started before the project was funded and therefore she paid the amount of the lowest bid that she had received.
This was easily twice the amount of work that you advertised for, and you only funded for half the price that I had bid. You asked for 5 - 500 word articles but the parameters that you set via your template made that impossible. You also provided no guidelines as to what the articles were to accomplish or involve, (despite me asking), leaving me to complete, compile, and interpret research on my own before attempting to determine tone and voice.
I hope that you are happy with the result, but if you want me to do any further work, please know that the $0.01 per word is nowhere near acceptable. My normal rate for articles of this sort would be a minimum of $0.06 per word. I hope that you understand why the money that I will walk away with (less than 20% of my normal rate) leaves me feeling a bit taken advantage of.
Lesson One: do not begin work until funds are in escrow.
She claimed that the work was late because I accepted the job around noon on Saturday and the work should have been completed by noon on Sunday (she also said "I don't care if it was Easter, you agreed to 24 hours."). It also did not matter to her that she did not provide me with the templates or respond as to whether or not she wanted me to continue when I raised questions until hours later.
Lesson Two: be sure that you know exactly when the deadline is and do not start the work until you have all of the information necessary to complete it.
Then she basically called me naive (a fair assessment, apparently) saying that "I would learn about how things work in the freelance world" and that she rarely ever uses the same writer twice (probably because no one would ever work for her twice).
Lesson Three: Know that the ethics of people most likely do not match your own -- be wary of accepting jobs from strangers.
I was appalled. I had no idea that people who claimed to be professional were such conniving sneaks (I had a few more colorful words for her, but *I* have some sense of decorum). I relayed these events to a good friend of mine and she said "Google her and see what comes up."
So I did.
She is a freelance writer.
Apparently, she takes on jobs, contracts them out on Elance and then sells them on her site at a profit. And she doesn't have to work at all. I thought, this woman is the most dishonest person I have ever worked with. So I sent an email to the Elance customer support people notifying them of what had transpired. I told them "I do not know if this violates your policies, but I definitely felt violated by the experience." Apparently it doesn't violate anything since I have not heard back from them.
Now, my long-term client and I do not always agree, but she is honest and fair. I rarely have to wonder about what is going on, I know that she will pay me, and I feel that we have a relationship. I have spent hours researching SEO and marketing techniques for her -- things that I don't get paid for -- because I want her business to succeed. Her success means more work for me, so I am willing to go that extra mile. Not to mention that all that research ultimately helps me in writing for her because I learn about trends, keywords, etc. that I work into the articles I write to hopefully boost her SEO. I do not have to worry about her cheating me, and I don't think that she ever worries about me cheating her.
I hope that there are more clients like that out there.
I hope that I do not become too cynical and jaded to recognize them.
And I hope that karma smacks down the sneaky cheat that took advantage of me on Elance.
Friday, March 29, 2013
Kids Will Be Kids, If We Will Only Let Them
In case y'all didn't know, I'm sort of a last minute kind of gal. So this afternoon, I took a little trip around to a few very popular department stores to look for Easter outfits for my kids.
Very disappointing. More on that in a minute.....
Recently, there has been a lot of hoopla about the new Victoria Secret line of underwear -- "Bright Young Things" -- that is targeted toward young girls. YOUNG girls. Like, teens and even TWEENAGE girls. These underwear have sexually suggestive messages emblazoned on them -- across the butt or on the crotch. Things like "Feeling Lucky?" "I Dare You" and "Call Me". When the story broke, I was appalled like everyone else -- thinking "Who in their right mind markets sex to kids??!" Then I heard Victoria's Secret come out in total denial saying that their "Bright Young Things" line was part of their PINK line, for college aged girls, and I thought "Oh, well, that's a little different." But, then again, I saw Justin Beiber performing on their televised underwear parade -- an endorsement for all of his 7-15 year old fans? Perhaps. And I saw this quote:
So I decided that it I don't think it's all that cool for Victoria's Secret to be marketing casual sex to college aged girls either.
Not just because my kids look up to them, but because NO WOMAN should feel that any molecule of their worth hinges on anything other than what is in her head and in her heart -- especially not underwear with messages written on them. (Oh, and please don't get your panties in a wad and start hurling rebuttals at me about how "a girl over 18 who is comfortable with her body should feel free to explore her sexuality" nonsense. I am not suggesting a chastity belt for your "sexually aware" 18 year old if you want them to "explore" -- although I might consider one for my daughters). I am suggesting, however, that we teach our daughters that their beauty, their desirability, or their worth is not tied to a pair of zebra print cheeksters.
There is nothing wrong with wearing pretty underwear -- I always feel more confident, more dressed up, more together, prettier, and all sorts of other good things when my bra and panties have lace or some other pretty design, and they match each other (and let's face it, at nearly 40 years old and with 4 kids, I take my confidence boosts where I can get them). And there is nothing wrong with a thong -- certain fashions look better on the outside if there is no pantyline (even though I have never found one I thought of as comfortable, and we all know that I am a comfort girl). But pretty, and even sexy, should not be synonymous with "skanky" no matter how old you are -- underwear with messages like "Wild Thing" or "I dare you" emblazoned across the front of the crotch are not sexy. And they cheapen young women, not empower them. Do you want to know what is sexy? Confidence.
So, basically, I was disgusted by this most recent attack on women's sexuality, but I thought "Don't buy slutty underwear for your 11 year old, prepare your kids for their sexuality, and shop elsewhere -- problem solved." I mean, it's not like they don't still sell Hanes at Target.
But then I went to try and find some pretty dresses for Easter at Target. And at Kohl's. And I found that they no longer sell pretty dresses for little girls. They sell sequined, spandex, and strapless dresses. They sell voluminous taffeta and velvet dresses. They sell clingy, rayon, mini-dresses. All in NEON. But I could not find EVEN ONE pretty, pastel or white dress for Easter. And I wondered "Where IS the nightclub for 6 year olds?" because that is what these clothes look like. I want to dress my girls in pretty things that are age appropriate, and it appears that the market for that is disappearing. Are we really in such a hurry for our girls to grow up? Do we want them dressing like the cast of "Sex in the City" on their way to Sunday School?
SERIOUSLY?
So as much as I disagree with it, I can't really be mad at Victoria's Secret. They are doing what any good business would do -- they are capitalizing on what is apparently a rising trend of sexualizing our kids. They are selling the sexy underthings to go with the sexy outer things that are everywhere in sizes 4-12, because that is the next step, right? I mean, if you dress your 4 year old in spandex and sequins for church, don't be surprised if they want a thong at 11.
But I am mad at the industry. Not because they make sexy clothes for 3rd graders -- that is their prerogative, and there will always be someone who will buy them (and sequins have their time and place, even in an 8 year old's life). I am mad because there is quickly becoming no other option for moms like me who want to dress my kids like, well, like kids. I'd like a pretty spring dress with a ribbon at the waist that balloons out when she twirls making her face light up and causing the giggles to start. I want my 6 year old in Mary Janes and lace trimmed socks, not spike heeled sandals.
There will be a time for that, but they should be out of elementary school before that time comes. Kids should be free to be kids. If they are dressing like extras from "Romy and Michelle's High School Reunion" at 6 and 7, what are they going to do for prom when they are 16-17? All of the magic of those fancy special occasion clothes will have been spent years before. I for one do not want to rob my kids of that because I remember how amazing it felt to dress up in shiny, sparkly things for a special occassion. It was wonderful.
So let's let our kids be kids for as long as we can. They will have to spend their whole lives as adults, but they're childhood is fleeting.
As for their underwear, when the time comes to abandon the white cotton Hanes, when they are older, and need bras (note, I said NEED -- despite Target, Kohl's, Wal-Mart, and other stores trying to sell them to my 9 year old), I will take them shopping for something frilly, girly, and pretty. I will help them find something that they are comfortable in, that makes them feel confident, and that will work with the clothes that they wear. And there will not be a single message written across the crotch or across the butt.
Very disappointing. More on that in a minute.....
Recently, there has been a lot of hoopla about the new Victoria Secret line of underwear -- "Bright Young Things" -- that is targeted toward young girls. YOUNG girls. Like, teens and even TWEENAGE girls. These underwear have sexually suggestive messages emblazoned on them -- across the butt or on the crotch. Things like "Feeling Lucky?" "I Dare You" and "Call Me". When the story broke, I was appalled like everyone else -- thinking "Who in their right mind markets sex to kids??!" Then I heard Victoria's Secret come out in total denial saying that their "Bright Young Things" line was part of their PINK line, for college aged girls, and I thought "Oh, well, that's a little different." But, then again, I saw Justin Beiber performing on their televised underwear parade -- an endorsement for all of his 7-15 year old fans? Perhaps. And I saw this quote:
“When somebody’s 15 or 16 years old, what do they want to be?” Chief Financial Officer Stuart Burgdoerfer said at a conference in January. “They want to be older, and they want to be cool like the girl in college, and that’s part of the magic of what we do at PINK.”Wait -- so the PINK line IS marketed to 15-16 year olds, then? Not JUST to 19-24 year olds? You mean they LIED?? Shocking. And wait a minute -- why is it okay to give college aged women this twisted view of sex and what is attractive? Sure they are a little older, but underwear that delivers messages to potential partners (because let's be honest, who else is going to see your underwear)?? Why would you need "Call me" on the front of your thong? Will he NOT call unless your underwear tells him to? And while we are at it, let's discuss just how juvenille it is to have messages written on your underwear at all. To take something childish, like words on your underwear, and use it to convey a sexually suggestive message, marketed towards people who are stradling both worlds trying to find their adult identities, is wrong.
So I decided that it I don't think it's all that cool for Victoria's Secret to be marketing casual sex to college aged girls either.
Not just because my kids look up to them, but because NO WOMAN should feel that any molecule of their worth hinges on anything other than what is in her head and in her heart -- especially not underwear with messages written on them. (Oh, and please don't get your panties in a wad and start hurling rebuttals at me about how "a girl over 18 who is comfortable with her body should feel free to explore her sexuality" nonsense. I am not suggesting a chastity belt for your "sexually aware" 18 year old if you want them to "explore" -- although I might consider one for my daughters). I am suggesting, however, that we teach our daughters that their beauty, their desirability, or their worth is not tied to a pair of zebra print cheeksters.
There is nothing wrong with wearing pretty underwear -- I always feel more confident, more dressed up, more together, prettier, and all sorts of other good things when my bra and panties have lace or some other pretty design, and they match each other (and let's face it, at nearly 40 years old and with 4 kids, I take my confidence boosts where I can get them). And there is nothing wrong with a thong -- certain fashions look better on the outside if there is no pantyline (even though I have never found one I thought of as comfortable, and we all know that I am a comfort girl). But pretty, and even sexy, should not be synonymous with "skanky" no matter how old you are -- underwear with messages like "Wild Thing" or "I dare you" emblazoned across the front of the crotch are not sexy. And they cheapen young women, not empower them. Do you want to know what is sexy? Confidence.
You cannot convey confidence with "Call me" written on your crotch.
So, basically, I was disgusted by this most recent attack on women's sexuality, but I thought "Don't buy slutty underwear for your 11 year old, prepare your kids for their sexuality, and shop elsewhere -- problem solved." I mean, it's not like they don't still sell Hanes at Target.
But then I went to try and find some pretty dresses for Easter at Target. And at Kohl's. And I found that they no longer sell pretty dresses for little girls. They sell sequined, spandex, and strapless dresses. They sell voluminous taffeta and velvet dresses. They sell clingy, rayon, mini-dresses. All in NEON. But I could not find EVEN ONE pretty, pastel or white dress for Easter. And I wondered "Where IS the nightclub for 6 year olds?" because that is what these clothes look like. I want to dress my girls in pretty things that are age appropriate, and it appears that the market for that is disappearing. Are we really in such a hurry for our girls to grow up? Do we want them dressing like the cast of "Sex in the City" on their way to Sunday School?
SERIOUSLY?
I need something for Easter Sunday, not a night at the Roxbury.
So as much as I disagree with it, I can't really be mad at Victoria's Secret. They are doing what any good business would do -- they are capitalizing on what is apparently a rising trend of sexualizing our kids. They are selling the sexy underthings to go with the sexy outer things that are everywhere in sizes 4-12, because that is the next step, right? I mean, if you dress your 4 year old in spandex and sequins for church, don't be surprised if they want a thong at 11.
But I am mad at the industry. Not because they make sexy clothes for 3rd graders -- that is their prerogative, and there will always be someone who will buy them (and sequins have their time and place, even in an 8 year old's life). I am mad because there is quickly becoming no other option for moms like me who want to dress my kids like, well, like kids. I'd like a pretty spring dress with a ribbon at the waist that balloons out when she twirls making her face light up and causing the giggles to start. I want my 6 year old in Mary Janes and lace trimmed socks, not spike heeled sandals.
I want them to feel pretty because THEY ARE PRETTY and not because they are wrapped in sequins or spandex & up on stilts.
There will be a time for that, but they should be out of elementary school before that time comes. Kids should be free to be kids. If they are dressing like extras from "Romy and Michelle's High School Reunion" at 6 and 7, what are they going to do for prom when they are 16-17? All of the magic of those fancy special occasion clothes will have been spent years before. I for one do not want to rob my kids of that because I remember how amazing it felt to dress up in shiny, sparkly things for a special occassion. It was wonderful.
So let's let our kids be kids for as long as we can. They will have to spend their whole lives as adults, but they're childhood is fleeting.
As for their underwear, when the time comes to abandon the white cotton Hanes, when they are older, and need bras (note, I said NEED -- despite Target, Kohl's, Wal-Mart, and other stores trying to sell them to my 9 year old), I will take them shopping for something frilly, girly, and pretty. I will help them find something that they are comfortable in, that makes them feel confident, and that will work with the clothes that they wear. And there will not be a single message written across the crotch or across the butt.
Wednesday, March 6, 2013
Sometimes, You Get What You Deserve
This morning, I folded 4 loads of laundry between putting the oldest 3 on the bus and taking the youngest to preschool. I decided to continue this productive streak after a quick visit to the store. I was going to make some soup (it's pretty cold today for Alabama, about 38 degrees), do some more laundry, lay a fire to light later, and clean bathrooms. I had three main items that I needed from the store -- milk, bread, and eggs -- but I needed a few other things, and as is always the case my cart was about half full when I left the store.
But I forgot the milk and eggs.
It was because I went to a superstore -- I ended up "browsing" before I got the refrigerated stuff and I forgot to go back for the refrigerated stuff. But I still had time before the 4 year old was done at preschool, so I went home and put away what I had bought and planned to stop at a different store that was on my way.
When I stopped at that store, I was mugged.
It. Was. Awesome.
Let me explain -- As soon as I pulled into the parking lot, one of my favorite songs came on the radio, so I busied myself cleaning out my car. I have 4 kids, so my van is ALWAYS full of trash. I had a bag (incidentally, from the store I was about to go into), so before I knew it, I had a rather full bag of trash, less than half an hour until I needed to pick up my son, and a great Led Zeppelin tune in my head. So I grabbed a $10 bill to pay for the milk and eggs I needed and headed inside, planning to drop my bag in the trash can on the way in.
There was a small pick-up truck that had been cruising the parking lot. I figured that they were waiting on someone inside the store, and really didn't think much about them. I was walking to the front of the store from my car and they sped by, and some little punk leaned out of the passenger window, grabbed my bag, and sped off.
My bag of trash.
An employee came running out of the store to get their tag number and see if I was okay. I was having a hard time telling her that I was fine because I couldn't stop laughing. The store called the cops and gave the partial tag number and vehicle description to them, but as soon as they heard what happened, they laughed too. Everyone agreed that it was a good thing that I had just grabbed cash and left my purse.
So sometimes, you get what you deserve. If you act like trash, sometimes that is what you end up with.
But I forgot the milk and eggs.
It was because I went to a superstore -- I ended up "browsing" before I got the refrigerated stuff and I forgot to go back for the refrigerated stuff. But I still had time before the 4 year old was done at preschool, so I went home and put away what I had bought and planned to stop at a different store that was on my way.
When I stopped at that store, I was mugged.
It. Was. Awesome.
Let me explain -- As soon as I pulled into the parking lot, one of my favorite songs came on the radio, so I busied myself cleaning out my car. I have 4 kids, so my van is ALWAYS full of trash. I had a bag (incidentally, from the store I was about to go into), so before I knew it, I had a rather full bag of trash, less than half an hour until I needed to pick up my son, and a great Led Zeppelin tune in my head. So I grabbed a $10 bill to pay for the milk and eggs I needed and headed inside, planning to drop my bag in the trash can on the way in.
There was a small pick-up truck that had been cruising the parking lot. I figured that they were waiting on someone inside the store, and really didn't think much about them. I was walking to the front of the store from my car and they sped by, and some little punk leaned out of the passenger window, grabbed my bag, and sped off.
My bag of trash.
An employee came running out of the store to get their tag number and see if I was okay. I was having a hard time telling her that I was fine because I couldn't stop laughing. The store called the cops and gave the partial tag number and vehicle description to them, but as soon as they heard what happened, they laughed too. Everyone agreed that it was a good thing that I had just grabbed cash and left my purse.
So sometimes, you get what you deserve. If you act like trash, sometimes that is what you end up with.
Monday, February 25, 2013
Today Sucks
Today totally sucks.
I am finally starting to feel a little better after my daughter brought home a nasty stomach bug last week and the day started out normal enough. Unfortunately, whatever joy being able to eat again might bring is overclouded by the fact that my dog, Cooper, is sick.
He doesn't seem sick.
Last month, he had some bleeding from his butt. We thought that the groomers may have nicked him with the clippers. Then he had another incident, and we thought it may have been hemorrhoids. The bleeding was fairly minimal, and it always stopped. This morning, I let him out to do his business, and when he came in there was blood everywhere. I called the vet and took him almost immediately. I was thinking hemorrhoids again, or maybe an infected anal gland. It was neither of those.
It is a mass, and a fine needle biopsy showed malignant cells.
He has an anal carcinoma -- a cancerous mass on his butt. It has ruptured. Our vet here doesn't know that she can get it all so she is referring us to a veterinary surgical center in Tennessee -- 2 hours away. I called and they said that their surgeries START at $2,000 so it will definitely be more than that. After that, he may need chemo. They will not know if it has spread until they remove the mass, biopsy it, and know what to look for. If it has spread, then the chances that he will survive are slim.
I am heartbroken. I love our dog. My husband loves our dog. My kids love our dog. I want to do what is best for him, but the cost and pain that may be involved in this treatment has me questioning what the best thing for our family is.
I know what I would tell someone who was faced with this decision -- I would tell them that 12 years for a dog is a good life. I would tell them that he wouldn't want to suffer through a surgery and possible chemo when he may not survive. I would tell them that the money involved is too much when the outcome is not guaranteed to be a longer or better life. I would tell them that it would be better to let him go peacefully and cherish the memory of him than to spend thousands of dollars and have him endure the pain of surgery and recovery.
That is what I would tell a friend who was faced with this decision.
For their pet.
But this is MY dog.
Other than the bleeding, he shows no signs of being sick. He seems pretty happy and not in any pain. It doesn't seem life threatening. But the bleeding won't stop. The vet tried silver nitrate, but it didn't last. My car looked like a crime scene after the ride home. I had to put a diaper on him when we got home.
And as bad as it makes me sound, I don't know if I can spend the money. We are closing on our house in a little over a month and we don't really have thousands of dollars to spare. I hate to say that out loud (or type it) but it is the truth. Spending the money on this surgery would not prevent the closing on the house, but it would seriously deplete our emergency fund and we do not know what any follow up treatment would cost. Do I put the financial security of our family at risk? My head says no, but my heart says yes. Cooper IS part of our family.
I am heartsick over this and I don't want to make this decision.
I am finally starting to feel a little better after my daughter brought home a nasty stomach bug last week and the day started out normal enough. Unfortunately, whatever joy being able to eat again might bring is overclouded by the fact that my dog, Cooper, is sick.
 |
| Cooper is a Tibetan Spaniel. He was born February 5th, 2001 -- exactly 9 months before my oldest son. He just turned 12 years old and now I may lose him. |
He doesn't seem sick.
Last month, he had some bleeding from his butt. We thought that the groomers may have nicked him with the clippers. Then he had another incident, and we thought it may have been hemorrhoids. The bleeding was fairly minimal, and it always stopped. This morning, I let him out to do his business, and when he came in there was blood everywhere. I called the vet and took him almost immediately. I was thinking hemorrhoids again, or maybe an infected anal gland. It was neither of those.
It is a mass, and a fine needle biopsy showed malignant cells.
He has an anal carcinoma -- a cancerous mass on his butt. It has ruptured. Our vet here doesn't know that she can get it all so she is referring us to a veterinary surgical center in Tennessee -- 2 hours away. I called and they said that their surgeries START at $2,000 so it will definitely be more than that. After that, he may need chemo. They will not know if it has spread until they remove the mass, biopsy it, and know what to look for. If it has spread, then the chances that he will survive are slim.
I am heartbroken. I love our dog. My husband loves our dog. My kids love our dog. I want to do what is best for him, but the cost and pain that may be involved in this treatment has me questioning what the best thing for our family is.
I know what I would tell someone who was faced with this decision -- I would tell them that 12 years for a dog is a good life. I would tell them that he wouldn't want to suffer through a surgery and possible chemo when he may not survive. I would tell them that the money involved is too much when the outcome is not guaranteed to be a longer or better life. I would tell them that it would be better to let him go peacefully and cherish the memory of him than to spend thousands of dollars and have him endure the pain of surgery and recovery.
That is what I would tell a friend who was faced with this decision.
For their pet.
But this is MY dog.
Other than the bleeding, he shows no signs of being sick. He seems pretty happy and not in any pain. It doesn't seem life threatening. But the bleeding won't stop. The vet tried silver nitrate, but it didn't last. My car looked like a crime scene after the ride home. I had to put a diaper on him when we got home.
And as bad as it makes me sound, I don't know if I can spend the money. We are closing on our house in a little over a month and we don't really have thousands of dollars to spare. I hate to say that out loud (or type it) but it is the truth. Spending the money on this surgery would not prevent the closing on the house, but it would seriously deplete our emergency fund and we do not know what any follow up treatment would cost. Do I put the financial security of our family at risk? My head says no, but my heart says yes. Cooper IS part of our family.
I am heartsick over this and I don't want to make this decision.
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