Meme meme meme..ME!

Any teenager can write a survey about their favorite class or their secret crush or how nice their car is that their parents paid for. This is the survey for the older crowd. (This has been in drafts forever, aren't you excited that I'm sharing?)


1. Do you have a college degree?
Yep. Bachelors in Human Development & Family Studies/Early Childhood - also got my teaching credentials. Yeah, that's right, I've got cred.(My inner teenager just sighed and said "Please don't.") AAANND...in May, I will have my Master's in Counseling (lord willing).

2. What was the amount of your last electric bill?
$73.89...not bad! Don't ask me what it was in August.

3. Do you have life insurance?
Yes, I do. I have no idea how much. Bought it before SugarPlum was born.

4. How many hours per week do you work?
Are we talking about getting PAID to work? Because that would be a big, fat NONE - I'm an intern. I'm getting experience. Now, as for the unpaid labor, I'm a mom & a graduate student. So, I'd say...about 300 hours a week, give or take.

5. Have you ever attended a Toastmasters event?
No. I respect those who do, just not my cuppa.

6. Favorite place to attend Happy Hour?
Oh, please. Did you see the answer to #4? When would I go to Happy Hour? (Okay, occasionally after class, a few of us would go to an Italian restaurant here & get a beer. But that's about as exciting as my life gets.)

7. How many miles is your commute to work each day (one way)?
Haha. Candyland isn't that big a place. It's about 4 miles from my house to the office. And then I drive to various clients homes, schools, daycares, CPS. Good times, my friend.

8. What time do you get up every morning for work?
I get the kids up at about 6:30. If there's no school and I don't have any clients, I drag myself out of bed around noonish.

9. What is your definition of sleeping in late?
When the kids start asking for supper.

10. Do you check your cholesterol on a yearly basis?
Yes, and given the amount of cream and butter and fat I cook with, my numbers are amazingly low. My doctor always compliments me. *blush*

11. How large was your first cellular phone?
HUGE. It was the kind that was corded and you carried it in a bag. Sexy!

12. Does your employer provide good health insurance?
Hmmmmm....well. given that I have no actual employer, no. That was part of the divorce settlement - three years of health insurance. And it doesn't suck, I must admit. However, we are coming up on that three year limit. This is why I MUST get a job as soon as I graduate. Obamacare scares me to death.

13. Did you use the internet to write a research paper?
Only in grad school. In high school & college I had to drag ass to the library and search thru index cards and microfiche and all that crap. Thank you Al Gore for the internets!

14. Have you attended a HS reunion?
I went to my 10 year reunion and had a blast. I planned to attend my 20, even paid the ridiculous amount for the dinner, and then didn't get to go. I'm still bitter. (And slightly horrified, realizing I've been out of high school over 25 years!)

15. How many jobs have you held in your professional career?
Three teaching/tutoring jobs. But I've had this mom gig going for over 17 years.

16 Have you ever been fired or laid off from a job?
Once. We don't talk about that.

17. What is your favorite drink?
Cocktail? I hardly drink anymore because of the headaches. I do appreciate a good martini or margarita. And a Colorado Bulldog makes me very happy. Until the migraine hits, anyway.
Mostly, I drink tea or water. All. day. long.

18. What is the most expensive bottle of wine that you have in your residence?
None. Unless you count the cooking sherry. I LOVE wine, but, again, it's rarely worth the migraine.

19. Have you been divorced?
Yep. We aren't going to talk about that either. You can read my archives or ask me about it if you're just dying to know.

20. How old were you when you stopped getting ID'd for Alcohol?
Years and years and years ago...

21. Favorite casino?
Ugh. Not a fan of casinos. If it's at the beach, then you go do your gambling thing & I'll be sitting under an umbrella, reading a book, & sipping a frozen beverage.

22. Are you happier now than you were in high school?
Hmmmm. I don't know. I am more comfortable in my own skin and have a better idea of who I am. I made some of my very best friends in high school, and I'm still in touch with many of them (even without the help of Facebook!). So I don't want it to sound like high school was a miserable experience for me. But 25 years does give you perspective, doesn't it?

23. Did you ever have Hypercolor shirts?
No, my mom wouldn't ever buy me one. How did those even work? I was always curious.

24. Do you remember when Michael Jackson was black and attracted to older people?
Yes! I thought he was wonderful. Then all of the sudden he was super creeper.

25. Do you remember when MTV actually played music videos?
Yes! I remember the day MTV debuted. It was so great -  The Buggles' "Video Killed the Radio Star". Duran Duran, Journey, Chicago. (I may have just embarrassed myself)

26. Have you had a will made?
Yes, but it was years and years ago. I really need to have a new one done.

27. What music was in your cd / cassette player when you were 16?
The Go-Gos, Journey, Madonna, Tears for Fears, Duran Duran....and, it was definitely a cassette player. I didn't have cds until after I got married. I'm REALLY old, y'all.

28. Favorite fancy / upscale restaurant?
My very favorite restaurant in Candyland just closed. I'm still in mourning.

29. How long has it been since you attended a kegger?
Oh, my. Not in this century, I can assure you.

30. How many major wars have you lived through?
Let's see, I was born while we were still in Viet Nam. Grenada (!), both Gulf Wars, I'm calling the Cold War a valid war, the War on Drugs(?)

31. Where were you when you found out about 9-11?
We were stationed in England. It was  4:30 in the afternoon there and my neighbor came to see if my father-in-law had made it home since he had flown out that morning. I had no idea why he'd be asking. It was terrifying. SD was stuck on base for what seemed like days. We couldn't go anywhere, which was fine because I was too scared to leave our little village. I wrote some about it in my tribute to one of the victims of at the World Trade Center.

The meme that was accidentally posted here the other day was one from several years ago that I had gone back and edited (I KNOW; it's a disease) and when I hit publish, it changed the date. So annoying.

*sigh* Church People

Candyland is frozen over and I've had lots and lots of time over the past few days (four days to be exact; I've not left the house in FOUR days. It's like heaven) to ponder and, um  dwell  on a certain interaction that occurred last Sunday that has left a very bad taste in my mouth.

I love my church. No, seriously. My church is wonderful, and to be more specific, my Sunday School class is just downright amazing. When I hear people talk about how churches are so hypocritical and judgmental and only want perfect people in their buildings, I know that these poor individuals have never been to my church. My Sunday school class has seen me through the end of my miserable marriage, my divorce, a surgery and hospital stay that was beyond terrifying, and countless other crap that comes up in the course of a normal life. They have stepped up to be godly examples to my kids; taking my boys hunting, fishing, to ball games, and to Boy Scout events since their dad (who does his best - not ex bashing here) lives so far away. I've had people from my church step up to fix my plumbing, take care of my yard, drive my kids when I couldn't. Nobody has ever presumed to judge me or make me feel bad about the job I'm doing as a mom. Nobody ever acts like they are better than you. Nobody pretends that because they are on this committee of that council that they are more holy than you are. They recognize that everyone has flaws and that just because they are good at one thing, they aren't good at everything. It takes the whole Body of Christ to really make things work for a church. We all tend to be checking for the plank in our own eyes and leave it to you to find the speck in yours.  Basically, my big, wonderful church is, mostly, full of people that wouldn't fit the most definitions of "church people."

But...(you knew that was coming, right?)

As if to make a liar out of me, I had an encounter last week with a person from my church that made me feel about four inches tall. Then it just started to piss me off. This is a person I've known for a very long time. I've never been particularly close with this person, but I do appreciate what he does for the church. He and his family are some of those people who are there "every time the church doors are open." They really do fill a number of needs that our church has. He works a lot with the youth. And having two children in the youth group, I REALLY appreciate those who give their time to care for the spiritual growth of these kids. HOWEVER...

(small segue for explanation)

If you know me at all or have read much of my blog, you know that I struggle mightily with chronic migraines. A few years ago, the flight surgeon also determined that I have some sort of auto-immune disease that we never did figure out. After several blood tests and other attempts, this flight surgeon got assigned elsewhere and the remaining docs didn't have the time or inclination to play "What the hell is wrong with Buffi" any longer. Suffice to say, I do take care of my kids and try my darndest to get them to all the extra-curricular activities they participate in so that they can grow up to be healthy, well-rounded people. Some days, though, I wake up with a particularly terrible headache that keeps me from driving because I can barely open my eyes. Or when I do open my eyes, everything looks a little, um, wavy or weird and I feel like I can't trust my senses to guide me. On school days, I do my best to power through and at least get the kids to school. The cost of that is that I generally end up back in bed for the rest of the day until I have to get the boys. Although now that SP can drive, I can have her pick them up sometimes or I have had friends who do that for me once or twice.

Add to that: For the past several years, SugarPlum  played on a club soccer team that required us to travel to Metropolis to our south in order to play. So many, many weekends, we missed church because of soccer games. Now that she is a junior in high school, her club team basically disbanded because juniors & seniors would rather spend weekends with their friends and/or working than travelling two hours each way to play soccer. Yes, I'm a soccer mom without a soccer team...but that's another post for another time. The upside of this is that we have been able to go to church much more often and the boys have finally been able to be way more involved in some of the activities at church. Yay! [now that I am thinking about it, these are the same parents who made it a point to tell me that they would never put sports before church...whatever]

Now, there are still some Sundays when I wake up, open my eyes, and the pain that comes shooting from every direction causes me to lie back down and say, "NOPE. Not happening today." So, I take some migraine medicine, drink as much water as my queasy belly will allow and go back to bed, hoping that the pain will pass. Am I proud that I'm missing church and causing my kids to miss? No. I'm very sad about this. Could I get SP to take them to church. Probably. But my brain isn't exactly functioning at capacity and the ridiculous amount of nagging it takes to get those boys ready to go anywhere, much less dressed in a manner acceptable (to me anyway) for church, is usually beyond my brain's paltry abilities at that point. So we all stay home.

Last week was one of those Sundays. However, by Sunday afternoon, I was feeling much better and was able to get Bear to church for Bible Drill followed by a party that the youth group was having. When I went up there to fetch him after the party was over, this man (the one I mentioned waaaaay back there, before you stopped reading, because golly this has turned into a long post!) pulls me aside and says, "I have a bone to pick with you!" I, knowing this man as a fun-loving guy with a good sense of humor, chuckled and said, "Okay, what did they do now?" 

THEN, this man - this self-righteous man - proceeds to SCOLD me, saying that Bear told him I had slept in this morning and that I have a responsibility to get my kids to church every Sunday. He didn't think it was okay for me to just sleep in when these boys wanted to be at church. I was speechless. I smiled, nodded and told him that from now on, I'd be sure to have Bear call him when his mom was too lazy to get the kids to church. Okay, maybe I left out the "when his mom was too lazy to get the kids to church" part, but I was just floored. 

I carry so much guilt over what I cannot do when I'm going through a bad streak of migraines. Not to mention the guilt I feel for my kids having to grow up with divorced parents. I was awfully proud that I'd been getting us to church as often as I had. I was also feeling pretty good that I'd gotten Bear to church that night. I truly felt like somebody punched me in the gut. Now I can hardly look at him or his wife (who has also chastised me in the past for Bug missing Sunday school, but not to that extent) without feeling angry. And I don't like that. 

I wish that people could understand that many of us are doing the best we can and that what we need most is encouragement when we are getting everyone to church. I wasn't feeling God's love at all last Sunday. What I was feeling wasn't coming from God at all. Why can't people see that these kinds of interactions are what KEEP people away from church? If I hadn't been a member of this church for nearly ten years, I don't know what effect it would have had on me. I don't know that I would want take my kids back to a place where it seemed the policy was to make parents feel bad. Thank goodness I have my Sunday School class and other good, loving friends in my church who encourage and support me and never once make me feel bad for missing when I can't help it. I feel sad for those people who haven't had time to meet the friends I have and whose early encounters are with stereotypical "church people." Our church is a great place filled with the most amazing people. If you are active in your church, please consider how your words sound to others. No one person is more "holy" than another. Nobody gets to pass judgment on anyone else but God. So stop casting those stones already.

I'll get over this. But I just pray that I'm the only one that caught this man's judgment and not a new person who is struggling with their faith and feelings. It would be sad for something like this to drive someone away entirely.

(and if you made it all the way through, thanks for listening to my rant!)

*ahem* Is this thing on???

Evidently, I'm moving toward blogging YEARLY now. I'm quite certain everyone has given up on me now, so I imagine I'm just blogging for my own entertainment. There's a great deal of freedom in that, I suppose. Though I've noticed, every once in a while, someone drops by to see if I'm still alive -- or just accidentally clicks on the wrong link in their google search for their own actual sugar mommy. At least that what it looks like in the analytics. (Sorry to disappoint you accidental visitor. I'm broke and not interested in desperate strangers from foreign countries; you can move along now.) I considered posting another Q&A meme, but that was getting out of hand, so I'll refrain for now.

I suppose what spurred my desire to post again was looking at the old blog here while I was at my mom's house, trying to find my cranberry sauce recipe that I'd forgotten to print. On the same page with the recipe  were posts that had pictures and sweet stories about my babies. My Bug was TWO years old & freaking adorable. Well, to be fair, they were all three adorable. And I'm really regretting not documenting the last few years better. But, it is what it is.

I hope that you, dear reader, had a wonderful Thanksgiving. My Thanksgiving this year was okay. Made pies. Made cranberry sauce. Left said cranberry sauce at home. Saw most of the family, except for my sweet cousin who had the audacity to go and get married. Not cool, man. I was able to spend time with my precious, perfect, amazing two-year-old genius nephew, (who on a whim, I've decided to call Sparky here on the blog, for no reason other than that's the first thing that popped into my head). He lights up my life and makes me feel so happy! There's nothing like hearing "Aunt Buffi! You're here!!" We headed home today, ostensibly so that I could write the four papers I have due Tuesday. You see how well that's going.

Speaking of writing papers...I graduate in May! (Nice segue, right?) Yes, I will have a Master's degree in counseling. Yay! And then, I will need to find a job. Piece of cake in this economy, right? Ummm...yeah. Anywhoo...I'm doing my practicum right now & will start my internship in January (which is exactly the same as the prac, only I need more hours). I'm loving what I'm doing now & hope I can find something similar after graduation.

Holy smokes this is the most boring post EVER. I apologize. Clearly, I'm out of practice. I'll try harder. But so far those promises have not panned out well. If it's your first time here, read my older posts. I was full of all kinds of funny. Though I'm still bitter that all of my comments have disappeared since Haloscan bit the dust. Regardless, I'm awfully proud of my little blog here. Maybe I can revive it now that I'm almost done with all of that sill school crap. *fingers crossed* My kids are still the absolute funniest people in the universe, so I really should keep documenting their stuff, though they get a little pissy about the embarrassing stuff, so you might have to ask nicely. :)

This again?

My new therapist seems to be of the opinion that I need to journal more. When he asked if I had ever journaled, I told him about my blog & that I don't write nearly as much as I used to. I suppose there are several reasons why I don't write here much any more. I'm sure Facebook plays a large role in this. I am now able to express those passing thoughts in short bursts on my FB page rather than forming an entire post around what's going on. This is probably good & bad. I'm thinking that maybe I should give myself time to process my thoughts a little more. The instant feedback of Facebook is very satisfying.

Also, my kids are getting older and don't necessarily appreciate having stories about them broadcast to the whole internet. To be fair, though, at this point probably fewer people would see stuff on the blog than do on FB at this point. It's not like I get 300-500 hits a day like I did a few years ago when I wrote regularly. I was featured in the Best of Blogs book one year, for crying out loud! (I think it was 2005.) I'm still sad that Haloscan disappeared & took my comments with it. There was so much in those comments - humor, relationships, encouragement - that is just gone now. I had posts with over 100 comments. This just looks like a sad, sad blog that nobody's ever read now.

It's not really that I don't have the time. I mean, I am in grad school right now, but I still spend a stupid amount of time on the internet that could be spent writing. I mean, if I'm going to be on the computer anyway, I could at least write. Or, you know, I could do laundry or de-clutter my house, or study, or exercise, or something productive, but who wants THAT? How silly.

Something needs to change though. I have this great place, I should take advantage of it. Whether anyone reads or not is beside the point. I need to do this for me. I'll try to bring the funny, but I think it may take a bit to get back in the groove. I am going to try to write at least a little something several days a week, just to get back in the swing of things. Of course, looking back, I've said all this before, more than once even, so time will tell, I suppose....

Feel free to hold me accountable!

Like 50 Shades of Gray, but without the sex, or all the people reading it....

I haven't written anything in a ridiculous amount of time and now I'm posting a meme?? I know, right? But I can't figure out how to get started again, so maybe this will get the ball rolling. Maybe not. Who knows. Anyway, here we go....

(Stolen from Lauren at Filing Jointly, Finally)

1. What is your best friend's Mom's name? Much like a fifth grade girl, I have many "best friends." The Queen's mom's name is Patricia (I think). Elizabeth's mom's name is Susan. As for CRB (my oldest friend - meaning, we have known each other since jr. high), we don't say her mom's name out loud for fear of conjuring the old biddy up. She's like Voldemort...in more ways than you would believe.

Imagine this, with lipstick

2. Where is the weirdest place you have a mole?  I'm ridiculously fair skinned & have blazillions of moles all over. My grandmother told me that's where the angels kissed me. I have a strange one right next to my nose that looks like a giant zit. I had one on my belly for a long time, but the dermatologist decided that it looked funny & cut it out one day at an appointment. No time to prepare, no time for a Xanax, just "That looks ominous, we should get it cut out & off to pathology." BOOM. It was fine. No cancer.

3. Who was the hottest teacher you ever had? Hmmm, there was a coach in junior high who looked just like Magnum, PI. Golly, he was hot. I can't remember his name though. Wonder if he still looks like Tom Selleck. Because Tom is totally on my list.

Only they made Coach Hottie wear a shirt at school. Bastards.

4. Have you ever made out in a movie theater? Why? What have you heard?

5. What body part do you wash first?  Face. If I don't wash it first, I forget & then I end up with facial scrub in my hair at the end of my shower. I'm a genius that way.

6. Do you hover over the toilet in public bathrooms? I really don't have the leg muscles anymore to "hover." If it is especially gross, I will do my best, but if I can, I'll just hold it. Oh, the joys of getting old.

7. What's the strangest talent you have? In spite of the fact that my leg muscles are weak, I am ridiculously flexible. I don't know if it has to do with all of those years of ballet or just that almost all of my joints hyper-extend, but I am like one of those bendy-dolls. I'm not as flexible as when I was younger. I used to be able to slide my foot all the way up the wall & bring my nose to my knee. 

Also, I can crack almost all of my joints. People in class love that.

8. Do you have an innie or an outtie? I have an innie, but I've had so many surgeries that it's not quite as "in" as it used to be. Also there are surgical scars all around it. SEXY!

9. What's your favorite flavored Pringles? You know, I haven't eaten Pringles in a long time. Not since I found out that they are mostly NOT potato. But the plain ones were always my favorite back when I was naive and skinny and could eat whatever I wanted.

10. Have you ever been tied up? Um, no. Not as far as you know.

11. What was the last thing you ever got grounded for? Well, since I'm old, I have no idea about the LAST thing I got grounded for. Probably smarting off to my mom. The last one I remember clearly was the week before I turned 16. My grandparents had bought me a car (nothing fancy...it was a 1977 Oldsmobile Delta 88. It was HUGE. BUT, this was the mid-80s, so it's not like it was that old). ANYWAY...it was summer and it was Texas and it was HOT, so I decided that instead of walking the three blocks to the swimming pool, I would drive there. You know, I'd get home long before my mom got home from work and no one would be the wiser. Of course, my mom came home from work EARLY and showed up at the pool pissed off and I was grounded for like, a month. Way to celebrate, right?

It was just like this only red.

12. Do you parallel park or drive around the block? Oh, I can't parallel park to save my life. I just drive around and around until I find a space I can pull into. That's why I leave for class early. SugarPlum is learning to drive right now (I KNOW, RIGHT?) and I told her she'd better get her Daddy to teach her to parallel park while she's up there with him. That man could parallel park a Mac truck. It's ridiculous.

13. Have you ever had two dates in one night? No, I'm not that cool. Or slutty.

14. How many times have you been cussed out?  In person or on the internet?

15. Which shoe do you put on first? Whichever one I find first.

17. Have you ever been to a gay bar?  I have been to a drag show. Does that count?

18. Girls   rule, boys drool. 

19. Is there one thing all of your love interests have had in common? Ummm, me?

20. Did you French kiss before you were 16? What kind of a slut do you think I am? Don't answer that.

21. Have you ever been cow-tipping or snipe-hunting?  No.  (to borrow from Lauren) "Cow-tipping is mean.  How would you like if if you were just sleeping in your own bed and then suddenly you woke up on the floor with a couple of drunk cows hovering over you, mooing in amusement.   You would feel fucking scared right?"

22. Who is the last person you usually think about before you fall asleep?  Usually one of my kids. Depends on whether anyone has wet the bed.

23. Have you ever had a poem or a song written about you? My sophomore year of high school, this boy named Charles wanted to ask me to homecoming, but he was nervous. So, like a day or two before, he finally handed me a note with this poem written on it asking me. I don't have it any more, but I remember that it started, "Roses are red, Grass is green, I am a coward and you are a queen..." I had SO MUCH fun at homecoming with him that year. We stayed good friends until we graduated. I sure wish I could find him. Anyone from Candyland HS know whatever happened to Charles Green?

24. If you had to choose to not ever wash your bed sheets again or not wash your bath towel ever again, which would you rather not wash? EW. How gross are you?

25. Have you ever found anything in your parents' bedroom that was questionable? My parents' bedroom still has the original 1970's green shag carpet. That's mighty questionable if you ask me. Also? Nasty.

26. What was your childhood nickname? My mom's side of the family (being from West Texas & Oklahoma) all have double names - Tommy Ray, Lena Faye, Katie Beth, Bessie Jean, you get the picture. My name is very long and has lots and lots of syllables. So most of my life, I was called Buffi Lou. Also, my daddy still calls me "Pete" and 2D Bug. I have no idea why.

27. When is the last time you played the air guitar? I might do that when I'm goofing around with the boys. I remember these guys in college whose house we would go hang out at on the weekends, we called it "The Homestead." As it would get later, when certain songs came on they would hold their hands & arms like they were playing guitar right against their chests. They called it playing "titty guitar."

28. Have you ever peeked in the opposite sexes locker room? Oh, my no. Have you SMELLED a men's locker room? I can barely stand to walk by.

29. What's the weirdest thing you have done while driving?  I have three kids. I cannot think of all the weird things I've done while driving. Administered spelling test? Changed clothes? I don't know. I may have to come back to this one.

30. Have you ever bitten your toenails? Mine? No. 

31. How do you eat your cookie? Out of the vicinity of the children, lest I have to share.

32. When working out at the gym, do you wear a belt? HAaahaa!! "When working out at the gym?!" That's the funniest assumption I've heard all day. 

33. Name something you do when you're alone that you wouldn't do in front of others. I don't know. I'm pretty shameless. 

36. How many drinks does it take before you get drunk? I really don't get drunk anymore because the hangovers last for DAYS. Although, if you ask my cousin, a bottle of mojitos will definitely kick my ass, no matter how thick that glass is. (totally inside joke that only one person is going to get, sorry)

37. Have you ever sniffed an animal's butt? ::sigh:: Not on purpose.

38. How often do you clean out your ears? Every time I see the Q-Tips. It's a weird compulsion.

39. Do you scrunch or fold your toilet paper? Really?

40. About how many times a day do you pick a wedgie?  Ew. Haven't counted. Don't plan to.

41. Do you have any strange phobias? I really hate crowds. I don't know that it's a phobia, but it's definitely an aversion. Also, I sometimes have to take a Xanax before I can go into WalMart. True story.

42. Have you ever stuck a foreign object up your nose? Mmmm...not that I can remember.

43. What is the stupidest thing you've ever done at a bar? Early in my marriage to SD, we were at the Officers' Club one night and I decided that I could out-drink a couple of the guys in his squadron. Two pitchers of beer later, it got ugly. We'll leave it at that.

4. Have you ever been dared to do something you totally regretted?  See above: two pitchers of beer.

45. Have you ever called your love interest by an ex's name? Nope. Never.

46. Have you caught a guy/girl farting while on a date? Well, yes. Because I date human beings, not robots. 

47. Have you ever played naked Twister? Oh, my. No.

48. Have you ever been drunk at work? I think probably in college there were a couple of mornings where I showed up to sell shoes still a little tipsy. I'm not proud to admit that.

49. Have you ever found your date's/lover's brother or sister more attractive? No

50. Do you want to bring sexy back? Didn't Justin Timberlake do that a few years ago? Yes. Yes, he did.

Fun with tags...

I know, it's been a long time. Oh well. This is cool though. I made this tag cloud on a site called Tagxedo.com VERY FUN to do! I may frame it. Hee hee!

The "C" Word ( among others)

So much - too much - has happened over the past year or so. Much that I cannot (or rather choose not) to make too terribly public. Although there are people in my life *ahem* who would beg to differ about that last point, but I won't go into that either. Suffice to say, I have no desire to make this into another navel-gazing post about why I haven't posted. Or maybe that's exactly what I'm about to do. Who can tell?

It's funny when you have a blog that was at one time very frequently updated because then as your life gets to a point where you aren't blogging for whatever reason, you feel that you must explain why it is you've been absent. Only, you really don't want to explain, so you put off writing for even longer and it turns into a vicious cycle and suddenly, you find that you are blogging seasonally at best.** So, I'll leave it at this: We are all good. I hope that you both all had a lovely Thanksgiving, a fabulously blessed & joyful Christmas and that the New Year brings all the happiness in the world.

That should hold me till at least March, right? (Also, SugarPlum turns 15 next week. FIFTEEN. Oh. Em. Gee. Who let that happen?)


Now, I shall share a little story that sums up my life quite nicely these days. It takes place in the van yesterday after we dropped SP off at a friend's house. The boys were doing their "annoy the crap out of Mommy" thing and coming very close to making my head explode. I said something about them needing to take it down a notch or there would be unpleasant consequences. In the spirit of throwing your brother under the bus, this exchange took place:


Bug: "Bear said the "c" word today."
Me: "You know tattling is not o....WAIT, he said wha?? What "c" word did you say?"
Bear: .....
Me: "WHAT DID YOU SAY?"
Bear: (hesitantly) "um, 'crap'...."
Me: (small sigh of relief) "Well. Hm. That's not nice for kids to say. So, uh, don't say that."
Bug: "What? 'Crap'?"

And this is why I only have two kids now....

**Also? You find yourself writing ridiculous run-on sentences that will probably make you cringe once you take the time to actually LOOK at what you've written. AND THEN, you begin to wonder why you are writing in second-person since that seems awfully affected but you can't seem to find a way to stop, so you just keep typing until you decide that perhaps you should just hit "PUBLISH" already and get your butt to bed. Or not.

Never, ever forget

This is a post I wrote five years ago as part of the 2996 Project, commemorating the life of one of those lost on September 11, 2001. My life has gone on and has changed for better and for worse since then. But the families & friends of those lost on that terrible day have had to live the past ten years without their loved ones. We cannot ever forget what happened and the terrible sacrifices our entire country has been forced to make.

As you know, I was born and raised in Texas. I have always considered myself fortunate to have been able to grow up in the United States and especially in Texas. In high school, I was very active in choir and dance. And, after high school, as you know, I went to college and became a teacher. I have had the opportunity to live in many different places. I am proud to be an American and proud of our country.

Carlos Samaniego was born in Uruguay on December 31, 1971. At some point in his childhood, I'm not sure at what age, he moved to Texas, not too terribly far from where I grew up. He attended Permian High School and, from what I gather, he was one heck of a baseball player. At one game in particular, he entered as the pitcher in the third inning and shut out the opponent. From there, he eventually became a Bond Trader in New York City.

On September 11, 2001, my family and I lived in England. My husband was a fighter pilot and I was the Ways and Means chairperson for the Officers and Civilan Spouses Club. I was the Mommy to four-year-old SugarPlum and three-month-old SugarBear. On that particular day, my father-in-law left after visiting for two weeks. We had taken several trips during his stay and we enjoyed him thoroughly, but we were exhausted and, honestly, I was glad that he was headed home. We made plans to see him and my sister-in-law and her family in Mississippi at the end of October. SD took his dad to the airport very early that morning and SugarPlum and Bear and I all slept in and had a lazy morning watching Nick Jr and playing.

Carlos Samaniego woke up on the morning on September 11, 2001, most likely at his home in Richmond Hill, NY. He probably ate breakfast or at least had some coffee. He went to work that day at his job with Cantor Fitzgerald on the 104th floor of Tower One of the World Trade Center. You know what happened after that. He was confirmed dead at the WTC site. He wasn't able to follow through with any plans he had made to visit friends or family members. He didn't get one last phone call to tell his mom or his brother or his girlfriend that he loved them. His life was snuffed out abruptly and violently by the cowardly, unfathomable acts of evil, evil people.

I did not know Carlos Samaniego. Pretty much all I know about him is what I have told you right here. From what I have read that friends and family have posted about him, he was a really great guy. One friend wrote of Carlos:

I cannot remember Carlos ever having a bad day. He saw the good in everyone and everything. I know Carlos made life better for people around him. My life is better having known Carlos.


He sounds like someone I would really like to meet. The chances of that happening would have been very, very slim, but you never know. However, it makes so very angry that I will never have the opportunity to know him. Yet, I am pleased that I have been given this opportunity to honor his life and be a voice for one who can no longer speak.. His life was more than one than 1/3000th of a tragedy. His death left a hole in our world that will never be filled by anyone else and we may never know how far the ripples of this loss will be felt. If by chance, a friend or loved one of Carlos stops by here, please know that you have my deepest sympathies for a pain that must be almost unbearable even five (and now 10) years later. God bless you all.

We will never forget....


To read more tributes to the victims of the 9/11 attacks, go here. Or just visit 2,996. You'll be glad you did! [This link no longer works, but I'm certain that there are countless others. God bless you.]

He has varied interests

With the first week of school successfully completed (HALLELUJAH!), I looked through the kids' backpacks and folders this weekend. I came across Bug's (now in third grade HOLY COW!) Writing Journal (complete with backwards 'J'). On the front page I found this, which I will try to reproduce as precisely as I can as written. Needless to say, his knowledge is varied and, at times, alarming while AS ALWAYS, very hilarious:

THINGS I KNOW ABOUT by SugarBug Lastname

• Harry potter
• art
• guns (backward g)
• rocks
• space
• endangered animals 
• biology
• warfaer (his spelling)
• history
• WW II
• Air force
• Army
• Navy
• Marines
• bombs
• deep sea
• Afghanistan
• boy scouts
• John
• brenden
• egend (not sure what this is)
• legos
• hitler
• Quantum physics
• fish
• weta (again, no idea)
• zombies
• eels
• Pokeman

If he weren't an 8 year old boy, I would be worried. But they watched a LOT of the History and Discovery channels over the summer, so I'm going to laugh and appreciate his confidence....

Happy Birthday Maw Maw...

Even though you have been gone over a year now, I still sometimes forget you are gone. And every July 1st until the end of time, that empty place in me will ache a little more. I always loved that you and I both had July birthdays. You were the one who showed me that the Ruby was our birthstone. I treasured the times that you would let me try on the various pieces of ruby jewelry you had. It was something that just you and I shared, our July birthdays.

There have been so many times lately I have wanted to call you and tell you something funny one of the boys has said. Or to boast about something one of the SugarBabies has done. Yes, even after all this time, your number is still programmed in all of my phones. As if I don't know it by heart. But I don't think I'll ever take it off. All week I have looked at my calendar and I've seen your name pop up on this day. July 1 - Maw Maw's Birthday. I wish I could just call and let the SugarBabies sing to you. You always loved that.

I wish that we could come to your house - me, my kiddos, Bek & Tell, Mom & Dad, T&L. I wish we could have one more time together. We are all okay. But we would be even more okay if you were here.

I'll bet birthdays don't even matter in Heaven, do they? You get to be with Paw Paw and your Mom & Daddy and with Aunt Ruby and so many other loved ones and just rejoice all the time. I know you are much happier there. And I guess that tempers my sadness some. But it doesn't make me miss you any less.

So know that I am thinking about you all day today. I may shed some tears, but they will be good ones. Because the fact that I miss you so much is only because you loved me so fully and completely and unconditionally while you were here. So I will celebrate you today, Maw Maw. And we WILL sing to you. I know you will hear it and smile and giggle. I love you so much. Happy Birthday.

Sorry about the lack of posting again, but....

You know what I hate? I hate being unable to post and share what is going on with me and my kids and all of the funny, joyful, irritating, crazy, LIFE around here. And WHY am I unable to post? Because of the possibility that every word I type can be used against me (and probably is). And I hate that. It makes me angry. Because it shouldn't be that way. But evidently it is. So, sorry, all three people who still read around here. Just thought I'd give you an explanation.

As it is, everyone is healthy. Everyone is happy. It is summer, so everyone is whiny - especially me since I'm working my tail off in school, trying to get this MA done as quickly as possible AND spend time with my kiddos, because they are growing up so fast. I'll fill you in someday. I hope. Comments will be turned off on this post. Email or call me if you want to offer encouragement. I love you guys.

Of birthdays, and deuling, and other very BOY things

Shamefully, I let the entire month of May and half of June pass without mention of the fact that BOTH boys had another birthday. While I have tried to strongly discourage any further growing or maturing or aging, these children stubbornly insist on growing up. *sigh* So disobedient. See? Right there? Hoodlums. ------->>

First, my Buggy Boy turned eight. He was truly looking forward to his birthday this year even though he knew it was going to be was very low key. Somehow, eight was a really big deal to him. It's hard having one of the last birthdays of the school year. But as Bear and I can both attest, it still beats having your birthday after school is out. His Daddy called from Overthereistan and I think he got to webcam with Daddy as well. Daddy got Bug the DSI xl (or some device with a similar acronym, I can't keep it all straight) that he wanted. Very exciting. Gram and GrayGray came for the weekend. A close friend brought his daughter over to celebrate - both of whom the boys think are pretty awesome. All the kids (Bear & Bug, SugarPlum, Little Miss & her Daddy) had a huge water gun fight in the back yard which was, in the words of the birthday boy "AWESOME." Bug got to pick where to eat supper - Buffalo Wild Wings, in case you were wondering...he thinks WINGS are the greatest food in the world right now. (I don't get it. Maybe it's a guy thing) Then back to the house for presents and his ARMY GUY cake.

Somehow, it has become kind of a tradition that the boys' cakes include some sort of action figures. This was actually born out of laziness and lack of skill on my part in making any sort of cool theme cake and now they look forward to the toys on the cake and I can include that as one of their gifts. Pretty much a win/win if you ask me. Anyway, after cake he opened presents, was slightly disappointed to discover that he did NOT get Big Game Hunter (or something like that) for the Wii, but he was pretty happy with all of his gifts.

Ten days later, we were in Candyland West (also known as Gram & GrayGray's house) for Bear's birthday. He turned 10. TEN. T.E.N. Double digits, folks. Oh. Em. Gee. But it hasn't done a thing to detract from his sweet nature. He was happy because he got to meet his precious new baby cousin (and my beautiful, precious new nephew! I'm FINALLY Aunt Buffi for real!) (we'll call the baby [my brother's] Tadpole for now....maybe Tad for short) and my Bear loooooves babies. And this is one of the sweetest, most laid back babies in the history of EVER. We got to go swimming at the home of one of my bestest friends from high school and then Bear got to choose where we went to dinner (a wonderful Italian place that has the absolute best calzones on the entire planet - including Italy) and we were joined by Gray, Gram, my two precious beautiful (and now-entirely-grown-up-adults-because-they-won't-listen-to-me-either) cousins, and our close friend. After supper, we had cake (Bear really wanted a Harry Potter cake but we could not find Harry Potter action figures - which is weird, right? BUT he was delighted to get a Phineus and Ferb cake - no pictures though because I cannot find my damn camera). Bear also got a special phone call from his Daddy, which ALWAYS makes him happy and got to open his gift from Daddy (same as Bug's) before we left Candyland. He liked ALL of his presents - especially the Banzai Samurai Dueling Sticks because now he and his brother can beat the crap out of each other with fewer drastic consequences.** I also have decided that any arguments are going to be resolved by going outside with the sticks and not coming in until they have reached an agreement. SugarPlum is not too keen on this idea.

So, now I have these older children. They are pretty fantastic when they aren't conspiring to make my head explode.....which, honestly is a good part of every day, I am quite certain. But they are funny and smart and well-behaved (when they aren't acting like meth-addled monkeys) and loving and cuddly and just imperfect enough to make them perfect.

**The "rules" on the box for the Banzai Samurai Dueling Sticks state that there are no "points" awarded for hits to the head, face or groin and a couple of other areas. I read through the rules carefully with them before and asked if they understood. They nodded enthusiastically, indicating that YES they did understand fully and could they please just go out and begin beating one another already. I also included a "Mommy Rule Addendum" that stated that any hits to the head, groin or face would result in a 24 hour suspension of Banzai Samurai Dueling Sticks privileges and the offender would have to clean the bathroom for a week. More enthusiastic nodding, accompanied by eye-rolling. I then asked if they knew what the "groin" was. And no, neither of them did, of course. And since it was the middle of the night in Overthereistan, it fell to me to explain. Good times, people. Good times. It took less than five minutes before someone came in crying. And I sent them right back out. No blood, no bones sticking out, no sympathy....

All Hell Breaking Loose....

Okay I know I said "next weekend" or something like that. But I've been a little busy. You know. Life and kids and stuff. But I'll make like Paul Harvey and give you the rest of the story now....(I'm sure that this is full of all sorts of mistakes and grammatical errors that I will compulsively go back & fix later, but I'm going to bed now...) PART 1 click here

So, yes my instructions when I left the hospital after having the baby factory removed and almost bleeding to death were simply to rest and to go to the ER if I started running a fever. Well, I wasn't sure how long those instructions were for. Because, I went home on Sunday. On Tuesday or Wednesday (it's all a little fuzzy), I started running a very low grade fever. I SO did not want to go to the ER. But after some prodding and close to downright shouting from my mom & FB friends, I did phone the GYN on call and she said to take some Tylenol, that I probably had a UTI and to call my regular dr in the morning, which I did. He sent me to pee in a cup & put me on antibiotic which did NOT agree with my digestive system. I kept having the fever but just took Tylenol. The lab results came back I and I did NOT have a UTI and since the antibiotics were making me sick and unable to eat, the dr said I could stop taking them. This was Friday, I think.

The weekend was fairly uneventful. Like I said before the kids got to spend time with their dad. My uncle and cousin came by for a visit, I got out and walked a bit (per doctor's orders)....things were okay. Mom was even contemplating going home. My tummy was still a little upset, so Mom thought she'd stay at least one more night & get the kids off to school. Sunday evening, my stomach was really bothering me. ***Here's where you need to stop reading if you have a delicate constitution*** I felt really gassy & couldn't seem to go to the bathroom. I went for a walk and the stomach cramps about overtook me. I made it back into the house and to the bathroom in time to toss everything I had eaten that evening. And then everything I had eaten that week. I was doubled over and couldn't stop throwing up. Finally I was just throwing up bile. Mom called the clinic since I could barely speak and the doc on call said to take me to the ER. So, a wonderful friend came over to stay at the house with the kids since they were all asleep - and help me walk to the car (Mom seriously considered calling an ambulance, but I didn't want to freak out the kids or the rest of the neighborhood).

We got to the ER and Mom ran in and asked for a wheelchair since I couldn't walk. Evidently I was moaning pretty loudly and got triaged right back to a little ER room (there was a 3-4 hour wait otherwise). I kept calling for my "Mommy." (Amazing how we revert back when we are at our most vulnerable, isn't it?) And she just held me as best she could and yelled at those people to take care of me. Seriously, you don't want to get crosswise my mom over one of her kids. She will make you wish you were dead. They gave me lots of drugs and I finally stopped puking. Of course I also stopped being lucid at all. They took me for an x-ray. Then they wanted to do a CAT scan - can I just say that there are few things nastier than barium, especially when you've been throwing your guts up. I do remember trying to choke that crap down. I guess I didn't have any bleeds anywhere, but my fever had spiked to over 104, so they thought it might be a good idea to admit me. I have very little memory of being moved to my room. One of the nurses who was there said that they had to lift me because I was barely conscious enough to slide over. Evidently, I was in serious condition and there was talk of putting me in the ICU. Yeah. As it was I was on IV fluids, three different IV antibiotics and lots of pain and anti-nausea meds. And I was bloated up like a balloon in the Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade.

EVIDENTLY, I had developed an infection at the site of the repairs made in the second surgery. One of the abscesses was big enough that it was blocking off my bowel, essentially trapping all of the gas and *ahem* everything else from coming out of my body. That was making me a little queasy...and nearly septic. Because it was cellulitis. Which is really bad from what they tell me and to have it INSIDE is extremely rare. The doctor was a little freaked out.

My mom was keeping my friends & family updated on my condition and let them all know that I had cellulitis of the vaginal cuff. One of my friends later called to tell me "Um, your mom sent me a text about your vagina." NICE.

I stayed knocked out on pain killers and nausea meds for the first few days. By Wednesday, the first offending abscess had gone down enough for my bowel to be able to, um, deflate. Yeah, that was pleasant. Especially for the housekeeping staff. There are some great stories that could go with that day, but they are better left untold. In the meantime, doc came in every day and did a pelvic - oh, yes, just as awesome as you can imagine it would be. I also got to go for another x-ray, an ultrasound - both external and internal. I was wheeled to the sonographer by a lady who was very insistent that I wear those lovely hospital socks with the grippy things on them. She told me all kinds of stories about why this was important. Evidently it is crucial. Whatever.

Every few hours, they came to take blood, take my vitals, change one thing or another on my IV, give me medicine or something or just aggravate me. The good nurses (read: the ones I liked) would turn on the least intrusive light possible. All the hullabaloo and they changes in my meds had given me one doozy of a migraine & I wanted it as dark & quiet in there as possible. There were some terribly cheerful nurses who would burst in in the mornings and turn on all the lights and open the curtains - I had a corner room so I had two windows. I hated those nurses. The nurse I had the biggest problem with was a night nurse who kept insisting that I should take a shower, it would make me feel better. I had already taken one shower and learned that those were the worst showers in the history of ever. There was barely any water pressure and you had to rotate yourself to get completely wet. I was cold the whole entire time. One of the GOOD nurses had brought me some of those cleansing cloths to use so that I didn't smell like a lumberjack and I really didn't care what my hair looked like. Nurse Ratchet tried to blackmail me and tell me that she would take my blanket away if I started to run the slightest fever. I asked for the charge nurse and never saw Miss Smarty-Pants again. I may have been known as a pain in the ass but I just really don't give a flying flip.

My friend came to visit Wednesday night and as he left he told me I was hot. I laughed and said "Oh yeah, I'm hot. I look fantastic after laying in this bed for three days." He cracked up and said, "No, you are burning up, I'm going to go tell the nurses before I leave." Yeah, my temp was back up over 102. Super.

By Thursday afternoon, I was still running a pretty good fever most of the day. (Though I was no longer bloated so that was good) All of my blood cultures had come back clean. Nobody knew exactly what was making me sick. But I still felt like shit. I had another CT & it was decided that I was going to have a drain put in me to try to remove the infection from my vaginal cuff (I know, sorry). I thought I had a vague idea how this particular procedure might go. I was very, very mistaken.

The next day, they wheeled me off to CT and had me lay on my belly and zipped me in and out of the CT scanner dealio while the radiologist, Dr DeSade, inserted a tube from my right butt cheek through my lower abdomen to my (close your eyes) vaginal cuff to drain the infection.** BUT WAIT THERE'S MORE...while he was in there he took samples of the fluid to send to the lab to see if they could identify the bacteria that was trying to kill me. For the record, they could not. The little collection bag just kind of hung out there off the skinny little tube which was about 12 inches long or so. Surprisingly, once the tube was in, it really didn't bother me at all except that it was a little awkward trying to find a place to hold it when I went to the potty. It was good for freaking out visitors, though.

**Yes, I was awake thru all of this, but I did have some pretty good drugs on board to make me relax. Plus I did that breathing that they teach you in the childbirth classes. Nice that THAT finally came in handy!

The drain seemed to do the trick. By the next day, I was off all IV antibiotics (still taking two oral antibiotics, though. One for colitis which I developed at some point in there and made things even more fun.Good exercise though!) It was good that I was off the IV since most of my veins had been blown - all of them in both lower arms - and my last IV was in my upper arm near my left shoulder. Actually that was the only one that didn't leave any lasting marks AND it was the easiest to manage. You can still feel the knots in my lower arms where the veins have scarred. It's super-creepy. One of the nurses told me that one of the reasons that I blew so many veins was because of all the Phenergan they gave me for the nausea for all those days. And you know what? TOTALLY worth it. I hate feeling nauseated. SugarPlum says I was pretty funny on phenergan, too. Mom & I evidently had whole long conversations of which I have absolutely no memory. Same goes for phone conversations & actual in-room visits with several friends. So if you called or came by & I don't remember it, sorry. And, if you DIDN'T call but want credit for calling, you can say you did and I will have no way of knowing you are lying.

Mom brought they kids up to see me nearly every single day. I did let them open the window shades because there were pigeons nesting on the window sills and occasionally they would have eggs. They named one set on the birds "Coco & Loco" and one of their eggs was "Yoko" (get it? Yolk-o....they thought it was hilarious). Sadly, we never saw an egg hatch.

By Saturday I was SO READY to bust out of there. The doctor seemed inclined to send me home, too. Except that I still had that damn drain in and he wanted to leave it for at least 24 more hours. He actually was going to send me home with the drain. I was somewhat opposed to bringing a bag of bacteria home to my three children. He let me stay another day. Sunday, he came in to remove the drain. He had the little kit and as he got started, he honest to Doogie said "I think the radiologist said to cut right here...." The nurse and I both had the same look of shock and dismay on our faces. Then, with absolutely no warning, he just pulled that sucker right out of me. HO.LY. CRAP. He asked me if I wanted any pain meds for home. Uh, yeah. So he wrote me a few scrips for that and for antibiotics and I don't know what else and shortly after I signed all those papers, my Mommy took me home.

Oh, and they never did figure out what was making me sick. Every single culture came back clear. All of them. I had some mystery bug that tried to kill me. I am either Dr House's dream patient or his biggest nightmare.

All in all, I was in the hospital the second time for eight days, not counting the night in the ER before they admitted me. I lost about 20 lbs. Nothing at all tasted good. I read about four books. Thank goodness for having Kindle on my phone. I updated my Facebook statuses in the moments that I had the energy & could see straight. And I never did wash my hair. I know. EW. Shut up. The first thing I did when I got home was take a shower and climb into MY bed. That bed never felt so good.

Little by little I have been getting my strength back. I am still amazed at how tired I am and how much I MUST nap. I mean, it's been two months. But the doc keeps telling me to give it six months before I even approach being my old self again. I have gained back all the weight - I really didn't have much that I could lose - thanks to Girl Scout cookies and Haagen-Dacz. I managed to pull an 'A' in the class I was taking last semester in spite of my prof sending me home my first week back because I "looked frail" and I was "making her nervous." I sported the whole "heroin chic" look for quite some time - skin & bones, sunken eyes, tracks & bruises all up & down my arms. I looked terrific.

Bear still tells me almost every day that he is glad I'm all better and home. I hug my babies a little tighter and try to fit in some extra snuggles every day. Bless their hearts. In one week, their Dad deployed to SW Asia and their mom was suddenly back in the hospital at death's door (although they don't really know just HOW sick I was). SugarPlum has been amazing, as always. She is an astounding caretaker, especially for a 14 year old, and she is fiercely protective of me. And I have discovered some truly wonderful people in my life. I am honestly blessed beyond measure. I have realized who and what really matters.

God is good, all the time. And all the time, God is good.

And to think, this was the EASY part....

Okay, since several people have asked "Just what the hell happened to you and the whole hospital thing?" here is the saga…..it’s long, but trust me it felt longer while I was laying there. (That’s what she said) (sorry I couldn’t help myself.) Today is just the first part, because, seriously, it is a SAGA. And if you get queasy easily, you might want to skip it. It ain't pretty.

I was scheduled to have a hysterectomy. Yes, I am only 40 but I have had tons of issues that are certainly more than most of you want to know so I won’t bore you with all of them. The biggest reason was that my CA-125 blood test (which is one of the markers for ovarian cancer, you know, what my mother had me totally freaked out about) had come back as above normal more than once. My GYN (Dr L) didn’t think it was “cancer high” but enough that we should probably take a look around in there and given my other issues, if he was going to “be in there” we might as well take it all out. Honestly, I was fine with removing the baby factory. After my last pregnancy and the ridiculous crap that accompanied it, I am done. D.O.N.E. And I was tired of all the girl stuff every month. So YAY! Fire sale: everything must go!

It was supposed to be very routine: LAVH (I won’t over-explain, if you want to know, you can click the link...hope you're not eating), overnight stay, home the next day. I scheduled the surgery for just before Spring Break so that I’d have nearly two full weeks to rest and recover before I went back to class. My mom was planning on staying a week, maybe ten days. I’d be tired for a few weeks but should have been back on my feet by the time Spring Break was over. Ha. Ha.

You know that nothing is ever easy with me. I am ALWAYS the aberration.

My mom came to take care of the kids and me. A friend took me to the hospital that morning at 6:15 (thanks Courtney!) and my mom was up there as soon as she got the kids to school. I remember checking in, joking around with the anesthesiologist, getting wheeled into the OR and talking a minute. The next thing I remember is the recovery room.

Here's the thing: I don’t do well coming out of anesthesia. And I am ALWAYS overwhelmed by much it hurts. But this time, even though I knew why I was hurting, something still didn’t feel right. I kept telling them that I was hurting but I couldn’t articulate that something was wrong. Drugs will do that to you, kids. They kept saying, “Yes, you just had surgery.” One jackhole actually “asked” me “Is this your first hysterectomy?” My mom almost punched him. I started feeling really nauseated. No REALLY, seriously pukey. I told them and I think they gave me some phenergan or something. But it didn’t help much.

At a certain point, they had given me all the pain and nausea meds they could. Between all the meds and still coming out of general anesthesia, everything is very swirly in my mind. I remember them giving me a basin because I felt sick. I didn’t have anything in my stomach, but I started dry heaving. I know that they took me from recovery back to my room. I remember telling them that I was bleeding and they said it was normal to have some bleeding after a hysterectomy. But every time I heaved, I felt a LOT of blood.

Evidently I kept saying “gushing” until a CNA came to change the pad on the bed and noticed that the whole entire bed was covered in blood – like horror movie style. She screamed out in the hall for someone to "get their asses in there" (as my mom informed me) and finally they took me seriously. They laid me back down in my gross, bloody bed, tilted the bed to head down (which made all of my stitched up insides hurt like a son of a bitch - that I DO remember) and wheeled me back down to pre-op where they started a blood transfusion. I remember my mom there by my head telling me what was going on, kissing me and telling me she loved me. I remember thinking that I would really just like to close my eyes and go to sleep if everyone would just STFU. But they couldn’t let me do that…something about lapsing into a coma or something, so annoying. They kept shouting at me, “BUFFI?! DO YOU UNDERSTAND WHAT’S GOING ON?” and I would nod. I was soooooo tired and but not scared, really. More aggravated. And very confused. I don’t remember going back into surgery. Dr L checked everywhere he had cut out anything (which was pretty much everywhere, because evidently I had an incredible amount of endometriosis all thru my lower abdomen - I am SUCH an over-achiever. There were no nicks or ruptures anywhere that he could see, except one place.

(Skip the next paragraph if certain anatomical words offend you or give you the willies)

Evidently, when I was dry heaving, a blood vessel in my vaginal cuff – where the uterus connects to the…you know – ruptured and caused the whole thing to start throwing clots & blow all the stitches. So, when I was saying "gushing" I was right. Good times. He stitched it all back up very carefully. They ended up giving me three units of blood. Which, evidently, means that I very nearly bled out. At least that's what one of the nurses told me. So much for quick and easy. I vaguely remember the recovery room again and remember my mom being there and a friend coming back to see me. I think he was a little freaked out. But, pretty much everyone was "a little freaked out." I looked fabulous, I’m sure. From what I’m told I looked slightly cadaverous.

**Also, the jackhole nurse came and apologized for his jackholery**

The doctors agreed it would be a good idea to keep me sedated for a long time to avoid the nausea and to keep my blood pressure down. I guess that every time I woke up a little, I hurt like hell and my blood pressure would spike. Also, they didn't want me dry heaving again and busting something else open.

The original plan for the boys was that SugarBug’s teacher was going to bring the boys home from school. Since the surgery was so early, I figured I’d be awake and in my room by the time they got there. And if things had gone normally, I would have. Instead, Mom kept in touch with the boys’ teachers and Mrs. Secondgrade took the boys to ToysRUs to get some Legos and bought them some pizza (she is so absolutely wonderful, I cannot even begin to describe her) and brought them up to the hospital…somewhere around suppertime maybe? I don’t know. I know that they were pretty freaked out. There I was in bed, no color at all, who knows how many tubes coming out of me and oh, so barely conscious. Bless their hearts. I remember telling them that I love them and that I was going to be okay. I remember them each giving me a kiss before my mom took them home. And then, I was out.

The next thing I remember was waking up when my friend came back. He was really nice and stayed to visit for a while. He (sarcastically) told me I looked great even though I was practically see-through. That is the first thing I remember clearly. I hurt some but not as much as earlier. My blood pressure was still wonky from all of the fluids and meds they had given me after I sprung the leak. Oddly enough, my blood pressure would go down whenever they gave me pain meds. Imagine.

After my friend left, I asked the nurses when I could get the catheter out because, golly I HATE those. They had to check with the doctor, who was thrilled that I was awake and lucid enough to ask to take it out. So they did. YAY! I went to the bathroom, I drank some water. I called the house to talk to the kids so that they could hear that I was okay. I needed to hear their voices too. The full impact of what had happened was beginning to dawn on me and OH, how it broke my heart to even consider the alternative ending. I still hate that the boys had to see me like that after I had told them the night before that everything would be just fine. Now I'm a big fat liar.

Random snippet: When I was more fully awake, I saw a small card left by one of the pastors at my church. It was funny because I remember at one point in my drug-induced haze thinking, "Wow, that doctor looks just like Danny Pastordude!" Heh.

I stayed in the hospital one extra day (yes, that’s all!) and they sent me home. My instructions were to eat, rest, and go to the ER if I started to get a fever. I got my prescription for the pain meds and my hormone patches and headed home. It felt good to be in my bed. I was happy to be with my babies. I was a little shaky, but felt like I was getting stronger & better. The kids went with their dad, who was in town for a Spring Break visit, and they had a grand time. It was good to see them happy and not hovering and worrying about me. I studied some (mid-term approaching) and tried to begin making my way back to normal. SD left, my Uncle and cousin stopped thru on their way home from a Spring Break fishing trip to check on me. Mom was in charge and taking great care of all of us. She was considering going home the next day.

And then all hell broke loose…..

(to be continued this weekend, I promise. Probably)

FINALLY, part 2

Phrases I rarely use in conversation with adults....It's been a while...

It has been ages since I chronicled the ridiculous things that come out of my mouth while parenting. There are things that I never even imagined I would say. If you're feeling nostalgic, you can look waaaay back here to see other times I have pondered the utterings of a befuddled mom...

• Stop throwing dirt in the air.
• And no throwing rocks at people.
• Play knights with your Nerf swords, not these sticks...that have nails in them. Sweet Fancy Moses, where did those even come from??
• No, you do not need a spear.
• You're fine. I don't have time to go to the ER today.
• And don't bleed on my couch. (True story, I actually said that. SugarPlum about peed her pants.)
• The tooth fairy doesn't want filthy teeth, so you'd better hope you brush well before that thing falls out.
• Get dressed.
• Get dressed.
• For the love of little green apples, GET. YOUR. CLOTHES. ON.
• I WILL take you to school in your pajamas. Wanna try me?**
• Cleaning your room includes all around the edges AND in your closet AND under your bed AND the top of your dresser. It does not mean clearing a space beneath your ceiling fan.
• If you pull all the leaves off that shrub, you'll have to buy me a new one.
• Please don't break my house.
• When was the last time someone flushed this toilet?? It smells like Woodstock in here!
• If you keep screaming like that the neighbors are going to think that someone has been mortally wounded and call the police.
• Cool Whip is not a "healthy snack."
• Oh, ew. I think it's time you started wearing deodorant.
• When I call your name, you get your butt in here, immediately. You do not simply shout "Yeah?"
• What is so hard to understand about bedtime? PJs, potty, brush your teeth, dirty clothes to the washing machine. That's how it's been since you could walk. Are you new here??
• "In the washing machine" means just that. Not somewhere in the approximate vicinity of the laundry room.
• I know that you have heard Mommy say that word, but it is a word that is only okay for grown-ups to use. If you say that at school, you'll get detention.
• No spitting water all over the shower.
• How can you have been in the shower for 25 minutes and your hair is not even wet? But the light fixture is?
• OUCH! *&^$ing Legos. (See above: words only grown-ups can use)
• Don't sit on the dog.
• Don't lasso the dog.
• Leave the poor dogs alone already.
• If you screw up SugarPlum's math project on the computer, I will let her beat you.
• Everybody to the bathroom before we leave!
• GAH! I told you to go to the bathroom before we left!
• Why are you not wearing shoes? Which part of "going to the grocery store" did you not understand?
• No, we are not going to McDonalds.
• No we are not going to Taco Bell.
• No, we are not going to El Chico.
• WE ARE EATING AT HOME, we have groceries IN. THE. CAR. RIGHT NOW!
• How much does your Mommy love you? More than anything in the whole wide world.
• You little heathen.

**One day Bug piddled around and couldn't find two matching shoes. So he wore the right shoe of one pair and the left shoe of another. He's never had trouble finding his shoes since....

You may want to grab a bucket because here is where I go on and on (and on and on and on) about my amazing daughter. Really, it's nauseating....

Okay, yeah, I know I promised to tell all about my extended stay at Club Med. But now that I've been out of the hospital for a month, I've grown weary of talking about it. I was too tired and then too busy to write. And now, it just annoys the crap out of me that it happened at all. I'm sure I'll finish that post sometime soon. It WAS a pretty significant event in my life. I think I'm just trying to process it all. I mean, I nearly died. TWICE. Yeesh.

What has had me preoccupied the past couple of weeks is the very act of counting my blessings. I have the most amazing children on the planet. I look at them and wonder how I got THREE great kids. It's like hitting the jackpot on the slots. They are truly miraculous. Those boys....oh, they are such boys. They do everything with such a ferocity and intensity. Loving, playing, beating the holy hell out of each other. Even the intensity of their apathy is impressive -- if that makes any sense at all.

But my sweet girl. My SugarPlum. She is what has me baffled and filled with joy and pride and anxiety and dread. She is 14. FOURTEEN. And she is just the best teenager in the history of ever. She is such a little bundle of contradictions. She has a wisdom and a maturity beyond her years. She carries herself with such confidence and self-assuredness and she really doesn't care what people think about her. When I was fourteen ALL I cared about was what people thought of me. I remember being so horrified that my mother wouldn't buy me Calvin Klein jeans. FIFTY DOLLAR JEANS! In 1984!! I won't even spend $50 on jeans now. Heaven forbid something came from KMart or some other discount store. Oh, the horror. My poor mother. But all I cared about was what the popular girls were wearing. And I swore then that I would do everything in my power to make sure my kids had what was "in style." But my girl just really couldn't care less where the clothes come from or what the label says. As long as it's comfortable and it fits her style, she's happy. I have actually offered to take her shopping and she says "no, I have enough clothes and shoes, I'm good." WHUCK? I got her a Vera Bradley purse last summer (which she does love because it's got her school colors) and now she finally carries a purse. But recently, when I asked if she wanted to look at some purses, she looked at me like I was crazy & said "I have a purse."

She has the coolest group of friends who are like her. They are all great girls, good girls, who are sure of themselves and don't feel the need to put anyone down to make themselves feel good. They are funny and smart and high-achievers like SP. They each have a wicked sense of humor, which I love. They don't feel the need to act out in any major way or use coarse language (like one of their moms who has a potty mouth that makes sailors blush at times....ahem). In fact, at any given time, I can open SugarPlum's email and if one of the girls has a reaction to anything they simply reply "STRONG WORDS!" instead of cursing. When they see the acronym WTF, while they do know what it actually stands for, they say "Wow! That's Fantastic!" (Try it. It's even better than saying What the F^*k!), and when they see BS, they choose to interpret it as "Bacon Strips" or "Bible Study."

Which leads to one of my favorite things about my sweet girl. She is so mature that she actually actively tries to maintain her innocence about the world. And I don't mean in a sexual way (although that too), but just in everything about the world. It's like she knows that there are situations and scenarios out there that once revealed will change her forever, and she tries to avoid them. Sort of an "ignorance is bliss" attitude, only in a healthy way. There are certain TV shows that I don't let her watch. And she's okay with that. She told me that she appreciates that I look out for her that way. This has led to me loosening the reins a bit and previewing some episodes of House and Big Bang Theory for instance that can sometimes have quite a bit of sex and adult situations, but also sometimes are very good TV and okay for her to watch. We talk a lot about what is on the episodes she doesn't get to watch and she is good with not seeing them. I know that many of her peers get to watch whatever they want on TV, but she is happy to work within the boundaries I've set.

She is also VERY athletic. Something she certainly didn't get from me. I mean, I did ballet and modern dance until I was a junior in college and I loved it. And I played soccer for a few years as a kid, but I did not love it. This girl LOVES sports. This year, she played volleyball, basketball and did track & field. All the while she played on her competitive soccer team. And she is GOOD. She is a goalkeeper - you have to have a lot of self-esteem and a pretty thick skin to play goal keeper. (And an even thicker skin to be the keeper's mom!) She is planning on limiting herself to soccer next year in high school. (HIGH SCHOOL!!! Oh. Em. GEE.)

She is also a big choir geek like her mom. She LOVES choir. She was in the honor choir and the show choir this year. She has been blessed the past three years with an amazing choir teacher who has instilled in her a love of music and vocal skills and just the artistry of it all. So, she is planning to pursue that next year as well.

In addition to all of that, she is ridiculously smart and is an officer in the Nat'l Jr Honor Society and the Fellowship of Christian Athletes. PLUS she was asked by one of her coaches to start and lead, along with her best friend, a girls' Bible study on Wednesday mornings. I can go in her room at night, after she should have turned out the light and she is reading. Her Bible. For real. I walk in unannounced and there she is, deep in the Word.

When I was in the hospital all that time and after I got home, she looked after me and her brothers. She is the best big sister in the history of ever. She loves those boys without reservation. Oh, yes, they make her insane. But she still loves on them and makes up games for them and will remember to tell me all the funny, crazy things they say & do while I am gone. I was never, ever that good of a big sister. When I have been out of energy and laying in bed (because this whole recovery thing has been much more taxing than I ever imagined), she will make supper for the boys and has even on occasion put them to bed. And that doesn't count all the hundreds of nights she's spent babysitting.

Why am I telling you all of this? I have no idea. I've just been overcome with how remarkable this sweet, amazing girl is. Through all of the turmoil of the past couple of years, she has kept her composure better than I. And she has been an amazing example to all of us. Is she going to therapy? Oh, yes. Nobody, especially someone 14, can deal with all she has dealt with and not need an outlet. But she's fine with that too, and acknowledges how much it's been helping her. And she talks to me. That is so amazing to me. She talks to me and she likes me. She tells me so, unsolicited. And her friends do too. Because they are awesome. Also, she does do the moody, eye-rolling, heavy sigh, slamming of the door thing. But when I step back, I am so grateful because it just reassures me that she is a REAL teenager and not some teen-bot.

So, I'm sorry for gushing. It's not even her birthday. But I am so thankful to God for this perfect child. There will never be enough words to thank Him for my Angel Girl. I wouldn't want to navigate this world without her. She's fantastic. For real. Please don't let me screw her up!