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

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!

No funny today

I just received some sobering and devastating news. And it's making me count my blessings at a time when I have really been feeling less than blessed. God has a way of smacking you upside the head, sometimes, doesn't he?

Not long before we moved to England, a good friend of ours who was already stationed there, lost her husband in a one-person car accident. He had just returned from months of fighting in Kosovo and they had two small children, one was two and the other about four months old. It was life shattering to say the least.

But my friend moved back close to her home where there was an Air Force Base, and began to rebuild her life. A couple of years later, she met and married a lovely, sweet man who was a doctor. He was the perfect husband for her and a wonderful daddy to her children. He was a blessing to their lives.

In order to move up in his chosen field, my friend and her new husband moved their family to a place where he could receive training and become even more accomplished in his field. They had another baby, giving them, all together, four kids. They were very happy.

Then this precious man learned he had cancer.

Through a mutual friend, we were kept in the loop about how this sweet man and his family were doing and lately, it wasn't looking good. And today, I got an email from my friend the her husband passed away yesterday. I can't fathom the pain that she feels. She is only 34 years old and has buried two husbands. Her kids have lost two daddies. How do you explain that to yourself, much less an 11 and 9 year old?

My heart aches almost more than I can take for my friend. And I feel petty and ridiculous about the complaints I have had with my life considering we are all healthy and vibrant.

Please keep my friend Kim and her family in your prayers. And go hug and kiss your kids and husband or wife. Be sure you say I love you. Because you never, ever know when it will be the last time.

Counting our Blessings

I have to be very, very vague in this post.

The Candyland periphery has experienced some tragedy. Not to the SugarBabies or SD or me. OR any of our families. But it is a difficult time around here nonetheless.

Days like this make me hug my loved ones a little tighter. As much as I might bitch about my husband or kids, I still feel like the luckiest woman in the world to have them. Each one is an amazing blessing.

So, please do me a favor. Go find your husband or wife or kids or best friend (or allof the above) and hug them, look into their eyes and tell them that you love them. You never know when that won't be an option ever again.

And to YOU: I truly love you guys, The ones who have been around here almost since the beginning and have seen me some great times and some really NOT great times. (Mesolithics!) You'll never know how much it means to me.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

Four-year-old theology

Bug: Mommy, was Jesus borned on the cross?

Me: No, sweetheart, Jesus died on the cross. He was born in a stable.

Bug: NO. Was Jesus BORED on the cross? Was he bored up there?

Me: *somewhat stunned* Um, no Bug, I don't think he was bored. (::not sure how much detail to go into with a preschooler::) I think he was mostly praying. You know, talking to God.

Bug: But, Jesus IS God, right?

Me: Well....yeah.

Bug: Sooooo....he was talking to himself?

*sigh*

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

More SugarBaby theology can be found in this post (along with a few other hilarious incidents!).

IRATE (warning:profanity laden post. read at your own risk)

To the Motherfucking Asshole "gentleman" driving the pickup on I-35 Saturday:

Dear Dickhead,

What the fuck is your problem? I am nobody to lay much fault on someone for accidentally rear-ending another person while driving. But I STOPPED and accepted the consequences. What kind of asshole runs into someone and then LEAVES?? And especially when it was patently obvious that there likely was a baby in the minivan that you bashed in? Who drives off without at least making sure that everyone inside is okay?!! Fucker.

I will tell you that that was my sweet Buttercup in that van. My precious godbaby. And her big sister, my other god-daughter. And my oldest, dearest friend. You hit her van with enough force that it shattered the rear windshield and glass was found as far forward as the middle row - IN THE BABY SEAT. Bless their hearts, they were all freaked out. Thankfully, everyone was okay NO THANKS TO YOU. Moron.

I suspect that you are:

a) an illegal alien
b) uninsured
c) a felon out on parole, afraid of going back to jail
d) any combination of the above

Guy, you had better hope that I never EVER find you. Because I will tear you to pieces. I hope that you are experiencing some terrible guilt. I hope that you end up having an ulcer and chronic migraines over this. Mostly though, I hope that nothing like this ever happens to you. Because the pain, anxiety and trouble that this has caused for my dear, precious friend is something that I cannot ever wish on anyone.

Should you wish to get in touch with the victim of your unconscionable act, you can get in touch with me and I will let her know. Until then....GROW A CONSCIENCE.

Sincerely,
SugarMommy

PS To all of the other people on I-35 in Dallas Saturday who failed to stop and help a woman who CLEARLY needed help or to even give her the license plate of the asshole who hit her: You should be ashamed of yourselves. You all saw what happened and you all chose to keep flying right past her. It's almost as bad.

(There really are not enough profanities in the world, or this post about you would have been much longer)

Why I Love Him Wednesday

A while back, Sleeping Mommy started a little thing called Why I Love Him Wednesdays. I thought that it was really sweet since we do spend so much time bitching about our husbands, when in reality we love them more than we can possibly express. I have been meaning to participate, but just keep forgetting. Mommy Alzheimer's or somethings.

Lately, things have been rough in the marriage department. We are coming up on our 14th Weeding Anniversary. And you know what? Marriage is HARD. At least having a happy marriage is hard work. Nobody ever told me this. Or if they did I never listened. Many of you know the stuff we have been through and if you don't, well, too bad. I have decided to (try) to put that behind me and start fresh. I'm not sure how successful this will be, but I have high hopes. Let's pray they don't get smashed to pieces.

Onward...

So this week, I will focus on one of the HUGE reasons that I love SugarDaddy. Actually there are three. He gave me these three smart, funny, beautiful children. And he is an amazing father to them. He makes a point to spend time with each of them. All three of my children know that their Daddy thinks the world of them. They know that he loves them and that he is proud of them and that he is always there for them. This is SO very important in a child's life. They never have to feel like they are seeking his approval. HE shows it and says it and lets them each hear him brag on them. They have such confidence and self-esteem because of how he interacts with them. What an invaluable gift.

I know that regardless of what is going on in OUR relationship, SD never lets the kids feel responsible. And I love him for that. I'm a lucky mommy to have kids with that blessing.

Eleven Years...in the Blink of an Eye

I have been a Mommy for eleven years now. Hard to believe that it's been that long since this.

Eleven years and two days ago
Eleven years ago today

Is it just me or do I Look like I'm the one who is eleven?!

And TODAY. Look at this beautiful young lady! (with her new goalie gloves from GrayGray)

I am the luckiest Mommy alive.

Happy Birthday SugarPlum! I love you!

This time it's SEVEN Random Things

I've done the random things meme several times. But, as it HAS been a while AND Ziff Niffer asked nicely (but not at all because I am totally out of things to blog for NaBloPoMo!), I will post another seven random things. Because if you have learned NOTHING in the past two and a half years (!) of this blog, it that my life is just CHOCK FULL of randomness!


1. I prefer watching shows on TiVo than when they are coming on. To the extent that I will WAIT to watch a show until it is a good 20 minutes in just so that I can skip the commercials.

2. That said, I have been known to back it up for a good commercial. I'm slightly ashamed to admit that these have included, but are not limited to: Sonic commercials and most anything with Peyton Manning.

3. I've discovered that this laptop? It is from the devil. Once I get on it, I am sucked in for hours. And it's not just me. SugarPlum and Bear have fallen victim to the evil Dell lately, as the Webkinz site won't work on the desktop.

4. I have a sneaking suspicion that Webkinz have some sort of demonic connection as well. All three SugarBabies are ADDICTED to them.

5. SugarPlum still wants me to read to her every night at bedtime. And sing her the same lullabye I have been singing to her since she was a baby. I consider myself SOOOOO lucky. I don't know how much longer it will last, but I am savoring every bedtime!


6. We don't read "kiddie books." Right now, we are reading To Kill a Mockingbird. It is my all time favorite book. It has prompted some really interesting coversations about social injustices and the changes that have taken place in the past 70 years. It's encouraging to see the moral outrage that she's expressed in response to the subject matter. She is SUCH a great kid.


7. After this heavy book, though, we have decided to read Mary Poppins. I'm excited. I mean, Mary Poppins is one of my very favorite movies, but have you ever read the book? I haven't. I'm excited to see how it's different. We'll have to remember that the book came first.




So there you go. AGAIN! I'm not tagging anyone right now. I'm lazy that way. (Oooh! Bonus random thing!) If you do it, let me know. I want to see how random YOU are!

Longest Baby Shower EVER

The baby shower was a huge success. If success can be measured by how long the people stay. If that is indeed the case, then I AM the hostess with the mostess. Because I finally got everybody out of my house at 1:00 this morning. AND? THEY CAME BACK. For brunch.

Seriously. This was such a strange situation for a shower. NONE of the people at the shower - other than the Sugar family - lives in Candyland. It just worked out that of the possible venues, my house offered the shortest average drive for everyone invited. Consequently, everyone who attended the shower (with the exception of two) stayed the night. Not at my house. Only the Mommy-to-Be (CRB) stayed here. Everyone else stayed at a nearby hotel. For a few hours anyway.

For everyone staying here in Candyland, SD and I prepared my world famous Kick Ass Fajitas for supper. And they were fantabulous, if I do say so myself. Then we all had a great time singing while SD played the piano. Well, we are a big bunch of choir geeks, you know. By 1:00 my head was pounding, Matt was falling asleep, SD had already been in bed for an hour.

Everyone returned this morning. Hungry again, of course. They are insatiable. So, SD, bless his heart, fixed Belgian waffles, bacon, scrambled eggs, and hash browns. He is so worth every penny I pay him.

We all had a blast. Especially watching Buttercup as she did the macarena in Mommy's belly. That little baby can bust a move. Much to CRB's dismay. We all can't wait to meet the little angel. I tried to talk her into being born here in Candyland last night, but she wasn't going for it. So inconsiderate. Everybody finally headed to their respective homes by about 1:30 this afternoon. And we are all wiped out. At least I didn't have to drive three hours!

NOW? Well, now, we prepare for PopPop to get here on Tuesday. This involves washing sheets, cleaning bathrooms, and...well, I suppose I should go to the grocery store for Thanksgiving dinner stuff. *sigh* When did November get here? And what the hell happened to it?

Balance? Perhaps I should just work on focus

Balance. Ah, yes. Seems to be coming a little at a time. See? I'm posting!! Okay, well, right now I'm just typing. We'll see if this makes it to an actual post. However, it stands a much better chance than the many many posts as of late which have existed solely in my head. (Lots of space there, you know.)

I was able to play on the computer a bit, take the wrecked van to the shop for an estimate (don't ask...it's painful), go to physical therapy, do a load of laundry - including folding and putting away! - pick up the living room, cook supper, take Bug to soccer practice and even make a valiant attempt at putting the badges on Bear's Tiger Cub uniform. WHEW!

Sadly, I was decidedly unsuccessful at that last task as said badges were not, as I (erroneously) assumed, iron-on. And, as my sewing talents are sadly lacking, Bear went to his Scout meeting with a (gasp!) naked uniform. Oh, the humanity. BUT WAIT! SugarDaddy to the rescue! He is taking the uniform and patches to a tailor near base who will them sew the patches on securely so that Bear can attend future den meetings with his head held high.

geez...can you say tangent?!

I was however remarkably successful in the dinner department, preparing a very quick chicken stir fry that inspired two of the three SugarBabies to ask for seconds and then? THIRDS. So yummy it was. (Pay no attention to Bug. He is protesting most food right now and it is vexing me because my children have always been good eaters. Other parents ask to have my kids over for dinner just to watch them eat. Asparagus? More please! Salmon? Yes! Mushrooms? Peppers? Brussels Sprouts? Mmmmmmmm! (Okay maybe I'm pushing it with the Brussels sprouts, but, they are remarkably good eaters.) I know that this is why Bug is not eating. Because that child must make a liar out of me every chance he gets.)

School still seems to be going okay. Bug has only made one more trip to the office in the past month. For hitting. Brute. He's really not even the slightest bit contrite about it. He feels very justified in his actions most of the time. *sigh* He is going to be a Baptist preacher some day, I just know it. They all start out as little turds and then mellow. Well, mellow may not be the word but....oh, you know what I mean.

Bear has started coming out of his shell some as well. Heh. His teacher still loves him. But he is exploring his boundaries a little more lately, resulting in a conduct cut or two. Nothing office-worthy, though. Today, Mrs. Firstgrade told me that some of his classmates have complained that Bear has been hugging and kissing them. I have witnessed this and talked to him about it. But today we had to have a more direct, in-depth conversation to establish that this isn't acceptable at school. He was crestfallen. Bless his heart, he just gets so overcome with happiness and love for his friends, he wants to kiss them. I told him so save up all those kisses for me.

If you're really nice, I'll save some for you, too. Of course you'll have to come to Candyland to get them, but it will totally be worth it. Bear kisses are some of the sweetest in the world! Not that I'm partial.

I'd like to thank the Academy...

Okay, I am feeling so loved and honored today. I discovered that not one but TWO...count 'em two! lovely ladies have bestowed awards on me. And on top of that they are two of my favoritest people EVAH. And I'm not just saying that!


First, Mary, of Very Contrary, nominated me as a Rockin Girl Blogger! Which is what I needed to hear as of late. I've been feeling like the frumpy old Mom blogger. So THANKS! Mary always, always makes me laugh. And if she just lived thismuch closer to Candyland, I am fairly certain that we would be hanging out regularly. And that Pookie and SD would be buddies as well. Because I know that they would both at least appreciate what it's like to continually roll their eyes at the latest online antics of their crazy wives. (And I mean crazy in the nicest possible sense of the word, Mary. *smooch*)

I'm supposed to nominate five other Rockin Girl bloggers, and I shall, but before I do...


Angel of Give me Something Sing to About and Slayer in Training (among others) nominated me for a Schmooze Award. Which is explained thusly:

“As it goes, schmoozing is the natural ability “to converse casually, especially in order to gain an advantage or make a social connection.” Good schmoozers effortlessly weave their way in and out of the blogosphere, leaving friendly trails and smiles, happily making new friends along the way. They don’t limit their visits to only the rich and successful, but spend some time to say hello to new blogs as well. They are the ones who engage others in meaningful conversations, refusing to let it end at a mere hello - all the while fostering a sense of closeness and friendship.... I've thought of some great people who have made me welcome and schmoozed their way into my blog and life that I'd like to give this most prestigious Power of Schmooze Award!”

Angel has been a constant encourager in my world for a couple of years now. Even in the depths of pain and despair, she always manages to validate my feelings and make me thankful for all I have. So, you darling are certainly one of my top Rockin Girl Bloggers. One day they will invent a pill for both of us that vaporizes migraines once and for all never to be felt again. One that has NO side effects - ie itching and mind-numbing fatigue - and works the first hour you take it and forever more. Until then, deary, I'll be here for you and I know I can count on you. *sniff, sniff*

Moving along...I am nominating the following five ladies for both of these wonderful awards, because you truly deserve them (and not at all because I am horribly lazy and can't summon the energy to come up with TEN and put in the links. No, not. at. all.).

1. Christine of Mommy Matters, who is of course also known as my Blogmother, being the person who sat on the phone with me while I set up this blog and nursed me thru numerous other crises. I just wish that we had time to talk more!

2. Hula Doula, who I SWEAR I will get to go visit one day before I die so that we can sit and drink wine while our children forge fast friendships that will last a lifetime. That or we can at least take turns putting out the fires and intervening on the inevitable disasters that three little boys will create while their big sisters roll their eyes and sigh disgustedly. I've shared with you one of Hula's most amazing moments. And that was just an inkling of how awesome she is!

3. Peaches over at The Peach Pit who has, on more than one occasion, opened her home to me while I was in transit to weddings and showers, etc. She is a fellow fighter pilot's wife and knows me in ways that few people do. She is such a cool friend.

4. Mother Chaos, whose denizens rival mine in their antics and mis-adventures. I admire her for her parenting style...mostly because it is so much like mine. Also, she can KNIT which is a talent that envy with the greenest color you can imagine, yet know that I do not now, nor well I ever, have the patience or attention span to learn. (did I just win the award for longest run-on sentence ever? well, I came close, I'm sure) Plus, she never, ever fails to make me not just laugh, but guffaw. Which bring the children running in to find out what's so all fired funny and not understanding at all when they see nothing but a picture of a cute little knitted baby hat. Philistines. If I ever go back to California, we are so going to hang out. Though, I'm sure I'll never be cool enough to hand out at the den.

5. Mary at Fireflies & Frogs, who is one of the bravest women I have ever known. She is also among the best moms (and now grandmothers!) and friends in the blogosphere. She really considers her kids in every decision she makes. But I am mostly happy that she is finally able to get on with her life and have some fun. Mary, you are awesome.

So there you go. I know that there are more of you out there who mean the world to me. Friends who have gotten me through some of the roughest patches of my life. Thanks to all my pals! You know who you are and you deserve awards, too. Go ahead...take the button. :)

My two favorite sights on the Fourth of July

This

And then this

Yep. There's a whole lotta happy going on around here!

Happy Valentines Day!!

It sucks to be by myself on Valentines Day. But I have these three beautiful children to snuggle and love. (And two of them are home all day today, since Bear woke up with a fever of 102.4!) And, my wonderful, wonderful husband sent me a huge bouquet of tulips! I was going to post a picture, but I can't find the cable that connects the camera to the computer. I'm a dork. But they look a lot like the picture above. Same vase even! Only there are more of them. And they are even prettier.

Last year, Valentines was a little tense, still. This year, our marriage is stronger than ever. We are doing better at communicating...although it is sometimes a challenge when you are separated by an ocean and two continents! However, we are committed to doing this. Failure is not an option!

So, I love you my wonderful husband. I can't wait until you are home.

Also....thank you to all of my wonderful friends who have done all they can to make sure I'm not too sad this Valentines Day! I love you all!