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

Arrr arrrrr

(If you begin to feel offended by this post at any point, please see the note at the end.)

Due to the big (ish) move and the big changes and the slight bullying issue, my boys have been attending a private Christian school here in Candyland. It's ironic because I have spent the past eight years singing the praises of the Candyland Independent School District. Because honestly, the public schools here are fan-freakin-tastic. My kids have all been blessed with wonderful teachers almost every year and have learned so much. In fact, SugarPlum has remained at the junior high she's been attending since the sixth grade and next year she will go to one of the three fantastic high schools that CISD has to offer. (Heaven help me) Really, you can't go wrong when it comes to high schools here, especially.

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

Bear needed a fresh start. A place where he felt safe and could count on some spiritual guidance as well as an almost zero tolerance for any kind of bullying. And Bug...well, my little Buggy is one smart kid. And he was getting bored and failing to see the point of doing the work at school last year. Oh, he was making good grades but he was also making his teacher (who was amazing) and his mommy insane. He really likes having attention. And since the State of Texas has mandated that there can be up to 22 students to a class in the lower grades, it makes it hard for a smart guy to get attention when the teacher is having to devote time to the kids who don't get it. It's not the teacher's fault. I've been in her shoes. 22 Kindergarteners. One me. Not good. So, in order to get attention, Bug was acting out and getting in trouble. More and more often. I feared for what second grade held for him.

I decided that, for these and a host of other reasons, my boys needed the guidance and supervision on a private, Christian school. They have really flourished there. They both love that they get to study the Bible and that they have chapel weekly. Bear comments often about how he has friends and how he doesn't feel so sad and picked on. Bug's teachers have recognized how smart he is and also how easily distracted and bored he can get. And since there are only ten (yes TEN) kids in each class, they are able to keep closer tabs on him and change their tactics with him to keep him challenged and engaged. I LOVE it.

Here's the thing. Since the classes are so small, they are able to do little plays and presentations that the parents are invited - nay, encouraged - to attend. These little things only last a few minutes, but they require a huge chunk out of my day to plan around them. They usually fall at just about the time I need to go pick up SugarPlum. Also? They are mind-numbingly boring.

Maybe it's because this is my third kid, but honestly, the ten minute vignette Willie the Walrus is something I feel like I can go the rest of my life without seeing. Just like the Johnny Appleseed "play" they did in the Fall. Problem? All the other mommies show up, video camera in hand, to see their little angels and Bug is left feeling like his mommy doesn't care. No, really, he said that. For reals. And so, I will trudge myself up there in the middle of a busy Wednesday afternoon, the day after MY school starts to watch Bug go "Arrr arrr" in his three second role as a sea lion (I KID YOU NOT). I will take care to be ON TIME this time because I was a few minutes late to the Johnny Appleseed play and they were already finished. So they performed it again. Just for me. Oh, yes they did. And all the other, good mommies looked at me with their "tsk tsk" faces the whole entire time. Which meant that I had to applaud like the entire Barrymore family had assembled to perform Macbeth for my sole benefit.

My only plea...is there any way that perhaps we could find a way to serve cocktails at these little theatrical events? Just a small cordial would really go a long way in helping motivate me to get there. A small glass of wine, a mini-martini....something? It doesn't have to be huge. Just enough to get me through the tedium. Just consider it, Candyland Christian School. I know I'm not the only mom who feels this way.

Also, the Family Night/Silent Auction? Would raise a LOT more money if you had an open bar. Just sayin.

***Please recognize how very tongue-in-cheek this post is. I LOVE seeing Bug and all the kids perform and wouldn't miss it for the world. I love and adore each and every teacher at CCS and wouldn't change one single thing about it.****

***Also, I am not advocating drinking at school events and would never, ever even consider drinking and driving my children anywhere. Or anyone. Or even just me. Oh, for crying out loud, you get what I am saying, right?!!***

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.

Because I can't say this to my children in real life

Just shut the fuck up and stop whining already!!!!!!!!!! The television is staying OFF until all homework is done and all toys put away! When have you known me to waver on this? For crying out loud........

sorry for all of the bloggy-shouting lately. it's either here or actually at the children & I figure you all can handle it better than they can. plus you won't tell your teacher that I cussed at you. I don't need any more visits from CPS.*

*just kidding

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!

Paging Dr. Phil....

For obligatory apology, see here and/or here.

What to do, what to do....I am having a really hard time trying to find a balance between family time and "me time." Because "me time " is the only time that I have to post or check email or read everyone else's blogs. In the not too distant past I tried to merge "me time" and family time with less than stellar results. I found myself saying "Wait a minute. I'll get you some milk/supper/attention after I finish this post. Which then turns into "..when I finish reading this person's post."

I had to ask myself, when did reading about other people's lives and children become more important than living my own life and spending time with my children. While SD was gone, blogging was my refuge. I got so much wonderful support from my blog friends and I felt a little less alone. But, I was using my time with the kids to do so. I am needing to find balance and it's not easy.

I am really tired of whining here. I used to have a sense of humor. My kids do really freaking funny things every day. And I should just get on and share the little tidbits. I guess I'm afraid that if I turn on the computer, I will be here for six hours and that's no good. A little self control would be helpful here. Does Amazon sell that? No, I didn't think so.


So, the funeral and the trip down there wasn't as bad as I was afraid it was going to be. In fact it was, I am somewhat ashamed to say...fun. It seems like such a cliche` to say that we all only get together for weddings and funerals, but it's true. And this time I got to meet cousins I had never really seen before. Or at least not in at least 15 years. And given that they were small children then, it was cool to get to know them. One cousin who is getting married in the Spring declared that I must come to the wedding because I am one of the "cool cousins." And for my down in the dumps, frumpy feeling 37 year old self to be declared cool by a 25 year old was very satisfying indeed. Of course it's not too much of a challenge to seem cool when the other cousins are self-righteous teetotalers who really have no clue how to have fun. (did I say that out loud?) We are considering havin a secret family reunion. You are only invited if you can kick back and have a beer with us. Or at least not judge us if we do enjoy and adult beverage or two.

My poor grandmother was so confused. She, at times, had no idea who any of us were. She thought that the "cool cousin" was me because she had long blonde hair like I used to. However this cousin also has these huge b00bs, so that should have been a dead give away. My grandmother did come up to me and tell me how pretty I was several times, though. Really. She would come up and stroke my cheek and say, "You're so pretty!" She had no clue who I was or what I was doing there. And it was hard not to laugh when I was showing her pictures of the kids and she kept saying things like, "Now what's that one's name? How old is he?" I hope people are nice to me when I am old. I totally won't deserve it.

The drive itself was fairly uneventful. It was strange to be in the car with just my parents and my brother. It was almost like I was twelve again. But without the choking on cigarette smoke or the "he's touching me" game. Oh, and I had to drive part of the way. The trip down was almost pleasant until we got stuck in Houston traffic and I had to pee so bad I seriously would have gone in my pants but I would have never been able to live THAT down. Daddy finally pulled into a McDonald's so that I could potty. Two minutes later, we were at my cousins'. Natch.

The drive home would have been okay except that I had a horrendous migraine and my mother would not shut the fuck up. She had something to say about every billboard, every restaurant and every other driver on the road. She's lucky that the migraine had rendered me almost paralyzed or I might have reached up there and ripped her vocal cords out. It was a satisfying fantasy, anyway.

I arrived back home to a clean house and happy children. And damn SD for being able to maintain things while I was gone. I never can commiserate with other wives about the whole house-falling-apart-after-I-was-gone-for-only-three-days thing. He does a damn good job at that and I am so grateful.

The marriage? It seems...better....I think. You know, nobody tells you how hard it is being married. Or staying married anyway. But, damn it's a lot of work. It should really be in the pamphlet. I think it is a miracle that my grandparents celebrated their 60th wedding anniversary just before he died. Because he was an old curmudgeon. I would have divorced his ass long ago. Love is indeed a many splendored thing.

Don't forget...

As you enjoy your cookouts and water skiing and Super Memorial Day Blow-out! sale shopping, please take a moment to pause and reflect on those brave men and women who have given their lives over the years to make it possible for you to have this holiday that we all take for granted. Before you pop open that beer or pur yourself another margarita, maybe make a toast to those who can't have a cold one along with you today.

Whether you are for or against any war, remember that if it were not for the courage of soldiers over the past decades and centuries, you wouldn't have the privilege to express your thoughts and beliefs.

I believe that we would all do well to keep in mind this saying by Father Denis Edward O'Brien, USMC:

"It is the soldier, not the reporter, Who has given us freedom of the press.
It is the soldier, not the poet, Who has given us freedom of speech.
It is the soldier, not the campus organizer, Who has given us the freedom to demonstrate.
It is the soldier, Who salutes the flag, Who serves beneath the flag, and whose coffin is draped by the flag, Who allows the protester to burn the flag."

Thank you to the families who have lost loved ones in the struggle to keep our nation free. And God bless you all who continue that fight today. You all have my utmost, undying respect and love.

Find out more about the history behind Memorial Day.

Happy Memorial Day to all!

All alone on my anniversary....

Thirteen Years ago today, I married a wonderful, sweet, young Lieutenant in the United States Air Force. He ripped me away from my family and dragged me to South Carolina, of all places. He has since dragged me all over the world and it has been quite a ride. But I don't regret any of it. Now he is a wonderful sweet, old Lieutenant Colonel (select) in the United States Air Force. And, even though, thirteen years ago today I couldn't have even imagined it, I love him even more. More than I knew it was possible to love someone.

And so now, I present to you:

25 Things About SugarDaddy:

1. He's hot.
2. Seriously, you should see him in a flight suit. H.O.T.
3. He is a wonderful daddy.
4. He is very romantic.
5. He is very infuriating (sometimes).
6. He is so smart it is just scary.
7. He is very expressive.
8. Sometimes too expressive.
9. But it's better than the stone cold silent alternative.
10. He remembers every little anniversary.
11. He doesn't mind that I don't remember every little anniversary.
12. He cooks the most awesome spaghetti sauce.
13. He still sees me as I looked 15 years (and 35 lbs!) ago.
14. He's very forgiving of my procrastination and forgetfulness.
15. I hope.
16. Since I still haven't gotten his anniversary present (or his Valentines) in the mail yet.
17. Even though I know that it takes a couple of weeks for mail to reach him.
18. Because I suck.
19. But this is supposed to be about him, isn't it?
20. He is a great kisser.
21. He has a great butt.
22. He is an incredibly gifted musician.
23. He can play just about anything on the piano.
24. He sings me songs.
25. He is the love of my life and I don't ever want to try to live it without him.

I love you, my wonderful husband. I can't wait until you get home. I'm just not as good of a...me without you.
XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOX

How time flies....

Ten years ago today I got the job I had wanted for my whole life. I finally became a Mommy.

Mommy to the smartest, kindest, funniest, most beautiful girl in the whole wide world.

Thank you, my Angel for initiating me into this wonderful club. I could never dream of a child better than you. You make all my dreams come true (and occasionally some of my nightmares!).

Happy 10th Birthday, SugarPlum!!

A letter from God to His children

Dear Children,

It has come to my attention that many of you are upset that folks are taking My name out of the season. Maybe you've forgotten that I wasn't actually born during this time of the year, although I do appreciate being remembered anytime.

How I personally feel about this celebration can probably be most easily understood by those of you who have been blessed with children of your own. I don't care what you call the day. If you want to celebrate My birth just, GET ALONG AND LOVE ONE ANOTHER. Now, having
said that let Me go on.

If it bothers you that the town in which you live doesn't allow a scene depicting My birth, then just get rid of a couple of Santas and snowmen and put in a small Nativity scene on your
own front lawn. If all My followers did that there wouldn't be any need for such a scene on the town square because there would be many of them all around town.

Stop worrying about the fact that people are calling the tree a holiday tree, instead of a Christmas tree. It was I who made all trees. You can & may remember Me anytime you see any tree. Decorate a grape vine if you wish: I actually spoke of that one in a teaching explaining who I am in relation to you & what each of our tasks were. If you have forgot that one, look up John 15: 1 - 8.

If you want to give Me a present in remembrance of My birth here is my wish list. Choose something from it.

1. Instead of writing protest letters objecting to the way My birthday is being celebrated, write letters of love and hope to soldiers away from home. They are terribly afraid and lonely this
time of year. I know, they tell Me all the time.

2. Visit someone in a nursing home. You don't have to know them personally. They just need to know that someone cares about them.

3. Instead of writing George complaining about the wording on the cards his staff sent out this year, why don't you write and tell him that you'll be praying for him and his family this year. Then follow up. It will be nice hearing from you again.

4. Instead of giving your children a lot of gifts you can't afford and they don't need, spend time with them. Tell them the story of My birth, and why I came to live with you down here. Hold them in your arms and remind them that I love them.

5. Pick someone that has hurt you in the past and forgive him or her.

6. Did you know that someone in your town will attempt to take their own life this season because they feel so alone and hopeless? Since you don't know who that person is, try
giving everyone you meet a warm smile. It could make the difference. Also, you might consider supporting the local Hot-Line: they talk with people like that every day.

7. Instead of nit picking about what the retailer in your town calls the holiday, be patient with the people who work there. Give them a warm smile and a kind word. Even if they aren't allowed to wish you a "Merry Christmas" that doesn't keep you from wishing them one.
Then stop shopping there on Sunday. If the store didn't make so much money on that day they'd close and let their employees spend the day at home with their families.

8. If you really want to make a difference, support a missionary, especially one who takes My love & Good News to those who have never heard My name. You may already know someone like that.

9. Here's a good one. There are individuals & whole families in your town who not only will have no "Christmas" tree, but neither will they have any presents to give or receive. If you don't know them (and I suspect you don't) buy some food & a few gifts & give them to the Marines, the Salvation Army or some other charity that believes in Me & they will make the delivery for you.

10. Finally if you want to make a statement about your belief in and loyalty to Me, then behave like a Christian. Don't do things in secret that you wouldn't do in My presence. Let people know by your actions that you are one of mine.

P.S. Don't forget; I am God and can take care of Myself. Just love Me & do what I have told you to do. I'll take care of all the rest. Check out the list above & get to work; time is short. I'll help
you, but the ball is now in your court. And do have a most blessed Christmas with all those whom you love and remember, I LOVE YOU.

**Although I wish I could take credit for this, I must admit that I got this in an email Friday and decided it was too good not to share. Merry Christmas!

Let's all just climb into this handbasket now and....

What in the hell is going on? I'm not one for knee-jerk reactions, but honestly, there is that little part of me that wants to keep my kids home forever and never let them enter a school building ever again.

First there were the shootings in Colorado, then in Wisconsin. And yesterday some lunatic in Pennsylvania takes out twenty years of pent up rage on six-year- old little Amish girls? What the hell is that? Could you even imagine a more innocent group of people on the planet?! I am beside myself over this and then hell seemed to break loose in Las Vegas, as well? (I would normally say "all hell broke loose" but hell seems to be spread pretty evenly these days)

I want to gather all of the SugarBabies in my bed and huddle them in and not let them leave the house. But, I am sending them to school. With a hug, and a kiss and a ton of prayers. I'm praying for your kids, too. I'm praying for all of us. It's all I've got.