*sigh* Church People

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

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

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

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

(small segue for explanation)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.

Dang, this is killing me

I have honestly had every intention of blogging about the past week or so. About how I had most of my girl parts removed. How I almost bled to death right after. All the glorious aftermath of my medical adventures. But I am still so tired.
I mean, I knew from the gall bladder surgery and the ectopic surgeries that I would be tired. But for some reason I thought I would bounce back faster this time. I guess someone forgot to remind me that I'm 40. Middle aged. We don't bounce back so quickly any more. In fact, very little bouncing of any kind  has taken place as of late. Because, you know, forty.
So, once I have the energy to blog somewhere other than on my phone while lying in bed; and once my head is clear of the anesthesia from two trips to the OR in one day, I promise to share the whole exciting tale with you. Though at this point, it might be sort of anti-climactic.
But for now, I'm going to sleep some more.

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?!!***

So, yeah, this happened....

So much happening lately and, yet, at the same time there is really nothing happening at all. Which is funny because I really feel like I have been going non-stop for weeks now. And it's exhausting. Which is one of the problems. I'm just wiped out tired all of the time. So, I've been seeing the flight surgeon to try and figure out what the heck is wrong with me. I know that being tired is part of being a mom, but this is crazy. I honestly feel like I could go to sleep at any point in the day - anywhere.

So, the flight surgeon - and not the idiot flight surgeon I have seen in the past, but the KING of the flight surgeons (okay, maybe not his official USAF title, but close enough) - has been kind enough to make time in his schedule to really try to help me. Unfortunatly, solving the mystery involves bloodwork. Lots and lots of bloodwork. The first time, I had to be fasting for the blood tests. This always baffles me. They tell me to not eat anything after midnight, then come in (after getting three kids ready & off to school) and they take like a liter of blood. So...I'm starving and NOW severly anemic - and then they send me home. "Good Luck!" I never remember to bring a granola bar.

Good news? My cholesterol numbers are fabulous! My thyroid test were right on the money! Blood sugar? A little low, but nothing extraordinary. The down side of this is that now I have to get more blood tests. On the up-side, these don't involve fasting. Down side? SIX VIALS of blood. Thank goodness these don't require fasting. If I wasn't anemic before, I most certainly was afterward.

Those tests....were also unremarkable. Blood counts are good. No rhumetoid issues, no auto-immune markers. This seems like it should be good news, but it just means that we still don't know what is wrong. Grrrrrrrrr. So, now, he is sending me to a rheumetologist and he's sending me for a sleep study. Seems SD has informed him that I snore. Dr. King says that if I weighed 300 lbs he would have done the sleep study from the get-go, but since he and my therapist always feel the need to ask me if I am eating, that doesn't seem to be an indicator, but I could be suffering from sleep apnea. We'll see.

UPDATE: (This should have been posted on this date, but never was. So I'm posting it three years later. Nothing ever was really discovered at the sleep study other than I have some restless leg syndrome and I snore, but don't have any apnea. So, three years later, I've had lots of other tests and surgery and different meds....and a divorce and started grad school.....I'm just a hot mess, that's all...)

It's the most Stressful Wonderful Time of the Year

How does this happen every year? How is it that I plan, VOW, from Dec 26, I will get my Christmas presents bought little by little over the year? And then, every year, it is suddenly the week of Thanksgiving and I realize that, CRAP! I haven't been buying presents!! I've been making mental lists of all of the cool things that I plan to get my loved ones for Christmas. And I have been mentally paring that list down as I realize that all those trips to all those out-of-town soccer games have left our finances a leeetle tighter than they were last year. Note to SugarPlum: Surprise! Your Christmas present is that you get to play soccer. That is the most freaking expensive present that anyone in our family is getting - by far.


I actually do have a couple of gifts already. There's the huge Lego set for the boys that I found on clearance at WalMart in July. The miracle there is that a) I remember, four months later, that I bought it; and b) that I remember, four months later, where I put it! Yay me! I also managed to nab a couple of gifts at a recent holiday bazaar that we went to, but that was totally happenstance.

As for that mental list, I had every intention of making those purchases well before, well, NOW, because I hate, hate, hate shopping at Christmas. People are so ugly and mean when they are Christmas shopping. And that makes me sad....and pissy. So, I've decided that I am going to make most of my purchases online. This wears me out because I am always determined to find the best of what I am looking for: best telescope, best video mp3 player, best (gift that I am getting for SugarDaddy). So, I go to several different sites to read reviews and then to compare prices. Then, inevitably, my short attention span gets the best of me & I forget where I found the best buy and have to start over. It's almost as exhausting as getting out and actually physically shopping. Only without the rude people.

THEN I found Shop.com. And this place rocks. I know that there are lots of comparison shopping sites. But those always end up frustrating me. Shop.com is designed for women. Don't ask me how, it just makes more sense to me. I like it. I can find what I want and, regardless of which store I am buying from, it all goes into one cart and gets paid for at once. No forgetting where I found the good buys!

Mom Central describes it thusly:

Shop.com is a comparison shopping site specifically designed for women that allows you to shop from over 2,000 merchants all in one place. Purchases can be conveniently made using one universal "shopping cart" to buy everything at one time or by clicking over to participating merchants' sites.

SHOP.COM gives busy moms an opportunity to ease the stress of holiday shopping with tools to help us figure out what to buy, find recommendations, and pinpoint which stores have the best price. With a combined total of over 20 million products, we can stop running from store to store to find the best deal or the perfect gift for the impossible-to-shop-for relative.

Additionally, SHOP.COM provides expert advice, shopping tips, and articles, while giving easy ways to save money via price comparison tools, coupons, and rebates.

See? Cool. And stress reducing. I am SO using this site this year. It'll save me a ton of money on Xanax alone!!


Happy Shopping!

Pay no attention to the obviously deranged Astronaut Cowboy

I have no explanation for the appearance of my son here. Other than perhaps, he's four and he has a HUGE sense of humor. This isn't even the funniest outfit he has come up with. Astronaut suit, teeny tiny cowboy hat, two different socks and underwear on the outside. It's just the funniest one I have happened to get a picture of. So you can only IMAGINE what he walks out here in some days.


But this post isn't even about Bug and his all too apparent need for a psychological evaluation -sooner rather than later.

This post is about furniture. Specifically, about the furniture in this picture. The sofas. Do you see them? Well, do you see the loveseat anyway? It is a good representation of the other three pieces that came with it. (Sofa, loveseat, chair and ottoman) Being exactly the same and all.

SD and I shopped our asses off last Christmas trying to find just the right living room furniture. (Sadly, my ass grew right back. Big as ever.) We narrowed it down to two. (sets of furniture. not asses.) One set at a chain store named after one of the Olsen twins. One at a chain that has several FURNITURE stores in a ROW. Ultimately, we went with the second store. We thought the sofa set we bought there would last us a long time and would be rugged enough to withstand our boys.

WRONGO.

I am so very, very unhappy with this furniture right now. Not a month after we got it, the fabric started getting "pulls" in it. Sort of coming unravelled. And not from some blatant abuse by the boys, but just getting caught on something as one of us passed by the ottoman. Now, there are pulls somewhere on each piece.


PLUS - and this is what is most aggravating - the fabric is "pilled" up ALL OVER the blasted furniture. It looks like it is about ten years old. And it is not even a year old. I am of the opinion that when you spend several thousand dollars on furniture, it should stay looking, if not new, then not OLD for...well, at least until you have paid it off! (The store offered no interest/no payments for two years or something like that)

In addition, it has gotten mushy and uncomfortable. I'm whiny, I know. But I am just so disappointed. SD talked to the manager about this a few weeks ago and he said that they would fix the fabric where it is pulled and that they could add more stuffing to make it firmer. But how do they fix the pilling? (It's a word NOW) I can only see that being remedied by totally reupholstering ALL OF IT. And that just seems crazy. PLUS what are we supposed to do for living room furniture while it's being fixed?

Do you think that they will just replace it? Do you think that we an pick something else or at least a different fabric? Do you think that I will stop whining any time soon?


Nah. Me neither.

**I do realize that if this is the biggest problem in my life, that I have so much to be thankful for. And I am, truly. But I must whine. It's my job.

Be nice. Or I'll breathe on you.

So, first, I'm sorry about going for over a week and then posting a quiz. Lame? Certainly. But I thought it was kinda cool & thought I'd share. Besides, you're just jealous.

I have been sick for...ever it seems like. I went for like ten days with a sore throat, telling myself it was viral because I had these ulcers all down my throat and knew that the doctor would just tell me to take motrin and drink plenty of water. Which I was doing. Although, by last Tuesday, every time I took a drink, I had to shout, "SonofaBITCH!" There may have been other profanities uttered through the day. I have no comment on these rumors. It was at this point that SD insisted that I go visit the flight surgeon. I complied with his request (phrased thusly, "Just go to the damn doctor already!!!) because by that point I had a lymph node on the left side of my throat that was the size of a ping pong ball and corresponding swelling inside my throat. All the same, I really hadn't run much of a fever, so I figured that a trip to the doctor was silly - prudent as it might seem.

The nurse whom I LOVE went ahead and swabbed my throat for a culture, telling me that it looked viral to her, too. Then Doogie the Flight Surgeon came in and made me love him just a little by saying, "Wow! You have lost a LOT of weight! You look great!" (He just got back from a deployment to Iraq.) I resisted the urge to kiss him on the face. Because that would have been inappropriate. Right? (And I DO look pretty damn good. In the past year, I have lost about 25 pounds. I can finally fit back into my pants that have single digit sizes!) (I'm so glad I didn't give those away!) *ahem*


So, Doogie looks at my throat and says, "Wow. That's really swollen and red!" Duh. He said that he didn't think it was strep, but he was going to give me some penicillin just in case and if the test came back negative on Thursday or Friday, I could stop taking it. Which, HELLO? Do you ever pick up a newspaper or watch television? Super-Bugs. Heard of them? No, I told him, I would take the antibiotic home with me and if they called me with a positive result, the I would start taking it. But, of course THAT wouldn't happen since I didn't have strep. He redeemed himself somewhat by prescribing me something called "magic Mouthwash" which has lidocaine in it and made little things like drinking and eating much less painful. Yay Doogie!


So....Thursday afternoon Nurse-whom-I-love calls and asks if I had been taking the penicillin. I tell her no and she says, "Well, you need to start. Your strep test came back positive."

The hell?!

So, now I am taking penicillin four times a day. Allegedly. Because I cannot for the life of me remember to take something four times a day. For crying out loud. Who can remember to do that? If I had thought for a second that I really had strep, I would have gotten the penicillin shot in my butt. Because that works so much faster. But no. I am just now, as of today, feeling better. Today, finally, my throat is not so sore. Though, when I tried to eat the french fries I got with my lunch, it felt like razor blades soaked in lemon juice. Not so bad as water felt a week ago, but enough to elicit a "crapcrapcrapcrapcrap" if not a "sonofabitch."

Maybe tomorrow, we can downgrade to a "Dang" and eventually an "Oof."

Until then your best chance of hearing from me is my extraordinarily dorked-out Twitter posts. I'm the dorkiest dork there ever was. But at least I'm no longer contagious!

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.

Just another rambling, disjointed, and slightly whiny post

Seems like every post lately has started the same way....sorry for the lack of posting.

And I really am. Sorry, that is. Also sorry for the lack of visiting everyone else's blogs. I have been severely limiting my computer time lately. I have been trying to give more time to my family and my house and my "real" life in an effort to improve my marriage.

Has it worked? Hell if I know. Husbands are hard to read, you know? At least mine is. I go all along la-tee-dahing for months and years and at time thinking life is all happy and fine and whammo! Not so much. No, I'm not saying anything is wrong per-say. Just that I don't know how things are. *sigh*

The start of school always throws me. Especially this year, since Bug is going to preschool every day. I thought I'd have all this time and get a lot done. HA! Somehow, I have at least two to three appointments a week of some sort or other. I'm really not sure what happens to my time. the only thing I know is I'm not on the computer that's for sure!

Bug started preschool after Labor Day. He is so funny. He was so excited and so freaking adorable. Then he had to go and be....Bug. Yes, my four-year-old got sent to the office on the second day of preschool. Did you even know that preschool HAD an "office" (In the ooooh! you're in troouuuubbblllleee!" sense of the word)? Seems our little rebel didn't want to help his classmates clean up the toys and started throwing blocks. One of which hit a little girl in the face, requiring an ice pack. Thus, the trip to the office.

Later that same day, he was kicking the crap out of some little girl on the play ground.This prompted a teacher to tell him that "We don't do that to our friends!"

To which Bug replied, "She's not my friend!"

Yeah. It's gonna be that kind of year. Heaven help me. It's a good thing he's cute.

Bear had a bumpy start to first grade. He was having trouble staying focused and getting all of his work done. Blessedly, Mrs Firstgrade chatted with me about it on afternoon, telling me that he is such a smart boy, but he needed to really focus and finish his work. She said that it was something that she would work on with him at school as I said I would at home. She was so gracious and sweet about it. I nearly kissed her. It was such a nice change from Mrs Kindergarten. And let me tell you, Bear has already turned around and is finishing his work every day. He's so proud! He had his first spelling test Friday and made 100%! Same for his reading test. He was about to bust his buttons he was so proud. WHEW!

Friday night, SD, Gray Gray and I took the kids to the fair. We all had a good time, though Bug was a little pissy because he didn't get to ride the bumper cars. None of us adults could ride with him. You know, I've had enough "bumper cars" over the last few months to last me for a while! Also, at the fair, my dad got a call that my grandfather had died. He'd been sick for a while, so it wasn't totally unexpected. Still, sad. But mostly weird, because I am 37 years old and until Friday, all of my grandparents were alive. I'm afraid that this is going to be happening more often and to the grandparents I am closer to, which will NOT be good for my mental health. I'm trying not to think about it.

So, I am heading to Houston tomorrow for the funeral. I'm leaving the kids here with SD. Pray for him. Also, I am riding in a car with my parents and brother for several hours each way. Pray for ME. I don't want to go to jail. You have no idea how real that possibility might be. Also? Houston. Heat. Humidity. Emotions. Angst. Family. This can't turn out well.

Hopefully this catches me up. I'll try not to go two weeks between posts, but I don't know how that will work out. Hopefully, I will find a way to balance blogging and the rest of my life. I still need to review the BOB books that MotherTalk sent me (they are fantastic) and the novel, A History Lesson for Girls (wonderful, wonderful!) for another firm that asked me to. I enjoy reading these books and sharing them with you. It's just that lately life keeps coming at me and won't stop. What's up with that?


Must go pack my black dress and other funereal stuff. This should be fun.

Yeah. I suck.

Okay, I'll be honest. I don't think that beach post is ever gonna happen. Now that we have been back for over two weeks, it just seems kinda lame. Yet, I have been hesitant to post anything until I tell you both (I'm being realistic now, nobody comes by here anymore as far as I can tell...) about the beach. Because it was great. And relaxing. And I wish that it could have gone on forever.


But we are back home and SD is back to work and the kids are.....dammit, the kids are all at home because some joker in the Texas legislature decided that it would be a great idea to move the start of school back two weeks. Said joker obviously has no kids. Because today it's 103 degrees and they won't even go play outside -- unless it is to play in the hot tub. Where is the logic there? No, they would rather stay inside and beat the shit out of each other and ask me every 38 seconds if they can have another snack. I don't know how we will ever afford them once they are teenagers. Heh. As if they will live into their teens.


So, about the dearth of posts. It isn't likely to get better any time soon. If the beach taught me anything, it was to appreciate the company of my husband and children. I have actually been enjoying SD. We have been having these great conversations (and other interactions *ahem*) sorta like when we were first dating and married. That's been good. And of course, my kids are always freakin' hilarious. Though now, I am able to better appreciate the humor of these crazy kiddos now that I am not the only person responsible for them day in and day out. As a result, I find myself NOT on the computer more than ever while I indulge my family with my loving attentions. I'm sure that will get old soon.

That said, I am sure that my wacky progeny will be committing many blogworthy acts, so things won't be totally dead around here. And, as I said, school starts in two weeks, so once I am able to hear myself think again, perhaps I will start posting a little more regularly. Perhaps....

Happy Tuesday!

Randomness

Ugh. So, we went all weekend with no phone (well, except cells, but STILL) but, more importantly...when we have no phone, we have no internet. Dang. I hate that. I had just posted Friday when my modem looked at me and said, "Well, that's about it for me. I'm done." When I asked the phone about it all it had to say was "ppppsssshhhhhkkkksshhhthtt." Which I interpreted as, "Hmmmmm? Can't hear you! On strike as a show of solidarity with the DSL."

I suppose I should thank the blog gods or something that it was right after I posted and not before. Then I would have been really cranky. As it was all I could think all weekend was, "I just posted and now I won't be able to see my comments for DAYS." Yes, I really am that shallow. Of course, my family enjoyed it. I actually spent time with the children and stuff. What a concept. After a couple of days though, I started going through withdrawls and it wasn't pretty. You may see me on an episode of Intervention soon. I'm sure it will be...enlightening.

The AT&T guy finally showed up at like 7:15 last night and, as it turns out, the phone line is approximately as old as the house. It had weathered to the point that there was a hole in it. Which, in case you were wondering, does not create the ideal conditions for DSL to work. Not to mention you know, phone calls. Phone guy replaced the line and lo and behold - INTERNET! I could have kissed him. Except that he was like 60. EW.

In other news....I finally got my hair chopped off today. I think I like it. It's just weird going from one extreme to another. It's really short. I had lunch with a friend who said that it looks good. We'll see. SugarPlum really likes it. She says that it makes me look older. I'm telling myself that that's a compliment from a ten year old. Don't disillusion me, please. I think it will be good while we are at the beach next week, anyway.

YES! We are flying to Virginia on Friday and checking into our beach house on Saturday. Friday night the Queen and I are taking SugarPlum and the Princess to a Harry Potter thing at a bookstore . Then? The beach. For seven days! WHEEEE! Anyone live in or near Virginia Beach? We'd love to see you! Of course there will be margaritas and other assorted snacks. Or maybe pina coladas. OOH! Or sangria! Decisions, decisions.

That said, I suppose I should finish up the laundry so that I can pack and stuff. Minor details. Happy Tuesday!

Things you might find vaguely interesting

• SugarBug turned four on Monday.
• And I totally did NOT blog about it.
• Because I suck.
• We invited a few friends (all girls, heh!) to the obnoxious pizza place w/ the rat.
• Not so bad on a Monday at 11:00.
• I may try to post pix on Flickr soon.
• But first, help me think of a special "thank you" for the mom who bought my son a harmonica.
• Yesterday was Bear's kindergarten graduation AND SugarPlum's fourth grade awards.
• Kindergarten graduation - 9:30
• Fourth grade awards - 9:45
• Of course.
• I actually managed to make it to both without missing anything important!
• Because, you know, I rock.
• (forget that sucking part up there....everyone gets busy, right?)
• Today is the last day of school.
• SugarPlum has a 103 degree fever.
• SugarPlum is pissed.
• She was supposed to go to a slumber party tonight at her best friend's house.
• So, her friend moved the party to Sunday.
• THAT'S a good friend!
• Did I mention that it's the last day of school?
• help me!
• OOOOOH!!! I never told you that weSugarPlum got a 100% on ourher coelacanth project!
• All hail Bitchy Smurf!
• Only 38 more days of being a single mom.
• YAY!
• Or (depending on when you ask me) still 38 more days of being a single mom.
• Ugh!
• I'm having mood swings.
• heh
• A few weeks after he gets home, we are spending 10 days in Virginia Beach.
• On the actual, no kidding beach.
• Okay, in a HOUSE on the actual, no kidding beach.
• We will get to see lots of the Queen and the rest of the Royal family.
• And hopefully LBT and anyone else who wants to pop in and say hi!
• This weekend, though, I am hermetically sealing the house so as to not contaminate the rest of the town with out germs and we are going to clean and/or watch movies.
• Guess which will actually happen.
• Happy Memorial Day!

Like weeds

I have come to an important decision. I am no longer going to be buying the fresh fruits and vegetable, lean meats, organic yogurt, milk, orange juice and all of the other healthy foods that I have been purchasing all these years. I just can't afford it. From now on, it's Pop Tarts, chips, sodas, coffee, and lots of over-processed foods.

What?

I know that those foods cost as much or more than the fresh, healthy stuff. It's not the food that I can't afford. It's the clothes and shoes that are bleeding me dry. These children are growing at a ridiculous rate. SugarPlum has shot up two pant sizes since school started. And two shoe sizes as well. Every day, when she gets dressed, I dread the conversation that will inevitably ensue about her pants being too short. Seriously. Two inches above her ankles. And she gets mad at me as if I somehow shrunk the pants. This happens with Bear as well, only he doesn't care as much and pretty much wears what I tell him to. Gotta love five year olds. And boys.

And the shoes. You should see the feet on these kids. If we ever move to Colorado, we'll save a bundle on skis. I bought them both new sneakers in August, just before school started. Good quality, name brand (not cheap!) sneakers. Because, I knew that they would likely last all school year without coming apart. But they barely had time to get dirty. By October, they both needed new sneakers. Bear came to me and said that his shoes were coming unsewn at the top. I was MAD. Those were N*kes, dangit. They weren't supposed to come apart in two months. Then I looked at and felt his foot in the shoe. They were coming apart because his toes were poking through the top, they were so small. Ouch. SugarPlum outgrew hers about three weeks later. So much for the BOGO at Shoe Carnival. Couldn't those two have coordinated this?

I have begged, pleaded, insisted, and ordered them to stop growing already. They refuse to comply. They go on eating all of that healthy food and growing taller before my eyes. And it must stop.

Thus, no more health foods. I must staunch this growth before we have to file for bankruptcy. So, from now on, its Froot Loops & Koolaid for breakfast; bologna sandwiches (on white bread! *gasp*), chips and soda for lunch; and pizza bites with CheezWhiz for supper. Snacks will be brought to you by Little Debbie and Dolly Madison. Mommy, can I have a banana? No, here, eat a twinkie. Coffee and sodas will be available at all times.

I may even teach them to smoke.

That ought to do it.

I'm exhausted just typing this **UPDATED**

So....HonestyRain posted this weekend about how her family has started eating healthier and included the planned menu for the week. And let me just say that if I could get to Canada every night, I would totally be eating at her house. Except for the vegetarian meatloaf. Because that is just wrong.

I got to thinking about how crazy our eating habits have become over the past few months. I have always been a mommy who cooks healthy. Anyone who knows me can tell you that. Except that I don't cook lowfat. Because, yuck. But we almost always have a protein (or "crotein" as Bug says) and at least one vegetable. And I try not to be too carb heavy - if we have potatoes or rice, the kids are often disappointed that we don't have rolls. And I really don't ever fry stuff. Mostly because I don't want to have to clean up that mess, but also because greasy stuff makes me gag. (That said, I AM a Texas girl, and so I do make Chicken Fried Steak every so often. I am required to by law.)

Lately though, things have slipped a little. I am probably still pretty healthy by many people's standards, but not my own. We have eaten more fast food than I would like to admit. And we have even had cereal for supper more than once in the past few weeks. I'm not proud.

As I was reading HonestyRain's post, I got to thinking that maybe I should do a better job of planning our meals. Then I thought about our schedule for the next few weeks and realized that I don't even know when we are going to eat supper. Let alone what I am going to fix.

Until the end of the month, both Bear and SugarPlum will have basketball AND soccer practice. In addition, I am going to start a yoga/Pilates class at our church. (Aren't you proud Peaches?) As a result, our schedule looks like this: (edited Monday evening)
Monday: Bear - soccer 5:30 - 6:30 Bear's soccer practice got moved to Sunday afternoons at 2:00!! Now we can eat supper before b-ball practice. YAY!SP - basketball 6:00 - 7:15

Tuesday: SP - soccer 5:30 - 6:45 (or so)
Bear - B-ball 5:30 -6:30
Mommy - Yoga/Pilates 5:30 - 6:30

Wednesday: Church supper 5:00
All three - children's choir 5:30-6:30
Wednesdays are fantastic, because supper is taken care of and the kids are occupied...by someone else!
Thursday: SP - soccer 5:30 - 6:45
Bear - soccer 5:30 - 6:30 5:00 - 6:00, the coach has agreed to drop him off at the church if he's done before my class is over!Mommy - Yoga/Pilates 5:30 - 6:30

Friday NOTHING!!! Gray Gray & Gram coming.

**1. No, the soccer practices are NOT at the same places. 2. The b-ball practices are at the church, same as the yoga/Pilates and they have childcare, so at least there's that.

Since my boys reeeeeeaaaallly need to be in bed by 7:30, I ask you, When in the hell are we supposed to eat? I am guessing that we will be eating at like 4:30 and having some sort of snack before bed. That, or we are back to picnicking at practices!

But really, do you know what I think I really need? (Other than a refill on my Xanax) A driver. And/or a chef. And/or a nanny. No, no, no. What I need? is a wife.

How many times...

....does this have to happen before I learn????


For crying out loud.

Must fold now.

Lucky to be alive, that child

Sometimes there are days that I love and adore my children. Okay, I always love my children, but I do not always adore them. Sometimes I am amazed at how well behaved, considerate and thoughtful they can be. Then there are the other times. We have had many "what the fuck?!" moments around here lately. But Sunday night. *sigh* Sunday night....well it was the crowning "what the fuck" moment of the year thus far.

Bug had been quite the little shit all weekend. He had been pushing the limits. Seriously. Dumping the clothes out of the dresser, refusing to go potty (that's a whole other entry), defiance. But then he would be all sweet and cuddly and make me love him again. Those toddlers, they're crafty.

After Gray Gray & Gram left Sunday afternoon, he was really on a tear, though. When I called him for supper I noticed that he had little bits of styrofoam all over him. And I do mean all. over. him. WTF? I chastised him appropriately, told him that that styrofoam is NOT a toy, and we had supper. After supper, I was cleaning up the kitchen and Bear came and got me to tell me that Bug had torn up more styrofoam and , oh yeah, "I was fanning it. With my pants." WTF?

I go in the boys' bedroom to see...the blizzard. Seriously. It looked like, well, Denver in there. (sorry, Hula) Bug was naked - except for the nine pairs of underwear he was wearing. WTF???And, the pièce de résistance, he had pulled about half of the freshly folded laundry out of his drawers. Huge pile of pjs, underwear, socks and shirts. Hadn't we just gone over that two days ago? Arrrrggghhhh! I was FURIOUS. (I suppose I could say that I was pissed off, but that would be a terrible pun and so I won't subject you to that.) (heh)

I told them that they had to pick up the chunks of the styrofoam while I refolded the clothes to put back in the drawers. A moment later, Bear tells me, "Uh, Mommy? Bug tee-teed on those clothes. All over them." And yes, they were soaked. What. the. fuck?!? Was it an accident? No. As Bug explains it, the clothes "were on fire" and he was the firefighter putting it out. My hero. This is when I lost it.

WHAT, in the name of Elmo, is wrong with this child?

It was all I could do not to scream at him. (Well, yes, I will admit, I did scream a little.) (Little is a relative term, right?) I then gathered up all of the soiled clothes and took them to the laundry room to rewash them. Because that is my favorite thing EVER to do. I continued to supervise the cleaning up of the styrofoam and berate any boy who stopped to complain. That shit was everywhere, all over their room. And it's a big room. Once the big chunks were picked up, I made them sit on their beds (Bug was n*ked, since I had taken all nine pairs of underwear off in preparation for bedtime) while I vacuumed the teensy tiny static-filled bits up. That took forever, it seemed. And for a child who hates loud noises, that was the most heinous punishment I could come up with.

With the clean up complete, I got both boys ready for bed. Bug wasn't allowed to sit with us for the bedtime story but I did snuggle and rock him while I sang our bedtime songs. I'm not a monster. And they both went to sleep without any protest. I think that they could sense they had pushed me to the very edge.

Not surprisingly, this week has been better. Actually, Bug has been in underwear *dry* all week. The impression of Mommy-on-the-brink seems to have tempered the rebellion somewhat. Don't know how long that will last. For their sake and mine, I hope it will be a while.

Thoughts and questions and stuff nobody cares about but me...

• My DSL has been spotty and, finally, non-existent for several days.
• The guy finally came to fix it today.
• He was here for five hours.
• I kid you not.
• I missed my nap.
• *yawn*
• So, did you miss me?
• Bear had gone all this fall & winter with out getting sick.
• I actually allowed myself to think that maybe he had outgrown the croup thing.
• Stupid.
• He is now coughing, wheezy and running a fever.
• So, he is laying in my bed watching Noggin.
• I think that someone needs to teach Diego to use his "inside voice."
• I have a feeling that we will be going to the Urgent Care Clinic later.
• I hate the Urgent Care Clinic.
• Even more than Diego.
• If that's possible.
• The only up side is that this keeps him away from Mrs Kindergarten for a day or two.
• She is totally on my shit list right now.
• But that deserves an entire post that I can't seem to compose right now.
• Tomorrow maybe.
• *snort*
• I recently discovered that in addition to the other wonderful things they can do, Mr Clean Magic Erasers can take Sharpie off of hardwood floors.
• I don't recommend them for taking Sharpie off of the face of a three year old, however.
• I mean, it DOES take the Sharpie off.
• Along with a layer or two of skin.
• Leaving what looks somewhat like a carpet burn.
• Please don't call CPS on me.
• We were supposed to get snow and sleet, etc. this weekend.
• But all we got was two inches of rain.
• Gray Gray and Gram didn't get to come again.
• That sucked.
• But, Bear & SP got to play their basketball games.
• They both lost.
• Bear told my dad, "Well, my team scored 14 points and the other team scored.........a lot more than 14 points."
• Heh.
• Better wrap this up so that I can go pick SP up from school.
• And take Bear to Urgent Care.
• Bah.

Jack Frost, you evil bastard

Things that were supposed to happen this weekend:

~*~ Gram & Gray Gray coming to town (as usual)
~*~ My best friend, CRB, and her daughter coming to town
~*~ SugarPlum's first basketball game of the season
~*~ SugarBear's first basketball game EVER
~*~ SugarBug's friend, M's, birthday party at the "paint your own ceramic" place
~*~ Beginning new Sunday School program at church
~*~ Lots of fun time with friends and family


What ACTUALLY happened this weekend:

~*~ Stuck in house all by ourselves for three days straight with lots of time to think about how much we miss Daddy.

Good times.

Well, winter finally decided to come to Candyland. And it's here with a vengeance. The rain started Friday morning and by noon the temperature had plummeted to nearly freezing. By the time I picked the kids up from school, there was ice on the van. We haven't left the house since we got home Friday afternoon.

After looking at the radar and weather forecasts Friday morning, I called my parents and CRB and told them both not to come. The roads were going to be really icy well before they made it to Candyland PLUS there is no guarantee as to when they would be clear for them to get out of here. You know it was bad if I told people not to come and relieve the monotony.

Bear and SP were disappointed that their games were cancelled. Bug is still clueless about the birthday party, even though we had picked out a crown, fancy hair stuff and a fuzzy scarf for his friend M's birthday. (Don't ask me, these were the things that he picked out and insisted that he had to get her. He's a funny little guy!)

SP was even more disappointed that CRB and her daughter (my beautiful god-daughter!) didn't get to come. She is b-o-r-e-d. But, what self-respecting ten year old isn't? She mentioned today that this reminds her if the Little House book, The Long Winter. I agreed, with a few caveats. We have plenty of food, central heat, communication with he outside world, it's only three days, and there is no blizzard.
We have had an okay weekend so far, though. Mostly we have slept in (even Bug!), snuggled, watched movies, baked and, of course, it wouldn't be a weekend without the boys beating the crap out of each other ten or twelve (thousand) times. The whining though, has been kept to a minimum. By the children anyway. I have been whining to anyone who will listen. And even a few who didn't want to listen. So, if your phone rings this afternoon...check your caller ID!

School is out today, thank goodness. Hopefully the roads will clear some so that everyone can go to school tomorrow. Togetherness is good, but come on!