The "C" Word ( among others)

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

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

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


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


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

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

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

Happy Birthday Maw Maw...

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

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

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

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

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

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.

My Maw Maw

I know that I one of the lucky few, but up until about two years ago, all of my grandparents were still alive. I grew up 30 miles from both sets of grandparents and I have wonderful memories of all of them. In their own ways, they were each remarkable people who overcame so much to even grow up, much less have successful lives. They are each such a blessing to me.

Over the last two years, both of my grandfathers died. And last night, I found out that my Maw Maw died. Her husband (my Paw Paw, naturally) had a stroke about a year ago and died in October. I think that she finally just couldn't take living without him any more.

My Maw Maw (sorry, that sounds so childish, but that's who she is and I can't just call her "my grandmother) is probably who I was closest to. She grew up the youngest of four girls, born in the midst of the Great Depression in the middle of the dust bowl. They lived in a half-dugout house in West Texas. Her daddy died when she was 10. I know that it was a terrible, terrible death and that it influenced the rest of her life. How could it not? Eventually, they moved to Oklahoma and she met my very handsome (her words) Paw Paw. They got married when she was 16 and she became a mom at 18.

When I was little I thought that my Maw Maw was the most perfect person on the whole planet (and she likely was!). Her house always smelled like heaven to me. And anything that came from her house smelled like it - my brother & I would even say, "This smells like Maw Maw!" Clothes, toys, blankets...whatever, if it came from Maw Maw's house, I didn't want it washed until the smell had completely worn off. I can't even describe the mixture of Downy, potpourri, perfume, good food and grease from Paw Paw's machine shop. But all together, it was just perfect.

Maw Maw always made me feel like I was the smartest, most talented, prettiest girl in the world. If I was sad, being in her lap made things so much better. Or even the sound of her voice. I knew that I could tell her anything and my secret would be safe.

And as I grew up, she never wavered in her support. She told me more than once that I was the best mother that she had ever known. Which was HUGE because, evidently, she had never told MY mom that. Up until I had kids, Maw Maw was the best mom she ever seen. And you know that when you are in the middle of raising kids, hearing you are a good mom means the world. Especially when you hear it from the most perfect person on the planet.

Maw Maw also managed to make my kids feel so special and loved and appreciated. When she was going through chemo a couple of years ago, Bear made her paper hat to wear. And not only did she wear it, she made sure that my mom took a picture so that Bear could see her wearing it. And she would make a point to ask the kids to sing "Amazing Grace" or, really, any other song for her & followed it with lavish praise that would make the singer feel so proud and talented. Every picture they drew was beautiful and every poem or story they wrote was Pulitzer-worthy. Plus they were the smartest, most beautiful children on the planet. Just like their Mommy & Daddy (her words).

Maw Maw really loved nothing more than to sit and listen to her grandkids and great-grandkids play and laugh. My boys, of course, kept her in stitches. When my babies were born, she just wanted to hear them cry or laugh or make noise or just breathe.

I always thought that the phrase "a hole in my heart" was kind of trite and goofy. But really, I understand now. My Maw Maw made me who I am today. My confidence and self-esteem (and my deep, abiding appreciation for cute shoes) are in large part due her influence - her unfailing support and truly unconditional love - in my life. I'm having a very had time imagining this world without my Maw Maw. But, I know without a doubt that she is in heaven with my Paw Paw and she is happy and finally at peace.

I love you so much Maw Maw. Thank you for all you have been for me. Give Paw Paw a big hug and a kiss for me. I'll see you in heaven. Save a place for me.

Blessings Abound!

Ever have one of those weeks where God is shouting at you, "I'VE GOT IT UNDER CONTROL! SEE??" Yeah, that's what last week was like. One big picture of God's mighty power & grace. Blessing did abound!

I posted last week that God had laid Philippians 4:6-7 on my heart and that it was getting me thru the week.

6 do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. 7 And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.

I really just thought God was helping me thru the stress of the last week before school starts. Things were busy and tense and I needed to let Him take care of it. I had no idea

If you saw my Facebook Saturday, you know that the transmission blew on my van . In Dallas. While I was taking my mom & the boys to the hotel. It was 101 degrees outside. Bear noticed the smell and then I saw smoke, thinking it was one of those "junkers" beside us as we exited the George Bush Freeway. Yeah, the smoke was coming from MY junker! That's when I started getting stressed. Really, really stressed. Then, that's when the blessings began.

BLESSINGS

1. The smoke started less than half a mile from the hotel. I managed to get to the hotel, avoiding being stranded in traffic, in the heat, in the middle of Dallas. I got Mom & the boys somewhat settled at the hotel & called USAA, who towed the van to the Honda dealership.

2. SugarDaddy had left about 45 minutes before I did and had SugarPlum & my dad with him at the soccer tournament. So, we had 2 cars there.

3. Another one of the soccer families was staying at the same hotel as us, so they took SP & my dad back to the hotel & then to the next game so that SD could meet me at the dealership.

4. Mom took care of the boys the whole time, walking them over to Black Eyed Pea for supper and then back to the hotel to swim.

5. After being informed that it would cost us $5000 for the dealership to replace the transmission & determining that we couldn't make an informed decision about buying a replacement THAT DAY, SD & I made it to the second game in time.

6. My wonderful friends, Mr & Mrs Jackalord got us a trailer and towed the van back to Candyland (2 hours each way!) with Mr. J's pickup. Who does that? AMAZING friends, that's who. We really didn't know what we were going to do otherwise.

7. After we got home, my beautiful friend, Charity, offered us the use of a car for as long as we needed it. That keeps us from having to rent a car while the van is being fixed or...if that is just going to be too much, it keeps us from having to jump into something without taking time to make a wise decision.

AND THEN...just to put icing on the blessing cake....God decides to show me that He really does have it ALL under control.

8. We finally heard from both of the boys' football coaches. (I'd been worried about football practice & how it would all work since last year it was a big hassle getting all three kids where they needed to be since it sometimes required me to be three places at once) Both of them have practice this year at the same place...at the same time....NOT on a soccer night! Woo hoo!!! Go God!

I still haven't heard about the van. The transmission guy says it will be early next week before he can tell me something. But honestly, I'm not worried. God has made it clear that He's got this one. I just need to get out of the way. Which brings to mind another verse in Philippians:

And my God will supply every need...Phil 4:19

Because my hypochondria wasn't heightened enough....

I've been seeing the flight surgeon quite a bit lately in the hopes of figuring out what, exactly, is wrong with me. (Physically - I gave up on my mental health years ago.) I've had quite a myriad of bizarre symptoms - joint pain, headaches, and soul-crushing fatigue. Every test that he does comes back normal. In fact, the doctor has been laughing that I am "abnormally normal." My blood counts are good, blood sugar is good, cholesterol, thyroid, iron, all normal. He had me do a sleep study - which turned out fine. (Oooooh...I need to tell you about that soon!) Even my CT scan was clear. I'm ridiculously healthy for someone who feels this crappy.

So, Monday, my mom sends me the "Ovarian Cancer" email. You know the one that goes around every few months that talks about how ovarian cancer is a "silent killer," that it can't be detected on your PAP smear, that its symptoms "whisper" and lists all the "whispering" symptoms. Really, it is one of my biggest fears.

As I said, mom sent me the email this week, and she highlighted all of the symptoms of ovarian cancer that I have. Each in a different color. SERIOUSLY. She's thoughtful that way.

Now I am obsessing over the fact that I am dying of ovarian cancer. The flight surgeon is going to love me when I call to tell him this. I always say, you can't have too many neuroses!!

I apologize now for the blatant abuse of parentheticals....

Tuesday morning....you are not my friend.

This morning started out okay. SugarPlum & I overslept a little, but only like four minutes. However, she has her morning routine down to a science, so four minutes can make or break her some days. Luckily, nothing of hers needed to be ironed, so SugarDaddy was able to get her out the door and off to school by 7:00. (Yes, 7:00 am. I know, right?)

Bug had woken up early & ate breakfast with SP. Normally he eats at the same time as Bear, but he was "really, really hungry!" so I went ahead and fixed his breakfast, too. But it just sort of threw my morning off. After SD & the girl were off, & after a few snuggles with Bug, I woke Bear up. This isn't an easy task, in that he is MY child and hates to wake up in the morning. It takes songs, back rubs, and silly little jokes - it's vital that he wake up happy or everyone's day is ruined. Then I fixed is cereal & scrambled eggs w/ bacon & cheese, got the boys' clothes ironed and actually on their bodies. (This is more difficult than it sounds most mornings. More than once Bug has been *thisclose* to going to school in his pjs. Oh, yes I would!) We actually ended up with enough time for the boys to play for a few minutes before they went to school! YAY!

This is where it started to fall apart. Okay, not that bad, but still.

The phone rings. SD( who had a monumentally bad day yesterday & had not had a good night's sleep leading to him misunderstanding my "I-just-woke-up-voice" for my "I-hate-you-you-are-a-moron-voice" - which doesn't exist but evidently is interpreted as such more often than I deserve)** had left his flight suit at home. Being a commander he never knows what uniform he will need at a particular point in the day, so he goes to work in jeans & t-shirt and changes there. But....I washed his flight suits last night & he left it here. So I agreed to bring it to him after I got it ironed & got the boys off to school. (And can I just say that flight suits are a BITCH to iron.)

At this point, the boys were ready except for shoes & socks - which didn't seem to be a priority for them. So after much shouting, bribery & threats, I finally got them off to school. Then I headed to the base with SD's clothes. After a brief chat, I volunteered to go to the coffee shop on base to get SD a Venti Caramel Macchiato and some tea for his secretary. (Always take care of the secretary. Secretaries make the world go 'round!) I was happy to be able to do something for SD since we had been a little cross with each other this morning.

I get over to the base library (home of the coffee shop) & find followed my nose to the coffee shop. There, I found the little barista chick, sitting in a cushy chair reading. She hops up & takes my order...which took a second, because I was unsure of what tea to get. When she rings me up, I discover that I have no cash & have to use my credit card. I am - evidently - visibly aggravated by that fact.

While she is making the drinks, I said something, can't remember what, but barista chicky says to me, "Yeah, you seem a little strung-out."

What?

THEN she says, "I'd say that's okay, but it's only Tuesday."

So, twenty-year-old chick who works at a very NOT busy Starbucks, is telling the mom of three kids who's day just got busier that I seem strung out. And that it is clearly not okay, because it's only Tuesday? Seriously?

I didn't even know what to say. I know that I am being over-sensitive, but who made her the arbiter of who gets to be stressed out? Seriously? Already, I am looking at this & laughing. But at 8:30 this morning, I was just pissed.

She SO didn't get a good tip.

A leeeeeetle freaked out here.....

So, my mom calls last night, a little after 10:00. I was in bed, reading & just about to turn off the light. Honestly, I thought that the call was for SD, since his job brings late night calls several times a month. But...no. It was my mom.

She tells me that my brother had been assaulted when he stopped to get gas for his girlfriend's car. He got out, started pumping and the next thing he knew, there was a fist hitting his face, knocking him to the ground. Then the guy took off. My brother's wallet, watch and a laptop were in the car & the guy took nothing.

Then my brother evidently drove back to his girlfriend's house and she totally freaked out. She took him to the ER where they determined - as of last night, anyway - that he has a broken jaw and one of his teeth got knocked out. They were going to do a CT scan to see if he had a concussion and to make sure that he hadn't inhaled the tooth, since he couldn't find it. How scary is that?

This happened in the "good part" of town - a gas station on a major intersection in the early evening. The police managed to get the surveillance video. They didn't see the guy's face but they did get his license plate. They seem to think that it was a case of mistaken identity. Someone who was planning to kick some guy's ass then realized he had the wrong guy & took off. Especially since my brother wasn't robbed. Regardless, I told my mom (who couldn't bear to go to the hospital & sent my dad) to make sure that all of the doors were deadbolted. Because who knows if it wasn't someone he knew and who is CRAZY?!

My brother has made some really, really bad choices in his life and has suffered the consequences of those choices. He's like a living example for my kids of what NOT to do. In spite of that he is one of the sweetest, most caring, empathetic people I have ever known in my life. If he loves you, then there is truly & honestly nothing he wouldn't do for you. He adores my kids and they adore him. My heart has always hurt for him because he is simultaneously the toughest and most fragile person in the world. He takes things so personally and feels things very deeply.

I'm just scared for him right now, though. I really hope that the police are right & this was just a random case of mistaken identity. Because I hate the thought that someone is out there who wants to hurt my baby brother! But if I do find out who did this, I may have to unleash some big sister revenge. Because even when we are middle aged, nobody better mess with my baby brother!

***UPDATE***

Spoke to my dad this morning & my brother's jaw is broken in two places and the tooth that got knocked out broke off, leaving the root (also the site of one of the breaks, the other being where fist met jaw). OW. He is scheduled for surgery this afternoon and will have two plates in his jaw and lots & lots of stitches. No word from police yet. Good times.

**UPDATE #2***
He's in surgery now. His jaw was actually broken in three places. Both joints and then around his chin - something about the force of the impact going all the way through. He'll have three titanium plates put in and then the dr will try to but his teeth all back the right way. I'm thinking I'll get him a milkshake machine for Christmas.

**POST_SURGERY UPDATE***
He did really well in surgery. He ended up w/ four titanium plates (two in his chin!) and 26 screws in his jaw. ZOWIE! He seems to be okay. He was talking a little bit last night. And that tooth that got knocked out? There was no tooth knocked out. What looked like a broken tooth on the x-ray was actually the break in his jaw bone. It was so huge and jagged that it looked like a broken tooth. (Yeah. Insert expletive here.) I'm buying him a hockey mask.

Thank you for all of your prayers and good thoughts & messages. It got me through yesterday! I love you guys!

Things I swore I would never, ever say to my kids (and then I became a Mother!)

• If you aren't asleep soon, I'm coming in there and spanking your bottom!
• How can you possibly call this room clean?
• Please just stop talking. For five minutes. That's all I'm asking.
• I didn't ask if you wanted to, I told you to clean off the table/pick up the legos/go feed the dogs......
• Really? That's how you are going to do your hair for school?
• I embarrassed you? Well, then, my work here is done!
• You can eat it or not eat it, but this is what we are having for supper.
• When you get a job, you can have all the (insert toy/food here) you want. But I don't have any money for that today.
• Yeah, well, LIFE'S not fair! Get used to it.
• I don't care that your friends get to. If it's that important to you, maybe you should live there.
• Yes, you can (insert activity here). As soon as you get your room cleaned up.
• Because I'm mean and evil through and through.
• Also? Because I said so!

Now it's your turn. What did I leave out?

Things I have been excited about that, in retrospect are just flat-out irritating

• "Wow! Gas is only $3.62 at that station!"
• "The boys actually stayed in bed all night!"
• "Hmmmm, it only got up to 101 today. So much better than 110!"
• "I'm down to four loads of laundry! WOO HOO!"
• "If I listen to children whine for five hours straight without killing anyone, will I get a prize?
• "I got out of Target under $100! I ROCK!"
• SugarPlum's sneakers still fit. That means I only have to buy shoes for the boys....and "nice" flipflops for SP."
• The boys now wear the same size nighttime pull ups. Now I can buy just one size! (for the five and seven year olds who still pee all night...)
• I'm so glad that my parents were never judged by the horrifyingly bad choices I made when I was seventeen....

What do I want to be when I grow up?

As much as I hate to, I am thinking of going back to work. I'm not even sure what I would want to do. I haven't had a job in nearly 12 years (other than working in the baby room at the Mothers Day Out on Thursdays...occasionally). I have a degree in Early Childhood and I'm certified to teach thru sixth grade. I really don't want to go back to teaching. There are many things I would like to do, but I have no idea how to achieve any of them. At least not any time soon.

No secret that I'd like to be a lactation consultant and/or a doula. But I'd have to take lots of and classes and put in lots of volunteer hours to do this. And I just don't have that in my now. Something else I'd like to do is be a Family Life Educator. Honestly, I could probably get some sort of job that is kind of like that right now.

I'm not wanting to get rich. I just need to find a way to not be dependent on anyone else. Just to prove to myself that I can. I mean, I know I can...but I have been having a lot of self doubt. I've been trying to find some writing jobs. I really like writing and would love to do it more. But, it's difficult in the summer when the kids are home and all over the place. I can't concentrate enough to write anything of quality. (I know...obviously!) I want to spend time with my munchkins. They are actually pretty cool kids...when they're not making me homicidal. I try to write at night, after everyone is in bed, but then, evidently, I'm cheating my husband of time. BALANCE. It's elusive.

*sigh* Maybe after school starts in a few weeks. Yeah, because things always get EASIER after school starts. *hmph*

I don't know. I'm feeling sad and lost and introspective. I'm not caught in the "whirling vortex of despair," but I can see it from here. There is a lot going on that I really don't want to talk about right now to the whole internet. Sorry to subject you to this. I suppose I'm just hoping that someone will have some good advice for me. Time for me to put on my big girl panties and act like a grown up, I guess.

Thanks for listening....if you didn't fall asleep first.

How to make an ass of yourself for three days solid (A Step-By-Step Guide)

1. Go to get your haircut.
2. and one for your daughter.
3. When it's time to pay, realize that you must have left your wallet in the car.
4. Go look in car.
5. Realize that you must - for some unknown reason (probably those rotten boys) - have taken your wallet out at home and left it.
6. Go back in hair place, offer to leave daughter as collateral and run home (with daughter since the hair ladies are terribly trusting) and tear house apart (as well as car).
7. FREAK THE HELL OUT because you can't find your wallet.
8. Call CVS to see if you could have possibly left your wallet there when you went to get (yes, ashamedly) Hairstyle magazines.
9. FREAK OUT EVEN MORE because the lady says your wallet isn't there.
10. Dig out the credit card that you were going to stop using from the desk drawer so that you can go back and pay for the haircuts (which, incidentally, was possibly the worst haircut you have ever received and make note to self to never, ever get hair cut at "Kidz Kutz" ever again).
11. Consider very real possibility that some kid at the hair place took the wallet from your purse during the 29 seconds you turned your back to talk to lady cutting daughter's hair (which, incidentally was the most fantastic haircut ever - maybe THAT lady could cut your hair)
12. Pick boys up from kind friend's house and see if there is any chance that you took your purse in for the 5 minutes you were there dropping boys off and left your wallet.
13. Of course not.
14. Drag everyone home and bribe them all with $5 for who ever finds the wallet.
15. No dice.
16. Admit to husband that though yes, that very day, he escorted you to get a new military ID because you had lost yours just days before, you have now lost your wallet (containing new ID) and it was most likely stolen by some little hoodlum at Kidz Kutz.
17. Consider the very real possibility that the UNIVERSE IS FUCKING WITH YOU.
18. Wait for husband to come home and look for your wallet because he is always great at finding lost things.
19. Still. no. wallet.
20. Call all credit card companies to report stolen cards.
21. Call bank to report stolen ATM cards (yes there were 2)
22. Contact credit bureaus to flag your & husbands SSNs because they are on (brand freakin' new) military ID.
23. Realize that there was a $25 Old Navy gift card, $5 Starbucks card about $85 in cash in stolen wallet. Fucking hoodlum.
24. Realize that only good news is that drivers license was NOT in wallet because you'd had it out all week to get on base w/ the temp pass while husband was TDY (out of town).
25. Apologize to husband 900 times for losing wallet even though he is being very gracious and kind - which couldn't be easy for him - about the whole situation.
26. Sulk, bitch and moan all day Saturday about the little hoodlum who took your wallet even though you know that it won't do any good.
27. Go to Sunday School even though you're still feeling sore & crappy from surgery and grouchy about lost wallet.
28. Yell at children who ask for offering money because ALL OF MY MONEY WAS IN MY WALLET you foolish children!
29. Come home from Sunday School to discover a message on your voicemail from the manager at CVS.
30. Call and discover that your wallet was at CVS all this time, locked in the safe, but that the stupid girl that you AND husband talked to wouldn't even go to the trouble of asking her boss if a wallet was found.
31. Resist urge to curse stupid, stupid girl once you realize that if you had half a brain then you would have put the wallet in your purse and not left it on the counter by the register.
32. What the hell is wrong with you anyway?
33. Throw a big "I found my wallet" Party all day long. (Okay, that's an exaggeration. Perhaps what is closer to the truth is call your best friend and sing the "I found my wallet" happy song and make a total fool of yourself.)
34. Still believe that the universe was fucking with you because, COME ON.

War is Hell (Fathers Day was pretty awesome, though)

So. Fathers' Day. It kicked ass. The kids actually gave SugarDaddy his gift on Saturday. They gave him....a water gun fight. We gave him a big bag filled with five water guns. Yes, folks FIVE. He got the big gun (insert obvious joke here) and we each got a smaller gun. As you see, he was merciless.

And yet, he got almost as good as he gave.


But it was every man for himself. And Daddy had no mercy for any sweet SugarBaby. Or for Mommy. However, since I a) was the one holding the camera AND b) at this point wearing a white cotton tank top - a WET white cotton tank top - I was not included in the photos. Pity.



However a good time was had by all. Especially SugarDaddy, who declared it the Best Fathers' Day EVER. (Even if it was a day early).



Look at these rouges. It's like Bonnie & Clyde. And Darryl & Darryl.

You know, the last few weeks have been rough. I know I have whined before, but marriage is HARD. And sometimes, it's almost too hard. But somehow, we both decide that it's worth it and we keep on plugging. And it is worth it. Because you can see that he is, quite possibly, the BEST DADDY IN THE WORLD. (and I should know because I grew up with the best Daddy in the world - who set the bar REALLY HIGH.) He really does all he can to show these sweet kiddos that they are loved thoroughly and unconditionally. And I am trying harder every day to show HIM how much I love him and that I am listening and trying to do the things he as expressed as being important to him. And he is doing the same for me.

So, SugarDaddy - Thank you for being the Daddy our children deserve. And thank you for sticking with me through all the hard parts. I am looking forward to celebrating Grandparents Day with you. A LOOOOONG time from now. I love you. More than ever.

How many little boys does it take to change a light bulb?

Ha HA! That title is a trick question! You see, because the answer should be ZERO! Little boys should not be changing light bulbs at all. Not even if they can easily reach the light on the ceiling fan simply by sitting in their loft bed. Never EVER should a little boy (in this house, anyway) be touching a light bulb. Only grown-ups change light bulbs.

At least that is the message I tried to get across to Bear this weekend after he came into the kitchen carrying a light bulb and telling me, "This burned-ed out. I need a new one." Meanwhile, I'm on the verge of a stroke, imagining the possible electrocution or the shards of glass embedded in my son's hands.

I may have gone a little overboard in my admonishment. I say this because after about the seventeenth "never! Do you understand?" his eyes began to glaze over. I'm certain that he was thinking to himself, "Geez, lady, see if I ever try to help YOU again!"

Other actions we learned this weekend that little boys should never do:

• administer punishment (spanking, scratching, throwing to the floor) because, "He wasn't picking up!"
• pour cinnamon-sugar directly into their mouths from the container.
• anything involving power tools.
• taking hammer to glass. (oh, yes, indeed!)
• fix their own waffles.
• get up before 5:30. *yawn*
• put stickers on my walls, doors and/or furniture.
• climb over the fence to play in the front yard without permission.

Yes, it was a looooong weekend. Some people dread Mondays. In some ways, it's my favorite day of the week. Until school is out, anyway.....

*cough* *cough* *hackhackhack* *cough* (but no whooping)

Well, the flu finally took the hint and fled Candyland (for the time being - no sense tempting fate). Bug and I were both knocked flat for the better part of last week. Fever, aches, major f_a_t_i_g_u_e, and general whiny-ness prevailed. I don't know how Bug put up with me.

At one point, as Bug and I discussed how our muscles and bones hurt, he told me, "I think my muscles are going to hohrt like this foh-ev-oh!" It was, quite possibly the saddest, sweetest thing you could have ever heard. Blessedly, he was feeling much better and back to wreaking havoc with his brother by Sunday afternoon.

So, yes, the flu fled. But not before calling his good friend Bronchitis to come and take up residence in my lungs. I sound lovely. And, if I hadn't felt so totally shitty last week, I would probably be whining about how bad I feel. But, given some perspective, I guess I feel okay. Except for the extreme tiredness. Maybe from lack of oxygen? Think?

I finally caved and went to the flight surgeon today and he sent me home with the big bag-o-drugs: Zithromax, Xoponex, Flo-Vent, and some codeine syrup (which I will probably just get rid of because that stuff is naaaaazzzzzztttty). Hopefully I will be feeling better very soon. I hope so, because SD and I are ditching the kids for a week (thanks Gram!) for a somewhat official trip (that I am not supposed to talk about here) and I don't want to be spewing phlegm all over the state of TEXAS!

IN OTHER (somewhat related) NEWS:

I can't remember (and am too lazy to look) if I have blogged about my (very strong) feelings about vaccinating our children. I won't get on my soapbox tonight about it (though I reserve the right to do so and may very soon if blog material doesnt seem to come), but Charlie just sent me some info about an organization called PKIDs:

PKIDs is a national nonprofit whose mission is to educate the public about infectious diseases and help families whose children are affected by such diseases. We're trying to raise awareness of pertussis, also known as "whooping cough," through an online resource. The site is:

www.pkids.org/pertussis

Pertussis is a potentially deadly bacterial infection that can strike at any age, but is particularly dangerous for babies. Adults are the number one transmitter of pertussis to babies. One of the best ways to protect babies from pertussis is to make sure that anyone in close contact with them is vaccinated.

At PKIDs’ web site, you can hear an audio clip of what whooping cough sounds like and get advice on how to talk to your doctor about protecting your child or children you may care for from pertussis. This is all part of a campaign to raise awareness of pertussis called "Silence the Sounds of Pertussis."

So there you go. I am just counting my lucky stars that there is no whooping around here. At least not the nasty, potentially deadly kind. With my boys, you can always count on whooping of some sort during each day. Now, where did I put that humidifier?

SugarDogma

I believe.....

• that children should have to do their own laundry.


• that I should get double workout credit for every time I have to walk across the house to fetch a blanket, stuffed animal, lost shoe, or a Diet Coke. Especially Diet Coke.


• that for every episode of Caillou that I have ever have to watch, I should be compensated with an extra episode of Project Runway, Grey's Anatomy, America's Next Top Model, and/or an entire extra season of Sex and the City.


• that you should tell your loved ones that you love them as often as you can.


• that all personal injury lawyer commercials should be prohibited under penalty of death.


• that I really should have stopped having these acne breakouts by now.


• that if it doesn't taste good, the calories and fat should be deducted from your ass.


• that Moms should get a mute button to eliminated that whiny, shrieking sound that follows such phrases as "bedtime," "go clean your room," or "share that with your brother."


• that I should be also get to project an eardrum-splitting alarm directly through the phone line and into the ear of that Indian guy who keeps calling me from Chase bank, trying to sell me "business services."


• that time should stop while I am on the computer and not restart until I am done reading all I need to read so that I don't have to feel guilty about it.


• that mommy-guilt should burn at least twice as many calories as exercise.


• that every Mommy, regardless of whether she works or not, deserves to have a housekeeper.


• that those roller skate sneaker things should be made illegal.


• that Xanax should be available over the counter for moms.


• that people who call their kids "stupid" or "worthless" or anything similar should be tarred and feathered.


• that shaving your legs between October and April should be banned.


• that Webkinz are a tool of Satan.


• that my girlfriends are the only ones keeping me sane much of the time.


• that I want to be as mean as this mom when my kids get older.

(SugarMommy reserves the right to add to this list when ever something else of importance occurs to her. This could happen with alarming frequency. You've been warned)

All I want for Christmas...

Here's a question for you: Do you try to influence what your kids ask Santa for or do you use that Santa visit to find out what your kids want?

I'm more of the former. I know what my kids want. Or think that they want. I also know what they will actually play with. And what sort of things I want (and DON'T want) in my house. So, as the time for the great Santa con-fab nears, I start to propagandize (aka "brainwash") my kids as to what to ask for. That way they won't be disappointed on Christmas morning. And there won't be a bunch of noisy crap in my house that might make my head explode.

To wit: Bug started before Thanksgiving telling his friends that Santa was going to bring him a Transformers' Costume. The hell? First, no. Also....nuh-uh. He has about forty three different costumes and even if I DID want to get him a Transformer costume, those are only available at Halloween. Yes, I checked. But still. No. So, I have convinced him that he wants a VTech Nitro Junior Notebook. Because I know that he will actually play with that and that it won't encourage hitting siblings or playmates in the spirit of "being a superhero." Or whatever.

Bear wanted the Lego Mars Mission set. And, at first, I was not at all opposed to it. It has the whole space theme that seems to dominate our lives of late. Then I got to thinking....all those little pieces. Well, not really the pieces, because Legos don't really bother me (unless I step on them in the middle of the night - OW!). But, with the kits...or sets...or whatever...they only get put together correctly with the help of Daddy. (Mommy sucks at Legos.) When Daddy isn't around to facilitate the construction, there is much whining, frustration and angst. And I can't handle it. Consequently, I have brought Bear around to the virtues of the VTech Nitro Notebook.

BUT I have also convinced him and his brother that they want a couple of new buckets of Legos - but just the general, non-committal Legos that can become anything rather than a "kit." Due to the even distribution of Legos throughout my house (seriously, you can't lift a cushion or check a pocket in this place without finding at least one Lego), we are down to about fourteen Legos in the bucket. Fourteen Legos that are the catalyst for one brother to beat the shit out of the other brother at least once a day. So, Santa (or Mommy) is bringing Legos, by golly.

SugarPlum? Is getting to play soccer. She played in a tournament this past weekend with the competitive team that she played with in the fall. She has decided that she wants to play with them next season. So, I got the financial info for the team. And.....Holy Mia Hamm!!!! It ain't cheap to play for a club team. But, honestly, it's a good thing. She is happy playing with this team. And she is really improving. And the girls on the team are such good girls. And the parents are just cool as you can imagine. Not a bunch of snotty "soccer moms" like I was afraid of. So, it'll be good for all of us. Also? Her Christmas present. And birthday present. And Valentines Day. And Easter. And....Arbor Day present.

Me? I'd just like a little, tiny bit of sanity. Less chaos and uncertainty. To know maybe, just maybe, what in the hell is going on in my life and what is going to happen over the next few months and years. You know....omniscience. Is that too much to ask? Can the elves handle it? Please Santa? Pretty please?

Oh, and a month at tropical island resort wouldn't suck either.

Today I am bitching about:

1. The odor emanating from my guest suite. This is pretty funny of you have talked to me on the phone in the past week or so.


2. The Ron Paul for President people. You know I'm a Republican, but this guy is a little too fringe for me. (Didn't he used to be a Libertarian?) These people are every.where. I'd give you a link but I don't want to encourage them.


3. TWITTER. Okay, I am loving the Twitter. But one of the people I am "following" is getting totally put of hand with the postings. It is making me crazy. When you stop following someone, are they notified? I don't want to piss this person off. If you are reading this and you think it might be you, trust me, it's not.


4. My sidebar. Those archives are just out of control. I know that I've whined about this before, but does anybody know how to put them into some sort of drop-down thing with out ruining my very old template?


5. The way Stacy and Clint (on What Not to Wear) say "pant" and "shoes." Like "Now this is a really great pant." or "You need a better shoe." They are PANTS and SHOES. Sheesh. (Okay, it doesn't trouble me enough to stop watching. I'm addicted. I even TiVo the reruns! Pa.the.tic.)


6. Speaking of silly "reality" television....That prissy Christian guy on Project Runway. He makes me crazy. And his designs are all boxy and FUGLY. I'm quite over him and I'm ready for him to be Auf'd.


7. My dogs. Their barking is going to push me right over the edge. I know. They are DOGS. And dogs bark. But it's the bossy bark at the door as if I am OBLIGATED to let her in or out whenever she chooses. It's like the Gospel According to Snazzy: "Behold, I stand at the door, and bark: if any man (or woman. or child. well, anyone who can work a doorknob) hear my voice - open the door already! I will come in to him, and will sup with him, (sleep with him, chew up his new shoes, shed all over his furniture and clothes)...and he with me." 1 Labradorians 7:14


8. The end of NaBloPoMo. I really didn't think I'd make it a whole month posting DAILY. But it has been pretty cool. Hopefully, I can keep this up. Maybe not every day, but several times a week. We'll see.

The Night the Lights Went Out in Candyland

First....can you believe that I have made it almost to the end of NaBloPoMo and haven't missed a day?! Shocks the hell out of me. I know, I have totally jinxed myself. But only three more days. Surely I can make it. Maybe I oughta give someone the keys, just in case I slip into a coma or get taken hostage by crazed toddlers or something. (Don't laugh. It could totally happen in my world!)

Actually, by some strange twist of fate, I ended up posting shortly after church Sunday rather than after the kids were in bed, as was the original plan. Thank goodness, or my posting streak would have ended and you would have heard my anguished cry for miles around.


We were sitting in the living room Sunday night, playing with the kids and generally having a good time, when zzzzzzzppp the lights went out for a second. They came back on and then *POW* they went off again in spectacular fashion. Kinda freaky. Especially if you are four.

Seems that just enough ice and snow had accumulated on the trees out back that they drooped down and rubbed the transformer, causing it to blow. (The boys were quite impressed upon hearing - at least they thought - that there were Transformers kasploding outside. Boy were they disappointed.)

First things first, SD found flashlights and we lit the fire in the fireplace. Score one for gas logs. Then we lit some candles and called the electric delivery people (hi Bob!). The recording said that the power should be back on by 9:00 PM. No problem. I might miss Desperate Housewives, but at least I'd get to see Brothers and Sisters. (Yes, I have my priorities straight!)

SugarPlum and I sat down by the fire and she remarked that she guessed that now we know how the pioneers felt. At least pioneers who lived in well insulated houses with natural gas fireplaces and stoves. And flashlights. And cell phones. Those pioneers. You remember Laura Ingalls Wilder lamenting about the time they had no internet access for several hours, right?


The SugarBabies remembered decided they wanted to call and tell GrayGray about the snow and the power going out. Bug relayed it in this way:


Gway! I went to the potty and I POOPED in the potty. Then I wiped and then I flushed. And When I FLUSHED? The LIGHTS ALL WENT OUT! It fweaked me out Gway!


My dad could. not. stop. laughing. All he could say was, "Well, Bug, that must have been one powerful poop!"

We sat around the fire for a while, but as it WAS a school night, eventually, we had to get everyone to bed. The boys were a little fweaked out about going to bed with no power. I tried to explain that IT'S NIGHT! It would be dark in your room regardless. But there's no reasoning with little boys. So, SD found a chem stick light and hung it from their ceiling fan and put batteries in their cd player so that they could hear their lullabyes. They thought that they would get out of brushing their teeth until SD pointed out that the electricity was out, not the water. With the aid of the flashlight, we were able to read a chapter out of Junie B Jones and everyone was off to bed. (That Junie B. She's a caution!)

I honestly expected it to be an up-and-down night for the boys, full of MOOOOMMMYYYY!!!s and the other tactics little boys use to avoid sleep. But, surprisingly enough, both boys went right to sleep. Perhaps the dark, dark hallway was too daunting for them. Or perhaps it was the death threats if they got out of bed. Hard to say.

Next, SP and I settled on the couch for a chapter of To Kill a Mockingbird, during which the lights came on for about a four seconds. Only to go off AGAIN in spectacular fashion. At this point, SD was back out seeing what the Oncor guys were doing. The power would come on and he said that you could see it arc and send sparks flying everywhere. That's always good to hear. Eventually, they had to call a tree trimmer to come out and cut away several branches. A tree trimmer. On a Sunday. Night. In the snow. Oh yeah, somebody got some hella overtime!

SD came back in and we settled in with some hot chocolate (hooray again for natural gas!) and Us Magazine War and Peace. Eventually, it became obvious that we were not going to have power anytime soon. I had already missed Brothers and Sisters (dammit) and now we were missing he news (which always pisses me off), so we decided to go to bed. After a while, we noticed that it was awfully quiet out there where they had been working. I called back to check on the ETA for the power while SD went back outside to see what was - or wasn't - going on.

On my end, I found out that "crews are working on your outage and your power will be restored as soon as possible." No actual time. That can't be good. SD returned, chucking, saying that they were indeed working and that our next door neighbor was giving them a piece of her mind. I'm sure that helped. Meanwhile I was texting my Twitter in order to chide Bob about my outage. Then, with lots of fleece and several blankets, we went to sleep.

SD got up at 5:00 AM to start the fire in the living room so that we wouldn't all freeze when we got up. He totally rocks. He said that the power FINALLY came on at about 5:30. Since we didn't get up until 7:00 or so, all was well for the rest of us in the morning. But SD was exhausted.

And the SugarBabies had a GREAT story to tell at school Monday. Now, I'd better get this thing posted so as to avoid any unforeseen delays!

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!