Home again, home again diggity ouch

I had my gallbladder removed. It sucked. Well, not so much the removal but the pain afterwards. They gave me just about every painkiller known to man and nothing was helping with the post-op pain. Finally they said "You can be in pain here or you can be in pain at home but there's nothing more we can do for you."

I chose home. This morning Jesse called the doctors office to see if there was anything else that could be done. The doctor was annoyed that I had been told to go home in the first place and told Jesse to take me in to the ER.

At the ER they checked me out. I had an x-ray, ultrasound and (for some reason I don't really understand) an enema. The x-ray and ultrasound showed nothing and the enema only served to make me more uncomfortable. They sent me home with pretty much the same advice as the post-op nurses gave me. "Stay here and be in pain or go home and be in pain." (I sort of think that at some point when you tell people that none of the painkillers you're being given are working that they start to think you're a junkie. It's a little frustrating.)

So now I'm at home. In pain. I'm annoyed that none of the painkillers worked for me but what can you do? I'm sure I'll be feeling better in a day or two. In the mean time I'll lay in bed and watch 30 Rock on Netflix and eat Haribo Raspberries. What morphine can't fix, gummies and Fey will.

I've blogged for 1000 posts and all I got was this lousy gallbladder surgery scar

This post is set to publish as I go in for my surgery tomorrow. Err, today. Whatever. It's a pretty crappy way to celebrate my 1000th post on this blog but somehow it just seems to fit.

Since I have to get up at 5 AM I suppose I should be sleeping right now but I can't. I've got so many important questions going through my head. Questions like "Will I have to take my underwear off for the surgery?" and "Can I keep my gallstones or are they considered medical waste?" and "But what if I want to keep them? Are they really waste if it's my waste and I want them?" and "Why in the hell would I want my gallstones?"

I was planning on doing a sort of best of post for this momentous occasion but maybe this is just as good. No one really reads those things anyway and besides, the first two thirds of this blog is absolute crap anyway. The last third is crap too but now I sometimes post recipes and cool pictures of snowflakes.

Today the realtor who sold us our house sent us a flashlight and a card wishing us a happy new year. No real reason for that story, I'm just wondering if it makes any more sense to you guys than it does to me.

I love you all, thank you for reading and I'll see you on the flip side. And by flip side I mean the side where your gallbladder is removed. Or rather, my gallbladder. Painkillers are fun.

Gall darn bladder

I hope everyone has had a good past couple of days. For me Christmas was great. Lots of good times with my family, good presents and good food. Maybe too much good food since on Christmas day I had a bit of an upset stomach. Day after Christmas shopping was good too but again I had a little bit of a stomach ache after eating. The next day mu mother-in-law came to visit and that went well too but following our meal I felt a little achy and off. When I went to bed at 11 that night I told Jesse that my stomach hurt like I had been doing a bunch of sit-ups. At 1:30 I woke up with a stomach ache so bad that I couldn't fall back asleep. After about half an hour of rolling around in pain I dragged myself downstairs to where Jesse had fallen asleep. For the next couple of hours Jesse rubbed my back while I threw up and cried from the pain. At 3 he finally convinced me to go the ER. My dad came over to watch the kids and I shuffled my whimpering, sweatpants-clad self to the car.

When you go in to the ER crying because of your stomach pain they take you pretty seriously. I got a room right away and was being promised pain meds within minutes. A doctor came in and asked a couple of quick questions. "Is the pain spread across here? Is it worse when I push here? Have you been throwing up? Is the pain shooting upward?" All answered in the affirmative hey, whaddya know? It's my gall bladder. An ultrasound confirmed I have gall stones. Four shots of heavy narcotics stopped my whimpering. I was sent home with a prescription for more pain meds and instructions to follow a diet that I can only describe as "a diet so boring that it makes me want to chew my own lips off for some variety". The good news is that in order to keep the pain away I have to keep taking the meds and they make me so tired that I just end up sleeping all day anyway. I have no time to bored with my limited food choices because I'm too busy being knocked out cold.

In a couple of hours I have a surgical consult. My goal is to get him to do this surgery sooner rather than later. I can't function on the pain meds and I can't function without them. The sooner I can get this over and done with the better. Now the only question is how will this affect the whole surrogacy thing. I don't even want to think about that right now. I'm choosing to think that it won't for right now. We'll see I guess. For now I have to drag myself to the bathroom for a shower then to the kitchen for a hearty meal of crackers and unseasoned backed chicken. Then back to bed for another episode of crappy VH-1 reality tv. Then to see the doctor. Then no doubt back to bed.

Later peeps.

Merry Christmas to some!

I hope that the next two days see you happy, healthy, warm and surrounded by loved ones. I won't say Merry Christmas to all but I will say that no matter what religion you are, no matter what you celebrate or don't celebrate, I wish you nothing but good things this Christmas.

For me, part of December 25th is goodwill towards my fellow man. Yes, all of them.

And for me, part of December 26th is wishing my fellow man would get the hell out of my way so that I can reach that wrapping paper that's 75% off.

Happy Holidays!

Christmas Crazy! (Or, how Frosty got his groove back)

We have a family tradition where we like to dress the kids in pajamas, pile them into the car with warm blankets and drive around looking at Christmas lights until they fall asleep. I always think it will be so nice to get out and enjoy the beauty and the wonder and the glow and the blah blah blah. The truth is that every year we just end up mocking every one's efforts and giggling at how tacky their yards are. Oh, don't get me wrong, our yard isn't any better. We're just as tacky as the next family. In fact, I think most Christmas displays are tacky. It's just hard to do it tasteful. And as long as people are putting it all out there, well, then we're going to point and giggle.

It really takes a special Christmas display though to make your eight year old cry ou "What is that snowlady doing to Frosty!?!"

The snow is covering the bottom if this thing up so you can't really tell but she's actually straddling Frosty. It's so disturbing. So disturbing in fact that I had to drive by it during the day to take a picture of it. It wasn't until I had taken about five pictures that Joseph said "Uh, Mommy? Do you know they're standing in the garage watching you?"

Oops. Sorry folks, but some Christmas crazy is just to good not to share. Click here for more crazy fun!

Important scientific poll

Feel free to pick as many answers as you think fit. Your opinion counts!

Sean Hannity....
	is a racist.
	is a douche bag.
	has a large and angry raccoon up his butt.
	has a tiny penis.
	needs to be slappd in the face with a dead fish.
	is dangerous.
	probably has a large collection of dolphin porn.
pollcode.com free polls

Not exactly a religious family

Joseph: Mommy, do you know why they call it Christmas?

Me: Why is that?

Joseph: Because it's the day Chris was born.

Me: (long pause where I muffled my laugh into my hand)

Joseph: You know Chris? The son of God? Get it? Chis-mas!

Me: Where did you hear all this?*

Joseph: I don't know. I read it in some dictionary.**

*I had to ask because a while back a couple of his friends were giving him a hard time when he told them he didn't go to church or believe in God. It's all straightened out now but what he told me at the time was just so darned sweet. "I was frustrated because I just wanted them to understand how I feel! Everyone can believe different things and we can still be friends." Seriously kid, there are adults that haven't figured that out yet.

**Yes, I think it's possible that he was reading a dictionary. He's in second grade and reading at a sixth grade level. He's also very innocent and where a lot of kids his age would be looking up "penis" and "sex" and swear words, he looks up things like "Christmas".

So how's the new couch working out?

It's great, thanks for asking! It's huge. It's blue. It's a little bit staticy.

Ok, a lot bit staticy.

And it's fun to take all it's cushions off, pile them on the floor and jump onto them.

How would you describe me?

Now that the surrogacy is on again I've agreed to blog about the process and my pregnancy on my agency's website. In order to get started I need to write a short thingie* about myself. I cannot fricken do it! Everything I write makes me sound like an arrogant jackass ("I just want to make the world a better place by creating something that would not have been possible without me!") or a sad sack ("Oh, don't mind me. I'm just happy to have someone notice me. Pregnancy makes me fat.") or a complete crazy lady ("My womb is a golden vessel from which springs forth new life unto a glorious world and angels and puppies and unicorns!"

I cannot write with pressure on me! I can't even get the basics right. I don't know how much information to give and how to phrase it to make it sound good without sounding too good. Why is it so hard for me to write do this? It's not like I have a hard time talking about myself in real life. Or on my blog. Or in my head as I pretend that I'm narrating a documentary about my life. It makes laundry less boring ok?

So help me out here people. I'm not asking you to write this thing for me but just give an idea of how to start. And finish. And tell me what I should say in the middle. And also, if you have any attractive pictures of yourself that you can let me use that would be great because I'm supposed to send a picture of myself in and in all the ones I have of myself my face looks like a matzo ball.

*They chose me for my mad writing skillz and ability to use words like "thingie" when other words would really work much better.

Let's get one thing clear here

Just to clarify my last post, I wasn't happy that a drunk woman who was trying not to poop was laying on top of me. I was trying to point out that it's not such a bad thing to grow up and outgrow some of that crazy partying stuff. I don't think I was very clear so it probably came across like I was really happy I was all grown up and having wild encounters like that.

In other news, woot, unwoot and rewoot. The surrogacy, which was on and then off is now back on. The letter my OB wrote was all it took for the RE to reconsider working with me. Now I have to go to LA for my medical screening. My agency asked if I would go on Monday but since that would have me coming home on the 23rd I'm going to skip it until next month. I could probably go and be back without any problem but I don't want to risk something going wrong and then being stuck in LA and missing day after Christmas shopping spending Christmas with my family.

Random question for the parents in the audience: At what age did your kids start showering/washing their hair on their own? And am I destined to still be washing Joseph's hair for him when he's 47?

My weekend summed up

There comes a point in every one's life when you're sitting at a table with a bunch of hyper, screaming drunks, having beer spilled on you by a heavily pierced waitress when you suddenly realize "I'm getting too old for this."

There comes another point in every one's life (usually just a few hours later) when you're laying in bed trying to get some sleep but you can't because a woman you know only casually is laying on top of you and telling you that she needs to fart but worries that if she does she'll poop her pants when you realize that maybe growing old and growing up is not such a bad thing.

Peter, Paul and Mary are on my list now

Despite having made what may be the best Christmas album ever Peter, Paul and Mary have got me really irked. What could these kind and gentle folk singers have done to make me so angry? Four words: Puff the Magic Dragon.

I hardly even have the words to write about how this song makes me feel. And no, it's not because the song is about pot because they say it's not and despite the fact that I'm so irritated, Peter, Paul and Mary were a fixture in the soundtrack of my childhood and I'm not ready to abandon all hope and faith in them just yet.

I'm mad because the song "Puff the Magic Dragon" is just so freaking sad. I remember really liking it as a kid. I would happily sing along with it whenever it was played* and because I was so young I never even questioned what the song was all about. Then one day I listened to what the song saying, really listened.

It's a horrible song!

In the whole world poor Puff has one friend, a boy named Jackie Paper. Jackie loves Puff and Puff loves Jackie. Puff even plays whatever games Jackie wants to. That's a pretty big sacrifice considering that Jackie likes to play with string and sealing wax.**

Does Jackie Paper appreciate Puff's friendship? No, he does not. He goes and grows up and stops visiting Puff altogether. Puff, now friendless, stop playing along along the cherry lane. He stops roaring. HIS SCALES FALL OFF!

The day I realized how sad this song really is I cried. I can remember it clearly. It was a hot summer day and I was in the backseat of my parent's car stuck to the vinyl seat. I sobbed. I cried for poor Puff and his lonely life and his falling out scales. I made my parents fast forward the tape. Even after the song was skipped I kept right on crying. Peter, Paul and Mary broke my heart with that song.

Now I'm 31 years old and I still can't listen to Puff the Magic Dragon. I'm sure I'll never be able to listen to it. Every so often though the song creeps back into my subconscious. I'll find myself mindlessly humming it and every single time it depresses me. And it makes me angry. That damned Jackie Paper, just who does he think he is? He turns his back on the one person(?) who was willing to indulge his love of sting and wax and then that person(?) dies**** of sadness.

It burns me. It just burns me.

*Eight times a day for the first 14 years of my life.

**As a kid I thought this was ceiling wax. I didn't know what exactly it was but I figured it was something people used in the olden days.***

***I thought this song was really old. Like it was written back during a time when people used to wax their ceilings.

****I assume anyway. I don't think dragons can live through massive scale lose.

PS. Since I really do love Peter, Paul and Mary allow me to share the following video with you. Folk at it's finest and I can't get through it without getting weepy. In a good way.

One snowflake

I don't like snow. That is to say, I don't like large amounts of snow. It's the inches and inches and inches and feet of the stuff that we get here in Minnesota that I'm not so crazy about. On an individual basis snowflakes are ok by me.


It's much easier to appreciate them when they look like that than it is when they (and 140 trillion of their brethren) are blocking coating your driveway.

Edit - Since you asked, a) Yes, I took those. b) They are real. c) You can find more here.

Explain Yourself! - The Christmas Ornament Edition

You are 19. You go to a party. It's the first time you ever really drink. It's the first time you ever get drunk. You spend the better part of the night eating a watermelon soaked in an unknown alcohol. You have a great time. You do some stupid things. You spend the next day hung over and sick as a dog. From that day on you get ill at the mere sight of a watermelon. You confide in your aunt about your wild watermelon induced night. She buys you a watermelon Christmas ornament. You start to question your family's taste level. You hang it on your tree. You hang it on your tree. You start to question your own taste level. For some reason your kids love the watermelon ornament and cheer when you put it up. You hang it every year even though it always make you cringe a little bit. And you still can't eat watermelon.

It tastes like buring!

Yesterday I was stuck in bed all day with a super mondo death flu. Everything hurt.

I'm mostly better today. Mostly. The lymph nodes in my armpits are still so swollen and sore that when I put deodorant on this morning I actually yelped in pain. I swear, it's my Constant Hair on Fire Syndrome. I could say "You know how when you have the flu it hurts to put on deodorant" to 1 million people and every single one of them would say "Get away from me Stinky."

As I was reading though some of my blog posts from waaaaaay back when I was pregnant with Elle I came across a funny conversation I had with Joseph. I'm going to reprint it for you here because I seriously do not want you looking through my archives. They're like a big ball of lame and boring and cheesy all rolled into one. Seriously. But this was funny. It's me and old school Joseph discussing something he learned about strangers.

Joseph: Officer Nick told us not to go in other people's yards or houses if we don't know them.
Me: Why not?
J: Because they might be strangers.
M: Right, and who's house could you go into?
J: Grandma's and Beanie's and yours and The Wheeze's and Officer Nick's.
M: And other people too if Mommy and Daddy tell you it's ok. What else did he tell you?
J: Not to get in stranger's cars.
M: That's a good idea.
J: Why?
M: Because there are some people who aren't very nice to kids. Only go in someones car if Mommy or Daddy or Grandma or Grandpa say it's ok.
J: Or in Officer Nick's car. And I always have to wear a seat belt.
M: That's right, what else did you talk about?
J: Not to take candy from strangers.
M: Why not?
J: Because it could have poison or, you know, maybe be on fire.

Someone should report me

Yesterday was a rough day. Joseph was just so ..... autistic.

Most of the time I think people would look at Joseph and think that he was neurotypical. Maybe a little quirky but certainly not autistic. Then he has days like yesterday that just kind of slap me in the face and say "You think things are going well? Haha! Not so fast lady"

The day started off badly when Joseph did something that upset Elle and made her cry. He didn't do it with the intent of hurting her feelings but it did and he just didn't care. He didn't even look at her as she stood next to him whimpering with big tears rolling down her cheeks. It broke my heart to see her so sad and it broke my heart to see him so indifferent. See, it's not that he's a mean kid (and really he's just crazy about Elle) but in this instance it didn't even seem to register with him that she was upset. Or rather, he realized it but it didn't matter to him.

After I had cheered Elle up I pulled Joseph aside to have a Big Talk with him. "Joseph, does it bother you that you made Elle sad?"

"No."

"No?"

"I mean yes."

"Yes? Why does it bother you?"

"Because now I'm in trouble."

"Honey, you're not in trouble but I want to to understand why what you did was not ok."

"Ok, but I need to build more Lego creations now!"

It just went downhill from there. All day long he acted rigid and intense and just plain odd. He wouldn't look at me when I talked to him. If he talked to me he would do it with his face six inches from mine, staring into my eyes, unblinking. His voice was loud and sing-songy. One minute he would claim to be starving but if I got him something to eat he would eat one bite and run away from the table. He talked non-stop about Legos and repeated silly, made up rhymes over and over and over.

The big kicker came when I asked him to go to his room and get dressed. That simple request resulted in a melt-down of massive proportions. Yelling, screaming, shrieking. It went on and on. It sounded like he was being beat. If you know me in real life or if you read my blog you know I don't hit my kids. Ever. Yesterday the melt-down went on for so long and was so intense though that a couple of times I found myself thinking "If I could just smack him, just once, maybe that would snap him out of it."

Not logical thinking and not something I'm proud of but I was sort of at the end of my rope. (By the way, I didn't hit him.) I also found myself thinking that at some point some neighbor was going to call the police. I thought any second a cop was going to pull up and check on us because some well meaning neighbor had heard Joseph screaming at the top of his lungs for 40 minutes.

But I guess I must have the most sound proof house in the world because no one came. I don't know. Maybe it's just me. If I heard a child screaming the way Joseph was screaming yesterday I would call the cops out of concern for what was going on in that house. And I really don't think that it's possible that no one heard what was going on.

Is it weird that it bothers me that no one did anything? Maybe it's because I've heard too many stories of children dying at the hands of their abusive parents and then the neighbors saying "We always heard terrible screaming coming from that house but no, we never called anyone."

Anyway. Yesterday was rough. Today will be better. If I hear your child screaming bloody murder (and I don't already know that there's a very good reason for it) I'm going to call the cops. I would appreciate it if you would do the same for my children.

Panic mode

Do you have your Christmas shopping done yet? I don't!

I do this every year. I wait till the last second and then panic. Oh, I know there's still time now but trust me, I know me. I'll be in the exact same boat three days before Christmas. Maybe this year if I panic with a few weeks time left I'll be ready by the time Christmas gets here.

This year we're going to try something a little different with the gifts that we give everyone. We're going handmade. And by we I mean me. Jesse doesn't do handmade. And by everyone I mean everyone other than the kids. I don't see a handmade Lego Batman Wii game going over very well around this house. I would go into more detail but several of the people who are getting the handmade gifts read this blog and I want to put off the disappointment surprise as long as possible. As I get further along into the process I'll detail some of my efforts on my other (neglected) blogs. And won't that be fun boys and girls?

Now if you'll excuse me I have to go hunt down this one website that I vaguely remember seeing once that had this thing on it that I wanted to make but I really don't remember any of the stuff you needed to do it or what it looked like and also I might have just dreamed the whole thing. I love the holidays.

When she be bigger

Lately Elle has wanted to talk a lot about what she will do when she's bigger. It's interesting to me because she's just barely three and she seems so young to have a concept of the fact that someday she will be bigger and able to do more things. It's also interesting to me because she has some really fun stuff planned. All day long I hear:

"When I be bigger I go to school and have lunch with Baba."

"When I be bigger I play video games."

"When I be bigger I use make-up but little girls no need make-up now."

"When I be bigger I be a music show and sing in a microphone."

"When I be bigger I be a mommy just like you."

"When I be bigger I go on roller coasters."

"When I be bigger I be a dolphin and swim in the ocean."

Man, she's gonna be cool when she be bigger.

Withdrawal

I have given up caffeine. I'm only on day two and I've already got a wicked headache. I'm trying to get Jesse to give it up too but I don't think he'll make it. I say that because on day 1 he bought a pop* and tried to claim that someone gave it to him for free.

Why am I giving up caffeine? I don't know. I guess I just don't like the idea of being addicted to something. I've been thinking about giving up caffeine (and it's delivery method, sweet, sweet Wild Cherry Diet Pepsi) for a while now but I've been afraid of the headaches. I've tried this a few times before and the headaches always leave me helpless and whimpering and stumbling blindly into a gas station crying "A pop! A pop! My kingdom for a pop!". It's not pretty.

So I need your help. Do something to make me feel better. Scroll down and look on the right hand side. See where it says "the coolest folks on the internets"? Become one of them. Follow this blog. Artificially pump up my numbers so that I feel better about myself. Also, if you're out there reading this blog I would like to know that so that I can stop on by and say hi to you. And harass you for a pop.

*I think I became a real Minnesotan the day I gave up calling it "soda" and started using the more quaint and folksy "pop". I cried a little that day.

My mommyblog brings all the boys to the yard

You guys. There are some freaks in this world. And some stupid people. And a lot of stupid freaks. I know this because I have a blog and I have a stat meter that tells me what search terms people use to get to my blog. And I know I'm not the only one. Anyone who has a blog for more than three days has gotten a hit from someone googling "how to touch a breast" or "is it bad if my toddler eats dog poop". Here are a couple of my latest and greatest hits.

girls major pooping problems

dream i had a pennis i am a girl

can i ask what are lady lumps (Yes. Yes you may.)

post your vagina photos

does it hurt girls when they squirt?

dancing bbobs

tips for eating a girls ass (Don't do it. It gives girls major pooping problems.)

horse with milk hot girl (Huh?)

girl who has a sex problem with a blog

internet quiz for assbugers

I have hot poope problem? (I..... don't know.)

A special hat that makes you pee

My ob ordered up a series of tests for me in hopes that the results with show the RE that I'm able to be pregnant again. One of the tests involves me saving 24 hours worth of urine in a jug in my fridge. It's a sure fire appetite killer. Every time I get the munchies I have the same internal dialogue. "Hmm, I'm feeling a little peckish. I thin I'll mosey on over here to the fridge and get myself something to OH MY GOD there's a jug of pee in there!" Then I vow to never eat again. Lather, rinse, repeat every 15 minutes. I get peckish a lot.

Yesterday I went to the clinic to get my blood pressure done (it's fine and dandy thank you very much) and blood drawn and to pick up the stuff for the 24 hour urine test. A very nice lady in the lab gave me a bag of stuff for the test and said "Your jug and your hat are in there." Then she went on to explain about 45 more things I needed to know about the test. I didn't hear any of them though because I was to busy thinking "A hat? What did she just give me a hat for? Does she know I'm taking a urine test and not a ...... head test? Should I say something? But wait! What if it's a hat that makes you pee? Or what if it's a hat that I'm supposed to wear while I pee? Like a special hat that measures my brain activity or something. But why would they need that? Maybe it measures my fluid levels or something. Through my scalp. Yeah, maybe that's it."

"Got that all?" the lab lady asked?

"Oh, sure!" I responded cheerfully because I was not going to make myself look like an ass by asking "And if I get this electronic hat wet will I have to come back and get a new one or will it continue to read my brain waves?"

As soon as I got out to the lobby I opened up the bag to get a look at the hat. Turns out a hat is a little plastic bowl shaped thing that goes into the toilet so that you can pee into it. I guess it sort of looks like a hat. Not enough that they should call it that though because that confuses people and it makes then think they're getting electronic hats.

Did I say woot? Because I meant shoot.

Sometimes life is really annoying.

Remember when I was pregnant with A and J was a giant nervous wreck about everything? "The baby's heartbeat is normal? But could it be better? Would it be better if it was a little bit higher? What can we do to make it just a little bit higher?"

Her nervous wreckieness turned me into a nervous wreck. I dreaded the appointments that I knew he would be coming to because I was so afraid that some little thing would be wrong (or just not normal enough) and it would send him into a panic. I let it affect me too much.

J was at the last three appointments I had before A was born. At all three my blood pressure was high. Every other time when I would get my blood pressure taken it was fine. In fact, at one appointment when J was there the doctor re-checked my blood pressure halfway through the appointment and it was fine. The day before A was born my blood pressure was fine. Throughout labor it was fine. I never had any protein in my urine, never had any swelling (other than my rear end) never had any headaches. Other than those three high blood pressure readings I was fine.

Well guess what the RE who I was supposed to be going to has decided to focus on. Yeah. Those three numbers. Because of those three numbers he won't work with me. Since he won't work with me the agency won't work with me. Meaning? No surrogacy for me.

Fuck.

My one tiny ray of hope is my OB. I called him last night and explained the situation. He said he would be willing to write a letter saying that he feels it would be safe for me to get pregnant again. He said there's no reason at all I couldn't do this again and he's surprised the RE would even be concerned with those three numbers since they don't really tell the whole story. He's even having me come in for some lab work so that we can show that everything is functioning as it should.

I don't know if any of that is going to make any difference at all. The RE might dismiss everything my OB says and still say no to working with me. If that happens then I'm out of options. My chances of getting another agency to work with me after I've been turned down already are about 0%. Even if I could find one who's to say their RE would work with me? If this doesn't work then in all likelihood my surrogacy career is over.

All because of three fricken numbers.

Shoot.

Woot!

I like the word "woot". It's fun to use. I only use it in writing though (and in my head to myself), I would never have the nerve to say it out loud. I also think I'm using it ironically. I say it to mock people who use it seriously. Because why bother to say something if you're not slamming someone in the process?

Even if it's not a slam or a jab or an ironic comment on pop culture "woot" is still fun to say. Go ahead, try it. I'll wait.

Did you do it? And did you also raise your hands up sort of like you're throwing a free throw but subtly? No? Then you need to do it again. Go ahead.

See? It's fun isn't it? I don't even take cleansing breaths any more when I'm stressed. I take cleansing woots.

Woot is a good word to use when you get good news. Say for example, the news that you passed your surrogacy agencies strict new insurance screening and now you're on your way towards getting pregnant again.

So, yeah. Woot.

I am amazing

Do you ever have one of those days where you're walking up the stairs and you think "Wow! It's really amazing how my body just knows how to do this without me even having to think about it!" and then that causes you to think about how in the heck your body actually does walk up the stairs and then you get tripped up and fall? I've done that like six times in the last two days.

To top that off I've slowly realized that Jesse and I are on the outs with some people that we used to be fairly close with. Things started to get weird when I got pregnant with A and now we're not even speaking. If I had to guess I would say that it's probably because of the whole thing with me renting out my womb to make babies for gay people. That's just a guess though. I can't really confirm that though since they're not speaking to us since they are close minded and judgmental. At first I was hurt but then I realized they probably just saved me the trouble of giving them the brush off. Still, it stings a little bit to know that our relationship was less important to them than their homophobia.

To top all that, off this morning Elle said to me "Mama, you look pretty today. Just a little tiny bit pretty."

Stairs, creeps and children. All do wonders for the old self-esteem.

PS. When I just did spell check on this there was not a single misspelling found. Woot! That never happens to me!

PPS. I just misspelled "misspellings".

A few (stolen) thougths on Prop 8

How is it that people are ok with Prop 8? I mean, I know not everyone is ok with it but how is it sitting right with anyone? How can anyone be ok with the majority of California's voters voting to amend the constitution so that they are able to take away people's rights? How is it that we're not all outraged by this?

My own thoughts on this issue are too jumbled up for me to write them out clearly so check out what these other more eloquent people had to say about the issue:

Looky Daddy - Your days are none the better for what you have done

The Mighty, Might Monkseak - Things I got from the election

Wheels on the Bus - And happy Monday to you

Stimeyland - My sister got married!

Bitch Ph.D. - Love

If there's anything else out there you think should be listed let me know and I'll add it.

We just always love Obama

A couple of weeks ago Joseph asked me if we could to and get an Obama sign for our yard. (Ok, he asked for a "Brock Abama" sign but that's close enough.) I took him to the DFL office and he went in and (without any prompting from me) asked "Can I please have a Brock Abama sign an Al Franken sign and maybe some bumper stickers too if you have them?"

As the volunteer was getting the stuff together he looked at me and said "That's the cutest thing I've ever seen."

What can I say? My boy knows a good thing when he sees it. The sign is still in the yard. I just don't have the heart to take it down. I might save it and let Joseph keep it in his room.

On election day I was driving somewhere with Elle and she was singing away and the back seat. All of the sudden she stopped and said to me "Mama, I just always love Obama."

Oh Elle. Like a knife made of cute and smart you stab me in the heart and make me ooze love and pride and metaphorical gore all over the internet.

This is the last time I'm going to say this :VOTE!

Please, please, please go out and vote today. One way or another history is going to be made today. Don't just sit back and let it happen, get out there and be a part of it. If you're still undecided please watch this video. (Warning - this video may cause Obama supporters to weep.)

Frickenfrack

Fine. I hope you're all happy now. I'm on facebook. And I don't have a single friend. Hooray for virtual rejection!

(Please be my friend.)

Real conversation with the vagabond

vagabond: Are the the grandma?
me: No, I'm Joseph and Elle's mom.
vagabond: (after a long time staring at me thoughtfuly) You look like the grandma.
me: ......
vagabond: Can I come over for dinner?
me: No.

Different points of view

If you asked Elle what the best thing about today was she would probably say "It was when my mom put a manila envelope on each hand and then ran around the living room flapping her arms and pretending to be a bird and then she landed."

If you asked me what the worst thing about today was I would probably way "It was when I put a manila envelope on each hand and then ran around the living room flapping my arms and pretending to be a bird and then I tripped over my own feet and crashed to the floor. Also I got a paper cut on the inside of my elbow from the manila envelope."

On the lighter side

Ok, nothing political this time. Just a little something to make you laugh.

Happy Halloween!

I won't lay off until he wins

I swear you guys. I swear.

Attention to detail

I love calling my surrogacy agency. No matter when I call, for whatever reason, the phone call always ends the same way.

Me: Ok, I'll get those faxed over to you later today.
Case worker: Thank you so much!
Me: I'll talk to you later.
Case worker: Ok! And be sure to call me when your cycle starts!

It's not every place of business that takes such an interest in their clients. And you know what? It's nice to be asked to share. And for some reason the people in my every day life run away when I start trying to talk to them about my cycle.

Intelligent political discourse

My brother came over for pizza and MST3K and political talk the other night. It went like this:

My brother (upon finding out that I am going to vote for a certain person): "What?!?! How can you vote for him? He's such a douche bag!"
Me: "They're all douche bags. At least the douche bag I'm backing doesn't want to overturn Roe v Wade."

You know what? I didn't say that. I actually just said "Nah-uh!" and then accused him of taking too many paper napkins. Don't even try to debate with me because I'll put you in your place.

In other news, this "video" makes me want to "make out" with "Samantha Bee" and "buy" her some "chocolate".

Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for she

Guess what Elle's going to be for Halloween this year.

This was taken at an early trick or treating event. Because when you look this cute you don't go out just once. You make the most of it.

No rest for the weary

It's been a month since we moved into this house. In that month Joseph has slept through the night one time. Once. All the other nights he's woken up multiple times screaming for us to "help" him go back to sleep. Some nights he falls back asleep quickly and we'll only have to spend a couple of minutes with him. Other nights he'll scream and cry for an hour or more.

Last night was a rough one. For two hours he yelled and screamed at me. I sat there and listened to him as he screamed that once corner of his room was too dark, that he was cold, that he was hot, that his head hurt, that he hated me, that the computer room down the hall was too dark, that his leg hurt, that I was the worst mother ever, that his nose was runny, that he wanted to read a book and on and on and on and on. Outwardly I managed to keep my cool and I spoke to him in low, soothing tones (only raising my voice once when he wouldn't stop screaming "Daddy! Daddy! Daddy Daddy Daddy Daddy!" at the top of his lungs) and tried to gently convince him to go back to sleep.

On the inside though I was screaming too. "Why won't he just knock it off? Why won't he sleep? Can't he see how tired I am? Why won't he just be normal?"

We're at the end of our ropes here. During the day Joseph is cranky and hyper because he's not getting enough sleep. Jesse and I are crabby, with each other and with the kids, because we're not getting enough sleep.

I just don't know what to do. We've tried everything. Everything that should work hasn't worked. Every time someone asks "Have you tried .....?" the answer is yes, we've tried it and it didn't work. In fact, instead of getting better the situation seems to be getting worse.

I don't even know why I'm posting this. Maybe in a day or two I'll regret saying "Hey internet! Come read about how horrid my kid is and what a rotten mom I am!" Maybe not. Maybe I'm just wishing that someone out there will have a magical idea that fixes everything and lets us all get the sleep that we need.

I know I said we've tried it all but my god, what do we do here?

Alternate titles for Survivor

1. You're Old and Jeff Probst Hates You
2. The Jeff Probst Variety Hour
3. Jeff Probst Kind of Wishes You Would Walk in Front of a Bus
4. Hot Young Dudes That Jeff Probst Loves and Then Some Other People
5. The Penis Hour
6. Just How Big is the Stick That Jeff Probst Has Up His Butt?
7. America's Funniest Head Injuries
8. Sugar, Not as Annoying as You Might Have Thought at First But Still Just as Stupid
9. The Jeff Probst Enforced Leader Picking Show
10. Jeff Probst Turns Into a Cranky Old Man Right Before Your Very Eyes

If you live in California

Now is the time to donate. Let your support be known.

(Swiped from Looky, Daddy!)

HBO is not good for people over 50

My parents were at my house the other day and I overheard my dad ask my mom something. She responded with "Most def."

I told my brother about this and he told me that he had been over for dinner one night and the words "You need to get up in this here rice." had been uttered.

My parents aren't allowed to watch The Wire any more.

Not buying it

That show on VH1, The Pick-Up Artist. People actually watch that show? Like, on purpose? And this Mystery guy. Women actually sleep with him? On purpose?

I'm sorry, I fail to see how either of those things can be true.

I have a strong desire to meet this Mystery guy. I would like for him to try to pick me up just so that I could laugh at him. Then I would like for him to walk away from me a sad and broken man because all his tricks failed to woo a chubby midwestern housewife. And then I would like for him to realize that he's not nearly as awesome as he thinks he is so he goes home and backs out of his stupid show and the show has to be cancelled and everyone who looks up to him realizes what a loser he is and no one ever hears from him again ever. That's what I want. Is that so much to ask?

To cleanse myself of thoughts of that horrid, horrid little man and his horrid, horrid little show, here is a video of my friend Jen singing at a coffee shop. Jen is amazing. In addition to brewing beer and birthing babies (she was my doula) she writes and sings her own music. She's probably pretty handy with a skill saw too.

The laziest person in the world

I have two piles of paperwork sitting in front of my right now, both of them begging for my attention. One is the paperwork I need to do in order to give birth to someone else's child. Another is the paperwork I need to do in order to care for someone else's child. I hate paperwork so much that I'm starting to wonder if I should just skip becoming a surrogate and a respite care provider and just have a baby of my own instead. There's probably a lot less writing involved with that.

Circular logic

I was in a bad mood when I got up this morning. I was not in the mood to get up and make beds, load the dishwasher, do laundry and spend the day picking up after everyone else.

I sat Elle down at the counter with a juice box and banana and then proceeded to stomp dramatically around the kitchen. The fact that only Elle was there to witness it wasn't going to stop me from showing exactly how persecuted I felt this morning.

At first Elle kept up a stream of cheerful chatter. She's a morning person, it's what she does. At one point though I noticed that she wasn't really saying much. I turned to look at her and make sure she was ok and I found her staring thoughtfully out the window. After a moment she turned to face me and with a great big smile on her face said "Mama, I like circles."

I don't know how she did it but I'm not in a bad mood anymore.

Vagabond

I think we've discovered our local vagabond in our new neighborhood. You know what I'm talking about. Every neighborhood has one. It's the kid that just won't ever flipping go away.

Oh, it started out simple enough. I thought she was kind of cute at first. The day we moved in she asked me "Will he be my best friend!?!" while pointing to Joseph. Joseph was on cloud nine.

The next day I was introducing myself and the kids to the woman next door and her three red-headed little girls when the vagabond popped up again. "You're still my best friend right?" she asked Joseph.

"Uh, yeah" he said. "What's you're name again?"

I thought I caught the woman next door raising her eyebrows at me in sort of a crazy way but I just chalked it up to a facial tic and not as an attempt to warn me that the vagabond was going to attach herself to us like a leech.

Two days later Joseph and I were having a conversation with the four year old across the street. She started telling us about the vagabond. "She just comes to my house every day to bug me. She never goes away. Plus, she picked one of my mom's flowers!"

Joseph looked very serious. "Do you have any evidence of this?"

Without missing a beat the four year old responded "I don't even know what evidence is."

I like the four year old across the street.

In the past few days the vagabond has been here constantly. The second we walk in the door after school she's right there ringing the bell. If I say he can't play just then she hangs around outside the house until he can play. It's getting a little old and we've only lived here a week or so.

I think it crossed the line from "cute" to "Ok, now you're weirding me out" last night though. She and her brother and Joseph had played together for about three hours or so and then I said we had to take a break and eat dinner. I said that Joseph could maybe go for a scooter ride after dinner and if he could I would send him out later. Five minutes later I'm standing in front of the stove and I turn towards the front window and there she is, standing on our front porch just looking into the house.

I'm sorry, that irked me. Maybe I'm over-reacting because after all, she's only six but come one! I don't like anyone looking in my windows.

How do you handle kids like this? Does your neighborhood have one? And if you think it doesn't is it possible that's because your kid is that kid?

By the numbers

Days in Disney World: 10
Pictures taken: 1987
Total hours of sleep: 54
Stuffed animals bought: 4
T-shirts bought: 9
Times Joseph rode Expedition Everest: 10
Frozen lemonades eaten: 12
Blisters: 5
Characters met: 27
Minutes Joseph screamed on the plane home: 60
Emails to go through: 115
Items in Google reader: 996
Days till we move: 2
Boxes left to pack: 8465
Free time I have to sit around and use the internet: .3 seconds
Good times had and memories made: countless
Days until I'm going to want to go back again: 4

How to have an awesome Disney vacation

1. Spend months planning your Disney vacation. Write up a detailed itinerary with all your plans and needed information on it. Type it up in spreadsheet form. Put it in a very special place so that you don't forget it. Leave it at home when you go on vacation. Feel like a dumbass.

2. The day night before your vacation starts have your children jump around on a bed. Yell at the to stop. Have their jumping get even more frantic, to the point where they resemble rabid monkeys. Go over to the bed to stop them. Have one of them kick you in the eye with their razor sharp toenail of death.

3. Read your child the same bedtime story every night for months. Get her to depend on it to help her fall asleep. Put it in a special place so that you don't forget to take it when you go. Forget it and leave it at home.

4. Decide to buy and home and sell your current one. Pack up most of what you own before you leave for vacation. Plan on closing on the house two days after you get back. 30 minutes before you leave for the airport have your realtor call you and say "Now don't let the ruin you vacation but......" Then have him explain to you how everything might fall through on the whole house buying/selling deal.

5. Make plans to attend the Halloween party at Disney Wold. Buy a costume. Put it in a special place so that you don't forget to bring it with you. Forget it at home.

We're actually having a really good time. The kids are having a blast. Elle is afraid of the characters and Joseph had a melt-down when we told him we had to leave Tom Sawyers Island but otherwise everything has been really good. Tomorrow my parents get here and I think that will be a lot of fun. I'm really looking forward to letting someone else watch the kids spending some quality time with my family.

Sarah on Sarah

Sarah Haskins. The rockingest Sarah ever. Why can't she be our next VP?

At last, a practical use for blogging

Said to Joseph this morning during a big dramatic tantrum over being denied usage of a video game - "If you don't knock it off I'm going to blog about this."

He was instantly quiet as a mouse.

This blogging gig has finally paid off.

Home again, home again

Joseph is home again. Thank you to everyone who sent good wishes and kind words his way. The really meant a lot to him and to me. Other than a little bit of a cough Joseph seems to be feeling great. In fact, he was even able to go to school for half a day today. He'll do another half day on Monday then two full days and then we're leaving for Disney World.

Yeah, Disney is coming up fast. I still have all the vacation packing to do PLUS all the moving packing to do. While I was staying at the hospital all I could think was that I wanted to get home and start working on all that. Now that I'm home and looking that huge pile of work in the eyes all I can think is that I want to go back to the hospital and hide out for a few days more.

How did all of this come up so fast? And why didn't I try to get more of it done sooner? Oh yeah, because I am a complete slacker.

Jiggity jig.

I feel ya kid

Now tell me that doesn't break your heart just a teeny bit.

This just in - Things suck!

This hospital stay is getting frustrating. When I asked the doctor this morning if we were looking at "a couple" more days she said "A few actually". Yippee.

To add to the mess is that there is some sort of bacteria in the blood that was drawn from Joseph in the ER. Right now it's unclear if the bacteria was on his skin and contaminated the blood or if the bacteria was in his blood to begin with. They had to draw more blood this morning and that will have to be cultured for 24 hours before we really know what's going on there.

Joseph is getting homesick and squirrely. As am I. I feel like I haven't seen Elle or Jesse in so long. My house remains largely unpacked. We're totally unready for both the vacation and the move. Everything just sucks right now and I don't feel like being cheerful about it.

Yes, I said in my mouth

Small update to the Joseph situation. I guess I was wrong about what's going on with him. He does NOT have pneumonia. He had what the doctor is referring to as "breathing incident". If something like this happens time after time it's called asthma but if it only happens once it's called a breathing incident.

The doctor I spoke to today said it was probably brought on by a combination of Joseph's seasonal allergies being bad and him having a little bit of a cold. We're chalking it up to sort of a freak thing for now.

The good news is that once he gets out of here he'll probably be able to start school right away. He's not contagious so we won't have to keep him home.

The bad news is that last night I was struggling to get a very sleep and combative Joseph to pee into the little bedside pee thingy and there was ....... a bit of an incident. During the struggle Joseph was kicking and peeing at the same time. The pee went everywhere. My shirt was all wet. Some got in mouth.

Don't every let anyone tell you that motherhood isn't glamorous.

Beat

I am exhausted and writing this on very little sleep so you'll have to excuse me if it's a lacking in my usual coherence and wit. Or whatever.

Last night Joseph was breathing kind of funny. He was just laying on the couch and panting. He told us he couldn't take a deep breath. He's had a little bit of a cold so I figured it had something to do with that but I asked Jesse to run him in to the ER just to be on the safe side. I thought maybe they would give him a nebulizer treatment and then send him home.

Yeah, not so much. Turns out the poor little guy has pneumonia and his left lung wasn't really functioning at all. My parents came over to watch Elle and I drove to the hospital while Joseph was getting admitted to the pediatric ICU.

You know, I know that he was ok and in good hands but when I walked into that room and saw him laying on that big bed looking so sick and so fragile my heart just about stopped.

The good news is that Joseph is doing a ton better right now. He's been moved to the regular pediatric unit and is feeling really good. He has spent all day saying things like "I love this place!" and "They treat me like a king here!" and "This place is like heaven to me!" and "Why don't you have a tv and x-box on a cart at home so that you can wheel into my room for me?"

The bad news is that he'll have to stay for at least one more night. He can't go home until he's been off oxygen for 24 hours and right now he's still on it. That means he'll miss the first day of school (tomorrow) and then some. And that works out perfectly! You know, what with us pulling him out of school next week anyway so that we can go on vacation.

Oh well. The important thing is that my boy is ok. I'm keeping my fingers crossed that he gets to come home tomorrow. For now though my mom and Jesse are each going to spend a couple of hours with Joseph so that I can get a little sleep before heading back for the night.

Last night I twittered that Joseph was going to the ER and I got so many kind and thoughtful responses. Thank you to each and everyone of you who twittered back. Your kind words meant the world to me. Twitter, healing the world in 140 characters or less.

Babysitter fail

Me: Hey kids! Let's make a cake!

Adorable moppet that I'm babysitting: Hooray! Can I help?

Me: Actually, it will go a lot faster if I do it myself.

Because the whole point of baking a cake with kids is to get it over with as soon as possible so that you're that much closer to cramming that sweet, sweet cake into your mouth.

Also, when I opened the box, there was a dead bug in the cake mix.

Best. Babysitter. Ever.

The visible spectrum is rainbows!

Ok, I don't think it's ok to laugh at people who are mentally ill. I don't think someone chemical imbalance or neurological disorder should be a source of amusement to people.

Now, having said that, I have to share this video with you. Something about it just makes me giggle. I just keep picturing this woman standing on her lawn and videotaping because she's so horrified by the rainbow being made by the sprinkler. And I'm finding it funny. I'm sorry, I can't be good 100% of the time.

Easy, breezy, beautiful Cover Girl art

Elle has been such a stinker lately. I'm ready for the terrible twos to be over any time now thank you very much.

Yesterday Elle poured water onto some Disney books of mine on purpose. I as her down for a timeout. When she refused to stay sitting I sat down with her. Then she poked me in the eye and giggled when I told her "NO!" She then continued to giggle and try to poke at my eyes for the next five minutes.

Joseph got more and more upset watching me try to wrestle Elle into time-out submission so he volunteered to take her upstairs and play with her. I thankfully accepted the offer. Ten minutes later I realize that things are really quiet upstairs. Just as I'm thinking that I should go check on the kids Elle yells down the stairs to me "Mama! Come see what I do!"

"What did you do sweetie?" I asked as I started up the stairs.

"I do beautiful painting!"

Painting? What could she have been painting upstairs? I moved the nail polish after she got into that. What in the world is she talking about?

I get to the stop of the stairs and there stands Elle, gesturing grandly into the bathroom. And what do you think I saw in there?

On one of the boxes I had been packing up with.
On the bathroom cabinet.
And what's that on the floor?
The little stinker took some make-up that I had used maybe twice and smeared it all over. What didn't get used for "painting" ended up on the bathroom floor and smashed into the rug.

So what do you suppose it says about me as a mom that my first reaction was to run and get my camera?

My county fair can kick your couty fair's ass

Sorry to break it to you but my county fair is better than your county fair. I know you don't believe me (because who wants to admit that they've got an inferior count fair?) but I've got proof.

When you enter my county fair you're greeted by this.I bet your county fair doesn't have a woven blanket of Jesus..... wearing a darling chiffon cocktail dress.

We've also got a poultry barn.Row after row of birds of all kinds.

We've got chickens that look like Tina Turner.You should see the legs on those things.

We've got chickens that look like other famous people too.Nobody here but us Phil Spectors.

We've got turkeys too. Actually, I don't know how big of a selling point that is.
When you get up close to them they're kind of gross.

And sometimes they get mad when you take pictures of them and they try to peck your camera. Then you have to scream and nearly drop your camera. It's the law.

At my county fair you can win a blue ribbon for having the best rat with wings. This one was named Bernice. She was not a winner. I don't know why. She looks perfectly nice to me. As nice as a disease ridden bird can look.

At the 4-H floral display you can find hot bug sex. That's even better than the dog sex that some fairs have.

Once you're tired of looking at exhibits it's time for some snacks. And this is where my county fair really comes out on top. We've got Tacos In A Bag, cheese curds, fry bread, Pronto Pups, Do It Yourself Snowcones, fry bread tacos, roast beef sundaes, giant turkey legs, cheese curd tacos in a bag, mini doughnuts and the greatest thing that modern man has ever created....The deep fried candy bar. For only $5 you can own your own little piece of heaven.

So there you have it, there is no beating my county fair. Clearly I have ..... wait a second. I just received an urgent update. This year the Minnesota State Fair has chocolate covered bacon! So if you'll excuse me there's a little something I have to take care of.

My Canadian hero

Dr. Henry Morgentaler is an abortion provider who has survived two attempts on his life. Thank the universe for brave men and woman like him.

I can take an anxious woman, who is in the biggest trouble she has ever experiences in her life, and by performing a five-minute operation, in comfort and dignity, I can give her back her life.

You can read more about Dr Morgentaler here.

Good news honey!

Jesse,
I know that there have been times in our marriage that have been a little rough. I know that sometimes we fight and argue and disagree. In the end though it always works out because we love each other and you always apologize and I always forgive you. I'm such a good wife.

In the past there have been times when I have thought the only way we could continue to stay under the same roof was if you slept in the garage. I never made you do it though because our garage is detached and not heated and 178 years old.

You don't have to worry about any of that any more now though. See, the garage in our new house is heated so when I do eventually make you sleep out there you'll probably be reasonably comfortable.

Happy nine year anniversary sweetie. I love you even more today than I did the day we got married. Of course, that's not saying a lot because I mostly married you so that I could have a big party where people would give me lots of stuff.

Regards,
your wife

PS Whitaker Dupont says hi!

I'm just kidding folks! Jesse knows I love him. And I know that he'll know that this is all a joke.

The manicure

Her voice was soft. "Is it weird for you?" And sad. "Knowing that I'm going to die?"

The question hung in the air, heavy and dark.

Was it weird? No. I had been to the funerals of old men and babies and everyone in between. Death wasn't weird for me. Everyone has to die sometime. Even if that person is my aunt, my friend, as close to me as a sister.

I found myself angry at the question. I had come over to do her nails that day not to discuss her death. I didn't want to be confronted with it like that. I bit my lip to keep from snapping at her in anger and for a long time the only sound was the soft whisper of the file as I smoothed away a rough spot on her thumbnail. I didn't know the right way to answer the question without letting on how upset I really was.

So I lied. "I don't know, not really. I guess I don't think about it that much." I didn't want to admit, even to myself, how often I thought about it.

And I told the truth. "When I think about it though I always think that somehow you'll get better. I know it's not logical or realistic but it's what I always think."

She nodded and then we quickly looked away from each other, both of us blinking back tears.

Five minutes later we had moved past the whole issue and had moved on to discussing reality tv, silly family gossip and memories of the times she had lived with my family.

We were laughing something or other when her husband came in to break things up. He decided I had been there long enough and that I should probably go so that my aunt could rest. I still had two nails left to do but I promised her I would come back soon and finish them.

Shortly after that her health took a turn for the worse. It seemed sort of silly to worry about her nails when she was so full of painkillers that she couldn't even respond to us when we asked her a question.

Less than two weeks after I gave her the manicure my aunt died. At the memorial service I looked into her coffin and saw that her nails were shiny and smooth. All but the two that I had promised her that I would do "later".

I'm still sad that I was never able to finish that manicure.

Olympic games for toddlers

What Joseph said to me today -
"I'm making up a new Olympic game for Elle to take part in. In order to succeed you need speed, agility, helpfulness, legs and dignity. You also have to be able to chase things that are rolling."

Oh, I love this child.

My lovely lady lumps

"Your breasts are really lumpy and fibrous." The health care provider stared down her nose at me, waiting for a response.

"Um...... Thank you?" I tentatively offered.

"No!" She snapped. "That's a bad thing! You need to do monthly self-exams and really get to know your breasts. You need to learn what lumps are there now so that you'll know if you get a new lump."

Monthly self-exams? The mere acreage involved made that a daunting prospect. But on top of that I had to get to know my lumps? How in the hell was I supposed to tell the difference between a bad lump and a plain old "no really, my boobs are supposed to look like that" lump? Rather than question the good doctor I just promised to do monthly self-exams like a good, fibrous girl.

The doctor smiled. "Good." She said. "Now put your shirt back on. There's no reason to strip before getting a flu shot."

Recently there has been some controversy about how effective self-exams really are preventing deaths from breast cancer. When I first heard this I was pleased. Maybe it meant I could stop doing them! But then I researched a little more and discovered that the results of the study aren't all that clear. I hope that anyone who considers not doing self-exams because of this study really takes the time to research it.

I still do self-exams but I don't do them on a monthly basis. I never have. I am a chronic putter-offer and that's just one more thing that gets added to the "eh, I'll do it later" list. At this point, if nothing else, I need to reacquaint myself with my breasts. Two pregnancies, a year plus of nursing and four weeks of pumping have changed the landscape of my breasts. (It's also made them migrate a lot closer to my knees but that's neither relevant nor something anyone needs to know.) I need to get to know them and their lumpy ways again so that even if I don't do monthly exams I'll still be able to spot something really unusual or different.

So what about you? Do you do monthly self-exams? Do you think you should do them but somehow never get around to it? Do you think it's a total waste of time? Am I the only one with fibrous breasts? Don't I look cute in manga form?

Cute girl, too bad about the eyebrows

I know, I know. I've been a very bad blogger lately. I'm not writing, I'm not reading. I'm not leaving comments. I'm not even answering comments. In short, I'm sucking wind at this whole blogging thing. I have an excuse though!

You see, right now I'm just a little wrapped up in me. Or rather, I'm wrapped up in my stress about house stuff. In some sort of crazy miracle series of events we found the perfect house and had someone put an offer in on ours all within 48 hours. Another miracle, the home we found was waaaay out of our price range but the sellers agreed to drop the price and we're getting it for $30,000 than what it was originally listed at. Yet another miracle, the buyers of our house offered us very close to what we were asking and despite the rotten housing market we're still walking out of this place with a profit.

All of this came about about after a lot of offering and counter-offering and haggling and waiting and hand wringing. And it's not done yet. There will be an inspection of our house on Friday and we'll have an inspection of the house we want early next week. I'm worried, worried, worried about what those might turn up. I have no reason to think either one will go badly but I feel like everything has gone so smoothly so far that we're bound for some bad luck.

So for now I'm going to try to be positive. I'm going to focus on getting all our worldly possessions packed (because the proposed closing date is September 23rd!) and getting ready for our trip to Disney World.

The number one thing on my "must do before vacation" list? Getting my eyebrows waxed. I don't want to go on vacation and take a ton of pictures and then come back and show them to people have everyone say "Looks like you had a great time but why were you carrying those two caterpillars around on your forehead the whole time?"

Because people would totally ask that. And if you don't believe me it's because you've never seen my eyebrows.

Special Exposure Wednesday - Little triumphs

An ice cream cone at the fair might not seem like a big deal but this moment was a big deal to me. Joseph has had a lifetime of food aversions and sensory issues. It took two years of food therapy to get him to the point where he was eating a somewhat balanced (although very limited) diet. Lately though he's been making huge steps all on his own, requesting new foods that he's never had before and more readily agreeing to try new things that I ask him to.

On this particular day we were at the fair and Joseph asked for some ice cream. When I bought him a cone he was a little unsure. I encouraged him and he took a tiny, tentative bite. Then he ate nearly the entire thing. I'm sure all the people around us wondered about the crazy lady taking 100 pictures and cheering because her child was eating an ice cream cone. It was a good day.

Wordless Wednesday - Happiness is a big pile of mud!

Dreaming

We have found a beautiful home that is just perfect for us. We're putting an offer in on it tomorrow. It's going to be low, much lower than what they're asking. I'm just keeping my fingers crossed that they come back with a counter offer that's halfway workable for us. Of course even if they accept the offer we still have to sell our house. The good news in that area is that the drug dealers across the street are getting evicted. That's gotta count for something right?

Keep your fingers crossed for us.

A day at the fair (complete with hot sex)

Yesterday my family and my friend Jen's family got together and drove out to the local county fair. It was a day filled with greasy food, people watching, animal poop and overpriced and rickety rides. Here are some highlights.

We couldn't resist stopping in the "Conservation" building. The sign is what drew us in.

Next we stopped for a little while to watch the Old People Trio do a rocking version of "In Heaven There Is No Beer". The crowd went wild. Well, this one little girl did. It was pretty cute.

After that we stopped in the horse barn to see the horses. Look! Janessa is "showen" Oreo. There were about a dozen of these carefully made, glittery, misspelled signs on various horse stalls. I was a little embarrassed for their maker but then I started to wonder if maybe "showen" is some sort of fair lingo that I just don't know about. Anyone know?

Next we went to look at some smaller animals. Look at these cute little baby chicks! I wonder what the ideal home for baby chicks is?

Why a popcorn popper of course! This conjured up all sorts of funny images in my head that I won't even go into because I don't want people to think I'm weird. The fact that I wanted to drizzle melted butter all over these little guys means nothing ok?

On to the deformed animal exhibit! We all enjoyed seeing the stuffed two headed calf and it's .... commemorative plaque? Actually I think we were all a little weirded out. Except Joseph who gleefully sang "Old McDonald had a farm e-i-e-i-o! And on that farm he had a two headed cow e-i-e-i-o! With a moo-moo moo-moo here and and moo-moo moo-moo there!"

Next half of our group went into the cow barn and half of us stayed out to watch the "Oh my god I'm never eating beef or drinking milk again" exhibit. This cow was getting her hooves filed down and not only did it look really uncomfortable there were also huge shards of hoof flying out into the crowd. I think one got in my eye.

Luckily my eyesight was not affected by the big sliver of cow foot in my eye so I was able to enjoy the art exhibit. Trent won second place with his portrait of Justin Timberlake. I was impressed

Finally we moved on to the carnival portion of the fair where we got to see some red hot doggie style sex. And no Mr Carnie, just because I'm taking a picture of them doesn't mean I want to try to win one of your obscene stuffed animals.

How do you know it's time to leave the fair? When you start to whine and pout when you're not allowed to play with the giant box of electricity.

All in all a good day. I just wish I had gotten a picture of the deep fried peanut butter and jelly sandwich I got. That thing was better than red hot doggie style sex.

I love the fair.