Problem Girl - SAHM, birth mother, adoptive mother, former foster mother, surrogate mother x3, chocoholic and all around swell gal. Is not afraid to use the word "poop" in a serious discussion. Jesse - Hard working family man who takes more of a beating here than he probably deserves. Thinks jackalopes are real. Joseph - Precocious twelve year old who's going to change the world someday with his Aspie super powers. Writes 115 page long fanfic epics. Elle - Feisty, bossy, sassy, adorable, opinionated, sweet six year old lovebug. Will hate us someday for spelling her name in a way that makes everyone mispronounce it.
Oh. Hello there roofers working across the street. I'm sure you're laughing at a joke that you heard earlier and not at the sight of me dancing to Bad Romance. I ... I sort of forgot that people could see into my giant picture window. And that there were people out there. And that I'm the worst dancer in the world.
(I need to crawl in to a hole and never come out.)
One year ago today Joseph hurt my feelings. Two years ago today my brother and I talked politics. Three years ago today I was burned out on Halloween. Four years ago today I was drunk. I think.
I have got a weird, random, out-of-no-where case of baby fever going on. I think it's because I'm surrounded by people who just had babies or are pregnant or are trying to get pregnant. I have a tendency to get swept up in what ever excitement is going on around me. It might also be because Elle is five now and the other day she told me "I'm not your baby any more!" *die*
Even though Jesse and I had already agreed long ago that we were done with babies I brought up the whole idea to him yesterday. I presented my reasonable, well thought out arguments to him. "But I waaaaaaaaaant one!"
He considered my points and said "Not in this lifetime crazy-pants."
He stuck with that even when I pouted (which almost always get me what I want!) so I went to the bedroom to cry play Sims3.
So no more babies for me I guess because I have to be a damned grown up and make the responsible choice. Shoot.
Oh, but here's good news! When we got back from vacation I had a terrible back ache that left me pretty much unable to move for about four days. One day I was laying in bed and Elle asked me to get her a drink. I sort of scooted-rolled out of bed and as I did I found my lost gold earring laying on the floor between my bed and the night stand. I had looked in that exact spot a dozen times already so I guess the earring must have been caught in the bed sheet or something and it had finally worked it's way loose. Hooray! I was so happy.
Not happy enough to make up for the fact that my husband is keeping me from achieving triple motherhood but, you know, still happy.
Three years ago today I was massively pregnant in a picture and I talked about having a womb for rent. Five years ago today I was the boring mother of a newborn.
We had a wonderful time and I did not want to come home. Our house was not robbed or burned down while we were gone.
I took nearly 1500 pictures. I am not in a single one of them. Of course.
I'm a little bit grumpy right now. I've got a major case of post vacation blahs and I'm also nursing a wicked backache. My plans for the day include sorting through some of the pictures and then laying around and having Jesse bring me chocolate.
I'll be more interesting tomorrow. If I feel up to it. In the mean time if you are so inclined I'll be putting up vacation pictures here.
One year ago today I was practically famous. Four years ago today Elle ate cake. Five years ago today I didn't worry about pooping while giving birth.
Right now Elle is in her room stomping around loudly and muttering to herself. She's throwing a little fit because she asked me to make a peanut better and jelly sandwich and when I made it I put the peanut butter on the top and the jelly on the bottom. She got even madder when I fixed it by flipping the sandwich over.
Have I mentioned before how terrified I am of her teenage years?
Three years ago today I was pregnant with Little A and I ate gross things. Five years ago today I was pregnant with Elle and I ate even grosser stuff.
Sic months out from the c-section and I still have large patches on my abdomen where I have no sensation. It occurs to me that it would have been really nice if someone had warned me in advance that this can happen. It's not like I would have refused to get the c-section but it would have been nice to know. I like to be prepared.
Remember when I had gall stones? It was just about the worst pain I've ever had and I've given birth without pain medication. It only took one gall bladder attack for me to decided I wanted my gall bladder out. (My recovery from the surgery led to my most popular post ever, loved by both fellow bloggers and random googling poops fetishists alike.)
Now I'm not saying I regret having my gall bladder out. At the time I was suffering there is probably nothing you could have told me about life post-surgery that could have made me change me mind. I'm just saying, a warning about some of the side effects would have been nice. Like, maybe as I was being put under the doctor could have said "Oh, and by the way, for the rest of your life you're going to have occasional, random moments where you feel like your insides have liquefied and are going to shoot out of you at a high rate of speed. Just wanted you to know!"
Since he didn't tell me that I had to come to the realization on my own that the on and off stomach bug I've had ever since the twins were born in fact is not a stomach bug but a fact of life that I've got to learn to live with. And I had that realization after an incident today were I was standing in Best Buy, sweating profusely, concentrating on clenching every muscle in my body and thinking "If I move from this exact spot I'll explode. I'll just have to live here for the rest of my life."
As I stood there trying to look casual and not attract the attention of salespeople (lest they come over to me and talk to me and require a response from me which would cause me to unclench something and lose control of my ... parts) I did some quick googling on my phone. It turns out that the entire internet knows that gall bladder removal can cause, oh, let's just say intestinal issues.
I just wish someone had maybe thought to let me know.
My dad was in the Air Force my entire childhood. When I was 17 he had to go to Saudi Arabia for a few months. When he was there be bought me a pair of gold hoop earrings. I have worn those earrings nearly every day of my life since I got them.
The hoops are nice and small so they don't catch on anything. They close well so I never worry about them falling out when I shower or sleep. I never take them out. In fact, the last time I took them out was the day the twins were born. I put them right back in as soon as I could that day.
This morning I went to take a shower and I realized the earring was missing from my right ear. I searched all over the bathroom floor and in the clothes I had been wearing. Then I searched my bed and the floor of my bedroom. I looked all over my house and in my car. I can't find the earring anywhere.
The kicker is that I'm not even sure when I lost it. I have a nervous habit of playing with the earring in my left ear so if it was that one that had fallen out I would have known it right away but since it's the right earring that's missing I have no idea when it fell out. If it fell out at home I'll probably find it sooner or later but I could have fallen out this weekend while at my cousin's wedding or as I was running around town getting ready for the wedding. In that case I know I'll never get it back.
I feel just sick about this. Those earrings were really special to me. I keep putting my hand up to my ear to play with the earring just out of habit but then I remember the earring is stuck in my dresser drawer just waiting for me to find it's mate.
Jen
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