A Mommy Blog About Raising Men, Not Boys.

Sunday, July 29, 2012

To The Snoochie Booches Who Used to Own This House....

You might remember, if you've been around here for a few years, that back in 08 we fought the box spring battle that truly, felt like the ultimate box spring battle. We survived, and even bought another mattress and box spring since then, getting them up and down the stairs with relatively little drama or tears.
But our box spring broke apart last month and had to be replaced.

The husband has serious arthritis issues and his back bothers him quite a lot, so he did a lot of bed shopping and then I followed up and we picked a bed we thought we both liked it. So paid them the crazy amount of money for the bed that was required, getting a GOOD bed this time, and had it delivered.

We anticipated a certain amount of drama getting it up the stairs. It was, after all, thicker than the previous mattress and box spring so it wouldn't wiggle as easily but still, we had to knock out some of the ceiling when we moved in, we felt we knew the drill.

We led off with more of the ceiling being knocked out there over the landing, and a hole accidentally getting punched in the drywall. This wasn't a good start.
But still, we felt like we had a good grip on what we were gonna do. The oldest boy and his dad tried for four hours to get it upstairs. When I got home got the mattress up - but the box spring would not go.
This is the box spring perfectly wedged between the ceiling and stairs. It wouldn't go another inch. No matter what. Because it was thicker than the old one, we were right - no wiggle room. It was stuck and would not budge no matter what we did. We needed inches - and not that many. But how?

Funny story here. Upon pulling up carpet - we learned, that the PREVIOUS owners of this house had done exactly the same thing. You should've seen the way these stairs were put back together. It's like if you and a buddy got drunk and made stairs. So we were hopeful that this amount of space would do it.
But it didn't. So the husband put the stairs BACK and we went to bed. And then the next night....
We did a few more steps. But again, this wasn't enough for the box spring to go. So, after taking down all these stairs, my husband had to put them all back again so that the kids could use the stairs safely and we all went to bed AGAIN (btw we were sleeping on the floor with our new mattress).
It was the third night, the third magic night that the husband sorted out exactly which the previous owners had taken out to get THEIR OWN beds up and down. Once we got the box spring past halfway - UP IT WENT.

So, you Snoochie Booches who used to own this house. WHAT A BUNCH OF JERKWADS YOU ARE.

Ugh. Every single day we find some other jacked up thing they hid I swear.

But, the bed is awesome. It was almost worth it. BUT NOT QUITE.

Monday, July 23, 2012


I fight these battles that don't matter. I think everyone does it, to some extreme or another. I find myself more and more fighting them with the twins.

It's not because I want to be in charge. It's not because I want them to obey me (I do).

I'm realizing now, that it's because I'm fighting the battle I CAN fight, as the one I want to fight I'm powerless  against.

It's a management lesson that definitely applies to parenting. Managers under pressure, stress and strain tend to freak out and act like lunatics over the small, insignificant things they CAN control when other BIGGER things start exploding around them.

For instance, I was once part of a company that had a huge project (if you worked there you know it as THE MOVE). We were supposed to move our warehouse, from one place to another over the course of three days. After three weeks and Armageddon raining down on us to the point of mental collapse of everyone involved, the president of the company walked through my department and literally freaked out because someone had a coat hanging on the back of their chair. Employees were not allowed to drape their coats on the backs of their chairs.

HE FREAKED OUT about how we all knew the rules and he had never better see this again. I really liked him then and now, and was lucky at that time to have enough tenure in leadership to recognize what was happening, and just say "ok" and let it go. I was also lucky enough to be good enough friends with him to taunt him mercilessly about it a couple of years later.

As a parent, I just caught myself fighting with an 8 year old autistic boy who was screaming OPEN DOOR OPEN DOOR. Why? Because there was a spare sippy cup behind the door. He didn't need it. He didn't really want a drink he just wanted the cup. It's sitting on the floor beside me right now. For about five minutes, I held fast to "By god NO I AM NOT OPENING THAT DOOR YOU ARE NOT MAKING ME OPEN THAT DOOR" as I finished up getting clean post bath clothes together.

The cup was something I could control.

I can't control autism. It controls me. But I find myself more and more making these bad choices, fighting the wrong things, because autism won every single round without even entering the ring.

So I shut my mouth and took his hand and walked over to the door, while he looked up at me wild eyed - certain he was in BIG trouble. I opened the door, let him get the cup and then asked him what he wanted to watch on TV.

I have to do better than that. I lost the war. I should stop fighting the battles that don't matter.

Sunday, July 22, 2012

For the Love of God

You know that scene in Clueless where they accidentally get on the freeway and the girls start shrieking hysterically? Or any horror movie where the heroine just saw something so unimaginable that all she can do is scream and recoil in horror?
That's just happened when I served the twins THIS...

Tuesday, July 17, 2012

Then There Was My Foot

I would describe it as comedy except it's not funny. I would worry about having developed a wee bit of Munchausens's syndrome except that, I'm really not enjoying it not even sub-consciously I promise.

My never ending parade of doctors goes on though,  I think at 43 you require more doctors than at 33 or 23. This SEEMS to be true. I've seen more "ologists" in the past six months than I've seen in my whole life.

The neurologist who treated me for the brain cloud has declared me brain cloud free. That's a good thing except for the fact that they don't know why I got dizzy and my brain got numb and stuff. So, we'll call that the Brain Cloud and move on I suppose.

Then after my surgery last week which I survived, it was on for a follow up to my rheumatologist who rocked my life by adding more vitamin D to my world . I had some blood work done to check my levels and turns out, even after the monster doses I took and my daily supplements I'm still freaking low, at 22 which is just above the line of MADLY deficient. So back to mega doses and then more mega doses plus daily supplements. I told her that I really felt much better, but since my level was like 12 last time, she said "Think how great it's going to be be when you feel GOOD." So I guess YAY for that eh?

While I was there, my foot came up.

Funny thing about my right foot. It's really hurt for a long time. New shoes hurt. Old shoes hurt. I got the new shoes because I thought it was the old shoes. I have sneakers and work shoes and summer sandals with a wedge heel. They all hurt a bit. Some more than others.

Another funny thing, my rheumatologist is a wee woman with the ability to put your thumb into your flesh into a way that makes grown men weep. So I showed her where my foot hurt, and she put her thumb so far in my foot I think the nuckle was hidden and wiggled it around while I GASPED FOR AIR AND PRAYED FOR DEATH, and then said "Oh, that's a break. Did you break your toe or anything recently?"

Yes I did. IN 2011.

So, xrays and a bone scan to determine the extent of the break is coming and then we figure out what to do ABOUT MY FOOT




Sunday, July 15, 2012

I Think The TSA Stole My Face Soap

I signed up for the Target Summer Beauty bag this time around, and I admit, it was pretty awesome. But to me the big win was discovering Aveeno smart essentials daily scrub. It is probably the best facial scrub that my 43 year old face has run into in years. I raved about it on plurk when it came out. So imagine my chagrin when, after having taken it to New York with me that I couldn't FIND it when I returned home.
At first I thought that I had left it in the suitcase I carelessly left unpacked for about two weeks. But then I finally got around to unpacking it and going through my sundry chick bags of this and that to no avail. NO AVEENO CLEANSER.

This was about the time that my husband pointed out the sticker on my suitcase, saying the TSA had opened and inspected my bag.


What a bunch of jerkwads.

That's fine. I will buy more. TAKE my cleanser you ne'er do well. AND MAY YOU NEVER HAVE A DAY'S LUCK WITH IT!

I've asked Eddard Stark to convey my feelings on this.

Saturday, July 14, 2012

Removing the Uterine Lining With Thermal Energy - or a Surgery Recap

You may recall that I tried to have an in office procedure, called an endometrial ablation, a few weeks ago.
It didn't work out because, that procedure involved them opening my cervix, inserting a balloon and then filling that balloon with hot scalding water. The transfer of heat through the balloon through to my uterus would've burned the lining and caused it, after it heals, to no longer produce my monthly cycle.
It didn't work out because unlike most of you, my uterus is heart shaped (yours is likely egg shaped) plus mine has a septum, so that meant the balloon wouldn't stretch all the way out and be able to touch all the surfaces.
Thus, my periods wouldn't stop.
What we ended up having to do, was do it at the hospital, with me asleep, as my doctor said first of all they would be opening way more than he could make me comfortable in the office (eeeek) and they would be using a spray of scalding water directly into my uterus to make sure they get maximum efficiency and coverage.
So yesterday my family dropped me off at Day Surgery at Gwinnett Medical center and I went in for the procedure which was supposed to take about 3 hours.
I arrived at 11am.
So first of all you go to pre-op and you get the lovely slippers (I am a huge fan of these slippers, they give me a pair every time I am there.) and a hospital gown. In day surgery it's kind of interesting because they have a recliner, and you get all wrapped up in blankets from the warmer and they start your IVs and lots of people come in to check on you and ask you all the same questions over and over and over. But I have to say again, that the staff at Gwinnett Medical is so freakishly nice. It's kind of comforting, I guess that's the point though.

I was however, at about the time for my surgery, ravenous. I couldn't eat before it of course and by the time 12:30 came I was starving. However it was show time and they waddled me down the hall, swathed in warm blankets and comfy sock and we went into the operating room.

First of all, what the hell these were the biggest stirrups I ever saw in my life. The ones in my room were actually bigger than this. Luckily I was asleep when they strapped me into them.
The table was about like that though, and as I rested my head on the neck brace there, the whole team says "OH NO SHE'S TALL!" as my butt was down too far or something. OH NO! TALL GIRL! That amused me a little. I was laying down, and the anesthesiologist shot something into my IV but the nurse said "No wait she has to stand up" and he said "too late". Lol. At this point I'm a little confused. I think the anesthesiologist did stand me up or hold me up but I might've dreamed that bit.

Because next I was awake in recovery, with the nurse who had checked me in and hooked me up. I think. I'm not entirely clear. What I do know is, I woke up to what I will describe as hard labor going on in my uterus, and no baby to motivate me to push.

Hard labor, with no pain medicine. They gave me morphine. I didn't even feel anything. Nothing. No change. They gave me more. Nothing. About 20 minutes into this routine I was sobbing and they've got a cool cloth on my forehead and two nurses cooing over me to relax and breathe which was pissing me off.

Then one of them says "we can't give you more morphine because of your sleep apnea".


I asked WHAT THE HELL were they talking about, that I don't have sleep apnea. In between my sobbing and their cooing we figured out that me answering "yes" to the question "Do you snore?" in pre-op got my chart flagged as sleep apnea.

They gave me more morphine, and more morphine. I am shocked to tell you that I had absolutely zero response. At one point I asked them to be sure it wasn't tylenol. They laughed and said they don't give Tylenol in IV post surgery.

Finally they realized I was about to lose my fucking mind and my blood pressure was going up from stress so they called a doctor and explained that I do not have sleep apnea, and my nurse came back with something that burned as it went into my hand, but nearly as fast as the burning faded I felt my entire body fade and relax.

I was suddenly so out of it, I could barely answer her to tell her I felt better. I could hear her telling someone I had to stay in a bed, and to let me sleep at least another 30 minutes, and explaining to someone that I don't have sleep apnea - another nurse, and saying which doctor had changed my pain management.

I woke up in my little recovery room with a different nurse, who brought me a percocet to stay ahead of the pain and some ginger ale.

I kept the percocet down somehow, it apparently dissolved immediately, but then the barfing started. The nurse said it was likely from all the morphine they gave me, plus the twilight sleep. I threw up about 10 graham crackers that I tried to eat on and off, and 3 cups of ginger ale.

At about 4pm, bleary and in various levels of pain, they told me they really couldn't give me any more narcotic or IV drugs, and so if I wasn't gonna STAY I was gonna have to go home. My family was summoned and right about the time they arrived I started puking again.

I took more drugs and more drugs and puked some more and went to bed for the sleep of the drugged and miserable.

But it wasn't all bad. My watcher and #1 fan settled in beside me for the long haul, prepared to stay with me all night.

I was only able to eat jello last night, but today I had a bowl of grits - and some coffee. I've only had ibuprofen and that is keeping the pain at bay enough that I can THINK. Now I'm just kind of tired from yesterday but, I feel so much better.

This had better have worked, is all I am saying. Because it was hell.

Thursday, July 12, 2012

The CIA Is Hiring

So last night I went out for drinks and a movie with some work mates. We had a great time, but on the way home, I probably heard one of the most hilarious things ever on the radio.
The CIA is hiring.
Seriously, the CIA is doing RADIO DROPS to get people to apply to work for them.
I was sort of half heartedly listening, when it occurred to me it wasn't some sort of joke advertisement. They kept going on about Clandestine Service and then finished with "See more information at CIA.GOV."

This is hilarious and intriguing to me on many levels. First of all, is no one left in military intelligence or like, the FBI or something to move over into the CIA? That seems like it would be a promotion from where I sit out in civilian land. I'm not sure of course, but in my movie-based point of reference, CIA seems like the coolest spy unit to work for.

Secondly, in the radio ad, they list qualifications as "being able to take a polygraph test" and "willing to submit to a physical exam."

Ok - able. Yes, I am ABLE to take a polygraph test. I'm wondering what they are looking fro though. The ability to tell the truth or the ability to LIE AND FOOL THE MACHINE. That's sort of fascinating to me. I thought only sociopaths can fool the machine though, so maybe that's not such a good quality.

Willing to submit to a physical exam? Yeah ok. If forty something and kind of fat works for you, exam all you want.

I kind of want to know what sort of questions they would ask you. I'm fascinated. Part of me wants to apply JUST to find out. I'm fairly sure they don't pay anything worth getting myself killed in some third world prison for, but man, it's definitely intriguing. I linked to them so they'll see this blog post and know I'm not serious and I won't get an interview. :(  Part of me WANTS TO KNOW WHAT ITS LIKE TO INTERVIEW FOR THE CIA.

Plus, if they asked me if I would kill a man, I could answer, "In Reno - Just to watch him DIE."

Looking at their web page - does anyone else things it's freaky that they have a kids page?

Tuesday, July 10, 2012

My Facebook Is A Mystery

I'm not sure how all the people got there, the people on my FACEBOOK.
Some of them I know. I look at their updates with a bit of interest. I work with some. I used to work with some. There are the personal friends and the family.
But then, there are OTHER.
First of all, the Attorney General of Florida is there, Pam Bondi.
I don't know why. I don't live in Florida any more, and I don't think she was the Attorney General when I lived there. She would've had to have added me. What's the motivation there?
There was the weird dude from the Evil Empire who is the night janitor. I'm positive we didn't have a night janitor when I worked there, nor did we ever know each other. Why did he add me?
I agree I'm cool but really, I'm kind of persona non-grata around there.
There is a girl on my Facebook who I thought was someone I used to work with,thus approved, but now, this former redneck/somewhat racist seems to have multi-racial family. I'm confused if she changed or I added a stranger. I mean, yay if she changed but.....I guess I'm a cynic and not betting on that.

There are the various women who seem to be wives/girlfriends of guys I know who added me. Some of these guys I dated. Some of these guys I did not date, nor even shag. Girls, add me all you want. If you old man is up to shenanigans, I promise you it's not my MY Facebook wall nor anyone else's.
Unless you married an idiot.

I look at Facebook maybe once or twice a day on my phone, maybe once a week on my computer. Maybe not that often. I'm not addicted. I tend to just approve people because I have worked a lot of places and can't remember who everyone is.

I quit looking for people much, simply because, I've pretty much got the people I know and love. Random people I haven't seen in 30 years, I am unsure how much we really have in common anymore. So generally these days I am just adding people who add me. Except for my best friend in grade school. THAT BITCH WON'T ADD ME. FINE! I don't wanna be your friend anyway! I guess I see her point, it's been oh, 30 as pointed out above - really, do we need to connect? Nah.

I guess I'm gonna have to slow my roll though adding people, because I don't need to be adding crazies, and obviously since the internets are full of crazies that's what I'm doing.  

Except awesome folks like George Takei. Facebook needs more of you. And less of people posting pics of toeless people and saying we should thank Jesus for our toes. 

Seriously, stop with the toeless people.

Sunday, July 08, 2012

E Is For Earplugs

One of the things you might not know about autistic children is that, they aren't necessarily quiet. It's a common misconception. People assume "they don't talk therefore they are quiet". Well no.
See,first of all, just because they aren't talking TO you doesn't meant they don't TALK. I have one who has serious echolalia. That means like a parrot he'll repeat the same things over and over and over.


It's pretty good times.

The other boy, will moan, or scream, or kind of say random things. They both hit things and knock things and bang things. So, no, they aren't QUIET. Not by any stretch of the imagination.

It's worse for me at night. If they won't sleep, and sometimes they won't, then I can't sleep. I have to have QUIET. I have downloaded a wave machine app onto the iPhone but even that won't count through the singing of the ABCs or whatever the song is this week. Over, and over, and over and over into the wee hours of the morning.

It's been a long 8 years of having two little boys that have no regard for my need for sleep, nor anyone else's.

Then the husband had this idea.


After a night of me nearly being crazy and in tears due to sleep deprivation one too many times, he came home the next day with earplugs and insisted I try them. I am usually a very "NO I WILL MAKE MY OWN DECISIONS" sort of princess but really, his logic was sound.

Can I say how brilliant earplugs are? Last night, I opened my eyes in the middle of the night and saw an 8 year old running around my room - followed by my husband who ushered him in to the bathroom silently, and I closed my eyes & went back to sleep. Soundly, like the dead my brain wasn't activated or bothered by noise, and sleep wrapped itself around me. A bit later they were back, and again I fluttered my eyes open with my mommy radar - saw all was well and my brain shut back down into blissful quiet sleep.

Sleep, we are friends again.

Saturday, July 07, 2012

Diary of a Two Year Old Princess

I am not saying she's spoiled.
OK I am.
She's spoiled.

I can't really help it. First of all she's hilarious even in her tantrums. Second of all, she's SUCH a girl that she just melts me with her lovey snuggles and cuddles and affection.

I think she gets away with way too much though, simply on account of her cute. Disobedience, defiance, doing things her own way when she is very specifically told NOT to, she counts these things in her repertoire of acts.

But what I sort of adore the most is her INSISTENCE that she be paid attention to when SHE wants it.

This morning, I made her go in the living room while I cleaned up breakfast. This was NOT on her agenda, so she had a wee fit of pretend crying, putting her face in the sofa as I walked off to the kitchen. I could hear her, making lots of noise at it "MOOOOOMMMMMMYYYYYY" but, disingenuous as any two year old ever was. After about 20 minutes I realized Charlie needed changed as he was muddy and called him to get cleaned up.

She tries to climb up on me "I want up, I want up."  I hugged her and told her I loved her, kissed her cheek and said "Charlie needs changed now" and put her down.

At which point she stomped a foot at me, made a very cross face and said "BUT I CRYING!!!!"

Yes. She is a two year old Princess.

She better marry a lawyer. No one else is going to be able to afford her.

Friday, July 06, 2012

The Coffee Effect

I never ever had a problem with coffee until I saw Steel Magnolias. Never. I had consumed it for years happily. But watching it with my mom, I asked what they meant by saying their dad's coffee had kicked in, and she told me that coffee makes some people have to poop.
Since that moment, I have been clutched in the grip of a psychosomatic poop fest.
I don't even have to drink the coffee anymore. If I smell the coffee, it's a gut clenching race to the restroom.
I would be super model thin, if the world were right and just, based on the amount of daily ass-purging I end up doing.
I swear the bulimics don't barf as much as I poop after coffee. It's not just one cup either. It's cup after cup.

If I gave up coffee, I suspect I'd lose my ability to void all together.

I used to eat at a place, House of Tokyo, that every time we ate there for lunch, we all spent the rest of the day crapping our brains out. It was a bizarre bonding experience with my workmates, I confess. We'd laugh as we raced to the restroom, chat between the stalls about WHICH thing they were serving us that was causing this horrific event - mainly food passing right through us undigested. But we never stopped going, the food was DELICIOUS, if poisonous.

We decided it was the sesame oil, by the way.

But coffee claims the place in my heart as my sole addiction. I HAVE to have it. I love it also. I love it sweet and creamy. I love it black as night. I love it with flavors and I love it with the hint of the citrus trees it's beans were grown next to.

So I won't stop consuming this beast that causes me pain and suffering with every cup, or with the smell of every cup, or with the consideration of every cup.

Now if you'll excuse me, I gotta go the the bathroom. BRB.

Sunday, July 01, 2012


Ok I dunno wtf is actually going on. I've had two "episodes" so I think this might actually OFFICIALLY make me an old woman. It's sort of, non-specific dizziness and bad feeling. We've ruled out heart and are now in the process of ruling out head. I had an EEG this past week.
I have some take aways from that entire process that I want to share.
First of all, you get to sit in a very comfy chair with a warm blankie, the kind they keep in those warmers at the hospital. This is a good thing.
My technician/nurse/whatever professional person who did my test was super sweet and told me crazy family stories that made me laugh while she hooked me up. That was all pretty awesome really. Except what I didn't realize, was that as she was attached these electrodes to my scalp, she was sticking them into this goop.
I had to go to work, with my hair full of wax. If you are on my plurk TIMELINE you got to hear me RAVE about this for, oh....8 hours about.

I also told people I got the bukkake special, because that's funny to me.

That meant I got to tell people what bukkake was. I think it's important to share information about other cultures. Don't you?

MRI next week. YIPPEEE!!