Sunday, December 06, 2009
Friday, December 04, 2009
NEVER QUESTION MY ALARM CLOCK ROUTINE
*Scenes from my bedroom this AM*
I open my eyes. Blink. It's really light in here. Why is it so bright. What time is it? 8am. Why is that wrong? 8am. Think- what time does the bus come?
Oh yes - odark hundred that is what time.
CRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!
I stumble out of bed and walk to the computer to verify the time. First of all my alarm clock is like off. Second of all. We're late.
In what might be one of the greatest feats of calm of my life, I simply get all three kids up, dress them at the same time and take them downstairs for breakfast.
Then we all pile into the car and first we take the twins and drop them off and since they normally eat breakfast at school they have made it in time for morning work. Then I take the big boy and he isn't late at all.
I remember I need my glucose for my glucose tolerance test, remember I need to reset the alarm for the husband-first correcting the time-grab the glucose and my lunch which I had forgotten and I'm out the door.
Halfway to work I start to feel nauseous and sick, I didn't eat so my stomach is now screaming for food. I rushed so much I forgot the first rule of parenting - attach your own oxygen mask before assisting others with theirs. So, I swing into mcdonalds for a sausage mcmuffin - no coke, can't have sugar beverages today.
I zoom to work, sit down eat..............and realize I'm eating GREASE.
And I'm sure you'll be delighted to know I've been to the restroom 4 times.
Happy Friday!
***post script. I believe that all of this happened because my husband cursed me. Last night he said "Why don't you just set your alarm clock for the time you WANT to get up vs it being a fake time and resetting it after 20 minutes etc" (I had this whole routine). I staunchly defended my routine stating that I knew for a fact how WELL it worked and it was fine.
Perhaps that was some punishment from the fates for too much hubris and not a curse after all, eh?
I open my eyes. Blink. It's really light in here. Why is it so bright. What time is it? 8am. Why is that wrong? 8am. Think- what time does the bus come?
Oh yes - odark hundred that is what time.
CRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!
I stumble out of bed and walk to the computer to verify the time. First of all my alarm clock is like off. Second of all. We're late.
In what might be one of the greatest feats of calm of my life, I simply get all three kids up, dress them at the same time and take them downstairs for breakfast.
Then we all pile into the car and first we take the twins and drop them off and since they normally eat breakfast at school they have made it in time for morning work. Then I take the big boy and he isn't late at all.
I remember I need my glucose for my glucose tolerance test, remember I need to reset the alarm for the husband-first correcting the time-grab the glucose and my lunch which I had forgotten and I'm out the door.
Halfway to work I start to feel nauseous and sick, I didn't eat so my stomach is now screaming for food. I rushed so much I forgot the first rule of parenting - attach your own oxygen mask before assisting others with theirs. So, I swing into mcdonalds for a sausage mcmuffin - no coke, can't have sugar beverages today.
I zoom to work, sit down eat..............and realize I'm eating GREASE.
And I'm sure you'll be delighted to know I've been to the restroom 4 times.
Happy Friday!
***post script. I believe that all of this happened because my husband cursed me. Last night he said "Why don't you just set your alarm clock for the time you WANT to get up vs it being a fake time and resetting it after 20 minutes etc" (I had this whole routine). I staunchly defended my routine stating that I knew for a fact how WELL it worked and it was fine.
Perhaps that was some punishment from the fates for too much hubris and not a curse after all, eh?
NEVER QUESTION MY ALARM CLOCK ROUTINE
*Scenes from my bedroom this AM*
I open my eyes. Blink. It's really light in here. Why is it so bright. What time is it? 8am. Why is that wrong? 8am. Think- what time does the bus come?
Oh yes - odark hundred that is what time.
CRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!
I stumble out of bed and walk to the computer to verify the time. First of all my alarm clock is like off. Second of all. We're late.
In what might be one of the greatest feats of calm of my life, I simply get all three kids up, dress them at the same time and take them downstairs for breakfast.
Then we all pile into the car and first we take the twins and drop them off and since they normally eat breakfast at school they have made it in time for morning work. Then I take the big boy and he isn't late at all.
I remember I need my glucose for my glucose tolerance test, remember I need to reset the alarm for the husband-first correcting the time-grab the glucose and my lunch which I had forgotten and I'm out the door.
Halfway to work I start to feel nauseous and sick, I didn't eat so my stomach is now screaming for food. I rushed so much I forgot the first rule of parenting - attach your own oxygen mask before assisting others with theirs. So, I swing into mcdonalds for a sausage mcmuffin - no coke, can't have sugar beverages today.
I zoom to work, sit down eat..............and realize I'm eating GREASE.
And I'm sure you'll be delighted to know I've been to the restroom 4 times.
Happy Friday!
***post script. I believe that all of this happened because my husband cursed me. Last night he said "Why don't you just set your alarm clock for the time you WANT to get up vs it being a fake time and resetting it after 20 minutes etc" (I had this whole routine). I staunchly defended my routine stating that I knew for a fact how WELL it worked and it was fine.
Perhaps that was some punishment from the fates for too much hubris and not a curse after all, eh?
I open my eyes. Blink. It's really light in here. Why is it so bright. What time is it? 8am. Why is that wrong? 8am. Think- what time does the bus come?
Oh yes - odark hundred that is what time.
CRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!
I stumble out of bed and walk to the computer to verify the time. First of all my alarm clock is like off. Second of all. We're late.
In what might be one of the greatest feats of calm of my life, I simply get all three kids up, dress them at the same time and take them downstairs for breakfast.
Then we all pile into the car and first we take the twins and drop them off and since they normally eat breakfast at school they have made it in time for morning work. Then I take the big boy and he isn't late at all.
I remember I need my glucose for my glucose tolerance test, remember I need to reset the alarm for the husband-first correcting the time-grab the glucose and my lunch which I had forgotten and I'm out the door.
Halfway to work I start to feel nauseous and sick, I didn't eat so my stomach is now screaming for food. I rushed so much I forgot the first rule of parenting - attach your own oxygen mask before assisting others with theirs. So, I swing into mcdonalds for a sausage mcmuffin - no coke, can't have sugar beverages today.
I zoom to work, sit down eat..............and realize I'm eating GREASE.
And I'm sure you'll be delighted to know I've been to the restroom 4 times.
Happy Friday!
***post script. I believe that all of this happened because my husband cursed me. Last night he said "Why don't you just set your alarm clock for the time you WANT to get up vs it being a fake time and resetting it after 20 minutes etc" (I had this whole routine). I staunchly defended my routine stating that I knew for a fact how WELL it worked and it was fine.
Perhaps that was some punishment from the fates for too much hubris and not a curse after all, eh?
Thursday, December 03, 2009
Your Favorite Christmas Memory? You Go First....
I got that text today from my friend Emma who was killing time at a job that is killing her spirit.
I started to take a moment to text her back and then realized that it was too long to text plus - it wasn't a memory.
It's a story, in fact.
When I was very little my grandfather took me to get a Christmas tree.
We returned with our tree and everyone was horrified. It was a tiny short tree. His reason? He chose one that I could touch the top of.
That was my grandfather's last Christmas. And I have no memory of this event. It breaks my heart, but like all things in kid world - if it isn't IMPORTANT or if no one shakes you and says GRANDPA IS SICK REMEMBER EVERY SECOND OF THIS your little brain doesn't absorb the memories.
I remember the time he took me to work with him, when he was the county building inspector, and that we went to Just Rite for lunch and I had a chocolate shake with burger and fries. I remember the way his pipe smelled, and that he'd smoke cigarettes outside once in a while but not really that often in the house. I remember the smoked Dutch Masters because I'd use the boxes to hold crayons. I remember everything, sometimes it seems. But I do not remember that tree.
There are no pictures because it was the 70s and we didn't take pictures of every damn thing the way we do now. I wish we had. I would love to see such a short fat little tree.
You never know what holiday will be your last with someone who means everything to you. I suppose that IS why I take hundreds of pictures of everything carving them all into my mind - and recording them so that even when I am the one no longer here, someone can see them and know what they are.
My favorite Christmas memory is the one I've lost. I'm sorry Grandpa.
Your Favorite Christmas Memory? You Go First....
I got that text today from my friend Emma who was killing time at a job that is killing her spirit.
I started to take a moment to text her back and then realized that it was too long to text plus - it wasn't a memory.
It's a story, in fact.
When I was very little my grandfather took me to get a Christmas tree.
We returned with our tree and everyone was horrified. It was a tiny short tree. His reason? He chose one that I could touch the top of.
That was my grandfather's last Christmas. And I have no memory of this event. It breaks my heart, but like all things in kid world - if it isn't IMPORTANT or if no one shakes you and says GRANDPA IS SICK REMEMBER EVERY SECOND OF THIS your little brain doesn't absorb the memories.
I remember the time he took me to work with him, when he was the county building inspector, and that we went to Just Rite for lunch and I had a chocolate shake with burger and fries. I remember the way his pipe smelled, and that he'd smoke cigarettes outside once in a while but not really that often in the house. I remember the smoked Dutch Masters because I'd use the boxes to hold crayons. I remember everything, sometimes it seems. But I do not remember that tree.
There are no pictures because it was the 70s and we didn't take pictures of every damn thing the way we do now. I wish we had. I would love to see such a short fat little tree.
You never know what holiday will be your last with someone who means everything to you. I suppose that IS why I take hundreds of pictures of everything carving them all into my mind - and recording them so that even when I am the one no longer here, someone can see them and know what they are.
My favorite Christmas memory is the one I've lost. I'm sorry Grandpa.
Wednesday, December 02, 2009
Gall Bladder - I Thought You Wuz All Bettah
Oh hell I've been poisoned. Those of you who follow along remember my joyous months earlier this year where I was rushed to the hospital in excruciating pain only to discover I had a gall stone. Right?
Well right after that, I learned that "Gee you might nevre be able to properly digest fat again."
Not to put too polite a spin on it - if you eat fat - it MIGHT, MIGHT come flying out your ass in a manner so disgusting that it makes you doubt that you even have insides left. It might do so in a manner of minutes after you eat it. About 30 to 45 to be exact.
I dealt with this for several weeks post surgery. This horrible rushing to the restroom, the pain, the embarrassment and frankly the overwhelming discomfort of it all.
But I thought it had gotten better. Until I ate Captain D's tonight. Oh hell. Oh freaking hell. I might die. I can't even write this post because I have to keep rushing to the bathroom in a MOST undignified manner.
I realize that Captain D's IS a grease factory but JESUS I thought that I had eaten plenty of greasy nasty food and that my liver had learned how to be my gall bladder. That was what was SUPPOSED to happen.
Tonight my liver said "NOT SO MUCH" and failed me completely.
Now if you will pardon me, I'll be in the restroom.
Well right after that, I learned that "Gee you might nevre be able to properly digest fat again."
Not to put too polite a spin on it - if you eat fat - it MIGHT, MIGHT come flying out your ass in a manner so disgusting that it makes you doubt that you even have insides left. It might do so in a manner of minutes after you eat it. About 30 to 45 to be exact.
I dealt with this for several weeks post surgery. This horrible rushing to the restroom, the pain, the embarrassment and frankly the overwhelming discomfort of it all.
But I thought it had gotten better. Until I ate Captain D's tonight. Oh hell. Oh freaking hell. I might die. I can't even write this post because I have to keep rushing to the bathroom in a MOST undignified manner.
I realize that Captain D's IS a grease factory but JESUS I thought that I had eaten plenty of greasy nasty food and that my liver had learned how to be my gall bladder. That was what was SUPPOSED to happen.
Tonight my liver said "NOT SO MUCH" and failed me completely.
Now if you will pardon me, I'll be in the restroom.
Gall Bladder - I Thought You Wuz All Bettah
Oh hell I've been poisoned. Those of you who follow along remember my joyous months earlier this year where I was rushed to the hospital in excruciating pain only to discover I had a gall stone. Right?
Well right after that, I learned that "Gee you might nevre be able to properly digest fat again."
Not to put too polite a spin on it - if you eat fat - it MIGHT, MIGHT come flying out your ass in a manner so disgusting that it makes you doubt that you even have insides left. It might do so in a manner of minutes after you eat it. About 30 to 45 to be exact.
I dealt with this for several weeks post surgery. This horrible rushing to the restroom, the pain, the embarrassment and frankly the overwhelming discomfort of it all.
But I thought it had gotten better. Until I ate Captain D's tonight. Oh hell. Oh freaking hell. I might die. I can't even write this post because I have to keep rushing to the bathroom in a MOST undignified manner.
I realize that Captain D's IS a grease factory but JESUS I thought that I had eaten plenty of greasy nasty food and that my liver had learned how to be my gall bladder. That was what was SUPPOSED to happen.
Tonight my liver said "NOT SO MUCH" and failed me completely.
Now if you will pardon me, I'll be in the restroom.
Well right after that, I learned that "Gee you might nevre be able to properly digest fat again."
Not to put too polite a spin on it - if you eat fat - it MIGHT, MIGHT come flying out your ass in a manner so disgusting that it makes you doubt that you even have insides left. It might do so in a manner of minutes after you eat it. About 30 to 45 to be exact.
I dealt with this for several weeks post surgery. This horrible rushing to the restroom, the pain, the embarrassment and frankly the overwhelming discomfort of it all.
But I thought it had gotten better. Until I ate Captain D's tonight. Oh hell. Oh freaking hell. I might die. I can't even write this post because I have to keep rushing to the bathroom in a MOST undignified manner.
I realize that Captain D's IS a grease factory but JESUS I thought that I had eaten plenty of greasy nasty food and that my liver had learned how to be my gall bladder. That was what was SUPPOSED to happen.
Tonight my liver said "NOT SO MUCH" and failed me completely.
Now if you will pardon me, I'll be in the restroom.
Monday, November 30, 2009
Yes Virginia, There is A Santa Claus
I got our amnio results early this morning and if you have somehow NOT heard.......
the baby is fine.
And she is indeed Julia and not Hambone - which is what the husband decided we would name a boy. (Dear Lord).
I don't really know what to say. The relief is so complete, so overwhelming.
I called my OB and asked if there is even any reason for me to RETURN to the perinatologist. Apparently no one ever asked that before, because the nurse didn't know what to say and they are going to call me to tomorrow to let me know what HE says.
Life is good. It really really is.
the baby is fine.
And she is indeed Julia and not Hambone - which is what the husband decided we would name a boy. (Dear Lord).
I don't really know what to say. The relief is so complete, so overwhelming.
I called my OB and asked if there is even any reason for me to RETURN to the perinatologist. Apparently no one ever asked that before, because the nurse didn't know what to say and they are going to call me to tomorrow to let me know what HE says.
Life is good. It really really is.
Yes Virginia, There is A Santa Claus
I got our amnio results early this morning and if you have somehow NOT heard.......
the baby is fine.
And she is indeed Julia and not Hambone - which is what the husband decided we would name a boy. (Dear Lord).
I don't really know what to say. The relief is so complete, so overwhelming.
I called my OB and asked if there is even any reason for me to RETURN to the perinatologist. Apparently no one ever asked that before, because the nurse didn't know what to say and they are going to call me to tomorrow to let me know what HE says.
Life is good. It really really is.
the baby is fine.
And she is indeed Julia and not Hambone - which is what the husband decided we would name a boy. (Dear Lord).
I don't really know what to say. The relief is so complete, so overwhelming.
I called my OB and asked if there is even any reason for me to RETURN to the perinatologist. Apparently no one ever asked that before, because the nurse didn't know what to say and they are going to call me to tomorrow to let me know what HE says.
Life is good. It really really is.
