The Good:
* LugNut is starting to eat actual dog food instead of just holding out for the goodies I give her with her medicine. She also barked to go outside today, instead of fighting me when I'd carry her out.
* The kitten Mikaila found in the yard turned out to be the new neighbor's baby kitty.
* We went to the grocery store, Mikeal noticed an older lady left her purse in the shopping cart, so ran it to her across the parking lot. She thanked him and tipped him $1 for being such an awesome kid. Upon returning back to me in the store, Mikeal gave me the $1 (still confused over that, but whatever).
* I grilled some yummy burgers on the charcoal grill because it's been a fairly mild day of rain on and off.
* I still have some burn cream from a few years ago when I forgot to use a pot holder to take a rack out of the hot oven....
* Brian brought home some Guiness and as soon as the kids are in bed we will be indulging while watching some Boondock Saints.
The Bad:
* The kids have driven me up a wall.
* While trying to take the crate that LugNUt has been using for the last few days out to the car to take back to the landlady I slipped, landing on the crate, bending the wire across the bottom, maybe possibly fracturing one of my fingers...I'll let you know the whole assessment when I get feeling back in it - it doesn't hurt, so that's a plus, right? I also bruised my hip, back, and upper arm.
* Mikaila is in full blown tantrum mode.
* LugNut started barking, loudly, after hearing the knock on the door. I told the kids not to let her out of the bedroom (she's not stranger friendly)...LugNut bolts out the door, chasing after the new neighbor lady, and she now likely has a small bruise where LugNut "warned" her.
* The kids have VERY selective hearing and I'm at the end of my rope with it.
* My whole left side is REALLY starting to throb from my fall...and the fingers on my right hand are starting to tingle in pain.
* I had planned on grilling some burgers on the charcoal grill tonight for dinner. I had to get some charcoal, but while at the store I couldn't remember if we had any lighter fluid & the grocery store I went to only had MatchLight charcoal.
* Got home, started the grill, closed the lid like I normally do...15 minutes later I came back to put the potatoes on the grill, lifted the lid and WHOOOOOSH...HUGE fireball sprung out, singed the hair on my right arm & left a few burn blisters in it's wake.
* I then had to finish grilling - heat on burns - HURTS!
* The potatoes were also gross.
The Somewhere In Between:
* While we were outside Mikaila picked up on the sound of a crying kitten. Found the crying kitten. Now the kitten is somewhere in my house.
* Mikaila also insisted on being the one who directed the shopping cart while we were at the grocery store...we brought home soda, bananas, and cookies in addition to the charcoal and potatoes.
* This is the last Friday before the kids start school.
Friday, July 29, 2011
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
Facebook Warning
So a few months back I created a fake Facebook account.
I don't really use it for it's original purposes anymore simply because the gal it was created to keep tabs on no longer gets online because she lives with her methhead boyfriend, in the middle of no where - no cell service, no internet service either...yada yada...
However, once in a while I get bored or want some blog fodder, or whatever, nothing malicious as I don't go posting and pretending to actually be an 18/19 year old. Just an observer...a bad one at that. I mainly go on , search the one gal's name, check her page for any new updates, then check her boyfriend's page, then close it back out.
I'm up to around 130 'friends' on this fake account. I only have 119 on my real account.
But today I actually caught sight of a post that drew my attention...I can't even describe it. It's like a train wreck happening - the type of train wreck where the flashing lights & guard posts are in full alert mode & the long train as been going through the intersection for several minutes & the sober driver tries to beat the train anyways. Yea, that kind of stupid.
The originator of this particular post that caught my eyes is a 19/20 year old female. There's roughly 50 some odd comments & counting.
(Grammar & spelling mistakes fixed for ease of reading & understanding; names also changed to *titles* to protect identities; eh, I just went with the Reader's Digest version)
Original status update : "*BabyDaddy* will be happy to know that we are having a girl. He has always wanted a girl. She is due in September."
Now when I first started reading this status I thought nothing of it, it's an innocent enough post, mainly because I don't know any of the persons involved in the post. But as the comments started flying I couldn't help but read.
Innocent except for a few small details I found out while reading the post comments:
1. She tagged the Baby Daddy in the post.
2. She's Facebook friends with the Baby Daddy's WIFE.
3. The Baby Daddy has been married to his wife for 17 years.
4. The Baby Daddy & his wife have 4 boys, ages 21-13.
5. All these boys are also on the original girl's Facebook friends list.
1st Comment : Don't you mean *Baby Daddy JUNIOR* ?
Originator (BabyMama) : No, his dad. *Junior* & I broke up months ago.
Baby Daddy's WIFE : *expletive times 900* Included something along the basic lines of you dirty home wrecking tramp, you're lying.
21 year old son of Baby Daddy) : Now you know why I broke up with her Mom, you wouldn't believe me when I told you she was sleeping around with other guys.
And so forth...to the tune of roughly, maybe by now 100 comments of friends of Baby Mama coming to her defense, the wife (rightfully so) going off on the 19/20 year old Baby Mama...various chicks chiming in that the Baby Mama was/is a slut & know of many other guys she's slept with around the time she & Junior had broke up...and of course BabyMama telling folks to mind their own business and to get off her Facebook page....My guess is the poor unborn child is going to have to have numerous swabs taken to confirm the paternity of the actual biological father.
The named Baby Daddy is at work, an hour away, and doesn't get on Facebook while at work.
My conclusion:
Having a fake 19 year old profile on Facebook is ummm...someone help me with the words I'm looking for...
Also? Set your damned Facebook as PRIVATE then be choosy about whom you allow to be on your 'Friends' list...If you're going to have 900 friends on your list and your profile set as public, do understand that anyone can read it and anyone on your friends list can comment on it, and some of your privacy settings even allow what you post to be posted in the News Feed of your friends' friends.... But then again, this is like watching Jerry Springer on mute, with a black screen, and captioning turned on. Entertaining. But not really.
Oh my I am SOOOO EXTREMELY happy to no longer be in the 'underage drinking' category! Also happy I don't have any teenagers yet. And you better believe that when my children become teenagers & start thinking they're too cool for mom to be on their social media list I will be there, even if I'm just a lurker in the shadows. I hope I never have to witness such stupidity on the walls of my children, but if they do happen not to be the brightest crayon in the box or fall to the levels of their peers I WILL be there to thump them on the head.
I don't really use it for it's original purposes anymore simply because the gal it was created to keep tabs on no longer gets online because she lives with her methhead boyfriend, in the middle of no where - no cell service, no internet service either...yada yada...
However, once in a while I get bored or want some blog fodder, or whatever, nothing malicious as I don't go posting and pretending to actually be an 18/19 year old. Just an observer...a bad one at that. I mainly go on , search the one gal's name, check her page for any new updates, then check her boyfriend's page, then close it back out.
I'm up to around 130 'friends' on this fake account. I only have 119 on my real account.
But today I actually caught sight of a post that drew my attention...I can't even describe it. It's like a train wreck happening - the type of train wreck where the flashing lights & guard posts are in full alert mode & the long train as been going through the intersection for several minutes & the sober driver tries to beat the train anyways. Yea, that kind of stupid.
The originator of this particular post that caught my eyes is a 19/20 year old female. There's roughly 50 some odd comments & counting.
(Grammar & spelling mistakes fixed for ease of reading & understanding; names also changed to *titles* to protect identities; eh, I just went with the Reader's Digest version)
Original status update : "*BabyDaddy* will be happy to know that we are having a girl. He has always wanted a girl. She is due in September."
Now when I first started reading this status I thought nothing of it, it's an innocent enough post, mainly because I don't know any of the persons involved in the post. But as the comments started flying I couldn't help but read.
Innocent except for a few small details I found out while reading the post comments:
1. She tagged the Baby Daddy in the post.
2. She's Facebook friends with the Baby Daddy's WIFE.
3. The Baby Daddy has been married to his wife for 17 years.
4. The Baby Daddy & his wife have 4 boys, ages 21-13.
5. All these boys are also on the original girl's Facebook friends list.
1st Comment : Don't you mean *Baby Daddy JUNIOR* ?
Originator (BabyMama) : No, his dad. *Junior* & I broke up months ago.
Baby Daddy's WIFE : *expletive times 900* Included something along the basic lines of you dirty home wrecking tramp, you're lying.
21 year old son of Baby Daddy) : Now you know why I broke up with her Mom, you wouldn't believe me when I told you she was sleeping around with other guys.
And so forth...to the tune of roughly, maybe by now 100 comments of friends of Baby Mama coming to her defense, the wife (rightfully so) going off on the 19/20 year old Baby Mama...various chicks chiming in that the Baby Mama was/is a slut & know of many other guys she's slept with around the time she & Junior had broke up...and of course BabyMama telling folks to mind their own business and to get off her Facebook page....My guess is the poor unborn child is going to have to have numerous swabs taken to confirm the paternity of the actual biological father.
The named Baby Daddy is at work, an hour away, and doesn't get on Facebook while at work.
My conclusion:
Having a fake 19 year old profile on Facebook is ummm...someone help me with the words I'm looking for...
Also? Set your damned Facebook as PRIVATE then be choosy about whom you allow to be on your 'Friends' list...If you're going to have 900 friends on your list and your profile set as public, do understand that anyone can read it and anyone on your friends list can comment on it, and some of your privacy settings even allow what you post to be posted in the News Feed of your friends' friends.... But then again, this is like watching Jerry Springer on mute, with a black screen, and captioning turned on. Entertaining. But not really.
Oh my I am SOOOO EXTREMELY happy to no longer be in the 'underage drinking' category! Also happy I don't have any teenagers yet. And you better believe that when my children become teenagers & start thinking they're too cool for mom to be on their social media list I will be there, even if I'm just a lurker in the shadows. I hope I never have to witness such stupidity on the walls of my children, but if they do happen not to be the brightest crayon in the box or fall to the levels of their peers I WILL be there to thump them on the head.
Monday, July 25, 2011
The Puppies are here! The puppies are HERE!
I don't think I've ever been through such a whirlwind of a labor.
It started quietly enough - sometime around noon-ish I heard an odd squeak come from the kids' bedroom. Mikeal heard it too, but I gave him that "If you dare say a peep with your sister sitting there beside you or you so much as even THINK puppy I will KEEL YOU" look, so he stayed where he had been on the couch. I stole away quickly to the bedroom to see what was up.
The first baby was born, right there in the corner of the kids' bed, roughly 2 inches shy of being on Mikeal's pillow. I can't keep the kids from going into their room so I gently & quickly moved LugNut and the baby to my bedroom closet.
LugNut finished up with the first baby, he latched on & started nursing like a champ...and then nothing.
No contractions, no pushing, no wimpering, no nothing from LugNut.
Roughly an hour after the first puppy was born LugNut moved from my closet to my pillow, on my bed.
At this point I was getting a little worried, but this is her first litter and dogs are known to take up to 4-6 hours even between each puppy. She didn't seem to be in any sort of distress, just looked at me like I was crazy once in a while...
Around hour 4 I called the vet. I explained to her the situation, no signs of labor or distress - she said to either bring her in & they'd do an x-ray to see how things were going or I could just wait. The vet's office was closing in 30 minutes though and Brian didn't get home from work for at least another hour after that. There was no way I was going to bring my (maybe) ailing dog, her puppy, and both kids to the vet's office by myself.
I searched online between the pleas from Mikaila to go see the puppies NOW for information about laboring dogs (or whelping bitches)...Yea, I'll be surprised if LugNut talks to me at all for at least a week. With the information I'd read, paired with my own birthing experiences of having assisted cats, cows, goats, & horses give birth I figured I could do some vet work myself. I don't know about everyone else, but I really don't have $500+ just laying around.
I was able to feel the rib cage and one leg of the next puppy. Not good. Not very good, AT ALL.
I called the on-call vet back to let her know what I'd found in regards to the stoppage of labor - one puppy was in the birth canal - sideways. She told me that she was out on a call assisting a horse, so would not be in town for another 1-2 hrs. We discussed the cost, payment plans, etc of LugNut having to have a cesarean...as well as my plans of trying to turn the puppy. We agreed that either she would call me or I'd call her in an hour or so to check the status of each. She also gave me the name of another after hours vet in the area. I called them - they're complete expensive asshole douchebags.
I worked to turn the puppy, giving LugNut about 20 minutes of rest time between each 5-10 minute session. Nature sucks in the aspect that every time I'd get in far enough to move the puppy LugNut would have a push contraction. Neither of us made any progress.
I called the vet back after our agreed upon time and decided to bring her in.
Brian and I made a very tearful decision. Due to the way our finances have been lately with him being first out of work due to an unexpected layoff and then out of work again for shoulder surgery we just could not afford to pay for a $500+ vet bill, even with it broken into three payments. We were going to just have her put down and bottle feed the one living baby. It completely tore our hearts out to have to make that decision, but we couldn't let her suffer either and when it come down to making sure the kids are taken care of or the dog the kids take priority.
I hoped and prayed that in the very least maybe the vet would be able to straighten the stuck puppy out & the rest of the puppies would come out on their own, thus saving us the $500 surgery bill...so I called my landlady to ask her if I could borrow her crate, JUST IN CASE such a miracle was in our deck of cards. She agreed to meet me at the vet's office.
I loaded LugNut & her puppy into the car; Mikeal came with us to help keep LugNut calm in the car. On the way to the vet's office I told Mikeal that LugNut was likely to have to have major surgery and it was possible that she may not live through it, but we were going to at least try. I wasn't about to tell him about mine & Brian's conversation in regards to LugNut & the unborn puppies.
We get to the vet's office, I get out of the car & talk to the vet before letting Mikeal & LugNut out of the car.
I told her about the situation and she understood and was willing to do what she could to prevent the surgery. My landlady showed up as I was taking LugNut out of the car and went back to the exam room with us. Mikeal sat in the front lobby area.
I choked out to my landlady the situation and she understood, then she offered to help with the immediate vet bill & said that she would work with us on the rent & us paying her back the money she paid on the bill, etc. So I called Brian, gave him the short story version and approved the cesarean. The vet did try and try to move the puppy but she had no more luck than I did.
What seemed like an eternity later I heard the first few squeaks of living puppies! I was expecting LugNut to have between 3-5 puppies.
She ended up having 6.
The vet assistant brought us out three very active wiggly warts, one that looked like he could miss a meal or two and still be alright, even as a newborn, the other two were a wee bit smaller, but not by much.
We were up to four healthy wiggle butts and all of them look like Mini Schnauzers....no pug puppies. A little bit later the vet assistant came back out again with another one and told us that the puppy that was wedged in the canal did not make it. I expected that. But she was also holding a 6th puppy. Roughly half the size of her siblings and barely hanging onto life. She not only is the runt of the litter, but she was wedged up against the stuck puppy, with three meaty siblings pushing against her. I think she'll do alright, so long as she makes it through this first night, she was looking fairly rough, but was getting the hang of latching onto momma the last time I looked at her.
About 30 minutes or so after bringing us out the final living puppy we were being released. LugNut came out of the anethesia quite well, a bit loopy, but she was getting a bit distressed hearing her babies yelping from the box beside the cage, until we got them in with her.
At this time LugNut and her 5 babies are in my bedroom, squeaking and squawking, resting and eating. And unlike the cats I've seen end up having to have a cesarean LugNut is very attentive and is taking great care of her babies, even now, just two hours out from surgery. ♥
There are three very big boys and two littler sisters, the runt being about half the size of her siblings. I hope each are able to live very long lives and each take on the temperment of their mother. She's one of the best dogs I have ever known and I can't even express how much it killed me inside to think that we even had to make the decision we did. But very grateful for awesome friends and a very competent vet!
LugNut will be 4 years old on the 10th of October. She's been a part of our family since the 11th of November of 2007. I really couldn't imagine our family being the same without her. <3 Love you dear LugNut!
**Updated to inform that the runt baby did not last through the first night. <3
Summer
...is ending.
By this time next week my dear Mikeal will be back in school. He's going to be in FOURTH grade. HOW IN THE WORLD DO I HAVE A FOURTH GRADER!?!?!
In no time at all he's going to be in middle school and then high school. Then off to college and married and is going to start having babies and I'm too young to be a Grammie!
/insert inconsolable weeping/
At the end of his 3rd grade year they had him take a slew of tests to determine if he qualifies for the gifted & talented program. I don't recall getting word about it yet, so maybe I'll find out at the Open House on Sunday, then doubly hope that he doesn't need $100 worth of additional school supplies immediately.
Then Tuesday of next week Mikaila starts school again. She's still in the 3 year old program, so only goes 3 days a week for 3 hours. In January she'll be bumped up to the 4 year old program, and will be in school for 4 afternoons a week.
I'm hoping my transition this year goes better than it did last year. I swear I spent most my free afternoons just sitting here lamenting over how quiet it was and how I wasn't fighting the mess makers while I cleaned house. It was weird being able to sit in a quiet, clean house, for an hour or three even.
Mikaila being in school hasn't yet reduced me to a sobbing mess. Mikeal being in school didn't reduce me to a sobbing mess until after I dropped him off for the first day of 1st grade. It wasn't even a build up of anticipation or fretting about it beforehand, like I hear so many others lamenting about - their babies are getting ready to start school, reduce to tears a month before - nope. Mine hit me clear out of the blue, almost immediately upon walking him to class..one of the only 1st grade moms to be crying, the rest of the moms had cried the year before at the beginning of kindergarten.
Yea, I've never been one to follow the crowd...
I know the kids are looking forward to going back to school and it makes me happy! They both LOVE going to school to the point Mikaila has thrown quite a few tantrums in regards to wanting to go to school RIGHT.NOW! I've resisted going up to the school to find out who Mikeal's teacher is going to be simply because I know Mikaila is going to throw a fit over not getting to go to class and hang out with her friends.
I am thankful though that this year's supply list wasn't all that bad - each kid only has one bag to take to class with them as opposed to 50. Of course I'm sure this will change in the next year or two as Mikaila advances into actual elementary school and Mikeal advances into middle school...and then my heart attacks will begin again when I see the lists. Lets just hope one or both of them cool it on the end of summer growth spurts!
By this time next week my dear Mikeal will be back in school. He's going to be in FOURTH grade. HOW IN THE WORLD DO I HAVE A FOURTH GRADER!?!?!
In no time at all he's going to be in middle school and then high school. Then off to college and married and is going to start having babies and I'm too young to be a Grammie!
/insert inconsolable weeping/
At the end of his 3rd grade year they had him take a slew of tests to determine if he qualifies for the gifted & talented program. I don't recall getting word about it yet, so maybe I'll find out at the Open House on Sunday, then doubly hope that he doesn't need $100 worth of additional school supplies immediately.
Side Note Content:
Then Tuesday of next week Mikaila starts school again. She's still in the 3 year old program, so only goes 3 days a week for 3 hours. In January she'll be bumped up to the 4 year old program, and will be in school for 4 afternoons a week.
I'm hoping my transition this year goes better than it did last year. I swear I spent most my free afternoons just sitting here lamenting over how quiet it was and how I wasn't fighting the mess makers while I cleaned house. It was weird being able to sit in a quiet, clean house, for an hour or three even.
Mikaila being in school hasn't yet reduced me to a sobbing mess. Mikeal being in school didn't reduce me to a sobbing mess until after I dropped him off for the first day of 1st grade. It wasn't even a build up of anticipation or fretting about it beforehand, like I hear so many others lamenting about - their babies are getting ready to start school, reduce to tears a month before - nope. Mine hit me clear out of the blue, almost immediately upon walking him to class..one of the only 1st grade moms to be crying, the rest of the moms had cried the year before at the beginning of kindergarten.
Yea, I've never been one to follow the crowd...
I know the kids are looking forward to going back to school and it makes me happy! They both LOVE going to school to the point Mikaila has thrown quite a few tantrums in regards to wanting to go to school RIGHT.NOW! I've resisted going up to the school to find out who Mikeal's teacher is going to be simply because I know Mikaila is going to throw a fit over not getting to go to class and hang out with her friends.
I am thankful though that this year's supply list wasn't all that bad - each kid only has one bag to take to class with them as opposed to 50. Of course I'm sure this will change in the next year or two as Mikaila advances into actual elementary school and Mikeal advances into middle school...and then my heart attacks will begin again when I see the lists. Lets just hope one or both of them cool it on the end of summer growth spurts!
Sunday, July 24, 2011
Today's Lists
Favorite things:
*Having hardwood floors so I can just sweep everything into one big pile - every room clean but the dining room.
*My iPod Shuffle. Now that I've found my earbuds I can again enjoy listening to music while Ilull annoy the kids with my singing screeching.
*Hanging out with the husband on the couch.
Annoyances:
*Children having extreme growth spurts - I just bought them clothes damnit!
*Perfect parents who have perfect children - not going to elaborate.
*"Professionals" who know it all but lack common sense.
*Having hardwood floors so I can just sweep everything into one big pile - every room clean but the dining room.
*My iPod Shuffle. Now that I've found my earbuds I can again enjoy listening to music while I
*Hanging out with the husband on the couch.
Annoyances:
*Children having extreme growth spurts - I just bought them clothes damnit!
*Perfect parents who have perfect children - not going to elaborate.
*"Professionals" who know it all but lack common sense.
A Bit Nervous
I know I shouldn't be nervous, folks do it all the time, but I've never done one. Hold a yard sale that is.
I have no idea what to expect, what kind of change I should have on hand, etc.
And of course this is one of my spur of the moment, no thought or real planning put into it type of deal, so I'm not sure what I expect.
So, if you have any good yard sale tips, I'm open to them. Leave me a comment with your experiences - good and bad - and hopefully by this time next week I'll have a great story to tell about it.
I have no idea what to expect, what kind of change I should have on hand, etc.
And of course this is one of my spur of the moment, no thought or real planning put into it type of deal, so I'm not sure what I expect.
So, if you have any good yard sale tips, I'm open to them. Leave me a comment with your experiences - good and bad - and hopefully by this time next week I'll have a great story to tell about it.
Friday, July 22, 2011
Medical TailSpin
So...I just got a call about Mikeal's bloodwork that was done yesterday to check his thyroid levels. The results all came back within perfectly normal range. Which is great, except for the fact for the last 18 months he's been on thyroid medication, but has failed MISERABLY at taking it this summer, so hasn't taken it, and the last time I remember him taking it was while we were on vacation, back in June, and that's about his assessment as well - I know, horrible mother. So, he's not taken his thyroid med, every blood test we've had in the past, with him having taken the med, basically as he's supposed to has also came back within perfect range, but also so has this one where he's not taken the med. He is on the lowest possible dose of the thyroid medication anyways, so he's to not take it for the next 6 wks, then will have his levels checked again. This doc is also ordering an echocardiogram, since that's what I wanted in the first place, 18 months ago, when he was diagnosed as having hypothyroidism....
Back history on that involves Mikeal displaying some similar characteristics as my dad, when my dad was a kid, that included fainting spells, black-outs & the like, but wasn't diagnosed as having a congenial heart condition until he was in his early 30s, after having almost died from a massive heart attack & stroke...even then the condition wasn't caught until the second massive heart attack, after the doctor made him do the echo stress test for 3 solid hours. Mikeal was in wrestling when the fainting spells, etc started happening all the time, he's had no such spells since I've pulled him from wrestling...But what do I know, I'm just a high school educated "over protective-hypochondriac" mother...which, let me assure you, I am not.
ANYWAYS...
I had my check-up today - all that wonderful yearly girlie stuff & of course new doctor, so new guesses as to different things that may or may not be wrong with me. My shrink wants me checked out for PCOS as well. Of course the doc considered it, but doesn't think it's my issue, but she'll check it out just in case - so next week I get to go in for a wonderful glucose & insulin check, have my blood drawn & tests run on it for possible thyroid issues, etc. Of course she also did a hCg urine test because I'm on day 40 of my cycle, it came back negative, but if I don't start by the time I come in again she's going to order a blood hCg test, which I'm confident will still show me as negative.
My urine test also showed that my white blood count is higher than normal, but for as long as I can remember, at least since my pregnancy with Mikaila, it's always been slightly elevated when it's been checked, resulting in docs giving me antibiotics, all the freaking time for a UTI that I didn't have, trust me, I know if I have one, I've only ever had one...but she also did my breast exam & thought that my breasts were not completely as soft as they 'should' be & more tender than what she thinks they should be, so is going to wait until after all the lab tests come back & see if the tenderness/hardness lessens over the next week or two then will call in an order for me to have a mammogram or ultrasounds done of my boobs. Yay me. She said it was likely just fibrocystic something of another, but at the same time, when one adds in the elevated white blood count it could be something more gut wrenching. I'm fairly optimistic about it, especially since my mom has gone back and forth multiple times for extra screenings only for the lumps to be strictly water cysts...
Ugh...so over the last two days I've gone from being told my son has hypothyroidism to saying maybe he doesn't after all, but they'll check his thyroid levels again in 6 wks and we're also goign to do more extensive heart tests...and then me going from relatively healthy to "there may be something serious going on here".
Back history on that involves Mikeal displaying some similar characteristics as my dad, when my dad was a kid, that included fainting spells, black-outs & the like, but wasn't diagnosed as having a congenial heart condition until he was in his early 30s, after having almost died from a massive heart attack & stroke...even then the condition wasn't caught until the second massive heart attack, after the doctor made him do the echo stress test for 3 solid hours. Mikeal was in wrestling when the fainting spells, etc started happening all the time, he's had no such spells since I've pulled him from wrestling...But what do I know, I'm just a high school educated "over protective-hypochondriac" mother...which, let me assure you, I am not.
ANYWAYS...
I had my check-up today - all that wonderful yearly girlie stuff & of course new doctor, so new guesses as to different things that may or may not be wrong with me. My shrink wants me checked out for PCOS as well. Of course the doc considered it, but doesn't think it's my issue, but she'll check it out just in case - so next week I get to go in for a wonderful glucose & insulin check, have my blood drawn & tests run on it for possible thyroid issues, etc. Of course she also did a hCg urine test because I'm on day 40 of my cycle, it came back negative, but if I don't start by the time I come in again she's going to order a blood hCg test, which I'm confident will still show me as negative.
My urine test also showed that my white blood count is higher than normal, but for as long as I can remember, at least since my pregnancy with Mikaila, it's always been slightly elevated when it's been checked, resulting in docs giving me antibiotics, all the freaking time for a UTI that I didn't have, trust me, I know if I have one, I've only ever had one...but she also did my breast exam & thought that my breasts were not completely as soft as they 'should' be & more tender than what she thinks they should be, so is going to wait until after all the lab tests come back & see if the tenderness/hardness lessens over the next week or two then will call in an order for me to have a mammogram or ultrasounds done of my boobs. Yay me. She said it was likely just fibrocystic something of another, but at the same time, when one adds in the elevated white blood count it could be something more gut wrenching. I'm fairly optimistic about it, especially since my mom has gone back and forth multiple times for extra screenings only for the lumps to be strictly water cysts...
Ugh...so over the last two days I've gone from being told my son has hypothyroidism to saying maybe he doesn't after all, but they'll check his thyroid levels again in 6 wks and we're also goign to do more extensive heart tests...and then me going from relatively healthy to "there may be something serious going on here".
Thursday, July 21, 2011
The Kids Have Grown
Every year before school starts I take the kids in for physicals/wellness checks. Mikeal's wellness check is basically in line with his birthday, seeing as his birthday is at the end of August & school starts at the beginning of July. Mikaila's before school check is roughly 6 months before her birthday, but she's still at an age where docs want her to be seen to check for progress, etc every 6 months, so it works. It is also less hassle for me to just knock both out at the same time, but I'm sure next year I'll start doing Mikaila's in December, more in line with her actual yearly birthday.
This time LAST year Mikeal was 46 inches tall & weighed 80lbs. Today...Mikeal weighs 107lbs and is 55inches tall. Doc said his BMI was in perfect range, even if he does have a bit of a belly on him, even though the doc last year called Mikeal obese...oh I wanted to slug that jerk.
This time last year Mikaila was 37lbs and 36 inches tall. Today...Mikaila weighs 37lbs and is 40 inches tall. Same story with the BMI.
Otherwise the kids seem to be in good health. Mikeal had another blood test ran to check his thyroid levels, this time without having taken his medication this morning (pure accident, but still) and we'll determine how his levels compare without medication to with medication. He's on the lowest dose possible of the thyroid medication and seeing as he's on the thyroid medication as a result of testing being done to find out why he was having fainting spells about 18 months ago & the blood tests done then we'll see how it all really adds up. The new doc is also going to have him see the pediatric cardiologist & have an echo-cardiogram done to see how things look compared to his last one about 4 years ago. I want to believe he's as perfect as all these tests claim him to be, repeatedly, however I also know my dad had repeated tests come back perfect and it wasn't until he was given a 3hour stress test, while hooked up to the echo machine that they actually saw his heart valves hiccup, etc. I'm hoping that if Mikeal has the same thing as my dad that it's caught before he falls over from a massive heart attack at a very early age.
Mikaila is still pretty well good to go...showed off her gravity checking abilities, her jumping abilities, etc. She's a bit like her momma - she can run & hop across flat level surfaces, but try getting her to walk across that same level surface invokes a gravity check. It was noticed that within the last few months she lost the tube in her right ear, no clue when it may have fallen out..and she still barely has the tube in her left ear. She sees the ENT again on the 26th to see about having her tonsils removed and maybe a new set of tubes put in, but I won't know until the 26th.
But that's the new bits. Yay for reasonably healthy kids and intelligent doctors that actually listen to me and don't treat me like I don't know things, especially where it concerns my children & the health history of my family then how one mimics another, but because one was untreated it became very deadly when it was all 'perfect'.
This time LAST year Mikeal was 46 inches tall & weighed 80lbs. Today...Mikeal weighs 107lbs and is 55inches tall. Doc said his BMI was in perfect range, even if he does have a bit of a belly on him, even though the doc last year called Mikeal obese...oh I wanted to slug that jerk.
This time last year Mikaila was 37lbs and 36 inches tall. Today...Mikaila weighs 37lbs and is 40 inches tall. Same story with the BMI.
Otherwise the kids seem to be in good health. Mikeal had another blood test ran to check his thyroid levels, this time without having taken his medication this morning (pure accident, but still) and we'll determine how his levels compare without medication to with medication. He's on the lowest dose possible of the thyroid medication and seeing as he's on the thyroid medication as a result of testing being done to find out why he was having fainting spells about 18 months ago & the blood tests done then we'll see how it all really adds up. The new doc is also going to have him see the pediatric cardiologist & have an echo-cardiogram done to see how things look compared to his last one about 4 years ago. I want to believe he's as perfect as all these tests claim him to be, repeatedly, however I also know my dad had repeated tests come back perfect and it wasn't until he was given a 3hour stress test, while hooked up to the echo machine that they actually saw his heart valves hiccup, etc. I'm hoping that if Mikeal has the same thing as my dad that it's caught before he falls over from a massive heart attack at a very early age.
Mikaila is still pretty well good to go...showed off her gravity checking abilities, her jumping abilities, etc. She's a bit like her momma - she can run & hop across flat level surfaces, but try getting her to walk across that same level surface invokes a gravity check. It was noticed that within the last few months she lost the tube in her right ear, no clue when it may have fallen out..and she still barely has the tube in her left ear. She sees the ENT again on the 26th to see about having her tonsils removed and maybe a new set of tubes put in, but I won't know until the 26th.
But that's the new bits. Yay for reasonably healthy kids and intelligent doctors that actually listen to me and don't treat me like I don't know things, especially where it concerns my children & the health history of my family then how one mimics another, but because one was untreated it became very deadly when it was all 'perfect'.
Sunday, July 17, 2011
FirePit of Reasons The Conclusions....
You've read Stories #1-4, #5-7, & #8-10 and if you haven't, well what are you waiting on?
Again, I'm not going to repeat my disclaimer...these are more just stories that embarrass the red off the top of my head and puts it on my face with fits of giggles, but still! They go to prove my point that I belong in a room of bubble wrap, so long as the bubbles can't pop.
This accurately displays what I look like when I try to do anything that involves wheels on my feet. So what if they were my mother's women's size 8 skates I was wearing on my children's size 2 feet, on my grandmother's gravel driveway. I've even perfected this pose wearing perfectly fitting women's size 10 in a skating rink. I mean, SERIOUSLY, how does one really expect a gal with legs twice as long as her torso to keep those things balanced, where they're supposed to be!
I enter this next piece into evidence. Not only do I have photographic proof, BUT it was also published photographic proof - straight into the yearbook of my Junior year of high school. ((In all fairness I was running late for YEARBOOK class, missed the warning at the beginning of class about a specific chair being broke, but because of some clowns the teacher wasn't sure which one, so to check each chair before sitting down... Yes, I'm sure my legs had something to do with it - they didn't hit the brake pedal properly, thus resulting in me running a red light, only to rear end someone a few blocks later because I was freaked out over running the red light.)) Oh...and that pic is front and center, taking up almost half the page of one of the 'fun photo pages'...someone stole the original before I could.
Then of course you have to add in the bits that I don't have photographic proof of, but I'm going to tell you some of them anyways....
About a year ago I'm cooking dinner & watching a movie. Okay, I'll admit, dinner consisted of a frozen pizza, but for the sake of embellishing a bit - because I've embellished absolutely nothing so far, honestly -, lets pretend it's a 5-course meal, complete with home baked bread, self-grown garden veggies for the salad & sides, thick juicy steak, from the cow I'd raised myself and then butchered myself just that morning, and it was all finished off with my double layer chocolate butter cake, complete with cherry filling & topped with chocolate covered strawberries.
Anyways, so the bluebirds that sing to me in my kitchen start their little song to alert me that the deer & squirrels have completed the meal preparations & it was time for me to present the plates to my wonderful family.
I stand up from my position on the couch, take the first step forward....
Go to make the second step...
And then it happens.
I've face planted the floor.
The floor was spotless - no seriously, it really was, I'm shocked, I know, but in the floor's defense it was clean. Brian hadn't even taken off his size 246 shoes yet! (ok, he wears a 14, but still! they're like steel bricks when you stub your toe on them) And I'd actually cleaned the house that day! Or at least the living room, but whatever, point is the bare hardwood floor had NOTHING ON IT. Except me.
I landed pinky first and wouldn't you know it the damned thing swells and won't straighten out...or bend, I can't remember which exactly. And it HURTS. Also? I was wearing jeans. My FAVORITE pair of jeans.
I got a lovely 'rug' burn down my leg thanks to my favorite pair of jeans.
I painfully eat dinner with the family, because that's how we roll...we eat dinner, together, as a family. My hand & knee continue to swell & my face hurts.
We finish eating dinner and decide it'll be in my best interest to get checked out, have some x-rays done, let them re-set my poor pinky finger & assess the damage to my knee.
Turns out all I did was SPRAIN my pinky & skin my knee. My hand stayed swollen for a week. It sucked.
And that, my dear, is the reason we have made the conclusion that giraffe legs + Stephi = just bad news, regardless of the platform, or lack thereof.
(Pic of me when I'd dyed my hair black...hence the reason it doesn't look red or blonde here.)
Again, I'm not going to repeat my disclaimer...these are more just stories that embarrass the red off the top of my head and puts it on my face with fits of giggles, but still! They go to prove my point that I belong in a room of bubble wrap, so long as the bubbles can't pop.
This accurately displays what I look like when I try to do anything that involves wheels on my feet. So what if they were my mother's women's size 8 skates I was wearing on my children's size 2 feet, on my grandmother's gravel driveway. I've even perfected this pose wearing perfectly fitting women's size 10 in a skating rink. I mean, SERIOUSLY, how does one really expect a gal with legs twice as long as her torso to keep those things balanced, where they're supposed to be!
I enter this next piece into evidence. Not only do I have photographic proof, BUT it was also published photographic proof - straight into the yearbook of my Junior year of high school. ((In all fairness I was running late for YEARBOOK class, missed the warning at the beginning of class about a specific chair being broke, but because of some clowns the teacher wasn't sure which one, so to check each chair before sitting down... Yes, I'm sure my legs had something to do with it - they didn't hit the brake pedal properly, thus resulting in me running a red light, only to rear end someone a few blocks later because I was freaked out over running the red light.)) Oh...and that pic is front and center, taking up almost half the page of one of the 'fun photo pages'...someone stole the original before I could.
Then of course you have to add in the bits that I don't have photographic proof of, but I'm going to tell you some of them anyways....
About a year ago I'm cooking dinner & watching a movie. Okay, I'll admit, dinner consisted of a frozen pizza, but for the sake of embellishing a bit - because I've embellished absolutely nothing so far, honestly -, lets pretend it's a 5-course meal, complete with home baked bread, self-grown garden veggies for the salad & sides, thick juicy steak, from the cow I'd raised myself and then butchered myself just that morning, and it was all finished off with my double layer chocolate butter cake, complete with cherry filling & topped with chocolate covered strawberries.
Anyways, so the bluebirds that sing to me in my kitchen start their little song to alert me that the deer & squirrels have completed the meal preparations & it was time for me to present the plates to my wonderful family.
I stand up from my position on the couch, take the first step forward....
Go to make the second step...
And then it happens.
I've face planted the floor.
The floor was spotless - no seriously, it really was, I'm shocked, I know, but in the floor's defense it was clean. Brian hadn't even taken off his size 246 shoes yet! (ok, he wears a 14, but still! they're like steel bricks when you stub your toe on them) And I'd actually cleaned the house that day! Or at least the living room, but whatever, point is the bare hardwood floor had NOTHING ON IT. Except me.
I landed pinky first and wouldn't you know it the damned thing swells and won't straighten out...or bend, I can't remember which exactly. And it HURTS. Also? I was wearing jeans. My FAVORITE pair of jeans.
I got a lovely 'rug' burn down my leg thanks to my favorite pair of jeans.
I painfully eat dinner with the family, because that's how we roll...we eat dinner, together, as a family. My hand & knee continue to swell & my face hurts.
We finish eating dinner and decide it'll be in my best interest to get checked out, have some x-rays done, let them re-set my poor pinky finger & assess the damage to my knee.
Turns out all I did was SPRAIN my pinky & skin my knee. My hand stayed swollen for a week. It sucked.
And that, my dear, is the reason we have made the conclusion that giraffe legs + Stephi = just bad news, regardless of the platform, or lack thereof.
(Pic of me when I'd dyed my hair black...hence the reason it doesn't look red or blonde here.)
Friday, July 15, 2011
The Boy Bakes a Cake
I have to share.
I've been meaning to make a cake for the last few days. No real reason except for when Mikaila went grocery shopping with me she wanted a pink cake with sprinkles.
So because I've been pukey & such I've really not felt up to it.
Tonight Mikeal asked if he could make the cake. Sure, no biggie.
As I'm sitting here, in the living room, he's in the kitchen measuring & mixing. He's fairly decent in the kitchen, responsible, the like. No worries. Besides I was younger than he is when I went solo in the kitchen for complete meals, he can handle a step-by-step cake mix ...three steps, no big deal.
I'll take it out of the oven when it's done. ;-)
He brings the measuring cup to me so I can verify the measurements, seeing as all but the lines are gone from the side...
He informs me that the eggs are frozen, but I assure him that they'll be fine as he mixes it all up.
A bit later he pours it into the pan & asks me if it's too late to mix up the batter now that it's in the pan.
I go in there to check & see what's up.
The cake batter looks a little funny.
It looks QUITE watery...
Then I notice It's more than just a bit watery.
Perplexed I look at Mikeal...
And I ask him....
Did you put the cake mix in the bowl?
Because, you know, this is a pink cake...and it looks a bit clear/eggy to me.
Sure enough...no cake mix in the 'cake'.
SOOOOOOOO glad we figured that out though before he baked it...cause those were the last of my eggs.
I can't stop laughing.
Do you have any baking blunder stories you wanna share?
oh...and the cake turned out beautiful. A little floury tasting and flat, but with enough icing & sprinkles it wasn't greatly noticed. That or I'm used to making my cakes not from a box and box cakes just taste floury when compared to butter cakes.
I've been meaning to make a cake for the last few days. No real reason except for when Mikaila went grocery shopping with me she wanted a pink cake with sprinkles.
So because I've been pukey & such I've really not felt up to it.
Tonight Mikeal asked if he could make the cake. Sure, no biggie.
As I'm sitting here, in the living room, he's in the kitchen measuring & mixing. He's fairly decent in the kitchen, responsible, the like. No worries. Besides I was younger than he is when I went solo in the kitchen for complete meals, he can handle a step-by-step cake mix ...three steps, no big deal.
I'll take it out of the oven when it's done. ;-)
He brings the measuring cup to me so I can verify the measurements, seeing as all but the lines are gone from the side...
He informs me that the eggs are frozen, but I assure him that they'll be fine as he mixes it all up.
A bit later he pours it into the pan & asks me if it's too late to mix up the batter now that it's in the pan.
I go in there to check & see what's up.
The cake batter looks a little funny.
It looks QUITE watery...
Then I notice It's more than just a bit watery.
Perplexed I look at Mikeal...
And I ask him....
Did you put the cake mix in the bowl?
Because, you know, this is a pink cake...and it looks a bit clear/eggy to me.
Sure enough...no cake mix in the 'cake'.
SOOOOOOOO glad we figured that out though before he baked it...cause those were the last of my eggs.
I can't stop laughing.
Do you have any baking blunder stories you wanna share?
oh...and the cake turned out beautiful. A little floury tasting and flat, but with enough icing & sprinkles it wasn't greatly noticed. That or I'm used to making my cakes not from a box and box cakes just taste floury when compared to butter cakes.
LugNut
She's a very tolerant dog. Miss Mikaila thinks she needs goggles because they were getting ready to give her a bath. LugNut didn't mind the goggles. The mess I had to clean up in the bathroom reassured me she still doesn't like baths. Oh well.
In other LugNut News. She's pregnant. Due just ANY DAY NOW. Not totally sure if the daddy is another mini schnauzer or if he's a pug...guess we'll eventually find out, if she ever gets around to going into labor and showing us her puppies. ♥
So...what would you call a Mini-Schnuazer & Brindle Pug Mix?
Do you think she's having pug/schnauzer mixes? Or If the babies will be Mini Schnauzers all the way?
Other questions you're welcome to guess on:
How many do you think she'll have?
What time/day do you think she'll have them?
Yummy Noms!
It took me a little while but I finally found the culprit behind my tomato plants becoming nothing more than stalks in dirt. Meet Mr Hungry Hungry Dead Caterpillar.
Now I have some lovely, lush tomatoes!
Flowering Egg Plant!
And even a baby egg plant!
I'm also starting to get some zucchini. YUM! Now to call my grandpa up and see if he'll share his zucchini bread recipe with me. *mouth watering yumminess!*
Now I have some lovely, lush tomatoes!
Flowering Egg Plant!
And even a baby egg plant!
I'm also starting to get some zucchini. YUM! Now to call my grandpa up and see if he'll share his zucchini bread recipe with me. *mouth watering yumminess!*
In this post I say Shit...a lot.
1...2....3....11bagillionty...
Isn't life grand when folks want to take what you blog & try to fuck with your real life? I mean, seriously, I put a lot of personal stuff on here, I don't expect folks to NOT read my blog, draw conclusions, or otherwise say something about it. We are each entitled to our own opinions.
HOWEVER...I am NOT going to stoop so low as to waste my time dealing with folks who "don't give a rat's ass" about my life or the life of my family...EXCEPT when they want to pull me to their level in the sewers of trash.
I absolutely LOVE a great debate...one that is RESPECTFUL, DIGNIFIED, and at least has something to add to the conversation.
If one wishes to try to flame me for being a horrible mother because I've done this or that or the other thing in such a sensational way that makes it sound like it's actually news to someone is just immature. I'm sorry but anything you have to judge me about I've already likely written a LENGTHY blog post about it and I can GUARANTEE that my blog postings have MUCH better details into how shitty of a mother, wife, daughter, sister, whathaveyou I am.
I don't care what you heard from your cousin's sister's aunt's best friend's son's girlfriend's lesbian brother said. I assure you if you read through my 350 some odd blog posts you'll find the details about that particular 'event' and see that what they told you is the difference between being told there's cake on the counter to being told there's a double chocolate butter cake filled with cherries & topped with chocolate covered strawberries sitting on the counter.
I don't have to sensationalize this shit. I'm not ashamed to say I was born white trash and have had a few stumbles on my way through life. Shit happens and the number one thing about shit is it stinks. One can either wallow in the shit and continue to stink or they can work to get past the shit and catch the scent of some roses from time to time. Either way, the shit is still there and it still stinks.
Each one of my 'shit happens' moments have brought me where I am today. Each pile of shit that I get past gives me another chance to actually smell the roses. Sometimes a bird flies over and drops a bit more shit...other times it's the dumptruck convoy.
I'm happy with where I am in my life. I'm still moving forward past the shit and this is my compost pile. Just wish others would grow up and get over their own piles of shit. It only annoys me to have my shit thrown back at me...and my reaction often is to just throw it back, with a little extra added on. If you have a problem with that it's not my problem. It's yours.
**Actually this post was just to test if my feedburner was working properly, but thought it lame to just do another boring 'testing testing' post with no other content....and I'm in a Navy daughter truck driver granddaughter type of language mood. ☺
Isn't life grand when folks want to take what you blog & try to fuck with your real life? I mean, seriously, I put a lot of personal stuff on here, I don't expect folks to NOT read my blog, draw conclusions, or otherwise say something about it. We are each entitled to our own opinions.
HOWEVER...I am NOT going to stoop so low as to waste my time dealing with folks who "don't give a rat's ass" about my life or the life of my family...EXCEPT when they want to pull me to their level in the sewers of trash.
I absolutely LOVE a great debate...one that is RESPECTFUL, DIGNIFIED, and at least has something to add to the conversation.
If one wishes to try to flame me for being a horrible mother because I've done this or that or the other thing in such a sensational way that makes it sound like it's actually news to someone is just immature. I'm sorry but anything you have to judge me about I've already likely written a LENGTHY blog post about it and I can GUARANTEE that my blog postings have MUCH better details into how shitty of a mother, wife, daughter, sister, whathaveyou I am.
I don't care what you heard from your cousin's sister's aunt's best friend's son's girlfriend's lesbian brother said. I assure you if you read through my 350 some odd blog posts you'll find the details about that particular 'event' and see that what they told you is the difference between being told there's cake on the counter to being told there's a double chocolate butter cake filled with cherries & topped with chocolate covered strawberries sitting on the counter.
I don't have to sensationalize this shit. I'm not ashamed to say I was born white trash and have had a few stumbles on my way through life. Shit happens and the number one thing about shit is it stinks. One can either wallow in the shit and continue to stink or they can work to get past the shit and catch the scent of some roses from time to time. Either way, the shit is still there and it still stinks.
Each one of my 'shit happens' moments have brought me where I am today. Each pile of shit that I get past gives me another chance to actually smell the roses. Sometimes a bird flies over and drops a bit more shit...other times it's the dumptruck convoy.
I'm happy with where I am in my life. I'm still moving forward past the shit and this is my compost pile. Just wish others would grow up and get over their own piles of shit. It only annoys me to have my shit thrown back at me...and my reaction often is to just throw it back, with a little extra added on. If you have a problem with that it's not my problem. It's yours.
**Actually this post was just to test if my feedburner was working properly, but thought it lame to just do another boring 'testing testing' post with no other content....and I'm in a Navy daughter truck driver granddaughter type of language mood. ☺
Thursday, July 14, 2011
Whatcha Think?
I changed it up a bit, huh?!
I like it! I especially love that I was able to find a template with columns on BOTH sides of the entries!
OH! And check it out over there ------>>>>>> I KNOW! RIGHT!
I made some buttons that ACTUALLY WORK! You can even grab the ones specific to me and flaunt them on your page! If you leave me a link/comment/thingy bobber I'll return the favor!
How freaking awesome am I?!!!
Yea, I know, it's not up to my normal par of perfection, but eh, I have a house of floors to get swept & mopped then an assignment to get finished up, so I'll get back around to tweeking my blog look!
I love it already, so far!
I'm going to definitely be tweeking my header...the off-centeredness of it ANNOYS THE CRAP OUT OF ME! And the awesome Steve of @dadgineer offered to help out after he gets home from work...so it'll be done right without annoying me further!
I like it! I especially love that I was able to find a template with columns on BOTH sides of the entries!
OH! And check it out over there ------>>>>>> I KNOW! RIGHT!
I made some buttons that ACTUALLY WORK! You can even grab the ones specific to me and flaunt them on your page! If you leave me a link/comment/thingy bobber I'll return the favor!
How freaking awesome am I?!!!
Yea, I know, it's not up to my normal par of perfection, but eh, I have a house of floors to get swept & mopped then an assignment to get finished up, so I'll get back around to tweeking my blog look!
I love it already, so far!
I'm going to definitely be tweeking my header...the off-centeredness of it ANNOYS THE CRAP OUT OF ME! And the awesome Steve of @dadgineer offered to help out after he gets home from work...so it'll be done right without annoying me further!
My Beautiful July 4
Have I ever mentioned that I love my Nikon that Brian got me for Christmas? No? Well, consider it mentioned!
Depression
...sucks.
That's really all I have to say, but I'll likely ramble anyways about whatever escapes from my fingers onto this post by use of the keyboard.
In no particular order:
I miss my dad. He's been dead now for just over four years, but I've not gotten to hang out with him in 10. Sure we talked on the phone a few times & wrote a few letters back and forth, but it wasn't the same. See, my dad spent the last 6 years of his life sitting behind bars. He was given a 30 year sentence for a crime I don't believe he committed. Of course the argument stands that if he didn't commit it then he wouldn't have been given a 30 year sentence, not in this day & age...yea, our judicial system is so upright where innocent folks aren't locked away & the guilty are that - guilty. I mean, just look at the whole Casey Anthony or O.J. Simpson things, right?
I rest my case.
I've tried really hard over the last 10 years to wrap my brain around it to the point that it's so wrapped I think it's just warped instead. I really don't want to believe either side. If I take my dad's side of things and defend him, well, I've lost a great deal of close relationships because I did take his side. If I take his accuser's side then I am compelled to be completely disgusted with my father, but also betray what my heart & mind tells me. The most fucked up part of all that is I may not be quite so conflicted about it had some folks not been so adamant that my dad was completely innocent...until my grandparents both died. It was almost immediately upon their deaths that all these folks, who'd supported my dad, bailed on him, trash talked him, and to this day paint him as the worst kind of scum to walk the planet. Of course his accuser went from just a spoiled little brat trying to get what she wanted to the patron saint of all that's right but wrong in the world, a poor innocent victim. Fuck her.
I miss the children that I birthed that were born with barely a fighting chance at life. Dear Alonna was a victim of doctors not putting all the pieces together & me being so utterly depressed I barely made it through the last half of my senior year of high school. Her father, my first husband, was killed in a car wreck days after we'd gotten married. During our short marriage, because I was a FIRM "virgin until marriage" person, I conceived her. Between severe depression, ulcers, stress, school, work, family life, God only knows what all ailed me at that time, doctors had me on a nice little cocktail of medications to treat each and every ailment. No heed was paid to the notion I could have been pregnant. Hell, I didn't even think anything of it. I still had bleeding from time to time, I didn't pay that close attention to timing and all that because I wasn't having sex...had only had sex twice, and it was in wedlock. Teenage pregnancy doesn't happen except out of wedlock, right? OH, YES, I was a naive one back then. She was born in December...in fact she, Mikaila & my Grandpa all share the same birthday, December 13th. My pregnancy wasn't confirmed until after I'd fallen down a flight of stairs just a few weeks before. The fall down the stairs wasn't detrimental to her, even though I'd like to blame something so innocent on the loss of her life. No. She was born with very underdeveloped organs or holes in the organs that did develop due to all the different medications I had been on during the majority of my pregnancy. I was given the option to have a late-term abortion, but I wouldn't hear of it! What kind of fucking moron suggests such a thing to an 18 year old gal who's not only lost her husband & best friend since preschool, but is now finding out she's PREGNANT and VERY near her due date, just mere weeks after her parents told her to "Get your dog, your computer, don't forget your hamster & the rest of your shit & get lost?!" Simply because she wasn't paying enough of the bills anymore because she was trying to move out into her own place... Then of course I had her, without the first drop of pain medication, because I was scared out of my fucking gourd after learning about all the medications I had been on for the previous 9+ months. I still, to this day, have issues with taking medications & hesitate going down stairs... I PLEADED with the doctors & nursing staff to pull a miracle out of their asses. I don't blame them. They tried. For 14 hours they worked to sustain her. Reflecting on it 11 years later now, pieces of me wish I would have saved them each that grief. It's not the loss of Alonna that haunts me so much as the looks on the doctors' and nurses' faces as they not only tried to console me but also make my miracle come true. Thing that haunts me further is the stigma that "we don't talk about that".
Then there was Bridgett. I got pregnant with her almost immediately after Mikeal was born. Ok, not completely immediately, but I'd gotten my first depo shot after he was born, then my ex husband was thrown in jail for attempting to rape a 5 year old...I was given a lame story about how this little girl had walked in on him while he was peeing in a laundry room and it was just some messed up misunderstanding & all he was guilty of, from the early stories I was told, was indecent exposure. I did what any scared, almost 21 year old girl who's been horribly abused by her husband & no one there to support her, except him, with a 4 month old...I believed him & by my upbringing I stood by him. During the early hoopla of all that I missed my appointment to get my next depo shot, was pregnant when I finally did get a chance to make-up that appointment. I hid that pregnancy for as long as I could during the court proceedings. On our anniversary, in June, I was 23 wks along I shared the news with my ex. He responded by beating the shit out of me & throwing a 27" TV at me...back before they were just 10lb pieces of plastic. Then he left to go smoke some meth with his cousins down the road. ((My naive ass didn't know a thing about any of that until well after the fact.)) I carried my 10 month old son & drug my bleeding ass to a neighbor's house, where the lights were on...it was only about 2am...and they called an ambulance for me. All I really remember was about 24 hours later I was being released from the hospital & that my baby girl had died. I did file a police report. All that got me was a rap for being a troublemaker & liar by the police department. Afterall, the Lieutenant's adopted son would NEVER do such a thing! I made the whole thing up!
I'm proud of the fact that I went to the meeting with his lawyer not long after that...I heard the confession tape for myself & learned the whole truth behind the charges. He'd picked a 5 year old girl up from an apartment complex, took her into a laundry room there, & considered having sex with her before some of the effects of the meth & alcohol he was on wore off just enough for him to let her go. I then spent the next few weeks charming my ex. I'd swear up and down how I'd be there for him & I'd never screw him over, yada yada yada yada yada. He was given a 4 MONTH sentence with only 4 years probation. On September 22nd he was booked on the charges...I left from the courthouse, with his ATM & credit cards in hand, & wiped those suckers clean, including the overdraft privileges. I sold what clothes of his that were left over from my brothers picking through them, I didn't make the first one of his vehicle payments, then I broke every fucking rule that bastard had laid upon me of what I wasn't allowed to do while he was incarcerated. I'd then write him letters telling him about how I started smoking, was going out to the bars, sleeping with whatever I felt like, doing whatever I liked. That $900 wedding ring set he'd bought me & still had a nice balance on - sold them for $175...then had a GRAND time at the bar....at least I think it was grand. I woke up in the bed of the truck, somewhere. ((Mikeal was safe at a babysitter's, who knew/understood/something to that effect my mental state of mind at that time.))
A few months later, on Mother's Day, I called Child Services on myself. I was in a desperate state of mind and was under the impression that they'd at least help me. I was suffering from alcohol addiction, was basically homeless, and well...it was bad. Know what child services did for me? Nada. Told me that because I had the presence of mind to call them that it meant that I was a good mother and could figure it out & didn't see Mikeal as being in any real danger. I BEGGED and PLEADED with them to PLEASE place him in a safe home & to help me get into a treatment program. They didn't. The next day I left Mikeal in the care of my 'less than fit roommate'...while he was passed out drunk (not Mikeal, the roommate) and got a job a few blocks away, working graveyard shift at Waffle House. Thankfully I had some awesome coworkers that let Mikeal & I move into their one bedroom apartment...then instead of going out to the bars I joined a chatroom.
I met a TON of very wonderful folks in that chatroom, and minus a few details, I moved from Tulsa, Oklahoma to Austin, TX, to move into a house with a complete stranger. Folks down there would drive an hour one direction to help me get out and look for a job, others would watch Mikeal for me, one guy gave me a car...I met Brian during all of that...yada yada...I sobered up, mostly, and my mother grew up a bit. I went back and lived with her for a while so I could get my divorce taken care of 100%, then moved back to Texas, eventually reconnected with Brian again, he proposed at my dad's funeral dinner, we went back home, in Texas, pregnant, yada yada...we've been married almost 4 years now with a Mikaila added to our family.
My ex is still a complete asshole.
My current marriage, like any other, has it low points, but overall it's awesome. I love where I live now, I love my friends, & tolerate most of my family, but I'm completely in admiration of my children and husband! But yet I still feel depressed. The logical side of me says I have no reason to be depressed. There's nothing I can do about the death of these loved ones, I know that having another child isn't going to replace any of the ones I've lost. I can't pinpoint a reason behind my depression. I'm mostly 'at peace' with the trauma my past inflicted upon me, but then every once in a while it just completely blindsides me and throws me for a complete loop and I don't even know what to think. The littlest thing can set it off and big things won't even phase me. I constantly feel like I'm swimming in a black hole that is devoid of everything, but yet I can see that I'm surrounded by all these folks that I know love & care about me and I just feel empty, withdrawn, and sad. But mostly angry.
The anger bothers me the most.
I'm absolutely justified to feel the anger. I can't think of many folks who wouldn't blame me for completely lashing out at some folks who have caused this anger. But at the same time I'm better than that. I feel guilty for having this anger. I want to just let go of the anger but I can't. I can for short periods. Most of the time I don't even notice it lingering. I don't want to be angry. I don't like feeling this way. This in turn makes me not like myself. And the cycle starts again. I've done decent, in my mind, with coping with it. I've gotten better. Stronger. But it's still there, haunting me. I know it's effected persons around me, I try to keep it hidden, to keep it a secret...because it's just not one of those things we talk about... I don't even know how to talk about it. I don't know how to fix it. Sure I can repress it and pretend it doesn't exist...for a while. But I'm not comfortable with that and that fuels my anger, just in more directions.
I don't know what to do at this point. I'm not even sure I even know what I WANT to do. I just know that my head isn't always healthy & it may never be fully healthy...but I also don't want to go through the rest of my life with this anger hoovering over me.
This grown-up shit is hard.
~*~Then of course I'm searching for info that I need, again, for my assignment, that was erased by Windows' need to fucking update without warning and restart without allowing me to save any work I'd worked SOO fucking hard on...and I run across this blog post. I needed it. I'm going to start working on setting the tone to my own happiness & fulfillment...by starting on #3, especially.~*~
That's really all I have to say, but I'll likely ramble anyways about whatever escapes from my fingers onto this post by use of the keyboard.
In no particular order:
I miss my dad. He's been dead now for just over four years, but I've not gotten to hang out with him in 10. Sure we talked on the phone a few times & wrote a few letters back and forth, but it wasn't the same. See, my dad spent the last 6 years of his life sitting behind bars. He was given a 30 year sentence for a crime I don't believe he committed. Of course the argument stands that if he didn't commit it then he wouldn't have been given a 30 year sentence, not in this day & age...yea, our judicial system is so upright where innocent folks aren't locked away & the guilty are that - guilty. I mean, just look at the whole Casey Anthony or O.J. Simpson things, right?
I rest my case.
I've tried really hard over the last 10 years to wrap my brain around it to the point that it's so wrapped I think it's just warped instead. I really don't want to believe either side. If I take my dad's side of things and defend him, well, I've lost a great deal of close relationships because I did take his side. If I take his accuser's side then I am compelled to be completely disgusted with my father, but also betray what my heart & mind tells me. The most fucked up part of all that is I may not be quite so conflicted about it had some folks not been so adamant that my dad was completely innocent...until my grandparents both died. It was almost immediately upon their deaths that all these folks, who'd supported my dad, bailed on him, trash talked him, and to this day paint him as the worst kind of scum to walk the planet. Of course his accuser went from just a spoiled little brat trying to get what she wanted to the patron saint of all that's right but wrong in the world, a poor innocent victim. Fuck her.
I miss the children that I birthed that were born with barely a fighting chance at life. Dear Alonna was a victim of doctors not putting all the pieces together & me being so utterly depressed I barely made it through the last half of my senior year of high school. Her father, my first husband, was killed in a car wreck days after we'd gotten married. During our short marriage, because I was a FIRM "virgin until marriage" person, I conceived her. Between severe depression, ulcers, stress, school, work, family life, God only knows what all ailed me at that time, doctors had me on a nice little cocktail of medications to treat each and every ailment. No heed was paid to the notion I could have been pregnant. Hell, I didn't even think anything of it. I still had bleeding from time to time, I didn't pay that close attention to timing and all that because I wasn't having sex...had only had sex twice, and it was in wedlock. Teenage pregnancy doesn't happen except out of wedlock, right? OH, YES, I was a naive one back then. She was born in December...in fact she, Mikaila & my Grandpa all share the same birthday, December 13th. My pregnancy wasn't confirmed until after I'd fallen down a flight of stairs just a few weeks before. The fall down the stairs wasn't detrimental to her, even though I'd like to blame something so innocent on the loss of her life. No. She was born with very underdeveloped organs or holes in the organs that did develop due to all the different medications I had been on during the majority of my pregnancy. I was given the option to have a late-term abortion, but I wouldn't hear of it! What kind of fucking moron suggests such a thing to an 18 year old gal who's not only lost her husband & best friend since preschool, but is now finding out she's PREGNANT and VERY near her due date, just mere weeks after her parents told her to "Get your dog, your computer, don't forget your hamster & the rest of your shit & get lost?!" Simply because she wasn't paying enough of the bills anymore because she was trying to move out into her own place... Then of course I had her, without the first drop of pain medication, because I was scared out of my fucking gourd after learning about all the medications I had been on for the previous 9+ months. I still, to this day, have issues with taking medications & hesitate going down stairs... I PLEADED with the doctors & nursing staff to pull a miracle out of their asses. I don't blame them. They tried. For 14 hours they worked to sustain her. Reflecting on it 11 years later now, pieces of me wish I would have saved them each that grief. It's not the loss of Alonna that haunts me so much as the looks on the doctors' and nurses' faces as they not only tried to console me but also make my miracle come true. Thing that haunts me further is the stigma that "we don't talk about that".
Then there was Bridgett. I got pregnant with her almost immediately after Mikeal was born. Ok, not completely immediately, but I'd gotten my first depo shot after he was born, then my ex husband was thrown in jail for attempting to rape a 5 year old...I was given a lame story about how this little girl had walked in on him while he was peeing in a laundry room and it was just some messed up misunderstanding & all he was guilty of, from the early stories I was told, was indecent exposure. I did what any scared, almost 21 year old girl who's been horribly abused by her husband & no one there to support her, except him, with a 4 month old...I believed him & by my upbringing I stood by him. During the early hoopla of all that I missed my appointment to get my next depo shot, was pregnant when I finally did get a chance to make-up that appointment. I hid that pregnancy for as long as I could during the court proceedings. On our anniversary, in June, I was 23 wks along I shared the news with my ex. He responded by beating the shit out of me & throwing a 27" TV at me...back before they were just 10lb pieces of plastic. Then he left to go smoke some meth with his cousins down the road. ((My naive ass didn't know a thing about any of that until well after the fact.)) I carried my 10 month old son & drug my bleeding ass to a neighbor's house, where the lights were on...it was only about 2am...and they called an ambulance for me. All I really remember was about 24 hours later I was being released from the hospital & that my baby girl had died. I did file a police report. All that got me was a rap for being a troublemaker & liar by the police department. Afterall, the Lieutenant's adopted son would NEVER do such a thing! I made the whole thing up!
I'm proud of the fact that I went to the meeting with his lawyer not long after that...I heard the confession tape for myself & learned the whole truth behind the charges. He'd picked a 5 year old girl up from an apartment complex, took her into a laundry room there, & considered having sex with her before some of the effects of the meth & alcohol he was on wore off just enough for him to let her go. I then spent the next few weeks charming my ex. I'd swear up and down how I'd be there for him & I'd never screw him over, yada yada yada yada yada. He was given a 4 MONTH sentence with only 4 years probation. On September 22nd he was booked on the charges...I left from the courthouse, with his ATM & credit cards in hand, & wiped those suckers clean, including the overdraft privileges. I sold what clothes of his that were left over from my brothers picking through them, I didn't make the first one of his vehicle payments, then I broke every fucking rule that bastard had laid upon me of what I wasn't allowed to do while he was incarcerated. I'd then write him letters telling him about how I started smoking, was going out to the bars, sleeping with whatever I felt like, doing whatever I liked. That $900 wedding ring set he'd bought me & still had a nice balance on - sold them for $175...then had a GRAND time at the bar....at least I think it was grand. I woke up in the bed of the truck, somewhere. ((Mikeal was safe at a babysitter's, who knew/understood/something to that effect my mental state of mind at that time.))
A few months later, on Mother's Day, I called Child Services on myself. I was in a desperate state of mind and was under the impression that they'd at least help me. I was suffering from alcohol addiction, was basically homeless, and well...it was bad. Know what child services did for me? Nada. Told me that because I had the presence of mind to call them that it meant that I was a good mother and could figure it out & didn't see Mikeal as being in any real danger. I BEGGED and PLEADED with them to PLEASE place him in a safe home & to help me get into a treatment program. They didn't. The next day I left Mikeal in the care of my 'less than fit roommate'...while he was passed out drunk (not Mikeal, the roommate) and got a job a few blocks away, working graveyard shift at Waffle House. Thankfully I had some awesome coworkers that let Mikeal & I move into their one bedroom apartment...then instead of going out to the bars I joined a chatroom.
I met a TON of very wonderful folks in that chatroom, and minus a few details, I moved from Tulsa, Oklahoma to Austin, TX, to move into a house with a complete stranger. Folks down there would drive an hour one direction to help me get out and look for a job, others would watch Mikeal for me, one guy gave me a car...I met Brian during all of that...yada yada...I sobered up, mostly, and my mother grew up a bit. I went back and lived with her for a while so I could get my divorce taken care of 100%, then moved back to Texas, eventually reconnected with Brian again, he proposed at my dad's funeral dinner, we went back home, in Texas, pregnant, yada yada...we've been married almost 4 years now with a Mikaila added to our family.
My ex is still a complete asshole.
My current marriage, like any other, has it low points, but overall it's awesome. I love where I live now, I love my friends, & tolerate most of my family, but I'm completely in admiration of my children and husband! But yet I still feel depressed. The logical side of me says I have no reason to be depressed. There's nothing I can do about the death of these loved ones, I know that having another child isn't going to replace any of the ones I've lost. I can't pinpoint a reason behind my depression. I'm mostly 'at peace' with the trauma my past inflicted upon me, but then every once in a while it just completely blindsides me and throws me for a complete loop and I don't even know what to think. The littlest thing can set it off and big things won't even phase me. I constantly feel like I'm swimming in a black hole that is devoid of everything, but yet I can see that I'm surrounded by all these folks that I know love & care about me and I just feel empty, withdrawn, and sad. But mostly angry.
The anger bothers me the most.
I'm absolutely justified to feel the anger. I can't think of many folks who wouldn't blame me for completely lashing out at some folks who have caused this anger. But at the same time I'm better than that. I feel guilty for having this anger. I want to just let go of the anger but I can't. I can for short periods. Most of the time I don't even notice it lingering. I don't want to be angry. I don't like feeling this way. This in turn makes me not like myself. And the cycle starts again. I've done decent, in my mind, with coping with it. I've gotten better. Stronger. But it's still there, haunting me. I know it's effected persons around me, I try to keep it hidden, to keep it a secret...because it's just not one of those things we talk about... I don't even know how to talk about it. I don't know how to fix it. Sure I can repress it and pretend it doesn't exist...for a while. But I'm not comfortable with that and that fuels my anger, just in more directions.
I don't know what to do at this point. I'm not even sure I even know what I WANT to do. I just know that my head isn't always healthy & it may never be fully healthy...but I also don't want to go through the rest of my life with this anger hoovering over me.
This grown-up shit is hard.
~*~Then of course I'm searching for info that I need, again, for my assignment, that was erased by Windows' need to fucking update without warning and restart without allowing me to save any work I'd worked SOO fucking hard on...and I run across this blog post. I needed it. I'm going to start working on setting the tone to my own happiness & fulfillment...by starting on #3, especially.~*~
Sunday, July 3, 2011
What I've been working on....
I mentioned here that I was going to start painting glass...
Here's some pics for your viewing pleasure. ☺
First, I start with a clean sheet of glass...this first one was done on a piece of tempered beveled glass from out of an old end table - roughly 12"x18". Then I draw my pattern on with a sharpie....
Next I work very meticulously to paint all the lines on with some liquid leading...
Then start adding in some color...
Then finish all the coloring and spray & seal the piece to set all the paint so that the piece is then cleanable...I'm still working on making a hanger for it so I can put it on a wall or in a window. It'll depend on what kind of frame or hanger I make for it before I decide on an exact price to sell it at. ☺
This is my next small piece I'm working on. I've also started working on a much bigger one, but I can't share it's progress just yet...I'm a bit afraid I'm going to break it since it's bigger & not made with the tempered glass. It's just old window glass....
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