Housewife in Flip-Flops

I ruin a moment.

2011-11-27T21:11:00.001-06:00

I'm totally hooked on Sister Wives, not gonna lie. I don't know why - something about the different culture, the chaos, maybe my obvious girl-crush on Christine.

I sat down to watch tonight's episode and graciously offered to let Drew watch with me. How could he resist? Tonight's the episode in which Robyn gives birth. Compelling television, folks. He sat down and pretended he was interested in a book on his Kindle app.

Robyn grunts and moans her way through an all-natural home birth, and Kody pulls the baby out and holds him up. The baby, of course, is covered in all kinds of fluids. Kody lays the baby on Robyn's chest.

I, horrified, yelled "F*** that s***, clean that s*** off, don't let that thing touch me!" Like, it had blood and fluid and WHO KNOWS what else all over it. Yyyyyyuck.

Drew hung his head down low, shook it in disbelief, and said "I love when you show your maternal side like this."

What can I say. Like, I'm sure it was one of the happiest moments of Robyn's life, but I'm pretty sure I'd at least want some Brawny paper towels on my chest before a gooey newborn is plopped down on it.

You know what I hate?

2011-11-18T18:59:00.001-06:00

Vaguebooking.

Dude, you know what I mean. The status updates that are just a vague hint at something much larger going on.

Like this:

Well, we don't know. Why don't you tell us, instead of making us worry sick about your two beautiful children? Predictably, the first 9 comments are alarmed and questioning, "WHAT HAPPENED??!?!?!!?" "OMG, are [your kids] okay??!!!"

Like, just tell us from the beginning why you called, what happened, and the resolution.

You know what else I hate?

Passive-aggressive Facebooking.

Like, if your status includes the words "some people," and you're actually referring to someone on your friends list, delete the whole thing, learn some healthy communication skills, and start over.

I don't know if I'm being passive-aggressive in saying this, because as far as I know, none of my 6 existing readers does this. But if you do either, CUT IT OUT!

Thanks. Kisses.

Egg on my face.

2011-11-17T15:03:00.001-06:00

"Ace, let's think of states that start with M."
"Mississippi!"
"Yep."
"Maine and Missouri!"
"Very good!"
"Michigan!"
"Awesome!"
"Ummmm..."
"There's another state that starts with M whose capital is Billings."
"Are you talking about Montana?"
"Yes! Good job!"
"Mom? The capital of Montana is Helena."
"...yep. Atta boy."

Stella

2011-11-16T13:56:00.002-06:00

Drew and I had been married and living in El Segundo, California, for two months when he flew back to New Orleans to see his oldest friend graduate from college. When he called me from the airport to let me know he had arrived safely, I told him "IgotacathernameisStellaIloveyoudon'tbemad." He wasn't mad.

I gave Stella free reign of our apartment as soon as I got her home. She sniffed around for at least an hour while I watched TV in my recliner in the living room. After her exploration, she surprised me by jumping right up in my lap, turning around a few times, and laying down. "She already knows I'm her new mommy!" I thought, and reached out slowly to pet her head. She screeched, bit the hell out of my hand, ran under our bed, and didn't come out for 2 hours. She didn't let us actually pet her for about 2 years, but by golly, our laps were HERS.

She was nonplussed by Ace's arrival, and as he grew older, he was always fascinated by her. The other cats would run away from Ace if he got too handsy, but when Stella occupied a space, it was her space, and so help you if you tried to move her. It took her biting him a few times before he figured out not to mess with her. Ace was always tender with her after that, petting her exactly when and where she wanted, and his lap became her favorite spot.

We noticed Stella was losing weight earlier this year and took her to the vet over the summer. The diagnosis was basically "she's old." Unfortunately, after several episodes over the last two months that brought us back to the vet's office, it became clear that her body was simply shutting down.

When Drew shook me awake late Sunday evening to tell me that Stella was going to need to go to the vet again in the morning, I told him he was going to have to take her, because I knew there was no way I could make the decision that had to be made. He made an appointment for 8:30, just when I was dropping Ace off at school. As I was driving back toward Brandon, I realized that no call from Drew meant that the decision had been made. I arrived at the vet's office and walked in the exam room just in time to see Drew, his eyes red with tears, signing the euthanasia consent form.

She passed mercifully quickly.

After Drew buried her, we sat at the kitchen table for what seemed like hours wiping away tears and holding hands. He left for work, and I started rehearsing what I would tell Ace.

Nothing could have prepared me for Ace's reaction. When my grandmother passed away in January, he seemed sad but mostly just had a lot of questions. I assumed he still didn't have a grasp on the finality of death and would just have similar questions about Stella. I was very wrong. In the middle of his sobs, my precious boy asked "who's going to pet her? She's going to be all alone." His screaming slowed to sniffling, and we went outside to play.

Drew came home from work early so we could have a funeral. Ace again broke down into deep sobs, shaking my normally unshakeable husband, and we all stood in the backyard and cried and hugged for a while. I told Ace how I'd surprised Dada with Stella and asked him to tell me his favorite things about her. Drew said a prayer, we all hugged again, and we came inside.

Goodbye, sweet Stella. I hope you like God's lap as much as you loved Ace's and that you have a big couch to lay on, unlimited cold water to drink, and the best wet food heaven has to offer. Rest in peace, my beautiful, sassy kitty.

Wins.

2011-11-13T21:47:00.001-06:00

Saints beat the Buccaneers on Sunday.

Mississippi beat 26 on Tuesday.

Saints beat the Falcons today, by 3 points in overtime.

Good week.

dadgummit

2011-11-12T08:20:00.002-06:00

I used to sleep in like a CHAMP. Now, if I sleep past 7, it's probably because I was up late reading Damn You Autocorrect or partying with my friends*. Of course, my body THINKS it's 7, but now it's actually 6, so I was in my kitchen looking menacingly at the coffee maker at 6:21 this morning. Today is SATURDAY. Tell me how that's fair.

I told Drew that I'd spend all day doing laundry, cleaning, and grocery shopping to make up for the last 2 months of neglect. I'm thinking more realistically I'll do 3 loads, go to Walgreens for some Lean Cuisines and Coke Zero, and go party with my friends**. It's Saturday, after all.

*watching Sister Wives
**Actually party with my friends. It's girls' night!

awkward

2011-11-11T20:40:00.002-06:00

I don't take compliments well. Like, at all. I generally just mumble thanks and duck my head and change the subject to the weather or whose mama makes the best fried chicken, anything that'll redirect attention.

That's why all the people who called me "brave" over the past few months made me feel all awkward as heck. Brave for writing my column, brave for doing the video, brave for speaking out, period. I really don't think "brave" is necessarily accurate. I think more accurate was the person who grumpily called me an "attention whore" behind my back. I do enjoy attention, not gonna lie - more specifically, I thrive on interaction. That's why I do social media the way I do it - I love posting things that make people laugh, think, angry, and most importantly, talk to me. I'm a stay-at-home mom, for heaven's sake. I don't get much adult interaction.

I don't know any other way to be, other than an "attention whore." When I'm feeling anything, I tell people about it. If I'm enjoying a Saints game, I tell people about it. If I had a great pedicure, I tell people about it. People seem to care - I have over 1,000 followers on Twitter, so I'm doing something right. But believe me, when something pisses me off as profoundly as 26 did, I'm shouting from the rooftops until someone takes notice. And once I have their attention, I'm gonna get them worked up until they shout it from the rooftops. So maybe I was an attention whore. But I wasn't standing on a bar booty-dancing with my boobs hanging out, I was using my influence to bring attention to something that needed it. I don't call that brave.

No, brave were the people who spoke out in tiny Mississippi towns surrounded by Southern Baptists, the driving force behind 26. Like I said, the religious pressure surrounding 26 was oppressive. Seeing the opponents get absolutely torn apart by their "friends" on Facebook was heartbreaking sometimes, but they stood up against them anyway - that's brave.

Brave was my friend who convinced her church in her tiny Mississippi town to not put up a Yes On 26 sign because it might make a woman considering going there feel shame about her past and stay away.

Brave was the woman who got her BIG Baptist church to take down their BIG Yes On 26 sign.

Brave was the woman going up to the Yes On 26 booth alone at her tiny Mississippi town fair and calling them out on their nonsense.

Brave were the people who confronted their conservative traditionalist parents and in-laws and eventually converted them.

Brave was the senior pastor of First Baptist Church of Greenville, Mississippi speaking out against 26.

Brave was the woman who went against her mother's wishes (something you Do Not Do here) and registered to vote for the first time in 20 years JUST to vote no on 26.

Brave were the people who were not allowed to voice their opinions because of their jobs, but did so in sneaky ways anyway.

So no, me speaking out to my mostly liberal followers on Twitter and my friends on Facebook who have already written me off as slightly left-of-center is not especially brave. Not compared to the people who went completely against their surrounding culture. They are the brave ones, and they are the unsung heroes of this victory.

A letter

2011-11-10T09:33:00.000-06:00

I wrote two of the pastors in my church an email last night. It kinda sums up the things I was feeling the other night, so I'll cheat on today's blog post and copy and paste it here. Doug is the head pastor, and Steve is kinda the head of worship and media and all kinds of other things and leads my small group. And believe me when I say, small group is the highlight of my week, every week. Anyway:

Doug and Steve:

Emotions have obviously flared. Like I said in my last email to y'all, I have seen awful things coming from Christians, including pastors, toward people on my side. Awful things. And I'm tired.

One of the most prevalent things is that those of us who voted no are not Christians, and we're going to Hell, and God would vote yes, and etc. I've been so overwhelmed by those messages, and so disgusted by the things that people are saying in the name of God, that I'm just kinda starting to believe them, you know? I would absolutely never in my life tell a rape victim that her rape was a blessing and she conceived so she could give an infertile couple a chance to adopt. I would never in my life tell a woman who terminated an ectopic pregnancy that she made an unethical choice. And I have ultimate compassion for a woman who feels she has to abort. I've had to do it to save my own life, and I STILL had to question whether or not it was the right thing to do. If a woman is in a situation where she has to terminate her unborn child, she has to be in a position of desperation.

If being a Christian means I have to call a woman in a desperate situation she can't see her way out of a murderer, or at least I have to THINK she's a murderer... or if being a Christian means I really have to tell a rape victim that her rape was a blessing in disguise, then maybe I'm just not a Christian. Because I don't believe in a God who would absolutely wreck a woman's life. I don't believe in a God who doesn't love a woman who has an abortion because she sees absolutely no other way out of her situation.

Thing is, throughout all of this, I always believed in [our church], especially the two of you. It's been a refuge for me. But I log on to Facebook this morning to see a passive-aggressive post from [the youth pastor] to the church's group about how he was shocked at the pridefulness of the statuses of people celebrating the amendment failing, and now we can move on to winning souls to Christ. Pridefulness? This state just beat an amendment that could have killed women in Mississippi, so you're damn straight I posted a celebratory status. And move on to winning souls to Christ? Maybe nobody sees it, but my entire life is devoted to winning souls to Christ. I absolutely do it in my own way. I don't believe in preaching down my nose at people and out-religioning people - I believe in meeting people on their level and letting Jesus speak through my actions. And I have spent countless hours telling people on my side of the political spectrum that Jesus absolutely loves them despite what the other side is saying - including their pastors, their families, their friends. I have done my level best to keep people from walking away from Christ. So if being a Christian means pointing a judgmental finger at others, using a leadership position in the church and on the church's Facebook to do so, and questioning whether or not I can have passion for both my rights and witnessing, then maybe I'm not a Christian.

I am not walking away from Christ, but I'm walking away from the church for a little while. I cannot believe people would act the way they act in the name of Christ, and I just can't deal with anyone else in our church right now. I'm sad to say it, but I'm absolutely disgusted with Christianity as a culture at this point and I can't continue to be a part of it right now. Please know that neither of you has anything to do with this and I still love and have the utmost respect for both of you and still believe Jesus would hang with you.

-Stacey

Wow.

2011-11-09T10:49:00.004-06:00

Last night, Mississippi defeated an anti-abortion ballot initiative. The people of this amazing state realized it went too far and could have horrible consequences if passed, and they resoundingly voted NO, by a nearly 20% margin.

If you didn't know (ha), this has absolutely consumed my life for the past 2 months. I knew about it well before that, when I saw a commercial for it on TV well over a year ago and looked it up online. Here's the text:

Be it Enacted by the People of the State of
Mississippi:

SECTION 1. Article III of the constitution of
the state of Mississippi is hereby amended BY THE
ADDITION OF A NEW SECTION TO READ:

SECTION 33. Person defined. As used in this
Article III of the state constitution, “The term ‘person’
or ‘persons’ shall include every human being from
the moment of fertilization, cloning or the functional
equivalent thereof.

Of course, realizing that there were no exceptions for life-threatening pregnancies, I was immediately concerned. But I assumed it would never pass, and didn't think about it much.

As soon as I found out it was on the ballot, I was all "wait a damn minute" and started scrapping. I was overwhelmed by the futility of fighting an anti-abortion bill in Mississippi, but I couldn't stop. If I get pissed about something, everyone's gonna know it. (To be fair, if I'm happy about something, everyone's gonna know it. I'm just a sharer, what can I say.) I started annoying people on my various social media outlets and in person.

When I started this, I felt alone. I knew I lived in the most conservative state in the country and I knew this would pass. I know the people I run with tend toward kinda liberal and I had faith in them, but I didn't think they'd fight it much because of how little hope we had.

I was so NOT alone. The more people heard about it, the more they realized it wasn't right either. Each time someone said "hey, this is too vague," I got more fuel to fight. I eventually got some AMAZING people on my side and helped form our own PAC (Parents Against MS 26) when we were all just kinda floundering around looking for how to fight it. That PAC, most remarkably the work of Atlee Breland, I believe, made up a HUGE part of what won our battle.

When I voted yesterday, I cried. It was overwhelming to me to stand in a room full of people who were actively voting on whether or not to take my rights away. When I was in the carpool line to pick Ace up from school and looked at the little girls walking out of the school and thought of the statistics that 1 in 4 of them would be sexually assaulted and may not have access to the morning-after pill if the amendment passed, I cried again.

But by golly, we won. 58-42. We protected the women, the children, the families of Mississippi. And for the first time in 2 months, I'm not scared. I know they'll try again. I know the legislature's going to go after it. But just for today, I'm not scared.

The thing that shall not be mentioned

2011-11-06T19:54:00.001-06:00

I am fatigued with that thing I won't mention. For the better part of 2 months, I have fought it with every ounce of my spare energy. I'm still fighting it with every ounce of my spare energy, but it's getting more and more spare.

It's not just that I'm tired of fighting, I'm tired of questioning everything I've known for quite a while. I'll talk more about that later, when I can form more cohesive thought, but I'm just questioning a lot.

Tuesday, I'll watch and wait.

Wednesday, I'll go couch-shopping. Take my kid out for lunch and to the Children's Museum. Take a very long, very hot bath.

Thursday, I'll question things more.

Commutes

2011-11-05T15:41:00.002-05:00

My daily commute takes me on 3 big thoroughfares - Highway 80 through Brandon and Pearl, Highway 475 through Pearl and Flowood, and Lakeland Drive through Flowood and Jackson. I am keenly aware of other drivers on those streets, and I unfortunately think I've fallen into a stereotype pattern when it comes to classifying which drivers to fall behind if I want to go at or above the speed limit. ...okay, above. I go above the speed limit. Sorry.

Here's a fairly comprehensive list of vehicles I want to be behind on my commute, from fastest to slowest.

1. Minivans or large/expensive SUVs, bonus if there are stick-figure families on the back window. Usually driven by a mom who is late to something, somewhere.
2. Flashy big trucks with a bunch of after-market gear and product stickers. NOT ol' Bubba trucks, but new trucks with, like, extra pipes and stuff.
3. Your major sports cars - Camaros, Challengers, Corvettes. Why 3rd on the list? They're kind of a crap shoot - some people are apparently a little afraid of the power under their butts and keep it in 3rd gear. Cryin' shame if you ask me.
4. Comcast vans. Seriously. I defy you to find me a Comcast van that goes below the speed limit.
5. Mid-range sedans, SUVs, Fiats.
6. Anyone on a cell phone or smoking a cigarette. Their minds are otherwise occupied, and they don't really care about the speed limit.
7. Anyone from Attala County. I'm sure they're very nice people, but they lock down in terror as soon as they hit Lakeland Drive on their way to Jackson to visit Aunt Myrtle at the Baptist.
8. A dump truck filled with boulders.
9. A turtle.
10. ANYONE DRIVING A BUICK. Young, old, in between, whatever. Getting behind a Buick means I'm coasting anywhere between 5-10 miles below the speed limit, 95% of the time. I think somewhere in the fine print when leasing a Buick, there's a provision that if you go above 40 miles per hour, your interest rate goes up half a percent.

At least in Jackson we're not totally overrun with aggressive drivers - the people of Mississippi are too polite for that. Check out my cousin's series of dashcam videos from the Washington, D.C. metro.

You know what I hate?

2011-11-04T21:38:00.001-05:00

Okay, there are these two specific things that absolutely grate my nerves. They're pretty minor, so they can probably be classified as pet peeves, but I'm a special kind of person who dwells a little on the things she hates. The first one may garner me a sympathetic head nod, but the second may actually lose me both the readers I've gained back since the beginning of the month.

1. I HATE when a business has double doors but only unlocks one of them. Like, the extra second it takes you to unlock the door at the open of business and then lock the door at the close of business will save a hundred people the annoyance of yanking on a locked door like an idiot. And in my case, since it gets on my nerves so much, it'll save me the annoyance of having to tell Twitter and Facebook and now my blog about how annoying your laziness is, SWEET TREE YOGURT IN RIDGELAND, MISSISSIPPI.

Can I get an "amen" on that one? Keep in mind, you're my most loyal blog readers to have stuck with me after nearly a year of absence, and you have at least a little place in your heart for me. Remember that as you read my next pet peeve.

2. I HATE ICE CREAM CAKE. It's not enjoyable ice cream because it's gotta be rock hard enough to stay in a mold so it's gotta be COLD and it's automatic brain freeze. And since it's apparently frozen by liquid nitrogen so it'll maintain its shape, it's too cold to even taste. It's not enjoyable as cake - there's never enough icing, and if you're reading this thinking "well, Stacey, I don't really like icing all that much" then WHY HAVE YOU NOT ASKED A DOCTOR ABOUT YOUR UNFORTUNATE CONDITION? CAKE IS MERELY A DELICIOUS VEHICLE FOR ICING, PEOPLE. Anyway, yeah, on an ice cream cake, there's never enough icing and it's gotta be the soft whipped icing that isn't REAL icing because REAL icing would weigh down the ice cream on an ice cream "cake." And it sucks to be you if you get a center piece of ice cream "cake" because all they have there is a little writing gel WHICH TASTES AWFUL and usually no icing at all. And sometimes, they put the ice cream on top of a slab of REAL cake, so HURRAY for mushy, barely edible REAL cake that has mostly collapsed under the weight of the GLACIER CONFECTION on top of it.

I'm pretty sure ice cream cake annoys me to such an extreme degree because I still follow my meal plan and in order to have a dessert of some sort I have to eliminate the starch from my meal, and by golly if I'm skipping vital nutrients I wanna skip them for something AMAZING. Like the corner piece of a thick piece of chocolate cake iced by a mom who was so fried from planning her child's birthday party that she drank a bottle of Cabernet and was feeling extra generous with the icing. And if OOPS she dropped glass of Cabernet right-side up next to the slab of icin- I mean cake, that would be okay too.

Are you shaking your head in disappointment at my absolute un-Americanness?

Don't get me started on the use of the word "pat" when used as anything but a verb.

Listen.

2011-11-03T22:39:00.001-05:00

Every day of NaBloPoMo can't be great. This is just a token post. I have at least 2 real posts swirling in my head. Real posts, of substance!

Maybe I shouldn't have committed to NaBloPoMo during the biggest political fight of my life...

Last meal

2011-11-02T23:42:00.001-05:00

What would you want your last meal to be? In the purposes of keeping this light, let's say it's your last meal before you decide to take a month-long mission trip to Outer Mongolia to study the effects of cloud cover on the moods of Mongolian cattle.

I'm going with an absolute breakfast feast. There is nothing, I repeat, NOTHING (okay a few things) I love more than a breakfast buffet. I start with eggs, which have to be scrambled until they're dry. Wet eggs make me gag. And bring on the bacon, crispy, not all wobbly. Next up is a serving of buttermilk biscuits with sausage gravy. And ultimately, since I have to have something sweet with breakfast, some fluffy pancakes with a ton of butter and syrup. And it's okay if the bacon touches the syrup, but not the eggs. NEVER THE EGGS.

I have almost the same thing for breakfast every morning. A chopped-up banana with cereal and some kind of nuts on top. It seems repetitive, but it's gotta be the same thing every morning or I'm grumpy. My banana dependency is outrageous - thankfully Drew always leaves me the last one.

So that's day 2 of NaBloPoMo. I cheated and used a prompt, but it's once again nearly midnight and I didn't think about my blog until I was about to turn my light out. I'll think about it some more tomorrow.

just thinkin'

2011-11-01T23:54:00.002-05:00

Might try National Blog Posting Month again. I used to be good at this. Now I'm really good at Twitter and Facebook and just don't know if I'd be entertaining here again. But why not, I'll try.

It's 11:55pm on November 1st and I should have been in bed an hour ago, but I've just been thinking about how much I used to love blogging and thought NaBloPoMo would be a good chance to start over again. I can't let a whole year go by with just what, 4 posts? That's sad.

So that's all for today. Thanks for stopping by. I'll figure something out for tomorrow. And since all I talk about EVERYWHERE ELSE is Amendment 26, I'll try to keep this my safe-space.

It happened again.

2011-10-21T14:16:00.002-05:00

Remember when my baby sent me a song when I needed her most?

Today is the 7th anniversary of the day that I had to end my ectopic pregnancy. I miss my baby girl so much today that it hurts, and because of my political involvement I'm having to talk about her every single day. In some cases, I'm having to defend that I loved her more than anything in the world.

Drew let me sleep in today so I rolled out of bed around 10:15, ate breakfast, drank coffee, and went to pick Ace up from school. After we ate lunch and cuddled, I put him in bed, turned my bathroom radio on, and jumped in the shower.

The song that came on after the commercial break was "I'll Be Missing You." I know, I know, it's technically about a rapper who was gunned down, but what are the odds of a 14-year-old song coming on a top-40 radio station during the 30 minutes I had that radio station on all day?

The chorus:

Every step I take, every move I make
Every single day, every time I pray
I'll be missing you
Thinkin of the day, when you went away
What a life to take, what a bond to break
I'll be missing you

I miss you too, precious girl. Thank you for sending me this message.

Mawwiage

2011-10-18T23:25:00.001-05:00

You know what I've been thinking?

There is no secret to marriage. It's a total crapshoot. There is no good age to be married, no good reason, no bad reason, no acceptable level of maturity or how well you know each other. Because no matter how unlikely a marriage's success may seem, there's always SOMEONE out there who got married under the same circumstances and is still happily married umpty years later.

I dated Drew for about 2 weeks before we decided to get married. We were officially engaged 2 weeks later. We were married 6 weeks after that. I was 20, he was 23. We were definitely a disaster scenario. Yet 10 and a half years later, we're happy. Really happy.

People hear how old I was and how quickly we were married and say "well, when you know, you know." But doesn't everyone "know" when they get married that they're marrying the right person?

People who get divorced look at the reasons their marriage went sour and think that those elements will equal disaster for every marriage. People who are happily married think that the things that make them work will make everyone work.

Thing is, everyone is an individual. Whether that individual will mesh with another individual is anybody's guess. And, each individual goes through subtle changes throughout the years. Whether the changes the two individuals make will result in 2 compatible people is anybody's guess.

And there's this cultural myth that people get divorced too easily without trying to heal their marriages. I don't know anyone for whom divorce wasn't a really big painful freakin' deal. I feel like if it happens all the time like people say it does, I'd at least know one couple who just woke up one day and decided "meh, it's the single life for me."

I don't know what makes me and Drew work together so well, but we do, and I guess I just haven't experienced the hard work marriage is supposed to be. He's my absolute best friend, and not in that he's-my-husband-and-has-to-be way, I mean in that he's-kinda-awesome-and-I'd-rather-hang-out-with-him-than-anyone-else way. We aren't jealous. We joke with each other, a lot, through everything. These things aren't work, it's just how we are. We haven't made much of an effort to be in the happy marriage we're in, we're just damn lucky we found each other, and he was damn smart to finally stop running from me and see reason.

So yeah, that's what I've been thinking. I'm in a great marriage, and it's not because of any hard work I've done or because I did all the right things to find the right man and prepare for marriage. It's because I (hopefully he feels we) got really lucky in the crapshoot. I hope we stay this lucky forever.

What happened??

2011-01-11T14:53:00.003-06:00

Had to dust off the old blog for this one because WHOA nelly, what an interesting 24 hours I've had.

So yesterday, I was making muffins, and when my hands are occupied and my mind isn't, stuff pops in. It usually pops out on Facebook or Twitter. So after I finished grating and juicing four oranges, I tweeted this: "So Palin & crew are feeling unjustly blamed for the actions of an extremist. Maybe they can ask Muslims for advice on how to deal with that."

Just something snarky. My usual fare. After I finished mixing the muffins, I checked Twitter again and had a few positive replies from my usual followers and noticed I'd been retweeted (reposted). Yay! People liked it. On with the muffins.

Muffins are in the oven. I checked Twitter from my computer to see how many times I'd been retweeted - 20! That was a record. I'd also gotten 6 new followers, which was exciting. I went to take a shower.

Shower's done, hair's dry, muffins are out of the oven. I hear my phone blowing up. I've gotten 30 followers since I last checked my e-mail. I check Twitter and my replies column is spinning - messages of support and people paraphrasing to retweet. (Tech moment. A proper retweet won't show up to the author, it just gets logged on Twitter. Some people will retweet so it will show up to the author, and it shows up as a regular reply.)

I texted a couple of my friends to let them know that I was kind of a big deal on Twitter right now, and as I'm having conversations with them, my phone keeps beeping with new e-mails. 10 more followers. 10 more followers. 10 more followers. I checked my Twitter again, and my replies column is out of control.

People are starting to yell at me. I got called a whore, a racist (??), and was told to shut the **** up. Someone told me they can't wait for the end of the world in 2012 so people like me would shut up forever. I freaked out a liiiiiiittle bit and locked my account down to private. Had Drew do the same thing.

Still, people are retweeting. And following. A LOT. These were follower requests - people couldn't see my tweets unless I allowed them to. And I wasn't allowing them to.

I got a notification that I was trending in Portland. "Trending" means I was a trending topic, which means I was one of the 10 most popular things being talked about in Portland at that time. Then I got a notification that I was trending in Seattle. Then I got a notification that I was trending in CANADA. THE WHOLE COUNTRY was talking about me. Yowza.

THEN. I was featured on twitter.com/toptweets, which features the most popular tweets on Twitter. They have 800K+ followers. WOW.

There was much pit sweat during this time, folks. I've always liked writing and thought that mayyyybeeee some day I'd do some actual published writing and I figured people might like it, but I had a moment in the kitchen yesterday when I realized that roughly a million people had read what I'd written. People were suggesting me to Keith Olbermann for his Tweet of the Day segment. Lots of people watch his show. YIIIKES.

Went to my Bible study last night to regroup. Told everyone what had happened and at one point opened my Twitter to show them and I had gotten a bunch of notifications that people were using my tweet and not crediting me. Really popular people. That doesn't bother me so much, because I had put it out on a popular, public domain, but hey, I'd been plagiarized! COOL.

When I woke up this morning and checked my e-mail, I had 149 new follower requests, bringing my total to 229. I absolutely could not believe I had somehow gotten that popular. I checked Twitter and several people were telling me that I was being featured on the front page of Reddit.com, which is a website where you can submit links which people will then vote on, and the more votes a link gets, the higher it's featured on the website. My tweet was number one. Reddit is a VERY popular website. There's the pit sweat again.

So, I took my baby to school, stopped for some coffee, came home, and decided to face the music. I un-protected my tweets, accepted all my new followers, and started responding to my replies. For most of the day today, with obviously long breaks to take care of and play with my kid, I've been responding to people. 99% of the replies are messages of support. The 1% that disagree with me aren't so bad. I understand their point of view. Most of them disagree with the analogy I made, but in arguing their point, they're reinforcing mine.

So that's what's happened. I've gone from 420-ish followers to, at press time, 892. It's rumored that my tweet has been retweeted an estimated 25,000 times. I've been called "f***ing brilliant." Me.

I'm just feeling sorry for my new followers, because I'm about 6% profound political observations and 94% fart jokes.

We'll see where this goes.

my thoughts, frequently in ALL CAPS

2010-08-16T15:35:00.003-05:00

You know what's pissing me off today? Well, friends, I'LL TELL YA. Bigotry. Well, bigotry pisses me off every day, but it's especially pissing me off today.

It pisses me off when I hear someone generalize black people. "I was mugged by a black man, so I pretty much stay away from black people." "I lock my doors when a black person walks by my car." "Black people commit a lot of crimes, so all black people must be bad." OH MY GOSH YOU'RE AN IDIOT SHUT THE HELL UP. The actions of an extreme, disproportionate few do not represent black people as a damn whole. (Also, as an aside, black people are CONVICTED of a lot more crimes than white people. That's not because black people are committing more crimes. Look up the effects of poverty and institutionalized racism some day. IT'LL BLOW YOUR MIND.)

Jokes about Catholic priests being pedophiles piss me off. That's bigotry, too, y'all. I get that it was totally a scandal and there was a cover-up and ALL OF THAT WAS BAD, but the actions of an extreme few do not represent Catholic priests, or Catholic people, as a whole. Catholic priests are by and large GREAT MEN. I vehemently defend Catholics against these allegations and against this bigotry, though I am not myself Catholic. Seeing my Catholic friends - good, loving, giving, Christian people, excellent representatives of what Catholicism is all about - be hurt by this kind of bigotry pisses me right off.

Specifically pissing me off today, though, are the people who are against the Islamic cultural center (not a mosque, although there will be a mosque inside) that's being built BLOCKS from Ground Zero in NYC. I'm sorry (no, no I'm really not) but THAT SHIT IS BIGOTRY. Saying an Islamic cultural center shouldn't be built near Ground Zero is like saying a Catholic church shouldn't be built near a day care. A few Catholic priests hurt a lot of kids, and the Catholic hierarchy covered it up - the pope even apologized for it. A few Muslims hurt and killed a lot of people on September 11, 2001 - Billions of Muslims the world over distanced themselves from it and have been trying ever since to make the world realize that the actions of a few extremist Muslims (WHO WERE NOT AT ALL IN TOUCH WITH WHAT ISLAM IS ABOUT) do not represent the entire religion.

Muslims did not orchestrate the attacks on 9/11. A few extremist Muslims did. Stop trying to punish the Muslim world at large, and stop trying to act like Muslims are spitting on the graves of the 9/11 fallen. Muslims are trying to reach out to your thick-ass head with this cultural center. They're trying to tell you, "THIS is what we are about. THIS is what we represent. NOT THAT. We are sorry you were hurt. We grieve with you too. Please understand us."

I heard somebody - Newt Gingrich, I believe - say that Muslims building a mosque near ground zero would be like Nazis putting a Nazi sign near a Holocaust memorial. No. Bad analogy. It's like the German government putting a government building near Buchenwald. The German government itself, as it exists, is not responsible for the Holocaust. Crazy, racist extremists (who were unfortunately the majority at one time) were. Muslims, at large, are not responsible for the 9/11 attacks. A few crazy extremists were.

Unfortunately, I have pissed a friend off in the course of discussing this topic. I get overheated in the face of what I feel is blatant bigotry, and I get ahead of myself. But no, I will not apologize. Nor will I apologize to the friend I called out a couple of years ago when she went off, saying she wouldn't let her child go near a Catholic priest because they're pedophiles. Standing up in the face of bigotry is part of who I am, it's what I will always do, and it's much more important in the grand scheme of things than any friendship.

August 3rd

2010-08-04T09:40:00.005-05:00

After 64 long days in the River Oaks NICU, Ace came home on August 3rd, 2006. A lot of babies in his situation never come home. I still read the blog of a woman whose baby was born at 29 weeks, and died of kidney failure. I never, ever want to take for granted how truly blessed I am.

Since homecoming day is a major celebration, Ace gets a little spoiled. We went to see Despicable Me at Tinseltown, and he was STOKED about the popcorn. After a little nap, we let him choose his supper location. "What would you like, son? Bravo? Julep? Char? Chick Fil-A?" "CHICK FIL-A!!" Ah well. Maybe next year.

Here's my collection of homecoming day pictures.

2006:

(That's an apnea monitor I'm holding. It monitored whether or not he was breathing.)

2007:

2008:

2009:

2010:

patience

2010-07-25T16:33:00.002-05:00

Drew and I were in charge of the toddler room at church a few weeks ago, with the help of two other women. Since Drew and I are AWESOME, this meant we blew bubbles all over the carpet and danced with the kids and spun them around and stuffed cookies down their throats while Mrs. Boring and Mrs. Snooze sat in the tiny chairs and gossiped. A very shy little girl came up to me at one point with her hand on her crotch and a look of desperation in her eye, so I asked the obvious. "Do you need to potty, sweetheart?" She nodded with extra desperation so we took off. What happened next blew my mind.

She walked in the restroom.
She pulled down her underwear.
She climbed on the toilet.
She did her business.
She wiped.
She hopped off.
She pulled up her underwear.
She washed her hands.
She walked out of the room, making sure to turn the light off on the way out.

It was all so... simple. So quick. I'm not used to this. Here's what I'm used to.

Scene: Ace is in his bedroom delaying naptime AT ALL COSTS. He knows not to get out of bed without permission. So...

Ace: "Maaaama, I have to go potty."
Me: "Okay buddy, coming."
Ace: "Maaaamaaaa, I have to go potty."
Me: "I'm on my way, son."
Ace: "Maaaamaaaaa, I have to go potty REAL BAD."
Me: "Ace, I'm three inches from your do-"
Ace: "Maaaamaaa, I have to go po- hey Mama."
Me: "Hey buddy, let's go."
Ace: "Where were you?"
Me: "In the kitchen."
Ace: "What were you doing?"
Me: "Dishes. Let's go."
Ace: "Oh, okay."

Scoot toward edge of bed.
Stop to rattle bed rails. Rattle. Rattle.
Scoot. Rattle.
Stop to inspect fingernails.

Me: "Son, get a move on."
Ace: "Oh, okay."
Scoot. Scoot. Rattlerattlerattle. "Son..."
Scoot. Slide off bed. Walk toward door.
Stop to inspect fingernails. Open dresser drawer, inspect contents. Close drawer.
Walk through the door.

Ace: "What's that?"
Me: "It's a grey spot on the carpet."
Ace: "Why?"
Me: "Because it's... what do you mean why?"
Ace: "Where did it come from?"
Me: "It's always been there."
Ace: "Oh, okay."

Walk into bathroom.
Turn on overhead light.
Turn on the lights above the mirror.
Turn on the vent.
Turn off the vent and the overhead light.
Turn off the lights above the mirror, turn on the overhead light.
Nod, satisfied.

Walk toward the toilet.
Stop to inspect nails.
Look up, realize there's a handsome devil in the mirror, stop to make faces.
"Ace, go."
"Oh, okay."

Walk toward toilet.
Pull down pants and underwear.
Stop to inspect toenails.
Stand up, put up toilet seat.
Scoot in, start to do business.
Wiggle butt so the stream, while ephemeral, is also artful.
Laugh.
Finish.

Pull 18 pieces of toilet paper off the roll, one square at a time.
Dab dab dab. Dab. Dab dab dab. Dab dab. ...dab.
Put 18 pieces of toilet paper into the toilet, one square at a time.
Each time a piece of toilet paper goes into the toilet, yell "HEY! It's melting!"

Flush.
Become mesmerized by flushing.
Forget to take hand off handle.
Flush. Flush. Flush. "Ace, stop flushing." "Oh, okay."

Pull up underwear.
Pull up pants.
Walk toward sink. "Did you forget something?" "Oh."
Walk back to toilet. Put seat down.

Walk out the door. "Uh, son?" "What?" "Forgetting something else?" "Oh."
Walk to sink.
Turn on water.
Close drain. Open drain. Close drain. "Son." Open drain.

Grab soap.
Pump. Soap. Into. Hand. As. Slowly. As. Possible.
Repeat.
Repeat.
Repeat. "Ace, that's enough soap." "Oh, okay."
Wash hands while singing hand-washing song.
Rinse hands.
Turn water off.
Fling water at mirror.
Make faces at self in mirror.

Step off stool.
Open drawer. "What's in here?" "Your washrags." "Why? "Because that's where they go." "Ohhhh, okay."
Close drawer.
Open next drawer. "What's in here?" "Son, dry your hands." "Oh, okay."
Grab towel.
Dry hands.
Shake towel.
Laugh.
Put towel over head, say "Where's the baby?"
Quickly remove towel from head, yell "THERE'S THE BABY!"

Put towel on counter.
Turn on the lights above the mirror.
Turn vent on.
Make faces in the mirror.
Shake head back and forth. Laugh.
Turn all lights and vent off.
Close door.

Ace: "What's that?"
Me: "It's still a grey spot in the carpet."
Ace: "Oh."

Turn hall light on.
Sass Mama in some way when she turns it back off.
Turn hall light on.
Scream and start running when Mama turns it off and says "Bed, son."

Climb back in bed.
Me: "Night, buddy. Love you."
Ace: "Love you too, Mama."

Why not to watch Star Wars with a 4-year-old.

2010-07-06T14:43:00.002-05:00

"Who's that?"
"Jabba The Hutt."
"Does he have a tail?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because he's an alien. Some aliens have tails."
"Why is he an alien?"
"Because he is."
"But why?"
"I don't know."
"Why don't you know?"
"Just watch the movie, son."

...

"Is that an alien too?"
"No."
"What is it?"
"It's a droid."
"What's a droid?"
"It's a robot."
"Is that a droid robot?"
"No, it's a Storm Trooper."
"Why?"

...

"Who's that?"
"Princess Leia."
"Why is she a princess?"
"I reckon because her mother was a queen."
"What's a queen?"
"Uhhhhhh."
"Was Princess Leia in the blue light?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because she was sending Obi-Wan a message. Like a letter."
"Why was she sending Oba-naan a message?"
"Because she needed him."
"Why?"

...

"Why are they fighting?"
"Because a 4-year-old asked them too many questions and they're a little tense."
"Huh?"

...

"What did he just say?"
"'The Force will be with you.'"
"What forest?"
"Not 'forest,' buddy, 'Force.'"
"What forest?"

...

"Are they fighting?"
"Yes."
"Why? ... Mama, why are you drinking from that bottle with the little grey goose on it?"

hypothetical children

2010-07-05T09:30:00.003-05:00

Do you remember, back before you had kids, when you only had hypothetical kids, and they were the absolute greatest kids that ever existed? They ate everything you put in front of them because they weren't going to eat unless they ate what you gave them. They were going to listen to what you said, the first time you said it, because they were going to KNOW that you meant business. Et cetera, et cetera and so on and so forth.

Thing is, I'm still the hypothetical parent. He's not going to eat unless he eats what I give him, but he's gone from a child who will eat anything set in front of him to a child who has all kinds of taste and texture pickiness and it's just a whole lot easier to give him something I know he'll like than something I want him to eat. I know he'll eat macaroni and cheese. I know he'll eat peanut butter and jelly. I know he'll eat carrots and green beans. Red beans and rice. Spinach with dressing. Those things are all easy to give him, so he gets them pretty often. Am I fostering a child with a closed culinary mind? Maybe. I guess I should relax, since he's not eating fast food for every other meal. But still. My hypothetical kid didn't gag when I gave him blueberries, or tomatoes, or meat with a seared crust, or shrimp.

Oh, and how my hypothetical kid would listen. And when my hypothetical back went to hell and I had to have hypothetical surgery, my kid would act like an angel for the nannies. My real kid? A total scary monster for his nannies after my surgery. I seriously started to wonder if his existing brain damage had an effect on his behavior, because it reached a total crisis point. Dr. Wifey, his first nanny, was unbelievably patient with him, but he would scream at the top of his lungs any time she would ask him to do anything.

"Okay, Ace, time to get out of bed!"
SCREEEEEEEAAAAAAAAMMMMMMMMMM
"Ready to eat breakfast?"
SCREEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAMMMMMMMM
"Let's put your shoes on!"
Well... you know the deal.

I would be in bed sleeping off a pain pill and be woken up by screams. I had to get up and spank him pretty much every morning because he treated her like garbage. Even with the "if you scream at Miss Dr. Wifey again, I'm going to spank you" warning, he still screamed at her for nothing.

JEEZ, it was embarrassing. I really have no clue how Dr. Wifey hasn't shunned us entirely by now because of the clear presence of a demon in our household, but she hasn't. She's even extended an offer of babysitting one night so Drew and I can go out for a date. Now that's forgiveness.

Since I've been nanny-less, though, he's become a little closer to the hypothetical child. He gets pretty grumpy when he's not in his element (like when we go out of town) or if he's tired, but I think that's standard. He's been listening, being polite at home and at school, and generally being the child I've been trying to rear him to be. Definitely wondering if he's brain damaged now.

jumbly thoughts

2010-06-30T15:46:00.002-05:00

My brain is racing right now so this might not be very clear, but I feel like I HAVE to write it.

Monday night, I went to Bible study. We always eat and talk before we get down to studyin', and at one point I read out loud something I had written on Facebook. (The note "Ace's preschool questionnaire," if you haven't seen it and you're friends with me. If you're not friends with me, why not?) The note was something I just wrote because people asked me to write and it came out within about 10 minutes and is apparently very funny. My friends at Bible study were laughing to the point of tears, rocking back in their chairs, holding their sides, etc.

Their reaction brought me pure joy. There is seriously nothing in my life that makes me happier than making other people laugh.

Then everyone started complimenting me. 3 people said that I'm a great writer. 1 person said that she logs on to Facebook every day just to see what I've written. Then one guy in the room, BJ, arguably one of the most amazing artistic talents I've ever met, compared me to Erma Bombeck. Seriously? One of the greatest writers of the 20th century? You're comparing me to her? Dude. He then kinda stuttered a bit, kept complimenting me, then said something along the lines of "you could really be something."

I haven't been able to stop thinking about what he said. I've had so many people tell me what a good writer I am, and how funny I am, but (BUT BUT BUT) I have no idea what to do with any of those compliments or how to feel about them. I love writing, and I LOVE LOVE LOVE making people laugh, seriously more than anything, but seriously, could I really be something?

What has occurred to me today is that everything I've ever loved doing, I've abandoned. The first time I realized I was awesome at something, it was the French language. I abandoned that when I dropped out of college and stopped corresponding with my French friends. I used to be SO GOOD at it, y'all. I was good at languages, period. I picked up Spanish like it was nothing. I started learning Italian on my own when I was in my early 20's, and it was easy as pie. Have I pursued anything with my talents? Nope. I have one friend who will post on Facebook/Twitter in both French and English. I can read everything she says in French, but I'll be damned if I can write in French anymore. So I respond in English.

I was good at blogging, and I really loved it. I got hundreds of page views every day. I look back at my old posts and I'm amazed that I wrote that stuff. But, I've abandoned it. I don't know why.

I really love photography. Taking a really good picture without having to edit it at all is one of my favorite things in the world. I like to think I'm kinda good at it. Have I pursued it at all? Nope. I have an AWESOME camera and I barely ever touch it anymore.

I enjoy posting on Facebook and Twitter now. I get great responses on both, and every "LOL" I get absolutely delights me. But how long before I abandon that? How long before I stop doing things I enjoy altogether and have no hobbies and no identity?

Why do I keep doing this to myself? Hell, I know why, because I don't think I'm good enough. I'm not good enough at French to do anything with it. I'm not good enough at writing to make a career out of it. I'm not good enough at photography to bring people joy from photographs. Sure, I have talents, but the only way they have any value is if they're adding something to somebody else's life. And nothing I do can do that. Right?

This is my brain. I don't know what to do with it. Good thing I also enjoy paying good money to a therapist every other week.

Wheee doggies

2010-04-17T15:34:00.000-05:00

Tuesday: I went to my neurosurgeon's office to see the nurse practitioner. She sent me to an ENT, who said I either have a minor cold or minor sinus infection, and cleared me for surgery. Went back to neurosurgeon's office, locked down my surgery time.

The rest of the day, I worked my tail off trying to get my house ready for 3 weeks of me not being able to clean it. I did 5 loads of laundry, did a big grocery shopping trip, and generally cleaned up. Wound up having a big fat panic attack while holding my sleeping son. I suppose it was bound to happen.

Wednesday morning, I reported for surgery at 9am. I honestly don't remember much for the rest of the day except for a ton of pain. Oh, and dry-heaving in front of some really good friends. Wednesday night I got morphine and phenergan. I slept.

Thursday morning I got more morphine and Benadryl for the morphine itching. The neurosurgeon seemed especially concerned about my fatigue. I slept most of the day, and I really don't remember much of that day either. Just tons and tons of pain. Darvocet has about as much effect as deep breathing exercises when it comes to post-surgery pain, I'll have you all know. The nurse practitioner did rounds and decided I wasn't ready to go home yet and ordered Toradol, which worked like a big fat charm.

Friday morning I felt at least slightly human, if a little - well, a LOT sedated. I wasn't crying from the pain, which is one thing I remember doing most of Wednesday and Thursday. I was able to get up and pee without feeling like fainting. Took several naps. Finally left the hospital around 1:30.

I had missed Ace so much. He "helped" me get into the bedroom by pushing my walker (yep, I have a walker). I gave him several big hugs and fell asleep around 4 and woke up around 8:30. I was so groggy yesterday, oof.

Today has been so much better. I'm not needing as much pain medication as I've been needing. My mom came over for a few hours, and Drew's doing laundry.

That was rough, though, man. I don't remember crying from pain after my c-section or laparoscopy. I remember them hurting, but not THAT much. I thought it would be easier because no muscle was cut, but it was bad bad bad.

What's good? The unbelievable amount of support I have. Kristie has been GREAT with Ace, playing with him a ton, taking him out to eat and taking him to a baseball game. My BFF Angie stayed Wednesday-Thursday and saw my butt a bunch of times but she still loves me. I think I remember her telling me she vacuumed my house.

And the food, my goodness. Between my friends, my church, and Ace's school, we have been fed WELL. Y'all wouldn't even believe it. Highlights include a tamale pie (what) and a simple berry medley with lite Cool Whip. I feel so supported and loved. It's awesome.

Now Imma kick back and catch up on the DVR. I have 18 episodes of Friends in there. That oughta keep me busy for a while!

The long story

2010-04-12T19:15:00.002-05:00

Early 2007: I was sitting on the ground, folding laundry, turned around, and was suddenly in a world of lower back pain. Didn't know what it was from. Went to the ER, they gave me painkillers and sent me home. Dr. Google says sciatic pain.

2007-November 2009: I have sporadic episodes of lower back pain. If I take it easy for a few days and lay flat on my back, it goes away.

FryDay 2009: I play beerball.

FryDay+1: Back hurts and doesn't stop.

January 2010: Finally, I'm limping from the pain, so I go to the doctor. She gives me some anti-inflammatories and a coupla muscle relaxers, gives me a lecture on lower back pain in general and how surgery almost never helps lower back pain, and sends me home.

Wednesday, March 3, 2010: Pain is mostly gone, except for a nagging pain in my hip. Dr. Google says it's sciatica still. I volunteer at Ace's school for a day anyway because I'd been missing the kids a LOT. By the end of the day, my hip is really, really hurting, and doesn't stop.

Sunday, March 7, 2010: I sat on the couch kinda weird to avoid sitting on my cats, and my world lit on fire. Well, mostly my hip. I called Ace's physical therapist desperate for any help she could give me. She told me to lay on my stomach with my elbows propping me up. This gives me relief. I slept terribly that night.

Monday, March 8, 2010: I called the doctor as soon as they opened and managed to get an appointment for 2:15. I called back twice to ask if they had any cancellations. I considered going to the emergency room because the pain was so severe. My little sister came up from Brookhaven to pick Ace up from school because I couldn't sit or lay on my back without yelling from the pain; I could only lay on my stomach or stand up. Drew came home and took me to the doctor, who ordered an MRI on my hip and gave me a prescription for narcotics and steroids.

Tuesday, March 9th: MRI of my hip shows nothing. Duh. Had I not been in so much pain on Monday, I would've asked why she wasn't doing the MRI on my back. But I couldn't think straight.

Friday, March 12: Called the doctor to tell her I was still in a lot of pain. She ordered an MRI for my lower back.

Monday, March 15: MRI on my lower back is done.

Within the next several weeks, I got the results and started physical therapy. The physical therapy helped immensely. I went in with a crutch and 3 weeks later felt almost no pain. The results of my MRI showed two bulging discs and a ruptured disc, with a loose disc fragment. My doctor sent me to a neurosurgeon.

The neurosurgeon told me I needed surgery ASAP. He asked me, "Have you lost bladder or bowel function yet?" What do you mean, YET, doc? He was very concerned about the weakness and numbness in my leg and foot, and said it would continue to get worse until I had that fragment removed. He said I wouldn't be able to do any heavy lifting for 3 months. I got the cold sweats right then, and couldn't think of anything but "what the hell am I gonna do with Ace?"

I found help for Ace. Dr. Wifey. We all know her and love her. Unfortunately, she's going through some business difficulties, but this means she's available to help me while I'm recovering.

Surgery is scheduled for this Wednesday.

Today: I have chosen NOW to get my first sinus infection. The neurosurgeon called off the surgery. He arranged for me to see the nurse practitioner tomorrow and told me that I could probably get some antibiotics and reschedule for Friday or the beginning of next week.

I am so ready to have this over with, and am so frustrated about the further delay. SO frustrated.

So there ya go, the last month and a half in a nutshell.

Well, that sucked.

2010-03-31T19:47:00.000-05:00

My poor baby.

So apparently, the plan of action for easing a child's pain while getting multiple shots in the same location is to numb the area with a freezing spray. Let me tell you, my friends, this freezing spray did bupkus. The nurse sprayed some on my hand before everything went down and I was all "oh my hand's cold. Oh, my hand feels normal again." That stuff did NADA.

The doctor had him lay down on his stomach with his head on my leg, then the nurse sprayed a bunch of this freezing stuff on his legs. Hopefully, more is more numbing. Then he started the shots, Ace made his protest known, then when words didn't work he figured screaming would help. So he screamed for the longest minute and a half of my life. I cried. He got 4 shots in each leg. Ugh.

Still, within a minute or so of the procedure being over, Ace was kinda over it. He said that his "shots hurt" and fell a few times on the long walk to the car, so Drew picked him up and carried him out.

I don't know if I'm down with this one. If I don't see dramatic improvement, I won't be doing this anymore. Not till they give him some lidocaine or gas him up beforehand or something.

The post-Botox ice cream certainly helped.

Looka me!

2010-03-31T11:58:00.000-05:00

I have a new blogging app! Totally easier than logging into blogger on my phone. Whee, maybe I'll post some more now.

Ace is playing in the garden right now, as part of Operation Spoil The Crap Out Of Him. He is getting botox this afternoon as part of his cerebral palsy treatment. This means several shots in each leg, which makes me frown. So natch, he's getting whatever he wants today. He got chocolate milk with breakfast in front of the TV. Those are a few of his favorite things...

Wish us luck today!

He makes me laugh like no other.

2010-03-30T11:59:00.002-05:00

Me: I'm tired and in no mood. I snarked a sweet old lady at my physical therapy center. She started it though. Of course, then the sweet old lady went and gave Easter treats to all the physical therapists at the center. I suck.

Drew: She probably went home to her house full of Haitian orphans and baked them cookies, too.

Me: K, shut up.

How I overthink things

2010-03-30T04:25:00.002-05:00

Man, I need to change my blogger profile picture. It's old. And much fatter.

I have almost completely decided to forgo the Easter Bunny and Santa this year. While I seriously never saw myself being this mom, I have always been bothered by the commercialism of both holidays, but especially Easter. It is, arguably, the most important holiday on the Christian calendar, but when it comes to kids, everyone's focus is the Easter Bunny. Mehhh, I'm bothered by it, and I, PERSONALLY, don't see a way to focus ENTIRELY on Jesus' resurrection while at the same time focusing on the Easter Bunny and loading Ace up with oodles of candy and toys. You might, and that's cool. This is just what I feel I want to do with my kid. He's very literal, very one-track mind. If he's gonna focus on one thing, I'd rather it be Jesus.

(I'm not saying the kid's gonna be empty-handed on Easter morning. He'll get a basket, but the meager contents within will be from me and Drew, not the Easter Bunny.)

But how do I do this? Ace is a huge tattle tale - if I tell him outright that the Easter Bunny doesn't exist, he's gonna be THAT kid and tell everyone the secret. Ace doesn't understand secrets. Are his friends' parents going to want to avoid him, lest he spoil the secret? Are my friends going to avoid me? Does this mean we can't go to the Easter egg hunt this Saturday as we'd planned, because he's going to be told the Easter Bunny hid the eggs? What do I tell people when they ask him what the Easter Bunny brought him? Since it's very likely that most of his friends will believe in the Easter Bunny and will get tons of toys and candy, if the Easter Bunny didn't get him anything and he just got a little basket full of fruit and nuts, will he think he was bad?

Can I just somehow make it a lesson in diversity? I don't necessarily want to *protect* him from the Easter Bunny. WE may not believe in the Easter Bunny, but other people do, and that's okay. (Because it is. As I discussed in a recent blog post, I don't care what you do with your kids. Different parenting ideas are okay.)

I'm just not sure how I'm gonna handle it this year. Ace is not really a big-picture kind of kid. He certainly doesn't believe in the Easter Bunny at this point, since I don't think he even has a concept of a magical candy- and toy-delivering bunny. (He probably doesn't have much of a concept of God, either, for that matter.) I don't think he'll care that the Easter Bunny didn't bring him anything... Shoot, I don't really think he'd notice if he didn't get anything at all, till people start asking him what the Easter Bunny brought him. Even then, I doubt he'd care.

Maybe I can put it all off till next year.

I'll think about it when I've had more sleep.

pride

2010-02-04T18:00:00.002-06:00

Yesterday was not a good day for Ace. He decided he'd be rude to his teacher at school, bossing her around and telling her no and yelling at her and whatnot. His teacher and I talk every day, and every day I ask her if he's been sweet or rude that day. I was not pleased with the report.

On the way home, he got a little come to Jesus meeting. Admittedly, I think the fact that I wouldn't let him listen to his favorite Veggietales CD made a much deeper impression on him, but he needed to know exactly why he was being punished in this horrible draconian way.

I told him, "I'm disappointed in the way you acted today." As I was saying those words, a long-ago conversation with my dad popped into my head. He told me, "all your grandpa ever had to do was tell me 'I'm disappointed in you,' and I'd stop whatever I was doing."

Honestly, I had no idea what he was talking about. My dad and I hurled insults back and forth at each other when we argued; him telling me "I'm disappointed in you" meant nothing against the "I wish you lived with your moms" and "shut the hell ups."

Our dysfunctional argument style aside, if my dad was ever proud of me, I never felt it. I only remember him telling me he was proud of me once, the night before I left to live in France for the semester. During my freshman year of high school, I brought home a report card on which I'd brought up 6 out of my 7 grades. He literally said not one word about those grades, but he yelled at me for a solid hour because my grade in Biology went from an A to a C. After his tirade, I said "Daddy, I brought up the rest of my grades." He said "I don't care."

I really had no barometer for his disappointment. When I look back, I remember always FEELING like a bad kid because nothing I could do would make my parents proud of me, but I wasn't a bad kid. As far as I was concerned, he was always disappointed in me. I was always breaking some rule that I didn't know existed before, because he (and my stepmom) would make stuff up on the fly and suddenly, I'm grounded. That's why, when he said "I'm disappointed in you," it meant absolutely nothing to me.

Whereas I only remember my dad telling me he was proud of me once, I honestly don't remember a day when I didn't tell Ace I was proud of him. I am fiercely proud of my son, and I don't ever want him to think otherwise. I may be disappointed in a few of his actions, but never am I ever disappointed in who he is. My son is freakin' awesome, thank you very much.

I intend to tell him every day of his life how awesome I think he is, how proud I am of him, and just how much I love him. Hopefully, when I say the words "I'm disappointed," they will actually mean something to him. Hopefully, my son will never feel like a bad kid.

Hopefully, my son will never feel some of the things I felt as a kid.

Excuse me while I go rename this post "Stacey's Daddy issues."

On the way to school this morning, Ace and I had another quick come to Jesus meeting. I reminded him that he was to listen to his teacher, to say "yes ma'am" and do what she asked, and to ask for things nicely. I told him that if he had another rude day, he would once again not be listening to his Veggietales CD.

I got a good report today.

me and the school directors

2010-02-01T12:14:00.004-06:00

(Two posts in one day???)

Lady: "Hi, welcome to X School, can I help you?"
Me: "Hi, my name is Stacey Spiehler, I'm looking for a K4 program for my son for this fall."
Lady: "We do have that! Registration is today."
Me: "Good! My first priority is finding out if you accept children with special needs."
Lady: *wiiiiiince* "Weeeelllllll, we had one girl with mild autism once and that didn't work out. We had another little boy with Down's for a year who had a shadow (ed: a special handler for kids with special needs, often provided by the school district). Generally though, we don't have the capabilities to handle kids with special needs. We don't have a special education program."
Me: "My son's disability is physical, he has cerebral palsy. He's a little slower and more unsteady than typical kids, but I don't believe he'll need special education."
Lady: *wince* "Let me talk to the K4 teachers and see what they think. Would you call me back next Monday?"

Next Monday, of course, is a full week after registration begins, and the program's spots will be filled by then. She damn well knows this. This was her special way of saying "yeah, we're not taking your kid, now get out of here." Heifer.

School #2:
Me: "Hi, I'm looking for a K4 program for my so-"
Lady: "Here are the registration forms, registration is a hundred and fifty dollars."
Me: "Oh, I'm just looking for information right no-"
Lady: "I'm giving you information."
Me: "Uhhh-huh. Can I get a pamphlet?"

The pamphlet was a formality. He's not going there.

Homeschooling is looking fairly attractive right now.

me and my psychiatrist

2010-02-01T11:56:00.003-06:00

Dr. C: "Is the eating going okay? No binging, emotional eating?"
Me: "Nope, I'm good on that front."
Dr. C: "Any suicidal thoughts?"
Me: "None."
Dr. C: "How have you been sleeping?"
Me: "Well, just okay. I'll wake up 2-3 hours before my alarm clock goes off and won't be able to get back to sleep. I've kinda got a lot on my plate right now though."
Dr. C: "Like what?"
Me: "I'm trying to get my son into a good preschool program, and a lot of places are either prohibitively expensive or won't take kids with special needs. My husband is going to start looking for a new job soon, which will mean a pretty big pay cut and possibly a move. We're trying to save up money to buy a new house. I want to get my tubes tied, and also we're considering starting the adoption process."
Dr. C: *blink blink* "Well, um, each one of those is a major psycho-social stressor, by themselves. I'm going to talk to your therapist this afternoon. When do you see her again?"
Me: "Next Friday."
Dr. C: "Good. Until then, go ahead and use Xanax to help you sleep. Don't take it every day though, keep it down to a couple times a week."
Me: "Okey dokey."

...Can I take one now?

joy

2010-01-25T10:51:00.003-06:00

I have felt joy many times in my life.

When I left Indiana to move to New Orleans.
When I became a Christian at 19.
When I was married.
When I found out I was pregnant the first time.
When Ace was born.
When I brought Ace home from the hospital.

Each of those times, however, was tainted with fear. Fear of the unknown, fear of the future, just generalized fear.

I don't know that I'd ever experienced pure, unbridled, unqualified joy. Joy that completely took my body over and rendered me speechless. Joy that made me cry and scream and shake and fall over.

Until last night.

Who dat.

Mommy wars

2010-01-18T11:20:00.003-06:00

I realized recently that I have a pretty low threshold for what I think makes a good mom. Really, as long as you're not doing your child harm for the long run, I think you're probably a good mom. I don't care if you breastfeed until your kid is 10 or give your child formula. I don't care if you put your kid in day care the day after he/she comes home from the hospital or you spend every waking moment with your child and don't ever leave its side until the day your child goes to college. I don't care if you spank, and I don't care if you do some kind of psychic mind control over your child as your form of discipline. I don't care if you homeschool and I don't care if you send your kid to public school.

What does bother me, however, is a mom who thinks she's better than another mom because she has made different choices for her child. A good mom does what she thinks is best for the entire family for the long term. A bad mom does not. Still, bad moms do exist.

One of them commented this morning on an old blog post, with a comment that just smacked of condescension. Whatever, that's kinda this person's style. What is incredibly laughable is that 99% of this person's comments call my parenting style into question. This person is a bit of an alcoholic so I can usually brush it off as her being halfway through with her nightly box of wine, but this one came in just after 9 this morning, so I will have faith that she wasn't drunk yet.

When you read this blog post, you person that I'm talking about, know that even on my worst day, I am a better mother than you. I spent the night in a mental hospital last year, and on that night, I was a better mother than you. I confronted my demons and continue to do so today; you act as thought your demons don't exist and say that they help you sleep.

I am a better mother than you have ever been. I am a better aunt than you are. I will be a better grandmother than you are. I am, simply, an all around better woman than you are.

I have asked you many, many times not to comment on my blog or otherwise attempt to contact me. I am certain that you were drunk when you received those requests, so I'll forgive you. This is actually the first time I've responded to you in probably 5 years. You'll probably comment on this blog and whiiiiiine about how much I hate you. You'll probably whiiiiiine to everyone around you about how much I hate you. Yeah, I don't hate you. 99% of the time, I don't think about you. When I get 99% of your comments, I delete them (after showing them to a few people who know you and laugh about them right along with me) and don't think about them again. You caught me on a good day today, what can I say?

Please, don't ever call my parenting style into question again, because it is simply laughable from you, and I will never, ever take it into consideration. Taking parenting advice from you would be like taking healthy cooking advice from Paula Dean. Like taking marital advice from Tiger Woods.

So, once again, I'm telling you. Do not comment on my blog. Do not e-mail me. Do not call me. Do not talk to other people about me. After I hit "publish post," I'm going to go right back to ignoring your existence and deleting your sporadic, condescending comments. Do us all a favor and ignore my existence, mkay?

Why I love my best friend.

2009-12-18T15:30:00.003-06:00

Yesterday, I got an e-mail from my best friend that contained a bunch of forwards. I did a little skim through the forwards and realized that the people from whom she'd received the e-mail were frothing at the mouth because Best Buy had DARED include the words "Eid Al-Adha" in one of their circulars and not the words "Merry Christmas."

Here it is, right here! See!

NNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I rolled my eyes a little and then wondered why she'd sent that to me, since she's not usually on the "THIS IS AMURRICA WE MUST NEVER SPEAK OF NO MOOSLIMS HURR" bandwagon. Actually, she never is. I also love her because she loves everyone.

Then I read what she'd written at the top of the e-mail. I hope she doesn't get mad at me for quoting her without permission. Here's what she said:

I never heard of the holiday that Best-buy was well wishing, so did a little research on wikipedia:

Eid al-Adha (Arabic: عيد الأضحى‎ ‘Īdu l-’Aḍḥā) "Festival of Sacrifice" or "Greater Eid" is a holiday celebrated by Muslims worldwide to commemorate the willingness of Abraham (Ibrahim) to sacrifice his son as an act of obedience to God. Eid is also about spending time with family and enjoying the fact that we all have food and a roof over our heads.

And this year it was celebrated Nov. 29, only a few days after Thanksgiving. ( And if you look at the ad, it obviously was a Thanksgiving period ad due to the words "SHOP THANKSGIVING DAY...") It was not Chirstmas yet!

So please, do not discontinue shopping at Bestbuy because of their attempt to gain more business by extending well wishes to the Muslim community, but becuase they have HIIIIGH prices! (Seriously, that place is EXPENSIVE!!)

In the meantime,

MERRY CHRISTMAS!
xoxo
Angie

I cracked up so hard. My best friend, she is magical.

Folks, Muslims exist. They exist in our country. They celebrate holidays. Best Buy, being a giant retailer, is smart enough to recognize this and do their darndest to try to cull Muslim favor by wishing them a happy holiday. THIS IS NOT A BAD FREAKING THING.

I would stop hanging out with someone because they boycotted Best Buy over this before I stopped shopping at Best Buy for being inclusive of religions other than my own. I cannot stand bigots, for real. I love seeing them straight up OWNED.

*Applause* for my BFF.

Huge announcement!

2009-11-30T15:49:00.002-06:00

Ladies and gentlemen, I would like to announce that my son, Ace, is now 100% pacifier-free. The week before Thanksgiving, he got a letter from the Little Einsteins telling him that they were helping to build a new zoo, and they needed pacifiers for all the baby animals. The letter said that the following Friday, he would put all of his pacis in the mailbox and they'd go to the Little Einsteins.

Friday came and he got major cold feet. He said the baby animals could not have all of his pacis, but he put them all in the envelope and put them in the mailbox. Naptime did not go well. He cried and begged and screamed and cried and begged, and generally made me think that my next couple weeks were going to be pretty awful. I let him get up and watch a movie. Bedtime, however, was completely peaceful. He asked for the paci, but Drew told him it went to the baby animals and he went right to sleep. He woke up twice in the middle of the night, but once again, once he remembered that the pacis were gone, he went right back to sleep.

It's been a week and a half, and while he's asked for the paci a few times, he sleeps just fine without it. I absolutely cannot believe it went that easy. I'm still in disbelief.

While we were at my parents' house for Thanksgiving, he grabbed a can of tea out of the box and went to Drew.
Ace: "Dada, can I have this coke?"
Drew: "Go ask Mommy."
Ace: "K." Toddles across the room to me. "Mama, can I have this coke?"
Me: "Go ask Dada."
Ace: "K." Toddles across the room to Drew. "Dada, can I have this coke?"
Drew: looks at me "I told him to ask you."
Me: "I know, I was messing with him."
Drew: "Go ask your mama."
Ace: "K." Toddles across the room to me. "Mama, can I have this coke?"
Me: "Go ask Dada."
Ace: "K." Toddles across the room to Drew. "Dada, can I have this coke?"
Drew: "Go ask Mama."
Ace: "I'm gonna put this back."

Yes, I gave him some tea. :)

FRYDAY!

2009-11-23T09:55:00.004-06:00

Do you love fried foods? Do you love frying things? Have you always wondered what a deep fried Snickers bar tastes like, or a deep fried spaghetti noodle, or a deep fried piece of pizza, or a deep fried whatever you want?

Then come to FryDay at the Spiehler house, this Friday! We will have two fryers hot and ready for whatever concoction you want to deep fry. For more information on the history of FryDay, look here.

THIS BLOG POST IS YOUR OFFICIAL INVITATION. If you're waiting for me to call you or email you or tweet you or send you a message on Facebook, you're going to be sorely disappointed. FryDay does not invite you, you invite yourself to FryDay. Official FryDay rules can be found here.

I will supply the fryers + oil skewers, some cokes, cornmeal batter, pancake batter, and plates. You bring beer and whatever you want to fry. I will be frying Snickers bars and corn dogs.

After we've fried to our saddened hearts' content, we will be playing beerball. Beerball is basically touch football, but each player has to be holding a beverage in his/her hands, traditionally beer. Thankfully, the beerball commissioner has bent that rule to allow for margaritas and some non-alcoholic beverages. It is the only way I have ever enjoyed exercising.

FESTIVITIES START AT NOON. Be there. You know how to contact me if you need my address.

Kids are welcome!!

Bipolar disorder: not for lovers of sleep

2009-11-11T08:51:00.003-06:00

I went to sleep last night at 9:30 and woke up at 3:30. I had to pee, but then, couldn't sleep. Oh, hello, hypomania. Goodbye, effects of my current medication.

From the Wikipedia article on hypomania:

Hypomania is a lowered state of mania that does little to impair function or decrease quality of life

Bwuh?

In hypomania there is less need for sleep, and both goal-motivated behavior and metabolism increase.

Less need for sleep, check. Goal-motivated behavior? Ehhh, kinda. Metabolism increase? Doubtful.

...mania itself generally has many undesirable consequences including suicidal tendencies.

Siiiiiiiiiigh.

Prominent hypomaniacs likely include Endymion (a mythological figure, probably describing the real person/s), Rudyard Kipling, Vincent Van Gogh, John Keats, Andy Warhol.

Stacey Spiehler.

Manic characteristics include irritability, anger or rage, delusions, hypersensitivity, hypersexuality, hyper-religiosity, hyperactivity, impulsiveness, racing thoughts, talkativeness, pressure to keep talking or rapid speech, grandiose ideas and plans, and decreased need for sleep (e.g. feels rested after 3 or 4 hours of sleep). In manic and hypomanic cases, the afflicted person may engage in out of character behavior such as questionable business transactions, wasteful expenditures of money, risky sexual activity, recreational drug abuse, abnormal social interaction, or highly vocal arguments uncharacteristic of previous behaviors. These behaviors increase stress in personal relationships, problems at work and increase the risk of altercations with law enforcement as well as being at high risk of impulsively taking part in activities potentially harmful to self and others.

If you knew me between the ages of 18-21, I want you to go ahead and read that paragraph again. Because wow.

Mild forms of mania, known as hypomania, cause little or no impairment, but some people who suffer from prolonged hypomania may develop full mania.

Greeeeeeeeat.

I'm tired.

Emails from crazy people

2009-11-07T11:44:00.003-06:00

I have spent the last 3 hours reading Emails From Crazy People. Yep, I finished the website.

My favorites include:

"I warned you about your dog! He raped my baby and now Fifi is pregnant!"
"I have been using images from your website... If you do not upload the images again I might have to contact my lawyer."
"All the lawn chair towers are gone." Be sure to read parts one and two!

If you read none of those, you must read this one: "As you all know, a fabulous Thanksgiving Dinner does not make itself." Read that one, and give thanks for your family.

It's Mistletoe day!

2009-11-06T07:51:00.002-06:00

Today, my friends, I will get most of my Christmas shopping done. For today is the day I go to the biggest Christmas extravaganza of the year - Mistletoe Marketplace! 160 vendors, 1 building! Yeeeehaw! I woke up this morning and my first thought was "Mistletoe!" My second thought was "is it too early to get up?" It was 5:50. I got up.

I've worked at Mistletoe the past 2 years. Last year, I sold t-shirts and hawked momslikeme.com. This year, all I have to do is set some bags on some chairs, and for that, I get a free lunch, a free ticket to Mistletoe, and I get to watch a fashion show and an inspirational speaker of some sort. I love being a Clarion Ledger groupie. I get to do all kinds of fun stuff.

Y'all, is it too early to decorate for Christmas? I AM SO READY!!! I am sincerely hoping that I can find an angel for my tree. I had one, but she fell and her face broke off, and I didn't think an angel with a light for a face was too pretty.

Whee! I'm off to Mistletoe! I've made a list, I've checked it twice! Y'all have a great Friday!

we've got a mission!

2009-11-04T15:16:00.003-06:00

I am admitting with no small measure of shame that Ace still uses a pacifier. He only uses it to go to sleep, and hasn't fallen asleep without it since he was probably six months old. (Well, he can sometimes conk out in the car, but usually not without a pacifier.) We all know that it hasn't affected his speech as extended pacifier use can, but I know it's affected his teeth. I see braces in my future.

I have made half-hearted attempts to take it away before. I've tried peer pressure. "Big boys don't use pacis, Ace, don't you want to be a big boy?" He was not especially interested in that. One night I gave him a long talk beforehand and decided to go cold turkey. After he'd woken up for the 8th time crying for his paci, at 2am, I decided I wasn't ready for all that. Ohhhh, how I wish I'd stuck with it. I'd be done with this by now.

My mind is made up. He's going on Thanksgiving break in a couple of weeks, and has a whole week off. That's it. The end of pacifiers. Bye bye.

Here's my plan. Ace is going to receive a letter in the mail from The Little Einsteins. I've got to make up some reason why they need all of his pacifiers, and then have him mail them back to The Little Einsteins. I'm going to make stickers, letterhead, everything.

Do y'all think that The Little Einsteins should need the pacifiers for a mission in a couple of days, or immediately? Warning or no warning? Also, how much do you think he'll resent The Little Einsteins for the rest of his life?

If y'all get to Fryday and realize I've had no sleep, this is why. But dadgummit, he's three and a half years old and I should've taken the paci away two years ago.

boom boom

2009-11-02T10:13:00.002-06:00

Ace got a card for his birthday that, when opened, sings a song that goes "boom boom ain't it great to be crazy?" He, of course, loves the card and plays with it most days. You would think the battery would die after 5 months, but noooo.

Boom boom, ain't it great to be crazy? Ace's bipolar, ADD mother sure thinks so.

Mental health treatment is not covered like physical health treatment. Unfortunately, since I went to that treatment program earlier this year, my mental health benefits have run out. At the very least, to maintain my sanity, I have to see my counselor every two weeks and my psychiatrist once a month. Each of those appointments cost $125 a pop. So for the last 3 months of this year, I will be paying $375 a month to keep from going crazy.

We had planned on getting a new big screen TV this year. Thankfully, all the money for a TV is already in the bank; we've been saving it all year. Unfortunately for all of YOU, that money WAS set aside for Christmas. Each of you will be getting 1 M&M for Christmas. So what's your favorite color?

(Thankfully, part of the stimulus package earlier this year included legislation that will force insurance companies to cover mental health as they would physical health. That begins next year.)

Better

2009-10-26T10:28:00.002-05:00

Do y'all know how much I love Halloween? It's strange, because I hate - HATE - being scared, but I love Halloween. It's one holiday that I've always, always loved and get excited about every year. I have most of my inside decorations finished, and will probably be doing my outside decorations today.

I can't wait for Thanksgiving, though I don't know what we're doing this year. We usually host my mom and stepdad and whatever weary travelers feel like coming over, but this year is up in the air.

Oh, and FRYDAY!! Hello, aren't y'all looking forward to Fryday?

I absolutely, positively cannot wait until Christmas. I can't wait to give out presents to everyone, to make some heart-healthy pumpkin granola for everyone, to hear the music, to watch Love, Actually, to smell the Christmas candles, to decorate my house and stay up late and drink tea and stare at the lights on my tree, to read the story of Jesus' birth to Ace... I just cannot wait for any of it. I am excited this year. (Part of that excitement is the fact that Drew and I have been actually setting money aside every month for Christmas and won't be having to live paycheck-to-paycheck to be able to afford everything.)

Last year was different. I hated every holiday after my miscarriage. I gritted my teeth and barely sailed through. I bawled my eyes out with stress, thinking about everything I had to get accomplished. The extent of my Halloween decoration was getting my witches' cauldron out of the attic to put all the candy in (and then promptly ate the majority of the candy). Thanksgiving was totally uncomfortable. My Christmas decorations were up on December 23rd, and only about a third of them, and only because my big sister was in town to help. I sought every means necessary to avoid buying or making presents for people. I cried. A lot.

This year is so much better, and I am so happy. I'll get stressed, I'm sure, but that's standard fare for fall and winter holidays.

That's good stuff, people!

Misinformation

2009-10-22T16:24:00.002-05:00

Shortly after my daughter passed away, I joined a message board called the Ectopic Pregnancy Trust. It was an endless source of support and information, and I credit the website with helping me recover from my loss.

A few months later, the board was all abuzz with excitement - The Discovery Channel was going to do a documentary on ectopic pregnancies! Since ectopic pregnancies are still undiagnosed and still kill women at an alarming rate, we were all excited that there would be information available in such a widely-viewed format. Who would they profile? Someone like me? I had the "easier" treatment - methotrexate. I just had to get a shot to end my pregnancy. My friend Jolene, on the other hand, saw her baby on an ultrasound in the emergency room. She didn't know she was pregnant. She thought she was having kidney stones or appendicitis. Jolene found out she was pregnant by surprise and in the next minute she was told that she would have to have emergency surgery to remove her tube because it was rupturing.

Unfortunately, The Discovery Channel didn't profile me or Jolene or anyone like us. They managed to find two women in the world whose ectopic pregnancies survived all 9 months. The odds of this happening? One in 30 million.

One woman was Iranian - she said she'd had excruciating pain throughout her pregnancy but didn't have regular access to doctors, so she was never diagnosed. When she went to the hospital to give birth, she got scared and went home. She went through labor, but it just stopped and she assumed God had just taken her baby. 46 years later, a calcified fetus was discovered in this woman's abdomen. The documentary is called "Pregnant For 46 Years."

The other woman had, also, excruciating pain during her pregnancy which was also undiagnosed. She was pregnant with twins, or so she thought. When she went to give birth to those twins, it was discovered that another baby had somehow attached itself to her colon. The placenta was getting nutrients from one of the veins in her colon. She has healthy triplets today.

I cried after that documentary. I know it sounds ridiculous, but I thought, if I had a 1 in 30 million chance, did I do the wrong thing by terminating my pregnancy when I did? I had a 99.9999999% chance of dying if I continued that pregnancy, but there was that minute chance that I did the wrong thing.

Now, I don't want y'all flooding my comments telling me I did nothing wrong. Logically, obviously, I KNOW that. But there's nothing like a documentary making a sideshow attraction out of my extremely rare pregnancy to make me feel like an idiot. Momentarily.

Ladies, if you are in the early stages of pregnancy and are experiencing constant, dark red spotting or are experiencing constant sharp pain on one side of your abdomen, tell your doctor that you want an ultrasound immediately. PUSH your doctor. If he/she won't give you the ultrasound, see another doctor. Ectopic pregnancies have to be terminated immediately upon diagnosis. Otherwise, the mother's tube can rupture, which can cause internal bleeding and death. Yes, I am one of the women who has had to have an abortion to save her life.

Also, ladies, ectopic pregnancies are notorious for not showing up on home pregnancy tests. So, if you think you're just having a very light period and you're experiencing other symptoms of pregnancy and are experiencing sharp, one-sided pain, go to your doctor's office immediately.

I want the right information out there, not the sensationalized information.

Thankfully, a couple of months after the Discovery buzz, another woman on the board said that her actress friend in Hollywood was on a very popular show and her character was going to experience an ectopic pregnancy. The actress collected her friend's experience and the experiences of several other women on the board, so she could portray the experience accurately. The show? Grey's Anatomy, season 2. Christina Yang had an ectopic pregnancy.

"just to be with you, I would do anything..."

2009-10-21T15:49:00.001-05:00

It's been 5 years since I lost my precious oldest daughter.

Rest in peace, my sweet angel. I love you.

What would you do?

2009-10-20T14:08:00.002-05:00

Let's say, hypothetically, you're the mother of a child whose speech and vocabulary have advanced light years beyond his ability to determine what is and isn't socially appropriate. Let's say that child is also not even a little bit shy, ever, not even when he's in a room full of total strangers. Let's say he walks up to the barista at Starbucks, who happens to be a person of color, and asks her "are you brown?" Just what do you do in that situation?

Then, let's say later on in the same day, he sees a tomboyish, possibly butch lesbian at Party City and asks her "are you a boy?" (But he says it in a really cute way, because he's really cute and the way he says stuff is cute with a strong hint of Mississippian, so it sounds like "arrrre yeeew a boiyee?") What is your next move?

And then, you know, hypothetically, the next day, you're at lunch and you hear him ask someone "where's your hair?" and you turn around and see him chatting with a woman who has lost all of her hair, presumably to cancer. What would you do?

Let's move away from the hypothetical child's vocabulary. Remember how he's not shy, even in a room full of strangers? Well, let's say you've started going to a new church. You know some people there, and these people love your child and talk about him frequently and so his reputation kinda precedes him. Well, let's say your child is very, very unsteady on his feet. Walking isn't the easiest thing in the world for him. As this hypothetical child is walking around, telling everybody "Mah name is ACE" and "Ah'm a boiyee," he has the tendency to stop himself by grabbing the nearest available steady thing, which in a roomful of people happens to be a handful of butt. Let's say that by your 3rd week at this church, your son has grabbed the butt of half of your fellow churchgoers. Really, what do you do?

Is this boy hypothetical? Have you met Ace?

my post to craigslist

2009-10-19T19:08:00.002-05:00

~~For sale~~
~~Free to good home~~
~~Free to abusive home filled with cat-hating future serial killers as children~~
I'll give you $5 ~~$20~~ $100 if you take ~~and put into a wood chipper~~:

~~Sweet~~
~~Loving~~
~~Enjoyable~~
~~Freaking obnoxious~~
~~Annoying~~
~~Ugly~~

Grey

~~Demon~~
~~A-hole~~
~~Child-hating Nazi sympathizer~~

cat.

He is
~~the worst cat in the known universe~~
~~killing his owner's sanity~~
~~the very spawn of Satan~~
~~a spiteful, ugly beast~~
a... grey cat.

His favorite activities include:
~~worshiping at the altar of his father, Beelzebub~~
~~playing with toys~~
~~meowing incessantly outside the door while his owners are trying to watch a movie, poop, sleep, eat supper, take baths, or simply relax and then running away the second you open the door to let him in~~
~~meowing incessantly at the door, then 2 minutes after you let him out turning around and meowing to be let back in~~
~~meowing outside your bedroom window at 2 in the morning so you'll let him back in, THEN RUNNING AWAY WHEN YOU GROGGILY OPEN THE FRONT DOOR~~
sleeping, eating, and pooping.

Ownership must take place immediately ~~because I swear, if there is ever a wood chipper in my front yard it will take wild horses, a Valium, and strong burly men to keep me from putting him in it~~.

Please email me ASAP.

The message

2009-10-16T19:45:00.002-05:00

Last week, October 6th, was the one-year anniversary of the death of my baby girl. I miss her so very much, and wonder often what it would be like if she were here.

I took Ace to school that day, then got my hair cut, then went to see my therapist. I told her I'd planned to get Ace from school, get him into bed, then start writing in my journal. Above all, I planned on not eating emotionally at all. I just do not want to get back into that cycle anymore. It's so tempting just to eat to relieve the pain, but I ain't doing it.

So I got my little boy from school, got him home, cuddled his socks off, got him into bed, and went into my bedroom and sat in my big comfy chair and started writing a letter to my daughter. I told her everything I was feeling and told her that I miss her, and wrote all about how I thought she would be. I had an annoying Veggietales song running through my head that was distracting me, so I turned on my iPod and sat it down next to me.

When I was finally finished writing, I started to think about the song I associate with my other daughter (Love Song by Third Day), and kinda wished I had a song for my youngest. I sat back, hugged my pillow, and began to pray.

The next song that came on my iPod was One Sweet Day by Mariah Carey and Boyz II Men.

My baby sent me a message. I sat and listened to that song several times and cried my eyes out. She likes early 90's ballads, and she sent me a message.

The lyrics:

Sorry, I never told you, all I wanted to say.
Now it's too late to hold you.
Cause you've flown away, so far away.

Never, had I imagined, yeah, living without your smile.
Feelin' and knowing you hear me.
It keeps me alive. Alive!

And I know you're shining down on me from Heaven,
Like so many friends we've lost along the way,
And I know eventually we'll be together.
One sweet day.

Picture a little scene from Heaven.

Darling, I never showed you.
Assumed you'd always be there.
I took your presence for granted.
But I always cared
And I miss the love we shared.

And I know you're shining down on me from Heaven.
Like so many friends we've lost along the way.
And I know eventually we'll be together.
One sweet day.

Picture a little scene from Heaven.

Although, the sun will never shine the same, I'll
always look to a brighter day.

Yeah, Lord, I know, when I lay me down to sleep,
You'll always listen, as I pray!

And I know you're shining down on me from Heaven,
Like so many friends we've lost along the way,
And I know eventually we'll be together.
One sweet day.

And I know you're shining down on me from Heaven,
Like so many friends we've lost along the way,
And I know eventually we'll be together.
One sweet day.

Sorry, I Never told you, all I wanted to say

I miss you, baby girl. I will hold you one sweet day.

My boy

2009-10-05T20:26:00.003-05:00

I love this kid.

To move?

2009-10-03T10:01:00.003-05:00

So, Ace will be graduating from The Little Light House next year, and I have no idea what to do with him. When he started there, our plan was to wait until he graduated then Drew would start trying to find a job in south Louisiana so we could move back there.

Now that the reality is upon us, I can't even fathom it.

My two best friends live in the New Orleans metro area. I love New Orleans with all my heart. I love Louisiana, it just feels like HOME to me more than anywhere else I've ever lived. I think Ace's needs would be better suited in Louisiana (wayyyyy more doctors in the New Orleans metro). My oldest friends live in Louisiana - people I've known so long that they feel like family.

But Mississippi... I have a LOT of friends here. A couple of weeks ago, I sent a message to all of my local friends on Facebook and came up with over 100 people. That's almost half my friends list! I keep making more and more friends and establishing more and more roots here.

Not to mention my parents live an hour and a half away. My sister and niece live an hour away. My brother lives an hour and a half away. In reality, where we would be living in Louisiana would only be about 2 hours away from my parents, but it's still farther away from them than I want to be. Plus, my mom works in the Jackson metro and keeps an apartment up here during the week, so she sees Ace about once a week. If we moved to Louisiana, she'd see him maybe once a month. Ace LOVES his Granny and PawPaw.

This is gonna be a BIG one to pray about. I can't imagine being away from some of y'all, moving, building a new house, starting my life over AGAIN, finding new friends AGAIN, losing touch with some of my friends here. I won't name names, but y'all read my blog and know who you are, and some of y'all represent the most genuine friendships I've ever had in my life. How can I leave you behind?

Oooh-wee. Big decisions.

This one's for the ladies.

2009-10-01T18:48:00.002-05:00

Dear women of the civilized world:

Please, for the love of all that is holy, and for the love of all that is not holy, and for Santa Claus, and the Easter Bunny, and for me, please, please STOP HOVERING OVER THE TOILET SEAT. If I see one more toilet seat delicately sprinkled with your freakin' urine, I will track you down and make you go clean it up. You are disgusting.

Yes, toilet seats are gross. DO NOT LICK A TOILET SEAT. If you don't lick the toilet seat, it is VERY unlikely you will contract any diseases from a toilet seat. And what exactly do you think you would get from sitting on a toilet seat, anyway? An STD? Yes, if someone with open butt sores sits on a toilet seat and you somehow manage to sit on the same toilet seat within like 5 seconds of them, AND YOU ALSO HAVE OPEN BUTT SORES, you might catch something from a toilet seat.

Although, if you have open butt sores, I, personally, want to ask you to just go ahead and stay home. You don't want any... seepage. Or something. Just stay at home and air that stuff out.

Seriously, I am a big fat germophobe and I know that sitting on a toilet seat won't mean I'm walking away with the clap. However, when I see pee on the doggone toilet, I have to make the decision to either clean it up myself, which, um, no thanks, or go against EVERYTHING I BELIEVE IN and hover myself. I usually go for the former, because my thighs are not quite hover-ready.

STOOPPPPP MAKING ME CLEAN UP YOUR PEE, YOU DISGUSTING WENCHES.

the future

2009-09-30T20:39:00.003-05:00

Do you ever get scared? I don't mean the kind of scared in a movie theater during a scary movie, or the moment right before the glass mayonnaise jar hits the tile floor, or when you have a hangnail that is bugging the CRAP out of you and you can't find your fingernail clippers in your purse.

I don't even mean the kind of scared you get when you think you've locked your keys in the car, or you can't find your checkbook. Or when you go in for the last bite of fried chicken and you realize it wasn't cooked all the way through.

I mean the pit-of-your-stomach, cold sweats, what-the-hell-is-gonna-happen scared. The kind of scared you get when your car starts to hydroplane.

Hi, I'm Stacey, and I'm scared.

I've been on Geodon for my bipolar disorder since the beginning of April. It's the stuff that sent me to the ER and the neurologist and the MRI a few months ago, but I went on a lower dose and it doesn't do that anymore, so that's good. It's helped me a LOT and I've been very happy with the effects.

I'm scared that I'm dependent on it for sleep. Before I started it, I hadn't slept in weeks, and any time I try to sleep without it, I absolutely can't. Now, mania is part of bipolar disorder, and insomnia is part of mania. The Geodon is a mood stabilizer, so it brings the mania down a notch, and helps me sleep. It's also highly sedating - within 3 hours of taking it, I can't keep my eyes open. When I wake up in the morning, I'm hung over for a good hour. I stupidly took it during my BFF's bachelorette party dinner, BEFORE we went walking in the Quarter, and by 11, I felt like absolute hell. By 1 when I finally went to bed, I could barely walk. I feel pretty guilty about that. I should've taken it later.

Still, I don't mean that it knocks the mania down so I can sleep, I mean that I'm actually dependent on it for sleep, the way people get dependent on sleeping pills.

I don't want to be on this stuff for the rest of my life, I really don't. I've come to the realization that I would like to eventually get pregnant again, and this stuff hasn't even been tested on pregnant women - that's how much *they* know it's bad for pregnant women.

Still, I don't want to get pregnant again if it means that I won't sleep for the months I'm trying and the months I'm gestating and the year I'm breastfeeding.

Am I like every other psychiatric patient who gets their sh*t together with the help of meds, then thinks their lives are hunky dory, then decides to go off the meds, then loses their sh*t again? Is that going to be my life? Am I officially, irretrievably crazy? No going back to not being crazy, even though you weren't crazy for 28 years? Sorry, you're done, this is your life now?

Am I going to have to give up my dreams of being pregnant again because I cannot sleep without this drug?

These questions have been absolutely haunting me lately.

It doesn't keep me awake at night though. Horses, a film crew, an airplane, and Billy Mays' ghost couldn't keep me awake at night.

The worst part

2009-09-17T16:29:00.002-05:00

So y'all know that as part of my treatment earlier this year, I started a healthy, balanced diet. I eat all my fruits and veggies and whole grains and all the appropriate fats and yada yada yada. I get a lot of really good fiber. You know what the worst part about that is?

Pooping takes no time at all. Seriously, I'm in and out of the bathroom in like 3 minutes, and that includes counting to 20 while I thoroughly wash my hands.

I *like* a little time on the toilet. Finish a few chapters of a book, read a story in Reader's Digest (heh, digest), contemplate the meaning of life, etc. Now I hardly have enough time to read one of the funnies on the Life In These United States page.

It's also why I'm not blogging more. Believe it or not, quite a bit of my blog inspiration has come while I was pooping. Conversely, I Twitter a lot more, since my streamlined pooping process allows for only 140 characters' worth of inspiration.

So, if you want me to blog more, send me cheese. I'm allowed roughly 5 ounces of cheese per day, more if I count my cheese as fat, and I would like to blog more. Thank you.

Why kids are fat.

2009-09-02T09:02:00.004-05:00

I was actually awake on time this morning, so after my shower I decided to go sit on the porch and eat breakfast. From my porch I can see to the end of my street, which also happens to be the back corner of my entire neighborhood - it's pretty much the opposite corner of the neighborhood from the front entrance.

I saw the school bus round the corner and start to drive down my street. At this point, the school bus was roughly 2/10ths of a mile away. The bus picked up a kid, then turned on the next corner.

As I ate, a group of about 5 kids came running from one of the streets that run perpendicular to my street. I laughed to myself a little, thinking they missed the bus, but then they all congregated on a driveway 4 houses away from mine. "Surely there aren't two bus stops on my 2/10ths of a mile street," I thought. But, there the kids waited. Since the bus had really loud brakes, I could hear it all over the place, and I was certain they could hear it too, so they would've known they missed the bus.

Then, a girl walked out and waited at the end of her driveway, 2 houses down from where the other group of kids was standing. I figured she just didn't want to wait near the other kids, which seemed pretty logical since she was 14-ish and these kids were probably no more than 8. I thought once the bus came, she'd walk her too-cool self a few hundred feet and get on the bus with the other kids.

I was wrong. As I finished off my cereal, I watched as the bus rounded the corner, picked up the girl, then drove 2 houses down to pick up the group of kids.

What. The. Hell.

Back in my day *bones creaking* I had to walk about half a mile to my bus stop. My bus stop was the elementary school, and all the kids within a half-mile of the school had to walk there. Hoosiers are not well known for their fitness, don't get me wrong - we are a largely German people and we truly enjoy our sausage and beer. Have things really changed so much in the 15 or so years since I rode the bus? Or was I the exception to the rule that kids can't walk more than a few hundred feet to their bus stops?

Since I was so stunned by this, I went to that back corner and drove to the front of my neighborhood - it was exactly half a mile. You're telling me that kids can't walk half a mile in a very safe, thoroughfare-free neighborhood to get to the bus stop?

There should be, at most, 2 bus stops in my neighborhood. One at the front entrance, one at the back corner. At most. It makes nary a lick of sense to have one stop every 300 feet, wasting a ton of gas (hello, fleecing taxpayers!!) and a ton of time. These kids could probably sleep an extra half hour if they didn't have to wait for the bus to pick up nearly every individual kid in the neighborhood.

Am I wrong here?

Gonna have to find a new favorite restaurant.

2009-08-30T20:09:00.004-05:00

(This is today's second post. Are y'all shocked?)

I have taught my child the following:
ABCs
How to count from 1-20
"Jesus Loves Me"
"Twinkle Twinkle Little Star"
How to spell Ace, Dada, Mama, Granny, Paw Paw, Elmo.

Shoot, thanks to The Little Einsteins, which is one of the only shows I let him watch because of the LOADS of educational value, he can da-da-da his way through part of The Nutcracker Suite.

Oh, and this one time, I lost my cool with one of my cats, and said "you're pissing me off," right in front of Ace.

I have clearly taught my son many things. Guess which one he decided to shout while we were eating at Newk's tonight?

Also, we read him a story in which there is a character named "Boof." Saying "boof" is a guaranteed laugh out of Ace, so to distract him from whatever was pissing him off, we shoved a few chips in his mouth and said "Boof!" He laughed.

Then, for some unknown reason, Drew decided to say "Foob!" I didn't hear "foob," I heard "boob." Well, so did Ace.

Guess what he started shouting, over and over again?

Who DOES that?

2009-08-30T19:41:00.002-05:00

Scene: Sesame Street Live, momslikeme.com table
Time: August 30th, 2009
Characters: STACEY, NICOLE, CRAZY GRANDMA, POOR CHILD, aged 4-5, OTHER WOMEN

NICOLE and STACEY set up their momslikeme.com table, trying to sign people up for the website by giving out free tote bags. Business is a-boomin'.

Enter CRAZY GRANDMA, POOR CHILD. CRAZY GRANDMA is at the entrance to the restroom, near where NICOLE and STACEY have set up shop.

STACEY accidentally makes eye contact with CRAZY GRANDMA.

CRAZY GRANDMA: "Can you please watch him for a second while I go in here?"
STACEY: "Uhhh."
CRAZY GRANDMA: "He won't go in with me."
STACEY: "Uhhhh."
CRAZY GRANDMA: "I'll be right back."
STACEY: "Yeah, I'm not really comf-"

Exit CRAZY GRANDMA. POOR CHILD remains at the entrance of the restroom.

NICOLE turns to STACEY. "What happened?"
STACEY: "Apparently, we're supposed to watch this kid while his grandma goes to the bathroom."
NICOLE: "Whaaaat."

OTHER WOMEN look at NICOLE and STACEY expectantly, hoping they'll deliver on their sign's promise of a free tote bag. POOR CHILD stares into restroom, looking scared.

NICOLE and STACEY: "Momslikeme.com is a social" look at POOR CHILD "networking website for moms in the" look at POOR CHILD "Jackson area. We have" look at POOR CHILD "giveaways, contests, a message board" look at POOR CHILD "and it's totally free." look at POOR CHILD. "All you have to" look at POOR CHILD "do is sign up for the web" look at POOR CHILD "site and we'll give you a free tote bag today."

Enter CRAZY GRANDMA to take the child away. STACEY and NICOLE give her a stink eye that could melt her wig, then proceed to tell OTHER WOMEN what happened. OTHER WOMEN join in the festival of stink eye.

END.

break my heart, why don't ya.

2009-08-17T11:55:00.003-05:00

It's Ace's first day of school.

I know he loves school, loves his teachers, loves playing with his friends, loves everything about school. I also know that he'll get over the first day jitters pretty quickly. Still, I can't be prepared when he does something like this:

Instead of going to comfort my child, I took a picture of his anxiety and fear for eternal documentation. Right after this, a new kid in the class hollered, and Ace lost it. Since I am mother of the year, I walked out.

(Really, he was over it in about 20 seconds, and laughing with the volunteer. He's fine. He does this at physical therapy every single Friday too - SCREAMS on the way in, but as soon as the door is closed I can hear him laughing.)

I have gotten so much done this morning, but I really kinda miss my kid. Despite his CONSTANT chatter, he's really quite fun to be around. I wish I could've done more with him during his summer break, but potty training wasn't as snappy as I'd expected. He did swimmingly well, and they'll continue with him at school, but I expected he'd be sporting his Speed Racer drawers and be done with diapers by now. No biggie. As we sat at McAllister's yesterday eating lunch and he said "can I go peepee on the potty," I said "go in your diaper" and realized that diapers > public bathrooms.

I did let him go in a public bathroom on Friday though, and realized too late that his penis had gotten stuck between his leg and the toilet and he wound up whizzing all over the floor. It took lots and lots and lots of wafer-thin toilet paper to clean that up. That's why you don't set your purse on the floor in public bathrooms, ladies.

Ace's MRI is tomorrow afternoon, just in case I created any confusion with my last, whiny post. I have to figure out if I want to let him sleep in (which he'll do till 10 on any given day) and not eat, or get him up at 7 and feed him, since he can't eat after 8, and the MRI isn't till 2. I'm leaning toward feeding him in the morning, although it'll start his metabolism. Either way, he's gonna be dang hungry by 2.

Y'all have a wonderful week.

I used to be a funny blogger.

2009-08-06T16:23:00.002-05:00

Y'all remember when I used to be funny? Generated lots of lols. Got tons of hits every day. Then I got all serious. I'm still funny on Twitter and Facebook though, I swear, so it's not totally gone. But all I do here is whine.

Case in point: I AM STRESSED THE HELL OUT.

I have been concerned for some time about the frequency with which Ace gets fevers. I brought it up to his doctor. She sent us to a pediatric endocrinologist. Y'all remember how that went. So she set us up with another endocrinologist, who we are not supposed to see till October. In the meantime, Ace got another fever, with virtually no other symptoms. I took him to the doctor, who said "hmm, lemme call the endocrinologist and see what he thinks." The endocrinologist ordered some blood tests. Ace got the blood tests on Monday.

Yesterday, I called my pediatrician to see if the results were back yet. She said that his cortisol levels were low, but she doesn't know what that means, and she was going to call the endocrinologist to find out what he wanted to do with the results, and she'd call me back today.

I called today and left a message that I noticed that Ace has been falling a LOT more than usual lately, and asked if that may be related in some way to the cortisol levels. She called me back and said she hadn't yet heard from the endocrinologist, but his pediatrician wants him to have an MRI to see if anything has changed since the last MRI.

I can't link since I'm on my phone, but Ace's last MRI was a complete nightmare.

She called again to say that the nurse at the endocrinologist's office had received the results, and was going to pass them along to the endocrinologist.

So now I still have no damn answers, and my baby has to have another MRI. He has to be put completely under for an MRI. The appointment is at 2, which means he can't eat after 8. It's also on his 2nd day of school, so he'll have to miss that day. CRAP.

Also, my stepmom called me last night and told me that my niece has MRSA. Naturally I googled it, saw that it's a staph infection that's resistant to antibiotics, and then I read that it can be fatal, and I stopped googling.

I am stressed out. I am really stressed out.

August 3rd

2009-08-03T20:57:00.004-05:00

August 3rd is Ace's homecoming day. On this day, 3 years ago, I busted him out of the NICU.

Here's my progression of homecoming day pictures:

This is gonna start getting really tough when he's 15. Kid's a beast now.

He's chatty.

2009-07-29T11:08:00.002-05:00

Ace talks from the moment he wakes up till the moment he falls asleep. For the next 3 minutes, as much as I'm able to keep up, I'm going to type everything he says.

"Is the radio going on? Where's the radio? Is the radio on? Is it? That's a plane outside, I hear it. I hear one, mama, I do. I hear it! Is the umbrella open, mom? Is it? Give it to Miss Heather. Stop doing that! Will you please close this umbrella mama? Will you please close it? Are you closin it mama? Are you sittin' on the couch mama? Are you? ARE YOU? Did you close it? I got this umbrella. I do. I do. Do I supposed to hit, mama? Do I? DO I? Will you please close the umbrella mama? Can I open it? I'm gonna spin it. Did you hurt yourself, mama? Did you? What do I hear? I'm gonna open the umbrella. Will you please close the umbrella? Are you hiding in the umbrella mama? My penis is in my lap. That's my penis. Dib dib dib dib dib. Can you close the umbrella mama? Hey mama what are you doing? This is my baton, mama. I'm gonna conduct. What is this? This is an umbrella. Do I supposed to spit?"

I swear I respond to every question. But dang if he doesn't ask it a million times. And yes, I closed the umbrella. I have closed the umbrella 97 times this morning.

I never thought I'd be the kind of person that cherished quiet time, but Lord have mercy.

today...

2009-07-27T15:16:00.002-05:00

The Eye is much better today.

And he got his teeth cleaned.

And then saw the dentist.

No, really, this is fun.

2009-07-25T11:46:00.002-05:00

And the potty training continues.

Ace has done remarkably well with potty training thus far. Only a few accidents the whole week! I've been very proud of him.

This morning, I put him on the potty at 10:00. At 10:15, I asked if he was ready to get down. He
said "no, and I'm gonna go poopoo."

At 10:20:

"I did it!"
"Did you go peepee?"
"Yes, I sure did!"
"Good job, honey! Are you ready to get down?"
"No, and I'm gonna go poopoo."

10:30. "Are you ready to get down?" "No and I'm gonna go poopoo."

10:40. "Are you ready now, baby?" "No, and I'm gonna go poopoo."

10:50. "Baby, I'm gonna set this timer. When the bell rings, you're getting off the potty." "No, and I'm gonna go poopoo."

11:00. "Time to get off the potty!" "NOOOOOO!! POOPOO! POOPOOOOOO!" "Baby, you sat long enough." "POOPOOPOOPOOPOOPOOPOOPOO!!!!"

11:15. He pooped on the floor.

11:20. Floor's clean. Poop is wiped off of Ace.

11:25. Cat barfs on the floor, on the SAME DANG SPOT I just cleaned.

11:30. Time to get back on the potty.

11:45. "Ready to get off the potty?" "No, and I'm gonna go potty."

11:45:20. Stacey decides it's close enough to noon to start drinking.

Rocky's little brother, Ace Balboa

2009-07-25T09:26:00.004-05:00

So Thursday night, I let Ace play in a little inflatable pool in the backyard. He freakin' loves that thing. After I got him out of the pool, I didn't notice anything wrong with him, but when we got him in the bathtub, this is how he looked:

Poor kid took a few mosquito bites to the eye. There's one right on his eyebrow, and one on the corner of his eyelid. I dosed him up with Benadryl and sent him to bed. When I went to get him on Friday morning, I thought he was still sleeping. Oh no. His eye looked like this:

Could not believe it. I took him to physical therapy, where a couple of old ladies whipped me into a frenzy over West Nile in his eye and HE COULD LOSE HIS EYE OVER THIS, so I called the doctor who said that his eye swelling shut was fairly standard when a kid takes a couple of mosquito bites to the eye. I relaxed, slightly, but then later that morning when his eye puffed up to this:

I decided I'd go ahead and take him to the doctor. In fact, I was practically forced to the doctor with pitchforks and torches by the other ladies in my play group (I love y'all). But seriously, that looked really, really bad. The pictures don't do it justice. Kid had a golf ball stuck under his eyelid.

The doctor took one look at him and was all "Wow, I'm glad your mama decided to bring you in! I can't tell over the phone how bad these things are!" She gave me a couple of sample bottles of Allegra, gave him a steroid shot, and gave me a prescription for antibiotics in case it started to look infected. "If it looks infected," she said, "take him to the after hours clinic."

Last night, it started looking more red, he started running a fever, and DID I MENTION THE GREEN GOOP? I don't reckon I did. GREEN GOOP.

Shortly after crapping myself, I called the after-hours clinic. I researched what glass eyes would look best while waiting for the nurse to call me back. I thought about how freaking cool Ace would look with an eyepatch. He's already got the swagger and the bad attitude, it's only one more quick step to becoming a pirate. Just a little more practice with pillaging and plundering.

The nurse called back and was all "CHILL OUT, SON." She told me to go ahead and start using the antibiotics, and when she realized that I had whipped myself into an insane frenzy, she said "if it'll help you sleep better tonight, take him to the ER. But they're just going to give him antibiotics." My terror was replaced by indignation, and I thanked her and bid her good evening.

Still, I figured she would've told me to go to the ER if I needed to, so I trusted her judgment and gave him some antibiotics and some more Benadryl.

Here's my little pirate this morning.

The swelling has gone down some, but the redness has spread. I reckon it is infected. Since I'm *that* mom, I'll probably call the doctor at some point today to make sure I don't need to see them.

In the meantime, since he looks so freaking pathetic, I have spoiled his little keester off. If I MUST tell him no, I can't look at him while I'm doing it. He had some of his favorite food yesterday, and like 7 little cookies for dessert. I asked him what he wanted for breakfast this morning and he said "Cheerios and cranberries, please." My little health nut pirate.

I will set fire to any and every mosquito I see for the rest of my life. I will start carrying a lighter just for this purpose, just in case one of those mosquitos I set on fire was, in fact, the one that did this to my baby. I will buy every zapper and fog that Home Depot has to offer. I will light a ring of citronella candle fire around the pool if he's in it.

I will have my revenge.

Dilemma

2009-07-23T09:34:00.002-05:00

Anyone averse to a little female TMI? Skip this one.

A few basic facts:

1. I believe life begins at conception.
2. The primary goal of an oral contraceptive is to prevent ovulation. A secondary goal is to thicken the lining of the uterus before menses in order to prevent a fertilized egg from implanting. Therefore, I don't want to go on birth control.
3. I get terrible, terrible PMS, often starting before ovulation and not ending till after my period has begun. PMS is Not Good for people who already have an established history of depression.
4. I cannot use any anti-depressants. I have tried many, and had bad reactions to all. Just saw my psychiatrist today and he's trying me on a new one, but I have zero hope.

Something's gotta give with my PMS though, man. I get depressed and angry right around ovulation time. If I'm lucky, it lets up for a couple days then Hurricane Bitch arrives a solid week before my period is due. Anti-depressants keep me from sleeping, they make me want to eat, they make me want to clean (okay, yeah, not terrible, but I get obsessive), and they make me want to shop.

I keep seeing this commercial for a birth control that can treat PMS from hell. I am certainly intrigued, but to what extent do I want to compromise my morals? I know when I'm ovulating, so I could always avoid sex in case the birth control fails. I could also just avoid sex during the 2nd week of the pill pack. We generally avoid sex during that week anyway, cuz I ain't EVEN tryna get knocked up. I could double up on the preventatives. But there's still always that small chance, and I can't stand that, dude.

I just do not know what to do. Awful, awful mood swings for half the month, or go on birth control, which I have avoided from a moral standpoint for most of my married life?

Blah. I'm gonna give this new anti-depressant a try, but I reckon I just won't sleep for a week then I'll go off it. It's happened 6 other times. Then comes the very real possibility that I will go on the Pill. Shoot.

Why I have grey hair

2009-07-22T14:27:00.002-05:00

Sunday, we were in Slidell visiting Drew's mom, who was in the hospital. Ace took a pretty nasty fall and hit his elbow. He cried it out and everything was fine. When we got home, however, I noticed that his arm was pretty swollen and the bruise was kinda gross. He was complaining quite a bit about it hurting. I thought briefly about taking him to the ER, but then realized that he had full range of motion and it wasn't hurting him constantly, so I shelved the ER idea.

Monday, I started potty training him. The method I figured would work best for him was just going full naked, so Monday morning, all I did was take off his pajama pants and his diaper and left his long-sleeved pajama shirt on. I didn't see his elbow all day.

Also on Monday, I accidentally popped one of Ace's muscle relaxers. I had it in my hand and was looking at my Tylenol and thinking about taking some, and just threw his pill in my mouth and swallowed it. I totally didn't mean to, and promptly freaked out a little. I figured, it's just a kid's dose, but dang if I wasn't tired the rest of the day. No wonder the kid sleeps so much.

Tuesday, we went to see a pediatric endocrinologist because his doctor has some concerns about him not being able to regulate his temperature very well. We got there promptly at 11, and I settled in for a 2-3 hour wait, because specialists like to make you wait a long time. At 11:50, a nurse took his vitals and sent us back to the waiting room. At 1:15, I noticed all the nurses settling in to watch their stories. I rudely interrupted and asked when we could expect to be seen (I asked nicely) and was told that there were two new patients in front of me and a follow-up, so it could be another two-three hours. I asked them just how exactly I was supposed to entertain a 3-year-old in a doctor's office for 5 hours, and why I wasn't warned about this wait, and told them I hadn't brought a lunch or enough diapers or really anything for a FIVE HOUR wait. I was told that I should've been warned and that generally they tell people on the phone to clear their whole day for an appointment.

I think not. I told them just to take me off the list and let some other poor unsuspecting schmuck wait their whole day for this doctor and that I was leaving. They asked when they could reschedule me, and I said "a day when y'all know how to keep appointments." And I left. I'll take my chances with the other pediatric endocrinologist in the state. Hell, I'll go out of state if it means I don't have to wait in a dang doctor's office for five hours. Completely absurd.

When I got home, I noticed that Ace's elbow was bright red and swollen, and I called the doctor's office. The nurse told me it might be fractured, and that I should get on over to the hospital for an x-ray. Thankfully I didn't have to go to the ER, just radiology, but that meant I had to wait till our doctor's appointment today for the results.

Today, we went to the doctor's office for the results of the xray. While we were waiting in the exam room, Ace busied himself by opening every drawer and door in the room over and over and over again. I looked away for a minute, and when I looked back at him, he had somehow gotten one of those finger-stick things, and before I could fly over to him and take it out of his hands, he summoned all of his medical knowledge and figured out how to stick himself with it. How he knew exactly what to do and exactly where to stick himself, I'll never know. He said "I hurt my finger," quite stoic, then realized he was bleeding and started crying. Of course that's when the doctor walked in. I wrapped his finger in a bandaid, cleaned up the blood that had managed to get everywhere, and sat back down waiting for the bad news that my poor child would have to be in a cast for the rest of the summer.

Thankfully, he did not, in fact, have a broken elbow, but just a really nasty bruise. My day looked up. I felt like a slightly better mother at that point, because I was feeling pretty crappy for not getting him medical attention when I had initially wanted to.

Now, he is hopefully napping, in his crib, where he can't get into too much trouble. I am going to lay down on the couch and watch Law & Order: SVU, where I can't get into too much trouble. Hopefully.

Ace "reads" on the toilet

2009-07-14T14:46:00.002-05:00

Freakin' adorable.

I had to do this via spy cam since he won't read on camera if he knows it's there.

A little over a month later...

2009-07-09T14:54:00.011-05:00

We had Ace's birthday party on May 30th this year, 3 years to the day after I went to the hospital when my water broke when SOMEBODY decided he'd come early. In past years, Ace's birthday has been kinda sad for me because of all the bad memories associated with the date. It's not an easy thing to deliver a child prematurely.

My little 3-pound weakling.

I'm glad to say that this year, there were no sad feelings. I guess they've subsided, making way for only happy feelings to surround his birthday. The trauma remains, but it's quite minor.

So we got this huge water slide for the party. Ace LOVES slides, and he LOVES swimming, so I thought this would just make his doggone day.

He went down once...

He went down twice...

He seemed to enjoy it...

But then he completely outright refused to go down the slide anymore. That's okay, though... there were a TON of kids there, and I have like 20 pictures of various kids with their legs all in the air coming down the slide. Pretty cute stuff.

There was cake. Galen wanted cake.

Ace liked his cake.

Ace liked a LOT of his cake. He got 3 pieces and kept asking for more. I cut him off when he started twitching though, since I'm a mean mommy.

My Meme knows how to party, son. Y'all already know she's gangsta.

We asked for donations to Ace's school in lieu of gifts because a) the school needs money, b) Ace NEVER EVER EVER plays with the toys he has and 3) I didn't want to clean up around more toys. We wound up raising $400! Still, some nice people thought Ace needed some presents, and I'm glad they did, because as soon as he saw the birthday party decorations, he started asking for presents.

My mom quickly became enamored with Guitar Hero. I knew she'd like it. And yes, she's got a fire truck tattoo on her neck. That's a dedicated grandmother. My big sister is giggling in the background, cuz she knows how to get down on Guitar Hero too. I can't wait to dominate the world with these two on Rock Band.

The next day, I decided to put on my party hat and shave the boy's head. He wasn't too happy about it at first, but he got used to it.

Then the actual day of his birthday came. He got some schwag from his great-grandmother and from his teacher, and was feeling pretty confident about it.

He got himself some ice cream.

Got himself a tricycle. As soon as he climbed on, he said "A MOTORCYCLE!"

I can't believe my baby is three years old.

Yeah, it's better than that.

2009-06-28T22:08:00.000-05:00

I have somehow contracted a case of the poison ivy. It started on my arms and has since migrated to my chest, legs, and stomach. It is really, really itchy. I found where the vine is in my back yard and have no recollection of ever being near it. I think Nimbus brought it inside. Like his days weren't already numbered. I hate that cat.

During an especially intense period of itchy desperation, I begged people on Twitter and Facebook for their favorite at-home remedies for poison ivy rashes. I got a bunch of pretty good suggestions. Bought some new cream, ground up some oatmeal for oatmeal baths, etc. I can't really say anything has worked.

However, your friend and mine, watercolor (washesofcolor.blogspot.com since I'm on my phone and don't feel like htmling), suggested I get the shower as hot as I can stand it and then run the water over the rashes.

I have become convinced that doing this is a sin because it feels just that good. I am taking roughly 3 showers every day at this point. When the water hits my rashes, it's like the best feeling in the world, times ten. Imagine the best physical sensation that can possibly be achieved by the human body. Yeah, I know what you're thinking, we're all adults here, and at this point, I think it's even better than that. I'm standing in the shower shaking my leg like a dog getting its belly rubbed. Moaning. Saying "thank you" to no one in particular. I even throw a "yes, God" in there from time to time.

I'm telling y'all, if you ever happen to be unlucky enough to contract poison ivy, never fear. Running hot water over it almost makes the whole thing worthwhile.

2009-06-24T09:40:00.001-05:00

I think I'm finally starting to get it, but I want y'all's opinions. Easy question, no big deal:

Why do you think bad things happen to good people?

tap tap is this thing on?

2009-06-16T15:19:00.006-05:00

Hey y'all... yeah, I'm still alive. Now it's time to play catch up.

I graduated from my treatment program on Thursday! I am very happy about it and very proud of myself. I have learned so much and now I feel like I have the tools to face life without sinking into another depression. Plus, I've discovered my passion for photography and discovered a real confidence that I AM a good photographer. I have set a goal for myself to take 10 pictures every single day, and I'm going to start a photography blog eventually. In addition to that new confidence, I've told myself that I am not totally opposed to getting pregnant again in the future. I want to get to a more healthy place in my life first, but I'm actually considering it. Eventually.

One major change that you can actually see is my 30-pound weight loss. I'm pretty dang stoked about that. Here are some pictures of me kinda before and after. The first one is stolen from vipjacksonmag.com (THAT'S RIGHT Y'ALL I WAS IN VIP).

And this is from last weekend.

A 30-pound weight loss is freakin' amazing. I don't feel my gut all over the place now, my pants are falling off of me (okay, so that's not good), I'm finally fitting into an XL shirt... I wish everyone who is trying to lose weight would see a dietitian instead of trying weird diets they know they won't stick to for the rest of their lives. My dietitian has a blog, by the way, go check it out!

One major thing that's helped me with the weight loss is facing my feelings instead of eating them. Y'all don't know this, but I was just eating constantly and eating anything I wanted to eat. Any time I had any feelings... anger, sadness, happiness, anything... I would eat. This is not healthy at all. I have committed to myself to not eat emotionally anymore, because it starts a big downward spiral for me to stuff my feelings down till I'm completely out of control.

Now, in the interest of actually catching y'all up on what's been going on in my life, I'll tell y'all what we did for the memorial weekend for our daughter.

First, I went and got a tattoo.

Got a little work done on the angel, but the heart is new.

And then, Drew and I planted a lemon tree.

I can't wait to watch the lemon tree grow, and I can't wait to thank my daughter for every lemon we get from the tree.

I finally feel as though I've mourned her and laid her to rest. Finally having a memorial service for her was a huge point of closure for me.

So there ya go. I'll stop here, but the next post will be very picture heavy. All about Ace's birthday!

2009-06-06T21:27:00.001-05:00

Drew: "Ace, what are you supposed to say when you fart?"
Ace: "GOOD LORD!"

I may actually die of laughter.

what happened next...

2009-06-02T23:31:00.002-05:00

So my family doctor finally saw me, talked to me about my symptoms, then started doing some weird neuro tests. Squeeze my hands, push away, pull towards you, stuff like that. Then she put her thumbs on either side of my forehead and said "does this feel the same on both sides?" "No." On my cheeks? No. On my chin? No. "Huh," said the doctor. "You will need to see a neurologist." While I was mostly worried that my doctor had just said "huh," I expressed concern that the wait for a neurologist would be months, and I can't really live with these symptoms much longer. "Nah," she said, "she might be able to work you in this afternoon."

Sure enough, she got me an appointment for 1pm. She said she thought my symptoms were due to the higher dosage of bipolar meds. That made me nervous because under no circumstances do I want to quit them. After a quick lunch at home, I went to the neurologist's office. After she asked me 75 questions, she agreed that it was likely the higher dose of bipolar meds causing blood not to circulate to my brain properly. Also made me nervous because ACK BRAIN.

Off she sent me to get an MRI. I sat in that big loud sucker for 25 minutes. Let me tell y'all, that was a strange experience. Nothing like tv, where it goes "chunk chunk chunk chunk..." It was more like "chunk chunk BUZZ HONK AK AK AK AK AK AK AK AK AAAKKKKKKK BUUUZZZZZZ chunk chunk HEEEEENNNKKK buzz HONK." Once again, Grey's Anatomy skews my reality. Sigh. Well then, after the 25 minutes, the nurse tried to put contrast in my arm and blows two of my veins. Not one, y'all, TWO. She tried a third time and got it right, but I have a wicked bump there right now so something must be wrong. After royally effing up my veins, I was stuffed back into the tube of very loud doom for another 5 minutes. Then, with many bandaids on my arm, I left the hospital and came home, but not before a quick run to Sonic for a diet cherry limeade. Mmmm.

Although nearly every second of my day sucked 100% before I got home, my day was made a milionty times better when I got home because my cousin, with whom I've grown up and formed a very close bond, was there with his wife, who I've never met but have spoken to many times on the phone and with whom I get along famously. I was so excited that they were at my house. I still am very excited. Actually, I should go to sleep since I'm makng them a nice healthy breakfast in the morning.

Pardon typos... It's not easy to type on my phone and I'm very sleepy!

2009-06-02T10:19:00.001-05:00

Well shucks. I saw my psychiatrist this morning at my treatment center and told him about my symptoms. He said "That's not normal," then called my family doctor personally, since he apparently knows her from way back, and asked if she could work me in. So I've been sitting in the waiting room for half an hour waiting to be worked in. I really hope I'm seen soon, since I am, if I'm being honest, a little concerned for myself here. My symptoms haven't gone away... I still have a weird headache and numbness and extreme dizziness and blah blah blah.

I'll keep y'all updated.

Again...

2009-05-30T07:15:00.002-05:00

So I spent yesterday evening in the emergency room. Sigh.

At about 5:30, I started feeling a little weak. I figured it was because I'd had quite a bit of caffeine yesterday, and I was a little hungry. I finished doing some cleaning and went to the living room to fold some laundry. I sat down and started sweating profusely, and felt very weak and dizzy. I had Drew take my blood pressure and it was 150/90, when it's normally pretty low. It's not unusual for me to have a 90/60 blood pressure reading.

At that point, my head started killing me and numbness started spreading across my face. I started freaking myself out that I was having a stroke and called my doctor and had my mom and stepdad come over. The doctor called back, listened to my symptoms, and sent me to the ER.

The ER was a bit backed up, but after a quick triage they didn't seem all that concerned. I should've left then, since I was already feeling a little better, but I figured I was paying for the ER visit anyway, might as well get some closure.

FIVE HOURS later, after someone had literally forgotten about us for 2 hours, we left. It was nearly 1 in the morning, I was looped out of my mind because of my bipolar meds, and I had no answers. I still don't know what happened. I've been feeling a little dizzy lately in the afternoons, but that was ridiculous.

I woke up, bright eyed and bushy tailed, at 6:30. I have so much to do in the next 3.5 hours before Ace's birthday party that it's seriously blowing my mind. My right arm still has some numbness, but I'm going to completely ignore it. Drew was supposed to wake up at 4 this morning and start smoking a pork shoulder, but we're going to hope for the best and call Sonny's when they open and see if they'll cater. If not, a quick trip to Kroger for a bunch of ground beef is in order. Oh, that's another thing I have to do - go to the party store. Thanks for reminding me.

Oy.

So much for work.

2009-05-28T15:30:00.002-05:00

Right now, I'm supposed to be doing some fairly intense therapy work, but Ace isn't napping. Instead, he's having a fairly in depth conversation with his kitty. So instead of ignoring it and working, I am of course blogging it.

"Whatcha looking at, kitty? Fly to me! Fly to me! Ready? 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10! Woooo! Gimme a kiss. Thank you kitty! The coffee is hot. It's really hot. The coffee is HOT!!! Where's Miss Heather? Where is he? Where is SHE? WHAT'S THAT SOUND, MAN? How ya doin', man? How. Are. You. Doing. Man? We'll be right there! Mama? Where's the Grandma rocket? What's a train rocket say? Woooo! Woooo! Mama? Where are you? Miss Heather where are - Mama where are you? Ohhhh, got it! Kitty, did you fall down? I'm sorry. I'm sorry you falled down. Woo, dats a lotta poopoos."

Uh, reckon I should go check on that.

oooh-wee

2009-05-26T15:01:00.002-05:00

So thankfully my psychiatrist values sleep very highly, so he pulled me out of group today to see me. I explained that I hadn't slept in 2 days and he told me to double my bipolar meds. I'm a little nervous about this for a few reasons.

1. As I said last night (this morning), this stuff knocks me out, son. If I take it at 6, I can barely keep my eyes open after 9. I'm sacked out by 10.

2. Waking up in the morning is gonna be rough.

3. It isn't cheap.

So, in light of number one, if you see my name on the caller ID tonight, if you love me, do not pick up the phone. I cannot guarantee I won't be doing any drunk dialing tonight, if I'm conscious. I don't know how the extra dosage will counteract the mania caused by the anti-depressants. My friend Nicole has received a cough syrup drunk dial from me and still mocks me from time to time. If you love me, don't pick up the phone.

I'm feeling much more positive right now (could be the Adderall, which is the best drug ever) than I was during my last post. My psychiatrist listens to me, and hears me, and I trust him. My mom actually knows the guy professionally and has said he's one of the best in the state. If he says doubling the bipolar meds will help, then doubling the bipolar meds will help. Dig?

Also on the treatment front, I have hit a plateau in my weight loss. I feel comfortable saying I'VE LOST TWENTY POUNDS BAM!!!! but I've stopped there for a solid week and a half. The nutritionist was all "are you exercising?" and I was all "does journaling count" and she was all "yeah, time to start exercising." So, I will. I've set a goal for twice a week, which may sound lame, but it's a whole lot more than I've been doing.

And while Ace was sitting on the potty earlier, right before he pooped on the potty for the second time ever, he congratulated me for farting. "Yaaaay, dat's a good fart, mama!" He clapped, too. I love him.

Here I am again.

2009-05-26T03:14:00.002-05:00

So it's 3 up in the morning. I cannot sleep. I knew this would happen, man, I knew it.

My psychiatrist put me back on anti-depressants. I can kinda see why, since I go through so many mood swings when I'm hormonal (sorry, guys), but I was reluctant. I knew they'd make me manic. The impulses haven't been terrible, but sleep has once again stopped. I will probably see my psychiatrist tomorrow, and he'll probably up my bipolar meds (they make me sleep), but I'm scared that'll cause the same reaction anti-depressants + Ambien did (hallucinations).

Is this what my life is going to be like? A constant restructuring and rebalancing of medications? A constant dance? Will I ever be able to sleep unmedicated again? I am just so scared right now that I'm going to have to be medicated in increased dosages for the rest of my life. My body will adjust and I'll get all out of whack and I'll have to go back to the psychiatrist for another retooling of my medications. God forbid I ever want to get pregnant again...

Life as a crazy person sucks a little bit. Guess I'll read a book for a few hours.

been a while...

2009-05-25T13:44:00.007-05:00

Well, here are my Biloxi pictures. Some of 'em. I can't be bothered to format this very much, just wanted to put 'em up here for y'all to see. The captions are under the pictures, and full size can be found here.

Looking through the branches of the Friendship Oak on USM's Gulf Coast campus. The Friendship Oak is a 500-year-old, HUGE tree.

Abandoned lot in Long Beach. Highway 90 was just depressing, 4 years later.

Dangerous pier. Still lots of damage down there. I couldn't believe it.

I don't even know what this was. An abandoned lot, with tiles still solidly in place. I think Katrina blew away a no-tell motel or something. Maybe a very tiny office building.

Beautiful beaches.

You would have to see this to believe it - an artist on the Coast saw an opportunity to create art out of sadness. Whoever the artist(s) is (are), they carved animals into dead oak trees, then sealed them. They're absolutely fascinating. I took a bunch of pictures.

Another oak tree sculpture.

The dead among the living.

My kingdom for a hammock...

Treet. Heh.

Yay for oblique angles! Some boat that'd washed up on the beach. Guess nobody cared about it enough to get it back.

Long walk.

More footprints. I like this picture.

Confederate Veterans' Cemetery, Beauvoir

Dead palm tree on the beach.

I put them back on after I saw broken glass and a condom. But hey, pink flip flops, they're kinda my thing.

Abandoned marina.

2009-05-24T10:56:00.001-05:00

Avert your eyes, my earth-loving friends. Ace has been playing with our kitchen faucet for a solid 45 minutes now. You know those days where you'd rather have an easy-parenting day than a responsible-parenting day? Well, today is that day, friends.

Still, as soon as I am finished with this load of laundry, I'll redeem myself by taking him outside to swing. I don't think that'll redeem my water bill, though.

Bad. Very bad. And stupid.

2009-05-22T21:26:00.002-05:00

So I'm going through this whole mind transformation, right? A couple of weeks ago, someone suggested a full-body cleanse to me. Said it'd clean my skin, liver, kidneys, and bowels (yum!). Lots of toxins in all of those areas, you see. Well, I don't want toxins. "Toxins" sound like "toxic," and toxic means bad, right y'all? I thought, what the heck. I'm cleaning up my brain, let's do a little Spring cleaning of my organs. Sounds like a spiffy idea.

So off to my local health-foods store I went. "Take these for 30 days - one in the morning and one at night - with a balanced diet. You may experience some mild nausea, but that's the toxins getting out of your system. Drink plenty of water and it'll go away," said the be-dreaded super hippy supplements guy. So happily, I plunked down $30 for these pills.

I started Monday, and within hours realized it was a total sham. Something in those pills causes serious dehydration, and guess what cleanses your skin, liver, kidneys, and bowels? Water. And water is really, really cheap. I drank 5 liters of water that first day.

Did I stop when I came to the realization that I'd been had? Heeeeeck no! I paid $30 for this crap, no way was I gonna throw it away.

I really, really should have.

Today, I was talking to Ace's babysitter and suddenly realized I was very near fainting and/or barfing. I managed to keep it together, but have felt absolutely terrible the rest of today. Drew sweetly pointed out that I look "puffy" and he's right. My chin and jaw are all puffed out and huge. If this is what it feels like to have toxins flushed from my body, I like my toxins just where they are, THANKYOUVERYMUCH.

So kids, take it from your old Aunt Stacey. Full-body cleanses are a total sham. Drink plenty of water, eat your fruits and veggies, and throw some Cheerios in there, and you'll never miss "cleansing."

Shoot, even if your diet is a steady intake of Burger King, lard out of the can, and Mountain Dew, you still shouldn't do a cleanse. They are nonsense. Don't do it.

Today

2009-05-20T20:46:00.003-05:00

So it's May 20th. As I've said in past years, this is the anniversary of the day that my aunt got extremely drunk and took her own life. I was in the house at the time, and was the last person to talk to her. Today kinda sucks for me anyway.

However, today is also my baby's due date. I know it's just an estimate, but it's a symbolic date and it has a lot of meaning for me.

This morning was horrible. I got to therapy and just wanted to come back home and go to sleep, but the other women in my group insisted that I stay and work through everything. I did because I knew it was the most healthy thing to do. We read a meditation every morning, and today's just happened to be on grieving and sadness. Yeah God, I hear ya. So I bawled my way through that. The women there talked to me and helped me get some of my feelings out and let me process.

After group, I ran to get lunch and went back to the treatment center to eat, waiting for the bad news. My insurance has decided that they know my treatment needs better than the medical professionals who are treating me, and have decided to stop paying. Of course, the crazy hasn't quite been all the way cooked outta me quite yet, so I am going to continue there. And hoo-boy, it's gonna be expensive, but Drew and I both agree that I really need this, so we're finding a way to pay.

Got home and relieved the awesome, awesome babysitter that's watching Ace while he's on Summer break 1 of 2, and instead of zoning out in front of the TV like I normally would do to avoid my feelings, I sat down and started writing.

While I was writing, I realized that I've always felt that my first baby was a girl and while I was driving home today, I couldn't stop thinking that my third baby was a girl too. So I decided, based solely on feelings, not on logic, that they are both girls.

I also decided that Saturday will be my memorial service for my youngest daughter. We will plant a lemon tree for her, and I'll be getting a tattoo in her honor... hopefully. I know what artist I want and she's not available, but what I want is really simple, so we'll see who I can get.

I felt peaceful after all my writing. Like I'd done the right thing. Then Drew got home with a bunch of roses, because he's the best husband ever. We talked for a good hour, then he woke Ace up and I made a delish supper.

I do feel okay tonight. I can't say that I'm at the last stage of my grief, but I haven't felt peaceful in a long time. I've felt pretty angry for several weeks, and before that, I've just numbed the pain with sleep or television or eating or internet or really anything else to avoid feeling grief or sadness. Today, I felt. And now I feel more peace.

Please, if you're praying tonight, say a prayer for my baby girl. I miss her a lot right now and wish she could be here with us.

Goodnight, precious girl. Daddy, Ace, and I love you and your big sister.

2009-05-18T14:42:00.001-05:00

Ace: *unnhhh*
Me: "Honey, what are you doing? Do you need to go sit on the potty?"
Ace: "No?"
Me: "Wanna come give me a hug then?"
Ace: "No?"
Me: "Because you are...?"
Ace: "The cutest baby in the whole wide world?"
Me: "I was going for 'pooping,' but that works too."

So my stepdad watched Ace today.

2009-05-13T18:19:00.002-05:00

Upon retrieving a post-nap Ace from his room...

Drew: "Did someone come to see you today?"
Ace: "Yeah."
Drew: "Who?"
Ace: "Um, I don't know."
Drew: "Did someone with a white mustache come see you today?"
Ace: "Yeah."
Drew: "Who?"
Ace: "Mama."

I'm so proud of him.

2009-05-09T18:24:00.003-05:00

He got a pretty good gift from me and Ace... does he look surprised?

You be the judge.

2009-05-08T08:16:00.002-05:00

This blog post is 100% spoiler-free.

So last night's episode of Grey's Anatomy was especially exciting. I may have, at one point, squealed like a little girl. Shortly after said squealing, Ace may have started crying in bed. And like the award-winning mother I am, I let an annoyed Drew handle the situation instead of stopping the most exciting episode of Grey's Anatomy in 2 seasons to handle a minor situation.

Well, the situation wasn't so minor and a few minutes later when the episode was over, the boy was still crying. I walked into the room and got Ace from a still-annoyed Drew and brought him into our bedroom, where 2 seconds of cuddling calmed him down. Since I hadn't done it for a while, I decided to let him fall asleep in our room.

20 minutes later, he was laying quietly, staring up at the fan, when very clearly he stated "Mama's screaming like a damned idjit."

Now, folks, Ace is a repeater. He doesn't often come up with things by himself, let alone emphatic insults that are JUST LIKE SOMETHING AN ANNOYED DREW WOULD SAY.

After stifling my ~~uncontrollable giggles~~ total Puritan shock, I put Ace back in his bed and walked out into the living room and said "Did you tell my son 'Mama's screaming like a damned idjit?'"

He absolutely denies involvement, and while he's usually a terrible liar, I do not believe him. So what do y'all think, readers? Did my husband taint my child in this way, or did my child magically come up with the phrase "damned idjit" all by himself?

You decide.

Success!

2009-05-07T21:15:00.002-05:00

I knew something was up when we got home from school and Ace said "Wanna take a nap?" While he always takes a nap, he sure hates going to bed. I mean hates it. Fights me every time for naps. I knew something was up.

You see, he's gotten real private around poopoo time. He will tell me to "go away right now!" or otherwise shoo all those around him. A few days ago, I told him "dude, I'm on to your game here. Let's go poopoo on the potty." And he sat, and sat, and sat. I got him up, thanked him for trying, and put a diaper on him, which he promptly filled within minutes.

"Wanna take a nap?"
"Hmmm, either you're sick or you're about to poop. Wanna poopoo on the potty?"
"No, wanna nap."
"Yeah, not doing it. Let's go sit on the potty."

So on the potty we go. "Wanna mama leave?" "Okay, I'll go." "Wanna mama get the book?" "Okay, honey, I'll get you a book."

A few minutes pass while I stand in the hallway.

"See da bunny rabbit? See da tail? Da bunny rabbit is pink. ... unh... Where's da bunny rabbit? Wherrrunh did it go? ... Poopoo? Poopoo onna potty? Did you go poopoo?"

Just as I was about to go in, he flushed the toilet. MY BABY POOPED ON THE POTTY FOR THE FIRST TIME AND FLUSHED AWAY MY PHOTO OP. But, the evidence was in the air (and on his butt) so MY BABY POOPED IN THE POTTY FOR THE FIRST TIME!!!

Dang Spiehler men and their courtesy flushes.

Not even 3, but appreciates good music.

2009-05-04T15:21:00.002-05:00

the opening bum-bum-BUM to Queen's We Will Rock You comes on the radio...

Me: "Buddy you're a boy make a big noise playing..."
Ace: "What's this song about, mama?"
Me: "Well, it's someone that's very angry and wants a lot of revenge. Kickin your can all over the place..."
Ace: "What's this song about?"
Me: "Anger and revenge. Buddy you're a young man..."
Ace: "What's this song about?"
Me: "Anger. Revenge. We will we will ROCK YOU."
Ace: "What's this song about?"
Me: "Anger. Revenge. *begin air guitar*

guitar fades, We Are The Champions begins...

Me: "I've paid my dues... time after time..."
Ace: "What's this song about, mama?"
Me: "Victory."
Ace: "Want rock song, mama."
Me: "What rock song?"
Ace: "Want rock song, mama."
Me: "Ace, this is Queen. They ARE rock."
Ace: "Want ROCK YOU song, mama."
Me: "Ohhhh. I love you, you make me proud."

blogger lunch!

2009-05-04T15:16:00.003-05:00

Okay, chickadees, it's time for another blogger lunch. You remember those, right? Who wants to come?

It'll be Friday at 1, at a location very close to I-55 in Jackson. Comment here with your "yay" and your e-mail address and I will send you the info!

2009-05-01T07:54:00.001-05:00

Y'all please say a prayer for Watercolor (washesofcolor.blogspot.com). She is having a lumbar puncture today... in fact, in just a few minutes. I've never had one but I watch a lot of tv, and apparently they hurt some. Please pray that she doesn't have too much pain and that this procedure brings her some relief.

Okay, worried mama blogger hen in full puff here.

2009-04-29T22:17:00.001-05:00

On a scale of 1-10, how lame am I for being extremely stoked that Grant Wilson from the show Ghost Hunters answered one of my messages on Twitter?

Seriously, I'm starstruck right now. That guy is awesome.

Yeah, I tweet with celebrities. What.

Things I thought were stupid today.

2009-04-27T15:37:00.002-05:00

1. My #1 complaint about Mississippi is the drivers. They're courteous... to a fault. Case in point: if you come to a stop sign at the same time as another person, what do you do? I learned that you're supposed to let the person to your right go first. Apparently, the Mississippi driver's manual states that you have to look at each other stupidly, then when that doesn't work, start waving the other person ahead, then when you both realize you're waving each other ahead, wait for the other person's will to completely break down. Who knows how long this will take.

I hit such a passive aggressive stop sign standoff today. I came to an intersection about 2 seconds after 2 other cars had arrived there at the same time. They were in stage one when I arrived. I learned how to drive in California. I went.

2. I went to the orthotics company to get Ace's new ankle braces today. (Here's a picture of the old ones, for reference in the rest of this post.) The orthotist put them on, measured them, then made a mark where he was going to cut them off just above his toes. This bothered me, and I said as much, because the braces he got last year were quite a bit longer than his actual feet, which has allowed us to go a full 14 months without buying a pair of braces. Now, my insurance company has miraculously deigned to pay 100% of the nearly $1,500 that they cost, but most insurance companies a) won't pay 100% and b) won't cover more than 1 pair of braces every 9-12 months.

The orthotist looked at me and said "really?" I said "Well, yeah. I don't want to have to come back in 4 months for another pair. You're marking them really close. I'd like you to just leave them as they are." He slumped a little and said "I'm so relieved that you just said that. For the past several days, I've had to argue with parents telling them the same thing, that we cut them so far from the end of the toes because we want them to last for at least 8 months. The people I've had to argue with say they don't want to buy more shoes because the shoes they have won't fit over the braces."

I was like, do wha? This boggles the mind. I have fully accepted that as soon as I got Ace's new braces that I would have to go and buy him a few new pairs of shoes that will go over the braces, which will probably set me back $40-$50. But I also know that I won't have to buy more shoes unless I want to until he gets new braces, and how many parents of toddlers can say they buy shoes once a year for their children?

"Well," he continued, what had happened was, "one mom bought a pair of $120 Nikes for her son shortly before his new braces came in. The Nikes didn't fit over his new braces, so she made me cut them down until they did."

That lady's gonna be screwed. Not only will those $120 Nikes not fit in a few months, but neither will this kid's braces, and she'll be out another $1,500.

To be fair, maybe the woman is hella wealthy. You'd have to be, to buy your kid a pair of $120 shoes knowing full well that the kid was gonna grow right out of them. So maybe a new pair of braces won't set her back too much. But the fact that this guy has had to argue repeatedly with parents and keep cutting their multi-thousand dollar braces down to fit their existing shoes? Really kinda blows my mind.

I'm back!

2009-04-26T20:34:00.002-05:00

What a freaking unbelievably awesome weekend. Oh my gosh. I will so be doing that every single year for the rest of my life.

I got to the Isle of Capri in Biloxi Friday afternoon at about 4:15. I got to my room, a 10th floor Gulf-facing balcony room on the east side of the hotel, and flung open the balcony doors to be greeted with the peaceful sound of the roaring air conditioners. Oh well. Still, the view was nice, beds and pillows were soft, and the TV worked.

After I got all situated, I went for a looong walk on the beach and took a ton of pictures. I will be posting those soon... gotta put them on Flickr first and compress. The beach was incredible, but I'm glad I didn't go swimming. It just looked dirty. After my walk, I got pretty hungry and weighed my options at the hotel. They had a deli, a Pizza Hut, a rill, and a noodle bowl stand. I chose a noodle bowl with tons of veggies and shrimp and it was YUMMY. I ate that, watched TV, and passed clean out by 10.

Saturday morning, I woke up and ate breakfast and watched a solid 3 hours of home renovation shows on A&E. I am now enamored with house flipping and would love to do it myself. At 11, I showered and took myself on down to the spa.

Now, I've never especially liked massages. For some reason I've just never gotten into them. But somehow, good ol' Brian worked me out and I felt like a bowl full o'jelly. After he elbowed and palmed and kneed his way right into my heart, I jumped in the shower to wash all the oil off and then headed off for a facial. I looooove facials, y'all. She even zapped a zit I've been arguing with for a few months. After I was all through with that, I seriously felt like I could take a nap. Then, the lady asked me if I'd like to take a rain shower before my pedicure, and I naturally accepted. I don't know if y'all have ever had a rain shower, but I'm pretty sure I'll be buying one for my house very soon. The water just kinda falls on you instead of spraying on you. Awesome sauce. Then, I got my feet all purty and left the spa. Begrudgingly.

I figured I'd take a trip to Beauvoir, Jefferson Davis' (may he rest in peace) last home. The drive down Highway 90 pretty completely harshed my post-spa buzz. It's just so sad how many years it's been since Katrina, and how few people have rebuilt. Lot after lot after lot after lot of emptiness, save a foundation, and the occasional staircase. The foundations really bummed me out because they're like skeletons of what they should be.

Finally got to Beauvoir. They had pictures of what it looked like just after Katrina, and it is absolutely amazing what kind of restoration work went into this house. Naturally, pictures are forthcoming. Flickr first. It was your standard southern plantation style home (really, been in one, been in 'em all) but the revitalization of the home is what makes it stand out.

Then I found the cemetery in the backyard... GORGEOUS. The house served as a Confederate veterans' (may they rest in peace) home in the early 1900's, and everyone that died there was buried in their cemeteries. Y'all know I kinda like the cemeteries, so I got a bunch of pictures.

After I'd completely jacked up my pedicure by walking around in dust and rocks and sand, I figured I'd just go to the beach again. While I was driving along trying to find a place to park, I saw some strange sculptures and remembered what some of y'all had told me. Some artists on the Coast have taken the dead oak trees that line Highway 90 and carved animals into them. I saw gulls, cranes, pelicans, a whale's tail, a bunch of eagles, dolphins, and a deer. Again... pictures forthcoming. I LOVED them.

Before the sun set, I was back in my room with a grilled chicken sandwich from the deli and a scoop of ice cream. I've been this good for this long, I wanted some ice cream. Fell asleep by 10:30.

This morning, I got up at 5:30 to watch the sun rise. I was staying in an east-facing room, might as well take advantage. It was pretty incredible. Haven't watched the sun rise in a very, very long time. It was like the sunset, only backwards.

I checked out of the hotel at around 7:45, and decided to take Highway 90 all the way from Biloxi to Slidell. It took me about three hours, but I stopped probably 7 times to take pictures at various locations, and definitely saved a bunch of gas. I have always wanted to do that - take a route just for the photo ops, but have never been able to. I really, really enjoyed myself.

I can't wait to show y'all the pictures I've taken. I'm pretty proud of some of them, and hope y'all like them. They're just kinda huge and taking a while to get into Flickr, so I know they'd take even longer to get on here.

Now I'm super sleepy, but I feel so recharged and excited for the next time. But next time, I'm bringing somebody. That was WAY too much alone time.

2009-04-24T16:49:00.001-05:00

Well, I'm here. The view from my room is absolutely amazing. I know I drove all this way but I can't bring myself to leave the room. I brought my own food and everything. Still, I wouldn't mind some fabulous seafood...

2009-04-24T14:55:00.001-05:00

I've been at The Barbara's for an hour. In that short time, she's already shown her charming side twice.

She flipped out when I dared to wash my hands in the kitchen sink. "That's not where we wash our hands!" Um, except there's hand soap right next to it.

Ace was already kinda tired by the time we got here, so he sassed me a few times and was scolded and threw a fit. The Barbara, perplexed by anything a little unpredictable, said "Thank God you haven't had any more! You can hardly handle this one!"

I wanted to wait till Ace was asleep before I left. He's been quiet for about 10 minutes. Drew and The Barbara are fixin' to see a Stacey-shaped hole in the front door...

thankful Thursday

2009-04-23T14:57:00.002-05:00

I don't believe I've ever done a Thankful Thursday, perhaps rarely, but there are two things for which I am massively grateful. With regards to my last post, though, you don't have to "get it," don't worry. Just take the moral of the story to heart, y'all. It is a very bad thing to get a word tattooed on the back of your neck (or, really, anywhere on your body) without first knowing what that word means. Dig?

So for the past several months, I've been wanting to quit my homeowner's association board. I have been the secretary for almost two years, and took over our treasurer's duties when she was sent to DC with the Army for a year. She is supposed to be back next month. When I joined the board, it had basically been dead in the water for a year. The vice president and the treasurer were the only active members; the president had quit, the secretary had moved away, and there were no neighborhood representative board members at all. I basically created a board from scratch.

I've done a pretty good job, but I've always taken it personally when I've failed to get people involved. The old ladies in the neighborhood will bend your ear for 20 minutes telling you about her neighbor who hasn't cut his grass in two weeks and heaven forbid he fart too loud, but will they come to a meeting or join the board or any committees or even call their board members if there's a problem? Nah. I scheduled a neighborhood watch meeting once. Like 20 people called me the day after the notices hit the mailboxes, but were any of them at the meeting? Nah.

Anyway, I've pretty much been over it for a while. I was hoping that I would just get elected out, but knew that wouldn't happen. Then I said I would just quit after the next meeting. When I sat down for supper last night, I thought about the many things I'd have to do before the next meeting. Plan the meeting, write and distribute the newsletter, field calls about newsletter content, argue with fools over dues, type up an agenda, set up the meeting the day of, collect dues, deposit dues, update the checkbook, pay more bills... And some more stuff. When I sat down, I told Drew, "I'm just gonna resign tonight. No way can I do meeting, election, dues, housework, Ace work, and my program."

We had a board meeting at my house last night. So, at the beginning of the meeting, I resigned from both my official and unofficial posts. I did all the things I was supposed to do for the meeting, then handed over my notebook and the checkbook and the PO Box key. Y'all, I thought I'd feel guilty, but not even a little bit. I felt free, and even talking about it today makes me feel lighter and free. Ahhhh.

Speaking of being lighter, I've dropped about 9 pounds. That's kinda nice. My pants have threatened all day to fall off. I'm just gonna keep working at it!

Sit down, kiddies.

2009-04-22T21:18:00.003-05:00

Let your old Aunt Stacey tell you a story.

There was once a nice girl named Mary. Mary had a bit of a rough life, you see... the cards were just never stacked in her favor. Mary... well, Mary made a few mistakes too, but that's okay. Everyone does.

But Mary made a BIG mistake.

One day, a friend of Mary's said a word that caught her attention. Mary asked the friend what the word meant, and he told her that it meant whatever she wanted it to mean. She and the friend, from then on, used the word when they were talking about their rough pasts. The word came to mean something along the lines of "learn from your past, live for the future." Kind of an inside joke.

A few years down the road, Mary became a nurse. She still had the word floating around her head and decided that it had such meaning to her that she'd have it tattooed on the back of her neck, and she did.

Mary did not Google that word first, nor did she re-check the meaning with her friend.

Well, your old Aunt Stacey came across Mary today at the doctor's office. She saw the tattoo, and asked Mary about it because she recognized the word. "Is that a name on the back of your neck," your old Aunt Stacey asked innocently. "Just a word," said Mary. "In another language?" "No, just a word," said Mary, then openly gave Aunt Stacey the explanation, along with entirely too much back story.

Aunt Stacey, knowing how truly ridiculous the source of the word is, looked at her conspiratorially, expecting the REAL explanation. When none was forthcoming, your old Aunt Stacey said "C'mon, that's from Pootie Tang." In fact, it's the last word the urban hero says in this clip and a word he says frequently throughout the film. Anyone who has ever seen the film knows exactly what the word is from.

Aunt Stacey was hoping beyond hopes that the girl would fess up and say that she was da-RUNK and saw the movie and got the tattoo. That's pretty forgivable.

Unfortunately, Mary responded, "what's Pootie Tang?" Aunt Stacey tried to explain the movie without using the words "stupid phrases." Mary said "I'm gonna kill my friend."

The moral of this story, folks? GOOGLE STUFF BEFORE YOU HAVE IT PERMANENTLY IMPRINTED ON YOUR BODY. Google it until you reach the end of the internet, lest you have a phrase from one of the most incredible, yet most campy movies ever made RIGHT THERE FOR EVERYONE TO SEE.

Vintage Ace

2009-04-22T07:02:00.001-05:00

From a year ago:

I just can't get "I YAB eww" out of my head.

2009-04-21T08:59:00.001-05:00

So the appraiser guy showed up and I managed not to nervously barf all over myself. Spent 3 hours on Sunday cleaning the closet... Did he even look at it? No ma'am. He pretty much spent 5 minutes inside my house, then about ten outside (where the majority of the mess is) and left. Pretty anticlimactic.

Also, if you see a post with no title, little flair, and no formatting, it's because I'm posting via text. I have really neglected my blog because of Twitter, so I set up mobile posting. I still love y'all.

You know what?

2009-04-20T21:06:00.002-05:00

I know every mom says this about her child, but I don't care. My son is totally brilliant. Today, he pulled a straw out of a cup, bent it in half, put his finger across the middle, and said "that's an A!" He knows his full name (which is nothing to sneeze at) and his father's full name, and he knows that my name is "Mama." (Because doggonit, he will call me "Stacey" as soon as he figures out that's my name, and I refuse. I REFUSE. I'm already annoyed that he calls me "Mom" on occasion.)

Now, I know this isn't technically READING, but he saw the letters and figured out that those letters spelled "Ace," since he knows that A-C-E spells "Ace." I think that makes him brilliant. Also, the way he figures it out and then says it? Melt-your-heart ADORABLE. I really think I can teach him how to read soon. I was reading when I was 4, so maybe the freakin' brilliant genes passed down.

Housewife in Flip-Flops

I ruin a moment.

You know what I hate?

Egg on my face.

Stella

Wins.

dadgummit

awkward

A letter

Wow.

The thing that shall not be mentioned

Commutes

You know what I hate?

Listen.

Last meal

just thinkin'

It happened again.

Mawwiage

What happened??

my thoughts, frequently in ALL CAPS

August 3rd

patience

Why not to watch Star Wars with a 4-year-old.

hypothetical children

jumbly thoughts

Wheee doggies

The long story

Well, that sucked.

Looka me!

He makes me laugh like no other.

How I overthink things

pride

me and the school directors

me and my psychiatrist

joy

Mommy wars

Why I love my best friend.

Huge announcement!

FRYDAY!

Bipolar disorder: not for lovers of sleep

Emails from crazy people

It's Mistletoe day!

we've got a mission!

boom boom

Better

Misinformation

"just to be with you, I would do anything..."

What would you do?

my post to craigslist

The message

My boy

To move?

This one's for the ladies.

the future

The worst part

Why kids are fat.

Gonna have to find a new favorite restaurant.

Who DOES that?

break my heart, why don't ya.

I used to be a funny blogger.

August 3rd

He's chatty.

today...

No, really, this is fun.

Rocky's little brother, Ace Balboa

Dilemma

Why I have grey hair

Ace "reads" on the toilet

A little over a month later...

Yeah, it's better than that.

*tap tap* is this thing on?

what happened next...

Again...

So much for work.

oooh-wee

Here I am again.

been a while...

Bad. Very bad. And stupid.

Today

So my stepdad watched Ace today.

tap tap is this thing on?