Wednesday, September 23, 2009

A gummy...what?!

This evening I ran to the store to get some Dr. Pepper, and came back home with treats for the kids (perchance to buy me 10 more minutes of sanity). I bought my girls these giant gummy snakes. Violet tore hers into lots of pieces. She bit half its head off and threw it at me. *This* slice of yummy goodness is what remained.


It is just me, or does this ever so slightly represent the most gnarly wang in history?


Wednesday, August 5, 2009

Violet, do you have beer in your bedroom again?

"Violet, do you have beer in your bedroom again?" And no...I'm not talking to my 21-year-old daughter. She's 2. What can I say? I'm practicing right now for our future talks.

This morning I went into the girls' room, and immediately smelled beer. Byron mentioned something about it the day before, but I couldn't smell anything at the time. Besides, their room had been *thoroughly* cleaned just 2 days before. Today though? REEKED of beer. Like the party back in the day that I went to where some stupid girl poured beer all over me and my leather bomber jacket, and then I had to walk home, and then I told my parents I fell in sewage instead (to explain the beer, sticker burrs and mud all over me). Yeah, I was a *great* liar back in the day....and you *so* know they believed it. I digress.

I started picking up random things in the girls room and smelling them, trying to diagnose the problem. I finally got around to the play kitchen, moved the little table out of the way, and found this:

Notice how I used the banana for scale, so you could see the actual size of said mystery object. Okay, actually I found the banana in the room too, but isn't it cool how the 2 foods were sitting just like that so I could attempt to use it for an excuse?


A photo from Ground Zero. Notice the height of the object. I think there's a small stem in it too.

I asked Violet what it was, and she said, "Itha uh-may-tah. Now. Put ith in my fidja-ratr.", and she politely opened the door. Translation: It's a tomato. Now. Put it in my refridgerator.


First one to correctly identify the mystery object gets to keep it!

Sunday, August 2, 2009

Can't anything ever be easy?!?!?!

Every time my family gets ready to leave from home, I tell the girls to go outside, get in the car, and put their seat belts on. No matter what I threaten them with (grounding, taking toys away, spanking, etc.) they *never* go straight to the car. They always chase after the cats and dogs, ride their bikes….*anything* to avoid doing what I asked them.

Why would I think this morning would be any different? Byron had already left for church, so I herded up the children and had them heading to the car. The girls, as usual, didn’t get in the car like I told them to, so I was already mad. I was slightly relieved by the fact that it took me less than 10 minutes to get them in and go.

I got about a mile from home when I heard Duke gagging. I looked in the back seat to see Violet with her fingers in his mouth, so naturally I told her to get them out. She’s been known for sticking them in there before, trying to get him to “bite” her. After she took her hand out he was still gagging, so I started slowing down to pull over. Then Violet shouted, “My key! My key!” I’m pretty sure I had my first coronary right at that moment when I realized she had shoved “her” key in his mouth. Where did she get the key ,you might ask. I would sheepishly reply, “Well, Violet was making noise and crying for some keys to play with, and I didn’t have her key ring with me. Instead I just gave her a key I found in the cup holder to shut her up.” I had just said I couldn’t drive with all the noise, and was doing anything to keep them quiet. Just in case you’re in this situation in the future….never give your 2 year old a key….ESPECIALLY if they’re sitting next to their 5 month old brother.

I was still going about 40 mph, but by this time the he wasn’t making any noise. I whipped the car over into the nearest ditch, jumped out, and jerked him out. When you’re in a hurry, those stupid car seat buckles are impossible to get off. I turned him upside down on one arm, and hit him as hard as I could in the back. His eyes, nose and mouth were purple. Look, I’m LOVING the color purple in my hair, and even in a shirt. But on my child’s face? Not attractive.

I was still out in the middle of nowhere, and there were only 2 houses nearby. I picked the one with the shorter driveway, but it was still a good ¼ mile. And then I started running, and kept running until I fell down. Jumped back up, kicked off my flip-flops, and kept running. Ran into their dogs, and kept running. I’m not exactly sure what they thought about some crazy-purple-haired girl running down their driveway with a baby, but I know if I ever saw something like that, it would scare the ever loving tar out of me! Finally I made it to their house, and rang the doorbell a million times over. The residents, a man and woman, ran out to help, thinking I’d had a car wreck. When they figured out what was going on, we all ran inside and they called 911. I kept beating Duke on the back trying to get him to breathe, but we never saw the key come out. The operator stayed on the phone with us until Duke started breathing good again, and they asked me to take him to the hospital.

The lady, Al Sumpter, drove me back out to my car, and my girls. Did I already mention I left them in the car with it running? I knew they couldn’t go anywhere, even if they put the car in drive, because it was STUCK in the mud. I figured with my luck a cop would drive and I’d get in trouble for leaving children unattended, but that didn’t happen. Both girls were still in the car. Violet was swinging from the grip bar and playing, and Gracelyn was crying. Gracelyn informed me that Violet needed to pee, so she just went all over the back seat. Lovely! Then Violet said, “Where’s my key?!” Sounds about right. My car had sunk further into the mud, but Mr. Sumpter went and got some chains to pull me out. I will be forever grateful to that couple!

I took Duke to the GSMC E.R. They got him back pretty quickly and took an x-ray. They’d already discussed how they’d have to get the key out, which would require him being put under, and using a scope, or doing surgery. Neither seemed to appealing to me. See how upset Duke looked by the whole ordeal? Obviously VERY stressed...lol.


The doctor came back with the x-ray results, and finally told us…NO KEY! He said it must’ve flown out one of the times I was hitting Duke in the back. I have never been so relieved in my life!

This afternoon’s plan? To find every spare key, change, or any other small part lying around and throw it away, or put it up and away. My kids will have to think of some other creative way to have me institutionalized!

Wednesday, July 8, 2009

Random Stories & Thoughts

This is probably the longest post in blogger history, but it’s just a few random thoughts, and some of our plans for the next few days. Read it through to the end or don’t. I won’t ever know the difference.

A few days ago, Duke woke up from a nap and Gracelyn told me she thought he had “the rabies”. His legs and arms had a red “rash”, but it was actually the pattern of the sofa fabric where he’d been sleeping. Thank you very much, “the rabies”.

Gracelyn also thinks that the word “titties” is “tibbies”, and bastard is “pastar” (Thank you, Austin Powers). Neither of which is acceptable for her to say, but it’s still funny.

This morning when driving the girls to school, Violet started whining, “Mommmmyyyy! Gimme it! Gimme my we-tahd!!!” It sound like she was saying one of the very few words I won’t say…you know….derogatory term for mentally challenged. Again and again she yelled, almost crying, but still insisting I give her the we-tahd. After a few minutes of listening to her waller, I turned around and saw what she was pointing to. Her sister’s purse, in the shape of a GUITAR. I laughed and said, “Violet, can you say ‘gi-gi-GUI-tar?!” She replied with, “Yep! Weeeee-taaaaaahd.” Guess she told me!

I stopped in the church office this morning after taking the girls to their classes, to print out our boarding passes for the flight. I was holding Duke in my lap at the time. He decided he’d had enough waiting, so he puked on me. Twice. A lot. No big deal…this is my fourth kid, and honestly…what’s a day without puke? Or artwork on the walls? Or a package of red kool-aid opened in the back of the car and mixed with spit to “paint” on the seat? (That piss doesn’t come out! It literally looks like I carried a dead deer back there.) Or a concussion? (Violet had her 2nd concussion in less than 6 months last week, thanks to the jury-rigged “safety net” at Dairy Queen not keeping her out of the wrong area…so she climbed to the top of the outside of the slide, and jumped. I’d say it was about 10 feet in the air, and she landed flat on her back. I was in the room! I couldn’t get her out, because the stupid area was too small for me to get in. Even Gracelyn couldn’t fit back there, but leave to Violet – a.k.a Evil Knievil Jr. – to figure out how. I think we’ll be making her a helmet soon!) I digress. So Duke puked on my hand. A few hours later we’re in the car on our way to Dallas, and I rub my hand by my face…and smelled….baby puke. Apparently? It’s *real* hard to clean out of the crevices of a ring.

So I’m looking out the airplane, and wondering about all sorts of questions I’ll forget to ask myself when we land. For instance…what are all these circles on the ground? I’m guessing they’re crops of some sort, that would make sense….but crops of what? And how do they plant them in a super-cool perfect circle? With a monster pointy-thingy that you used in Geometry to draw circles with? Secondly: There are TONS of these little “driveways” with squares of dirt at the very end. From up here it looks like a community of gophers or prairie dogs, but I have NO IDEA what they are…and this is the crap that will keep me up at night. *If* I happen to remember it later. I’m looking out the window right now, and there’s like 10 square miles of gopher cities. Insanity.

The drink lady & dude passed us a bit ago, and offered free drinks. Nice of ‘em. Then said we could buy a cookie, some nuts, or chips for the price of your firstborn. For real. $4 each. Those suckers better be plated in GOLD, or the size of a dinner plate if I’m buying a cookie for $4. Now some moron a few rows behind me traded his child for a sandwich, and that’s all I can smell. I don’t know what it is, but it smells like Schlotzky’s. He better *hope* I don’t have to go to the bathroom, or it will be on like Donkey Kong. I purposely haven’t eaten today, just so I wouldn’t have to relive the last experience I had flying to Vegas….3 Xanax and an hour in the bathroom later….and so the story goes.

I’m *so* gonna slap the kid behind me. He has to be about 15…reminds me of Quentin…and if it were Quentin sitting back there? I would’ve already smacked the back of his head. I swear he’s tapping and playing drums with boxes of NERDS. Sucka, I have NOT had enough medicine to take care of you yet. We’ll be landing in Vegas, and this kid’s gonna need *major* dental work, because I’m gonna his teeth out.

And now we just flew over something that resembled an Olympic-sized swimming pool. Or maybe two Olympic swimming pools. But instead of cement it looked like tar around the outside, and it was filled with dirt. Weird. Oh! Oh! Oh! And the Hoover Dam! And Lake Mead. I’m *so* impressed. I could probably enjoy the view better if not for the searing pain in my hand making my vision blurry (a bit of turbulence and Byron has a death grip).

So the next few days should be fun. Or interesting. Or both. Tonight we’re not doing anything planned, just ho-humming and watching the oddities on the street. I’ll be SO ready to eat by then. I want a near-alive filet mignon and some bread.

Friday will probably be the best day EVAH. We got tickets to the first ever UFC Fan Expo, coinciding with the 100th UFC Fight Night. There will be tons of vendors there giving crap away, and even more importantly, my main UFC Man, the one who will take me back to Canada to be his love slave, Mr. Georges St. Pierre will be there. Don’t think I haven’t already mapped his EXACT location in the building, because I have. He will be my first stop. If I can peel myself from his body at any point in time, there will be other awesome fighters there, and the Octagon Girls too. I’m taking a picture with each and every one of them to pin on my bathroom mirror to drive myself to workout. Or eat another cookie or 17 because I’m so happy I don’t have to be fit for a living. I also bought Byron, as his actual “present” for our anniversary, a 2-hour training session with Wanderlei “The Axe Murderer” Silva. Suck on that! Which reminds me, what is his actual “present” for me? I’m betting it’s the $100 to gamble with. Sucka. He better be glad I love him.

After that I’ll be home ‘til Sunday, and then head out again that afternoon to redeem myself ‘til Friday as a 7th Grade Church Camp Counselor. Pray for those kids, y’all.

Tuesday, June 16, 2009

On my way to the looney bin

It should’ve been simple enough. I was thinking about something along these lines:

“Kids, it’s time to go to VBS! Everyone get in the car. Let’s go have some fun!”

But, alas! It was not meant to be. Flipping figures.

Today was technically my first day unemployed. Of course, everyone *knows* that’s complete b.s. There will NEVER be a day when I’m actually unemployed…*ahem* thank you, four children and husband, who INSISTS on acting like one of the children most days….especially TODAY when I needed him to act like a husband, but oooooooohhhhh no. The stars were NOT aligned in the heavens for me today. I tempted Fate, and that byotch took the bait and ran with it.

I woke up after a nice, long – and might I add *well-deserved* – nap. Stretched, exhaled, and surveyed my kingdom. All was well. Looked at the clock and saw that I had around an hour to get myself and the kids ready before heading to church. Took a shower, still feeling pretty pleased with my control over the situation, and then the Children’s Director called. “Hey! I was just calling to remind you to bring the crocodile, tablecloths, pom-poms and sandwiches. Oh – and you have less than an hour to be here.” Well piss. I forgot ALL about that crap. (In my defense, I’ve been suffering from *severe* short-term memory for the last year or so. She, along with a few others, told me NUMEROUS times yesterday to bring these items. And then they reminded me on Facebook. And reminded me yet again today with emails and phone calls.)

I immediately went into Panic Mode, running around putting lipstick on with one hand, and slapping kids teeth out with the other. My real problem began when I asked Byron for help. It’s odd to me how he’s sick when I ask him to do something. This week, for instance. He was sick for 2 days, then recovered for jiu-jitsu in Dallas on Thursday. He was “sick” again Friday, then better to go to jiu-jitsu Saturday. Fine Sunday, and somehow sick AGAIN this evening when I asked him to get up off his butt and help get kids out the door. You would’ve thought that death was imminent when I mentioned I might leave Duke with him to give me a few extra minutes to do other things, and he could drop him off at my Mom’s when he went to TEACH JIU-JITSU. Notice a pattern here? Most days, fine. Ask him to do something? He’s practically got cholera. (*Disclaimer: He did actually put a onesie on Duke, AND put him in his car seat.)

I’m stomping around, yelling, herding children, just trying to get out the door. Byron eventually offers to keep Duke, but only after I’ve threatened to trash the thing that gives him life. The yin to his yang. The good to his evil. The woman to his man. X-Box 360 game UFC 2009 Undisputed. Instead I tell him *where* he can put his stupid game, and proceed to choke while attempting to yell obscenities.

FINALLY all the kids are in the car, I hop in, and……THERE ARE NO KEYS!!!! NONE! WHAT IN THE SAM HILL?!!?!!!??! Let’s just say it took 20 minutes of searching to find them….in….the……freezer. Thank you, Violet. Or maybe it was Byron, since I think he secretly *likes* hearing me complain. He’s sick in the head that way.

By this time I’m sweating, my head hurts, and I’m REALLY pissed off. Flying down the road 90-to-nothing, and then I see a lone crocodile sailing through the air. It was too late to go back and get him. Earlier I had tied him to the top of the car with a bread tie, got side tracked, and forgot to tie down his other leg. The croc was a prop for VBS. Oh well. It was for the good of the team.

Could I make it to VBS with 3 of the 4 items required of me? Nope. 2 of the 4? More like it. Hey – 50% ain’t bad. By the time I got to VBS, 20 minutes late, dragging 3 children…I had come to the realization that I left the sandwiches at home, risked jail time by leaving kids in the car running (with the door locked) while making a dash for more bread and ham, AND forgot the tablecloths.

Think next time….I’ll just stay home instead. Then again, next time? Happens this afternoon. Think I can make it?

Friday, May 15, 2009

Everybody needs a cop-out now and then...

So I suck. Get over it. I'm totally lame, and haven't have *time* (AHEM thank you four spawn of my womb, insane job, flat tires, puking, dirty house, gymastics, cheer, American Idol, Dancing with the Stars, House, sleeping, reading, and the Antichrist)....so I'm completely cheating and will just post some of my recent status updates from Facebook. I PROMISE to actually put some time and effort into writing something witty (or completely useless and pathetic) for the blog this weekend.

Here's a recap of my activites as of late:

05/15/09:

Lame-o SD camera cards can suck it. Why do I spend *countless* hours...nay, days (!) to get a decent picture of kids (or the dogs. or a sunset. or the puke ever-so-carefully *placed* across the living room and down the hallway and all over the bathroom. pretty much every place BUT the toilet or trash can) just so I can get to work EARLY (because I'm dedicated that way) just for the card to tell me it won't work?!?!

05/14/09:

Check out the growth on my new hair, yo. And baby, this isn't rogaine...it's *genetic*. Suck on that!


Why is it that right when I start singing in the car, someone has to talk to me? They come right out of the woodwork, and all *I'm* trying to do it sing a little. It's not every day that you get a chance to belt out Rock Lobster, ya know.

05/13/09:

So I got these super-cool contacts in...they flipping *Sparkle* like nobody's biz. I look like a Cullen, so you know I'm a sexy beast. Or at least that's what I'm telling myself.

Although Duke can't see more than 12 inches away from his face, he can still sense when I walk through the door of my office. He immediately starts screaming. Thaaaaaannnnkkkkssss.

05/12/09:

What's on my mind, you ask? You. You are always on my mind....you are always on my mind. I would *rock* American Idol, yo.

05/11/09:

I'm pretty sure there's a ghost in the bedroom with me. I'm hoping after I go to sleep it'll fold the flippin' clothes. *Ahem* GHOST: If you're reading over my shoulder, get lost. I know jiu-jitsu, dude. Or at least I live with a jiu-jitsu teacher. And he will *really* mess yo face up, fa realz yo. Facial scrub.

Nothing like 'Try A Little Tendeness' by Three Dog Night to get you going on a Monday afternoon. Oh, if you could only *hear* my solo!!!

05/08/09:

You know what *really* p.o.'s me? These stupid little silver hairs that I keep having to pluck out. Who has like 5 silver hairs? Am I supposed get my hair dyed for FIVE hairs? And even worse if I pluck 'em, because they're small and I ended up taking out all the hair AROUND them, so there's a bald spot. I look like I got attacked by mockingbird. Flipping mockingbirds. Worthless!

Wednesday, May 6, 2009

Baby Zoee Benefit Concert - Still time to get tickets!

This Friday night May 8th, 2009 at 7:00 p.m. at the Maude Cobb Convention Center in Longview Texas, there is going to be a very special benefit concert event for one-year old childhood cancer victim, Zoee Loissa Smith, or “Baby Zoee” as many folks refer to her

Zoee is a 1-year old little baby girl from Longview who contracted cancer at the age of 6-months old and has now undergone several operations and chemotherapy for the past 8 months at Children’s Hospital in Dallas and continues through these things today… which is a miracle in itself.

This Friday, Mark Cooke & The Cooke County Line will be performing live plus your ticket will include a buffet dinner provided by Jalapeno Tree Restaurants. This event will be a banquet type, seated intimate setting that will be great for a special date night out or even a perfect Mother’s Day present for mom and all for a very worthy and needed cause.

Tickets are on sale Wednesday and Thursday at Cavender's Boot City on the loop in Longview and then available Friday at the Maude Cobb box office. Please join us for this unique dinner style concert and dance as we gather together to help Baby Zoee and her family fight her struggles with childhood cancer.

For complete details about this event, visit http://www.babyzoee.com

PS: PLEASE HELP ZOEE BY REPOSTING THIS TO YOUR FRIENDS. THANK YOU.

Sunday, May 3, 2009

Please move on. Nothing to see here. Do NOT look at the accident.

What do milk on the floor, chest in beans, evil looks from church-goers, proclaiming “I tooted!” and pulling pants down have in common? They all happened during lunch today at a local tex-mex restaurant. Apparently *someone* (i.e. ME) hasn’t learned that taking kids to restaurants? Yeah. You just DON’T do that. Because then they go and do stupid things, and you don’t get to even breathe, much less TASTE your food, and the entire time you’re worried about what they’re going to do next, or who’s going to say something to you, or roll their eyes, or ack! Judge you for being a bad parent, no parent at all, or *even* look at you like you might be…you know…*ahem* gaaaaayyyy. Right. Because I’m not. Morons. For serious.

After church this morning a friend and I went to lunch, and took most of my kids with us. Mistake. It was already crowded with people; everyone getting out from church. I’d say the first 5 minutes went pretty smoothly, and then I had to go and get all excited, and that pretty much ruined it. The waitress brought Violet some milk in a cup with a lid. I thought about pouring it into her sippy cup, but she seemed pretty content with it the way it was, and I figured it would keep her quiet. (For future reference, go ahead and *think/figure* on things a bit longer…it won’t kill you.) Hmmm….I guess it kept her quiet. Shortly thereafter the milk was airborne. Niiiiicccceee. Insert hateful looks from people who wonder why I can’t control my child. What do they want from me?!?!?!! I cleaned up my mess. Geesh!

After this, the events get fuzzy. After all…it *has* been at least 12 hours ago that this happened, and I have *severe* short term memory. Now what was I talking about?

Violet doesn’t have any recollection of last week’s events, including BREAKING HER FACE (or maybe she just doesn’t care; and it’s possible that she wants CPS called), so she insisted on standing up in her chair over and over. I bribed her. Threatened her. Spit on her. Okay, don’t get all pissy…I didn’t do that last one. Basically tried everything in the book, just short of duct-taping her to the seat, to get her to sit down. I can see it all now…in slow’mo. She jumps……lands with both feet on the chair….but too close to the edge of the seat….the chair starts slipping backwards…..she starts falling forwards…..fear in a mother’s eyes…..death-rays shooting out of fellow diners eyes…….SPLAT! Chest in beans. Next?

The entire time this was going on, three girls came and sat at a table across from us. I’m guessing they were in their late-teens (15-17ish).They were all dressed nicely, and I figured they just got out of church like most everyone else there. A few minutes later, what I’m *assuming* was their mother, came and joined them. The judgment began. At first I didn’t pick up on it. Just felt sorry for them that they must lead such boring lives, and have been so unaffected by attending church that morning…..that they *never* cracked a smile during their lunch. By the time we got around to ol’ chest-in-beans (sounds like an Indian name, right?) the mother was GLARING. I just thought it was because I couldn’t control the 2 year old, but then we came to realize…..yeah. Going out on a limb, and just *assuming* (I know, I know…what happens when you assume. Whatever.) but she thought we were gay. Which would be great if we *were* gay. But we’re not. I’m sure she thought we were corrupting “our” children, and we’d all be going straight to hell. Lady, if you’re reading this. REPENT NOW! THE END IS NEAR! Just kidding. Next time just ask. Or don’t. It was awfully funny watching her watch us. When one of her poor girls cracked the TINIEST SMILE EVER DOCUMENTED IN HISTORY at us, she elbowed her! Holy sheep piss.

The last half of lunch was nearly as exciting as the first. Our poor waitress, who was great – by the way, got so flustered running around, that she ran into Gracelyn’s chair. Insert nice save by the waitress, and my friend too, I think, that kept Gracelyn in the chair, and her food on the table.

Violet decides she’s had enough quiet time (read: 2 minutes of eating) and wants to play again. She kept trying to drag the chair around on the floor, twirl, sing, play in condiments, etc. until she’d finally had all she could stand, and shouted loudly, “I TOOTED!” That’s what I *always* do when I get bored, exasperated, flustered, etc. Seems to relieve a lot of pent up anxiety. But hey, that’s just for me. Don’t go doing it and blame me for the looks you get. I couldn’t help but laugh. She was making a factual statement. At least she wasn’t lying about something.

Last, but not least! We’re trying to get things rounded up to leave, and Violet’s still bouncing around on the floor. And table. And chair. And my lap. Then she tells me she tee-teed. Great. No big deal. Then she starts pulling her pants down. (And immediately I re-lived the previous day’s events…at a party at the park, with a *bazillion* onlookers, and Violet walking with her pants around her ankles and a diaper in her hand. Hey – she gets that from her Dad.) Fortunately she wasn’t quick enough to get the diaper off this time.

The waitress never brought us our ticket, which *really* surprised me. I would’ve figured she wanted us OUTTA THERE. But no…only the lady with her daughters wanted us out (and possibly all the other diners). I’ve never seen someone eat their food so fast! They were in, ordered, ate, and left, all within 30 minutes. And there were FOUR of them.

Okay, I’m stopping now. There I go being judgmental again.

And that, dear readers, is why you NEVER, EVER, take your children with you to lunch. EVER. NEVER. Or people will think you're gay.

Wednesday, April 29, 2009

Interpreter needed for 2 year old.


ORIGINAL STATEMENT:

Bi-wet Bi-dell. Bi-wet Bi-dell. Hwo. Hwo Dah-dee. Un tahk uh mommy. Ah see a muntan. Ee you momma. Ee you! Ah cwomb you ike ah muntan. Woooah.

INTERPRETATION:

Violet Adele. Violet Adele. Hello. Hello Daddy. I talk to Mommy. I see a mountain. It's you momma! It's you! I climb you like a mountain. Wooooah. Does wonders for my self esteem.

MOMMY's RESPONSE:

So I'm a mountain, huh? Sounds like somebody doesn't wanna eat tonight.

Tuesday, April 28, 2009

HOW is this possible?

Saturday, April 18th:

Crawfish boil and Violet's *bonk* bed incident. E.R. trip. No broken bones.

Sunday, April 19th:

Call from E.R. They *think* she's got a broken nose. Not positive. Suggested taking her to family doctor.

Monday, April 20th:

Violet to family doctor. Yep, a broken nose. And a broken cheek. Sent to specialist that afternoon.

Tuesday, April 21st:

Trip to lame-o GSMC for a sedated Cat Scan, only for the stupid nurse to tell me she doesn't *do* sedatation. What in the piss? I came here...why?

Wednesay, April 22nd:

Trip to Open Imaging for 2nd attempted scan. Violet had 2 adult doses of a sedative, and neither worked. Mummy wrapped her like a burrito, and got the needed pictures. Broken nose, both cheeks broken. No surgery needed.

Thursday, April 23rd:

Took Gracelyn to GSMC for a sedated cat scan/MRI. Wait. Have I heard this somewhere before? Got some super-cool versed meds, and she got funny. Sucessful test. No surgery needed.

Friday, April 24th:

Duke's turn for a doctor visit. Swollen groin. Doctor sent us to Open Imaging again (those people LOVE me). Bowels in the balls. Now we all KNOW that's not natural. Send to Children's Hospital in Dallas.

Saturday, April 25th:

Duke's hernia surgery successful!

Sunday, April 26th:

Discharged from Children's. Nice trip home. Pick up our other heathen children. Insanity ensues.

Modnay, April 27th:

How 'bout a nice speeding ticket? Thanks a lot, Christina Aguilera!

TODAY: Tuesday, April 28th:

Mental institute in Terrell, anyone?

Monday, April 20, 2009

And *that's* why I'm Mother Of The Year!

What would a weekend be without crawfish, a potato cannon, flying lessons, a trip to the E.R., and a broken nose? Not a whole heck of a lot. Let me just say…if YOU aren’t experiencing these things regularly, then you must be not be *living*.

Life Lesson #1: Throughout my life, I’ve experienced TONS of exciting, dangerous, and just plain stupid things. Let’s see. Running parent’s car off a bridge? Check. Getting arthroscopic surgery because of injury sustained while TP’ing someone’s house? You know it. Walked runways in Paris? Okay…not exactly. More like 1 in Los Angeles. Skydiving? Owned it like nobody’s business. But the joy, nay – complete fulfillment, from a potato cannon? Never…until yesterday. I’ve now come to the decision that potato cannon should be marketed and sold as a weapon of mass destruction fun for the whole family! Unfortunately I didn’t get ANY pictures of the potato-shooting mayhem that followed, but I will soon enough. I foresee Byron and I spending an afternoon showing our love for one another by making personalized cannons.

Life Lesson #2: Friends are fun. Crawfish is yummy. Mix the 2 together, and you’ve got a recipe for good times. And good times were had by all. I can’t remember the exact amount, but Jason cooked up a good 30+ pounds of those critters with some taters, onions, and corn, and OH MY….*cue* heavenly aroma. OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHH YUM. The only thing I’d change in future “crawfish fests” would be to wear PPE…personal protective equipment….because when someone cooks them correctly, they’re HOT. Everything burns…eyes, ears, nose, mouth, lips, and KNUCKLES. Apparently when your hands are already dry (and in desperate need for lotion)…and you use crawfish seasoning for said lotion…madness ensues. I’ve never been in such pain in my life (except for the c-sections. and a few boob jobs. And the time I got my finger stuck in the toilet paper dispenser. Or the time I superglued my eyelid to my eyeball….I digress).


Life Lesson #3: Kids will be kids. They *don’t* need encouragement from parents to jump off objects from 5 feet in the air, say…like….bunk beds. This same adult doesn’t need to show the kids what SUPER COOL action shots they could take on the camera while doing such stunts., and how the parent should probably consider a side business of taking action shots for sporting events. (But I *so* could do that as a side job!) Finally the good parent comes to her senses, calms the children down for a group photo, and advises everyone to do the “smart thing” and get down off the bed. Everyone follows directions well, except for 2 year old Violet, who decides she wants to test out her kamikaze acrobat skills and does a nosedive off the bed….falling, flailing, and landing on her FACE and an angle such that should’ve broken her neck. Honestly. *Cue* crying, screaming, snake-like-not-bulging-from-forehead, and blood from nose. I suddenly decided to be the good mother and grab her up to soothe her, run her over to Byron so he can be equally appalled and horrified, only to hear him say, “Holy crap! She looks like a Klingon!” Really? Our child was near death, and she looks like a Klingon? (Other nicknames thought of later in the evening were Cyclops, Triceratops and Cromagnon Man). After a frantic trip to the E.R., it was discovered that nothing was broken…just nice and bruised. (Or so we thought! Another blog will detail the new news of broken nose, broken cheek, and concussion. Yep, we like to do it right!)

My ingenious brain has suddenly just stopped working, and now I can’t think of any other way to end this post than to just end it. So suck on that.

Tuesday, April 14, 2009

She makes her mother proud....

Overheard Gracelyn playing school in the garage....

Quote of the Day: "Ok, Bessie. You better stay in that room and go to sleep. It's nap time, and me and Miss Summer will be out in the hall talking. No it's not fair, but that's what we do at school. And if I hear you, I'll have to take to you to the principal, and he'll hit you with a stick, and then all hell will break loose."

I'm thinking she'll make a *perfect* teacher one day!



Friday, April 10, 2009

Payback's hell.

Ahhh, maturity. It takes longer to develop in some of us. In others, we mature quickly, only to relapse when we hit our 30-somethings. That’s the case for myself (VERY mature mother of 4, and church secretary), and some of the other *wonderful special fabulous* workers at Mother’s Day Out.Yesterday, after all the insane children were napping from the Easter Party fun, some teachers wondered what they’d do with the additional confetti filled Easter eggs. A while later a plan was concocted to smash said eggs in the car of another *super* MDO teacher. Hey, it was completely fair game…the car was unlocked! Although I wasn’t specifically involved in this “attack”, I did take pictures of the aftermath for fun. Wait…don’t go just yet. Look at the pictures below, and then keep reading.








The day went on. I stayed late at the office working on stuff for the Maundy Thursday and Good Friday services. Then we attended the Maundy Thursday service, went home, got kids to bed, and relaxed. I hopped online and rehashed the days’ activities with a friend. We got to talking about how we’d like to work as a team to pull a prank on yet another innocent bystander. Then we figured ‘why pick on the innocent’? Let’s get someone who needs to be messed with…say, like the Pastor? He’d gotten each one of us with different pranks here and there over the last few weeks (April Fools, etc.) and we came to the decision that payback was necessary.



An hour later, say 11 p.m.-ish, I was on my way to pick up my friend. We had the car loaded with toilet paper and plastic forks, because that’s how we roll. I must say we did a heck of a job….but didn’t go too overboard. This IS Good Friday, after all. We left shortly thereafter, and felt right proud of ourselves. Then lightening struck! Yet another idea!!!! We returned 10 minutes later with a camera to take pictures of the mayhem. We left the 2nd time, and went to the gas station to get some drinks. Then ANOTHER idea hit us! EGGS! Again, we didn’t do anything horrible. We just smashed the eggs IN the carton, and left the carton open on the front porch in front of the door. We also rubbed egg yolks all over our hands and made hand prints on the door, because we’re mature that way. Then trouble struck….



That time we saw a shadow cross the doorway (while our hands were in the act) and we HIGHTAILED it like NOBODY’S business. I almost fell trying to run down the hill (their yard is slanted), my pants fell down, AND a roll of tape I had in my waist band ended up stuck to my butt. Niiiicccce. My friend ran the other way, AWAY from the getaway car. I had already decided I’d sacrifice her to save myself. After all, I could always return to get her later!



We finally left and headed home. I loaded all the pictures on Facebook in the wee midnight hours, and we waited. Nothing. We just *knew* we’d get a hate call this morning, and would go back over and clean up. Nothing. Numerous phone calls to their cells and home, still nothing. A bazillion text messages and Facebook posts, and again…nothing. Then my friend drove past their house and saw the mess had already been taken care of. A bit later she was driving around again and even passed them on the road, waving and smiling. No response. Just ignored her and drove away. After that we felt slightly bad, especially after I found out the victim’s mother would be coming in today for the Easter weekend.



So what did we do? Send stupid flowers with a card that said, “We are sorry, but not too sorry. Signed – The Instigators”.



Look, it could’ve been WAY worse:


1. We could’ve thrown the toilet paper UP in the tree branches. Instead we just wrapped it around the trunks.


2. We could’ve wet the toilet paper after wrapping the stuff, making it that much harder to get rid of. Nearly impossible.


3. When professionals fork a house, they put them in random spots all over the yard so you’re finding them for weeks. We took the time, and care, to put them in a straight line leading from the getaway car to the door, and then made an extra “v”. Nothing over the top.


4. Lastly, we could’ve done WAY worse with the egg business. Instead we left them neatly tucked in their carton, albeit slightly damaged…and only left handprints on the door. We didn’t smash them about on their house like they were going out of style. A note was even left on the kitchen window from Jesus and Us (because Jesus IS always with us, right?) that said “Jesus was here, and so were we.”



Today is Good Friday, the day that Jesus was hung on the cross and laid in the tomb. Everyone who’s anyone knows the story…that Jesus rose from the dead on the 3rd day, and FORGAVE all those morons who did horrible things to Him. He died so that we could be forgiven and saved. ‘Nuff said. Praise be to God!!!!

Sunday, March 29, 2009

Child-proof bottles? No so child-proof.

Last night we were late getting home. Me, being the planner I am *for real!* decided to give the girls a bath and get things ready for church last night, instead of making us late this morning. I had just about finished everything, when I sat down to play "makeover" with Gracelyn - just so she'd let me brush her hair and pull it back. Violet was stomping around us, playing with a toothbrush, singing, putting bows in her hair, etc...just keeping busy.

Suddenly she stopped singing, and started spitting instead. I turned around, saw white stuff on her face and said, "Violet, do NOT eat the toothpaste. It can make you very sick." About the same time I happened to look down and saw a lone pill on the floor. Lying a few feet away was the pill bottle that had 5 phenergan in it. I almost lost it. These are pills for nausea....when I take ONE of these pills, I'm out for a good day or so. She ate 4. Not good.

I ran to the kitchen, called poison control, and they advised me to take her to the nearest E.R. So at 11:30 p.m. last night, I left Duke with Byron, loaded up the girls, and headed to UT Health Center. It could've been a much worse scenario.

The doctor didn't think she ingested too much because it tastes SO horrible he figured she wouldn't have swallowed much of it. Still, she was acting slightly affected, lethargic, etc. so they decided to give her activiated coal (as an alternative to pumping her belly). This stuff was liquid coal, jet black, and just nasty. They brought it to her in 2 cups, thinking she'd take it by mouth. Apparently they weren't thinking. She got one sip and spewed it everywhere. The nurse got a syringe so we could try to give it to her that way....and it pretty much worked.

After the first cup of coal she puked everywhere (that's my girl!). It took a while, but we were finally able to get the 2nd cup down her, and then we had to sit and wait. Pure torture to a 5 year old and 2 year old to sit and wait. No TV. No colors. No books. No toys. No fun. Violet resorted to scooting around on the nasty floor, and finally I just gave up and let her.

So thanks, stupid pharmacy, for giving me a bottle for people with arthritis that DIDN'T have a child proof lock. And thank you too, stupid self, for putting the bottle in the bathroom on the counter. And thank you, lame-o universe, that I only got to sleep from 4:30 - 6 a.m.

My only sincere thank you? To God for saving us from yet another disaster and protecting Violet from what could've been.

Saturday, March 28, 2009

Jesus speaks spanish

Today I was riding in the car with Gracelyn. She was looking through old photos I found recently, and one was a picture of her as an infant, along with my Mom and Granddad. Sometimes it's in those conversations where she's asking ME to explain things, and she ends up telling me a thing or two, funny as it may be.

Gracelyn: "Hey Mom. Who is that guy holding me?"

Me: "That's Granddaddy. He was PawPaw's Daddy."

Gracelyn: "Is he my Granddaddy too?"

Me: "Yes."

Gracelyn: "Did he die and go to heaven?"

Me: "Yes. He died when you were 2, and he's in heaven now."

Gracelyn: "Did he want to die?"

Me: "No, Gracelyn. I don't think anyone WANTS to die, but we all die one day. Then we get to be in heaven together."

Gracleyn: "Well, maybe I'll just run out and get hit by a car so I can hurry up and get there so I can meet him." (She said this like she was talking about picking out a cereal or something, very nonchalantly.)

Me: *A little shocked* "Oh, no, we don't do that. We wait until Jesus calls us home to heaven."

Gracelyn: "But Jesus doesn't call you on the phone. He doesn't even talk."

Me: "Yes he does. Maybe not on a phone, but Jesus talks to us, and even if you can't hear him he's always with us."

Gracelyn: "Like when we're sleeping?"

Me: "Yes, when we're sleeping and all the other times too."

Gracelyn: "Oooohhhhhh. Okay. You're right. He DOES talk to us, but someone needs to tell him to quit speaking Spanish. I can't understand him."

It took everything I had not to burst out laughing, but I was able to keep my composure until we got somewhere I could laugh without her hearing.

But, it does seem that way sometimes I guess. Jesus is talking to us all the time. Maybe we're so caught up in other things we don't always catch it, or even understand......Spanish.

Monday, March 16, 2009

St. Baldrick’s, Mama Drama, & Other Fun Stuff

First and foremost, I just have to tell you how happy I am for the turnout we had at our St. Baldrick’s event over the weekend. I had been more than a bit worried, since I COMPLETELY dropped the ball on sending out press releases, making speeches, etc. when I got put on bed rest at the hospital. That being said, we raised around $3,500 for the organization! We had lots of people attend, and over 20 shaved their heads, including 3 girls! Woohoo ladies! A local motorcycle group found out the event the DAY before, yet donated all the drinks, $1,000, AND…one biker shaved around 15” off his hair before shaving it completely bald! It was awesome!!!!
We also had Baby Zoee Smith and her family with us. Zoee was diagnosed with cancer at 6 months of age. She is now 13 months old. Please leave words of support (and find out more about her) at http://www.babyzoee.com/ . There’s an upcoming fundraising event for her during May, and they still need sponsors and volunteers! Every little bit helps!!!!
Everything at the St. Baldrick’s event ran pretty smoothly, but it seems like anything I’m involved in generally has some drama, lol. My mom completely passed out after giving blood. She had some juice and crackers after donating, and then sat in a chair and asked for another drink. A few minutes later my dad and 2 workers from Carter BloodCare were trying to walk her over to the reclining donation chair, when she hit the floor. It wasn’t funny, but it was…especially since she was fine later.
A friend of mine also attempted to pass out. Fortunately she didn’t, and recovered soon after.
For those of you who know my brother, you know he can be, ahem *different* at times…or hell, all of the time. While my mother was in “recovery”, diphead swung around like a ballerina girl to swat at a balloon, when he supposedly dislocated his shoulder. I’m quite certain he’s full of crap, but that’s neither here nor there. I was absolutely mortified. If I could only show a picture of how STUPID he looked, and a video of his “performance”. Dragging his damn arm around walking hunched over like some version of Igor or the Hunchback of Notre Dame. I told him to get up and quit acting like an idiot. About 2 minutes later my Dad walked by him and said something to the effect of “D.B. Get up off the damn floor.” Some other onlookers were concerned, but a few friends pointed out to them that if I wasn’t concerned, and neither was my Dad, it was OK. About 20 minutes later the idiot was backing up about 10 feet from the wall, and then running at it full force with his shoulder to “pop it back into place”. Did he do this in a discreet location? Oh no…you need an audience for that sort of business. He did it right in the middle of everyone, acting a fool like nobody’s business. Makes me proud.
Other than that, it was a success! Can’t wait ‘til next year! And now...a few pictures!








Wednesday, March 11, 2009

M.I.A.

Sorry, I know, I know....I've been missing in action. You can thank our newest addition, The Duke. I was on bed rest for 8 days before he was born, and then he had to go and get all dramatic and stay in the NICU for another 7 days after his birth. He turned 2 weeks old on Monday, and is doing quite well now. He's become quite the pro at keeping me up all night.

The first few days I attemped to take a nap each day to try to catch up on lost sleep. Now I've figured out that that will NEVER happen. Instead I'm learning to adjust to less sleep, and feeling extra special if I happen to get to take a nap on a particular day.

My humor has suffered because of this. :) I, do hereby promise, a new and *funny* post will be coming soon.

Another excuse? I've also been swamped with preparations for the upcoming St. Baldrick's event this Saturday in Gladewater, from 12 - 3. There's still time to sign up for our event, or pick another one near you (nationwide). You can even register to be a virtual shavee. Of course, I'm always up for accepting donations to reach my shavee total. Just look for the event in Gladewater, TX at First United Methodist Church at http://www.StBaldricks.org .

So, my plate is slightly more full than usual. I'm sure I'll get used to it soon. I'm very blessed!!!!

Wednesday, February 25, 2009

The Duke and Baby Drama

Yesterday Baby Duke seemed to be doing well. He had made improvements in the amount of oxygen he was requiring, and was holding steady around 30-35 %. Everything was going well, the night was pretty quiet, when some moron doctor decided to piss me off.

This doctor WAS NOT my baby's doctor, NOR was he covering for someone else or on call. He should've never seen my baby, period. When he walked in he was very nervous, talked quickly, and couldn't sit still. Then he told me his name, and I immediately didn't like it. He was the SAME moronic doctor that diagnosed a friend's baby with like 5 different fatal brain disorders, kidney disorder, and all sorts of other crap because he's so crazy. Even sent her, with her baby, to see all these specialists in Dallas to find out what? There was NOTHING wrong with her baby in the least.

He starts telling me that he was paged to come and check on Duke, and he'd taken a turn for the worse. He said Duke couldn't breath at all, and made it seem as though Duke were near death. This whole time he's sitting, squating, standing back up, looking in his bag, acting like a total crack head. He said Duke needed to be put a ventilator because he couldn't breathe, might need some other meds, etc, and made it sound like I had in choice in what was going to happen next. By the end of the conversation I asked if I could go see Duke, and then the idiot doctor said, "Well, you might want to call the nurses and make sure they're finished intubating him." WHAT?????Of course I freaked out. That doctor ran off so fast,almost like he didn't want to get in trouble if someone saw him in my room or something. I call Byron, repeat what the idiot said, and he got all upset too and started driving back up to the hospital.

About 30 minutes later the neonatologist stopped by. He's the doctor for the sick or preemie babies. He was VERY calm, and after talking with him, things didn't seem quite as grim. He said Baby Duke never got worse, and never had trouble breathing. He said he was staying the same, which was fine, and they could've waited another few days to see how things progressed. Then he told me that Duke was intubated because that was the ONLY way to administer the new medicine....not because he wasn't breathing well. He also said that after the vent was used to give the medicine, it starts working nearly immediately, and they can be taken back of the vent within 12-24 hours. MUCH better news.

We went to see Duke last night and it was a bit upsetting to see all these tubes connecting to one large piece, and then a tube going down his throat, one in his nose, etc...but the monitors on his oxygen and breathing levels all looked quite a bit better.I called to check on him this morning around 4 a.m., and he was already doing better on his oxygen, holding steady at 26%. Room air was the main goal, and that's 21%.By the time I went to see him when the NICU "opened" this morning at 8 a.m., he was on room air! What a miracle! Then they started weaning the pressure that was on the vent.

We've made a few visits with him throughout the day, and when I went back at 3 p.m. he was just being removed from the vent! Breathing all alone, on room air, with no vent or oxygen!!!! Praise GOD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

About 30 minutes ago they did a blood gas test, and won't have to do more bloodwork to check his levels until tomorrow morning. The NICU is "closed" right now, and opens again at 7 p.m. They said I'd finally get to hold him for the FIRST time, and feed him too!!!! We are SO BLESSED!!!!!!

I get to go home tomorrow, and Duke will likely be transferred to the regular nursery by then. If things keep looking up, he'll be able to come hom on Friday!!!!!

Thank you, everyone, for your prayers...even if you didn't happen to know about what happened last night. I was so drained (emotionally, physcially, mentally) after all that we've been through in the last week that I just couldn't make myself post an update or do phone calls. Please continue to keep The Duke in your prayers. :)

Love you all!!!!!

Monday, February 23, 2009

Baby Duke has arrived!

Baby Byron Duke Hast made his debut today, Monday, February 23rd at 1:26 p.m., and weighed 6 lbs 12 oz, and was 17.5" long. I was technially 35 weeks pregnant today, so he's considered a preemie (full term is 36-40 weeks).






Thursday, February 12, 2009

Wordle fun...

Pretty cool little thing here called wordle....go there to create your own wordle wonder. :)

Wordle: Untitled

Tuesday, February 10, 2009

My Turn Day...

I would LOVE LOVE LOVE for each and every one of you passing by this blog to take a minute and consider signing up to be a shavee this year for the St. Baldrick's Foundation, which raises money for pediatric cancer research. You set the goal, and if the donations meet your goal, you shave your head. That's all there is to it!

Just think...no more bad hair days, at least for a long while. No excuses about vanity. I'm a mother of 3, with 1 on the way, and I could always use a little extra time. By shaving my head, I'll save at least 20 minutes every morning "doing" my hair. Not to mention the main cause of bringing about awareness to pediatric cancers, and life-saving research!

C'mon...you can do it.....be brave - get bald!!!!

Just go to www.StBaldricks.org and find an event near you!

Now, it's your turn......

Thursday, February 5, 2009

My mom can squirt milk out of her boob.

“My mom can squirt milk out of her boob.” Those were the exact words my 5-year old used to enlighten an elderly stranger in the checkout line at the grocery store. When in public, she gets pretty shy, and either pretends you don’t exist, OR gives you the classic “go to hell” look. I’m fine with either of these, but of course, she had to go and show off a few days ago.

It takes a lot to upset or embarrass me, but I did get a little pink in the cheeks trying to get Graceyn to shut her fat mouth. It went something like this:

Old Man: Hi! You sure are a cutie!

Gracelyn: No response.

Old Man: And it looks like you’re going to be a big sister soon. (pointing to my belly)

Gracelyn: I already AM a big sister, but I’ll be another big sister when this baby gets here. They’re going to cut him out of my mom’s belly in a few days.

Old Man: Oh. I see.

Gracelyn: And you know what? My mom can squirt milk out of her boob. The other day my mom was fixing her shirt, and there was a big wet spot on her shirt and I was like, “Mom, what’s that comin’ out of your nipple?” (She learned the word nipple last week and has tried to use it in every conversation since then.) And my mom told me it was milk for the baby. And I was like, “Oh that’s SOOO gross that you have milk in your boob. You could, like, squirt somebody in the eye with that, and that would be really funny."

Old Man: Stunned silence.

Gracelyn: I’d be like, Quentin, you better quit messing with me or I’m gonna tell Mom to squirt you with that milk.

Old Man: Suddenly remembers he needed a few more items from the store, and walks away.

Yeah, out of the mouths of babes. Gotta love ‘em! And by the way….I’m available for parties.

Monday, January 26, 2009

I'm coming out....

...of the virtual closet. No, I'm not gay (although I don't have the slightest thing against anyone who bats for a different team). I'm coming out of the "anonymous blog" closet. I turned in my letter of resignation at my office last week. I used to have an "open" blog, complete with my information (there's NO shame here!) but I had to close it down due to not being able to completely speak my mind, since I work for a church. Anyhow, my job will be ending soon, coinciding with the birth of our LAST child, so I figured now would be just a good a time as any to "come out".

I get so tired of having to try to remember the names I've made up for each member of our family....heck, most days I'm lucky if I can remember to send lunch with each of my kids to school, much less remember fake names and b.s. No thanks. So consider this to be my most boring post ever, but just a little fyi. :)

Wednesday, January 14, 2009

Fun in virus-land

EVERYBODY in the family got sick over the weekend.

Friday night I didn’t feel good, so I had to cancel my plans to go to Shoguns (my favorite restaurant this month). I was totally pissed, but figured I’d go on Saturday.

Instead, Saturday afternoon Smartie started puking, and I thought (hoped and prayed) that it would be a 1-vomit episode, like Cookie had had a few days earlier….but NOOOOOOO. The girls, my mom and I loaded up in the car to go to the grocery store, and while my mom was inside Smartie decided to puke in the car. I had given her a bag just in case she needed to puke, but apparently when you’re 4 years old, your brain flies out the window and you forget how to even OPEN a bag, so you puke all over the bag (and yourself, and the car) instead. THAT was fun. She proceeded to puke a bazillion times more. Shogun’s was cancelled once again, and I was even more pissed (hey – I’m selfish, what can I say) It was a f’ing conspiracy for me NOT to go to Shoguns. Instead I ordered takeout from Roadhouse (my 2nd favorite place to eat), but I wasn’t entirely happy since I was already set on Shoguns. We headed home that evening, and I expected everything would be better by Sunday.

What in the piss was I thinking? Smartie woke up feeling fine, and Peabody went to church. I woke up with pains in my side, so I loaded up the girls and went to my parents house. Peabody met me there after church, and I decided to go to the hospital since I figured I was having stoner issues, lol (kidney stones). The doctors confirmed it was, in fact, a stone, and that I was having trouble passing it because the baby was laying on the tube it was trying to pass through. Little heathen. They said it would have a better chance of passing if I laid on my left side only (the stone was on the right). Only problem was, I couldn't lay down AT ALL without puking.

After I’d been at the hospital for an hour or so, I called Peabody to check in on things. Then he told me he was sick, throwing up no less. Figures! I finally got out of GSMC a few hours later (they said I could stay with a pain pump, or go home with pain meds). I decided to go home to try to help with the kids since Peabody was faking it (and I'm a freaking SAINT!). He was sick as a dog, and we all stayed at my parents house Sunday night. I was up all night long with reflux issues, throwing up every time I tried to lay down. THAT was fun.

Monday morning I had my 30-week pregnancy visit, but after that I took the rest of the day off since I’d had NO sleep, and was still hurting from the stone (and then I got the stupid virus too!). Do you know how uncomfortable it is to puke and dry heave with a BABY in your belly?

I was up again all Tuesday night with reflux, and resorted to sitting straight up to try to get some sleep. All it did was make my neck hurt.

Today everyone seems to be much better. I'm pretty sure I passed the stone. I got my reflux medicine refilled, FINALLY, and with insurance (which knocked it from $124 to $50). Protonix is like GOLD!!!!! Everyone has quit puking, and I finally got a good night's sleep last night.

Let's see who can be the first to piss me off today! :)

Thursday, January 8, 2009

25 Things

I was acutally tagged to do this on my facebook account, but I thought I'd share it with you wonderful people as well. Since I can't say ALOT about myself on here, at least for another month or two, I can give you this information:

1. If I didn’t have scoliosis, I would be 6’2”, instead of a measly 5’10” (no offense to the vertically challenged out there!)

2. I’ve always wanted to join the circus (imagine that!).

3. People piss me off so much these days, I think about biting my tongue off at least twice daily.

4. I know I shouldn’t get any more tattoos, since 10 is OBVIOUSLY enough, but I’m sure I will.

5. I got to see the Leeza show twice in REAL LIFE. This one girl brought her new product – a pump that you put on your lips a few times a day to make them fatter. Impressive, I tell you, impressive.

6. I’ve been told I “live an amazing life”. Sounds like someone wants a favor.

7. I’ve been skydiving twice.

8. Recently numerous innocent photo-girls were maimed and disfigured beyond all recognition because of a pregnancy-induced-psychotic-episode.

9. In March, I will once again be bald, and the mother of my 4th and FINAL child.

10. I could live at Six Flags.

11. I thrive on chaos.

12. I only take halfway-decent pictures on my left side. The right side (lazy eye, flared nostril, SERIOUS issues) of my face doesn’t cooperate with how great the left side thinks it is. I always have to feel my face to see which side the beauty mark is on, and that’s the one for the camera!

13. One time I was on a bridge in grid-lock traffic in Dallas. Smoke started coming up around me, and I felt sorry for the poor fool whose car overheated on the highway below me. About 2 minutes later my hood caught on fire. It was MY stupid car.

14. I’m pro-plastic-surgery like you cannot even BEGIN to imagine.

15. I’m also pro-medication. I’m quite certain there’s a medicine to fix any ailment. None of this “Oh, I’m so womanly I’m doing this birth crap au-natural.” Give me a flipping break.

16. When I was little I wanted to grow up and marry PeeWee Herman. Now THAT’S an aspiration!

17. Tomorrow I’ll have purple hair. Take THAT! UH!18. I love me some crème brulee.

19. Last year I was in an unfortunate accident called “eyelid-superglued-to-the-eyeball”.

20. I hate mini-vans. I know hate is a strong word, but I truly HATE mini-vans.

21. I never graduated high school. I stopped 2 months into my senior year and then got my GED. I started college the following year like I would have had I stayed in school.

22. My arms are double-jointed. And so is my brain.

23. Almost everything I own is black or brown. Hey, black is slimming!

24. I have some crazy-cow-lick business going on in the front of my hair, which helps my perfect my poof (when I have hair).

25. I can rap Sugar Hill Gang’s “Rapper’s Delight” like nobody’s business.

Tuesday, January 6, 2009

It's time to take it all off!

Your hair, that is!


It’s almost time for St. Baldrick’s 2009. This year it will be held on Saturday, March 14th, from 12:00 – 3:00 p.m. at FUMC in Gladewater, Tx (or you can visit www.St.Baldricks.org to find a location near you!)

Be brave and get bald! Absolutely NO excuses!!!!! It’s just hair, and it will grow back. If you’re insecure, buy a wig (or a sack!). This is all about the kids, and I plan on driving all of you so insane that you’ll agree to shave your head just so I’ll shut up and leave you alone. I don’t care if you don’t like me, don’t want to, blah, blah, blah. This is a great cause, and if you don’t agree, I don’t care. You’ll get over it.

Last year we raised just over $5,000, which completely blew me away. After all, the first amount I put on the website was only $250. I’d say we knocked that one out of the park! This year I’m upping the ante to $6,000, which should be no problem.

A few new things have been added this year. You can always visit the St. Baldrick’s website and buy t-shirts, mugs, mouse pads, license plates, shirts, etc. with the St. Baldrick’s logo.

You can also visit www.heartof.com, and designate the St. Baldrick’s Foundation as your charity of choice. Part of the proceeds of each purchase you make will help cure childhood cancer. Merchants include Apple iTunes, Barnes and Noble, Best Buy, Dale and Thomas Popcorn, Linens & Things, the Museum Store, Macy’s, PETsMart, Sharper Image, Toys R Us, and many more. You can even book your next trip with Expedia or Orbitz. When you enter this online mall, you’ll go right to each merchant’s own website to shop, and you’ll see upfront what percentage of your purchase price will come to the St. Baldrick’s Foundation. (Percentages vary by store; the average is 8%.) There’s even a page to show “Today’s Bargains.” So shop your heart out and help kids with cancer with every purchase! To join, go to www.heartof.com, and designate the St. Baldrick’s Foundation as your designated charity. (Hint: On the “join” page, choose California for the location and Children & Youth for your category, with keyword “Baldricks.")

Also, if you’re online EVER, GoodSearch.com is like any other search engine (and it’s powered by Yahoo!), but every search you make can generate funds for the St. Baldrick’s Foundation. Here’s how it works: Go to www.goodsearch.com and type "St. Baldrick’s Foundation" into the "I support" box. Now every time you use GoodSearch to search the web, a portion of its advertising revenue will be shared with St. Baldrick’s. To see how much GoodSearch users have generated for St. Baldrick’s, click on “amount raised,” once you’ve designated us as your organization of choice. Spread the word and surf the net for kids with cancer!

As you can see, there are MANY ways this year to become involved, but I would LOVE to see EVERY ONE of you with a shiny noggin on March 14th. Go bald or bust!!!!!