Army of Mom

So this is how liberty dies ... with thunderous applause.


I am such a dork

I want this shirt.

Having a Marauder's Map would be cool, too, but I'll settle for the shirt. Alas, it is on back order.

You may be a redneck if ...

Your dad sends you this joke in an email:
Two old ladies were outside their nursing home, having a drink and a smoke, when it started to rain.

One of the ladies pulled out a condom, cut off the end, put it over her cigarette, and continued smoking.

Lady 1: What's that?
Lady 2: A condom. This way my cigarette doesn't get wet.
Lady 1: Where did you get it?
Lady 2: You can get them at any drugstore.

The next day, Lady 1 hobbles herself into the local drugstore and announces to the pharmacist that she wants a box of condoms.The guy, obviously embarrassed, looks at her kind of strangely (she is, after all, over 80 years of age), but very delicately asks what brand she prefers.

"Doesn't matter son, as long as it fits a Camel."

The pharmacist fainted.

Wish I could say that my dad didn't send that to me.
Here's my sign.

One more day

I think my doctor was hitting the crack pipe when he said this surgery was easier to recover from than a c-section. I don't really believe him. But, Army of Dad said that he thinks it probably really is - I just don't have the distraction of caring for a newborn bundle of joy to take my mind off the recovery aspects. On the bright side, no giant bloody expulsions from my body like those after a c-section. *giggles* Reminds me, I was so stupid and naive after my first son, that I didn't think I'd have all that bloody discharge since I had a c-section. Boy, was I dumb?

But, just one more day of dealing with the drain and staples. I'm so ready for it to be 10 a.m. tomorrow. Another bonus, Army of Dad is going to be there to hold my hand through the giant staple remover and the deworming-like removal of the drain. Gross, but just reminds me of some bad sci-fi movie where they yank this snakey-worm thing out of someone's body. *shudders*

I'm also pretty anxious because I go back this Friday to have a breast sonogram to monitor the growth of the
lump in my left breast. The surgeon told me in January that if it is still growing, we're going to remove it. It is benign, but no reason to let it grow. On the bright side, I now have a great plastic surgeon if they have to remove it. I'm really scared right now. I'm really good at staying busy to distract myself from thinking about it, but right now I don't have any writing projects to keep me busy and it isn't like I am physically able to clean out some closets or anything. Hey, maybe I'll go through Hot Rod's handmedowns to see what he has for this summer.

Say a prayer for me, please. All the background is in the lump link above. It has links to previous posts about the discovery of the lump, the biopsy, etc.

This past year has been a tremendous journey for me and I know God has a reason for all of it - if nothing else, I truly know how much my friends, family and my husband most especially love me.

Fiber-rich diet

Remember the SNL skit with Phil Hartman atop the ever-growing pyramid of bran as he narrated the exact number of bowls of his regular cereal would take to equal just one bowl of Colon Blow? Well, I think some of the Colon Blow was sneaked into my bran flakes.

But, at least I'm not constipated any more.


Honor Memorial Day

What is Memorial Day? A day to remember the military men and women who have died in the line of duty. This link is a good one for the history althought I think his feelings are slightly flawed about changing the date back to May 30 instead of the last Monday of the month. The author of the site feels that the value of Memorial Day and what it means has been degraded because people look at it simply as a three-day weekend. I think if they moved it back to May 30 and it was in the middle of the week that people who pay no attention to it. Look at some other holidays like Veteran's Day. Do people REALLY mark it in any certain way? Not usually. I'm going to try and take Hot Rod to a memorial service in the morning. Last year, we took him to Fort Hood and it was very moving for us and I think a good learning tool for him. In 2003, we took the whole family to see the moving wall and it was very touching. Some old VFW vets gave the boys some spent shells from the funeral of a veteran who got a 21-gun salute. (If I get info wrong here, please tell me and I'll correct it. I'm not good with miliary lingo, even though I should be as a former military dependent!)

Please remember all the sacrifices of those brave me and women in the Armed Forces and thank a veteran today for his or her service. I'll thank my veteran. Army of Dad, I'm very proud of the service you gave to your country.

Here is Hot Rod at the Fourth Infantry Division museum at Fort Hood Memorial Day 2004. AoD was serving in 4ID when I met him.

Here is AoD with Hot Rod by a marker for AoD's last assignment before leaving the Army.

Here is the Iraq war memorial we have all heard so much about. It was created with melted down Saddam statues by his former sculptor and paid for by the 4ID soldiers to honor a slain comrade. The stained glass you see in the back is a copy of the Ivy Leaf patch 4ID solders wear on their uniforms.

This is a family pic at the Moving Wall in Allen on Memorial Day 2003.

And one of my favorite pics of all-time of Hot Rod and AoD that Memorial Day.

Happy Memorial Day!

Its getting better all the time

Was that the Beatles or one of the individuals that sang that? Or am I way off base? I think it was the Beatles or Paul McCartney. Hmm. It is getting late and I'm getting loopy. But, that song is going through my head and for good reason.

It REALLY is getting better every day.

My post-panniculectomy body and temperament. I finally started feeling more like myself again on Saturday. I'm standing up straight again and I finally have some energy and my appetite back. My back still hurts like a bitch, er, fish stick and the staples are killing me, at times. Most of the time, I'm fine, but then, I bend or reach or bump and I want to curl up in a fetal position and cry. I still can't sleep in any position but on my back and I'm still alternating between the bed and the recliner. Because of the talent Army of Dad and I have for having sex in our sleep, we're both apprehensive about me sleeping with him in case we get randy after 11 days of self-imposed medical-induced celibacy. I'm getting the shakes just thinking about it.

Anyway. I've had many women ask me about the recovery. It is getting better daily. I didn't even need the full allotment of 20 hydrocodone for pain. I weaned myself down to Alleve after only five or six days after the surgery. Now, I don't take anything unless my back is REALLY hurting. I can't do much and I stop before I do anything that might hurt me. My staples remind me very painfully if I do something I shouldn't have done.

I ripped my skin where the stitch holds my drain in place. That sucked and hurt for a few days, but the nurse advised me to wear some sweat pants or something (my choice is AoD's athletic shorts) that will hold the drain in place next to my skin, so it is less likely to move around and pull out again. It has worked well, except I look like Urkel (or some old grandpa) with pants under my boobs. AoD is about 8 to 9 inches taller than me, so his pants are a lot longer, too. I look like a dork, but it is only for a short time longer, so I'll deal with it. The drain comes out Wedneday, thank God. It is just a pain because I can't wear my regular pants with that thing sticking out of my hip. When I shower, I have a hair ribbon that I drape around my neck and tie the drain grenade into, so it dangles like a big old charm on a necklace between my boobs. I didn't realize AoD hadn't seen me do that and he crakced up last night when he saw it. It is funny in a gross kind of way.

I counted my staples tonight for the first time and have even more than I thought. I estimated between 36 and 50. There were actually 70 give or take a few. It was hard for me to count and keep up with ones I counted or hadn't counted. But, that surprised me. The worst part of the staples is that my c-section scar was really low and they had to put the incision and staples in that area of your stomach/groin that goes into your thigh. So, bending and sitting aggravates them and hurts.

But, I'm seeing progress already. No more dunlap disease * as in my belly dun laps over my waistband* and one added benefit: it looks like I got a, hmm, how to say this delicately? Hmm. No way to say it polietly, but it looks like I got a cooch lift. Swear to God. I think the difference is that he had to go sooo low on pulling the skin dow and up and all around that it just looks like it. But, I carried the last two babies so low that the top of my cooch skin was stretched out, too.

I'm still not great, but I'm getting past the feeling terribly sorry for myself stage that I was in. I can see how people with chronic health conditions can get depressed. I hated not being able to take care of myself and my kids, but I'm doing better now. Army of Dad doesn't have to put the neosporin on my incision or change my bandages or drain my grenade any more. I can do it for myself now. That first week, it almost made me pass out every time he dealt with any of it.

Now, I'm looking toward the future. No more drain on Wednesday. No more staples, or atlesat less staples on Wednesday, too. About one to two more weeks for all the swelling to subside and me to see what I'm going to look like in the long run. For now, I feel like I'm about four months pregnant. My skin is all taut and stretched and I look and feel bloated. But, I'm seeing what I think are going to be major improvements. I really like the cooch lift. I know it is lame, sorry.

counted 70 stitches
get the drain out and most of the stitches
added benefit of the cooch lift

the scar on my face is already starting to fade. Stinkerbelle says that the booboo on my face (That was what she called the mole before) is better. But, then, she curls up her nose like she smelled something bad and points to my belly and says "Mama, nanny boob on you tumock." She hasn't mastered the ST blend sound yet. So nasty = nanny and stomach = tomock. But, she is really good with the final consonant K. But, I digress.


Race fan

The official redneck in me has surfaced. I've started watching and paying attention to NASCAR. Army of Dad and I watched the Charlotte race tonight excitedly. Lots of cautions and wrecks and great anticipation at the end to see Labonte get edged out at the last second.

I've got another favorite cutie to cheer for along with Kasey. Of course, Jeff Gordon still has a spot in my heart (or in my bed if the chance ever arose, sorry AoD. I'd let you do Britney if the chance came around.)

I laughed when I caught the names of the race commentators on Fox: Larry, Darrell and (No, it isn't another Darrell, although I halfway expected that - remember the stupid brothers on the Newhart Show? Hi, I'm Larry and this is my brother Darrell and my other brother Darrell) Mike.

I giggle whenever I watch the races because it reminds me of White Trash Friday Nights in Midland. Uzz, LabKat, Gadfly and others from the newsroom would make our way out to the dirt tracks with free tickets from a coworker's husband and we'd watch all the white trash, drink lots of beer and cheer for our favorite car. Mine was the Jumburrito car. W'ed laugh at women in cow-print pants with big hair feeding Dr Pepper to their children in baby bottles. I kid you not. Made me feel far superior than the others. But, shhh. Don't tell anyone. I enjoyed the races.

JUMBURRITO!!! WHEWWWWW!!!!! *yell it in a redneck voice for effect*

You won't believe this

Army of Dad retrieved the mail for me Saturday evening and all I can hear is "You've got to be fucking kidding me!" as he's walking in the door. Then, a big evil grin spreads across his face as he smiles and hands me the mail.

On top of the junk mail, bills, magazines is a form letter adddressed to me BY NAME from:
free press action fund
POBox whatever
Commieland, MA 01061

On the front I get this:
Free Sticker Enclosed!

Oooh, ahhh. Rubbing down the goosebumps.

Then, this little tidbit:
Corporate media is hurting America.
Aaaargh. Ouch. Owweee.

Ok, I get the feeling this is either going to make me laugh hysterically or hurl. Inside the envelope is a SASE addressed to the Free Press Action Fund and a little comment: Using your own stamp means more money for media reform.

Ok, I think, at this point, hurling is the more likely result from this exercise.

There is a little newsletter in here from the Free Press Action Fund and a "personal" letter from the desk of Al Franken. It is all a ploy to get me to give money to them under the premise of saving the Fourth Estate from being overrun by corporations who don't care about journalism, but only the bottom line. One quote form the newsletter:
We're witnessing a steady rise in shoddy journalism, low-budge/lowbrow entertainment, skyrocketing cable rates and the near extinction of local news.

I agree with all of those things, but not for the reasons they cite. They claim that "media moguls control the newsrooms, but have abandoned responsibility to provide the people with balanced coverage, careful fact checking and reasoned analysis."

I agree with the second part of that. I think the media is giving in to lazy journalism and trying to act like they are so much more educated than the general public that they need to TELL us how to think and be damned with the truth and/or balance. I also think the bottom line does drive these folks to hire straight-out-of-college journalists who don't know shit about real life and they fire the folks who have larger salaries (not that I'm bitter or anything because that happened to me, but I digress.)

But, they're saying that the corporate people are giving in to outside pressures to produce crappy journalism. I think it runs both ways. There are crooked columnists on both sides of the political fence, unfortunately.

But, again, I digress. Was just funny that I got a letter from Al Franken. And just so you know why I think I got it, I subscribe to Columbia Journalism Review. I won't be renewing it. For this reason as well as they're obviously slanted political leanings. I was hoping it would be an independent look at the state of journalism today, but alas, it is about as fulfilling as a Bertie Bott's earwax flavored every flavor bean.


Rainy day Texas Hold 'em

Rain all day. So we do what any redneck family would do on a long holiday weekend: we played No Limit Texas Hold'em Poker .... with our 6-year-old.

He kicked our asses the first game.

Army of Dad won the second game and I won the final game.

Hot Rod isn't too bad at poker. I've been teaching him for the past few months just playing cards with no chips or anything. He watches us play Party Poker and poker tournaments on TV and we explain things to him. The poker game today was a good learning lesson because we made him count his chips - by ones, fives and tens. So, he had a ball playing with mom and dad while also working on his math. Win-win situation. Except for the two games I lost, but you know what I mean.


My son, the Jedi

Pickle has decided that he is going to teach Jedi lessons here at my house. Only $5 per lesson. Evening classes at 6 p.m.

He is such a Star Wars dork but not quite as dorky as the Star Wars Kid.

(Tried to find a find to link to, but all were virus-infested or just pop-up ads that never led you to the video.)

It isn't working

My dad makes candles and brought me a box of them yesterday because I was almost out. He got one out and put it on the fireplace mantle near my work area and lit it.

It's called Relaxation.

It isn't working.


Only a little more work done and I'll be finished with it all.

Still having ups and downs with my emotions regarding my recovery. I'm such a mover that it is really hard for me to slow down and allow my body time to recuperate. But, I'm working on it.

Made a small stride to sleep in the bed this morning after Army of Dad got up to get ready for work. Was nice to sleep in my bed. I may try it tonight. We're just afraid of him rolling over on my drain or if one of us cuddles and hurts my staples. I did learn that I can't roll on my side with the staples. Because of the removal of the c-section scar, this incision is so low that it almost meets my thighs, so those staples hurt.

Off to feed Hot Rod.


Not a baby anymore

Big girl comes back from Granny and Papa's home mostly potty-trained. My mother is mortified that she isn't potty-trained yet. If you listen to her, I was potty trained when I was 12 months old. Because I am a prodigy. Or maybe it was because she ran the water to make me pee; put me on the toilet the moment I finished eating lunch; was so anal retentive and psychotic that she made me sit there till I went.

Wait, sorry. I thought I was in therapy again for a moment.

I refuse to do all those things to get her potty trained. She sits on the potty many times a day and pees occasionally during all those times. Well, she has come back pretty much going half the time or more. So, with that info AND the fact that I can't really lift her out of a crib right now, we pulled out the toddler bed and put it in her room tonight. I got out the little portable potty and put it in her room and told her that she can get out of bed and use that potty if she needs to use it. She wasn't so sure what she thought about the bed and she got out and peed soon after she was put to bed, so that was good.

But, she is not my baby anymore. That is sort of sad.


Stinkerbelle crawled up in my lap (gingerly).

She looked at me and rubbed her eyes and said "Danny and PaPa back."


You want your granny and papa back?

Want my Danny and PaPa back.

Then, over and over: Danny and PaPa, BACK. The emphasis on back.


I guess my most favored parent status had to go at some point.

It came from a retro green suitcase

While trying to find ways to entertain my daughter while I recovered from surgery, my dad found an old green 1970s-era suitcase in his storage barn.

Many memories came out of that suitcase. Memories from my days as a girl with hair down to my ass playing with my Barbie dolls.

And, so it begins: finding Barbie shoes all over the house.

Mom gave Stinkerbelle my old Barbies, their shoes and vintage 70s clothes, too. There is a pair of pink bellbottoms with groovy flowers all over them and a long plaid coat. I think there is a pair of plaid capri pants that are probably from the 60s. Many of my Barbie accessories were hand-me-downs from my cousin who was 10 years older than me. Their is even an Evil Knieval doll outfit in there. This is but one small selection of the plethora of stuff I had, but to Stinkerbelle it is a treasure.

I dread stepping on a Barbie high heel at 2 a.m.

I'm almost done

I've recovered from my pitiful state earlier in the day and now I'm just Momzilla. Stinkerbelle is back and doing her best to be a brat after being spoiled rotten by my parents for a day shy of a week. Hot Rod is doing his best to assert his authority as being the king of brats.

I'm almost done with the big sidejob project. Four more list compilations and it will be done. *wiping sweat from my brow*

Then, I'll have to tackle my 9-5 job assignments. Three stories to write for them. I should have them done tomorrow before lunch. Yeah right. Before the end of the work day is more likely, but I'll start them tonight. Army of Dad is working late AGAIN and I'm about to fire him. But, alas, I have nothing to hold over his head because I can't sleep with him anyway. *sigh*

Tartar saucing start to the day

Army of Dad overslept this morning, so our day started of stressfully anyway. I'm dragging around with deadlines for six stories today. I have a message on my cell phone from my mother that she is bringing the baby home around lunchtime today. Then, I get an email from my HR lady at work that they're changing dental insurance effective June 1. Boom. Bam. Who cares that it effs up your plans. Hot Rod needs major work done and we had it scheduled for July 29. Now, I have to start all over again if the dentist isn't our the "preferred providers" list. I called the dentist's office in tears and she said if they're not on there, they'll try to help us out. I truly hope so. I don't want to start all over again. I cried so hard I threw up.

Physically, I'm getting better each day. Emotionally today, I'm already spent and it is only going to get worse.


I can't feel my lib

Army of Dad went to the dentist today. He hates the dentist, by the way. He got five cavities filled. He called me on the way home to see if I wanted him to get the boys from school.

I asked him if had laughing gas because he sounds drunk.

Hey fub you! I feel like I had a stroke on da lef dibe of my face. My mouf won't move. Dat is why I'm slurring my speech.

It actually hurt my stomach to laugh so much listening to him. He is usually so calm, cool and collected.

He was regaling me with tales of the dental visit from the slobber dribbling off his bottom lip and dangling because he couldn't make the right shape with his mouth to spit. The dentist telling him to bite down and he said he was thinking, I'd love to, but I can't feel a thing.

There was more, but I was laughing so hard, I couldn't type. Hurt my tummy to laugh so much.

All that keeps running through my mind is the Bill Cosby dentist skit.

*whew* One down, one to go

I shed one of my drain grenades this morning. *doing the dance of love Quasimodo style*

Let me start at the beginning. I feared that I was developing an infection because of excessive redness and fever in a few spots along my incision, so I called the after-hours nurse last night. She asked me to come in this morning to see the doctor. So, we went after Hot Rod's graduation fete. They took me right in and promptly told me to lose my panties and pants. Army of Dad loves it when attractive women disrobe me. So, he was enjoying himself immensely. This was the nurse I spoke with last night, by the way. She has me plop on the examining table and removes my bandages to check things out. The look on her face verified my fears. She goes and retrieves an even younger and more attractive nurse. I guess if you're a plastic surgeon, you get hot chicks to work for you or you do the work on them until they're hot.

The main nurse checked my drainage grenades and our log for output and decided to remove the right drain. Yippee! She said it might hurt, so I was squeezing AoD's hands and she cut the stitches and warned me with a count to three before she did it. That was it? Really? You're done? That didn't even hurt. It reminded me of the way it felt during a c-section when the doctors were tugging on the baby and my innards. No pain, just a weird sensation. Thank God for that one. Next, the cute nurse was removing the stitches from my cheek when the doctor came in. He started coaching the cutie patootie nurse how to do it in the quickest and easiest fashion. I asked him to train her with someone else, to which he chuckled. I was only half kidding. *shrug* But, she did fine. Army of Dad enjoyed looking at her, that is for sure.

He checked my wounds and pronounced me beautiful. Very proud of his work, he was. I told him about the constipation. He sort of shook his head and gave me a puppy dog face and said "Oh yeah, that is normal for it to take five to six days. I forget to tell people that." I told him he was fired. He told me to return in a week and we'll take out two of every three staples and possibly remove the other drain. Thank the Lord. Once it is out, I can return to sleeping in my bed. I miss my bed with the new mattress and hunky husband. ANother two weeks of swelling. I'll be so glad when it is over to see what I might look like. Right now, I can't tell a difference. I'm just uncomfortable all the time. These staples suck. But, end product. End Product. I have to keep telling that to myself. End Product.

My little graduate

Hot Rod made mama proud today, as he usually does. The four classes all sang together some cute little diddies and then each glass had a little diploma presentation. Absolutely sweet and endearing, if not really tiring for me. Hadn't walked that much since the surgery till today. The kids had matching graduation shirts. Very sweet.

Lots of trashy parents at our school and Army of Dad and I had too much fun looking at each of them. We had a tie for our favorite. One was an overweight mom in a low-cut, sleeveless shirt with a hole in it, but I think our big favorite was the dude with the mullet. He was wearing sneakers, denim cutoff jeans rolled up, a buttondown workshirt with his name embroidered on it (I think), a cowboy hat, a cheapo gold watch and more rings than I wear. I did mention the mullet, right? He was straight off the Billy Ray Cyrus fashion party at the trailer park. Not that I have much room to talk. I had to wear my stretch workout pants so they would fit comfortably over my drain grenades. Yuck.
Anyway. Here is the class graduation picture. His teacher is awesome.

With his teacher.

With his friend.

This is the assistant principal and her little girl, who sits next to Hot Rod in school.

With dad and then with mom.

Be careful what you pray for

Ok, sometimes the bossy person inside of me forgets who is REALLY in charge (and, no, I don't mean Stinkerbelle) and tries to do everything by myself, for myself. So, last night, in the humility and pain of not having pooped for six days - I prayed.

And, geese louise, did the Good Lord answer my prayers for a BM.

But, thank the Lord. I've never delivered a child naturally, but I suspect that what happened from 2:15 to 2:30 a.m. has to be something similar to what it feels like to give birth. I literally cried it hurt so bad. I thought, hmmm, wonder what the crap (pardon the pun, it was intended) that must look like. Ever so delicately stood, turned around and thought THAT IS IT? I expected some massive thing there. Nope, the momma equivalent of constipated baby rabbit-looking poops. *shrug*

After the initial surprise wore off. I said a prayer of gratitude and crashed again. Was awoken about 6 a.m. with yet another urge to relieve my intestines. And, boy oh boy. God answered my prayers again. This was the one I dreaded. The last of the constipated stuff came out painfully and was followed by the giant GUSH of the watery stuff. But, despite the sore backside. All I could think was Ahhhhhhhhhh. Thank you God. Then, this little church camp song came into my mind. Sing it if you know it:
I've got a river of life flowing out of me. Makes the lame to walk and the blind to see. Opens prison doors, sets the captives free. I've got a river of life flowing out of me.
Spring up oil well (to which you stand up and do goofy hand gestures) GUSH! GUSH! GUSH!
And, set me freeeeeeeeee. I've got a river of life flowing out of me.

Only in my mind, I was substituting some words and meanings. Sometimes I wake my kids up with this song in the morning (not the poop version) but they still don't appreciate it.

I never thought I'd blog about my bathroom habits.

Eww factor today: 10++

Going back to the doctor today. Fear I may have an infection along my incision because there are a couple of hot spots that are red, hard and feverish. I hope I'm wrong, but I don't think so. I hate staples. My c-section infection was after staples, too. On an upside, hopefully, he'll take the stitches out of my face and maybe he'll remove the drain that isn't doing much. I'll be doing some more praying about that. Please say a few for me. I've been so queasy with this procedure, I'm certain I'll pass out when he checks me out.

On the bright side, Hot Rod has his kindergarten graduation today. Army of Dad is having some cavities filled this afternoon. He is such a giving man. I was feeling pretty selfish yesterday. I have many deadlines that ALL have to made this week before Friday, so I really can't just sit and rest. But, fortunately, interviewing and writing are not physically demanding tasks. So, I can do it. I worked hard all day yesterday and AoD worked till 9ish at his work to make sure that his stuff got done and then he went to the store for me. But, he didn't get to come home and be with me because he saw a family stranded on the side of the road and went back out to help them. So, we didn't get to bed till midnight. Going to be a long day! But, he is such a good man. I felt guilty for being mad, but I wanted him home with me. Hopefully, I'll have him all weeekend.


New discovery

Dollar General generic milk of magnesia tastes like what I imagine pool chalk mixed with that awful glucose pregnancy diabetic drink would taste like.

Worst part. Still no BM. Going on six days now.

I predict the generic MOM will go into effect at 8:30 a.m. Wednesday during Hot Rod's kindergarten graduation.

Hot Rod heard the timer go off for his dinner and told me he wanted his stool (so he could go look at the timer). I told him I wanted my stool, too. He didn't get the humor there.

My son, the impersonator

Pickle's teacher emails me today that my son was demonstrating for her the way I'm walking right now. She said she almost peed her pants laughing.

That is my son. Mr. Sensitive Jr. A chip off the old block.

Good men

Most women never find a good man their entire life. I, however, was fortunate enough to have found two.

Army of Dad is so great to take care of me and make sure all our needs are met.

But, this is where it is totally weird. Uzz, my ex, is also still wonderful to me. He has been stopping by the house to pick up my son (not his offspring) and take him to school for me. Now, he is going to the store to buy me some Milk of Magnesia. *sigh* My intestines have still not woken up from the anesthesia and have *how to say this politely* not relieved themselves yet. So, I finally called the doctor's office and the nurse said to take some medicine and get them operating again. She also told me that one of my drains - the one that hurts the most and is producing the least - will likely come out Friday at the appointment. That is good. I asked her if it hurts and she said about half the women say no and the other half say it hurts. It isn't excruciating, she said. But, it is in pretty deep and you'll feel it coming out, she added. Oh joy. I got dizzy when she told me that. Don't dread it though, she says, it will be better once it is out.

Yeah, she's right.

And, thanks guys, for taking care of me and the kids.


Army of Dad is having a rough week. On top of having to do everything at home and taking care of me, he got a flat tire on the way to work this morning. So, he just came home and traded cars. He'll be home with me tomorrow for Hot Rod's kindergarten graduation, so he can get the tire fixed or replaced then.

Just random things that made me and Army of Dad laugh last week while we were waiting for me to go into surgery. The little checklist of things that may be needed before, during or after surgery were pretty funny and sounded downright enticing.
Mesh disposable brief
Swiss eye masks
Large male navy - this one sounded good until the last word - shoe
KY jelly foil packs
T&A suction bulbous tip - no idea what that would do, but sounded like fun

Painkillers kicked in, so back to the recliner and the laptop for some drug-induced writing.

Lessons to be learned

You know, some people really need to let things go. I know that is something strange coming from me, but come on people. This girl in Waxahachie got her panties in a wad because in a group photo in her high school annual she was identified as black girl. Coming from a newspaper background, I immediately knew what happened. The editor or whoever was doing that page didn't have her name and used a term that would help her remember to find the kid's name. She was the only black girl in the group. It helped identify her. When pages were proofed, someone missed it. But, here id the deal. She is black and she is a girl. No one said nappy headed bitch. No one said fat chick. Nothing offensive was used as the placeholder. It was simply black girl. This chick said on the news that she'll never be able to look at her yearbook again. Why? Because someone made a mistake and called you a black girl? That just seems silly to me. It would be like a photo caption of me with the soccer team and it says soccer mom instead of my name. Ok, that would be a way to describe who I am. Old white lady. Whatever. If it isn't offensive, why get so bent out of shape over a mistake?

When I was working as a reporter in West Texas, we would list our "daily budget" on the computer. That essentially was the list of stories and art we were working on for the day. One afternoon we had a meeting of the Eagle Forum, which was all the old lady conservative Republicans in the area. We would list it as the "blue hairs meet" or something along those lines. One day, the old gals came in to make sure we were covering their event and I called up the budget and they were looking over my shoulders at the list. Fortunately, their eyesight wasn't good enough to read the small print because there it was: blue hair luncheon. Yikes.

Two lessons to be learned here. First, be careful of what you do as placeholders, etc. Someone's feelings could be injured by what you write, even if no malice is intended. Secondly, lighten the fishstick up! If the worse thing this chick could be called is a black girl, I think she's doing pretty good. My FRIENDS call me worse!


No more whining

I've got it made. Really I do.

My husband is doing everything for me. Laundry, dishes, cooking, shopping. It is awesome.

After my shower tonight, I put on a pair of panties that used to fit and even all swollen - they were baggy! Yippee!

Got out my post-op info again to review it. I'll probably have the drain grenades for at least two weeks. Could be up to four. So, I'll look like a biohazard suicide bomber for some time to come. It also said to expect the swelling for two to three weeks. I'm hoping the drains come out sooner rather than later. But, we'll see how it goes.

For now, I'm going to be really grateful that my mom has my sweet baby girl, Uzz has the Pickle and Hot Rod isn't coloring on any more of the carpet. I'm happy that Army of Dad got my laptop from work to actually function and that he is so willingly taking care of everything. He's a good man.

Oh, did I mention that my staples look like a zipper? Cracks me up. Looks like you could unzip me and fold me in half. There are all kinds of jokes there, I'm sure. No more grody pics for a while. Maybe just status pics as things heal. Deal?

I'm fixated

I know you're all surprised.

The doorbell rang. Great. As I do my Mr. Tudball impersonation (anyone remember Tim Conway?) to get to the door, the FedEx guy is looking at me like I'm nuts because I'm in an oversized "people make the difference" t-shirt, all crouched over. I bet I look a bit like a strung out addict or something. Thankfully my grenades didn't drop then. They dropped earlier when Uzz was dropping off the boys. The FedEx guy is waiting for me to step outside to sign for Army of Dad's new phone clip and I look up at him and mumble something about surgery and that I can't walk very well. So, he sticks the clipboard and pen inside the door and tries to get the hell away from me to make sure it isn't contagious, I guess.

Unfortunately, I'm looking like a combination of the witch from Snow White and Quasimodo. Morph them together and that is me.

What is up with Disney characters and bad posture?

The voices in my head

Ok, I'm getting seriously paranoid. I keep "stripping" the drains, which means that I am pinching the stuff out of the tubes and down into the drainage grenades.


Take cover!!!


I'm absolutely convinced that the tubes are going to get clogged with these little fat globule thingees and my stomach is going to keep bloating intead of getting skinnier. Maybe I need to take more drugs. But, look at the red stringy thing inside the grenade. *I may pass out*

It's getting hot in herre

It has been sweltering in North Texas for the past few days. We hit 99 on Saturday and Sunday. Our AC bill is going to be through the roof with me here all day, too. That sucks.

These are typical July temps here, not late May. Just two weeks ago, we were breaking out the fleece for soccer.

Local TV ads

Sucks to be stuck in a recliner all weekend. I can't sleep very well, so I flip on the TV and find ads for a local attorney. I swear to God that I can't make up stuff this good. Big Brother is his name. He is some big black dude lawyer and the premise of the ad is that when you need help, call The Big Brother. I called to Army of Dad, who was in the other room, and I could barely get the words out to come see this commercial. I think he thought it was a Saturday Night Live skit or something at first. The best part is this old white lady wearing some funky hat saying she was looking for Big Brother to solve her woes. Hilarity ensued. Laughing is not good for my staples right now, either.

Another came this morning. It wasn't local though. An infomercial for the Better Sex videos. I called to AoD about them. His response: I'm a professor emeritus, I don't need them.

No arguments here. It is WAY TOO EARLY. I don't know how he gets up and goes to work this early every day. *yawn* I'm sleeping in the family room, so there is no way for me to sleep through his morning work routine until I can sleep in our bed again. *sigh* My wounds are healing because they've started itching. Itch, itch. itch. itch.


Panniculectomy post-surgery pics

Ok guys. This is going to be gross, so don't plan on eating dinner any time soon or turn away now. I'm going to show you the new bellybutton and what my hip looks like. I really do look like something out of a science fiction movie with the drain coming out of my hip. It is pretty badly bruised there. The grenade thing is holding bodily fluids like lymph drainage, blood and fatty stuff. It is pretty disgusting. Looked a bit like the Hawaiian Punch Army of Dad was drinking. That was sort of gross when we noticed that. AoD and I joked that I don't leak lymph fluids, but nymph fluids. Ha. My drugs have kicked in and probably that is why I don't mind posting these pics right now.

I figure those of you considering this thing may want to know what it looks like. Also, it may help the sympathy factor among some of you. Nah, I doubt it. Most of my friends have taken to calling me Bitch instead of my name. But, it is all in good nature. Right? RIGHT? Come on and tell me I'm right. Anyway. Here it is. My new bellybutton. Gross factor isn't as high as the draining grenades on my hips. But looking at it again, it is pretty gross. You can see the bruising around the bellybutton and I still have my stretch marks. The bandages are along the bottom. I have staples underneath all the bandages. I'm still pretty swollen, too. Belly looks a bit distended or like a pregnant belly.

Now this is the really gross one to me. I feel a bit like Lara Croft with weapons on my hips, but unfortunately I don't LOOK like Lara Croft right now. On the far right of the pic is a dark tube coming out of my skin with bruising all around it. The grenade thing is holding the drainage. Black panties there for you Kin. You sick perv. The bandages are covering the staples. Still really swollen here. But, here are the first few shots for you curious folks.

Hard day's work

The budding artists in our family never cease to amaze me. Stinkerbelle created a mural on my dining room wall a few months back. Pickle did artwork of Sonic the Hedgehog in pen on his ceiling fan a few years ago. Today, my newly 6-year-old son decided he'd see what crayon looks like on our beige carpet and the faux denim couch slip cover. Not a good look, by the way. He is SOOOOOO lucky I'm on drugs and unable to chase him down and beat him.

He made a post-birthday cake with his dad. His decorations were M&Ms. If you can see it, they spell Happy B-day. He already had chocolate cake batter on his face here.

Afterwards, he crashed on the couch. The same one he colored on earlier.


One more thing

Army of Dad brought me the mail before he left to take Hot Rod to see Revenge of the Sith.

Among the mail is my Family Circle magazine with this headline on the front:
Flatten Your Tummy in 3 Minutes

Dammit. It took me about four hours and a hefty doctor bill.

My back hurts

One side effect I should have anticipated, but didn't. My back is killing me from walking like a hunchback. This sucks.

But on the bright side, I don't think I mentioned that the doc was also removing a mole from my face during the procedure. He got it off and it looks WAY better, even though I look like I have five black whiskers growing out of my cheek where the stitches are. The mole will be biopsied since I have a history of cancer and it was growing, but I doubt it was anything but ugly.

Back to the recliner and on to the Lord of the Rings extended DVD triology. I've been watching and dozing through all the extra discs of The Fellowship of the Ring this morning. Now, I'll watch the movie and move on to the next ones. I always find things I missed before. Plus, now I'll be doped up and it may be even cooler.

Did I mention that I got a new bellybutton? I did.

Happy Armed Forces Day

Hot Rod and Army of Dad put our flag up this morning for Armed Forces Day.

I love my former soldier and I appreciate all the sacrifices from the military and their families. Thanks. This is AoD and his buddy back in 1997. I love a man in camo. *shudders* Even though I can't TRULY show my appreciation to him for two weeks. OHMIGOSH!

Happy Birthday Sweetheart

Army of Dad got up and after taking care of me and cleaning my wounds, he (of course, washed his hands, but that sounded bad) made the boy a stack of pancakes for his birthday and taught him multiplication of 3x2=6.

And post candles.

I love you sweetheart.

Finally - the birthday party pic

The boy had a blast at his birthday party. Just a pic or two. Wooziness is getting stronger and AoD is telling me to go rest and stop blogging.

This is with his best buddy.

And, here he is while opening gifts.

And, yeah, that is a soccer keeper jersey he is wearing. He loves it. Goofy little boy.

Mr. yellow and orange

The boys passed their belt tests Friday night. They were so proud of themselves.

Hot Rod went to yellow and Pickle to orange.

This is what they routinely look like.

I'm up - momentarily

I'm also dizzy as hell sitting up. Ok, so I'm not SITTING up, but leaned over. The nurse called it taco style. So, I'm folded up like a taco most of the time.

When I walk to the bathroom I feel like I'm heading to the bell tower to ring some bells. It sucks walking all hunched back.

I wanted to post pics of Hot Rod for his birthday and thank everyone for the kind wishes. AoD has been blogging for me and taking very good care of me. He should, since I'm armed with tiny blood and bodily fluid hand grenades on each hip. That is the worst part of this whole thing. But, they keep me from retaining the lymphatic fluid, water and blood and that is good. Just look gross and hurts where I have these little tubes hanging out of my hips with the bloody hand grenades on each side. I bet it looks like something out of the Star Wars movie AoD is taking Hot Rod to today. I'm so jealous. But, I'll get some peace and quiet and LOTR uninterrupted.

When I hunchbacked my way to the pantry to select some cereal for breakfast, AoD commented that my legs look skinnier. We suspect that is from not eating much the past few days. I might have to make less eating more of a habit. Or not. :)

A few kid posts and then back to the recliner. I'm getting woozy again.

Thank You

I just wanted to thank all of you for your well wishes and prayers. They are very much appreciated. I know Army of Mom feels the same way. I am just amazed at the wonderful readers she has.

Army of Dad

Hot Rod's birthday

Today is Hot Rod's birthday. He and I will go shopping and then maybe see Revenge of the Sith. Tonight, after it cools down some (it will be 95 here today), we will go to Putt Putt. Stinkerbelle is staying with Granny and Pickle is hanging out with his dad.

Army of Mom is doing well. She is sleeping as I write this. I moved the DVD player back into our bedroom suite so she can watch her LOTR super duper extended edition trilogy. You know, the big collection that has everything!

She has two drains, one on either side. She can't stand them and hates it when they are emptied. Makes her almost gag. She can't feel it, but the very idea makes her sick to her stomach. Her "new" belly button looks great. The toughest thing for her is not being able to do things for her self. She doesn't like that at all!

She will have lots of pics to share once she is ready to blog again. Some birthday stuff, the boys' belt tests and stuff, no surgery or tummy pics yet. She might be able to post later today, but that will all be according to how she feels.

Army of Dad


Army of Mom update

Army of Mom is doing great, all things considered. Her doctor said everything went very well and she will be coming home later today. She got a laptop from her work so she can keep up with that stuff. I think she will be able to blog again late today. If not I will post again for her.

Turns out we could have seen Star Wars since the doc ran over on his previous surgeries and she didn't go back to the OR until 1:30. From what she can see she likes her new tummy already.

Thank you all for your well wishes. We will keep you updated like usual.

Army of Dad


One hour to go

Now, it REALLY is a panick-ulectomy! I'm trying to get all the kids' stuff ready for the various events over the next few days. Hot Rod and Pickle have field day tomorrow and they need their swimsuits and towels and then a change of clothes. Hot Rod is having juiceboxes and cupcakes for his birthday party at school tomorrow, too. Pickle has a drumming performance at school today. Both boys have their karate belt tests tomorrow night. Saturday is Hot Rod's birthday. Friday is pajama day at Stinkerbelle's preschool and then she is going with my folks for the weekend.

Busy, busy, busy. And, I won't be able to coordinate everything and participate. I'm pretty sad about that. And, I couldn't put on deoderant this morning. Eww. I'll be all sweaty before I have the surgery from getting stuff ready this morning.

Eventually I will blog about Hot Rod's birthday party. I still haven't loaded up his pictures and they're great. Maybe on his birthday, I can get over to the computer and do it. *shrug* You know you'll get pictures at some point. Of the kid, not me. ;)

Back to preparations.

May the force be with you. (and me, today!)

*insert Chewbacca sound here*

In honor of my pal and her affinity for all things Star Wars: I present to you LabKat and Chewbacca. Peter Mayhew actually appears in The Revenge of the Sith, LabKat tells me. This pic was taken in October when I dragged Kat to a Star Trek and comic con in Dallas.



I just thought of that last night. Was sort of funny.

I'm having a panniculectomy. Get it? Panick - u - lectomy? Never mind. I thought it was funny at the time.

Gross description, though.

"When a patient loses large amounts of weight, the skin does not retain its shape, leaving the patient with a large hanging apron of excess skin and fat below the stomach area, otherwise known as the pannus," says researcher Ernest Manders, MD, in a news release.

A large hanging apron of excess skin and fat. Oh boy. I bet all the guys are just wanting to line up and do me right now. It really isn't THAT bad. Just sounds gross. But, just wait. Whenever it is all healed up - I'm posting bikini pics in here!!!!

But, what is weird about this. When you google panniculectomy, I'm the seventh entry down. How sad for some person searching out this procedure and find me.

Not really panicking yet. But, give me time. I'm about to ditch work so I can get some things done. Anxiety will hit tonight, I'm sure. No food or drink after midnight and my surgery isn't until noon, so I'm going to be super hungry. Yuck.

Sexiest man alive

I swear to God. I almost creamed my pants last night when I drove into the garage after working 13 hours and saw my man bent over getting laundry out of the dryer and then loading it up with another clean load!!!

I didn't get home till 10 p.m. and he stayed up and made dinner for me, too. He had done a few loads of laundry, dishes, fed the kids, bathed the kids and put the kids to bed.

Wow. I'm so lucky. He's hot, too.

Star Wars family

We're all dorks. I admit it. Army of Dad and I were trying to find an 8 a.m. showing of Star Wars Revenge of the Sith to go watch before I have to go to the hospital at 10:30 a.m. for surgery in the morning.

*rolling my eyes*

Bad thing is ... I thought of that about a month ago when we scheduled the surgery. One of the first things I thought about with the date scheduled was "crap, there goes getting to see Star Wars the first weekend."

I'm such a goober.

But, here are some examples of the dorkdom that I'm instilling in my children. I got Hot Rod a new light sabre for his birthday and he got some space ships from Uncle Uzz and his big brother. Here is the comic con we went to last October.

I have one of me and LabKat with Darth Vader, too. I posted it here before. I'll link to it in a comment. We were making really tasteless remarks questioning him if that was a light sabre in his pocket or if he was happy to see me and I think the other one was something about most men don't breathe heavy until I get them out of their cloaks. In the infamous words of Bugs Bunny: Ain't I a stinker?

Spin it, you must

Yoda couldn't say it better himself. But, media hype, public relations folk seek. Yessss.

One must not succumb to not riding the tails of Darth Vader's cloak.

Even the airport has gotten into it. See the press release below:

Watchout for Wookies, Stormtroopers and Darth Vader as Star Wars fans line up at
DFW Airport for their first glimpse of DFW International Airport’s new Skylink Train
Thursday, May 19, 2005
Meet at Terminal E-35 security checkpoint at 9:30 a.m. CDT
All media must pass through security before 10 a.m. photo opportunity
Skylink will launch its maiden voyage Saturday and members of two North Texas Star Wars fan
clubs will get a sneak peak at the galaxy’s largest airport transit system following their viewing
of the latest Star Wars episode. Club members dressed as their favorite Star Wars characters
will find out whether Skylink can match the Millennium Falcon’s record of the Kessel Run in less
than 12 parsecs. With Skylink, connecting passengers can reach their gates without Ewoking
for long stretches. Come C3PO for yourselves.

Then, a friend sent me this story she found:

Yoda: Recycle You Must, or the Dark Side You Invite; Earth911.Org's Top Five Ways to Recycle & Reuse Star Wars Souvenirs
PHOENIX--(BUSINESS WIRE)--May 17, 2005--Darth Vader won't just leave dead Jedi in his wake when Star Wars: Episode III debuts Thursday, May 20th. He'll also leave a mountain of plastic action figures and toys, thousands of used lightsaber batteries and tons of Star Wars paper packaging.
"We love Star Wars as much as anybody, but it doesn't mean we should emulate the destructive power of the Death Star by harming the environment," said Anne Reichman, Director of, the nation's largest portal for local environmental action and information. "Most people don't know that these types of figurines can't be recycled, not even little Yoda. In fact, almost all of these toys will sit in landfills until long after we're gone."
It's estimated that more than 250 million Star Wars action figures had been sold by 1999 alone, the year Episode I: The Phantom Menace was released. Given an average weight of .73 ounces per figurine, calculates the total to be more than 5,700 tons, the equivalent of approximately 1,453 Hummer vehicles. (Weight figures based on Episode III figurines: Anakin Skywalker = 0.8 ounces; Obi-Wan Kenobi = 0.8 ounces; Yoda = 0.6 ounces.)
"Fortunately, much of the other Star Wars paraphernalia and its packaging can be recycled," added Reichman.
To help fans resist the Dark Side, released its Top Five Ways Star Wars products and packaging can be safely recycled or reused right in your neighborhood. Based on zip code, people can search to find local recycling and reuse sites for hundreds of household products.
1. Most lightsabers - imitation ones, anyway - are built like flashlights and include batteries. These batteries can be recycled and properly disposed of by dropping them off at a local recycling center that accepts these items. Certain batteries contain highly corrosive materials that are extremely harmful to people and the environment, and should be recycled through municipal or commercial programs.
2. In the unlikely event that a Star Wars video or DVD loses its appeal, they can be recycled through a variety of local programs or donated to libraries.
3. Star Wars clothing may be donated to the Salvation Army or GoodWill for children whose families wouldn't normally be able to afford this merchandise.
4. Product packaging, which often outweighs the product it holds, can be recycled through local paper and plastic conservation programs.
5. When Star Wars figurines eventually end up at the bottom of the toy box, they can be donated for reuse through various local organizations, such as schools and daycare facilities.

*rolling my eyes*
Do we REALLY need someone to give us these tips. I do all of these things with the exception of the batteries. Oops. I will work on that.

May the force be with you.


Quote of the century

Britney and Kevin went on Ellen today.

Britney married a man who is her mental equivalent. Brilliant match.

Quote about the attention the former back up dancer gets now:

"I'm just happy with who I'm with. I love her and everything else is whatever."


Even gals with no boobs can get breast cancer.

Make sure you get your annual exams and if you're over 35 with a family history - have your mammogram.

Reminds me, I need to make my follow-up appointment to check my lump next month. Keep your fingers crossed that it hasn't grown.

Two more days till surgery.

No time to blog. Work is demanding.



It is Monday morning and the work week will be short, but just means I have to cram five days of work on three different jobs into three days. Yuck. Oh well.

Hot Rod's birthday party was Sunday evening and it was fabulous. He had a ball. Will post pics later tonight. Off to get the kids up and ready for the day. I've already done some laundry, gathered and taken out the trash, caught up on a month's worth of emails (I think) and written some thank you notes and my list of things to accomplish this week.

Living up to my tagline.


Third place

I think Army of Dad's chest may burst with pride. Our big soccer team played in the local association's tournament this weekend and finished in third place. It was sort of a bittersweet "win" because we didn't win a game. We took third by way of scoring the most goals in our bracket. We're a rec team playing against academy (pre-select) teams and holding our own. We feel pretty proud of this group of kids that were tossed together competing against kids who pay their coaches and have to try out to be on a team.

Here is AoD and our big boy with his third place trophy.

I forgot to take the camera to the soccer fields and it figures that the boys would place today.

I love Kasey

Bullseye at American Drumslinger had a post just for me.


Nothing says burgers like Paris Hilton


Did I miss something?

Apparently Carl's Jr. thought the best way to market its burgers is through this image:

In this photo released by Carl's Jr., socialite Paris Hilton is shown in a scene from an upcoming ad for the restaurant chain. In the 30-second spot, Hilton is shown eating The Spicy BBQ Six Dollar Burger while washing a Bentley in her swimsuit. (AP Photo/, Jeff Vespa)

She's going to eat the burger and say "That's hot."

*rolling my eyes*

I'll never eat a Happy Star again. (not that I get to now since we have no Carl's Jr. within 100 miles or so).


Remember the movie Scanners?

That is what my head is going to look like shortly.

Calgon, take me away!!!

I may implode before the day is over.

I came in this morning thinking today would be a light day. Nothing on my calendar. Hooray. But, alas, nothing good lasts forever.

I get an email telling me that I have to write all of the copy for our new international terminal gala program by May 23. I literally spit all over the monitor when I got that email. So, at lunch, me and the bossman formed an outline over chicken nuggets and waffle fries. I think May 30 was okayed by both of us as the target completion day. Even if I wasn't going to be in the hospital on May 19 and 20, that would only be five days to get it completed. I'm good people, but tartar sauce. Add to this, my chamber pub deadline is also May 19. The procrastinating reporter in me hasn't even cracked that stuff open yet. I have to work tonight, soccer tournament all day tomorrow, work tomorrow night, birthday party Sunday.

I'm not supposed to take any painkillers between now and the operation. I may have to break that rule as my forehead may explode soon if I don't.

Add to that, my boys asked me AGAIN this morning when my job would end. Pickle is smart. He knows that the construction project is done in July, so he thought that meant mom would be done by July. Alas, no. Probably not until September, my young lad. Both boys let out whines and said they were ready for mom to be home. No more than I, my dear boys. No more than I. Army of Dad is also less than thrilled, too. I work EVERY weekend in June. And, no, I don't get overtime.

Oh yeah, I forgot that I have a story due for another magazine, too. Great. Wish I was under anesthesia right about now.

I still hate manpurses

Went to the bathroom and saw some dude priss in with a manpurse. *shuddering*

Dude - a backpack or briefcase. Trust me. You'll look WAY more masculine.

Soccer pics

Uzz has some great soccer pics up of our older team. Go take a look-see at my little Boo. Well, he isn't so wee any more. *sigh*

The big team has its last tourney of the season Saturday. Then, we get a break for a while. Coach Army of Dad wants to play in a July tourney. It will be hot as hell then, but whatever makes him happy.

I'm taking him to see Kicking and Screaming at some point. The previews crack me up.


Wild Wonders

As a special treat for the elementary school book fair, the PTA booked the Fort Worth Zoo's Wild Wonders to come to the school tonight. It was so much fun. The kids had a blast and we all learned something. The zoo folks, Blanca and Rick, brought eight animals: Betty the Burmese python, a kinkajou (missed its name wranging my own zoo of children), a black-footed penguin named Oscar (my favorite), Splash the alligator, Sammy the springhaas, Remington the red-tailed hawk, Kenya the serval cat and Mac the blue and gold macaw.

It didn't seem too sexual at the time, but looking at my picture again and all I can think is that is one impressive snake there buddy. Uzz is in the background not looking too thrilled with this critter.

Oscar the penguin is actually a girl. She's 17 and brays for her sound. Was funny to hear. Learned something new tonight. These penguins have three eyelids. The third one is clear and moves sideways and allows the penguins to see while they swim underwater.

Here was the little gator. Stinkerbelle liked the "ayigator."

She also liked the "birds." Check out the groovy clock on the cafeteria wall.

Macaws evidently are good pets, but they only bond to one person and are hard to care for by anyone else. This one kept saying Barbara. That was the lady who it belonged to before the zoo.

Now, you had to know there would be kid pics. Here is Stinkerbell jumping. She says "dump, dump, dump" while jumping. Forunately, she wasn't "dumping," too.

Another piece of trivia for you: Hawks have no gizzards, so they cough up "owl bits" and if you take these things apart, you can actually put the bones, etc, back together and tell what he ate. Interesting.

My mother's day

Finally managed to get the pics resized. Very cute ones of the kids. Stinkerbelle is pouty because she REALLY wanted to pick her nose in her pictures. Little fishstick.

They are too funny.


Walking through the terminal where the soldiers land for their R&R in the states and there was a group of about eight handsome young men in desert cammies.

My first thought:


Courtesy of the wannabe one-woman-USO.

One more week

I have a feeling certain things are going to dominate my thoughts for the next week or so. Next Thursday at noon, I am scheduled to go under the knife. I keep thinking of things that I had forgotten, but I forget them again soon after.

I do get to stay in the hospital overnight. Will make it hard to coordinate all the family's activities from the hospital, though. Addition: Jane made me remember. The doctor said this surgery will be a breeze compared to my c-sections because they won't be cutting into the muscle at all. So, that is awesome. Thanks for reminding me.

I'll have to blog about that stuff later.

The Byron Nelson is this weekend. I got to interview him and have my picture taken with him a few years ago. I got his autograph on the article, too. It is framed in my bedroom. I love it. He was a great old guy. Lives about 20 miles from me, too.

The Mavs fought back last night to tie up the series 1-1. Yippee. Wish the games weren't such late starts. I can't stay up to watch them.

Off to work some more. Damn work getting in the way of my blogging.


50,000 visits

I did it earlier today. 50,000+ hits to the site.

Thanks to everyone who comes to visit and tells their friends about me.


That is the name for the kind of tummy tuck type of procedure I'll have done next week. Funny. When the doctor tells you to "google panniculectomy and I'm sure you'll find all kinds of information." I liked that.

This is all very disjointed. But, that is sort of the way I'm feeling about this right now. I'll be more coherent later.

The plastic surgical procedure known as panniculectomy is designed to remove excess skin and body fat. The name derives from the 'apron' of abdominal fat and skin (abdominal panniculus, or pannus) that is sometimes found on patients suffering from obesity, or on patients who have experienced massive weight loss.

My massive weight loss was after three pregnancies. I gained 50 pounds the first pregnancy. 25 pounds on the second and third pregnancies. I lost all of the weight with the last two pregnancies, but kept about 20 pounds on after the first one. But, I am 5'2 and my stomach would get GIGANTIC even if the rest of me was small.

A panniculectomy may be conducted as a single procedure or combined with an abdominoplasty, depending on the patient's condition. However, panniculectomy is quite different from abdominoplasty (tummy-tuck). Abdominoplasty tightens muscle as well as removing skin and fat, but a panniculectomy deals exclusively with excess skin and fat. Liposuction (lipoplasty) removes only surplus fat, whereas panniculectomy removes surplus fat and skin.

I'll stay overnight in the hospital and they'll put a drain in my side to let out excess fluid. How is THAT for gross?

I found this little tidbit on the Internet:
As with all patients, provide emotional support throughout your patient's hospital stay. Remember that he may be embarrassed by his condition, so respect his privacy and help him maintain his dignity.

No kidding. Embarrassed? Really? I have lived with this for years and felt pretty disgusting. Yeah, I try to feel sexy and attractive, but it is hard sometimes with this "apron." Yuck. The doctor is going to cut out all that skin and affiliated fat. He'll cut out the c-section scar, which caused a lot of these problems. He'll pull the top of my stomach down to meet the skin down near my pubic area. He'll make me a new belly button, too. I'm sort of sad to see my c-section scar go. The doctor and Army of Dad were shocked at that comment. The nurse understood, though. Those are the battle scars from my three children. *shrug* I know, it doesn't make sense. Will miss my cute little belly button, too.

But, what is really weird is reading the post-op expectations the doctor gave me. Here's why:
"You scar will more than likely look its' worst approximately three months after surgery. It may be red, elevated and firm. This is the way our bodies normally heal ... It normally takes 12 to 18 months for a scar to reach its final appearance."

Three months? 12-18 months? Yikes. Worst part: NO SEX for at least a couple of weeks. 14 DAYS. NO SEX. OHMIGOD!

Doc said this procedure isn't as bad as a full fledged tummy tuck. I'll be driving in four to six days. Lifting the baby within a week or so. No baths for two months. That sucks. I LOVE MY BATHS!

*sigh* But, not more infections. No more flabby belly. I'll be a real hottie. Now, maybe my 10-year-old won't be telling me how much prettier his friends' moms are becasue they're skinny. Maybe. I'm not going to hold my breath.

The class clown

Class Clown
You are 14% Rational, 71% Extroverted, 71% Brutal, and 57% Arrogant.

You are the Class Clown. This means you walk down the center of the classroom with books on your head, while the teacher stares on in...

Shit, I really need to stop looking at these pictures while I'm typing.

Anyway, I MEANT to say that you are the Class Clown, and this means that you are extroverted, mean, and arrogant. You are not very rational, so you gravitate towards things that produce feelings or emotions over thoughts (like fart jokes or spitballs, for instance). You are also an extrovert and rather full of yourself, so of course you want constant attention for yourself and think you are somehow better than others. You can also be a bit mean-spirited, and like a class clown you wouldn't hesitate to make a joke at someone else's expense, no matter how terrible it would make them feel. So your personality defects are that you have to be the center of attention, that you don't care about others, and that you are rather irrational and motivated by intuitions. Now stop walking around with those books on your head and sit down this instant!

To put it less negatively:

1. You are more INTUITIVE than rational.

2. You are more EXTROVERTED than introverted.

3. You are more BRUTAL than gentle.

4. You are more ARROGANT than humble.


Your exact opposite is the Robot.

Other personalities you would probably get along with are the Smartass, and the Brute.

If you scored near fifty percent for a certain trait (42%-58%), you could very well go either way. For example, someone with 42% Extroversion is slightly leaning towards being an introvert, but is close enough to being an extrovert to be classified that way as well. Below is a list of the other personality types so that you can determine which other possible categories you may fill if you scored near fifty percent for certain traits.


If you're eating supper or have a weak stomach, don't go look at these pictures. I thought I'd look up the plastic surgery I'm having done next week. Did a search for the procedure and found these disgusting pictures and suddenly I feel like a million bucks. I don't look THIS bad before my surgery.

I think I just threw up in my mouth.

Disorganized and scattered

I am so Type A and usually the most organized person on the face of the planet. Throw in three children and a full-time job and I'm pretty much scatterbrained these days.

I'm actually starting to look forward to the completion of this project. It has been fun for a few months, but now I'm really starting to miss being home and staying on top of things. We took the kids to the airport Saturday for all the fun stuff, then to a Rangers game on Sunday. On the way home Sunday night, my 10-year-old says to me:

Mom, I really like the airport. But, when are you going to come home and pick us up from school again?

*arrow through the heart*

Soon, baby, soon. I don't think it can be soon enough at this point, though.


Opened up my Lord of the Rings daily calendar and Pippin is on there.

Normally that would be a grand thing. Not today. It is Pippin having some sort of seizure while the eye of Sauron is warping his brain when he is looking into that globe thing that Gandalf took from Sarumon.

Ack. I may have to turn the calendar around for the day.

*ED NOTE: Thanks Alli for catching my LOTR blunder. Apparently SOMEONE is a bigger dork than I am. *doing a curtsy in your honor and snickering at your dorkness*

Sad post

I have been putting off writing this for a few days and can't avoid it any more. On Monday evening I got the email below from my sister-in-law in Indiana:

Hi everyone,

I'm sorry that I have to tell you bad news in an email. Chris and Stacie's 8 year old daughter, Lauren, died this morning. She had been released from the hospital into hospice home care about 10 days ago. Lauren died at home with Stacie and the hospice nurse in her room. Today also happens to be Chris' birthday. Stacie did not know what day the memorial would be but I can get that information to you once I find out more. Please pray for their family--Chris, Stacie, Marissa (7) and Sarah (3) as their family mourns and adjusts to life without Lauren. Lauren would have been 9 on June 5th so the next few weeks will be emotional for them. This family has been through so much in the past year with Sarah's cancer diagnosis and now the lose of Lauren. Thank you for showing your love to them.

I first blogged about this family when the baby was diagnosed with cancer last summer. They were already coping with Lauren's medical conditions. Things seem to look up for the family when Sarah's prognosis was good. She is doing well, but now they are coping with the loss of their oldest daughter. From what I understand, they knew this day would come for Lauren. But, knowing death is approaching never makes losing a child easier, I would think. Makes me feel bad for taking my beautiful healthy children for granted.


Another note to self

Get more sleep.

I just went to the ladies' room and discovered that I put my panties on inside out while getting dressed this morning.

Thankfully, the little pieces of string (as my mother calls them) don't really make that big of a difference if they are right side out or not.

*sigh* I hate being an airhead.

Orgasm Day

One of my friends from high school sent this story to me:

'Orgasm Day' Celebrated As Official City Holiday
POSTED: 7:32 am CDT May 10, 2005
RIO DE JANEIRO, Brazil -- It was Orgasm Day Monday in Espertantina, a small town in northeast Brazil.
Mayor Felipe Santolia said his town has unofficially celebrated orgasm day for years. But this year is the first when it was recognized as an official municipal holiday.
Santolia said the idea is to improve marriages. Santolia notes that when a woman is unsatisfied, it affects all aspects of her life, including her relationship with the city. Santolia added that Monday's official holiday was to celebrate "orgasm in all its senses."

Damn, a politician who has figured something out. I try to make every day Orgasm Day because if momma ain't happy, ain't no one happy.

Going under the knife

Well, it is only nine days away.

*insert deep sigh here*

I know it is going to be great in the long run, but I'm getting so nervous that I may puke several times in the next week. Hey, new weight loss program to accompany my *excision, excess skin and subcut tissue (incl. lipectomy) abdomen*. (psst, in other words, it is a tummy tuck). That drawn out explanation is what it read in my insurance approval letter.

I know I'm going to look better and I'll get the *ahem* excess skin issue fixed. But, I'm scared. I go to the surgeon tomorrow for my pre-op consult. I am hoping he alleviates some of my fears, but I worry that they will only increase my anxiety level when I know more.

Gees. I wish I could earn money from worrying. I'd be a millionaire. No, a gazillionaire.

I'm a slut

This quiz confirmed it. Stole the quiz from LabKat.

Your Passion is Blue

You are a total dream in the bedroom.
Sex is a fine art for you - and you're a total Picasso in your pleasure making.
You like to build things up slowly, savoring each moment.
And you'd never think of skipping foreplay or afterplay... they're part of the package.
Although sometimes I do skip the before and after just because I want to get to the good stuff and then go to sleep when I'm done. There, again ladies and gentlemen, I have earned my honorary man card.

Apples and oranges

I saw a bumper sticker today that said "You can't be pro-life and pro-war."

I think these people are mistaken.

First off, I think pro-life and pro-war are both oxymorons and let me tell you why.

I believe that women shouldn't kill their unborn babies. That doesn't make me pro-life because I also believe than the most heinous of criminals - like killers and rapists - should be put to death. I also believe that insurgents, terrorists, whatever you want to call them, don't deserve to breathe my oxygen either. However, I don't believe that ANYONE is pro-war. There is a time and a place when you have to defend yourself and your way of life even if that means to the death.

I know that the bumper sticker was aimed at people like me and I'm sure this gal would think I hit the crack pipe because of my beliefs. I feel the same way about her. It is highly unlikely that I'm going to change anyone's opinions and damn near impossible for anyone to change mine. But, I think what we're doing will have long-lasting implications on the prospect of peace in the Middle East. I truly do. We're seeing results already in many countries. It isn't going to happen overnight, but what big changes do? It is like dieting. Life sucks when you first start a diet. It still sucks while you're struggling to fight cravings. It sucks when you go without and don't see any results for a long time. It sucks when you have to start working out. But, then, one day, down the road. You see small results. A pant size is lower. Maybe your weight is five pounds less. Then, eventually, if you stick with the painful life-altering changes, you can see the long-term benefits of your efforts and it will have been worth it. But, if you give up, you'll be as fat as you were before or worse. Poor analogy, but you get the idea.

Anyway. I think it was a dumb bumper sticker. So, there.

Please don't flame me too bad. If you think I'm off base, you will find brethern here.

Maternal instincts are strong

A stray mama dog in Kenya saved an abandoned baby she found by dragging the bag the baby was in to the place where she was caring for her own puppies. Some neighboring children heard the baby cry and alerted adults. Evidently, abandoning babies is not that unusual in Kenya and most people aren't caught and prosecuted. God help those precious babies.

I'm Sally Fields

You like me. You really like me.

Or maybe you hate me and you just show up to be a troll.

But, regardless, I am at a little more than 49,000 site visits right now. Sometime this week, I should hit 50,000.


I'm averaging about 450 or so hits a day. You people must be bored. I have discovered that I have a readership from my home town of Kennedale. *in my best Heehaw voice* SALUTE! Army of Dad said that constitues about 50 of the hits. Hardee har har. This coming from the small town Minnesota (and later in his childhood, Florida) boy.

Thanks. Stay tuned for updates. You can also go to the site meter on the blog to see the progress.

Note to self

Rinse out bathtub BEFORE running bath water ... after the kids have taken a bath.

I don't know what these children do all day, but there is all kinds of crap floating around in my bath water right now after bathing them last night.

Eww factor: 7 on a scale of 1-10


My birthday

Ever wonder what your birthday says about your personality? Mine isn't too flattering, I don't think.

Your Birthdate: November 7
Born on the 7th day of month gives you a tendency to be something of a perfectionist and makes you more individualistic in many ways.
Your mind is good at deep mental analysis and complicated reasoning.
You are very psychic and sensitive, and you should usually follow your hunches.

You may not take orders too well, so you may want to work alone or in a situation where you can be the boss.
This birthday gives a tendency to be somewhat self-centered and a little stubborn.

What Does Your Birth Date Mean?


Come on, ride the train

Just gotta sing that song whenever we talk about riding the train. My boss is so fired for that one. He started it.

Here is my family getting ready to ride the train. The kids loved it.

Someone gets paid for this

How do I get invited to the sex conference?

The theme for the society's four-day conference is "Unstudied, Understudied And Underserved Sexual Communities." Presentations range from discussions from autoerotic asphyxiation, or "breath play," to zoophiles, or animal lovers, to more mainstream topics like sex motives of dating partners.

Eww. Isn't that how Michael Hutchence died? Autoerotic asphyxiation? Zoophilia sounds nasty to me. I learned what scat play was the other day. Not firsthand. Eww. In case you didn't know, it is poop stuff during sex. What could be exciting about that?

Even for me. The furry-fascinated hobbit lover ... won't go there. No sir. No way.

I love it

We were watching Family Guy tonight and they started it off like Law & Order. It was great. Show has been really funny, too. We love Baby Stewie.

Baseball, ice cream and chickens

That was my Mother's Day. Not a bad combination, overall.

LabKat and JS got us free tickets to the Rangers game and they were spanked the Indians 7-2. THe kids did pretty well. It was Stinkerbelle's first ball game and only the second Hot Rod has been to. We discovered $1 ice creams. That was good and bad. Good that they were cheap, bad that we ate many of them. Reliant had a free photo booth that we had pictures made at. We can access them tomorrow. I'll definitely post them. Stinkerbelle kept shoving her finger up her nose, so those will be amusing pictures. The boys had pictures looking like baseball cards. Should be be funny.

We were up in the really high, top of the stadium seats, but they had a great view of the Ballpark. I don't know if I can ever call it Ameriquest Field. I guess, eventually, I"ll do it.

Here is Soriano at bat.

After we left, we took my mom home and hung out there for a while. Here is Pickle chasing chickens at my parents'.

Here is the one he caught.

Here is a delighted Stinkerbelle and her Granny. She was sort of scared of the chicken, but then she was ok.

PaPa was loving his little girl, too.

He even taught her a golf swing.

All in all, a good Mother's Day. Except for now. It is raining and the kids are being little fishsticks.