The one that makes you want to go kiss the feet of your child's teacher

I was asked a while back for some funny teacher stories. Now, I have many, shall we say, MOMENTS, that stand out in my memory. I'm not sure if they can actually be classified as 'funny'...maybe more like 'unbelievable', 'gross', or 'bizarre'. But here you go anyway.

Besides my college practicums, my first real teaching experience was student teaching, which I did with Kindergarten and fourth grade.

In the fourth grade classroom, there was an incident during my first math lesson, which was about counting back change. I got a little flustered, and the kids seemed very confused with the way I was trying to explain things, so I called on my cooperating teacher (who was observing from the back) to help me out.

She obliged, and one of the students (a blonde-ringlets-Nelly Oleson-type) said, "Miss X, you need to learn how to teach math by YOURSELF, because when you're a real teacher, Mrs. Z won't be there to help you." I picked up my jaw from the floor, informed her that she was being rude, and then went home that evening and cried my eyes out. I'm a little sensitive like that.

After student teaching, I got a job teaching Kindergarten in a district about an hour from my home. I taught there for two years and came across some verrrry interesting students during my time there.

There was Michael, who tried to stab me with some scissors, and gave me bruises on my shins the first day of school when I made him stand up for the Pledge of Allegiance.

There was Ciera, who brought a hedgehog for show and tell.

Ah, and Chole (pronounce 'Cole'), whose parents came into Meet the Teacher night wearing cut off shorts and reeking of smoke, and then informed me (while all UP in my face) that "They didn't do no holidays." I've had plenty of experience with Jehovah's Witnesses, who don't let their children celebrate holidays, birthdays, or say the Pledge, and I have no problem respecting their wishes.

However, this was not the case this time...these people explained to me that they "weren't Witnesses, they'd just read the Bible and did what God told 'em, and he didn't say nothin' about no HOLIDAYS. I mean, I don't want none of that Mother's Day shit...arent' you supposed to love your mother ALL YEAR ROUND? And Miss X, don't you think we should be thankful all year, not just on Thanksgiving?"

Oh, yes they did. And keep in mind, I had a classroom full of other (normal!) parents and students in my classroom waiting to meet me. You can only IMAGINE the notes I got from that family during the course of the year (my principal just rolled his eyes when he saw another note coming from them), and I finally had to whip out my iron fist and prepare for battle with the parents when I heard Chole tell another Kindergartener, while coloring a picture of Santa, "My dad says Santa is the devil working inside you." Gah. Seriously. WTF?

Then there was Joe, who was my first, and unfortunately nowhere NEAR the last, experience with vomit in the classroom.

There was Brett, who I accidentally left locked outside on the playground during a tornado drill (It was a drill! A drill!). I also "lost" Brett one afternoon after school, causing me a full hour of sweating, pacing, and seeing my teaching certificate flashing before my eyes, before it was discovered that he just decided to get on a different bus to go home with a friend. What can I say? He was EXTREMELY short and easy to misplace.

David, whose mother wrote me a vicious letter for letting him get red icing on his new shirt (it was Red Day, for God's sake...read the newsletter!!!) Ooh, and David also pooped in the hallway once. Good times.

And you've got to love the student (though he wasn't mine) named "Tyleiore" (pronounced "Tyler"). I bet he's applied for an official name change by now.

But my favorite story from that particular school was not about one of my students...he was the student of the next-door teacher, who was also a first year teacher right along with me.

One day on the playground, Cody was hanging around me while I had recess duty and we were visiting. I said, "What work does your mommy do?"

"She makes medicine."

"Oh, is your mommy a doctor?"

"No, she makes medicine at home."

Beginning to get curious, I said, "How does she do that?"

"She gets it from the back yard and she puts it in the oven. Then she puts it in a bag and it's her medicine!"

Oh dear.

And if you can believe it, I taught for five more years after that. I think that's enough stories for today, though there's CERTAINLY more where those came from.

Project Baby 3.0

Well, now I can't tell who asked what last week because The New Blogger ate all the names off of your comments. But I'm answering some more questions anyway.

Today's topic? Baby #3. Let's get started!

Since you have one of each, do you have a preference whether it's a boy or a girl this time?

When I was pregnant with Garrett, I wanted a girl so bad I couldn't even see straight. Of course I only truly wanted a healthy baby, but I couldn't help having a preference. I didn't want to feel ANY sense of unhappiness or disappointment because of something as petty as the sex of the baby, so we chose NOT to find out. And after 24 hours of labor and 3 hours of pushing, did I CARE what sex the baby was? No! Okay, maybe a little. But I was delighted to have a son and could not imagine my life without my little boy in it.

When Garrett was 10 months old, we got pregnant for the second time. We knew right from the beginning that we would again choose NOT to know the sex until delivery day. I had myself believing I was carrying another boy, so when the doctor announced that it was a girl, my response was, "Are you teasing me?"

Not knowing the sex of the baby was such a beautiful mystery, and it felt delightfully old-fashioned, in the age of ultrasounds and babies named before you even meet them. I didn't have to limit my pregnancy daydreaming to 'boy' or 'girl'...I had the luxury of giving equal thought to what life might be like with either. It really wasn't inconvenient, either. We bought lots of green and yellow, did the nursery in Pottery Barn's "Bunnies" line, and made lists of boy names and girl names.

However. All that said, I think that we ARE planning on finding out this time, much to the delight of most of our friends and family, and much to the chagrin of Donna. Our reasons? We'd like to be able to prepare Garrett and Laura a little better, and figure out who's sharing a room.

We also feel like we've had the "surprise" experience, and since this is our last child, we'd now like to have the thrill of finding out as early as possible, like so many other couples do. We should be able to find out around the end of March.

And really, to answer the damn question already! There are pros and cons to each sex (blah to fixing TWO sets of little girl pigtails in the mornings! blah to having to squish TWO boys into Garrett's smaller room!), but I can honestly say that I don't care at all. I'm just delighted to be blessed with another pregnancy. *Insert ridiculously excited Paula Abdul clap here!*

What are you going to name that baby?

Well, seeing as we already used up our favorite boy name and our favorite girl name, um, I don't know. I have also had to rule out about 942 names due to my being a former teacher ("Daltons" are always trouble, and "Michael" is out because a "Michael" once tried to stab me with some kids' Fiskars...um, ditto for "Brandon") and also due to my husband's neverending list of psycho ex-girlfriends.

Garrett has suggested "Garrett", and Laura seems to prefer "Sarah" or "Flipper".

Some more realistic possibilities:

Boy: Landon or Benjamin

Girl: Grace or Madeline

What scares you the most about having three children?

Pretty much everything. The end.

Alright, fine. I'll give you my Top Seven:


1. Getting three small children in and out of the car and taking them places in public without A. Losing one or B. Letting one loose to be hit by a car or C. Being escorted out by security.


2. Labor and delivery. I know what is coming, and it is not good.


3. I'm afraid we'll end up with a cryer, like Laura was. She nearly drove us over the edge with the constant screeeeeeeaaaaaming.


4. I'm afraid of getting off of my sanity medications during the last trimester / nursing. I need to know that I will be able to hold it together for the sake of my older two children.


5. That I will never ever be able to lose the baby weight. I haven't lost the baby weight from the FIRST two, and this is just adding fuel to the fire. Rapidly.


6. I am worried that we will be shipped off to the poor house.


7. I'm sad about never being pregnant or nursing ever again. It's scary to think that that part of my life is coming to a close. Now all I will be left with is RAISING CHILDREN WHO WILL SOMEDAY BE TEENAGERS ALL AT THE SAME TIME.

And now, I leave you with this gorgeous picture:

(Baby DOES have a nose...don't know why it didn't show up in the picture)

Ode To My Husband

*A quick side note: Blogger has made me switch from Old Blogger to New Blogger. I hear that it's making some of your comments show up as anonymous. I have NOOO idea why. Grrr.*

I must tell you how happy I am that my husband is one of the "new generation" of men who gladly takes on his fair share of household tasks and child rearing, mostly without complaint.

After thirteen years together, seven of them married (yes, SIX years of dating...that's another story entirely), he has proven over and over what a lucky girl I am to have found him.

He vaccuums, he does dishes, he disciplines and entertains the kids, plus he works really hard so that I can stay home and watch Young and The Restless every day. Whoops, did I say that out loud? I meant so I can GIVE OUR CHILDREN THE BEST POSSIBLE START IN LIFE BY BEING A STAY AT HOME MOM. Yes. That's what I meant.

Hubby is especially great because on top of all that, he's not addicted to sports of any kind AND he's really handy around the house.

I also adore that he has a grasp on his "feminine" side...he will not readily admit it, but he totally knows what's going on with Young and the Restless and Desperate Housewives, and he reads my Cosmopolitan before I even get my hands on it.

However, it is possible he has taken it too far. A few nights ago I was about to doze off and he was doing his nightly channel flipping routine. I'm used to hearing him stop at some action movie, or maybe a repeat of Dirty Jobs. But not that night.

Annoyed by the laugh track I heard, I rolled over and asked WHAT he was watching.

Him - "It's 'The Suite Life Of Zach and Cody'. I really like this show!"

Me - "Oh, good LORD. Are you addicted to any other Disney sitcoms that I need to know about?"

Him - "Um, sometimes I watch 'Phil Of The Future', too. He has some really neat gadgets."

Me -*major eyerolling*

So I guess my main point is, you can learn something new about your spouse every day, even after more than a dozen years together. And then you can use that information to torment them mercilessly for weeks and even write an entire blog post about it.

*UPDATED* Just call me Crazy Mama, Maker Of Excuses

I wanted to blog every single day this week. I really did. You all seemed to enjoy Monday's Parenting Advice Post, and I was feeling quite inspired.

So Tuesday, I went to blog and found my internet service was down.

And Wednesday, it was STILL DOWN.

Then on Thursday, I had a work day, substitute teaching for my old school, in a kindergarten class. And let's just say that I have a whole new appreciation for teachers AND substitute teachers. Go out and get your kid's teacher a nice little gift, STAT. Seriously. That is some damn hard work. How did I used to DO that every day?

So anyway, it's Friday, and here I am. I am SO TIRED. I cannot seem to wake up. The 'morning' sickness of early pregnancy is over for the most part (although I'm still suffering a coffee aversion...I know! The HORROR!), but now I am having Sleeping Sickness.

My husband got Garrett up and going this morning, allowing me to sleep in until 8:30. You'd think since I fell asleep before 10 last night that I would wake well rested and energized, but no. At 9:30 I put the kids in front of Sesame Street and fell asleep for another hour.

As a matter of fact, I could lay down again RIGHT NOW. And I just might. Shamefully, it is 11 am and I still have jammies on, have not brushed my hair or put in my contacts, and I also discovered that when I showered yesterday, I forgot to shave my left armpit.

My dad and step-mom are taking our kids overnight tonight, and do I want to get dressed up and go to dinner and a movie? Uh, no. I'd like to sleep. Forever and ever, amen.

In other news, exactly one year ago today, I had The Worst Mother Moment Ever. On January 26, 2006, my 20 month old daughter fell off one of our newly purchased bar chairs and busted her nose open in two places.

It still makes my legs weak when I think about it. I was steps away from the kitchen, heard a huge crash, and that alarming cry of pain. I ran in and saw Laura standing in the kitchen with blood spouting out in giant arcs from her nose. Then she tried to run to me and fell in the puddle of blood.

Now, when my son was small, we had two ambulance visits before he even turned one. They were caused by an overly cautious and freaked out new mother, and there was NOTHING WRONG. In one case, it was just a busted lip that swelled a little and was absolutely no big deal but I called 911 because My God I thought he had knocked a tooth out and there was just so much blooooooood.

So anyway, with that in mind, I tried not to freak too bad, thinking, "It's just a bloody nose! I'll just put some pressure on it and it will stop!" So in my utter calmness, I grabbed a DIRTY DISH RAG and pressed it onto the wound, while screaming at my barely 3 year old son, "What HAPPENED? WHAT HAPPENED?"

He said, "I was just tryin' to clean her foot!" (A story he stands by to this day, by the way.)

I then took a better look at my screaming baby's nose and realized it was not just a bloody nose...it was not a whole nose anymore...it was completely severed in two places. There was a complete split right up the middle and on the left side. Oh yes. Let the freaking out begin.

Thankfully, my husband happened to be working in his downstairs office that day, and I began screaming for him at the top of my lungs, over and over. Then I commanded Garrett to go down and GET DADDY RIGHT NOW. He said, "I can't! The gate is shut!" So at least no one would be tumbling to the bottom of the stairs...what a relief.

Hubby heard my screaming and came leaping up the stairs. He started the car and loaded Garrett up, and thankfully put some flip flops on my feet as I was attempting to carry Laura to the car barefooted (oh, and did I mention that I hadn't brushed my teeth, fixed my hair, put a bra on, or gotten dressed yet? Seems to be a recurrent theme...).

I let Laura, who had stopped screaming and was eerily calm, sit in my lap on the way to the Emergency Room. On the way there, I varied between The Picture Of Motherly Calmness and Freaking The Hell Out. I started wondering if they could save her nose. I always thought it would be my rambunctious SON who would have scars on his face, not my baby daughter. Would she have to have surgery? Was her tiny nose broken? I balled my eyes out because I had BROKEN MY BABY. Would Child Protective Services come take the kids away? I was in MUCH worse shape than the bleeding infant on my lap.

So anyway, we got the ER, and I approached the front desk, attempting to stay composed. However, when the attendant asked non-chalantly, "So what happened, Mom?", I only managed to choke out, "Fell! Nose!" before dissolving into sobs.

They put Laura in a teeny tiny hospital gown with teeny tiny monitors on her, and informed me that a plastic surgeon was on his way. They asked if I would like for her to be held down while they stitched or if we wanted to have her sedated. We chose sedation, but that was the worst part of the whole deal.

They gave her Ketamine, which I was told is an animal tranquilizer that makes adults hallucinate, but that they didn't believe it had that strong of an effect on children. While administering the sedative, there were six doctors who stood silently and attentively, making sure she didn't have a serious reaction. As the drug took effect, Laura became very sleepy and loopy, and her eyes started twitching around. I've never been so scared.

I watched the doctor put seven stitches in her itty bitty nose, and she twitched, made moaning noises, and squeezed on my hand during the procedure. The Ketamine just sedates, but does not put you to sleep.

As she woke up, her speech was slurred and she acted very weird. But everything went as well as it could have, and the doctors were all very kind. CPS did not visit my house, and Laura wouldn't sit in the bar chairs for six months. And at almost 3 years of age, she has NEVER tried to climb out of her crib.

One year later. There is only the tiniest scar, but we think she is absolutely perfect!

You might be sorry you asked...

A few days ago, I was looking for some writing prompts. I think all of your ideas are going to keep me busy until next week!

So, the next question up is from Kellie:

I'd like some parenting advice :) My daughter is a year old, a VERY picky eater and won't drink milk for ANYTHING. Seems I should have her off a bottle by now? Giving her all sorts of foods? Good Lord, I am confused. And, saying "NO" 3,230 times a day is wearing REAL thin on me. Do you maybe have a spare owner's manual you could send me? Please?

While I'm totally flattered that someone would ask ME for parenting advice, let me just remind you of this.

And this.

Um, and this.

Yeah. So, that said, since my kids (somehow) made it past age one, I'll tell you what I did in those situations, Kellie.

My son could NOT figure out how to drink from a cup, regular or sippy. But around 15 months, I phased out all of the bottles except for the evening bottle and he was forced to either be thirsty or drink from the damn cup. Obviously, he figured it out. He was 17 months old when he had his last bottle. And we gave him milk (instead of formula) on the day he turned 12 months old. That gave us an extra fifteen dollars a week that I could save up for a Disneyworld vacation. Yes, I'm kidding. We spent it on liquor.

My daughter drank from a cup at about 7 months, and she took her last bottle around 12 months. The babysitter gets the credit for that one.

So my solution? Phase out the bottle...slowly replace all her daytime bottles with cups of MILK. Brace yourself for the screaming and whining and pouting for the bottle. She will drink it when she is thirsty enough, I promise. Don't let her break you...the next day will get easier!

As for foods...my daughter eats everything. I've actually seen her pick up paper shreds and give them a taste. We think she has a promising future in Competitive Eating. My son ate everything until he was three, which is when he began his toddler diet of gummy snacks, turkey pepperoni, and cheese.

But here is how I personally started them on solids (also, please remember that I have obsessive fear of my kids choking, so they may have started some things later than children with normal parents):

At 5 months, my kids got cereal.

At 6 months, pureed fruits and veggies.

At 8 months, finger foods (Cheerios, Gerber veggie puffs, banana pieces, etc.)

By 9 months, the chunky Gerber foods and fruit and veggie dices.

By a year, they were eating most everything.

So Kellie, slap some little pieces of lunchmeat, a cheese slice, and a banana on her plate and let her go at it! I bet she'll love it. And if that does not work, Cheese Puffs never fail.

And, for Kellie's last concern...getting tired of saying NO.

What works for me is to switch it up! My children now hear many variations of no:

Leave it alone!

You KNOW better!

I said quit!

Did you HEAR me?

Stop NOW!

I've HAD it with you!

Did your ears stop working?

What are you DOING?!?

I'm done. You can just fight it out yourselves.

Mommy needs to lay down. Now stay out of trouble. I mean it.

And friends, that is why I AM Mother Of The Year. I am thrilled that I could be of service.

I am a television whore

Bethany suggested that I blog about my favorites in television and movies. She does not realized what a can of worms she has opened.

Let me first make some excuses...I am well educated and love to read. My children love books, they have great imaginations, and I even do some educational things with them now and then.

But now, for my couch potato confession: The TV is ALWAYS ON IN THIS HOUSE. BOW TO THE TELEVISION.

TV and I go way back. It is my favorite comfort item, besides food (which is another issue in itself). Want to make me feel warm and cozy? Turn on a repeat of Little House on the Prairie.

So today, I give you my (really pitiful and GAH she watches waaaay too much TV) weekly lineup of shows.

DAILY SHOWS:
I do not, do NOT ever miss The Young and the Restless. I have watched it since I was four. Seriously. I scheduled my classes around the 11:30 to 12:30 time block when I was in college, and when I worked, I taped it religiously. I can throw an EXCELLENT tantrum if it does not tape for some reason.

I try to catch Oprah and Dr. Phil when I can, and I'm not up this late much anymore, but it's Letterman in this house...no Leno! My go-to channel when nothing else is on is the Food Network, which is probably not so good for my food issues. Ooh, and I love those "E! Hollywood Stories".

MONDAY:
CSI Miami - I'd elect David Caruso for president.

TUESDAY:
American Idol - I especially love the "audition" segment of the show, which just started this week. It is like a car accident...I just can't look away.

WEDNESDAY:
Lost - I am so confused with this show, but again, it has sucked me in and I have GOT to know what the hell is going on.

THURSDAY*:
The Office - This one makes me wet my pants a little. You have to watch this to be my friend.
Scrubs - Again with the pants wetting. You also have to watch this to be my friend.
ER - Still good, but I miss Dr. Doug.
CSI - I can NEVER peg the killer. I'm a little slow like that.
Survivor - I'm ready for a new season! But there will never be another season like the first with the Fat Naked Gay Guy (as we referred to Richard Hatch).
Ugly Betty - Very good new show! My husband hates it.
Grey's Anatomy - This is my first season to watch...thank you Silly Hily!
Ace of Cakes (on the Food Network)

*Yeah, Thursday is a big ass night for us around here. Do not call me on Thursday nights, for I will not answer. And don't you totally think I deserve a TiVo instead of having to set three VCR's? Help me convince my hubby!

FRIDAY and SATURDAY:
Trying to catch up on Thursday's shows!

SUNDAY:
Desperate Housewives - How can anyone NOT like this show?
The Apprentice
Cold Case
Without a Trace

So there. My shameful secret is out.

That damned, damned Mad Hatter cake

Wow! I asked for some writing prompts, and did you guys BRING IT or what? This should keep me busy for a while, and I'm definitely feeling the inspiration to write.

Also, judging from all the people hoping for some teacher advice, I am feeling like Former Teacher Of The Year right now, and am having the urge to flip my hair or something.

But first, I'll start with an easy question:

Donna said she couldn't ask the question she wanted to ask, and Erica wanted to know just WHAT that question was.

Well, I know what the question was. And I really did consider writing a post about it a while ago, but the wounds were just too fresh. But since Donna brought it up, I guess I might as well fill you in.

Remember the week of Cake Hell back in November and December? And that really difficult Mad Hatter Cake That Became Both The Bane Of My Existence AND The Crown Jewel In My Cake-Decorating Crown?

Well, when I went to assemble the cake at the party site, it went very well and rather quickly. However, the woman who had ordered it was not there, so I didn't get a reaction from her.

I must tell you that part of the joy of making cakes is seeing the face of the cake recipient. People are always happy to get cake! I mean, it's CAKE. And I, being one to enjoy pats on the back (so to speak), LIVE for the ego boost.

And you must know that some people give quite effusive praise...I once made cupcakes to look like basketballs, baseballs, and soccer balls for a woman who had never met me before (she had gotten a referral from a friend). When I delivered them, she squealed with delight, hugged me, and asked for a handful of business cards.

And THAT response was for CUPCAKES, people. So I envisioned the Mother Of All Cake Happiness for a Mad Hatter cake that took me $75 to make and a week to assemble.

So I waited. Waited for a little thank you note, a quick phone call, a short e-mail. But I got NOTHING. And I felt like I'd just been left hanging.

So four days after the delivery of that cake, I caved and called the woman.

Me: Hi, this is Stacey. I was calling about your Mad Hatter cake!

Her: Okay.

Me: Well, since I didn't get to visit with you Saturday, I just thought I'd call and see how you liked the cake. Did you enjoy it?

Her: Um, everyone seemed to think it was cute.

Me: Oh. Okay. Well, that's good. I'm glad to hear it.

Her: The thing is, it was just so, so dry.

Me: *poorly hidden laughter* Really? I have really never had a customer say that.

Her: Yes. The white layers were just so dry. The spice cake was fine.

Me: Well. I apologize for that.

Her: Okay. Bye.

That's right. Bitch said my cake was dry.

And since many of you have not been able to taste my cakes, let me just tell you, they ARE NOT DRY. To ensure they are ultra moist, I add whole eggs (instead of just whites, in the white cake), extra oil, and sometimes some instant pudding mix. I also freeze the cakes while warm, then ice them while frozen to seal in the extra moisture. And finally, they are covered in a good half inch of buttercream icing. My cakes are not DRY.

And here's one other little tidbit of background info...this woman who ordered the cake? She was first of all LATE with her order AND her deposit, and tried to talk me down on the price of the cake...she wanted to pay $2 a serving instead of $3, knowing full well that local bakeries are charging $6-$8 a serving for this style of cake. But do you know what she was driving when she paid me my deposit? A silver Mercedes and lots of gold jewelry.

I've come to the conclusion that nothing would have made her happy. Bah.

Hmmm. Thanks, Donna. Confession is good for the soul. I feel better now!

More tomorrow!

What HAPPENED to HER???

Hmm. That is a good question. My blog posts have been sporadic at best, as has any speck of humor.

I guess the answer would be that I have been alternating between sleeping off the first trimester of pregnancy and getting a little loopy on Percocets.

Before you call Child Protective Services, please know that I have switched back to Tylenol and the Percocet is hidden from me.

Ahem.

So, due to the recent lack of interaction with my children (shame, SHAME), combined with the inability to put in my contacts or fix my hair (much LESS go out in public, like to a STORE, and spend MONEY that the storekeepers would inevitably believe I DID NOT HAVE due to my slovenly appearance), um, I really haven't had much blog material lately.

I mean, really, the most amusing (and really, it can only be loosely classified as 'amusing'...I think it tends more toward 'depressing') thing that's happened around here in the last few weeks is that I had to commission my husband to shave my armpits. Ah, married love. It is a glorious thing.

And currently, as I write this, my son is looking at my hot chocolate, hollering "Is that POOP????", and my daughter is excitedly waving a booger in front of me. My life, it is chock full of excitement. Gah.

Good grief. Help a girl out here. Is there something you've always wanted to ask me? Advice you'd like me to give? A topic you think I should blog about? HELP! Get me out of my writing slump!

surgery, ice, and babies, OH MY!

THE HAND:
you're going to have to forgive the lack of capitals in this post...my ability to type is slowly returning, but reaching out my pinky finger to press 'shift' is still torture.

my husband took the hand dressing off yesterday, which was an hour long procedure involving peroxide, scissors, and tweezers. i will spare you the gruesome details.

i have heard from many people who've had carpal tunnel surgery, and they tell me, 'oh, it's instant relief! you'll feel so much better!' my question is WHEN??? no one told me about the pain involved. i think i'm on cake decorating hiatus for a month or two, not to mention hair-fixing, hair-washing, laundry folding, and dish washing hiatus. ouch ouch ouch!

a little side note about the actual surgery...i was fully awake and only received the local anesthetic. it was slightly painful, and extremely disturbing to be able to feel the tugging and pulling and to hear the grinding and snipping...my regards to all of you who have endured c-sections.

there was also the moment where the surgeon, after 10 minutes of digging around in my hand, said 'where did this COME from?? this is NOT working!" apparently she had the wrong sized tool, but that is NOT something you want to hear during surgery.

also, for those of you wondering, the mark on my wrist was to make sure they operated on the correct hand. it's still there, too. and YES, i've tried to wash it off!

THE WEATHER:
it is certainly a mess here in southern missouri! however, the ice is absolutely gorgeous to look at. we got very lucky at our house and only lost power for a few hours saturday night. most of our family in the surrounding areas have been without power and water for several days now, but they are stocked up on supplies and doing well.

it's like a circle of destruction all around our house, and i don't know why we got so lucky, but i'm thankful. and garrett's preschool is one of the few open today, which is just icing on the cake.

THE BABY:
luckily, our ob/gyn office was open yesterday for my first prenatal appointment. unfortunately, it was only the doctor and the receptionist who were there (no nurses), and we all know that it's the support staff that controls the world. so my routine workup and lab work did not get done (i'll go back in two weeks), and i didn't get a picture or CD of the baby on ultrasound, but i DID get to have a quick ultrasound!

i guess because i've already had two healthy, normal pregnancies, i've been extra worried that this pregnancy must be bound to cause me trouble. the odds just seem greater, for some reason.

my mind is now at ease, for at least the next few days, that everything is going just as it should. i'm ten weeks along, and our newest addition is currently one inch long, has a perfectly beating heart, and looks like a tiny teddy bear, with a big ol' head and tiny little arms and legs. there is just nothing like getting to see your child for the first time. that is one experience that could never lose it's thrill.

see you tomorrow!

things hard to do / impossible to do with one hand

eating

brushing teeth

going to the bathroom

opening medication

um, typing

changing a dirty pull-up

peeling an orange

buttoning the kids pants

putting laura in her crib

putting my hair in a ponytail

writing a check

handwashing dishes - wooo!

doing laundry - double wooo!

it's amazing how many simple tasks become difficult when you can't use your dominant hand...this is a very interesting lesson in "appreciating what i've got"!!!

typing 1-handed sucks

surgery went well!

anesthesia wearing off...ouch.

percocet is good.

be back soon!

and please keep de-lurking, i know you're out there :)

Bits and pieces, here and there

I had my pre-surgical consultation today. All went well and I am scheduled for carpal tunnel surgery on my right hand tomorrow at 12:30.

Due to my pregnancy, I will not get the really fun sedation drugs, but will instead be totally conscious and will receive a local anesthetic. Damn.

But! My Ob/Gyn has approved the taking of Percocet for the post-surgery pain. Wooo! I'll try to update tomorrow night, even if that means dictating to my hubby. But it IS possible that I will be too high on Percocet to speak. Kidding! Sort of.

Last night, we visited a cool new movie theater (The Moxie, on Walnut street for those of you who live around here...Andrea, you HAVE to go with me!), which shows mainly independent films. We saw the Dixie Chicks documentary, "Shut Up and Sing". It was fabulous...catch it if you have the chance!

And finally, now seems like the perfect time to do an old meme I was tagged for FOREVER ago...Six Weird Things About Me. Only six? Hmmm.

1. I cannot put really dirty dishes in the dishwasher. I pretty much wash them before I can put them in there. It really just serves as a dish SANITIZER.

2. I fall asleep best with the television on. Total silence keeps me awake.

3. I do not like for my foods to touch. At dinner, my husband will have one plate of food, and I'll have one plate, and two little bowls for my side dishes.

4. I actually have a junk drawer organizer. Hush.

5. The sound of brushing teeth makes me gag and makes me break out in goosebumps. So, I leave the water running to block out the sound.

6. I get truly panicked if I don't have my Carmex. I do not go ANYWHERE without it, and there is at least one tube in every major room in my house, plus my car and my purse.

Well, that's about it for tonight. Wish me luck for tomorrow!

Oh, and it's De-Lurking Week. So that means, if you've been hanging around here and have not been commenting, this is the week you are OBLIGATED to stop in and say hi!

To whom it may concern

Dear Toy Manufacturers:

We are drowning in toys. Specifically, toys with ridiculously small and numerous parts. We have tripped over them, had our feet stabbed with rogue Legos, and have finally just given up on the elusive Organization of said toys.

Do you SEE my house???


I mean, we did just have Christmas, and this IS the downstairs "toy room", but it's become such a nightmare that no one but my husband even ventures down there much anymore, and he only goes because his office is down there, God bless him.

I cannot afford for him to break his neck by falling over all this crap, yet I cannot seem to find the will to clean it up, either. The plastic fumes must be doing me in.

And so, Toy Manufacturers, I just want you to know how totally delighted I was to discover THESE among my children's excessive Christmas loot:

We ABSOLUTELY needed for our toddlers to own toys that are approximately the size of teeth. Baby teeth. Fabulous.

While Legos, blocks, and plastic baby doll bottles merely IRRITATE the soles of our feet and cause much swearing, I fear that these may actually puncture the skin.

So, thank you for your thoughtfulness! I mean, at least they are small enough to go down smoothly if someone gets a notion to put them in their mouth.

Ooh, and also? Just a note from here in Missouri, Meth Capital of the Nation...you might want to get on that crazy "politically correct" bandwagon and consider discontinuing THIS particular item:

What, is this part of the Make Your Own Pretend Meth Lab Kit? I know it's a fertilizer truck that came with a farm set and all, but I think a milk truck might be the better choice, at least around these parts.

Very Sincerely,

Crazy Mama

But can I start screaming "YOU'RE GROUNDED!" yet?

I would like to offer the photographic evidence that my two year old daughter turned fourteen last week.

Example #1: Get that camera out of my FACE woman. I will not LOOK AT YOUUUUUU.


Example #2: I haaaaaate this shirt that YOU picked out for me. I hate it because YOUUUU picked it out. And now I will THROW it at you. STUPID SHIRT.


Example #3: And now, I will LAY here and you can't MAKE me get up. And I'm still not wearing that SHIRRRRRT. My eyes are red and puffy and it is ALL.YOUR.FAULT.MOTHER.


Okay, so I embellished the dialogue in Laura's honor. The actual incident went more like this:

NONONONONO I DON'T WIKE THAT SHIRT!!!!!!!! AHHHHHHH! EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! NONONONONONO DON'T TOUCH ME! NOT THIS SHIRT I DON'T WANT THIIIIIIIS SHIRT! and so on, with much weeping and gnashing of teeth.

For an HOUR. Seriously. The girl's got stamina. And because I AM Mother of the Year, I laughed at her hysterically and enjoyed a cup of hot chocolate with the show.

And I know you might think, "Pick your battles, woman! Let her pick out her own clothes, if it's going to cause this much trouble! Nothing is worth an hour long temper tantrum!"

But then I'd have to just tell you what happens when my daughter is left to her own devices when it comes to fashion:


Um, is this the two year old's version of hot pants, knee boots, and half shirts? If so, we may be in for trouble.

And just to clarify, yes, those are her brother's underwear on her head. Gah.

Honk if you love Jesus!

After reading CPA Mom's latest blog entry today, it got me thinking about bumper stickers.

I love them, my husband detests them. I currently have two smallish ones that I snuck onto the rear window before he could protest.

One reads "It's a Buffett thing...you wouldn't understand", which replaced my old "Buffett for President" sticker. Ah, our love for Jimmy Buffett shall never end.

The other is a small MSTA (Missouri State Teacher's Association) sticker, just to let everyone know that I am (was?) a teacher, which I consider to be a very proud profession to be a part of.

But I really like getting a rise out of people, and what better time to accomplish that than while in the relative safety of your car, and while you can't actually be confronted with more than a honk?

So this afternoon, I spent a few minutes perusing a bumper sticker website and found a few I liked...

#1 - BARACK OBAMA, PRESIDENT '08 (or HILLARY '08)

#2 - Hillary TRIED To Warn Us About The Vast Right Wing Conspiracy

#3 - Conservatives Think Alike. The Rest Of Us Are Liberal.

#4 - The Dixie Chicks Had It Right All Along

#5 - "I hope you leave here & walk out & say, 'What did he say?'" - George W. Bush (with photo)

#6 - "I do not need to explain why I say things. That's being president." - G.W. Bush (with photo)

#7 - I Voted My Moral Values: Pro-Environment, Pro-Peace, Pro-Education

#8 - Bush Family Values: Your rights begin at conception and end at birth.

#9 - "This foreign policy stuff is a little frustrating." - G.W. Bush (with photo)

#10 - Bush and Sons, Inc. (Formerly the United States of America)

#11 - Jesus told ME he's sick of people putting words in his mouth

#12 - How can you be both Pro-life AND Pro-war?

#13 - Where is Kenneth Starr when we need him?

#14 - George W. - All Hat, No Cattle

#15 - Make election day a national holiday!

#16 - LIBERAL means FREE (look it up!)

If you're interested, I ordered #16. Let the honking begin (remember, I do live in the midst of the Republican-voting-shotgun-toting-Bible Belt...I fear that in these parts, 'liberal 'may actually mean 'HONK - HONK - JACKASS!!!').

Do you have any bumper stickers on YOUR car? What do they say?

Holidays are overrated, Part Two

...continued from yesterday...

Friday, December 22:

We pull into the in-laws driveway(Remember? The Martha Stewart-beautifully decorated-perfectly clean in-laws), and Garrett unplugs his nostrils long enough to tell us that his tummy hurts. Uh-oh.

We unwrap lots of wonderful gifts, the kids play their "delightful grandchildren" role quite well, and we sit down for dinner in the formal dining room. I hear Garrett yell from the other room, and arrive in the living room just in time to see him get a terrified look in his eyes and attempt to race from the living room (new hardwood) into Grandma and Grandpa's master bedroom / bathroom (new cream carpet).

Oh yeah. He did. But with my thoughts ONLY ON THE FLOORING, I grab his shoulders and spin him away from the carpet and onto the hardwood / oriental rug instead. Nothing says Merry Christmas quite like your only grandson vomiting all over your floor, right Grandma?

And then I proceeded to do what only a mother could have done. Gave him a bath (in the brand-new-never-been-used-only-for-resale-value-Jacuzzi tub), popped in a movie, snuggled him on the leather couch (with a towel underneath him), gave him a trash can, and went back to finish my dinner.

Just a few minutes later, I heard another call for help and settled in for Round Two. We decided to risk the throwing up in the car scenario and head on back home. So we packed up everything that we had just unloaded a few hours earlier, gave Garrett a trash can, and drove back to our house. Garrett fell asleep with his head in the trashcan.

We get home and tuck everyone in, and lay down for some rest to prepare for what is sure to be a long night. Unfortunately for the hubby and I, it was not Garrett who was up all night...it was US. Blech. ALL.NIGHT.LONG.

Saturday, December 23:

A blur. I dozed on and off all day, with weird dreams about unwrapped Christmas gifts and "A Christmas Story" (you'll shoot your eye out, kid!). Hubby spent most of his day in the bathroom. We call a friend to leave us some Seven-Up and bread on our porch. We're not exactly sure what the kids did all day. How did Charles and Caroline Ingalls MANAGE when they all had the fever 'n ague in their little house on the prairie??? And they had WOLVES on top of that. Gah.

Later in the evening, we get an emergency-ish call from the in-laws. I can't really share a lot of details here, but I can say that you should listen to the first few words of this song. There were some broken bones involved (not OURS, thankfully), and a very good friend who saved us with some spur of the moment babysitting for Garrett and Laura. Everyone is fine now, but let's just say that was NOT the best way to end a day of puking and fever.

And the presents did not get wrapped. But you probably guessed that.

Sunday, December 24:

Skipped church. Wrapped the damn presents (And do you know I was done with shopping a month ago? This is what happens when you try to be on the ball). Went to my mom's for Christmas #2 later in the afternoon. Opened gifts, smelled the food but couldn't eat it, and slept until we had to leave for Christmas #3 at my Granny's. Once again, opened gifts, smelled the food but couldn't eat it, couldn't wait to get home.

And oh yeah, we still had to put out carrots for Santa's reindeer, cookies for Santa (which Santa really did not feel up to eating), and all that crap Santa bought a month ago. Ho-ho-ho. Blech.

Monday, December 25:

Force down eggnog and donuts. Because it is CHRISTMAS AND I AM MISSING THE CHRISTMAS FOODS. My stomach is not happy with me. Back to Seven-Up and crackers.

Watch the children delight in their gifts and stockings. Most pleasant moment of the last few days, for sure. Then it's off to Christmas #4 at the husband's grandparent's house. We are able to stomach some of the delicious holiday treats.

Next we go back to my Granny's for Christmas #5 (stockings, games, and snacks). I sleep while the children run wild with cousins, and while hubby SPANKS the rest of the family in a heated game of Monopoly.

And then we go home and collapse.

Tuesday, December 26 - Present

What happened? Did we miss Christmas? What???? You say it's OVER?

I think it's safe to say that I may block out memories of this Christmas. Not the best we've ever had. The stomach flu sucks. Sucks big.

However, we spent the remainder of our vacation (hubby was off all week) sleeping, shopping, playing with Garrett and Laura, catching up on our eating, visiting some friends, and doing some home-improvement.

We also let two small children take control of the house with their stockpile of toys, drink soda, eat copious amounts of candy, watch unlimited DVD's, and go napless on occasion.

And now, here I am. The hubby is back at work (I fear he may never come home), and I am supposed to undo the damage done during our week of non-parenting.

Um, anyone want to babysit?

Holidays are overrated, Part One

Hello? Anyone there? You thought I was never coming back, didn't you?

My emails are caught up. My Bloglines are clear. The holidays are over. The closets are reorganized. The stove top drip trays are cleaned, for goodness sake. I have NO more excuses for avoiding blogging.

So after fourteen days of no blogs, I guess I'll fill you in on all the latest with A List:

Tuesday, December 19:

I'm in charge of crafts and a snack at my son's preschool Christmas party. All goes well, though the Baby Angel Sugar Cones were not as easy as Sandra Lee had me believe while watching "Semi-Homemade" on the Food Channel.

Go to a Christmas ornament exchange with girlfriends. Spend half of evening on phone with the Nurse Line, trying to determine if my swollen elephant ankles are cause for concern. The results? Watch my salt intake (hmmm...maybe I should have reconsidered ordering the giant Buffalo Chicken Sandwich and fries?) and keep my feet up (hahahaha...they MUST be kidding).

Wednesday, December 20:

Spend day trying to finish last minute Christmas preparations, finish an order for three dozen decorated sugar cookies, and bake rum cakes for friends. Avoid wrapping gifts at all costs.

By 8 p.m., I'm still working on the cookies, my ankles have puffed up again, and the children are trying to get out of clean-up duty by telling us their "tummies hurt". Not to be fooled by the tummy excuse, we tell them to GET CRACKING. NOWWWWW.

8:15 - Laura projectile vomits all over Daddy and the carpet. Ooh. Now I feel bad. Leave unfinished cookies, bathe and rock Laura.

8:45 - Round two.

9:00 p.m. - 7:00 a.m. - Rounds three through six. Cookie order still unfinished.

Thursday, December 21:

Wake up at 6:00 a.m. to go to a doctor appointment. I have suspected carpal tunnel in my hands for four years, and it has now gotten so bad it is waking me up at night. The "Nerve Conduction Study" sucks big time. Yes, please hook me up to electrodes and shock the crap out of me! And absolutely, go right ahead and do my left hand for comparison! I do have carpal tunnel and will have a "corrective procedure" (read = outpatient surgery, and I am a total wimp when it comes to things like this) on January 9th.

Go home and disinfect house. Complete cookie order, telling children every two seconds NOT TO BREATHE ON THE COOKIES OR RUM CAKES. Because spreading the stomach flu through baked goods would pretty much be the end of my baking career.

Put Laura, who will only drink grape juice (do you already know where this is going?), down for an early nap, per her request (I tiiiiired, Mama). Hear screaming 45 minutes later and go retrieve her from her crib, where I find that she has thrown up bright purple all over her crib and wall (but NOT on my carpet - score!).

Friday, December 22:

Up early again to get some lab work done. I'm still concerned about the nausea, swelling, and my unquenchable thirst, and it has been suggested that I should have my blood sugar tested. It is normal. So I guess this just means that I'm going out of this pregnancy business with a real bang. I knew I had it too easy the last two times.

All is well at home. Garrett has miraculously avoided whatever bug Laura contracted, and Laura has recovered. I'm feeling pretty nauseated, but that's nothing new these days (shout out to the makers of Tums, saltine crackers, and gummy snacks - you ROCK!).

Spend the morning preparing to go to the in-laws (in Branson) for Christmas #1 that afternoon. Still have not wrapped gifts. Wrap only what I need for Christmas #1, will do the rest tomorrow! PLENTY of time left.

We get our rum cakes delivered and head to the in-laws in the afternoon. My mother in law has the cleanest and most beautifully decorated house ever, and she really revels in putting on a totally perfect Martha Christmas. So you know how delighted I was that the children discovered a new talent as we were just minutes from arrival - singing the ABC's with their index fingers plugging up their nostrils. I knew we were in for a fun evening...

Come back tomorrow for the thrilling conclusion...