An October post

Tonight Emma hopped (literally) into bed and as I was turning her lava lamp on and her ceiling fan light off she suddenly freaked out, punted her comforter across the room and began hyperventilating, flying around the room and shrieking that there was a SPIDER!  A SPIDER!  IT HAD SHINY LEGS AND AN EVIL GLINT IN ITS EYES AND IT JUMPED ON ME FROM MY WALL AND AAAARRRRGGGHHHH!!!!

I tried to recruit Army Man for the Great Spider Hunt of 2011 but he was not amused by the waves of female hysteria in there and quickly left after a quick once-over with the flashlight.  Instead Supermommy spent the next 45 minutes searching for any evidence of a man-eater in her room.  Not a small task since the child is a SLOB and there was crap everywhere. (I now understand why my mom made sure all of the kids' rooms were upstairs so that she could keep the downstairs clean and pretend that the upstairs didn't exist.)  I somehow got suckered into cleaning her whole damn room for her, moving her bed out of the way (there were entire bags of candy wrappers under there! no wonder the kid never eats dinner!) and vacuuming every inch of floor and along the baseboards just to make SURE that we Dysoned any eight-legged crawlies.  The whole time I was doing this she was perched on top of her desk and howling.  Missy was barking insanely outside the closed door because the vacuum is EVIL.  (I'm sure the neighbors loved that this late at night.)  And did I see a spider? 

No.

Being a parent is so fun sometimes.

I finally convinced her to get back into her bed because there was no way that Mr. Leggy survived all of that suckage.  I lay down beside her and was rubbing her back as she described it's EVIL legs, and how it was SNEAKING toward her just before it jumped on her when she got suddenly quiet. 

"What Emma?"

She began to laugh sheepishly. 

"Um, Mom?  I think it was a trick of the light.  I don't think it was a spider.  I just realized that the spider I imagined was exactly like one I saw on TV.  Oops!"

Let's just say that Mama wasn't laughing and we are now selling all of the TVs.

Now she's snoozing away peacefully in her room, which is free of imaginary spiders, and I'm all wired up from a ten o'clock overhaul of pre-teen slobsville.

These are the things that the parenting books can't prepare you for.
 
Since I am now so very PERKY here are some pictures of the crap we've been up to lately:

An updated picture of my lunch buddy Harrison.  My nephew is now almost nine months old and he is SO CUTE.

I tried to teach Bailey the sulcata to fetch.  FAIL.  He tried to eat the ball.  How these guys have survived for so long is beyond me.

Military Man built Bailey some new outdoor digs.

I started to document the building process for Bailey's posterity. 

 

Then I got bored.  Bailey and I got booted out of the Man Cave for being obnoxious.

Hey, it wasn't MY fault.  Bailey's the one who peed in there.

You can actually see the indignation in Chad's arms here.

So here is the finished result.  All it needs are window boxes and rain gutters!  And tiny Christmas lights for the holidays.  And maybe a mailbox for when Bailey's family sends correspondence.

A good friend had her kidney removed.  So that she wouldn't miss her kidney so much I made her another one to schnuggle with.  I called my friend Jessica, the scrap/craft queen and she helped me.  I'm sure this project is not one that will end up on one of her famous project blogs.  I don't understand WHY because this project was AWESOME.  Meet Dudley the kidney.  He has Fineas and Ferb hair and he is FILLED WITH LOVE.  Looks like all those years of Homemaking lessons at church finally paid off.  I can sew organs!

I finally replanted the garden since I'm mostly mobile after this summer's tendon debacle.  (A topic for another time.  Le sigh.)

I only planted ONE tomato plant, since tomato plants tend to be overachievers anyway.  The rest of the place is mostly flowers and herbs and some lettuce.  I've never done a winter garden so it's kind of an experiment.  I'll keep you posted!  Ok, I've promised that before and not followed through.  So I'll THINK about keeping you posted.

Death of a Garden

Check me out, my foot is feeling better and I'm getting back to my normal antics. Still no wild plans for running again (unless I'm being chased by a predator, and even then I'm kind of 'eh' about it) but I gardened today and the world did not end.  If you can call completely demolishing the backyard while belting out "Welcome to the Jungle" gardening. (My apologies to my neighbor - I was making her poodle bark with all my howling and thwacking.) Probably should have just lit the whole place on fire back there, since the five kajillion weeds have all gone to seed and next year is going to be a weeding NIGHTMARE but fire and HOAs usually don't get along so I was forced to yank out everything by hand. Until a scorpion ran out from under some dead leaves. Then the party was over. (Guess what? I can scream AND obliterate a scorpion at the same time.  Multitasker award!) Chad gets to finish the rest and we'll just blame it on the foot. You KNOW I'm going to milk that for as long as I can.

The tiniest snail.  That is Emma's hand.

We didn't even know there were actual WATERMELONS growing in there.

Check this nasty thing out, it was hiding in the roots of the twelve-foot man-eating tomato plant.

Action shot of Emma SMASHING it.

Elephant in the room time.  YES, I drink the alkyhol.  Let's finally say it out loud since you've all seen my wine rack.

Some girlfriends and I attended a "Bottles and Paint" class last weekend.  The idea is to bring your own booze and the art gallery supplies the easel, paint, brushes, a HOT smock and a book on ideas of things to paint.  As the night went on I became more intoxicated and inevitably ended up painting my friend Jamie's face and arms instead of the approved surfaces.  I don't think the owner of the art gallery was amused.  *I* was amused, however, when a blond bouncy sorority girl came to survey my painting and brightly asked, "Oh, are you a Kappa?  Because owls are, like, our thing." *hair toss*  I just raised an eyebrow, retorted, "What?" and then responded with "NO, I went to community college".  Another silent stare from me and she just walked back to her group of friends and began to whisper with them.  Because anything with an owl on it automatically associates it with some Kappa sorority, like DUH.  That you got to join because Mommy and Daddy paid for you to get your drinking degree at a university.  While I worked my way through school as an army wife and mom and I earned my drinking degree at the college I could afford.  Suck it, sorority girl.

I can be a rude drinker.

My painting, titled "Are You a Kappa?"

Like, sorority girls!

Other random crap:

Winston got new jammies.  But he's not really a bad dog.  He's just a little stoooopid.

I risked my own life and swerved across four lanes of traffic to snap a picture of this with my phone.  Because crack is whack and I have the maturity level (and driving skills) of a teenager. 

Rock Star Emma!  (Rock wall climbing in flip flops not recommended.)

 THE END.

Meh.

Praise Jeebus, I'm finally able to log onto my blogger account.
About a month ago I enabled some ridiculous Windows Live family safety computer program because my child has been spending an inordinate amount of unsupervised time on YouTube.  I didn't want her accidentally clicking on any links that were going to show her videos on how to make her own a-bomb because you NEVER KNOW.  I quickly found out that not only does this program block dirty sites from your eleven year-old, but it will also render the 34 year-old college educated woman in the home completely unable to use her computer for anything other than checking her bank account balance.  And God help me, I can NOT figure out how to get my 'puter back to where it was before I installed the stupid thing.

I haven't told Chad yet.

Another reason it's been a while since I've been here is that my life is has become the most boring of lives you can imagine.  I wish someone had warned me before this tendon surgery that I would be unable to do anything useful for three to six months.  Because that's what my doctor and my physical therapist are telling me now that I'm already sliced and diced.  So even though it's been three months since my surgery and my scar looks beautiful and I even went out an got a pedicure I still can't do anything normal like I used to do without wearing out and needing drugs.  I can't walk long distances.  I can't run.  I can't walk my dog.  I can't garden.  I can't clean my house.  I can't leave on an anniversary vacation to Vegas because I can't walk the strip!  I can't walk around barefoot.  I barely make it to and from work and have to take long breaks between cares on my patients to make it through my twelve hour shift.  I've spent the entire summer on the couch and the last thing I want to do after I come home from work is SIT ON THE DAMN COUCH but it seems that's all I can do because I have to recover so that I can just GO BACK TO WORK.  I can't take any more TV.  I don't want to watch any more movies.  I don't want to sit in the heat anymore.  The fun of having a handicap parking sticker has worn off.

I.  Am.  Burned.  Out.

I desperately need a tropical vacation or I'm going to go completely postal.

I know that I should be grateful that I have my legs.  That they function.  But I am so angry at my traitorous body that I am slipping into that grey area before depression.  I am hurting all the time and it is seriously draining me of my happiness.  I completely broke down at my physical therapist last week and insisted that it was all JUST TOO MUCH and that I needed to slow down on my PT.  (We're moving it from three times a week to once.)  My doc even lectured me about having gone back to work too soon and ended up giving me a cortisone shot two days ago.  But it's been THREE EFFING MONTHS.  Come ON foot.  The last thing I want to do is slow down but it appears that that's all I can still do.  And I know that my husband (and most likely everyone else in my life) is sick of my whining so I try to just keep moving.  But I feel like I'm just sliming along at a slug crawl and barely arriving to the next day.

So there you are, I have officially dumped on you, Internet.

More random:

Emma started sixth grade.  I caught her texting a boy and put the squash on that quickly.  I have a feeling the teenage years are going to be interesting.

The foot today: 

Mommy and Emma pedicures:

Emma fishing with Daddy:

A Friday night impromptu piano recital.

(What a rude audience.)

I'm sure I'll be out of this funk soon, since truthfully I get 1% better every day, but let's hope that by the next time I get on here I won't be so damn depressed.  And that I'll back off on the profanity a tad.

Week three! Peroneal tendon surgery recovery.

So.

Turns out there was no "freak bone" in my foot once the doc got in there.  But the tears in my brevis and longus tendons?  Much more considerable than the MRI let on.  Let this be a lesson to all of you:  MRI machines are dirty liars.

Even though every meth head in the world might disagree with this sentence I'm saying it anyway.  Devouring strawberry Hostess cupcakes while downing Tylenol with cocaine every four hours (ok, it's Percocet, but it's in the same drug class as crack!) does actually get old after three weeks.  (It is interesting to note that it's the inhalation of strawberry Hostess cupcakes that go me into this pickle in the first place.  The cupcakes made me fat, which made me run, which tore my stupid tendons.)  

I spent the first two weeks in THIS:

And then last week graduated to this:

I was excited to get the Neato Blue Cast before I had it but now I can't wait to get the Stupid Ten Ton Brick off on Monday as planned.  It's coming off if my doctor knows what's good for him.  Every time I get up on my crutches the weight of the thing seems to slam down on my incision.  It does NOT feel good and makes me say naughty words in front of my daughter.  I'm having these sharp stabbing pains along where my incision presumably is that makes me worry it's dehiscing.  I don't have access to it to do a proper nursing assessment so I'm freaking out even more.  I've made a few calls to my doctor's office about my cast being too loose but the nurse there was obviously annoyed with me and told in few words to DEAL WITH IT.  I have now gone five days without calling them.  I deserve a medal.  It bears repeating: nurses make terrible patients. 

So here are before and after pics of my actual foot.  They're gross!  You've been warned!

The yellow is betadine, not a horrible toenail fungus.  (And NICU nurses reading this, please stop checking out the veins on my foot.)

(At one week post-op.)

So to bleach your brain after seeing that, here is a picture of my adorable nephew.

And the cake pops that his mama and I made together.

And the zucchini from the garden that were harvested JUST before they invaded Spain.

(With - what else? - a bottle of narcotics for reference.)

Emma has really stepped up and turned into quite the little nursey.  She can now clean bathrooms, do dishes, vacuum, dust and clean up dog vomit.  (Two dogs in one day.  Joy.) 

And Chad?
The.  Man.  Is.  Amazing. 

(Breep!  Breep!  Sap alert!)

I am so smart to have married this guy!  I know so many other wives who would KILL to have a guy that works all day and then comes home and makes dinner, cleans the house, goes grocery shopping, carts his wife's crap from room to room without even being asked, helps her get dressed and showered and obsesses that she's comfortable/fed/loved/has easy access to chocolate.  Truly.  I don't know how we went an entire year without him.  Dude, I LOVE YOU.  Now there are those reading this blog who have actually MET Chad and observed him fart, belch and make fun of.....well, pretty much everything.  You might not believe me as I gush about him.  But really!  I'm not lying here:  my husband is more awesome than any other husband out there.  We will have a contest.  And Chad will dab at this tears as they place a twinkly crown on top of his military haircut and name him Mr. Awesome Husband 2011.

Ok, maybe he won't cry.  But he will win.

And here are more end-of-post photos in lieu of any kind of real conclusion:

My YouTube channel

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Sadie!

I got scolded by horseback riding instructor for teaching her yearling naughty tricks.

That is all.

Blah blah blah

One would think that because I'm practically housebound that I would have nothing to blog about.  NOPE.  Life doesn't slow down just because you're a gimp with a boot on.

Chad had sinus surgery, similar to the one I had a few years ago, but they removed a cyst from his face instead of just chopping up his sinuses.  It turns out that a man who has made two year-long trips to a war zone doesn't come out of anesthesia calmly, but other than that he's had a very smooth recovery.  (I wonder if he'll kill me when he finds out I'm posting this picture here?  If I go missing you'll know who to blame.)

This leads into our NEXT topic, MY surgery.  (Because really, isn't it all about me?)  T minus two days today. I have a feeling I'm going to regret putting this on my blog because I know that work friends read this thing and OH THE TEASING.  Nurses are filled with EVIL, despite their friendly outer shell. We LINE UP to poke human beings with needles and find joy in stuffing tubes into places that tubes frankly just don't belong. That said, here goes: I have a sharp "accessory" bone at the base of my fifth metatarsal (foot bone) that is continuing to shred the tendons in my right foot. So I hurt it running, and it keeps getting hurt because I'm a freak of nature.  Can't wait until the respiratory therapists get hold of THIS one. I'll be in a cast for a few weeks, on crutches, and then hopefully I can transition back to The Boot of Doom and eventually get back to taking care of babies at work.

I still hobble out to the backyard daily to check on the garden, but haven't done a lot of work there except for hacking off part of the tomato plant that insists on repeatedly invading his neighbors. (It's got to be a dude because how often do you see a woman trying to take over other countries?) Despite my neglect the garden is thriving. I'm actually kind of scared that one of these mornings I'm going to wake up and find that our house has been entirely swallowed by the zucchini plant.  It does look slightly aggressive, no?

 ROWR!

(That's a baby watermelon!)

 


Miss Thang got her braces off.  Here she is with one of the dogs Chad came home with after a walk to the mailbox.  Woah woah, let me finish - WE FOUND THE OWNERS.  The Dixons are not taking in any more dogs, no matter how cute and licky they are. 

We can't leave Joey out of this Photo-palooza.

Oh!  And check out this weirdness.  These were our fortunes from a recent lunch.  Army man Chad's on top and NICU nurse Corinne's on bottom:

More signs of the Rapture?  Oh wait, that already passed.  Well it's Twilight Zone stuff anyway.....

I have plans to post my nasty post-op foot and more pics of our baby watermelon as it grows.  (Emma has already been recruited to take pictures of it as I'll be restricted to the couch after Thursday.)  I suppose that means I'll need to name it.  Stay tuned!