Before the month of January was over…but I’m only now getting around to posting about it. You know how it goes. Crackerness and all. {But I DID manage to remove both old calendars. lol}
By the by, check out the JUST! LAUNCHED! TODAY!!! NEW & IMPROVED Room 704! We are now a monthly magazine with REAL! LIVE! STAFF WRITERS! You’ll enjoy it, promise. 
Why yes, that WOULD be the 2009 Calendar TAPED onto the 2008 Calendar. Because that’s how I roll. Crackertastic baby.
My New Year’s Baby turned 3, and on Saturday the 2nd, we had a little party for him.
He started the day wearing Mommy’s necklace.
Ethan "The Little Man"
His best friends came over.
Aidan "The Big Guy"
Chloe "C.C."
He got some help blowing out the candle.
I paid WAY too much for this cake…
…but I guess it was worth it.
While the kids burned off the sugar high by racing around the dining room table…
…I loved up on Baby Odin.
They wrapped up the party by attacking Daddy B (Aidan’s dad) with party favors!
It was pretty much the perfect party.
~~~~~~
Find more weekly winners at Lotus’s place.
As most of you know, I had surgery on my broken ankle a little over a week ago. I was put under general anesthesia and had numerous x-rays the week between breakage and fixage (I totes just made that up).
WARNING: FEMALE TMI AHEAD
A day and a half before I broke my ankle, I got what I thought was my period. My first off-birth-control-cuz- 9/1/09-we’re-gonna-start-trying-for-a-baby-period. Since my on-birth-control-periods of late have been ultra light and short I didn’t know what to expect.
So this first off-bc-period was short. But strange. But I didn’t think much of it. Cuz, oh HAI! Not only am *I* a cracker, but my body is, too (see: 50 days until a positive pregnancy test with the Little Man).
Friday, August 14th, 9am-ish, I break my ankle by (seriously) TRIPPING OVER A GAS HOSE THAT WAS PUMPING GAS INTO MY CAR at the Gas Station (as if that wasn’t clear). (Heh.)
WARNING: MEDICAL TMI AHEAD
I get numerous x-rays taken, a shot of morphine in the ass (doc asks, there’s no chance you’re pregnant, right? Me: No. Doc: SURE sure? Me: Like, on my period sure.), and a buttload of vicodin (ok, just 30) and a few valium to help me sleep.
The week leading up to the surgery, I’m on vicodin and then norco (twice as much narcotic painkiller and less acetaminophen than vicodin) nearly 24/7.
Friday, August 21st, 3pm-ish, I get my general anesthesia, some IV fluids, antibiotics and then more IV pain meds when I wake up.
Around 6pm the anesthesiologist comes by and asks about my pain and offers a nerve block — sort of like an epidural for your leg — and since I was kinda sorta hyperventilating from the pain, I said OH SURE!! Hook me up!!!
Before he started he jokingly said, “No yelling.” Then he stuck a bunch of needles into the back of my knee and top of my calf and jutted them around to hit all the nerves. A few of the nerves caused my foot and leg to twitch repeatedly and involuntary. It hurt a bit, but apparently I am awesome because he said, “WOW. You’re tough!” Which, DUH. (Snort.)
That starts to sink in but I’m still feeling some pain, so the nurse asks, “would you like a vicodin?” WHY YES I WOULD!! “Have you had these before?” WHY, YES, I HAVE!! “Would you like one or two?” TWO PLEASE!!!!
So I got two vicodin with a side of Sprite and graham crackers. By the time we left the Surgery Center, I was feeling no pain.
By the time I got settled at home, I was very, very high.
I took a norco before bed and called it a day.
Saturday, August 22nd, sometime-ish, popping norco every three hours, nerve block wears off, I start bleeding. NOT from my incision sites.
Hmm…that’s weird. I just HAD my period. Maybe it’s all the adrenaline and stress and trauma. (It’s happened before!)
Pop another norco.
Sunday, Monday, continue norco and bleeding. Appetite suppressed. Maybe the pills?
Tuesday, white wine spritzer. First drink in over a week. Causes heartburn. Strange. Same as above.
Wednesday, white wine spritzer. Same as above.
Thursday, something is wrong. I’m still bleeding (never A LOT). I’m slightly nauseous. I don’t want an alcoholic beverage (SOMETHING IS VERY WRONG)(snort). Maybe I should take a pregnancy test.
Thursday, August 27, 9:55pm, take a pregnancy test. Hmmm…there’s a faint line there…it’s getting darker. HOLY SHIT IT’S POSITIVE.
HUH.
Well. Hmm. WOW. Huh.
Warrior: How’d THAT happen?? We didn’t even…I mean uh….
Me: WELL I HAVEN’T BEEN SLEEPING WITH ANYONE ELSE IF THAT’S WHAT YOU’RE IMPLYING!!! (He wasn’t.)
Me: You think the baby’s fried? (Heh.)
No more norco.
Friday, August 28, Midnight, still awake. Damn fried baby thoughts keeping me awake.
9:10am, call the doctor.
9:30am, send Warrior across the street to borrow a pregnancy test.
9:55am, hear from the doctor. She acknowledges my crackerness in not so many words. (LOVE my doctor.)
10:00am, piss on a weird paper stick pregnancy test. Fail to realize that I PEED ON THE WRONG SIDE OF THE STICK. BECAUSE THIS WAS SOME CHEAP ASS STICK THAT ONLY HAD THE PEE PAPER ON ONE SIDE OF THE STRIP.
10:02am, I am a pregnancy test failure. Null result.
11:00am, Warrior goes out for more pee sticks, dog medicine & food, lunch for preggers.
11:37am, Warrior home. I pee on another stick. Very clearly positive. (Oh yeah, STILL BLEEDING.)
3:30pm, go get blood drawn to test HCG levels.
4:30pm, Endocrinologist appointment. Thyroid still fucked. Let’s up meds to cover baby.
5:25pm, I think we’re getting a little excited about the idea of a baby.
Rest of the evening, I’m in a great amount of pain from my ankle and my uterus. More blood.
Saturday, August 29, morning, I feel nauseated. Good sign, right???
Sunday, August 30, morning, I don’t feel nauseous. I feel better! My uterus must be empty.
4:30pm, take another pregnancy test, IT’S NEGATIVE. Like I thought it would be. Cuz I felt empty. And not full.
Evening, hash out the negative test with my girls. Almost convinced it’s a fluke. Want to believe it’s a fluke. But I feel empty.
Monday, August 31, morning, I feel nauseous and dry heave a few times. Maybe this is a good sign? Slight headache coming on.
10:20am, attempt to get blood drawn. Dude can’t get no satisfaction from my arm. Goes for my hand. Ow.
11:00am, appointment with sleep doctor. I haven’t been sleeping. (More info in another post.)
12:20pm, I’m out to lunch with my Mother-in-Law, dining on tasty garlic noodles while my OB leaves a message at home saying that the HCG levels went from 287 on Friday to 193 today. Looks like an early miscarriage.
12:45pm, text message from Warrior checking in. Tells me his Big Boot remains for another three weeks (he broke his foot very badly on MAY 11TH. THREE AND A HALF MONTHS AGO).
1:38pm, actually get the message from my doc. Start to spread the word that there will be no baby this time.
1:50pm, take a norco and half a valium, as my headache has turned into a migraine and I’M NOT PREGNANT, so I can do that.
Afternoon, hash out my miscarriage with my girls.
UPTAKE:
80 hours is just enough time to get excited about having a baby. Even if it’s possibly drugged and fried.
—–
Please send me something funny if you want to do something at all. Or booze. Or chocolate. But please don’t send me flowers. (I hope this doesn’t sound presumptuous.)
I’m sharing this with you, not for sympathy (although that can be nice (heh)), but because that’s what “mommy bloggers” do, right? And hey, it’s easier to tell everyone at once. I hope the more we share, the more normal “these things” become.
I’m also hoping this will quiet the questions in my mind.
(((HUGS)))
If you follow me on twitter, you would know that two weeks ago I spectacularly broke my ankle. In three places. Yeah.
A week ago Friday, I got surgery to FIXIT!
Behold:
There’s a bone on the backside of the plate side of my ankle that’s also broken (the third one) that you can’t see and that they are leaving alone since it’s not part of a joint. It will heal fine on it’s own.
I got a “Big Boot” today (as Titi likes to call it (if you follow me on twitter you’ll also remember that Warrior broke his foot spectacularly last MAY and has been in a “Big Boot” since then (THREE MONTHS!!))) and will wear it for the next 6-8 weeks. For at least the first six weeks, I cannot put any weight on that side.
I’ll be rollin’ (literally) on this:
Here’s me pre-op:
Now I literally lie in wait for the healing to happen. Good times.
Anyone want to see the before shots? LOL
I first met Heather at BlogHer ‘08, during the Macy’s party.
Casey said, “This is Heather from ‘The Spohrs Are Multiplying. If you aren’t reading her, YOU SHOULD.’
Well, okay then!
I interacted with Heather intermittently on Twitter after BlogHer and knew that she was my kind of girl. The Cracker kind.
When we met at Blissdom, it was clear that we would be friends.
We both had preemies, we both liked to drink and cuss, we both just don’t give a fuck — a perfect union!
Our relationship was solidified on the plane ride home from Blissdom. I had to fly through LAX and Heather saved me a seat on the plane since I was the crackah-ass-crackah that got on the plane damn near close to LAST.
Heather and I talked BlogHer ‘09 and we cried — YES, we CRIED — about our darling preemie babies. On the gottdamn plane. This is when we bonded. For life.
Three weeks ago, Titi and I went down to Los Angeles to stay with the Spohrs for the 5 Minutes for Mom Ultimate Blog Party In Real Life (featuring Chris Mann) and we got to meet the illuminating spirit that was Maddie. (THREE FUCKING WEEKS AGO, PEOPLE. I was holding and loving and cuddling that little girl.)
Wrapped up in Mike’s arms when we walked through the door, Maddie and her infectious smile was the welcome mat for the Spohr household.
Titi and Maddie took to each other right away; acting almost like brother and sister.
When it was time for us to pack up and leave, my son didn’t want to go. Neither did I. Some people you just *connect* with. Some people are your Crackers. The Spohrs are my Crackers.
*******
Every time I open the computer, I am bombarded with purple and the sweet face of Miss Maddie Moo. Titi sees his friend and talks about her.
I don’t know if it’s a sick compulsion or what, but I asked him, “Do you want to hang out with Mama H and Maddie again?” Titi said, “YEAH.”
“Night night?” he asked.
I said, “you want to spend the night at Mama H’s house again?”
“YEAH!!”
I did not have the heart to say a damn thing.
*******
I am completely heartbroken and have been at a loss for words about this devastating tragedy. Tonight, I sat down to write because so many others have written such unbelievable tributes. I can do at least this much.
Tomorrow I will stand next to Heather and Mike, wishing that instead we were at their home, standing and playing with their dear daughter, Madeline, and not in a Church at Forest Lawn.
Tomorrow I will be strong for my friends. And even though I WILL cry, I will remain strong enough to hold their hands, and offer my shoulder, because I am the one with my precious preemie still alive. And they are not. And it crushes me. The weight of it all.
Our hopes and dreams and plans for our children to grow up as friends.
Dashed.
*******
Please join me tomorrow at 2:30pm Pacific time for a wonderful celebration of Madeline Alice Spohr’s LIFE. Maddie deserves a celebration. Maddie would want us to smile when thinking of her.
I’ll be the one in the purple shirt.
Over Thanksgiving, Warrior, Little Man and I went on an unplugged vacation. We were out where the stars shine bright and the milky way is indeed, milky. There was no cell phone reception (NO iPhone!! ACK!) and no internet at the home we stayed in.
Here is a collection of random thoughts I would have Twittered (maybe) had I been able to Twitter. Enjoy:
(Thanksgiving Day 2008)
BACON!!
Waffles, coffee (baba)
Chill out.
Into town for Groceries.
Choo-choo train in store.
Dropped groceries.
Went to water to walk on bluffs.
Back for lunch.
Titi nap (that’s the Little Man’s nickname)
Mom & Dad cleanup & bird prep
Drinking hot chocolate out of a bowl, because the mugs here are SO TINY!! While Warrior does the dishes.
(Later)
This is definitely a Cracker house.
I LOVE MY BOYS!!!!
SCORE! Brand new Herbes de Provence in the spice rack!
A FOX!! So awesome! (In the yard.)
(Even later)
OH MY GOD THE FRIDGE SMELLS LIKE TURKEY
“My pants are going nowhere.” -Jack Johnson
GLove is SO HOTT
We need an HD sound system.
These thoughts are embarrassing.
(Later still)
On Myopia
Alt. On Being Myopic
The Art of Unplugging
Alt. On Unplugging
[ideas for guest post for ZoeyJane]
~ ~ ~
Random enough for you?
This week Cracker #4 and her betrothed (heretofore called Cracker #4.2) got married.
I did the Bride’s makeup:
The Crackers #4 looked so IN LOVE
The Little Man was the Ring Baby. Without a pillow. Or rings.
He had a lot of fun.
Holla at yer gurl
They danced to that song from Juno.
It was an awesome Wedding, and I couldn’t be happier for the Crackers involved! Congrats to Cracker #4.2 and Best Wishes, Cracker #4! We love you!!
(An extra special thanks goes out to Cathy at McCathy’s Tub for letting the Little Man borrow Quinn’s fancy pants outfit! w000t! to you, girlfriend!! xoxoxoxo)
Yesterday’s post may have been a wee-tad overly dramatic. Ahem. That’s what happens when you get stream of consciousness then push “Publish Post.”
In addition to my flair for the dramatic, I also have a slew of other neuroses. Shall we get right to it?
1) I have self-diagnosed attention deficit disorder. I can rarely finish a task without coming back to it (save diaper changes and other must-do-now kidlet related tasks).
-When I actually get up the nerve to clean the house, you can guaran-damn-tee that I won’t finish unloading the dishwasher before I go wipe down the coffee table, then change the laundry, while picking up and dropping things off randomly around the house.
-This annoys Warrior to no end, shaking his head and sighing at me, because he’s actually good at cleaning AND he manages to stay focused and finish each task one at a time.
-It’s almost as though I can’t finish a task because the thought of what I’m doing (i.e., actually CLEANING, something I’d rather NOT be doing) is too much for me to bear – so I need to break it up into small bits so that the task doesn’t seem so ominously LARGE.
-I get distracted by shiny things, loud noises, and the sound of my brain ticking.
2) I’m a yeller. I was the designated loud person in my family growing up, which had it’s rewards and punishments. I loved calling all three of my siblings to dinner, but at the same time, I got spanked for yelling up the stairs once when my brother was a sleeping infant. I can kind of get that now, but holy hot hell, can you say mixed messages?
-I have for the most part curbed this behavior over the years, mostly at Warrior’s insistence, because he don’t roll like that. I DO NOT want to be The Mom That Yells At Her Kid.
-Sometimes this behavior slips out because…
3) I can be a bit of a hot head. There are times when a rage sprouts up inside me and it takes everything I have to keep it down. Blow ups DO still occur, but on a much smaller scale than they used to.
-I was the Queen of the bottled-up rage as a teenager.
-Now I don’t bottle it up (much) and have extricated toxic people from my life to help facilitate this. (I’ve also worked on it in therapy and stuff.)
4) I have had anxiety of the “I’m not good enough, I’m not smart enough, and gosh darnit, nobody likes me” variety.
-Occasionally the evil voices of self-doubt still spring up on me when I am least expecting them.
5) I have had anxiety on the social functions/crowds/panic attack spectrum.
-My first panic attack was when I was 16. I was Christmas shopping with my older sister at a Wherehouse Music store when it all got to me – the lights, the warm store, the people – and I had to get the eff outta there as my heart was pounding, my breathing became rapid and my head started spinning (NOT literally, people, geez!).
*
I’m already losing my focus here (actually I’ve been back and forth on this post for an hour now, so…), I JUST realized my coffee is in the microwave (I found peas from last night in there when I put my coffee in), and…wait, what was I saying again?
Oh yeah, this edition is closed. For now. I can’t promise more of them. But, I WILL NOT BE ASHAMED OF MY NEUROSES. (Even if they ARE slightly embarrassing.)
Thanks to all mah Crackah friends for your support yesterday. I DID find the marker, and Little Man DID get in a (fairly) good nap. Life could have sucked more, that’s for sure.
Do you ever wake up and just feel, in your heart of hearts, that the day is just going to be a complete and total housejob*? And despite your best feeble efforts to have an attitude change, your heart still races ever so slightly when you think of the impending housejobs?
Today I feel like I’ve got too much to take care of and too many people to make happy. I know everyone makes their OWN happiness, so why I feel like I can affect the outcome of other people and at the same time housejob my own is most likely what people call irony. Only it’s probably not REALLY irony just what people think irony means.
Confused yet? So is my brain right now. The thing that is getting me most (besides the fact that I probably won’t get a shower in today) is that quite likely the Little Man’s nap will get farked for one reason or another, and I can barely stand the thought of a day without a good nap. Also, there’s a marker missing, and I can’t stand just having the cap sitting there mocking me, saying, “neener, neener, bet ya can’t find my mate! There’s TOTALLY gonna be washable brown marker all over EVERYTHING by the time you find it! HAHA!”
That is all. Carry on.
*A housejob is another way of saying clusterf*ck, everything’s effed up, going wrong, turned out wrong, or is JUST NOT RIGHT.
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