PigHunter walked through the front door with a card and a beautiful bouquet of flowers.
“Happy anniversary, baby.” He said as he kissed my forehead. “20 years, can you believe it?”
We stood there, gazing lovingly into one another’s eyes.
Then, the weirdest thing happened.
I looked down and there was the most adorable dog standing at my feet, looking up at me. Me and PigHunter looked at each other, confused because is that really a dog looking at us and where the eff did he come from?
I looked over and realized the front door was wide open.
The dog started walking all over the house, as if he had been here before.
A liiiiiiiiittle part of me was like “It’s an Anniversary Miracle!” But the rest of me was like “first thing tomorrow morning I will put up signs and also find out if he has a chip so we can get him back to his owner. But if we can’t find his owner, HE IS ALL MINE FOREVER IN MY HEART OMG! PRECIOUS DOGGY!
Real Things That We Fight About
This is “The Place Where We Hang Our Towels.” I have made this clear over and over again. “We hang towels here, we do NOT hang hats here.” My husband, however, refuses to acknowledge that this is For Towels Only and is constantly hanging up his dirty work hats. I have asked him time and time again to PLEASE STOP DOING THIS. And every time, he’s all “I can hang my hats there if I want to!” Which, fine, hang your hats there. WhatEVER.
But this morning, when I went to grab my sweatshirt in the morning, this is what I saw:
Empty hooks all over the place and he put his sweaty, greasy dirty hat on *top* of the towel I am going to use to dry my delicate, tender, pure, almost holy like body parts.
This is CLEARLY an act of Marital War.
Related: THIS.
The Walk Home- Would You Say Yes?
My daughter.
Oh, my daughter.
Just 6 years old, but ready to take on the world by herself.
Miss. Independent.
Her independent spirit is both a blessing and a curse. It’s been challenging as a mother to learn when to step in and say “enough- you NEED HELP” (usually when we are running late and there isn’t another minute to spare for her to figure shit out) and when to step away and let her work it out.
Another challenge I face is the “is it too soon for her to *fill in the blank*?” You see, she wants to do things that I do not feel she’s ready for at 6 years old.
There is one thing in particular that she wants to do and has been begging me to allow her to do for the past 2 weeks.
Walk home from the bus stop all by herself.
Each time she has asked me this question (every day, for the past 14 days, multiple times each day OMG.) my answer has been “No.” And her response has always been “but why not?” And my response is always “because you’re too young.” And her response has always been “but I know that I need to stay on the side of the road and watch for cars and not to get in a stranger’s car!”
My response?
“Even still… no, child.”
Her response?
“When are you going to let me grow up, mother?”
Sigh.
Today, I was sitting at my desk, working while Rhianna blasted on my iPod. It was 1:25pm, 45 before I had to leave to pick up kid #1 from school. I thought I heard the door bell ring. I ignored it at first, because I usually don’t answer the door if I’m not expecting someone. But then it rang again. And again. And again.
Ding dong. Ding dong. Ding dong.
Who the HELL?
I got out of my chair, tip toed to take a look through the peephole.
I didn’t see anyone right away.
Huh, I thought. That was weird.
But then the bell rang again. This time, I saw what appeared to be MY DAUGHTER.
I opened the door. Standing in front of me was my little girl and she had the biggest smile on her face.
I was confused for a second or 12.
“I did it, Mommy! I told you I could do it! Thank you for letting me walk home all by myself!”
I didn’t let her walk home by herself. What I had done was forgotten that it was early dismissal because of parent/teacher conferences.
I started shaking and I know that sounds dramatic but it felt dramatic. I had forgotten that my daughter got out of school early and she had WALKED HOME FROM THE BUS STOP ALL BY HERSELF.
Right after it happened, I did what any digital mom would do. I posted about it on Facebook.
My daughter has been asking me to let her walk home from the bus stop for the past 2 weeks. My answer has been “NO!” She’s only 6! Just now, the door bell rang. It was my daughter. Apparently, it was early dismissal & I didn’t know it. I feel like a horrible mother, but she is SO PROUD.
The comments kind of surprised me.
They ranged from “I would need someone to hold me.” And “I think I’d have a heart attack!” to “Free range kids, baby!” And “God took care of cutting the umbilical cord a little more today.”
Which got me thinking… is 6 really too young to walk home from the bus stop alone (the bus stop is around the corner from our street, not far at all.) Or am I being overprotective, smothering mother who is not letting my child be the independent child that she wants to be? Would you (do you) let your first grader walk home from the bus stop all alone?
Spinning Round and Round
This Is Pretty Much The Only Thing Stopping Me From Eating a McRib
Last week, I did something stupid.
I waited for 4 days to see my doctor when I knew I had a UTI.
I was busy with work. With kids. With life.
So, I drank glass after glass after glass after glass of water and cranberry juice, hoping that it would magically cure the infection raging in my body.
It did not work. (Crazy, right?) And on Tuesday night, I found myself in urgent care doubled over with pain on my insides and burning with fever.
The doctor did the tests that they do when they suspect one has a UTI and determined that yes, I did have one and that infection had traveled into my kidneys. They wanted to give me a shot of an antibiotic that is so strong and so painful, it is mixed with a numbing medication of some sort. I was terrified because the nurse was saying things like “needle” “will hurt” and “burn.” She got me so riled up,by the time I turned over to take a needle to the ass, I was crying. A small cry, but still, crying.
It burned, but wasn’t as bad I expected. That was good.
I was asked to stay for ten minutes for observation for a reaction to the shot. The nurse said “if you feel itchy or if you feel your throat START TO CLOSE UP.”
Of course, that sent me into an Unnecessary Panic because my throat never closed up and I was fine.
I went home with instructions on how to care for a kidney infection, pain medication and a bottle of antibiotics.
When I returned home, I was greeted by a not so pleased husband.
“Don’t ever wait that long to take care of yourself again. That was NOT VERY SMART.”
About an hour after returning home, I felt pain in my back. This is what the pamphlet about kidney infections referred to as “flank pain” and I had been ordered to call a doctor if that happened.
The pain intensified. I got scared.
I got the chills and started to shake.
I made a call and was instructed to go to the ER.
I had to drive myself because the kids were home and PigHunter had to get up for work at 4am.
The ER was IN.SANE. Blood. Puking. Police officers. People everywhere, line out the door.
Two hours later and one scolding from the doctor who said my infection was “pretty bad” and instructed me to stay away from pretty much every food and drink that I love and to drink water water water so much water, I was on my way home, pretty confident I wasn’t going to die. Or lose a kidney. (But still very much in pain.)
And that’s pretty much all I’ve done since Tuesday– drink water.
(And pee.)
(And pee some more. Again and again and over and over again.)
If this experience has taught me anything it’s that cranberry juice does not cure infections and also, that I need to always must remember to take care of myself properly. Having a job and kids and a husband who loves my body won’t do me any good if my kidneys fail and I die.
Our (Cringe Worthy) Love Song
My mom recently had our wedding video converted to DVD. This was perfect timing as our 20th wedding anniversary is approaching (it’s on the 17th of this month.) I thought it would be fun to sit down with our children and watch our wedding together.
it’s no secret that our wedding was pretty awful- I’ve written about it here before. But, until you see it with your own eyes, there’s no way to truly understand just how bad it was. Here are just a few comments that my WONDERFUL children made last night while watching:
“You guys were so corny.”
“What was wrong with your teeth? Good thing the dentist fixed them.”
“How many of those people are dead now?”
“You had a HARPIST? But… why?”
“Did you really think that was a good idea, Mom?”
“When I get married, I’m going to make sure I marry someone who doesn’t wear big glasses.”
“Wow, the dresses you picked out were pretty ugly.”
I love that I can laugh about my wedding now. I suppose a lot of people look back on their big day and wonder “What were we thinking?” Especially 20 years later. Maybe most people don’t regret pretty much EVERY choice they made, like I do, but surely most people wish they had done their hair differently, or wish they hadn’t HIRED A HARPIST.
There is one thing about my wedding that I wouldn’t change, even though it was Pretty Awful.
The part where we sang to each other.
Our love of singing is what brought us together. We loved to sing together. We sang at Other People’s Weddings. We sang at church. We sang in my parents living room. It just seemed… right to sing at our wedding.
The idea itself was lovely. The execution of the idea? Not so much.
But don’t take my word for it– watch for yourself. (Oh, yes. I recorded it for you. And I promise you that you will NOT be disappointed.)
Graveyard Brownies: Not a (Total) Fail!
I am not one of Those Creative-Type Mothers and no matter how hard I try, I will never BE one of Those Mothers. But, it’s Halloween and I’m supposed to make crafts and create Halloween type treats with my children. So, today I attempted to make these graveyard brownies I saw a Picky-Palate with my daughter.
Usually, when I attempt these type of things, it doesn’t end well. There are usually tears, sometimes injuries, thoughts of divorce, threats to run away, etc…I’m happy to report that none of those things happened today.
G & Mommy make Graveyard Brownies, a Photo Essay.
Washing her hands, excited to get started on the brownies!
Still excited! Mmmmm brownies!
Will ours look anything like that? Probably not, but we’re doing the damn thing anyway.
Helping is fun, but man, that chocolate sure looks good. I think I’d much rather be eating chocolate than making these brownies.
Oh, look! A chocolate chip!
Aaaand, she’s out. Thanks for the “help”, G!
The thing that I was the most worried about was getting the brownies out of the pan in one piece. Turns out, spraying the crap out of the pan with Crisco flour non stick spray works!
I wasn’t sure how I was going to write “RIP” on the cookies. Turns out, I’m kind of a genius.
The end result? Definitely not as awesome as the the ones pictures in the recipe, but not as bad (ugly?) as I expected.
(Originally found on Picky-Palate.com )
Happy Girl. Happy Mama. Happy Halloween!
I wasn’t sure that G was going to be able to celebrate Halloween this year. It’s been a rough few days. But yesterday she showed huge signs of improvement. Last night, she asked if she could go to school today– she didn’t want to miss the costume parade/class party. I told her I’d make my decision in the morning.
She slept through the night for the first time in so many nights– Not a single coughing episode. And this morning when she woke up, she was happy and most importantly, cough free. My Mama Gut said she was fine to go to school and so I gave her the good news.
She smiled the biggest smile and hugged me tightly. Joy!
Of course, 20 minutes later it was all “MY HEAD ITCHES” and “DO I HAVE TO WEAR THIS HAT?” and “I HATE FRECKLES!”
But Oh My Justin Bieber (as G says), once I finished braiding and bobby pinning her 200 pounds of hair into that wig, she looked absolutely adorable.
One Day This Blog Will Be Funny Again. At Least I Hope So.
When I said I was going to write every day, I freaking meant it. But then, life went and got all BATSHITCRAZYINSANEWTF?!
I don’t even know where to start because so much has happened, but there is so little I can actually write about it. This is why I’ve remained silent. Because what’s the point of writing through something if you can’t write what you really need/want to say?
What I can say is this: I went to Vegas, had an amazing time with friends and family, came home and shit hit the fan. In an instant, everything was different. Friendships were severed, lives were in ruin.
I spent the last week processing my feelings about the situation and have come to the realization that it just sucks. And it’s going to continue to suck for months and months.
You know what else sucks?
When your child has pneumonia.
Over a week ago, G developed a cough. I always worry about her when she gets a cough because of her history with RSV and asthma and 911 calls and late night trips to the ER. The cough seemed pretty ordinary, until Wednesday night. So, I called early Thursday morning to try to get an appointment to see her doctor. Unfortunately, he had no appointments available, so they scheduled her with another doctor. This doctor was nice enough, but her diagnosis of “allergies” didn’t sit right with me. But she’s the doctor, right? (WRONG.) On Friday, I was back at Kaiser. This time we were able to see our doctor and he was all “yeah, sounds a little bronchial to me. Let’s get her on antibiotics.” I thanked him and said “I’ve not had much sleep the past few nights” to which he responded “No wonder you look the way you do!”
Dysfunctional doctor/patient relationships are so much fun!
She started to improve, enough so that we decided to take her to the pumpkin patch on Sunday.
Apparently, that wasn’t our best Parental Move because Sunday night, her cough intensified and she broke out with fever.
We took her back to the doctor’s on Monday. He took x-rays and didn’t like what he saw. He said he was going to treat her for pneumonia. He gave her a shot of antibiotics and switched up her medication.
She seemed to be doing better yesterday, but last night, around 1am, she had another coughing spasm and today, the coughing and wheezing continues.
I am now trying to decide if I should take her back to see the doctor because I think she should be improving after 2 days on the new antibiotics. But maybe I’m not giving it enough time? The thing is– it’s her lungs. You don’t screw around when it comes to the lungs.
I feel so bad for my daughter. All of the coughing and sleepless nights have left her physically exhausted and emotionally fragile. She’s doing the best she can to get through this. She takes her medication and her inhaler without complaining. She rests when I tell her she needs to rest. She drinks all of the water and juice that I ask her to drink and all without whining or complaining. She has had a few moments where she’s broken down and cried. All I can do is hold her closely and let her know that I am doing everything in my power to make sure she’s being taken care of properly so that she gets better as soon as possible. I’ve broken down and cried myself a few times–It’s rough when you have to watch your child suffer. I want nothing more than for her to get well so she can get back to being a little girl again.
Chicks, Man.
Last night PigHunter was sitting on the couch watching online instructional videos for “how to make apple crisps.” I was sitting at the kitchen table giving my daughter a french manicure because she is obsessed with french manicures.
After PigHunter was finished watching cooking videos, he turned on the television. He changed the channel until he ended up on whatever channel it was that was showing Pretty In Pink.
G turned her head towards the TV. “What are you watching, Dad?” She asked.
“Pretty In Pink.” He replied.
“What’s that about?” She asked, in a tone that indicated she was a liiiiiiittle disturbed that her dad was watching a show that had the words “pretty” and “pink” in the title.
“It’s an 80’s movie.” He said.
She paused for a minute. Looked at me. Looked at him.
“I’m pretty sure you mean LADIES movie, Dad because you’re totally being a chick right now.”
We laughed until one of us peed in our pants a little.