Thanks for your positive comments and thoughts regarding Blaine’s procedure yesterday.  It was minor … very minor … so minor I considered taking him out for breakfast (and by taking him out, I mean taking MYSELF out for breakfast) since we had to be there so stinking early in the morning and I didn’t get to eat first.  But, general anesthesia is general anesthesia, so instead I brought him home after wards and let him relax the rest of the day.  Which totally made it feel like  a Sunday, and now my entire week is off kilter.

After Blaine got settled in one of the little pre-op rooms, had his vital signs taken, with his IV going, and the twenty-seven different nurses who came in the room to make sure he wasn’t allergic to anything, with his always-attractive hopsital cap and gown and booties on ….. another nurse walked in the room to see me.  This was the same surgery center where I had my body lift in April, and she saw Blaine’s name on the list that morning and remembered us.  I’m not sure if that is good, or bad. 

She was really sweet the day of my surgery, and came down just to say hello and see how I was healing.  She also asked about my arm, where I got a nerve pinched (or something, I’m still not exactly sure what happened) during my surgery and couldn’t move it for a few days after, like a stroke victim.  She asked how was I enjoying my new figure, had I been shopping, how was the recovery, what did I think of my doctor, was I exercising and dieting now  …… I lifted up my shirt (she *is* a nurse, after all) and she expressed envy and glee at my flat tummy ….. she told me she was hoping to have the same surgery, and how happy she was for the chance to visit with me and hear about it firsthand …..

Then I remembered Blaine, in the corner.  Sitting quiety, patiently.  Fixing to have surgery.

Oh, hi, honey.  Sort of forgot about you there, didn’t I?

Up at 5am to take Blaine to the Surgery Center …. he’s been having unexplained bleeding from his ear and nose for a few months, so his ENT is going to scope out his sinuses and put a tube in his ear.  For like the third or fourth time, I can’t even remember ……

I think it’s going to be a long day for me.  But an even longer day for Blaine, because just the thought of what he’s having done makes me cringe.  Although, he will be unconscious for part of the morning, so there’s that advantage.  Hurrah for general anesthesia!!

For three days in a row, I have -INTENTIONALLY- taken part in an activity I knew would induce sweating. I think it is safe for me to now go to my FB profile and change my occupation to “professional athlete”. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go eat a cinnamon roll. Because carb-loading …. its what we professional athletes do.

School has been out for three weeks now, and so far we have had:  one orthodontist adjustment, one parents’ band meeting, one cut and color, one doctor’s appointment for my mom, Ms. Gimpy McGimpyRibs, one doctor’s appointment for immunizations, one wart burned off, one shot for poison ivy, one piano lesson, one therapy appointment, one dental cleaning, one cavity filled, one new retainer, and three eye exams.  I am still working part time.   Blaine is scheduled for outpatient surgery on Monday, and the kids and I leave the next week for the beach.  Needless to say, I am blocking from July 4th until school starts CLEAN on my calendar and will be spending lots of time doing nothing.  And by nothing, I mean floating in the pool with a cold diet dr pepper.

I had lasik to correct my vision nine years ago, at the age of 35.  The doctor told me then that around age 40, I would start to need reading glasses, as do most people that age.  I’m 44 and still don’t need them, but about three months ago I started noticing that I was getting a bit of near-sightedness again, which pretty much sucks after nine blissful years of perfect vision.  So, when I called to schedule the kids’ eye exams, because it suddenly occurred to me that neither Brayden nor Kellen had ever had one, ever, in their life, for all I know they could be legally blind, I figured it couldn’t hurt to schedule one for myself at the same time.

This is the same eye doctor who got Kendrie into glasses about three years ago.  Back when I thought she was completely faking and just wanted glasses because one of her friends in 3rd grade had just gotten glasses.  And she bugged me and bugged me and bugged me until I just gave in and scheduled the exam already, geez, Louise, only to find out that hey, what do you know?  She really *does* need glasses!   So although this eye doctor and I certainly aren’t close bosom buddies or anything, I have seen him enough times that we chat a bit during the appointments.

After the part of the exam where I look at the tiny … tinier …. tiniest …. letters on the wall, and then talk about how #2 is better, no #3, no back to #2 …..  he put those numbing drops in my eyes and examined them with the bright lights.  You know the ones, where you’re trying with all your might not to blink, and willing your tear ducts not to go into overtime …. and if you’re like me, failing miserably.

So I’m staring at his ear …. now the other ear, please …. and trying not to blink …. and thinking about how unbelievably bright that light is ….. and the doctor says to me, “So, what do your friends think of your tattoo?”

And for about half a second, I was all …. “What the hell is he talking about?”

And I immediately started cataloging my tattoos in my brain ….. ugly tattoo on my hip, nobody ever sees that.  Dolphins in the small of my back, only my anesthesiologist sees that one, whenever I get an epidural.  Lastly, the heart on my shoulder, which is the only one that ever shows, in public, if I’m wearing a swimsuit.  Which I am clearly not wearing at the eye doctors.   So how on earth does he know I have tattoos? Was he an anesthesiologist before he became an optomitrist??

“How do you know I have tattoos?”  I asked, bewildered.

He laughed, “I’m looking right at them!”

And honestly, my brain couldn’t wrap itself around that.  Was this bright light instrument some kind of mystical see-through device, letting him see my tattoos through my clothing?  Was there a mirror behind me?  Was there a scope somewhere, like a telescope, that would let him sit in front of me but see behind me?  Wouldn’t matter, I had on a jacket.  Besides, he was looking directly at my eyeballs. 

Then I remembered Blaine telling me about a recent episode of “Lock Up” or “Lock Down” or whatever the heck those reality prison shows are called, which Blaine is addicted to, where the prisoners had been injecting the whites of their eyes with tattoo ink, to turn them different colors.  And I started panicking …. are the whites of my eyes a different color?  Has Blaine been injecting my eyeballs with tattoo ink while I sleep, and I just haven’t noticed?????  Wouldn’t I have felt that?

My confusion must have been apparent, because the doctor leaned back, looked at me and said, “Your eyeliner?  It’s tattoo’d on, right?”

OOOOOhhhhhhhh!  My eyeliner!!   Of course!

I completely forgot that I had my eyeliner and lipstick tattoo’d on about a year ago.  I’ve gotten so accustomed to it, I don’t even give it a second thought. 

I burst out laughing when I realized what he was talking about.

I was even happier when he said I don’t need glasses for near-sightedness, and probably never will.

Reading glasses, though, well ….. he says enjoy it while it lasts, and his prediction is one year.  Damnit.

Hopefully I’ll be able to find a pair that will show off my tattoo’d eyeliner.

Facebook status updates, from today:

2:30 pm — Expensive, unplanned home repair happens in three’s.  I get that.  But when I went out in the garage to pay the guy who was fixing our garage door, I found a huge puddle under my deep freeze, and that is #4 for me this week.  I think I got someone else’s share and quite frankly, I’m a little peeved about it.  I’d sit here and vent, but it looks like I’ve got a freezer full of meat to cook.

6:30 pm (in response to someone asking me what were our four things ….)  #1, the frame/casing rotted on our back door and everything had to be replaced.  Thanks to Berry Y, its done and we have a nice looking back door that is no longer sagging.  #2 was a broken spring on our garage door, and #3 was the dreaded F1 error code on my clothes washer.  Now, the deep freeze.  That’s not counting the thermostat that had to be replaced on the upstairs a/c unit last week.  I guess if Mark’s right, we’re five for six and have one more unlucky strike headed our way.  Remind me, again, of the joys of home ownership?

10:30 pm — Well, at one point tonight I had hamburger browning in one pan, chicken boiling in another, stew in one crock pot, and pot roast in another.  Now, after salvaging as much as possible, and being FORCED to clean out the inside freezer (why didn’t one of my kids tell me a fudgesicle melted at some point in the past, all down the back?) I think we are in the home stretch.  Blah.

10:31 pm — And did I mention after all that, the deep freeze in the garage is running fine?  I’m starting to think *someone* (probably me, but I’d rather blame one of the kids) might have left the door cracked open without realizing it for a few days.  Last time that happened, I lost 50 bags of frozen breast milk.  WAY more upsetting than a few pounds of ground beef, ha!

I’ve posted about them numerous times, the first-day-of-school, and last-day-of-school surveys that my kids fill out for their scrapbooks.  I’ve also commented before that as they get older, their answers get less silly.  I still remember when Kendrie was in kindergarten or so, and she answered both my age and my weight as “47″.    Or Kellen would reply that his favorite thing about himself was “when my tummy is filled up with candy”.  Or Brayden said Blaine’s favorite TV show was “grown up movies” which makes it sound like he sits around all day watching porn.

But I still do the surveys, twice a year, and still love the peek it gives me, this little slice of time in their lives.  Here are just a few of their answers this go-round.

Last day of school, 2011:

Brayden, age 14, 8th grade

What was your favorite class this year?  “History, because Mr. T is awesome.”

Least favorite class this year?  “Science, well, it’s science.  Enough said.”

The best way to spend recess:  “hang out with REAL friends that stay true to you.”

Best memory of this school year:  “Having all the 8th graders at my house.”

Favorite project/activity this year:  “the math animals that we made.”

Describe your perfect school day:  “Not having a school day!”

Kellen, age 13, 7th grade

Favorite class this year:  “Geography, it was fun!”

Least favorite class this year:  “Pre-Algebra, I didn’t understand it sometimes.”

Something I would like to change about my school:  “Longer recess and lunch!”

Best memory of the school year:  “Going to my first basketball game and getting to play!”

Describe your perfect school day:  “Having free days in every class!”

Kendrie, age 11, 5th grade

Favorite class this year:  “Language Arts, I love to write.”

Least favorite class and why:  “Science, I just don’t.”

Best field trip andwhy:  “Last day of school – bowling.”

A new friend I made this year and what I like about them:  “McKenzie – she has a cute twin, tehe, tehe, tehe, tehe”

Something I am excited about for next year:  “just it being middle school.”

Something I am nervous about for next year:  “7th and 8th graders.”

Something that made me sad or upset this year:  “Mrs. N lost her home in the tornado.” {2nd grade teacher at our school}

Describe your perfect school day:  “We switch classes and Katrina comes into my class.”

OK, so technically Kendrie isn’t in middle school YET.  I think we have ten or eleven weeks of summer left, before school begins here again and my baby, my youngest child, the teeniest, tiniest, fruit of my loins, begins her first year as a middle schooler and tackles 6th grade, with its lockers, and elective classes, and classes shared with BIG KIDS.    ::insert weeping::

How is it possible that her elementary years (seven years, to be exact, since I count Pre-K and K ….) are over?  What happened?  I’ll tell you what happened, I blinked.  Just like all those parents who traveled that road before me, and even warned me about it  … I looked up, and it was over.  And to be honest, I’m not too happy about it.  But seeing as how I don’t really have a choice, and I doubt the school would let me voluntarily hold her back to repeat 5th grade just because “I don’t want my precious, itsy bitsy baybeeeeeee to leave elementary …..” then I guess I better accept it with as good a grace as possible.

The last day of 5th grade is kind of a big deal at our school, which I think is wonderful for the kids.  Its a big deal because the parents, teachers, and staff work hard to make it so, and I know every year its a day the kids look forward to.  I can say that without doubt, because I’ve had three who got to celebrate it at this school, and I know how excited all of them were. 

The day starts with a promotion ceremony in the auditorium that parents and families can attend (most do) where they ask the kids to dress up, give awards, recognize students, and watch the movie that the kids make each year at 5th grade outdoor camp.  There is laughter, there is cheering, there is pride, there are cameras out the wazoo, and I would be lying if I said there weren’t any tears on the part of the parents.

Then the kids change into their 5th grade t-shirts and go bowling, then have a luncheon and party that afternoon.  By the time school is dismissed at 3pm, they are wound up from the music and dancing, and hopped up on sugar and emotions.  Or maybe that was just me.

I thought I would share the day with you, in pictures.  Usual disclaimer about how in the holy hell is my youngest daughter getting so grown up????  And what can I do to stop it???

5th grade Promotion Ceremony, last day of elementary school, May 2011

Kendrie with her entire class.

Kendrie receiving one of eight (out of 120 kids) citizenship awards.  I think character is every bit as important as academics, so I was very proud of her for being selected by the teachers for this.  She was excited, too, but I have to be honest and say I saw disappointment when it came time for academic awards.  They had all the kids who made straight A’s on their report cards come to the front to receive special certificates.  Kendrie had all A’s, all year, except for one 9 weeks in math where she made an 89%.  So basically, she missed it by one measley point.  That same point kept her out of honors math for next year, another thing she is disappointed about.   So being selected for a citizenship award helped ease her pride quite a bit, I think.  And, I was even prouder when I heard her say to a friend, “there were plenty of really great kids in the audience who didn’t win anything, so no one should feel bad” …..

I don’t think this is a very “good citizenship-y” face at all.  In fact, this is more of a “oh geez, let’s hope we don’t get caught and suspended!” kind of face.

Bowling with some of her best friends.

Hanging with mom.

Lunch after bowling.

“Hey, Kendrie, look how many of your friends are dancing ….”

“No, seriously, it looks like they’re really having fun.  Why don’t you join them?”

“Are you serious, mom?  I am not about to get out there and dance like some …. like some …. like some GIRL!”

“Oh, you should go and be silly with your friends ….. its a party, enjoy it!”

“Mom, my friends are perfectly capable of having fun without me dancing.  In fact, look, they even take a few minutes to check in with me between songs.”

“Um, excuse me, what exactly are you doing???”

“No, wait!  I don’t want to dance!!”

“I’m telling you, I am NOT a dancer ….. stop, put me down!!”

“Fine.  I’m out here.  Happy now?”

“No, Kendrie, I will not be happy until I see you dancing and get pictures.”

Fake dancing, just for the pictures.  It lasted about eight seconds.  But I was happy!!

And whether I like it or not, whether I’m ready or not, we now face the next adventure …. 6th grade.  Because Kendrie got her 11 year old immunizations today, so no WAY are those things going to waste …. middle school, here she comes!!

Quoted directly from my vet bill last week:

“The physical exam performed on Brew today was within normal limits, except for the stick stuck in his mouth.  I removed it, he should be fine.”

I don’t know why, but that makes me laugh.

So, I haven’t talked tons about it because I don’t want to be all self-absorbed, and vain and conceited, and Talky McTalky Pants about myself …. but since my surgery, I can’t seem to get myself out of the stores.  Because like I mentioned earlier, it is so FREAKING COOL to be able to shop off the regular racks.  I’m seriously like, addicted to shopping now.  Which is unfortunate, because its expensive.  But every time I drive by Kohls, my car is mysteriously sucked into the parking lot and I find myself in the ladies section looking for “just one more …..” shirt or sweater or blouse or pair of capris.  

The other night I was there and they announced the store would be closing in five minutes.  I had found a pair of shorts I liked, but since I didn’t have time to try them on, I bought them in two sizes and came home to see which pair fit better.   When I returned the other pair today, I thought to myself ….. “self, you know you and the kids are leaving for the beach in three weeks, and you are woefully unprepared clothes-wise …. best head over to that swimsuit section and just get it over with.”

I had already bought a suit through Lands End, but decided surely, now that I’m in “normal people” sizes, I could find another suit I liked in a regular store.

Then I decided ….. you know what …. the hell with it.  I’m buying a bikini!!!

OK, no.  Restrain your laughter, of course I didn’t buy a bikini.  Because as much as I used to complain about being an “apple”, now I am complaining about being a “pear” …… no way would I wear a tightly fitted swimsuit bottom.  But I decided if I could find a cute swim skirt or shorts that I liked, then I would buy a bikini top.  Let’s face it, I’m probably the smallest I will ever be, and its pretty much this summer, or never.  Plus, its not like I’m going to see anyone I know at a beach in North Virginia.  Just me, five of my dearest friends, and eighteen kids in one house for seven solid days of togetherness. 

Oh, geez, now that I type it out like that, I think my friends and I might be crazy to attempt this.

Anyway!  I found a darling swim skirt, then tried on the first bikini top that I have tried on since …. oh …. probably since I was about ten years old.  Once puberty hit, and along came the boobs and butt and stomach, I’ve been a one-piece, blouson-style swimsuit girl all the way.

The top fit pretty well ….. I don’t really like my arms being so exposed, but I have to admit my surgeon did a fabulous job and this summer, even if no other summer for the rest of my life, my stomach is flat and sculpted enough that I could get away with it.  So I was admiring myself in the mirror (no false humility here …… ha!) and turning to the left … and admiring …. and turning to the right …. and admir          ……………. oh, dear.  I completely forgot.

The world’s most awful tattoo.

Guess I’ll be rocking the tankini look this summer, after all.

That’s ok!  It just means when my girlfriends and I spend the entire week laying on the beach eating junk food, I won’t have to start sucking in quite as early, ha!

Late Monday morning I was driving to work and I called my mom, like I often do on my way to work, because its a 10-minute drive and that’s the perfect time to chat and catch up just a bit.  She answered the phone and sounded …… odd.  And perhaps a bit out of breath.

“What’s wrong?”  I asked, “Did I catch you walking on the treadmill?”

No, she said, she wasn’t feeling well.  When I pressed her, she admitted she had fallen down that morning at the church.  She is part of our church’s funeral lunch ministry and in fact, at 68 years of age, is the youngest volunteer they have.  So at 68, she does all the heavy lifting, and washes the big pots and pans.  At first that sort of annoyed me, until she told me the lady in charge of the ministry is 91.  Then I realized that yes, my mom actually *is* a spring chicken around those parts.

Monday she was helping to set tables and she tripped over the leg of a portable chalkboard that had been left in the room.  It wasn’t normally kept there and she just didn’t notice it. 

“I think maybe I broke a rib,” she said, panting a bit.  “But maybe not.  I can’t really tell.”

I asked if she was in a lot of pain, and she said yes.  So I offered to take her to the ER, and she said no.  What can they do for a broken rib?  she asked ….. nothing.  I finally convinced her to go anyway, with the promise of medication to help with the pain, if nothing else.

When we got to the ER, x-rays confirmed she had, indeed, broken three ribs.  Not a great start to her week.

I drove her home, tried to help her get settled comfortably (something that is apparently impossible with broken ribs) went to buy her pain meds, and kept her company for a few hours.  I finally had to leave to attend an end-of-the-school-year award ceremony.  I hated to leave her, but assured her I would be back as soon as the ceremony was over.

So I drove home, changed clothes, grabbed my camera, headed to the school, and sat there for ten minutes until the middle school principal came in and said there were bad storms headed our way and the ceremony was canceled.  Now, not to be shallow and vain, but I’m only four payments in on my new van, and visions of hail damage or broken windshields were not giving me warm fuzzies, so I promptly drove home and parked in the garage.  And sat there for an hour, while the sky got clearer, and bluer, and eventually the sun came back out.

(sigh)

Back to my mother’s I went.

Tuesday morning, I was getting ready to leave for work, and had let the dogs back in the house. 

Kellen, suddenly, became panicked, “Mom, Mom!  Brew is choking on something!”

I looked down, and you know that little dance that dogs do when they are trying to catch a fly?  And they sort of jump up and down, and shake their heads, and swat at the fly with their paw?  He was doing that, only there was no fly.  And he was swiping at his own mouth. 

“What do you mean, choking?  I can see him breathing.  I think he’s ok.”

But Kellen was adament, and in tears, insisting that the dog was choking.

(sigh)

So I put both Kellen and the dog in my van and drove to our vet’s office, which thankfully is also an emergency animal clinic and open 24 hours a day.  I went in, explained to the receptionist that *probably* nothing was wrong, and *probably* we were completely over-reacting, but that we thought our dog might be choking on something.  His breathing, I had to admit, seemed a little shallow.  And he was drooling like a madman.   But still …. pets and kids, they never perform on command, do they?  So I was totally prepared for the vet to examine him and tell us it was all in our imagination.

Imagine my surprise (and vindication!) when he reached in there with forceps and pulled a 2-inch stick out of Brew’s throat!

Yep.  Fun times.  I went on in to work and pleaded with my boss not to fire me, that honestly, these things really DO keep happening to me this week!  I’m not just playing hooky!

Late Tuesday afternoon, of course, was when the tornadoes came through.  We were fortunate.  The kids and I were watching the weather channels very closely, and had already put pillows, blankets, snacks, etc. in our storm shelter.  At one point, our small town was listed as directly in the path.  For those of you who might not live in areas with such amazing radar, the weathermen, based on the radar, can project the path of the storm and tell you, to the exact minute, what time it is predicted to hit each area.  I told the kids if we were still in the path with fifteen minutes to go, we would get in the storm shelter.

Then the tornado changed paths a bit and missed us entirely.

Others, of course, weren’t so lucky to the north of us.

Blaine was huddled in a ladies restroom at work with half a dozen maintenance workers and the new girl in his office.  That should make for some interesting co-worker bonding.   Luckily the storms missed the air force base, as well.

Others, of course, weren’t so lucky to the south of us.

A teacher at our school lost everything, and has had to put several of her horses down due to injury.  My brother-in-law’s father has land, and an entire barn was destroyed, and they are missing a John Deere tractor.  How can you LOSE a John Deere tractor? 

Saddest of all, to me, is the family who lost two of their three children …. a 16 month old boy killed instantly, and a 3 year old boy, sucked out of his mother’s arms and found two days later in a lake near their home.  The mother (pregnant) and 7 yr old sister are still in the hospital.  The mother was hiding with her kids in a bathtub in their home, and the father was out of town at the time.  I read the news updates about this family, and others who lost everything, and my heart hurts.

A friend of mine e-mailed me the next day to ask the name of the company that put our storm shelter in our garage floor.  She called them and not surprisingly, cannot even get an appointment for a consultation until mid-July.

My sister and her husband had no actual damage to thier home, but lost all power.  So they went Tuesday night to stay with my mom, who still couldn’t get up out of the recliner.  We had gone by Tuesday after school to check in with her, and tried to get her to come home with us for safety.  She doesn’t have a storm shelter.  She honestly didn’t think she could get in and out of my van, so she chose to stay home.  When the storms were headed her way, there wasn’t anything she could do but sit in her recliner and hope they changed course.  Thankfully they did.   Once the storms passed and we knew we were safe, the more pressing issue was my mother’s pain …. which had continually worsened since Monday’s fall.  By Tuesday night she actually seemed to be doing worse, and not better.  I was glad, when I left her house that evening, to know that Kelly and her crew would be sleeping there that night, and my Mom wouldn’t be alone.

My sister told me when she woke up Wednesday morning, my mom was in so much pain that Kelly called her primary care doctor and demanded he see her that morning.  Demanded.  None of us in our family are really DEMANDING kind of people, so that tells me what the scene must have been like.   Thankfully, he did.  Worried about pneumonia, he took another chest x-ray.  And said she didn’t actually break three ribs like the ER doctor said. 

She broke FIVE.

He promptly tripled her pain medication dosage, and instructed Kelly to run, not walk, to the nearest medical supply store and buy her a rib-brace-thing.

Although my mom is still hurting, she is doing better.  She’s a little fuzzy around the edges from the pain medicine, but its well worth it, if it makes getting up and down bearable.  If it makes lifting her right arm bearable.  If it makes BREATHING bearable.  I have never broken a rib, but I’ve always heard how painful it is.  I am beyond convinced now that must be true.

Its funny, I always think of my mom as a very healthy, very resilient woman.  Especially considering she is a 68-yr old widowed grandmother of seven. 

Of course, let’s not forget the time she broke her foot on vacation.  Or had a heart attack.  Or was diagnosed with breast cancer.  Or came to my house on vacation and wound up in the hospital having surgery for kidney stones.  Or pulled a muscle in her back, or the time she almost cut off her finger, both of those events also happening while at our house on vacation.  So I guess maybe in hindsight, she’s not so resilient after all.

I was grateful that my sister was with her on Wednesday, since it was the last day of school and therefore, Kendrie’s last day of elementary school.  Ever.  In her life.  And I was one of the parents helping with their promotion ceremony and All-Day-Extravaganza (big, booming, announcer voice for excitement!) and was committed from 8 until 3.   (pictures to come later ….. )

Which absolutely makes me want to stomp my foot and shout that it is NOT ok with me that my youngest baby will be going into middle school next year!!!  Then I think about the fact that my oldest baby will be going into HIGH SCHOOL next year, and the foot stomping begins anew.

Needless to say, let’s hope the first week of school this fall goes MUCH more smoothly than the last week of school just went. 

I don’t know if I have the stamina for another stellar week like that.