i love pain pills.

Ok, so I don't love them like addiction love them - I can't actually wait until I no longer need them, but wow do they ever create wild dreams.

Last night I dreamt I was back in high school, wearing nothing but my new apron: www.etsy.com/view_listing.php?listing_id=12614607 and a pair of pink panties. We were just back from spring break, and I'd had my surgery during it.

I walked down the halls between classes and encountered many people from my high school past. Old boyfriends, old friends, people I hadn't thought about in years.

Many complimented me on my rockin' retro apron, others complimented me on my new perky sisters...no one really noticed my uber-flat belly under my apron. That's ok, that's sort of how I expect it to be in reality as well.

I missed a math test and was mentally calculating whether it was worth taking and how much it would affect my grade. The math test was a triathlon; one part math problems, one part preparation of a full turkey dinner with all the fixins' and the last leg was a river raft ride/swim. Oh pain pills, you rock my dreams.

Garth returned to work today but lined me up with 'babysitters'. What a great guy. He's been so amazing throughout this past week - far more help than I ever imagined, without even so much as a sigh of complaint. Each day one of my parents will be over to help with the kids, lunches, naps, entertainment. I'm pretty good on my own for my own care but the kids are still a bit too much for me to manage on my own. They are excited to see Grandma & Grandpa each day too.

I'm now 6 days post-op and true to what I was told, each day is slightly better than the one before. Baby steps. I still have some sharp, pulling pain in one hip while getting out of bed. I'm learning new ways to avoid that and still be more & more independant each day. My current most painful spot is where my hernia & abdominal muscles were repaired. Its like I can feel the stitching. Ouch. The results, and future comfort while doing sit-ups, should be worth it all.

Another milestone I'm patiently waiting for is having this drainage "pipe" removed from me. Having a silicone tube with a drainage bulb at the end literally held onto your body by a stitch isn't my description of fun. It's still draining more than the required amount to have it removed but drainage at this point is still really good. Double edged sword, I tell ya.

For anyone questioning just a breast lift, that part really has been a piece of cake. Other than a little soreness it hasn't been bad at all. Had that been the only procedure I had done, easy peazy breezy. The results are nothing short of amazing. They are still my boobs, they still look like my boobs...just more like the boobs I remember having at 19. While still swollen, they are looking pretty great. Probably still a little small for my liking but in contrast to my now flat stomach, I do like them. We'll just have to wait and see what the upcoming weeks bring. :)

day 4.

Ouch.

I've stuck to my word. I haven't bitched nor complained about a second of this. I've only cried twice - when Garth first massaged me (this daily process sucks!!!) and when E kicked me in the gut last night. My worst fear came true with that one, she was too close by my own fault and it truly was an accident. Big girl even offered up a completely voluntary "i sowy" when she saw me cry. Hard not to forgive her but oh man, it hurt.

The dr. was right about day 2 being the worst. Oh MF'er, unreal. I really mean it when I say I didn't know pain until I've felt this. Childbirth be damned.

Yesterday was a little better than day 2 and today feels even slightly better than that. Someday soon I hope to actually be standing upright again and maybe not be so incredibly dependent on Garfa for my every need. I think he'd be ok with that too.

My abs were really separated and I had an umbilical hernia, all of which were repaired and whoa, do you know that EVERYTHING you do is connected to your ab muscles?! laugh, cough, pee, poop, move, sit, stand, lay, roll, BREATHE.... yup, all connected. Don't even get me started on the disgusting world of drainage tubes.

I ended up being cut not 3/4 of the way around me, but completely all the way around. Funny that the stitch that bothers me the most is a stitch I didn't think I'd have. I knew there was a chance he'd have to cut me all the way, I wanted everything even and the best job possible. There's a heart shaped incision over my butt, under my tattoo. Worked around my tattoo, that there is talent.

So here I sit, reclined in the living room, laptop perched high on my lap filled with blankets. I'm all drugged up, ate breakfast brought to me by my official hero, Garth (who I'll blog about sharing this experience with soon) and I'm sipping a little bit of coffee. If I don't laugh, move or cough, life feels pretty ok at this moment. Showering in a bit? Now that's a different story.

Here's to an even better tomorrow. :)

day 2.

i'm alive.
wow, this really hurts.
i knew it would hurt.
i researched this for years.
i didn't go into this blindly.
i had no idea it would hurt this badly.

my doctor & nurses are all so kind.
they all said its normal to wonder "what the hell was i thinking?!"
i haven't felt that way yet.

supposedly today was to be my worse day.
they weren't lying.
i pray tomorrow is just a bit better.
something to hope for.

my boobs. wow.
they look awesomely lifted.

my belly. wow.
its so flat.

ouchie OUCHIE but no regrets, all rolled into one.

its 3:30am, the day of. i can't sleep.

Be strong and courageous.

Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged,

for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go.

Joshua 1:9

bubbling over.

I woke up this morning, in our guest bedroom, to the sounds of a toy making music on its own.

No one else was in the room, nor had been.

This is the same room my boys once shared that had an incident with a turned off computer that awoke one of them who then woke me who then discovered another son was at his bus stop, sleep walking, at 1am. I blogged about it near the very beginnings of my blog but trust me when I say it was truly a bizarre night and I was thankful to that computer that turned itself on, when it had been very much turned off.

I guess it would be appropriate that I'd be awoken by some crazy ghost infested toy - it felt a fitting end to a crazy night.

It was thunder storming, pretty much as it has been each day & night for the past month, E wouldn't sleep. I fell asleep hard from 11-2 but had crazy dreams. I put her to sleep in my bed with myself & G and I finally gave up to her flip flopping around 3:30.

From 3:30 to about 5, I flip flopped about the guest bed myself. I couldn't sleep. My mind was rambling 1000 miles a minute. Am I doing the right thing? This recovery is going to suck. I worked hard for this. I'm going to have a tube down my throat. I haven't went into this lightly - I want this! I've seen lipo on tv and ouch, that's not pretty. But wow, the results will be smashing.

I'd fall asleep for a few minutes, have more bizarre dreams, and wake up again to: Am I doing the right thing? This recovery is going to suck. I worked hard for this.... flip flop, flip flop, flip flop.

My emotions are bubbling over. First and foremost I feel excitement. And then I'm filled with anticipation, apprehension, and outright scared out of my mind. The 24 hour countdown has begun...

etchings on my soul.

4 things from the past day I want seared in my memory bank forever:

1. Our W, age 5.5, standing in our front window wearing nothing but a St Patrick's Day plastic green hat, mooning us as we wave goodbye.

2. W asking me quite seriously this morning if I would scratch his butthole because it itched. Dude. No. I will not "scratch your butthole". Gross. Go take a bath.

I love having boys. They're so gross & funny & love every second of it.

3. E being overly facinated with a whoopie cushion she found this morning. "bow mommy, bow" (that's blow to you & me) and then she sits on it and says, "ewwww tinky" over & over & over again.

Maybe its not just my little boys who are gross & funny & love every second of it... my girl seems to be tainted a bit too.

4. Hanging out, laughing, dancing & people watching with Garth & friends at a street festival/beer tent last night. I saw a helluva lot of people who made me wonder, "What The F...?!".

Now, I saw many normal people too, but I was bombarded last night with countless toothless wonders, a man with feathered hair circa 1981, his shirt unbuttoned to his waist with a large hair brush in his back pocket, a woman with the strangest outfit of an uber-tight canary yellow sweater & grey capri sweatpants that were at least 4 sizes too small (she was also sportin' a killer camel toe thanks to those tight pants) and a woman I know to be a lesbian making out with the feathered hair man later in the evening. Come on now, if you're gonna cross back over at least make it worth your while. Ahhhh, the people watching was gooood. ;)

I drank far too much beer, laughed harder than I have in a long while, and had a really great time. We need more summer nights like this.

Deciding to have a good day.

We had a good evening last night - no yelling, no fighting, quite peaceful. I let the kids stay up later than usual, popped them some popcorn, put in a movie and they were content for quite some time. Ahhhhhhhh. Then, with Garth away on business, E decided she'd sleep with me and not in her crib. I used to like co-sleeping. Not anymore. I think I may be unraveling at my AP seams.

I've decided to have a good day today. Sometimes its better not to let fate take over and decide for you. I haven't been to the gym in a few days and for the first time in months upon months, I've weighed the same amount each day, down to the ounce, for well over a week now. It feels great to have the ability to maintain and I hope to be able to pull that off for the next 8 weeks.

Speaking of Garth away on business - when Garth woke me up at the crack of dawn to tell me goodbye before he left on his overnight trip yesterday, I rolled over, hugged him, kissed him and said (with my eyes still closed & sleep just seconds away), "drive careful. be safe. don't sleep with any co-workers, strangers or hookers" and then back to sleep I went. I remember waking up a few hours later wondering why the hell I said that. Garth just laughed. My brain works in bizarre ways.

I guess I need to go figure out what we'll do today, besides laundry. There's always laundry. Whatever it is, its going to be fun. And I'm going to be in a good, calm mood, dang it. "Om om om". (That's yoga talk -- I threw that in there for my friend Brooke since she's a yoga 'masta this week. Let's see how long it takes her to read this post.)

Here are some freshly uploaded pictures from the past few days.

Fathers Day

sadly, perhaps this isn't my calling.

Nobody ever said parenting 4 kids would be easy.

Sweet mother.
Parenting 4 kids in the summer takes the cake.

It's just week 2 of summer vacation & I'm slowly losing my mind.
No, its not slow.
I'm losing it rapidly.

I am not a maid of 4.
Or am I?

I am not a full time referee of 4.
Or am I?

I am not the personal ass wiper of 2.
Or am I?
Yes, it appears I am.

I got out of bed this morning, quickly dressed, got the kids dressed & fed and we went out the door to a local park this morning. Something different and doing it freshly fed I thought I'd dodge the bullet of, "Mom I'm hungry", "Mom, can we go to McDonalds?",
"Mom...Mom...Mom...". By 10:10 we were at the park to have some change of pace fun, damn it.

By 10:45 W had already shit his pants.

Why does he continue to do this?
It's not diarrhea so I know its not like its a bowel control issue.
Or is it a control issue?

He never had a single accident at school, 2 years in a row.
At home or out with me? Pee, poop, no difference.
He has no problem doing it in his pants.
It's. Driving. Me. Insane.

I'm beginning to feel like a failure.
Apparently, I suck at this summer vacation thing.
My patience are already shot.
Sadly, they were never real high to begin with.
School can't begin again fast enough.
It makes me distraught to even type that,
let alone think it.

I try so hard to be a good mom.
I try so hard to provide experiences for my kids, plant morals & values in their brains, laugh with them, protect them from harm.
I try so hard.

Days like today?
I always come right back to feeling like the "bad mom" my SIL makes me out to be.
I hate, hate, HATE that she planted that idea in my head.

The whining.
The fighting.
The bickering.
The pooping.
The peeing.
The hitting.
The screaming.
The tv.
The erratic weather.
The shrieking.
The noise.
My brain.
My patience.
It's gone & I'm sad.

more ramblings of a harried housewife.

1. My surgery is in 6 days.
2. I need to buy a nightlight for B's new bathroom.
3. I finally found THE perfect gift for Nadia's baby shower.
4. It's none of the things I was looking for but its unique & different.
5. I found it on Etsy.
6. I also found THE apron I've been looking years upon years for.
7. I knew I'd stumble upon one I completely adored eventually.
8. Within 20 minutes of waking up this morning, I encountered:
9. a poopy kid who needs more lessons in effective wiping.
10. a poopy kid who need more effective lessons on hand washing.
11. same kid also needs lessons on turning on a dang bathroom fan.
12. 2 minutes later, smaller bebe kid puked down the front of me.
13. Almond milk vomit smells like almond milk.
14. I've been puked on with worse things.
15. I had coffee made in record time this morning.
16. It just feels like its going to be a long day.
17. I desperately miss my 'we roll mad deep yo' girls.
18. I feel like its going to be forever until I see them again.
19. Kids. will. not. stop. bickering.
20. MY SURGERY IS IN 6 DAYS!!! Ahhhhhhhhh!!!

Wednesdays edition of 'harried housewife ramblings' may or may not be continued as the day goes on ~ it simply depends on what further antics my lovely angelic children may or may not have up their sleeves today.

Note to self:
I love summer vacation.
I love summer vacation.
I love summer vacation.

Monday discoveries.

1. I can run a mile in 14 minutes.
2. I can walk it in 15.
3. I don't think I like running anymore.
4. My 5 year old is one who "runs with scissors".
5. He apparently stopped long enough to give our cat a haircut today.
6. And was proud of it, ugh!
7. Laundry is an all-day, everyday task.
8. Coffee at 1pm really helps get you through the day.
9. My mom & her sewing abilities rock.
10. I am coming up empty handed on finding a store that sells everything I need for an earth/baby friendly baby shower gift all in one place.
11. I am more excited about my upcoming surgery (in 8 days!!) than I was about going to the prom, and that's hard to top.
12. My kids' bedrooms, now finally dang near complete, look great.
13. My daughters cloth diapers are now officially sporting the "seen better days" label.
14. I hope she either potty learns soon or I will have to go on a cd shopping splurge.
15. For only "necessities", of course.
16. I'm freezing today.
17. All of my underwear is too big.
18. Never in a million years did I think I'd ever say that.
19. My mind is all over the place today.
20. But most especially filled with excitement for next week. :)

For My Dad, On Fathers Day.

My dad.

I always said I wanted to grow up to marry my dad. Not someone like my dad, but my actual dad. Comparing him to my friends' dads, mine simply rocked - there was little comparison and he was a single dad at that. My dad learned how to put ponytails in our hair, was an awesome cook ("Food is love!") and took us camping each summer. As a teenager he bought us tampons without flinching and never missed a school conference. My dad is fun to drink beer with, laugh with and talk politics with. No, I'm lying, I hate talking politics with my dad. Regardless of his right-wing flaw, I can't imagine having a hands-off dad like some of my friends had. I feel really lucky to have gotten the dad I did.


My dad taught us values. To have them, to expect them from others and to never lower your own standards because of the company you keep but then again, the company you keep is a reflection on you & your own reputation, so be selective. To love thy neighbor does not mean you have to act like them.


My dad taught us the value of a dollar. He taught us right from wrong. He helped cultivate a conscience in me that speaks loudly when I need it. I still make mistakes, often, but there is an undeniable voice in my head reminding me to straighten up. Thank you for putting that there, Dad.


If something doesn't belong to you, it's not yours, period. You don't steal it, borrow it without permission or in any way compromise it and you sure as hell don't confiscate it (my dad's going to laugh when he sees the word confiscate worked into my blog for him).


My dad believes in vanity. I think I was a full fledged grown up before I was ever allowed to touch his hair. You want to be treated respectfully? Carry yourself respectfully. Be clean, be neat, get your hair cut regularly and don't be a ragamuffin (another word he taught me well, thanks to my childhood insistence on looking like one).


My dad believes one should own up to their responsibilities. Make the best of a situation you created but never shirk from it, nor blame someone else. Though thoroughly disappointed in finding his college attending, single daughter pregnant, he never turned me away nor loved me any less, despite not loving my actions. He taught me volumes about unconditional love. I'd like to think I made him proud by not taking the easy way out, by owning up to what I played a part of and by becoming the kind of mother that would honor and pass these values on to my own children. I can't imagine my life without my dad, or that baby he helped me keep.

My dad instilled in me the love of the "good guy". Good guys might finish last but they usually end up with the best girl and have the last laugh. Always the stubborn obstinate one, I tried the "bad boy" route. It got me nothing but grief. The boys my dad wanted me to date? All now successful, polished and made something of their lives. My dad knew what he was talking about.

On that same note, I lived my young adult years looking for a mate that lived up to my dad. I honestly thought no one in my generation existed. And then I met my Garfa. He is my dad reincarnated, and my dad is not even dead. Almost 10 years later and I still find new similarities between the two of them. God sent me just what I was looking for, just what I needed and my Garth fit the bill to a tee.


I'm so thankful my dad was hand-chosen by God to be mine. He makes me laugh, he makes me appreciate all my blessings and he reminds me often to value family. "Friends can be friends today but just a memory tomorrow - you're stuck with your family forever." He told me that just this morning.

Dad, thank you for all that you've done, all that you've sacrificed and for giving me the confidence to always stand up for what I believe in... even if that's being a tree-hugging, earth-loving liberal.

I love you (too!), Dad. Happy Father's Day.

all bound up.

My pre-op appointment is now checked off the list. The final payment has been made (ouch). The next step is the actual surgery. In 12 days.

I learned a lot at the appointment. The recovery is going to be gross, I'm going to regret doing this, that feeling is very normal and yes, that feeling will go away. I'll have drainage tubes for a few weeks and they will be gross. I'll have to collect, weigh and record that drainage. Ewww. I need plastic sheets for my bed and something to cover the seat of my car for the ride home after surgery. I'm still in awe that this is considered out-patient.

Because of herniated abdominal muscles, I had to start wearing a binder before surgery. Why? To push all of my organs back into my body cavity because herniated muscles & very lax skin = guts fall forward. The binder puts everything where it needs to properly be, in preparation for the surgery.

<- She somehow makes this thing almost look downright appealing, doesn't she?!

If the binder doesn't feel tight enough to complain about it, its not on tight enough. It doesn't hurt but it sure isn't comfortable either. I'm supposed to wear this thing 24/7 except when showering. Oh my. An upside to this thing is that I lost an inch off my waist from yesterday to today. Hmm, it really does seems to be shoving things where they need to be. Ha! Can't complain about that!!

Under the binder, now and post-surgery, I have to wear a compression shirt. Think Under Armour, and then think 2 sizes too small. I bought a women's XS and to know me you know there isn't a dang thing XS about me. It's not uncomfortable but I do fear its going to be hot this summer with this undershirt, binder and then a regular shirt on top. I'm getting all warm just imagining it.

Like I told Garth yesterday, I chose to do this. I clawed my way to this point. I'm choosing to be tough about it. I'm no puss and I hope to handle the recovery as tough as I can be. I really want to get it done & over with and get back to the gym. I've got a mini-triathlon to be training for! ;)

As excited as I am, I'm also equally nervous. My 2nd (and last!) surgery was scheduled yesterday for September. I'm not even remotely nervous about that one, I anticipate it with great excitement. That recovery should be a piece of cake after this one.

12 more days! 12 more days! 12 more days! YAY!

winding down.

I broke up with my trainer today. It wasn't anything dramatic or scandalous, sorry. It was just all part of the plan. My 6 months of training with her were up. In the past 6 months I took my weight from obese to overweight to now normal, my body fat % dropped like crazy and is now in the ideal range and I'm only off by 5 lbs. from where I expected to be right now. My original goal was off by 10 lbs. but I always had a more realistic goal in my head which was 5 lbs. higher... and at that I missed it by 5 lbs. But my body fat % dropped lower than my original goal by 2%, I'm wearing one pants size smaller than my original goal, so all in all, it worked itself out just fine. I'm always going to be bottom heavy and shaped like a pear so with a little more body acceptance on my part, it'll be all good.

My trainer has told me numerous times that in the 10 years of her career, I've been her favorite client. I've never missed a session, I don't offer up lame excuses, I don't quit, I do what I say I'm going to do and she respects that. I always tell her I'm paying her to dish up compliments and she argues that she couldn't be paid to compliment someone, that's just not her style. She really thinks I rock. I'll take it.

It's now the 3rd day of summer vacation and the kids are already driving me crazy. Perhaps its the new schedule, my lost few hours of freedom each day, the fact that its been a busy few days with hair cuts, dentist appointments, I have a dr's appointment today and had a training session, changing bedrooms, organizing, cleaning... I don't think I could keep up at this pace for very long. I'm sure we'll get into the swing of things right before my surgery (in 13 days!) and then our schedule will once again get turned on its head. :sigh: Change has always been hard for me.

I uploaded pictures today so here's some of the latest:

Last day of 7th grade:
Last day of 1st grade:
End of year preschool program:
How they look to others:

How they look to me:

Umm. Wow. Oh. My. Speechless.

I've been on a roll spring cleaning this house, knowing this summer is going to pretty much be shot to do it. It's now or never, or at least for another few months or longer.

The bedroom room B used to call his own is one clean MF'er now. I didn't realize how gross baseboards could get behind dressers & beds, but yeah, wow. At one point yesterday it was just me, that large bed and an otherwise empty room. I had a fleeting nostalgic moment of first moving into this spankin' new house 6 years ago, before B was adopted, before we found out about W's existence that very first morning in our new home, long before E was even a conjured up idea. How very much has changed since that room was last empty.

I digress. The speechless part of my day came after I was trying to find a pair of pants to go get my haircut in. Not too much fits. Things I bought seemingly recently now need a belt. It's pretty amazing to me and though I do complain about having nothing to wear, I'm not complaining about my weight loss. I am a completely different person than I was just 6 months ago. My brain works differently, my mind blazed a whole new path of thinking. More than one person at the salon did a double take of me. I used my newly accepted, simple response of "thank you" & a smile and it felt pretty darn great.

Sidetracked again. I found some pants. Had to cinch 'em but they worked. Before I slipped them on, I grabbed an old pair of size 16's. I vividly remember buying them, cursing myself that day that they fit & that I had to accept that I was now getting too big for all of the too tight 14's my closet mostly consisted of.

I put on those size 16 jeans.

Zipped them up.

Looked down.

One would think the only emotion I could muster would be that of victory upon seeing inches upon inches of room in the waist & legs below me.

I actually felt a little sad.

Sad that I'd ever gotten that big. How did it happen? Was it such a slow transformation that I didn't notice it? Didn't care? Is it something I'll notice if it begins to happen again? I don't want to live in a bubble, oblivious to the obvious, if I start to fall back into old habits.

As fast as that sadness overwhelmed me, it left, and I felt unlimited determination. I reminded myself that yes, I was responsible for those size 16's. I am also responsible for the now size 6's & 8's that fit me best now. I CAN control my destiny, not just merely hope history doesn't repeat itself.

In front of the full length mirror, I turned to the side and pulled out the waistband like you see on weight loss commercials.

Umm. Wow. Oh. My. Speechless.

Those feelings of victory finally flooded forth. I actually amazed myself right into speechlessness.

And, to think, in 2 weeks there will be even more transformation.

Umm. Wow.

ch-ch-changes.

It all started with new curtains for our daughter. Innocent enough?

I've been talking about buying new, matching, bedding for the boys for well over a year now. Since we're on a roll with making new curtains, my mom & I decided to get serious about finding the boy's new bedding and get their room rearranged nicely once & for all too.

I finally found the bedding. I've searched many times, always falling just a little short of what I'm looking for, or in my price range, never finding something that fit both bills. I love what I found and am so excited for it to arrive!! It is reversible so I think it will be super perfect since I bought everything in duplicate.

Yesterday morning I was excitedly telling our oldest son about the bedding I finally found for the boys' room. Mr. almost-14-smarty-pants pipes up that he's thinking he might be too big for his loft and could he get a regular bed?

brain. starts. spinning.

"I can't believe you no longer want that sweet bed but since it cannot be moved, would you also be willing to give up your room?"

big. wheels. keep. on. turning.

Before the power outage of '08 began yesterday (UGH!! I officially gave up my dream of becoming Amish after about the 4th hour), I was on a roll. Moving, sorting, hanging, boxing, moving, sorting, hanging, boxing, vacuuming. My son has now been relocated to our former guest bedroom (sorry Tiffany & Ellisa & Tonia & in-laws & my parents) and he now has a normal twin bed again. What he was thinking, I'll never know but hey, I ran with it. Who am I to argue with a teenager who knows everything anyway?!

I splurged & purchased him new bedding and curtains that will go with the colors of his new bedroom walls. I think its going to look downright GREAT when all is said & done and since he hasn't had new bedding since he was 6, I guess it was about time.

His new closet is completely purged of clothes that are too small or deemed by him too ugly to wear. I sorted his entire closet, removed all wire hangers ("No wire hangers ever!" circa Mommy Dearest, 1981) and organized it by season. His drawers have been completely purged, he's had the pack rat talk once again and we have started fresh in his new room with no trash, junk, blech or candy wrappers. Pictures hung on the walls, everything has its place, and with only a mere 5 hours from start to finish, I finally declared that room a victory.

As I want to now vacuum out his old room and get it ready to start the overhaul of the little boys' new room, winds start a'brewin' outside. The sky grows black. The smell of rain is right there on the tip of my nose. I think nothing of it other than, "sweet, another thunderstorm" since we've been having them downright daily lately.

No, no. Not just another thunderstorm. This one manages to knock out our power for the next 10-ish hours or so. No vacuum, no lights, NO AIR CONDITIONING. I wanted to keep being productive, damn it, and that doesn't happen all that often!!!

I read for awhile, I bitched for awhile. The kids got McDonalds and then Garth took them for ice cream while I showered, grumbled some more and then ate a bowl of low fat ice cream because hell, I wasn't going to let it go to waste in that non-working freezer! The power just would not come back on. Grrr.

Giving up all hope & accepting defeat, I just called it a day and went to bed. Only 1 room got accomplished and the other awaits me today. I hope I can keep up the same motivation I held yesterday.

B only had the top bunk/loft in his room. W has always slept in the bottom bed/bunk in his room. W's bed will still be W's bed but now properly positioned under J's new upper bunk. I can't wait for all of the new bedding to arrive. I am left with the quandary of what to put on the boys' walls. I guess I'll wait to see the new bedding before deciding. I've never been much of a decorator sadly, but wish I was.

And for those who are now fretting that they'll no longer be welcome as overnight guests at the compound, worry not. The boys' former bedroom will be re-established as a video game area, study area and guest room area. We'll still have room at the inn for ya.

I think things are working out beautifully. Everyone is happy. To think it all started innocently enough, with a new set of curtains.

nerves of steel. or just nerves.

17 more days until my surgery. With anticipation & excitement I very much am looking forward to it.

After the gym this morning I had a (healthy!) breakfast with my sister & friend Tina. I was able to ask Tina all the questions about my surgery & recovery that have been weighing on my mind. She had a similar surgery a year or two ago, although mine has a few added procedures included that she didn't have, all of which in hindsight, she wished she had.

After breakfast my mind was going a mile a minute. I'm still excited but admittedly now even more than a little hesitant about the recovery. I expect it to be bad. I mean, my body is essentially being flip-topped open & all. I guess I thought, like my c-sections, I'd be up & moving pretty decent within a week. She told me to think closer to a month. Plan for three months until I'm ready to exercise with any intensity & not be surprised if its closer to four. She reminded me to watch my food during those months as its easy to slip right into former bad habits when you're laid up & feeling sorry for yourself.

I knew all this, the dr. had already disclosed all of it upfront. Though with the surgery date now right on the horizon, hearing it from someone I've known for decades & who lived though it, made the reality of it all become so much more personal, no longer a futuristic pipe dream, something I could only daydream over. It's become a very real event that is about to happen very soon and it's going to hurt. Oh dang, its all making me so very nervous. Excited nervous but still very nervous just the same.

It made me feel reassured that, despite the pain involved, she'd do it again in a heartbeat.

I know I'm not making a mistake. I've waited a really long time for this. I've worked my butt off for this. I didn't make this decision lightly nor am I going into this with my eyes closed. But oh goodness, I'm nervous.

what is my deal?!

This week has been a whirlwind of schedule upset. Last week wasn't much better. I haven't been to they gym once this week. What the hell?! This isn't like me and I'm not feeling particularly proud of it either. I'm still maintaining within my acceptable 3 lb. range right now, actually down a lb. over yesterday.

My mom retired this week. She is very excited to begin this new chapter of her life. It's been a whirlwind week for her too, to say the least. She came over yesterday to make curtains with a blackout liner behind them for E's room. They look even better than I anticipated. We're going to completely redecorate & rearrange the little boys' room next and I am really looking forward to it. It needs it.

I told myself I'd go to the gym this morning for a 9:15 class. Instead I've now showered, dressed, done my hair and E's still sleeping. Is it because of my upcoming surgery (18 days!!!) that I'm selling myself short this week? Has my mojo simply left the building? Whatever it is, I want my motivation back. It has been a really long week and in hindsight can't really imagine tossing the gym into that mess anyway. With Garth sick and home from work all week, its not just him not getting any sleep - though it seems thats pretty much all he's been doing. I don't blame him but it has made for a really, really long week for me. Last night I semi-awoke with each & every cough and hack, imagining all those germs flying in the air...toward me. I slept rolled up under the blankets praying I don't get his tuberculosis botulism bubonic plague illness that has consumed him.

I'm hoping next week to start Monday, fresh, with our new summer schedule, that definitely involves me going to the gym.

Maybe I'll go this afternoon and just kick myself back into gear. I know there were MANY times this winter that I dragged ass to the gym, kicking & screaming in protest (inwardly, not outwardly!), and once there just made the best of it. I'll never love exercise, of that I can pretty much guarantee, but I do need to start at least doing it again!

Can you read the waffling of my emotions over this?

I'm PMS'ing. I'm off-kilter with my daily/weekly routine. I'm frustrated. My emotions have been all over the place. Most of all, I'm tired. Really, really tired.

running here, running there, running everywhere.

I haven't been to the gym all week. I haven't gained any weight. For that, I am thankful. I haven't lost any either. I can't say I'm really surprised. It is good to know that if I can't exercise for a few days I do have the ability to maintain and not gain though. I'll take it.

My husband has pneumonia. He sounds like shit. He feels like shit. Its been 6 days now and I hope he gets better soon. I fear he'll cough up at least part of a lung any day now and with just 19 days to go before my surgery, I DON'T WANT IT.

Lacrosse season is officially & finally over. End of season party and all. All good things must come to an end and as much as I actually enjoy the sport, I'm totally fine with waving it goodbye for another year. Bye bye practice 4 days a week & 32 games in a less than 2 month season, bye bye.

W's preschool end-of-year presentation was last night. We watched a dvd highlighting the children & their school year. Our kids sure have grown. Some of the pictures were downright fabulous. I got a copy of it to treasure later. They sang songs, signed songs and presented each family with a large scrapbook highlighting their individual child's year. Someone put a lot of time into these and I'm sure we'll get many years of joy reminiscing over it. I'm so happy they did that.

E pooped in the potty 2 days in a row this week. We have been all over her with praise. She is the type of personality that if she even remotely thinks its someone else's idea she'll resist 110% (I wonder where she gets that from). We're really hyping up her asking us to use the toilet, even if her grabbing herself and saying "pee pee pee pee" isn't the most lady-like approach. Two days ago she pooped on the potty and then peed on the floor. I think something is being lost in translation that we need to keep working on.

There is just a day & a half left of school and then its F-R-E-E-D-O-M for them and freedom for me and the daily trek there & back to preschool. Next year its SCHOOL BUSES for ALL of them! Wahooo!!! It's been 3 long years trekking back and forth and I'm downright elated to give up that duty.

I spent the entire day yesterday getting laundry caught up. Today the pile multiplied by 100 again. I'm back to square one. That 2nd washing machine idea I really pulled for somehow got sidetracked. Or forgotten all together. Or just swept under the rug until I bitch about it again.

Eh, its been a really long week. I'm going to stop being a wet blanket and just call it quits here. Happy Thursday.

disconnected. discombobulated. bleh.

Yesterday ranks up there with one of the worst 2 hour experiences of my life. Don't get me wrong, I've had more than a couple, a lot brought on by my own actions, but this one holds rank up there.

I really wanted the entire event to be quite insignificant in the grand scheme of things. It was supposed to bring closure and simply close a chapter of my life - a lot of which I've wished for years I could forget anyway.

When I die, please remember me as I was. I told Garth last night to please be real. Whether I die tomorrow or 60 years from now, tell the masses I was a bitch sometimes. That I didn't mind raising my voice when I didn't feel heard. That I was stubborn. That I was lazy and really, really preferred to sleep over doing most anything. That I had crazy mood swings that sometimes were frightening, to myself included. That I lived my life afraid of the words "mental illness". Can someone please stand up and remember me as a too-often-F-word-using-trucker-mouth who could make a sailor blush? I mean, give the good with the bad, but please let's try to keep it real.

Please make my eulogy, my legacy, something that it really was. And no matter at what point in my life in which I die, please acknowledge ALL those who played a key role in making my life what it was. Yes, even my ex-husband. Please even mention him. He's no part of my life now, but its no secret, my life experiences shared with him & because of him, most certainly played a role in molding me into the person I stand here today proud to be. Please don't pretend he didn't exist. He did, as often as I'd like to forget that he did. You'd be doing my legacy a disservice to omit him. It takes nothing away from the love I have with Garth to acknowledge the fact that I had a life before Garth.

I guess you just have to shake your head, remember that funerals are for the living and not the dead, and hope that having spent almost 20 years with someone in your immediate family, that that person would have wanted you, your sister and for the love of all things holy, your mother mentioned at his funeral. She was married to him longer than his first wife and for more than twice as long as his third, with whom he carried on an affair & left her for and never looked back at the aftermath he left in his wake.

We went because it was the right thing to do. We stayed in the background, didn't meddle, didn't attempt to draw attention to ourselves nor make it about us. But dang, timeline his life out in his eulogy but conveniently omit the 20 years in the middle where we existed?! I lived with this person far longer than most of the family that occupied the first rows of the service, his own biological children included. When that person only lived to reach 60, I'd like to think that those nearly 20 years, which included basically my entire childhood, teenage years & young adulthood were somewhat significant.

Apparently I couldn't have been more wrong.

I'm writing this blog as a part of my legacy. These are my moments in time I want to share with my friends & family now - my children, their children later. I wasn't even going to blog about the hell I call yesterday but I do want to document one thing, get it down visually so I can see what my ears never heard.

My Mom mattered to you. Dee & I mattered too. We existed in your life. Acknowledging us and our very real roles in your life, wouldn't have conveyed any misunderstandings that you loved your current family any less. I wish you understood that, or your wife, or whoever chose to forget our existence. Talk about compiling pain.

I was told you died with no regrets. Well, I, hope you died with at least one. You died still owing my mother an apology.


** please no comments sympathizing for my loss. i mourned our loss of this man years ago. he hasn't been a part of my life for 8 years - he moved on, never looked back, had a new family and so i hear, died happy. i don't wish anyone to die alone or miserable. i'm glad he was loved. i felt my mom, sister & i were erased, omitted, our lives with him diminished... and, having spent that much time in a persons life only to be forgotten, that is my pain. i had that hurt already wrapped up tight with a pretty bow, high on a shelf. yesterday ripped it right back open. whether you like it or not we mattered, damn it, we mattered.

beaming. gushing. pride.

My sister participated in her very first triathlon yesterday. My mom & step dad, dad & step mom, brother-in-law, 3 nieces & myself all came out to root her on every step of the way.

I was asked numerous times if I was interested in doing this triathlon with her & our friend Tina but my response remained the same each time it was mentioned. "I'd rather put a toothpick straight through my eye. No thanks."

She had faith that she'd finish. Did I have faith that she'd finish? I wasn't sure how she was going to pull it off to be quite honest but I know she's no quitter. I knew it'd have to be really bad for her to quit, and some people did. You'd pretty much have to drag me off the course before I'd quit too. I'm no quitter. We weren't raised to quit things we start but dang, that race looked HARD!

Her individual start:

The swim was just under a half-mile if I remember correctly. The bike portion was 9.9 miles. Then a 5K run. Nuts! And even more nuts that in my pride of her accomplishment, I'm considering trying it next year. I think with the proper training and having now seen it done & what it entails, I think I could pull it off. Umm, I think. It would be fun to do with my sister. Maybe we can even twist the arms of our husbands to join us next year.

I'm very proud to say she did finish. She conquered her fear of swimming in that cold, dark, murky lake and never gave up faith that the other side of the lake would be within her vision at some point. I didn't want to do the race because of the running part. What would have been my strong point in the race was her weakness. What would have been my weakness was her strong point. Odd how that happens sometimes.

Strong, weak or otherwise, it was one foot in front of the other until her ankle bracelet finally beeped at the finish, where I was standing, cheering her across that line. "Gooooooooo D-Girl! YOU DID IT!!"


Good job, D-Girl. You made me burst with pride yesterday. You set your goal and saw it through and not much in life feels better than that. I'm so proud of you!!!!

(no makeup, hey it was early)

whip. snap. scared of that!

Stand back.... you better just stand back now.

No, better yet, you'd better sit down for this.

When I started this entire life transformation I wore a very tight size 14. The 3 pairs of 16's I owned I hated myself for owning but they did fit me better than the 14's I desperately hung onto.

A month or so back I blogged about going out and getting a few new things for spring because those 14's were simply getting ridiculously big. Like so big I could fold over the waistband and still pull them off without unsnapping them too big.

I was so giddy to go out and buy 10's. GIDDY, I tell ya!

One pair of dressy capris I bought were full price. I have principles in life and not paying full price for clothes is high on my priority list. I hate paying full price. I mean, it WILL go on sale if I'm just patient enough. And remarkably, I usually am. But this pair of chocolate capris fit me like a tailor came in and made them just for me. I knew I'd feel great wearing them so paying full price was a small sacrifice for this awesome fitting pair of pants.

I haven't worn them since I bought them. I knew I would but I just haven't had the occasion yet. Well tonite I pulled them out as I have a funeral to attend on Monday. I was wishy washy as to whether capris would be appropriate but I thought if I put on the right dressy shoes, I could pull it off.

Imagine my shock when I pulled on those size 10's and they were without a doubt far too big.

What?!

They still had the tags on them. I still had the receipt. Easy fix. I'd just run up to Macy's and see if the 8's would still be skin tight or if they were worth exchanging. An 8 would be far too tight, right?

I finally found the rack and sadly no 8's were left. I asked, they weren't getting more in the saleswoman was quite sure. So I figured I'd just have to return them because I'm not keeping brand new pants with the tags attached if they're too big.

Walking to the cash register, I noticed a rack of bright, casual capris in the same brand as I was returning. Oh snap, they're cute! I took an 8 into the dressing room and there I discovered they were, get this, TOO BIG!

Envision me doing a celebratory dance in the dressing room that was a fine mix between Elaine from Seinfeld & Carlton from The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air, because that's for real what I was doing, and I didn't give a rats ass who saw or heard me.

Skipping out of Macy's today with 3 pairs of brightly colored (burnt orange, grass green & olive green) capris in a freakin' SIZE 6 just about made me orgasmic. I set out on this journey with the full hope of someday wearing a size 8 again, knowing that goal was a high one to reach.

A size 16 to a size 6. Me? Oh snap!

AND.... AND....

Today my BMI officially hit NORMAL.

From obese to overweight to normal. Oh snap!

Today is a good day. :D