Christmas Day Tragedy

The MOAT is gone.

I swore that on Christmas Day, that sonofabitch was comin' down, and I meant it.

Shortly after the children dove into their booty, we pulled down the tree.

Here you can see the forensic evidence, like my very own Conifer Crime Scene:


The scene of the take down




Needle-spatter evidence


Where the victim was dragged



more needle spatter




Where the corpse was disposed


The day after Christmas was trash day. We forgot to put the trash out the night before, but thankfully, the MOAT saved us one last time, because it took so long to load her up onto the truck, Super G was able to wake up, get a coat and shoes on and run out to the curb with our mini-dumpster.

Next year, we're going tree-less. We'll gather 'round and decorate the Christmas Twig and count our blessings, every one.

Getting Rid of Grey Hair, on the cheap.....

So, you may be wondering, how is it that I have kept this head of long, fabulous hair even as I approach middle age.

My secret it to get it cut once a year, whenever the gift certificate fairy gives me the cash to go to my favorite salon. So for a month I have a style, and then it becomes one giant mass of follicles.

But two weeks ago I discovered the first sign of impending doom. Amongst the six inches of grow-out I have, I saw a light glint. Could it be???? Why yes, it was.....it was a grey hair.

I was told to go get Ms.Clairol and let her handle it for me, but not for one hair. Now I have two. I could pull them, but that hurts, and they'll just grow back.

hmmmmmm.......

Today, I thought of a solution, so simplistic in it's planning that it was sure to be foolproof. I found the brown Crayola marker, walked assuredly to the bathroom, locked the door and fixed my harbinger of menopause.

Unfortunately, Crayola markers are washable, and soon I was staring at the steel grey strands that mocked me.


Upon telling Super G of my project today, he stared for a moment, then ate a piece of cheese, clearly unimpressed with my resourcefulness. He would never understand, having been born with the perfect head, he eschewed the need for hair some time ago, so he just does not understand the travails from those of us less perfect than him.

Tomorrow, AFTER my shower, I'm gettin' out the Sharpie .

My mother will be horrified, sounds like this is a great idea :-)

When boys are quiet....

something bad is happening.

Tuesday it was peeling the backing off of maxi pads and sticking them on the walls.

Wednesday, it was getting into the cookies for his sister's Christmas party, and giving them to the boy I babysit, who promptly took one bit out of six different ones.

Today, it was food coloring.

I was working, and after being interrupted every two minutes all morning, I suddenly realized that I'd been able to have continuity of thoughts.

This is a BAD thing.

I go into the kitchen, and on the table I see a bottle of ketchup, a loaf of bread, cocktail sauce and a can of whipped cream.

Closer inspection revealed a box of food coloring, which had been opened, and four little bottles lined up on the table, each with their caps off.

I followed the sound of running water to find the boys voluntarily washing their hands in the bathroom.

Buddy tried to hide his guilt:


But it was too late........







Tomorrow is a Christmas Party. We are getting a sitter.

We may never come home...........

What every guy needs for Christmas......

Honey, I'm taking back the IPod Touch, the 60 inch flat screen Sony and the Swedish Swimsuit Massage Team, because I'm gettin' you the Nutty Buddy.




That is right. You saw it. One lunatic former baseball player, a tennis ball and a giggling teenager, what more could you want?

Some guys never grow up. You know what is wrong about this? He's going to make millions, like Ron Popeil, but wait there's more!

I envision young boys everywhere bashing each other in the nuts with baseball bats, surfing down the streets behind cars with only their cup between them and the pavement.

This cup is the end of civilization as we know it. Barroom brawls will no longer end when someone gets kicked in the balls. Where will the danger in dirt biking go? What of the girl wanting to get even after her boyfriend cheats on her with her sister?

This cup will make men impervious to pain, both good and evil men will become super-omnipotent, setting forth an ever escalating confrontation to which no man can succumb, leading not just to mutually assured destructions, total annihilation, but lets face it, Armageddon.

So to put it in a better frame of reference, NuttyBuddy is the Antichrist. Isn't that going to be ironic sitting under your Christmas tree?

Buddy Does the Christmas Program

Here we see why my son will never win the Oscar, play well with others, or complete the basic training in the branch of the military of his own choosing.

Keep your eye on the little guy in the maroon turtleneck as he wanders around.

He has a Christmas program at preschool coming up soon. His teacher stopped me today and expressed concern that he didn't stay in one place, sing or want to behave like a Wiseman. That would be my son, and I hate to break her heart, but he's not as eager to please as his sister was. He has no interest in being a Wiseman. Now, a WiseGUY, perhaps.....

Here's the next Tony Soprano, taking "Away in the Manger" literally:




I am so very proud of him.

For those counting at home, I've lost 17 pounds so far, and have been stalled for 3 days, which is frustrating. But it could be worse, I could have gained that 17 pounds!!!!

The MOAT.

The Mother Of All Trees.

On a crazy whim, we decided to get a live Christmas tree this year.

Dropped a ton of money at Target getting lights (our fake tree was pre-strung) and a stand and a cheesy skirt. It should be noted that I believe, in my heart, that children need to have loud, gaudy and garish Christmas trees. I let my children decorate our tree, so once it's done, all our ornaments are in a small wad about two feet off the ground. Last year Bug chose a silver star with crystals hanging off of it that, when lit, can be seen from space. So we picked out multicolored faceted pearl lights, 210 of them.

Then we went to the tree place in front of the church, selling trees to benefit AIDS Orphans in Africa.

The $35 trees looked anemic. So I sent SuperG to the ATM, because my sights were on the $50-$75 trees.

I found one that looked like our cat, Mo, because it was big and fat. We decided if we were dropping $75, we better get our money's worth.

My first inkling of trouble was when they tried to net the tree for transport.

and tried,


AND TRIED.....


UNTIL.........

SUCCESS!!!!!

So then we loaded said tree up onto the top of the Hulking MiniVan of Death and happily headed home.

I'd like to say in my defense right now that it DID NOT LOOK THAT BIG IN THE WILD.

But when you domesticate a tree like that, sometimes, it just takes over your house:




The view from the couch:




Since it has been raining for 2 days, we are going to let MOAT dry out, and then decorate her this week.

The house smells lovely, but I think I'm going to need more lights..........

~~~~ I've been asked why we put the tree in the middle of the room. It is not, in point of fact, PUT in the middle of the room, the branches bend a bit at the wall and into the window. The tree just FLOWS INTO the middle of the room. I secretly wonder if we wake up in the morning, will it have continued to grow, thus putting us up in the sky with the Giant, the singing Harp and the Goose that laid the Golden Eggs?~~~

New Belly, New life

Well Monday 11/26 was the big day. I now have had drastic bariatric surgery, and I don't regret anything, so far.

Sunday was hard, I was all ready and willing and able to go except that the in-laws were not here, and not here, and not here. They were sucked into the morass that was the Dayton I-70 I-75 interchange.

This interchange has been under construction since I moved to Ohio, in 2000. Seven years later you still spend your time in one lane of traffic, jammed between semis and waiting. And waiting.....and keeping other people waiting. Like the 6 year old who runs to the window every 3.5 minutes "are they here yet? When are they going to get here?"

I spent the entire day all jumpy and ready to roll. But not until 3 hours after the in-laws showed up did we FINALLY get moving, in the dark, cold, rainy night.

Two and a half hours up to Bowling Green we went. My first moment of rage came when, on Highway 23 around Lewis Center, some idiot decides to come to a COMPLETLE stop in the right hand land, before taking a 90 degree turn into the right hand turn lane. Yes, Yes, I enjoy going from 60-to-zero in an instant, especially on a cold, darky rainy night. ARGH! Assholes!

But not to be outdone, I believe once we got onto Highway 15, some old fart pulled out onto the highway, which is permitted, but a scant 20 feet in front of me. So I slam on the brakes and the horn, skid a bit, as he crosses in front of me, in the right lane, then into the left lane, and then back in front of me into the right lane, top speed: 32 mph. What was my speed prior to this moment of slow speed psychosis? 75 mph.

I was so pissed, it was all I could do to stop the car, get my baseball bat, walk up to Speedy Gonzales and show him how we handle DITWADS in Columbus.....

But we got to Bowling Green, alive and in one piece. I had reserved us a room at the Days Inn, one of the very few choices I had in the Greater Bowling Green Metroplex.

I reserved a King, Non-Smoking Jacuzzi Suite.

We got a King, Smoking John Waters Special.

Threadbare carpeting that didn't quite meet up in all places. Extravagant Liberace type cut glass mirrors surrounded the Jacuzzi, with the grout job done by Romper Room.

The microwave had DIALS on it. We didn't open the fridge. The room heater had no temp control, only on, low fan, mediums fan, breath of Satan settings. But it was a Searsometer, so I'm sure that meant something good (in 1972). The bed was so springy it needed shock absorbers.

But the most was the bathroom. Screaming yellow tile, floor to ceiling. Lemon meringue Pie Yellow, Big Bird Yellow, more yellow than my grandmother's 1976 Mercury Cougar. YELLOW! Even with the lights out, the yellow glow from the bathroom kept me awake for hours.

Oh yeah, and the jacuzzi only worked for 5 minutes.

Long after Super G fell asleep, about 2 seconds after his head hit the pillow, I laid awake wondering if this was a harbinger of the day to come.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning we were both up bright and early, because I forgot the ride to the hospital was 5 minutes, not 45.

Checked in, had some bloodwork done, went upstairs. They made me put on these leggings made out of sheets, the only way I can describe it. And the requisite 3 pokes before finally getting an IV.

I woke up in the OR with the breathing tube still inserted, yeah that was a whole lot of no fun. I was loaded up with fentanyl and dilaudid, and eventually spirited off to my room. A nurse later told me that all Dr. Lane's patients get private rooms unless the hospital was completely crowded. So I had the room all to myself.

I was visited by two patients of Dr. Lane's who will be having surgery in December. Never met them in person, but why not meet someone for the first time when you're 8 hours post op? It was a great thrill ride........

Until the vomiting started. I had been given zofran, but for some reason, that doesn't do jack for me. I asked the nurse if I could have phenergan, she said that I could not because it was a dangerous drug and caused one of her patients a Deep Vein Thrombosis recently. I vomited all night long.

At shift change I talked to the new nurse about it. Turns out night nurse never called the Doctor, and the patient she was referring to got a DVT because she pushed phenergan through a bad IV. A short time later, I got my phenergan, which in actuality is a harsh drug, I slept for the rest of the day, but didn't vomit again.

I survived the upper GI and went home on Wednesday night, with a drain tube.

My drain stopped draining on Thursday.

I called on Friday and was told that was normal AND THEY WOULD PULL IT WHEN I WENT FOR MY FOLLOW UP APPOINTMENT ON DECEMBER 6TH.

ahem.

Why would I drag around a tube hanging out of my body that is no longer functioning for an entire week?

I went upstairs, snipped out the suture and pulled out the drain myself. I don't see what the big deal is but apparently, people don't normally do this type of thing. I figure you, you pull out boogers, tampons, babies, why not a drain tube?

Still haven't figured out what I'm going to say to the Dr next week when I come in without my little friend.

I have good days and bad days, yesterday I was really hungry, but today I had some Campbells Select Creamy Tomato Parmesean soup, and it was heavy enough to make me feel full for the first time. I'm not supposed to start full liquids until Monday, but I'm not very compliant about some things, see the drain tube above.

So other than antsy to drop pounds (I gained nearly 10 with the IV fluids in the hospital) I feel normal.

and so I must start working for the day.