Detrius from the Demented

So, it has been a while. I've been a little busy....

Okay, very busy. Halloween came and went. The candy is all gone, but the costumes are still in a heap on the living room end table. Super G was kind enough to gather the accessories and put them in a bag on top of the costume heap on the living room end table.

I feel that February will be a good time to hang them up.








See this box of tampons? Isn't it cool? Don't you love the ever-so-subtle symbolism in the RED flower? Doesn't it make you just feel FRESH and FEMININE buying a box of wadded cotton pellets because there is a RED poppy on the front? Do you think that perhaps they chose a RED poppy because, really, all women who are menstrual not only need the wadded cotton pellets, but also the heroin that is made from those poppies?

Perhaps the good people at Kotex didn't have any of this in mind. Instead they put that RED poppy on the box to attract my son. This is at least the third time in his life where we've gotten into an all out melt down over the fact that:

• We do NOT need to put that box in the cart.
• We don't USE that brand, or any tampons at all.
• HE will never have use for them, ever.
• The box does not have flowers in it.

So anyway, I now have a big beef with two corporations, Kotex, for putting that stupid RED flower on a box of plugs, and WalMart for putting the crotch products right next to the Cat Food. What, pray tell, was their message in THAT particular product display?

Brutus, the foster basset, went to his forever home on Sunday 11/4. That was hard, I stayed home and worked, SuperG took the kids and delivered him. He was a sweetie, not too quick on the uptake, but a real good lug.

The puppy we took in 10 days ago immediately lost herself, forgot all she learned and terrorized our family with chewing, yipping and whining. So we brought another dog in for her to play with. He's been here 12 hours now and I like him. He's very low key and sedate, has a weird face, not all long and bassety, short ears for his kind.

My house is a mess. Tomorrow (Thursday) I go to Bowling Green for my final appointment before the next surgery on 11/26. I'm nervous and scared, but looking forward to the trip.... 3 hours up and back, in the car, all by myself. So I'll be cleaning like crazy today (or not)

And to that end, must go give the kids breakfast and get the girl ready for school.

Missile Sharks

You're the first to read about it, the worst ecosystem invasion ever to be discovered by a three year old in modern history.


IT is the invasion of the missile sharks. Laugh if you must, but Buddy will tell you in no uncertain terms that they will come flying up out of the ocean, crash right through the window of the Hulking MiniVan of Death, and eat his brain.

Missile Sharks LOVE tender young brain.

Oh, you say, there is NO OCEAN in central Ohio. You would be wrong. There are micro oceans all over the place in Ohio and parts of Pennsylvania. I can attest to this. Back in Nebraska, when we went for aesthetics in our subdivison planning, we planted, or left, lots of things like TREES and green space. HERE, they dig holes and fill them with weirdly blue water, and fountains int he middle of these weird blue ponds. If the ponds don't look like cough syrup, then they are nasty green, filled with algae and goose poop. The "ocean" in our subdivision is part of the latter, and when Jessi the Aussie goes for a dip, all her white parts come home green. eeeeeewwwwwwwwww

Anyway, if you are driving along and you feel a thump against your car, and suddenly your three year old is slumped over drooling, don't say I didn't warn you about the missile sharks.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Friday Bug didn't have school. Dear Lord, WHY do they do this crap to me? Couldn't they have had the decency to consult me about my surgical schedule BEFORE they went and did something stupid like that? ARGH

Buddy has been begging to go to COSI every day for two months. I relented, invited one of Bug's friends and off we went. Me, 4 kids and COSI. Yeah, but remember I'm one week out from having a vital organ severed and partially removed. I seemed to have forgotten.

I paid the price today. SuperG went back to Nebraska to try and help the Huskers win a game (no such luck) and wish his Grandma a happy 100th birthday. I'm all alone with two kids.......

Bug had a skating party for 3 hours, when she got home, I told them I was taking a nap, and my sweet babies let me sleep for nearly 3 hours. How cool is that?

Only when I awoke, they decided that while I was sleeping, the best thing to do would be to paint Bug's body with acrylic paint. She of course blamed it all on the 3 year old, yet somehow I heard not one whimper of protest from her.

And, I knew it was too quiet, which is why I got up to go see. When I say they let me nap, they let me stay horizontal, sleep was not always allowed. they would stand next to the bed, or on the bed, and tell me about their cool ideas, or come give me kisses, or rat each other out, whatever, horizontal is half the battle.

Now they're both asleep. I actually got to eat dinner (mmmmm fish sticks) and blog in peace.

Now who could ask for a better day?

Welcome to Mommy's Freak Show

More times than I can count today, little voices are heard from around my midsection, and tiny hands lift my shirt.

"Mommy? I can I see your tummy?"

"Mommy, is that blood?"

"Mommy, can I see the hole?"

Mommy, did it hurt when they stapled your tummy?"

My children are endlessly fascinated with my surgical scars, or as I prefer to call them, my Roadmap of One Really Bad Day.

All day long, we have counted the surgical staples, (18), confirmed that they are NOT the same as the kind in the stapler in my office. We talked about the hole left by the drain tube. No, we cannot put anything into that hole. Yes, it hurts now. No, it didn't hurt when they did it, I was asleep.

On and on and on. I've always known that chicks dig scars, but I had no clue that kids dig them too. Perhaps, one day, I'll get a tattoo covering the big one, maybe some colorful worm wrapped around a green stem, which would be the long scar. Who knows. I'm open to suggestions.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~




Today Super G was the man. After he got home from church, he mowed the lawn, and let the kids help him out, both of them. They actually each mowed a few rows, so I know Super G's day got a little easier. Soon....soon they will do my bidding ..... I could hear it in his head.....


Notice the dog laying in the middle of the street. Yup, she's ours.


Then I came inside for my 2387th catnap of the weekend. I would lay in the recliner, and drift off just to the point of incorporating the background noises into my dreams, when someone would wake me up.

I was summoned to get the camera.

I opened the garage door and there was Super G, with the SuperGMobile up on ramps (which I knew about because I helped guide him) and Bug, yes Princess Bug, up under the car, draining the dirty oil. Then later I captured her putting the fresh oil in. And later, as SG steered the Hulking MiniVan of Death onto the ramps, Bug jumped up out of her seat and said "Let's get this thing going" I would post the videos, but I have to upload to YouTube first then embed it here, which is too much like work right now.

Then they came inside, ate dinner, took a shower, got in their jammies and eventually went to bed.

What a great day.

Back from the Abyss

So,

on 10/11/2007 I had 40% of my left kidney removed. I had been having pain off and on for two years since they had to go in, twice, to remove staghorn calculi in that kidney.

I would like to just say "I told you I was hurting" right now. The surgeon said the kidney was a mess, and he had to fight through a lot of scar tissue to repair and reconstruct the portion of kidney that he saved.

Kidney surgeries are awful. Awful. My c-section was easier to deal with than this. The incision from this laparascopic procedure was longer than the one for my open appendectomy. I am still in quite a bit of pain.

Everyone, be kind to your kidneys. And if you are a person who has ever thrown and landed a kidney punch to someone else, you're an asshole.

I've never dealt with this particular hospital before, Riverside Methodist, and I hope to never have to deal with them again.

Not once, not once, in my entire stay, did anyone ask to see my insurance card or my photo I.D., just verify my name and date of birth. Hmmmm, this rubbed me the wrong way.

Then the first night, I got Mrs Tired-and-Jaded Charge Nurse. They set me up in my room (which was private for some reason) and left me with the door closed....except that my call light didn't work. I didn't find this out until my IV infiltrated (Blew) and my arm began to burn and look pregnant. I called out for help, bashed the call light a million times, then finally called Super G, who called the nurses' station and they finally sent someone in. I was on complete bedrest, and could not get up even if I wanted to.

Then they were unable to get a new on started on me, so they called the IV team, and they took TWO hours to get up to me. At the time my IV infiltrated, I was due for pain meds. I had a drain placed right up against my diaphragm, which was horribly painful with every breath. By the time she got me up and running, I was gasping for breath and crying. I was literally paralyzed with pain. I have never felt so horrid before. I just lay there in the bed, my arms bent out, my mouth open and contorted and completely unable to move. The nurse was in tears with me.

The next day was more of the same pain. Mostly a blur. A friend came to visit, which was nice, and Super G brought Buddy up to see me in the day. Then he brought Bug and Buddy back up at night.

Kids never want to see their parents in the hospital, they only want to go play in the play areas down in the lobby. And eat the cookies left over from mommy's dinner.

And so today they pulled out that drain tube (yet another paralyzing moment) and sent me home. I'm doing better and better, but can't lift Buddy, which he doesn't understand. I was able to give Bug a bath, but then I had to lay down for an hour afterward.

Super G even went to Panera and got me some Broccoli Cheese soup. It took me 2 hours, but I ate it all :-)

So for those who were worried, I'm home, I'm alive and as soon as I've healed up from the surgery, I am looking forward to living pain free......

The prospect of that seems so incomprehensible after what I've gone through in the last 2 years, and it is so enticing too.

Why, oh why, do they fight?

I was an only child. For many blessed years I was it in my world. I was a lonely, but good child and life was serene.

Then Hightower and Rita got divorced. They remarried, and suddenly I had three step brothers and a step sister. I got along fairly well with them, since they didn't really live with us, I still maintained my only child status on the weekdays.

So when Buddy came along, I naturally figured that the kids would play together and life would be good. No, I was not on drugs then. But I am now, and I still can't get that sugar coated turd out of my head.

They fight and scream and push and shove and hit and slap and bite and throw things and then it always comes down to "MOMMMMYYYYYYYYY". In fact, that very thing is happening now.

Right now.

I'm ignoring it. I am not the sibling police, I do not patrol the bedrooms looking for strife. They're both pissing me off right now, so I'm hiding in my office. They know that I've got a wicked cold, and they think I'm trying to sleep, which is why they are bickering and fighting. I have no voice, so I can't yell very loud, but boy, I can squeak like a ferocious mouse, The Mouse that Roared, if you will. The last time I squeak-o-roared at them, I think I ruptured something, my ear crackled, and I tasted blood. Couple this with the bad cough, the Achilles tendinitis, my newly diagnosed Carpal Tunnel Syndrome, the near constant kidney pain (because I'm weaning off the Duragesic patches AND the OxyContin.... I aren't too smart, huh?) and you can see why they are kickin' me when I'm down.

I can't yell.

I can't get to the room fast enough to pull them apart before the slapping/pinching/biting/kicking starts.

I usually end up sputtering over my words because I'm trying NOT to drop f-bombs, but I'm cranky from the withdrawals and if I spew out what I want.....her room will be a parking lot of profanity.

But I'll show them. Ha ha ha! The next time they get into it, and bring their standoff to me, I'll just start whining, and then I'll cry, and then throwing myself on the ground and sob....just like them....

Just heard:

This is my computer and my room! I'm telling Mommy.

NO!

I'm telling Mommy!

NO! ARRRRGGGHHHH!!!!

ahhhhhh, must prepare the tears, I heard a thud and a crash, more "no" and some slapping.

now someone is hurt.

suppose I should go up there.

nah, he came down here.

He tried to leap from the arm of the computer chair to the bed, about 4 feet, he didn't make it.

Now he's back up there and they are the best of friends. Why do siblings have such schizophrenic relationships?

Five more days until I lose part of my kidney. Talking to Bug about it the other night, she said to me:

"I hope they don't kill you. Well, good night Mommy"

Yeah, I hope they don't kill me, either, kiddo. That would suck.

I love this so much

I have this sick affinity for Basset Hounds. Slobbering, chewing, drooping, drooling, goofy love sponges.

There is a place called House of Puddles, where old Basset Hounds go to live out their lives in dignity. If this works, you'll see a video here, and understand my day. Replace the dogs with one basset, and two kids, and she is me......

The Chinese Lead Conspiracy

I'm sure others have thought of it. But I'm voicing it here, because millions upon millions of people look at my blog every day. People throughout the galaxy depend on my words of wisdom to get through their pathetic little lives.

*ahem* thanks for reading, dear husband....you're the best.


So several months ago a toy recall happened that shook our world to the core. Thomas and Friends Wooden Railway toys! Buddy sleeps with his wooden trains. Seriously. I'll find him in his bed all snuggled up next to James and his tender, or Thomas with Annie and Clarabelle, and little wheel prints on his cheeks. It is so adorable.

Buddy is a trainiac, I am his enabler. It is just so CUTE! I love to watch him push his trains all over his little wooden tracks, and when the train table harshes his mellow, he breaks out and makes his entire room his little own Island of Sodor. WOOO WOOOO

So when I had to dig through all his stuff to see what was recalled, I was less than happy. In fact, you could almost count me among the more severely pissed off moms on the planet. Several engines had been eaten by PeeCircles, and replaced. Those were recalled. I immediately took away James and a few other ones, sent them in for replacement. You want to know sadness? Have a three year old running through the house calling "James, Jaaaaaaammmeessss, where are you? I miss you!!!!" breaks your heart PDQ.

So I think about this some more, as more and more toys have been recalled for lead paint dangers, and it dawns on me.....this is no mistake people!!!!!

Think about it: If you want to overtake a country, if you want to dominate a society which lives far enough away from you that, logistically, it would be a massive undertaking, wouldn't you find a way to come in under the radar?

So if you want to bring down a society, first try it out on their pets. Contaminate their pet foods and see how long it takes them to catch on......

Then contaminate paint on toys.....for years. Brain damage....learning disabilities....behavioral issues.....death.

Hmmm, either it's gross negligence, or something more nefarious. What is a mom to do? Not only did PeeCircles get contaminated pet food, he also ate two toys painted with contaminated paint. That poor dog, no wonder he went off the deep end. Not sure what my dog did to piss off the Powers-that-Be in Beijing, but I'm sure it didn't warrant them plundering his urinary tract and then going after what little brain he had.

So my solution? Don't buy anything foreign made. Go "off paper". I'm constantly threatening Super G with this concept. Burn all our identifying documents, get a cart, a horse and a Coleman three room tent. Go up into the hills and live off the land. Learn to whittle and make Buddy his own trains. Hunt, gather and cook over an open fire. No phone, no lights, no motor car, just us and each other.

But then I'd have to homeschool......and the fantasy ends, abruptly.