Sunday, December 4, 2011

things that make you go hmmmmm....

Let me just get this out of the way: has it really been since February that I last blogged? WTH? And I mean that. Where did 2011 go?

This post is also going to be a bitchfest. In fact, if there was a song called bitchfest 2011, that would have been the title of this post. Have you noticed that my posts are titled after songs? I've been feeling stabby for quite some time, but I always put on a smile and pretend that things are fine. Maybe this will help me clear my head. If you know me, you already know that 85.4 percent of my observations are sarcastic. It's how I deal...judge me if you must.

So, in no particular order, I give you Bitchfest 2011.

1. It's cold and snowing. The onset of winter is just a cruel, heartless time of year. Farewell to my favorite season, and hello to shitty driving and stupid drivers. Pass the coffee and gimme two shots of Irish cream in there.

2. Quit posting the fabutastic craft you're never going to make on Pinterest. Instead of acting like you're better than everyone else for making your own clothes out of old t-shirts and yarn, spend that time actually doing something you can do, or learn something new. But for real, are you ever going to make your own laundry soap?

3. My kitchen is a gigantic mess. My kids have had friends over all weekend, and they've eaten every bit of food I had in the cupboards, dirtied every drinking glass TWICE, and used every pot and pan. This morning, there was dried shredded cheese all over my counter. I've done three loads of dishes in the dishwasher. I don't even want to think about going in there. Blah.

4. Somewhere, there is a leaky pipe in our ceiling in the basement. It it inconsistently occurring, so of course my husband wants to ignore it instead of trying to figure it out. Are you kidding me?!??!? I can't STAND that. It needs to be fixed. Holy shit, I need a Tylenol. Have I mentioned that our sliding glass door has been broken for more than two years? Eye effing roll.

5. Why am I the only person who will clean up vomit, pee and poop in this house? Why? Am I the only sucker? The only one who is responsible? I am quite certain that if someone had told me that as a mother I'd be responsible for cleaning up all unholy messes and investigating strange smells by sniffing the crotches of things, weird-colored spots on carpet and unidentifiable foods in the fridge, I'd have reconsidered my decision to have sex. Ever. Being a nun really doesn't sound all that terrible at the moment.

6. My throat still gives me problems, even after having my tonsils out. I have very short muscles in my throat, my vocal cords are short, and I clench my jaw. These things strain my voice, which makes my throat hurt. Annoying.

7. Our van needs new tires, the car has a squeaky belt. See item 4. These things will not get fixed unless I do them myself. For the love!

8. My kids cannot walk anywhere in the house without stomping. Everywhere they go STOMP STOMP STOMP STOMP. I swear I'm not making this up. I rarely say anything about it unless my husband (who works nights) is sleeping. And then when I do, they give me a look of surprise and say, "I am not stomping!" to which I reply,"You're right. It was a figment of my imagination." Then they look at me like I'm a crazy person. Which I am, of course.

9. No one in my house can find anything without me. They spend 15 minutes "looking" and crying, only to have me stop whatever it is I'm doing to look and find it within the first 60 seconds.

10. Put recyclable items in the recycle bin, NOT in the trash. It's not that hard.

11. I know I am on the crazy train, so why stop? Here's the last thing, and then you can comment and tell me I need a psychiatrist. I hate it when people open packages poorly. You know, so you can't re-seal it well. So it spills everywhere when bumped. So the cans roll out of the box and explode on the floor. So an entire bag of corn nuts or m & m's will spill all over the inside of the car and into cracks where no one can reach. I know that sometimes this is inevitable. But this isn't a rare occurrence at my house. It happens on a regular basis.

I need a vacation!!!!

Thursday, February 10, 2011

getting better all the time (can't get no worse...can it??)

***i wrote this post more than 2 weeks ago... i didn't publish it because i was taking massive amounts of percocet and i wanted to come back and read it after i felt better. i am publishing it as is - no edits. i'm three weeks post surgery now, and i'm still alive, although this has been a very dark time in my life. i'll come back and write a full followup post very soon, but for now, enjoy a story about my horrible tonsillectomy.***

i haven't brushed my teeth for eight days. EIGHT DAYS. before you judge me... let me explain. i had my tonsils out just over a week ago. there is nothing that could have prepared me for how harrowing this experience has been. how humbling. i've been overwhelmed by my friends bringing dinner over for me and my family. for the treats they've brought just for me, things like chocolate creamies, italian ice and vanilla ice cream. for the trashy magazines i love so much - like people, star and US weekly. my husband has been an absolute rock star to take care of me - because i'm so sick of myself, i can't imagine that no one else is sick of me yet. he assures me he isn't...but he probably is ready for me to be feeling back to my normal self.

i had two weeks to get all my "houses" in order before my scheduled surgery. the work house, the house house and the mental house. work house - easy to prep for because i have fantastic colleagues. house house, pretty easy to prep for, but as i was writing everything down, the schedule, who needed to be where and at what time and the mode of transportation, i realized just how much stuff i really do! I AM AMAZING. and i'm worried that paul will be able to handle everything. while he's a great husband, he's not the household CEO. he's never not been married or lived at home... so running the whole show by himself will be his own personal accomplishment.

last of all...the mental house. how do you prepare for something when you have no idea what is going to really happen?

nothing could have prepared me mentally for the hell i was about to embark on. nothing.

i got to the hospital and everything there was standard. i have to put in a plug for cache valley specialty hospital here. their staff are personable and amazing. they are friendly, compassionate and they explained things clearly. the anesthesiologist laughed at me because i was uber concerned about begin able to get my nose ring back in RIGHT AFTER SURGERY. super important, right? he walked me to the OR and i laid down on the table. the nurse wrapped me up in those warm blankets that i love so much. i want one of those blanket warmers in my house. i remember telling her about my dogs, and what kind they are and that's the last thing i remember.

when i woke up, i didn't know where i was. i must have asked for diet mountain dew, however. and god bless cache valley specialty hospital. THEY HAVE DIET MOUNTAIN DEW. and the nurses made me a diet dew slushie. swoon. the one who was taking care of me knew me from high school and i wish i could remember her name, but i don't. maybe paul remembers her. anyway, she was super nice and they took excellent care of me there. i was almost sad to leave.

the rest of that day wasn't really that bad. i drank lots of water and paul kept my humidifier filled up. i set the timer on my phone to go off every four hours so i would remember to take my percoset. i rotated percoset with ibuprofen or aleve every two hours. the pain was under control and i was even able to eat.

the next day i woke up and i was extremely nauseated. i tried to eat a little bit, but i was afraid i was going to vomit whatever i ate. i knew i was in trouble because the pain in my throat was beginning to grow exponentially and i knew the percoset would make me sick if i didn't eat. vicious cycle. to make a long story short, i threw up. not awesome. it hurt like hell and i wanted to saw my head off with a butter knife. i sent paul to logan to get me some anti nausea meds (prescription) and to get me some yogurt. and some cup o soup. i miss savory food ... i don't want any more sweet foods at this point. i'm tired of them already.

so, the next two days (friday and saturday) are pretty much repeats of thursday. this is where the mental breakdown starts to occur. in my experience, when i'm sick - i expect to have a day where the sickness comes, the day or two of hell, and then the storm passes and i'm on the upswing. THIS WAS NOT TO BE THE CASE with these tonsils. i'd go to bed at night. i'd think to myself, "tomorrow will be better. i'll probably be able to eat something more substantial."

and then i'd wake up in the morning. i'd know that there was no way in hell i was going to be able to eat. that there was no way today would be ANY better than yesterday. and honestly? the horrible feeling that today might actually be worse than yesterday. as if that were possible.

well it is. it's entirely possible. and it's enough to make me want to cry. but i didn't... not because i'm tough. i didn't cry because i knew it would hurt and i didn't want any more pain.

sunday and monday were horrible. they were twice as bad and friday and saturday. i had a brief respite on monday evening through tuesday evening. i was able to eat a delicious broccoli chicken casserole with rice and i felt decent. however. enter wednesday morning. i think this is when the scabs in my throat started to fall off. it feels like i have sheets of thick black ragged plastic hanging in the back of my throat. i can't move them. i can't dislodge them. i can only swallow around them. gag gag barf barf. right? this is when i really started to unravel. my husband had to go back to work last night and i wouldn't go to sleep until almost 3 a.m. because i was scared i might need him in my sleep and he wouldn't be there. i slept for most of the day yesterday. most of the sleep was feverish and i felt like i was half awake. stuck in this no-sleep-no-food-tons-of-pain purgatory.

...more to come later.