Alrighty then. We’re just going to act like May didn’t exist then are we? I wish I had an answer for you as to why I haven’t been around. Wait, I DO.

We bought a house.

A 1964 ranch-style house.

A darling house that sits on a lovely piece of property nestled near a community lake.

I would like to tell you that it’s move-in-ready, but sadly it is not. The previous owners have lived there for 40 years and have probably had a lovely shade of teal carpet in there the entire time. We have to remove all of it. It has that older person smell to it, plus it’s ugly as all get-out, so that is the first order of business.

Wait, not really. The first order of business is to remove the popcorn ceilings on the second floor. You know, the ones that were just tested for asbestos today and came back POSITIVE. Like HIGH positive.

Ya, that’s special.

We knew it could be in there. The owner himself built the second floor himself back in ’78 and asbestos was part of the stuff you use to put in ceilings. It was removed from the shelves right around that time. In our disclosures, he did not believe there was any asbestos, but Barry Bonds also said while he did take medication, he didn’t know it was actual steroids, so we’re not sure who to believe here. We’ll fix it, then consult with an attorney to see if we have a case.

It’s not a HUGE problem. Just one that has people going in with suits and tarping off the area and getting all that crap out of there. We will test after-the-fact and if there is any signs of it still left in the air. We’ll make sure it’s a safe place to live before moving in.

Man, old homes. They’re a bitch!

Besides that, it’s a open canvas. We can do pretty much whatever we want to it. Our current house, we moved in with completely painted walls and crown molding. We only painted a child’s room right before they were born. (That makes three rooms if anyone is counting.)

We’re thinking of putting in hardwood floors in two of the rooms ourselves. We have some people who have done it before so we think we’re good to go. There’s just so much to accomplish in the next month and we’re heading to Hawaii in two weeks for nine days. Clearly we did not know we’d be buying a house right at the very same time we’d be on vacation, but it’s not a terrible problem to have, so we’re just going with it.

I haven’t packed a box, let alone purchased any. I keep trying to bid on ones on Craigslist, but I am not fast enough for these crazy people. They’re snapped up quickly around these parts.

Plus, my IPhone was taken/misplaced at Rt’s school the other day during Field Day. Someone has my phone and will not return it. It’s password protected and hasn’t been used by anyone, so I think they should return it STAT, but they aren’t buying. I am at a loss. A horrid loss. I don’t even want to talk about all the photos and videos I haven’t uploaded since October.

Don’t you think I’d learn since almost losing all of my photos and videos from my computer last fall? That cost me an arm and a leg to recover. And no, I did not have the “find my phone” app installed on my phone before it was taken. I should have, yes, but I am clearly an idiot and have been so since April ’11.

We are very excited for our big move…12 miles across town. This does mean new schools, new community and new everything while still being able to jot across town to our favorite friends and hot-spots.

Anyone done any moving lately? Any advice, suggestions, DON’T DO WHAT WE DIDs for me? I’m all ears.

e

There has been links going around the Internet of blogs who have just let it all hang out, so to speak. Being real, being authentic and being human. I adore their courage. There is really nothing more difficult than sharing your true self and thoughts, opening yourself up to your peers, strangers and maybe even no one. No one may identify with you, others will judge, some will challenge you just because. Being that vulnerable is just, A LOT on many levels. It seems so much safer to keep it to yourself, myself, but I don’t think that’s doing any good for anyone, mostly me.

Haven’t you heard from mothers before you that having babies can really do a number on you? Your vajajay? Ya, we’ll I’ve heard it. Yada yada, your business might not be as tight, you may need to do kegels the rest of your life, but, hey, that seemed to be the extend of the chatter I’ve ever heard or even chosen to. It’s kinda like listening about having a baby before you have one. Ya, ya, it’s going to be different, hard, but not until you walk in those newborn shoes do you ever realize what they truly meant by it.

Well, that’s me.

I’ve had three babies. All have made their entrance into this world through my hoo haw. (You like my names for it, yes?) I recently went to see another pediatrician and as she walked into the door and saw Peppa, she said, “There is no way that head is yours.” Then, she looked over at my other two kids and said, “And those aren’t either.”

Yes, I married a melon head.

7 3/4 hat size to be exact.

Giving birth to Rt, my first, was a trying experience. His head got stuck in little ‘ol me. He had to have a heart monitor inserted in his head, his heart rate dipped down into the 90′s for a good while and it was scary especially being my first time. I was prepped for a c-section just in case I couldn’t get him out. Fortunately, with the help of a suction, and sure determination, Rt was born “naturally.”

He must have started it all. Made way for his brothers to enter the world a tad bit easier. After having Hola, who came out in half the time, I really had no issues in recovery just like 3 years earlier with Rt. Besides a couple of stitches, all went back to normal, or what I knew was normal. (Who really knows what is normal? I’ve never spent too much time prior to kids viewing said woo haw, so I really can’t tell you if it still was in its original shape after babe #1 and #2.) I do know nobody told me things looked awry at my 6-week appointments.

Enter baby #3. My Peppa.

It seems when you ask your doctor to strip your membranes on a Friday because it’s the weekend he is on- call and you’d rather have your third kid as far apart from his oldest brother’s birthday 4 days later, things can bite you in the ass. First off, when my water broke at 11p.m. that night, (3rd membrane strip, 3rd onset of labor the same day) there was meconium in the water. It was scary and awful and it wasn’t something I was expecting, it being my third rodeo. I, for sure, thought we’d have to have an emergency c-section since Peppa could aspirate on the poop, but my doctor, who I called on the way in, said to just check-in at the hospital and no one from there on out seemed that concerned. (In the end, Peppa had no respiratory issues, thankfully.)

So, once we were in our room and such, my doctor, over the phone, gave the ok to the epidural even though I was only measuring 2cm. What a guy! (or so I thought…) I got the epidural, I was checked again at 2am and was at a 3. 20 minutes later I was checked again after complaining of pressure and was told I was a 10. In twenty minutes. For the next 20-25 minutes, we all waited for the doctor to arrive while Peppa was literally at my doorstep waiting to be born. (If I had not had the epidural at 2cm and waited till I was a 3, there would not have been time to give me one, and the nurse would have delivered me without the doctor there. We would not have waited.)

But, since I had the epidural, it wasn’t hurting anyone to wait and wait and wait and not cough, laugh or sneeze or the baby would come right out. So, we waited and Peppa was born at 2:45am.

****

-Cut to one week later, while changing out all of my recovery dressings in the bathroom, I noticed something up in there that looked like a balloon, or a small part of one. I called the doctor, since it was over a weekend (OF COURSE) and the rudest doctor in the practice told me it was normal. And that was it. Uh, okkkkk. So, I left it at that. It was 1 week post. I have no idea what WAS supposed to be down there at that time. So, I moved on.

-6 week check up. My doctor told me something about my bladder after I brought up seeing the same issue after some typical heavy lifting and a full bladder. Yada, yada yada, but nothing formal was said at that time and that was that. So, I moved on.

-9 month check-up this past Monday. We discussed what I found out myself as a prolapsed bladder. Basically, if your hoo haw is a tube and you tilt one end higher than the other, the top wall muscle can separate during delivery, like a hernia. If a head is hanging out in your tube for, oh, let’s say 20 minutes, the head can push the muscle to its extreme and it can give.

Mine gave.

(And this probably happened to me since this was my THIRD delivery and each of their heads were the size of an asteroid.)

It didn’t give as much as it could have, I believe, but enough to have the bladder, that sits nicely on top of this muscle under normal circumstances, to slip into the crack that has been left behind.

This I already knew. I found all this out by doing my own research.

What I didn’t know was the damage that was done did not stop there. (HOW SPECIAL. The gift that keeps on giving.)

There is also a bottom muscle wall as well. That is compromised as well. PLUS, after being checked out, while bearing down, my cervix/uterus also moves down a little. Now, of course I don’t walk around bearing down every minute of the day and honestly, I don’t notice any of this in my daily life. It’s not keeping me from anything, well, besides becoming an Olympic weightlifter. (The DEVASTATION.)

But, after just one examination from just my OBGYN, his suggestions are as follows, (if I even want to correct any of this.) Keep in mind, I don’t have to do anything, but I am not guaranteed that someday I might have to do something. He suggests fixing the bladder above, the lower wall too, plus the uterus. And by fixing the uterus, in his mind, would be to remove it. A HYSTERECTOMY, you guys.

I’m 38. No thank you.

I’ve done more research since Monday. I know there are ways to keep the uterus by using the muscles around to keep it in place. It all depends on the damage. I don’t know the extent of mine compared to those that received this laparoscopic surgery.

So, my plans are to digest this initial diagnosis, get a second opinion from the specialists in the urology department and wait it out until I can get a surgery that will keep my lady parts IN. I refuse to have mine removed unless it will be a detriment to my bladder or my pooper down the road.

Until then, my life remains as it is. It’s normal. It’s fine. I’m not sick. I’m healthy. I’m happy. I’m just trying to stay above it all because all I feel right now is broken.

But, I can say I have the best husband in the world. He said, and I quote, ” I love your vagina, honey, no matter what it looks like.” HA.

Ah, men.

e

So, I am on Day #4 after my skin surgery and I’m better than I was to begin with.

Well, pain-wise and attitude-wise.

My incision isn’t pretty. It’s drastic and it’s noticeable. It’s bruised and raised. It still has stitching.

(Once he removed the “circle-shaped” wound, there is a hole of sorts left behind. In order to close that area up, he had to remove “party hat” shaped skin above and below (flipped upside down) to close the skin all neatly in one line. Took me completely off guard sitting in the chair. How did I think he was going to fix it? I have no idea…. I was somewhat numb and not thinking much about anything. Also, my other option was to leave the circle shape alone and let it heal, scarred. I opted for the line. I hope I made the right choice…)

This photo is filtered to make it look “better,” to make it look less drastic. But, this is what it looks like. On day 4.

It won’t look like this forever.

It will heal.

e

Oh, how I’d love to be on the mend.

I guess today, I’m starting that process. I’m here at the lovely skin surgery center sitting amongst the over-65 men population getting my basal cell carcinoma removed off my forehead.

As the doc said during the first removal phase, the kind I have and its level of severity is not that big of a deal. He also said I need to be diligent with my sunscreen since I have decades ahead of me and clearly my skin is not immune to the sun’s ability to damage. (Not like the 90 yr old guy he had in last week. Trying to get him to wear his sunscreen seemed like a mute point.)

I knew what they were going to remove was bigger than the actual spot. Makes sense. We want all the bad cells gone and that takes removing the outer good ones in the process. What I wasn’t expecting is the stitching he will do when everything is finally removed. It’s going to be vertical and it could be as long as 2 inches! (or more!) HOLY SHIT. Can I start crying a little bit here? THIS IS MY FACE we’re talking about here. Sad face.

And yes, I will no longer have cancer, that if left alone could eventually do way more damage. That is the point. Clean bill of health. BUT, MY GOD. Does it have to be that dramatic? Yes. The way things are going in my neck of the woods? YES.

Once I’m on the other side of this, it won’t be as big of a deal than it is now here in the waiting room. I’m still waiting to see if they got all of it, or I have to go back in, have more taken out and wait another hour and a half for another round of testing…..

It’ll all be ok. I’m just wound up with no one to talk me off my imaginary ledge. Hey, I’ve got a defrosting bean burrito in my bag if this thing goes on all day.

There’s something to be said for that, right?

e

Back in August, I was driving to a pinata party with my kids in tow. As I recall, we were heading out of town that afternoon and I needed to call my dentist to make up some excuse why I couldn’t make my cleaning appointment. I thought I would kill two birds with one stone and give my dentist a call WHILE driving.

Doesn’t seem like anything out of the ordinary, but I had a new phone, didn’t have my headphones with me and decided to put the phone up to my ear while making a quick call TO MY DENTIST. (Holding a phone is against the law here in CA. Hand-free or bust!)

As I put the phone to my ear and turning right off the main road, I met face-to-face with a cop on his bike STARING STRAIGHT AT ME. I immediately put the phone down and continued on my way. As I was turning, I checked my rear view mirror to see the cop pull out of his “hidden” area and follow me around the corner.

DAMMIT.

I haven’t been pulled over since HIGH SCHOOL.

Back in the 90′s, people.

And this wasn’t even for anything DRIVING related. (for the most part. work with me here.)

So, I pulled into the strip mall on my right and waited for the man in black to come to my window.

He didn’t ask for a driver’s license or registration since this wasn’t a driving offense, but did ask me,

“Were you making a call or receiving one?”

We all know what the better answer would be, don’t we?

Ya, I didn’t pick that one.

I told the truth.

And, not long after I was handed a citation and was on my merry way.

Initially, I heard these tickets weren’t too much, but after my best friend got one in LA, I realized the ticket would be around the $150 amount. GULP.

Weeks go by and nothing came.

I had long moved on and thought nothing more of the day “mommy got pulled over by the cops for being bad.”

Then, the envelope came.

It stated in plain English. $150 or come to court.

I put it aside with the rest of the medical bills and once again went on my merry way.

Not long into the month of December I received another letter. It read something along the lines of, “since you did not show in court to defend yourself nor pay your original fine, you now owe $465.

HOLY, WHAT?

FOUR HUNDRED AND SIXTY-FIVE DOLLARS for being a total asshole for not paying my fine? I AM IN SO MUCH TROUBLE. I can’t afford that. I don’t WANT to afford that. In the middle of December, no less.

I called the court house. The gal told me I could write a letter to the judge stating my case for why I did not show in court and pay my fine. The judge would then decide my fate.

So, I wrote,

“To whom it may concern,

I would like to offer you an explanation regarding my absence in recent court.

This is my first traffic ticket since I was 16 years old. (1990) I am embarrassed that I did not take the time to pay my fine prior to the original court date set for me.

I am the sole caretaker of my two young boys when my husband works out of town. I was not going to be able to get childcare to appear in court, so paying the fine was my only option. While the original fine of $150 was rather steep for me, I knew I had made the offense (the one and ONLY time I will ever do so) and owed the money. However, being new to all of this, I was unaware of my allotted time and in turn missed my opportunity to pay without unknown additional fees.

Since receiving my ticket, I have had to rearrange my finances to afford our loan adjustment to remain in our house, raise two young boys while carrying a third. My plate has been rather full. I know that doesn’t excuse my responsibilities, but it does let you know a little bit more about me and my current situation.

If there is ANY way I can pay my original fine and not have to endure the additional late fees, I would be eternally grateful. Thank you for your time.

Warmest regards,”

Ok, so I was a little dramatic. (I even left out some bigger doozies as to not completely sound pathetic.) I mailed my letter a few days before Christmas and hoped for the best.

Once again, I forgot about my ordeal until I checked the mail this week. Another enveloped appeared.

It stated that the judge understood my issue and if I paid before a certain date in March, I only owed the original $150 amount. If I did not pay by this date, then the late fee still existed.

HOT DAMN.

PHEW.

SIGH.

Note to self: Don’t be a schmuck when it comes to owing what you owe. It will come back and bite you in the ass TWO-FOLD.

I hope all of you learned something from my idiocies.

e

The last time I was pulled over by the cops, I was a sophomore in high school. My mom and I were driving back to Oklahoma from spending a weekend in Dallas at one of my sporting events. We were a mere 1o miles from the border when a Texas highway cop pulled me over for doing 10 miles above the speed limit.

This was the only traffic violation on my record until Friday.

I got a ticket.

For holding a phone to my ear.

I was calling the dentist to tell them I wasn’t feeling well enough to come in for my appointment later that afternoon (when actually, we were going out of town and I forgot to reschedule sooner.)

Let’s all welcome Karma to the table!!

I know I am not supposed to talk with my phone to my ear. I know this. I deserved it. I truly did, but when the guy asked me if I was receiving a call or making one, I blurted out immediately, “MAKING ONE!!” then said out loud not long after “And that would be the worse of the two, now wouldn’t it?” (Hangs head in shame.)

DAMMIT.

I can’t even lie on the spot.

And I’m going to pay for it.

There was no dollar value on my ticket, except for court date information. I should be receiving something in the mail with the “pay out of your ass” feature, instead of going to court. Rumor has it, the ticket is $25, but after all the court fees and “you live in freaking CA, now pay us for it” fees, the total is somewhere in the $100-$200 range.

Go me.

Wasn’t I just talking about good news?

Come on already!

e

What happened?

Just yesterday, we were headed down to the beach for a week long vacation with the sun and surf. But, that was a month ago. And so much has transpired since then.

Should I list them?

Yes, I shall.

• Urgent Care visit (given tips on how to get into ER quickly.)
• ER Visit (Lame excuse for diagnosis.)
• Pediatrician’s office (never seeing that awful back up doc again.)
• ER Visit (Right diagnosis.)
• Ambulance Ride (Pricey!)
• Surgery (woah, nellie.)
• 3 days spent in the PICU (Nothing’s more surreal.)
• Rest, rest and some more rest (all of us needed it.)
• Follow-up Pediatrician visit (clean bill of health!!)
• Acupuncture (Ahh.)
• Swim lessons (Awe, the boy is back.)
  
• House cleaner comes (entire house must be thrown into closet.)
• Acupuncture (Ahh.)
• Swim lessons (Younger is making great strides.)
• Current day (phew.)
  

And then, to top it all off, I recently looked at our insurance bill (EOB). Definitely not something you should do if you are positioned around things that can shatter easily. It can be a big mess and make matters much worse.

Let’s see, where should I start….

How about the ambulance ride?

Out of pocket $500.

Hospital stay?

Not sure on our part yet, but the total bill sent to insurance rang in at $35,000. YES, you read correctly. An arm and a leg and a nut sack. (I’m guessing, we’ll owe $7000, unless more is discounted due to being in-network, but that looks like it could be the worst of it. *I hope.*)

Luckily, once we got home from the hospital, I paid all the rest of my medical bills from the D & C, (I was dragging my feet a bit) which rung in close to $1000.(surgery center, anesthesia, doctor himself)

DUDE.

Don’t you think we’re about due for some good news? I certainly do.

e

Sitting at my mom’s meeting this morning, listening to each gal share their highs and lows from the past week, I thought to myself, well, clearly we all know by now what my low is, but what exactly am I going to share that I haven’t already shared in previous days, weeks? I mean, this ordeal has seemingly gone on for what seems like, forever.

When it came to my turn, I couldn’t find the words. And then I began to tear up, truly not knowing where the sadness was coming from. Of course, I knew the reason for my tears, but what was the trigger? Have I gotten all of this wrong? Have I convinced everyone, including myself, that I am OK? Am I truly ok?

It would be just fine if I wasn’t, in fact, I’m not supposed to be, but at that moment I just.didn’t.know.

I don’t know how to be right now. I don’t know what to do right now.

Now what exactly?

It’s interesting thinking about grief. There is so much outpouring of concern and thoughts and prayers. (THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU.) You truly feel the love coming from all sides. Once the ordeal is over, or procedure in my case, the healing does begin, or should, rather.

But this is the part where you do it alone. Everyone, as they should be, has moved on, and you are left with the same problem you had when everyone was still here. It’s how grief works.

How do I heal?

It has to come from within. The cupcake left on my doorstep won’t cure me. (Even though it was the BEST TASTING CUPCAKE EVER and was such a special treat.) The vanilla Diet Coke that was brought over to me won’t make the sadness go away. (BUT, it was such a surprise that had a personal touch.) The blooming plant that was delivered won’t bring that life back (but it can be planted and made as a tribute to the life that never was.)

Physically, I am fine. I’m recovering slowly. (That damn anesthesia can linger like a Mother!) Mentally? The jury is still out. As the weeks go by, this new sense of normal will feel just that, normal and soon enough, plans for the future will begin again. Until then, I’ve got two little dudes who need all the love and attention I can spare.

I’d say that’s enough to keep me quite busy.

e

Dude, time flies when you’re knocked out for a small portion of the day. How is it past 3 already?

So, I’m home and doing well considering the day’s events. Overall, the entire process from beginning to end was “ideal.” The staff was so lovely and they ran the place like a well-oiled machine. I was given warm blankets, socks with traction and was even reclined back in a chair while waiting for the day to begin.

****

It wasn’t long before I woke up in Post-Op to the sight of dear hubs. I had been in another area before this, for a good 20 minutes, but I have no memory. All I do recall is the OR and the room with hubs in it. SO crazy how that is.

In fact, I think I felt quite refreshed when I came to. Clearly I had the best nap that ever was. Do you think they could have added a couple extra doses in my take-home bag? That would have been soooo cool….

Withing minutes of seeing hubs, I started feeling myself again and ready to drink and eat anything that was offered. Too bad it was only crackers and water, but STILL . Since I couldn’t eat or drink anything after midnight last night, a tall drink of aqua was quite appealing, plus the salt on those crackers? TO DIE FOR. (I did eat slice of pizza at 10p.m. last night. Thank God I did that. Otherwise, I would have been in bad shape before noon.)

I was given a scrip of hydrocodone and decided to pop one, then two this afternoon for good measure. Currently lying down in my bed and was told I can’t take care of my littles for 24 hours.

I think I can do just that.

e

1st appt is over and done with. Trying to take it easy at this point. No major boozing tonight, (DAMMIT) and I should stop my pack a day habit anyway, so today is as good a time as any….

Felt good about talks with doctor and feel better about tomorrow morning. Still scared of the entire process, but know I am in good, safe hands.

Here’s hoping to a quick and easy recovery, a healed heart and an eased mind in the days to come….

e