Nudge The Nest & Pray They Fly
So a few weeks ago I stepped on these things barefoot, and it really hurt and I was griping about it in an email to some friends (LOL 4-Life) and I asked them what they called these things.
Hair balls? That seems wrong.
Hair do-dads?
Pig tail balls? Huh.
The consensus we came up with was…pig balls. Now every time I step on them, I scream, then laugh hysterically. I even get cracked up when I see them sitting on the counter or in a draw.
I know. I’m twelve.
What do YOU call these things?
Ever had a day when you felt like this?
For the last month or two I’ve been laid up, sick, having surgery and then recovering. Today I had all of my kids by myself for the first time in a long time and about two hours into my day I thought to myself, “Wow. This is hard.”
We spent the entire day in our bathing suits with all intentions of going swimming. We sort of ran out time this morning, because I had my first radio interview and I didn’t want to be late. But I promised my kids that we would go after a nap.
Cut to the pool. Three little bathing suits-check. Three bags of necessary crap- check. One stroller-check. $6 worth of sunscreen applied-check. Cash from the ATM (a special trip to the bank thankyouverymuch) for snacks- CHECK.
Aubrey and Emma jumped into the pool, I took my shirt off to start applying SPF 300 because my skin is transparent from being in my house for the last two months, when guess what???
It thundered, the lifeguards blew their whistles and SHUT. THE. FREAKING. POOL.
My kids and I were thrilled. (Sarcasm font.) I let them have popsicles and they were somewhat consoled.
So my Cruise Director alter-ego slipped into overdrive and quickly developed a Plan B: macaroni and cheese and movie night at home.
We came home and I fed the kids, then got into the tub with Sadie. I bathed quickly and got out and made room for the two older girls. In the 60 seconds it took for me to get dressed and apply deodorant, Sadie took a big ole bite out of a bar of soap.
I scooped her out of the tub and helped her rinse her mouth, then took her to her room to get dressed. I got a diaper on her before she puked all over both of us. (Apparently Irish Spring doesn’t taste as good as it smells.)
I carried my previously clean baby (and self) back to the bathtub and kicked the big girls out. Aubrey (5) started gagging as soon as I walked in the door and she saw chunks of mac-n-cheese.
“DON’T YOU DARE THROW UP! Hold your breath and RUN, Aubrey!”
The two big girls grabbed towels and high-tailed it out of the bathroom holding their noses and squealing, as I sunk back into the tub with my chunky (that’s punny) baby for the second time.
Just another day on the job.
Because Sadie, my 17-month-old, just crapped all over it.
Here’s what had happened:
Sadie had been straining and stinking for a few minutes and realized I had the perfect potty training opportunity. She needed to go, I am still recovering from surgery and have no where to go- we had all the time in the world for her to sit on the potty and for me to sit in the floor beside her to encourage her.
I put her on the potty.
Me: Go poo-poo, you big girl.
Sadie: Uugggh. (crinkles up her face to look like she’s REALLY trying.)
Me: Good girl! If you go poo-poo in the potty you can have a pop-pop! (What she calls all popsicles or candy of anykind.)
Sadie:(claps her hands and almost dips her butt in the toilet water) Yaaaaaaay! I poo-poo!
(She’s got her game face on now that she realizes there is candy on the line.)
Me: That’s right, you poo-poo! You can do it.
Sadie: (farts) All done. Yaaayyy!
Me: (clapping) Good job!
I let her down off of the potty and showed her there was nothing in it. I realized we were THIS CLOSE to pooping in the potty and I thought if I let her stand up for a few minutes and put her back on the potty, we would have success. She would get her pop-pop and want to poop on the potty for the rest of her days.
Me: Come on, let’s try some more. You ready?
I pushed myself off of the floor to get her when she bolted. She was out of the bathroom and in the hallway in a flash and I knew, this was it, the moment of truth. I grabbed her and pivoted back towards the bathroom, pushing through the shooting abdominal pains that lifting her chunky body caused. If we could just make it back to the toilet. I took one step towards the bathroom- plop.
I was frozen in time. Suspended in the moment. I had toddler crap under my right foot and inexplicably between my toes. I yelled for my mother, who came leisurely, to see what I needed before doubling over in laughter at me standing in the hallway with my feet more than shoulder width apart, whilst dangling a bottomless baby from my arms.
Shuggie: Oh!! What are ya’ll doing?? Heee-hee-heee!
Me: Could you get her? I’m not supposed to be lifting her.
Shuggie: Hee-hee-hee! What happened?
Me: Seriously, Mom. Get her and get me some wipes. I have crap between my toes.
My mother grabbed Sadie and walked into her bedroom to wipe her bottom and put her back in her diaper.
Me: (still standing in egg-zactly the same spot) Um. Mom? Can I get some baby wipes or something?
I overheard my mother tell Sadie, as she walked out into the hall with baby wipes, “Your momma gets herself into more fixes…”
Yeah, well….and don’t you think for one second if I had made it to the potty in time, this post wouldn’t have read “SADIE PLUM POO-POOS IN THE POTTY!” ‘Cuz it would have. Instead, I disinfected my foot and put everyone down for naps, including my mother and my oldest daughter, who are both still laughing at me.
If you have a bum gallbladder you have to eat low fat foods or you get uber sick. It’s like a built-in personal trainer who kicks you in the stomach if you eat something you’re not supposed to.
So I haven’t talked about this at all yet but I figure, what the hell, I’m going to spill it eventually anyway…so here goes.
I’ve been really sick for the last few weeks. Nausea, hot flashes, stomach cramps. Lots of fun. I peed on a couple of sticks, just to make sure God wasn’t playing a joke a me, and scheduled an appointment with my doctor to have my hormone levels checked. Early menopause and ovarian cancer run in my family and I didn’t want to play around.
I went to see an OBGYN in Jackson to make sure my hormone levels were o-kiz–zay. Whilst in the waiting room I got a phone call from my family doctor informing me that my liver enzymes were high and I needed to have a gallbladder and liver ultrasound. With the help of google and my medical knowledge (I’m an RN) I convinced myself that I was dying by the time I got in the exam room.
I was blubbering like an idiot by the time the doctor walked into the room. Here’s where things get really fun. Do you know what people think when you are 32 years old and have elevated liver enzymes? They think you are either a) an alcoholic b) an IV drug user or c) a ho who has contracted hepatitis.
I have never been a heavy drinker and for varied reasons, I have literally gone YEARS without having or wanting a drink. I do LOVE me some wine and enjoy a glass or two a week under normal circumstances. But for the last month I’ve been exercising, and eating right and trying to lose weight so I gave up alcohol all together. Too many empty calories.
Here is my convo with my new doctor:
Me: (blubbering)
Doc: How many drinks would you say you have in a day?
Me: I haven’t had a drink AT ALL in weeks. I’m trying to lose weight.
(I can totally see it all over her face that she now thinks I’m in withdrawals because I am obviously a big fat alcoholic.)
Doc: So you wouldn’t say you wake up in the morning wanting a drink?
Me: NO! (more crying)
Doc: Have you ever participated in IV drug use?
Me: (more crying) NO!
Doc: How many sexual partners have you had in your life?
Me: I’VE BEEN MARRIED SINCE I WAS 19!!! (I realize she is just doing her job, but for. The. Love.)
She smiles sheepishly, leans forward and asks, “Do you feel like you want to hurt yourself or someone else?”
Me: (thinking YOU!) No….(sniffling continues)
After a full panel of blood work I’ve been cleared of hepatitis, pregnancy (hallelujah) and various other ailments. After grandly flunking a HIDA-scan, all signs point towards my gallbladder. (It’s VERY common for women my age, who have had multiple pregnancies and have taken birth control pills to have gallbladder problems. Google it and see.) I’m meeting with a GI specialist next week, and who knows what he’ll have to say.
But I wanted to let y’all know what’s been going on for several reasons:
1) Y’all are my peeps and I covet your prayers.
2) I wanted you to know why I’m not blogging at the same pace you are used to, AND
3) This whole blog is about a real, true experience in motherhood. The good, the bad, the ugly, the hilarious. If I’m not truthful and honest about everything then what’s the point? If you wanted to watch “The Perfect Mom,” who does everything right, and never has a bad day you could go watch old episodes of Jon and Kate Plus 8.
My Momma is here taking care of kids and as always Sister Wife has my back and my husband is da bomb.com (don’t forget ladies, I will take my earrings off and THROW down Walker County style for him,) and my new friends here in Mississippi have been amazing, whisking kids off to church and just helping us get by.
I’m very optimistic, although extremely annoyed that it’s taking so long to get to the bottom of things. God is in control and I have no doubt that this is just a bump in the road.
People stared as I walked into Walmart today. It was almost like they had never seen a baby taking a nap in a grocery buggy on a bed made of a cart cover, dirty cardigan sweaters and a tent formed from her mother’s raincoat and sheer ingenuity…