I thought about putting this out until Monday because a lot of people just don't read blogs on the weekend but then I realized that I've left you all hanging and worried. You don't need to spend the weekend worrying. I've already done that and it's no fun.
The night of the lump or Why Ex is a Fucking Saint
The night I found the lump is also the night that I broke my bed. Remember that? It was like 1AM and Ex is lying on the floor screwing my bed rails back onto the headboard while I'm googling Breast-Lumps-That-Will-Kill-You. I'm here to tell you that when you have a medical scare, Google is NOT YOUR FRIEND. In fact, Google is an asshole. I'm just sayin'.
So, Ex fixed my bed and held me while I cried and snotted all over his shirt. I'm not sure how I would have made it through the first couple of terror filled hours without him. The next day I emailed my doctor about the lump and he kind of brushed me off and said it's probably nothing. When I told this to Ex over the phone I think he almost climbed through the mouth piece to slap me upside the head. "Make An Appointment." "MAKE AN APPOINTMENT" "MAKE THE DAMN APPOINTMENT OR I WILL MAKE IT FOR YOU!!!" I made an appointment. And then Ex insisted on going with me. I'm not sure if he was afraid I wouldn't go or if he was there to support me. Probably both.
So, not to bore you with all the details, over the following 2 weeks, I had lots of appointments. I was touched and smooshed and prodded and ultrasounded and had giant stabby things shoved into my lovely lady lumps. There was some pain and tenderness. The biopsy left me sore and achy for a few days. But the worst? The worst was the fear.
I was definitely NOT myself for those two weeks. I was withdrawing from people. I was closing off. I was scared out of my everloving mind. I wasn't sleeping. I wasn't eating. I wasn't blogging. My pants were completely devoid of Sass.
I finally got the phone call with the all clear. And I cried some more. Lots and lots and lots more. Oh the relief. It was like having a 50 pound dildo removed from my pearl necklace.
My boobies. They are healthy. My boobies. They are staying attached to my body. I love my boobies. And in honor of my healthy still attached boobies, a booby haiku.
I love my pretty boobies
Nipples are your friends
They should run for president
---
And now, finally... FINALLY, the shit storm seems to have ended. I've got no drama going on. None. Nada. And it's wonderful. The Things start school in a couple of weeks. We are gearing up for all the sports seasons to kick off. I've been to festivals and parades and dance clubs. I've had a couple of dates that were good. But no drama. Perhaps a bit of intrigue but I'm ok with that. After all, I need something else to write about besides how crappy my summer has been. Y'all are probably almost as tired of reading my overly emotional Snotty McCryBaby posts as I am of living them.
So, starting Monday. We're back to the Sass.
Showing posts with label crapitude. Show all posts
Showing posts with label crapitude. Show all posts
Friday, August 21, 2009
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
The day the earth stood still - Part 2
I checked in on Shimmy several times the following day just to make sure she heard a hundred times that I loved her and to make sure that she was ok. Later that night I got a phone call from SM explaining that Shimmy's counselor still felt that she was unstable and had convinced her to check herself into the children's mental hospital.
...OMG...
This week was a week that SM also had his triplets. And SM's ex-wife is satan. Just so you get a clear picture on that before I keep going. SATAN! EVIL WALKING!
While in the middle of a meeting the following day I got a phone call from SM. Normally I would have let that go to voicemail because I'm professional and shit but considering the situation I ducked out and took it. The hospital was concerned that Shimmy had TB and needed her to get a chest x-ray. Of course that could not be done at the kids-are-crazy facility but instead had to be done at the people-are-dying hospital many miles away. SM had his triplets and SATAN would not take them so he could drive Shimmy. So, he wanted to know if I would take her if he could get clearance from the insane asylum. OF COURSE. After getting all the right nods and okays I was on my way over to get Shimmy.
As soon as I walked into that place I wanted to grab her and run. From the outside it looked all pretty and grassy and well, sort of lovely tucked back in the trees. But inside the doors were big and metal and locked with buzzers and double pane bullet proof glass. The walls were white. The floors were white. Everything was so sterile and holy crap, I'd have wanted to kill myself if I had to stay there too long. You probably think I'm terrible for saying that considering the situation but really, it was that bad.
After springing her from the loony bin, my first order of business was to let her call her daddy (no cell phones in lock up) and then to feed her. Sure, we should have gone straight to the hospital but I knew she didn't have TB and she had been isolated in a white room with only a cot all day because ohnoesthecontamination. I wanted to give her a little extra time of freedom in fresh air that didn't smell of crazy.
Following her x-ray and a nod from the little man in the white coat saying she wasn't going to infect the world I knew it was time to take back. I was so sad. But when we got there, long after visiting hours were over, they said I could stay and talk with her for a while. Yay!!! We talked for a couple of hours until we were both yawning and the nurse said it was time for lights out. Hating to leave her, I walked out of the scary place and drove home in tears. She didn't belong there. How could a place like that help her? ARRGGG!!!!
Over the next few days she did get better. In fact she was given progressively longer "field trip" time away from nut house. We went shopping at the mall one night. We spent a day on state street and had a picnic at the park on the lake. At one point, she came back to my house where I let her shower and shave her legs because they don't allow scary things like razors and tweezers in hell. When she was out it was almost as if none of it had ever happened. Except that it did happen and we had to take her back. It was crushing.
Two days after she was at my house plucking her brows, Shimmy got to go home to stay. It was a little bit rough for her at first but she is so much better now. I still worry every day. I love her so much and the idea that a hurt so big she would want to end her life could be banging around in her chest makes me want to hold her and hug her forever. To not let the big bad world near such a wonderful girl. Alas, I can't do that. But Shimmy is strong. She will make it. She will make it to that amazing future I see in front of her. And I'll be there to watch her embrace it.
...OMG...
This week was a week that SM also had his triplets. And SM's ex-wife is satan. Just so you get a clear picture on that before I keep going. SATAN! EVIL WALKING!
While in the middle of a meeting the following day I got a phone call from SM. Normally I would have let that go to voicemail because I'm professional and shit but considering the situation I ducked out and took it. The hospital was concerned that Shimmy had TB and needed her to get a chest x-ray. Of course that could not be done at the kids-are-crazy facility but instead had to be done at the people-are-dying hospital many miles away. SM had his triplets and SATAN would not take them so he could drive Shimmy. So, he wanted to know if I would take her if he could get clearance from the insane asylum. OF COURSE. After getting all the right nods and okays I was on my way over to get Shimmy.
As soon as I walked into that place I wanted to grab her and run. From the outside it looked all pretty and grassy and well, sort of lovely tucked back in the trees. But inside the doors were big and metal and locked with buzzers and double pane bullet proof glass. The walls were white. The floors were white. Everything was so sterile and holy crap, I'd have wanted to kill myself if I had to stay there too long. You probably think I'm terrible for saying that considering the situation but really, it was that bad.
After springing her from the loony bin, my first order of business was to let her call her daddy (no cell phones in lock up) and then to feed her. Sure, we should have gone straight to the hospital but I knew she didn't have TB and she had been isolated in a white room with only a cot all day because ohnoesthecontamination. I wanted to give her a little extra time of freedom in fresh air that didn't smell of crazy.
Following her x-ray and a nod from the little man in the white coat saying she wasn't going to infect the world I knew it was time to take back. I was so sad. But when we got there, long after visiting hours were over, they said I could stay and talk with her for a while. Yay!!! We talked for a couple of hours until we were both yawning and the nurse said it was time for lights out. Hating to leave her, I walked out of the scary place and drove home in tears. She didn't belong there. How could a place like that help her? ARRGGG!!!!
Over the next few days she did get better. In fact she was given progressively longer "field trip" time away from nut house. We went shopping at the mall one night. We spent a day on state street and had a picnic at the park on the lake. At one point, she came back to my house where I let her shower and shave her legs because they don't allow scary things like razors and tweezers in hell. When she was out it was almost as if none of it had ever happened. Except that it did happen and we had to take her back. It was crushing.
Two days after she was at my house plucking her brows, Shimmy got to go home to stay. It was a little bit rough for her at first but she is so much better now. I still worry every day. I love her so much and the idea that a hurt so big she would want to end her life could be banging around in her chest makes me want to hold her and hug her forever. To not let the big bad world near such a wonderful girl. Alas, I can't do that. But Shimmy is strong. She will make it. She will make it to that amazing future I see in front of her. And I'll be there to watch her embrace it.
Monday, August 17, 2009
The day the earth stood still - part 1
I'm not sure if this is going to make sense to any of you but I'm going to try.
Y'all remember me talking about Shimmy? She is SM's oldest daughter. 17 years of complete and total awesomeness despite having been through much too much for her tender years. Shimmy is smart although she will deny it. She is gorgeous, more so because she doesn't know it. She has such an amazing future ahead of her even though she can't see it. She is also impulsive and sometimes doesn't make the best choices.
One night I was at SM's house hanging out with him and the kids when Shimmy pulls me into her room and says she has to tell me something but I can't tell her Dad. Did shivers just run up your spine? Yeah me too. Those words are never good. Ever. So, I gave her my typical question run down. Are you hurt? Are you in danger? Are you pregnant? No, no and no? OK, hit me. --- She got a $100+ ticket for theft at summer school. She found an iPod on the ground, thought "sweet" and picked it up. The long and the short of it was that it belonged to the janitor and despite the fact that as soon as she found that out she tried to return it, he still pressed charges. Shimmy didn't want to burden her dad with this. I told her that I wouldn't tell him... but was working on getting her to agree to tell him herself.
Monday morning Shimmy and I are texting and I finally get her to agree to tell him when I'm back over there that weekend. Whew! I don't mind keeping some of her secrets, harmless ones that would only make his eyeballs roll back in his head but not really cause too big of a ruffle. I don't mind listening to her talk about stories of things she used to do, mostly because I think he knows and also because she doesn't do them anymore. However, this was a biggie and I was much relieved to hear that she was ready to tell him. Then, the texting stopped for a while. She's a busy girl with friends and such. I didn't think much of it until...
I got a text saying something along the lines of I hate myself and I just want to die. OMG! So, to be fair, this was not the first time she has gone all mellow dramatic on me so I wasn't going to panic, yet. I got her to talk about what was wrong. It was the age old heartbreak thing. Why oh why must we have our first love and our first broken heart when we are teenagers and so hormone laden that it always always always seems like the end of the world? God, when you planned that one, you surely were not thinking clearly.
Realizing that she really was upset I ditched the keypad and called her. I talked her out of her ragged tears. I told her how much I loved her and how my entire world would never be the same if she weren't in it. I told her it would destroy her dad if she ever hurt herself. Finally, after getting her to calm down we talked about the weekend and exciting things that were coming up. We made plans she seemed so much better.
After hanging up with her I took several long deep breaths and had a crying jag of my own. Then I emailed SM saying that Shimmy was really sad and maybe he should just call her to tell her that he loves her. No big deal. I've done this before. By the time he checks on her he's usually says "Eh, she seems find now."
About 3 minutes after hitting send I got a text from Shimmy saying "I'm sorry I didn't listen to you. I'm going to the emergency room."
And then my heart stopped beating and the world seemed to slow down and go really fast all at once. I called SM only to get his voicemail. Unfortunately I probably left a really screechy message saying something like ARE YOU WITH HER OMG PLEASE TELL ME YOU ARE WITH HER!!!!! As I'm pacing and trying to decide whether to jump in my car and break every law known to man in order to get to her my phone rang. It was Shimmy. Her dad was taking her to the hospital.
At the end of the day and several glasses of charcoal later, Shimmy was sent home with an appointment to meet with her counselor the next night.
Y'all remember me talking about Shimmy? She is SM's oldest daughter. 17 years of complete and total awesomeness despite having been through much too much for her tender years. Shimmy is smart although she will deny it. She is gorgeous, more so because she doesn't know it. She has such an amazing future ahead of her even though she can't see it. She is also impulsive and sometimes doesn't make the best choices.
One night I was at SM's house hanging out with him and the kids when Shimmy pulls me into her room and says she has to tell me something but I can't tell her Dad. Did shivers just run up your spine? Yeah me too. Those words are never good. Ever. So, I gave her my typical question run down. Are you hurt? Are you in danger? Are you pregnant? No, no and no? OK, hit me. --- She got a $100+ ticket for theft at summer school. She found an iPod on the ground, thought "sweet" and picked it up. The long and the short of it was that it belonged to the janitor and despite the fact that as soon as she found that out she tried to return it, he still pressed charges. Shimmy didn't want to burden her dad with this. I told her that I wouldn't tell him... but was working on getting her to agree to tell him herself.
Monday morning Shimmy and I are texting and I finally get her to agree to tell him when I'm back over there that weekend. Whew! I don't mind keeping some of her secrets, harmless ones that would only make his eyeballs roll back in his head but not really cause too big of a ruffle. I don't mind listening to her talk about stories of things she used to do, mostly because I think he knows and also because she doesn't do them anymore. However, this was a biggie and I was much relieved to hear that she was ready to tell him. Then, the texting stopped for a while. She's a busy girl with friends and such. I didn't think much of it until...
I got a text saying something along the lines of I hate myself and I just want to die. OMG! So, to be fair, this was not the first time she has gone all mellow dramatic on me so I wasn't going to panic, yet. I got her to talk about what was wrong. It was the age old heartbreak thing. Why oh why must we have our first love and our first broken heart when we are teenagers and so hormone laden that it always always always seems like the end of the world? God, when you planned that one, you surely were not thinking clearly.
Realizing that she really was upset I ditched the keypad and called her. I talked her out of her ragged tears. I told her how much I loved her and how my entire world would never be the same if she weren't in it. I told her it would destroy her dad if she ever hurt herself. Finally, after getting her to calm down we talked about the weekend and exciting things that were coming up. We made plans she seemed so much better.
After hanging up with her I took several long deep breaths and had a crying jag of my own. Then I emailed SM saying that Shimmy was really sad and maybe he should just call her to tell her that he loves her. No big deal. I've done this before. By the time he checks on her he's usually says "Eh, she seems find now."
About 3 minutes after hitting send I got a text from Shimmy saying "I'm sorry I didn't listen to you. I'm going to the emergency room."
And then my heart stopped beating and the world seemed to slow down and go really fast all at once. I called SM only to get his voicemail. Unfortunately I probably left a really screechy message saying something like ARE YOU WITH HER OMG PLEASE TELL ME YOU ARE WITH HER!!!!! As I'm pacing and trying to decide whether to jump in my car and break every law known to man in order to get to her my phone rang. It was Shimmy. Her dad was taking her to the hospital.
At the end of the day and several glasses of charcoal later, Shimmy was sent home with an appointment to meet with her counselor the next night.
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Thursday, June 4, 2009
I'm numb. OK but numb
The House of Sass is in mourning right now.
My aunt died yesterday and I'm afraid I just don't have a lot of words at the moment.
Saturday we will be honoring her at a funeral and then going straight to celebrate a wedding. It's going be a long day.
Please be patient with me. I will be back. When I can feel again.
My aunt died yesterday and I'm afraid I just don't have a lot of words at the moment.
Saturday we will be honoring her at a funeral and then going straight to celebrate a wedding. It's going be a long day.
Please be patient with me. I will be back. When I can feel again.
Thursday, May 14, 2009
One of them will stand up and fight...
I took the day off today to put my house back together after having the wood floors redone. Unfortunately when I got home this morning I discovered that they are still wet in spots. I'm putting up fans to help. Of course, the ground is also too wet to be working in the yard... a whole day wasted? Too much time to think...
I believe this. I believe it with every ounce of my being.
**On a happier note, my laptop should be delivered tomorrow. So this is an open warning to the FedEx man: I just might kiss you!
I believe this. I believe it with every ounce of my being.
**On a happier note, my laptop should be delivered tomorrow. So this is an open warning to the FedEx man: I just might kiss you!
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
My son the felon
Let me open with the stuff I didn't include in the email that I sent to some friends and family, that way those of you who got that email can skip the ending. Although you really should read it again because I Am Funny.
I did not email that:
On the very first day of my 35th year I had to go bail my son out at the local police station. (Yes, yes I know it was my 34th birthday but technically that's the first day of my 35th year on the planet. Besides, It's my story. Shhh.) As I was relaxing on my patio waiting for my offspring to come home and cook me my birthday dinner, my cell phone went off. Bleep bleep bleep. It was Thing1. "I'm done with play practise and going down to the police station" That was it. OK, at this point I will admit that I was about halfway through my first beer but there is no way half a beer could have altered my thinking enough to come up with that. I'm not that much of a cheap date! Then - Bleep bleep bleep. "My bike was stolen." crap! So, being the wonderful mother that I am, I shot right back, "OK, let me know if you need me." That's right, I let him walk into the jaws of the police station all by himself. I did not immediately swoop in to rescue my Baaaaby. Judge me if you want but it was my birthday and it wasn't MY bike. About 5 minutes later - Bleep bleep bleep. For those of you who don't understand or don't like texting, just bear with me. It's how we communicate, even from one floor of the house to another. Thing1 finishes his shower in the morning and instead of dripping all over the stairs to come up and wake me, he sends me a message - a message that I quickly respond to by saying "Thing2 first." and then snuggle in a little deeper under the covers. And so our morning goes. "Mom, I'm kind of in over my head here. Will you come down?" double crap! I can't really ignore a direct request, can I? I mean, it's OK to not offer. He's growing and learning how to handle some things on his own. But when he asks for help I really do need to go. sigh And so the half empty beer went into the fridge and I hopped into the car to drive downtown. In the back of my head I'm thinking that if they lock me up for driving under the influence of less than a sippy cup of beer it would be the over-cooked-soggy-super-sweet-nasty cherry on top of my day. The woman behind the Plexiglas that had my son so completely freaked out looked like everyone's grandma. Clearly the very idea of having to go to the police station has shaken up my son. That's good. That's VERY good. But, simply by being there, I have given my child much needed confidence. He walked right up to the counter and began talking to the scary granny. I stayed several steps back and let him handle it. As I was drifting off in my own head to brownies that Thing2 forgot to make, Chicken Tetrazini Thing1 wouldn't have time to make and the frozen pizza I would most likely make I caught a glimpse of my son's ashen face. Serial Killer Granny was asking impossibly hard questions now. What color was the bike? crickets What brand? silence What style? nothing We've got nothing. Eventually, Thing1 did manage to describe it to her and we were out of there.
The likelihood of him actually getting his bike back? Pretty slim.
The likelihood that I will bust out the "police station - ON MY BIRTHDAY" guilt whenever necessary for the next 5, 10, 40 years? Guaranteed.
____________________________________
I did not email that:
- My day started with getting nailed... getting screwed... And it cost me $60! My mechanic repaired the hole in my tire and gave me a lovely lube job for good measure.
- I was looking forward to a birthday smooch only to discover that LocalGuy thought it was an appropriate time to mow his lawn! To be clear, he was expecting me, I did not surprise him. All I wanted was a minute or two of smooching. Smooching that did not taste like grass and smell like week old sweat. He did give me ice cream and did not chew my face off. A step in the right direction.
On the very first day of my 35th year I had to go bail my son out at the local police station. (Yes, yes I know it was my 34th birthday but technically that's the first day of my 35th year on the planet. Besides, It's my story. Shhh.) As I was relaxing on my patio waiting for my offspring to come home and cook me my birthday dinner, my cell phone went off. Bleep bleep bleep. It was Thing1. "I'm done with play practise and going down to the police station" That was it. OK, at this point I will admit that I was about halfway through my first beer but there is no way half a beer could have altered my thinking enough to come up with that. I'm not that much of a cheap date! Then - Bleep bleep bleep. "My bike was stolen." crap! So, being the wonderful mother that I am, I shot right back, "OK, let me know if you need me." That's right, I let him walk into the jaws of the police station all by himself. I did not immediately swoop in to rescue my Baaaaby. Judge me if you want but it was my birthday and it wasn't MY bike. About 5 minutes later - Bleep bleep bleep. For those of you who don't understand or don't like texting, just bear with me. It's how we communicate, even from one floor of the house to another. Thing1 finishes his shower in the morning and instead of dripping all over the stairs to come up and wake me, he sends me a message - a message that I quickly respond to by saying "Thing2 first." and then snuggle in a little deeper under the covers. And so our morning goes. "Mom, I'm kind of in over my head here. Will you come down?" double crap! I can't really ignore a direct request, can I? I mean, it's OK to not offer. He's growing and learning how to handle some things on his own. But when he asks for help I really do need to go. sigh And so the half empty beer went into the fridge and I hopped into the car to drive downtown. In the back of my head I'm thinking that if they lock me up for driving under the influence of less than a sippy cup of beer it would be the over-cooked-soggy-super-sweet-nasty cherry on top of my day. The woman behind the Plexiglas that had my son so completely freaked out looked like everyone's grandma. Clearly the very idea of having to go to the police station has shaken up my son. That's good. That's VERY good. But, simply by being there, I have given my child much needed confidence. He walked right up to the counter and began talking to the scary granny. I stayed several steps back and let him handle it. As I was drifting off in my own head to brownies that Thing2 forgot to make, Chicken Tetrazini Thing1 wouldn't have time to make and the frozen pizza I would most likely make I caught a glimpse of my son's ashen face. Serial Killer Granny was asking impossibly hard questions now. What color was the bike? crickets What brand? silence What style? nothing We've got nothing. Eventually, Thing1 did manage to describe it to her and we were out of there.
The likelihood of him actually getting his bike back? Pretty slim.
The likelihood that I will bust out the "police station - ON MY BIRTHDAY" guilt whenever necessary for the next 5, 10, 40 years? Guaranteed.
____________________________________
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
WTF Wednesday
After 3 days of pondering and wondering and trying NOT to ponder or wonder I've decided:
WHAT THE FUCK?!?!?!?
If you are confused and just not sure, that's fine, say so. Let's be on the same page and take it one day at a time. If you are sure that you are still sure then quit fucking with me.
So now, new ground rules.
No more hugging
No more touching
For the love of god, no more kissing
All confusing closing lines from emails will be ignored.
All endearing pet names will be ignored.
If you want these rules to be changed. You MUST TALK TO ME!
___________________________________
WHAT THE FUCK?!?!?!?
If you are confused and just not sure, that's fine, say so. Let's be on the same page and take it one day at a time. If you are sure that you are still sure then quit fucking with me.
So now, new ground rules.
No more hugging
No more touching
For the love of god, no more kissing
All confusing closing lines from emails will be ignored.
All endearing pet names will be ignored.
If you want these rules to be changed. You MUST TALK TO ME!
___________________________________
Monday, March 9, 2009
Pulling me out of the depths of my craptastic day
Steph, you are my own personal angel and this heavenly gift has saved me.
Amen.
____________________________________
Amen.
____________________________________
Sunday, February 22, 2009
Sunday Wanderings
My friend got her ring. It was THE ring. She is on cloud nine and I'm so happy for her. But she did not spend the entire 20 minutes of our conversation gushing about the ring. What she kept saying was "He wants me... forever" in this awed voice that made me want to squish her up in a great big hug. Of course he wants you - forever, honey. Of course he does!
Our conversation only lasted 20 minutes not because she was done gushing or because I was done listening to her sound so happily-ever-after-OMG! It ended because I ran out of gas. No, really. I Ran. Out. Of. Gas. My car sputtered and slowed. I coasted to the side of the road and hung up. Then I walked my cold ass to the next freeway exit in search of fuel. By the time I got there I couldn't decide whether I was on my way home or if I had just left it.
I am here now. Wherever that is.
________________________________________________
Our conversation only lasted 20 minutes not because she was done gushing or because I was done listening to her sound so happily-ever-after-OMG! It ended because I ran out of gas. No, really. I Ran. Out. Of. Gas. My car sputtered and slowed. I coasted to the side of the road and hung up. Then I walked my cold ass to the next freeway exit in search of fuel. By the time I got there I couldn't decide whether I was on my way home or if I had just left it.
I am here now. Wherever that is.
________________________________________________
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