Dear Sadly Neglected Blog,

Has is seriously been over a month since I posted here?  Dear God, I am SUCH a slacker!  My apologies, I'm sure you all had your lives on hold, desperately refreshing your blogger dashboards, just praying for an update.

Right?

Right?

umm... Well this is how I picture it and since it's my blog I'll do what I want!

I do have a good excuse for my absence, if it helps at all...

Excuse #1: Tyler got sick again.  He spent a week at Children's Hospital, then came home for a week, then spent a week in a hospital in Youngstown.  Seeing how that is an hour away from here, that made for quite the horrific experience.  Wish I could say he's "better" but.... well, every day is a struggle for him.  While I don't feel any need to vomit his personal details all over the internet, I also don't think there is any reason to hide his condition. The official dx is "major depressive disorder, recurrent, with psychosis."   The most important thing to say about this is he is NOT psychotic.  The depression is so severe, it causes psychotic symptoms.  He will be ok, but it will be a life long struggle for him.  We're doing what we can to support him; but it is damn near impossible to be a good support system to someone who alternates between being desperately afraid to leave your side one minute and the next despises you with a homicidal rage that seems beyond human.

Excuse #2:

I got a second job.  So I'm working 3 days a week at the promotional products distributor and 2-3 days a week at a retail store.  The store is pretty special- it's a "high end boutique" that specializes in crystals, jewelry, hand made truffles and henna.  We do events weekly that include henna body art, palm readings and tarot card readings.  It has a strong internet presence, and a very passionate local following.  Oh yeah, and there are ghosts.  So I'm loving it.  It's great that I've got this opportunity to have 2 jobs that are so wildly different, but I sincerely enjoy them both.

Excuse #3:

How about just the fact that I have a husband, 3 kids, 3 pets and a house?  They all need constant attention and there are only so many hours in a day!  If you truly feel your life isn't complete without the benefit of my daily blogging, I suggest you get your ass over here and do a load of laundry... Or dishes.. I'm not picky, just come clean something please!  And on your way, stop at the grocery store- we've been eating out every day for the past month because I just can't manage to drag my lazy self to the store.

Well, I could keep making excuses, but I think you get the idea.  Instead of figuring out how to put an amusing spin on my daily interactions with the fucktards of the world, I'm spending the little bit of time I have to myself in the evenings watching re-runs of "Roseanne" and stuffing my face with nachos.  And oh yeah, it's rained for a month.  Every.damned.day.for.a.month.  Nothing sucks the sense of humor out of me faster than dreary, cold rain.

My next venture is attempting to do henna body art.  I will post photos so you can all laugh at my feeble attempts at creating art.  My sweet daughter has volunteered to be a human canvas for me- poor little girl has no idea momma can't even draw stick figures!

Some Music-y Thoughts On A Rainy Day

I'm sincerely disappointed by my lack of blogable experiences as of late. Apparently I either need to get out more or the entire city of Akron has officially become the “Dullest Place In The World”... which is sad, because we were going so strong to be in the running for either “Ugliest Place In The World” or “Highest Concentration Of Certified Cat Ladies Per Capita”... Ahh well, there's always next year.

My life lately consists of either working or taking children to doctor's appointments. It's kind of exhausting, to say the least. The only thing that's good about this particular situation is the inordinate amount of time I spend in the car. Not only do I actually enjoy driving but it gives me plenty of music time. My poor little 2^nd generation iPod nano is so worn the ink has disappeared off the little touch wheel. It's all beat up and really is past the point where it should have retired. But it travels with me everywhere and keeps me sane, so I keep it.

I may have, at one point or another, mentioned my unhealthy obsession with all things music. I've written about it many times- but never in a format cohesive enough to put out publicly. (Yes, this is actually the cleaned up version of my rambling thoughts- they spill out much more disjointed than this) I'm going to attempt now to make something of those pieces of thoughts. It's gonna be a bumpy ride and I wish you the best of luck on this journey into my mind.

1993. This is the year I was introduced to Tori Amos' “Little Earthquakes” album. I was a goner after that, devouring all music. I have music on at all times. As I write this, it's Blue October's “Foiled” album. I've restrained myself so far, but one thing you'll learn about me is that I tend to have few original thoughts- I think in lyrics. It's annoying to those around me who don't share my obsession- to you, I apologize. I'm one of those people who has a song for everything. It's not even intentional, it just happens. It's like my brain was removed to make room for a giant iPod. The only reason I have a blackberry is for the Pandora app- like I said, it's kind of an illness.

My middle child, the one who is determined to kill me with her love of all things glittery (and crop tops... she's my ultimate payback for my teenage years and she's only 7!) is even named after Tori Amos. Like I said, I first heard Tori in 1993, I was 12 and my mom's then-boyfriend-now-ex-husband-who-lives-with-her (love ya mom!) brought over “Little Earthquakes” for her to hear. If I'm not mistaken, it was on cassette because we didn't have a CD player yet then. I was in love. Plain and simple, in love.

In 1995 I had a really bad experience. One of those things that forever changes you. Teenagers in general are pretty bat-shit crazy and this threatened to push me over the edge. I was in therapy, but bahh... therapy only works if you want to be less-crazy. I embrace my crazy, I revel in it. Anyway, back to Tori... Few people have the ability to effectively sum up raw emotion, but Tori did it with “Me and a Gun.” At this point, I had a CD player and this was one of my first purchases- and I wore that poor disc OUT! In fact, one of my all time favorite lines is from “Tear in my hand”... “I can't believe you're leaving 'cuz me and Charles Manson like the same ice cream” Seriously, who writes like that? It's funny, beautiful and insane all at the same time- BRILLIANT!

I know I can't be the only person with this type of mangled thought process. Lonnie thinks in terms of film, so I feel a little better in knowing that at least he kind of gets me. I don't know that I've met too many people who also have a never ending jukebox in their heads- but if you're one of them- I insist that it's time we stand up and be heard! Maybe if all of you start walking through Target singing to yourselves, people will stop looking at me like I'm crazy. Children will stop pointing as their mothers hurry them away “Now Billy, don't look at the crazy lady- it's not nice. And she might be dangerous.”

So back to my music for all situations. Let me throw some examples out there and you can judge for yourself if I'm your average run-of-the-mill music lover or if I'm truly a hopeless train wreck who should be locked in a padded room.

We went to Virginia Beach when I was 15 and I listened to Fiona Apple's “Tidal” CD the entire time. So now every time I hear “The Child Is Gone”, it takes me back to being a carefree teenager on the beach.

My entire senior year of high school was spent driving around with my friend Tiffany avoiding actually being at school. Hey, we were in Telecommunications so as long as you had a video camera with you, nobody asked any questions ;) We listened to every Ozzy song ever written that year, about 1000 times each. So (for many reasons...) “Sweet Leaf” will always make me think of 1998/99.

When Lonnie and I met, he introduced me to a fabulous artist, Heather Nova. I'd never heard her before, and now her music is entirely wrapped up in my mind with all of those fabulous feelings of being 18, in love and invincible. I don't think there is another singer out there that can instantly make me feel deliriously happy like Heather can.

… and now I'm going to clumsily end this post with no real sense of closure. Kind of ran out of writing steam, as I have a small wiggly baby climbing me and her sister is throwing a MASSIVE tantrum in a weak attempt to avoid cleaning her room... Wish me luck, I already think this is going to be a long weekend....

Who Wants To Analyze My Dream?

I've been having this dream and it's making me crazy.  I can't figure out what it means, or why I'm having it again.    Let me start with the back story (shocking I know, I'm going to ramble on about some random thing...)

In September of last year my grandfather had knee replacement surgery.  He was incredibly healthy, everyone was excited for him to get his knee fixed, as it was the only thing about him that even indicated his age, you'd think he was 20 years younger.  So he goes for surgery, everything went PERFECT.  When I saw him that night he was laughing and joking with the nurses.  We visited for a while, then I left so he could rest- promising that I would be back after work the next day.  I got a call around 2 the following day that he had collapsed during physical therapy.  To make a long story short, he had a very rare complication from anesthesia and he died 11 days later- he never woke up again.

In November, we thought Tori had lymphoma.  She had many symptoms and a very large mass in her neck.  My biggest fear was not the cancer.  It was putting her to sleep to remove the mass.  I was so afraid of watching her go through what we'd just watched grandpa go through 2 months previously.

About a week before her surgery, I had a dream.  I normally dream quite vividly, and often wake up not quite sure what is dream and what is real.  This was not a "real life" kind of dream.  Even in the midst of it, I knew I was dreaming.  It was smoky and... mysterious... and just unsettling.  Everything was gray and I could see my grandfather standing far away from me, holding a baby who I felt was Alex- but I never saw his face.  There was no sound, nothing was said- just Grandpa and Alex standing in the distance, with Tori and I standing next to each other.  Grandpa was waving, as if to call Tori to him. I woke up then.  I never saw if she walked to him or not- but I felt as if I was being prepared to have to say good bye to her.  I never got to tell grandpa good bye, once he collapsed he never woke up again.  Alex was still born, so I never got to tell him good bye either.  I was worried they were coming to make sure I didn't miss another opportunity to say good bye.

Tori made it through the surgery with no problems and we were blessed to find there was no cancer.  So maybe there were a couple extra people watching over her that day, making sure everything went right.

I actually kind of forgot about that dream up until a couple weeks ago when I had it again.  Only this time, there is no one next to me, it's just Grandpa and Alex and one end of this weird smoky room and me at the other.  Now I'm having it almost every night and I don't know why.  It's put my head is a really horrible, fucked up place.  I feel like there is something they are trying to tell me and I don't think I'm going to feel better until I figure it out.

So I knew I'd slack off

... I just didn't think I'd slack off this soon!  My apologies (especially to Erin, who kicked  me in the ass).  Life has been crazy this past month.  Let me start with my oldest child and work my way down.... So get comfy, grab a drink... Oh hell, you better make a sandwich, we're gonna be here awhile!  Here's a sweet picture of all three kiddos to tide you over as you are forced to read my babbling...  Especially since this is all "blah blah blah... kids kids kids... not too much funny here- but thank god I think I'm over my whole whining about everything phase.  I think.  I make no promises, I'm kind of a crier, sorry.

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TYLER

Tyler spent 2 weeks convinced he was dying.  Literally screaming in pain, clutching his stomach, can't walk/talk/breathe kind of pain.  After 3 doctor's office trips and 2 ER visits, this is what we were told....

"He has a UTI".... but wait, after 3 days of antibiotics and 2 urinalysis, no he doesn't.

"He has a kidney stone"... no, not right either- no stone on ultrasound or xray

"We're calling a surgeon, it's his appendix.  Have dad leave work, we'll be operating within the hour" ... Oh wait- change of plans- with no fever, rebound pain, or abnormal labs, surgery doesn't want to touch him.

"Well, the xray showed he's constipated... Or it might be an intestinal blockage.  Give him miralax- but if he throws up or gets a fever get back here ASAP or he'll die"  Seriously, this is what I was told.

2 days of miralax and one toilet that needed a priest to exercise it before anyone else could use it; things are looking better for Ty.  So apparently he really was full of shit... just like I've been telling him for years!

Through all of this, we learned he has a urethral stricture and will need to have that fixed.  This involved a minor surgery on his penis.  We will try first to do it with a local numbing cream in the office- but if that doesn't work, we'll need to schedule him for outpatient surgery at the hospital.  The procedure will be done in Youngstown (damn insurance issues!) on April 14.  We also learned he has kidney reflux like Tori and I do, but since he's never had a problem, we don't have to treat it- just monitor for now.

So, because I love pictures- here's my Drama King: (he refuses to look at a camera unless threatened with his life)

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Tori

Tori, my beautiful, graceful Tori-bird....  Where to begin?  Princess Grace was jumping on the bed a couple weeks ago.  You know where this is going right?  I mean, you know what happened to the monkeys, don't you?  Yep, fell off the bed.  Right on her pretty, but empty, head.  She had a HUGE lump on her head.  We iced it and sent her to bed.  Kids fall you know?  No big deal.  She kept telling us "things look fuzzy" but, she's dramatic- I kind of ignored her :(  Two days later she got really dizzy and may-or-may-not have passed out in the bathroom, hitting her head on the counter on her way down.  So I call her doctor.  They tell me she needs seen, but they have no appointments.  I take her to Urgent Care- they look at her for about 30 seconds and tell me to take her directly to Children's.  Imagine if you can, 3 kids and one mom- ER waiting room on a Friday night.  It was a good time.  Wait.... I'm confusing myself now.  She ended up going to ER twice for this, and now I'm not sure when the second hit to the head was...  (now which one of us is truly the brain damaged one?)  Anyway, 2 ER visits and one CT scan later showed Miss Tori has no bleeds or fractures- but has a concussion for sure.  We have to follow up with the Head Injury clinic on Tuesday.  She's still occasionally complaining of her head hurting and being dizzy- but I'm confident these things will resolve with a little time.

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Harlow

I've saved the longest for last.  My youngest is ensuring her place as the final baby is secured.  Apparently she doesn't understand that there is less than a 1% chance of her being dethroned- gotta a love a girl who refuses to take any chances!

Feeding therapy is going well.  Her chewing skills have improved, she drinks well from a bottle and is starting to enjoy her food a little.  The weight gain is a slow process, but we're getting there.

We see the gastro doc in a couple weeks to further investigate why eating hurts for Harlow.  Her choking seems to be getting worse, and she's getting this cough that's making me think (hope) it's just reflux.  She gets very congested when she eats, like you can hear her rattling from across the room- so her therapist wants to get an ENT consult as well.  Luckily, thanks to Tori's drama from the Fall we know an excellent ENT.

At her weight check with the pediatrician this week, we discussed her new hernia and her old hip problem.  Doc was irritated I didn't bring her in right away when this abdominal hernia showed up a few weeks ago.  Whatever.  I'm tired and it I didn't think it was an emergency- but I guess I'm a slacker  (as you can tell, I've just been lounging about, eating chocolates- I've got NOTHING going on)  So off to the General Surgery Department we go.  We see them next week- pediatrician told me to expect surgery scheduled pretty quickly after that.

As for the hip, that pesky hip... When Harlow was 6 months old we noticed her left hip popped a lot, and it seemed to hurt her.  They did an xray and said she had some thickening of the bone in the growth plate but it was nothing to worry about- just watch it and see if it improved.  She wasn't crawling yet, so we let it go.  Now, at 13 months, she is crawling and every so often, that leg gives her trouble and she'll stop using it- she's perfected this "tripod crawl" which is super cute, but kind of sad to see that leg just being dragged along for the ride.  98% of the time, she crawls and stands normally, it's just an occasional problem.  So crazy-long-story-short, she is now going to an orthopaedic surgeon to have the hip re-evaluated.  I think that will also be in April- my calendar is in my purse and I can't keep all this shit straight in my head.  I'm hoping she'll be walking soon, but I think she's afraid to- she's pretty smart. Wouldn't eat because it hurt and won't walk until she trusts she won't get hurt.

I had a story about her at Amazone today, but it's taken me over 2 hours just to get this written (I've gotten distracted about 70 times!)  I'll be back- but if I forget, please feel free to yell at me!

My daughter, the graceful one

Ugh, so Tori was jumping on her bed last Wednesday night and fell; hitting her head on the head board.  By Friday she was complaining of blurry vision and her head still hurt.  Well after a phone consult with the nurse at her doctor's office, I took her to Urgent Care.  They looked at her for about 2 minutes and sent us to Childrens ER.  They said she managed to give herself a concussion, but would be just fine.

Fast forward through a weekend of crying about her head hurting (like random, out of nowhere shrieking "Oh my god, my head hurts!")

Tonight, my darling Princess Grace smacked her head again, on the bathroom counter, because she was hit with one of those stabby head pains again-- but this time it made her dizzy too.

To my more experienced momma-friends out there- is this the normal progression for a "mild head injury"?  Or do I need to call the doctor again?  She missed so much school because of her lymph node surgery, I hate to take her out if I don't have to.

So, internet- help me parent, because tonight I'm just not sure what to do!

Yes, I'm a little extra bitchy lately

...and I'm tired of apologizing for it, I'm tired of downplaying it, I'm just plain tired.  So I'm just going to go ahead and lay it all out.  Now you know and there's no reason to ask me "are you ok?" or "why are you acting like this?"

*  I hate winter.  With a seething passion.  I'm tired of being cold.  I'm tired of sweaters and boots.  Beyond over wrestling a coat onto Harlow every time we have to leave the house.  I understand that for some people this is just an annoyance- but it's honestly traumatic for me.  Every winter, it's the same thing.  Every year it gets a little harder to cope with.  I'm at the point where I really do feel like I'm going to crack and kill someone, just so I can climb inside them to keep warm.  I want to hide until the sun comes back out and I can wear sandals again.

*  My baby is sick and nobody can tell me why.  Everyone just refers her to someone else.  Pediatrician to dietitian.  Dietitian to rehabilitative services.  Rehab to Gastro.  Who know where we'll go next?  I doubt they'll know either.  I know I'm tired of it.  Just tell me why my baby can't safely drink anything.  Just tell me why it hurts her to eat.  For the love of god, please tell me why this is going on?  She's so skinny and I feel so bad.  It doesn't even have a name, it's just a bizarre collection of symptoms that don't quite fit together.  So I can't even say "Harlow has XXXXX, so we will go to the doctor who specializes in XXXXX and s/he will tell me what to do to either cure or at least manage XXXXX"

*  I think the big kids must be stir crazy.  At least this is what I'm telling myself, because the alternative is "my kids are evil demons from hell that must be destroyed for the safety of all humanity."  As you can see, "stir crazy" has a better ring to it.  They don't even try to listen to anything we tell them anymore- I can't wait until I can just throw them outside and tell them to come back in the fall.  (literally, Tori lives outside all summer- that girl can't get enough of sidewalk chalk and bubbles!)

*  I need a vacation.  Like a real family vacation.  Because of Lonnie's schedule, we've never had one, I've taken the kids to Canada, SC, and WV multiple times by myself.  I'm sick of it- I want us all to get away for a while- but with him just (maybe?) starting a new job today, I don't see it in the cards for a long time still.  Not to mention, with Harlow having therapy every Friday, plus there are other appointments that will be coming up that we need to work around.... grrr.... I just want to see the ocean again; is that too much to ask?

So I think that sums it up.  Yes, I snapped at you the other day.  No, I probably won't return your phone call right now.  I am aware that I'm being an anti-social a-hole.  I'm ok with it.  This is how I deal with shit.

Oh, one funny-ish thing did happen this week...

Harlow and I were at the thrift store (because it's my favorite store ever!) and we accidentally went on "Senior Discount Day" OMG- that is a mistake I will NEVER make again.  We were probably stopped by little old ladies every 10 feet who wanted to poke at her and tell me all about their grandchildren.  Due to my state of increased bitchiness, I also am afflicted with low tolerance for irritation- a dangerous combination.  Anyway....

Little Old Lady #72: "Oh what a cute baby!  She's just the prettiest thing I've ever seen!"

me: "Thank you" and I try to keep walking, quickly

#72: (grabs cart to steady self while I pray she doesn't fall and break a hip- because honestly, I'd probably laugh and then the whole world would know what an asshole I am)
         "How'd you get such a pretty baby?"

me: (ok, am I being accused of stealing this child?  Am I so ugly I couldn't possibly have a cute child?  What exactly are you questioning here you old bat?)
         "Oh she looks like her dad"

At this point, I'm hoping this is the end of the conversation and the dinosaur will go away... BUT WAIT, THERE'S MORE...

#72:  "Well, you're lucky to have an attractive husband so that you get a beautiful baby like this"  and she walks away.

Now I'm the one left shaking my head, trying to make sense out of this.  What the hell did that mean?  I know I'm no supermodel, but seriously?  Half the moms I see when we go out are wearing pajama pants and sweatshirts.  My hair and makeup were done, I wasn't dressed up, but I looked ok.  What the hell just happened?

That's my week.  Sick baby. Bratty big kids.  Much stress and annoyance.  I need a drink.....

Snow Bound

It's recently come to my attention that I am the biggest puss that has ever lived. Something as simple as frozen water falling from the sky has reduced me to a blubbering Weather Channel obsessed mess. Now in my defense, this is a massive ice storm currently kicking Ohio's ass, but I highly doubt it's going to be the End Days- but I'm prepared just in case.

Phone Call While On My Way Home From Work:

me: “I've been calling, you didn't answer. I thought you went out in this shit and were dead in a ditch somewhere. Why didn't you answer your phone? I'm on my way home and we're NEVER going to leave the house again. We will be snowed in until we die. Need anything on my way?"

Lonnie: “umm, we're home. All alive. Everything is fine and it's just a little ice. Come home.”

me: “But you don't understand, We are going to FREEZE TO DEATH. How can you say everything is fine? Do we have batteries for the flashlights? What about water? Do you think Walmart sells generators?”

Lonnie: “seriously. Come home. Come straight home. It's all fine.”

Obviously he doesn't get the severity of this situation. Power lines are going to fall. We're going to be trapped in this house for the next week with no hope of leaving. How are we going to keep warm? What about cooking food? OH MY GAWD, do we even have enough food? I have laundry that needs done, dishes, the sheets need changed on all the beds... There is SO MUCH TO DO. How can you not get how serious this is? So while he tries to tell me to settle down, I'm running around, shrieking orders at the kids.

“Pick up your toys!” “Don't open the fridge- what if the power goes out before it has a chance to get cold again?”, “Don't leave your socks on the floor! If the power goes out you could trip over then and break your neck. How am I supposed to take you to the hospital when my car doors are frozen shut?” “No you can't play outside- what if some idiot comes speeding down the road and slides into our yard and hits you?”

So yeah, I'm pretty sure Lonnie and the kids are all whispering about locking me in a closet until this passes and I go back to my normal “I fucking hate winter but I'm not scared of it” attitude.

I'll post pictures of the icy aftermath tomorrow- here are a couple shots I took from my kitchen door tonight. Note the thick coat of ice on my car. What you can't see is me, screaming and shaking my fist at the sky, damning the Universe for sticking me in Ohio.

   

Happy Birthday To Sweet Tori Bird!

Because I don't mention her or her brother enough, I wanted to dedicate an entire post to my middle child, my resident diva, the cause of all my gray hair... Tori.  Today she turns 7!


She's exhausting and never stops talking.  There are days I literally want to stab my eardrums with rusty barbed wire rather than listen to another second of her chattering.  But she's also genuinely funny- and that's a rare thing in a kid.  She sees the world in a way I wish I could- there is still magic hiding behind every corner in Tori's world.  I hope she never loses that.  She stands up for what she believes in; even when it means losing a friend.  Nobody gets away with pushing her around, either!

So, to the coolest 7 year old I know.... I hope you had a very happy birthday.  (Party pictures will come later... like after her slacker mom actually schedules the party...)

Harlow's Swallow Test Results

Wow, this blog is handy for updating the family all at once!  I have to say, this just might be my favorite part of the internet- it's almost completely eliminated the need to actually speak out loud to people.  I know some call that a bad thing... I think it's fabulous!

Anyway, onto Miss H.  After over an hour of fuckery because some brilliant person lost the order for her test, we finally got her back to radiology and she had her swallow test done.

I was given the opportunity to see a woman and her blind son interact- which may seem like a weird thing to say, but let me explain.  When Harlow was born, we thought she was blind.  She was like 2 weeks old and I was thinking her life was over- how can you live in a world where you never know the color of the grass or see the bunny hopping across the yard?  I watched this woman help her son play with his toys and it hit me that even though I had thought at one time being born blind would have been a horrible sentence, this mom and son were put in my path to show me it wasn't a bad thing.  She played with him differently than I play with my children, but different isn't always a bad thing.  To show me that even when we assume to know where a path will lead us, until we walk it ourselves, we don't know.

So anyway, back to Harlow's test.  Lonnie was the one to feed her the bottle of barium, because she takes a bottle better for him and he has much more bottle practice than I do!  It was pretty cool for me, because I got to stand behind everyone where I could actually watch the test on the screen.  The first thing they had her drink was a thin liquid barium, which shows up black on the screen.  We watched her little tongue work to get the liquid out and then she'd swallow.  I've never seen one of these tests done before, so I had no clue what I was looking at- but even I knew it wasn't right.  The liquid would attempt to go down one side of her throat, then get pushed out and over to the other side where it would go down.  Next they gave her something a little thicker and without hesitation it went straight down the first side, and she started to choke and gag.

Basically what this means is that anything with a thin or only slightly thick consistency is being aspirated right into her lungs (which was the "first side" I was seeing on the xray).  They also gave her pudding and a cookie, which I think were ok, but those were harder to tell (at least for me, who had no idea what I was looking for)

The official word for it is dysphagia.  Basically it's a general term that means "swallowing disorder".  They said this explains why she isn't gaining weight properly- because she knows it's not safe to swallow.  All this time, I just thought she didn't have a big appetite- poor baby is probably always hungry, but afraid to eat!  How horrible is that?  Apparently hers is fairly severe but we've been super lucky because it can cause all kinds of lung infections and she's barely ever been sick- and never with anything in her lungs.  Lots of things can cause it, but sometimes it's a condition all by itself.  We'll have to have some more tests done to figure out what exactly is going on.

Moving on to how we manage it though.  This is the part that really sucks and I'm really struggling with.  As of right now, she is not allowed to eat any finger foods.  The only foods she's allowed to have are thin purees.  They gave us this thickener stuff that's the consistency of honey that has to be added to every liquid she drinks.  This means 2 things.  First, the bottles she normally uses are no longer ok, because she can't get this thick stuff through the nipple- we have to use special bottles.  Second, they want me to stop breastfeeding her because obviously there is no way to thicken that.  I don't know what to do about that.  I'm actually really devastated over it, and not quite able to articulate why.  I'm going to have to think on this one for a little bit and then speak to the nutritionist.  I can start pumping full time, but I already hate the once a day I have to do it at work, and I don't think she's going to be willing to take a bottle from me...  Ugh, this is starting to feel kind of overwhelming and I have so many questions rolling around in my head.

All things considered, I know it's not BAD news, it's just news I wasn't expecting.  And somehow in my twisted mind, this all wraps up with seeing the blind boy in the waiting room.  I really feel like he was a sign, we were put in that room together for a reason; I was supposed to take something away from that experience... I just can't quite place my finger on WHAT.

**Warning** Tearjerker

~*~ author's note: This is a letter I wrote to our son, Alexander Ashley. He was born asleep two years ago after my water broke unexpectedly due to chorioamnionitis. While I do question whether or not it's appropriate to share this so publicly, it's an important part of who I am. So in the interest of full disclosure, here it is. ~*~

January 24, 2011 (yes, I'm aware that is tomorrow). Happy Birthday Sweet Alex. You would have been 2 today. I still think of you every day. I still wonder what you would have been like. I still hate myself for not holding you when I had the chance. The nurse told me I couldn't hurt you, I guess I didn't believe her. I'm sorry. Tori colors pictures for you about once a month, I've saved them all. I don't know why, but I have. I guess the same reason I have your ashes, blanket and photos. Because it just seems wrong not to keep them. I approach this day, the day you were born asleep with such mixed feelings. The grief still catches me- like last week at Toys R Us when I saw all the newborn baby boy clothes. Or when I first put that little snowman coat on Harlow, the one I bought for you. Sometimes though it just comes out of nowhere and blindsides me. I can't breathe and I feel like my head might explode from the pressure. But exactly one year after you were born, on January 24 2010, we brought your sister home. She helped heal me in so many ways. She has given us so much joy; joy I never thought I'd feel again after you left us. I believe there was a reason she came home on that day. It wasn't coincidence, maybe it was you. Maybe you were telling me it was going to be ok?

So I'm feeling like I need to do something. Something to remember you, even if it's just something small. I just don't know what. I go visit my grandparents at the cemetery when I'm feeling the need to be close to them, but I've got you here with me. I didn't want to have you buried, just in case we ever wanted to leave Ohio, I couldn't bear the idea of leaving you behind. So that's why I chose to have you cremated. So I could keep you with me. I'm going to come up with something that can be "our" tradition, I just can't think of anything right now that seems worthy of you.

*~* I apologize for the excess of gloom and doom as of late- it was not my intention to start a blog just to cry nonstop.  Currently working on something new, and decidedly less depressing. *~*

The first of many lists of things I hate

While this list in NO WAY is even the tip of the “Things Jen Hates” iceberg, these are the things that have been on my mind today as being especially obnoxious.

First, these ridiculous photos of cats with misspelled words, like this:

Seriously, you can't just stick a “Z” on the end of any random word. This is not English. While I'm at it, “Da” is not a word, “the” is. “Mah” or “Meh” are not words either- it's “my” and “me”. Oh yeah, and we can't just add letters to words either- for example “I Looooovvveeeeeee youuuuuuuuuuuuu” Yes, I have actually seen this- Poor, Broken English is the official language of Facebook, Is it really that hard to spell correctly? For christ's sake- even my PHONE has spell check. There's no excuse. It's not cute and it makes me hate you.

Next on my list- Women with words on their butt:

OK, I know this one is just a cartoon, but we've all seen them. I don't want to read your ass. Because seriously, if you have to print “Sexy” across your ass- chance are, you're not. Oh yeah, and “Juicy”? Honey, get yourself to a doctor- that is NOT normal!

Hipsters. I know, I know- it's almost as trendy to hate them as it is to BE them, but I just can't stand anyone who takes themselves this seriously. And for anyone who isn't sure what I'm talking about, here's an excellent description, first published in Time Magazine, June 2009:

"Hipsters are the friends who sneer when you cop to liking Coldplay. They're the people who wear t-shirts silk-screened with quotes from movies you've never heard of and the only ones in America who still thinkPabst Blue Ribbon is a good beer. They sport cowboy hats and berets and think Kanye West stole their sunglasses. Everything about them is exactingly constructed to give off the vibe that they just don't care."

Exactly. If you don't care, then why in the FUCK are you trying so hard to convince me you don't care?

Neck Tattoos. Nothing screams “trashy” in quite the way a neck tattoo does. Bonus points if it's the name of your ex...

The last thing I hate today needs no real explanation except to say "I was at Walmart..."

People, it is not that hard to dress your children before they leave the house.  Seriously, nothing disgusts me more than parents who take their babies (or in this case, toddlers) out in public wearing nothing but a diaper.  Our children are PEOPLE and deserve the same basic care we give ourselves before we leave the house.

Processing Harlow's Birth, One Year Later

Harlow's birth, one year later. So I've had a full 12 months to “process”, “come to terms with”, “mourn” or whatever you want to call it. You'd think that would be enough. You'd think that I would look at my beautiful little girl and put the past behind me; after all we both survived and that's all that matters, right? Oddly, (and maybe selfishly) no it's not. “I” didn't deliver my daughter- she was ripped from my body. A full month before she should have been. All because my faulty body failed us both. I had a giant blood clot that caused my placenta to peel away and start to bleed like crazy. That c-section saved both of our lives. If I hadn't been in the hospital already, we probably wouldn't have made it in time. So yes, I am grateful that c-sections exist. I know mine was not one of the many unnecessary ones. But I don't have to like it. I don't have to like the fact that I lost my birth experience with my last baby. I don't have to like the fact that I chose to have a tubal that I now regret and can't take back. So many things went so horribly wrong and I'm still not over them. I don't know that I ever will be, honestly.

Harlow's first months were HARD. I really think she was just so not ready to leave the womb; she did not adjust well to life on the outside. She slept 18 hours a day those first couple months, when she wasn't asleep, she was screaming. She was a slow weight gainer from the start- because she was so sleepy and angry. Now that she's approaching toddler-hood, things are better. She is much happier! She still doesn't gain weight for shit and has left her sleepy days far behind her. She's ADORABLE though, and that makes up for a lot of sleepless nights.

I think she has recovered from her traumatic entry into this world. I wish I could say the same. I have this ugly scar from hip to hip that will stay with me forever. I have a strange numb feeling along the scar that I've been told will likely never get better. I haven't felt right since her birth and in trying to figure out “What the Fuck is Wrong With Jen” I found websites dedicated to “Post Tubal Ligation Syndrome."    To any woman considering a tubal, I beg you to please investigate “PTLS” it is real, and it's more common than we realize. The only cure is a tubal reversal, which may-or-may-not work and no insurance will cover.  Some of the most common symptoms of PTLS are irritability, sudden tears, trouble sleeping through the night, loss of libido, fatigue, anxiety, feelings of doom, hair loss and headache- and that barely scratches the surface of what this procedure does to your body.

I wish I could look forward to celebrating Harlow's birthday without these feelings- but they currently are taking center stage in my mind, unfortunately...

But, on to some cuteness:

                                                       Newborn Harlow, 5lbs. 3oz.

And 12 month old Harlow, 18 lbs. 8 oz.

Success! She Ate!

I just wanted to share this fabulous pics of Harlow at lunch today.  When control-freak momma let go and just let her have fun, she ate 2 crackers and almost an entire jar of green beans!

As you can see, she loved it!  She even ate off a spoon too- and laughed the entire time.

But then there were green beans in her ears, so I got to play control freak again....

Ahh, clean baby!  And she even brushed her teeth :-)

(oh yeah, in case you haven't figured it out- I just learned how to add pictures last night, LOL)

Update On Harlow

First, and BEST- Harlow took THREE steps all by herself last night! Ha! Take that, doctor-who-say-she's-delayed!

Second, we met with the Feeding Disorder Specialist and a Dietician today. While her weight is low, it's not to the point where they are really freaking. She is just a little peanut. They were able to get her eat a little bit- oh my god, the mess! Basically the lady dumped half a jar of food on the tray and let her play in it and eventually some made it's way into her mouth. And she wants me to do this at home, in my kitchen. Yuck. Twice a day. Double yuck! I don't know if I have it in me to let her make a mess like that, but if it gets food into her, I guess I better suck it up and deal.

They did say that with the family history of allergies and her excema, they would like for her to see an allergist. Apparently babies with allergies will choose not to eat because they know it's going to hurt them. She's never had hives or any of the allergy symptoms Tyler and Tori did, but again, Princess H doing things her own way. So we worked on ways to get her to eat and then moved on to drinking.

When Harlow drinks, she does it in little bits. This is how she has ALWAYS been- she nurses for 3 minutes, then comes back 45 min later for another 3 min. Apparently this can be a sign of reflux? Since, in the therapist's opinion, she seems to struggle with the drinking more than she should, they are going to send her for a barium swallow test next week. Just to really try and get to the bottom of what's going on with her.

And it just hit me today- she's going to be 1 in less than a week! OMG how did that happen? And on that note, here's a photo of Tori, Harlow and I taken exactly one year ago, when I was 34 weeks pregnant....

SNOW DAY! And then a whole lotta whining...

Ugh, snow day how I hate you. I mean, I guess on one hand, I didn't have to leave the house to drop off or pick up demon spawn- but on the other hand, this means they were home with Lonnie and I. All Day. Trapped in the house with no hope of escape. Oh, and I was out of coke until about 6 when Lonnie took the Jeep out to brave 8” of snow covered back roads to go to Circle K. While he said this was done out of love, I'm guessing it was more something like “Holy Shit, if this bitch doesn't stop crying I'm gonna have to kill her.” And with all the snow, burying a body would be a real Pain In The Ass. The end result is the same though, I got coke. Nobody has to die. All is well in the world.

So now I'm properly caffeinated, the headache is dissipating and the older two demon spawn are in bed for the night. Maybe this day won't be a total loss after all. I did get a nap, and who doesn't love a good nap? It's not like the kids were bad today (though Tori is going through this God Awful crying-over-everything stage) it's just I guess I've come to covet those rare moments when I'm only responsible for keeping the baby alive. I've given up on ever having a moment of time that's completely child-free, being down to only one is as good as it's going to get. Does this make me a bad mom? I adore them, don't get me wrong. I just would probably kill for some time to myself. Oh yeah, and time with my husband minus children would be fabulous too. Just even less likely to ever happen!

We had Tyler when I was 19. I was barely old enough to vote, not even old enough to drink and suddenly I was responsible for feeding, changing, ect a completely helpless human being. All of my friends were going to clubs, figuring out who they were- I was figuring out how to breastfeed and going to the pediatrician. Do I regret having him? Not for a moment. Do I wish that he hadn't come so soon? Absolutely. I look back on the mistakes I made with him as a baby and I feel SO BAD. I honestly did the best I could, but I didn't know enough to really give him the early years he deserved. I wonder if these early mistakes have contributed to the fact that we are just not close at all. I try, and I think he does too- we just don't... click. We are a lot alike and I think is part of the problem. We both have nasty violent tempers, both are insanely sensitive... oh yeah, and we are both bat shit crazy.

I've said it more times than I can count- this parenting stuff is HARD. Like beyond trigonometry kind of hard- and that says something coming from a girl who barely passed high school Algebra 1. I guess if I wanted to just give up and let them raise themselves it would be a lot easier- but I'm way too much of a control freak to ever let that happen! So I appeal to you, Internet- how do I fix my relationship with my son? How do I make him hate me just a little less? I expected the seething rage from him at 16, getting it thrown at me from a 9 year old is just a little more than I know what to do with.

Oh yeah, last thing- Harlow's appointment with the “Feeding Disorder” specialist is Friday. I'm going to meet with her, a nutritionist and lactation consultant (because I told them I refuse to stop breastfeeding her, so they better figure out a way to help her gain weight without giving that up) The plan is for me bring her bottles, cups, spoons and food and they are going to watch her eat. From there, we'll discuss what we need to do to help her gain weight and if they see anything that looks abnormal, we're going to do a barium swallow test. I don't know what to think of all this. She's SCRAWNY- she really does need to put on some weight, but the pediatrician's recommendation of switching her exclusively to formula, force-feeding solids and supplementing with pedia-sure, just doesn't feel right to me. Maybe she's just going to be tiny. It's not like the women in my family are exactly large in any way. So I'll update on how that went sometimes Friday evening- the appointment is at 1 and they said it'll take a couple hours.

The 1st Of Many Parenting Whines

“Mrs. Edwards, your baby has The Retard.” OK so, maybe it wasn't said EXACTLY like that, but the basic idea that the pediatrician is trying to convey is something along the lines of “since your crappy uterus can't be bothered with holding a baby until their due day- congratulations, you've made this one Special.” And I'm sitting here all “WHAAAAAA?” in my best Scooby Doo voice.

So all poor attempts at jokes aside, Harlow is not quite meeting her milestones on schedule, even when you adjust for the prematurity, she's kinda slacking on the social skills. Which is fine, she is eventually hitting them all, just not at the rate she “should” be. Poor kid also has super freaks for siblings, which doesn't help her situation. Tyler was talking in full sentences at 15 months and Tori was walking at 9 months. Tough acts to follow, I suppose. But now we're entering into the Big Scary World of Early Intervention. Which is great, I know they do fabulous things for the kids that need them. I just never thought that we would need them. There's no diagnoses, there's not even a real problem, as far as I know. I think it's more “let's do this now so we can head off a potential problem before it starts”

But now I'm left kind of floundering, kind of unsure of myself. This parenting stuff is HARD, let me tell you. It's just always SOMETHING. First, Tyler and all his freaky allergies. Then Tori comes along and her kidneys are all shot to hell. Then Tyler loses his mind. Then Harlow is born early and they think she's blind. Then Tori's cancer scare a couple months ago. Now Harlow is not blind, but she is slow-ish. Seriously, it would make a more sane person run screaming away. But me? Not me. I'm standing in the front yard, shaking my fist at the Universe screaming “Is that all you've got bitch? I can take that with one hand behind my back! You wanna break me? Keep trying!” And so Universe obliges, and the cycle begins anew.   

The Post Where You Learn Why I've Given Up On Humanity

You know what I really love? People who think I give a flying fuck what their opinion is. Let me paint a picture for you.

It's December 23. It's like 2:58 and Harlow is past tired and we are still out shopping. At Gamestop. 2 Days before Christmas. So basically it was just like being in Hell- except I assume hell would have better crowd control. I finally make my way to the register, balancing a stack of games, one floppy pissed off bundle of baby, my leather coat that weighs about 9 trillion pounds and my purse- which outweighs the coat by half at least. The girl at the register could have been super cute, once you looked past the fact that her hair was 5 different colors, her face was so pierced up, you could barely see face- and the tattoos, OH THE TATTOOS. It was like... unbelievable. And for the record, my navel is pierced, I've had my nose pierced and I have several tattoos- I'm not anti-body art. I'm anti-self mutilation. And when you pierce your collar bones (YIKES) and your open shirt shows solid tattoo from your boobs to your chin- yeah, honey I'm sorry- I'm gonna stare. Because REALLY? You did that on purpose?

Wait. This is not where I was going with this. People and their dumb asses thinking they get opinions. Right, I'm back on track now.

Freak Girl: (pointing to baby, who is seriously hating life right now)”She's so cute. What's her name?”

Me: “Harlow Asia” (for the record, “Asia” is pronounced “ahhZEEah”) Yeah, I know- talk to my husband on that one.

FG: (wrinkles nose) “That's weird- where did you find that?”

**Now, at this point, Harlow is climbing my back, it's about 134 degrees in the store and I'm just not feeling this conversation**

Me: “I found it in a baby name book and really liked it.” in my head I added “now please shut the fuck up before I kill you and they have to ID the body by the shear number of metal appendages left behind” But of course, I don't say that- because I'm nice. And stupid. Really stupid.

FG: “oh. Hey Jill, did you hear what she named this baby? HARLOW. Have you ever heard of that before?”

**Really? I will end you right here. I don't care. I'm out shopping 2 days before Christmas for-christs-sake, I obviously have NOTHING to lose. Just try me, bitch.**

Jill: “That's kinda cute. But you know my friend, she just had a baby and you know what she named her? TEMPEST. Isn't that the WORST?”

me: (because I'm an asshole- and because it's 100% true) “I actually like that name, if I couldn't get my husband to agree to Harlow, she was going to be Tempest Nicole. Now, how much do I owe you?”

And then my head exploded.

So there's the story of the time I almost went postal and took out an entire Gamestop. Looking back, I really wish I had less self control. Or at least a flame thrower in my trunk. You can blog from prison, right?

I wish I could say that was the only encounter I've had like that, but sadly in this parenting adventure, I've encountered many fucktards who feel the need to spew their ignorance all over me. But that, Dear Internet, is another story for another day....

Let Me Explain

I'm guessing anyone who doesn't have children is probably scratching their heads over the name of my blog. Or maybe you're one of those bastards that has “normal” or “well behaved” children. If so, bite me. For the rest of us, with bat-shit crazy spider monkeys posing as children, I give you my “List Of Shit I NEVER Thought I Would Have To Say”

1. (obviously) “Stop coloring on your sandwich” said to my dear Tori bird when she was about 4 and decided she simply HAD to have pretty bread.
2. “Get the dog's foot out of your mouth”
3. “No, we cannot put the screaming baby back my belly. It hurt like hell getting her out, you're stuck with her”
4. “Go get a Mr. Clean sponge and clean that up. And for the love of all that's holy- STOP WIPING BOOGERS ON THE WALL”
5. “Who put the dog in the fish tank?”
6. “...And you thought painting the carpet with Balmex was a good thing?”
7. “Why is there piss on the toilet seat AGAIN?”
8. “Yes I know zombies are cool. But your obsession with them is why none of the other PTA moms will play with me”
9. “How fucking hard is it to flush a toilet? GAWD!”

Note that a good majority of this list involves bodily functions and/or fluids. This is only a partial list, if I wasn't so lazy I'm sure I could remember more. This is the fascinating life of a parent. These are the things that make Lonnie and I both seriously consider packing our shit and sneaking out while the kids sleep. This, my friends, is the Ultimate Birth Control.

The Post Where I Introduce Myself To The Internet

So. This is a blog, huh? You're all going to come rushing to read my innermost thoughts? Hmm. Am I narcissistic enough to have a blog? Am I even going to keep up with it? I tend to forget projects mere moments after I begin them. Can I stop checking my damn facebook page long enough to even type an entire paragraph? Yes, apparently so. Probably not. Certainly not- if I can't sit through a red light without checking facebook, how in the hell could I ever expect to avoid it for more than 15 seconds when the computer is right here on my lap?

Let's just get all the “fine print” out of the way now. I curse. Excessively and unapologetically. All of my favorite words would make George Carlin give me a standing ovation. I have 3 children who I love more than anything. But they get on my nerves from time to time and I have no problem being very vocal about that. No matter how many times I say I want to lock them in the garage- I won't do it. I promise. Don't call CSB- they're fine.

I over use parethesis. My favorite way to end a thought? “...” I love this little dashy thing “-” too. These things all will eventually make you want to hunt me down and beat me to death with a grammar book. I am sorry for this, but it's like an illness, I can't control it.

There are millions of blogs out there and we here at “Stop Coloring On Your Sandwich!” are ever so grateful you've chosen us to be your blog. Literally millions of blogs. All with people who think they are the most funny, most intelligent or just generally The Shit and therefore must share their wit, wisdom, ect. With the rest of us peons. So why would I feel the need to add to that? What could I possibly have to add that nobody else has already said? The short answer is- Nothing. I have nothing new/special/interesting to add. Apparently however I just adore myself so much I have to share ME with all of you. You're welcome.