June 22, 2004 | Uncategorized

OK, Jilbur, that does it. I was going to comment on your entry, but since you are being sooooo petty, I am just going to make it into a post! Humph.

I am very glad indeed to hear that Mir is chipper. I did let her know before her operation that I felt much better than I ever believed possible after each of my c-sections, and that her fears were probably worse than the reality. Having said that, heed my warning: do not stretch out the intervals between pain medication dosages. Payback is a bitch.

Reading Jilbur’s comment about Mir being out of bed already, I remembered all the cruel feats they expect you to perform after abdominal surgery. For one, they insist you get up and walk that very day, if only to the door and back. They try like hell to make you go further, but a loop to the door and back pretty much lets the nurse check that one off. For another, they will not let you have any kind of solid food until you can demonstrate resumption of peristalsis.

That’s right, you must fart for your supper. To quote Mir, you’re welcome.

The first time I heard this particular request, I was flabbergasted, and then amused. I finally asked a nurse why in blue blazes (as it were) eveyone wanted to know if I was farty, and she calmly informed me that once I was tooting again, they could be sure that my digestive system was operational and could tolerate an overcooked chicken breast and an oatmeal cookie.

So, Mir, fart away, It’s likely to be the last time you’ll get to do it, boast about it, and be rewarded with food for your efforts.

Unless of course, you decide to meet up with Jibur and me in the fall! We’ll think up all kinds of fun feats and rewards!

Uncategorized

If this were my blog, I’d go on a rant about the incredibly annoying day I’ve just finished up on, but as I am supposed to be on my best behavior, I’ll just say that here is the info that I would have posted three hours ago if I didn’t instead have to play a maddening game of “Hurry Up And Wait” with my beloved, frequently enriched-by-me Firestone dealership:

At about 3PM EST, I phoned Mir in her room and let me tell you, I was shocked, just shocked. She sounded …

GREAT! I haven’t been this surprised since after labor when they put my baby on my belly, and it actually looked like a baby and not like one of those aliens in the Weekly World News.

Anyway, it was a very brief convo because her pal was visiting, but my goodness, she’s no cheap narcotics date, this girl: she sounded as alert on Vicodin as she would have been after a triple-double cappucino on a Sunday morning.

And apart from the knowledge that she was no longer actually on an operating table, I got little else in the way of detailed info except: she’s already had a little walk down the hall, even (next stop: the surgical-convalescent Olympics!), and that her doc said they thought that the state of her previous interior looked unmenacing. Innocuous. I don’t know–I’m just a guest-blogger; fill in the good-news adjective of your choice.

Mindy, I’m two up on you, girl. Not that I’m counting …

Uncategorized

Pant, pant… I am here at last, and as usual, Jilbur is a bit quicker than I am. Curse you and your New England ways!!

I am soooo relieved to hear that Mir has come though OK, and that she so far does not appear to have a wrench or anything else left behind where it doesn’t belong. We can only hope that her doctors read this article as well before starting in on her…

June 21, 2004 | Uncategorized

I just got off the phone with the lead nurse on Mir’s floor: she’s in her room, sleeping. So–that’s the end of Chapter 1 in the gripping saga, How I Went To The Hospital and All My Neurotic Friends Showed Me How Much They Love Me.

Uncategorized

Jilbur here with the first Mir status update!
I got antsy and didn’t wait for the email Mir told me expect, and yes, you can expect me to be that kind of guest blogger … Anyway, I phoned the hospital myself, and as of now (around 3PM EST) she’s still in recovery–but I’ll follow up within the next hour or two to report that she’s safely in her room!

And! Nothing very entertaining! on this! guest blog entry! But stay tuned! I’d like Mindy and me to be able to truthfully say that we drove Mir’s stats up while she was gone, because I’m certain that any increase in traffic will stay with her upon her return; so everyone do your part and refresh! refresh! refresh! Do I sound like Dr. Bronners yet! Okay!

Health is overrated

Well boys and girls, I’m off to the hospital. I should be back online by Thursday or so. In the meantime, I’ve handed keys over to Jilbur and Mindy, so that they can pick up the mail and water the plants and let you know I’m alive… stuff like that.

Let me just leave you with these parting words: reproductive organs? We don’t need no steenkin’ reproductive organs….

June 20, 2004 | What do I do all day?

I was riding high on the… uhhh… high (high high high!) of my clean house yesterday as I prepared for an evening of pizza and sympathy with a few friends. My last supper. Courtesy of Pizza Hut. I should just move into a trailer and be done with the facade, I know. Anyway. I was feeling good.

Six friends had been invited. In the end, one made it. Well, that’s okay. Other people have lives, too (so I hear), so I was not to be deterred from my high! Alright! Excellent friend, you and me, baybeeeee! Let’s eat some pizza and watch a really bad horror film! Okay! Rock on!

We had a good time.

About halfway through the movie the ex and my children called, having landed safely in ex-law land slightly earlier that evening. Monkey got on the phone first:

Me: Hey baby! Where are you?
Him: I’m fine.
Me: No, silly, not how are you, where are you?
Him: I’m at Grammie’s!
Me: No way!
Him: Yes! And I had CAKE!
Me: No!
Him: Yes! And it was CHOKLIT! And I ate it all!
Me: Mmmmm, that sounds yummy.
Him: ByebyeIwuvyou.
Me: I love you too! Are you done talking to me?
Him: [already gone]

Oooooookay. Well, at least he said he loved me. Monkey was sent to fetch Chickadee, and after several agonizing minutes of small talk with the ex I suggested that perhaps he needed to go extract her from whatever she was doing so that I could speak with her. Finally she came to the phone.

Me: Hey baby, how are–
Her: MAMA! Grammie made me a new blanket and it has my name on it and she also made one for S [girl cousin of the same age] with her name and so I grabbed S’s blanket and said “Oh, this is MY blanket” and S laughed so hard she fell over!!
Me: Wow. Sounds like you and S are back to your regular stint as Frick and Frack.
Her: [sounding a bit worried, and annoyed that I didn’t get it] No, Mama, it’s okay, S thought it was funny. She laughed. Really hard! I didn’t do anything wrong!
Me: Oh sweetie, I didn’t mean you did anything wrong! I just meant you and S are like sisters when you get together, and I think it’s great you love each other so much.
Her: Oh. Okay. ByebyeIloveyou!
[sound of phone clattering to the ground]

Well. I’m glad they’re having a good time. And I’m sure the novelty will wear off after a week and they might even be glad to come home to me next weekend.

So my friend and I finished watching our movie and eating cookies, and we said our goodbyes and she went home. In retrospect, it may not have been my brightest idea ever to eat supreme pizza so close to having had a tummy bug. Live and learn. I went upstairs and unwrapped my brand new bottle of Pepto. I gave it a good shake (per package directions).

The lid flew off. In my freshly. cleaned. bathroom. I’d say half a bottle of Pepto is about… oh… six gallons?

Fortunately, after a few hours of major blood and guts on film, even with a slightly upset stomach I had to giggle a little while cleaning up the splattered slaughter of the Pink Monster.

I’m telling ya… someone is trying to make tomorrow look good in comparison. And I really wish they would stop already.

June 19, 2004 | Friends

Have you visited the most mouth-watering blog in the blogosphere yet?

If you said yes, gold star! If you said no, look very ashamed, or I will bop you on the nose with a rolled up newspaper.

While Bakerina is away, the mice are not so much playing as having a party to end all parties. I can barely keep up. But I did wander over and post a guest entry this afternoon, just cuz Bakerina was silly enough to grant me access. And because I’m so pleased that I finally finished cleaning the house. And because I don’t want to go tend to any of the other million things I should be doing.

Check it out, won’t you?

What do I do all day?

1) Don’t wait until facing major surgery to clean your microwave. Trust me on this one.

2) Do pour bleach in all the toilet bowls to soak for a while.

3) Don’t assume that surfaces above head-level do not accumulate dust just because you can’t see them.

4) Do enlist the children’s help in tidying up their messes.

5) Don’t forget to check their work before they leave on vacation.

6) Do blame yourself for not being more specific. Do say, “Please tidy up the playroom.” Also remember to say, “And that does not mean just pick up all the crap and shove it on the shelves or kick it to the perimeter.”

7) Don’t forget about the bleach in the toilet bowls before adding cleanser unless you have a deep fondness for ammonia fumes.

8) Do pick up all floor detritus before vacuuming.

9) Don’t bother picking up tiny little pieces of annoying toys that you hate, anyway. (Ooops!)

10) Do take breaks often; then when you feel like you’re not accomplishing anything, at least you have an excuse.

11) Don’t buy “freshly scented” abrasive cleaners thinking they will smell any better. “Green Apple” scented Lysol Tub and Tile cleanser is just as noxious as the original–perhaps moreso.

12) Do take the garbage out.

13) Don’t notice how grody the trash can is… you have enough other stuff to do today. Put a clean bag in and call it good.

14) Do feel free to remove to the basement/garage/closet anything that needs to be put in a proper place, someday, but not right this second.

15) Don’t worry about getting everything done; prioritize and do what you can.

16) Do finish anything that will either drive you batshit if left undone or you wouldn’t feel comfortable asking someone else to do for you during your convalescence.

June 18, 2004 | About

Welcome again to another edition of Friday Facts and Fiction, where I address your questions by telling the truth, lying pathologically, or sometimes both. This is not altogether different than my blog entries in general, but I do address your questions in some way…. Anyway. Onward!

Kym asks many things:
… how did my pits smell?
Well, I did remember to put deodorant on this morning, but it’s been a long day…. (Truth.)

… am I nervous about my surgery?
No. (Fiction.) Yes. (Fact.) Shut up.

… what am I most nervous about?
Hospital food. (Fiction.) Want it straight up? Dying. That’s my big full-out-uncontrolled-anxiety fear, though not a very realistic one I guess. It’s something I can’t help considering when undergoing something like this… not because it would be such a tragedy to me (I mean, I wouldn’t know, right?) but because the thought of my kids growing up without me (read: being raised by the ex) terrifies me. The more realistic fear is of being alone and miserable when I get out of the hospital. Most of the time I am fine with being single. Times like this? I feel very sorry for myself. (Truth; I’m pitiful.)

… whatever happend with my thoughts about going back to school? Where do I stand with that?
Already did it. I’m a lawyer now. (Fiction, though that really would’ve come in handy during the divorce….)

Kym was privvy to my Big Plan over the winter, when I decided to go back to school to become a radiologic technologist. The program is two years of intense study, followed by licensure and then, decent money, normal hours, and high employability. It all sounded good to me. Unfortunately, the only program in my state is over an hour away, I missed the deadline for 2004 and was told I was “welcome to apply for 2005,” and due to the way my post-divorce arrangements came out, waiting another year made it virtually impossible, financially. Now there are ways I could make it work (thanks, Dad), but I’m not sure I’m willing to wait three years for my new career. I’m exploring other avenues (not that any of them have led anywhere, yet, but who knows). And to be perfectly honest, there is a very indignant, snobby portion of my brain insisting “I already have plenty of degrees!” (Fact.)

Milady Zoot asks:
… did I remember deodorant?
Yep, see above. For all the good it did me. (Fact, ambiguous though it may be.)

… how long have I ever gone without wearing deodorant?
Once, I went for, like, 11 years! (Fact!!) But after that, puberty hit, and I’ve worn it every day since. (Gotcha.) I hope you enjoyed your hippy phase, but I have always been freakishly fastidious about personal hygiene, because I just find the alternative too scary. It’s one of the reasons I could never go on Survivor. By the third day I’d be a quivering heap, sobbing for antibacterial soap.

… what’s the last item of clothing I bought?
A red leather cat suit. Meow! (Fiction; I know you’re all stunned.) Okay, just in case you didn’t think I was pitiful from my answer to Kym, above, here’s your chance. I last bought… a package of white socks. Hanes. So, who wants to come clubbing with me? (Boring Fact.)

The ever-sex-crazed (what up with that, girl??) Debby wants to know:
… have I ever had sex in a car?
Could you be more specific… like, type of car, number of partners? (You know, my Dad hasn’t commented on here in a while. This sort of thing may be why.) Okay, sorry, nope. (Fact.)

… what’s my favorite kind of cereal?
Grape Nuts. (Fiction!! God, I want to vomit just typing it. Whose bright idea was it to market dirt-flavored gravel as food???) Hmmmm. Honestly I love most cereals. I’m Seinfeldian, that way. Oddly enough, one of my favorites right now is Grape Nut Os, which taste nothing like their predecessor. (Fact.)

… favorite holiday?
Don’t even feel like coming up with an interesting lie for this one. It’s Christmas, hands down. That’s what happens when a little Jewish girl grows up and converts, I guess. (Fact.)

… what KIND of deodorant do I use?
Teen Spirit, of course! (Fiction, but I have been waiting years to tell someone that!) I am currently using Arrid Total in “cool shower” scent. I switch between that and Secret Platinum Unscented depending on what’s on sale and what coupons I have. (Fact, and now you can be just like me, right down to the armpits! Yay!)

Dear Chewie asks:
… do I wear make-up much?
Only when I’m awake. (Fiction.) I have never been much for make-up. I wear it–lightly–for special occasions, only, and no matter how many Mary Kay parties I go to or how many times I’m roped into someone “doing my face,” I just can’t get into smearing all that stuff everywhere. I mean, yeah, sometimes I like the way it looks, but it seems like too much trouble. (Fact.)

… do I have many people to really trust?
Trust no one. Did you learn nothing from The X-Files, woman??? (Fiction.) I trust different people for different things, you know? But I am blessed right now. I may still be lousy at asking for help, but it is always there when I need it. (Fact.)

… do I ever wear a thong?
Nah. I never wear underwear. (Fiction! Can you imagine me with my clean issues, going commando? Frightening.) I do wear thongs when necessary to eliminate panty lines. I hate them. Everyone says, if you find the right one it’s nice and comfy; as a result, I now own about 8 different thongs, none of which I like. And why is it that the less fabric panties contain, the more expensive they are? Sorry, that’s another rant for another day…. (Fact.)

And last but certainly not least, Jennifer asks:
… do I have a crush on anyone?
Someone asked this on a previous Friday (Debby?), and I said no. Then I thought about it some more and decided that was pitiful, so I am now making a more concerted effort to find men to drool over. (Fact? Fiction? Even I’m not sure, on this one.)

… how long do I take to get ready to go somewhere?
About three hours. (Fiction!) Hmmm. From shower to out-the-door, including blow-drying my hair, about 50 minutes if I’m trying to look nice. But I don’t wash my hair every day, and I don’t shave my legs every day, and I’m rarely trying to look anything other than dressed, so there’s a lot of variables involved. My skills in this area aren’t put to the test very often, ya know. (Fact.)

… what do my kids call me?
Her Royal Majesty Queen Mother. (Fiction, but maybe I’ll work on that one….) They call me Mama, although if the whining gets bad it sounds more like “Moooooooooooooooooomaaaaaaaaeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!” Also, Chickadee is at that adorable age when she thinks it’s hilarious to call me by my first name in the stern voice of a librarian who just sucked some helium, so that’s an interesting twist on things…. (Fact. How do I make her stop??)

Okay, that concludes this week’s installment. As always, thanks for playing! Please don’t let any of the information herein bother you. Discontinue use if rash occurs.