March 2007 Archives

So I had laparoscopic surgery on Wednesday. I've had some abdominal pain since Christmas. It comes and goes and had gotten much worse in the past few weeks. CT Scan found a "mass". Ultrasound saw no ovarian cysts. Maybe scar tissue from my c-sections? Time to go in with a laparoscope and see what's in there.

It turns out it's endometriosis. Thanks to this surgery, there should be no more pain for at least the next 5-10 years. Then, from what I understand, it's bound to return.

I found out in the process of all of this that nearly every female on my mother's side of the family suffers from endometriosis and/or fibroid tumors and has had a hysterectomy. Needless to say, that info put me into a little tailspin about the future of my babymaking. It would be a far stretch for me to have had that happen with my surgery (though I was told that removing one ovary might be a result) but that didn't stop be from being in shock with the news about my family's genetic "gifts". Suddenly, I was thinking Do I really want another baby? I'm not sure, I mean, probably, but I don't want that decision taken away from me. I had a little freak out moment the night before the surgery, which completely baffled Bill. He saw the reality of all of it and I was looking at it emotionally.

Things turned out fine. The surgery itself was definitely an experience. After having two c-sections, I assumed a little incision in my belly button wouldn't be much of a deal. It took place at an outpatient surgery center, so it couldn't be too bad. Well, recovery is, and has been, different than I imagined. I went through moments of basically sleeping most of the day for about two days to feeling really tired and worn out (still am) to just ugh. It's definitely not like a c-section (and there's no prize - ie. baby). For one, I have four incisions instead of one big one. Not centralized, but kind of spread out across my lower abdomen. I'm still wondering if the combo of them all will be more like a smiley face or a Picasso face or something. Also, I didn't anticipate the gas pains. No, not the kind you get after eating baked beans... the kind you get after they pump your abdominal cavity full of carbon dioxide so they can create space to move around. The gas doesn't really have a direct exit out since it's just around your organs so it slowly seeps out of your body over the next couple of days. The results: weird chest and shoulder pains that make you feel like you're having a heart attack.

And, the biggest difference of all between the two surgeries: My belly button. If you've read this, then you'll understand that I don't like my belly button being touched at all. Not even by myself. It immediately makes me nauseous and gives me the heebie jeebies. I'm serious. There's gagging involved.

Now imagine feeling this way and then having surgery through your belly button. I'm shivering just writing this. And starting to gag. Thank goodness for pain killers. I haven't done too badly without them, but I tried to be brave and not take any yesterday. I also tried to get out a little and go shopping with my mom and sister, both of whom came to help me with the girls the last week. What was I thinking? I didn't even get through the first store without nearly passing out and I immediately came home to pop a pill. I was starting to feel a pulling and stretching feeling in my belly button, not to mention the pain. Eeeewwwww.

I usually have a really high pain threshold so I'm not sure if this thing is really as painful as it feels or if it's just the idea of it being in my belly button that makes it worse. I will tell you, though, that changing the dressings each day is an absolute nightmare for me.

I'm lucky the surgery was done under general anesthesia rather than an epidural like my previous ones. I hadn't even counted to one and a half before I was completely out. I woke up in recovery, then fell asleep again, and remember only bits and pieces of the rest of the day and evening. I even think I talked on the phone to a couple of people, but I don't remember who or what I said. If I talked to you, I'm sorry. Hopefully I didn't embarrass you or myself.

I'm trying to take it easy today since yesterday's dose of reality. It's not easy, considering that I'm sitting on the couch looking around at all the things that need to be done. The doc said that I'd be back to normal in 2-3 days' time. "You could have the surgery on Friday and be back at work on Monday!" Um, yeah right. I could be back at work, but I'd be completely unproductive and curled up in the corner scowling at everyone. Just saying.

So that's what I've been up to the last couple of days. I didn't really feel like posting about my upcoming surgery beforehand, and well, the last few days haven't left me with much time or energy either. I look like I'm about 4 months pregnant, though. I've basically been wearing sweatpants and some of Bill's t-shirts (women's long t-shirts are great, but not if they're also skin-tight).

Still I'm thankful all is relatively well and that I had such great help with the girls. Seriously, my mom and sister came through in ways I'd never imagined and I am extremely grateful. I never could have gone through this without them. Thanks again, guys.

It still amazes me how far I've come in my tolerance of poop and vomit. Having a baby definitely gets you introduced to it. I remember many times where Maddie and Josie both had diaper leaks that dribbled down my arm. And I don't mean the yellow kind of leak, either. Having two kids with reflux issues introduced me to spit-up. I think I gave up wearing any black clothing for the first year of each one's life. I know Bill definitely went to work with a little dribble on the shoulder of his shirt each day. So much for giving the baby a hug on the way out the door.

I thought I had it all conquered until the girls became toddlers. Solid food was introduced. Spit-up was replaced with actual chunky vomit. (Sorry for the visuals I've caused) I'm amazed at how I've held it together whether being vomited on or actually having my hands wrist-deep in poop. Somehow my brain kicks into action mode and I don't even smell or notice what I'm doing - just get the job done. Potty-training the girls definitely reinforced the idea that I shouldn't have used cloth diapers. For all my best intentions for them and the environment, I'm definitely thankful to Huggies.

**You will see many comics from Natalie Dee in my postings from here on. I searched through her archives last night and laughed more than I have in a long time. You should check it out yourself.

One of my belated New Year's resolutions this year is to give up on reading celebrity gossip. My bloglines used to consist of Celebrity Babies, Perez Hilton, TMZ, Just Jared, and other similar sites. My magazines included US Magazine, People, InTouch, etc. They were great because they don't require a lot of attention. An article here or there: great for a mom who doesn't have a lot of time to read at length, and one who keeps falling asleep at 10pm at night (or reading celeb gossip blogs). See the vicious cycle?

What brought this on? A month or so ago, Bill and I were taking a two hour drive to my mom's when we stopped at a gas station to get gas and some reading material for me. I perused the mags and was just completely bored by what I saw, until I saw Scientific American. Call me a nerd, but I used to have a subscription to this about 8 years ago and loved it. I was a complete science nut in high school and college (before I decided to save the world via non-profits), but somewhere along the way I just gave up the pursuit of actual knowledge.

I spent the next two hours reading it and got a high feeling that I haven't felt in years: I was literally shaking with glee. Wow, articles about black holes! Look at the geography and problems that lie within in the Middle East! Look what we've recently discovered about atoms! I felt like my brain had come out of hibernation and I was considering things I hadn't thought about in a long time.

It's been a little hard letting go of my celeb obsession. I mean, c'mon, Patrick Dempsey had twins! Britney's in rehab! Selma Hayek's pregnant!

It's good, though. I actually find myself getting through my bloglines feeds much quicker (usually only friends' and/or design blogs) and I have more time in the evenings to either post to this site or read my new Scientific American subscription.

Comic courtesy of Natalie Dee. Check her out.


I got the Swiffer WetJet a few weeks ago. Normally, I'm one to shun all the new cleaning inventions: give me my trusty old mop and broom and I'm fine. However, I saw one at the store one day and thought I'd give it a try.

I love it. Mopping is so much easier and quicker too. Now I have no problem mopping every day, as opposed to dreading it once a week. (Am I really talking about my love of mopping? Dude, I'm soooo "housewife" right now.)

Anyway, I had the mop for about a week when I realized how annoying and expensive (keep in mind that I'm cheap) it was going to be to buy new mop cloths for it, especially since I used it so much. My brilliant idea? A washable mop pad. One that you can use and then throw in the wash, then reuse again. Great for the environment! Cheaper! Less wasted paper!

I started thinking about how it would be designed: it would have to have a velcro-type backing to be able to stick to the Swiffer. I kept playing around with the idea in my head for a few days when I decided I was going to have to do something with this idea. I'd patent it or write a letter to Swiffer or something. There just needed to be a better way than wasting paper cleaning cloths each week. But I didn't want to give up my new mop either.

Then I go to Target one night and see this on an endcap:

Method Microfiber OMop Pads

Dammit. I was too late.

Becoming responsible adults is no longer a matter of whether children hang up their pajamas or put dirty towels in the hamper, but whether they care about themselves and others -- and whether they see everyday chores as related to how we treat this planet.

- Eda LaShan

- Maddie tried to put her My Little Pony bandaid on me today. She said I needed it for my "booboo" (ie. pimple)

- Red fruit punch should be outlawed for children under the age of 5 years.
Red punch + new white shirt = very unhappy mommy.

- It's not a good idea to let your kids finger paint when they have colds. They'll inevitably try to wipe their noses with their hands, getting paint all over their faces and in their eyes.

- After explaining breastfeeding to Maddie this morning:
Mommy, when I get big boobies, I'll make chocolate milk too. And have little babies. But I'm a big girl now and I don't have boobies. But I can still drink chocolate milk, right?

This month's interview is with Holli from Baby Faith. I honestly can't remember how I stumbled across her blog - probably through Self-Portrait Challenge - but I do know that I stuck around. We have a lot in common, most of which we're still discovering. She has a little girl, Faith, who is the same age as Maddie so I've been able to relate to a lot of her "Faith-isms." Though she's halfway across the country, it's just another example of how blogs can open people up to new friendships and connections. It's one of the reasons I keep going with this blog. AND she designs the most adorable mugs. (I'm still deciding on what I want but I'll let you know soon, Holli!)

Why did you start your blog?

I started Faith's blog to pass the time when we were separated on her first birthday. I was really upset that she was in Oklahoma City and I was in Texas - so I passed the time on the computer. I was getting sick of checking email over and over and over, so I decided to figure out "blogging." My first post was about her birthday. Actually, there is a hidden blog of posts I wrote while we were separated - I need to look at those and see if I should post any of them. Somehow - I doubt it.

BTW - we were separated because my job wouldn't let me work from home and she was really sick, so I had to send her to stay with my parents. I've blogged about this before. I had a job that allowed me to work from home, but a crappy boss. (insert middle finger here).

What's your favorite thing about blogging? Least favorite?

I love being able to read back and remember all the little things. I have a terrible memory. There is NO WAY I would remember little songs Faith made up words to, or her vomiting fried fish on a car trip from hell, or calling everything I drank "beer" until my parents were sure I was a raging alcoholic. Blogging gives back my mind and helps me remember life. I think you should live and then blog about it, not live just to have blogging material. I know some people who do that and it freaks. me. out.

My least favorite thing is when I really don't feel like writing, when I'm sick or Faith's sick - or I just don't have time. But inevitably I'll start getting emails asking where I am, am I okay, are we okay - or my family will ask what's going on - where is the blog, has something happened??? I end up answering so many questions and emails - it would just be easier to write a post. I love that people care, I don't like feeling obligated.

How has your blog inspired you?

I used to hate being in pictures. I wouldn't allow anyone to take my picture, thus no pictures existed of me with Faith. There are only a couple of me with her as a baby. I'm really glad there is proof that she had a mother! I also really love when I write something, and people comment that my thoughts are in sync with what's going on in their life. It makes me feel like I'm not so alone, especially when things are rough. It's not so much that I need validation - I think there are people that really like to make you feel like it's "just you." But it isn't. Blogging has allowed me to see that a lot of people have the same problems, the same joys - and it's okay. It's better than just okay - it's real.

What are your favorite blogs to read?

The ones I put on my penpal list. I don't like to play favorites. I will say I love Cory's blog, because she reminds me so much of myself at her age (and, um.. still now). Of course I started to say "so does so and so.. and so does so and so." So I better not get started.

Describe your typical day.

There is no such thing as a typical day. I've been waiting for one all my life.

So we had this little problem with a rodent in our house. It started with our broken dishwasher, where we realized something had chewed through the sump, costing us $200 in labor for a $20 part to be replaced. Bill set regular traps and we checked daily for any signs that the little guy had been caught. Nothing.

Then we found a brand new gigantic bag of pancake mix (recently bought from Sams Club) with a hole chewed in it in our pantry. Apparently he worked himself up so much chewing up our dishwasher that he needed a snack. We set more traps in the pantry and waited and waited. Nothing, although he did eat the peanut butter from the traps without setting them off. And for extra insult, he ate the peanut butter part of the Peter Pan Crunchy Peanut Butter and left the nuts behind for us. Grrrr.

I later found that the little guy had been in my bathroom too. I keep tons of lotions and stuff under the sink vanity. I don't go there that often, but when I looked in it recently I saw piles of what looked like black dirt everywhere. I finally realized it was charcoal and filling from some heating pads I had there. He had chewed them up. I also realized there was a big hole in the back of the wall, leading directly into the space between our bathroom and kitchen walls (and most likely with direct access to our dishwasher.)

Bill and I talked about finding another humane way to get rid of it. We went out and got some sticky traps. We set them out, one directly beside the opened bag. For days we had nothing until I went in one morning to find the trap with little gray hairs stuck in it. Apparently the little guy had gotten stuck but then got himself loose.

More sticky traps and no luck. Although now we've gone through another bag of pancake mix, a couple of sandwich bags, a bag of Lime Tostidos, two big bags of rotini pasta, and a small bag of Cheetos. Time for the hard-core stuff.

Bill went and bought some poison last week. We hated to do it, but there seemed like no other choice and this guy was just too smart. We set it out behind the dryer where it wouldn't be touched by us or the kids or the pets. We weren't sure anything was working until yesterday morning. I woke up to find the most awful smell in our bedroom. Bill said he'd heard some scurrying between the walls the night before when he came to bed. We're pretty sure Mr. Squirrel has moved on. Unfortunately for us, it looks like his soul left this world, but his body stayed in the walls of our bedroom. The smell has gotten to where I literally hold my nose to go in the room. Last night I turned on the strongest room freshener we had. It's starting to fade a little, which is good. Hopefully not much longer. We had a raccoon die in our fireplace in the den last year and it smelled pretty much the same way, so we're pretty sure that's what it is. Fortunately, we could close the doors to the den and stay out of there for a few days. We haven't been able to do that with our bedroom. Just pray that the weather doesn't get too hot in the next few days. Cooler weather would be best for us all.