Tuesday, November 20, 2012

It's about that time...

Well, it's that time of year again, the holiday season.  Yay.  I love the holidays (note the massive sarcasm there).  I don't look forward to them, in fact I can't wait until they are over.  I can't stand the fact that they are all about how much money you can spend, especially considering I never have any. 

As always I get to start this season off with a fucking bang.  My dog had puppies about 2 weeks ago (12 days to be exact) and as much as I KNOW I'm a terrible pet owner for not having them fixed yet, shit happens and now I have to suck it up and deal with it.

Seven of them, and the best thing I can say is that at least she didn't have them in the middle of the night and all of them lived.

Moving on, holidays starting with a bang, but not that it matters because no one ever comes here anyway so I could have a zillion puppies and no one would know about it.  I'm not sure why exactly, I guess I give off a "don't come to my house" kind of vibe, I dunno, I just know that sometimes it sucks to want company and know that no one wants to be at your house.  I guess it's partly because it smells funky, but 50 year old carpet and a mini zoo and it's gonna.  That's ok, at least I don't have to clean.

So, beyond that, I've been spending a concentrated amount of time every day getting free or nearly free shit online.  It's been a lot of fun for me.  My sometimes very ungrateful family doesn't seem to enjoy it as much as me, but I don't care, it's a great time waster and I feel like a little kid when the mail comes and it's not all bills addressed to the "estate of...".  I've gotten a stylus for my ipad (still waiting for it), a little led light that fits in your wallet, a netti pot type thing, a bunch of samples of stuff including teas, coffees and spices and I was picked to do a couple online reviews of products so you'll be seeing those in upcoming blogs.  One of them is for children's Advil of all things...lil ole me gets to do a product review for ADVIL!!  I'm cool (not).

I also ordered some environmentally friendly diapers for the Phiz man.  They cost a little bit more than pampers (I'm a diaper snob because my babies have sensitive skin) but they are amazingly cute and they don't smell dank nasty when they get wet, they just smell like...get this...pee.  They come in other patterns but our trial bag was the skulls, check these out :)

Are those not the cutest disposable diapers you've ever seen?  They're from a company started by Jessica Alba called The Honest Company.  Here's a link in case you wanna check them out.   They have some promo codes, easy to come by but I didn't use them so I'm not sure how they work cuz my order was less than $20.

So, I hate holidays, my dog had puppies, I got a buncha free shit online and I bought some really cute dipes from Jessica Alba's company, I don't think I missed anything for all both of you that might read this LOL.

Until next time...

Saturday, November 3, 2012

The box...

I'm what they call a "kitchen witch", meaning I keep most of my witchy supplies in my kitchen.  I do keep a rubbermaid type box of some supplies in my bedroom though, with a few special items that don't normally go in a kitchen, like bags of stones and crystals, my altar cloth and my tarot decks.  My dumb huge dog knocked the box over a few days ago and I had just pushed it back into it's spot and threw the lid back on loose thinking I'd put it right next time I thought about it.  That was this morning.  One thing I keep in there, and I'm not sure why, is a memory box I was given when I was discharged from the hospital in 2004.  That box contains what little I have of MacKenzie Zane, my lost angel.  He was born extremely premature, just shy of what the hospital he was delivered at considered viable.

My water broke, and although it was a long and excruciating labor and it is a very long and painful story to tell, I can not tell it now.  Needless to say, I still grieve for him every day.  I couldn't help but peek inside that box today, and in doing so, I reduced myself to a puddle of tears.  All I have of him are a couple of polaroid pictures, a set of his very tiny footprints and the little outfit he wore for our time with him.  That, and a piece of a blanket that I'd started to knit for him.

When I got pregnant the next time, I didn't make or buy anything until after that baby was viable to live outside of me.  That baby is playing angry birds next to me right now and was the biggest and most healthy of all of my kids.  He was also sitting right here when I opened that damn box.  When he saw me crying, he put his hand over mine and said "Mommy, it's ok to be sad, and I love you the best of everyone".  The wisdom of a 6 year old is awesome.  It IS ok to still be sad after all this time.  He was my child, and although I didn't get to know him and nurse him and be with him like I have the rest of them, I love him.  Even on the days that my heart breaks because all I have of him is the box.

Until next time...

Saturday, October 20, 2012

I'm having one of those days...

Yeah, I know I have them a lot.  I had this whole post started like a week ago about my beautiful daughter, but I can't seem to get it right.  I just am not doing her or our story any justice so I have that on hold and have just decided to start anew today. 

I'm desperately trying to put my shit together and it's just not working.  I'm very much missing my friend, who I don't believe I've mentioned here before.  He's a wonderful man I met on the internet.  Odd, I know, you generally don't meet normal people online, but this guy is a gem.  I don't get to talk to him nearly as often as I'd like to and he's about the only voice of reason in my insane world because he's objective.  He doesn't know my family from anyone, but is always able to give me good advice, even when it's to kick me in the ass and tell me that I need to get over myself. 

I'm also missing my sister in law who is not my sister in law.  Strange story I guess there, lol.  She was married to my brother before he died, but her mother is also married to one of my husband's older brothers so we'd have been family anyway.  Through some stroke of luck, she's put up with my shit for 20 years and still talks to me!  I dunno what I did to get that lucky, but whatever it was I'm glad.  She was going to come over today, but her little girl is sick so rather than risk spreading a stomach bug here, we had to skip it.

My mother is driving me fucking crazy though.  I need these people to remind me that I can do this.  I can handle this.  I am strong, and I am strong enough to deal with everything.  I love my mom, but damn it, she's hard to live with sometimes.  I know I am too, but it's my blog, so I get to be the one to complain :) It's home here, it is, and I know that.  The rational part of my brain understands that I need to be present and make this place good for my children, but the irrational part of me is still so fucked up I don't know how to do that.  I spend so much time beating myself up over that, it's ridiculous.  And that is why I'm crazy!!

Moving on, we made some "calm down" bottles for the little ones, a big one for Max and a small one for Memphis.  Max is not doing very well using his and I didn't take any pics of them, but they are all over pinterest so I'm ok not documenting that.  I also applied to do some product testing for a thing called "Mom's Meet" and was accepted.  I'm waiting for my first few items to get here so I can review them...now the trick is to find 5 moms in my area to meet up with to do that.  I have a couple of ladies I think will join but I'm not sure about 5.  I thought it would force me to be social though so maybe this is a good thing.  That and it's all "green" products and that's always been something I've enjoyed.

I'm missing Pagan Pride day in my area because my wonderful hubby and oldest son are out having a yard sale today to try to make a little extra cash and while looking through the garage, found a crate of *get this* Playboy collector cards!!  They are actually pretty cool and I found a guy online that's willing to help me price them so we can try to make a little cash off that also.  Everything in my world always revolves around money!  I read an article many years ago about how married people only fight about three things, money, sex and family.  I agree whole heartedly.  That's all R and I ever fight about.  We never have enough money or sex and have too many damn kids, which is why we never have enough money or sex LOL.

I really want to get a Monroe piercing so even though I'm broke, I still think if the other adults here can find money for the stupid shit they buy I can do something for myself too, plus I think they look cool and I miss my eyebrow ring.  And, with that, my little phizzy man has woken up from his nap and is in a rather clingy mood so I can't type anymore.

Until next time...

Monday, October 1, 2012

Another day, a little more loserish...

Yeah, so I feel like a fucking loser again today.  I don't want to leave my room.  The best description I have is that I want to go home and I have no home to go to.  This doesn't feel like home.  It just feels like somewhere I'm staying.  I don't want to cook in that tiny little kitchen with my grandmother's things that I might god for fucking bid ruin or break.  Glass things break here all the time.  Skeptics be warned, you can believe me or not, I don't give a shit, but this house is haunted.  Or I am, I don't know which (or should it be witch, lol?). 

These dark feelings creep up on me so quickly it's scary sometimes.  I think they need to up my meds.  In all seriousness though, this whole not feeling at home here thing really sucks.  I want to be able to feel like I'm home here.  I used to feel that way.  I pretty much grew up in this house, so it's almost painful to me that I feel so unwelcome here.  I'm not even 100% sure which ghost is here.  Is it my brother?  My step dad?  My grandpa?  My grandma?  My uncle?  I don't know.  I'm almost afraid to ask them because I'm not sure I can handle knowing if it's not one of them.  Please remember I take a shit (sorry for being so graphic but this is my way of dealing with it) on the very same toilet my step dad pulled an elvis on, and my daughter sleeps in the room my grandmother died in, so maybe it's just the creep factor, but the "happenings" are far from just the creeps but that's a whole other blog.

Onward I move, I don't know how to make this home, I don't know why I can't seem to feel like it is.  I guess I just don't know much of anything.  I miss my house.  I miss my huge kitchen and my fucked up giant pantry that food actually stayed in.  I miss being the one in charge and knowing what bills were due and when so I didn't wake up to surprises like today.  My dear madre forgot to pay the cable bill so our lovely bundle got shut off until they could go up and pay it.  Wasn't a matter of not having the money even, just didn't pay the damn thing.  I had no fucking clue because I'm not allowed to see half the damn mail.  Plus, I am literally starving to death.  Now in all honesty, I had some pounds to lose, but now I kinda don't, especially breastfeeding a toddler.  Since we moved in here, between my health issues and the fact that someone eats every goddamned thing here, I've lost damn near 50 pounds.  Again, I had it to lose, but damn man...I don't have any pants.  Not one single pair of "go outside" pants that stay up.  I can't afford to buy any clothes even so I guess I should feel lucky I live somewhere warm I can wear dresses all winter since I have no pants.

Ok, I'm done sulking and feeling sorry for myself, but in closing, I'll share a shitty picture of myself from the series my 16 year old son and I took that all had orbs in them.  Every single shot for 20 frames had orbs in different places, so enjoy...plus, you can see my new(ish) haircolor. 

Until next time...

Wednesday, September 26, 2012

Yeah, I'm a drama queen...

I totally admit it, I have a flair for the dramatic.  Most people already know this about me I imagine.  Or maybe not.  I don't know.  Anyway, I feel better than I did the last time I posted I guess.  Not by a fuck of a lot, but I'm trying.  If I don't force myself to be "normal" to a degree I'll just lay here and die and I can't do that to my kids so I'm putting effort into not being depressed.

In all truth I DO have a few reasons that I might be depressed though, so it's not like I just woke up one day and went "hmmm, I think I'll just whack out for no reason".

Moving on, Max and I have been growing and creating left and right, I don't have too many pics of such things but I'll tell you a few.  We have some black coleus that just sprouted, I'll post pics as soon as you can tell what they are.  We've been trying to be in the pool a bit more :)  The water is too cold for my liking this end of the summer but next summer we'll have another solar blanket for it so it'll be warm (yay!!).

We've made some lotion bars and home made lip balm with our beeswax.  (recipes at end of blog) I think we're going to try a batch of 15 hour bread tomorrow to go with the beef stew I'm making for dinner but I'm not sure if I'm up for the clean up aspect of all that! 

So, as you can tell, I'm back to as normal as I get lol!

Until next time...

Lotion Bars
Equal parts beeswax, coconut oil, and almond or olive oil (I used olive)

Melt over double boiler
pour into molds and let harden
rub lightly over hands and rub in

Lip balm
Equal parts beeswax and coconut oil
crystal light packet or koolaid/other flavored and sweetened drink mix

melt over double boiler, add drink mix to flavor and color as desired as was is melting so that the granules melt as well
pour into molds and let harden

Thursday, August 23, 2012


I don't know who I am today.  I know that sounds cryptic and strange, but I don't.  I know I'm someone's mother, I know I'm someone's wife, and I know I'm someone's daughter but beyond that I have no idea who "I" am.  I used to be pretty, I used to be funny, I used to be happy, I used to be someone.  I used to be able to go places and do things.  I used to be...

I don't know when it changed exactly or who I turned into.  I'm not sure what caused it all.  I'm not even sure I know what to call it.  I do know I haven't left my bedroom to do more than go to the bathroom since day before yesterday.  I didn't even go downstairs yesterday.  I haven't yet today either. 

It's tense here.  There is friction I can't explain.  There has been so much grief in this last year that maybe that's it, I don't know.  If it weren't for my husband, my kids would have starved to death the last little while because I don't even know for sure when the last time I left the house was. 

I feel like a pathetic loser.  I don't know why I'm like this or what to do to change it.  I've lost myself and I don't know where to begin to look for who I was...


Sunday, August 5, 2012

Home Made Bath Crayons...

I figured that I would post a tutorial here because I've been doing all kinds of fun shit.  Sewing mostly, but my 6 year old wanted some bath crayons and we had all the stuff here.

First we took a plain bar of ivory soap and grated it up.

Then we added about a half a cup of hot water.

My six year old didn't want to get his hands "icky" so I tried to stir with a spoon but it didn't work very well so I had to knead it with my hands.

His favorite color of the day is orange, so we added a few drops of red food coloring and a few drops of yellow.  I mixed it again and got it ready to put in the muffin tin.

It made about 6 muffin tin shaped crayons because we couldn't find the cookie cutters and frankly, I didn't give a crap what shape they were since they'll end up all over my shower walls anyway.

The instructional that I have says that it takes 2 days to dry, but I have them on my patio that's about 106 degrees right now so I'm pretty sure they'll be dry by tomorrow.  I'll let you guys know how it worked out and post some pics of the boys playing with them!  If they're that easy to make and use, I'm sure I'll make more soon in other colors.

Until next time...

Friday, August 3, 2012


So in the wake of all the death and dismay I have a confession to make.  Those of you that know me in real life know that I'm a rather functional addict.  Some of you may not be aware to what extent.

Many years ago I was in a car accident that not only shattered ALL of my teeth, it broke my c4 vertebrae.  At the time (being as vain as I am) I was more concerned with my teeth than my neck.  Fast forward a few years and I started having chronic pain.  Headaches so severe that I could not function.  I was able to get something called facet joint injections that managed that pain for many years but I got pregnant with my 6 year old and had to stop them. Before I stopped nursing  him (at 22 months old) I was diagnosed with cardiomyopathy.  I am no longer able to get the injections so I have turned to opiates. 

I started out about a year ago, shortly after the baby was born, on regular vicodin but it didn't even take the edge off so my pain management dr put my up a dose on norco.  That's twice the hydrocodone with less of the the Tylenol ingredient.  So anyhow, now I'm an opiate addict. 

I have really crappy state health insurance, and believe me I am grateful for it, but it's hard to get my refills sometimes.  I have no money and I'm outta my fucking pills.  It makes for a really bad few days of withdrawal.  I guess I managed to over take my pills because I shouldn't be out yet but I am.  I feel like shit.  I hurt all over and the stomach issues I already have from all my damn heart meds plus withdrawal symptoms and I have no pain relief at all. 

I guess this is my way of feeling sorry for myself because in all reality, no one else should feel sorry for me.  I've done this to myself.  I never really liked the "buzz" that the pills give me, I just like the pain relief.  Pot does help my anxiety issues, but not so much the bone pain.  Muscular yeah, but bone pain, no.  I'm almost on the verge of accepting a hydromorphone from my mom but I think that will just make me more sick to my stomach. 

The moral of the story here...I'm admitting my addiction publicly in some hopes that my friends and loved ones will understand why I am the way I am sometimes.  I'm off to go deal with my cold sweats and stomach ache.

Until next time...

Saturday, July 28, 2012


Well, I find myself in another difficult place.  Kinda reminds me of an old "Friends" episode where Chandler puts one hand up on either side of his head and says "Rock, hard place, ME!".  My cousin, who I'm not at all close to, is going off to college in a month.  My uncle and he decided to take one last camping trip before Danny left and I've come to another moment in my life where I just don't know what the fuck to feel.

They were on their way up north to a favorite campsite when there was a tire blowout.  They went down a 500 foot ravine.  My cousin has what the paper described as "minor to moderate injuries" that in reality are more like severe including broken vertebrae and a head laceration that required them to cut off the dreadlocks he'd been growing for years.  My uncle was not as lucky, if you can even call it that.  He died on the way to the hospital or shortly after he arrived from what I understand.

So far in 2012, I've buried my step father, my maternal grandmother and now, my uncle.  My mom's side of my family is very small and now we are the only ones left.  I guess I should say WAS small because now it's virtually non existent.  I'm lost again.  I look at my brood of children and I'm reminded that the reason I felt so strongly about having so many was so they'd never be alone.

When I lost my brother a little part of me died that day too.  He was my only sibling, and we were very close growing up.  I never want my kids to feel as alone as I do.  Now I am comforting my mother through that same pain.  How much loss can one family bear?  How do I get over yet another loss?  

I've completely buried myself in sewing projects and crafts and that is seeming to help a tiny bit but not much.  I just don't know.

Until next time...

Tuesday, July 17, 2012

It's getting hot in here...

OMG it's summer.  For those of you who do not live in my area, you may not understand the depth of that statement.  Last week it was up in the 100's and fortunately it's a little cooler this week, but I got my electric bill.  I am sorely reminded that this house is bigger and older than I am used to.  Frankly, it needs new windows because we are air conditioning the outside too! 

I seem to have a newly developed issue with heat and can identify a variation of less than a degree.  I'm exaggerating, but really, I feel almost menopausal.  If I wasn't lactating I'd wonder if I was indeed in menopause.  Anyway, it's fucking hot here.  My mom runs the A/C all the time but it's still hot upstairs.  Project o'the day is to put a window A/C unit in my room.  I hope R doesn't fuck it up too bad.

In the meantime I am sweating balls and blogging to keep from hovering.  I thought I'd share a pic of Memphis' birthday cake and all it's glory.  He's such a funny little thing.  He loved his cake so much but he wore more than he ate.  It's probably a good thing, the little shit gets all hyped up on sugar.  So, here is that.  At some point I'm going to edit the video and post that as well, it's us singing happy birthday to him though so I don't want to breech any copyright issues lol.

Well I'm off for today to go deal with the whole A/C thing and stuff.  Until next time...

Friday, July 6, 2012

A year ago today...

I was sitting on a surgical bed being sewn back together after my youngest son was brutally ripped from my womb and my fertility was forever destroyed.  I know that sounds very dramatic, but in truth that's exactly how I feel.  See, even though I've suffered through severe morning sickness, PSD (some painful pregnancy related shit that makes your pelvis feel like it's shattered), and loss, I love being pregnant.  I don't know why really, I just do.  For some reason today I feel almost as if I'm mourning my fertility still.

A year ago right now, all I cared about was that he was breathing on his own, the ramifications of the tubal ligation were beyond my thoughts at the time and now they are a prominent feature of my being.  I feel almost less of a woman because I can no longer reproduce.  I had no business having Memphis anyway, but I would have another if I could still get pregnant.  I suppose it's a great thing I can't.  If I was healthy I'd have 10 kids. 

At this sentimental (emphasis on MENTAL) time I am overjoyed and sad all at the same time.  His party is tomorrow and I'm sure after the reality of it sinks all the way in and I take him for his one year shots and all it will affect me differently.  For now, I'll just share a video I made shortly after he was born.

Until next time...

Monday, June 18, 2012

Mirror mirror on the wall, I am my mother after all...

I didn't realize how much I'm like my mother until today.  After spending all day every day with her over the last week I have caught myself using her facial expressions, her mannerisms and even my voice sounds like her.  I don't understand how it happened!  One day I was me, the next I'm morphing into her. 

I've also realized I'm in the anger stage of grief with my grandmother.  Now, keep in mind I never finished grieving my step dad, who I didn't get along with the last few years but I know he loved me the best way he could.  In the process of cleaning out his room and the other areas of the house I've found countless items I know were meant for me.  Quite a few meant for my kids as well.  I really think that he was so angry at me getting pregnant with Memphis because he was scared they'd lose me and he loved me too much.  In the depths of this house I've found treasures for all of us except him.  Even R has found a few things we know were meant for him.  It's strange to see that he really was crazy and it wasn't just an act.  I understand more now than I ever did before.  And I loved him.  I didn't like him much most of the time but I loved him.  I got two sets of parents, and now I'm back down to just my mom and my dad, the steps are gone.  For that I am sad.

Back to my anger, I want to slap my grandma for leaving my mom in this mess.  For all the years my mom paid the mortgage while my grandma paid the utilities here, she was never allowed to make this her house.  Here I am now making it mine.  When did it ever get to be hers?  Never, that's when.  To go along with that, one of the favorite pieces of furniture is being requested by my uncle.  The only times he calls are about that fucking china hutch.  It's full of MY MOM'S things and mine and he thought he got it all.  My great grandmother's tea pots and jewelry that's been given to me over the years but I didn't take home.  None the less, it's hard to realize how much my mom is giving up to not be alone.  I'm doing my best to keep it her house too and I hope I succeed in that. 

I've discovered that our tastes are very similar in movies too because when we started unpacking the dvds there are tons of duplicates!  I'm not talking 2 or 3, I'm talking like 25 or so.  I also know where I got my weird mail hoarding thing, I never throw mail away.  There are tons of bags of mail between the two of us, and then add my grandma's 40 years of shit too and we're up to our eyeballs in crap we don't need.

Side note, I took the Phiz man in the pool for the first time today.  The water was a little cold for my liking but he didn't stay in long so I think it was ok.  Our big Bear dog loves to swim and jumps in with the kids all the time so I had to keep her in, but it was fun.  I'm going to get some pics of that as soon as I can.  All in all it's been a good week here, and my mom is way less irritating than I thought she'd be.  Don't get me wrong, I love the shit outta her, but she's a bit eccentric and hard to keep up with sometimes.  But it's been good.  I love it here.  There are so many memories that make me feel happy that it cancels out the bad.  I'll get it in shape with the help of my wonderful family.  I love them more than I can explain. 

Until next time...

Saturday, June 16, 2012

Moving sucks dicks...

It really does.  I hate it, I really do.  It's a horrible thing for sure.  It's even worse when you're not moving into an empty house.  This house was packed full of shit for the last 40 years and it's been hell getting it out of here.  I'm glad I married a saint when it comes to putting up with my family!

We've been going through so much shit here and trying to move at the same time and wouldn't you know it?  My van broke down.  We just paid the fucking thing off and it's broken down.  I don't even know for sure what's wrong with it, but the possibilities are all out of my realm of being fixed for I don't know how long.  Yay :\ So I doubt I'll have my van back for a while.  It's a really good thing my mom has a car!  It's a piece of shit and it's small, but it'll get me to the doctor.

Well, the baby is up from his nap, and I'm off to go be the boobs of the family again, until next time...

Saturday, June 9, 2012

I love my Lady...

Well, I got my dog back :)  I had to drive 45 miles away to Mojave to get her, but she's home.  The little prick that had her started to get a little rude to my old man, but he just glared at him and the boy shut up.  She about ran off from the people as soon as she saw me though and came bounding up to me to lick my face.  When we got back home, it was evident that Bear had missed her terribly and they had to go outside and play for half an hour or so.  I'm glad to have my doggy back and it'll be a long time before I have faith in people to be honest.  I'm still not sure what they were thinking or why they begged me for her back only to try to rid themselves of her.  She's a very good dog (with the exception of the cat shit eating habit she has) and I will be forever grateful to my hubby that he got her back for me.

 Here she is as my feet in her spot on the ottoman...happy to be home!

I'm still moving, or should I say I'm still watching the baby while R gets my mom's house ready for us to be there. SO MUCH STUFF!!  I don't have any clue why my grandma saved the shit she did, or why my step dad bought all the things he did, but it's making for more work than we realized at first.  Fortunately, we're almost to the point of moving the beds over there and I will be thrilled shitless to wake up and have a cup of coffee with my mommy.

When I got sick, I layed in my hospital bed with her at my side and she promised me that we would be old ladies together and watch the world from our front porch.  When she got sick, I sat by her hospital bed and reminded her of that promise.  Neither one of us thought it would actually happen, but here we are, days away from it.  My mommy is my best friend.  I know that's pathetic to admit, but it's the truth.  My only female friend that's not related to me lives in Indiana, and it's hard for me to meet people with my agoraphobia issues.  My other best friend was married to my brother before he died and she's got her own kids and I'm not a very good friend to her for as good as she is to me, but she's always there for me when I need her.  But my mom...well, she knows me better than I know myself, and I missed a lot of years with her, but we're making up for it now.  I will treasure every moment we get to be together before it's her time or mine.

I have to be less morbid now, lol.  There is enough fabric and sewing stuff to start a craft store over there, so I'll be doing quite a few projects soon.  Maybe I'll actually get pictures of them to add here!  For now I'm going to close and go do some cleaning/packing!  Until next time...

Monday, June 4, 2012

Thinning the herd...

Well, in the midst of moving I decided the number of pets we have is too many.  In an attempt to remedy this situation, I relieved myself of the cat that shits on my pillows, I think I've found a home for the rats (providing the people actually show up this afternoon) and my black pit bull mix went back to the people we got her from. 

I love that dog.  She's an amazing dog, she loves my baby, loves me, follows me everywhere.  On Saturday, the people emailed me telling me that they missed her, and thought they made a mistake 6 months ago when they gave her to me.  We talked about it and since I haven't gotten her fixed or anything, we decided that maybe she'd be better off with them. 

So imagine my dismay when I was browsing through Craigslist and found an ad for her.  They decided they weren't going to keep her and rather than offer her back to me, they just put an ad there and I guess thought I'd never know.  I'm not a horrible pet owner.  Yes, I love them all, even the rodents.  I've never been really good about getting animals their shots even when I had a ton of money, but I figured since no one ever goes out of my yard they'd be safe.  I guess that made me seem like such a bad owner to these people that they'd rather she go  to the pound than come back to me. 

Well, I find that unacceptable.  I emailed them, and I'm trying to get her back.  If I had known this was going to happen, I'd never have given her back to them.  I'm pissed about it, but I don't know what to do.  I'm so upset by the whole thing!!!  I will keep everyone posted on that issue.

The raven has flown off to be a raven, and I know I said I was doing mamatography, but I fucking suck and I haven't gotten my shit together to do that  yet.  Moving sucks!  I just keep in mind this is the last time I have to move and I'm fine though.

The house is shaping up, and we'll get it done soon and be over there, it's gonna be great.  My kids are getting excited by this and they've already gone swimming to break in the pool for the summer.  Pretty cool I can teach phiz to swim in the pool I learned in 35 years ago.  That place is so full of memories for me, and so many good ones at that.

I'd like to ask the few of you that read to leave me a comment, tell me your best and worst moving stories :)

Until next time...

Wednesday, May 30, 2012


So I must apologize for my lack of posting!  It's been a long week, lol.  My daughter turned 18, and I got the pleasure (sarcasm) of discovering that my lovely ex, her sperm donor petitioned the state to cease her support.  Even though she's 18, she still lives at home and has not finished high school.  Normally, support would be continued if the child was still in school, but he petitioned out of it.  Top that off with the fact that he didn't pay last weeks support or the week before and she is pissed.  She feels like he was just itching to get rid of his obligation.  Poor kid.  It's a good thing she's got her real dad here to make up for it. 

I also had a massive cervical spine migraine that lasted 3 days, that shit was tons of fun.  It's pretty much subsided with just a few symptoms hanging on.  Unfortunately there is nothing besides drugs to be done.  I like drugs :) 

Moving on, and speaking of moving, we've got some of the house ready and a ton left to do but it's all coming together.  My wonderful sis in law is gonna come help us this week and I'm excited!  We don't get to hang out nearly enough and her daughter is about the best helper and influence on my girl I just love the shit outta them both!

I tried to get some pics of the recent eclipse but my camera sucks ass so here's just a pic of the sun lol

Well, I'm in a really pissy mood so I think I'll close for now, but hopefully I'll get my head on straight and deal with things better tomorrow and post then.  Until next time...

Sunday, May 20, 2012

The Raven...

"Once upon a midnight dreary,
While I pondered weak and weary,
O'er a many quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore..."

Edgar Allen Poe is one of my favorite poets, so that's going by memory (gods forbid without google!) forgive me if it failed by a few words.

When I moved into this house, barely over a year ago, I was shocked by the amount of ravens in the neighborhood.  It doesn't bother me, I love animals.  Then one morning when my Bear dog was still just a pup of a thing she went about nuts barking at something.  It was a fledgling raven that  had fallen from a nest in my giant pine tree in my backyard.  We took a broom handle and put it back in the branches and that was that.  That same raven still visits us, and sits in the tree in the front when it's quiet.

Three days ago, we noticed another baby raven.  This one's a bit younger, a bit less ready to  have left it's nest, but there it was on the ground.  I don't like to touch them because I'm kind of a germaphobe, so I grabbed the broom and put him on the roof.  A couple hours later, the damn thing was back in my yard.  So this time, I put it in the front yard on the tree.  Shortly after that, it was BACK!  So we left it alone.  I have three dogs, one of which loves to eat birds, so we had to make sure that the bird was safe from Lady.  I put it in the side yard where the pooches can't go and thought it would find it's way back.

All the while, it's parents are screaming at us, and throwing pine cones and sticks and everything they can get their beaks on to throw.  Eventually, I went back out and gave it some water.  We've been watching the dogs so they'll leave it alone and I think it's parents realize we mean no harm.  Every time I remove it from my yard it just comes right back! 

I managed to snap a pic of the little fella :)

 I was woken up this morning by this guy standing under my bedroom window squawking.  His parents were no where to be seen, so I chopped up a hard boiled egg and gave it to him.  He loved it, and a couple hours later I saw his parents on the ground with him feeding him too.  Finally!  It took me going out and feeding it before they would.  For smart birds, they sure are stupid.

So, that is my adventure with the raven.  We'll see how soon it leaves or if it does.  I'm sure it'll be able to fly soon, and I assume they keep bringing it back here because my yard is safe.  I also wonder if one of the parents is the fledgling we saved last year.  It'd be pretty cool if it was!

Until next time...

Friday, May 18, 2012

I am Lois...

If you got here from facebook, you already know I am Lois right?  Let me explain.  I'm semi obsessed with the tv show Family Guy.  Way back when, my little family WAS family guy!  I was Lois, my husband was Peter, and we had Meg, Chris and Stewie.

I am Lois the screen name was born from that.  I was honestly a little surprised when facebook let me change my official name on my personal page to Lois Griffin.  So, when you see me on other sites with the name Lois, it's just an alter ego if you will.  My real name is kind of unusual, so I rather enjoy having a "normal" name.

Moving on :)  I have a lovely silly pic of my very pregnant Bear dog.  We think she's due the first of June or so.  Her babies have been kicking up a storm lately and Max thought it was pretty cool.

On an entirely different subject, I caught a picture of Memphis taking a few steps.  I wasn't quick enough to get it on video, but I still wanted to share it here!

It's also official, we're moving over to what we're now calling the family house.  My mom feels like it isn't really "hers" if we're all going to be living there, it's the family's.  We really are all we've got left.  I do have an uncle, but I am sure once we move over there he'll go right back to being rather non existent.  Other than that I have no other family on my mom's side left.  We'll be there in the next month.  In the long run it'll save us all kinds of money, and it takes the pressure off of my mom to pay the bills.  We don't have much money, but with only one house full of utilities to pay for and no landlord to deal with we can swing it no problem.  So I guess, it's gonna take the pressure off of me too.

Well, I'm being summoned yet again for boobies, so I'm going to sign off for now!  Until next time...

Wednesday, May 16, 2012

What it's really like...

First things first, let me say that I apologize to anyone that feels that monetized blogs are bad and not to be taken seriously.  My previous blogging forum did not offer that option and I didn't realize that doing that would make people view this blog as anything but what it is.  I truly was not out to get rich, I don't even know the password to my AdSense account, I just thought if it was monetized I might get more readers.  Ok, done with that part.

What is it REALLY like to breastfeed a toddler?  Well, mr peanuts is not quite a year yet, but I guess he's less of an infant and more of a toddler at this point since he does walk (almost always holding on to something but not because he really needs to, just because that's what young early walkers do).  He's a climber.  He dislikes most baby food and tends to puke up most adult food still.  He has a few things he really likes but he gets so damn gassy!  So, he still at 10 months old nurses about a dozen times a day.  Yeah, you read that right, about every 2 hours all day and all night, just like a newborn.  I don't mind it at all with the exception of the pop offs.  Makes it hard to nurse in public.  I wanted to share this little video with you guys.

This is what it's REALLY like to breastfeed a toddler :)  Or at least MY toddler.  I could be way off and Memphis is just a high energy toddler but I seem to remember Maxwell being the same way.  So suck that Time magazine toddler on a chair picture LOL.  I love that I have this on video and I apologize for the quality of it, but I just had to share it.

Mamatography starts on Monday, so I'm getting my shit together for that.  I do believe we're moving into my mom's house in the next month or so because she just can't live alone and it makes more sense to do it that way.  That will give a ton of things to show you in the future!  Until next time...

Sunday, May 13, 2012


Yeah, I went there, I all capped that shit AND I used a buttload of punctuation :) But yeah, so uh, happy mother's day.  I'll tell you about mine.

I was up at 3 am listening to the barking fucking chihuahua next door.  Little shit woke the baby up because my dogs couldn't help themselves but to bark back and well, Bear is quite loud.  So R comes wanting to know if I want a "back rub".  I'd guess most of you know what that means.  No honey, my tit is busy soothing mr peanuts back to sleep, sex is the last thing on my mind.  Eventually, after several rounds of twinkle twinkle I got to go back to sleep.

At 7 (normal wake up for mr peanuts is about 8) we're up again.  Raring to go, peanuts climbs on top of me and proceeds to puke all over my shirt.  At least it wasn't on the bed.  I change and we head out to the rest of the house to start the day.  I got the big boys up, Mik (the oldest and only girl) was at my mom's so she probably got to sleep, but I digress.  Of course there was some cat shit on the rug in front of the cat box because my oldest son's cat is gross.  Honestly, I'm a little surprised a dog didn't eat it, the love cat shit.  The coffee pot wasn't ready and the sink was full of dishes so I made a cup of instant and went to watch SNL on hulu.

A couple hours go by and I haven't yelled at anyone yet (shocking I know).  But the thing was, my  mom was coming at what was supposed to be noon.  Noon came and went and I didn't even have the frittata in!  We did get it cleaned up eventually though.  Kind of.

R went off to the store, to pick up the asparagus and some milk and Morgen and I got the pasta salad made and a few other things done.  Mr peanuts was highly uncooperative and refused to let me put him down.  That was ok with me though, it made me take breaks and keep myself from getting too worn out too fast.

Finally, we got my mom over here, and peanut had fallen asleep.  He heard his Nana and was up pretty damn quick though.  He's not super friendly with people.  He actually has a pretty severe case of separation anxiety, although the pediatrician says that's a good thing.  It surprised me that my son who didn't even meet his Nana until he was damn near 6 months old, goes straight to her every time.  He loves the shit out of her.   So she got to hold him right away.  She also got to meet 2 of my 3 dogs she'd never met before. 

While she was here, it was nice.  This was only the second time my mom's been to my house.  It was nice, she didn't have a care one.  She loved the food, she loved being around the kids and all the dogs.  She loved my little Rocco dog, it was fun.  Best of all, mr peanuts called her Nana and meant it.  He knew exactly what to call that lady!  It was too cute.

R just got home from taking her home also, so she stayed for longer than normal.  I'm still waiting to see if I get that "back rub" tonight though, lol. 

What started out to be a kind of crap ass day turned into a really good one.  It was awesome to just relax and not worry about much.  I'm exhausted though, and I know that I will pay for this day for the next week, but it was oh so worth it. 

I'm going to start mamatography next week, so look forward to that, and I want very much to share my little garden with the world so that'll be I'm sure part of it.  On that note, I'm off for tonight.  Until next time...

Saturday, May 12, 2012

You bet your ass I'm mom enough...

The Time cover is all over the net lately.  I was really inspired by the whole thing.  WTF though with the "are you mom enough" shit?  I've had 4 kids, 3 of which I was able to breastfeed and the one I couldn't I pumped for 4 months until I went back to work and my boobs couldn't keep up.  My oldest, I had zero support, and when I was constantly being told I was starving her to death, I caved and switched to formula.  But that was after 5 months of nothing but boobs.  So anyway, at some point today I WILL be taking a picture like that cover, and I will be posting it for all to see.

***Edit to add this pic, this is the closest thing I've gotten so far and it's really not very close, but funny none the less***

I really enjoy the fact that I can nurse my babies.  When my oldest son was born, we'd had no idea he would have a cleft lip/palate.  It was such a shock and it spiraled me into a depression that I was not able to hold him and nurse him.  But I was mom enough to pump for him, then I was mom enough to realize he needed more.  Then, I was mom enough to give him formula so he didn't starve.  It irritates me that ANYONE would assume that a formula feeding mother ISN'T mom enough for anything!

I fully intended to nurse son #2 for as long as he wanted though, in an attempt to make up for what I had felt I'd slighted my oldest son.  Maxwell nursed until he was 21 months old, and only weaned because I was misguided in the thought that you cannot nurse when on beta blockers and ace inhibitors.  He was heartbroken, I was heartbroken, he didn't understand why he couldn't have his boobies anymore.  At that point I was pretty sure I wasn't going to have any more babies ever so I really was crushed.

Having Memphis changed everything for me.  I turned into this weird lactivist that started posting breastfeeding pics on facebook.  I became less ashamed of my desire to nurse and nurse for years.  When I found out how sick I really was, the idea of giving it up crushed me again.  R was again helpless, he couldn't fix it for me.  As it turned out, Memphis was having no part of the damn formula anyway and after a couple days of donor milk totally refuses a bottle now.  He will drink from a cup though.

After the initial struggles with breastfeeding and now being at 10 months and he talks and lets me know he really wants his boobies, I don't foresee giving it up anytime soon.  When I showed R the Time cover, he was a tad grossed out because of the age of the child so I asked him what he'll do when Memphis is almost 4 if he's still nursing.  His response surprised me.  He told me that if I was comfortable with it, he didn't care as long as he got to share.

Pitting mother against mother is a ridiculous thing to do, but it served it's purpose I suppose.  EVERYONE seems to be talking about it, and I'm sure Time is flying off the stands, but it still pisses me off a bit.  So look forward to the picture, hopefully I'll get it done today and be able to add it in here.  Until next time...

Friday, May 4, 2012

Pregnant dogs are kind of like pregnant people...

So, my big Bear dog is pregnant.  I know, I'm a horrible pet owner, but that heat just snuck up on me before I got the funds together to get her fixed.  As it turns out my little chiweenie Rocco is indeed old enough now to knock her up.  I've had cats have kittens before, but I've never dealt with a pregnant dog.  Cats are so cool about it, they just act totally normal and then when it's time they hide in a closet and you wake up to cute fluffy little kittens.  I ended up last time keeping 2 and that's why I have 6 cats.  Not really though, lol, those cats are about 4 years old now and my youngest kitties are just barely a year and I'm not sure how old but we think about 9 months or so.

  So back to the topic at hand.  She's a good dog, albeit not very well trained, but good personality.  She's got a wonderful knack of letting me know before I have a blood pressure spike or go tachycardic (both happen a little more than I care to admit, but are things I don't usually pay much attention to until it gets bad) by laying her head in my lap.  The dog can be in a sound sleep and still manages to alert me!  Having been pregnant so many times myself, I understand how sometimes you just want to lay around and not alert anyone to anything.  She still finds it in herself to let me know though.  She's become almost clingy. 

  She's a big old shepherd, roughly 80 pounds or so, and she's tried on numerous occasions to climb into my lap.  Some of those times I was holding mr peanuts!  She's coming round the bend and in the homestretch now, we think she's due the first week of June.  It'll be quite an experience, and with my other dogs so needy I'm not sure how I'll be able to keep her calm.  My pitbull mix Lady is an asshat and because she's still so young, she's fucking hyper as all get out, hopefully she'll stay away from the momma dog!  Anyway, I'm about to be a doggy grandma!!  I'm a little excited, my mommy is going to keep one of them providing they are healthy and all, so at least I'll get to see how they grow up.  If anyone actually reads this (which I do have my doubts about) and has any advice on how to deal with the whole whelping part of things please share :)

 I'm in the midst of some interesting gardening creations in my tiny patch of dirt so I'm going to share that in future posts too.

 I'm off to go play with my perfect baby ;)  Until next time...

Tuesday, May 1, 2012

Lentils look like shit if you puree them...

So I made hot dogs for dinner with a new (to me) propane grill that I was gifted and I didn't want to feed mr peanuts all those nitrates and salt and crap.  I decided that I'd at least feed one kid something healthy.

  So I got out my tiny little Paula Dean (sp?) pan and concocted a lentil slush for him.  He normally doesn't like purees at all so I wasn't 100% sure he's actually eat it but I have a pregnant dog so I knew that SOMEONE would and it would be ok.  I took a couple of frozen asparagus stalks, a handful of baby carrots, and a half a cup of so of lentils and cooked it all together with a spoonful of coconut oil for fats.  It smelled good.  Earthy and yummy smelling.  I got out the immersion blender and mushed that crap up.  It looked like diarrhea.  I tasted it, and it was fucking nasty.  Smelled like it'd be good, but to me it wasn't.   It was SOOOOOO bland!!!  I put some garlic powder in it and it tasted better though.  Thing was, mr peanuts had no problem eating it.

  I was a little surprised by that to be honest.  So that was my night time adventure, hot dogs and puree lentil stoup.  I may be off for a while, but I'll be back!  Until next time...

Monday, April 30, 2012

Boys smell bad!!

Well, as much as it may embarrass him I have to admit that teenage boys STINK.  Like I don't even know how he stands himself.  The fucker is the hairiest kid I've ever seen since my brother was that age.  He is such a great guy that it's hard for me to find faults beyond the average teenage boy crap.  So my plan of attack is this...I'm going to make him some all natural deodorant that he can apply um, well, other places than just his armpits, since I'm pretty sure it's not just his armpits that stink.  Since I don't have much else to talk about today (bad pain day again :( )  I thought I'd share the recipe and when he's tried it for a few days, I'll post our "results" lol.

1/8 cup baking soda
1/8 cup cornstarch
2-3 tablespoons coconut oil
3-5 drops essential oil of your choice (I have lavender on hand so we'll use that)

melt the coconut oil and mix together all ingredients.  you can use an old stick deodorant container to apply but I've read that the gel kind of applicator works best.

Until next time....

Saturday, April 28, 2012

Adventures in cloth diapering...

  When I was pregnant with mr peanuts, I had every intention of exclusively cloth diapering the little fella.  So I ordered a "starter set" of pre folds and figured after the meconium stage was over I'd make the switch.  Well, I'd been gifted a shit ton of newborn pampers so I had to use those up.

  Along about the time he was 8 weeks or so we were finally out of pampers so I got out the cloth to prep and prepped away.  I thought I knew what I was doing, I really did.  I was wrong.  From the get go I was unhappy with my choice, and more importantly HE was unhappy.  He almost immediately got a red butt because he pees about every 10 seconds and was ALWAYS wet.

  I had only gotten 2 dozen so after the first day I realized diapering a newborn in cloth very well may not be cost efficient in Los Angeles county with the cost of water.  Anyway, moving on.  They were so fucking bulky, the poor kid couldn't close his legs at all and it rubbed his umbilical hernia so much it got a little sore on it.

  So being that we had used up our disposables I had to have R run up to the store to pick up a pack.  I thought I'd failed.  I decided to say screw it and just use the pre folds for burp rags.  Mr peanuts has a nasty case of reflux and a bad habit of puking through the whole 2 dozen every other day or so.

  At tax return time I found a great deal on an off brand of pocket diapers with 2 inserts each and got 10.  I was rather excited when they got here and soon realized I didn't have to do the 5 wash prep for the micro fiber inserts and we started to cloth diaper.  The os pockets are fantastic, the only problem I ever have with them is that he's a heavy wetter and leaks at night.  So at night he wears a disposable.  Other than that I love them.  It never fails though, the instant I put the dipes in to wash he shits.  This kid only shits like twice a week but it never fails!!!  I know now if he's constipated to do wash lol.  I found a great deal on disposables last week and I've been very lazy the last few days but what do you know, the INSTANT I put him in cloth he shits!

Until next time....

Sunday, April 22, 2012

If it ain't one thing it's another...

  Well, if you've read this far, not only will I say a big THANK YOU, but you probably know I'm a weirdo.  I'm also unhealthier than the average bear.  I'm having a bad day, and stress exacerbates any symptoms I have and frankly, I have a shit ton of stress lately (go figure).

  Mr peanuts happens to be still teething, trying to cut that second bottom tooth out AND he's decided that baby jail is a no go for him.  He won't stay in a crib/playyard or walker/bouncer for more than about 10 minutes before he freaks out.  I'm not one for the whole cry it out deal, so when I  hear him cry I freak out too. 

  I'm down to my last pain pill and I hurt :( Lol I figure I can feel sorry for myself a little, I've had a bad week.  I'm still trying to recover from the fight I had with my damn near adult daughter over the stupid cat that shit on my bed...again.  Yes, you read that right, again.  Damn thing's done it twice before and normally I don't let them into my bedroom but it was hot here and I left it open for a while and what do you know, the fucker did it again.  So, that's where I'm at today.
 On a side note, I really do want to do the whole mamatography thing but so far, I haven't heard back from the person that is in charge of that so I may just kinda wing it and do it on my own.  Perhaps you can look forward to seeing that, I dunno. 

Until next time...

Saturday, April 21, 2012

The loss is my own...

  Well, it's another day, and really I wish that I could turn back the clock a bit.  My grandmother passed away on Weds, and I'm still in shock.  That situation was very strange, I don't even know where to begin. 

  My mom and step father had a very rocky marriage for the most part.  He dealt with some pretty major mental illness and my mom did the best she could but there were times he was off his meds and they could not be together.

   One of those times about 10 or so years ago, she moved in with my Gram.  The house has been owned by my Gram since it was built in '62 so it's where my mom finished growing up.  My Gram could afford to live alone, but in the area we live, my mom couldn't find anything she could afford on her own so she moved in there. 

  Anyhoo...eventually, they got back together and she moved her husband in with them.  So it's my Gram's house, but my mom and step dad lived there as kind of like room mates.  My step dad died new year's eve in the bathroom upstairs.  So it was a horrible thing for my poor mom to deal with.  

  A few months ago, maybe a month after he passed, my Gram fell and broke her tailbone and eventually ended up in a short term care facility before she went back home.  While there, they diagnosed her with severe dementia (which was total news to us cuz she acted totally normal to us and we saw her all the time!) and when she got back home she was so doped up she was incontinent. 

  My almost 16 year old son took weeks out of school to help my mom care for her.  My mom is not at all well herself and should have hired someone to come in but hadn't quite gotten there yet.  I didn't think she'd die.  I didn't think my son would be the last person to care for her besides my mom.  I didn't get to say goodbye.  I never will.  My son is an amazing boy.  I take that back, an amazing MAN.  I don't have any clue what I'd do without him.  Right now, he's at my mom's helping her stay sane, helping make sure she eats, and helping find the will and life insurance paperwork.

   I can't even imagine what he's feeling right now because I can't get past what I'M feeling.  I can't imagine my life without her and I know that seems stupid, ppl lose grandparents all the time.  This lady was my rock though.  So now we're faced with the probability that we'll have to move there so my mom won't lose the house.  I think that's what I want though.  I don't like my house.  I don't like the neighborhood.  I hate that I rent and I know that my best chance of being a home owner is to move there because when my mom passes on it'll become mine so long as she still has it.  I know that makes me selfish, I do.  I hate myself for it.  I think, for today I'm going to close because I have to be honest it's too much for me and I need to go bury myself in something mindless.  Until next time...

Thursday, April 19, 2012

A bump in the road...

  After Memphis was born, I was tired all the time.  I couldn't get a handle on it at all.  I really figured it was just new born lack of sleep and nursing and all that good shit.  Well, it wasn't.  Around the middle of September or so I went in for my post partum echo (ultrasound of my heart to determine function). 

  The results were absolutely the opposite of what everyone had hoped.  I'd made it through the pregnancy just fine, but the stress of the delivery and recovery was too much for my body to handle.  I was in end stage heart failure with and ejection fraction of less than 20%.  I could not walk to the bathroom without being out of breath, but I had honestly thought I was just tired.

    Never even crossed my mind that my ticker had gone so bad because I didn't feel much worse than I had at the start of my cardiac issues.  I needed a bi vent pacemaker put in.  I'll let you google that shit here because to explain that whole deal is just more than I can type right now (while mr peanuts tries to eat the dvds).  The bi vent is a stop gap measure to keep me off the transplant list.  I know that one day I will either die or need a transplant, but I did not expect that this soon.

    I got the bi vent put in in the end of October, but the weeks prior were hell.  I had a steady and sharp decline.  I could not think, I could not function, hell, I didn't even shower more than once a week.  All I did was feel sorry for myself and try to take care of the baby.  It was rough.  My cardio really wanted me to stop nursing.  It was putting such a strain on my body that she was afraid it was going to kill me before the insurance ok'd my surgery.  I tried, but I was heart broken at the thought.

   It was out of my control though, because mr peanuts decided that he was not going for it.  We couldn't find a formula that he would even drink, and the one he finally did he couldn't keep down.  I posted an ad on facebook's page humanmilk4humanbabies and was so very lucky to find someone able to donate enough milk to get us through my hospital admission (less than 24 hours total).  She's an amazing lady with an amazing family.  Without her, he might have starved.  The dr that did the surgery was also amazing, and told me upon waking up that he saw no reason that I could not continue to nurse after I went home as soon as the anesthesia was out of my system.  I was ecstatic!  As it happens, mr peanuts went on a bottle ban about 5 seconds after I got home.  He's never taken a bottle since, with the exception of once a few days after my surgery while we were at my nephew's birthday party.  The only real reason I'd even given him the bottle was because my arm hurt and I didn't want to try to flash the whole pizzeria while I was nursing him.  He drank all of one ounce and then required some boobies.

   I recovered well and quickly and am now years (hopefully) away from being on the transplant list.  My heart function nearly doubled and I feel pretty damn good cardiac wise.  Now if I could just get the fucking RA to leave me alone I'd be great.  I'm going to  close for now,  although at some point I NEED to blog about my day yesterday.  My Gram passed away yesterday and I'm still in shock. 

Until next time...

This is my old ICD

Wednesday, April 4, 2012

The Birth of Memphis...

  The drive to the hospital was surreal, traffic was light, we didn't talk much.  I have no idea what we listened to on the radio, in fact, all I really remember looking back is that I couldn't get my mind off of the little being I was getting ready to meet that day.  I was contracting mildly, in a very steady but not very painful rhythm.  At that point I wasn't worried about being in labor, I knew I had plenty of time. 

  We checked in really rather easily, there was no one in the waiting areas and within just a few minutes they had me in the back getting my admitting papers done.  A woman came to talk to me about cord blood banking.  We were extremely fortunate to be able to take advantage of a program they have in that hospital in which we could donate half and the other half they would store for us for free.  Otherwise, there is no way we could have afforded to bank it.  We took care of that paperwork too.  Because of my genetic condition, they will not use his cord blood for anything more than research, but to me, that is enough. 

  We were taken back to a small room and they strapped me to the usual monitors, keep in mind this is my 5th delivery so this is not an unfamiliar experience for me at all.  At first, he wouldn't quit moving, so they had a hell of a time keeping him on the monitor.  It worried me, but then again, every damn thing about this pregnancy worried me.  It really had been an amazingly easy pregnancy all things considered.  I never really had complications with the baby, it was always just me.  It was me they were concerned with all along.

  The dr came in, and at this point we were totally in love and comfortable with her, so she didn't have to explain much to us.  She watched my contraction pattern though and realized that I was indeed in labor.  Memphis was going to arrive that day one way or another anyway, so at that point we both kind of sighed in relief because that meant he would almost surely be able to breathe on his own.

   It took a while for the cardiologist to get there, so we had a little bit longer of a wait than any of us wanted, but my wonderful ob/gyn (who is actually the head of maternal/fetal medicine for that hospital) had cleared her whole day just for me.  My very sweet, but very busy cardio showed up and we got the incredible and very wonderful news that I would get to stay on the maternity floor rather than go to cardiac care.  She didn't see a need for me to be on a monitor, my ICD would take care of any complication that would arise due to my heart anyway.  There wouldn't be anything that anyone could do different that would save my life than they were already doing cardiac wise.

  So we get to the part where the anesthesiologist comes to talk to us to explain the spinal and guess what?  I got the head of anesthesia for the hospital too.  So that's all three heads, cardiac care, maternal fetal medicine and anesthesia.  I had an incredible surgical team. 

  I had had epidurals before but never a spinal...so I was not sure what to expect.  It was very very different.  I'd only had one effective epidural in all my deliveries and that was for my lost angel so I wasn't nearly as far along.  I never really got more than about 10 pounds over my pre pregnant weight due to the hyperemesis like morning (all day) sickness I had until I was about oh..12 hours after I delivered!!! LOL  It was ok, I was still huge.  So anyway, they get us to the OR, and get the spinal done, lay me down and I go numb.

    It was awesome.  I'm prone to panic when lying on my back because even on a good day, I can't breathe lying flat, so I was promised good drugs when the baby was out.  It was very quick from the time they layed me down to the time I got good drugs :)  I could actually see in the reflection of the surgical light what they were doing, and I could of course hear them, but I couldn't feel a damn thing.  It was pretty cool really.  I didn't feel the tugging and pushing you hear about, I didn't have any sharp pains at any point.  I was in labor when they began, and the baby was never in any danger so it was way less scary than I would have imagined.  It was really quite beautiful.

    I heard the most glorious sound, my baby crying.  All of a sudden I was complete.  He was fine, he was breathing on his own just fine.  I was fine too, extremely stoned on whatever the hell they gave me, but I was fine too.  Turned out I was huge because I had an ovarian cyst the size of a grapefruit though. 

  They did a tubal while they were in there, and stapled me closed.  Mr peanuts weighed a whole 5 pounds 8 ounces and was 18 inches long.  My tiniest baby.  In fact, the tiniest I'd ever seen up close, but not bad for a 36 weeker at all.  He was BALD though!!!! Save for a few straggly blonde hairs, he was bald!  I'd never had a bald baby, it was a shock.  But he was adorable none the less.  I have to giggle still, he was the only white baby in an East LA hospital, so it was pretty funny, they made a big deal out of it.  The only white baby and the smallest baby not in the nicu so he was a marvel.  Add that to a one in a million mommy and we got a shit ton of attention.

   It was pretty embarrassing for the first 12 hours or so when I couldn't stop vomiting though.  He was breathing fine when he was born but in recovery we noticed some grunting, and when we'd gotten to our room, they were worried, but not enough to take him to the nicu.  He also couldn't hold his temperature even a little bit, every time they'd take him out of the warmer he'd get cold.  But they kept him in the room.  R sat helpless, watching us both, not able to help either.  He was scared shitless, I could see it in his eyes.  I couldn't do anything, nothing but throw up.  I was helpless too.  I had amazing nurses, one of them gave me a spongebath because I was covered in sweat from vomiting.  Finally, the nicu team came in as I was getting the last of the morphine out of my system and told them to give him to me.  They laid him on my bare chest and he immediately rooted for a boob.  They noticed a pattern, when they'd take him from my, his temp would drop and he would start to grunt to breath.  When he was with me, he was fine.  So, from then on he stayed with me. 

  They even let me hold him when they took my staples out to switch over to the steri strips before I went home.  I had a hell of a time getting him to eat though.  He ended up having a pretty severe tongue tie and what they call a heart shaped tongue.  The tip looks like the top of a heart.  I actually gave in to exhaustion at one point and gave the poor kid some formula.  He didn't particularly like it though and would only eat an ounce.  He promptly threw it all back up anyway.

    I was a wreck those first few days.  I eventually got him to latch on and he's been a boobie baby ever since.  In fact, those first few weeks he gained weight at such a rapid and steady pace they decided he didn't need the tongue tie clipped.  The recovery from the c section was not bad, I was sore, but it wasn't more than I could handle.

  The scar still itches, but it's only been 9 months now so it's not unheard of at all for it to go on for even longer.  I'm lucky, he has been very healthy for all he had stacked against him.  He's  a bright little boy, the love and joy of my life, he made me complete.  Don't get me wrong, I love my other children and maybe I'm just enchanted with him as a baby but he did make my family complete.  He will be my last baby for sure, I can have no more so there is a special bond.  For now I must close, I'm being summoned for boobies...
Until next time

Tuesday, March 27, 2012

And so it began...

  When I left off, I had just found out about mr peanuts.  It was quite an interesting ride, let me tell you!  He is absolutely amazing, but I'll get to that part later.  I got a referral to see an ob/gyn and made my appt.  I went to the appt expecting to have a normal intake type thing and get my schedule.  I knew I'd be high risk, but I guess I had no idea how high risk I'd be.  When I gave them my past medical, the nurse was rather stunned looking and at the end of the appt tells me she'll run my case by the dr to see if he accepts me.  Well guess what?  He didn't. 

  Turns out no one in my hobunk hillbilly hell town in bumblefuck california would take me.  Not a damn one.  I should mention I'm only about 80 miles away from LA at this point I guess.  I got to 16 weeks before my insurance could find a dr willing to take my case.  She is in LA...and wouldn't deliver me here.  I honestly don't remember if I mentioned the speed with which my middle son was born but it was fast.  So we made plans to go down there and we were on an entirely unexpected journey to reach a goal. 

  The first appt was routine, this was a clinic used to high risk patients.  Not used to white patients at all, but that's a whole other story, lol.  I'm not racist or anything btw, just that plays into my treatment.  I was a novelty.  Here I was at this point almost halfway through an impossible pregnancy with a one in a million chance of not dying carrying this kid to term.  Not the kind of patient they get to see every day.  And to top it off, I am as white as they come and not from the area. 

   That first visit we discussed my options.  I guess they felt it was necessary to tell me that I should terminate for my health.  That just was not an option.  By this time, I could feel him move, I had a doppler I'd gotten off ebay and I had heard his little heart beating.  Hell I'd seen him on the ultrasound at the ER when I was dehydrated. 

  Moving on...the first visit was with an intern, but that was ok with me as long as we were able to get things on the right track.  They ended up coordinating my care and I landed a fantastic cardiologist out of the deal.  She's an assistant professor at UCLA so I'm very confident in her ability.  My first visit with her was strange though.  Her first question to me was "Is termination an option?" and again I said no.  She looked me square in the eye and told me she'd get me through it then.  Then came a whirlwind of drives to LA, ultrasounds, echos, lab tests, genetic counseling. 

  The pregnancy itself was pretty easy considering.  I had pretty severe morning sickness, not quite hg, but bad.  In march of last year I went to the bathroom to pee and when I stood up I got dizzy.  I knew what was going on, I was having a rapid enough heart rate to set off my device and I got shocked.  My hubby came home from work, and I had to visit the ER.  In the ER I got 2 more shocks and that landed me a 5 day stay in the cardiac care unit.  They ended up  turning off part of the device so it would stop shocking me, it was bad for the baby.  But as it turns out, that's how I found out he was a boy and not a girl like we'd first thought.  After that stay, they upped my visits to every 2 weeks, and decided that any more admissions would have to be at the hospital I'd be delivering at in Los Angeles.  Fortunately, I didn't have any more incidents with that though.  Through all of my echos I was holding steady.  In heart failure for sure, acute, but holding steady.  Now the challenge was delivering. 

  They'd decided to do a c section so as to avoid me going completely to term and also to avoid the stress of pushing and pain.  Remember I've got a pretty interesting cardiac response to pain.  The last few weeks, like maybe 9 or so I was on oxygen.  I also had a home nurse coming twice a week to do NST for the baby.  The only time there was an issue there was when I was contracting.  I went to the dr the next day though and it was all ok.  My littlest and last was born by c section on July 6 at 36 weeks 1 day.  He was a tiny little peanut, only 5 pounds 8 oz and 18 inches long.  And adorable of course, and BALD!!

  I'd never had a bald baby before, lol, it was unexpected.  Even my angel baby had hair.  Not mr peanuts though.  LOL  He still has barely any hair.  He's not quite 9 months old now and the love of my life :) I'm actually going to leave off on this one for now, and perhaps post my birth story with him later today if I can stay on the laptop.  Until next time...

Sunday, March 11, 2012

The professional patient...

  When I left off last time, I was just coming home with my ICD.  I recovered rather well, but one thing that sucked was not being able to lift my left arm above shoulder height for 3 months.  Quite difficult when you have a 2 year old LOL!  So over the course of the next year, I learned everything I could about cardiac issues.  Learned what was available at the time about Brugada.  Learned some horrible statistics that led me to believe I wouldn't last more than a few more years. 

  As time went on, and son #2 grew bigger, I got better.   At one point, my ejection fraction (the force with which your heart pumps blood out) was normal.  Almost unheard of with the ef I had before diagnosis.  I also had all my kids checked.  EKG only though, I am still unwilling to subject them to eps until they are older.  My daughter will be 18 in May, so I would like her to have one soon, but she is resistant.  Anyway, I also became kind of a professional patient.  It seemed like all I did was take care of the kids and go to the doctor.  In fact, that WAS all I did. 

  I grew more agoraphobic the more time went on.  I stayed on my meds and decided that I would just deal with life the way it was.  I didn't think I'd ever change my way of thinking.  I really haven't I guess.  I'm one of the only people I know that is ok to just sit at home and not go anywhere...ever.  Time went on, "life" went on.  I longed for another baby but was told by my cardiologist that it was not advised.  I longed to be pregnant again, to feel a baby move inside me, to breastfeed again.  

  Eventually, I worked up the nerve to talk to my hubby about it, to ask him his thoughts.  I knew it was a risk.  I knew it was stupid, selfish and horrible of me to even ask.  It was what I wanted.  My husband has a habit of not telling me no.  So, we went to my primary care dr and asked him his thoughts.  He didn't see much of a problem with it as I was doing so well at the time, so we stopped using birth control.  We didn't "try", we just didn't try to prevent.  The longer I stayed off of bc, the more I figured it just wasn't meant to be, so as disappointed as I was, I gave up hoping that I would ever have another baby. 

  Around Halloween, I resigned myself to the fact that I was never going to get what I wanted and we just gave up.  We got to a point that we didn't even look at a calendar or anything.  I had an app on my ipod that was like a period tracker, and in November it started sending me alerts that I was late.  I'm not terribly regular or anything, so a few days here and there are no biggie to me, I didn't worry about it.  Ten or so days late, I told my hubby I was late and he went to the store and picked up a test.  I was scared to take it.  He laughed at me and told me there were only 2 ways it could go.  He gave me a glass of water and went about his day.

  I worked up the nerve to take it and I didn't even set it down on the counter before it came up positive.  Lo and behold, I was pregnant, my wish had come true.  The next morning, I called my pcp and got the lab sheet to have it confirmed with a blood test and by Weds of that week, I had my verification.  So I will leave off for there for now, and I will post again at the next available opportunity!!  Until next time...

Friday, March 9, 2012

Another day

  So today is another day, lol. Forgive me please if you don't like "text speak" I know it can be irritating, but I tend to lol quite a bit. Ok, so where did I leave off? Oh right...the birth and babyhood of son #2. So like I was saying, he was a super easy baby, my reward for my losses I suppose. We dabbled with the idea of just one more after I had chickened out on the tubal but kept saying that this baby had ruined it for any future babies because he was such an easy kid. Nursed well, slept well, was always happy.

   Along about the time he was 18 months old or so I started to get super tired, super easy. Like washing the dishes wore me out. My dr assumed it was the fibro and put me on a med that not only made me completely loopy, but made me gain about 35 pounds in just over a month. It was awful. I stopped taking it, but I still felt just awful. My husband had to go to Oregon to work for a month and I was left at home alone with 3 kids by myself. My family was of very little help, remember my mom was not thrilled with my having another kid and her husband was quite the dick about it.

  I managed the kids ok, falling into bed every night and sleeping as much as I could with an almost 2 year old in my bed. When he got home, I still felt like complete shit. Had a stomach ache I couldn't get rid of. I figured I had ulcers again, something that happens to me a lot. I was wrong. My computer at the time was in my bedroom, at the opposite end of our house from the living room where my (finally home from Oregon) hubby and 3 kids were watching the tube. As I sat there, I felt just off. My chest hurt, I couldn't breathe, my stomach was bloated and felt like it was on fire and I was beyond dizzy. I couldn't muster the strength at the moment to call out to my hubby, so my internet addicted ass went on web md symptom checker and typed everything in. It came up with a CALL 911 warning. I stumbled out to the living room and told my hubby I felt really wrong and to please call 911. It was an awful moment. I was still nursing my little guy and had literally never left him for longer than a shower.

   When the medics got to my house they immediately asked my husband about my drug use. Now, I am not a crack head but since I live in a high meth head area, they assumed I was spun out on meth. Don't get me wrong, I love my pot, but I stopped snorting things before I was a mom. So my hubby had to stand there, being accused of being a drug addict while I felt like I was dying. My brother died of sudden cardiac arrest when he was 32 so because of a family history, my dr SHOULD have looked for cardiac issues and NEVER did.

  They did and EKG and the medic asks me if I've ever been told I have an irregular EKG. Nope, I've never even had an EKG before I tell him. And that was that, I was rushed off lights and sirens to the ER. They asked me history and rushed me into an angiogram where they discovered that I had an extremely enlarged heart and diagnosed me with dilated cardiomyopathy and congestive heart failure. They put me on a shit ton of meds and sent me home after I was stable 5 days later. I had to stop nursing my little one and I was absolutely crushed. I spiraled into a depression like I had never known. Nothing compared to what I felt. So alone, so scared, so weak.

  About a month later, I was home alone with the little one, the big ones off at school. I suddenly felt like I had run a marathon. Out of breath, heart racing and very very dizzy. The next thing I remember is my almost 2 year old leaning over me saying "mama? mama?". Thankfully, my hubby had an early day and pulled up within a few minutes of that. He again called 911, and off again I went lights and sirens. I ended up being sent to a hospital in LA to have an electrophysiology study done and come to find out, I had not one cardiac issue, but two. I also have Brugada syndrome. An extremely rare electrical problem that's genetic. Probably what killed my brother. I went home with an ICD (internal defibrillator). Then another new chapter in my life began. I think I'll take a break here, and perhaps post again later today if I have time.  Until next time!

Thursday, March 8, 2012

Been too long

  So if you've read the previous posts, you know two things about me. 1. I rarely use correct grammar/typing/spacing/whatever, so if you're a post nazi, you're probably hating me. 2. I suck at consistency. The thing is, I thought that I'd have more time. I thought when I started this blog, I'd make an entry every few days or so, tell my story and that would be it. Didn't happen. If you look back to the 1st post, you'll remember when I started this blog I was pregnant.

  Well, I'm not now. My little peanut is 8 months old now, and he brings my total of kids up to 4. I had my tubes tied during the c section so for sure no more for me! Ok, so moving on, I left off at my first miscarriage. I moved on from it, hoping and praying that since I'd gotten pregnant I could again, but knowing that it was risky. It took a while, and we had moved so I'd had some stress, but I ended up pregnant again. However, this pregnancy happened right after my brother had died and I was in a ton of emotional pain to go with my physical problems.  

  Fibromyalgia has a tendency to be rather dormant during pregnancy, but mine was not. I was constantly sick and had some bleeding early on but the little guy was sticking around we thought. I made it to 19 weeks 5 days and then my water broke. He was born on October 1, 2004 weighing in at just under 500 grams. He was a perfect little boy. He didn't survive the delivery, he was just too early. We gave him his middle name after my brother, the only one of my children that do not share their initials. I was broken. I was done. I thought I could not bear the agony and that I would perish. As you can see I did not.

   By Christmas, I was more like myself. Had lost all the weight, had physically recovered from the terrible delivery. During that delivery I had hemorrhaged and came very close to needing a transfusion. Anyway, by spring, we'd decided to try to have a baby this time, instead of risking an accidental pregnancy, that we'd plan it. So I quit smoking, I started taking vitamins and vitex, and took care of my body. By May I was pregnant. That whole pregnancy, I walked on eggshells. I didn't buy anything until the baby was viable and could live without me. My mom refused to acknowledge my pregnancy and we grew very distant. In January, we welcomed our second son. Healthy and my biggest baby. NOT big by most people's standards for babies, he was a little over 7 pounds. I was thrilled. We were all happy. My little family felt complete.

   And so we were a family of 5. He was a perfect baby for the most part, so clean, no spit up, no shit stained clothes, he was so cute too! Not that he's not now, he totally is, but he's a pain in the ass too. I had honestly thought that as much as I loved babies at that point that I was totally done. I made an appt to get my tubes tied, but when it was time for me to sign, I couldn't bring myself to do it. So here ends my installment for today, I do plan to continue when I can though, because really, even if no one ever reads this blog, I feel better having written it LOL!!!! Until next time :)