Drops of Awesome

Oh, really?

So LATE Thanksgiving night, my family was all asleep and I was up planning my shopping strategy. When I went to go to bed, I climbed up on the window sill to turn off the really tall pole lamp that should be hooked up to some sort of normal-height light switch.

I fell down.

Hard.

All —lbs of me, on the front of my left foot. It killed. It still kills!

Let me say there was no mercy for a poor cripple at the Day After Thanksgiving Sales, no mercy whatsoever.

It slowly started to get better but when I woke up yesterday morning, it was hurting again and I thought, “What the hay? We’ve got the best insurance in the world. I might as well go to the Doctor and let him have a look-see.” He referred me to the Urgent Care facility so I went late at night after the kids were in bed and so the experience would sound more dramatic and urgent on my blog.

Once I got there, I was really embarrassed. I wasn’t urgent and I really didn’t need much care and it probably wasn’t broken anyway. But they took the pictures and I must say I was startled at the loveliness of my bone structure. I have exquisite feet!

It was getting awkward in the little room with the X-ray guy as he kept taking pictures of my perfect feet in silence so I started blabbing away. I thought, “What do me and this guy have in common? Why, X-rays of course!”

So here’s where I got into trouble. I started telling him my history of X-rays. When I was in early elementary school I had a dream. Bobby-Joe Somebody-or-other had shown up at school with a cast on his leg and received no end of attention for weeks. Everyone got to use the Forbidden Sharpie Markers to sign all over his cast how much they liked him, BFF, Keep in Touch, U R A Q-T, etc.

I wanted a cast so bad that I started throwing myself out of trees in an attempt to break something. My mother put an end to this one day after watching me from the dining room window, climb to the crook of the tree in our front yard, stand stalk still with my arms outstretched and fall like a log to the ground….several times.

The problem was, I was too chicken to really “go all the way”, so I would bend my knees and catch my fall right before the bone-jarring landing.

I stopped taking the falls after our little “talk” but every time I got hurt in the slightest, I would beg her to take me to the doctor, limping around for days saying that I KNEW! THIS TIME IT WAS BROKEN. She’d take me in for X-rays. They’d say I had a contusion and send me home, a very disappointed little girl. (I was really impressed with the diagnosis at first. Until my mom said, “A contusion is a bruise, Katie. Get in the car.”)

Lots of X-rays in my formative years, no protective lead helmet. Explains a lot, eh?

…And I’m telling all of this to the X-ray guy whose job it is to see if I have a broken bone or not.

Me: Yeah, I used to always try to get a broken bone so I could get a cast. I would throw myself out of trees and ram into things. Pretty hilarious, huh? Heh heh….. um…. yeah…..”

X-Man: You know that’s a real disease?

Me: Huh?

X-Man: Yeah, that’s a mental illness.

Me: Um, yeah. I was seven.

X-Man: (silence)

Me: I don’t do that anymore. I never get x-rays. I haven’t gotten an x-ray for as long as I can remember. Except earlier this year when my son was born. But then, we thought he’d damaged my pelvis so……(blabbing on and on and on)

X-Man: (silence)

Me: Yeah. He was 10lbs 8oz.

X-Man: (silence)

Me: Yeah so this experience reminds me a lot of that one. Ha ha. (nervous laughter)

X-Man: Hmm?

Me: Well, like I kept telling everyone he was really big and they didn’t believe me and I thought that if he really was big that would be good because “I’d show them” but then if he was small that would be good too because…um…he’d be small and the labor would be easy and that’s like this experience because…um…because…um…well, it would be a good thing if my foot isn’t broken, but then if it is broken it would be good because I wouldn’t feel so dumb for coming in here and then I’d get the help I need.

X-man at this point is walking out of the room and motions for me to follow him.

The doctor looked at the X-ray and his diagnosis was not mental illness but a “sprain”, which is the appendage equivalent of a “virus.” As in, “Dude. Your foot hurts. Go home.” But to make me feel better, he did prescribe a “special shoe.” I have an actual prescription for a “Bunion Boot.”

Problem is, I can’t find anyone who will fill the prescription so I have no “special shoe” pictures to show you. But when I do, no “Run Forrest, Run!” jokes, okay?

Please ignore previous post about how it “never” snows in Seattle.

Beginnings

Wishin’ and Hopin’

The Grandpeople are a collective genius. Thanks for the boots and coat.

Catching a Flake

Photographing a Flake (or a flake’s feet)

Building the Snow Beast (I’m refering to the one on the right although technically I guess I “built” both of them with a little help from the hub and the Father.) When I asked her why she had taken off her mittens, she told me very seriously, “I took them off in case if I have to touch the snow.” Well, of course.

Time to Go In

Like a Cat by the Fire

I guess someone thinks my tender, heartfelt sentiments are funny because I’m a finalist for a Blogs of Beauty Award in the Humor category. I really think I should have been nominated in the Best Special Effects category for my tinsel halo. I guess there’s no accounting for taste.

But now, I have a beet of a problemo and I may not be posting anything until after December le Sixth.

I have “The Twinge.”

This started years ago. I can never be funny on purpose, not really funny. I can tell jokes I’ve heard before just well enough to get a polite “heh heh” from my friends but when I try to be really funny, I can’t do it.

It can only happen by accident. Whenever I accidentally say or write something hilarious, I’m just as surprised as any of my teary-eyed chortling friends. That’s when it comes……”The Twinge.”

“The Twinge” is a feeling of sadness I get right after I’ve said something funny. The sadness stems from a fear that I will never be able to think of anything funny to say again, ever. You will notice this when we meet and hang out in the real world. Right after I make you laugh, a brief flash of sadness will cross my face and we will move on with the conversation.

This is a very real disease and I’m afraid that for the first time, I have “The Blogging Twinge.”

In the past, there has been no pressure to be funny. Sometimes, I’m downright morose but now with this BOB thing, I’m feelin’ it. I may never write anything funny again and I’m sorry Grandma or Uncle Billy or whoever nominated me. I don’t wanna let the family down. I just can’t perform under pressure.

My next post will be very, very depressing. (pst. I know this is true because I actually live in my life and I have the inside scoop. I am currently sitting in a very hip Urgent Care facility with a free wireless connection — details to follow. Don’t worry, it’s not the kids. Just me this time. Nothing’s actually wrong but the doc just mentioned something about a “special shoe.” If that’s not depressing, I don’t know what is.)

In the morning Ducky went AWOL.
Many tears were shed.
Many shrieks were heard.
Much searching occurred.
Hours later, the table was cleared for lunch:

Much rejoicing.

For the LOVE! Ducky, you’re usually a pretty good kid. You are almost as valuable to this family’s happiness as my biological children so I try to treat you well. The massages, the bubble baths, the trips to Madrid…..

Would you please knock it off with the in-under-concealed-beneath routine? You’re driving me mental!

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, Laylee has picked up the phrase, “for the love.”

Example: I was unbuckling her from her car seat when she asked very sweetly, “Oh, for the love Mommy, can you please carry me up?”

Ooooo, in other news, we may put a real offer on a van tomorrow. It may not be the pimped out one I will be dreaming of tonight but it will be sweet and have plenty of room to haul Ducky and his entourage anywhere they want to hide. Lookout Grand-people! Here we come.

“Seattle? It rains 9 months of the year in Seattle”

Okay, now give me your ideas before I hunt you down and make you play “cards” with me 50 times in one afternoon. I’m serious. I’ll do it. I’m a mutha on the brink!

(Okay, not really, but I’d like some more ideas…..please.)

So I just went to pick Laylee up from our co-op preschool. When I got there, she was nowhere to be found. The mother in charge, we’ll call her Too Lucy (all my friends have the same names), she told me that Laylee was upstairs with her son, we’ll call him Big Moses (all her male friends have biblical names but none of them are Moses so I think I’ll call them all Moses from now on).

Supposedly they were playing a game where they were pretending to be each other. Big Moses was tucking her in his bed and she was calling him Laylee.

I walked up there and found her in her birthday suit (desperately trying to avoid using “questionable keywords” here) with Big Moses helping her to put on his underwear. I guess they wanted to be each other from the inside out.

I let her keep them on and we headed home. She is very proud to be wearing “Big Moses Pants.” For some reason, I cannot stop laughing when she mentions this, which is probably why she cannot stop mentioning it.

I love using fake names on this blog. It makes everything seem so dramatic somehow, like we’re all in the witness protection program.

It reminds me of the time I made a short documentary about some guys running a pirate radio station out of their bedroom at BYU, not exactly a hotbed of illegal activity. I think their broadcast radius was around 10 feet but they were really proud to be bringing “indie music to the people.”

They wouldn’t use their real names and conducted their entire interviews wearing Strong Bad-style Mexican wrestling masks.

Ahhh……Some of my finest film work.

Hopefully then I’ll be able to shed a few layers.

I’m still taking some “help” for my post partum anxiety with Magoo. I can miss a dose and sometimes I’m fine. Sometimes the anxiety and panic attacks come back.

My doctor explained that the pills are like layers of clothing and my life situation is like the weather. When it’s cold outside, I need more layers but if it’s a nice day, I can shed a parka, sweater, fleece, halter top or whatever.

So, in an attempt to get myself to a place where I can start aggressively weaning from the stuff, I’ve decided to work on changing the weather.

1. My hormones and chemicals — um guess I’ll move on to number two. I think this area will remain frigid for a while to come. My body has to decide on this one and according to Dr McGenius, it may be a year or more.

2. Sleep — I will do more of it. This will be accomplished by going to bed earlier and telling Magoo to stop having a cold and waking up in the night repeatedly.

3. Christmas stuff — I will not be making Christmas cards by hand this year. Sadly, the cheap lightweight cards I got for a wickedly low price at Joanne Fabrics will probably be cuter than the ones I made last year.

I am pretty much done my Christmas shopping. I will not re-buy, even if I decide I don’t like the gifts I purchased the day after Thanksgiving. Sorry family and friends. You’re stuck with what I already got.

4. NANOWRIMO — She is no more. I will post later about all the wonderful fabulous things I learned from the experience but for now I will be writing more like 250 words per day, rather than 5000.

5. I will breathe and mediate and take one day at a time and stop blaming myself for all the crazy things that go wrong in my life and the insane things my kids do.

I will allow myself to “quit” things. I will allow myself to “fail” and I will move on. I will “be who I am because somebody has to and [I’m] the closest.” (from Jack Kent’s children’s book “Just Only John”)

Random side note. I am currently the number one hit for the msn search – mom abandon kids – and – my mother is selfish. Nice!

And I’ve Brought Some Corn for Poppage
But as long as you love me so
Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow

I am working on having the words to that song officially changed, bring it a little more up to date, yo.

It’s not snowing here and not likely to be – ever – but that doesn’t mean we’re not putting a “snowman day” on the ole’ advent calendar. We plan to drive up I-90 one Saturday this month until we find snow. We will then stop and build an environmentally friendly snowman and drive home for cocoa. I am pretty stoked about this lee-tle plan.

Also on the calendar will be an outing to a local mall where we can “Experience the enchantment of Snowflake Lane where each night 60 live toy soldiers, music and a light show will brighten the night and warm your heart.”

I don’t know how “toy” soldiers can be “live” but I want my heart to be warmed and hey, it’s free.

Today I saw the first installation of the Christmas Palace. It looks different this year with the new paint. It looks like we painted the walls all spicy and warm especially for the season. And I think we will keep this tradition up, painting the walls a different color each season……or each mood I’m in….not sure which yet.

The painting was completed just in time too. For the first time ever, Laylee colored all over the walls with black crayon. Dan made her wash it off and she could and she did and the peasants rejoiced.

Here is the nativity, complete with shepherds and completely suckable. Let’s see how many times we can lose baby Jesus and have a meltdown this year.

This is the place where it looks like Christmas yorched on my bookshelves. I like it in a busy sort of way.

This is the wall outside of Laylee’s room where I placed the big funky colored lights I love but don’t want to put anywhere in the house that might be visible to people other than the children. Tomorrow morning when she wakes up and sees this, she will lose her mind. Yes, she will no longer have any mind.

These are my favorite.

Look closer.

“Well, aren’t those mittens the cutest ever? Where did you get those?” you ask, “You could not possibly have made such an exquisite piece of handywork!”

“Why, yes I did.”

“Shut up!”

“No. I will not.”

Now for this doorway, we really need some sweet minizletoe. Anyone know where I can git me some?

Any excuse for some holiday action is a good excuse. That’s what my pappy always used to say.

-House painted the color of Kraft Carmels and pumpkin pie. Yum.

-Decision made to try NANOWRIMO again when my kids are old enough for me to do it AND maintain my sanity. Sigh of relief.

-Laylee taken to the ER of Children’s Hospital on doctor’s orders. No good.

-Cleaned buckets of vomit out of car. Why did we opt not to take the ambulance again? No comment.

-Release from the hospital with semi-clean bill of health. Grateful.

-Thanksgiving with good friends, none of whom have children. Good times, great food, fun conversation.

-Time for our departure signaled by Laylee spilling beverage on host’s wireless keyboard. Sticky.

-2-year-old vomits buckets on white carpet of host, one inch from hardwood front entry on our way out the door. Cleaning bill to come.

-Falling down at midnight while getting ready for big shopping day, deciding to shop rather than see a doctor about my foot. Not smart, but very typical.

-Getting up at 4:00am to shop till I dropped. Invigorating.

-The deals, the glorious deals. Yippee!

-Bed and looking forward to a day of vomit-free relaxation tomorrow. Ahhhhh!

Sorry for this pathetic list. I promise I’ll be back soon with new info and some fun stories. ER, yadda, vomit, yadda holiday blah blah, nearly-broken-foot-that-still-hurts-to-put-weight-on blah blah …. Excuses, excuses.

We have so much to be grateful for. I hope you all had a wonderful Thanksgiving. Strangely enough, I did.