It ain't Musak baby!

I have a friend who recently wrote in her blog about her life's sountrack and it got me thinking and I've kind of been stuck on it for a few days. Thank Carrie!

I look at my life and I can look back into the past and hear all of the songs. Not all of them are pretty and not all of them are real music. There was Petra and David Meece, Keith Green and Psalty. Then there were the sounds of mangos plopping onto the patio in our backyard, Micah barking and the gate latching closed. I hear the ice cream truck and the school bus, the lid to the record player and the click of the cassette deck. As I got older there was the sound of the tennis ball smacking up against the outside of the house, country music and Garth Brooks... and my mom making fun of me and coming into my room singing "yeeeee hawwww". There was the sounds of dishes being washed, my dad watching TV and David playing the piano.

I think of sounds and songs more than I think of the past itself. The sounds connect me to that place, that moment in time. I hear ocean waves and I am sitting on the beach after crossing the bridge, feeling peace and serenity as whatever that day's challenges were wash away with the crashing waves and the rolling tide. When people ask me if I remember this and such I usually would say no, but if you asked me if I remember the sound of the oven opening as my dad pulled out the Thanksgiving turkey, well, then I can see the table all set with the "fancy dishes" and my grandma sitting there waiting for dinner.

When I play the music of my older years, mostly I hear Mike screaming, the pounding of drums. I hear angry music and the clinking of beer bottles. To this day when I hear someone pop the top to a soda, I am transported back to that moment, and I can see the anger that alcohol brought. I hear the sounds of my body being damaged and the words that crushed my soul.

Then the soundtrack starts over. And I hear lullabies. I hear the first giggles of my baby. The cough that the endless runny nose brought on. I hear "Mommy, watch me!!", "No mommy, like this!", "Mommy, can you help me build?". And I know that this soundtrack, this moment of life is the one that tunes out all of those other moments. Sometimes there is crying and screaming and doors slamming, but 20 years down the road when my child is moving on with his life, those sounds will be what I hear.

I wonder what the years will bring. Will I hear marching bands or referees blowing whistles? Will my child be a superstar or a supernerd? All I know is the music makes the memories for me. And I can't wait to hear the next part of the symphony!

My WTH moment

Okay, there is precious little in life anymore that really takes us by surprise. But I have to say as I was scrolling through my addiction of Etsy and stumbled across a very unique pillow, well, all it left me with was a WTH moment. I am not mocking these people's artistic talents but allow me to list some of the following items that I was linked to (first comes the pillow though) and the actual descriptions the people who are selling these fine wares came up with:

1. Utera maxima - Worried that your uterus is too small? Wow them the next time you go to the gynecologist, be the envy of your peers. Why is this Spanish woman so happy? Just look at the size of her uterus! Order now and see instant results!!!


2. Super Period Fun Time Pinata - Because every now and again you have a period that deserves a freaking fiesta. Don't believe me?? Examples for your consideration: You just had your first period! Your period was mysteriously missing for a while but now she's back! You made it through your first period after some hardcore Uterine surgery! Your uterus is herself again after a pregnancy! (said pinata is filled with Bliss dark chocolate, Hershey's kisses and TAMPONS!)


3. Uterus love earrings - think hot pink, dangling uterus hanging from your earlobes. Enough said!


4. Dorothy, Blanche and Rose - Uterus and ovaries pillow - gotta love the catchy logo - nothing says from "U" to "US" like a uterus!

And my personal favorite....

Childbirth teaching models uterus placenta cord baby breast set: And I think the picture above MORE than speaks for this one.

Now the whole time I am seeing these items I am giggling like a 11 year old boy seeing a dirty picture for the first time. I've been married. I have a child. But the thought of a grown ass woman buying herself a giant uterus pillow to cuddle with is just too much for me. If I was ever at my "secret, private No No" doctor's office and someone came at me with uterus earrings... well, I'd probably be a wuss and just sit there but I swear I'd be envisioning myself bare assing it out into the parking lot.

I know we all gotta make a living but this just doesn't seem like the way to me. Knitting a uterus and fake boobies? And for the folks selling both the huge 3 foot uterus pillow and the giant pinata: where do you store these things?

I double dog dare you to go to Etsy.com, think of the most outlandish thing you can think of to search for, and come back here and tell me what freakish bizarre things you found.

El gato

I've been musing upon things that I see in my house. My latest thoughts are on my cats. This may be incredibly boring to the 2 of you who actually check in to see if I have any new thoughts but this is my blog so suck it up.

I have three cats: Countess, Domino and Ninja. These three are as different as three children could be but each one also represents some aspect of my life, the point where they entered my world.

Countess is my baby girl. She has been with me since she was 6 months old and I was freshly turned 21. She filled a spot in my life when I was reeling from bad choices, a horrific breakup and was feeling suicidal. I knew I needed something to come into my world that was settling/calming and so I got a cat. Well, she technically was a replacement cat. The first cat I adopted was a freak who hid under the bed and never came out. Literally never. Returned that nutcase and saw this adorable little kitten. She seemed so sweet and I took her home and named her Countess. This little miss priss gave me a serious run for my money. She looked like a diva from the front but when she walked away, she had this swagger in her step that reminded me of a linebacker. She used to sit in top of the fridge and jump off onto my head. She would climb the window screen in the middle of the night, a repeat action that resulted in being declawed. She has been with me for over 13 years, multiple moves, several cities. She let me squeeze her when my daddy died. She was the only animal in my house that Mike never hurt, I think he knew he'd "disappear" if he ever hurt her. She is the queen of my house and represents so many happy, sad and bittersweet moments in my life.

Then along came Domino. She is fat (we're talking a waddle that swings when she runs), has a wonky eye, lost her mother as a newborn kitten and her nose runs whenever you pet her. We originally took her in when Toby was a few months old. Something insane about Countess needing a friend. First of all, Countess does NOT need friends. Secondly, if she were to pick a friend, it would not be this simple minded animal! To Domino's credit, she ADORES Toby. She lets him lay on top of her, every morning when I open his door, she is the first one to jump on his bed. After Mike and I split, I renamed her Domino. She has these spots on her chest and her nose and they remind me of a domino. Everytime I look at her I sing the chorus from the Van Morrison song.

As I start worrying about Countess' age and the thought that she might leave me soon, I decided it was time to bring in a younger cat to carry on the cycle. Soooo, along came Ninja. Big Mistake! This cat is worse than the worst puppy you will ever encounter. He eats shoes. He steals toys. He fights with the other cats and climbs the curtains. He's actually a younger version of the hell Countess put me through but without the 13 years of forgetting the behavior. He is sweet and loving and stupid and destructive. Most of all, he adores me.

Every one of these animals represents a period in my life, a moment that for better or worse that I cherish because it helped shape me into the person I am today. I look at these cats and I think of 13 years down the road when my son will be a teenager. How many people and animals will have come in and out of our lives in that length of time? Where will we be living? What kind of man will he be growing into? Funny how you can look at a cat and see your past and that it can make you ponder your future!

Yo loser

Hey loser girl. Yeah you. The one who insists on pissing on the toilet seat. Or the one who leaves a toilet full of fecal matter. Or the one who today left it fully loaded with TP so the poor cleaning lady will have to unplug it. In case you were completely deluded into thinking you are the only female who works at your job, I wanted to throw out a "hey. what's up" Yeah, I use the girl's room too. And you are gross. Disgusting. Nasty beyond words. And living proof that people really ARE sometimes raised in a barn.

That's all. Next time, that lever right above where your ass goes? It's the flusher. Give it a try and see how it works for ya.

how you hurt me...

Everytime it hurts me, everytime I catch myself caring... I also wonder... why do you bother? Do you think that they are sitting around caring that you are upset? Do you think even if they did know, that they would do anything to change the situation? You just aren't that important to them... and after all of this time you think it wouldn't hurt, you think I wouldn't care... but I do.

Kiss of death

I haven't written in a while. Honestly I have been so achy and exhausted all of the time that I just haven't had the energy. For the past month or so my hands have been hurting really bad in the morning. My back and hips feel like I just slept in a sleeping bag. In a tent. On top of a rock. So being a genius, I decided to do a little online research. And let me tell you, don't do online research unless you are prepared to have the crap scared out of you with some worst case scenarios. But I also know enough to plug in the symptoms and the hand pain with the feverish joints was the biggie. And it returns... drum roll please.... rhuematoid arthritis!!! And the crowd goes wild!

I am not stupid enough to self diagnose so I did what any chick would do and stood up and asked the lady on the other side of the wall who is out a lot from work for various illnesses if she goes to a rhuematologist. Hey, it wasn't the classiest move but after the last incident with that jerk who claims to be a Dr but refuses to follow the basic Hippocratic Oath, I wasn't taking any chances. Because I am totally able to spot a fellow sickly person, I was able to get the name of a rheumatologist.

I visited there on Friday. And after being poked, prodded and pheloboted (I needed a word that started with P and the guy who draws blood is a phlebotomist!), I was told that he was about 99% sure that I have RA. YEAHHHH!!!! I have never been in so much pain. I have had a lot of pain and I have a fairly high pain tolerance... I did the first 3 days after the c-section with no pain meds, then I realized that you don't get extra points for bravery. You do possibly get a husband who ganks your pain pills so you go through the worst of it wanting to remove his head with your fingernails but that is a whole other story.

I realized that if I test for RA that I have a few things to look forward to... steroids. Which lead to weight gain. Which lead to more pressure on the already painful joints. Which leads to more pain. I had just decided to start a fitness plan when this crap came up to bite me in the arse. And fitness, well, it is not the fan of a person in pain. Walking means that you are left unable to move. I can't even imagine what delights lifting weights would bring on... would my head explode literally?!?! And I am already on the roids... day 1 I was thinking, this ain't so bad. I'm not so hungry. Day 2 has left me a little sick to my stomach. I just hope day 3 doesn't find me curled up with a large cheese pizza, a double batch of brownies and a 2 liter!

And then it hit me that my child has hit even a lower point in the gene pool if I have this disease. His paternal grandmother has Lupus which is just another form of an equally evil beast. So on both sides he has the potential to spend his 30's sitting on the couch and crying after his kid goes to bed.

I'm really not having a pity party. I'd like to have a pity party. Unfortunately, I tend to invite Mr. Chocolate Cake and Miss Phish Food to the party... and I am pretty sure that would just make matters worse!

Little dose of relief

I have been taking this medicine for about two months now. I no longer cry uncontrollably, I can usually drag myself out of bed most days, and sometimes I even have a smile on my face. I am still dirt tired because the sleep aide medicine hasn't reached a dose that works yet. But here is the most beautiful thing... I got a schedule change at work!

I have been bidding on a different schedule for about a year and a half. I really wanted to have the weekends off but child care meant I couldn't work the late shift. So this month around I just bid on anything and everything. Toby is at the school at my work so I could take on any shift. I was so burnt out that it was either give me a new schedule or I'd be taking a leave of absence (in a cute white coat!)

So while I was out for Toby's surgery (and some much needed mental break time), I finally got a new schedule. Sure it means working 10 hour days for Monday-Wednesday (and this is the AWE-SOME! part) but I get off EVERY Thursday and Friday. I have to work every Saturday but in ONE WEEK of having this schedule, I feel sooooo much better! I can still take Toby to school on my days off so I can actually vacuum the floors or wash my sheets. And if I want to do nothing at all but take a nap, well I can!

So there is my little burst of energy... my little splash of relief. Let's see if it keeps getting better!