Ok, long conversation at the dinner table between me and the boys regarding good vs bad behavior.
“Is throwing your food good or bad?”
“Is eating all your veggies before asking for dessert good or bad?”
“Is sitting and reading quietly good or bad?”
“Is ripping your books good or bad?”
“What is something you could do to be good?”
“What is something you would do that is bad?”
“What happens when you are good?”
“What happens when you are bad?”
“What is something good you can do if your brother ?”
Eventually led to:
“Luke, do you want to be good or bad?”
“Good!”
“Thomas, do you want to be good or bad?”
“Neutral!”
Uh. Ok then. Just wish their wasn’t also a “chaotic” there in front of that alignment.
Month: December 2011
Christmas Reflections
I have to say, I think so far this has been my favorite Christmas I’ve had in a long time.
Going into it, it’s obviously helpful that while I am working, it isn’t retail.
There hasn’t been the extra money to do a lot of expensive gifts, but we manage to do really damn well with what there was. Really well. I think the kids were adequately covered. We were even able to get something minor for my mom, and I got a few inexpensive items that were on my personal wish list.
Also? I have no idea what’s under the tree for me from my mom. At all. Which is rare. Usually my Christmas is in the form of work clothes a few weeks or months in advance. So this year I get to experience of both giving to my children and seeing their joy, but also experiencing my own joy and sense of surprise. It’s not the presents themselves, but the thought and love that went into whatever was selected for me.
On a different note, we are still flustered with the children’s behavior, so we decided something I never dreamed of. While Santa is filling stockings and leaving something for Sammy, Santa is not hooking the boys up this year. The items from Santa were already bought, but instead they are from me and Pat. After a month of threatening that Santa is watching and yet their behavior getting worse and worse, it was time to bite the bullet and get the message across. As much as this does break my heart, it’s come to this. And? Santa can come next year as he did last year should there be improvement. I’m next expecting perfection. Just, better.
Otherwise, I think this is the first Christmas in recent history where I’m stress free, relaxed, and just enjoying things. Which isn’t to say everything went perfectly, thus far. But really? In the grand scheme of things? It has been more than good enough.
As has this year. The second half anyways. 2011 brought me the end of the retail era, the completion of the family I have always wanted, and the career path that seems to be the perfect fit. I have much, much more to ramble in terms of work, all positive, but for now I leave it with the general knowledge that I’m really happy there.
I’m really happy everywhere.
Merry Christmas!
Top 10 Reasons a Tubal Was Better Than a 4th Pregnancy
These are in no certain order.
- Pregnancy involves months of not being able to sleep on my belly. Tubal? I was on my belly after 4 days.
- Not only are you encouraged to sleep through the Tubal experience, but it is enforced and isn’t interrupted every 15 minutes by the need to pee.
- A tubal doesn’t lead to 4 years of wiping somebody’s ass.
- Pain meds. That aren’t Tylenol.
- I was told I needed to continue taking my mental health meds by the doctors instead of skipping for the day.
- One week no sex, verses almost the entire 9 months plus 6 weeks.
- And both involve condom free sex, thought the tubal last longer as birth control means, and is much more comfy.
- My scar is said to give my belly character. Stretch marks? Not so much.
- Does not increase the amount of weekly laundry.
- Or food bill.
A Metric Fuck Ton Of Glitter
I got bored. And when I get bored, I find ways to get unbored. I have various methods for this. These days I aim for healthy ones. Yesterday I was on a various tumbler blog and decided, you know what? I want a tumbler. Within minutes I had decided it would be a page dedicated to glitter. A page dedicated to making me happy.
I’ve toyed with having a blog of nothing but quotes. I’ve toyed with having a blog with nothing but the random pictured I find online. I’ve toyed. I’ve toyed. I’ve toyed.
The kick ass thing about tumbler? It’s meant for shit like that. Really really meant for it. So I decided I would combine all those toys into one. As long as it makes me happy? Up it goes!
And here it is. My own personal, Metric Fuck Ton Of Glitter.
This Post Is Brought To You By The Letters T M I
As in, no really, this one will be too much information.
You’d think that my personal filter would be like, “Dude, it’s TMI don’t post it.” but by now we all know how that works, or doesn’t work, with me. So my filter? Pretty much telling me I posted that warning, and then we’re cool.
So, there was one thing I was not adequately warned about before surgery. The first post surgery poop. I was warned at the hospital, after surgery. Which was fine. But even that was along the lines of a let them know if I had trouble pooping.
See, that’s basically the same warning you get after childbirth. And as such, I spent months dreading my first post Sammy poop. Just to shit 3 times within the first 24 hours of giving birth. Like it was nothing. Because, it was nothing.
So I’ve come to take the warnings about constipation with a grain of salt.
I also knew I had ice cream and plenty of Miralax at my disposal. So I figured I was fine.
I wasn’t.
Yesterday we my first official post surgery poop and oh dead God. I passed a basketball. It needed help getting out. I’ll spare the details. (Oh hey look! My filter! Everybody wave!)
Today? Was a softball. It came out only slightly easier.
But then? After that? Suddenly like magic…
I’m telling you I went from being curled up into a ball of death to finally seeing the light at the end of this recovery tunnel. Folks, I might just survive this!
It’s amazing what losing 8 pounds in shit will do for you.
Over 24 Hours Out
I’m not dying. But I’m not pain free. I’m somewhere between with kind of wanting to sleep through all this but unable to. Mostly because I can only seem to sleep for 2-4 hours at a time. I’m functional enough to make PB&J sandwiches for the 3yo, but not taking near full responsibility for anyone but maybe myself.
I’m not feeling any pain I should not be feeling. So it isn’t like anything went wrong. It’s just what it is. The incision sites are sore and the O2 bubbles from being inflated or whatever are doing their thing. I was warned. My throat is finally recovering from the air tube. The taste of being put under is finally leaving my mouth.
I have an ok appetite. I’m not eating a lot in one sitting, but I’m eating through the day as the desire hits. I’m not nauseous which is a blessing.
So that’s one more thing the pain meds aren’t doing, the first and primary being anything for the pain. Well, 2 at once is doing better than just the 1 which is better than none at all. I was just hoping for something. I dunno, either loopy enough to not care, or unable to to stay awake so I could sleep through it.
I never did call my doctor to ask for anything different. I think I’m on a just deal with it path. I’m not in excruciating pain. I’m just in pain. And I’ve always been in pain. So really, this isn’t anything new. In this case, I know it will actually go away soon enough so I don’t see the sense in worrying about it. Though if I’m in really bad shape tomorrow, I can elect to make the call then.
Ok, so. The statistics have female sterilization at a .2% risk of failure. Which some people just seem to LOVE pointing out to a woman who has just been sliced open to be sterilized. Learn timing people. I know nothing besides abstinence or a hysterectomy is 100% but could we maybe not point that out every 5 minutes when I’m fresh from the surgery? I have a license to stab atm.
So yes, there is a .2% chance I could still get pregnant. Do I really want that to happen? No. I wouldn’t have gotten this surgery if I did. But, if a baby can get past those odds, then I’m declaring it meant to be. And while, I never ever want to be pregnant again, it’s not fully because I don’t want another baby. I don’t think it would be responsible and I don’t want to do the whole 9 months thing ever again. But I love my babies and I would love another just as much as I love the first 3. So we would welcome it with open arms.
I’m just hoping to not to be put in that position.
I’d rather foster or adopt a child that needs a family than birth my own again. So should I get the baby fever and we be in the position where it isn’t the dumbest thing ever. We’ll see about that route.