Nothing New to Report

I must admit, I have a fairly boring life. I haven’t blogged much because there just hasn’t been a whole lot of interesting stuff going on in my life. I’ve been adulting, which is boring. The part of adulting that sucks the worst for me is that I am adulting far beyond my age. I hurt from old Arthur like someone at least twice my age.

9160330_f520

Guess what. I wrote last year about our birth month. It is just around the corner again now. Only this time Brady will be 16 and all of my worries will multiply. It is so scary sending your teenaged son out into the world with his own set of car keys. Possibly, the scariest part of parenthood. Here’s their freedom, to some extent, will they make good decisions? Did you do your part for him to know and do better? How will this unfold? Not to mention the thought of your baby flipped over somewhere on the side of the road because he hasn’t answered the phone.

original_sometimes-when-i-open-my-mouth-father-quote-card

We’ve all done it. We’ve all came tenfold on the annoying things our parents used to say to us. Just last night I uttered the words “if you lock that door again, I’m going to take it off the hinges.” “What if the house caught on fire?” I internally giggle because I know I was told this more than once in my life. My father has some sort of fear of things going up in flames. Every house my sister or I have moved into has to pass the fire alarm inspection at his first visit. And if it doesn’t, you’re going to hear about it at least weekly until it is ratified.

images (1)

I don’t know if it is just my body, but you would think cold weather would be much harsher on an RA, MCTD, problem-ridden body.  I hurt far worse during the summertime.  I’m not sure if it is the rain, the heat, the humidity, or a combination of them all. I just know that it isn’t fun. And I am not able to go do all of the fun summertime things because the sun is NOT my friend.

images

I think I have always held a deep hatred for heat. I can put on more clothes to keep warm in the winter than I can take off to keep cool in the summer. My body sure tries to take things off though. I melt. I sweat, I stink, and most of all, I’m miserable.

 

I am hopeful that I will start blogging more. I can’t make any promises though. I just don’t have a whole lot new and interesting going on and unlike most people, I am hibernating for the summer. I am binge watching whatever I can find. I am working as much as I can. I am adulting. Are we having fun yet?

It’s Football Season Ya’ll

lovebamaMy favorite time of year is finally here. I have to admit, I hibernated at the end of last years football season.  I take Alabama football seriously.  And by seriously I mean, insanely so.  I have a selection of lucky shirts, socks, pants, blanket, underwear, and even where I choose to sit and in what position is of great significance to whether The Crimson Tide wins or loses.  If the combination of attire and position isn’t working and we are doing badly in a game I have to change something, if not everything. I get mad at anyone else who isn’t playing along with my mind games too. Alabama performed badly for an entire half of one game last year and ya’ll, it was entirely my husband’s fault. He wore the wrong hat.

tidecomingI am fully aware that all of these shenanigans are insane. I don’t care. It is something that I have done for as long as I can remember.  And I know I’m not the only one who does this stupid stuff. I mean one of the things that my husband and I really hit it off on when we first started dating was Alabama football and our silly rituals. One of us got stuck watching the remainder of a game in the bathroom.

So, this year I am in the market for a new “lucky” Alabama shirt. I am guessing the luck wore off of all of the other ones in the final game of the year last season. The national championship game. The cause of my hibernation for a little while. I guess I am a sore loser. Alabama fans, myself included, have become spoiled. God bless Nick Saban. I don’t know what we will do if he decides to retire anytime soon. Being a hard core Bama fan has had it’s up’s and downs. Prior to Nick, we had several Mikes to enter and be ran out of the Alabama family. None of them would ever add up to Bear Bryant.  We had some good coaches and we came through every now and then, but not enough to make National Championship t-shirts and memorabilia expire.  Our 1992 National Championship car decals and shirts were good for 17 years. (mine weren’t due to size issues)bamacrew

If you are a football fan then you either love Alabama or you love to hate Alabama. That is part of the deal that comes with being legendary. I am good with it. What I am not good with is losing and knowing we should have, could have, would have won a game that we lost. The BIG game. The one that determines who is the best.  It was decided last year that Alabama was not the best. And that chip on the shoulder of those big boys will shine this year. It won’t (I hope) happen again! But I must do my part. I must find the winning combination attire.

alabamaweekAlabama football is not the only favorite of mine. My Choctaws started their season with a win Friday.  My teenage boys both play. They didn’t play this game. The youngest is having to pay his dues as a youngster on the Varsity team and the oldest hurt his shoulder in a scrimmage game week before last. He is okay, he will play this week. So, I have a dilemma… Alabama’s first game is against FSU. FSU and my Choctaws have the same tomahawk chop and chant. I know that if I partake in this Friday night, my luck significantly changes for Saturday night.  OH MY GOODNESS, I AM CRAZY!

flareflareIn other news, I feel like crap. T-Total, poo. I guess I am having a flare. The pain associated with these abbreviations is constant. It’s hard to tell if the pain is just getting on my nerves or if I am having a flare which is more painful than the constant pain I experience. Last night, winter came. I have been waiting on winter for 7 seasons now. It finally came, and now we have to wait an entire season to see what else winter does.  And guess what fellow Game of Thrones fans. Now that winter is here and leaving us hanging for an entire season, we now know that the next season will be the last. What the what? I realize the budget for a show such as this can get pricey. I realize the actors now demand better pay. I understand every drawback HBO seems to have. But what I don’t understand is the business decision to end the best show HBO has ever produced. I guarantee they have gained more subscriptions solely because of this show. I know that HBO is NOT cheap. I know they’re making money and significantly more because of GOT!

Last night, winter came. I have been waiting on winter for 7 seasons even though the raven and John Snow can go back and forth from Winterfell in one episode. It finally came, and now we have to wait an entire season to see what else the slow walking, dead winter does.  And guess what fellow Game of Thrones fans. Now that winter is here and leaving us hanging for an entire season, we now know that the next season will be the last. What THE wha—-at?

I realize the budget for a show such as this can get pricey. I realize the actors now demand better pay. I understand every drawback HBO seems to have. But what I don’t understand is the business decision to end the best show HBO has ever produced. I guarantee they have gained more subscriptions solely because of this show. I know that HBO is NOT cheap. I know they’re making money and significantly more because of GOT!

They better have some huge, expensive tricks up their sleeves to appease the humongous fan base for their final season. HBO, you have been warned. got

Homie’s Jewels

spay-neuter-2Well, today is a good day. The past 7 days have been something. If you are following my blog you know about my best friend, my Homie, my dog.  You know that I have expressed that I will lose my marbles if anything were to ever happen to him. Well, I lost them last weekend. I need to explain.

Homie is a wanderer. He will slip off if he is left outside unattended. He’s an escape artist who can smell a woman’s musk from miles and miles away.  He is a ladies man. I don’t have a fenced in yard. I have wanted one, but I honestly do not think there is a fence around that would keep him in. Boxers jump. HIGH.  They also dig deep if need be. So to have a fence which would be large enough to hold him in and give him plenty of room to run would be outrageous. He loves to run circles around our house and he needs that. He is so full of energy. And I am so unenergetic and unable to take him for runs like he needs. I am just very vigilant when it comes to him. When we go out, multiple times a day, I have to watch his every move. He can not get out of my eyesight. And he knows he can’t and things are okay.

Saturday I was working in my bedroom and I asked the kids to take him out because he had been begging to go. They did and he came right back in. I assume he didn’t have enough time to do whatever it was he needed to do. At some point, later on, he slipped out with one of the many kids or their friends.  It wasn’t until nearly 4:00 pm that I took a break from working and decided to take the dogs outside. I quickly noticed Homie wasn’t home. I panicked. I went up and down the roads in our neighborhood and the neighborhood beside us screaming, “Homie” out of the window. This went on and on and on until after 11 pm. I just knew that this time was different. This time he was gone. This time I had lost my best friend.

I cried, and cried, and cried. Ugly cried. I cried so much that my eyeballs stung. They hurt. I didn’t want to take my night time meds because I was afraid there may be a small chance he would come back and I would be asleep and unable to let him in. I felt like I was to blame for his leaving. I should have had him neutered a long time ago. I should have checked to see where he was earlier in the day. I should have done this. I should have done that. It is, and always will be, my fault. Then I found myself also feeling as if no one else in this house cared about things that I value. Nobody else noticed my best friend was missing. How is it that they have lost him? They must not even love me. These are the erratic things that go through your brain when you are losing your mind. And I was losing mine rapidly and on a grand scale.  At one point I was even mad at my other two dogs for not consoling me during my breakdown. Homie would have been all up in my grits during a fit like that. He would have been there for me. Why aren’t they?

I had planned for this. I knew that this day would come. I just didn’t think it would be this soon while he was still so young.  I’m not sure if other people keep the loss of their pets in the back of their mind the way that I do. I have lost a lot of good dogs in my lifetime. And the loss of them has always been so overwhelmingly miserable for me. I think that because of this I seemingly try to prepare myself in hopes that it won’t hurt as bad. I know that isn’t going to work but, irrationally, I do this anyway.

Finally, around 3:45 am, I decided to take my Ambien. I decided to call it a night. I decided he was really gone. And I laid down on the living room couch to cry uncontrollably one last time before I went to bed. When I got up to go to bed I decided to check the back door one last time.  To my surprise, Homie was there!!! I couldn’t even get on to him for having left. I was over the moon. He stunk, he was muddy, he was slobbering and panting something fierce yet all I could do is hug him and tell him how much I love him.

So flash forward to Monday morning. My first order of business was to call the vet and schedule him to be neutered. At some point during my fall apart my mom told me to make him an appointment when he got back to get him fixed. She would pay for it. Thank the Lord above for that. Because after all was said and done, it cost $364.30 for him to turn in his prized jewels.

IMG_3920

Homie’s last night with his manhood.

 

He went in Tuesday morning. He went happily. He is such a sweet dog. He had no idea what was about to go down. He just trotted his big self right back to the back with the vet tech with absolutely no worry. He thought we were going on an adventure I suppose. He spent the night there after his surgery so that they could give him pain medication for 24 hours. Wednesday morning when I got there to get him that same trot was not there. The vet wanted to explain to me all of the medication and wound care I needed to do for him in the coming week. She felt like I couldn’t hear her because of Homie’s loud overjoyed panting. So she asked the vet tech to go ahead and take him to my car so that I could hear her. I have never seen a dog stand his ground the way Homie then did. He was planted on my feet. He wouldn’t budge. As if he was saying, Nope, I’m not going on any more of your adventures, thank you very much, I have my mommy.

So, there you have it. That is what my week has been like. A roller coaster of events that were game changers for both Homie and me. Piper is scheduled to be spayed on September 5th. I will have all dogs accounted for at that time. I can not stress enough to people how important having your pets fixed is. There are so many unwanted puppies in the world and so many being euthanized. I am to blame for taking such a long time to have Homie fixed. I didn’t want to take his youth away from him. I felt like having him fixed would, in some way, make him a different dog. I see how stupid that was to think now. And if I had it to do all over again, I would’ve had his jewels removed as soon as they were able to be.

Today, as I said, is a good day. Homie is home and his balls are gone and he is on the mend. I hope you all have a great weekend.

It Runs in the Family

I was lucky enough to witness a miracle last week. What miracle is that you ask? LIFE!

My sister finally had her baby. Welcome the newest addition to the family, Mason. Isn’t all 9 pounds 1 ounce of him adorable? Just look at those cheeks!IMG_3549

If you follow my blog you have already read my delivery story in “A Labor of Love and Pain“.  That story is about my first experience with childbirth and this one is about my sisters’ second experience. I was present for both, however, she didn’t really need me for her first. I would venture to say that she didn’t think she would need me for this one either.

I have some memory problems with this disease so the specific weight of her first born isn’t tucked away in my mind. I do good to remember these with my own children. But one thing I do remember is that his head was the largest noggin’ that hospital had measured in 7 years. I don’t know if he still holds that record at that hospital but suffice it to say, he had a BIG head! When she got done delivering him she looked me dead in the eyes and said, “THAT’S how you have a baby!” I wanted to knock her teeth down her throat. I mean, does anyone really think I hadn’t rather taken the easier route? I forgave her quickly because I knew she was under the influence of a lot of pain medications.

I wouldn’t wish my experience in my first delivery on my worst enemy. That would be pure evil. Unfortunately, as the day unfolded, it was seemingly being reenacted by my little sister.

I arrived at the hospital around 11 am. She had started the process of being induced around 5 am that morning. She was still only 3cm dilated. We had a long way to go. She had already been given her epidural but was still in a great deal of pain. Similar to my experience, her’s wasn’t working for her right side. If you recall, mine didn’t work for my bottom half, below the belt. They gave her additional doses several times and things seemed to be getting better -until they weren’t.

The contractions were hurting her so badly that she developed the chatters. They were so familiar and all I could do was hurt for her because I knew all too well what she was going through. It really isn’t any fun at all to see your little sister going through so much pain. Sure, my sister and I haven’t always gotten along. There have been times (as noted earlier in this post) I wanted to wring her neck. There have been times that I just really couldn’t stand her. But she is MY little sister. It is okay for ME to feel that way, but not anything or anyone else. They’ll have me to deal with if it comes right down to it. (scary isn’t it)

My sister and I are two very different people. She tends to take things and blow them out of proportion. Everything is on a much more grand level for her. And that’s okay. Everyone is different. But because I knew these traits existed with her, I knew it was important not to lead on to her that things weren’t going fine with all that unfolded during this day.

Her doctor came in and checked her again around 3:00 pm. She was still only 5cm, but the doctor said she was now considered to be in active labor. She said she believed she would have the baby around 10:00 pm. Not long after that is when the extremely painful contractions began. The baby’s heart rate kept dropping a good bit after every contraction. The nurse was now staying in the room to monitor this.

Things were getting increasingly scary.

The doctor had been coming in and checking her progress every two hours. For reasons still unknown to me, she came in and checked her again about 45 minutes after she told her it would be 10 pm before time. I am assuming the baby’s heart rate issue was coming into play here. To everyone’s surprise, she was ready to start pushing! In hindsight, I now believe this was God’s way of making sure baby Mason was delivered into this world alive.

And so it began:

The doctor made an announcement that they needed extra nurses on standby to prepare for a shoulder dystocia delivery.  I was thinking to myself, “a shoulder dis-what”.  I could sense concern in her eyes and her urgency on the matter. My sister started pushing… and pushing… and pushing… I reminded her that not all deliveries required just 15 minutes of pushing like my mother had insinuated to me all of those years ago. I tried to make light of the situation and encourage some laughter.

She was in extreme levels of pain. I’m not exactly sure what makes those epidurals work so well for one pregnancy and nearly not at all for others. Does this problem just run in the family? Who knows?  In all, she pushed a little less than 45 minutes. Still 3 hours shy of my experience, but still longer than anyone would want for a delivery where the epidural wasn’t doing its job. Between contractions, the doctor was making “serious” eyes at me. I had no idea what she was trying to tell me, but I knew it wasn’t good. I knew she needed someone in the room to know that things could turn out bad. Things may be wrong, stuff could be about to take place that isn’t desirable for any involved. I think my sister also saw the doctor making these expressive looks at me because she kept looking at me and asking “what’s wrong?”

I have never been a good liar. I learned at an early age not to lie because my face always gives it away that I’m being untruthful. I can’t lie unless I have to. You may recall my writing about my acquired poker face. Here I am, using it again on yet another family member. I kept telling her that everything was okay. Just push, I would say. Just. Keep. Pushing.IMG_3550

Finally, Mason made his grand entry into this world. He was huge. He was huge, but he wasn’t crying. Immediately, I noticed his head was bleeding. I assumed it was associated with the force used trying to pry him out of his mother’s womb. You see, he was stuck. And the doctor had already anticipated this. I would later learn from Google and the real life experience happening before me what shoulder dystocia was. You can Google for yourself and see, but the most apparent thing to me was that it was SCARY for all involved.

His color wasn’t right. His head was almost blue along with his arms and feet. He wasn’t breathing right either. My sister kept asking me if he was okay. Me and my poker face kept telling her that he was. Then they sent the NICU (neonatal intensive care unit) in to assess him and see if he needed to be moved there.  I looked around the room and told my sister that I sure hoped no one else was ready to deliver because it looked to me like the entire staff was in our room. I lost count of them all. Again, she was asking me over and over what was wrong with Mason. I kept lying and telling her they were just being extra cautious because he was such a big baby. Another 45 minutes later, they were still in the room. Still, this large baby hadn’t even been weighed yet. There were too many other more important things going on. IMG_3534 (1)

He had bruises on his arms, bruises on his head, bruises on his side, but still, he pulled through. He was okay. He didn’t even have to go to the NICU, praise the Lord again!

I returned home and when I got here I got a text from my sister telling me the weight and length of the healthy baby boy that is now known to everyone as Mason. My new nephew. Welcome to the world Mason!! I hope the world is easier on you than you were on your mother’s body. (kidding) You may have come into this world a bruised up baby, but you have left your mark on the hearts of many already.

My Best Friends

 

IMG_6922

Homie and Bella

 

I probably have a different opinion about my dogs than most. My dogs are people to me. They are my best friends. Sure, I have friends that don’t have 4 legs but my dogs are my true, loyal no matter what, best friends. It is so cliche’ to call them that, I know. But there really is no other way to put it.

I look at them as my rescuers. If I’m feeling down about anything with my illness I can always, without a doubt, rely on them to cheer me up.  I have three dogs. Two of them are full blooded boxers and the other is a mutt, mostly German Shephard. She is the newest addition to the pack and although I do love her dearly, she is the most destructive dog I have ever owned. I question my decision to bring her home often. She literally chews up everything she can get her mouth on and no amount of scolding or giving her alternative things to chew on has worked. Still, she is here to stay. She’s now a part of the pack.

FullSizeRender (2)

Piper

 

Before her we got Homie. He turned 3 on April 1st. He’s my April FOOL. Just look at that picture of him and you’ll see why I say that. We named him Homie and other people don’t understand why. I really can’t even explain why it just fits. When we first got him and took him to the vet for his shots the veterinarian heard a really bad murmur. She acted as if she didn’t even want to give him shots. She asked where we got him and asked if we would be able to get a refund. Like he was just some item we purchased at the store. My husband, who was the one that took him to the vet that day, told her to give him the shots anyway. When he got home and told me the news and that he got the shots anyway and expressed how callous it seemed of her to act that way I was shocked. I was shocked for several reasons.

 

Homie

Homie

 

See there are some things that I don’t see as problems where my husband will. One of them is my dogs.  Don’t get me wrong, he loves them. But he is a voice of reason when it comes to them. He is the person who has said on several occasions that we may not be able to afford Piper because of her destructive behavior and the price tag on a lot of the items she chooses to rip to shreds. I know he’s right, but the ability to find her another home is something I don’t possess.  So when this vets actions and mannerisms didn’t sit right with my husband and he felt it came off as disheartening I knew this situation would’ve probably caused me to raise Hell if I had been with him. I was so proud of him for demanding the shots anyways.

She did tell him that Homie may outgrow the murmur, but that his was one of the worst she had heard. She was doubtful. I did contact the breeder and she assured me that if he were to pass away from this condition she would get us another puppy. Once we bring a puppy home he is a member of the family. How could I just give him back and deem him defective? I couldn’t. Most animal lovers couldn’t.  Skip forward 3 years and me and my Homie are still kickin’ it. He’s healthier than I am at this point.

Before him, there was one. Bella. My sweet, loving, extremely weird, Bella. I got her from someone that didn’t take up a lot of time with her. And because of that, she is strange. She is getting old and can’t see well anymore which prompts her to bark at stuff that really is nothing.

IMG_7148

Bella

 

She is the well mannered, rarely ever does anything wrong, innocent one. Until she’s not. And since we brought Piper home  Bella has acted like she found her youth. Sometimes she is actually the instigator in some of their rough play sessions. And she is having a blast!

Back to Homie- I know as a parent you’re not supposed to have a favorite. Because I treat my dogs like humans too I’m sure I shouldn’t have favorites among them either.

I Have a Confession to Make

Homie is my favorite! I never want to think about the day when something happens to any of them, but I’m telling you now, I WILL have a come-apart if anything happens to Homie.

Homie has helped me with so much in my life that he’s not even aware of.  I can’t tell you how many days I’ve felt like crap and near my wit’s end and Homie will nudge his squishy nose on the side of my bed and just lay his head there because he knows when I’m upset. He doesn’t like it at all and he tries his best to cheer me up. Most of the time it works. I honestly don’t think a day has gone by since we got him that that goofy dog hasn’t made me laugh. I’m not even over exaggerating that, not even a little.

I could sit and go on and on about my friends but it’s getting bed time. Don’t worry about me tonight. My best friend is already sawing logs right beside my bed.IMG_3522