Saturday Spewings

Haha-like that title? I just can't TAKE it anymore! I've been trying to be all calm, cool, and collected about going to BlogHer next week-I remember being one of the people NOT going last year (my first year of blogging) and feeling left out, disinterested, and bored with the whole thing. At the risk of annoying anyone who's not going, I've tried to be calm, but I can't any longer...

I'm SO EXCITED!!! [Don't give two squats about BlogHer? I don't blame you, if you're not going, but I appreciate your being here, so scroll down to the bottom of this post for other entertainment :)]

What is BlogHer? It's a convention of bloggers.

What do they do there? Learn how to be a better blogger (I guess) and how to make money from their blogs, but really, I could care less about that crap; I am only going because I cannot wait to meet the many bloggers I have become friends with over the past two years!

AND...I'm looking forward to:

*Driving down to Chicago alone, singing at the top of my lungs, or maybe listening to James Patterson's Step on a Crack (book on tape). Seriously, I will need the three hour drive just to calm down enough to keep myself from screaming and leaping on top of Melisa and Weaselmomma when I get there!

*Sleeping over at Melisa's house on Thursday (guess I'd better get her real name and address, so that Mr.4444 knows where to look if I come up missing!)

*The "Swag" that will be handed out at every party/event! (Hey, I'm just being real.) I'll be taking an extra suitcase just to cart it all home! ["Swag" is the name for the freebies BlogHer sponsors (Swiffer, Pillsbury, Springpadit.com, Crystal Light, Pepsico, etc.) will be handing out at all of the events.]

*Keynote speakers. BlogHer has chosen 21 stand-out bloggers to read some of their best posts, and I really look forward to laughing, crying (guess I'd better bring Kleenex!), and just being inspired by each of them. The list of bloggers include the likes of Tanis of Redneck Mommy, Black Hockey Jesus of Wind in My Vagina, Pauline Klarkowski of Classy Chaos, and I am Bossy. If I come out of their dry-eyed and without stomach cramps from laughing, heads will roll (but I doubt it will come to that.)

*Doing my first-ever 5K walk/run, just for fun, in Downtown, Chicago, Saturday morning at 6:30 (No, I don't drink, so I should be able to get out of bed. I'm sure Weaselmomma will join me, NOT, LOL.) Another Swag Bag, a t-shirt, and some exercise! I am lit up over this, even though I do not run (ever) and will probably get lost somewhere along the route.

*I'm also looking forward to just being myself with friends. I could care less about meeting any "famous" bloggers. I'm much more interested in meeting people with whom I can have a friendship with; not folks who get so many comments they can't even read them all. (I like me some relationships, people! :)

***Karaoke. Need I say more about that?

***Doing whatever I want to, whenever I feel like it, for three days. (Wait a minute, I pretty much do that now. Hmm. Well, doing that in Chicago, then.)

Okay, now that I've popped the top of my BlogHer mania, I'm calm enough to leave you with this. Kyle is gone tonight. Mr.4444 and Kendall are not feeling the BlogHer mania. In fact, they were bored, so this is what they did:Facials, with lipstick added for the "Joker Effect." Kyle will be away at camp next week, so these two will be on their own. Think I need to get a babysitter?

Friday Fragments

Welcome to Friday Fragments and Friday's Freewrite, the perfect ways to unload your random thoughts that didn't make their ways into posts but you still want to share. Thanks for being here :) Be sure to visit Ordinary and Awesome to read more Friday ramblings and to link up your FF/FF post! [For how to get started with Friday Fragments, click on the FF button above.]

***I've felt decadent and rebellious, all these years, as I've defied Mom's edict and used more than "4 squares of toilet paper," on a regular basis.

***They say bad things come in threes. Well, this week, good things came in three's!! I won THREE giveaways this week!! First, Melissa B at Scholastic Scribe awarded me a Starbucks Gift Card in her Silly Sunday Sweepstakes! (Visit Melissa on Sunday for your chance to enter!) Then, Melissaz at Colorful Metaphors let me know that Mr.4444's answer in her Riddle Me This contest was correct! So, Mr.Smarty (he is smart, that guy!) will be enjoying some delicious homemade cookies!!!! Finally, as if being a winner twice in one week wasn't enough, I won Juls' Piggy Paint Giveaway at Every Day Is a Crazee Day!! That means that just in time for NFL football season, Mr.4444 will have some green and gold toenail polish!! Thank you, Ladies!! :)

***I'm not always a winner. On Tuesday, I had what I'm guessing to be a panic attack at the dentist office. I'm pretty sure it had something to do with the nine shots of Novocaine I needed in such close proximity to the post I wrote about my anesthesia nightmare. It's occurred to me that while I've told the childbirth story many, many times, I have never once dealt with the emotions I felt during that incident. In the dentist's office, I suddenly could not feel my arms and felt intense and sudden fear, which culminated in becoming instantly soaked in my own tears and having to be "talked down." Pretty much a flashback; maybe therapy is in order.

***Choosing a Favorite Friday Fragmenter last week was fun last week, first, because of Kori, not only because of her intro,

"Friday Fragments. Mrs.4444. Saving us all from mental constipation, one Friday at a time."

but because of this:

"I saw a sign in the local grocery store this week that said, “XXX: The Stores That Feel Like Home.” I tell you, my home does not smell like spilled milk and old bread and little old ladies-you know, that faintly moldy, sweet smell? Oh. Wait. Yes it does."

AND this bit from another post of Kori's this week, "and if you don’t know how hard it is to NOT push when you have a HEAD sticking out of you, well, I hope you never do."

I couldn't choose only one FFF last week, because how could I pass this up Unknown Mami's gem about a picnic she attended with her family:

I was feeling pretty picture perfect until we sat down to enjoy a sandwich and I noticed a big yellow shmear on my pants. What the hell my sandwich didn't even have mustard on it?! The color could only be described as baby shit yellow. Why? Because it was baby shit! Yuck!

OMG, U.M. you are hilarious! :)

And I had total giggle flashback when I read this, from Stacey, at The Willowjak Boys:

- Dad told me today that my sons are the luckiest boys in the world to have Jonathan and I as parents. "If anyone was meant for this challenge in life, it was you guys. Think of the joy they bring you." Is it joyful when your six year old runs into your room buck naked, does a somersault and lets loose some toxic fumes and obnoxious noises when his butt's in the air in front of you?

So, Ladies, this infamous award goes to each of you today! Enjoy :)***Kyle leaves for YMCA Camp U-nah-li-ya on Sunday, where he'll be an Assistant Counselor for FIVE WEEKS. He'll come home for three weekends. How will we go on without him?!

***I love cheese popcorn, but I hate orange fingers (Sorry, Yaya; I know that's your favorite color.) This week, I found a solution: Eat it in a bowl, with a spoon. Problem fixed.

***I fell upon the blog, 2024 Rules for My Daughter this week. I love it for its simplicity and love that comes through this father's advice to his daughter.

***Melissa B, at Scholastic Scribe, did share the wonderful Starbucks gift, but she also shared two blogs, which I love; her daughter, Ella Numera Dos, is a talented photography student with a new blog called MOO, and Melissa's sister, Miss Jo, is ALSO a talented photographer (just more seasoned, heehee). These two are really wonderful, and Miss Jo's San Francisco is a blog like none I've seen before. Check them out!

I look forward to reading your Fragments/Freewrites this week. If you have such a post, link up here and at Ordinary and Awesome, and don't forget to make a few friends by checking out other posts :)

OH, DANG! Looks like I messed with my code when I added the Stumbleupon widget yesterday! I've switched to MCLinky tonight (Whew!) but will look again at it tomorrow. Thanks for your patience!

A Thousand Words Thursday

Who says Seniors are too cool to hang with Freshmen?!For more pictures that "say a thousand words," visit Jen at Cheaper Than Therapy.

MWW: Dog Days of Summer

Few words necessary this time...Here's a quick story in pictures (no sound in this one.) For more Mostly Wordless Wednesday posts (at Sara's place) click on the widget above.

Still the One

I remember doing the laundry with my sister, Judy, as a small child of 5 or 6 (yes, really.) We had an old-fashioned (even for that time, I think) ringer washer.

I remember the hot, soapy water that stung my fingers, burning them until I remembered to grab the wooden pole to retrieve the steaming-hot clothing. We fed them through the ringer into a sturdy tub full of ice-cold water. (Funny how that, too, stung my fingers.) Rinse, rinse, repeat. I remember a few times having to hit the emergency release, because my fingers got caught in the ringer--not fun.

As you might imagine, my hands were weathered beyond my years when I was young. I was a hard worker and wasn't so wimpy that I wore gloves, either, no matter what the chemical. (We didn't have any, anyway.)

In middle school, during which (if you're lucky) hand-holding comes with the territory (at the roller rink), every boy I ever skated with said, "Wow, your hands are rough!" (Thanks.) My boyfriends (2 or 3 max, I swear) in high school all commented on my dry hands.

"Yup; I know." Thanks.

When I first started dating Mr.4444 (in college), it was mid winter, and he had been working hard in the construction trade, outdoors. His hands were always red and a little chapped. The first time he held my hand, he exclaimed warmly, "Your hands are so soft!" And my heart melted; I knew he was the one for me!

Just kidding. It did melt, honestly (I almost cried) but there wasn't just one moment. There were many others...

....like the first time he took me out to a nice dinner and did not make me feel stupid for not knowing what to do with all of the silverware or for never having eaten a steak dinner before.

...and the fact that he always asked me what I wanted, rather than just assuming that he knew (at certain times that it's important to ask.)

...and the time I thanked him for not opening my mail, and he said, with a curious look, "Why would I do that? It has your name on it, not mine."

...and the time, when we were first dating, when I accidentally snapped off his new fishing rod in the truck door, and he said, "It's no big deal, really." (when he probably wanted to kill me.)

...and the time he listened to me tell a certain Christmas story from my childhood and I could see that he was barely listening, but he was totally taking me in, and he smiled and said, "You are really charming, you know that?"

So, yeah. My heart has melted many times over Mr.4444, and it continues to do so, even today.

Like when I come to bed on frosty winter nights with legs that haven't been shaved in weeks, and he says, "I'd rather they be furry than prickly."

And when he comes in from the garage saying, "I changed your wiper blades for you; they looked like they were ready," or "I saw your gas tank was low, so I went and filled it up for you."

Or when he puts his arms around me at night and tells me how he knows he "won the wife lottery."

So, yeah. Dry skin, hairy legs, driving the car til it's running on fumes...he takes me with all of my flaws and loves me the way I've always dreamed of.

I know what you're thinking--"Those are her flaws? Give me a break!"

Hey, it's my blog. I don't have to tell you about my real flaws. (Besides, he'll tell you I don't have any.)

Just Breathe?

[DISCLAIMER: If you are pregnant and do not appreciate delivery horror stories, head over to my archives for a less dramatic post!]

After three months on bedrest, an ambulance ride from hell, external version that was NOT fun and did not work, and 12 hours of "failure to progress," my obstetrician decided to remove my epidural and ship me off to the "operating theater" for an emergency C-section. They decided to go with a "spinal," which is basically like an epidural; the needle goes into your spine and is intended to numb you from that point down. [Key word: intended]

So, I'm lying there on the table, feeling no pain, when I start to feel like there is a 50-pound bag of cement on my chest! The air has left my lungs and is not coming back. (I think) I opened my mouth to tell someone, but nothing came out. I couldn't move my arms to wave or anything, either. I heard the anesthesiologist (behind me) say, in a cheerful tone, "You're doing fine, Barb,"

and I totally FREAKED inside. I thought, "Oh my GOD! He doesn't know I can't breathe! I'm on my own! What am I going to do?!"

My mind raced, "What happens when you can't breathe? What happens when you can't breathe?! Heart attack? Stroke?" Finally, I just surrendered and started looking for "the white light." (I'm serious.)

The next thing I knew, someone started "bagging" me, which is what it's called when they put a mask over your mouth with a black, rubber thingy that they squeeze to force oxygen into your lungs. Finally, I could breathe. My doctor took a break from sewing me up to look over the drape at me (I'll never forget the look of concern on her face.)

I am not ashamed to say I had not a care in the world for Kyle in those moments; I was only interested in breathing (can you believe the selfishness?!) Apparently, his initial Apgar score was a two. (I'm guessing he was blue but had a heartbeat and was breathing a little?) Thankfully, it was up to a nine, five minutes later. At some point, someone brought him to me, held him out where I could see him, and said, in a sing-song voice, "Here's your baby, Mrs.4444." I glanced at my bundle of joy and vomited. (Nice.) They whisked him away.

Poor Mr.4444 missed all of the excitement; one minute he was told to wash his hands, and the next they came in to get him with, "Congratulations! You have a son."

Fortunately, we lived happily ever after; other than being horribly colicky for nine months (another post, maybe), Kyle was no worse for the wear and has turned out perfectly fine.

Epilogue: Every single time I tell this story, I find myself a little short of breath. Ten years ago, I requested my medical records to see if it really was as bad as I thought. The records confirmed it. The report said that my spinal "ran high," so instead of numbing me from the entrypoint of the needle down, it completely paralized me up to my neck.

Of course, the anesthesiologist was aware that I couldn't breathe (I assume). He had a pulse-oxygen monitor on my finger. I'm guessing that, "You're doing fine, Barb" was intended to reassure me, but it in fact had the opposite effect; I thought he was clueless! If he was taking a nap or something, I'm just glad he snapped out of it, and that Kyle and I came through it all okay.

What's the closest you've ever come to dying? (Don't be afraid to attach a post, if you have one.)