Fiiiiive Question Friday, turkey style

1. Is there a special dish you prepare that you are famous for?

HAH. For Thanksgiving? I'm lucky enough to not have to cook at all. When the time comes for my little family to move out on our own, then I may learn. Or we'll just end up at Golden Corral and then home for some.... peanut butter balls?

2. Are you (did you) go Black Friday shopping?

We went bowling, if that counts. Okay, okay. My smart (?) husband decided that 10 o'clock Thursday night was THE time to get some cologne from Wal-Mart. Wal-Mart starts Black Friday at 10:00pm now... yep, we're smart cookies. Although, we really are because we were in and out of there in 12 minutes.

3. What are your strangest Holiday traditions?
Hrm. I'm not sure if we even have strange traditions. We don't have any sort of tradition, in all honesty. Now I want to make a strange one just because.

4. Pecan or pumpkin pie?

Pumpkin, with A HUGE TUSH (as opposed to @$$ because uhm, I'm trying to be respectful... tush sounds weird in this context) dollap of cool whip. And when that dollap magically ends up in my mouth without the pie, then I must have another serving of cool whip. An extra large one... in case half of it ends up in my pieless pie hole again.

5. When will you put up your Christmas tree?

Well I'm actually already late. I usually do it the day after Thanksgiving but I'm kind of scared of it this year. A 2 year old and an 11 month old are going to DESTROY my tree. I must plan and take action in operation hide-the-tree-from-kids-but-still-visible-for-the-adults. Eventually.

Look, I can draw!

My very detailed artwork of how we sleep.

Paisley's the cool one who is NOT pictured because she has her own room, and bed. Jaspers bed is used as storage for blankets. Again, I ask wtf?

There are a few things missing in this picture:

• Daddy usually has a laptop
• Jasper is typically curled so his legs are also thrown on top of mommy
• Mommy doesn't lay on her back. Mommy is on her side, curled up under Jaspers lump of a body
• Jasper is actively snoring, zzzzzzing, and nursing all in one breath
• And in all actuality, this arrangement makes me smile.

Then I guess it's a duck

Note: My plan was to never speak of what Jasper has (or doesn't have) down there. The last thing I want is for people to make fun of him. I feel as though this is a safe place to tell his story because those who are reading this either care about my family and would never poke fun, or you've just happened to come across this and have no earthly idea who we are.

If it quacks like a duck, then it must be enlarged adenoids. We took Jasper to the ENT a few days ago and again, Dr. Bob refused to do an x-ray. He's been concerned about exposing J to the radiation. I didn't think it was a big deal and have insisted on an x-ray, still nothing. Yesterday he says that it's obviously enlarged adenoids and that those bad boys need to come out PROMPTO. His surgery is scheduled for November 28th. Yes, less than 2 weeks away. I'm going in this with high hopes, though. I know that he can handle the surgery. He's been through it before. Which I haven't discussed so I'll do that now.

Jasper had 4 surgeries in 1. On June 1st, 2011. He was only 5 months old. What should have been a very simple procedure gave us the shock of our lives. He was born with hydrocele (fluid around his testes, no big deal. It just causes redness and major swelling of the sac) and he also had a hernia. The hernia is basically a hole in your abdomen; it was the reason for the fluid escaping and collecting where it shouldn't be. His right testicle was fine other than the obvious hydrocele, but the left testicle hadn't dropped yet, even at 4 months old. By that point, both testes should be in the sac and if not, then surgery must be done to manually pull the testicle down where it should be. So, he went in for surgery to drain the fluid, stitch the hole (hernia), and to pull that testicle down. PROBLEM. There wasn't a left testicle. I felt like I was hit by a dump truck when the surgeon told us this.

When Dr. Perez went to pull down his testicle, all he got was a tiny scrunched up piece of tissue. That was his testicle. It had to be removed. Jasper suffered from a rare condition known as neo-natal testicular torsion. It's where the testicle is free floating and wraps itself up by it's own cord and strangles itself until the blood is cut off and dies. It is a MEDICAL EMERGENCY. Once this occurs, a surgeon only has 6 hours to save that testicle. We're fairly certain that Jaspers happened while still in the womb. There was no way for us to know, no way for us to save it. From my own research, I have found that it is due to a hormonal imbalance. I just couldn't produce enough testosterone for my son. Now THAT hit me like a ton of bricks. I think I'll always blame myself. Because his 1 testicle did this, he had such a higher risk of the other one doing the same, so Dr. Perez had to staple that one into place to make sure it couldn't ever come loose. And did I mention that we misdiagnosed him with GERD? He was so colicky and he was comfort feeding so much that we started him on medication. Turns out, he was in pain from his groin. Not only did we miss a serious problem, we unfairly treated him with medications that were of no use. He turned into such a happy baby once he recovered from surgery. I'll never forgive myself for making my son suffer for the first 5 months of his life. That's something I can never take back.

And here we are. My son has only 1 testicle, and 2 scars. He can still produce sperm, but we won't know if it's enough to bear children until he reaches that point in his life. He can't play rough sports. He's going to feel inadequate. God I hope he doesn't feel like less of a man. I hate that I'm worrying while he's only an infant. It seems crazy to think about your son having children when he's only a baby himself. And cancer. He has a higher risk of getting testicular cancer. How could this have happened to MY baby? You don't think about this sort of thing. Growing up, it's always hilarious watching a boy get knocked in the gonads. He falls to the floor in agony and we laugh. Now, if anybody was to ever do that to my son, I'd knock their head off. If the one testicle he has left is damaged, he has no chance of being a father. How could someone lose that possibility at such a young age?

Now how does this relate to the removal of adenoids? Well... because of his hieghtened risk of cancer, I assume his ENT refused an x-ray due to radiation. Radiation increases the risk of cancer (and can even cause it) and radiation can also effect sperm count and potentially even mutate the sperm. I REFUSE to put my son through an x-ray unless it is a life or death situation. In hindsight, I'm glad the ENT didn't go through with an x-ray.

My name is Lindsay and I am a helicopter mom. I will forever care too much about my baby boy. And I'm okay with that.

Shh. Be quiet. Do you hear that?

No? No, you don't hear anything? Nothing? No crying baby? No screaming toddler? No toys clanking? CALL THE COPS SOMEONE HAS TAKEN MY CHILDREN.

Oh. Woah. They're taking a nap? What's this "nap" that you refer to? And at the same time, too? It's official - Hell has frozen over.

Paisley tried giving up naps a few months ago. I stood my ground. For a month. I'd let her scream and bang on her door until she eventually fell asleep on the floor. For 20 minutes. She'd wake up grumpy and disoriented. Half the time, she'd fall back asleep on the couch. The other half of the time resulted in her screaming and pacing the kitchen asking for this and that in a voice I couldn't understand, stressing us both out for a whole hour. IT WAS TOO MUCH. So. I let her quit the nap. For a week, I could convince her to have quiet time and rest on the couch for an hour. That has quickly vanished.

I was fine with it, honestly. She went to bed so easily at night that it didn't seem to bother her. She wasn't overtired. But very recently, she's started suffering from nightmares, possibly even night terrors. What's a cause of either one? Being overtired. Her night terrors are SCARY. She goes to bed, sleeps for 4 hours and then the devil sneaks into my daughters room and enters her body. She sounds just like a 2 year old female devil would. Here's a video for proof:

I saved you. You only heard 15 seconds thanks to my suck phone. You're welcome. And it doesn't help that my poor demon child screams for me! WHY ME? It's heartbreaking and to hear it every night for an hour straight is even more heartbreaking. She screams so loud that it scares the poop out of her brother. Sometimes her daddy is home to save her, but usually he's at work. So this is my plan: we wake up at 7am every day, eat breakfast and play and have a snack blah blah, eat lunch at 12pm, read a book or two, then take a nap at 1pm. Hopefully for an hour. Hopefully today was the only day where she screams for 30 minutes before falling asleep. Although, she is now crawling back into bed instead of passing out on the floor. It's a huge accomplishment.

And tomorrow. Well, tomorrow we take Jasper BACK to the ENT specialist. I haven't spoke of this yet, but my poor little boy is suffering from sleep apnea. We tried a nasal spray in hopes it'd decrease the size of his adenoids, but it failed. We assume this is due to adenoids so tomorrow he's getting an x-ray. We'll go from there. If he needs surgery to remove them, then we'll do that. Not even a year old and possibly having yet another surgery. I still need to write about his first. I'll do that at some point.

For now, while the devil sleeps in her room and the angel snores on the couch, I'm folding laundry. Before they wake up and trample through them.

I'm fine, I promise

You know how when a woman responds with "I'm fine," and 9 times out of 10 she really isn't? I was always that woman. And for the first time in a year and half, I feel like I really am okay. Everything will be okay.

November 11th, 2011. Not only is it the neatest date known to man, it is also Veterans Day. And not only that, it is also the day that we should be celebrating Braylons first Birthday. If you're unaware, Braylon is our second child. He was born into Heaven in March of 2010. I've had the most difficult time trying to grasp this miscarriage. I have battled with myself since it happened, beating myself up over what I could have done. I have blamed myself and I have neglected to love my children on Earth with me to my fullest. But I feel like that's all changed. This time last year I was in tears all day. I was sulking, feeling sorry for myself and I was missing you, wanting you in my arms. But this year is different. This year, I baked an angel food cake (okay, it was horrible but I tried) and I cooked my favorite comfort meal for dinner. And I spent the day loving and playing with your siblings. You've only crossed my mind twice today. Once this morning when I woke up, and now as I type this. This is a huge stepping stone for me. I am realizing that letting go doesn't mean that I have to forget. I just need to move on while still loving you.

I got to let you go last month. ForeverParents hosted a balloon release on National Infant Loss and Miscarriage Day. I attended that balloon release and I finally got to choose to let you go. I got to prepare and I sent you to Heaven. And I had high hopes that it would help me get over this grieving stage I still find myself trapped in. I thought they were too high of hopes. But I was wrong. It has helped. It has helped tremendously.
I am enjoying your big sister. She, who made me realize that life must go on. When I lost you, I needed to be strong for her so I survived. I am enjoying your baby brother. My rainbow. I can't tell you where I'd be right now if it weren't for him. I lost all hope and faith until he came along so miraculously. And I love you. I still think about you, but only on occasion. And I refuse to feel bad for that. I think it's supposed to be this way.

Note to self: It is okay. It is okay to let time pass without missing our Baby Bean. It is okay to enjoy life. It is okay to move on. I will never forget, and I will never ever stop loving or missing you. But I will go a few days, weeks, or maybe even months without haunting myself with the moment I lost you. And it's okay to do so. You are in God's hands and you are okay. I am okay. I'm fine, I promise.

My name is Lindsay, and I have water on my brain.

The "R" word. I'll spell it out for those who aren't sure (because there's so many words that should be unspeakable). Retarded. It makes me cringe even just spelling it out. It's one of those terms that are thrown around so loosely, and in the most ridiculous ways too. You don't like something so that makes it r'ed? Somebody says something that doesn't make sense, so they're r'ed? Someone is in a wheel chair who obviously has a medical condition that honestly makes them suffer from retardation and it shows. Do you blurt out that r word to their faces? GOD I HOPE NOT. So why throw it around in front of others who you don't know?

I suffer from Hydrocephalus. Excuse me, let me rephrase. I am a SURVIVOR of Hydrocephalus. I assume that you didn't bother with clicking the link. Let me explain:

Hydrocephalus is a condition that effects the brain. It is a condition in which the ventricles are enlarged and there is an overabundance of spinal fluid in the brain. Those who suffer from this condition are often called "water heads." Our heads swell up due to all of the pressure and it often results in clumsiness, short term memory loss, seizures, mental retardation, and even death. There are many different types and causes and the severity depends on how early it's detected and if you can afford the treatment. That's correct, TREATMENT. There is no cure. All one can do is manage it with brain surgery. A cerebral shunt. I have one. It was placed into my head at only a month old and it's there now, 21 years later. It has saved my life. I am alive because of this device. This device that carries the extra fluid from my head and down into abdomen where it is then absorbed.

I am fine. My IQ is within the average and I can function just as well as anybody else. You would never know by looking at me that I have a brain disorder. Some notice the tube in my neck but assume it's a rather large vein. Some see the scar on my stomach but don't ask. My vision is bad, and I don't get headaches. Yeah, you might think I'm lucky but I'm not. IF I were to have a particularly bad headache, I'd be rushed to the ER in fear of a shunt malfunction. I also suffer(ed) from epilepsy. That is recurrent seizures. I started having them as a tiny tiny newborn (grand mal, even... which are the worst). I was on medication for half of my life when I finally was able to stop taking them. I have been seizure free for 10 years now, although they could start up at any time. I always take precautions (no strobe lights, no up close fireworks, no flashy movies or video games, etc.). I need special care when pregnant, I require a round of antibiotics before any major surgery (used to be minor too... even routine dental work.).

I've come a long way and I thank my parents and my Heaven-sent neurosurgeon, Dr. Loomis. Here's a little known fact about my doctor - he recently performed the exact procedure on Billy Graham. Yes, I believe that I was in the best of hands 21 years ago because of this. You wouldn't let just anybody perform brain surgery on a man of his stature, would you? Also, fictional serial killer Jason Voorhees is afflicted with this condition, and is ridiculed by the campers of Crystal Lake because of this. Neat, right?!

a "boozle bear."
find me one, and I will
love you forever.

70% of those treated by shunts end up with complications. As stated before, a shunt doesn't cure the problem, it only relieves it. I have been lucky. I have had my initial placement surgery and 1 revision. Technically, one shunt only lasts for 12 years MAX. Mine has lasted for 21 years. This scares me. It makes me believe that one day in my future, it will malfunction. But I also have high hopes and believe that maybe, just maybe, the issue has resolved itself. Now will I ever get the shunt taken out? NO. Because what's the point? If it ain't broke, don't fix it. It's near impossible to get all the tubing out anyways.

So here I am, striving and very much alive. I go about my days just like everybody else. Others aren't so lucky. This condition is more common in underdeveloped countries, and therefore, obviously goes untreated. The surgery is expensive. When left untreated, a Hydrocephalic can survive although requires around the clock care. Because of the weight of the untreated head, they can't even sit up on their own or carry the weight of their own heads. They cannot speak, cannot walk, can't even feed themselves. It's a death sentence. Those untreated, you can obviously tell that they have an underlying condition.

But be honest. When have you ever looked at me and thought that I've had multiple brain surgeries? When have you looked at me and thought that I could have a seizure at any second? Or that a simple headache could mean life or death for me? When have you ever chose not to use the R word around me because of my condition? Never. But it's true what they say: "Don't judge a book by it's cover." Yes, I look perfectly healthy, but that wasn't always the case. I very much could be mentally handicapped (or dead) if it weren't for America, and my loving parents, and doctors.

Stop the R word.

My plan was to post pictures of this condition, but I honestly can't bring myself to look at what could have been myself. But I'm sure a quick google search will bring some up, if you'd like to see.



1. What movie do you love to quote?

"There's a snake in my boot!"  Okay, okay. That's just one quote from Toy Story that I just think is HILARIOUS.

But in reality, I am definitely a quoter of Forrest Gump. "Ice cream. Ltnt. Dan, iiiice creeeam." And did you know, "I was RUNNIN!" And by the way, "something jumped up and bit me, right it un the bottox!" But like my momma always says, "Life is like a box of chocolate, you never know what you're gonna get."

And in all honesty, I use this one on my husband quite frenquently - "She taste like cigARettes." And there you have it, my undying love for Forrest, Forrest Gump!

 

2. Have you ever ridden a motorcycle?Yes, yeees I have! Once upon a time, my mom had a friend and her husband had a motorcyle. We went to their house one night for deer (I refused to eat) and he took me for a ride around the block. I was like 15 at the time, maybe? It was interesting. My eyeballs popped out of my head but it was still pretty neat. And no, I did NOT wear a helmet. Way to be a mom, MOM! :P

3. What's your favorite thing to do on a rainy day?I always dislike this question. What's the difference between a sunny one and a rainy one? My tushie sits happily inside the house no matter what the weather looks like outside. Although, I guess if it's a rainy day, I keep the front door shut because it's too dreary and the last thing I need is for that to make it's way inside this HAPPY home.

4. Do you prefer a bunch of small gifts, or one really big, (expensive) gift?

Growing up, of course I wanted to be kid with the most gifts! But now that I'm older, I'm perfectly happy with just one grand gift. And by grand, I mean going out to dinner or something. There just isn't anything that I want or need or yadda yadda. Surprises are always welcomed because although I may not know that I want something, you might know me well enough to think that I may want this or that.

5. Do you ever lose track of days and show up somewhere wrong?

No, I only do that with addresses. Seriously. Once upon a time I made my husband drive us into big city Charlotte when in reality, we only had to take a 10 minute drive in our own little outskirts. Oops! I do lose track of days, but I've never taken it to the extent of looking all dressy and showing up somewhere not so fancy or anything. But let's face it, that's probably because I have NOWHERE TO GO. I'm not invited to anything, so I can't mess it up. See how that works? Just seclude yourself from the world by being a stay at home mom in a town that you don't know and VOILA! You will never do it again.

I was confused, it was late and I was in a fog

When I fell in love with my husbands dog. (to the tune of "I ran over the taco bell dog," of course).

Because seriously, I have no idea what I ever saw in this dog. Maybe because I was in a house all by myself 4 days a week while B worked 9 hour shifts. Whatever the reason, I actually enjoyed the little shit known as "Kal-El." And I'm aware that I have SOOOOooooOOOOoooo many geeks reading this so yes I will tell you that he was indeed named after Superman. Although, he is quite the opposite.

Kal-el was one of many many chihuahua pups. My husband and his ex for whatever reason thought it was cool to breed them, which is fine. You don't find many pure bred dogs anymore. Problem being, nobody really cared to train these dogs. Sure, they had their puppy pee pee pads but it was a hit or miss type of thing. So when I moved in, THANK GOD B only had 1 dog left. This one. Whom I once adored. He was my buddy. He took baths with me and he slept beside me and we watched Degrassi and 16&Pregnant together. And Reba... he loved him some Reba. And he'd even snuggle up to Paisley while she was in my womb. WOMB. That is such a weird word.

Paisley (5 months old) and dog.

Fast forward. I gave birth to Paisley and awww howadorableshehasanolderbrotherrrr was flooding my mind. He was great with her. He kissed her and loved her and let her grab him and torture him. Until she was old enough for toys. Once toys came into the house, they became his target. The dog's favorite thing to pee on ARE MY KIDS TOYS. He hates Jasper, with a passion. Kal-El was never known to growl at family (besides my aunt and cousins who come over constantly... he hates them for some reason. Sorry guys). And now, PJ can't even look at him without him growling and snapping. I say snapping, althoug he has never ever bitten one of the kids. If he did, I'd be writing a blog about his funeral. But I'm not. I'm writing about my hatred towards him. I'M A HEARTLESS BITCH, right? Wrong. Something changes once you become a mom. I no longer live to protect my pet, I live to protect my CHILD. Ya know, the ones that came out of my own hole.

And in protecting my kids, one must protect their toys, too damnit. This dog has peed on every single item that belongs to the children. He's even recently taken to peeing on Paisley's bed.... yes, her BED. It's sad that I have to change her sheets each night before I lay her down. I don't want to say that I hate him with a burning passion or wish death upon him. I just want him to be trained. I want another family to be able to care for him in the ways that we cannot. It's too late to train him now. And I refuse to make him my first priority. He gets fed, watered, bathed (okay not very often but whatev) and we play with him and pet him. He even sleeps in the damn bed with us. I just wish he would be nice to my kids. "Oh but he likes them - he's just marking his territory." BULLHOCKEY. That is one pitiful excuse, people. My kids have been around for 10+ months... he doesn't need to show his love for them by growling and snapping. And for God's sake, peeing on their toys. Oh hey, I love you so much I'm going to urinate on your fork because I know it's going in your mouth and I want my pee in your mouth because that means I.LOVE.YOU." Now tell me when pee = love. NEVER I tell ya, NEVER.

Note: No dog or any other pet has been harmed in the making of this blog. Yes, he gets that dog behind spanked when he growls and snaps the kids but never tortured. Never thrown against a wall or lit on fire or beheaded. Obviously, because the little shit is still here to pee on everything.