I Can't Even Spell Those Tests...

Today the funny returns. I know, I know, it's been a bit depressing as hell less funny than usual around here lately.

I've made you all cry with my letter to Deuce and my anniversary post. In fact, I'm surprised anyone is still here! Wait, you're here, right?

Today, we will laugh at leg casts, strep throat and brain tumors! HAHAHAHA HaHaHaHa hahahaha....ug.

Shoot me.

So, yesterday was my eighth anniversary. Steve was home all day. You're thinking it was because he wanted to be with his lovely wife, right? No, Dorkfish had the balls to go out and get strep throat on my our anniversary. Pfft.

The nerve of some people.

So I had the pleasure of babysitting him and Deuce who is STILL in a full leg cast (8 days, people EIGHT MORE DAYS).

Between "Hoppalong Deucey" and the "Strep Throat Kid", I was pretty damn miserable. (And we all know it's all about me.) Speaking of me, me, me, I found a new symptom to my brain tumor "mystery dizziness". My vision in my left eye is intermittently fuzzy. I changed my contacts. Nothing. I switched eyes with my contacts. Nothing. I started drinking. Nothing. (But the dizziness got a helluva lot worse with the beer. Odd, huh?) So I called the doctor. Low and behold, miracle of all miracles, they found me an appointment for today.

I drug poor Jennifer along for the ride in case I died so I would have someone to laugh at me with me. We joked the whole way there. Okay, I cussed A LOT and she giggled at my nervousness.

They were all impressed when I had to check "yes" by the box where it asked if you've ever had any metal in your eye; but the belly laughs came when I had to write out that I had a butcher knife in my right eye in the early 90's. (Thanks, Mams! Your "Best Grandmother in the World" trophy is on it's way!)

When the battery of touch-your-nose-wiggle-your-toes tests were finished, the doctor admitted that he wasn't sure about it all but wanted a barrage of tests. By "barrage" I'm talking things that will probably cause problems just in case they can't find any. I have an appointment with a neurological ophthalmologist, a full-brain MRI with and without contrast, a electronystagmography and a videonystagmomgraphy. Seriously, a twenty-one letter word to tell me that my gerbil fell off it's wheel. Good grief.

The doctor also casually mentioned that apparently that noise that I hear in my left ear that sounds EXACTLY like when you hold a seashell up to your head...that could be an aneurysm.

So I called Dorkfish to tell him all this and he says, "You need to find out about the deductible when you're scheduling all this stuff so we know what to expect."

Me: *blink, blink*

Him: "You know, just so we can prepare."

Me: "You realize you're stressing me out and that's not good for my aneurysm, right?"

He's trying to kill me.

But until then, I'll be riding this wave of FOR HEAVENS SAKE, DON'T STRESS ME OUT, I'M A TICKING TIME BOMB WITH THE ANEURYSM AND ALL! (Wonder how long before he starts calling me Edith?)

Between Now and the Sunset

Eight years ago today, I was an hour and a half late to see you. You still tease me about that, but I know you will always be there waiting.

You skydived into the church but I wasn't there to see it. It was the first time that I hadn't been waiting on you to land. I have learned that I don't always have to be there for everything to be copacetic.

It rained that day. Actually, it poured just as I was reaching the church. It cooled off the mountains and washed away our previous lives. It served as a sign that things wouldn't always be perfect, but the sun would shine again.

I forgot to throw away my gum and was horrified that I'd be one of those brides who either smacks their mouth the entire time or passes out from locking their knee caps. So I handed it to my father. Poor dad, always standing in the shadows to hold my gum; or glare at anyone who dares take a second look at his daughter.

The reception was a collection of our family and friends from all walks of life. There were those who flew in from Costa Rica, caravans from Michigan, college roommates to kindergarten pals, people who we met kayaking and those from other rivers of our life; all culminating for one thing. To celebrate us. Our union. Our love.

Your best man had the last laugh. During his lovely toast (funny how men with English accents can say anything and it's charming) he requested all the men in attendance return the keys to my house. Puzzled, I watched every male grudgingly walk up front and place a shiny key in a basket.

There were stories told, laughs enjoyed and toasts all around. We still reminisce those stories, laugh at those jokes and toast those who toasted us but with an added sovereignty for those who are no longer around to hear those well wishes.

Eight years later, we are two healthy-children richer, a life-time of love stronger, and viewing the horizon as a journey with endless possibilities and golden opportunities.

I can't wait to see this sunset and everything in between.

I love you,

Amo

A pause.

I look down at your precious sleeping head, those rose-bud shaped lips that occasionally still suckle in their sleep, and I remembered.

She always told me I had rosebud shaped lips.

I look at the way your blonde locks fall on each side of your perfectly-smooth baby skin. It is like ropes of gold.

She used to braid my hair back and tell me how beautiful my golden rope was.

I brush the sun-streaked locks from your forehead and kiss you, ever so gently, as to not wake you but to share my never-ending love with you.

I wonder if she kissed my head while I slept.

I see you admire the clouds as the golden rays gleam from behind the ominous darkness.

I wonder if she is up there, seeing all this from a different and slightly more beautiful angle.

I watch as you stare at your leg, your beautifully shaped leg, with it's new hard shell and try to figure a way to move about the room.

And I wonder, do you even remember when she too had a shell on her leg? We traced your hand on it. You were so scared and she was so embarrassed.

We are so much alike, you and I. Even our baby pictures are unmistakable, without the ponytails.

When you were born, she had told me this. She said you would resemble me both in looks and temperament.

I wish you could remember her. I wish you could have loved her the way I did when I was your age. I wish I could have loved her with that same passion when she died.

Today, I greave. Today, I miss her. But with each day, I am learning to appreciate that despite all the pain, regardless of the sorrow, she tried. She wanted to be the mother I am. Yes, I said it. I am a good mother to you. You are my littliest one and I will forever kiss you goodnight.

UPDATE: Slacker; but with good cause. (Maybe.)

Wow. Look how long it's been since I posted. I am really a slacker, huh?

Okay, in my defense, here's what has happened up until now.

The first day of BlogHer, I woke up dizzy. Convinced it must have been something I drank (or drank too much of) the night before, I went on and enjoyed the conference. Throughout the trip, I kept telling my friends when I was feeling funny in case I died because everyone wants to know the intricate details of my life.

No, I'm not dramatic, hush.

By "funny" I mean, the room is still moving and I'm pretty sure I'm not. People, it was like I was drunk. (No, I wasn't, again, hush.)

I finally chalked it up to my sinuses, or the cleaner they were using in the hotel, or the carpet padding, or a brain tumor. But when I got home, it was still there. One minute I'm fine and then all the sudden I'm dizzy. Here's the weird part, I can look up, down, side-to-side, and it's all good. I have no problem jumping up from a chair or laying back really quickly. So the doctor ruled out vertigo, my thyroid, anemia, and pregnancy, but not a brain tumor.

They want me to go to a neurologist and see if they can figure it out. See, here's the thing. Neurologists are apparently very busy people. Even though they have 15 doctors in their office, you still have to wait TWO WEEKS for them to see you. This damn tumor could be the size of Texas by then! Which I'm sure means it isn't anything serious or they would have rushed me in.

However, I, in typical 'Amo fashion' have enabled myself to find a bright side to this cloud of despair minor annoyance. I have found that taking your three year old into the doctor for a limp that they've had for seven days now and they tell you that he might have a fracture in his 'growth plate' in his teeny little foot with corn-nibblet toes, and that you have to go see an orthopedist to make sure, you tend to forget about your dizziness.

So I guess I'm healed.

Until he gets a cast and then we'll see if tears of guilt make the dizziness better or worse...

*****

UPDATE:

Yes, it's a full-leg cast. Shoot me now.

My BlogHer Recap. (No, you didn't miss a thing. *Ahem*)

I've been holding off on posting after BlogHer to see what everyone else was saying. Each experience is unique as with any event and I always prefer to let something sit for a while before I write about it. (Yes, I'm a dork and no, I don't plagiarize. All this crap is really mine. I know, I'm sorry too.)

Thanks to U.S. Air and the president, I was eight hours late to the first round of parties. (Yes, I am still bitter about this.) However, I did get the pleasure of inspecting every inch of the Philadelphia airport. Surprisingly, I did not jump, although the thoughts were there. However, the transvestite who had just realized his/her laptop would play music and was serenading the entire concourse with techno rap, did make me question the validity of all the CSI shows I had watched and if I could really pull it off.

Fortunately, one of my roommates, Angie, was not only at the hotel waiting for me, she held my hand on the way to the bar. That people? Is real love.

*****

When I finally arrived, I had the pleasure of meeting some of my favorite bloggers. I especially loved the looks you get when you finally get the balls to go up and introduce yourself to someone who's blog could be your life story and you find yourself with a one-sided understanding that you simply must spend hours with them in order to compare notes and they, in turn, look at you like you have a third eye. That was a good time. It could have something to do with my approach, "HI!IT'SAMOFROMRAISINGOUTDOORDOGS!"

I doubt it though.

*****

Much to my husband's delight, I finally got to meet Jenny and I think his exact words were, "GET ME AN AUTOGRAPH" but he was yelling into the phone as I was hanging it up, so I'm not completely sure what he was saying.

Isn't she gorgeous?! For the record, Mary Ann was taking this picture for me and she's apparently BIG on close-ups. *sigh* Jenny, is just as authentic and funny as she is on her blog. If you don't read it, then go add her to your reader now. I'll wait...

*****

On Friday, I ate lunch with some amazing women. My dear friend, who has one of my favorite blogs, Mary Ann; a lovely Southern belle who I've admired since Blissdom and now love even more, Alli Worthington; my first blog crush and one of the most genuine famous people I have ever met (read: NY Times best selling author), Jen Lancaster; and Cassie and Mary, who I don't know well yet, but intend to because they were both just so sweet!

Anyway, we are all eating lunch when this woman walks up to us:

Fruitcake: "Hi. Do you guys make money with your blogs?"

Us: "Um, no." (Truth: They probably do. I do this for the glory. *snort*)

Fruitcake: "Really? Like no money at all?"

Us: "No. Not a dime."

Fruitcake: "Well then, I guess I'll sit with you anyway."

Us: *thunk* -the collective sound of our jaws dropping and anyone who knows me recognizes I cannot hide ANY facial expressions.

At that point, I tuned out and tried to pretend she wasn't sitting there make an ass out of herself. If you want to read the rest of the conversation, poor Mary Ann was stuck listening and recorded it in hilarious detail. (And for the record, Mary Ann wasn't joking on the 'cockatoo 'description.)

*****

Did I tell you my business cards didn't arrive on time and I had to do the writing-my-name-on-a-bev-nap thing again? Yeah, that's professional. Also, I'm thinking it's becoming my trademark and I may just start doing that at every conference. (You've been warned.)

*****

I found the amazing, Kelby Carr, at one of the parties and instead of a huge hug and a 'I'VE MISSED YOU SOOOO MUCH' like I had been anticipating, I got this response:

What's she saying, you ask? "I'm going to kick your ass if you don't come to my conference in Asheville." I kid you not people. If something happens to me...well, you know what I'm saying.

*****

One of my 'beeshes' in Room 704 had been promising one hell of a party complete with swag bags full of unmentionables that belonged only in one's night stand.

I, came home with applesauce.

But honestly, with the hangover I was sporting the next day, I called it a win.

*****

Stay tuned and I'll fill you in on the juicy details of the party at Poppy Buxom's roof-top condo. Don't worry, there will be pictures...(No, I wouldn't be jealous either.)

So You Think You Can Dance, Dorkfish?

Lately, I've been working on my fat ass girly figure since I can no longer blame the extra twenty twenty pounds I've been carrying around as 'baby weight'. The 'baby' is over three years old.

Ahem.

So I tried on a pair of pants this morning that I've been hoarding in my closet for a few months (years) and I modeled them for two of my neighbors who insisted not only did the fit well, they made my butt look "AH Mazing!" (Exact words there, people.) They did add that a nice 'flowing shirt' would 'soften the waistline' which I think means 'hide your muffin top'.

When Steve got home, I squeezed slid back into them to show him my minor achievement. His reaction? A sly smirk and then, "Those neighbors aren't your friends."

But don't worry, I played dumb when he insisted that our gas bill was low because I had turned off the AC most of the month. I suggested he call my father (Mr. HVAC) for clarification.

Touche, Mr. Dorkfish.

Weekly Lessons LEARNED

1. When your grandmother comes to visit and is offering up little parental advice gems such as 'if you don't dry his hair, he's going to wake up with a cold after sleeping under that ceiling fan' and you choose to ignore them...the child will, in fact, have a fever the next day.

2. That fever? It's going to last for DAYS AND DAYS just so she can remind you every. single. day.

3. The purchase of a url* (www.raisingoutdoordogs.com) does not guarantee one is going to be smart enough to set it up on their own. However, having good support and wonderful friends who still like you even when you repeatedly say 'bad words' in front of their child, are truly priceless. (VDog, I owe you one next week!)

4. No matter how many times you attempt to explain to your grandmother that your not playing on the computer but are actually working on something (see number 3); she will insist you are avoiding your children on purpose.

5. Avoiding one's children on purpose is wrong.

6. If you choose to avoid your children on purpose, things happen:


7. Toothpaste will remove sharpie from hardwood floors.

8. Sunscreen will remove sharpie from skin.

9. Tears will remove sunscreen from eyes.

10. Your son will blame you for the burning pain in his eyes and when it all subsides and you tell him that it wasn't actually your fault his eyes hurt since you were just trying to help and that he should apologize, he will respond, "Momma, I'm sorry you had to hurt my eyes."

11. That makes you an ass.



*****
P.S. My blog's new url is www.raisingoutdoordogs.com. Please change your reader and tell your friends! ;)