I have discovered that 11 days post-op is NOT exactly the best time to go out in a stretch Hummer limo for a friend’s 40th birthday party.
And go to 5 bars in as many hours.
And dance. A teeny bit.
In heels.
Plus, when I leaned out the limo’s window to shake my pom-poms, I had to be extra careful. And when I say pom-poms, I’m not being euphemistic. There were actual pom-poms.
And somebody *might* have done a birthday cheer with the pom-poms. I’m just sayin’.
Because while I'm feeling soooo much better in the last couple of days, and pretty much back to my normal self... rolling in at 2:40 a.m. is NOT the best way to continue feeling that way.
Soooo… today, I feel like I’m about to die, or bust a stitch. I’m sore, I have a headache, and all I want to do is crawl back into bed, pull the covers over my head, and say…
“Damn. That was fun.” ;)
Sunday, October 24, 2010
Monday, October 18, 2010
Did you know that the 12 year anniversary is the 'silk' anniversary??
This weekend was my 12 year wedding anniversary. Actually, it was both of ours… mine and Phil’s.
And as he was helping me up from the couch for the umpteenth time, so I could hobble to the bathroom, my arms tucked protectively around my healing bellybutton, I asked him…
“Isn’t this just how you pictured it? 12 years ago? When you saw me walking down the aisle toward you?”
To backtrack a little…and to be altogether honest… our wedding day turned out to be a day that I could never have pictured. I pictured a bright, beautiful October day. A day chosen PRECISELY because it was supposed to be a bright, beautiful October day. Plus, it was the only weekend the Longhorns weren’t playing that fall… seriously, people… I couldn’t make our friends choose between us and the Horns. I just wasn’t that confident that we’d come out on top ;)
Oh, and P.S.?? The forecast hadn’t mentioned rain. Well not until a few days before. Not a drop had fallen. Not a drop fell until after our rehearsal dinner. As I was getting in the car to head home after the dinner, I stood at the door to say good-night to my soon to be husband, and I watched the first raindrops come down. Giggling, I ducked into the car, waved bye, and headed home for my last night as a single woman. The rain started in earnest after midnight.
You know that Alanis Morrisette song, “Ironic”? The line… ‘it’s like rain on your wedding day’… that’s not irony, people. It’s just a sucky forecast. It’s just chance.
And despite the fact that it rained 12 inches in just a few hours… despite the fact that about ¼ our guests could not navigate the flooded streets to make it to the wedding… despite the fact that they actually CLOSED OFF sections of the interstate (crazy, I know!)… in spite of it all, we still were married. And we still had a blast at our reception with our friends and our family. And we were every bit as happy, even if we’d had to stomp through puddles and huddle under umbrellas to make it all happen.
Because it gave us a good head-start. Marriage can be a lot of stomping through puddles. And holding umbrellas over one another.
And sometimes, one or the other can forget to do that, and can let the other one down. Let the person they love most in the world get a little bit drenched. Drenched by the worries of the world. The weight of life around us. Not intentionally or purposefully, but it can happen nonetheless.
But if you’re lucky and extraordinarily blessed, that doesn’t happen very often. And your umbrella-holder holds your elbow as you leap together across the puddle.
And me? I am lucky. And extraordinarily blessed.
My husband is an amazing person who still makes me laugh after 20 years together. He helps me to the potty after I’ve had surgery. He gave me three beautiful blonde-haired, blue-eyed babies, and he makes me a better person.
I love you, Prince Philip. You are my umbrella-holder. :)
And as he was helping me up from the couch for the umpteenth time, so I could hobble to the bathroom, my arms tucked protectively around my healing bellybutton, I asked him…
“Isn’t this just how you pictured it? 12 years ago? When you saw me walking down the aisle toward you?”
To backtrack a little…and to be altogether honest… our wedding day turned out to be a day that I could never have pictured. I pictured a bright, beautiful October day. A day chosen PRECISELY because it was supposed to be a bright, beautiful October day. Plus, it was the only weekend the Longhorns weren’t playing that fall… seriously, people… I couldn’t make our friends choose between us and the Horns. I just wasn’t that confident that we’d come out on top ;)
Oh, and P.S.?? The forecast hadn’t mentioned rain. Well not until a few days before. Not a drop had fallen. Not a drop fell until after our rehearsal dinner. As I was getting in the car to head home after the dinner, I stood at the door to say good-night to my soon to be husband, and I watched the first raindrops come down. Giggling, I ducked into the car, waved bye, and headed home for my last night as a single woman. The rain started in earnest after midnight.
You know that Alanis Morrisette song, “Ironic”? The line… ‘it’s like rain on your wedding day’… that’s not irony, people. It’s just a sucky forecast. It’s just chance.
And despite the fact that it rained 12 inches in just a few hours… despite the fact that about ¼ our guests could not navigate the flooded streets to make it to the wedding… despite the fact that they actually CLOSED OFF sections of the interstate (crazy, I know!)… in spite of it all, we still were married. And we still had a blast at our reception with our friends and our family. And we were every bit as happy, even if we’d had to stomp through puddles and huddle under umbrellas to make it all happen.
Because it gave us a good head-start. Marriage can be a lot of stomping through puddles. And holding umbrellas over one another.
And sometimes, one or the other can forget to do that, and can let the other one down. Let the person they love most in the world get a little bit drenched. Drenched by the worries of the world. The weight of life around us. Not intentionally or purposefully, but it can happen nonetheless.
But if you’re lucky and extraordinarily blessed, that doesn’t happen very often. And your umbrella-holder holds your elbow as you leap together across the puddle.
And me? I am lucky. And extraordinarily blessed.
My husband is an amazing person who still makes me laugh after 20 years together. He helps me to the potty after I’ve had surgery. He gave me three beautiful blonde-haired, blue-eyed babies, and he makes me a better person.
I love you, Prince Philip. You are my umbrella-holder. :)
Saturday, October 16, 2010
What I expected vs. What I got...
What I expected:
A routine outpatient hernia 'procedure' followed by resting quietly at home for a day or two. Add strong doses of ibuprofen, and children tiptoeing quietly around me as I rest and recuperate. And my recuperation would include watching television, reading novels, and making productive 'to-do' lists. I just knew I'd be back to my old self by the end of the week, and have accomplished so much in my 'down time', as an added bonus!
I know, I know. Call me naive.
Because this is what I got:
My 'outpatient' surgery required an overnight stay in the hospital. And while my first (yes, my very FIRST) experience with general anesthesia was marvelous, I came out of it like a bear coming out of hibernation. That is, if said bear crawls out of her cave in tears, growling and squawking at the nearest nurse about how much her back hurts.
I got exhaustion, wooziness, a vicodin haze, the inability to get out of bed on my own for the first 2 days (darn stomach muscles!), drain tubes (sorry... gross, I know), the inability to think lucidly, extreme soreness, three crying children who didn't understand why Momma was staying in the hospital instead of coming home... "like you PROMISED!!"
I can barely stay awake during a 10 minute phone conversation, much less make lists and check them twice. This is the fourth occasion I've sat down to type this blog.
But I also got... a wonderful husband who completely re-arranged his calendar to take care of me... good friends who have called to check on me, brought me cards and goodies, delivered lunch to me and dinners to my family, made sure that my kids are cared for, and don't mind that I practically fall asleep on the couch when they drop by to check in.
Thanks to everyone for your kind messages, phone calls, thoughts, and prayers for a speedy recovery. :)
Oh, and thanks for not thinking I'm a big weenie.
Or at least for not mentioning out loud in my presence that I am a big weenie.
Love y'all.
A routine outpatient hernia 'procedure' followed by resting quietly at home for a day or two. Add strong doses of ibuprofen, and children tiptoeing quietly around me as I rest and recuperate. And my recuperation would include watching television, reading novels, and making productive 'to-do' lists. I just knew I'd be back to my old self by the end of the week, and have accomplished so much in my 'down time', as an added bonus!
I know, I know. Call me naive.
Because this is what I got:
My 'outpatient' surgery required an overnight stay in the hospital. And while my first (yes, my very FIRST) experience with general anesthesia was marvelous, I came out of it like a bear coming out of hibernation. That is, if said bear crawls out of her cave in tears, growling and squawking at the nearest nurse about how much her back hurts.
I got exhaustion, wooziness, a vicodin haze, the inability to get out of bed on my own for the first 2 days (darn stomach muscles!), drain tubes (sorry... gross, I know), the inability to think lucidly, extreme soreness, three crying children who didn't understand why Momma was staying in the hospital instead of coming home... "like you PROMISED!!"
I can barely stay awake during a 10 minute phone conversation, much less make lists and check them twice. This is the fourth occasion I've sat down to type this blog.
But I also got... a wonderful husband who completely re-arranged his calendar to take care of me... good friends who have called to check on me, brought me cards and goodies, delivered lunch to me and dinners to my family, made sure that my kids are cared for, and don't mind that I practically fall asleep on the couch when they drop by to check in.
Thanks to everyone for your kind messages, phone calls, thoughts, and prayers for a speedy recovery. :)
Oh, and thanks for not thinking I'm a big weenie.
Or at least for not mentioning out loud in my presence that I am a big weenie.
Love y'all.
Sunday, October 10, 2010
Six thoughts for Sunday...
Six Thoughts for Sunday…
1. Yesterday my husband took a hunter education course so that he could go deer-hunting. He went hunting last year, but he had a deferral. This year, he had to actually attend the course if he wants to get his license.
And he was worried about the test. He studied. He fretted. He looked things up on-line so he could be prepared.
Him: “ I really hope I do well on the test.”
Me: “Um… honey? Have you *seen* some of the toothless nitwits that hunt in our great state? You’ll be fine.”
2. Turns out that the week after you get home from Disneyworld is chock full of laundry, homework, cranky children, and… laundry. Lots and lots of laundry.
3. Our fall schedule has now kicked into high gear, and I think we have something on the calendar for every single weekend until Thanksgiving. And I *wish* this was one of those times when I was exaggerating. (not that I *ever* exaggerate. Nope. Never.)
4. I love yummy, smell-good candles, and I love to burn them and fill up my house with the smell of fresh baked sugar cookies, or apple pie, or pumpkin bread (funny how I always pick food-scented candles.) But I have to admit that I’m forever astonished at how expensive wax has gotten. It’s WAX, people!
5. Oh, and speaking of candles… did anyone EVER go on a tour of that Candle Factory that was in Georgetown? I spent years driving past it, and reading their roof, but I never actually made it in. Was it actually a candle factory (aka: expensive wax storage facility) or was it a front for the Georgetown mafia?
6. No time for thought #6. As we speak, my husband is trying to pull my son’s tooth with a pair of pliers.
Yet another time when I wish I was exaggerating…
1. Yesterday my husband took a hunter education course so that he could go deer-hunting. He went hunting last year, but he had a deferral. This year, he had to actually attend the course if he wants to get his license.
And he was worried about the test. He studied. He fretted. He looked things up on-line so he could be prepared.
Him: “ I really hope I do well on the test.”
Me: “Um… honey? Have you *seen* some of the toothless nitwits that hunt in our great state? You’ll be fine.”
2. Turns out that the week after you get home from Disneyworld is chock full of laundry, homework, cranky children, and… laundry. Lots and lots of laundry.
3. Our fall schedule has now kicked into high gear, and I think we have something on the calendar for every single weekend until Thanksgiving. And I *wish* this was one of those times when I was exaggerating. (not that I *ever* exaggerate. Nope. Never.)
4. I love yummy, smell-good candles, and I love to burn them and fill up my house with the smell of fresh baked sugar cookies, or apple pie, or pumpkin bread (funny how I always pick food-scented candles.) But I have to admit that I’m forever astonished at how expensive wax has gotten. It’s WAX, people!
5. Oh, and speaking of candles… did anyone EVER go on a tour of that Candle Factory that was in Georgetown? I spent years driving past it, and reading their roof, but I never actually made it in. Was it actually a candle factory (aka: expensive wax storage facility) or was it a front for the Georgetown mafia?
6. No time for thought #6. As we speak, my husband is trying to pull my son’s tooth with a pair of pliers.
Yet another time when I wish I was exaggerating…
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
From Guest Blogger Davis:
"One time I was excited when my Mom and Dad suprised me. We were walking to school like any other day and we met my Mom at the park. I was suprised! She handed us each a sack. We opened them. My Mom said, we are going to DisneyWorld. In a few months.
Okay. We said.
You know what? Get in the car. We are going now.
No we are not. I said.
My Dad opened the car door. There was a bag on our seats. Hop in!
Okay. We piled in. Here we come! We drove about 700 miles when my dad slamed on the brakes. We saw a tornado forming. It never hit the ground. Insted, it went back up.
We kept driving. We stoped at a hotel in Pencicola. On Saturday, we kept driving. That day we drove for about 8 hours. We stoped at another hotel.
The next day was our first day! We rode all of the rides. We had a great time! We went on Space Mountain. All that stuff! We had a great time at all the parks. I was sad when we left the last day. I will never forget that trip."
Awww... isn't that great? The funniest part to me about the 'suprise'? Nobody even batted an eye that I was at the park with a video camera trained on them. When asked if they were suspicious when they saw me taking video of them walking to school, their answer?
"Momma, you ALWAYS have a camera."
Good to know some of my lunacy has paid off. ;)
Okay. We said.
You know what? Get in the car. We are going now.
No we are not. I said.
My Dad opened the car door. There was a bag on our seats. Hop in!
Okay. We piled in. Here we come! We drove about 700 miles when my dad slamed on the brakes. We saw a tornado forming. It never hit the ground. Insted, it went back up.
We kept driving. We stoped at a hotel in Pencicola. On Saturday, we kept driving. That day we drove for about 8 hours. We stoped at another hotel.
The next day was our first day! We rode all of the rides. We had a great time! We went on Space Mountain. All that stuff! We had a great time at all the parks. I was sad when we left the last day. I will never forget that trip."
Awww... isn't that great? The funniest part to me about the 'suprise'? Nobody even batted an eye that I was at the park with a video camera trained on them. When asked if they were suspicious when they saw me taking video of them walking to school, their answer?
"Momma, you ALWAYS have a camera."
Good to know some of my lunacy has paid off. ;)
Sunday, October 3, 2010
Disneyworld by the numbers:
Full days spent at Disneyworld: 6
Number of times we stayed until the parks closed for the night: 4
Rides on Space Mountain: 4
Rides on Expedition Everest: 5
Rides on Mission Space: 1
Chances of me ever riding Mission Space (Intense Experience) again: 0
Days we wore matching/ coordinating t-shirts: Oh, come on… you know the answer to that one. ;)
Mickey ice cream bars eaten: 1 per day
Parades we watched: 5
Fireworks shows: 3
Number of times Davis said, “This is the best vacation EVER!!”: 15
Number of times Davis said, “This is the worst vacation EVER!”: 15
Percentage of rides that Libby is now tall enough for: 90
Number of times that Libby said, “I rode that one time~ I don’t have to do it again!”: 3 (Space Mountain, Expedition Everest & Tower of Terror)
Character dining experiences: 3
Pictures taken on my digital camera: 400
Bags of dirty clothes lugged back to Texas: 5
Number of times my kids had ever heard of Disney trading pins prior to this trip: 0
Number of Disney trading pins we now own in the Linson household: 60
Number of times this week that I wished I could check my calendar or send a quick email: 4
Number of times this week that I wished I could put the calendar on hold, slow down the passage of time, and keep my kids little for just a little bit longer: 1,873,477
:)
Number of times we stayed until the parks closed for the night: 4
Rides on Space Mountain: 4
Rides on Expedition Everest: 5
Rides on Mission Space: 1
Chances of me ever riding Mission Space (Intense Experience) again: 0
Days we wore matching/ coordinating t-shirts: Oh, come on… you know the answer to that one. ;)
Mickey ice cream bars eaten: 1 per day
Parades we watched: 5
Fireworks shows: 3
Number of times Davis said, “This is the best vacation EVER!!”: 15
Number of times Davis said, “This is the worst vacation EVER!”: 15
Percentage of rides that Libby is now tall enough for: 90
Number of times that Libby said, “I rode that one time~ I don’t have to do it again!”: 3 (Space Mountain, Expedition Everest & Tower of Terror)
Character dining experiences: 3
Pictures taken on my digital camera: 400
Bags of dirty clothes lugged back to Texas: 5
Number of times my kids had ever heard of Disney trading pins prior to this trip: 0
Number of Disney trading pins we now own in the Linson household: 60
Number of times this week that I wished I could check my calendar or send a quick email: 4
Number of times this week that I wished I could put the calendar on hold, slow down the passage of time, and keep my kids little for just a little bit longer: 1,873,477
:)
Monday, September 20, 2010
Wasn't it just yesterday? Or maybe two lifetimes ago...
I ask you… who goes to their 20 year high school reunion and practically pees in their pants?
I’ll give you one guess.
But it really wasn’t my fault. Stupid cannon.
A better question would be… what kind of insane restaurant randomly fires a cannon off of a deck overlooking the lake? Well, the restaurant that the graduating class of 1990 chose for our 20 year shindig. I really think they should give more warning when they let loose with that thing. Or at least state on the invitation to the reunion that packing an extra pair of skivvies in your handbag might be a good idea.
So yes… we all survived the aptly named, “OMIGOD, it’s our 20 year reunion!” reunion. I’ll admit… I had a great time.
I will *also* admit, I was nervous. Isn’t everyone a touch apprehensive to see people they haven’t seen for two decades? Doesn’t everyone think about what it will be like to go to their reunion, ‘all grown up’? Having filled out in the places where they once were not so… um… full? Having discovered what tweezers can do for that pesky unibrow? Wanting to show up and show off, and trot out pictures of their houses and boats and over-gesticulate with their left hand to emphasize the shiny, enormous, diamond engagement ring?
Maybe. But if you ask me, (and it’s my blog, so let’s pretend you did), that’s how I picture it going at the 10 year reunion. (But I can’t say for sure because I didn’t *actually* go). At 10 years, you’re still a little ‘close’ to the trials and tribulations of high school. Still rather fresh from college, and intent on building your career. Maybe feeling like you have to prove yourself just the tiniest bit. Possibly newly married or starting a family, you’re an up-and-comer… a mover and a shaker, and a stop-off at the 10 year reunion is just what’s in order to boost a potentially battered post-grad ego. An “I’ve made it!” of sorts.
I don’t think that’s the case with the 20 year reunion. At 20 years, we’re all a little mellower. We have a little more ‘been there, done that’ under our belts, and the edges of those cliques have finally blurred. Grayed out just a bit more. The laughter is not so tight, and imagined slights have long since become the proverbial water under the bridge. We are bemused with our old selves as we pass around pictures. And we remember.
And so it goes with this group of people that I knew in a lifetime that seems a lifetime ago… the ones I knew before they grew up… the ones who knew me before I ‘grew up’… the ones that knew me before my dad died... some who knew my secrets… some whose secrets I knew… long before I was a wife and a mother and a volunteer junkie. Some I loved, and still do, of course… and others? Well, everyone knows how that is. I am not naïve or so nostalgic as to think that the passage of time would erase the gravitational pull we all feel to certain friendships. But I can honestly say that I was genuinely pleased to see every single person that made it to the reunion dinner.
Remember the detention assignment letter at the end of the movie, ‘The Breakfast Club’? How we all have just a little bit of each personality in us? How we are all a ‘brain... and an athlete.....and a basket case... a princess... ...and a criminal...’ How poignant that seemed, and how much we wanted to believe?
Well, I believe it to be true. We are old enough to be genuinely who we are, without taking anything away from anyone else, and also realizing that no one does (or ever has) fit into a nice, neat, little box with a label. We are all so much who we are now, as a result of who we once were. And who we were together.
So, 20 years have passed since we donned those red graduation caps and gowns, and it feels even truer now than it ever did. We are more the same than we were ever different, and perhaps there is a drama queen, a band geek, a brainiac, a football star, a homecoming diva...
and yes… even a pants-wetter… in all of us. ;)
Let’s not wait another 20 years, friends.
I’ll give you one guess.
But it really wasn’t my fault. Stupid cannon.
A better question would be… what kind of insane restaurant randomly fires a cannon off of a deck overlooking the lake? Well, the restaurant that the graduating class of 1990 chose for our 20 year shindig. I really think they should give more warning when they let loose with that thing. Or at least state on the invitation to the reunion that packing an extra pair of skivvies in your handbag might be a good idea.
So yes… we all survived the aptly named, “OMIGOD, it’s our 20 year reunion!” reunion. I’ll admit… I had a great time.
I will *also* admit, I was nervous. Isn’t everyone a touch apprehensive to see people they haven’t seen for two decades? Doesn’t everyone think about what it will be like to go to their reunion, ‘all grown up’? Having filled out in the places where they once were not so… um… full? Having discovered what tweezers can do for that pesky unibrow? Wanting to show up and show off, and trot out pictures of their houses and boats and over-gesticulate with their left hand to emphasize the shiny, enormous, diamond engagement ring?
Maybe. But if you ask me, (and it’s my blog, so let’s pretend you did), that’s how I picture it going at the 10 year reunion. (But I can’t say for sure because I didn’t *actually* go). At 10 years, you’re still a little ‘close’ to the trials and tribulations of high school. Still rather fresh from college, and intent on building your career. Maybe feeling like you have to prove yourself just the tiniest bit. Possibly newly married or starting a family, you’re an up-and-comer… a mover and a shaker, and a stop-off at the 10 year reunion is just what’s in order to boost a potentially battered post-grad ego. An “I’ve made it!” of sorts.
I don’t think that’s the case with the 20 year reunion. At 20 years, we’re all a little mellower. We have a little more ‘been there, done that’ under our belts, and the edges of those cliques have finally blurred. Grayed out just a bit more. The laughter is not so tight, and imagined slights have long since become the proverbial water under the bridge. We are bemused with our old selves as we pass around pictures. And we remember.
And so it goes with this group of people that I knew in a lifetime that seems a lifetime ago… the ones I knew before they grew up… the ones who knew me before I ‘grew up’… the ones that knew me before my dad died... some who knew my secrets… some whose secrets I knew… long before I was a wife and a mother and a volunteer junkie. Some I loved, and still do, of course… and others? Well, everyone knows how that is. I am not naïve or so nostalgic as to think that the passage of time would erase the gravitational pull we all feel to certain friendships. But I can honestly say that I was genuinely pleased to see every single person that made it to the reunion dinner.
Remember the detention assignment letter at the end of the movie, ‘The Breakfast Club’? How we all have just a little bit of each personality in us? How we are all a ‘brain... and an athlete.....and a basket case... a princess... ...and a criminal...’ How poignant that seemed, and how much we wanted to believe?
Well, I believe it to be true. We are old enough to be genuinely who we are, without taking anything away from anyone else, and also realizing that no one does (or ever has) fit into a nice, neat, little box with a label. We are all so much who we are now, as a result of who we once were. And who we were together.
So, 20 years have passed since we donned those red graduation caps and gowns, and it feels even truer now than it ever did. We are more the same than we were ever different, and perhaps there is a drama queen, a band geek, a brainiac, a football star, a homecoming diva...
and yes… even a pants-wetter… in all of us. ;)
Let’s not wait another 20 years, friends.
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