Patient Update

I have about 10 minutes before I have to pick FrogBoy up from school...so I thought I'd take a minute to pass along the SuperHubby update.

The surgery went very well. It was rough at first, because of course they had difficulty getting an IV going. They ended up getting a very late start, so much so that SH sent a nurse out to make sure I wasn't in panic mode in the waiting area. Sadly, I just wanted breakfast.

The ENT said he couldn't have asked for the surgery to go any better and he believes he has repaired all the leaks in the inner ear. He was very fortunate to be able to go through the ear canal rather than having to slice the ear, fold it back and go in that way. Okay, I'll wait for everyone to recover from that last little tidbit.

Surgery was right at 2 hours, as planned. Saw SH after, he was complaining of nausea and pain, which are both normal after surgery of any sort for him. He wasn't acting like he normally does when he's complaining of nausea and pain though, so I think he may have still be under the influence. He wasn't making much sense. He did manage to squeeze out "What did he say" and "What are my vitals" about a gazillion times - so he's normal.

The biggest concern for SH now is that he may have to stay in the hospital an extra day, and that is stressing him in a big way. I have tried to calm him down but so far it hasn't worked. Of course, I left him sleeping so he may not remember it at this point.

Spanky did amazingly well with the whole surgery thing. He even went to the gift shop - with no money - and came back with a gift for me and change! He never ceases to amaze me!

Off to get FrogBoy from school. Thanks for all the prayers. Scott's daughter Coleman did well too - check out his blog for details on her recovery!

Stuff I Need (Apparently)

My sis-in-law had a fun post about googling yourself and coming up with a list of things you "need." The exercise sounded a little familiar, but I thought it might be fun to try again. I was quickly reminded why it sounded familiar - I participated in November 2005 when Geoff offered the same suggestion. What was really funny was that only 2 entries have found their way to Google since that time. So, without further ado, my list of "Lori needs" - dating back to November 2005 but updated to present day

1. Lori needs to vent.
2. Lori needs sunglasses for all those candles. (ok, that was just cruel)
3. Lori needs our help and support now more than ever.
4. Lori needs a change.
5. Lori needs to cut her mom some slack. (no comment from the peanut gallery)
6. Lori needs to let herself off the hook. If her house is fairly clean and organized, great. It doesn't need to be perfect. (Amen, sister!)
7. Lori needs help moving.
8. Lori needs ideas and volunteers. (she will, of course, ignore both)
9. Lori needs to be aware of her own anger and how it is affecting her. (for the last *^#* time, I'm not angry!)
10. Lori needs 1 more year to finish med school. (see, all those trips to MUSC are actually paying off!)
11. Lori needs to do a lot more shopping. (but seriously, don't we all?!)

This is a slightly stressful week. SH has surgery, I have to fight the good fight with Spanky and school, FrogBoy's birthday is in 1 week and I have to figure out how to make everything normal and great for everyone. My friends are going through surgery with their daughter. I cried at work last week. So this was a nice little break from reality.

Pray for Coleman

FYI - to everyone praying for Coleman's heart surgery - it has been moved to Wednesday instead of Thursday.

Power of Prayer

So I recently posted about friends of mine whose daughter is having heart surgery next week. Not really knowing much about computers or cell phones or anything more than turning on a light switch, I managed to include a link to a blog they started to keep everyone updated on her recovery. I logged on this morning and was so excited...they had 18 people comment that they were praying, and 3 came from my post! (I know this because 2 were related to me, and 1 was a blog I read from my sis-in-law's blog). Whew! It was so cool to see how we're all so connected.

Anyway - I realized that I could use this to my benefit. The Fitzgeralds are in need of a wee bit of prayer ourselves these days. SuperHubby is having surgery next week, and we of course would cherish prayers for an easy procedure, quick recovery, and no meltdowns from children or Mommy. We also have a request for Spanky and his school situation.

Here's the back story for anyone who doesn't know it: The first 6 years of Spanky's school career, he attended school in Mt. Pleasant because the school board had pity on us and agreed to let him cross zones due to hardship in our family (SH's medical condition being the best selling point there). It was a struggle each year to get the boys in the Mt P schools, but the school board finally decided that once you were approved, you could stay in your school until you completed the final grade that school had to offer. That would mean appealing to the school board 3 times in your child's life, tops.

This past year, Spanky started middle school. I tried to get him there with the letter writing campaign. Nothing. Then I learned that the school we were districted for in North Charleston was a No Child Left Behind School, which meant that the school was so bad, he didn't have to attend there if I didn't want him to. I had my choice of 3 schools (none were the school we wanted, but we decided to settle on the best of the Mt P schools). Long story - but we got into the school we originally wanted - even though it wasn't even on the list! Yeah God!

So Spanky has been happily attending the school of our choice this past year. But we moved to Mt P ... and we're not zoned for that school. So now I have to appeal to the school board again. And pray that they have pity on our situation. Or at least are incredibly impressed by my letter writing abilities. I have emailed the principal at the school we want to stay at, and she has agreed to sign off on letting him stay there; but technically, she has no power to grant that request, and it has to go before the school board. And they aren't the most sensitive.

So, I figured since at least 3 people read my blog and are praying for friends of mine, I can post this and ask that those same 3 people pray for the next 2 years of Spanky's school career.

Thanks, and I promise to blog about something fun soon.

What a Croc

Am I the only one who pays attention to the news? Someone else must have heard of this story.

Seems there was this 3rd grade class field trip in China, and they took the kids to the zoo. One of the little boys, 8 years old (same as FrogBoy, to keep it in perspective), thought taunting a crocodile would be a good idea. He was encouraged by his many friends. The taunting consisted of climbing into the enclosed croc area and throwing things at the animals. (Did he stop to even think about why it was fenced? I doubt it.) I believe the boy's name was Sum Dum Kid.

Long story short, a couple of his buddies go running to the teacher and a park guide because Sum Dum Kid was missing. Guess where he was last seen? Oh, yeah, he went missing from the croc display. And the crocs seemed incredibly happy. They lure them out of the water with a pork chop and the first one that falls for the trick gets sliced open. And lo and behold, they find Sum Dum Kid. Yuck.

Moral of the story? If you're going to throw things at crocodiles, do it from behind the fence. That's why it's there.

Special Request

I have a couple of really great friends, Scott and Meghan, who are about to go through what I would imagine to be the most difficult time in a parent's life: major surgery for their child. FrogBoy had semi-major surgery when he was 10 months old and I was a basket case...but their daughter is going to have heart surgery the day after she turns 6 months old.

I've passed along a lot of prayer requests for Coleman and her parents since she was born...and I thought that this would be a great way to get the word out to the 4 or 5 people who might be reading my blog. Please visit the family's blog at http://tacjcm.blogspot.com for a description of the surgery and specific prayer requests. They will also be posting updates on Coleman's surgery - which I think is super cool.

Her surgery is scheduled for May 31.
And if anyone thinks about it, SH is having ear surgery May 30 - so please add him to your list as well.

Blog U

In the past few weeks, my family has gotten a high-speed internet connection, we've killed our landline and all gone to cell phones, and I've finally managed to tame my issues with Blogger. I'm not 100% certain of anything I just said, but my smart friends have told me it's all good.

Unfortunately, I'm not at all computer savvy. I'd like to update my blog a bit - give it a fresh new look - but I don't have a clue how to do it. My most recent accomplishment has been to include pictures. Wow.

So...I know there are people out there who can tell me...without all the extra verbiage that instructions tend to have...how to...

1. link to someone else's blog in the text of my post (Shawn has given me the tutorial on this many times, and I'm sure he'll grit his teeth when he reads this, but I can't for the life of me remember)
2. list other blogs that I read on the side of my blog. Everyone does this. Except me. And I read several blogs - most of which are pretty entertaining.
3. Include a picture in my profile. I'm sure everyone would love that, but I can't figure it out.

Blogger recently sent me an email telling me I could update the look of my blog to make it new and fresh. I can't handle the old template, much less a new one. Are they trying to stress me out?

I usually don't post expecting anyone to reply, but this time I'm really hoping someone will. I just pray that it's someone smart.

This was taken last May when my grandmother was visiting from Texas. It takes an event to get a picture of the 4 of us together. Anyway, I love this picture, particularly the look on Spanky's face.

Out on a Limb

Recently the Fitzgerald household has decided to join the rest of the world in upgrading our gizmos and thingamajigs. We have ditched our landline and gone high speed internet, baby!

If this didn't sound so pathetic, it would be really cool. Of course, everyone else in this country (and some in 3rd world countries) did this many moons ago, which just shows how resistant to change I am.

So now I can actually access my work email from home without doing a load of laundry while waiting for it to come up (full load - wash and dry). It's actually so fast, I emailed my boss earlier today, checked 1 teeny tiny email, and he emailed me back. Technology.

Since we were losing the landline, I decided we needed to upgrade to good cell phones. What does that mean? Glad you asked. It means that I am now sporting a super sexy pink RAZR, SuperHubby has a black RAZR, and Spanky & FrogBoy inherited my old phone (which was in pretty good shape, thank you very much) as their "house phone." It also means that while we are all incredibly impressed with ourselves, we spend quite a bit of time calling people back after we inadvertantly hang up on them, because we haven't the slightest idea how to work these new phones. But we're cool.

It's been a couple of weeks with the new phones, and SH got the internet working today. I give it until this weekend, and if all's still going well, I'll cancel the landline. Old habits die hard.

Show Me Some Love

Found out yesterday that SuperHubby has to have a little ear surgery. We actually have known this for about a month, but we've been living in denial - yesterday it was confirmed that they will indeed be slicing and dicing SH's inner ear in about a month.

This will be SuperHubby's 23rd surgery. He only had 2 before we were married - so his track record with me isn't that great. I am currently trying to keep this information from him; if he makes the connection, he might make me go away. We've been married 15 years this May, and everyone knows how much I hate change.

So here's the thing: When does this get to be about me? I mean, honestly. He doesn't even have to do anything but show up. I have to drive him to the hospital, worry while he's in surgery, eat nasty hospital food, and get him home when he's done. Then I have to take care of him - fluffing his pillows, bringing him sippy cups of juice, cooking him gourmet meals. And I have to take care of the boys. And I have to have fabulous hair while accomplishing all these tasks. (okay, that's not difficult, I just didn't want anyone to forget that I have ab-fab hair).

When do I get some attention? I'm not asking for a lot, just a little love. Just a "Hi Lori, how are you? Wow, your hair looks great." PAUSE. Then ask about SH. I mean really, it's not brain surgery.

I've had 2 children and 1 weird thing removed from my leg. (The children were removed from a different part of my anatomy, in case anyone gets confused). That's all the surgery I've ever had. The leg thing was outpatient, and they only kept me a few days for each baby. My track record with being a patient isn't that fantastic. Maybe I lack the sympathy gene.

Maybe SH should trade me in after all.

I thought it was only fair to include a picture of the other 2 men in my life, Spanky and SuperHubby. This is from this past Christmas, before SH got his new glasses. Not a fantastic picture, but I couldn't seem to find any of Spanky where he wasn't in some state of undress, and I wanted the entire family represented.

Fun and Games

I love games. No one in my house will play with me anymore, so I'm very sad. SuperHubby isn't a game person, and Spanky is 12 - which explains A LOT, frankly. So I've decided to challenge my blog friends to a little game of Lori Trivia.

Did you know...

• When I was a child, I wanted to be a zoologist.
• I didn't learn to drive until I was 18.
• My brother is 100% responsible for breaking my wrist, chipping my tooth, and 1 unfortunate incident involving my eye and a staple remover.
• He was not, however, even in town when I was shot.
• I was on my middle school track team.
• In high school, I placed 2nd at a Latin Forum by dressing as Medusa, complete with fishing lures in my hair to resemble snakes.
• In college, I was almost arrested sneaking back into my dorm after a cotillion.
• At my bachelorette party, I sang "Georgia on My Mind" to a room full of drunk people.
• When I first got married, I wanted 4 kids.
• I can say all 50 states in alphabetical order in under 30 seconds.

All of this amazing trivia is true - except for 1 little item. Can you pick it out? Whoever figures it out gets a prize. (I don't know what, I haven't gotten that far. I really just want to see if anyone will try and guess.)

You can't play if you have ever had the same last name as me. I know it's unfair, but it's my game, and I get to make up the rules.

Whazzup?!

Glad you asked. I've been trying to post but apparently the phone company people have it out for me. I finally got my blogger issues fixed and then, with the massive high winds we had this weekend, BellSouth somehow managed to screw up my phone service. I have spent the last 3 days trying to get help from them, only to realize that it is finally time for me to come into this century and get a high-speed internet connection. And all the people rejoiced.

This past weekend, FrogBoy and I took a road trip to Greenville to see my best friend. The previous post is of the 2 of us at the zoo. I rented a car, because the Suppository doesn't make road trips, especially since we moved within 3 minutes of work/church and school for both boys. If the old girl makes it to my aunt's house (50+ minutes away), that's all I ask.

So I rented a car. Got the "weekend special, intermediate size." Got to the stupid store, and of course they don't have what I had reserved. But they were kind enough to offer to upgrade me - which I totally wasn't going for, being immediately suspicious that they just wanted to tack on extra charges. All said, I ended up going for the upgrade to a Grand Caravan (with stow-n-go seating) for 3 days and it was $85. I just wish I'd had something to stow.

We had a great weekend, although I had to sleep on a futon and my back is still aching. I'm not allowed to complain about that at work, because Shawn says I just need a good chiropractor. Of course, I'd have to be dead to allow someone to touch me, so that's out, but it's nice of him to remind me every day.

My friend and I took our kids to the zoo. Greenville Zoo is very small, and you can see everything in about an hour if you stop and gaze awhile. FrogBoy handles the zoo by running from one exhibit to the next - and that's for the stuff he likes. When it's snakes we skip it altogether. So it didn't take long. My friend and I weren't overly ambitious anyway - we took a 5 month old, a 2 year old with Downs and an 8 year old with autism. And no one was sedated.

Spanky didn't get to make the trip. As I previously posted, he was on restriction from an earlier, unremembered offense. I still can't remember exactly what he did. SuperHubby felt the best punishment was to take him Friday after school (about 1 hour after I left town) to Blockbuster and rent 4 guy movies for the weekend. Now that, my friends, is discipline.

Last night I watched Rocky Balboa. OUCH. This was a good movie, like Rocky was a good movie. Not a good fight movie, but a good way to end the run of Rocky movies. The Professor and I have been discussing this and we seem to agree that it was a far better way to stop doing Rocky than #5.

Meanwhile, I cried during most of Rocky Balboa. The first half I cried because - SPOILER ALERT - Adrian is dead. Now, Adrian always irritated me, frankly. But something about how hard Rocky was taking it really hit me. The guy was a basket case. Then I was ticked at his son, who was a real jerk the first half of the movie. All I could think was "Hey, your dad gave you a cool robot maid in Rocky 4 and this is how you treat him?!" But alas, in true Rocky fashion, things turned around for a happy ending with Dad and Rocky Jr. And I found out that apparently Rocky's real name is Robert. At least that's what they called the boy in the movie, and in Rocky 2, right before she told Rocky to "WIN" against Apollo, Adrian suggested naming the kid after "the father."

The last part of the movie, during the actual fight, I cried the cry that involves the painful, hurts down to your toes tears. I have no explanation for that except that I am a sucker for a Rocky movie.

So - status on my life: 1 trip to Greenville, 1 Rocky Balboa movie. That, my friends, is a pretty good weekend.

The most adorable person I know

And the kid isn't bad, either

Just a Quick Update

I have no excuse - I've just been lazy - but I'm actually at home alone with access to the computer! This seems to be a rare occurrence these days, what with Spanky's teachers assigning a gazillion projects that all require internet use. It bothers me - because what about the 2 kids in class that don't have a computer at home? How do the teachers think they feel when they have to handwrite their reports - and use BOOKS instead of the INTERNET for research? Sometimes teachers just aren't that smart.

Anyway, FrogBoy and I are going to Greenville this weekend to see my best friend and her family. SuperHubby is staying home with the Spankster, who is on restriction from an earlier offense, which I can't really remember anymore. Suffice it to say, it was enough to keep him from going on the trip with SuperMommy.

Hopefully my trip will yield some interesting blog posts, although I have a few in my brain that just can't seem to make it out.

Oh, and there's only 257 days until Christmas.

Have a nice day.

St. Patrick's Day Resolutions

I planned on making my New Year's Resolutions early this year, but then I thought - "Dare to be different." St. Paddy's Day and New Year's are so similar anyway, what with the beer and cabbage and all, and I wanted to make sure I got it right.

Last year I came out of the gate a little strong. I think I said something about finding a daytimer I liked and sticking with it. Ha! That lasted about as long as it took for me to get in the car and head to Staples. Right now, I have 14 2007 daytimers - 3 of which are exactly the same. It's an addiction. However, I said I would buy purses, and I did. You win some, you lose some.

This year, I resolve to:

• NOT shave my head. I actually planned this before that idiot blonde did her little trick. I have FFP - Follicle Failure Phobia - so I really doubt this will be a hard one to keep.
• I will NOT eat a Bison Burger. Several local restaurants are serving these now, and for the life of me I cannot figure out why.
• I will be nicer. To someone. Eventually.
• I will not sing in public. For that matter, I won't do anything else in public either.
• I will sell one thing on eBay (kids don't count).
• I will learn to make my Grandmama's chicken and rice casserole. Of course it won't be as good as hers, but it's my favorite, so I might as well learn. SH certainly isn't rushing out to do it. (He claims brain surgery, but that's really just an excuse).
• I will stop underestimating FrogBoy. This needs no explanation for anyone who has ever met him. If not, I hope you can - he's an amazing kid.
• I will spend no more than 6 months (8 tops) obsessing on the fact that I am very swiftly approaching 40. Not as swiftly as some (read: SH and The Professor), but I'm getting there.
• I will listen to a little bit of 80s every day. Duh.
• I will watch Rocky 1-4 at least 1 time each. This shouldn't be hard. When TNT isn't the Law & Order channel, they are the Rocky channel. I have already seen Rocky (the first) twice and Rocky III once. No Russian yet, but I expect him to make an appearance any day.
• I will blog more. This will require me getting a laptop so I can blog from my bed. I really have to work on that.
• I will locate my waist.

Tee of the Week

I have a thong personality in a granny-panty body.

Bumper Sticker of the Day

Never do anything you wouldn't want to explain to the paramedics.

My New Favorite Saying

I am thinking of posting my new favorite saying all around my house, eye level with Spanky...

Do not meddle in the affairs of dragons, for you are crunchy and good with ketchup.

What I Hate about February

1. Valentines Day. This is merely a made-up holiday presented to us by Hallmark so they can make a lot of money off men who don't want to tick off their girlfriends/wives/mothers. Poor saps.
2. President's Day. This holiday annoys me. Why do 2 presidents have to share one holiday? If they're important enough for me to not get mail, then they're important enough to each get their own day. The only good thing about combining them is that my children only get 1 day off from school. Whatever happened to going to school 5 days a week, anyway?
3. Groundhog Day. Now this holiday I like. It spurned an excellent movie. And yet, poor Phil only gets mentioned on the national news. He at least deserves a party.
4. Black History Month. Is there a reason we can only celebrate black history in February? Why not all year long? Plus, I get tired of the commercials.
5. It's cold. Not 10-feet-of-snow, kids-go-to-school-all-summer-because-of-snow-days, New York cold, but I have to wear long sleeves. And a jacket. At the same time.
6. It's spelled funny. I don't like that. It irritates me.
7. It doesn't live up to it's full potential. Why only 28 days? Even when it goes all out, there's only 29 days. All that does is manage to screw up the calendar for the rest of the year. And how are Leap Year babies supposed to celebrate their birthdays, anyway? Someone didn't think this through thoroughly.

What I Like about February

1. It's almost over.

SuperHubby Returns

After a really stinky week, SuperHubby has finally returned home and I can blog once more. For the 2 people who don't know, SH had a little brain surgery last Sunday (#13 for those keeping track at home) and - because nothing is ever dull in the Fitzgerald house - FrogBoy managed to come down with a virus about 24 hours later. What does all that mean? Glad you asked. What is meant was, that while SH did absolutely great with this particular surgery and was sent home on Wednesday, he didn't actually get to come "home" - he had to go to his mom's house because it was too dangerous at our house with all the germs. Will the fun never cease?

So I spent the past week driving back and forth to the Smurf's house, but only after she drove to my house to babysit FrogBoy. (Oh - Froggie also missed 2 days of school in there. Crazy.) By Saturday I was ready for a 10 hour nap. However, I got the house disinfected and SH has now come home - much to everyone's delight.

So we're all where we should be - and I hope that means I'll be able to blog some more. I'm almost afraid to log off - blogger seems to hate me these days - and I have issues every time I try to log on to my account. But I've got a lot to say (nothing new there) and I hope to post more later.

Back to Blog World

So it's been a couple of days since I last blogged. Actually, a little over a month. A lot has happened since my last idiotic rant.

Last time I posted it was 2006. We have since moved into 2007, which has pretty much been stinking it up all year. My grandmother has been in the hospital for most of December and January - including brain surgery last week (see - SH isn't the only one who knows how to get attention in our family). The suppository died - and was resurrected - twice. Rocky Balboa came out in theaters - and we managed to miss it completely...and you know it won't be as good on video. And I managed to lose a diamond out of the ring my boyfried gave me for Christmas. (yes, the BF is SH)

A couple of good things have happened too -
My blog spawned 2 new blogs. Okay, maybe spawned is a bit much - but my brother and sister-in-law both have started blogging - and they are pretty good. Of course, I can't read more than a line or 2 from the Professor without being completely confused - but he seems to have a geek-following anyway.
I had a really good day a couple of weeks ago where total strangers came up to me in the grocery store and complimented me on my hair and my purse. Two different people. Same day. It was a gold star day. But I couldn't blog about it.

Blogger was having issues. Apparently, they ran out of room, and decided to change over to beta. Now I say that like I know what it means, but I don't. All that was required of me was to make the switch. But I couldn't figure it out. And when I did, the mysterious "they" told me I was giving them the wrong password. But I wasn't. It's the password I used to sign in every time I blogged. I spent a couple of weeks just trying to figure out my mess. And that really stunk, because I had a lot of stuff to say during those weeks.

So that's where I've been and what's been going on in my little world. Plan to hear a lot from me in the next few days/weeks/months - I still have a lot to say. (and right now my family is thinking "right, so what else is new?"

You Go, Grandma!

Some time ago, I ran across an article about a 60+ year old woman who had just given birth to her first child. My first thought, of course, was EWWW. Upon reading further, I was slightly inspired by this woman's stick-to-it-iveness, since she'd been dealing with infertility for over 30 years and had finally realized her dream of having a baby. Then I went right back to EWWW.

Further reflection about this grandma's current situation caused me to wonder. How is it, when most people your age are sitting around, complaining about their aches and pains, making sure they get to the cafeteria early so they can be first in line and get the "good" desserts, that you decide you want to have a BABY. How do you decide that changing your own diaper isn't enough, and you want to change someone else's at the same time? Maybe it's easier - you can buy baby food in bulk. But it seems like an awful lot of work for a person who just a few short months ago woke up in the morning simply to see if AARP wrote today.

Most people this woman's age flatulate in public and blame it on someone else. No need with a baby - you blame the smell on them. Completely inappropriate comments made to unsuspecting waitresses are written off because you're surely out of your mind - after all, you just had a baby. At your age.

My biggest problem with the whole having-a-baby-when-you're-old-enough-to-be-its-grandparent is that this baby will probably be in middle school when you die. And on top of that, how can you honestly expect to keep track of the little rugrats if you manage to stay alive? You can't sneak up on them when they hear your bones creaking a mile away. And if you can't figure out how to use the internet or a cell phone, forget secret conversations with teachers that blow your kids minds.

Still, to this woman, I say "Right on!" You wanted a baby, and you stuck with it for more than 30 years until you had one. Forget all the children you could have adopted in that time that needed a mom. You did it your way.

Precious Children

(sung to the tune of that old gospel favorite, Precious Memories)
(to my friends at DSS - this is a JOKE)

Precious children, how they linger
Will they ever leave our home?
Lord, we love them
But we'd love to miss them
Why won't they leave us alone?

Precious children, always in my business
They're so nosey I could scream
Asking this and asking that
Even though they don't give a crap
It's no wonder I'm so mean.

Oh, these noisy children, what's with these noisy children
Why are they all ganging up on me?
Man, I'd like to shake them
But there's laws against that
Prison ain't the place I want to be.

Precious children,
They can make me say nasty words
I sure love my children
And I wouldn't trade them
Even if they are gigantic turds.

That's What Friends Are For

So a couple of weekend's ago, I took a little road trip - alone - to Greenville to see my very best friend. We've been friends since high school, when my brother felt compelled to set me up to meet someone he worked with so I wouldn't start a new high school without knowing anyone. I don't care what anyone says, that's just sweet (especially when you factor in a teenage boy).

So we've been friends forever. We are oddly alike, and just as oddly very different. Friendship is great that way. I love how God works all that out so people just gel together.

And my friend was 22 months pregnant, and really wanted me to come, so I went to see her. I don't particularly like to ride for more than 30 minutes, so driving it was quite the challenge. I changed my mind and backed out at least a dozen times. It got to the point that SuperHubby finally just said I should let him know that morning if I was leaving town or not. On top of that, I had to drive ALONE - and I don't like doing anything alone. But, she's my friend, she wanted me there, so I went. And when I got there, I was reminded why you do these things for your freinds.

I got up super-early on a Saturday morning and drove almost 4 hours to meet her a gas station. Apparently it's pretty hard to find her house and she didn't want me to drive around for hours. Nice. So I pull up and she's not there. I figured I could fill up the car and save myself the trouble of doing it the next morning. So I get out and start pumping, wind blowing and air frankly a little chillier than in Charleston. And she pulls up. I go over to her car, lean in to say hi, and the first thing she says to me, before "hey, how was your trip," before anything, is "Wow, your hair looks great."

Now honestly - that goes without saying - but how cool is it of her to mention that before anything else? It's no wonder she's my best friend.

She had her baby last week. Didn't name her after me, even though I campaigned pretty diligently - but she's a beautiful baby, and she's healthy. Compliment me on my hair or name your baby after me? They both speak my love language.

Color Me Irritated

This will come as a shock to people who know me, because I'm such a happy, friendly person, but lately several things have really gotten under my skin. It's not like I'm sitting around looking for stupid, mind you - it just seems to be so prevalent these days.

For example, the PlayStation 3 craze. Being a normal person, I don't understand all the hype about a video gaming system anyway. Being the mother of 2 sons, I realize they find something oddly satisfying and enjoyable about video games, but I can't for the life of me figure it out. Wasn't Atari cool enough? I still love those games. But the people at Sony have gone too far. They have limited releases of the PS3 systems, or whatever the current machine is, so they can create a frenzy for a gadget that will be outdated in a year anyway. Grown men sleep outdoors, in the freezing cold, to purchase a system - some for their own, sad life, but some so they can sell them on eBay for 3 times what they paid. So now the children - and the nerds - who really want them can't get them because the price is so inflated. A 24-hour Wal-Mart in Connecticut closed down because of fighting - and one guy got shot. Over a TOY.

Another thing that's on my nerves this week is Christmas. Now, as I stated last year, I absolutely love Christmas and all things related to it. I do not, however, love them in October. Which is when most of the stores around here felt compelled to start with the Christmas decorations. Frankly, I was okay with it then - because it meant the stupid Halloween decorations that had been up since August were finally replaced with something nice. BUT - and here's where I draw the line - we have completely forgotten Thanksgiving!

Last weekend, while I was finishing my Christmas shopping (hate me if you will - you're just jealous), I realized that every store I was in was playing Christmas music. I guess that's okay, but a couple of songs aren't what get me in the holiday spirit. It's more than that, right? Then, just yesterday, my radio station dubbed themselves "Charleston's Christmas Station." On the one hand, nicely done - because everyone else seems to be trying so hard to be politically correct that I'm surprised they didn't go with "Charleston's Holiday Station - Maybe." But they are steadfast and continue to rock out the Christmas tunes every year - including songs that are 100% I Love Jesus. So I like that. Just not before Thanksgiving.

I guess it's because Thanksgiving is happening so early this year. It's still relatively hot here - for most normal people - and the tree lots are popping up everywhere. Of course, in 4 days people will be strapping them to the tops of their Hummers and driving the 2 blocks to their house to have the help (translation: kids) get it in the house. Whatever happened to going to a tree farm and cutting down your own tree?

I love Thanksgiving - it's a perfect holiday because (1) you get good food, (2) you spend time with the relatives, but not as much, and (3) you don't have to worry about the gift exchange. Yet. Everyone else in America seems to think Thanksgiving is just a day for bad football. Go, Lions.

One final word about things that are ticking me off this week: People, if you can't drive a big truck/van/whatever, DON'T buy it! Regardless of how cool the truck, you look like a jerk when you can't park it and are driving straight down the middle of the road.

There. I've spread my holiday cheer. Have yourself a Happy Little Thanksgiving.

Question

Is it at all acceptable to repeat a post on your own blog that you found particularly entertaining? Or is that just tacky?

Can You Hear Me Now?

I have sad news for the many suppository lovers out there. The old girl has been stripped of her identity. That's right, last week SuperHubby took her out and got her a new muffler and some belts. She's as quiet as a Catholic during their first Seacoast worship experience.

Turns out the suppoistory was embarrassing the boys as much as she was embarrassing me. Let's face it, when the elementary school principal turns to check out the monstrous noise coming in the parking lot every day, and it turns out that it's YOU every day, well...the cheeks grow a little rosy. Move down the road to pick up the middle schooler, and everyone looks at you like you've lost your mind because you're driving that thing, and the cheeks are deep red before we make it home.

So the great news is, I actually have a fairly nice van now that it doesn't make so much noise. At least she feels pretty (she's still a suppository, but she thinks she's gorgeous, and that's what really matters, right?). You can tell by the way she drives - she's proud. And we love her.

For those who long for suppository stories, never fear. The gas cap still doesn't come off without at least 2 people giving an assist. The cassette player doesn't work, and frankly, it has a cassette player. The back door doesn't lock unless you beg it, and the windows go down 100% of the time but only up 75% of the time. Choose your times wisely.

There will still be days when I want to shoot the suppository. Today, I like her. A little.

Best Week Ever

VH1 has a fantastic show called "Best Week Ever." If you need to know which contestant spit on another equally charming young lady on Flavor of Love, just watch Best Week Ever. If you want to see David Hasselhoff's new "Jump in My Car" video, watch Best Week Ever. And if you need to know the lyrics to the latest Weird Al Yankovic tune, Best Week Ever baby.

This show is great because they spend a full 30 minutes being completely rude and overwhelmingly sarcastic about the stupid things celebrities - and non-celebrities - have done in the past week. Now that's my kind of current events show.

The Fitzgerald clan is not having the Best Week Ever. We are moving in 2 days. This means we are packing up our lives in boxes and realizing what we own is actually ALL yardsale material. It's been a rather depressing week.

We've learned a few things along the way. For one, SuperHubby has a completely different theory on packing than I do. My theory is wait until the last minute, pack a few boxes, move them to the new house, unpack, repeat. SH isn't quite with me on this one. He started packing 2 weeks ago. And he started with our food. Interesting way to make me diet.

I noticed last night that I not only have a purse fetish and a daytimer fetish, but I am strangely addicted to rubbermaid storage boxes. Ohmigoodness. Our garage looks like aisle 17 of Wal-Mart.

I honestly believe that our possessions are multiplying while we're at work. And they're not even multiplying into good stuff. If I hear "And WHY did you save this again?" one more time, SuperHubby's mouth may get packing taped shut. Of course, it's hard to argue when he's holding up a infant rocking chair with only 1 arm - last used when FrogBoy was 4 and got his head stuck and SH had to saw the arm off so we could get to church. Ah, memories.

So we're having an interesting week. We're moving, life will (hopefully) be easier, and we're making our way to debt-free living (yahoo!). I can't wait until it's over.

How to Know If You Have an Ugly Baby

Helpful Hint: If you're offended by the title of this blog, stop reading now. Your baby is ugly - and you already know it.

Now I know what the 4 people still reading are thinking: All babies are cute. This is simply not true. This is a lie perpetuated by the parents of ugly babies.

I started thinking about this a while back, when I saw Shawn's baby at church. She is by far the prettiest baby I have seen (other than my own baby pictures, but that really goes without saying). But looking at her, I realized something: a lot of parents are under the mistaken sense that their baby is adorable. And there are some funky looking little kiddos out there.

Let me help just a bit. You know your baby is ugly when people often make the following comments:

• "He looks just like you!" (this is simply a way of not commenting on the child's looks)
• "He's so cute!" (sounds innocent enough, but your baby is a girl)
• "Wow, she sure has a lot of hair!"
• "Would you look at him?!"
• "How about that!"
• "Is she always this good?" (variation: "Is she a good sleeper?" - they don't care, they just don't want to be put on the spot about the kid's looks)
• "Aw, what a sweetheart." (another tricky one - but trust me)

Then there are the people who won't talk directly to the parents, but carry on an entire conversation with a 10-day old baby. This is a huge indication that they can't even make eye contact with you because you have created something so grotesque they don't quite know what to say.

One of my babies was ugly. The pediatrician's office referred to him as "The Ethiopian Baby." In front of me. It happens. Sometimes the beautiful people have ugly babies. The encouraging news is that they generally outgrow the funk and turn out pretty cute.

Church 101

I have been waffling back and forth about this particular blog, not wanting to write something that might offend someone. Then I realized I don't actually care if people are offended, since the only way one might be offended by what I have to say is if they are the ones causing the problems to begin with. So, here I offer a few tips for handling church the proper way, for those who apparently don't know:

1. If you can't keep up with everyone else when we're asked to read aloud, stop. If you're more than 2 words off, and the people around you are prone to seizures, you're asking for trouble.
2. Do not feel compelled to answer rhetorical questions. That's why they're rhetorical.
3. If you have a child in the nursery, memorize your child's ID number before service. Then you don't have to mumble "What's our number again?!" every time a number flashes on the screen.
4. Make your dinner plans before service. Or after. Anytime other than during the message is good, actually.
5. Don't try to guess what the speaker is going to say next. At least not audibly. It's only a fun little game for you; to everyone around you, it's just annoying.
6. Don't comment "Oh, I love this song!" during worship. It's not a concert.
7. Finally, but most importantly, when the worship leader instructs everyone to greet the people sitting around them, they do not in any way mean me. This is a common misconception. In my world, this phrase is loosely translated as, "Kiss SuperHubby, don't make eye contact with anyone and sit down as fast as you possibly can, without speaking to or shaking hands with anyone you don't know."

I hope this will be helpful to some of the newbies who have recently taken to sitting near me at church. It's not that I don't like you. I don't like anyone.

Special Deliveries

A couple of my closest friends are expecting babies, and both are having little girls. They both already have adorable little boys, and I'm thrilled God is expanding their families in this way. I'm also very happy that I have boys.

However, the birth of these 2 little ones is causing me great distress. I have to buy baby gifts. And I'm never quite sure what to do when it's a girl. I understand boys. Not so much girls. That would be why God gave me boys. He's smart like that.

When I buy baby stuff, I'm all into frogs and trucks and footballs and dinosaurs. I am not into butterflies and ballerinas and hair bows and Barbies. The thought makes my skin crawl.

My brother has a daughter (also known as my niece). She is absolutely adorable and I totally enjoying hanging out with her. She's my favorite niece (I have 4 others, but she's definitely the coolest). Even so, my head starts spinning with all the girl stuff after about 5 minutes. I'm just not getting it.

It's not easy finding gifts for baby girls that aren't full of ruffles and lace and flowers and all that nonsense. Try finding something with a frog on it - it doesn't exist (trust me - I've looked). You can't even give a non-clothing gift because you just don't know with little girls; they're always looking to throw you a curveball. With boys, if you can't find an outfit, you give the parents a football - for later.

I guess I could get these girls-to-be a couple of really nice purses. Right now that's all I can come up with.

On Target

Things have begun to go back to normal in the Fitzgerald household. Normal, right. SuperHubby has been home for over a week, his stitches have been removed and he's thinking the final shunt revision may have done the trick. I'm back to fighting for a good school for Spanky to attend in August and dealing with the FrogMan being the FrogMan. Normal.

Which means my efforts can return to important issues, like answering some very deep questions. Why do huge men always have itty bitty little dogs? Why has there never been a Hurricane Lori? Who would invent jalapeno liverwurst? More importantly, who would eat it?

I've also had the occasion to reflect on my favorite shopping venue: Target. I haven't been able to spend a lot of time there in the past month, so I've been just conjuring images of the store to hold me over. And I have some observations:

• If you buy clothes at Target, you don't have to apologize or make excuses. They have cool clothes. You always feel like you have to qualify your purchase with "it was on sale" when you buy clothes at the Other Places.
• Target is, in essence, a really nice Wal-Mart or K-Mart. But they were terribly clever. They left out the Mart. Takes them to a whole new level of tasteful.
• Target has a really good marketing campaign. It's just a little red and white circle. Very easy. Very catchy. You know when you see it that it means Target. And it's on all their Target products. Go to Wal-Mart and see if you can find their Wal-Mart products. I doubt it. That's because they try to give everything a cleverly ripped off name of the original product (Dr. Thunder, anyone?). I'd much rather just know I'm getting the store brand of trash bags and not have to think that hard.
• Target has interesting incentives for their employees. I'm still up in the air about this one. The last few times I was in Target, I heard employee radios sound off with the manager reminding the staff that a "secret shopper" would be in the store that particular day, and they could win $50 if they treat said secret shopper well. I personally don't want the employees to have to be bribed to treat me nicely while I shop there. Actually, I don't want them to talk to me at all. But it works. Target employees will stalk you while you're in the store, even if it is only so they make an extra $50 that week.
• You can buy anything at Target - but it has to be nice. Daytimers? Yes, but only the really good ones. Bedding? Absolutely - the same as you'd find at Belk. You're going to find nice stuff, just not a huge selection. Which is a good thing for someone like me.

Target doesn't pretend to be something it's not - they just do it much better than the rest of the pack. Lately I've noticed another trend: fast food establishments that have their entire employee handbook on the wall next to the phone, hidden from their customers inside the building, but completely visible to the folks in the drive thru. Hello - I never walk in. Do I really want to know that they only reason they're smiling and saying "my pleasure" is because there's a note on the wall reminding them to say it? Even if they really mean it, it just sounds fake. But that's another topic for another day.

The Waiting Game

So I've been spending quite a bit of my free time lately in hospital waiting rooms. This has led me to discover that I am a people watcher. And people's habits are nasty. And funny.

SuperHubby went back for more surgery this week. Some tidbits I've noticed along the way:

• There IS such a thing as an external wedgie. It is not attractive. It's actually worse than the more common internal wedgie, because this one's out there for everyone to see. And you can't dig it out, because that's nasty. But if you're fat (like MUSC Guy) it's really obvious, so you really SHOULD dig it out. What a conundrum.
• The "no food in waiting area" signs to not apply to the people sitting directly under them. Apparently.
• You can eavesdrop on deaf people if you know sign language. This is really actually pretty cool. If you eavesdrop on hearing people, you have to pretend like you're not doing it. Deaf people are so caught up in signing that they don't notice. And you don't have to whisper when you tell your neighbor what they're talking about.
• People will wear ANYTHING to the hospital. Now I'm all for comfort. Most days I've sported jeans, tees and flips. And fabulous hair. But one lady was there in - no kidding - pink gardening shoes with white socks, pink flannel pajama pants with candy canes all over them and a white tee shirt. I don't care if you're going in for surgery or not, at least try to dress like you're not 3.
• People come to the hospital like they're going on vacation. I saw more rolling luggage there than my last trip to the airport. It was nuts. SuperHubby comes in with the clothes on his back; I carry them out in a little hospital-issue plastic baggie. What could you possibly be packing for if you're having surgery?
• The length of "the doctor/nurse will be with you in just a minute" depends on whether you're the doctor/nurse or the patient/patient's wife.
• No matter how many different things I bring to amuse myself, I will sit with my arms crossed and a blank stare for the entire time I'm in the waiting room. This is commonly referred to as Lori's Don't-Talk-To-Me Look. Those who have seen it know it well.
• All waiting rooms should be equipped with recliners.
• The quality of the cafeteria food actually increases with the length of time you're at the hospital and have to partake of its offerings. At least it seems like it does. Anyway, they only serve 3 different meals, all made with the same ingredients. Nothing like a little variety while you're waiting.

SuperHubby had surgery on Wednesday. He's still in the hospital. That means it's Pop Tarts for the boys, all 3 meals, every day. I'm on a sweet tea IV. But I learned a few new things this week.

Sick...and Tired

WARNING: There is a very good chance there will be whining in this blog. I would apolgize for it, but I am not in the least bit sorry. The only thing worse than no apology is an insincere one.

Last week (not this past week, the one prior to that) was a really BAD week. Maybe not the worst week ever, but it definitely rated up there.

It actually started while we were on our annual family vacation, which is a blast. I'd tell you all about it, but you'd just be jealous, so I'll save that for another day. Anyway, while we there, SuperHubby started feeling a little under the weather. Nasty, actually.

So a couple of days after we get home, I actually convince him to go to the doctor. This sounds way less impressive than it really is. SH normally doesn't go to the doctor unless a limb has just fallen off. Or he's having trouble with his shunt. Right.

So he spends the day at the emergency room. Nothing. They tell him he's great, good, go on home. I realize these are doctors, but he knows his body and I know his symptoms, and we both knew there was something going on. We had some tension in Fitzgerald house that weekend.

By Sunday I had him back in the ER. He was admitted. Fast forward to the end of the week, and SH has been to the ER twice, has had his shunt tapped twice, had one spinal tap, 2 brain surgeries, and 15 staples in his head (not including the various scans, etc. done on him during his 6 day jaunt at MUSC).

So it's been a stinky week. Still, I was reminded how wonderful our friends and family are. My aunt took my children so often that she could have petitioned to legally adopt them. My brother called every day - sometimes more than once - from Spartanburg, where he was one of the leaders at his church camp. One of my co-workers made me a lasagna (her surgery meal for us - which I haven't had in a long time - and although I love it, would prefer never to eat it again!). A group of co-workers pooled their resources and gave me gas money, etc. for the week. My babysitter picked up the boys after VBS and took them home, then waited until my aunt showed up to get them - the night before he was leaving for Kenya! My aunt and uncle even cut my grass. Incredible stuff from the people who love us - and all have their own lives to get on with at the same time!!

So SuperHubby is sick ... and I'm tired. (I know, cry me a river Lori, you're tired...but SH had his head opened up several times last week. What am I complaining about?)

Friday we went back to MUSC for the lovely post-op visit. Those are never fun: that's when they take out the staples. However, with some concerns we were having, and then the doctor had the same ones, we ended up spending the majority of the day there with SH having more scans, tests, etc. We go back tomorrow -- realizing that we could be looking at more surgery.

God is faithful, but my heart aches for SuperHubby.

Someday

I love lists. To-do lists, weekly lists, long-term goal lists, what to pack for vacation lists...More work goes into my lists than the actual jobs they detail. I love bulleted lists, boxes to check off, items to scratch through ... and then re-writing the entire list, because who really wants a list that isn't neat and tidy?

I've created a new list for myself. Not a weekly or even a daily list, not a long-term goals list or a list of names for future pets or a list of body parts that can be pierced. This is my "To Do Before I Die" list. It's a really great list.

1. I'd like to learn to play one song on the piano. This could be challenging, as I am not at all musically gifted. I can sing any lyric to any song written since 1980, but nobody wants to listen. When I was a little girl, I wanted piano lessons. My parents agreed but said I would have to put the piano in my room. I declined their invitation. I still regret it.
2. I'd like to learn to drive a stick shift. Not because I think it would be fun, but because I think it's a good skill to have. Maybe.
3. I'd like to own a car that I actually pick out and buy. I'm not talking new, and I'm certainly not talking expensive. But I'm not talking Suppository.
4. I want to be involved in finding a cause and a cure for autism.
5. I'd like to have feet pretty enough for sandals. I wear flips now, but I shouldn't be allowed to...my feet are just that ugly. But I would like pretty feet. I didn't say everything on this list was possible.
6. I'd like to learn to cook one full meal (not spaghetti). This is another challenge, as I don't enjoy cooking and don't have much talent in the kitchen department. This is not a desire for myself; it's more for SuperHubby. Plus, it would be great if I needed it. If your children have ever told you, on day 3 of your husband being in the hospital, "Mommy, can we have a different flavor pop tart today?" - it may be time to learn. (yes, this really happened)
7. I want to take my children to Disney. And maybe Legoland.
8. I'd like to be half as smart as I am organized.
9. I'd like to become a good housekeeper (moving up from "good enough").
10. I want to ride a horse. Apparently I rode a horse when I was about 2 or 3, although I have no recollection of it, but we have pictures. I am wearing a hideous cowgirl outfit, which perfectly matches the ones my brother and 5 cousins are wearing. Complete with hats. Even the horse felt sorry for us.
11. I'd like to ride in an airplane without being (a) completely terrified, (b) heavily medicated, or (c) dead.
12. I want to lead a small group. I have the plan. I need the guts.
13. I'd like to not turn a thousand shades of red whenever spoken to, looked at or breathed on.
14. I want to learn American Sign Language.
15. I'd like to teach someone something important - although I'm not quite sure what.
16. I want to have really cool glasses. The kind where people stop on the street and say, "Wow, what a trendsetter. That chick is wearing some groovy glasses."
17. I want to write a book.
18. I'd like to be a foster parent.
19. I'd like to have the occasion to wear my tiara. FrogBoy gave it to me for Mother's Day. It is heart-shaped and has jewels that light up (blinking) at the touch of a button.
20. I'd like to go swimming. In a pool. I haven't done that since 1994, the year I became pregnant with Spanky. I decided I was fat, then I was fat, then I had a baby and was paranoid, then I got pregnant (and fat) again, and I stayed fat. But I love to swim.
21. I'd like to live in a house with 2 toilets, a screened porch and a laundry room that's located somewhere other than the garage.
22. I want to be the best wife to SuperHubby and mom to Spanky and FrogBoy that I can be.

I also have a dream on my list ... That all women will experience at least one fantastic hair day and own one fabulous purse. Everyone deserves that.

History

I've been spending a considerable amount of time on the road lately. Burning up the highway, as they say. I don't normally get much time to myself, since I'm generally shuffling small people to places I would never choose to go if it weren't for said munchkins. So any alone time in the car that isn't spent on the cell is spent deep in thought. Luckily, I make a lot of calls.

However, I've realized in the past couple of weeks that history is a wonderful thing. Not ancient history, like Greeks and Romans and other people who don't speak English, or even current history, like the kind my brother talks about 24/7 because (1) it's his job, and (2) he's weird, and he actually enjoys that kind of junk. No, I'm talking personal history.

Never fear, I have examples. Mother's Day, 2006. My brother and I and our respective families are dining out to celebrate the day. Our waiter approaches the table and states: "My name is Lucas." I look at my brother. He looks at me. We both sport the Salley grin and I say, "I wonder if he lives on the second floor." We both erupt in laughter. I almost soiled myself. (Lucas the Waiter did not find my musing quite so a-musing). Now I ask, how many people could you do that with if you didn't share a history?

Okay, more examples. I have realized recently that my brother and his wife and me and SuperHubby have reached a milestone. It took a few years because they got married before we did, but now the 4 of us have been in each other's lives longer than not. Did you get that?? To me, that is an incredible thing, especially since we're all incredibly young and hot. Point being, we can say "Oh, Dad's just being Dad" or "You know how Mom is" and everyone understands. No explanation necessary. The history is there.

Friend history is just as fabulous. You know, the first few years after allowing someone into your inner circle, you constantly have to repeat stories and remind them why you say or do the things you do. You're forever saying, "Larry, my brother" or "Larry, my uncle" or "Larry, my dad" -- okay, maybe just in my family. But after a few years, the friends are elevated to the point where there's no need to go into detail. They know the family junk. They know the personal junk. And they still like you.

History is cool. The looks that relay a message, which lead to hysteria. The thoughts of a loved one that result in silence, followed by a pile of stories and more laughter. Reminders of good times and bad times, all ending in laughs and smiles and thanks to God. History always ends in happiness and thanksgiving. History is cool.

My Day (So Far)

So it's not yet 7:30 and already my day is one for the record books. How is this possible?

My children have decided that, although the school calendar believes they have another 2 weeks left to learn and play and wake up early, this is a mere mistake and they are DONE. This makes for very interesting mornings in the Fitzgerald household.

The boys have their happy and cranky moments confused. I don't know how to work with this. All year we've been accurately predicting moods and mood swings and life has worked out pretty well. Suddenly, we live in bizarro world.

So this morning, my little one decides he's going to be in a great mood. Which really isn't like FrogBoy. He's not what you call a morning person. Gets that from his daddy. But I digress.

So Froggie is very chatty, which I really can't take, because I'm busy dealing with Spanky, the one who IS a morning person, like me. I can only handle so much happiness, morning or otherwise. And there was a lot this morning.

Finally shuttle everyone out to the van, when lo and behold, the stupid thing won't start. Oh, that's right, she's decided that it's a wee bit too chilly this morning, she's gonna sleep in. I don't need this.

So I'm trying to crank her, she's giving me nothing, and I end up having to call SuperHubby to rescue me from my driveway. Did I mention he's not much of a morning person? Now he comes home, because he has to, and thinks it's a wise idea to try to crank the suppository himself. In his hospital clothes. (for those not in the know, these are his "visiting" clothes ...)

Well the suppository didn't crank, and I realized that she pulled this stunt a month ago, which just confirms that she IS a woman.

All 4 of us have to go to school in the dinky little Nissan SH drives just for laughs (other people's, not ours). Small cars are not good with our boys; they have to sit way too close together. So they're up in each other's faces the entire way to school, my head is about to explode and SH is blissfully unaware (I think he turned off his hearing aids as we were leaving our house).

Top it all off with 55 degree weather in Charleston in May ... and the day isn't going so great. It's just not working out like I planned. And I like to plan.

One good thing, however, is that today is our anniversary. SH and I have been married 14 years. I can't believe how old I am. No wonder I have so many gray hairs. Thankfully I'm adorable and they don't stick out too much.

Hopefully our day will get better. If not, I can remind myself that 4 of the past 6 anniversaries were spent in MUSC, and that will make the problems with the suppository pale in comparison.

Funny

Does anyone else find it perfectly hilarious that Tom Cruise and Brooke Shields both welcomed their new babies (both girls) on the same day? This after Tom and Brooke were so nasty to each other last year - specifically about the entire childbirth process?

That just makes my day.

What a Stinker

Yesterday, being the totally and completely cool parents that we are, SuperHubby and I took the boys on a mystery trip to Columbia to EdVenture Children's Museum. Okay, I admit it, they were just my ticket in.

We rented a van. We had to. We just don't trust the suppository to make the trip to Columbia. Most days we don't trust her to make the trip to North Chuck.

She spent the evening at the airport. She knew she'd been temporarily replaced by a younger, more modern model. (Does everyone know they make vans where the doors open automatically? Wowzer.)

We come back from a long day trip and pick the old girl up. I make a quick jaunt to Mt Pleasant to run to Target (priorities). Then...she sputters out on me. Oh, she gave it a valiant effort, but after much chugging around Mt Pleasant, me calling SH and yelling the famous line from Speed ("Get on or stay off?!") and a lot of fervent prayers, we coasted into the church parking lot and promptly died. Lovely.

So I was stranded in Mt Pleasant, with SH needing me to be home in 30 minutes so he could leave. He ended up having to drag the boys out again all because the suppository was being a big baby. I personally believe she is rebelling simply because she didn't get invited on the trip and her feelings are hurt. She is, most appropriately, being a stinker.

Today she acted a little better. She cranked for SH. I think this is also part of the old girl's plan. Make me look like an idiot. Cranked right up for SH. He didn't say anything, but he had that look. I'm sure he doubted the theatrics of 24 hours ago.

So...whomever plans to bless me with a Jeep Cherokee or Land Rover...now's the time. I'd like it red or blue, but will take any color and paint if you prefer.

Thanking you in advance, I remain... The Queen of All Vehicular Drama.

Happiness 24/7

Last week, the boys were on Spring Break. They have more time off from school than a snow shoveler in SC, so I can't figure out why they need a spring break, but they had it. So they had a week full of activities with grandparents and - not as much fun - mom and dad.

On the morning SuperHubby stayed home with the boys, I decided to run a few errands before work. So I went to Wal-Mart.

Here's the glorious thing: Wal-Mart is open 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. Fabulous.

I arrived in Heaven at 6:45 a.m. (I am a morning person. However, I am asleep by 9:30 on a good day). I was able to spend a full 45 minutes in the store without anyone whining, asking me to buy them things or grabbing their crotch and screaming "I have to go to the bathroom!" (I went before I left the house).

I had a leisurely trip to Wal-Mart, bought all the stuff for my children's Easter baskets, bought a few things that I try to purchase when I'm alone because I don't want to have The Talk with anyone in the middle of the store, and it was wonderful. I was able to peruse the shelves, just to see what they had. They didn't have anything new or exciting, but I got to look.

There was no checkout line. Not a lot of people shop at that hour. It's the best time to go, though, because you get a good parking spot and the stuff hasn't been pawed over yet that day and you don't have to wait in line to pay for your treasures. No one controls your shopping spree but you.

So I had a wonderful little trip. Now I'm counting down to summer vacation.

Words of Wisdom

April is National Autism Awareness Month. I never knew this until I had a child who was diagnosed with autism. Amazing how we live in our own little world, isn't it?

Now I get a monthly newsletter from the SC Center for Disabilities. This is a really cool place (in my humble opinion). They have tons of resources available, and offer them just like a library, only they mail them to you at your request, send you an envelope to mail them back, and boom! You have a little light (ha!) reading at your fingertips.

This month, being Autism Awareness Month, they had a great Top 10 list. I'm going to totally steal it because it's good.

10 Things I Have Learned About Life While Raising an Autistic Child
1. Austim or not, they are still a blessing.
2. There is no such thing as "normal."
3. No two are alike.
4. How autistic I really am.
5. If I stay calm, it will have a domino effect.
6. Don't stay in denial; no one gets better there.
7. Major the majors and minor the minors (or...don't sweat the small stuff).
8. A sense of humor is EVERYTHING.
9. A simple smile can tell me more than one word.
10. Miracles happen every day if you know where to look.

These are good lessons for every parent. Every adult. Every child. But I can't begin to explain how true they are in our family. How many times have I said, "OHMIGOSH, if that's all it takes, then I'm CERTAINLY autistic!" How many times have I thought, "I have to laugh, or I'm gonna cry?" (most recently: 6:45 this morning, Harris Teeter, U-Scan aisle). How many times have I thought, "I wouldn't have chosen for him to have autism, but I wouldn't change him for the world." How many times have I thanked God for FrogBoy doing something any other almost-8 year old has been doing for years?

We've got it so good. We are truly blessed. He is such a miracle I can't put it into words. It's a crazy ride, hard sometimes, but I wouldn't trade it for the world.

Lacking Direction

Earlier this week, I got lost on my way to Target. How is that possible? I go to Target at least 3 times a week. Unless I NEED something. Then I make a special trip.

I blame the traffic circles. Who thought this up? This is a terrible idea for someone with even the slightest hint of ADD. There I was, on my way to Target, got a little distracted, and the next thing I know, the road looks very familiar...like I've been there before...

So I got lost. It made me very unhappy, because I was on my way to pick up Spanky from karate, and I was cutting it close. I try to plan my trips to Target and Wal-Mart with only one child in tow. That doesn't need to be explained to anyone who has ever had children, knows children or can spell "children."

So now I'm running late. And I'm lost. Because by now, it's dark. And I don't drive so well in the dark. Actually, I drive fine, I just don't see so well in the dark. Details.

Personally I think they should change the way they label streets. Do I really need to know which two streets intersect at any given point? I think not. Give me helpful signs, like "Turn here for Target," and I'm a happy shopper.

Or they could do away with the big blue hospital signs and make signs like the red and white Target sign. THAT would be helpful. Who needs a sign to find the hospital? Just follow the ambulances. Or the suppository. Either/or.

I finally found Target. But then I got lost inside the store. It just wasn't my night. Apparently the Target people thought it would be funny to move a few things around. Not the entire store, mind you, where I would realize the minute I walked in the doors that something was up, just a couple of random items so I'd have to search forever and still not find my stuff before I had to leave to get the Spankster.

So I got to go back the next night. I went to the one near my house. No traffic circles.

Domestic Goddess

Earlier this week, in a fit of insanity, I made my way into the kitchen and actually baked something. Three somethings, for that matter. That may not sound very impressive to some people, but to those who know me, preheating the oven was a Big Deal.

I'd like to say that I was baking for the sheer joy of it. That I finally realized what I've been missing all these years and decided to take on some domestic chores. That I have become a girl. Sadly, I would be lying through my clenched little teeth.

It all started at the beginning of the school year. Spanky's teacher is a nice lady, and I realized that none of the other 24 moms in the class had signed up to be Room Mom. I figured it couldn't be that difficult, so I signed on the dotted line. That was my first mistake.

I figured I'd host a few parties. For 5th graders. They're pretty easy to please, right? Well, in all honesty, they've been great. And the parties have been relatively fun. And even though this particular class is big on hugs and "I love you's," it hasn't killed me. Until this week.

This week has been Teacher Appreciation Week. And apparently I'm not the brightest crayon in the box, because I still wasn't aware that I should be in panic mode. Until Monday, that is.

First, you're supposed to collect money from all the other parents to buy a gift for your teacher. Yeah, right. These people didn't sign up for Room Mom duties, and they certainly haven't helped with any of the other parties (160 at last count, but there's 2 more months of school left), so why on earth would I think they would send in cold hard cash for a teacher gift? Nope, nothing, nada. Not good.

On top of that, some wizard at the school decided it would be easiest if each class made lunch for all the teachers in that particular grade for one day of the week. Of course, they used to have the parents bring in lunch just for their teacher every day, so I agree, this is probably a better idea. Unfortunately, I don't cook. Luckily, I have a co-Room Mom and she does. Sorta.

So co-Mom made a crock pot deal and I was responsible for dessert. I decided on brownies and cookies. I've done brownies before and was pretty confident, but I've never done cookies, so I left those for last. SuperHubby wasn't home so I was flying blind. But I had Spanky to help.

We made the brownies. Things went pretty well. Nothing blew up and the mix tasted pretty good. My confidence grew. I thought we should make them something for breakfast too.

I made an apple struedel loaf. More confidence. I made cornbread. There is such a thing as too much confidence. The cornbread didn't look so hot and now it was time for cookies. Thankfully, SH got home right as I was prepping for the cookies.

The great thing is, the teacher's loved the stuff. Not the cornbread, but everything else. And no one died. Which is cool, because I've baked before and it hasn't turned out so tasty. There was the banana bread incident when SH and I were dating...

Now, everything I made came from a box mix. I understand that is just one small step up from pre-made, frozen, shove-it-in-the-oven-and-you're-done baking. But I did it. And I might do it again.

Next year.

SuperStud...or SuperDork?

A few weeks back, SuperHubby had to test for his black belt in Tang Soo Do. For those keeping track, that would be his second black belt. He's so hard to please.

Anyway, he spent several weeks prior to the test fretting about it. The tension was pretty high in our house. It would have been one thing if it were just the physical test. But there was also an oral portion. And a written portion. And it was supposed to take 8 hours. And the Big Cheese was coming to make them all sweat through it.

Turns out the Big Cheese is a pretty funny guy. First thing he did was tell them there wasn't going to be a written test. And the oral part was only 4-5 questions per student. So that was a breeze. But the actual physical part was pretty grueling.

SuperHubby has asthma. Not wow-I'm-wheezing-a-bit asthma, but darn-I-think-I'm-dying asthma. He also has a tremendously stubborn streak. So while he couldn't breathe worth a lick, to the point where his wonderful and beloved wife had to literally leave the building because she was so broken up over the fact that he was killing himself, SH decided to keep pushing on. Okay, so that's one of the things I really love about him; he doesn't give up. But that's also one of the things I really hate ... sometimes my life would be easier if he did.

It wasn't pretty. I spent most of the time trying to figure out how I was going to get SH, his mom AND the boys to the hospital - since the suppository was still out of commission and I was driving SH's StudMobile. I didn't enjoy the day much at all. But he did fine and ended up living through it.

Turns out he passed. Not that I had any doubt he would. So now he's got 2 black belts. And a wife who's a nervous wreck. I guess he's a stud after all ... with severe dork-like tendencies.

Things I Don't Understand

• Why, when you see middle-aged people driving really old cars, do you think they just like classics, but when you see old people driving the same cars, you figure they're just pitiful and don't realize there's newer models out there?
• How can glass replacement companies get away with advertising they will fix your broken windshield for free? If you have insurance, it's free. It's not like the glass company is doing you a favor.
• Why is it they can make phones with caller ID, call waiting, call blocking, and even cell phones with cameras, but they can't make a phone that doesn't make my 7-year-old son sound like a 2-year-old little girl?
• Why do they call it "cheesecake"? Isn't it actually in the pie family?
• Why would anyone eat potted meat?
• Why aren't words just spelled like they sound? Are we trying to confuse small children and foreigners? Do we really ever need a silent "e"? And why would you have more than one word that sounds (or looks) the same, but means something entirely different from the other meanings?
• Why don't they just change the name of TNT to "The Law & Order Network"?
• Michael Jackson.

Happiness Defined

Last week, I had to go to MUSC several times. Now, for those who know me, let me begin by saying this was NOT for SuperHubby. I was there with a friend. A boneheaded friend, who rode his motorcycle without a helmet, but a friend nonetheless.

So one day I take his children up to see him. Oh, did I mention The Suppository was dead for almost 2 weeks? Yepper. So...I take these children to see their dad, and I drop them off. And I'm driving SuperHubby's sporty little Nissan Sentra. Here's where it gets good.

I go to leave the parking lot. Lot G. I'm very familiar with Lot G ... I park there whenever I go to MUSC. It's the best place to park. But I digress.

So I'm leaving Lot G. And the guy in the toll booth, who has been there for years (literally), looks and me square in the eye and says - wait for it - "Oh, are you a student?"

Glory. I understand the mistake. I'm extraordinarily adorable, and I was have a terrific hair day (okay, that goes without saying). But that doesn't happen when I'm driving the suppository.

I beamed at the guy. I told him no, thank you, but he had just made my night. He insisted that he really, truly thought I was a student. I told him I was 35, married and the mother of 2 young boys....but if he kept it up, I was giving him my phone number.

People started honking. I didn't care. I realized halfway home that I was grinning like a doofus and singing at the top of my lungs (okay, I do both of those things a lot, but not usually at the same time).

I love this guy. It may have been dark out, he may have been drinking heavily during his breaks, but he made my day.

Crazy Daze

Last week was an unusually crazy, hectic week. One of my best friend's husband was in a motorcycle accident, FrogBoy was sick (not feel funky sick, but up every night sick) and SuperHubby was tested for his black belt on Saturday (which made him TESTY the whole week prior).

So towards the end of the week, I had this dream. I dreamed about my hair. Now, this is not entirely unheard of because (1) I always have bizarro dreams when I'm overtired, and (2) I do have fantastic hair.

But it struck me, that in the middle of this nutty week, that I was actually dreaming about how great my hair is. With background music and everything. Men adored me. Women envied me. Small children worshipped me. (Okay, so it was a lot like real life)

I thought this week would be better. It was .... for about 4 hours yesterday. Then it all started up again. Wonder what it will be this time? Probably a purse dream.

On the Throne Again

I'm on the throne again
I can't believe I'm on the throne again
It happens every time that I eat Mexican
I can't believe I'm on the throne again.

I'm in pain, my friend
The chiles are burning me up from the outside in
This stuff is tearing up my intestines
Oops ... I've gotta go get on the throne again.

I'm on the throne again
I wish I didn't love eating Mexican
Next time I crave a bean burrito or a chimichanga..
I'm sure I'll be back on the throne again.

Happy Birthday

Today was my grandfather's birthday. He died 20 years ago, come this April 2nd. I was almost 5 months from my 16th birthday.

I think about my Granddaddy a lot. Maybe not as much as I used to, maybe not as much as I should, but a lot.

I miss him when we all get together and someone makes homemade ice cream. I miss him when his great-grandkids are running around like a pack of wild monkeys. I miss him when my dad needs someone to yank a knot in his tail (such a sweet Southern way of saying he needs an attitude adjustment). I miss him when I watch Perry Mason on TV - not old, gray, chunky Perry, but young, sauve, debonair Perry. I miss him on holidays and Grandmama's birthday.

So today I've been thinking about Granddaddy. He would have enjoyed watching me and my brother grow up, get married and have kids. He would have enjoyed walking my aunt down the aisle at her wedding to Mr. Perfect (he really is!). He would have enjoyed a lot.

We're missing out. Happy birthday, Granddaddy. I miss you.

My Life As...Iguana Eye Boogers

Lately, Spanky has been reading the Wally McDoogle series "My Life As..." by Bill Myers. It's a great Christian series for little boys (and their moms, apparently). I've been reading along so I can monitor his progress when he does these major oral book report/presentations that count for 97% of his reading grade.

The stories are about a kid named Wally (duh). He's a gigantic dork, who has a terrible time with everything, including life in general. The stories all have a Christian theme, which Wally has to learn the hard way, of course. We've read two so far. The first was about courage. The second was about humility. Good lessons for the Spankster to learn, and even better when he doesn't really realize he's learning them while doing his homework.

I realized last night that my life is beginning to parallel the books. Not so much the activity in the books, but at least the fact that things haven't seemed to go just right for me lately, and I am feeling like...well...Iguana Eye Boogers. Or something equally gross.

It's nothing in particular. And everything in general. Just can't seem to get out of the funk. It's not a bad thing. But I'm much more fun (and cuter) when I'm happy. So what's the deal? I just don't know.

One thing we determined last week is that Spanky is being bullied at school. Yep, me and SuperHubby, sleuths that we are, figured this one out all by our selves. Halfway into the school year. Once Spanky told us about it. Amazing, aren't we?

Maybe I feel bad about not protecting him more. Maybe I feel bad for not noticing. I know I feel bad about not being able to go to the school and kick this kids fanny into niceness.

Then I have to deal with all sorts of changes going on at work. Okay, not major changes, just where I sit basically, but I'm not really enjoying it. It's not stressing me out, which is a huge accomplishment for me, but frankly, I'd prefer for things to remain the same unless I'm the one making the change. (Ask SuperHubby. He'll tell you. Nothing changes at our house unless I decide it does...and then it needs to happen RIGHT NOW!)

This week we've gotten fantastic news about FrogBoy and his speech therapy. This will make other therapies line up for him and I expect wonderful things to take place. I'm believing it. Once again, we are more than blessed.

Things have turned around at school for the Spankster. And he's been acting like a human (not a tween) for the better part of a week (this morning not included).

Life is good. So why do I feel like snot?

Life with SuperHubby

SuperHubby is so adorable. We've been married 14 years this May, and in that time, he's had 5 brain surgeries, 2 nose surgeries, 3 ear surgeries, 2 oral surgeries, and had his appendix removed. He has none of his original parts from the neck up. Oh, and he has asthma pretty fierce too.

A guy like this should be careful. Maybe become Bubble Boy. But no. I have to marry a SuperStud.

He was a runner when we met; in fact, he met my brother through cross country and track and that's how I met SH. So it was no surprise when, shortly after he started losing his hearing, he decided to run a marathon to raise money for a local camp for deaf children. I was behind him 100%. And he did an awesome job.

Then shortly after one of his brain surgeries (I don't remember which one), he decided that he should run an ultra-marathon. For you non-sports types, that's 31.2 miles. Was I excited? Not so much. Did I supported him in the freezing cold rain for 5 hours? You betcha.

This man is amazing. He holds a black belt in Tae Kwon Do and is a red belt in Tang Soo Do. He's also a green belt in Hai Dung Gum Do (that's sword fighting, folks). Now, there's contact in karate, but he's careful, so I try not to panic too much. His current instructor is very good at keeping an eye on him and making sure he's breathing, which is a perk, so things go pretty well in the whole karate deal.

SuperHubby is a SuperStud. He's an assistant instructor in Tang Soo Do and teaches classes twice a week. Even though he wears a dress when he's sword fighting, he still looks hot in his other uniform, and when he breaks through boards with hand or foot techniques, it's a really cool deal when you know what he's been through to get there.

But now comes the real test. SH has been invited to compete at an international karate tournament in Korea this summer. And while I'm terribly excited for and proud of him, I'm more than a little nervous about sending him halfway around the world, where I can't keep an eye on him. It's as bad as sending Spanky to camp.

The kicker is SH has to raise the money to go to Korea. I may have an out. If he can't come up with a fantastic fundraiser or 12, he's not going to come up with the cash, and I don't have to worry. Of course, I don't want that to happen, because I want him to succeed and be happy, so we've been brainstorming ideas for the past couple of weeks.

So while I hate to ask for personal favors in my blog, it really is all about me, which you already know if you're reading it. Anyone have any great fundraising ideas? There's 3 people from the school that need to raise money for the trip, and it's quite expensive, so we need good ideas. And I'm plum out!

It's not easy being married to a SuperStud. Who knows what his next adventure will be...Skydiving? Roller derby? I don't know...

That's Not a Compliment

My very first boyfriend was 17. I was 14 at the time. My parents were not the sharpest crayons in the box.

One evening, as we were listening to each other breathe on the phone, which is really all you do when you're 14 and you have a boyfriend, Dingleberry pops out with a lovely little word to describe me: Supercilious. Just popped right out with it.

Being a sharp cookie, and having no idea what he was talking about, I grabbed my trusty Webster's and looked it up. Come to find out, "supercilious" means "arrogant, haughty, snooty." How sweet.

I did what any self-respecting female would do. I called him on it. And I was TICKED. Then, being a not-so-smart 17-year-old boy, Dingleberry said, "Oops, I thought it meant hairy." Oh, I feel much better now.

I'm not saying I'm not an overly hairy person. Maybe I am. Okay, I am. However, this is not the thing to say to someone you're supposed to like - a lot. Apparently I'm a very hairy snob. Anyway, we had a huge fight. I'd like to say I ended it right then and there, but we dated (read: telephoned and wrote a lot of notes) for a couple of years. Ugh.

What are some other things people say, disguised as niceties, that really aren't?

"For a fat girl, you don't sweat much." - I actually had a boss say that to me once. Of course, I was about 100 pounds soaking wet, but give me a break. That's never funny.

"Wow, you're quite the Amazon woman." - How pleasant. Again, been on the receiving end of this one. Just because you're taller than someone, and just because he's a jerk, doesn't mean he can spout off like that.

"You are just like your mother/father." - My favorite aunt says this to me sometimes. And it's not in a nice way. She's lucky I like her.

What's the old saying, "If you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all"? Here's some suggestions when you want to say something nice to me:

"Awesome hair." (I know)
"Cute purse."
"Have you lost weight?"
"Man, I should've married you." (only works if you're a guy - otherwise I'm still offended)
"Has anyone told you today how fabulous you are?" (the answer is probably yes, but try)

But be sincere. No one likes a suck-up.

Things I Don't Understand

I've been doing a lot of thinking lately. Not much else going on. And I've realized there are quite a few things in this world that I don't understand. For example:

• Why do public schools feel compelled to take at least 4 days off each and every month? Why can't they shorten the big holidays and make the short people go year-round?
• Why is Hollywood so infatuated with remaking old movies and TV shows? Do they not have a creative bone in their collective bodies? And why, when they call a do-over, do they generally louse it up?
• Why are Krackel bars only offered in the Hershey's miniature variety bag and not as a full-size candy bar?
• Why is it, now that I've started losing weight and looking really hot, that my hair has decided to totally putz out? (this is not really a question, I just wanted everyone to know I've been losing weight)
• Why are all the NFL teams located in cities except for the Panthers, which are based in "Carolina"? That's not even a state. They make us share. The Virginias don't ever have to share. The only people that get ripped off worse on the New England Patriots...They have a whole region that has only one team to their name. (I don't know much about football, but I can watch a game and understand what's happening, which is one small reason SuperHubby married me.)
• Why is it that I can remember every single phone number I've ever dialed but I can't remember my children's social security numbers?
• Why didn't the fashions of the 80s stay in style? (actually - I have pictures - I know the answer to this one)

Deep thoughts for such a fabulous chick.