Lucky, Lucky girl...

I be.

I have three gorgeous boyos, who are happy, and mostly healthy, a rock solid marriage to my bestest friend, a tight-knit circle of a few sistas that would bleed for each other, and a wicked sense of humor (most days).

Which is why I know I'll be okay.

I went to the doctor last week, for extreme period pain. Mine was never very bad, until I had Lucien. Then, it got closer together, and started hurting, quite a bit, on the first 1-2 days. I went when he was a year old, and they found nothing, after scaring the crap out of me, and telling me it was probably cancer.

Fast forward 6 years ( I know, yell at me, I deserve it, LOL), and I finally went back, because at this point, I'm almost in tears the first two days, and hurt for a week before my period actually comes.

I picked my doctor in a very scientific manner. I looked up my insurance, who was close, found their websites, picked the all-woman practice closest to me (don't know about you, but my days of allowing strange men to stick things in my vagina have passed, long ago), and went to the "Biography" page.

"Lets see....skinny...skinny...skinnier....chubby....chubbier! Bingo!"

"I'd like to make an appointment with Dr. Fluffy please"

Very scientific.

She was awesome, totally set me at ease. For as much of a slut as I was as a teen, I'm usually a bit traumatized by trips to the GYN for days afterwards. This was almost easy.

Until she said she could feel a mass, and told me I needed an ultrasound, and a pelvic scan (for those of you in the know...there is a difference?). I couldn't get an appointment for a few days, and as my period was imminent, I postponed until after it arrived to make the appointment.

The Man is freaking OUT. My mother is FREAKING THE FUCK OUT.

I'm pretty zen about the whole thing. I'm really not all that worried. Most things in my life that seemed catastrophic in the beginning, have worked themselves out, most of the time, leaving me better off than I was beforehand.

As long as I don't die, I'll be fine (Captain Obvious!). And really, I am way to busy to have that happening right now.

Stride baby, stride.

I have yet to hit mine.

The beginning of school always throws me. We go from sitting by the pool all day during the summer, with the only activities planned involve how many times that week we plan on hitting the library, to GET UP! YOU'RE GOING TO BE LATE! Don't forget your lunch, homework, shoes, brush your teeth, get your clothes on, "No, you cannot wear that, it's dirty, I don't care that it's your favorite", "Where are your cleats, soccer starts in 6 minutes!", "Get your flashcards, tutoring today after school".

It's exhausting!

IT also coincides with my busy season, shows almost every weekend, and The Man's busy work time as well.

Currently, my house looks like a bomb went off it, of the very messy kind, my children were very excited to have dinner last night, that I cooked, not just heated up, and I desperately need a haircut, LOL.

How do you adjust to all the changes in schedule once school starts?

And counting....

Only a few more days till my dad's birthday.

I chose to have Caleb's birthday party with the family, on it. I invited everyone I could think of, in terms of family and family friends. It will not only be a celebration of my absolutely fabulous son's 13th birthday, but a celebration of my dad's life. I'm still spending some days figuring out how to breathe in a world that he's not in anymore, but I'm getting there.

We'll all crack a Natural Light Beer, and toast, while playing Inna Gadda Da Vida, his favorite song.

Then, I'll get shit faced, and sit in Baby and cry for a few hours, after everyone leaves.

I miss him.

ABC's of Sassy.

So, my oldest son, is in his final year of the seventh circle of hell, also known as middle school. Middle school was quite an adjustment for me. I mean, him. Each individual teacher, sends home a letter on the first day of school, outlining procedures, how grades are configured, etc. Parents must sign these, along with the spawn.

Caleb is, virtually, a straight A student. His two younger brothers are dyslexic, so how he won the genetic jackpot is beyond me, but he's totally picking my lotto numbers next week. I saw him crack a school book maybe 7 times last year?

I digress. As usual.

He's concerned about one of his teachers, his social studies teacher. Caleb was in a class across the hall from this teacher's room, last year, and everyone could hear him screaming at his class all the time. Most letters sent from teachers, are a page, maybe front and back, of expectations.

This dude had a 3 page letter, front and back.

Now, some of them, I completely agreed with. He expects eye contact when he speaks to someone, "Yes Sir" and "No Sir", all totally acceptable. The one that caught my eye?

"When given a gift, you have 3 seconds to say thank you. If you do not, I will take back the gift. There is no excuse for being ungrateful."

Three seconds, dude? Is that 3 seconds from when it leaves your hand? Three seconds from when it hits MY hand? How often do you give gifts, that a timed rule is required?

After that little gem caught my eye, I started paying more attention. I discovered, to my horror, that while he may have firm ideas about behavior, he has no idea how to use punctuation.

None.

Run-on sentences, no commas, quotation marks where they shouldn't be, none where they should be. No capitalization.

I, absent-mindedly, began to proofread it. Five minutes later, Caleb comes over, to retrieve the papers I was only supposed to sign, and starts laughing. He begins helping me, when it hits us both.

I was using a pen.

The paper was covered in corrections.

The paper that had to be returned to the teacher.

The one that yells alot.

Whoops, LOL.

What's the worst first impression you've ever made on a new teacher?

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Conversations on a school lawn...

Lucien: "I wanna ride the bus! Why do have to pick us up from school this year? Jason is on the blue bus now! You let Caleb ride the bus home! Why does Caleb get to ride the bus home from HIS school, but you pick up Aidan and ME?"

Me: "Because I love him more*. Now get in the car."

Lordisa, they're gonna need some therapy.


*Just to clarify, I followed this with a big fat kiss and tickle, so he knew I was joking.

Little Update...

subtitled: Big news!

Which, for a change, is good! Baby A turned out NOT to have the genetic metabolic disorder, but apparently had a stroke. Hold your horses, it IS good news. The area that shows damage is in the portion of the brain that controls vision, but they do not think that he will be blind, more likely have issues with depth perception. Perhaps that's my problem as well? He was released from the hospital yesterday, and has tons of follow-up appointments, but everything seems to be looking up.

I, apparently, *should* have looked up last week. I'm in mad-crazy organization mode. In other words, until I'm done, I'd be ashamed to let anyone into the house, as it looks like it's been ransacked by messy bandits.

So, in the spirit of organization, I decided to hang shelves in the dining room closet.

C (my oldest son): "Don't you think you should wait for Dad?"

Me: "If you were an adult, I'd probably be giving you the finger right now, butthead"

C: "I'm just sayin'..."

Me: "Get in the car, NOW"

I drove to the HO-me de-pot, bought what I needed, and came home, determined to prove just how handy this chick is.

LSS, while hanging the bottom shelf, the one on the top, which had boxes on it, fell, making the second shelf, also full, fall, which fell onto the bottom shelf, which fell onto my head.

Giving me a concussion.

TA-DA!