De-Flowering a Disney Princess

Unless you have had zero access to American television or the newspaper this week, then you are probably aware of the broohaha regarding the Vanity Fair article featuring Miley Cyrus, of Disney's Hannah Montana, in nothing but a bed sheet. She is 15 years old and she is naked. Her hair is tousled, her lipstick smudged, her blue eyes bright. She is ever the image of a Disney princess de-flowered. You can't see any of her parts, but you don't really need to, now do you?

There has been a great deal of controversy regarding this picture, some have claimed it to be "art," others have called it child exploitation.

Famed celebrity photographer Annie Leibovitz took the photograph. Some say she manipulated the situation, others say everyone knew exactly what was going on. Leibovitz has always been known for her social satire, and whatever happened, this picture certainly succeeds in the satire department, the bloom is off the proverbial rose.

Regardless of the statement they were trying to make, the result is a child being exploited. Let us not forget that for how intelligent, for how well-spoken, for how accomplished Miley seems, she is only 15 years old; she is still a very young girl.

As the mother to a girl, I think I can safely say there is no way I would ever stand in a room and allow a photographer, I don't care how famous, to take a picture of my daughter in nothing but a bed sheet. There is NO WAY. I doubt I would want her to be posing for anything more than a school picture, but that is another issue all together.

When she has graduated, is an adult and on her own, she can do what she wants. I will (of course) discourage her from posing nude for photographers altogether, but she will be an adult and she will be capable to make decisions for herself. But while she is still a child, I will make the decisions for her and for her well-being.

Not only will she be far too young to understand the implications of such actions, but there is no reason that a young child should be posing. The dangers of such an action are unfathomable.

Elizabeth Soutter Schwarzer, mother, author, blogger and contributing writer for parenting.com has written an excellent piece on this very subject, I encourage you to read it.

She most eloquently explains the entire issue and speaks for all mothers by saying:

"But don't worry, Ms. Leibovitz isn't going to be blamed for corrupting the morals of two more young girls. Because protecting their sexuality, ensuring that they are clear about their own boundaries and that no one ever makes a sexual choice for them -- that's my job.
So if the question should come up and I am asked by my daughters why Hannah Montana took a picture with her clothes off, clutching her private parts, I will be honest:
She took her clothes off because an adult told her to. And no adult has the right to tell a child to take her clothes off or touch her private parts.
Because it's wrong"
-Elizabeth Soutter Schwarzer

I couldn't have said it any better myself.

To my husband on a business trip, my gift better be good...

Why is it that whenever my husband goes out of town, the dog has a crisis and the baby forgets how to sleep? 5:45 am was my wake-up call this morning; a very awake, very chipper girl, bouncing around her crib happily ready to party, greeted me. As I had only been asleep for four hours, I was not in the partying spirit, but she was un-phased.

I got her changed and dressed. I had little to wear however, my only jeans that fit needed washing, and I didn't want to shower and put on dirty clothes. It was also O-Dark thirty, so I threw my sweat pants on under my nightgown, threw a hoodie over my nightgown, I put my jeans in the wash, made Evie a bottle and off we went.

After Evie’s morning bottle, I had the distinct privilege of then attending to my husband’s dog. She had eye surgery a few weeks back, and was supposed to be wearing a cone on her face to keep her from disturbing the stitches. Well, she broke that cone. She actually broke several. We had long ago given up trying to keep the plastic thing on her neck, and just tried to watch her, telling her to stop every time we’d catch her scratching at her stitches. Apparently we did a poor job. She now has an ulcer on her eye. She has a new cone, and eye drops. And tranquilizers.

Since the husband is out of town, guess who gets to administer the drops? And the tranquilizers? Twice a day? That would be me.

So this morning, after feeding, diapering and clothing the baby, I brought her downstairs, put her in the pack n’ play with some toys and began wrestling the dog. I really should have called the neighbors and offered tickets…it really was quite the spectacle.

Every day this week I have watched my husband all but hog-tie the stupid animal, while trying to get the drops in her eye. Then he sits with her at her food dish, begging her to eat, so he can give her a pill. I tried his method for about 10 seconds. Well, momma didn’t raise no fool, I wasn’t about to screw around with that. I called her over, I offered her treats (I am not above bribing a dog.) I gave her a treat, she sat.

Then I grabbed her around the body, swung her between my legs, (nightgown dangling over the sweat pants) grabbed the fool’s head and while holding her in a head lock, grew a third hand and used it to squirt the drops in her eye. She tried to squirm away from between my legs, but I held firm. When we were all done, I gave her another treat, and all was forgiven.

Enter stage two, pill administration. I was certainly not going to beg her to eat so she would take a damn pill. No sir. I got a can of dog food, which are supposed to be reserved for illness only. I made an executive decision that if she has to eat to take the pill, and she’s going to take an hour to sit here to eat the dry crap, but she’ll eat the wet stuff in one swallow, and I need her to have a full stomach to be sedated so she will leave her stitches alone, well by all means, bring on the canned food! She ate the canned crap in one swallow, as I anticipated. Then I jammed the pill in some peanut butter on the end of a spoon to ensure there was no way she could get around the pill, let her lick it off and sent her on her way.

All this happened while the other dog bounded around us like a fool, darting in and out, wanting to investigate, whining and barking, my pushing him away with my foot or my arm, telling him to "back off." The baby watched from the pack n' play, chewing on the rail, jumping up and down, laughing and shouting "dah dah dah dah daaaaaaah" she thought the entire thing was hilarious. Good times, good times.

The dog is now sleeping soundly on her bed on the carpeted floor in the garage, I told her we'd meet again in 12 hours.

As for the husband, well he owes me something shiny.

A day in the life of Evie

Hello!


Take a ride in the pack


Get a goodbye kiss from Daddy


Read a book


Play with some toys


Get ready for bed

Colby and Elizabeth come to visit

Colby and Elizabeth came over for dinner last night. Colby is Paul and Wanda Long's middle son, my "adopted" brother, Elizabeth is his girlfriend of 2.5 years. They are both completely wonderful.


Evie Shows off in her high chair


Evie stands up for the very first time from the middle of the floor


Evie & Elizabeth play us a duet


A Christmas photo to freak out the friends?






Colby plays the Wii

Where we've been

I haven't posted in a while, and for no real particular reason. We've just been doing regular things, going to the store, watching Evie cruise around, etc.

I have been crazy with the craigslist and sold over $1600 worth of stuff last weekend, which was very exciting.

I do not need surgery on my arm, but I do have severe nerve damage, which may or may not heal. I have most of my mobility back, and if you saw me and didn't know me, you probably would not notice that I am injured. But I still can't really feel my hand, and I have very little strength in it, which is weird and annoying. I also have the feeling like I hit my funny bone every once in a while, which is most unpleasant.

Bryan is now in Lost Angeles until Thursday evening, and I am up to my regular routine, watching the neighbor kids every day after school and going to physical therapy. I am also going to worship team practice this Thursday for the first time, which should be most fun and rewarding.

Last night Colby Long and his long-time girlfriend Elizabeth came over for dinner. It was wonderful to finally be able to meet Elizabeth and spend some time with them. Evie enjoyed all the attention and once she went to bed we had some fun playing Wii, a recent acquisition thanks to Chrysler.

Evie is busier than ever and bound and determined to walk, although she has yet to let go. She stood up from the middle of the floor last night, and then just stood there and smiled...she hasn't really done that before--without pulling up or holding on to anything for balance, that is. She just stood up, like she's been doing it all along.

I think she is also trying to scale the baby gates. I've noticed that she will stand with her hands on the gate, and will then hook her toe up on the side, like she's trying to get some leverage. This does not bode well for me.

Oh, and for those of you wondering about the whole cramping thing from a few weeks back, yeah that mystery has yet to be resolved. No more of the pain, but umm...well. The mystery has yet to be resolved.

LOST- Recap: Ben can control the smoke monster?

Okay, so I wrote this last week, but then never hit publish apparently. So very sorry folks.

Synopsis:

Doctor from the freighter washes up on the shore with a slit neck.

The Commandos Attack, kill some miscellaneous people and kill Alex, dead.
Before Alex is killed, we learn that Ben did steal her as a baby from Rousseau, not that Ben and Rousseau were lovers.

Ben releases smokey who kills the commandos.

Dan, the scientist gets a telegraph working, and communicates with the boat, but then lies to the losties about what is going on, luckily Bernard knows Morse code and tells them the truth…we then learn that they had no intention of getting them off the island.

Sayid marries Nadia in the future, but she is murdered.
Sayid starts working for Ben after learning that Widmore ordered Nadia's murder.

Ben can get on and off the island with a sailboat and a heading to Fiji.

Ben tells Widmore he is going to kill Penny in exchange for Alex’s death.

Widmore tells Ben that it is his island and he wants it back, Ben says he'll never find it.

Sawyer and Claire leave Locke and Ben and head back for the beach, Locke and Ben keep Hurley, they need him to help them find the cabin (Jacob.)

Jack has a stomach ache.

Okay, so here are some questions:

How does Ben control the smoke monster? How can he get information on everybody? (remember he was able to relay all the personal specs on the commando before he kills Alex.)
How is it that Ben is able to sail off the island, but nobody else can?
Why was the island always Widmore's? Was Dharma always his?
Does Ben work for Widmore and has become disillusioned? Or does Ben just know who Widmore is? Why does Widmore allow Ben to live?

So sweet

Earlier today, Evie wanted desperately up on the chair with Haley, when we lifted her up, she nuzzled in and stayed put for quite a while. I guess sometimes, a girl just needs to snuggle.

Enjoy it while it lasts...

Chris, of notesfromthetrenches.com, wrote a most touching post today about her eldest son who has crossed over from boy to teen. As he is now in that daunting stage of man-boy, he has apparently declared he no longer wishes to exist on her blog, no photos, no cute anecdotes, “just pretend I don’t exist.” And so, today Chris wrote one final tribute, one final post about her son, the first, the one who taught her how to be a parent.

For some reason, this post brought me to tears. I’m just at the beginning, at the starting gate, just figuring it all out.

Sure, while I was pregnant I knew everything. When we would go to the store or visit others with children, Bryan and I would smile knowingly at one another, full of the wisdom only found in young couples without children. We knew exactly how we would handle similar situations, and our children would certainly “never” misbehave. We had it all figured out.

Now here we are mere 10 months later. We are still in the amoeba stage of parenthood, morphing, developing and irrefutably clueless. Every day as our little daughter discovers a new skill, we discover how to manage and contain her. Sure we strive to give her structure and consistency, we try to challenge her and offer many opportunities for growth and stimulation, but who are we kidding? We are pretty much glorified zoo keepers here.

She is just minutes from walking (without having a part of her body against something,) and when that happens, life as I know it will surely be over.
This weekend, she threw her first full-blown temper tantrum. And when I say tantrum, I mean, flop on the floor, arch the back, kick, flail, scream, red-faced, tantrum. I thought these didn’t come until later, but apparently 10 months was the golden age for us. Why would our precious girl do such a thing, you ask? We made her lay on her back while her diaper was being changed. We’re cruel like that.

And so, as I read Chris’s post today about her son wanting to no longer be documented, no longer be photographed, wanting to just be “left alone” so-to-speak, I realized that one day, my tiny little girl is going to do the same. Right now I make jokes about her tantrums and her lack of naps, but the truth is, although she is exerting her baby/toddler independence, she does it with me less than five feet away. She still wants my undivided attention and she wants nothing more than to be with me all the live-long day.

Although I like to fantasize this will always be the case, she and I will be forever sidekicks, forever friends, I know better. There will come a time, not so very long from now, that her cute little independent streak will be less than cute and she and I will go a few rounds nose to nose. I'll start cracking jokes about sending her off to a convent for a while. And then one day, she will turn the joke on me and say that convent doesn't sound so bad, because then she won't have to be with me all day.

She will want nothing to do with me, and I will have to just give her the space she requires, all the while keeping an ever-watchful eye on her every move.

I am not looking forward to 13 years from now.

In the meantime, I am going to cherish the moments that I have her undivided attention. Now if only I knew what I was doing.

Girl Power!

(AP)

It was a men's sport.

They said a woman could never win.

She did.

Way to go Danica, you are an inspiration to us all!

Stupid Dog...

...she will outlive us all.

*In case you missed it, she had surgery to remove a giant (non-cancerous) tumor that was blocking her eyeball and was generally disgusting, as well as another from her leg.

Although I had evil thoughts and hopes that perhaps this would be the sign that it was time for her to join Spooley in the beyond, I was scolded by my husband and she remains with us, as I am convinced she will continue to do until the end of time.

Although she is old, chubby, confused and neurotic, she is surprisingly resilient.

Like a cockroach. Or Keith Richards.

Don't worry, I already know, I'm not a nice person.

A visit with Paul and Wanda

Paul and Wanda flew up for a quick trip to visit Paul's parents this weekend and we joined them Saturday night for dinner (Paul's parents live 30 minutes from us.)

It was wonderful to have a little time to see them and they of course enjoyed seeing their "granddaughter."


Evie shows Wanda what she can do with her star stacker


Very proud of herself


On "Grandpa" Paul's knee


Paul's parents


"Family" Photo--Evie is in her jammies and is supposed to be asleep in the pack-n-play; she obviously has other ideas.


Wanda and Me

Okay, I already had the baby, so what the heck?

I woke up this morning and was convinced I was either,

a) Going into Labor

b) Having a miscarriage

or

c) Dying

Since it would be (almost) miraculous for me to be pregnant, I determined that (C) was the most plausible option.

My stomach was so rock-hard in contraction/spasm/cramp, that I grabbed Bryan's hand, placed it on my stomach and said "DO YOU FEEL THIS?!?! WHAT THE HECK?!?!""

"WHOA! Contractions! But you already had the baby," he told me, as if I needed to be reminded that it was nearly 10 months ago that our daughter was ripped from my body.

"Yes, I did," I replied. "So why the contractions and the labor pains now, I ask you?"

I felt like I was going to throw up, the pain was searing, wrenching, horrible, "I'm going into labor, there is a baby trying to come out of me," pain.

I came downstairs, took one of my big 800mg Ibuprofen tablets from the infamous arm injury, and reclined on the couch in a heap. I was waiting for my water to break or my life to end, although the latter was more desirable at that moment.

45 minutes later, the pain started to calm down to a dull roar and I determined that it must just be one really nasty case of well, you know. I waited all day, remembering that yesterday, while walking, I was feeling abdominal pain as well. Yes, this must be the cause, my monthly visitor who is in fact, two weeks tardy (in case you were curious.)

By 5:00pm, with still a dull roar of pain below my navel and yet no plausible reason, I decided to take another 800mg of Ibuprofen and then pee on a stick just in case, all the while crossing my fingers, praying to the good Lord on high and talking about how Bryan would be maimed and have to relocate to our friend's home if the little plus sign appeared (It came in negative by the way.)

And so now here I sit on Saturday night; still hurting, still contracting and no end in sight, no reason to be found.

I find this highly offensive, indeed.

Back in the saddle

I went walking today with the mom group, Evie came too.

I didn't push her in the stroller however, Andrea had to do that in a double stroller she borrowed; I'm far too gimpy for the pushing of strollers.

All began well, Andrea unloaded Evie from my car (Bryan loaded her at home,) put her in the double stroller, I walked behind the parade of mothers and strollers, looking like a one-armed tool.

They walked, pushing their children (and mine) and yet I could barely keep up. While they slowly sauntered with their cool, aero-dynamic strollers, easily chatting about the events of the week with nary a heavy breath, I found myself walking, then running, then walking then sprinting, just to keep in ear-shot of them.

They were pushing CHILDREN in front of them, I had nothing but my own fat behind to haul along the trail, and yet I was the one huffing and puffing, legs a'flame.

As we turned around at the trail-head to come back toward our cars (I believe this was at the 2.5 mile mark) I decided there was really no point trying to keep up anymore. Evie was happily sitting in the stroller, nearly asleep, and I would have to jog the entire way back to keep up with their walking pace.

At this point my arm was also screaming at me to just pull it off and lay it on the side of the trail and leave it for the woodland creatures, anyway.

So I slowed my pace so I could breathe, and told the ladies to go on ahead, I needed to catch my breath, and then I'd try to catch back up.

At this point one of the babies had a meltdown and didn't want to be in his stroller, which meant his mommy had to carry him the rest of the way. As she had to carry him, she could not walk but very slowly, which meant she was going to walk at my pace. I knew then that Jesus was smiling down on me from heaven above.

I made it home and had to place ice on my elbow and shoulder; it's been several hours and it still throbs.

I'm glad I went, but wow, I'm a tub.

Just another night with the ole' landline...

Phone Rings...

Me: "Hello?"

-silence

Me: "Hello?"

-muffled shuffling sounds in the background

Me: "HELLLLUUUUUU?"

A chipper, southern-sounding female (CSSF) speaks: "Hello! I am calling from a research company, conducting important research, from an important research company in Princeton, would you like to participate in a survey so that we are able to conduct our very important research!?!"

Me: "Actually, no thank you, and by the way, we are on the do not call list."

CSSF: "BUT maaaa'aaam, we are not SELLING anything, we're conducting RESEARCH!"

Me: "Well that's lovely, but I'm still on the do not call list, and I prefer that you DO NOT CALL. Please take me off your call list."

CSSF: Dripping with disdain, and far less than chipper, "UGHHHHH. Okay Ma'am." Continued muffled shuffling sounds.

Click.

And now she will never know what radio station I listen to and whether I prefer cable to satellite TV.

"Ok, I'm totally blogging this..."

Bryan has a blister.

On his thumb.

From the track wheel on his Blackberry.

That is all I have to say.

No Nap Napoleon Strikes Back, AGAIN

"I will not nap"
by Evie, the 9.5 month-old tyrant:

I will not nap, no sir-ee.
I will not nap, in a tree.

I will not nap, in my socks.
I will not nap, with my blocks.

I will not nap although I'm tired,
I will not nap, my brain's on fire!

I will not nap if you pull the shade,
I will not nap in the Everglades.

Although I'm small and young,
and you tell me I should sleep,

I will not nap, I will not nap, I will not nap not me!!!

Suck it up, Sistah

I went to the orthopedic surgeon yesterday. Pain has increased, I still can't feel my right hand.

After another round of x-rays, he came in, examined me, and expressed sadness when he discovered that he wasn't going to get to do some really exciting surgery.

Turns out, I have nerve damage, technically an injury to my Brachial Plexus nerve, or in "orthorpod. speak," I have (most likely) what is called a "stinger."

Apparently professional football players get these all the time. Also, babies can get this when they have a rough delivery.

It's when your arm/shoulder gets yanked out of the socket for a second and then pops back in.

check.

Then, everything gets pulled a bit.

check.

Then, as a result, the nerves are all frayed and torn and pulled as a result.

check.

There is nothing they can do for this.

crap.

It can take months to recover from the pain, in fact, it usually takes 2-3 weeks for every millimeter of tear. So in my case, we are most likely looking at several months of recovery before we know the extent of the damage. And of course, there's usually nothing they can do.

The doctor then said that when football players get it, they usually just give them a an injection of cortisone in the joint and put them back in the game if it's not too bad.

I responded, "so I just need to suck it up and deal with it is what you're telling me."

He did suggest that I undergo an EMG, which is a test where they put needles in my arm and measure my nerve function. This of course would only tell us what we already know, I have nerve damage.

There was a also a recommendation for me to take nerve medication to help, but I'm hesitant, given my track record with medications. I think I'd rather just deal with the pain.

I'm no longer in a sling, but still have it wrapped as the pressure from the ACE bandage does provide relief.

Moving my arm too much still hurts like crazy, even though I've been ensured I can't hurt it much more if I use it. The trouble is, I have no strength and no feeling, so if I try to use it, not only do I have horrible pain shooting down my forearm, I have no dexterity or motor function.

Things like trying to snap Evie's onesie or grab the tab on her diaper are at the moment, impossible, and quite frustrating. I can't pick up a piece of paper, open a door knob or even turn on the TV remote with my right hand because I don't have the strength or the control. This not only makes my really cranky, but it sometimes results in my nearly dissolving into a pile of tears like a whiny little girl.

My physical therapist assured me this is normal, and that I'll get my gross motor control before I'll get back my fine motor control, and that no amount of exercise will help me get it back, and that trying to move it more will only aggravate the condition by aggravating the nerves, and I, as such, need to "STOP IT" (as much as possible, that is.)

What I need to do, per my physical therapist's instructions is only do small, careful movements and exercises. When the pain becomes unbearable, stop.
I'm not going to be able to rehabilitate my nerves or get the feeling back faster, so don't bother trying, this will only make me frustrated and angry. Just go slow and try to stay positive.
Yeah boy.

My current game plan is to try to do physical therapy another couple of weeks and see if I can't get a little more arm function back. If after another week or so, I'm still not making much improvement, then I'll get the EMG, and perhaps agree to the neuro. drugs.

I did some online research regarding brachial plexus injuries and there are apparently different degrees of injuries. The one the doctor was referring to, (that football players get and go back in the game) that was a 1st degree injury, as those usually resolve within a few minutes to an hour. From what I read, my injury is at least a 3rd degree injury, which can take several months to heal, and can still sometimes require surgery, and still never fully heal.

So, let us all hope and pray that I get my nerve function back, I would really like my to be able to feel and use my right hand again.

If you want to know what I did, and missed it, click here.

Who says children are innocent?

We are getting the "hair pulling" report at the nursery when we pick Evie up at church Sunday and Tuesday mornings.

When we get her, we find out how many babies she has tormented, and specifically, how many babies have been assaulted by having the back of their heads yanked back by their hair, compliments of our daughter, who then lets go and laughs.

Yesterday, Bryan took us to Mom's group so I could get a little adult interaction and Evie could get some baby interaction. The other babies and mommies were (I think) less than thrilled that we came however, as when we were leaving, Bryan picked Evie up in the nursery and we were told "she only pulled one baby's hair today, so today was a good day."

Ugh, it was all I could do not to crawl in a corner and die.

We don't encourage this behavior; we don't condone it, and we don't allow it to continue. If we see her pull hair, we immediately grab her hands, pull them away (gently but firmly) from the other baby, get down to her face, use our "low tone voice," and say "nooooo" then we remove her from the situation, usually by putting her in her pack n' play for a minute. She finds this hilarious.

In fact, on Monday, little Sage was over, as her mommy was helping me out (since I'm still the one-armed bandit.) The girls were standing in the family room, holding on to the exersaucer. Evie reached up, grabbed and handful of Sage's hair. I had jumped up at this point and been able to get across the room before Evie was able to yank. I removed Sage's hair from Evie's hand, grabbed Evie's hand in mine looked her dead in the eye and told her, in my most low and serious tone, "noooo." Evie looked me back, dead in the eye, and smirked. She SMIRKED!

Sage of course, burst in to tears, so I felt bad that I made her cry when she had done nothing wrong, all the while my demon child was standing there laughing at me. I assured Sage that she was not the one in trouble, and then moved Evie away from Sage's head.

I know that Evie is all about exploration and reaction right now, (she is only nine months old, after all) so she pulls hair, the baby cries, she thinks, "Cool! I'm totally doing that again!"

But I see my daughter pulling the hair so hard of another baby, that the baby's head yanks back and the baby falls down and the baby cries, which then makes my daughter laugh, and I think "Oh my Lord, I spawned the bride of Chucky."

I am so hosed.

Welcome to the world, baby Tori!

Victoria Sue Hoppis was born Wednesday at 1pm, she weighed 8 lbs. 12 oz.

Everyone is doing well, including Gracie who is adjusting to being a big sister.

Congratulations Hoppis family, we love you!

Cruising

Make video montages at www.OneTrueMedia.com

The MRI Results

My rotator cuff is not torn.
Everything else however, is. The muscles in my shoulder, bicep and elbow look like they have been in the paws of a large mountain cat.

Also, my elbow joint is so swollen, that the status of the ulnar nerve is still unknown. It could be damaged, or the SEVERE swelling may have just pinched it off, which would explain the bluish tint of my right hand, as well as the lack of feeling.

What we do know is this: no surgery for the shoulder.

However, recovery for the shoulder is going to be long and slow because the muscles are so shredded.

The elbow status will require less swelling before a final determination can be made.

In the meantime, I have to keep my arm completely still (wrapped and in the sling) when I'm not a physical therapy, continue to slam down the ibuprofen and keep it on ice as much as possible.

Also, try not puke up the pain pills, so that they can actually work.

In other news, Jill has rallied the troops from church for me, and boy do those troops know how to rally.

Annie came over today and vacuumed my house, swiffered, washed a load of laundry, heated up some lunch for me and fed Evie. Such a service and a kind gesture this was!

Later, Andrea arrived (her 4 kids in tow) with a dinner of homemade grilled chicken and jasmine rice with a beautiful salad, (croutons on the side) she made sure nothing had wheat in it for me; I could not thank her enough for her thoughtfulness.

When she arrived with dinner, my neighbor was here picking up the kids and was astonished at the kindness and generosity being shown, so much so, she seemed moved. I joked, "this is what we church folk do when someone is you know hurt, or has a baby or something, we bring food and clean, we're old school like that..."

I was glad to have her here to witness the "good side" of the church.

Most of all though, I am glad that Bryan and I have finally found a place we can call home; after a couple years of feeling frustrated and disconnected, we have found a community that we feel we can plug in to (and not just because they brought us dinner,) this is something we have sorely missed.

Gimpy, the pale-faced girl

I've now progressed to puking and feeling faint due to the pain; Bryan had to help me out of the shower this morning after I had to sit down mid-shampoo lest I pass out. So I sat on the shower floor and puked, into the drain, all while holding my balance and my arm at the same time. This was a shining moment in my life.

My face has now taken on a pale, green color, my eyes a lovely glazed over look with a nice resemblance to a member of the raccoon family.

I know that any moment Bryan is going to jump me, I'm so irresistible. Especially with the blue sling, the brown ace wrap and the giant ice packs surrounding me. And let us not forget the new addition, the salmon colored puke bucket. Oh yes, it is all he can do not to throw me down and rip off my clothes, I am sure.

And now I can glow in the dark

So we went to the doctors today. Doctors? You ask? Yes, doctors, plural.
First, we went to the pediatrician because it was Evie's 9-month appointment. She is just dandy, weighing in a 15lbs, 11 oz and 27.5 inches long respectively. She is in the 50th percentile for height and the 5th percentile for weight. She is doing just fine in all her developmental milestones and doing all the things she should be doing, and plenty she shouldn't.

After her appointment, we then drove across the street for mine. My arm has doubled in swelling, my hand has become more numb and the pain, well that has just become ridiculous.

Accordingly, we went to my doctor to see about a new game plan. She checked me out, and with a very grave face, determined that things were not progressing well.

In fact, she ordered x-rays and an MRI to be done today, STAT. So I went down for X-rays, the experience of which was most unfriendly. First, they never gave me a lead bib, no I'm probably radioactive now.

They bent my arm one way, and I bit my lip until it bled. They bent it another way and I yelped in operatic tones. Then I sat and waited 20 minutes while they printed the films so that I could take the x-rays back upstairs to my doctor.
Another 20 minutes of waiting and finally she walked me down the hall and showed me how my arm is not broken, (which I could have told her.) But then she showed me how very, very swollen it is, even on the x-ray. I was most unimpressed, since in fact, I could show her the swelling of my arm with the technology of the naked eye.

She wrote me a prescription of vicodin and told me this was no time to be a hero. I agreed that after a week of nothing more than ibuprofen and little sleep, it was time for something stronger, at least for the evenings.

At 5pm I went in for the MRI. This was less than pleasant. I took a vicodin in anticipation of the pain. They got me on the table and while apologizing for what they were about to do, proceeded to take my arm and very slowly straighten it, strap it down and hold it in place with sand bags. SAND BAGS. I was panting, biting my lip, and squeezing my eyes closed. My chin quivered while they took my thumb and rotated it away from my body, putting more sand bags on my wrist to hold it in place. Once all was where it should be, I stared at the ceiling, channeling my "inner Ginny."

They pushed the button and in the long tube I went. She gave me a panic button and told me to try not to move. While I waited for the machine to begin, I heard her over the speaker, "okay Stephanie, this one will only be four minutes long."

After the four minutes passed, she came back over the speaker, she had seen the pictures on the screen and was getting ready to continue for the rest of the hour-long procedure, but before she did so, she said "wow! I know this is really painful, but you are doing great, just hang on there, it will before you know it."

An hour later, I was in agony. It felt like everything was ripping more, and I was squeezing back the tears. For the last 20 minutes of the procedure, I had to keep myself from crying simply to keep myself still. The pain was so immense, I just concentrated on my breathing, and listened to the music they were piping in my headphones.

When she came to reposition me for the next segment (the shoulder part) she said
"wow, your elbow must hurt even worse than your shoulder...sorry it took so long, I needed to take a few extra shots of that ulnar nerve."

I told her that it in fact it did hurt, but it was probably a toss up between the shoulder and elbow pain. She told me again that she was sorry for causing me more pain, and sorry about what she was about to do, she repositioned me and back into the tube I went.

The shoulder part was not nearly as rough, since I pretty much didn't have to move anything, I could just lay there.

When I was done, she looked at me again and commented on how much pain I must be in.

I said "You can't tell me how bad the damage is, can you?"

She said "No, unfortunately, I can't, and you don't want me to, you want the radiologist to, since he had all that school and I'm just a piddly tech."

I responded, "But even a piddly tech knows when they see a big nasty tear, right?"

She smiled at me knowingly, and then said "When are you going to see your doctor?"

I told her, "Not until the results are read and reported back, so we know if surgery needs to be scheduled."

She then said, "You know what? I'm going to write STAT on this, so that the Radiologist will read these tonight and your Dr. will have the report tomorrow morning. You have a baby at home and you need to get this taken care of sooner than later."

With that, she sent me on my way.

So, I can only assume I'll be getting a call tomorrow from my doctor that will be less than pleasant.

In the meantime, I'm taking the big drugs and going to bed, because that MRI was a doozey.

Some Random Facts

My friend sent me this as an email, but since I don’t like forwards, I thought I’d do it on the blog instead. If you’d like to participate, all you have to do is copy and paste in the comments section below—-you should, it’s a fun way to kill a few minutes!

Check the boxes for the items you have done:

(x) Smoked a cigarette (clove cigarettes only...does this count? Well this, and lots of Cigars in Europe)

(x) Drank so much you threw up

(x) Had feelings for someone who didn't have them back

( ) Been arrested

( ) Gone on a blind date

(X) Skipped school

(x) Watched someone die

(x) Been to Canada

(x) Been to Mexico

(x) Been to Europe

( ) Been to Florida

(X) Been on a plane

(X) Been on the opposite side of the country

( ) Gone to Washington, DC

(X) Swam in the ocean

(x) Felt like dying

(X) Cried yourself to sleep

(x) Sang karaoke

(x) Danced on a table

(X) Paid for a meal with only coins

( ) "Parked" (sad...never done this)

(X) Done something you told yourself you wouldn't?

(x) Made prank phone calls (Caller ID ruined all my junior high fun)

(X) Laughed until some kind of beverage came out of your nose

(X) Caught a snowflake on your tongue and made snow angels too

(X) Danced in the SNOW

(X) Written a letter to Santa Claus

(x) Been kissed under the mistletoe

(x) Watched the sunrise with someone you care about

(X) Blown bubbles

(X) Made a bonfire on the beach/ on a mountain

(x) Crashed a party

(X) Gone ice-skating

( ) Been skinny dipping



1. Any nickname: Stephers
2. Mother's name? Ginny
3. Favorite drink? Milk
4. Body piercing? I have 5: (two in each ear, and one at the top on my right ear)
5. Tattoo's? None
6. How much do you love your job? Love it.

7. Birthplace: Spokane, WA
8. Favorite vacation spot? Lake Wenatchee
9. Ever been to Africa? No
10. Ever eaten cookies for dinner? yes
11. Ever been on TV? yes
12. Ever steal any traffic signs? NO

13. Ever been in a car accident? yes
14. Drive a 2-door or 4-door vehicle: 4 door
15. Favorite salad dressing? homemade Ranch
16. Favorite pie? Pumpkin
17. Favorite number? 5
18. Favorite movie? It’s a Wonderful Life
19. Favorite holiday? Christmas?
20. Favorite dessert? Hot Brownie Sundae
21. Favorite food? Chicken and dumplings
22. Favorite day of the week? Friday
23. Favorite brand of face/body wash? Cetaphil
24. Favorite smell? Cut grass
25. What do you do to relax? Read, play the guitar or piano
26. Do you have a message to your friends reading this? This is fun to fill out….you should too.

27. How do you see yourself in 10 years? Hopefully in better physical shape, out of debt, and happily trudging through the minefield of being the mother to a tween girl.

Ok, that was weird

I had a very strange dream last night.
Fist, I was shopping for clothes for myself, and I was enjoying it. (First problem)
Second, I was at Nordstrom. (second problem)
Third, I was shopping with my mom. (umm, yeah)
Finally, I bought $200 blood-red pumps ( they were 70% off-- I remember this being very important,) grey wool, cuffed trousers, a white fitted blouse and a red v-neck cashmere sweater. The outfit cost way more than $1000 and I whipped out my platinum card and payed like it was no problem at all.
I then wore the entire outfit out of the store, pumps and everything, and I liked the pumps, and I wore them all day, feeling very fancy and important.
I had long hair that was cut perfectly and hung just right, falling just below my shoulders and bouncing along like a shampoo commercial. Every time I would stop, I would run my hand across the back of my hair and give it a little flip, you know, like the models do.
When I walked out of the store, I put on my medium-length trench coat, my scarf and my aviator sun glasses, I threw my giant red designer purse over my shoulder and walked down the sidewalk feeling so very sassy and cool.

Oh and by the way, I was pregnant with twins.


Apparently, in my dream, I was a character in "Sex in the City."

Because I'm awesome

The verdict:
Dislocated shoulder
Torn bicep, torn tricep, torn elbow muscles

Possible torn rotator cuff, will have to wait a week for swelling and physical therapy to determine if MRI is required.

Prescription: physical therapy, 800 mg ibuprofen 3xs/day, Tylenol 3xs/day in between (I opted against the narcotics,) keep elbow wrapped and shoulder immobilized at all times when not at physical therapy.

Taking care of a 9-month old with one arm should be fun.

If you missed what happened, click here.

This one is for you, Grandma

Evie is 9 months old

**Is it just me, or is this totally a Ginny face?**

The devious and perhaps pathetic thoughts of a mother

Evie has been fighting me on the nap thing all morning; she's been up since 6:30; it is now 11:00am. I put her down for her nap 45 minutes ago. Remember, I am injured from my Humpty Dumpty-style tumble down the stairs; I'm in no mood for no-nap shenanigans today.

But now, I hear no more crying and protesting from the upper levels, she has finally acquiesced. And I feel a small, devilish sensation to run upstairs, stand next to her crib, put my hands on my hips and say "nah nah na nah nah, you fell ah-sleeep!!!" right in her face.

But then she'd wake up, and I'd be an idiot.

So I sit here, quietly.

But you have to know, I totally sang that in my head, and then I laughed to myself.

There is something very, very wrong with me.

In case you missed it,

Evie turned 9 months old!
I'll have pictures up later, I promise.

Also, just because you know, I'm a complete dork, I fell down the stairs last night. Feel completely, as in, missed three steps and just went a' tumblin' down. To save myself from going "splat" on the hard tile below, I reached out and grabbed the rail. In so doing, I was able to prevent hitting the tile, however I did manage to do a complete 360 degree spin and completely tork my shoulder, back and neck.
Which shoulder is causing me agony today you ask? Oh that would be my right shoulder, the one I've had surgery on--to repair a torn rotator cuff. I don't think it's torn again, but it does smart quite a bit. And it makes doing things like lifting a 9month old child a little tricky.
Needless to say, there's been a lot of Baby Einstein today, and I'm not ashamed to admit it. Because daddy is at work, and I can't move my arm, so we do what we must to entertain the child.