It isn’t always that one comes into contact with a holy man.  Someone who emits truth & wisdom with effortless grace.

Last night was a doozie of an evening, to say the least.

You all know I have children.  Four of them to be exact.  Each with their own spark & wonder…and a horrifically monstrous side to boot.  And of course…since the male parental unit is visiting from Los Angeles…the latter of the sides are showing.

Gone are my sweet, doting, angelic cherubs.  In their place are smart-alecked, inconsiderate tree-sloths who have quickly forgotten that their mum had surgery last week (and were deathly afraid she was going to pass on to the great hereafter…) and just what an amazing person I am.

I think it only took about 4 nanoseconds this time for the transformation to occur.

Anywho…I digress.  My dilemma.

Next weekend will be my youngest daughter’s ninth birthday.    I can hardly believe that the time has flown by so quickly.  Now mind you…this is my Narcissus child.  This is the child who’s first word uttered was HER OWN NAME.

Yes…even her then pediatrician couldn’t believe it.  “LEA”, she would say.  “LEA, LEA, LEA”  Knowing full well that SHE was the queen…or at least was plotting the overturning of my throne….a plan that I am still positive is in place.

Last night, their father decided to take them out to dinner & to the movies.  Monsters v. Aliens in 3D.  They had a blast (and I did too…with a complete grown-up night with my beloved DC, some kick-ass sushi & the BEST sake I’ve ever had…).

Dale & I hadn’t been home more than 30 minutes when the hoarde returned to lay ruin to my then cleaned home (is that a shocker…I mean…come on…) and of course, the children know that since it was late, showers were to immediately commence and then it would be time to chill with Dad on the sofa.

Not more than 5 minutes had passed since they had walked in the door, that my ego-indulgent soon-to-be 9 year old began bawling.  I’m talking Sally Field Academy Award Winning Bringing Home An Oscar cry.

Because we hadn’t wished her an EARLY BIRTHDAY YET.

This is the thing that pisses me off about my ex.  He always manages to come visit every year around Lea’s birthday.  And he makes this widely known to ALL of the residents in our house.  So of course…Lea’s already absurdly inflated ego gets just the extra boost it deserves.

He brings presents and junk & spoils her to no end.  To which making me look like a complete fucktard of a parent for not catering to her every whim at that very instant.

Forget that I went out of my way the other day (when I was still supposed to be home recuperating, mind you) and spent a great deal of money that right now we really can’t afford to shell out…on an absolutely FABULOUS tennis outfit for my future “Anna Kournikova”.  That I had plans on heading to this WICKED COOL bakery in downtown Raleigh and get her a “tennis” cake.  That she was going to be spoiled and lavished with love and adoration.

Now…I’m just that “other” parent…the schmuck who hasn’t done shit for her birthday…irregardless that its not even here yet.

So…in a huff (which we all know Jen is prone to) I stormed out of the house to get kleenex.  Because thanks to Claudia I’ve got a wicked chest cold and sound like I’ve got pneumonia round 3.

Into Walgreens I storm, stampeding through the isles looking for kleenex, more vicks pads for the heater thingy, more cold meds and ice cream.  All the while poor DC is following behind me listening to me VERY LOUDLY bashing my life, my children, my ex and my damned health.

In this tirade…up to the counter I stride and proceed to drop all of my purchases in front of a wet-behind-the-ears 19 year old.  Who just couldn’t help but overhear all of my bitching & moaning.

He then begins to lay upon me his most amazing wisdom.  All 19 years of it.

“You see“, he says, “I do the same thing.  I live with my mom and when I visit my dad, I have no rules.  Nothing I get in trouble for.  So yeah, he’s my favorite parent.”

(A very blank W T F stare from my side of the counter as I’m trying to absorb his words)

“But I know that in the long run, its my mom that I’ll love the most.  She’s the one who gave me the most stability.  The most time and effort.  You’ll see too.  One day, your kids will come around.  That’ll be $18.73….debit?”

As I numbedly pounded in my PIN, I couldn’t help but think…was this kid right?  And when did Walgreens start training their cashiers in Philosophy 101?

Either way…my kids still suck.  I’m still pissed.  Lea will still turn 9 next week.

And in some strange way….it’ll all work out….eventually.

Free Tibet.

I meant to write sooner, but with the intense pain…its not been so easy. I vaguely resemble someone who has #1) swallowed a beach ball, after #2) being in a horrible knife fight.

I am sick and tired of sleeping on my back (which you all know is bad in its own right…so sleeping on it…now 5 nights in a row…ain’t good for it) but I can’t sleep in any other position.  Laying on my sides causes excruciating pain as gravity pulls my guts towards the bed.  I can’t lay on my stomach for the same reason.

I can’t take a deep breath, sneeze, blow my nose or cough.  All of which I desperately want to do.  To (pun TOTALLY intended) take a stab at any of the aforementioned…I turn into a blubbering pile of mushy goo.  If you can sneeze, take a deep breath, blow your nose or cough…relish it.  Because once you can’t do it….MAN DOES IT SUCK!!!

Anywho, its gone as of 9AM last Tuesday morning.  Surgery was at 7:30AM and to be honest…I don’t remember much.  I got wheeled into the OR at about 7:45 and they put some gooooooood junk into my IV.  The rest (as they say) is history.

I’m about 2 lbs. lighter.  I’ve got 4 scars from the incisions you see in the diagram.  I had WONDERFUL staff waiting on me and made my stay in Wake Med absolutely wonderful.

Now I’m off to scrounge up some decent pain meds (cause the perc’s ain’t doin’ JACK for this pain) and take some prilosec because I’m getting nauseous.  I think I just might take a nap…on my back…cause thats just the way it is.

Chao!

What you see here…is an example of a really bad gall bladder. And the cool thing about it…is that it belongs to MOI!!

I’m not one to brag (YEAH…RIGHT) but its all mine and dang it…I’m proud.

Not really.

Over the last…oh, say 10 years…I’ve had some of the worst heartburn known to man.  And as a result…I’ve also had incredible stomach pain and had potty problems (I’ll spare you the gory details…)  And as such…my MD decided I needed a complete internal ultrasound.

Upon inspection…we came up with this.  What you are specifically looking at (in both the pictures) are stones.  My gall bladder is FILLED with them.

So much that when I returned my MD’s phone call this AM, the receptionist said (in a very serious voice), “Ah…yeah, she left your chart here with me yesterday and we’ve got to get you into the surgeon as quick as possible”.

There are times when you like the fact that someone has urgency in their voice….when you’ve won the lottery…when you’re getting a bigger tax refund than expected….when someone who loves you bought you a REALLY expensive gift and hopes you enjoy it.  You don’t want to hear that kind of tone coming from a doctor.

While you’ll be enjoying your corned beef & cabbage on St. Patty’s Day, I’ll be discussing with the surgeon the soonest date to get my defunct gall bladder removed.

I called my father this afternoon to see if he kept the receipt he & mom were given that fateful day back in November of ‘72.  Unfortunately…they don’t have it.

I wonder if they’ll exchange my parts without it?!?!?

Just when you thought you hit rock bottom….life decides to throw additional curve balls your way.

The income in this house will cease on Friday…unless some miracle happens. I have freaking bills up the wazoo and wish that my GD refund would get here already. I’m panicking.

Today my most favorite nephew on the planet was sideswiped by some asshole on the I5 fwy in LA, which caused him to plummet off the embankment into a huge ditch. His car rolled 3 times. A boulder came loose in all the hoopla and came crashing through the window, missing his head by inches.

Someone in the cosmos likes him, he had NOT A SCRATCH.

I’m just tired. Real tired. I should sleep, but I can’t. Things are racing through my mind. The kids track out next week. In 3 weeks, the ex will be here for a weekend visit. I’m going to Miami for a mini-solo vacation. Just thoughts….

Anywho…off to watch X2. Wow I’m a junkie.

…and that means nothing to me. Really. Nada. Zip. Zilch.

My road to recovery is progressing v e r y s l o w l y. Today I feel like sludge.

And its cold outside w/ snow. And I can’t enjoy it. Which sucks.

And I’m no longer in school. And I don’t enjoy that. And it sucks.

Lately…everything sucks.

I find myself consumed with a game on the Wii called Harvest Moon: Tree of Tranquility. I am a gaming junkie, its never been a secret. But I’m hoping that this game will bring to my soul some of that Tranquility that I so need.

The only thing I can say is that my house is clean (well…relatively…the kids rooms still look like a typhoon hit them).

I think I’ll go back to farming and making rainbows…maybe somewhere in there, I’ll get cheered up & feel slightly better.