He Took My Camera

There’s something that happens when you let a child use your camera.  First, you have to get over the fear that said child is going to drop or otherwise break your camera.  Next, you have to be prepared for the pictures said child takes.  Many times they are not focused or have chopped of the heads of their subject.  Fortunately, with digital cameras, those ‘bad’ pictures can be erased.

I am glad Logan took this picture of his daddy’s backside!  I do love some muscular legs!

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This one I could’ve erased but didn’t.  I wanted you to be prepared for the next one.

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This picture of me is not flattering.  Not in the least.  That’s not what was traumatic about the picture for me though.  Logan took the picture, then looked at the screen of the camera and shuddered.  Shuddered!  In revulsion!

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Yes, I’m sweaty and not wearing any makeup and my hair is in a sloppy bun, but come on, boy!  It wasn’t that bad!!!  It wasn’t shudder worthy.

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My Boy. He’s Disgusting. So Are Tongues.

When I was five years old, Mom told me I needed to have my frenum clipped.  The frenum is the piece of tissue that connects the bottom of your tongue to the bottom of your mouth.  Mine was apparently too long and may or may not have caused a speech impediment.  I have absolutely no memory of having a speech impediment, but apparently Mom did have a speech impediment which is why she had her own frenum clipped.  Apparently.

Anyway, I distinctly remember Mom telling the five year old me that she had to wait until she was twenty years old to get her frenum clipped and it was horribly painful because she had waited so long and she didn’t want me to have the excruciating pain at twenty, so she was going to get mine done before it would be that painful.

(She was always comforting like that.  She also told me I wouldn’t be able to eat solid food for a week after having my wisdom teeth pulled.)

So my boys’ Oma took her five year old baby girl (FIVE YEARS OLD!)  to the oral surgeon.  I distinctly remember sitting VERY still in the surgery chair while mom stood nearby telling me that if I moved, I would cause the oral surgeon to slip with whatever instruments of destruction he was using in my mouth which would lead to irreparable harm.  Naturally, I was calm.  I was definitely still.  I remember him poking sharp instruments in my mouth and through that piece of tissue under my tongue and telling me in a low voice that he had to poke a needle in the skin and then make a jagged rip or else the tissue would simply grow back together.  Terrifying, no?

After the ripping of tissue under my tongue, Mom drove me 45 minutes back to day care and dropped me off.  In my mind, she might have told me that I was a big girl and I could open the door to the day care and let myself in.  I remember the fresh wound in my mouth opened at some point during the day and rinsing the blood out with water from the water fountain.  What else could I do?  It’s not like I had taken the gauze I had been given into day care with me.

Mom recalls things slightly differently.  She says she took me into the day care center and explained what had been done and they fed me popsicles all day.  I don’t remember a single popsicle.

This story gets better.  I am working in surgery now and there was a Frenuloplasty on the schedule a couple of weeks ago.  People go under general anesthesia to have their frenum clipped!  They don’t simply get a local anesthetic and then call it a day!!

I promise it gets better.

And possibly less gross.

Or not.

Since having my frenuloplasty, I have a Gene Simmons type tongue.  It rolls out of my mouth forever!  Mom and I compared tongues the other day (perfectly natural!) and Mom’s tongue barely goes past her lips!

The frenuloplasty at work really bothered me and I have been thinking about tongues a lot.  At lunch with Ed and the munchkins last weekend, we started sticking out our tongues at each other.  Ed might have simply rolled his eyes and refused to play along.  Fortunately, munchkins are good with being gross.  Trip’s tongue is long like mine, but in a normal sense on long.  Logan’s tongue is freakishly long!  I asked him if he could touch his nose with his tongue and HE TOTALLY CAN!!!

I cackled loudly in a restaurant packed with people.  Ed was not amused with my uncontrollable volume.  I’m not sure why.  You’d think he would be used to my volume by now.  Ed made a remark about Logan’s tongue that I didn’t want Logan to ask about, so I changed the topic quickly.

“Logan,” I said.  “I bet you could even pick your nose with your tongue!”

The little dude tried it and if anything had been within tongue’s reach, he would have gotten it.

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My New Project

Hello everyone!  I have a new pet project and my poor blog has been neglected.  I am attempting to write a short story to be published on amazon.com!  Have you heard about this?  You can self publish on amazon!  I’m almost to the point where I can send my little story to my ‘editors’!  There is a story about this little short story I’m writing.  It started out as a competition between me and my brother Jacob.  The goal is to write a scary short story, get it copyrighted, and publish it on amazon.  The stories would then be given to our Mother to judge.  The winner is the one who scares her the most!  As of right now, it looks like I’m going to be winner by default, so I figured it would make a really good Christmas present for Mom.  Why would this be a great Christmas present for her?  Because she loves all things scary!  She used to make me and my brother stay up late on the weekends so we could watch scary movies with her because she didn’t want to watch them alone.  Poltergeist for a 6 year old?  Absolutely!  I can still remember the opening music for the Hitchhiker series.  So anyway, I’m hoping to clear up the middle part of my story, which is the part giving me trouble.  I’ll make an announcement when I finally get to publish.

In boy news, the munchkins have started playing flag football!  They’ve enjoyed playing and they both have scored a few touchdowns.  First grade is treating them reasonably well.  Trip remains as clumsy as ever.  One week, he bumped his eye on the corner of his table and managed to black his eye and exactly a week later, he managed to break his finger!  It was a hairline fracture and only required three stitches.  Trip watched the doctor put in every stitch because he’s not about to let someone do something to him without watching.  He might have some control issues.  I have no idea where he gets them.  I asked him if he wanted to be a doctor when he grows up and he said absolutely not!  He’s a trooper though and played football the next weekend.  He even scored a touchdown and ‘tackled’ quite a few of the opposing players.  Logan, try as he might, still has not managed to get a single scar anywhere on his body.

And then there were Stretch Marks

Before I get to the meat of this post, I’d just like to say that I am not using this forum to announce or admit anything spectacular.  To be perfectly blunt, I am not pregnant.  I do like some babies and there is an amazing new store in town that has the cutest baby and toddler clothes, but I am content to coo over my cousins babies for now and, in about 10 years, my brothers’ kids.

Every once in a while, a girl just wants to talk about her stretch marks.  Ok, fine.  I’m 32 and that hardly constitutes “girl” status, but “woman” means a certain section of the ladies clothing department that I’d rather not enter and I’m pretty sure that a “lady” would not talk about her  stretch marks.  So whatever I am, I’m in the mood to talk about my stretch marks.

You’ve been warned. 

This post will not contain pictures.  You will just have to take my word about the stretch marks.  You’re welcome.

I was a normal sized young woman when I came down with the pregnancy bug.  Then, we found out that there were two.  Ok, it was done by in vitro fertilization and I insisted on both embryos being implanted, but the point is that I was newly  pregnant with twins.   I already had a few stretch marks on my hips from puberty, but I had no idea what was coming.

I remember asking my Mom when I was a teenager what the silver things on my hips were and she snickered and grimaced and then laughed outright before telling me that they were stretch marks and more would be in store for me when I had babies.  The important point here is that I simply remember having a few silver marks come out on my hips as a teenager.

Fast forward to my pregnancy.  I was about 7 weeks along when we figured out that there were definitely two fetuses in there.  I had a little morning sickness, but nothing bad.  I could fill out my tops like it was nobodies business.  My belly started popping out and taking that distinctive pregnancy shape by the time I was 10 weeks pregnant.

I first noticed stretch marks (the medical term is silver striae, the lying bastards) whenI was about 16 weeks along.  I may be a couple of weeks off here and there, but my pregnancy was 7 years ago, so bear with me.  I showed the angry, red slashes along the underside of my quickly growing belly to Ed.  He patted them and thanked me for having his babies. (We’d only been married about 5 years at the time.  He gets kind of sappy and sweet sometimes.)  According to my mother, I looked like I was about 5 months along when this happened, but I’m an ICU nurse and not  an obstetrics nurse so I don’t know what 5 months along looks like, so we have to take my mother’s word for that.  So there I was, 3 1/2 months pregnant and already getting stretch marks.  They were vertical marks, an angry red color, and vaguely itchy.  I’m not a lotioning kind of girl, so that wasn’t really in my daily ritual until I got stretch marks.

I started reading more of the baby books and pregnancy books trying to figure out what I would need to do.  I looked at every jar and bottle of lotion at Target and Walmart.  There were several lotions that claimed to be able to remove stretch marks. (Liars.)  I tried all of the lotions.   I applied them constantly.  Then I’d go back to my usual ways and forget about it.  During this time, we moved and then later I had to quit working earlier than I had anticipated due to pregnancy related issues.  The one important thing that I did learn about the stretch marks was that lotion does make them itch less. 

When you start getting stretch marks early in your pregnancy, they don’t stop growing.  They climb up your belly as high as they want.  They widen as your baby or babies grow.  The skin of the stretch marks gets thinner and thinner as the stretch marks get wider and can truly hurt.  If a stretch mark grows through a mole, the mole will stretch but not become discolored which actually looks kind of funny. 

By the time my due date finally rolled around, I had stretch marks up to my eyeballs and down to my toes.  They were angry and red.  They hurt, but I hurt all over so I’m not really sure it was the stretch marks.  They still itched.  They were most definitely not silver.

Stretch marks take months to lighten.  They go from bright red to pink and then finally, if you’re lucky, to silver.  The skin permanently loses its elasticity.  And you have a beautiful baby who does not care about your stretch marks so most of a new mom’s time is not spent agonizing over her new stretch marks.

And then 6 years later, you may have a kid with little or no tact (he takes after me) who asks you why your belly is so squishy.  Then, he’ll grab a handful of your belly to illustrate his point.

I’ll be taking donations for my tummy tuck.