It's the little things that keep me going

I don't smoke. I never have, and I've never been tempted.

And yet...

After a day such as this, I wish I could adjust the outdoor temperature to about 65 degrees, pull on an old pair of faded jeans before I walked barefoot into a field of soft Vermont grass and take a long drag on a clove cigarette while I macrame-ed a belt.

RSVP

I had a millisecond of warm fuzzies after all of the generous invitations to spend tomorrow night's extravagant party with so many friends since Sean will be out of town.

Then I realized that they just wanted a designated driver.

Bitches.

Long days

For a child that doesn't speak, Amy sure can tell me to piss off quite clearly.

I said an inch

Imagine my dismay when I tried to make a haircut appointment and was told that Erica no longer was working here. WTF? Nooooooooo!!! I thought what we had was special?!

So after 4 years of Erica's handiwork, I was forced to see another.

And while I reserve final judgment until I see if I can actually replicate this look myself tomorrow, I must say I am not disappointed. Debbie took way more than the inch I requested, but it kind of looks good. All angle-ly and stuff.

You might be surprised that I actually left the house for a couple of hours today, but I did. Amy and I needed a moment or 2 apart to regroup. She's still miserable, but I figure she was going to be miserable with or without me. She slept the entire time.

But I did find a great dress for Friday night's extravaganza before ending my Tuesday with the obligatory trip to Target. I didn't buy the dress at Target mind you, just some M&M's and eye makeup remover.

Read this

I know it's not The New Yorker, but I got published (and released!) today.

A Cup of Comfort.

Amy

Baby Diva is resting mostly uncomfortably.

It is too soon to tell what effects this surgery has had on her, but from all accounts it was a success.

I do not have the energy nor inclination to relive Wednesday through blogging, I am just completely relieved it is finally over and we are in the slow healing process. I am very grateful for the prayers and support of all who gave them so generously.

It'll be a quiet weekend around here with Jello and codeine. I'll post something more exciting soon.

That's Mrs. Corleone to you

There are many times when we get seated at restaurants long before others in line. Every time I visit a certain concert venue, I get personally escorted from my car to my seat with some poor guy forced to talk about Elmo to my children. People show up to the house to fix the A/C or paint or fix something, and they are not accompanied by an invoice.

But personal attention (or graft) at a hospital?

As I am waiting for Amy's blood draw today at her pre-op appointment, a very nice young man approached, "Mrs. Henry?" (Which always throws me for a loop and I quickly look around the room to see if my mother-in-law has entered.)

"Yes?"

"Hi. I'm Bob from the Foundation. Is there anything I can do to make your experience more comfortable?"

And I am wondering what exactly could I request? Donate some plasma? Play wheelchair tag down the hall? Let me blow balloon animals with the latex gloves? I am not sure what he had in mind but I appreciated the effort. Just as he appreciated everything Mr. Henry does for the hospital.

Unbelieveable.

Bob is meeting me at the car door in the morning with Amy's favorite wine and to make sure there are no horse heads in the pediatric ward.

You decide

I managed to remain vertical for much of the day yesterday to enjoy a little football with friends.

So today I'm trying to prepare for this most difficult week. Organizing, laundry, shopping for tonsil-less food stuff--Jello, pudding, popcicles, soup...(sounds like good pregnancy food, too.) As much as I know this is the right thing to do, I am still scared as hell to put her through this. She was snoring like a buzz saw last night, and I thought that soon she won't do that anymore.

So, here's the etiquette question of the day, and I would appreciate thoughts if you have them...The boys were invited to a birthday party by a neighbor, I think the kid is turning 8 or 9 and the invitation read, "Abner Jr. is registered at Toys R Us."

Is this convenient, or the most unmitigated gall you've ever heard of? Because I know my personal feelings on the family are clouding my judgment here.

And in case you are all wondering, I am registered at Walgreen's for Dramamine and bicarbonate of soda.

Day Off

Since I have yet to receive a phone call or email this morning from any of my drunken friends/teachers/blog readers...I trust that you all were wasted last night at the big party and have nasty hangovers on this day off of school. I hope you drank my share, and I apologize for missing it, but I started my hangover early, and spent most of the evening vomitting.

But today has been quiet--the boys are playing nicely, and I think Amy is enjoying people with a little more life than her green mother for a change. They allege they are going to a sleepover tonight so as not to be subjected to Sesame Street Live, which is what I plan on for Amy if I can stay prone that long. We got her furniture yesterday so she finally has her big girl room that she still won't use, but she likes to look at it. Amy needs a little TLC this weekend before her hell week of next.

I have a deadline in a couple of hours that I should concentrate on, but I'm having a tough morning, folks. Hope you all have a better weekend.

Drum roll, please

I guess I have a blognouncement.

Since most of you who read this already know--I've either thrown up in your presence or your kid came home from school and said that Stevie mentioned his mother in Special Intentions at Mass to the entire school--I am indeed expecting.

April is the due month, and yes, I am feeling pretty lousy, thanks for asking. We are very excited for the new baby, but this whole pregnancy thing is not my idea of fun. I am not one of those women who claim to love being pregnant (I think these are the same ones who don't believe in drugs during labor or dyeing their hair. Both of which I will do.) In fact, pregnancy to me is like growing out a bad haircut--sure, it's worth it in the end, but there are a lot of days you still have to leave the house wearing a hat. (I know that doesn't make sense, but I'm losing brain cells by the minute, remember?)

But anyway, I'll probably be posting a column about it today or tomorrow, so I wanted to tell you first. And now you know these stupid Sea-Band bracelets I'm wearing are not for an upcoming Disney cruise or warped fashion statement, but to ward off some of the nausea that I feel every minute of every day.

Remember me?

Today marks my return to the social landscape. For the last few weeks, the only human contact I've had has been with doctor's receptionists, that lady in car line, and the drive thru window guy at McDonald's. But tonight, barring any rogue bout of vertigo, I am actually going to attend our monthly Bunko game.

Please hold your applause until the end.

The real impressive feat will be Dinner Club tomorrow. It has been on a year-long hiatus, and tomorrow night marks its return. Here. With me cooking.

Since I am going to be unwittingly and tragically sober for the event, I have the time and brain cells to dedicate to the actual meal. If things go according to plan--which will also be an impressive feat since the boys are at WWE tonight (the bane of my existence these days) and Sean has a celebrity fishing tournament tomorrow so he can't peel the potatoes--then I will be serving up a most delicious feast. Just to send your tongue a-wagging this early morn, here is the menu:

Appetizers:

~Bleu cheese dip
~Red caviar dip served with crudite
~Mojitos

Salad:

~Red romaine with spiced nuts and a raspberry vinaigrette
~Beer

Entree:

~Green beans with roasted shallots
~Whipped sweet potatoes with brown sugar and pecans
~Homemade applesauce
~Stuffed pork loin with tarragon dressing
~Wine

Dessert:

~Authentic Flan (I've been craving this like crazy)
~Cappucino Chocolate Cake
~Bailey's


Maybe the guests will be so drunk they won't notice if it sucks.

Fixing Amy

It's nothing personal, my dear blog. I neglect you only when words escape me, either because I'm mentally stuck or because I'm just too damned busy to render my pointless thoughts into cyberspace.

This past week has been a combination of both.

This week is filled with doctor's visits for just about everyone in the family, and today is our last one when Stevie finally gets his cast off. Yesterday, we fixed Amy though.

OK, maybe we didn't exactly fix her yet, but we got miles closer. In two weeks she'll have surgery (I call it removing her face, but I'm dramatic that way) on her ears, throat, and nose to correct the simple fact that no air travels across her eardrum causing real sounds like they do for you and me. She hears everything muffled; something I've been saying for months to doctors who look at me like I'm the Manchaussens Mom. Well, yesterday we finally met with the most reasonable doctor to date, who actually said, "It's just common sense." Common sense in the medical profession? I was beginning to have my doubts.

But yesterday was the first time in I can't remember how long that I finally had the sense that real help was on it's way, and that a whole new world is about to open up to Amy.

So, thanks for waiting, blog. I hope to give you more attention in the coming days.

Crazy

Sean just told me that our kitchen cabinets "Look like they were organized by a crazy person."

After I wash my hands for the 38th time today, I might just take offense.

(I don't think it helped my case when he asked where the popcorn was and I told him the master bathroom floor. He just shook his head and said, "The sad part is I know you're not kidding." )

I took the wekend off of everything including housekeeping. I hope you did too.