My TV obsession

I strongly considered writing this on Monday, right after my procedure. Boy, would that have been an interesting slice. Hahahahaha. But instead, I’m writing this Sunday night so that I can truly rest on Monday

“Yesterday” I wrote about how I’d be watching Grey’s Anatomy reruns most of the day. I also said that I had seen them a lot. My BFF thinks I’m crazy. I have re-watched the entire 11 seasons at least 5 times. Maybe more. My husband will walk by and I call out to him, “Denny died again!” or “Oh man, George just keeps getting hit by a bus!” I also sit through earlier seasons spouting off “he’s dead, she’s dead, she’s dead, he’s dead” as different characters enter a scene. Since by now, almost EVERY original character is dead.

I know I’m a little crazy. I only watch it at certain times. If I have a moment to relax while my kids are napping. Or when I’m sick. Or when I think I might fall asleep. Not going to miss anything crucial if I do! 😉 On a Sunday afternoon, I can suddenly wake up from an unplanned nap and I’m 2 episodes past where I was when my eyes grew heavy, and I couldn’t fight off the inevitable nap. On a procedure day like “today,” I can wake up and be 4 or 5+ episodes farther than when I fell asleep. I’ve been known to re-watch the same rerun in a row 2 or 3 times before I can finally get through it. (This is also true for any movies I attempt on procedure days) Sometimes I don’t bother going back to the missed episodes since I know what happened anyway, but sometimes I do.

Why do I keep watching them? There’s something comforting about then. I love the characters. I love the stories. And because I’ve watched it so much when I need to relax or feel better, it then kind of makes me feel better or more relaxed. And even after seeing it all so many times, you will still find me crying my eyes out every time Izzy lays with Denny in his bed after he dies. I still get immense anxiety when I watch the two shooting episodes. I still can’t control my sobs when Mark holds Lexi’s hand as she dies, stuck under part of the plane that crashed or later when Mark dies and he doesn’t get to see Sophia. I know what’s going to happen, but it still gets me.

There’s just something about this show. I feel connected to it. I guess it’s like some people and their favorite book. I feel like I know the characters. I feel connected to their lives. And so I just can’t stop watching.

(there’s only one other show that I feel this way about. That’s Judging Amy. Unfortunately, it is not available on Netflix or DVD or ANYTHING. And I don’t get the channel that they show reruns on.)

Kids Say the Darndest Things

Following last year’s tradition, I am coming back to this post throughout the month and adding in funny or sweet things each of my kids say. For my last slice of the challenge, here is the final result for March 2017.

3.5 year old daughter:

  • “Let’s play tic tac toe. I’ll be X’s, you be O’s brother. Wait….I’ll be O’s…because I don’t know how to make X’s!”
  • After telling her that her daycare lunch lady left. “Don’t worry, I know a very cute teacher will take care of us and get us food.”
  • “I’m a good dancer…and I gots keys.”
  • “Dear God, thank you for building my kitty.”
  • “Mommy, are these stickers real? (I answer yes) But how can they be real? They need a face.. . And legs.”
  • When watching a live action stage version of Beauty and the Beast, she leans over as the beast is dying and whispers, “When is she going to say I love you?”
  • “I have a bandaid, I have a boo boo.”  Let me see it. “Well, there’s no blood, but it’s bleeding! I need a bandaid.”  Well, if it’s not bleeding, then you don’t need a bandaid.  (we go back and forth like this for a long time) So it’s not bleeding, you just want a bandaid? “Wait mommy, I changed my mind. My BABY needs a bandaid!”
  • She knows how to get out of bed in the morning to go potty or join her brother downstairs, but most of the time she just won’t. She sits on the end of the bed and yells for me or screams/cries bloody murder. Once I get in there, I think she realizes that she needs an excuse for screaming, so the first, lamest excuse pops out of her mouth, lol. Here are some:
    • I have a rough patch on my hand
    • My foot itches
    • I lost my other sock
    • I lost my pony tail in the bed
    • You rolled my sleeves up last night
    • I had a stain on my pants…but I can’t find it now.

6.5 year old son:

  • “Mama (I love that he calls me mama), we should run around the house for 30 minutes so I can mark it on my chart. Or…Sarah can because your back hurts. She can be your substitute!”
  • Walking out of a school function late at night,”Mama, can you hold my hand? I wouldn’t want to get lost out here. It’s so dark.” I just loved the innocence of this, since he doesn’t always ask to hold my hand anymore.
    • Husband: Ryan, sound out and then spell “number.”
    • Ryan writes: nude
    • Husband: dude..try again
  • Ryan: Hey look, we do have ketchup.
    Me: Yeah, I got it when I got my medicine and went to the doctor.
    Ryan: They have ketchup there??
    Me: uncontrollably laughing.
    Ryan: It was just a joke, mama!

    I don’t know which is better, if he was being serious or that he came up with a joke like that on the spot. Either way, hilarious.



The things I have to do to get a day off…

Maybe you can identify with this or maybe you think I’m deranged.

I have shots in my back scheduled for tomorrow. And I am strangely looking forward to it.

It’s going to hurt. Not the actual procedure because they put me under twilight. I can’t remember a DARN THING with twilight.  I remember feeling the medicine entering my bloodstream. My head starts to get fuzzy. I might talk a little or ask a question, and I think, hey, I’m still awa….O.U.T. After that, there are brief flashes of things: the face of a nurse, sitting on the bed trying to get my shoes on, getting in the car, being in my bed. Notice I didn’t remember getting dressed. Or how I got to the car. Or the ride home. Or entering the house. I also repeat myself a lot, since I can’t remember saying it the first or second or eleventh time. “Did I call my mom?” “Yes, honey, you already called your mom.” 15 seconds later, “Did I call my mom?” I usually have something to eat too, and I hardly ever really remember how I finished it. My husband asks, “are you sure you actually ate it? It’s not hiding under the bed, right?” LOL.  It’s sooooooo strange.

Anyway, so that won’t hurt. It’s the IV that I don’t like. And then post-procedural pain. This pain can be so hit or miss. Sometimes it hurts like the devil. Sometimes, it’s not SO bad. Last time I had this particular procedure it was the former. Can’t wait for that. But I still  have this bizarre excitement towards the day. It’s not the pain. I’m not that unhinged. It’s how all the nurses and doctor are there to take care of and pay attention to me. It’s how they validate my pain. And most of all, IT’S THE SLEEP. AND THE REST. AND THE NO WORK.  All day long, sleep, rest, relax, watch tv. I’ve been freakishly giddy about this since last week. The pain is definitely a downer on the relaxing part, but with reruns of Grey’s Anatomy (that I have seen at least 8 times) waiting for me on Netflix (I’ll probably sleep through entire episodes, but it’s okay…see above statement in parenthesis), I’ll survive. And enjoy it as much as I can. I need to get something out of this whole buzzkill, dismal, and dispiriting thing that is my life, I mean my chronic pain.  So I take the good with the bad.






Rise up…my live version

I posted about my current personal anthem the other day. It serves me well. You can find me belting it out in the car on any given day. Well, here it is, live, for your viewing pleasure 🙂 I performed this at our school’s talent show. It’s really for the kids, but they let me steal the mic once a year to serenade them. I love it because it’s my one chance a year to sing in front of an audience. They love it because it’s cool to see their music teacher up there killing it 😉

If you’re interested in seeing more of me singing…check out this slice from last year.


It had been over a month since I had last stepped into the fitness room at the gym to take the zumba class. I missed it so much and each passing week, I really wanted to go, but my body just wouldn’t let me. Between my back and my sickness, I was just a mess and my body needed time to rest.

Finally, last night, I felt well enough to shake it with my favorite instructor! I started with her 4 years ago and have loved her more than any other instructor I have ever taken class from. When she left my old gym, I was devastated (this was actually what my very first slice was about last year). She subbed here and there, and I would go whenever I could. Then last year, she started teaching right near my work. I was so excited! It’s a lot farther away than before but worth it. And what was fun was that I already knew most of her choreography, so I looked like a rock star when no one else knew what they were doing, lol.

Recently, her class has moved a few minutes closer and got a little cheaper! So I’ve been  trying to go as much as I can. Until the plague was brought down upon me. Last night felt so good. And bad. Ha. It was great to get out of the house by myself for something other than a doctor’s appointment. It was great to get my body moving again. It was so much fun dancing again. Man, do I love to dance. It was not so great when I was getting exhausted less than half way through! It was not so fun when my back began to ache even earlier than usual. (zumba is TERRIBLE on my chronic back pain, but it’s the only exercise I really love and it helps keep me sane too…I even wore that tshirt last night…”I workout  to burn off the crazy.” I  quit for a little while because it was hurting so much, but I couldn’t stay away). But she played one of my favorite songs right at the end, and that got me pumped up again and able to finish.

I paid for it today. Boy, did I ever. Pain was awful today. But I’m still glad I went.







Solace in an unconventional place

The idea of this entire post will probably seem very odd to most of you. But there’s always been something about sitting inside a closet. Something about it that makes me happy. safe. calm. secluded. comforted.

I’ve been like this since I can remember. As a kid, I used to hang out among the shirts and pants and read a book, play with toys, act out some make believe story, or just sit. I loved it.  Something about the vantage point of the floor. The oddness of the location. The chance to be alone. You can be alone in a big room, but being alone in a small space brings it closer to you. Let’s you get comfortable with it.

I don’t do it much anymore, as I don’t get to spend a whole lot of time in my room alone anymore. But after the terrible day I had yesterday, and some more stress added on today, with the kids downstairs playing, I went upstairs to change after work. I walk into the closet to hang up my clothes. My brain finally quiets enough that I can register how much my back aches. So I sit down on the closet floor. I look around at the walls, the clothes, frozen in place above me, the small patch of open floor space (thanks to finally cleaning it out a few weeks ago!), the necklaces hanging still on their hooks,  and decide to close the door. I close my eyes, breathe in slowly, and I’m…at peace. For that one moment, my anxiety from the day sloughs off my shoulders. My worries over the car and everything else are put on hold. It’s just me and the red suitcases resting haphazardly on the floor next to me (I feel the same way, carry on bag).

I take a few more deep breaths and think back to all the times my closet gave me solace. Then and now, this tiny room surrounds me and wraps its small space around me like a warm blanket.

It’s not long before I must open the door and exit my happy place. But it’s always there if I need it.

(FYI, this is also how I feel about rooms with curtains. Love to be closed up behind them! Funny thing is that I’m actually a little claustrophobic…it’s small spaces that I CHOOSE that make me happy 🙂  )









I’m just done

Things keep piling on this week, and I’m done. I’m just done. I am going to cry. I’m about to get in the car. As you may have read before, that’s always a good place for me to get my cry on.

I just need all this crap to stop already.

Sorry, this isn’t very good writing today or very exciting, but it’s all I have.

Edited to add: oh my ever loving crap. Just after posting this, I rear-ended someone. Their car is fine. Mine is not.

And yeah… That cry definitely happened. Like, uncontrollable.

I’d Rather Have a Root Canal…wait what?

You always hear people say “I’d rather have a root canal” than do whatever bad thing they have to do. Well, I had one a few years ago, and while the pain leading up to it wasn’t so pleasant, the actual root canal wasn’t that bad. I think they must have been more painful years ago. This one wasn’t any more painful than a filling.

BUT. While it wasn’t horrible, I really don’t feel like testing that old saying again. Yet, I just may be back there very soon. ON THE SAME TOOTH! It started hurting a while ago when I was at the dentist actually. He said it looked fine. Fast forward to yesterday, when it started hurting a lot more. And today when it started hurting A LOT more. And it feels a little loose 😦 Ugh. I do no have time or energy (both mental and physical) for this!

I call to get an appointment and she says they can’t get me in until next Tuesday!! Who know what terrible things could be going on inside my mouth by then! So I decide to be sneaky. I am not real friends with my dentist but I am Facebook friends. So I message him the situation. I don’t explicitly say, can you please get me in earlier, but I just say “what should I do if it gets way worse, especially over the weekend????????” And hook line and sinker, he messages back that he definitely wants me to see him this week and can I come in tomorrow. Yes, yes I can.

So who knows what tomorrow will bring. I’m hoping it’s not more pain. I’m also hoping it’s not another root canal. I’m REALLY hoping the tooth doesn’t have to come out. I already have a bunch of missing teeth thanks to a-hole, tooth hungry benign tumors I have 4 times throughout my life (I still have to get checked every few years to make sure they aren’t coming back. I’m really hoping this isn’t what this is). I don’t want to add another tooth to the causality list.

Did I also mention that I’ve had braces 4 times for a total of 10 years? (much of that because of the tumors) Did I also mention that when I was 3, I tripped up the driveway and bashed my mouth in, knocking out my front tooth? Did I also mention that ONE WEEK later, I had oral surgery because the other front tooth was impacted (I fell and that sucker jammed straight up into my gum!)?  I am kind of over mouth problems. And dentists. And oral surgeons. And orthodontists.

I want a new mouth. And new teeth. And while I’m at it, probably a new back. A new car would be nice too.


Fudge, not the yummy kind.

It’s time again for another installment of….depressing unloading of emotions! I bet you’re all dying to start reading. I bet you just can’t wait. Well, I won’t make you wait any longer…away we go!!

Fudge. I’m sure you all know the word I really mean, but let’s try to keep this PG. Fudge Fudge Fudge. Today it’s not the fibro, but my lower back pain.

Pain is such a vague word. So is hurt. I have pain. It hurts. Those words seem to devalue and belittle the reality of my life. The correct description: a sensation of someone pulling my pelvis apart. Ripping every muscle, tendon, ligament, tissue, and bone apart and then crushing them together…each jagged edge scraping past the other. A sensation of a dull knife plunging through my skin, tearing apart the muscles, and then boring through my bones until they break. The relentless and eternal ache.  

To get through a day with this losing battle going on in my body is exhausting. Agony. Torment. I wake up each day with the daunting task of keeping my mind away from the pain. Trying to joke or smile about it to avoid the alternative of crying. Trying to take care of my kids, my students, my home, and myself without completely falling apart. Dragging my battered body here and there until it’s finally time to let it collapse for the night. And then start the struggle all over again the next day.


I think my leg fell off…well hop over and grab an ice pack.

It is often said that with your first kid you’re a little overprotective. You have a hospital grade sink installed at the front door so that guests can scrub, gown, mask, and glove before entering. Or you refuse to ever go out because a babysitter might tuck the swaddle in on the LEFT side instead of the RIGHT side. My God, what were they thinking? Don’t they know the baby might explode if you do that???!!! Or the baby could cry. And a babysitter certainly cannot do the upside down sway/rock/jiggle/hop on one foot maneuver that ONLY YOU can do. So there’s no way that baby will ever stop crying.

It is also said that with each subsequent child (or even just as the kid gets older and you know better), you get more and more relaxed until with your 5th child (no I don’t have 5 children 🙂 My 2 keep me busy enough) you’re letting them juggle chainsaws while lighting firecrackers on the kitchen stove at the age of 2…while staying home by themselves. Hey, he can reach the bag of lucky charms I left for him.


But that super overprotective thing…it never really happened to me. Some real-life examples:

  • Bring the baby to a party when they are 3 weeks old and hand them off to the first kind looking stranger? Yes! I’m going to take a nap! Hmmm…that stranger just sneezed…but that couch over there looks SO comfy. Bah, the baby will be fine! It’s good for his immunity. Mama needs her rest.
  • Leave him with a babysitter at 2.5 months old so I can go to a wedding? No problem! I run out of my house, breast pump tubes dangling from my purse, faster than you can say Cha Cha Slide!
  • Sleep train with cry it out at exactly 4 months old because the book says that’s okay or I’m going to lose my ever-loving mind if I have one more sleepless night? YOU BETCHA! (and also NEVER let them sleep in MY bed!!) Let me grab that bottle of whatever and finish it off while you scream your head off upstairs…I CAN’T HEAR YOU above the sound of super explosive action movie!!
  • Lock the door to the bathroom and turn on the fan so you can’t hear them trying to get in? Absolutely! They already ask for privacy when they poop, I can certainly teach them that mama needs that too. Sure they scream and claw at the door the first few times, but eventually they give up and walk away. Defeat is a valuable lesson to learn.

So, obviously I’m a very laid back kind of parent, and I think it works pretty well for me, my husband and my kids. I’m sure other parents might think we’re horrible, and I’m sure I’m screwing my kids up in other ways…

But hey, at least I can pee in peace.