Hubby was gone, I didn't blog. Or do anything else for that matter.

Hubby just got back last night from Cairo. 

Which means I've spent pretty much two weeks with my kids agreeing that indeed coco puffs are acceptable for dinner and becoming a little too intimate with Netflix. 

I just sort of fall into this odd state of "whatever-ness" mixed in with mad cleaning/projects when he travels.

Some days we don't change out of our jammies and we eat pancakes and eggs for dinner because hubby thinks it's an abomination to eat breakfast foods any other time of day but that's just simply ridiculous.  Everyone knows those things taste better at night.   After doing a whole lot of nothing all day.
Other days I make them clean up large quantities of dog poop in the back yard.  While saying things like "Oh you want to complain about this?  Okay, let's just put your list next to my list and see who does more around here."
It can be a very confusing time for them.

On a side note Zoe was trapped in the garage overnight and I know she pooped in there because I could smell it I just couldn't find it but then it stopped smelling.  So I guess...problem solved!

Do you even remember a time when I didn't discuss poop on my blog?  Me neither.

But the thing is, when hubby is around he kind of forces me through association to be social. 

It really is a lot of fun living with me.  I alternate between being a hermit, not to be confused with being a hobbit, and then wanting all my friends around me at once.  Like in a high concentrated dose where I get all jittery on their awesomeness and then can't sleep all night because I replay every possibly stupid thing I said. 

You should feel very bad for hubby. 

He gets to listen to me get all teary about how I don't want to go out because the thought of people is just too much and in the next sentence I'm upset about why doesn't anyone call and invite us out tonight?  What's wrong with us?  Don't they like us? 

Seriously, give him a hug the next time you see him.

It's probably good he only goes for two weeks at a time because that way moss doesn't start to grow on me.  And the kids get better food.  There are only so many times you can give your kids pizza before CPS gets involved. 

Although I'm pretty sure Costco wouldn't be allowed to sell it if it weren't food and they seem okay to me and besides someday they'll go off to college and have a really good head start on how to survive for at least two weeks on Ramen noodles and Progresso soup.  They may even help save other lives.

It's the least I can do.

If you send me to get it, it's at your own risk

There are some things I know a lot about.

Like all the season's of The Biggest Loser and Breaking Bad and why the toilet paper should always go under the back or how to sneak out of a sleeping baby's room {ninja level 5} or the best way to pedestrian stalk to get good parking but in such a way they don't know they're being stalked or simply: zombies.  Because obviously. 

But there are some things I know practically nothing about and one of those is alcohol.  So when hubby asked me to get him cervezas at the store recently I said sure. 

Only when I got to the check out line I realized I had forgotten them and the woman helping me could tell I needed something so she offered to continue with my order while I ran to grab one more thing. 

I hurried over to the alcohol area with all the other winos and stood in front of the beer and looked and looked and looked.  And could not find any cervezas.  At all.  I considered asking the people around me but finally just decided to grab something I had seen him drink before and hurried back.

Me when I got home:  Look I know you said cervezas but I couldn't find any so I grabbed this.  And believe me, I looked.

Hubby:  *quinty eye stare* You do realize that "cervazas" just means "beer" in Spanish right?

Me:  I hate you right now.

So we can agree that not only do I not know anything about beer I also don't know anything about Spanish. 

And probably way too much about zombies.

I'm not saying it's hubby's fault that my kid sleeps like a rock. But it's totally his fault.

One night there was a girl and this girl, let's call her Sheila, mostly because that's her name, was dreaming blissfully when an unbelievably loud noise began to shake the house. 

Now, I do not use the word "unbelievably" or "loud" loosely in this context.  I do not exaggerate for effect.  I'm pretty sure, had I taken a poll the next morning, the neighbors would have said that they too were pulled from blissful dreams.

At first I thought it was someone trying to break into our house, but then I realized it was coming from inside our house. 
It was hubby banging on Dylan's door. 

Now it didn't start out as banging apparently.  Or so I'm told.

It started out as him trying to find the iPad and when he went to see if it was in Dylan's room, his door was locked.  So hubby knocked.  But our child was asleep so he knocked a little louder.  Didn't work, so he knocked louder.  Until low and behold in crescendos into a full on battle with the door and hubby literally yelling Dylan's name and him sleeping through it. 

I even joined in because I was envisioning someone had gone through his window and kidnapped him. 
Finally after about 15 minutes total of this a very sleepy Dylan opened his door and looked at us both like we were crazy, climbed back into bed and went right back to sleep. 

The next morning I woke up to find Dylan's door firmly planted in our room where it could not keep us out in any way, shape or form. 

Dylan:  why don't I have a door?

Me:  do you have no memory of last night?

Dylan : *shrugs shoulders* kinda, not really.

In his defense, hubby once slept through a fire alarm going off in his dorms.  When our babies were babies he would wake up in the corner of the room with me yelling "The baby!  Pick up the baby and give him to me!"  Or he would wake up in the kitchen with a bottle in his hand in front of the microwave and figure it out from there.  Hubby is a coma sleeper too.

Now I have two.  Fantastic.

On the upside, he got a glimps into what it's like to wake one up.

They must have way better dreams than I do.

My blood is a fickle mistress

If there's one thing I hate more than improper highway merging or unflushed toilets it's spending money on things I don't need, so last week when I felt horrid I really didn't want to go to the ER because I didn't want to fork over the copay.  I finally gave in and went to the urgent care because they're cheaper.  Or I'm cheaper.  I think ultimatly what we learn here is that I'm rediculous but that's the moral of the story and comes at the end.  I'm just saving you time. 

The urgent care peeps didn't find anything "abnormal" with my syptoms:  heart beating out of my chest, shortness of breath, dizzyness, headache. 

They did do a CBC and some blood work to check my thyroid but I'm not thin because I have hyperthyroid I'm thin because I don't eat sugar or junk food.  The doc was looking at the wrong issue.  I left feeling very frustrated.  I felt like nothing had been resolved, I still felt crappy, had wasted time and money and was nowhere closer to knowing why.  Awesome. 

On Monday morning I got a call from that urgent care doctor telling me that my CBC was back and that I was severly anemic and needed to hang up and go to the ER for a blood transfusion.  He continued to say that he only sees results that low when he has a patient who is in kidney failure or has cancer. 
That's when all my symptoms clicked.  My heart was working really hard to get the oxygen through my system and that's why I was so light headed and short of breath and thus the headache. 

So miss cheapy pants got to spend money on the urgent care AND the ER!  Serves me right. 

They're still trying to figure out why I'm so anemic, seeing as how I'm not bleeding internally and on the upside I don't have cancer and I'm not in kidney failure! 

They think it could be that my body doesn't absorb iron.  It's like "I am way too good for you iron, eww, get away from me" and then iron just sulks and doesn't even try anymore. 

I'm trying to arange a meeting where iron and my blood don't know the other are going to be there and then there's really good music and so the other doesn't want to leave so they both stay and they say it's for the music and the chips and salsa but they both know the real reason.  They both know. 

I'll keep you updated on how it goes.  It could be magical. 

I wonder if this would work with Zoe

Is it wrong that this held my attention for as long as it did?
http://cat-bounce.com/

My happiness level just went up like 486 degrees. 

I'm glad we could share in this moment together.

We fight on

For a kid, going to school should consist of the anticipation of lunch because this time mom probably remembered to put your favorite fruit snacks in. 

It should be full of races to the swing sets at recess to try out your new shoes that you're also hoping to keep kind of clean.

It should be flashes of laughter with the teacher as she/he explains something new and you get it and they rejoice with you. 

It should be exchanging knowing glances with the kid next you as you both get the right math answer and race to raise your hands first. 

It should never be a knot sitting in the bottom of your stomach. 

For some kids this is exactly what it is. 

I was one of them.

Oh the social part was awesome.  I was all in for that. 

But the rest made me want to cry.  Daily.

And I truly began to think of myself as stupid.  I accepted that word for myself and let it in.  Let it fester and grow until it ate a hole in my brain too big to let anything else in. 

That little word did unimaginable damage to my psyche and self worth. 
That word grew into an ugly disgusting monster that would sit on my shoulder and whisper into my ear all the horrible things I thought about myself until I shrank so small in the classroom I eventulaly became invisible. 

It all came to a head when my high school counselor told me one day as a senior "Maybe college isn't for you". 

I was crushed.  I had never thought about not going to college. 

That day I decided I would prove her wrong.  I now have two degrees.  But more importantly I know that I am not stupid.  And that didn't come from books.  It came from Jesus.

I have a child who thinks he is stupid.  And it breaks my heart beyond words.  I refuse to let that awful word detroy my child.  I refuse to let him accept it.  I am fighting on my knees and in school offices and things will change. 

Some kids look in the mirror and see Superman.  Some kids see nothing worth saving. 

I see a mom who will stop at nothing to prove to her child that through Christ all things are possible. 

And that word will not be a part of our vocabulary. 

Maybe they have get out of jail free cards to go with those nice shiny gifts. If they don't someone sucks at PR.

As hubby and I were in Wal-Mart looking for Daymon's birthday present I hear this over the intercom:

"We will be giving away free knives to every customer over the age of 21 in two minutes in the seafood section.  Please join us for your free knife today!"  So I call hubby to find out where he is because he was by the kids bikes and he's all "I'm on my way to get my free knife.  Why.  Shouldn't I be?" 

And I was all "Well my first three thoughts were 1) they are seriously giving away free knives to people in Wal-Mart?  Are they completely crazy?  and 2) this guy is the absolute worst at giving overhead announcements, they need to fire him immediately and 3) I honestly don't know that I was aware that Wal-Mart had a seafood department, interesting."

And then I looked over my shoulder for the next hour as I contemplated how many unstable stabby people there were around me.

At least on any other day I'm only guessing they have knives with them.