It's That Time of Year Again

My kids have been out of school for three days now, and I'm already going a little crazy.  Since I know today is the last day of school for many of your kids, I figured it would be a good time to repost this.

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(Originally posted May 24, 2011)

Brandi's Tips for a Super Fun Summer!

You want to know the biggest reason I'm really disappointed that the end of the world has been postponed until October? Because that means I still have to get through the entire summer break with my kids, by myself. Honestly, dodging brimstone and earthquakes sounds slightly more pleasant to me.

So, since today is the last day of school here, I thought I'd share my tips for having a Super Fun Summer while being forced to spend time with your children.

1. This one is the most important. Ship your biggest troublemaker off for the summer. Between camps and grandparents who live far away, you should be able to arrange for at least one of your children to be gone for the entire vacation.

2. Buy a good pair of headphones and never take them off. If you can't hear the whining and fighting, it's a lot easier to pretend your children don't exist. Bonus: Once your kids realize you can't hear them bugging you for stuff like dinner, they eventually stop talking to you altogether.

3. Invest in a large bottle of melatonin. Slip five or six tablets into their Cheerios in the morning, and you're guaranteed to have a quiet, restful day!

4. Fake a drug problem and check yourself into rehab. That should buy you several weeks of being able to use the bathroom without children wandering in to tattle on a sibling. Have a "relapse" if you need more time.

5. Rent Swiss Family Robinson and have your kids watch it. Make a big deal of it and how "fun" it would be to be stranded on a deserted island. Then suggest your kids play Swiss Family Robinson in the playhouse in the back yard all Summer long! Give them each a sleeping bag and box of snacks, and tell them you'll see them when school starts again. Remind them that the real Swiss Family Robinson didn't come in the house for bathroom breaks or to watch Sponge Bob or to eat dinner.

6. Play lots of games with your kids, like The First One Who Makes a Single Sound Has to Scrub the Toilet. Or, Mommy's Really Sick and if you Whine it Might Make Her Die. Or, Hide and Go Seek (in which the children hide, and you seek...when you get around to it).

7. Lemonade stands are always a fun Summer activity. Set your kids up at the end of the driveway and tell them they're not allowed back in the house until they've made at least $500. It will teach them invaluable lessons about entrepreneurship and innovation. And should keep them out of the house for at least a week.

8. Use the summer as an opportunity to meet your neighbors, and then send your kids over to play in their yard. Every day.

9. Kids love crafts. Teach them to create "vintage" jewelry, and have them work on it for 8-10 hours a day in an inhome sweatshop a quiet, tucked away room, far from outside distractions. Open an Etsy store and use the proceeds to send them away to camp next Summer.

10. Play "Spa" every day. They think you're playing with them, but you get a massage and foot rub out of the deal.

Happy Summer Vacation!

I'm not fat, I'm just big uterused.

So, the microwaving of my uterus went surprisingly well.

To be honest, by the time they wheeled me into the OR, I was convinced I'd wake up minus a leg or something.  The doctor had scheduled me for several procedures I wasn't actually having, and even though they seemed to have gotten it straight long before the surgery, I was worried.

Also, seeing this on the wall next to the pre-op bed wasn't very reassuring.

Click to embiggen

If my surgeon needs a pictogram to know how to make sure he's cutting the right part open, perhaps surgery isn't the right field for him.  Just a thought.

And I still haven't figured out number four.  What does the maniacally smiling guy mean? 

Anyway, as far as I know they only did the procedure they were supposed to do.  Worst case scenario is that they also tied my already tied fallopian tubes. 

Even though the procedure only takes about fifteen minutes, they use general anesthesia.  I don't do so well when I wake up from it.

It's always a mystery what I'll be doing when I wake up.  This time it was crying.  I woke up sobbing and thrashing.  They kept asking me what was wrong and I just kept saying I didn't know.  I really didn't.  Five minutes and a hit of morphine later, I was fine.  Loopy, but fine.

Apparently the doctor came in to talk to me right after the shot of morphine.  I don't remember this.  However the nurses told me that I told him I was really sorry he was stuck at the hospital microwaving my uterus on his birthday. See?  I'm always thinking of others.

What I do remember is that when he came back in later after I was more coherent, he told me that I have an extremely large uterus. 

What does one say to that?  Thank you?

Anyway, I went home and spent the weekend throwing up (anesthesia--the gift that keeps on giving) and sending out narcotics fueled texts (Percoset--also the gift that keeps on giving.)

Hopefully it will all be worth it.  We'll see in about three months.

Speaking of vaginas (we totally were), I only received TWO submissions for the giveaway.  So, I'm extending it through the end of June.  If you have no idea what I'm talking about, click HERE. 

It's a party and you're all invited! I'll bring the popcorn!

Lasers and balloons!

So, today is the day I get pumped full of iron and other people's blood.  Apparently, it's also the day the iron could kill me. 

You guys know what to do if that happens.  I'm counting on you. 

I actually have a medical procedure every day this week except Friday.  Most of them involve my vagina in some way.

Thursday is the uterine ablation. I was initially told that it involved lasers and balloons.  I was kind of excited, because what isn't exciting about lasers and balloons in your lady bits?  It's all the elements of a really awesome party.  IN YOUR UTERUS!  But after more research I realized that they'll actually insert an expandable microwave radio antenna into my uterus and essentially microwave my endometrium like a left over pork chop.  I'm not even kidding.  Maybe they could pop some popcorn in there while they're at it.  Human Jiffy-Pop!

Anyway, I have to take a pill tonight and tomorrow to soften my cervix.  First, the pills are also used for abortions, so now I'm paranoid about what the pharmacy people think of me. I wanted to loudly tell them all that there was definitely NO bun in this oven (but if they checked back on Thursday, there may be popcorn). Second, one of the warnings read, "In extremely rare instances,  portions of the cervical tissue may become detached from the cervix."  So now I'm worried about leaving a trail of cervix wherever I go for the next 48 hours.

"Excuse me m'am, you dropped something."
"Oh, thanks.  It's my cervix."

So anyway, my point is that posting may be scarce for the next week or so, but I have a good reason for it.

In the meantime, don't forget to send me your knitted cowl yarn vagina pictures.  Oooh--maybe someone could put one in the microwave and take a picture in my honor! 

What do you get when you combine Mother's Day with Military Spouse Appreciation Day?

So, I had a gynecology appointment today. (Wait, don't leave!  I'm not going to describe it. Much.)

Anyway, it's left me with vaginas on the brain (which kind of sounds like a horrible medical condition).  Also?  It's left me thinking that people with certain names need to be more choosy with their chosen career path.  My gynecologist at the Army hospital today was named Captain Dickman.  I really wanted to get a picture of his name tape as proof, but as a wise friend pointed out as I texted her from the exam room, he might get the wrong idea if I started snapping pictures while he was elbow deep in my nethers. (And to clarify, I was not texting during the exam.  You guys are twisted.)

Wait, where was I?

Oh yeah. Vaginas.

I've previously made my feelings known about the scourge to society known as The Knitted Cowl.  In short, there is no way to wear one without looking like your head is sticking out of a vagina.   There just isn't.

Don't see it?                                     Here, let me help you.

I don't care how well made they are, how amazing the yarn is or how vibrant the color. A yarn vagina is a yarn vagina.

Knowing how I feel about The Dreaded Knitted Cowl, my friend Vivian decided that I'd be the perfect person to give one away. We originally talked about a raffle--she'd really like the proceeds to benefit The Fisher House, which is like The Ronald McDonald House, but for the military.  They're found on many military installations where major medical facilities are located.

But then I took a writing hiatus, lost a lot of readers, and the chances of making more than ten bucks became pretty slim.

So here's the deal: 

You send me your best yarn vagina pictures (NOT pictures you find on the internet!).   I'll choose my favorite.  That person will receive a lovely blue yarn vagina made by Vivian, AND I'll donate all my ad revenue for the months of May and June to Fisher House. In YOUR name.
 

The lovely yarn vagina up for grabs.

So, what sort of pictures am I talking about?  That's really up to you.  It can simply be you or a friend modeling a knitted cowl: 

Why yes, that's me Vanna White-ing a knitted cowl in the bathroom mirror. 

OR you can get more creative:

Make it a family affair and involve your kids!  After all, they wouldn't exist without your vagina.

 

Even better, get your mom to re-enact her own journey out of the birth canal!  Happy Mother's Day!!

"But Brandi," I hear you say, "What if I don't have a yarn vagina?"  Get creative!  Use a scarf.  A towel.  Whatever.   It's the thought that counts.  Also?  Give yourself a great big pat on the back for not owning one.

The rules:  I'll accept entries until 9 pm Eastern time on Friday, May 18th Saturday, June 30th.  You don't have to be in the picture, but the picture must belong to you. The person in the picture has to agree to let me post it here.  I can blur the face if they'd like. Email submissions to brandidouglass@gmail.com with something in the subject line letting me know what it is.

Now go!  Get snapping pictures! I want to see your vaginas!

Wait...you know what I mean.

(At this point I'm pretty sure that this post is probably the top result if you Google vagina.)

UPDATE:  I've extended the contest through June 30th!

At least it's not about my period.

Well, it won't ALL be about my period anyway.

So you want to know how I know it's been too long since I've written?  I logged into Blogger and couldn't figure out how to publish a post.  That's probably not a good sign.

Anyway, I know.  I know it's been a month.  To be completely honest, I'm only writing because a certain friend is hounding me to do so.  She hasn't blogged in a month either, but for some reason that's totally fine for her and not me.  Feel free to click on that link and post comments about how she needs to write more. And please call her Jolene.  

You know what I've been doing instead of blogging?  Sleeping.  And popping narcotics.  And sleeping.  And I really didn't want this to become a blog about me being sick.  If I had something major, that would be one thing, but I don't.  It's just a lot of little things that when put all together turn me into a zombie.  Minus the brain eating part.  And minus the whole walking around part, too.  Zombies are always on the freaking move. I guess it just turns me into someone who sleeps a lot.

And because I know I'll get asked anyway, here are the highlights of my recent medical maladies (Feel free to skip past the bullets if you don't care.  I totally don't blame you.):

• During my week in North Carolina, my foot started to swell and hurt.  After I got home it got so bad that I ended up in the ER.  Here we are more than a month later and it's still swollen and painful.  They can't figure out why.  I took my last pain pill two days ago.  I'm afraid to go in and ask for more because I worry they'll label me as a drug seeker.  So, I've been piggy-backing Aleve and Tylenol, which makes it tolerable, but also makes me vomit.  But hey, I dropped a pant size, so hello bright side!

• A common side effect of gastric bypass surgery is low iron.  It's also a side effect of heavy periods.  I have both.  I got to a point one day that I stood at the bottom of the stairs and cried because I was too tired to climb them.  I went in for some blood work and discovered that my iron as well as my back up iron (ferratin) were pretty much non existent.  It's like a Cullen had sucked me dry, but without all the sparkles and weird pillow ripping sex.  Next week I get to go have a blood transfusion and an iron infusion to remedy the situation. And apparently the iron infusion can possibly kill me, so that's something to look forward to.

• I misplaced my left ovary for a couple of weeks.  True story.  At first I thought maybe The Bloggess had it.  I mean, she said she did.  But no.  Apparently it was there the whole time.  It was hiding behind some scar tissue.  They canceled the Amber Alert for it yesterday.

My awesome friend Bennet, who does NOT hound me to write posts, took my copy of The Bloggess' book to a book signing in Texas.  In case you can't read it, it says, "Brandi, All your left ovaries are belong to us, Jenny Lawson"

• They discovered that my ovary was allegedly missing because I was being checked for coochie cancer. FOR THE FOURTH TIME.  Four times in the past fifteen years.  Five if you count the mammogram I had to have at 25 because of a lump. (I know, technically not coochie cancer, but it involved my lady bits, so I count it.)  But four times doctors have suspected uterine and/or ovarian cancer. Luckily I've always been cancer free, but I'm terrified that my luck will run out one of these days.  So, now that I've surpassed the magic age of 35 and have officially retired my uterus, they have finally agreed to rip all the equipment out.  My innards will be a vast cave of emptiness.  

• Oh, and my diabeeetus and hypertension are back.  For a while my pancreas just totally checked out.  Apparently it was off having a fling with my left ovary.  My doctor prepared me for the reality that I would likely need an insulin pump.  But the meds she gave me to jump start it worked, and now I just have to take oral meds.  Probably forever.  The silver lining is that someday Wilford Brimley will die and someone will have to take his place in the Liberty Medical commercials.  I'm already preparing my resume.  And my handlebar mustache.

So there you have it.  My long list of woes.  

But now that I'm back, it'll be hard to get rid of me.  (Who am I kidding?  No it won't.  But let's pretend, O.K.?) 

Stay tuned for a giveaway that involves yarn vaginas, my mother exiting the birth canal, your yarn vagina pictures, and helping military families in need. 

It's like a very twisted after school special. You won't want to miss it.