THE GOAT RODEO

When does the swelling go down? I feel like the Michelin Man, or the Stay Puff Marshmallow Man. Either way, it ain’t good. I thought this was going to be a walk in the park and it is, a lovely cemetery that’s filled with ghosts at midnight. Snort. I went to a book store last night for a magazine to read. By the time I was done, I wanted a nap. Doctor Hing does not have to worry about me doing too much, too soon. Believe me. I was asked if I should not feel better by now. Fortunately, I have a bunch of friends who have had this and they all say week three is the worst. You’re out of pain meds, feel like a squishy ball and it still hurts and you wonder if it’s worth it? By week four you’re wondering why you were worried week three. Maybe I will nap the week away, No? Kids? Rats.

Thank God I’ve got an excuse not to haul my butt to the fireworks this year. We usually take some of the boys and go with my sisters in law. It’s actually fun, but makes for a late night. Herne and JJ can’t go, cause they can’t handle the booming. It really upsets them. So we’ll stick to the Manchester Parade this week and the fair and Grandpa will take them to that.

Heal I say!!!! That and have a decent week of T.V. Okay, you can’t ask for everything

I *did* something to myself yesterday and I’m in incredible pain today. I just want it to stop. I’m also more swollen, which makes it hurt more. Please tell me this is going to feel normal after a while!

It’s part of the Wii. Don’t ask. I don’t understand the thing at all. It was a gift. Anyway, Gene-Gene and I are both fans of the Black Eyed Peas. This morning there are two new characters in our family. I ask G2.

“Oh, that’s Will.I.am and apl.de.ap, from the B.E.P’s. ” (Black Eyed Peas)

Sorry Fergie and Tabboo, I’m sure you’re on the list and welcome to the family. Snort. That kid. He must really love them, cause there are no members of Duran Duran up there, and he LOVES them.

BTW, if you’re a fan, and yes a 45 year old mother of four is allowed love the Black Eyed Peas, the new CD is, what’s the term that would most embarrass my child? Oh yea, “Bangin.” I love it.

Nothing maor doing for me this week. Sure, I have some sewing to do, some stuff to handle, but I left this time to heal my body and that’s my main goal. I’m out one serger till this weekend. It’s getting a needed tune-up, so even the sewing is the hand stuff. All quiet, all peaceful, as I watch over my boys as they play in and outside prior to 3/4’s of them headed back to summer school next week. Only Steven home to talk and dream with me.

I’m looking forward to it, but it’s going to be like juggling large cats to get them a quarter mile away, a quarter mile I cannot walk for a few weeks. Should be a hoot.

I never thought my skin bothered me. It was a badge from my past, but one I could live with. My hernia didn’t seem to cause me any grief either. Just something I had to deal with, eventually. Now they are gone.

My legs will always show evidence of my weight gain. I will not ever go through another major surgery, unless it is life, or death. This one took more wind out of my sails than I care to admit to. It also hurts. Many years ago I would no longer be in pain. Now I tire easily and can’t lift anything if I wanted to. No one had to warn me. I figured that one out on my own. Even my paired down purse is too heavy.

Still, I look down and there is no beach ball size lump where the hernia was. Each time I catch a glance by accident, I wonder who I am looking at? So used to sucking it in, reducing it, hiding it any way I could. Now gone, forever. There are no two year olds to tumble down the stairs and pick up out of instinct. The older boys can carry JJ if he needs it. They’ve been great. This is a for-good healing.

In a way I limited myself by my extra skin and hernia. ashamed, embarrassed and putting on a show that made it all look like a big joke. Just like the weight. Fat people are not jolly. They’re trick card handlers, expertly drawing your eye away from the part of their body that upsets them the most. Slight of hand for a ginormous behind. At least that was my experience. We all say we want to lose the weight for health reasons. I don’t buy it. Sure, health is part of it, but so many of us wait. We wait till we are thin to do this, or that. It will be easy when we are thin. Fun when we are thin. I let half my life slip by waiting to be thin and not doing anything about it. I was not ready to deal with the demons I had to face if I wasn’t hiding behind the huge breasts and belly.

Now, I carry some extra skin, but not as much. Two pounds, my last defense against being me. Now if they don’t like me I can’t blame it on the weight. I own it. All of it. Why is it so important for people to like me? I’m like an eager puppy yapping at the heels of those around me and that makes me less appealing. I know that and yet the lesson is not learned. Maybe because when I should have learned it, I was too busy hiding behind my body.

*Some* people think I won’t be able to hack it, camping outside for the run of the Ren Fest. They think I will only make it three, yes three weekends. Some people do not know about my camping for weeks in the summer, my RAISED blow-up bed (I don’t do sleeping bags, thank you very much), my years as a Girl Scout, my time as a Girl Scout Leader, nor my inability to give in, cause there is a bet on. Not to mention my ability to fashion accessorize even a tent. Yes, it will be a palatial, kid-free den of iniquity, without booze, drugs, or sex. Never bet a woman who hates to lose. Oh, and no, said person may not, at any point, do things to scare me out of there. I’ve seen, “The Parent Trap,” and the episode of, “The Brady Bunch,” when they go camping.

Someone is going to owe me many drinks and a ride home in October.

Just sayin.

It still hurts. My mother in law and sister in law have, thankfully, taken my squabbling children for the weekend and I’m moved to the couch. I’m even dressed. I hurt, I’m at the grumpy phase and my stomach is too small to eat anything, which would be fine if I was not so darn thin. Ensure is my new friend. Thanks to Sue for the suggestion.

I can’t wait to have the drains out, since I think they are causing a lot of the pain. The rest is tolerable.

Grump, grump, grump. Lol, snort. I’d have put a pillow over my face and smothered me long ago. My husband is wonderful.

The husky and my cat have not left my side in days. They’re like glue. Okay, it might be because I have the best air conditioner. Neither one are stupid.

I will atempt to keep this pc and not TMI. I’m healing, slooowly. I had to remove the medical tape last night, because it was burning my skin. Which means part of my incision is open. Yes, I have a call in to my doctor. So far, except for the tape (allergic), everything looks great and I’m not even sqicky when cleaning out my drains. Surprise, surprise. I swear to God I remember Dr. Hing standing over me and saying, “Okay Dr. Kreske, your turn. Her hernia is huge.” I’m going to ask him about that. I don’t remember the operation, but that I do. Oddballs if I’m right. Could all be in my warped little mind.

If I feel up to it today, I’m going to make a pouch carrier for my drains, so they stop looking like three floating boobs on my body. The one thing I know for sure? No more big surgeries, ever. Oh, if my sister still wants to give me a midline facelift, I might do it. Easy in and easy out, back to life in three days. That’s it. The rest of me sags and bags. This is way more painfull than my initiial gastric-bypass and I had the full zipper then, too.

Pain is un-fun and I’m a fun kind of person.

Farrah Faucet died. I am very sad. She was an icon to my era and someone I wanted to be like, look like, etc. Was not happening. I have a photo of that I will post as soon as I can talk my husband into doing it. I guess that’s not me posting it.

Micheal Jackson… I have mixed feelings right now. Do I believe he was a pedophile? Probably, and because of that I am sorry for the loss of his incredible talent, but I feel people in his circle with children are safer. Is it fair? Nope. There was no proof he was a pedophile. A lot of speculation, a lot of whisperings and of course a couple of tossed out trials, but there is a wariness there. My kids won’t have overnights at adults homes, unless I trust them 100% and even then…I guess I have mixed emotions. I never wish pain and death on anyone. Certainly not the man who molested me. I had no issues with him by the time he died. I read his obit and moved on with my day without reacting. I sort of feel that way about MJ too. Is his death news? Yes. Do many people mourn him? Yes and they are certainly welcome to do so. He has a legion of loyal fans and they loved him dearly. I would never tell someone to believe something I do about anyone, or thing. I’m just dispassionate about this. His death is the end of an era, and it ends further speculation. I suspect all truth will come out eventually. No matter what, it was what it was and perhaps we should mourn the star, but not the man. At least that’s all I can do. Maybe I’m not being fair. Which, in the big picture is unimportant, at best.

The one thing we lost is two icons of a certain period of time that defined much of who I am and many others of my generation. I’m sad. Sad, confused and uncertain whether I’m spitting on a dead man’s grave, or not.

I refuse to read the post I put up when I was sedated. It took me three hours and I thought it was a masterpiece. I’m not going to tarnish that thought with truth. Although it was probably the equivalent of a drunk guy in a bar telling people around him, “I love you, man,” in very slurred speech.

I made a video, but I have no idea how to embed it. I’m still on pain-killers and will be for a few days, although about half of what I would be on if I was taking them as the doctor prescribed and none at all if one of my drains didn’t hurt. Yes TMI, what *do* you expect from me?

So, I’m trucking along and the boys are doing a good job, so far. We are not holding our collective breath, but have faith that they are trying.