Is it even a real car?

Pretty sure Michael will agree with this:

This would not have flown at our house:

 

Happy weekend!

Last man standing

Sean is now the only completely able-bodied person in our abode. My hand’s still out of commission as is Rebecca’s arm. And yesterday, Amy had her wisdom teeth pulled so she’s pretty out of it, too. (Thank goodness for Vicodin. So far we’ve been managing her pain pretty well.) Our normally healthy home has really taken a beating this month.

Amy did not say anything hilarious or hysterical after her oral surgery, much to my disappointment. She went in determined that she was going to stay as composed as possible and not be like David after Dentist. Which is quite unfortunate, because that kid is rolling in the dough – over 120 million views of his video. My friend Carissa reminded me that if Amy pulled something like that, she could finance her college education. Oh, I wish! The only funny thing she said was, “I have blood all over my teeth. I look like I could be in Les Mis!” Which was pretty funny. Definitely gave me a good laugh all the way home.

Here’s to healing in our house. And here’s to the boys being very careful; we really need at least one person around with two working arms who’s not loopy on pain meds.



______________________________________
If you don't know who David is:

Walking Wounded

Well, we were quite the sight. Mom, Rebecca and I each had our right hands wrapped up last week – Mom and Rebecca in casts and me in a bandage after my surgical procedure. When we went out for dinner for Amy’s birthday, the waitress asked if we’d fallen off a bicycle built for three. Which was better than the question I got about whether we were in abusive relationships…

Mom did her best to help – she did more than that. Apparently someone forgot to tell her she had a cast on, because she acted exactly like she would have without the cast. She is just slightly crazy. Dad was a huge help, too; he mowed the lawn, a task Sean was dreading doing solo since Michael left for school. They usually tag-team the mowing and trimming. He gets to put off doing the job alone one more week now.

Rebecca has done great with her cast. She got the waterproof kind so she’s been able to swim and shower without wrapping her arm up in a bag. She’s left-handed; she’s been able to eat and write and get along quite nicely. I, on the other hand, am right-handed and have not fared as well. I do have to wrap my hand to shower because I have to keep my stiches dry. I don’t think my hair has gotten too clean or conditioned since last week… I’ve also not been able to write well – an envelope I just addressed looks like a 4 year old wrote it. Turns out I’m not so handy as a southpaw.

Rebecca will be out of her cast in 4 weeks; I go back for my check-up in two weeks. It’s been quite the August for us, that’s for sure. At least we met our family insurance deductible, something we haven’t done in the 20 years we’ve been married. So now I’m trying to figure out what other procedures we need to get done before the end of the year. Pretty sure a colonoscopy in in Sean’s very–near future…

Yes, I've very aware it looks like I'm engaged in offensive hand signals. 

Gotta admit that was a source of great comic relief last week.

Nice...

Broken Hands Club

So, I’ve got a little bump on my finger that popped up out of nowhere. It’s been there for a little while now, so I had it checked and turns out it’s a little bump that needs to come out. No big deal, just an out-patient procedure, will take about an hour and then I’ll be good to go.

That doesn’t sound too dire, does it? That’s because you’re not my Mom. Let me tell you how it sounded to her: “I have a tumor on my hand! I have to have surgery! I am moments from death!”

Then she turned to Google. Very, very bad idea. I figured it was better to have her come up for my procedure than have her be 800 miles away, worrying about what was going on. Besides, it would be very helpful to have her here to take me to the doctor so that Sean wouldn’t have to take time off from work, and really, who's better at taking care of a sick person than the mom? Plus, the girls would love to see her. I didn’t count on me seeing much, since I’m hoping to go home with lots of pain meds and an order to go to sleep.

(Is it wrong that I’m really looking forward to having an excuse to take a nap? The thought of the nap almost makes up for the fact that I can’t eat or drink anything (including Diet Coke!) for 13 hours. Almost.)

Well, my procedure day is today. Mom is here. And so is Dad. Because it turns out that Mom, my helper, driver and caretaker, broke her arm last week. Yep; Mom’s in a cast. In case you’re counting, that makes two family members with broken right arms – Rebecca’s cast is red and Mom’s is Tar Heel blue. And in just a few hours, my hand will be all bandaged up, too, so I’ll join their injured hand club. Three generations with wounded right arms. What a group. I’m really looking forward to snapping a portrait of all of us with our messed up hands. Should be a treasure.

Will add my hand to the picture tomorrow.

And all just in time for Amy’s 17^th birthday on Thursday. Guess she’ll have to bake her own cake. Because my money's on the fact that she won't want one made by a one-armed, drugged up mommy. Of course, it can't look worse than this:

That feels like a challenge...

Why we don’t run

I don’t run. Just don’t. In my thinner days I didn’t run and I’m most certainly not going to start now in my more, well, not-thinner days. If you see me running, you better start running, too, because something is
obviously chasing me. And if you start as soon as you see me, you’ll surely be fine because I’ll give out way before you will.

I thought I had passed this bit of Christy-wisdom on to my children. So far, Michael and Amy have chosen to get their exercise in different ways and have not given in to the dark side that is jogging/running. Rebecca, on the other hand, has decided that running might be for her. She’s gone out a few times to practice running. (Practice running. Where did I go wrong?!) Thankfully, in those moments I was an actual good parent and did not dissuade her. No, I encouraged her and sent her on her way, positive that running a few times would convince her that my position on running was correct and she’d give it up to pursue some other form of exercise. Like my favorite – chewing gum.

Last week Rebecca went out to practice her running – several of her friends were participating in a 1.5 mile fun run and she wanted to get ready for it. We encouraged her to give it a go, and off she went. About 20 minutes later she came back in the house, bloodied and bruised. She had tripped on a lovely, bumpy Michigan sidewalk and banged up both knees and hands. It was only after I cleaned up the unbelievable amount of blood pouring from her knees that I noticed her arm was not exactly lined up like it should be. There was an incredible bulge at the wrist on her right forearm that most certainly was not there when she left.

Long story short: she broke her arm.

She will have a cast on for at least four weeks. And it’s taken everything in me to not say, “THIS IS WHY WE DON’T RUN!”

I thought this little episode would cure Rebecca of her desire to run, but just yesterday she asked if she could join the track team in the spring. If I hadn’t given birth to that child I would seriously wonder if she were truly mine.

Guess we’re going to have to look for some good running shoes for the girl. And different sidewalks for her to run on.

Here we go again

We are taking Michael back to college today for his sophomore year. And all I want to know is where did summer go?

Last August, I bawled my way through the month as the first day of Michael’s first year of college rapidly approached. This August I was doing much better until this week. I had pushed his inevitable return to college to the back of my mind; I thoroughly enjoyed having him around this summer and somehow convinced myself that August 14 would never come. But last week’s runs to Walmart and Target to stock up on school supplies and snacks knocked some much-needed reality my way and the tears kicked back in.

I think my tear ducts are gearing up in earnest because not only am I taking Michael back to college, I’m preparing for Amy’s senior year of high school. And next year I’ll be taking two children to college? What the heck? Nobody warns you about this when you take your babies home from the hospital. Seriously, there should be one labor and delivery nurse who tells all new parents that, believe it or not, that one day that precious bundle of joy is going to be gone. “And one more thing, Mrs. Duffy: for 18 years, you are going to love these babies like crazy. And then they are going to leave you. Have a nice day!”

I’m fairly certain my family is concerned for my mental well-being this year. I’m a little concerned, too. Because not only is Michael leaving (again!), but Amy is preparing to leave AND the musical the performing arts company we work with is doing the most depressing show known to mankind: Titanic, the Musical. We did The Wizard of Oz for Michael’s senior year and I was a blubbering fool then. I can only imagine how I’m going to handle Amy’s senior year AND the drowning deaths of all those poor souls looking forward to a new life in America…

So tomorrow, as we’re hauling all Michael's stuff to school, I will be remembering what a fun, albeit short, summer we had. And I’m sure I’ll still be wondering where the last three months went. And for that matter, I’ll be wondering what happened to the last 19 years.

Julie Andrews=Mary Poppins

I believe Julie Andrews is just the coolest person. I realize I am basing that on all the fictional characters she's played, but still - super-cool:

Happy weekend!

Fake sharks? Really? Like I need that

Dear Discovery Channel,

I am afraid of sharks. Okay, that’s an understatement. I am deathly afraid of sharks, so much so that if my children are swimming in the ocean I simply cannot look. I cannot go further into the salty water than a few inches.  I have not been in more than six inches of ocean water in over 10 years, and when I did it then I nearly died of a panic attack, which I had to squelch so I didn’t freak out my young children. Plus, I was in a bathing suit. The ocean and me in a bathing suit: a recipe for disaster if I ever heard one.

Am I aware these are irrational fears and that I’m more likely to get hit by lightning than bitten by a shark? Yes. Yes I am aware. But the last time I checked, facts don’t do much to dispel phobias.

So when I tuned in to Shark Week’s opening show last night, I was trying to get over some of my fear. Let me hear some facts about the big guys and perhaps come to some bit of appreciation for how God made them. But what do you chose to air? A mockumentary that does absolutely nothing to help people like me come to an understanding, much less an appreciation, of the hunters of the deep.

What is wrong with you people? I thought the purpose of Shark Week was to expose people to sharks and help dismiss the crazy ideas people like me have about the creatures. A fake documentary about a 60 foot shark that very possibly sank a fishing boat off the coast of South Africa last April and is still lurking below the surface, striking at whales and waiting for the next opportunity to attack is supposed to help how?

So, thanks a lot, Discovery Channel. Thanks for giving people like me one more thing to worry about in the ocean. Yes, I know it’s fake. But people with severe shark phobias don’t need you giving us fake ideas to worry about; we come up with that kind of stuff on our own. Like the fact that I couldn’t swim in the deep end of my grandparents’ pool that sat right off Tampa Bay because what if a shark swam up the drain…

We don’t need any help coming up with crazy shark stuff.

So please, Discovery Channel, just the facts from now on. Those are hard enough for the shark-scared to deal with.

Thanks,

Christy