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Yes, you Hanes, the underwear, socks and T-shirt company.

Ok, good – I and all of my 20 readers have your attention with that clarification.

So, uh, yeah….your new “wedgie free” undies? Let’s talk ’bout that.

They feel great upon slipping them on.

They even stay put, as promised.

Er, sort of.

On a low-moderate activity, kickin’ it at the house kind of day – A+.

While working out, when being wedgie free is an absolute must lest we get our lady parts all mixed up with sweat from other parts and other nastiness, ahem, Not. So. Much.

Might I suggest that you invest in Goody stay put headbands technology for your leg holes?

Seems like that might actually work.

© 2009 Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-Child. All Rights Reserved

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Several years ago when Punkinhead was 18 mos or so, he started staying dry overnight. As I’d go to change his diaper every morning during this time, I would find two things:

1.) a dry diaper; and

2.) his little “soldier” standing at attention

It kind of creeped me out – me thinking it was some kind of weird Freudian mother-son thing going on. But later upon recounting this to Charlie Brown, he told me, “He’s got morning wood because his bladder’s full, duh.” I HAD NO IDEA that male plumbing worked that way!!! But, ahh, that made a lot of sense, thinking back on patterns in our own bedroom. Hmmm…

Fast forward 4 1/2 years…..

The other morning Punkinhead came down the stairs FREAKING out about having an erection.

“Mama!! My weiner,” and let me just interject here that I insist on the appropriate anatomical terms in our house, but Daddy tends toward the more slangy terminology, “my weiner, it’s all big and going places that I don’t want it to – it’s going up instead of down!”

Then.

He completely drops trou and says, emphatically, “SEE?!?!”

It. Took. ALL. I had not to just bust up laughing at him, bless his little heart, and the irony of how now this concerned him and yet later in life….

Calmly, I nodded and said yes, sometimes a man’s penis would do that, and that perhaps he just needed to go pee for it to go “back to normal.”

Skeptically, he trudged up the stairs to the bathroom. Within minutes I heard him shouting from the stairs that I was a genius and IT WORKED!

If only he knew how ignorant I would have been if not for Charlie Brown’s enlightenment several years ago.

© 2009 Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-Child. All Rights Reserved

So, Charlie Brown and I are pretty tech savvy, right?

Yesterday, I had a pretty crappy day. I was so stressed about medical bills vs. income we had coming. Compounding this stress was the fact that my hormones were flying high as I [TMI in aboout 3, 2, 1] was on day 2 of my second period since Lil Guy has been born. [Sidenote: I know you’re thinking it – she’s like what, 3 mos postpartum and she’s had not one but two periods already?!? I KNOW!!!] I’d cried most of the night before and several times yesterday as well. Charlie Brown had called me a few times during the day, all of which I ended up crying during.

Later, I received the following texts from him, right in a row before I had a chance to respond. My thought responses are below, however. Prepare to be entertained

CB – Wanna play tonight? Only 2 conditions…

Indignantly, Uhmhm, I have now I have confirmation that the man never listens to a word I say! I told him that I am “otherwise incapacitated” this week.

CB- [I] know you can do all that, you like a challenge

:chuckles: ok, well, let’s see just what he has up his sleeve, even if it’s all for naught.

CB – 1. hour of 100% positive encouraging words and body language towards everybody on the field, 2. Doing what I tell you if I need to (prolly won’t)

At this point I was stymied and automatically sent a text back to him:

RR – ????? Is this meant for me???

But upon further analysis, I had the following thoughts:

1. I know I’ve been down today, but c’mon don’t you think I can pull myself together for your softball game? It’s kind of sweet though. And 2. What kind of kinky stuff are you thinking about, anyway? Dang, boy!

Right about then, he called me. He says, “Our friend sent those to me, as conditions for subbing on their team tonight. It didn’t show that it was a forwarded msg?”

Nope.

So I told him what had been going through my mind as I’d gotten each text, and he got a good laugh out of it.

© 2009 Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-Child. All Rights Reserved

DISCLAIMER: GRAPHIC surgical photo below – do not look if you are squeamish as I am not to be held liable for any laptops ruined as a result of their owners vomiting or dropping said laptops because they passed out. Just sayin’, you’ve been warned.

Sidenote: Everytime I say or think the word empyema, it makes me think of that catchy bossa nova tune Girl from Ipa Nema, which is tied into that old Special K commercial in my pop culture relating mind.

Without further ado, I share with you my battle scars:

That’s a 5 inch incision where two little arthoscopic probes were supposed to have been able to suck the junk out, but as they got in there they realized that my empyema was MUCH WORSE than originally suspected. I only wish I could share with you the pictures in my chart from my surgery, it is feaking insane how much crud was in my chest cavity!

I also have bruises all over my right arm where they tried, and failed, miserably, to insert a PICC line in me. Said failure was so traumatic that when they tried to re-attempt on the opposite arm the next day, they had to give me Ativan. The PICC line is in my left arm and looks something like this:

Mine has more tubing coming out of it though, of course. And lastly, I have some beautimous scabby reminders on my neck of where my central line was for a week.

And to top it off, I’m 1 month postpartum. Can you say body image???

© 2009 Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-Child. All Rights Reserved

I have always loved REO Speedwagon.

And because I think in reference to pop culture at any given moment, it is no surprise that this song popped into my head this morning.

You see, I am still puking in the mornings, despite being in my 3rd trimester, despite eating protein at night and taking my prenatal with food earlier in the evening (as opposed to right before bed), etc., etc. But it’s ok, really because once I’m done (usually before I eat or drink anything) I’m done for the day and good to go. No all day nausea or inability to eat/drink for fear of not keeping it down, or anything serious like that.

But there is this rather indelicate problem that sometimes arises. Sometimes the urge to purge strikes me before I’ve had a chance to eliminate the night’s culmination of holding my bladder.

And so I puke and pee simultaneously. Each heave forces a new trickle of urine down my leg. Makes me feel SOOOOOOOO grown-up and self-assured, let me tell you.

So how in Hades did my twisted brain connect the dots between an 80’s love song and this disgraceful phenomenon?

For starters, the original video (see below) has a baby at the beginning of it – coincidence? I think not.

Moreover, check out the first two lines of the song:

I cant fight this feeling any longer
And yet Im still afraid to let it flow

I know, I’ve got a sick sense of recall at the strangest moments.

© 2008 Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-Child. All Rights Reserved

Note to BlogHer: No, Zestra is not paying me to write this. You MUST see if they would like to play in our ad program – because EVERY WOMAN needs to know about this product.

Ahem…

Remember how I said that I lost my friend, O? (And no, that does not stand for Oprah or her mag) Because of the very necessary evil that is an SSRI antidepressant? And then I said, well, she’s not GONE forEVER….just not a frequent flier like she used to be?

Well…that last part’s still true. As is the fact that she doesn’t pack as much of a bang with her anymore, and well, lately I’ve been kind of ambivalent because why do ALL THAT WORK for ho-hum?

I mean, when a girl breaks out the toys and the O is still just so-so…meh.

So tonight I’m at Wally World picking up some last minute stuff for our trip. (2 more days!) And I walk by the condom/lube display when I saw something I’d not seen before.

After thoroughly checking it out, I decide what the hay, right?

After a trial run….I have this to say:

RUN, do not walk, and go get thee some Zestra!

I have tried some other stuff that was “sensual,” and “warming,” etc, and they all fell rather flat.

Not only did my O show up to the party, but she packed a toe-curling wallop that I haven’t felt in 2 months or so.

:enter contented sigh:

Heehehe

I am sharing all of this because I’m haunted by Madeline Albright: There is a special circle in hell for women who don’t help other women.

I’m HELPING, y’all!

© 2008 Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-Child. All Rights Reserved

So, I think we’re effectively weathering the parenting storm maelstrom that popped up late last week.

Punkinhead is getting it.

And to be clear, for the newer readers – he is the younger child, as was his friend. LMNOB is older by 2 1/2 yrs.

But, as LMNOB put it Thursday morning, Punkinhead and his friend are “both 4, and 4+4 is 8, which is bigger than 7!” No matter how you equate it, 2 is always greater than 1.

Oh, and does that not strike anyone else as a little Rainman-ish? It frightened me a bit, as she continued with this adding theme that morning, noticing that her [tan] camouflage capris + his [gray] camo shorts = 1 whole pair camouflage pants. She does that, though – retreats into her world rightontheedge of the Autistic spectrum, when she is traumatized. Also, she pooped herself that day while with the babysitter – again a common regression with things such as these.

Today at church, I braced myself for the awkward – as last night Punkinhead was convinced that he needed to write his friend a note [the boy can hardly grasp a pencil correctly, much less write at this stage, so I thought that was cute] telling him why they couldn’t play together anymore – as Punkinhead is still processing this deal, telling everyone the concrete details, that because of what they did, he cannot play with this little friend anymore.

But praise the Lord, said friend and his family were out of town today – which means that we have more time for this to blow over.

Another not-so-small miracle? My O is not GONE per se, just intermittent 😉 Yes, Becky, we are so doing it to test it out 😉

© 2008 Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-Child. All Rights Reserved

I had been telling myself that it didn’t mean anything.

That it had just been the wrong time of day.

Or the wrong position.

But we had a perfect storm today, and I was SOclose!

But no cigar…After an encounter with a “pinch hitter,” and still no cigar, it became official.

I’ve lost my “O.”

And that is hard to accept, as my “O” was fairly frequent, significant part of my life. Charlie Brown rather likes her too.

She shall be missed.

Question is, what do other women do when faced with the no depression v. no “O” conundrum? I have to cope with this and I’m not quite sure how.

© 2008 Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-Child. All Rights Reserved

Porter puppy’s ass blew up tonight.

Conveniently, Charlie Brown was gone buying dessert.

I was bathing Punkinhead when all of a sudden, sniff sniff, “Hey who far…” I trailed off.

In unison, LMNOB and I shrilled, “Oh, EWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW,” as we spied the brown puddle on the bathroom floor. Said Hershey squirts also trailed down my carpeted stairs.

Punkinhead wailed, “It Stiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinnkses, Mamaaaaaaaaa!”

Yeah, tell me about it.

It got cleaned up. The bathroom was fairly quick going, but the stairs?

Took me an hour of scrubbing with carpet cleaning granules and vaccuuming.

I was not able to commence my homework until 9:00pm – so I was a bit growly about that.

I’m just wondering what the heck I did to deserve this.

Note to Karma: I would really prefer some sphincter control vibes sent my way. That or Mike Rowe needs to come live with me.

© 2008 Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-Child. All Rights Reserved

My [Master’s level] Economics and Public Finance class started today. I have never in my life taken an econ class. Intimidated much? Uhhh….yeah. Is my book here yet? Nope. Was I able to log into the class today? Nope. Seems the CU-online platform had a “glitch” today and they had to manually add everyone WHO WAS ALREADY REGISTERED in today. IF they called. Which I did, but frick, folks, why not send out an e-mail letting folks know what is going on before causing widespread hysteria, eh?

That would be too easy.

Oh, and my lappy’s still down. Has lost her home network connectivity too so file-sharing is non-existant. BIL thought my wireless card had tin whiskers and so we ordered a new wireless card. Got it today and put it in – didn’t change a damned thing. So I have no mobility with my class work and that sucks.

Note to all – summer school = condensed session, which means time is of the essence. I don’t have time for this crap!

Oh and speaking of crap….

Per her responses to my daily poop inquisitions, LMNOB has been eliminating regularly…and her breath is fine. But (pun delightfully intended) she still has issues with knowing when to go.

She has an unconscious signal that I’ve honed in on over the past 14 months – she brings her hand to her tailbone just minutes before she needs to go. It’s generally fool-proof – I see the sign, I tell her to go potty and we have no accident.

But lately, she’s taken offense to Mommy minding her potty habits. “I don’t need to!” And she’s probably right on in that it doesn’t SEEM that she needs to, but the hand keeps finding the tailbone and I usually keep insisting.

Well tonight we did that dance, with Mommy Knows Best and Daughter’s Willful Independence duking it out for the lead. DWI won out, briefly.

But then, “Maybe we should go the bathroom,” uttered by a sheepish LMNOB.

So, as we were all at Charlie Brown’s softball game, LMNOB, Punkinhead, and I all corralled ourselves into the disabled bathroom (space is a handicap, right?). As LMNOB clearly began a #2, I asked her about her stools today.

Had she gone?

Yes, three times today, she informed me with big eyes.

Hard, regular, or runny?

Mmmmm, regular, but kind of runny.

“That’s because we had a lot of fruits and veggies yesterday.”

And then I spied her panties…full of fresh crap.

“LMNOB….honey, you’ve got to tell me when that happens – you can’t just sit in it, honey – your bum will get raw. When did that happen?”

“Just a few minutes ago, Mommy.”

And so it goes.

Hopefully the next woman on the rag in that stall won’t freak too much when she sees a shitty pair of panties in the feminine hygiene basket as she throws her pad/tampon applicator in there.

© 2008 Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-Child. All Rights Reserved

I'm a 30-something with a bend toward the spunky and unconventional. I like to accent big words and academics with slang and pop culture - makes me a little more well-rounded. My husband and I follow Christ and am training up my 3 precious kiddos to do the same. This means that I'm human and I fail - a LOT, but there is beauty in sharing that with others. Last, but not least, in case you haven't noticed, I'm prone to rambling. It may seem unrelated to you but the little "tangents" I go on are all interconnected in my mind!

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