In Sickness and In Health

The Saturday before last, I was out with The Hubs and Bubbers and noticed my back was starting to get finicky. I have two herniated disks (disks or discs? Bueller?) that have a history of flaring up whenever they feel like they aren't getting enough attention, and this was the start of another episode. Freaking attention whores!

Anyway, they flared up, which means constant and severe pain in my lower back, down my hips, and down the back and sides of my thighs.  During these times, I can't stand up straight, can't walk straight, and the muscles in my abs, upper arms, and legs all start hurting from the compensating I'm doing to keep my balance. It's super fun!

And do you know what the "cure" for herniated disk pain is? Weight loss. That's all. So even though I'm scared of the band surgery and still ever-so-slightly wishy washy about it, one week of this, and I'm reminded even more of why I need to go through with it.

Oh, and then there's also:

• Acid Reflux (caused by hiatal hernia)
• Type 2 Diabetes
• Knee problems
• Gastrointestinal issues (caused by Gallbladder removal and Diabetes medications)
• Fatigue
• Occasional Migraines

And to counteract all that crap, there's:

• Metformin (Diabetes)
• Amaryl (Diabetes)
• Bydureon Injection (Diabetes)
• Rx Zantac (Hiatal Hernia related acid reflux)
• Percocet (Only during back flare-ups)
• Flexeril (Only during back flare-ups)
• 800 mg Ibuprofen (Only during back flare-ups/migraines)
• 1000 mg Tums (at least 4x day for acid reflux)

And a partridge in a pear tree. 

Seriously, that's ridiculous. You know, they asked me at my consult why I wanted to have the surgery. And there are SO many reasons. But, really, what it boils down to for me is not a number on a scale, or a size in a store. I just want to be able to fully live my life. Without worrying about my knees or back. Without sticking a needle in my belly every week. Without paying out a ridiculous portion of my hard-earned money to drug manufacturers and insurance companies. 

While it will be awesome to see the numbers on the scale and the sizes in the store go down, the thing I'm most looking forward to is seeing these two lists disappear. Forever. 

Pre-Op Diet

I knew going into this that there would be some sort of pre-op diet I would have to succumb to. According to the research, your liver can be very fatty if you're overweight. Doing this pre-op 'crash' diet helps you lose fat off your liver quickly, which helps the surgeon reach your stomach and lessens complications during the surgery. (The nurse at my consultation explained that the liver is actually one of the first places in your body that you lose fat, which I didn't know.) My surgeon suggests a loss of at least 10 pounds before surgery. Ten pounds in two weeks. Wowza.

After reading a bunch of bandster blogs, it became apparent that the length and food options on pre-op diets varies widely. Some doctors require two-week diets, some one week, some three days, and some don't require a pre-op diet at all! (Lucky freaking ducks!)

Some diets allow for a Slim-Fast type plan of two shakes and a 'sensible' dinner. I've read about some 3 day diets that allow nothing but clear liquids for three days. (Sounds super fun!) My prescribed diet is somewhere in between. While I'm not thrilled, I knew that this was part of the deal, and it could definitely be worse.

Where do I find a holey spoon like that?

The Rules:

• Start two weeks before surgery. (For me, that means October 24th.)
• Maximum of 800 calories per day. (The sausage biscuit I get at McDonald's for breakfast some mornings is more than half of that calorie requirement! Peace out, buttery yumminess!)
• Minimum of 64 grams of protein per day. 
• 4/5 Protein shakes per day, any flavor, any brand. Any fruit, additives or milk I mix in have to be counted toward the 800 calorie limit.
• 1 cup of broth, low-fat broth-based soups, or 98% fat free cream soups without pasta.
• 1 cup of certain salad veggies (lettuce, cucumber, carrots, onions) with certain fat free dressings (any brand of FF Italian or Ranch, Maple Grove Farms Sugar-Free Raspberry Vinaigrette, SF/FF Balsamic Vinaigrette, FF Greek) (2 tbs)
• 1/2 cup of certain raw veggies (carrots, celery, cucumber, broccoli, tomato.)
• Sugar free Italian Ice or Sugar free Popsicles.
• Sugar free Jell-o.
• Water, coffee (yuck!), tea (yuck!) and other sugar free beverages are allowed. 

This is going to be so freaking hard. You don't get to 270 pounds by harboring a secret love for vegetables. However, I originally thought I was only going to be allowed protein shakes, so I'm taking the soups and veggies and sugar free Jell-o (which I already eat and LOVE, btw) and I'm going to make the best of it. 

I'm kind of looking at the two week diet as the first challenge in this long obstacle course of being banded. Can I make it through this? If I can, then everything else shouldn't be too hard. And I'll be able to look back and say, "Hey, remember when you subsisted on protein shakes and lettuce for two weeks? If you can do that, you can do anything!"

Okay, fellow bandsters. Help a girl out. Protein shake suggestions? I really have no idea which way to go on those! And what was your pre-op diet like? Was it the hardest thing you've ever done? Help!  

Ho-ly Crap.

So. Much. Information.

(and a surgery date, but we'll get to that in a second.)

I was feeling seriously anxious before I met The Hubs at the doctor's office. Laura Belle's comment and an urgent Facebook message to my banded friend who used to work at this doctor's office helped enough that I was able to keep myself from refusing to walk in the door. I really don't know what it was, but I was just so stressed out about everything.

As per usual, the things you blow up in your head to be a big deal are not big deals in reality.

I walked in, signed a few pieces of paper (HIPAA, etc.), handed them my debit card for the $350 "Program Fee", and waited. I had originally been told that I would be meeting with the counselor for the psych eval first, but I ended up meeting with one of the nurses first. The thing that I LOVE about this office is that, with the exception of ONE front desk receptionist and the surgeon, every single person who works there is banded. They have been through the pre-op diet, the surgery, and are now living with the band. And they are all SO NICE and willing to share their experiences and answer any questions. Love them.

Anyway, she took my height (5' 5.5") and weight (270.0 lb), and tried to take my blood pressure, but the new fancy fandangled blood pressure cuff they had just bought wasn't working. So I told her that my blood pressure at a doctor's appointment last week was 107/70, and that's what she wrote down. Oh, and she also measured my neck. At that office, if your neck measures more than 17 inches, they automatically require you to do a sleep study. Luckily, my neck was well under, at 14 inches.

She explained stuff I already knew about the band (basically Lap Band 101), and also went over the pre- and post-op diets. I'll cover those more in another post, but Holy Jeebus in Heaven, I get to eat veggies! I never thought I'd be so happy to see the word "salad" in my life. LOL

Next was the psych evaluation with the counselor. Maybe it's the nature of her job or something, but she was definitely not as warm and friendly as the other ladies. She was fine, though. She asked me about stresses in my life (um, hello? What's NOT stressful?) and about my support system. She kind of jumped on me about my relationship with The Hubs and whether or not I thought he would handle my weight loss and subsequent attention from men well. This is something that he and I have already discussed at length, and I feel 100% confident that he and I will be fine, but it didn't seem like she believed me. Later in the discussion, I found out that after her band and weight loss, she divorced her husband and married a new guy, so maybe she is biased in this area? I don't know.

She also talked about how friendships can change, and how if you have overweight friends they can sometimes not be super supportive because they are jealous or wish it was them losing the weight. They can feel 'abandoned' once you start losing weight, etc. And another thing she mentioned (which I hadn't thought about) was how even if you have skinny friends, sometimes they can become uncomfortable with your weight loss because you are getting closer to THEIR weight. Wowza. The human mind is amazing. I love my friends dearly and am not doing this in any way related to them. I hope all of my friendships survive through this process, because I truly love and need the people who are in my life.

After the counselor, we met with the surgeon. He is actually pretty awesome. Very friendly, down to earth. Not at all a cocky, I-don't-have-time-for-this-nonsense kind of guy. He spent a good 20-30 minutes with us discussing the technical aspect of the surgery and answering all of my random questions. He was also very positive about the possibility of pregnancy after the band and said, "Oh, yeah! We have had A LOT of 'band babies!'" LOL

Then, after the surgeon, we met with the lady who deals with the financial portion and the scheduling. I had actually talked to her several times before today, asking her questions and having her double check that my insurance would not cover the surgery. She (like everyone else) was incredibly awesome. Friendly, warm, funny, and knew what she was doing. We talked about all of the financial information, pre-op tests and such that I'll have to do, and the other appointments I'll have to make.

Then, we scheduled my surgery.

I have a surgery date. For the Lap Band.

Me!

November 7th. Forty-one short days from now, I'll be banded. How freaking surreal.

Luckily, there's a litany of other things that I have to do between now and then to keep me occupied:

• Make appointment with PCP for pre-op physical
• Bloodwork
• EKG
• Fitness Consult
• Nutrition Consult
• Pre-Op appointment to sign paperwork

Oy vey. So much stuff. 

I am just really having a hard time registering that this is all really happening. I'm still a little scared, but now at least I'm getting excited, too. I'm gonna be a bandster! Woot! 

Got any advice for me? I'm kinda taking all I can get...

Consult Day

Well, here it is. Consult Day.

I am scared as hell.

I really don't know why I'm so nervous. I don't think there's really anything rational to be afraid of today, but for some reason, I'm shaking in my boots. (Well, not really, I can't fit boots over my fat calves. But I'm shaking in my Fashion Bug flats, fo sho.)

I also found out on Monday when they called to confirm that the Program Fee is $350 instead of $300. I was convinced they had told me $300, but The Hubs seems to think I told him $350 at some point, so whatever. $50 is not a deal breaker here, and anything I pay now comes off the surgery cost, so that's $50 I don't have to pay later. Oh well.

I think it's just the reality of everything that is hitting me right now. This is the farthest down this path I have ever traveled. After today, I am monetarily invested in actually going through with this. If I don't have the surgery, we're out $350 now, which is A LOT of money to us. I feel like I'm hitting the point of no return, and even though I know that I want to do this, and I've wanted to do this for YEARS, now it's real. Now it's scary.

What if I go though all this, spend all this money, have SURGERY, and still fail?

Uno Week-o

(I did not take Spanish lessons, why do you ask?)

So. One week until my consult! I am super duper excited to get it over with and get this process rollin', rollin', rollin'.

After much dilly dallying and indecisiveness (on his part, not mine) The Hubs has decided to come with me to the consult. It's not that he doesn't support the surgery or anything, I just think he couldn't decide whether it was worth missing 3 hours of work (read: money) to go. He finally relented, saying, "Well, I guess I'll go, because if I end up having this surgery in the future, it will help." Okey dokey, kiddo. See you there.

So the way they do this is by bringing me in for one $300, 3 hour session of meetings with the Surgeon, bariatric nurse, and the psychiatrist. Apparently, The Hubs is allowed to join me for everything but that last part. Wouldn't want him helping me pass that, I guess. Although, I don't think he would be much help. LOL

Then, I guess if I get the go-ahead from everyone, they tell me what my pre-op tests are and schedule me for my nutrition consult and my fitness consult, which I'm hoping that they offer at better times, because I have, like, NO MORE days off work, and the days I do have, I'm going to need for recovery.

Oh, and if you were wondering, the $300 is a "Program Fee", which is common (at least around here) for bariatric surgery programs. Basically, it's $300 for the surgery, nutrition and fitness consults and it's non-refundable. However, if I do go through with the surgery, the $300 is taken off the final cost, bringing it down to $9,600.

So I'm gathering up my last minute questions and trying to think of anything that I haven't thought of. And waiting very impatiently for time to pass.

Hopefully, it will be here before I know it, and I'll have a definite plan in place that will take me to Bandsterhood!

Nothing to see here...

Not much going on to update you on, but I'm trying to stay on the blogging bandwagon, so that means you get pointless posts like this one.

• The Hubs and I are going with The BFF and her husband to the Ohio Renaissance Festival this weekend. It's always a turkey leg eating, ancient weapon throwing, knightly jousting good time. 

• My kid is adorable. That is all. 

• My job sucks. 

• I'm finishing up my first term at Western Governor's University this month. I still have one stupid math class that I have to complete by the 25th. Have I mentioned that I hate math?

• Nothing much new on the Lap Band front. I'm waiting (im)patiently for my consult on the 27th. Two weeks away, people! 

I hope you're all doing well out there! Hugs to you. 

Cautious Optimism

I think I've mentioned before that I am generally a very optimistic person. I have bouts of negativity, sometimes suffer with depression, and can even sometimes be (gasp!) dramatic. But on the whole, I really do see people and life as generally good.

In the post I linked to above, I had been going through a dark time and got really bad news. The Hubs and I had finally, FINALLY decided to move forward with my Lap Band surgery, only to find out that financing was not an option for us. (I'm pretty sure the computer laughed at me when I hit submit on the application...)

After that, I really did consider Lap Band an un-option. Insurance doesn't cover it, we don't have that kind of money in our savings account, and a personal loan from our banks was not a credible possibility. I just kind of gave up and wallowed in self pity for a while. Of course, my weight LOVES it when I wallow in self pity, because that usually means wallowing in comfort food, carbs, sweets, and anything else that temporarily can't let me down. And thus, I'm hovering between 269-271 right now. Re-donk-u-lous.

However, other, good things started happening, too. We paid off both of our cars. We paid down/off all of our credit cards. We started putting money in savings. And really, it wasn't that either of us got awesomely paying jobs or had any rich relatives die or anything. We just changed our priorities and paid more attention. (Hmm...is there a lesson in that somewhere?)

All this is to say that a few weeks ago, sort of on a whim, I cringed as I hit that submit button again. And then I gasped in shock when I saw that we were approved for almost the entire amount of the cost of Lap Band surgery.

Of course, the journey is just now starting and there are many things that still have to be done before I can officially say that I have a surgery date. But my consultation with the bariatric nurse, surgeon and psych evaluation is scheduled for September 27th. The ball is rolling, people. And that makes me very optimistic!

Well, well, well...

Hey there! Remember me? I'm that funny, lovable weight-loss blogger that never loses any weight and rarely blogs...

So...April.

Yeah, I can't believe I haven't posted since April either. I owe you an Instagram post about the last day of my birthday vacation that I took six months ago. I owe you an update post about life. I owe you a post about weight loss. (Spoiler alert: there hasn't been any. Surprise!)

But for now, as retribution for my blogging sins, I'll just say "Hey everybody, I've missed you!" and leave you with this:

Bubs at 20 months. Swoon.

Meet Me In St. Louie (via Instagram)

I briefly mentioned it before, but my specmazerful husband surprised me with a trip to St. Louis for my 30th birthday. (Insert collective "aww"s here.)

The trip itself wasn't a surprise - I told him that I wanted to leave the city for my birthday, because logically, if I wasn't there, my birthday couldn't find me and I wouldn't ever actually turn 30. (It was my crisis and I dealt with it nobly, obvs.) However, I didn't want to know where we were going. Even though I didn't want to know, that didn't stop me from guessing and deductively reasoning and pestering. Just ask The Hubs. Truthfully, though, I did not figure out exactly where we were going before we were on the road. I had a couple of guesses, and St. Louis was one of them, but I didn't know for certain. (This is a big step for me because I *love* a challenge and am generally VERY hard to surprise).

I left work early that Friday and we set out on the road.

The first directional choice we could make was to either go north toward Columbus or south toward Cincinnati:

South it is!

From there, we went west until we hit:

The sun was so bright at one point, The Hubs decided he needed two pairs of sunglasses:

And I still wasn't exactly sure where we were headed once we hit:

But eventually, I figured it out! (Before we came to this sign, even. Give a girl some credit.)

See the arch?!

We arrived at our hotel pretty late, so we hung out and ordered some of "St. Louis' Best Pizza", which was totally gross. The next morning, I was so excited to see the view from our 17th story window:

Morning, Archie! 

The first thing we did was to walk down to Laclede's Landing on our way to our trolley tour of the city.

The trolley was going to pick us up at Lumiere Place, so once we got there, we looked around the hotel and casino for a bit:

And had one of the absolute best meals I've ever had:

The trolley tour was really great - $20 per person and lasted like an hour and a half. The tour guide took us all over the city and told us all sorts of interesting tidbits about its history.

The Basilica of St. Louis, King of France ("Old Cathedral") .

We toured Forest Park, which is the site of the 1904 World's Fair, and is one of the many absolutely FREE parks and attractions in St. Louis. The (absolutely FREE) St. Louis Zoo is in Forest Park, as well as an art museum, tons of green space, and this statue of Louis XVIIII (and his horse):

After we left Forest Park, we drove down "Millionaire's Row" where St. Louis' most affluent residents live. Part of that drive was along an original portion of Route 66, and stopped somewhere along that road, I saw this cathedral. I don't know the name of it, though. (Sadface). 

After the trolley tour, we walked to the Arch in order to take a ride to the top. Apparently, it sells out, so we weren't able to go up just then. Instead, we sat around, enjoyed the beautiful weather, counted no less than three wedding parties getting photos taken, and took some dizzying pictures of our own:

Then we walked back to our hotel to get ready for the evening's festivities.

Back at Laclede's Landing, we had an incredibly underwhelming dinner at Jake's Steaks, where at least my $30 steak was free after being completely overcooked and us having to wait for a zillion years for service. The best part about Jake's Steaks, however, was this gigantic metal Beyonce signed by Ron Jeremy:

The last surprise The Hubs had up his sleeve for the night was an hour-long carriage ride through downtown St. Louis. We had a wonderful driver (?) and a beautiful horse named Hercules who took us on a freezing, but beautiful, tour of the city.

Hercules dropped us off at our hotel, but at close to midnight, I got a hankering for some Key Lime Cheesecake. If Key Lime Cheesecake is what your wife needs to drown out her sorrow from turning 30, Key Lime Cheesecake, she gets! So we drove to The Cheesecake Factory, got my life affirming nectar of the gods, then went back to the hotel to crash before another full day and a long trip home.

Day two of my amazing 30th birthday adventure later!

Ten Years from Last Friday

Dear Anna,

Today, you turn 40 years old. I am full of so many hopes for you! I’m sure you remember that turning 30 was a difficult thing for you. You mourned for weeks about the passing of so many years of ‘wasted’ time. You hadn’t accomplished all that you thought you would. You were scared about feeling the same way at 40 as you did at 30.

Well do you?

Do you own a house? Did you graduate from WGU and go on to become a teacher? Do you and Jack both have steady, sturdy jobs that you can build the rest of your life on? Do you have money in a savings account and not live paycheck to paycheck? Did you have another child? What child(ren) you do have, have they lived happy, fun-filled, active lives up to this point? Did you finally figure out what it would take to make you lose weight and stick with it?

Anna, even if the answer to any of those questions is “no”, I want you to remember that that is okay. At 30, you beat yourself up over the loss of time. How silly is that? What were you hoping to do with it, lasso it up and keep it in a jar in the cupboard? It doesn’t work that way, kiddo. (And yes, even at 40, you’re still a kiddo). What ever you HAVE accomplished is exactly good enough.

At 30, you had a really hard time believing in and accepting that last sentence. Instead, sentences that began with, “I should have…”, “I didn’t…”, “I was supposed to…” consumed your thoughts on those long weeks leading up to the big day. (Which you spent in St. Louis because you have an amazing husband, remember? Have you told him thank you for that lately?) You thought of all the things you didn’t do, and all the time you had “wasted.”

You had a hard time reminding yourself that, by 30, you did have several accomplishments under your belt. You were able to say that you had not been without an income since you were 14 years old. You had met and married a wonderful man, and had worked very hard at a happy, mutually respectful relationship with him. You carried, gave birth to, and nurtured a beautiful baby boy, who was (and probably still is) the light of many peoples’ lives. You maintained friendships with people whom you cared about and who cared about you.

I’m sure at 40, you have even more great accomplishments that are the markers of time well spent. My hope is that you did accomplish some of those things on that list above – mostly that you completed your degree and had another child. But if you didn’t, I don’t love you any less.

The whole point of your 30 Meltdown was to help you to remember that no time is truly wasted. The life you lead is the life you live, and the cliché is true: you only live once. So DO NOT spend another minute lamenting the shouldas, couldas, and wouldas of the past 10 years. Hopefully, you learned the lesson way back when you were writing this next sentence…

Every minute of every day, you choose to live a certain life. Acknowledging the life you chose in the past is the only way for you to purposefully choose a different life in the future. The power is in the realization that it is ALWAYS a choice, and the choice is YOURS.

Choose wisely.

Unconditional Love Always,

Anna

Crushed

I know I don't post often, but I had to give y'all a little update.

Last Sunday, we went to spend the afternoon with my dad and step-mom. They have a ranch-style house with a full basement that you access through an open stairwell. (AKA, there's no door to the basement or anything). Most of the night was spent making sure Bubbers didn't fall down the stairs.

I was sitting in a chair about 6-8 feet away from the stairs, and Logan came scarily close to tumbling. I went to get out of the chair to run after him, and I almost couldn't get up. I am so fat that I can't even get my ass up and moving in an emergency! Luckily, the kid got "shiny object"-ed and headed the other way, but the damage (to me) was done.

As we left that night, I told The Hubs that I couldn't wait anymore and that we needed to move forward with band surgery. I can't bare the thought of something happening to Bubs because I'm too fat to save him from danger. Because my husband is awesome, he agreed, and told me to call the doctor's office the next day to get the process rolling.

Monday, I called to find out what my options were for paying for the surgery. 1) Insurance. A no-can-do, as my miserly insurance plan barely covers doctor's appointments. Medical weight loss programs or surgeries are very clearly an exception to my plan. Even when the patient has weight-related medical issues, like I do.

Option 2) Self-pay. We have about $17 in our savings account and our credit cards are almost maxed out, since that's generally what we were living on when The Hubs was out of work. Cash, checks or credit cards would get us laughed out of the office.

Option 3) Financing. This was the route that we had already planned to go, knowing that Options 1 and 2 weren't really options at all. The doctor's office that I was planning on using charges $11,900 total for all aspects of the surgery and two years of aftercare. I called Monday, fully expecting to get approved for financing, but jointly, we were only able to get approved for $2,000. Granted, math is not my strong point, but even I can tell you that $2,000 is a far cry from $12,000. I called a couple days later to see if I could get an increase, and I'm pretty sure the lady on the phone tried to stifle a laugh.

A personal loan isn't an option, and I even went so far as to ask my dad if they could get a loan for me. No can do.

The major reason I want to have the surgery now is so that I can lose enough weight to not have a high-risk pregnancy when we try to give Bubs a brother or sister. He's over a year old now, and I'm turning 30 this year. Time is running out, y'all. We don't have time to save up $12,000, and if we did, we should use that money for a down payment on a house.

I may or may not have had a breakdown after getting the phone call from my dad that they couldn't help. Just the day before, surgery was a real, palpable option. I was so excited that it was finally going to happen and I was going to get to start living my life and be there for my son. And now, there are literally NO options. No choices, no chances.

It's gone. And not to sound melodramatic, but I honestly and truthfully feel like hope is gone with it.

Too Good To Be True?

Hi all!

I'm going to breeze right over the fact that it has been, oh, a zillion-and-a-half years since I blogged, and jump right in to the reason for my post...

I just discovered that band surgery is tax deductible. According to IRS Publication 502, you can deduct any medical or dental expenses over and above 7.5% of your Adjusted Gross Income. For us, this would mean that we would be able to "claim" about $8000 of the cost of my surgery.

Did any of you bandsters out there take advantage of this? Is it too good to be true? (Please tell me it's not, because I'm super excited about my new discovery...)

And in other news, Bubbster turned one last Friday, which I totally can't believe and am in denial about. He's still my little bubby baby boy, right? (Say that one three times fast.) We had one small family birthday party for him and his GiGi (great grandma on my step-mom's side), and he'll have his big birthday party on the 7th. It's Mickey Mouse Clubhouse themed, y'all. Oh, Toodles!

He also had seven (yes, onetwothreefourfivesixSEVEN) Christmases, and not by choice or by my doing. I would have been happy with one, but darn it for family and friends! The kid received NO duplicate toys, either, which has to be some sort of Black (Christmas) Magic or something. We're going to put some of the toys in a closet and pull them out throughout the year for him.

I've missed you all and have been a bad blogger. Sorry, y'all. Life's been a royal bitch for the past six months or so, so I've been doing pretty well to not climb in a hole or drive my car off a cliff or something. But I'm here. I'm alive. I'm doing.

So anyway, let me know about the tax deduction thingamajig, because that's so flipping awesome if it's true!

Hugs to you and yours, and Happy New Year, too!

Wordless Wednesday: Hick Edition

Monday morning...

Survival kit.

Hello, lover.

Wherein I go all doom and gloom on your asses...(UPDATE)

I've known that I needed to post a new blog soon, but haven't really had the energy to do it. What I want to blog about is just not pretty or fun, and who wants to waste time writing about things that aren't pretty or fun? More than that, who wants to read about things that aren't pretty or fun?

So here it is.

I am in a dark place right now. I'm having a hard time seeing the light at the end of the tunnel as anything other than an oncoming train. I just haven't had the energy to put any of that elloquently, so when The BFF asked me in an email about what was getting me down and if there was anything she could do to help, this was my reply, and it's now my un-pretty, un-fun, dark places post.

"You can’t do anything. Life is just going through a super sucky period right now, and it sucks. It’s my job, his (lack of a) job, his mom, his mom keeping Bubbers at her house, his mom not coming to our house to help out, us spending too much time at their house, it’s The Hubs and I not having any time or ability to ‘reconnect’, it’s my mom being sick, it’s my dad being sick, it’s my sister being a derelict, it’s my nieces being who knows where, it’s me worrying about Bubbers, it’s me travelling too much, it’s me wanting out of our apartment, it’s me wanting to stay home with Bubbers, it’s me wanting The Hubs to try harder, it’s me worrying about our 3rd anniversary coming up and knowing that there are a million things on my mind rather than thinking about celebrating it, it’s me wishing he were more romantic, more able to show sympathy, a harder worker, smarter, more determined. It’s me feeling absolutely horrible for wishing he were all those things and not focusing on the good things that he is/does. It’s me wishing I had more time to devote to helping you with your wedding and wishing that we didn’t live so far apart, it’s me worrying that your wedding won’t be everything you hoped for but not knowing how to make it so. It’s me wishing certain people would jump off a cliff sometimes, and then feeling horrible about that.

It’s just everything right now. And it’s all bundled up into a nice big fat boulder sitting on my chest with a pretty red bow and a tag saying “To: Anna, Love: The Universe”. And I can’t make it go away."

Sometimes life isn't pretty. This is one of those times.  I'm breathing, and that's all I can really promise you right now, but I know that The Eternal Optimist is still in there somewhere, buried under all the rubble, and that someday she'll find her way out and into the light. And when that happens, I know it won't be the oncoming train.

*UPDATE*

You know, it's funny how much better I feel after just throwing up all of that horribleness into the vastness of the interwebs and into the arms of the loveliest blog readers a girl could ask for. This is what I assume praying feels like to believers - to just give everything up to God. Thank you all for your kind responses and love. You are my light.

Ugh

Judge for yourself, but I say this woman is awesome.

American Apparel's Creative Director, Iris Alonzo is quoted as saying: "If every brand that tried to do this was met with such negative press, we may have to wait another decade for the mainstream to embrace something so simple."

How dare American Apparel use this as a means to justify discrimination.
 
I'm disgusted.

Just another typical work email conversation...

Today, the lovely MFN (My Friend Natalie for those of you not in the know) sent me an email, and if you can ignore our complete overuse of the term "LOL", I think it proves a pretty good point as to why we're friends.

MFN: Umm I just read a yahoo article on feminine products – have you heard of vajazzling!? And hair dye for the nether regions!?

Me: LOL, yeah, it’s all a bit strange to me. I’ll just let mine be what it wants to be and if it leaves me alone, I’ll leave it alone. LOL

MFN: LOL. I’m slightly tempted to get the hair dye as Christmas gifts for my girlfriends – it’s just so ridiculous I think it would be hysterical to see everyone’s reaction. “This is…what!?” Just be prepared.

Me: Lol, you’ve ruined it for yourself. Now I’ll totally be EXPECTING vajayjay dye, so I’ll be all, “oh, yeah, that.”

How I honored 9/11

I'm sitting at the Dayton airport waiting for the first of my two flights to get me to Dallas. I'm having a hard time travelling today - not because I'm afraid something will happen, but because it's hard enough to give up control and fly on an airplane on a normal day. And today, my brain is overwhelmed with thoughts and images of what happened on four planes ten years ago. As much as I want to escape from remembering what happened, I can't.

A little over an hour ago, I was sitting in the Max & Erma's after going through security. I sat down and ate breakfast, and as I did, the TV, trained on CNN went through the list of names of each person who was killed. Talk about loosing your appetite. At any rate, I remembered hearing something about 9/11 being considered a National Day of Service, and a thought popped into my head.

There were four other tables of people eating breakfast around me, two tables with older couples, a table with a family of four, and another table with an older couple who were OBVIOUSLY well-to-do. I decided that I would help spread love today and pay for one of the tables' breakfasts. I sat there for about 5 minutes, trying to figure out which table I would pay for. (That was the hardest part of the whole occasion - I wanted to pay for everybody!)

In the end, I decided to pay for the breakfast of the older well-to-do couple, rationalizing that they were probably the best able to pay it forward to someone else.

The waitress came over with my check, and I told her I wanted their check as well. When she came back with it, she asked me if I knew them. I said "No, but today is a day to spread love", and she said "Yes, every day is."

So I paid for our breakfasts, and on the receipt I left on the table, I wrote:

"Today, and every day, spread love. :)"

BYOC

Since Draz said exactly what I wanted to say, I'll just go ahead and let her say it:

It’s FRIDAY – thank the ever-loving heavens above. I mean why is it that short weeks (after a holiday) end up being thee longest weeks on Earth? Oy.

Let’s do BYOC – Bring Your Own Crazy. We answer 5 questions in an effort to get to know each other better and to give our blog brains a break. Copy to your own blog and ENJOY!

1. Do you drink coffee? Decaf or regular? Cold or hot? If not – what’s your go-to morning drink?

No. I love the way coffee smells, but hate the way it tastes. My go-to caffeine fix is either Diet Coke or Mountain Dew, depending on whether the restaurant I drive-thru that morning is a Coke or Pepsi restaurant.

2. What are your top six characteristics in a partner if you could hand pick them. And just for kicks – if you’re in a relationship – after you make the list of six – does the person you are with possess all five?

Honesty
Integrity
Sense of humor
Adventurous spirit
Musicality
Chub n' scruff

The Hubs is all of the above, except, he can't sing or dance, or play an instrument. And I should add that "chub n' scruff" is the physical appearance of men that I am attracted to. A little overweight with some sort of facial hair. I'm forcing The Hubs to keep a beard for me since he's currently out of work and doesn't have to impress anybody. I luuuuuuuuuuurve it. He hates it. But still, he humors me. :)

3. I’m going to pick a person – not knowing if this person even exists in your life – and you try to describe this person in 5 short words or sentences:

Paternal grandfather

• Lloyd
• Kind of mean
• Glasses
• Lived in VERY rural Tennessee
• I vividly remember him in his casket at his funeral

4. What’s your signature item? Color? Piece of clothing or jewelry? Accessory? You know – that one thing people know you will ALWAYS have on?

Sunglasses on the top of my head. Even when it's raining. Several years ago, I spent a ridiculous amount of money on a pair of Prada sunglasses, and since I spent so much, I wouldn't go anywhere without them. Now, I've traded them in for a $16 pair of Tarjay sunglasses, but haven't shaken the habit. They are ALWAYS there. Business meeting? Funeral? Shopping? Snowstorm? Yep, they're holding my hair back.

5. Repeat question: Summarize your week in real life and in blog life.

Longest short week EVER. I haven't slept well all week and work has been nutso. I'm leaving on Sunday to go to Dallas (via Chicago) until I return on Wednesday night. Yep, I'm getting on two airplanes on the 10th anniversary of 9/11. I'm not really concerned about safety, but more about obscenely long waits and security feeling up my hooha for explosives.

Blogland has been kinda slow, except for the fact that I'm Donna Reed, bitch! So, not too much to report there.

Love, my lovelies!

It's too bad...

...the Donna Reed show theme song didn't have lyrics. They would have made a great title for this blog post.

I'm Donna Reed, bitch!

First, I perfect meaty balls o' goodness, and now I make homemade chicken and dumplings?! Watch out now! Next thing you know, I'll be wearing pearls and high heels and bringing The Hubs his pipe while he reads the newspaper. (Sidenote: the mental image I just had of the confused look on The Hubs' face that says "What the hell am I supposed to do with that?!" just made me giggle out loud at McDonalds. Oopsie.)

At any rate, I did, indeed, make homemade chicken and dumplings. And it was, indeed, the bomb dot com.

Here is the recipe, and the changes I made (or will be making next time) in red. As far as "healthy" goes, I'm sure it's not the best thing out there, but I'd bet my pearls it's healthier than frozen pizza and mozzarella cheese sticks.

Easy Chicken and Dumplings

2 Tbsp. olive oil
12 oz. pkg. frozen mixed veggies (I'll probably double this next time)
12 oz. pkg. frozen peas (I'll omit this next time - TOO MANY PEAS!)
32 oz. chicken broth
1 can (10.5 oz) cream of chicken soup (condensed)
2 lb. boneless, skinless chicken breast cubed in bite-sized pieces (uncooked)
2 C Bisquick
2/3 C milk
salt & pepper to taste

Heat olive oil in a large pot over medium-high heat. Add vegetables and saute until tender. (About 3 minutes). Add chicken broth, salt & pepper, cream of chicken soup, and chicken. Allow the mixture to come to a boil. (The original recipe called for cooked chicken, but I added my cubes in raw and made sure they were fully cooked at the end. I think it would have overcooked the chicken if they were added in already cooked, but you do what you want. I won't tell.)

Combine Bisquick and milk in medium bowl. Drop by spoonfulls into boiling mixture. Reduce heat to low and simmer uncovered for 10 minutes. Stir occasionally, breaking up dumplings into bite sized pieces if needed. Cover with lid and simmer an additional 10 minutes.

Et voila, you can be Donna Reed too!

Food photographer, I am not.

I served this with mashed potatoes (But don't tell Donna that they were the Bob Evans microwaveable kind). I don't know why the original recipe calls for mixed veggies AND a bag of peas - it was way to pea-y. So next time, I'll omit the bag of peas and either double the mixed veggies or just do one bag of mixed veggies.

It was super good even if it was all pea-ed out. Try it!

Somewhat Wordless Wednesday

For realz.

Victory tastes delicious!

I'm not Suzie Homemaker by any means. Just ask my husband. He'll tell you how he does the majority of the 'cooking' in our house, and that most of the time we cook things that are pre-packaged and microwaveable or frozen and heated up in the oven. There aren't many "made from scratch" dishes in our repetoire.

Well, yesterday, we took Bubber Man to his 8 month check-up. (He's healthy by the way, 29.5 inches tall and 20 pounds 6 ounces, finally double his birth weight.) At any rate, the doctor told us that she wants him to be on nothing but table foods and formula by his 10 month visit. And by "table foods", I'm pretty sure she doesn't mean frozen pizza and mozzarella cheese sticks.

She was rattling off a list of all the things we could "easily" cook that he could eat - lentil soup, hummus, anything with beans, indian food, sweet potatoes, etc. Somewhere in the middle of her list of things that The Hubs and I don't even eat, she mentioned homemade meatballs. At the mention of meat, both The Hubs' and my ears perked up.

There's only one problem - I don't cook. For one, I give up easily at the mention of anything that requires chopping, sauteing(sp?), or lots of herbs. For two, our kitchen is a postage stamp. It's what we call a "One Butt Kitchen", so anything you try to cook makes a complete disaster of the two square feet of counter space we have. It has to really be worth the effort if I have to cook AND clean up the mess!

But, knowing that Bubs needs to start eating something more substantive than pureed and liquified fruits and veggies, I got home and started looking for recipes. I came upon this recipe surprisingly quickly. A recipe with four normal ingredients and three steps?! Even I can do that!

After reading the reviews, I ended up adding in some salt, pepper and grated parmesan, and they turned out A-MAZING!!!

Meaty balls o' goodness.

We had my homemade meatballs with spaghetti, garlic bread, and the world's best sauce.

I am so impressed with myself! (She said ever so humbly...) Next time, I think I'll add some Italian seasoning because they turned out a tiny bit bland, but over all, I kicked turkey meatballs ass!

We're getting ready to let Logan try some, and hopefully he'll be a fan too. If not, The Hubs and I will have to eat them all, which is just such a shame. :)

Be proud of me, Bloglandians! I made meaty balls from scratch!

BYOC

It's Friday! I guess you know what that means...

BYOC – Bring Your Own Crazy….5 little questions we ask to get to know each other better and to give our blogging brains a break. Copy and paste to your own blog and enjoy!

1. If you have a camera and have the time – take the contents of your purse out – and take a picture of said contents and explain them. If you don’t have time or a camera – please describe the contents of your purse.

I usually keep my purse pretty empty, much to the delight of my MIL. There's little in life that she likes more than to feed her superiority complex when I don't have something completely random in my purse that no normal person could ever foresee needing, and yet, somehow, we need. What ever it is, she's got it. It's like Mary Freakin' Poppins in there. Need a coat rack? I'm pretty sure she'd have it in her purse just incase you need it and her daughter-in-law didn't come prepared for just such an occasion. 

But I digress. 

In my purse currently, there is:

• a pink wallet (with a debit card sticking out)
• my phone (had I not used it to take the picture)
• loose change
• 8 used fake fingernails (don't ask)
• my keys
• a leopard print pair of tweezers in a plastic tube
• 4 hair ties
• 3 earrings (one and a half sets, lol)
• a bobby pin
• a tiny plastic baby from a Mardi Gras King Cake 3 years ago (which I put in my purse when I left my old job and have forgotten to take out)  
• two pens
• miscellaneous receipts
• a bottle of this
• business cards
• a container of Sensa
• a notepad that I got from St. Jude Children's Research Center

Random. And note the complete lack of essentials like tissues, medicines, bandaids, Tide to Go, etc. that my MIL likes to remind me I don't have. What can I say, lady? I like to live on the edge. Neener neener with my tongue stuck out.

2. Repeat question: I’m going to pick a person not knowing if you have a relationship with this person or if the person even exists and you try to describe the person in 5 words or short sentences. Your kindergarten teacher.

Seriously, how do you remember that person?! I have no recolection of kindergarden, except for making way too many art projects out of uncooked macaroni (some of which still get hung on my mama's Christmas tree, thankyouverymuch).

I'm sure my kindergarden teacher was a very nice person.

3. What’s your favorite guilty pleasure / trashy TV show you like to watch?

Much to my chagrin, I do not have cable. However, I do enjoy trashy reality shows. I loved "Love In The Wild", and still love The Amazing Race, even though I wouldn't really consider it trashy. I heart pretty much any reality show you'd find on TLC, plus any of the documentaries on addicts, prisoners, and serial killers.

What does that say about me? Eeek.

4. A lot of you told me about your first day of school experiences when I posted about how my 5 year old going to kindergarten wasn’t causing me too much heartache. So now I’m officially asking – tell me about one of your first day of school experiences that sticks out in your mind the most. Who put you on the bus? Did you ride the bus? Did your parents take pics? Did they walk you into school? Drive you there? Cook you breakfast?

I can't remember any of my personal first days of school and I haven't had the pleasure(?) of sending Bubbers off yet. I'm sure it will be filled with pictures and tears.

5. Repeat question: Summarize your week in real life and in blog land.

In real life, I made the decision to get banded, which I posted in blog life here. I'm also going through a work/life/husband crisis where I just can't be happy with anything in any situation. (It's a fun time over here in BatShitCrazyLand, won't you join me? My husband sure would appreciate it.) I'm looking forward to the 3 day weekend, and to starting it a little early - I'm leaving work at 12:30 to go pick up Bubbers and take him to his 8 month check-up. Yay!

In blog life, we finished the remodel! Yay! Thanks, Tricia! For some reason, the post fonts aren't working on IE9, but I think she's working on that. I've been catching up on banded bloggers' stories, usually starting from the beginning of their blogs or band journeys. It takes a lot of time, but the information is incredibly helpful. I hope that my blog will be a source of information for possible bandsters one day, too. And also, in Blogland, I'm growing insanely jealous of those BOOBs who are going to Chicago. Hopefully I'll be an attendee in 2012, ladies, so save some fun for me!

Guess that's it, lovelies. Have a wonderful 3 day weekend if you get one!

Decisions and Confessions

"I've got another confession my friend, I'm no fool
I'm getting tired of starting again, somewhere new..."

("Best of You" by Foo Fighters)


In my case, "somewhere new" tends to be a new decade of poundage. I started this blog in the 260's, worked through the 250's, had a brief stay in the 240's, and now I'm smack dab in the middle of the 270's. I gained back more than double what I lost.

It doesn't take a genius to figure out that I'm not great at this whole weight loss thing.

A few months ago, I became Facebook friends with a girl I knew in high school named Kristin. Through catching up with her, I found out that she works for the Cincinnati Weight Loss Center and that she had had Lap-Band surgery a few years before.

Now, previously in years gone by, the thought of having Lap-Band surgery was, for me, like the thought of winning the lottery - it would be nice if it happened, but chances were slim to none, so why dwell on it. I just knew it would be too expensive and that my insurance wouldn't cover it, and I didn't know what hoops I would have to jump through to get it. And then, there's always the fact that it's surgery. Permanent. Invasive. And, did I mention, expensive?

As I mentioned before, Kristin had had the surgery and now works for the doctor who performed it. In fact, every person who works in the office has had the surgery, so they know first hand how it works, feels, costs, etc. She and I talked about the fact that I was semi-seriously considering the surgery but that I knew very little about it. She told me about her experience and how much she paid (she was a self-pay patient, and for those of you who might not know, if your insurance does not cover the cost, you can pay for it yourself, using financing options if you need to). She told me about what she eats and how having the surgery has affected her life, and she invited me to come to the office for an informational seminar.

Also during this time, I started doing my own research. I looked for people who blogged about being banded, and it turns out there's an amazing group of B.O.O.B.s who are a wealth of information, support, and humor. But I didn't just take their word for it. I researched the heck out of weight loss surgeries in general. How safe are they? How expensive are they? What complications can arise? What is life after surgery like? What are my options? Can I really do this?

The Hubs (ever the pragmatic one) was mostly concerned about cost. And being the realist that he is, he also wanted to make sure that if we were going to spend the money (it's, of course, not covered by my insurance) that I would actually stick with it and not find ways to 'cheat' the system. Boy, does he know me or what? It's kind of scary.

He agreed to go to the seminar with me, and by the end of it, he said if we had the money, HE would have the surgery ASAP. Of course, if anyone's going to have the surgery, it's going to be me, because we can't afford to both do it.

It's going to be me.

I have made the decision. I'm going to have Lap-Band surgery.

You may not like it, and that's okay. You may not agree with it, and that's okay too. You may be happy for me, and that's excellent. All I know is that I am finally making a decision to do something for myself. And I'm thrilled!

Now, I am in the very early stages of planning here. I've only gone to the seminar and done the research. I haven't had a consultation or worked out the financing or set a date. In fact, I have to wait to do anything until The Hubs finds a steady job, so it might be months before I can actually put my plan into action.

But at least I've got a plan.

There's the decision. Want to know the confession?

I'm scared.

Here are just some of the things I worry about, and also a little bit about how I am overcoming the fear:

~The Cost~

Being a self-pay patient is going to cost me about $14,000. That's a chunk of change. And it's not like we have it stashed under our mattress for just such occasions. We will have to finance and pay interest on it for years to come.  It will mean a car payment's worth of money coming out of our paychecks every month.

However, remaining morbidly obese will cost me well over $14,000 over the course of the rest of my life. And it will not only cost me monetarily, but it will cost me physically. My dad is basically dying of unchecked Diabetes, have I mentioned that lately? That will be me. And me being overweight doesn't just affect me or my quality of life anymore - it affects Bubbers now, too. Being morbidly obese means that I can't play with him the way I want to. I can't do the things I want to do, and being this fat is almost an early death sentence. I want to be around for him. Not experiencing his life to the fullest is a cost that I am not willing to pay.

~The Surgery~

One thing that I didn't know until I did my research is that having the Lap-Band means actually having a port attached to the muscle in your stomach. Permanently. As in, it's always there, and when you get skinny enough, you can sometimes see and feel it. (Gross!) Having that port also means getting a needle stuck in your abdomen for "fills". I guess when I thought about the concept of the Lap-Band, I never realized that it was something that was dynamic, that changed. I just thought you had the surgery, they put a "collar" on your stomach, and you lived your life. Now I know that's not the case. Just because you have the surgery doesn't mean you're done. You have to maintain the band. Get it filled and un-filled. It's not something Ron Popeil created - you can't just "Set it and forget it!"

I have made peace with the fact that there will be a foreign object in my body for the rest of my life. And, it wasn't really that hard to deal with the thought of the needle and fills/unfills because of the insulin shots I had to give myself while pregnant. That was multiple times a day. If I can deal with that, I can deal with a few adjustments a year if I have to.

I have made peace with the fact that it's surgery. I had my gallbladder taken out in early 2008, and the process is similar to that. I had a 10 pound baby delivered by c-section and survived. If I don't have this surgery, there will be other surgeries because of it. My Diabetes, if left unchecked, could mean heart, liver, eye, or foot damage, all of which lead to surgeries. (All of which, except for liver, are surgeries that my dad has had, by the way).

I generally do well under the knife, and although I know that there are always possible complications, I'm not concerned.

~Life After The Band~

What does having the band mean? How will it affect my day to day life? What will I have to change?

This is the big one for me. The money, we can find somewhere. The surgery, I can handle. But life after? That's the scary part. I'm having this surgery because I need someone or something to FORCE me to change my ways. (But that scares the shit out of me!)

How is the Lap-Band going to force me to change? I'll have to temporarily succumb to a liquid diet, and might have to return to it after fills and if I have any issues. I'll have to cut my food into the tiniest of tiny pieces and chew it to a pulp. For evah. I'll have to watch my protein intake and make sure I'm getting vitamins and nutrients. I'll have to quit drinking during my meals (which I'm not entirely convinced I'll be able to do), and most difficult of all for me, I'll have to give up pop (and all carbonated beverages) for good.

My dad works for Coca-Cola. Diet Coke runs through my veins. And I'll have to give it up.

(Now, just so you're fully informed, there is some controversy surrounding this restriction.Some doctors don't say that you can never drink pop, and some do.  The doctor at CWLC says you do, so I will.)

 These are all big, daily, life-altering changes. Scary stuff.

But what would life be like if I didn't have the surgery? If I continue on the course that I've taken for thirty years? Sure, life without the band would be easier in some respects. I could drink what ever I want and eat what ever I want, but then I'm where I always have been. Only worse. Lap Band Gal says "If hunger isn't the problem, then eating isn't the solution."

Being able to eat whatever I want is not going to make my life worth living.

All in all, I have researched, asked questions, thought, debated, cried, and pretty much done everything I can think of to make sure that having this surgery is the right thing for me. And I wholeheartedly believe it is. It's not a quick fix or a simple solution. It takes effort and commitment just like dieting and exercise, but the Lap-Band is there to help.

It's like this: let's pretend that in order for me to reach a healthy weight, I have to swim across the ocean. Diet and Exercise are my arms and legs. They are the tools that I have to get there. Now, I could swim and swim and swim to my heart's content, but there's pretty much no way that I'll make it across the ocean on my own. Then along comes Lap-Band - my life jacket - which makes me just a little more buoyant, and in turn, makes my journey just a little bit easier. Now at least I have a chance.

Lap-Band is going to be my life jacket. I'll swim harder than I ever have before, and it will help me go farther than I ever thought I could.

New Digs...

How do you like these apples?! Pretty fancy, eh?

With lots of thanks to Tricia, and no thanks to PayPal, Breaking Up With Burgers has a new, happy interwebbian abode!

Welcome home, y'all!

:)

"Every day I'm shufflin'..."

("Party Rock Anthem" by LMFAO)

I'm sending out the warning right now that this will probably ramble and not make much sense and cover a bunch of random topics. Consider yourselves forewarned.

~Blog~
My lovely blog re-design is thisclose to being finished. PayPal actually pulled through and sent the correct amount of money to Miss Tricia. She sent me a sample yesterday and she's just making a few minor tweaks to the design. I think it will be up and at 'em in the next day or so, and I can't wait! Now, once it's up and purty, all I have to do is force myself to update it on a regular basis. I haven't really updated because I have been absolutely sucktastic on the diet front. Which segues nicely into...

~Diet~
I thought for sure that when I stepped on the scale today it would read 280 pounds or more. How sad is it that I was pleasantly surprised at 275.8? Seriously, girl, get your shit together. I almost weigh what I weighed when I was pregnant. And ten pounds of that weight was actual baby! Two-hundred seventy-six pounds.

It's flicking ridiculous. I never expected to weigh this much in my life. Even when I was at 250, I never thought I'd hit a weight as high as this. And here it is in all it's glory disgustingness. (It's a word. I made it one.)

The BFF, yours truly, and Tonja at Jimmy Buffett Tuesday night.

Do you see that freaking monster truck tire around my midsection?! Wanna know the worst part about that? I'm wearing Spanx. It's being sucked in. For serious.

I have more to say on the whole fatness issue, but I think that's better left for another blog post.

~Job~

I wish I didn't have one. I like my job on most days, but I am feeling lately like it's pointless. The Hubs is in between jobs right now and "gets" to stay at home with Bubbers all day. I can't help but feel like that should be me. Selfishly I want to be the one who doesn't have to get up at 6 am. I want to be the one who doesn't have to deal with office bureaucracies. I want to be the one who could wear sweats all day if I chose to. But most importantly, I want to be the one who gets to spend time with our son. I want to feed him and dress him and take him fun places, and teach him things all day, and watch him play. I want to get to see him for more than 2 waking hours every night. But it's just not in the cards, I guess.

My dream is that The Hubs will land his dream job, making enough money that I can quit mine and be a SAHM. People do it, somehow, they make it work, and they can't all be top executives at big companies making hundreds of thousands of dollars a year. I want that to be me!

(Whine over, I promise.)

~Life~

As you can see from the picture above, The BFF, Tonja and I went to see Jimmy Buffett Tuesday night. We try to go every year, but I didn't go last year because I was pregnant and the weather had been pretty bad prior to the show. This year's concert was fun - I took the day after off work so that I could drink and not have to worry about the hour long drive from the concert venue back to my house. (Which is a good thing, because I probably wouldn't have gotten home until 1 am!)

Bubber Man sprouted a third tooth, on the top right side of his mouth. He looks like a jack-o-lantern now, which makes me giggle.

The rest of life is normal. Nothing major going on. I'm sorry for the long and rambling post, but that's what you get sometimes.

How about ending this post with a picture of Bubs to make it up to you?

Keepin' it classy.

PayPal Diatribe Number 2: or "Why I'll never be a Customer Service Representative"

OH EM GEE, people!!!

So, it's been days and I haven't received a letter with a code. Meanwhile, my lovely new blog is dangling in the nether regions of the interwebs.

Lovely Tricia sent me an email letting me know that PayPal contacted HER and let HER know that they are giving ME back my money. Luckily, she was nice enough to pass on the message, because PayPal apparently didn't think it was an important enough piece of information for them to, you know, tell me.

So I checked my account, and sure enough, my moolah is back, but my account is still limited access, so I can't do anything with the money that is rightfully mine.

At this point, I've absolutely had enough. I decided that I'm going to call the bastards and get some answers and get this shit settled. So I look for their contact information, and of course, they want you to use their written prompts to try and figure out your problem before you actually call a human. I make it through all that and find a phone number for customer service.

Now, folks, what does a customer service phone number start with? Usually 1-800 or 1-866, right? Do you think PayPal has a toll free customer service line?

Of course not.

1-402-935-2050. I had to call them long distance to solve a two week long dispute that THEY CAUSED. But, okay, fine, I'll call Nebraska for you fuckers. Anything at this point to just get access to my own damn money.

I called Nebraska, and of course had to go through five minutes of phone prompts and yelling "REPRESENTATIVE!!!" at increasingly louder decibel levels. (I was smart enough to leave work and go out to my car to make this phone call, because for some reason, I had an inkling that it might get a lil' rowdy.) And I finally. Finally. get a person.

Turns out that, yes, I do have my money back, and yes, there is a limitation, and yes, he can lift it during this simple phone call without me having to wait days for a pin number to show up. Oh, and why did the "dispute" happen in the first place?

He asked me if I had been travelling.

Nope, not recently.

Do you work in a different city from where you live?

Well, technically, yeah I do. Why does that matter to you? 

Did you access your PayPal account from a work computer?

Okay, Big Brother, I did, but don't tell my boss on me.

Aha! That's what caused your issue. I can take care of it for you right now.


Apparently, their smartie two shoes system saw that I logged in from a different city and went all "Danger, Will Robinson!!!" on them saying that I might not be who I said I am because I logged in from a location 30 miles from home. So take that, internets, you're supposed to be all "hey, connect from anywhere and be connected to anywhere all instantly and shit", but as it turns out, I'm only allowed to connect from home. Connecting from anywhere else obviously means my identity was stolen and someone is trying to steal minimal amounts of money from me.

Clearly, that's the case.

Now, Blogland Lovers, I *so* try to not go all bat shit crazy on Customer Service Representatives, because, hey, I know it's not your fault you work for the biggest douche canoe of a company known to man. But, duuuuuuuuuude. You all have no idea how hard it was for me to not scream at the poor guy.

I took a few deep breaths, tried my best to reign in the snarky, and "calmly" let him know the process that I wen through to get to this point. I told him all about the bait and switch email that said "oh, just change your password and all will be right with the world" when the actual process was something more akin to teaching an elephant to speak Chinese. In sign language.

I told him how I think it's re-donk-u-lous to require a land line in "this day and age." (yep, actually used that phrase. I'd like to be called Grandpa from now on, please.) And I told him that his company is not customer friendly and that the thousands of blog followers that I have all know about their evil-doings.

So I embellished a bit. Sue me. Or better yet, call me long distance from your land line and we'll hash it out.

At any rate, he lifted my dispute and I'm supposedly able to get back into my account and do whatever I want to do with my money. Thank you, PayPal, for the privilege of being able to access my own damn money. Douches.

But I'm not bitter...

PayPal: A Diatribe

Listen to this ridiculousness…


As you all know, I'm having my blog re-designed into something super fabulous by this lovely lady. We used PayPal to complete the transaction (which she's done a million times, and I've used PayPal for years with no issues). Anyway, I went to paypal to pay for it and they took the money out of my account. I thought all was hunkey dorey.

Then the fun began.

Paypal sent both she and I notices that my account has been frozen until I verify that I am who I say I am by updating my security settings. The email said I have to go to the PayPal website and change my password and my password questions.

Okay, well that’s dumb, but I’ll do it.

I go to the website, and before I can even get to the part where I have to change my password, I have to give them the FULL account number of the bank account that my paypal account is registered to. I don't have it memorized (do any of you have your bank account numbers memorized?), so I had to wait until I got home last night to look it up. Here is where my pulse starts quickening and I can feel my blood pressure starting to raise.

I had The Hubs look up the bank account number and went back to the website to type it in. Then I finally get to the screen where I can change my password and password questions.

Done, right?

Wrong. Next, they tell me that they have to verify my address before they can lift the “dispute”. In order to verify my address, they now need me to link a credit card to my account. I screamed "Are you serious?!" at the computer, but got no response, so I assumed it was, in fact, seriously requiring me to do this. So I dug through my cavernous hole of a purse and found a card. I had The Hubs put in all the numbers and the code on the back and my address and the name of our first born son.

Done, right?

Wrong. At this point, I'm swearing and gesturing dangerously behind my husband who is doing all of the finger-work at the computer. Now, they need a phone number so that PayPal can call me to verify my address. Now, setting aside that completely illogical thought process, I'm thinking, "I really want to get this over with so that I can play in my pretty new interweb home. This HAS to be the last step. And what are my options, anyway, short of shoving my fist inside my husband's computer and hoping to strangle a PayPal developer on the other end?"

I give them my phone number and I have the choice of “have PayPal call now” or “have PayPal call in one minute”. Dear God, I don't want to give PayPal another nanosecond of my time or thought, so check the little button to “have PayPal call now” and hit "Submit".

Done, right? (You lovely blog readers out there on the interwebs are so smart that I bet you know where this is going...)

Wrong! The next screen tells me that they don’t accept cell phone lines for verification and in order to verify my address through a phone call, it must be a land-line. Who decided to be all dependent on technology and not have a land-line in her house?

Thaaaaat's right. Me.

However, sweet and helpful and accomodating as they are, PayPal offered me yet another way to "resolve my dispute" (the dispute that THEY initiated, mind you.), as if giving them my full bank account information, providing them with a new password and password questions, linking a valid credit card with a billing address to my account, giving them my cell phone number (which I don't give to anybody), promising them my first born child (only if he turns out to be a dud, but don't tell PayPal that), and the promise to never watch trashy reality tv again weren't enough. ("Love In The Wild", Mama's gonna miss you.)

Turns out, after all this technology, and trying to pay for something through an "easy and convenient" electronic method, I'm now reduced to waiting on snail mail. Who would have thought, in this day and age, my electronic purchase would be dependent on a land line and snail mail?! My alternate option to verify my address requires Paypal to send me a letter (like, acutally, in the mailbox) with some sort of code on it. PayPal's website said "...it should take days to receive this letter..." No, really, PayPal. Days? Thank you for being so specific.

When days are up and I finally receive their letter, I have to go back to the website and enter this code. This magical code that is somehow acceptable notice that IyamwhatIyam, that none of the other information I provided to them was able to do.

Done, right?

Who the hell knows. I'll let you know what other hoops lie ahead after I enter the code. What else do you think they could possibly make me do?

All I know is: I'm doing this for you, my Blogland Lovers.

Y'all better appreciate. :-P