My butt problem

Agony plus times equals comedy?  Yeah, well I jumped the time part.  This has been going on for me for a few days.  First I only told my husband, then my kids had to know.  “Why is mommy going to bed before us with bourbon and a hot compress?”

Now, I’m telling the world. While I filmed this the pain was still great.  But, like other hardships in my life, losing all our money, stuff like that, all I can do is find the humor ( that and crawl into the fetal position in my closet and cry).

The whole point is I’m not alone, right?  We are the world that can help each other

update: Yes, I know you have been very concerned with my butt.  So after I shot this video went to a dermatologist and had to lie on my tummy while he examined my butt cheek. As painfully embarrassing as this was it was made easier by the doctor who said, “I have had this” ( he begged me not to use his real name).  It was not a zit, but a cyst.  Infected. Gnarly.  Shots, cutting, another shot and I have to go back for more butt cheek treatment in a couple of days. The nurse who bandaged me up said, “I had this a couple of months ago.” What?  Never knew these butt cheek cysts were so rampant.  According to Dr. “Smith” they are common because it’s “a dirty place”.  I usually hover over toilets when I’m in public, but I think I will try to hover at home as well.

But, the message of ballad is even more important.  Had I not gotten over my embarrassment and sought medical treatment the doctor said I could have end up in the ER.

I’m an Abused Mom

I don’t want to show you my face. It’s too embarrassing. But right there you can see the red blood gash left by my wild nine mouth old. There are two more cuts like that on my nose and two more on my forehead. If it wasn’t for concealer, I couldn’t walk outside. But concealer cannot conceal the shame I feel for allowing it to happen. I know, don’t blame the victim. But I could have tried hard to trim his nails. I could always try to hold him facing out.

But no. I like to look at his beautiful face. And then… and then, that’s when it happens. He screams gleefully and lunges for my face. Sometimes he digs into my lip. We aren’t talking chimp level, but these little nicks are adding up.

I don’t want to leave the house.

I don’t want to admit that I let it happen every day. Several times a day.

Call me an enabler, but I love him.

I Married a Pirate

SO it’s a good thing Top Chef isn’t taping this month, ’cause my poor husband has some gnarly eye surgery awaiting him. He had a floater a few weeks ago. When he went to the doctor they said he had a retinal tear. They shot 600 laser blasts to contain it, but a blood vessel popped. The blood drips down into the jelly of the inside of the eyeball, and thus his left eye’s vision looks like a Jackson Pollack painting.

He has gone back to the doctor several times, had second opinions, and the upshot is the eye doctors at UCLA and USC agree he needs surgery. They are going to extract the jelly… suck it out as it were, then refill the eye ball… the vitreous with a substitute… some saline solution. You can see I didn’t go to medical school.

He has to be TOTALLY chill for 48 hours and for several weeks is not even suppose to be in a car unless it’s to go to the doctor. He can’t pick Vivien up at all and must be careful about lifting Rex. So obviously I am concerned about what he has to go through. He is being very brave. I’d be flipping out. And I’m bracing for being in charge of the whole shooting match. I’ll be the Kate Gosselin as it were… except instead of my husband being AWOL with a 22 year old, he’ll be sitting quietly with an eye patch. One that he has to wear for weeks. I’m clearing the decks next week so I can be a good nurse… I fear I’ll be like Kathy Bates in Misery.

Has anyone dealt with this kind of eye surgery before? It seems very scary to me, but Dr. Dean Edell (my mentor) said it’s pretty routine, though serious. Wondering what to expect in helping him and what I won’t get help with.

He has such nice shoulders. Maybe I should get him a parrot?

Pregnancy Arm Rash… Again

Hmm… yum, yep, that’s my wonderful pregnancy arm rash rearing its pretty head.

Or as I like to call it, Arm Acne. Not as bad as with Vivien, but lately it’s been driving me nuts. This hot itchy feeling wakes me up at 2 a.m., and I am ripping into my arm. I sleep with the window open for maximum cool ’cause as a Chinese doctor told me when I was carrying Vivien, “You have too much heat.” (It’s much worse to have this in the summer.)

But even when the itching stops when Junior Fab is born, I will have more scars on my already scarred up arms. I know, not the worst thing that can happen to your body… not like a wicked tear… ouch. But I sure would like something that would take these scars off. Gosh, if I was a teen I wouldn’t leave the house… no wonder I’m such a fan of sleeves and spray tans.
On the other spectrum of body art is this Obama nail.

I got it done for my show. It’s a cool method called Minx. It’s like a piece of foil with a picture on it. It doesn’t stink like acrylics and lasts a fair bit. The Obama nails were very popular around the 20th. It’s cool, but isn’t it still nail art??

I Keep On Falling…

…in love? Actually off my porch. I did this earlier in my pregnancy (like 5 months) and got a deep gash in my right shin. This time I got an even longer and deeper gash in my right shin (could I look more pasty white?).

I had boots on that had no tread; it was raining, and I slipped on my slick porch. You know when you can feel yourself going down? At least this time I didn’t break my fall with my wrist like last time and give myself another injury. And I did not land on my big belly. Phew.

Vivien and Mark were with me. As I lay on the ground on my back crying, Viv said about 6 times, “You are going to have big gash”. Between my tears I finally growled, “You’ve said that 6 times.” When someone falls, I think it’s best if people:

1) assess if there is serious injury

2) make soft sympathetic noises

3) help the person who fell up

4) more sympathetic words

5) first aid

then you can mention the size of my gash ONCE.

Well, thirty pounds hanging over my belt is bound to make me a little off kilter.  Ha, who am I kidding.  I haven’t worn a belt in a long time.

Pregnancy Pain

Okay, now that I am 30 weeks, I’m getting more front heavy. Still on my WADDLE WATCH, my feet are still landing in a parallel fashion. But my boy pitches himself forward, and I go, “oof!” and need to physically hold up the bottom of my tummy. Isn’t funny how you can be feeling fine, and then suddenly a shift and… and… I gotta sit down.

Definitely have more muscle cramps with this one, but SO FAR, the sleep hasn’t been as hellish as with Viv. But then I still have ten more weeks to go. The warm bath and the heating pad on the back have been key to my well-being, much like floating in a friend’s pool in the summer heat of the waning days of my pregnancy with Vivien.

The feet are still the same size. Phew.