no road rash. . .

Emma turned six last Thursday and started the surprisingly painless process of riding a bike without training wheels.  Daddy’s only slammed her into one parked car, so we think it’s going pretty well!  Today we moved from Ellie’s bike to Emma’s bike.  Her bike is very heavy, which probably means it’s really well made, so she was pretty funny to watch swirving back and forth.  How she didn’t fall is a wonder to me, but she did great.  I don’t know how Dust didn’t trip over her, but both stayed up and Emma totally has riding a big girl bike with no training wheels down. . .as long as it’s a straight path with few parked cars in the street.

Not to be left out of quality “Daddy Time,” Ellie ran down the street to have Daddy put on Ellie’s helmet.

You can tell this helmet is Dustin’s old helmet and is somewhat too big for Ellie.  She kept raising her head up and letting the weight of the helmet pull her head back.  Then she’d look down and her head would whip back down.  How she managed not to fall is wonder to me as well.

Dust is giving Emma a pep talk.  Over the last six years, he’s learned you can’t tell you little girl to suck it up and just do it.

His version of the “suck it up and do it” speech was, “You’re just going to have to be tough and ride without training wheels.”

And there she goes. . .

This is one of the many times up and down the block. . .

I’m sure Dustin can tell you exactly how many times he ran up and down the block.

He was smart not to drink a beer before the riding lesson this time.  I kept telling him this was good cardio.  I thought it was pretty funny.  At this moment, I’m so glad I had a breast lift and can’t run!

There they go. . .

Emma thinks that her bike is the one in charge, so she kept saying, “Steer straight, steer straight Bike.”  Silly girl.

This is just the first of many “Mama?!?” looks I’m going to get over the next decades.  I’m so glad the child doesn’t know how to roll her eyes.

And the coolest part of not having training wheels is you get to use the kick stand.

Emma and Daddy pounding it after a job well done.

Then Dustin got the “Daddy?!?” look when he bent down and kissed her because he was so proud of her.


my really hip Dad. . .

When the “Papa”razzi can’t take pictures, leave it to his daughter to fill in and get the job done.  I guess for this blog entry, I’m the “Mama”razzi?!?  Still doesn’t have as good of a ring as Dad’s nickname nor did I take enough pictures.  I think I’ve disappointed him!

Dad had his 6th hip replacement Tuesday.  His leg started making a crunching sound when he walked two weeks ago which landed him a doctor’s appointment with his orthopaedic surgeon.  That informative appointment made the discovery of not only did Dad need a new hip, but the pop sound he heard and felt six months ago in his shoulder was him tearing his rotator cuff.  He needed to get his shoulder fixed first because he has to use crutches for a couple of months with no weight on his leg.  Where’s our time table?  That’s right, crunching noise made dr. appt. on Thursday.  Pop noise makes future shoulder surgery in the very near future.  Thank God his hearing is intact to hear all these wonderful sounds. . .and the fact that he has a full head of hair, that’s always nice when you’re a man in your 50s (poor Dust, he’s only 31-years-old).  Now we’re up to date.

So why did Dad have a new hip put in on Tuesday?  Sunday afternoon Dad slipped but didn’t fall on the wet grass at the house just enough to probably make a really horrible sound which ambulances and emergency rooms were involved.  But leave it to my Dad to know the EMTs whom he’ and Mom had dinner with the night before at a golf association function.  The man is fastened to a stretcher while they are probably taking his blood pressure and talking to the EMT in the passenger seat about how his daughter (me) and her son graduated high school together.  The gift of gab my father has even when he can’t move! 

Now it’s Thursday and Ellie and I had lunch with Mom at the hospital.  Ellie’s all about the blood and wires and needles.  She watched Papa get his blood drawn when he went into the hospital while Emma curled up in Nana’s lap and covered her ears while Nana covered her eyes so she couldn’t hear or see anything.  Ellie had Dustin pick her up so she could watch the needle go into Papa’s vein.  Emma is so sensitive and wears her heart on her sleeve, she kept asking me if it hurt my heart that Papa was in the hospital and if was making me almost cry like it did her.  Sweet girl.  I don’t even have the heart to tell her what child birth is like.  However, Papa proved to be a fun lunch date for little Miss Ellie Bellie.  She was not disappointed with the wires and tubes coming out of Papa today.  Plus the noises his bed made when it aired up the mattress and his leg she’s got enough to talk about all weekend. . .she’s can’t wait to go back!

Papa the patient. 

One of the many bruises Dad has on his body.

The doctor had to go through Dad’s knee to “pound” the titanium hip out.  Dad’s doctor later told Dad he got quite a workout during his surgery removing Dad’s hip.  Just thinking about that makes me a little queasy.

I never asked, but like all of Dad’s other hip surgeries, I think the hip incision is about a foot long.  I could be wrong.  I’m sure Dad will leave a comment with the exact measurements!

This is a tradition passed down from my sister and I and now to Ellie.  Ellie is holding Papa’s old hip.  How many show and tells did we take one of Dad’s hip to in elementary school?  Guaranteed show stopper right there.  Dad’s hip even outranked my autographed New Kids on the Block poster and Jonathan Knight pillowcase.  Okay, when you’re done laughing, you can go to the next photo.

My 3-year-old and her Papa’s hip.  And yes, she’ll carry on the tradition of taking Papa’s hip to show and tell.  I don’t think Emma will touch it though.  If she knows blood has been anywhere near something, she starts dry heaving.  Good times at our house with Ellie constantly hurting herself and Emma finding a trash can.

Nana explaining the way Papa’s hip looked before Sunday.  Not connected and in need of a replacement.

The placement of Papa’s hip after Sunday.  I think I might be in need of a trash can. . .move over Emma.

Dad explaining what a hip should look like for everyone.  Mom kept telling Dad to cover up eventhough you couldn’t see anything.  I told him my blog is rated PG-13, so I’m pretty sure nudity is prohibited (I frequent the word damnit occassionally, so it gets a PG-13).  Plus my Dad naked is not on my TOP 10 THINGS TO SEE list.  His bacon wrapped chicken is on my TOP 10 THINGS TO EAT BEFORE YOU DIE list though.  Am I the only one with multiple lists???

The breaking of the hip.

I wish my camera would have focused on the bottom of the rod rather than Dad’s fingers.  The end is supposed to be smooth and it was being “pounded” out of Dad’s leg so it’s a little banged up.  Little queasy and my knee just started hurting.

Papa’s lunch date.  Ellie enjoyed the pepperoni pizza and Papa’s milk and he also saved her his runny milkshake.  Gotta love liquid diets.

If you know my Dad, he carries pictures of his grandkids in the front pocket of his dress shirts.  Mom took these off the fridge at the house so that Papa could have some pictures in his hospital room.  He could also show the doctors and nurses which grandkid he was talking about at that given time.  I guarantee you, his nurses will know my and Jess’ kids’ names, ages, favorite colors, what they want to be when they grow up and funniest moments before he gets out of the hospital.  What can I say, Papa loves being a Papa.  🙂

I thought Dad’s yellow foot was funny looking.

Ellie and I couldn’t agree on the kabloom (she’s thinks they are called kabloom rather than balloon) for Papa.  I wanted the Bob the Builder or Handy Manny giant balloon and Ellie wanted the heart shaped very grandmotherly kabloom.  We found one with butterflies and flowers and the fact it did say “get well” was awesome.  I’m positive if Ellie would have seen the balloons with babies on them, Dad would have gotten a balloon that said “Congrations on your new baby girl!” 

Papa and Ellie before we headed back home to pick up Emma from school.  She’s looking at the bruise on his forearm!  Get well soon Papa.  We can’t wait to color monster trucks and sit in your lap and watch Kung Fu Panda with you!

the big 6. . .

I have many loves in my life, but one in particular would be my first born.  Emma set the tone for my life as a stay-at-home mom and I couldn’t have asked for a better career choice.  For six years, she’s helped me realize my place in this world and I can never thank her enough.

It’s amazing to think of Emma as just a tiny baby and now see braving the world every day as she walks into Kindergarten.  I never thought time would fly by this fast, but it has.  She makes me laugh every day with her quirky little “Emmaisms” and she brings a smile to my face when she randomly tells me she loves me.

A stay-at-home mom’s work is never done, but with such a caring, thoughtful daughter like Emma, I really can’t complain.  I thank God for the wonderful child he has given me and can’t wait to see what the future holds for my baby.  I may cry a little along the way as she goes from big girl to young lady and then on to a woman, but it’s only because I’m so proud of her and couldn’t imagine my life without my Angel.  I love you Emma.  Happy 6th Birthday.

Emma’s must have cowgirl sparkly pink horseshoe belt with new purple boots she wore on Monday back to school after Spring Break.  I love the Harley-Davidson hoodie, she’s so my kid with the bold fashion risks.  She used her birthday money and gift cards on these fashionable accessories to complete her ensemble.

Emma’s old boots started hurting her feet, so we headed for Cavender’s to find our cowgirl (she wants to be a cowgirl this month) a new pair of boots.  She tried on every boot in the store and was a little undecided.  The pink ones were twice the price of the purple boots, but couldn’t commit.  We left the store without boots and a little sad.  About a week later, we finally found out that Emma just wanted a pink pair of shoes.  She didn’t care if they were boots or not, but didn’t want to spend all of her money on one pair of shoes.  Smart girl.  Maybe Mama should take Emma’s advice.

These are the cupcakes I made for Emma’s class for her birthday.  Plan A.  I  wanted to do a chocolate “6” on all the cupcakes and then realized that I would have quite a few 666 cupcakes.  Okay, plan B.  Emma picked a font on the computer and I melted and tinted the chocolate and wrote on the wax paper over the printed sheet of paper.  I added the white nonpareils before I put it in the  fridge for about five minutes.  I peeled the letters off and stuck them into the purple cupcakes.  I spelled out “HAPPY 6TH BIRTHDAY EMMA.”  It actually stayed like this in the box until I turned at the end of the street and then it looked like “PHHMDBPYIAAYR6THAMET.”  A little disappointed, yes, but then 5- and 6-year-olds are not that picky. . .and can’t spell that great either!

Emma being Emma before we headed to school.  She colored picture and I made an iron-on of it and that’s what she picked out for her birthday shirt this year.  Note to self:  scan the picture, FLIP THE PICTURE so when it prints out it won’t be backwards, follow the rest of the given instructions.

Ellie being Ellie before we headed to school.  Ellie also made a page for her shirt and wrote her own name and made the flower in the middle all by herself, I’m pretty impressed with my 3-year-old!  She made all the stems to the flowers and colored in everything else. 

My goofballs.

This was Emma’s birthday dinner tonight of. . .

olive and sausage omelets!  I’ll wait while everyone throws up.  Done yet?  I think Emma and I are the only ones who love these ingredients in our omelets?!?

Ellie thought her pancakes with a side of sausage was worthy of a thumbs up.

eat my dust. . .

Here’s the girls on the Sunday they got back from Mom and Dad’s house after my surgery.  I’m the one taking the pictures while I’m trying to hide my giant  ice pack for my boobs.  Imagine a Chinese tourist in New York City.  Okay, imagine a 6′ tall tourist maybe that’s a little more accurate.  I asked Dustin, “Can you tell?”  I think he hid his laughter as he replied, “No.”

As for the bikes, Ellie got a Spike the Dinosaur for her third birthday.  That sentence makes absolutely no sense.  Anywho, she loved playing with the one at Jack and Luke’s house, so we thought this would be a great gift.  Not so much.  She played with it a total of 30 minutes and the rest of the time she just kept running past it to get to whatever she needed in her bedroom.  Luckily, my friend Robin’s son Kellen loves Spike and wanted one for his birthday.  She couldn’t find one in town and Ellie was more than willing to sell her Spike.  She found Spike’s bone and I’m pretty sure carried him down the hall and all but loaded him in the back of Robin’s Expedition!

With the weather getting warmer, Ellie wanted/needed a new bike and we needed to get a do-over birthday gift.  Again, imagine me as a clown in the circus riding a tricycle.  That’s the way Ellie looked on her bike minus the clown face paint and not quite 6′ tall.  She must have had a pretty good growth spurt over the winter.  So, we loaded up the girls a few weeks ago and went into town in search of a bike.  Of course we can’t go to Wal-Mart because of Dustin’s dislike for crowds and Wal-Mart in general, so he thought it would be easier to go to Toys R Us on a Saturday, silly Daddy.  Actually, it wasn’t too bad and Emma enjoyed being that kid flying down the aisles on the bikes.  It doesn’t matter how many signs you post or how many dirty looks you Toys R Us workers give us, parents are going to let their kids try out the bikes before they buy them.

Ellie on her big girl bike.  I think the streamers and the heart-shaped bag attached to the handlebars sealed the deal for Ellie.

Seriously, it doesn’t get much better for a 3-year-old.

Emma’s wearing Dustin’s old motorcycle helmet because we didn’t think about buying another bike helmet for Ellie.  Emma has that, “I’m ready to blow this joint” look.  Oh yah, she’s bad.

Ellie looked like me driving a standard, but without the screaming and crying on her part.  Lots of stop and go, stop and go.  It took her a while to figure out that peddling backwards made her stop.

Emma turned too sharp and caught the handbrake in her leg.  Don’t worry, when Ellie seemed to be catching up, she sped off again.

Good thing Daddy was there because this is how Ellie peddled.  She kept watching her feet and had no clue when a car, dog, walker, etc. was headed her way.

Finally looking ahead.

Ellie’s in the lead!

Not for long.  This is where Ellie was yelling, “WAIT SISTER!!!” and Emma was like, “Eat my dust.”  Okay, she didn’t say that, but it’s amazing the confidence a helmet with flames gives a little girl on her bike with training wheels.

This work is exhausting.

So exhausting.

Ellie crawled up in Daddy’s lap while he was playing his PS3 and fell asleep on him after a vigorous bike excursion.

compared to two c-sections. . .

I have changed my saying from “It’s totally worth it” to “Compared to two c-sections, this is like a paper cut.”  Yes, I know it sounds a little gross and the visual, well, we won’t even go there, but I feel amazing! 

My breast lift was indeed totally worth it and virtually pain free.  Don’t take my word for it, ask my husband.  He is in total shock at how easy this surgical procedure was compared to both my c-sections.  Granted the hours spent in recovery, I did feel like I was breastfeeding pirahnas, sorry for another visual, but I soon found out that was because I was laying flat on my back.  Apparently the stitches around my nipples were pulling if I was laying flat and I’ll just stop because I have family members that read my blog and that just is weird.  Okay, maybe you don’t have to be family for that to be weird?

However, ANY WOMAN WANTING TO HAVE A BREAST LIFT SHOULD DO SO.  Okay, enough screaming,yikes.  The surgery was Friday morning and by 2:00 p.m. Dustin was picking up egg drop soup for me for dinner and we were hitting Starbucks on the way home.  Apparently Starbucks makes everything better and this is so true.  When will Starbucks read my blog and give me free drinks for promoting their company?  I’m waiting.  Anywho, I was trying to stay awake, so I texted friends to let them know how I was doing and according to Erin, I called her and was still pretty out of it from the pain meds.  Do I remember this conversation?  No.  Was I able to tell Dustin I wanted a grande size chai tea latte but the amount you put in the vente with whip and no water?  Yes.  Strange I know.

The girls were at Mom and Dad’s for the weekend baking cookies and making a very long list for Wal-Mart.  Wii bowling was supposed to be one of the highlights of the weekend as well as doing Papa’s hair.  That was on Ellie’s to do list.  She loves combing my hair and found out that Papa will say yes to anything as long as he doesn’t have to sit on the floor to long with his hip.  And Papa has an amazing head of hair.  His hair lady has told him women would kill for his hair.  It’s trur.  There was only one meltdown when the girls said goodnight to me over the phone.  Ellie didn’t understand why I couldn’t give her hugs and kisses and I’m not sure why Emma was crying.  Even later when I asked her, she just giggled and said, “I don’t know?” and skipped off to her room to go play.

We made it home and it was so quiet as I reclined on the couch.  Sleeping for 10 minutes at a time, wiping the drool off my chin, adjusting the two large ice packs on my chest and then repeating this cycle was my schedule.  Dustin and I finally decided after two hours of that, we’d venture next door to get out of the house.  I felt great and had to stay awake until 10:00 p.m. so I would be able to sleep through the night.  Amber was amazed I was talking without a slur let alone walking on my own over to her house!  Another friend wanted us to come by and because of all the pain medicine I was taking offered to make me a smoothie while our husbands had beer.  We got out of the truck and without missing a beat, I pointed to my ice packs on my boobs and said, “I brought the ice.”  So funny even when I am heavily medicated, I know.

It was so strange coming home to a quiet house.  I kept thinking we left the girls somewhere.  I spent the night on the couch because laying down hurt too much.  I won’t explain again because of the awkwardness for everyone reading.  So when I woke up in the morning after having my boobs chopped up the previous day, it was my neck that hurt.  Go figure.  Saturday was spent watching shows on the DVR and visiting with friends that stopped by to see how I was.  Is this what life is like without kids?  You talk about yourself and watch uninterrupted tv and read more than three pages in your book before you have to wipe someone after they went poopy?!?

Before the surgery, Dustin said I was going to be showing everyone my boobs.  I disagreed, but after taking our own before and after photos, it’s hard not to lift my shirt up and shout to the world, “Look at these sweater puppies!”  Okay, it really isn’t hard to not do that, but  the results are amazing.  I do feel like I should send my friend Lela a card or some flowers because I did show somewhat forcd her to look at a before and after picture on my camera.  It was a profile shot and I did cover up my stomach with my thumb, but still an apology is in order!

We took the bandages off on Sunday and I cried (sappy, yes I know) when I looked in the mirror.  Not from pain, but because how great I looked (minus the stitches and gruesome looking brusing and swelling).  Don’t get me wrong, I love my children, but pregnancy and breastfeeding for over a year with each one has taken its toll on my body and my body did not win that battle. 

Emma and Ellie made it home for lunch and Nana and Papa looked a little tired.  Ellie cried for me at three in the morning the first night and Nana had to hold her in her own bed to help her go back to sleep.  And then the next night, I think Ellie found her way back into Nana’s bed because it was just so darn comfortable the first night.  Ellie’s a kicker and wallower (is that a word?) and so I’m sure Mom got a great night’s sleep.  Emma was screaming from the driveway actually still buckled up in Mom’s car when they pulled up that she got the Hannah Montana movie (thanks, I am so excited about watching that for the 11th time) and Ellie wanted to let me know she wasn’t going to touch Mama’s boobies.  I appreciated her remembering the important stuff.

We took the girls out on their bikes and I covered up the fact that I had large ice packs on my boobs with a huge camera and took pictures of the girls walking down the street.  I looked like a tourist with some huge knockers.  I’m sure I didn’t attract anyone’s attention? 

It’s now late Tuesday night Wednesday morning and we have started our Spring Break festivities.  I am waiting on the dryer to finish so I can put in the girls and my green tye dyed shirts for St. Patrick’s Day we made earlier.  Why did I promise they could wear these tomorrow?  Why did I promise I would wear mine?  How did Dustin get out of wearing a green tye dyed t-shirt?  We are meeting Erin and her kids (Ellie’s best friend and Emma’s boyfriend, Dustin just loves her referring to McCade as the boy she’s going to marry) in town and the kids are going to play.  After the trip in to town today for my follow-up appt., I’m definitely wearing my ice pack while I’m at the mall playground.  Maybe I’ll just look like a tourist if I take my camera. . .with some big knockers.

ticket for one to Vicodin Land. . .

All is well in Vicodin Land.  I had my surgery this morning and made it home around three this afternoon.  You could tell I was going to make it because Dustin ran into King & I for egg drop soup for me for dinner tonight as well as Starbucks on the way home.  Something about a chai tea latte with whip makes the worst pain go away.

Right now I’m trying to stay awake until 10:00 p.m. so that I can sleep through the night.  My new best friends are our couch the reclines because laying in a bed is very uncomfortable and the ice pack that is resting comfortably on my chest.  That’s right, my “newbies” as Dustin calls them are holding up an ice pack.  As for pain, I am so surprised that I’m feeling this great.  Unlike having my c-sections, I know poopy diapers and midnight feedings are not part of the deal and I can tolerate the pain.  I really do feel good accept for the random moments it feels like I’m breastfeeding a piranha.  Sorry for the possible visual, but my nipples are killing me.

My doctor told Dustin that when we take off the bandages on Sunday, my boobs will look like Madonna’s circa 1990s.  Remember the cone shaped bra?  Apparently, I’m supposed to be very pleased with that.  But hey, as long as they are higher than they were before, you are looking at a pretty satisfied customer.

The girls are at Nana and Papa’s house for the weekend and since Emma’s already stayed the night with her best bud Casey a few weeks ago, a weekend at Nana’s is a piece of cake.  Ellie started out brave until the hugs and blown kisses through the phone weren’t cutting it and had a minor meltdown.  I told Emma to take care of Ellie and “Little Mama” told her sister they were going to a birthday party tomorrow and everything was going to be okay.  What a big girl I have!

I’m debating on taking one of the sleeping pills my doctor prescribed for me because all the other pain pills are kicking in.  There were no butterflies flying around me last night when I took the Lunesta they gave me.  My bed was not in the middle of a boxing ring and the side effects did not include: dry mouth, drowsiness, dizziness, headache, common cold, diarrhea, nausia or possible death.  I didn’t have a chance to operate heavy machinery and apparently that a good thing.

I made it to 10:30 p.m. and I think I’m going to fall asleep to Dustin pushing the controller buttons repeatedly and make it maybe two pages into my book.  Vicodin Land, here I come. . .

58 hours and 12 minutes. . .

We started this journey so many years ago with monthly emails about Emma, the countless diapers and my boobs.  Yes, many updates about breastfeeding and Emma holding her head up or doing the littlest thing that could lead to multiple paragraphs about how smart my little girl was and all at the age of 24 days.  Not much has changed about how smart my soon-to-be 6-year-old is, but my boobs have taken a turn for the worse.

Many other breastfeeding mothers have told me the down right LIE of your boobs shrinking back to the size they were and even smaller after the breastfeeding ceases.  That’s right Jess, I’m talkin’ to you!  Ohh, they went down, but more in a directional way than a cup size way.  So needless to say, the hundreds of dollars we saved breastfeeding will be put to good use come Friday when I get my much anticipated breast lift.  The hundreds don’t really cover it, but then again you don’t want to look in the back of the phonebook for a coupon when looking for a cosmetic surgeon. 

I have friends that have had similar surgeries and everyone has agreed that it’s going to hurt.  Maybe this is like the boobs shrinking and everyone is really lying about the pain. . .yah, I don’t believe me either.  “It’s totally worth it” will be repeated over and over again even heading back to the operating room.  “It’s totally worth it” will be repeated over and over again on the 45 minute ride home after my surgery.  “It’s totally worth it” will be repeated when I spill my lunch in the bed because my boobs hurt so bad and pain is shooting down my arms. . .okay who am I kidding, “damnit” will probably be the choice of words followed with maybe a few other colorful adjectives.  Are swear words adjectives?  I must consult Jess on this one.

Needless to say, dinners have been prepared so that Nurse Dustin can focus on my care and not cooking lunch and dinner.  Our freezer is a little packed but I must admit, planning ahead is making me less worried about what I will and will not be able to do a few days after the surgery.  I hate eating breakfast, so I feel as though I’ve made it much easier on him. . .so thoughtful I know.  Actually, I feel like he got me pregnant, so him helping around the house is really his own fault (except for the laundry, I’ll work through the pain or have Ellie do the laundry before Nurse Dustin lays a finger on the dryer.  Ellie really is a good sorter of everyone’s clothes!).  This surgery is elective and not requiring a baby to come out of me; therefore, I feel like taking care of everything before hand will help everyone in the long run.

Notice how there are no photos in this post?  Your welcome.  I could put some lovely before pictures up, but I do like to think of this as PG maybe PG-13 at times blog and don’t want to lose my blog on wordpress.  Speaking of before pictures, they were taken two weeks ago and it was as horrible as I thought it was going to be.  It rated about the same as the initial consultation and having the doctor measure my girls (“the girls” are referring to my boobs for those of ya’ll wondering why the doctor was measuring how tall Emma and Ellie are) while my husband sat in the chair just to the left of me.  I have to admit on an awkward scale of one to 10, that was as pretty close to a 10 as I’ll get in this marriage.  On Dustin’s awkward scale, I think it was only a three, but his scale is off I think.  The doctor was very nice and professional and the nurse wrote down everything he said while I stared at the lovely ceiling tiles.  I was also thinking, “suck in your stomach, you don’t want your muffin top hanging over your pants and he points out another procedure he could perform for a small nominal fee.”  And then the sheer two and half minutes were over and no comments were made.  Exhale and put your shirt on.

The before pictures were taken a few weeks after the consultation in which Dustin informed me that when I’m nervous, I make a lot of jokes and talk at an alarming fast speed.  And here I thought I was just a nervous giggler.  The pictures of the front and the both profiles were taken by a very nice nurse who had the same procedure.  So think of how awkward that was for me trying to look at the placement of her boobs compared to mine while she’s talking me through all the paperwork and I look like I’m just checking her out.  Is this how a guy feels?  Is he just trying to see the placement of the woman’s chest compared to his own and not really looking at her boobs? 

One would think topless in front of a camera would be bad, but forgeting about the temporary tattoo tramp stamp would again make a mark on the awkward scale.  The girls found the oddly large stash of temporary tattoos and wanted to put them on.  Who am I to say no to a stategically placed tattoo so Emma won’t get in trouble at school?  After a few tattoos on the forearms and then making sure Emma wears a long sleeve shirt the next day, my smart brain decided to put a tattoo on Dustin without his consent.  A heart tattoo right in all his hair on his arm for all to see.  I made the mistake of bending over to pick up the remaining 500+ tattoos and wham!  Tramp stamp of a 3″ x 4″ crotch rocket with the word SPEED above it was there for all to see without my consent.  My mom noticed the stamp the next day when I bent over to put in Ellie’s car seat in her car before my appointment.  One of those swear word adjectives was sad under my breath and off to my appointment I went.

Well, the countdown has begun.  As of right now, I’ll be in la la land in 58 hours and 12 minutes and will soon be saying “It’s totally worth it” for the first time. . .or some gibberish about my dream or wondering where Dustin is because I did that the last time I was knocked out when I had a c-section with Emma.  Wish me luck!  I’m going to need it. . .so will Nurse Dustin.