Talullah Jane

Sunday, I found out my Lulu ran away.

Not from Daddie.

Not from Sissy.

Not from The Bubs.

Not from their mom.

I found out from a lady at church that I don’t know very well.

I found out that she ran away THREE WEEKS AGO.

Nobody cared to tell me because they were hoping she’d come home and they would never have to tell me anything about it.

I was told to “cut her (their mom) some slack”, “I’m sure she didn’t mean anything by not telling me” and “she was really upset about it”. Not anything about the fact that my dog ran away or that they didn’t tell me. Just to cut her some slack because she knew it would upset me. Awesome, right?

I don’t care that I’ll be 23 in a couple of weeks. WHO DOESN’T TELL THEIR KID THAT THEIR DOG RAN AWAY? Seriously. I’ve had her for five and a half years. Did they think I wouldn’t notice she wasn’t there next time I went over.

I’m hurt, heart broken, pissed and disappointed in the fact that my own family can’t respect me enough to tell me my dog ran away.

I hope you have a nice big bed to sleep in and can be happy being an inside dog again. Nobody can love you as much as I did, but I hope they can come close.

I love you, Fattie.

Even though I lost, I won.

 

I can’t believe I haven’t posted all year!

Which now that I look back, I’ve actually posted twice.  Two times that I don’t remember posting.  Seriously it was like reading it for the first time.  Hello, Vicodin!

As I said, I had a doctor’s appointment set up for next Friday to get a referral for a surgeon to get my gall bladder removed.  Yeah, well my gall bladder had other plans.  Thursday morning about 3:30, I started having another attack.  I took the pain pills they sent me home from the ER with and pretty much slept all day.  (Other than the 4 times I was up dry heaving.)  I was going to just wait it out until my appointment the next day until I looked at my paper from the ER and it said to return immediately if I started throwing up or the pain got worse.

So, I showered, put on fresh jammies, packed a bag just in case they decided to admit me and headed back to the ER.  At first there was a wait, but it’s amazing how fast people move when you tell them you’re having severe chest pains!  They got me back to a room, gave me some Morphine (Sweet Baby Jesus!  Best.  Thing.  Ever.) and did another ultra sound.

They decided that it was too much of a risk to wait and that I was going to be admitted so they could do surgery Friday and get my gall bladder out before it exploded.  Cool, huh?

The doctor came back and talked me through everything and, I blame it on the Morphine, but I asked if he was the surgeon because his name scared me and I didn’t want him anywhere near my gall bladder because I didn’t know what he’d do with it.

His name was Dr. Stephen King.

I’m too sexy for my gall bladder. 
Too sexy for my gall bladder. 
So sexy it huuurts.

I got to my room just as the sun was coming up and dozed in and out of sleep as Nana left and Melissa came to keep me company so I wouldn’t be alone.  (I know that was a huge deal for you and I appreciate everything you did so, so much!)

I was told that I would have surgery that day, they just didn’t know what time yet so they’d come up and let me know.  They lied.  About 10:00 they came to get me to sign papers and then told me they were ready to wheel me up to surgery.  I FREAKED out and started crying.

Nana wasn’t there.  Daddie was in the middle of an appointment with Dr. Asshat* and Momma was at work tying up loose ends so she could come stay with me.  Melissa was there and although she is one of my best friends, I wanted an adult there.  I was scared. 

I did laugh a bit though when the nurses eyed each other and asked who she was.  I’m 99.9% sure they thought we were gay.

They took me to surgery and I made them wait until I saw Nana before I went back.  They explained everything to me, Nana showed up, I met with the anesthesiologist and my surgeon and then they gave me a shot of something. 

Right before I started speaking Spanish.

Next thing I remember is being in the recovery room, poking the nurse every few minutes and asking, “I’m alive?  Are you sure?  I don’t want to be dead and think I’m alive.”

I spent the next 24 hours sleeping on and off and getting Morphine whenever I could.  That stuff is the shit, I tell you.  I came home Saturday and have been recovering since.  Vicodin is my best friend (Morphine is my BFF) when it comes to pain.  I normally take one and sleep, but today I was brave and took one before I went to register for classes.  People watch got a lot more fun when it kicked in.

I have 17 staples and it makes me mad.  It couldn’t have been 16 or 18 to make me happy.  Sigh.  I get them removed next week.

Thank you, thank you, thank you for all the thoughts, prayers, comments, tweets and visitors!  They mean the world.  And worked!  Also, may apologizes to Momma for hollering, “Bitch, please!  This isn’t apple juice!” when she unknowingly handed me unsalted beef broth.

I have a week to rest up until school starts and then it’s back to normal, I guess.  Whatever that may be.

*Three years ago I had kidney stones and went to the ER.  They told me that I had gall stones, too, and needed to check with my PCP about them.  I went and he told me that I didn’t have any, he didn’t know what they were talking about and that the pain I was having were anxiety attacks.  Turns out every time I’ve had an “anxiety attack” the past three years, I’ve really been having a gall bladder attack. 

The Other Papa

I call both of my grandfathers Papa so for the sake of not confusing people anymore than I do, they’ll now be known as Momma’s Papa and Daddie’s Papa.

I got a text today about Daddie’s Papa.  He had a surgery scheduled for his shoulder and the prep tests ended up showing three major artery blockages.  As soon as they can make sure all the Plavix is out of his system, probably Friday, they’re going to preform a triple bypass.

Momma’s Papa is living proof of the power of prayer so any positive thoughts and prayers you can send up for him are much needed and greatly appreciated!

Daddie and his girlfriend drove down to Corpus today to be with him so I should be getting fairly regular updates, but we’re just a little freaked out.  He came to town less than a week ago for Christmas and now this.  Oh, well.  Positive thoughts only!

Merry Christmas!

To Whom It May Concern:

As one of my last assignment in Political Science, we had to write a letter to an elected official expressing our opinion on something we feel needs to be changed or praising things that have been changed.  I chose the first of the two. 

The following is a letter I wrote to my Congressman on behalf of my uncle’s fiancée:

 

December 06, 2010

The Honorable Ted Poe
United States House of Representatives
430 Cannon House Office Building
Washington, D.C. 20515-4302

Dear Representative Poe:

I am writing this letter to raise awareness on Diabetes. Specifically continuous glucose monitoring systems (CGMS) and the lack of support our health care system has given it. I come from a family that is well aware of Diabetes. Both my mother and grandfather are Type II Diabetics. My uncle's fiancée is a Type 1 Diabetic. She is highly susceptible to low blood sugar and tolerant of it as well, which is a dangerous combination. Sometimes, she doesn't know her sugar is low until it is so low she loses consciousness. Because of this she cannot work and is on disability which leads to her receiving Medicaid benefits.

Having been diagnosed at a young age she has learned to deal with the ups and downs that come with the high and low blood sugars. Recently her blood sugar dropped while she was home alone and left her unconscious for a good amount of time before my uncle came home from work. This led to her being in the hospital for twelve days. Soon after she came home, she checked her blood sugar level before lunch and it was normal. When she checked it after lunch, around 12:15 PM, it was in the 200s (normal range is 70-150) so she was given some insulin. Two hours later she was sitting in my living room telling me how she didn't remember any of her hospital stay. She suddenly got quiet and started shaking. I asked if she was okay and she didn't respond. Normally a few sips of juice pulls it back up and she is fine. This time, she was still not responding when we talked to her. After checking her blood sugar we knew why, it had plummeted to a dangerous 20. It took a whole bottle of juice and three glucose tablets to pull her back up into the 50s, which is still dangerous, but made her capable of responding to us.

She wears an insulin pump and that helps her out some, but it is not enough. Her doctor has suggested that she could highly benefit from a CGMS. A CGMS is a device that continuously checks ones blood sugar levels. A sensor is placed right under the skin where the blood sugar is checked every 10 seconds and sends the information to the device. The device then automatically records an average of the readings every five minutes, up to 288 times a day. If levels are too high or too low, users can be alerted and act accordingly. As with most medical equipment, the CGMS comes with a high price tag. The pump itself costs around $6,000 with the remote being around $600. That is just the hardware, however. After the pump and remote, the CGMS disposable sensors are around $50 each and are only worn for three days before being thrown away. Pump supplies run about $200 a month before insulin. Because of the monthly expenses being so high, CGMS are considered "precautionary" and are not covered.

If she were to get a CGMS she could become a productive member of society again. She could get a job and therefore be able to stop receiving disability payments and if she were to find a job that offers their employees health care, she would no longer have a need to receive Medicaid benefits. Although CGMS are costly, the possibility of her losing consciousness could have been eliminated. The pump could have alerted her that her levels were getting low and she could have acted upon it. That in return would have kept her out of the hospital and I am fairly certain that the cost of supplying her with the "precautionary" CGMS is far less than the amount of money spent running tests and keeping her in the hospital for twelve days.

Any positive awareness that could be brought to the situation would only help. A CGMS is not necessary to live, but as "precautionary" as it may seem, the benefits and services it offers to its users can ultimately save their lives. I thank you for your time and hope that with the future changes to our health care system some of them can be positive ones and benefit those who need it.

Sincerely,

Katie B.

Now whether or not this will help, I don’t know, but it’s a start.  I used to think people were weird for writing letter/emailing politicians.  Now I know that if enough people do it, and do it correctly, that change can happen.  Nothing changes overnight, but we can start small and work our way up.  That’s what we elected the for in the first place, isn’t it? 

Here Comes the Bride

I know I said I was taking a break, but I just got back from my cousin’s wedding.  The wedding where I took 677 (or 3.79 GB of) pictures.

I had dream upon dream of every possible thing that could go wrong.  I almost had 2 panic attacks.  I woke up sweating.  I was beyond nervous.

Turns out I’m a big wuss.

 

I have a lot of work to do sorting and editing, but I’m happy with myself.  I’m not one to normally step outside my comfort zone too often.  I’m really glad I did this time.  I’m pleased with how the pictures turned out and I’m proud of myself.

Congratulations, you two!

Family Time

I haven’t spent much time with Daddie and The Sibs since I moved and don’t have a car.  I’m spending the weekend with them and am going to try to stay away from the Internet as much as possible and just enjoy spending time with them.

I’ll be back Monday and play catch up.

Enjoy your weekend!

I’m lazy today.

I got a new bed that’s really comfy and I can’t wait to go to sleep.  I couldn’t decide on a story from my childhood. I was telling my friend this story the other day, so without further ado, stolen from Momma, I bring you the first time I broke the law.

Katiebug's dad and I did not have the most amicable divorce. With that being said, while we were going through this nasty process, then presidential candidate Bill Clinton was going to be at what was at the time Chennault Air Force base in Lake Charles, Louisiana and my mom was taking my Grandma to see him. Well, I decided there may not be another time that Katiebug would be able to see someone involved in the presidential race in such an up close manner, so we decided to make it a four-generation field trip.

When you are in the process of getting a divorce and are under orders that neither party is to take the child out of the jurisdiction of the judge, this means you cannot leave the state with said child. (Oops - strike one.)

Lake Charles is about an hour, hour & a half from Beaumont. Katiebug was 4 at the time. Four-year old bladders are not prone to being able to hold it for very long as has been well-documented over time. At some point, we definitely had to find a way for her to "pay her water bill" so I located the little girls room and headed off in that direction...only to be stopped by a Secret Service agent telling us that the area where the restrooms were located were off limits and that she would have to wait until they had cleared the area. Now this agent must not have had a child or been around many children because as we all know, when they have to go THEY HAVE TO GO! When you have a four-year old little girl who's been potty-trained since 18 months dancing around about to lose her ever loving mind because she HAS TO GO it's funny how it can change a person's stance regarding protocol. With that said, little Miss Katiebug made it to the restroom and was able to do her business, after which we went back to our seats.

Now everyone around us were holding signs as you can imagine and Miss Katie Scarlett did NOT want to be left out. My mom and I looked around and finally found an 8x10 piece of what appeared to be part of another sign and made her a little sign to hold. She said she wanted it to say "Texans for Clinton" and she waved it and waved it like it was an American flag.

Remember how I said we weren't supposed to leave the jurisdiction of the judge? Well, guess what precious little 4-year old with the biggest red, white & blue hair bow you'd ever seen ended up all all three local news stations in Beaumont and CNN that night. Katiebug you say?...yep, you'd be right. (Oops - strike two.)

Thank goodness her father was a Clinton supporter at the time or else I might have been able to determine if orange really isn't my color as I've long suspected.

Luckily, the only other time I’ve been involved with the law has been because of speeding tickets. 

Regrets

I don't regret much. I feel that living with them is a waste of time and energy. That being said, I do have a few. They're mainly things that I didn't say or times that I didn't stand up for myself. I tend to let people walk all over me and belittle me at times. While this happens I have so many things that run through my head. Things I could do. Things I could say. The fear of confrontation stops me in my tracks, however, and I accept the lashes of name calling and using and verbal abuse.

I know that I shouldn't allow this to happen and that I need to stand up for myself, and I'm slowly learning how to do this, but I just don't like hurting other people's feelings. I like for everyone to be happy and there to me no animosity in between. I've even gone as far as accepting the blame for something that was not at all my fault to begin with and apologizing because it's easier that we. We put it past us and move on.

Take the whole situation with Daddie. We got in this huge fight and went from seeing/talking to each other everyday to not speaking for almost 6 weeks. What was the fight about? I really can't tell you, to be honest. All I know is now he's back to asking me advice about women and sending me texts with what most people would deem inappropriate language between a father and daughter. (Read: It's the FUCKING Catalina Wine Mixer!)

Did we talk about what happened? No. Did we apologize to each other? Nope. We just pretended like it didn't happen and moved on. Not the healthiest way to deal with my problems, but it's soo much easier. We don't have to get into the whole 'tell me how this makes you feel' conversations.

Another example would be this evening. Papa came to pick me up from church (10 weeks and 5 days sans car, but who's counting?) and as we were three blocks away The Bubs mom calls. She's running late and wants to know if I can go pick up Bubs and meet her some..... her phone dies. I kid you not. We sat at the church for a bit and finally after 15 minutes decide to go way across town to drop him off at home, before making the 25 minute trip back to our house. Why did I agree to this? Well for starters, I love my brother and am not about to leave him at a place where a man was shot and killed a week ago. Number two, she knows that she can call and I'll stop what I'm doing to help because I love him. I don't mind helping, at all, I just feel like I'm being taken advantage of at times.

Oy. A therapist would have so much fun with me, wouldn't they?

Backyard Tour

 

I bring my cane in case I trip and fall.

She wanted to know if I remembered Grandpa getting the water hose and letting us kids eat tomatoes fresh from the garden.

 
This is where my husband and I hung clothes.

Today I am my mother, for it’s easier to play along than to confuse her. 

My husband made this fan; brought it home from the war.

Losing your mind is a terrible thing.

Sunday Afternoons

I was recently told that I don’t have a “real” job.  I worked retail for almost three years and work in the church nursery, but other than that, I’ve had family jobs.

I may have been a tad childish and posted a Facebook status.

Some people keep telling me that I don't have a real job. Obviously they haven't seen my bank account. :) Jealousy is a terrible sickness. Get well soon! ♥

Stupid, yes.  Childish, absolutely.  However, I’m tired of being told that I don’t have a real job and that I don’t go to a real college.  That I don’t know what it’s like to be an adult. 

Those who work hard for things they have and to help their family aren't at all jealous of those who have grandparents to pay for everything and buy them car after car. They actually pity them and are disgusted by the way they take advantage of their family and pick Facebook fights.

I’m not going to lie, I was fightin’ mad.  (Even though I’m a total wuss and would get my butt handed to me in a split second!  Hah.)  Then I stopped and thought about it.

I'm sorry you feel that way. I've been helped in the past, yes, but since I've been working at this job, I've been able to pay for everything on my own. I'm blessed enough to be able to live with Nana and Papa and not have to pay bills and have them take me to and from school and work and I pay them some gas money. I pay my own bills though. Because of my new job, I've paid off two credit cards, will have my tuition paid off in two weeks, am saving up to buy me a car and actually have money to buy things I need and some things I just want. I'm lucky that things have worked out the way they have. I've taken things for granted a lot, I admit, but I'm trying not as much these days. Maybe it was a tad childish to post this status, yes, but it wasn't meant to start a fight.

I'm proud of the fact that I have money in the bank now and am able to save some, too. I'm finally able to start growing up a little bit more and can stand on my own two feet a little bit easier. If you pity me for that, that's your own insecurities you'll have to deal with.

Should I be blogging about this?  Probably not.  Is she going to read it?  I doubt she even read my response.  Moving away from the people I used to surround my self with on a daily basis has really shown me the kind of people they are.  It’s hard to realize something when you’re on in the inside looking out.  Now that I don’t see these people on a regular basis, as they’re inconvenienced to come out and see me, I’ve learned who I want in my life and who I don’t.

Yes, I was spoiled as a child.  That comes with being an only child of divorced parents.  I’ll be the first to admit I’m spoiled and I’m not ashamed of that.  I appreciate what I’m given, at least I do now, and that makes a huge difference.  I don’t ask for much; Momma used to have to beg me to tell her what I wanted for Christmas.

I spent this afternoon listening to Cajun music with GranGran and talking about her relatives and what is was like for her growing up in Louisiana.  Then I made a delicious supper of cornbread and milk.

Now, I can’t tell you which stories are true and which aren’t.  I can’t tell you what songs were played or what they were saying.  Yes, GranGran told me I should come by more often and not be a stranger and she still thinks I’m Leiah.  She still doesn’t understand how I turned my typewriter into a record player or how I was playing the records, but none of that matters.

Yes, I got paid to spend time with my GranGran, but for the couple of hours we were sitting her, she was happy.  She didn’t have any mood swings or get mad at me for being here. She just sat and listened to her music.

God has blessed you with a loving and giving heart, and I am so fortunate that He sent you to us. You were definitely spoiled when you were young, and that can not be your fault, as I am a member of the group. But, what would I do without you. Papa and I are so glad you could move with us, and you are able to ease the burden of having to care for both Papa and Gran-Gran. As for transportation, it will be there for you in God's time. Until then, consider the Nana/Papa department of transportation an added bonus of providing your gracious company. Love you, pretty girl.

So maybe I don’t have a common job.  Big deal.  I’m beyond blessed to spend my days with family and make a difference in someone’s life.

I can’t ask for much more.

Katie

Four Months Ago Today

Four months ago today Nana and Papa got a call that changed everything.

Four months ago today I got a text to start praying.

Four months ago today I was singing along to Glee's cover of Gold Digger when Momma called and told me.

Four months ago today Momma and I drove through ridiculous rain to get to Houston.

Four months ago today Momma, Nana, Aunt Linda, Uncle Ricky and I spent the night in an ICU waiting room.

Four months ago today, because of a selfless stranger, Papa received a new liver.

Today he met his great grandson for the first time.

Life is pretty awesome if you ask me.

Third Fourth

Momma comes from a family of four kids, Daddie a family of five.  Needless to say between the two, I have cousins.  Lots and lots of cousins.  Some I’ve known all my life and grew up with, others who I didn’t know existed until I met them.

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard, “This is Johnny.  He’s you Nana’s cousin’s son’s nephew’s whatever.”  (You get my point.)  That being said, I know my third and fourth cousins.  In fact, I call two of my second cousins both Aunt because….well, I don’t really know why, but I’ve called them Aunt for 22 years so why stop now. 

Anyhow, my third cousin had her third baby last night and that means I have three fourth cousins now.  (Most people don’t know their second cousins, I know.  My family is weird.) 

19 hours old

He isn’t mine, so I won’t show his whole face, but those lips!  Oh, good heavens, those lips.  He’s scrumptious!  There aren’t many things sweeter than a newborn and all that cuteness does not help the fact that I want a baby.  I need to find me a husband (and job!) ASAP so I can have me one some of these.

I wanted to take him home, but I’m 99.9% the police frown upon that and I don’t really want to be on the 10 o’clock news.  Classes start Monday.

I guess for now I’ll go work on finishing college so when I find said husband and have said babies, I can afford to feed them.

Happy Birthday, Bubs!

Dude, I can’t believe you’re 11 today.  ELEVEN!  It isn’t possible.  It was just yesterday that we piled in the van to go to church and made a detour to the hospital.  I was the same age you are today.

 

 Coming home from vacation
2 days shy of 11

 

You were a sneaky little fart, still are, and had made us think you were coming three times already.  Three exciting trips to the hospital only to come home without you.  The last time you made us miss the last thirty minutes of some Star Wars movie, whichever one was in theatres the Summer of ‘99, because we thought you were coming.  You weren’t.

Going to the hospital that Wednesday night, I honestly didn’t think you were going to come.  In my eleven year old mind, you hadn’t come the three times before, so why would you come out now?  I mean, you were obviously comfortable in there, duh!

I remember when we found out Dee was pregnant with you.  I was so excited!  I had a little sister and all I wanted was a little brother!  I just knew you were going to be a boy!  We would have loved you just as much, boy or girl, but I think we all knew you were going to a boy.  Heck, we didn’t even  have any girl names picked out for you. 

If Sissy had been a boy four years earlier she would have been Christian Alexander.  Obviously she wasn’t a boy, but Dee and Daddie liked the name so it was now yours.  We called you that even before we saw your little twig and berries in the ultrasound. 

I was so excited to have a little brother!  I ran to school telling everyone I saw that I was going to have a boy.  I had already decided that you were going to be my baby.  I loved taking care of Sissy when she was a baby, but this time it would be different.  I would be older and could remember more.  I could do more besides feed you and go fetch diapers.  I could hold you, rock you, feed you bottles, change your stinky butt and even bathe you.

You were my real, live baby doll.

After a lot of talking and debating, and probably a lot of whining on my part, it was decided that Charlotte and I were going to be in the delivery room when you were born.  Charlotte wasn’t excited, but I was.  Some kids would be freaked out, but not me.  I was thrilled that I was going to be one of the first people to see you.  I’d get to hear you cry for the first time and see Daddie cut the cord.  It was perfect.

Besides doctors and nurses, I was the third person to hold you.  Your mom.  Daddie.  Me.  I felt so special.

You stayed the normal amount of time in the hospital and then you finally got to come home.  That was the part I couldn’t wait for.  I literally ran out of the hospital doors to get in the back of the van so I could sit by you.  I didn’t care that they lady behind the desk was yelling at me. I just knew the world was going to end if I didn’t get to sit by you on the way home.

I got to sit by you, the world didn’t end and all was well.

I know you don’t remember when Dee broke her leg, you were only a few months old, but I was secretly happy after we found out she was okay.  See, Daddie traveled a lot for work back then and I knew that she wasn’t going to walk for a while which meant I could take care of you.

From the time I got off the bus in the afternoon, until the time I got back on in the morning, I was a Momma Hen.  I did everything short of breast feed you.  If I went outside to hang out with the neighborhood boys, you got put in your stroller and tagged along.  I loved it.

You were a cool kid.  You learned to crawl by us waving the cordless phone in front of you.  You learned to walk on your own though.  You learned to talk (even though now I sometimes wonder what the heck we were thinking).  You knew us all apart and could point us out in pictures.  Momma.  Daddie.  K-K, Cha-Cha, Ari-anna.

I even taught you your first knock-knock joke on the way home from vacation one year.

Knock-knock.
Who’s there?
Boo!
Boo who?
No cry K-K!  No cry!

I could go on and on with stories about you.  I was old enough to know what was happening while you grew up and I got to enjoy it.  We were buddies back then, you and me.  Still are.

 

Please stay silly.

I know we fight and argue.  You yell at me that I’m not your mom and need to stop correcting you.  I yell back that no, I’m not your mom, but I know what’s best so just do it.  We argue over food because you think a bag of mashed potatoes for an afternoon snack is okay and I try to tell you it’s not. 

You need a bag of chips or some popcorn, not a whole bag of instant potatoes.  You don’t care though and do it anyway, just to spite me.

You eat chicken nuggets, fries, popcorn, red beans and rice, dirty rice,  chips on cheese, meat nachos, meat only tacos and recently instant potatoes and Popeye’s shrimp.  That and lots of junk food.  You’ll east pasta, love biscuits and eat cheese, yet you won’t try pizza.  You’re a weird little fart, but you fit right in.

 

 Rock on, dude.  Rock on!

You’re all boy, there’s not doubt about that.  You’re a green belt in Tae-Kwon-Doe.  You got moved up a year in baseball and even made All-Stars again.  You love UFC and can name every wrestler and their specials, but can’t remember your spelling words for the life of you.

I look at you and am amazed at how good of a kid you are.  With all the things you’ve been through the past eighteen months, it’s incredible.  Sure you’re annoying at times.  You tend to be over bearing when you want to do something and have become quite the little smartass, although you don’t quite know the right times to use it.  I’ll teach you the correct times to use it, don’t worry.  But just so you know, when Daddie’s vein is popping out the side of his head and he’s mad, it isn’t the best time, bud.

You know more about computers than I did at your age and have become quite the little texter.  By the way, I’m sorry I put that lock code on my iPhone, but I really don’t need you sending my male friends texts that I’m in love with them.  I have enough problems with boys as it is.

I love coming home when you know I’ve gone out.  you tell me you’ll stay up to make sure I get in safe, but I know as soon as I unlock the door and stumble in, you’ll be fast asleep on the couch playing Step Brothers on a loop from the DVR for me.  You know that’s the movie I play when I want to go to sleep.

You may be stubborn and hard headed, have an attitude and back talk, but you’re also a sweet, baby loving, puppy cuddling, tender hearted little boy.  I wish you could stay little forever, thinking girls are gross and watching Disney Channel.  I know soon enough though you’ll be watching MTV and not complain when I want to watch America’s Next Top Model because the models won’t be so icky anymore.

No matter how old you get or the choices that you make.  I want you to know that I love you.  I hope we only grow closer as the years pass and I hope you still make fun of the way I say things. 

We were headed home in the car the other day and you had an idea*.  By the time you graduate high school in 2017 (HOLY CRAP, BATMAN!), I’ll be 29 and have my college degree.  You want to go to college at LSU, but don’t want to be so far away from the family.  You’ll also need family cheering you on at all the home games when you play football.  You know for a fact that I’ll be married and have two kids by then so your plan is for me, my husband and kids to buy a house and move to Baton Rouge with you.  That way Daddie doesn’t have to pay for you to stay in the dorms and you can babysit your niece and nephew on the weekends while my husband and I go out.  But only when it isn’t football season and only until you’re 21.  Then we’ll have to take turns going out every other weekend. 

I realize you’re only 11 and don’t really mean that, but I never felt more loved by you as I did then.  You had made plans for your future and wanted my family and I to be a part of it.  Not Momma or Daddie; not Charlotte or Adrianna.  Me. 

I hope that never changes.  I love you, Bubs.  After all you are my favorite little brother!

 

Daddie and The Birthday Boy

 

*If you ask me, it’s the best idea you’ve ever had.  It may never happen, and if not.  Oh well.  We’ll have plenty of other memories to make.  Don’t worry though.  I’ll make sure that my husband knows about your plan and agrees to it before we even get married.  If he says no, I’ll simply reply with your favorite song and phrase, “No Hablo Ingles.”  I love you that much, kiddo.

All About the Liver

It’s been a long, tiring, stressful past few days.  A lot has been going on and when I say a lot, I mean A LOT! 

Friday morning I got a text from Momma.  I half read it, as I was still asleep on Daddie’s couch when I got it.  About 10 minutes later what I had read sunk in.  I’m pretty sure I gave Daddie a heart attack when I sprang up and said, “Liver!  Liver!  Did that say liver?  I think that said liver!  I think he got himself a liver!  Oh my God, it said liver!  HE GOT A FREAKING LIVER!” 

Turns out, Papa got himself a nice new liver and he and Nana were headed to the hospital!  Momma came and got my after work where the next 19 hours were spent sitting in an ICU waiting room dodging horrendous kids, keeping our butts from falling asleep, and wondering why the hospital Wi-Fi would block Facebook. 

Okay, so maybe it was just me wondering why they blocked Facebook.  But seriously.  Only jerks block Facebook!  Life saving jerks, but jerks nonetheless.  Had I not had it on my phone, It would’ve been a lot harder to keep people updated.

I blame it on the Pibb.

I told Sissy, my half sister, what was going on and her response was, “Wow.  He was only on the list for 5 weeks?  That was quick!  It just means he’ll live though.  God wouldn’t have given him a liver so soon if it meant he was going to die.  That’d just be a waste of a live on God’s part and God isn’t wasteful.”  To be 15 again.

Momma tells the story in more detail and has interesting facts that are good to know.  As of this evening, he's doing well. While he was on bypass during the surgery though, his kidneys messed up a bit and were starting to fail afterwards. They caught it early enough though and he had dialysis. The doctor said he should only have to be on dialysis for a few more days before his kidneys start function on their own again and he can be taken out of ICU and put in a room. They had to put him back on the vent and he's having to be restrained because when he wakes up, he doesn't like the vent and tries to pull it out. That kind of makes me sad, but they said he should be off in the next day or so. His liver is producing factor VIII on its own now and besides not having cancer anymore, that part is pretty cool, too! It was a minor setback, but considering all he's been through the doctors say he's doing wonderfully!

And now, here’s a picture of puppies to make you feel better!