For the Record: My Husband is NOTHING Like Tom Green

Nurses don't always get holidays off, so we just alter the dates for whenever we feel like having them......because we're cool like that.  

We celebrated Labor Day over at the White's house in traditional Texas manor. Jessica referred to it as The White Party......but it doesn't count as a racist title, since we let Bobby come, right????

This picture illustrates a primary example of the silliness not uncommon when Patrick and Bobby are in each other's company.....Patrick acting a fool, and Bobby pretending not to notice, or even acknowledge a camera is in his face.   

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Speaking of acting a fool, Ryan thought it'd be cool to tell Patrick he resembled Tom Green.......little did he know this comparison has happened many times over the years and Pat would have a few things to say about it! 
(Please note the amazing photogenic qualities of the immediate picture below.)

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I can see why Patrick may get a little upset by this comparison. Who wants to be mistaken for that funny guy who has been in a few movies, had his own TV show, and has a lot of money??? I mean, just because they both enjoy snorkeling and making crazy faces doesn't mean they are anything alike.....especially when it comes to money; my husband has no money.

And everyone has made Duck-face for the camera before.....and lots of guys are tall and skinny.......that doesn't mean that my husband and Tom Green are similar in any way.

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And just because they both participate in shock-humor, enjoy yelling at things and humping in public, only classifies them as men in general......Besides, Tom Green has brown hair and Patrick's is Salt and Pepper. 

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I don't know why people would think they resemble each other, just because they both have intense blue/green eyes, triangle noses, long skinny fingers, and instrument playing capabilities.  

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Besides the fact that they both can spell their name with 3 letters, they both usually sport facial hair, they both enjoy singing silly inappropriate songs, and they both like to pose for pictures with their mouths open to show-off their bottom teeth, Tom and Pat have so many differences...........like Tom's hair is usually longer than Pat's.
But the truth is, my husband is one of the sexiest men alive for all the right reasons. If Tom Green could live up to half the man Patrick is, he'd being doing very well for himself and any girl would be lucky to have him, no matter what his bum has been on. That's right ladies, you'll have to settle for Tom, because my man is spoken for.

Oh look....more silliness.
It's a wonder the kids know how to make faces like that when the adults set such good examples, like this......

Speaking of good examples, Patrick got upset with me because I wouldn't let him prove he could walk this large rusted wheel thingy across the field.
"You always want to do fun stuff like this!!! Why can't I???" he whined. 

"Ugh, because I'm the completely sober one this time. So now all I can think about is you ruining your shorts, or that shirt I really like, or me having to take you to the hospital to get a tetanus shot after busting your head open on that rusted metal! And you're not getting paid millions of dollars to look stupid like Tom Green or those guys on JackAss."

He may have pouted on the way home, but I cheered him up with a little late night Taco Bell. 

Ha, bribery.......It's so easy it should be a crime!

Ever bribe your family with food? Have you ever been compared to someone, maybe a celebrity, that you'd rather not be associated with?



Corny Dog Conspiracy

*For context of this true story it's important to know Patrick despises mustard with similar passion that a Yankee feels for the Red Socks.*

He sits beside me with his man style dinner buffet plate of bagel bites drowned in chalula, a mini digorno pizza completely covered with parmesan cheese, and a dry corny dog. 

Me: You're going to eat that corny dog without any condiment? You want me to go get you some ketchup, at least, or mayo? 

Pat: Mayo?!? Are you serious? Gross.

Me: Says the guy that brings his fast food burger home with mayo already on it, gets out the home jar, and adds 3 more tablespoons. I'm just saying, it's already a disgrace to eat a corny dog without mustard; you could at least dip it in something.

Pat: You know what? I going to go get the mustard right now and use it. 

Me: Ppppssshhhtt....

Pat: No, I'm serious! Where is it? I'm going to eat it on every bite, just to make you happy.

He digs in the frig, rejoices in finding it, comes back with a dipping dish, shows me with the fastest glance possible that something is in it, dips the corny dog, puts it in his mouth with a hesitant look and squenched up nose, then runs away to the bedroom.

Me: Are you chewing it or spitting it out!?

Pat: Hang on, hang on, let me finish!

He comes back to dramatically take a another bite in front of me and runs away again, pretending to be in agony.

Me: Is that really mustard, or are you lying to me??

Pat: It's really mustard. 

Me: Actually, either way I know you're lying. Because if that really is mustard, there's no way anyone could not enjoy mustard on a corny dog, therefor you'd love it. But there's also no way you'd admit to me that you liked it after protesting against mustard your whole life, so from now on you'd probably be a closet mustard eater, and run into the bedroom every time you ate a corny dog because you didn't want me to see you put mustard on it. This is like a corny dog conspiracy!!!

Pat: What did you just say??? A corny dog conspiracy???

I got the camera ready and chased after him, just in case it really was true. Such important moments in history call for documentation.

Me: THAT'S NOT MUSTARD! THAT'S HONEY MUSTARD, YOU LIAR!!!

Patrick: It's still mustard! What kind of mustard do you use?

Me: FRENCH! Duh. 

Men and their semantics. 

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P.S. Spell check was trying to tell me I didn't know how to spell "squenched", but I was sure there wasn't any other way...and upon my search for justification, I was actually blown away by the Urban Dictionary's definition- "A word made up by illiterate people to replace the actual word squished. Usually used by underprivileged southerners, or people with Down Syndrome." 

Wow.

So, I'm just curious....What do you put on your corny dog? Do you ever use the word "squenched"?

Update: I Survived and I'm Okay

I may have been a little difficult Tuesday morning when I got sick of answering the same questions to 4 different people, 2 days in a row, even after filling out a history form about myself. I may have seemed a bit high maintenance when I refused to sign my Anesthesia consent until I spoke with the actual Anesthesiologist in person who had to convince me to undergo general anesthesia, only under the conditions she wouldn't give me enough to require intubation and the bill wouldn't be any more than any other type of sedation. And I may have gotten a little frustrated when the pre-op nurse didn't let me help her with starting my IV. But let's just blame it on my fasting induced edgy coping mechanisms. Then they came back in my room and asked, "Why didn't you tell us you were a nurse?" Egh, I really don't like to pull that card.

Patrick sat next to me the whole time and held my hand. He was refusing to eat or drink until I could (saying he got to wet his whistle when he brushed his teeth and he would be fine when he knew I was fine), but I convinced him to get something while I was in surgery so he didn't pass out, since he was my designated driver and caretaker. 

I got my push of Versed, managed a drive by kiss to the Hubby as they wheeled me to the OR and remember scooting on to the table. I thought briefly about how weird it would be for someone to cut my underwear off, and then next thing I knew I was waking up in recovery. The night before was completely sleepless, besides the one very vivid and frightening dream I had about my uterus and 3 pig fetus' falling out of my abdomen before I made it to the hospital and when I told the doctor he said that wasn't good news and my kidneys were failing due to the stress and I needed to be on a diuretic for a while. I woke up in a panic and realized the dream was just a reaction to the medicine I had to take in real life, before bed to make my cervix dilate, which really did make my uterus feel like it was falling out. Ouch. But I'm glad I gave in to the General; I woke up feeling the most rested than I have in a long time, minus the feeling of my arm catching on fire from the preservatives in the Morhpine push. 

I got to have my favorite hospital Ritz peanut butter crackers and CranGrape juice with crushed ice, and have my favorite person sit with me until I was released from recovery. My recovery nurse was so wonderful and sweet, and sent me on my way with a prescription for Hydrocodone, so I don't have to deal with the cramps anymore. 

Anytime I'm feeling a little melancholy, I look down at my feet to remind me of who I am. 

I am the lotus flower that keeps it's bright colors no matter how murky the waters. I am strong, loud, and yet still soft, like an ocean wave. I am beautiful and unique, like a snowflake. And I am the the bird that trusts in the light through the darkest of nights with the power of faith.

Then I raise my head high, because the difficult times not only mold us, but show us how to rejoice in the good. 

Thanks for sticking with me through my struggles. I promise the posts will be back to their normal silly  selves next week.  

Can we talk about how amazing these one size fits all mesh boxer brief underwear they gave me feel? They are surely the least sexy thing I've ever worn, but someone needs to find a way to recreate and patent these things to sell in stores, because they would be used to restock my underwear drawer!

When are you feeling down or lost, what do you do to help reorient yourself to who you are?

Like a Malignant Mole, Only Way Better

You Grew On Me by Tim Minchin

Dedicated to my love, whom I'd be lost (and probably skinnier) without . It was infatuation at first sight, but you grow on me in a deeper way more each day. You amaze me with your grace every time you know just the remedy to help me feel better. You shock me with your devoted ability to be selfless for the sake of my happiness (The man who gives me the bigger pieces of pizza before asking, just because you know I can't have anything to eat or drink after midnight). And you scare me a little (just kidding) every time you finish my thoughts (but it really is crazy). Your heart is the most beautiful I've ever known. You are a vital part of my soul, the other half. Thanks for taking such good care of me, inside and out. 

I love you more than most. 

If You Have Time......

After making it home, we had a long cry together. 

I called in sick to work this week because I didn't think I could keep a straight face while caring for precious tiny premature babies, much less be in a delivery room to catch healthy babies, and not have a break down. Thankfully there's no way Patrick would ever leave my side during such a life event, so he's spent every moment with me for the last 4 days. Had he gone to work, it may have caused another breakdown.

We shut the world out for a couple of days; sometimes it's best to just be with each other. 

We didn't wash a single dish for a while.

We watched like 10 movies.

We took a couple of long walks, thanks to Mother Nature and her blessing of a triple digit temperature break.

We ate too many late night chocolate chip cookies in bed. 

We did brunch with sushi and bottomless mimosas. 

We snuggled and hugged a lot. 

We said what needed to be said.

We eventually laughed about things that were funny again.

And although we refused to talk to anyone on the phone (with the exception of my father who I knew wouldn't say anything mushy), we appreciated the thought of the callers. We were deeply touched by the flowers and the food on our door step, and we couldn't be blessed with better family or friends.
Seriously.
I picked the most amazing man in the world to share my life with. We picked the sweetest people to be friends with. And God picked the greatest family for us to belong to.
It just donned on me that it's the anniversary of September 11th, so I feel a little guilty for even bringing this up, but if you happen to have the time, please toss a quick little prayer His direction for peace of mind as I go in for this procedure today. I may feel comfortable in the hospital as an employee, but it's a different story when I'm on the other end of the medical chain. And aside from all that, it's costing us a fortune.
I just wanted to thank everyone again for all your understanding and support. 

Happy Happy Sad Phenomenon: 12.6 Weeks

Shit. 

If I was being completely honest, that's not the first word that comes to mind. The first word would be F*CK. But seeing that I can count on less than 3 fingers the times I've ever said that word out loud, and during those times my judgement may have been chemically impaired, I feel guilty for even scream-typing that word in censored form.
I've talked about this phenomenon before, and would never be naive enough to think I'm immune, but it really blindsided me this time. But that's the point, isn't it? If we knew the "sad" part was coming it might not be preceded by two "happy"s.
I had a great couple of posts ready for this week, catching up on the last two weeks of my pregnancy. They mentioned all the sweet things Patrick had done for me, little tidbits about development, the fact that Jenny McCarthy and I may be soul sisters, and my venture to working out again........but there's really no use in publishing them now. And if you're not up for reading unexpurgated honesty, skip the rest of this post, because I've got to get real with black and white to get it out of my head.

Thursday afternoon Patrick and I went in for a routine ultrasound and checkup. The very next day would be the 13th week mark, and we were excited to see the baby again. But when the tech put the wand on my belly, the picture on the screen wasn't quite right. We couldn't see or hear a heart beat, and the baby was just laying at the bottom of my uterus, not moving. The tech was oddly quite, and after a couple of questions, ran out the door to get the doctor. I can't quite explain what a sobering experience it is to see your lifeless baby on video, with no prior inkling that anything may be wrong. I received no warning from my body to prepare me for this moment, heard nothing but "everything looks great", up until this moment. This moment that completely stole Patrick and I's happiness. At this moment, you could not have scraped my heart off the floor, because it fell out of my body, melted with sadness, and seeped through the cracks.
After asking a lot of questions and hearing almost nothing but the sound of Charlie Brown's parents saying "Wha whaa waaa", it was determined I need to have a day surgery called a D&C, since the miscarriage was so late. Not only unexpectedly late, but uncommonly late, actually.  That was Thursday, and I have to wait until Tuesday to have the procedure done.
Does anyone have any idea how EFFING hard it is to get closure with an impending procedure to end it all hanging over your head for 5 days, when it's already terrifying enough that you have to undergo a procedure, and all the while not be able to get the image of seeing your fetus look like a dead armadillo on the side of the rode???? That's what I see, eyes open, eyes closed.
The denial only existed from the time of the sonogram, until the doctor took a seat in the room to confirm the miscarriage. I'm obviously still dealing with anger. The depression was immediate. It's amazing how much love you can feel for a soul you've never met. And although I'd rather just skip directly to the acceptance part, I know it's okay that I'm only partially there. I also know there have been way worse things to happen to people, and I know God has a plan and everything happens for a reason. But for right now, I'm pissed off that it had to happen to us. Right now, this way, instead of some crack head whore who'd rather have an elective abortion than welcome a life into this world with open arms.
Dammit.

Don't worry, I'm getting closer to accepting this for what it is than it may seem; it's really therapeutic for me to just be able to word vomit this all out. Most of it's too difficult to speak without crying like an idiot, and since I hate doing that I'd rather not. We made it out of the hospital before crying, and we'd like to keep it that way. Both of us would just rather not talk about this with anyone but ourselves. Maybe 5 years from now we'll be ready, but until then, let's just talk like nothing ever happened. The wound is too deep and too fresh to prod in any way. So when you see one of us, please don't say "I'm so sorry" or "How are you feeling" or "I've been there, and don't worry, it gets better". That would be picking a scab that's not ready to be picked.
We know you care. Thank you for the unspoken words. 

Lizards and Melons and Thunder, Oh My!

A short recap, because I can't remember any good stories about this week......

Callie got to wear her new ThunderShirt...but every time we put it on, it stopped thundering outside. It did give me a good belly laugh for a while though, because she would sprint around the room, rubbing against the furniture and rolling around on the floor, like when we were having a hard time potty training her, and I threatened to sell her on eBay, so Patrick took me out for a couple glasses of wine and we came home to put her in a doggy diaper....and I laughed until I cried and decided to keep her forever and ever and ever!

Does anyone know why Sumo's eyes always appear one green, one yellow in the camera flash???

I got to hang out with my mom and brother, and we made a yummy Mexican dinner, and I watched them take Chocolate Cake shots until they couldn't hold their eyes open while we were watching the Hunger Games!!! How can you fall asleep during the Hunger Games?!?!?

I dressed my brother in the cutest hat ever, and told him how pimpin' he looked, but he still refused to buy it!

Callie and Sumo had their first taste of watermelon!! Callie LOVED it; Sumo thought it was just okay. He seemed more interested in how much Callie liked hers. 

I saved a NICU nurse from being attacked by this killer lizard.....and saved the lizard from the terrified-adrenaline-induced-probable-killer-nurse by setting him free in the bushes outside. It was quite the event. 

It was a productive week. 

Do your dogs like fruit? Are you scared of lizards??

Bustin' at the Seams: 11 weeks

What I appreciate about my foreign woman work friends is their brutal honesty. Sometimes us American folks can get too wrapped up in being over sensitive....but these women.....they just tell it like it is. Because, let's face it, there's no use in getting offended by the truth......it's just, the truth! I'm so glad it's not a secret anymore; you can't keep anything from these people!

The Asian had been telling me for weeks I looked so tired, and asked what was wrong with me. When I told her I was pregnant this week, she said, "I knew it! I knew something was wrong with you! Congratulations! Your showing a little already" She reached out, rubbed my belly, then laughs, "It's hard, because there's a baby in there, not squishy like mine; it's just fat!" 
The Islander's (two different one's on two different occasions) saw me for the first time a in a few weeks and the first thing she said was, "What happened to your face? You having a breakout or a rash or something? Why?" 

"It's just the hormones. I'm pregnant."
"Oh my gosh! Congratulations! I was worried something was wrong with you!"

The Indian neonatologist hadn't seen me in a while and as soon as she laid eyes on me the other night, she started with, "What's the matter with you? You look different. So tired....What are you, pregnant or something?"

"Yes. That's exactly right, actually."

"Oh my gosh, I knew it!! You don't have to do rounds with us, you don't care. You're to tired to care about anything anymore."

Our little mini-us is about the size of a lime this week and moving all around, although I can't feel it yet. But what I can feel, is my bulging tummy. I can't button a single pair of pants I own, and even most of my workout pants feel too tight at the top to be comfortable. Luckily, I had some Kohl's cash, so my mother, brother and me hit up the sale racks to get a couple of cool maternity pants to accommodate my pooch! OMG, I've owned stretchy pants in the past, but nothing compares to the way these feel. It seems really early to need such things already, but I've always refused to compromise comfort for fashion, and have an especially good reason now.....on a side note, I just recently learned the trick of using a rubberband to hold the top of your pants together, so that should hold me over for a while!

My mom is in total beast mode to get everyone's Christmas presents out of the way so she can focus on her grandchild-in-the-making, which means she also bought me some maternity shirts while they were on sale. Now I can have decent clothes to wear come winter!

Even while knowing I'm growing a human being (thrilled the growth means our baby is well on it's way in development), it's still an adjustment to get bigger every week (and not blatantly look prego to the entire world yet), when I've always put so much effort into fitness and staying in shape. And Patrick....he tells me I look "juicy", with this tone in his voice and look in his eye like he wants to tackle me and devour my existence. Although meant to be flattering, I can't say that particular word has any appeal to the image I'd like to have of myself, but it does help instill confidence in my fast changing body to know my husband is loving the way I look. 

Despite throwing up this week, my appetite is actually on the rise and I've mastered the art of not sleeping too long, so I can wake up and snack. Thankfully the snacking method seems to be keeping my nausea on the down low, so I ditched all those medications. All I've been able to think about this week is fruit and Elephante burritos. The fruit I've got covered. More specifically mangos, nectarines, plouts, plums, strawberries, kiwis, watermelon, cantaloupe, bananas. Can I get a halleighlula for summer time variety?!?!?! The burrito is journeying in route as I type this, from Waco. I sweet talked the hubby into bringing me a few to last the week, since he went to Waco without me for his fantasy football draft. 

Apparently this was me during our Sunday movie time, 3 hours after Patrick paused the movie for the 30 minute nap I convinced him I needed.

Obviously, I've conquered the art of dealing with fatigue. And I've learned to be at peace with the dull achy feeling of my expanding uterus, but have yet to fix the disaster that is my face. Thank goodness I have make-up to make me look decent when I don't want to scare people away!! 

Put It on the Line

One night at work last week, we had a pretty good blend of ages complaining about how much we all despise laundry. 

Poor Vickie grew up in the country and had to hand-wash everything from a young age. She wasn't allowed to wash dish towels with wash-clothes, because that was "dirty", and had to iron everything, including sheets and underwear. When the day came they finally got a dryer, everything was dried that way because they believed the heat disinfected everything!

This explains why some of the older ladies at work always come with their scrubs freshly ironed....conditioned at a young age. 

What a childhood!! I had chores, but I didn't even know how to use the washing machine until I was about to graduate from high school. And to this day, I refuse to iron much of anything. My mom actually feels bad for my husband because I don't iron his shirts. 

And after deliberating with everyone else, it turns out I was the only one who believes in air drying everything except towels and socks.

Everyone: But where do you hang everything to dry??

Me: Duh.....You mean you're house doesn't look like this after you do laundry?? That's why I don't do laundry before I invite people over.

Everyone: But how do you keep the wrinkles out of your clothes?

Me: A little shake shake here, and a shake shake there....*and then I busted out in a 3 minute long impractical musical number as if we were in an episode of Family Guy or some unrealistic Disney movie.*
Everyone: Wow.
*Stares at me like I've gone mad.*

Who knows, maybe I walk around wrinkled, but at least my clothes last forever. Never a worn look or a unruly hole. I literally only get rid of clothes when they are obsolete, or know I'll never fit in them again.....

So, what do you do with wet clothes?? Hang them to dry, or use the dryer? Do you iron your laundry?

Telling Our Family: 10 weeks

First thing's first:
If Patrick had any inkling of a clue how sick it makes me to smell the aroma of BBQ at this stage in my pregnancy, he would be warming it up outside on the pavement and eating it 2 blocks away. But he doesn't, so instead, I'm hiding in the bedroom trying to think of other things like french fries and oreo blizzards to keep my mind off of barfing. If I need anything for the next 3 hours, I think I may just text him, so I don't have to walk into the danger zone, also known as every other room in our house that now smells like smoked meat.

Allison said my armpits smelled, but I tested her during the picture taking and she never noticed....called that bluff!

Second on the agenda: 
Announcing the anticipation of a new family member to our immediate family. 

Getting most of the family together at one time on a non-holiday had to be sly and non-chalant. Like a few weekends ago when I spent the weekend with my parents at the river "fake-drinking" and making the excuse of not eating the chicken salad for lunch "because the heat was getting to me"...... Thank goodness we have been completely busy and not around our parents more over the last 4 weeks, or I totally may have cracked! I almost lost my cool last week when Nana asked me over lunch if Patrick and I were still trying to conceive, "Yup," is all I could say without spilling the beans.

We had the perfect scheme in place to gather everyone in a non-supicious way. Our dad's birthdays are only a few weeks apart and with the brillant excuse of needing to celebrate them together, since we'd be in town on a certain weekend, we managed to get everyone to agree. 

Our ultrasound was only a few days prior, so we had the perfect gifts all ready for our clueless dad's. 

My mom, "Well who's going to be DD??? Your grandmother can't drive everyone!!"
Me, completely cool and casual, "I will be. It's not my birthday, and Patrick had his draft all day. I don't mind."
Can you say, 'totally had her fooled'??? Maybe I missed my calling as an actor. 

I could tell the night was going to be especially interesting when I got a call on the way to Ninfas to pick Patrick up at the titty-bar in one of the trashiest areas of Waco......Geez. I disinfected him in the parking lot, and moved on.
After everyone was settled and happy with their margaritas and chips, I asked our dad's when they wanted to open their birthday gifts.....No time's like the "present"!
The pocket knifes made an appearance, ribbons were cut, paper torn, and James was the first to see what was inside.
"Oh look, it's a picture of the whole family!" he said, laughing and pointing to us posing outside with the dogs. Vickie was looking over his shoulder, smiling. I was still waiting for their REAL reaction when Amy happened to peak at the picture. Her smile changed and her eyes widened, but she didn't say anything. She was looking at me and then back at the frame in disbelief when my dad finally finished opening his. He starred at it, blank faced, and my mom grabbed at it, to see.

At that exact moment, the Carruth family finally read the caption at the bottom of the photo.
"Is that a joke??" Amy asked, everyone looking up for an answer.
"Would it be a very funny one?" I replied.
"Are you serious?!?!?!?" Everyone seemed to say at the exact same time with tears in their eyes and shaky voices.
It was all a blur from there. Tears, and hugs, and excitement.
"I bet you didn't realize just how loaded your comment was when you said it was a picture of the whole family, huh?" I asked James.
"I had no idea!" he laughed.

The rest of the night was amazing. Everyone wanted to know how long we'd been keeping our secret. We called my Memma and Aunt Susie, and completely stole the show from our poor dad's birthday celebration. Memma said her new prayers would be for us to have a girl that looks exactly like me.....but that destiny has already been made.

Can you believe I forgot to bring my camera??? I'm still disappointed with myself on this one. Thank goodness Nana was there to save the day with her picture taking skills.
My mom was still crying tears of joy the next morning, "I woke up and the first thing I thought was 'my life will never be the same' ". And then she took Patrick shopping at Kohls, "Anything for the father of my grandchild."

Third:

Our mini-us is the size of a prune this week, and developing teeth, joints, and urine!!