Hormones.

I was in the kitchen for a long time today, getting dinner ready, crying off and on and feeling a little bit sorry for myself, listening to Simon and Garfunkle.

A little ray of sunshine came bounding into the kitchen, and insisted that I pick her up and dance with her.  She ignored my sniffling, and wouldn't take no for an answer.

I picked her up and swirled around the kitchen, seeing the background blur and watched her throw her head back with laughter.  I laughed in spite of myself, with my skirt flying around, and tried not to bump us into the table or knock our dinner off the counter.

I had been feeling so alone, and this little act, this little dance, made me feel good again.

When you're weary
Feeling small
When tears are in your eyes
I will dry them all
I'm on your side
When times get rough
And friends just can't be found

Like a bridge over troubled water
I will lay me down
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will lay me down

Just, whatever.

I have a doctor appointment for Thursday, and I have the name of a specialist at the ready so that said doctor can refer me.  THANK GOD Bryan found a specialist that takes Medi-Cal.  When we first started calling around some asshat told us that gynos won't take Medi-Cal unless the woman is pregnant.  Jackass.

I'm super stressed out about a multitude of things, so I've thrown myself into a couple of projects.  I added some kick ass bibs to my store, and I've been cooking and cleaning like a fiend.  Because fiends like to clean, I guess.

Now, I'm going to go take a nap.  You can take one, too, after you check out the new shit in my store.  Word.

Broken.

One of the things that really sticks with me about Charlie's birth is how intense my labor was.  It seemed, after a certain point, that the only way I could get relief was to grab Bryan's hand and have him push against me as hard as he could while I was bearing down.

When the anesthesiologist came into the room I had to sit up and put my legs over the side of the bed.  As I was doing this I thought to myself, "There is NO WAY that I will be able to sit through these contractions while he inserts that needle into my back.  I'm not going to be able to do this."  I kept telling the anesthesiologist to, "Wait!  Wait!"  during several intense contractions, and I pushed so hard I thought I would split in two.  That was the only way I was able to stand the pain.

I think I have a prolapsed uterus.  Actually, I don't think it.  I'm pretty damn sure of it.  Bryan is going to call tomorrow to see if I can be seen by some nicer doctors than the one that delivered Charlotte, but I'm really really scared.

Nothing is ever wrong with me.  My body is amazing and resilient and I've taken it for granted that there would never be any problems.  I'm scared about the possibility of a hysterectomy.  I'm scared that some dumb doctor is going to tell me that they have to remove my uterus, just to bill Medi-Cal $7,000.  I'm scared I'm going to have to have surgery.  I'm scared that I won't be able to have any more babies.  Even though Bryan and I have considered that Charlie might be our last child, I don't want the option taken away from me; I don't know if I can handle it.

So, tomorrow we're making the appointment, and I'm going to find out for sure what's going on with my broken body, and try to fix it.  I'm prepared for the worst, but I'm hoping for the best.

Sometimes I'm so COOL.

Okay, so I totally mastered the Kitchener grafting on the crotch of these longies for Phoebe.  Kitchener is now my BITCH, y'all!  Booyah!  Okay, yeah, so I was doing the grafting last night, and Bryan started talking, and I told him to SHUT THE HECK UP, because I was concentrating, but still.  Kitchener is my bitch, and I'm proud to say it.

*For all you non-knitters, in basic terms, the Kitchener graft is where you join two pieces of knitwork, and it's supposed to look seamless.  It's really magical, and all that crap, and I know you could probably care less, but you are expected to look impressed.*

Dude, these pants so kick the ASS!  I love them.  They look so freakin' cute, and they've *got* to be comfy, and she wore them all day yesterday.  And since I made them with acrylic yarn I can toss them in the wash, and they're just going to get softer once they've been laundered a few times. 

I also made something else yesterday.  Phoebe wanted Spaghetti-Ohs for lunch, and none of the bibs I have would've cut it in terms of "protection", if you know what I'm sayin'.  I thought to myself, "Self!  How great would it be if you could just put a towel on that child and let her go to town?"  So I took a kitchen towel, and some scissors, and my serger, and my sewing machine, and some snaps, and came up with this:

She looks pleased with herself, doesn't she?  Bryan thinks it's great, and I'm sure he sees the potential for the kitchen towel stash to come under control, but what he doesn't know is.... I want to buy MORE TOWELS to make MORE BIBS!  Yee haw!  I'm thinking if I find some really cute towels at the store I just might have to make some more towel-bibs and put them up in Planet Zebes, because it's GENIUS, I tell you!

My house is such a frickin' disaster.  I'm not one of those people who has, maybe, a crumb on the carpet and calls my house messy.  I'm one of those people who lets the crap pile up for days, and then it gets so bad that I really feel like the best bet would just be to have a bulldozer come in and raze the place.  I really should clean up this pigsty, before someone reports me to the authorities, but it's going to take A LOT OF WORK.  And I'm feeling lazy. 

Won't someone come save me from my mess??

Shut yer MOUTH!

Ooooooooh, ooooooooooh, check it OUT!

I'm (sort of) famous!  And France!  I'm so excited!  That's why I'm not going to stop using exclamation points!  No matter how hard you beg me!

I'd better get my ass in gear and get some new stuff up in my store!  Whee!

Yeah, the exclamation point thing *is* getting a little annoying!

**I added those cute hats to my store.  Check it out!**