Still I Aint Seen Mine, No I Aint Seen Mine....

That is a Kid Rock song in case you are wondering.


I said it too many times
And I still stand firm
You get what you put in
And people get what they deserve
Still I ain't seen mine
No, I ain't seen mine
I've been giving just ain't been gettin'
I've been walking that there line
So I think I'll keep on walking
With my head held high
I'll keep moving on and only God knows why
Only God, only God
Only God knows why


I am sure you are wondering how I could be blogging when I have an insane amount of homework to do.

Here is the deal...

I was going to blog yesterday because even though I wanted to do my homework, I couldnt because lo and behold my books were trapped in the car, which was trapped in Perth Amboy. There was also a box of mallomars trapped in the car. I wondered if they were ok, how they would make it without me. I love my mallomars and they love me.

But....we were out of toilet paper and deodorant, two things that could cause some serious social awkwardness if we went too long without either. Picture public restroom with overflowing cesspool. Not a nice smell.

So I had to go buy those things and stock up on things Ellen and I could eat for lunch because seriously my day was so sucky yesterday I almost ate a 2 foot by 2 foot rice krispie treat, ok not really, I mean it doesnt even have chocolate on it

What I mean is the potential to quit diet number 13,847 was strong with the day I had yesterday and the whole freakin week.

AS always ...I digress.

I couldnt blog yesterday because of the toilet paper issue, the fact that I had to figure out how to get 1000 dollars off of my credit card into my bank account so Hubby could pay for the car, and then my friend called at the perfect time to distract me...

So here I am, with all my books sitting rudely, taunting me in the back of the car, I am just going to ignore their hating tone and keep blogging, because I feel like it. And since I also feel like eating candy and cookies and french fries and I cant do that, I decided not to sacrifice anything else for today and just indulge in some other self defeating behavior.

Here goes...

Finally...Right?

I briefly mentioned that we have bad luck.

That is an understatement.

And before you get really judgemental and say "People make their own luck" let me just say I spent 5 years in therapy, working on my issues and for real my therapist used to say.."Wow Nancy I could have a whole day full of patients and when you come in your stories top them all"

I have blown away my therapist. That should tell you what kind of things are constantly happening in my life.

We broke a few mirrors in my day and if that was 7 years for each, well it should be over somewhere around the 22nd century. Can you pass broken mirror bad luck to your kids or does it go with you to the grave? Not sure... I better check that out and potentially I should have the whole family drink poison KoolAid in order to break the spell.

Like I've said before I used to pray to GOD but seriously it was just like with Job from the bible, but I am not as biblical so I couldnt keep saying Ok God if you want to take away everything I have, great because obviously you know more than me. Um no... I have had enough and I gave GOD an ultimatum and he didnt come through so until he redeems himself, no more praying for me.


Let me begin with our car bad luck which seems to be the theme of the week...

We buy a 1988 Pontial Grand Am, silver, we had a Pontiac Sunbird before that but it was a demo car with a few miles on it so technically the Grand Am was our first new car. And it was so cool.

We had it a few years and the paint started to peel. So we contacted the manufacturer and by the way with no internet, not as easy as you think. And they say, too bad. Then we see multiple silver grand ams with peeling paint..so we call again and we fight back and forth and they finally agree to repaint the car, that it maybe is a defect in the paint color and not the fact that we lived in Florida that caused the paint to peel. DUH!

the car is freshly painted and hubby is coming home from work in a hurricane and the car stalls outside of our development from the heavy rain or who knows what. Hubby gets out of the car, runs home in the hurricane and figures we will get the car the next day when the hurricane moves on.

when we go to get the car the next day...it is submerged in a puddle the size of Lake Michigan.. ok maybe not that big but the car was more than halfway under water. We try to start it and move it out of the puddle... big mistake... it blew the whole engine and we had to pay 2500 dollars to get it replaced.

PS we only had one car at the time so that was it, we had no choice but to fix it. I think we actually got insurance money back because of the hurricane but in any case, car #1 bad luck.

We have owned old crappy cars and they are always more trouble than they are worth so we finally agree to spend more money to get a better quality used car.

Now as you know with the words SUCKER permanently tatooed to our foreheads, it is hard to get a good deal on anything. They take one look and go, oh great we have a SUCKER here, they will take anything.

So hubby goes to buy this Chrysler LHS, the people brought it up from Florida but there is some story about the miles being wrong on the title, some crazy story about it being owned by an old lady who accidentally checked the wrong box on the title application,

Yes of course now it sounds ridiculous but at the time No not so much.

The car is literally a nightmare from day one. Not only does it have this problem that it shakes when you drive it but no mechanic we ever brought it to could figure out why. They thought it was a computer thing, so we replaced that... no, not fixed...shocks. not that either, lots of other car words that I dont understand... uh uh. No one could figure it out and we couldnt even sell this car because the title claimed that the mileage was tampered with or that it wasnt original miles. blah blah blah the car is a pain in the ass..

So it gets hit in the parking lot at hubbys shop by the ditzy receptionist who backs into it. And he gets it fixed. And then the crane at the shop backs into it. Bad luck? For serious?

Now with the exception of the fact that someone died in this story it would be classic.

The car is back in the shop to be fixed for the second time for being hit in the parking lot of hubbys shop within weeks of each other.

The car is finally done and waiting for Hubby to pick it up. it is parked on the curb at the shop and out of nowhere, a car comes careening through the sky and wails right into hubbys car so hard... the car is totaled.

Turns out some women had a heart attack at the wheel of her car and hit Hubbys just fixed Chrysler LHS so hard, she is decapitated. Ok seriously they are pretty sure she was dead from the heart attack but has anyone else ever had this happen to their car?

Now granted the lady who hit hubbys car was having worse luck that day than us and Hubby wasnt in the car and we did get some insurance money to buy the Nissan Murano that up until yesterday was stuck in Perth Amboy.

But...I dont know it just seems ridiculous.

Cars are not the only thing that we have trouble with. It is all electrical things like icemakers, dryers, washing machines, oil burners, anything that can go wrong at the worst times usually does.

The washing machine backed up into the basement... at 2pm on Christmas Eve.

The cesspool overflowed at 2pm on Christmas Eve and we couldnt use any water or the toilets until we begged someone to come and fix it.

The oil burner craps out at 10pm on sundays so many times it is comical.

We have a pretty good sense of humor about this stuff. We have to.

because lets face it...there are always worse things like brain injuries and death and cancer and melted mallomars.

I could go on and on but my battery is dying on my computer... oh another electrical malfunction??

so the moral of the story is when life hands you lemons... grab a shot of tequila and some salt and give me a call because in the end... its a story to tell and i live for that.

So I think I'll keep a walking with my head held high...

I keep moving on but only god knows why.




Just another car story for another time...

I picked a bad week to give up crack

This story is epic.

I wish I could say it was one of a kind but since my life is full of chaos and drama and just plain old bad luck, there are more of them to follow.

This is just the most recent.

We spent the weekend in DC. And it was great. We got down there in record time and got to see Daughter #2's apartment. We had a really nice dinner and breakfast and we were really sad to have to leave. We havent seen daughter #2 since the summer and we have all really missed seeing her beautiful face and hanging out with her. It was short but sweet and up until the moment when it all went bad, it was so good.

It is always as we re-enter NY that our trip quickly goes to hell.

We listen to the radio and there is traffic everywhere. So we decide to get off on the outerbridge crossing and come through Perth Amboy and Staten Island.

We get off the exit and we are sitting in traffic and hubby is like "what is wrong with the car?" And I am like what... he says the car isnt working, can i get over to the side of the road?

We coast over and pull onto the side of the road. Click, click, click, click.

Nothing...the car has just died in mid drive and we are in New Jersey, its getting dark and the traffic is whizzing by at an alarming rate of speed.

Oh this is why people have Triple A. Now I get it.

We try all the typical things that people who are not mechanics do. We turn the car off, we turn it back on, click, click.

We unplug the battery and replug it. click, click. Nothing.

Our mechanical skills seem to be seriously lacking.

We unscrew the gas cap and rescrew it. My idea really. Shockingly it doesnt work.

Then we do the sit there and wonder idea. Should we call someone? We are still 2 hours away from home. Hubby calls a friend. No answer. I call 411. Hey is there such a thing as Roadside Assistance? Lets not forget it is a Sunday night in New Jersey. Not the best place to be.

They connect me with a towing company, ok I guess this is better than standing here hoping that the car will magicly start.

The tow truck comes and hooks up Hubbys baby.

Have I mentioned that I just paid the last car payment about 30 days ago?

Yeah that is what I mean about the bad luck.

We all squeeze into the tow truck with the very large tow truck man. It was an extremely tight fit. We only took what we could carry. And that barely fit into the tow truck with us.

We head off into the night, riding atop this tow truck, joking because that is the only thing we know how to do in a crisis.

Hey there could there possibly be a train station near by because at this point this is our only way home?

Our friendly tow truck driver says, yeah NJ transit is just a few minutes from here.

WooHoo, this is our best luck so far.

We arrive in Shadyville, and he drops us off at the train station. Shady, really shady.Its 8:30 by this point, dark and we are somewhere in Perth Amboy.

I call my mom, hey dont panic but we are stuck in NJ. I text D1 and D2... Funny Story we are stuck in Perth Amboy, if we dissapear look for us in the scariest place we have been stuck in awhile. See picture above.

I say to D3 and D4, do you have your ipods, my laptop, the gps, all our cell phones, oh we forgot D4's 125 dollar calculator...

Mom... sshhhsshhh... we are in the ghetto and you are naming about 3000 dollars worth of electronics we have on our bodies... be quiet...

The train comes in about 25 minutes ... well how lucky are we?

We ask people who clearly do not speak English whether or not this train is headed for Newark.

They do the I dont understand you yes headshake.

We get on the train which is packed, not sure why, and head off to Penn Station. 1 hour to Penn and because we are so lucky the train from Penn Station to Ronkonkoma is leaving about 25 minutes after we get in.

We arrive in Ronkonkoma at 11:35pm and my dad is there to pick us up with my little doggie Clover.



We get home after midnight and start calculating what we left in the car and how we are gonna get the car back and what the cost will be and how hubby is getting to work..

suddenly all the joking stops...

and reality sets in...

and it sucks...

and that is why this was a bad week to give up crack... because i could have used some mind altering ben and jerrys and being on a diet right now just doesnt cut it...

Life for us is always about this kind of stuff... bad luck, crap all the time...

but it could have been worse and since we have an appointment at Sloan Kettering this week... I will take the car breaking down as the bad stuff this week... no more please... i dont think my diet will make it through.

I am not a doctor but I play one on TV

I have raved a little about Sloan Kettering but basically if you dont know what it is, it is the number one cancer hospital in the country and maybe even the world. They have saved two special people that I know with the most rare cancers and that makes me believe that they are the best.

I am sure people have had experiences that make them believe that it may not be the best cancer hospital but I have to go on my own experience and it has always been amazing.

Except of course for the long hours of waiting and the fact that when you go there you have CANCER!!

So Hubby was diagnosed with Synovial Sarcoma in 1993. He had two fingers amputated on his left hand and he went to Sloan Kettering every 3 months for the first couple of years for checkups. Every time we saw Dr. Boland.

Doctor Boland is a tall white haired man with a thick Irish Brogue. As far as I am concerned, he is GOD. He is the rare type of doctor who cares, really cares. He sits down in the room when he comes in. He tells the truth. Good, bad or ugly.

So sometime during the first couple of years following the initial diagnosis, Hubby finds a lump in his shoulder.

Diagnosis at original detection... cut it out from wherever it is. If you can cut it out then its ok, fingers, arms, legs, feet ok

neck, hip, spine. death sentence.

Shoulders not so sure.

Dr. Boland, GOD, told us that most likely if the cancer came back it would be in his lungs. So he had a chest xray each time.

And when it came out fine... we went to dinner in Manhattan.

We discovered Brother Jimmys, which no joke has a flashing neon sign that says
Meat/Eat right over the neon pig. The floor is made of plywood and there are rude signs everywhere. But it has the best ribs you could ever eat, with mashed potatoes and corn bread and the most giant mind eraser drink you could ever want. It has a giant plastic shark sticking out of the top and is served in a fish bowl.

So now there is a lump in his shoulder and we are freaking out. For real because again shoulders, not so sure. He has learned at this point to do most things without the fingers but if he has to have his arm amputated past his shoulder, his career as an electrician is over. And hopefully just that and not his life.


So we make an appointment to see God and they take our calls like we are old friends because being one of only 8 people in the country with this cancer in this spot, we are kinda famous,

That and the fact that we used D3 as entertainment.

We get an appointment right away and we go in and Dr. Boland is really nervous. I can tell he thinks it may be back.

He comes in, examines Hubby, leaves, comes back, leaves again.... brings in someone else... leaves, comes back later and is like ok come with me.

We trust him, so we follow. He tells us that because we come from so far away and because he wants to take care of this immediately he wants to take the lump out and biopsy it. now. today. this minute.

He is not really supposed to do this so we are sneaking into an empty surgery room downstairs.

I am not kidding. We are looking around corners and sneaking around.

We go into the surgery room and he has an assistant and he is like Nancy come on in. So being completely obsessed with medical procedures I go in.

He has the assistant prepare his shoulder and then asks the assistant to go get something.

Now we know why the wait for Dr. Boland has sometimes exceeded 5 hours. 5 hours like as in our appointment is at 10am and at 245 we are called into a room.

We laugh when we hear first timers after 30 minutes of waiting say "Um I have been waiting for a half an hour, how much longer is it gonna be?"

Fact is... when someone is saving your life, you wait. With a smile.

So I am in surgery...

and Dr. Boland begins to cut into his shoulder.

he pauses.

"Where are my glasses?"

Nancy can you look in my jacket hanging on the back of the door?

I take out his glasses and he is like

I am already sterile Can you put these on me?

So I start to put his glasses on and he is over 6 ft and I am standing on my toes and poking him in the ears with the glasses and he bends down and I think...

this is a story I will tell for years.

So he takes out what appears to be a new tumor.

He puts it in a jar.

Nancy can you get me the anesthesia.

What???

Yeah take that needle and stick it in that bottle and pull down and fill the needle up with blah blah blah. Then bring it to me.

He shoots him up with blah blah blah.

He leaves.

He comes back in and says "I am not sure". He leaves and comes back. He stitches Hubby up (like Frankenstein)The scar is gnarly. And he says "It may be back". We say okay. He says "Well it has irregular margins but you never know" "Well if its back we will have to amputate.... well lets see."

They stitch him up, shoot him up with anesthesia, give him a prescription for pain killers and send us home. We took the train and two subways to get there so guess what?

We have to take 2 subways and a train to get home.

So we go to Genovese to pick up the drugs, give him one and get on subway 1.

Now Hubby is bandaged and drugged and we get on the first subway and I am trying to shield him from the crazy New Yorkers.

And he is getting more and more drugged and I am not sure how to get back...is it the 6 train and then the E train? or the other way around? Do I get off at Lexington Ave?

We finally get back to the Ronkonkoma train station and we own a pickup truck that I have to drive home.

Princesses dont drive pickups.

I guess they do surgery though.



Ps. They called about two weeks later and said it was an infected hair follicle that turned into a fatty mass. but no cancer. I remember hearing the messages and falling against the wall and feeling so greatful. I try to remember that feeling of gratitude in times of stress.

Like when Hubby is snoring.

I'm Back

Did you miss me?

Well I was sitting down to do my homework...

I even have the book right next to me.

Yes I am hoping it jumps out of the book into my head.

... and I heard through the grapevine (namely daughters 3 and 4) that I had a comment on my blog.

My first comment...I am touched. No really... dear anonymous commenter. It made my day.

I will admit that I was very sad that no one had commented but then I heard through the grapevine, (ellen and daughter 3) that the comment section was broken.

or I just set the page up wrong. either way no one is pointing any fingers.

but it is fixed and i hope that means more comments. hint hint

So how can I dissapoint my fans(fan)? That would be wrong to look that anonymous commenter in the face and say No I dont have time for you, I have to do my homework, you are on your own for procrastination activities. Not me people I am willing to sacrifice for my fan base.

Now I do feel somewhat guilty because Hubby so generously offered to take D3 to violin lessons so I could stay home and do my homework. And D4 wanted me to go with him because she said I would distract her from doing her homework. Do you believe that?

I am not a bad influence on my kids.

Hardly ever do I insist that we skip actual food and eat Ben and Jerrys for dinner.

FYI If you get NY Superfudge Chunk, there are nuts and nuts are protein, kinda, and there is cream which is calcium and dark chocolate lowers blood pressure. So its not soooo bad.

And only once or twice have I laughed so hard at a fart joke or when D3 says ASS in the clover voice, that I spit my drink out.

And maybe my little doggie knows that she can sleep on the chair when I am there and not Hubby because I hug her when she is on the chair and he screams in her face.

So what that I colored D4 hairs pink or took D2 to the tattoo parlor to get her ear cartlidge pierced?

Does that make me a bad influence?

Now because I am old and losing my mind, I had this great idea for a blog this morning but I worked on two papers that were due today and I booked my hotel room for DC this weekend and then I checked my email and then, perfect timing my friend called and saved me from doing any more work, but I forgot about the blog idea.

And now I have babbled and wasted my blogging time on stupid crap.

In the midst of all this blogging, D1 called with an itching crisis, D2 called on my cell phone which I ignored because no one ever calls on my cell phone at this hour until I realized it was her but when I called her back she ignored my call, D3 and hubby came back from violin and D3 had to check facebook for messages, and D4 cannot do her lab because she is just as bad of a procrastinator as me.

So... I am waiting patiently for Hubby to stop watching Led Zeppelin on TV so I can watch the makeover show on Americas Next Top Model.

And I can blog about the he/she who somehow wore a bikini last show? Color me baffled???

WEll every kid of mine has been in crisis mode tonight between decisions about money, health, homework and social activities. My blogging has been interuppted one time too many.

I just want cookies and America's Next Top Model.

I have lost my spark for writing in my blog because I am exhausted and emotionally drained from all this Superwoman stuff I am doing.

I will blog again.

Soon.

I promise dear fans.

Microbiology and Cell Biology

Somewhere along the line I decided I needed to go back to school. It was somewhere around the time that I was sick and thinking I really need a career and not just a job. Caught between helping other people and wanting to do that for a living, I decided to go back to school for Genetic Counseling.

I went to Stony Brook University when I graduated high school.

Well let me just clarify that. I was accepted to Stony Brook, I registered there for classes and on the days when I had classes there I got in my '72 Cutlass and headed there from my house about 10 miles away.

What usually happened was by no fault of my own... my car would drive itself from my house, head towards Stony Brook, and then veer off at the last minute to the Mall. I would spend the day shopping at Lerners and then return home later with fake stories of my classes and people I had met.

So I wasted the whole first semester this way and then since I was already engaged, I officially dropped out, got a great job in a bank making 180 dollars a week and I thought, hell who needs college. I am making the big bucks, driving a hot little sports car(called a yugo) and about to marry the man of my dreams. Who needs an education? I just spent 13 years in school,faking my way through and fooling my teachers when I was learning absolutely nothing.

I went back to school in 1990 and I wanted to be an accountant. I know, the most boring job on creation, but it made good money and I always loved math. I took macro and micro economics, principles of accounting and business classes. But honestly the most valuable class i ever took was Oral Communications. I learned how to speak in front of a large group and honestly I have always felt comfortable since then speaking out loud.

OK so if you have known me in the last 18 years of my life you are like, sure Nancy, convince yourself you weren't always a chronic talker, but honestly, I could never speak out loud until that class.

I wanted to go back to school as soon as we closed the store but with the Fat Bastard stealing everything and not paying us a dime, I had no way of paying so I waited.

I waited until I was 40 and I couldn't wait any longer. I waited until I knew if I didn't start, I never would. And I just did it. I registered and took 3 classes and have continued for the last 3 semesters.

So being the biggest procrastinator with an incredible idea that I am superwoman, I registered for 16 credits this semester and ordered my books in June so I would have the summer to work on half the credits.

Can you guess what happened?

I know I cant believe it either. The whole summer went by and I didn't work on it as much as I would have liked.

OK OK I barely worked on it at all. Well first I was just taking a short break... then I was remodeling the house... and then... you know... the blog took over.

So it is with a heavy heart and a sadness that I never thought possible that I must take a small break from blogging.

I have 6 Cell Biology Chapters to read in the next 3 weeks and 6 Microbiology chapters. I also have 4 one page papers and 2 6 page papers due for Health Psychology and Multicultural Social Work.

And all I do is blog. All I want to do is blog and I wonder... do I want to be a writer? I have never even thought of this as a possibility. maybe its like singing... maybe I like to do it but maybe I just suck at it.

I think I should stick to Genetic Counseling. Disease and medicine... that appeals to me more than writing... It is solid and there is no genetic counseling block that could stop me from doing my job, plus I could start diagnosing people and prescribing medication legally now instead of as a hobby.

So check back soon but for the next few days... i must study, for real, not how I fakely do each day and really blog instead. I must read about cells and the endoplasmic reticulum and the mitochondria(the powerhouse of the cell) and stop reading the blogs of note.

For now I will DVR my shows, prison break, the biggest loser, survivor and all the other reality shows and I will only turn on my computer to check my email and my bank balance and I will become the expert on cells. And then I will blog more intelligently about how cells work and maybe I will discover a cure for a famous disease and they will name it the Nancy disease.

I like that the Nancy disease. Maybe I will learn to like my name then.

maybe not.

Someone stole my identity

Ok so its no secret if you live with me that I have been less than content with the fact that no one reads my blog. Even my family who once pretended to find it interesting is just getting bored of the same old stuff I have to say.

Granted they have heard these stories multiple times or that I am constantly droning on about something at every moment but I still feel sad that I am not the interesting person I thought I was.

So today I am about to sit down and try again to do my homework which pretty much means Time to Blog and I saw blogs of note and thought the title was catchy, Clever Girl Goes Blog.

I started reading her blog and realize, wow, this girl has stolen my identity. I haven't read all the blogs because lets face it I do have some sort of a life, or really I just promised my family my famous chicken parm, but what I have read, scary.

I mean OK I don't really love cats, in fact when I see a dead one I am like Woohoo one less cat in the world and I haven't been divorced because... well I just still love my husband, but her love of 80's movies, yeah that's dead on.

Now I do realize that alerting people to her blog will make them stop reading my blog but then I remembered that no one is reading my blog anyway so its really fine.

I did really identify with her being two different people, the blogger and the not so blogger. Problem for me... I have great stories, from work, from family, from things I overhear all the time... and yeah I am a little bit of a creepy stalker that way.

I have been known to stay quiet hiding behind my backyard tree, real stealth like, to overhear the neighbors across the street talk about their son in rehab. Or to gaze out my dining room window as I pretend to clean them in order to see what the newlyweds are fighting about or why they don't even seem to like each other.

But I worry that the stories will hurt other peoples feelings or that someone reading them will think I am more nuts than I really am.

Like wishing cats dead or relating all my life experiences to a song.

So her blog is about her life and her thoughts and it is really good.

And I know I have a lot of interesting thoughts too. And while I was eating the best chicken parm I have ever made I came upon a realization about why my blog is not as exciting as some others I have read.

I am a mother. That's why. Everything I say and do comes under scrutiny of the most critical eyes in the world. My children. I have read blogs about sex, drugs and rock and roll along with opinions on gay marriage and other hot political topics and I realize... my kids would be horrified if I gave out this much information about our lives, their lives, etc etc.


I have incredibly amazing stories about Hubby and I over the years, how our love has changed and grown and how still after all these years he looks at me like he did when we were 18 and newly in love. In his eyes, the years of fat and grey hair and wrinkles and wear and tear melt away and I am standing there with my Madonna fingerless lace gloves and lace headband with my red pumps and my rabbit fur coat arriving for our secret honeymoon in Disney world.

Some of these stories are sharable some of them can only be told in the cone of silence that I will refer to as the basement, where since Mario left, there are no topics that are off limits.

I have stories of my mothering, things I am proud of, things I am horrified about, that can never be spoken of in a public forum for fear my kids would use it against me at a later date. Remember that time you forgot D3 at gymnastics? 3 times?

Friends and family that have disappointed me so greatly that the stories are tragic and heart wrenching, but again, there are kids involved and that wouldn't be fair to them. You can read that on another blog Silhouette of Hope.

So for now I guess my blog will have to go on being unread, a little boring and mostly admired by only me when I forget what I have written about and amuse myself with my own stories.

Thats the great thing about losing your mind. Everything that was old seems new again.

Hey maybe I will start a blog.
haha

Its a girl March 1987 part 2

I woke up in the middle of the night the other day realizing... I never blogged about Daughter #1's actual birth. I knew I talked about it once but I couldnt remember telling the most important parts of the story.

So here goes...

I am 19, living with my parents because Hubby was sent to Virginia first and then California second, my first child, what the hell did I know?

First I am seeing the doctor that delivered my sister and yes he is ancient. He first tells me that Daughter #1 is breech and that I will need a C-section. Turns out she turned in time. Then about a week before my due date he tells me that my military insurance is not going to pay him enough and that my mother will need to give him 500 dollars on the side. So of course we leave there like F@#$% you and we attempt to find a doctor that will accept military insurance. The only one we can find is the Stonybrook University Clinic. So I call on March 1st, Hi I am due next week and I need an appointment, Um yeah our next open appointment is April 26th. Um yeah my due date is March 7th. Yeah well sorry. No you dont understand blah blah blah, ok they squeeze me in for March 5th at 1pm. I go there and they take blood and examine me and are like you are already dilated, you arent gonna make it through the weekend. Its a Thursday.

I go home and they call and they are like Oh my god you have gestational diabetes you must come in tomorrow 8am for more tests. Oh ok.

Nightime comes and my back hurts so bad. I fall asleep but i wake up around 11pm and I go into my parents room and they are still awake. I am like, oh man my back is killing me and my mother says, go sit in daddys chair and watch tv for awhile.

So I sit in the big brown chair in the den watching tv... all night long. I cant fall asleep because my back hurts so bad and I really have no idea that I am in labor.

When my father gets up to go to work in the morning at 6am I am still in the chair and he is like, are you still here? And I am like yeah my back is killing me. He wakes up my mother who is like holy crap maybe you are in labor.

Well I have an appointment anyway at Stony Brook so we go off to the doctor. I go in and I am telling them that I am there for more blood sugar tests but that I think i am in labor. So they send me up to labor and delivery and they are like yeah you are in labor but you have a long way to go so go walk around the mall.

Haha Ha... walk around the mall? I have been up all night and I am enormously fat and there is no way in hell I am doing that. They tell me that I am dehydrated so I go home and drink large quantities of Hawaiian Punch. I almost turned into that giant glass pitcher that breaks through the wall I drank so much. If you are too young to remember this reference look it up on line.

So I wait home for about 12 hours. 12 hours of Hawaiian punch drinking and watching tv. At around 8 pm my father, my mother and I head off to the hospital with my stuffed animal in hand.

Oops I forgot about the fact that Hubby was in California and I had called him at 7am California time. He tries to leave California but soon finds out how ridiculous the United States Navy is. They wont let him leave until he is done with his day of school. He doesnt get on a flight until 11pm California time. And he heads east.

I am in the labor room and they tell me that I am not far enough to be admitted. I start crying and my dad is there patting my hand and I am in pain but more so I am so sad that my hubby isnt there. I miss him so much and I want him there when I have his baby.

They hook me up to an IV and they tell me to walk the halls. I am throwing up still after 9 months of morning, afternoon and night sickness and so I am carrying a bucket with my IV pole and literally running from chair to chair and sitting down with each contraction. My mother in law arrives and she and my mother are walking the halls with me and they still are refusing to admitt me. I have really had it. I have been up for over 36 hours at this time, I am in labor alone without my hubby and I am wiped out. I just sit on the chair and refuse to walk and refuse to do anything. The on call doctor finally admits me and they put me in a room and give me morphine so I can sleep. Lets just say... I would have taken anything at that point to get rid of the pain.

So it is what 2am at this point and they admit me and I sleep for about 5 minutes and then I wake up in more pain than ever. Meanwhile hubby is on a plane from California to New york with a stop over in Chicago. He begs to get off the plane in Chicago and they let him knowing his wife is in labor. He calls someone at the hospital to find out if I have had the baby and no I am still in labor after , what are we up to 28 hours at that point?

I might add that Diet Coke is new and I have never drank diet soda but I am craving it like nothing I have ever craved before.

At 7am my water breaks and the doctors are like ok, now you can have an epidural. Wow finally. Well by the time the anesthesiologist comes in and they give me the epidural it is like 9am and hubby is on his way from the airport. Uncle Mike to the rescue. He is driving like he has a heart in his trunk to get hubby to the hospital before I give birth.

Well when he gets there I have already had the epidural and he doesnt even believe the 35 hours of labor I have suffered through so far.

But he gets there in plenty of time and just four hours later our beautiful first daughter is born. Hubbys daddy immediately goes and gets me a diet coke which was probably the best one I have ever had. I go off to my room and hubby goes out to the diner with my family.

The next day my cousin (who was killed in a drunk driving accident)brought me tuna on a bagel. I had loads of visitors who all brought pink bunnies and little pink dresses. It was exhausting and amazing all at the same time.

I wanted so bad to bring my new baby home before hubby had to be back in california Tuesday. I had a fever though and they wouldnt let me go. I begged please I will only have one day with my hubby before he has to go back to the Navy and he will not see her again until she is 6 weeks old. They finally let me go home and we spend one night together with our new baby sleeping on our chest as we squeezed into the bed I grew up in.

My little pink bundle is 21 now and older than I was when she was born. I have loved every bit of it from those days in March when I spent 39 hours waiting for her until now when I just sent her off to her last year of college.

My life as a mom began that day in 1987 and has only gotten better with time. 4 times over. I am grateful for every moment.