There's Something I've Been Meaning to Tell You

Good news for everyone out there who was worried that there just aren't quite enough Bramletts in the world. Another one will be making his/her debut in January.

Get ready people, we're taking over the world, Brad and Angelina style.

Quite Possibly the Stupidest Injury of All Time

Last Friday, I mentioned to my mom that we were taking the girls to see the Naturals (the new minor league baseball team) that night. A little while later, she called me back and said "You know, I was thinking... Jason used to play baseball--has he ever thought of trying out for the Naturals?"
After I finished laughing hysterically, I told her that no, Jason had not considered trying out and hadn't played baseball in about 14 years.

The next night, we were playing outside with the girls, Aunt Ashley, Uncle Thad and Grandma Becky, when Jason (possibly inspired by the previous night's ball game?)picked up a plastic bat and ball. THWACK!!!

I heard the sound of plastic on plastic and, with my cat-like reflexes, turned and ducked. The line drive off my husband's oversized plastic bat hit me squarely on the left ear and my immediate reaction was to start crying because 1) I'm kind of a crybaby 2) It hurt really, really bad 3) I couldn't hear anything and 4) I was sort of mad.

After I quit crying, I examined my bright red ear and determined that the pain was coming from the inside. I couldn't hear, felt a lot of pressure and there was this weird ringing sound inside my head. I spent all weekend talking about it, just to make sure Jason felt sufficiently guilty. He did.

This morning I went to the doctor, as a precaution, since my ear is still hurting. You may be surprised to know that it's possible to rupture your ear drum with a Little Tikes plastic ball--well, if the ball is coming towards your ear at a rapid speed from about four feet away.

In addition to the ear drum rupture, my jaw is also swollen and slightly displaced. From a plastic ball, people! You really can't make this stuff up.

So now I've got ear drops, an anti-inflammatory for my jaw and two weeks of not washing my hair in the shower ahead of me. If you think I'm going to let this go easily, you're wrong. I intend to milk this for at least a few weeks of special treatment.

And as for the plastic bats and balls we have lying around here--I'm thinking of replacing them all with nerf balls.

Seeing Stars

You know how sometimes when your kid bumps their head on something, and after you check them for blood or really weird knots, you tell them to "shake it off" because seriously, it couldn't have hurt that bad (oh, come on, you know you've said that before).
Well, I probably won't be using that line again anytime soon, because, actually it does hurt that bad.
I'll spare you the details, but let's just say that I'm thankful for the bangs that are covering the weird knot on my forehead. I think I might be the only person alive who can actually hurt herself while loading the washing machine.

One Flu Over the Cuckoo's Nest

I wish I had something really fun and happy to report. Something with rainbows and puppies and pink fuzzy hearts. What I have instead is the flu. Complete with a 102 degree fever, a massive headache and that all-over achiness that feels like someone punched me in the kidneys. Also a toddler. I have a toddler. I think that pretty much explains the title.

Sick. And Tired. But Mostly Just Sick.

My recent lack of blogging has not been due to the fact that my kids haven't supplied me with any blog-worthy material (they have), but is mainly because we, as a household, seem to be harboring at least three different viruses simultaneously.
I'll spare you the litany of symptoms we have going on over here, but if you live anywhere near us, I would advise staying away until this thing blows over.
In the meantime, here is a little teaser of stories to come...
*Claire singing "My God is so big and so is my mommy" instead of "My God is so big, so strong and so mighty".
*Arden sneaking up the stairs and going into Claire's room while she was napping. Drama!
*Arden learning to climb up the slide on our swingset.
*Claire's new-found love for all things "Hannah Montana"
All these and much, much more...Just as soon as these antibiotics kick in...

Does This Mean I'm One of the Cool Kids Now?

OK, so I got "tagged" by Cori. This is my first time to get tagged, and I have to say, I feel sort of cool right now. Here are the rules...



1. I have to post these rules before I give you the facts.

2. Each player starts with eight random facts/habits about themselves.

3. People who are tagged need to write a post on their own blog (about their eight things) and post these rules. (if you don’t have a blog, email me)

4. At the end of your blog, you need to choose eight people to get tagged and list their names.

5. Don’t forget to leave them a comment telling them they’re tagged, and to read your blog.



1. I am a big fan of "The Hills". There. I said it. Yes, I do realize it's a show about 20 year olds and that it airs on MTV. I also realize that I'm 31 and that admitting this will immediately remove me from being one of the Cool Kids, but I can't help myself.


2. I drink at least 3 cups of coffee every morning and prefer that I drink it out of my favorite red mug. I get a little sad when that mug is in the dishwasher and I have to use one of my back-ups.


3. My nickname growing up was "Merf". About half of my family still calls me that.


4. I have a very real (irrational) fear of all bugs, especially spiders. I don't like killing them because I don't want my hands or feet to be in direct contact with them. If I see one on the floor, I will usually put a huge plastic cup over it until Jason comes home and disposes of it. If I see one on the wall or ceiling, I try to spray it with something (hairspray, windex, whatever's handy).


5. My favorite dessert of all time is a cookie cake from the Cookie Company. The more white icing on it, the better.


6. When I'm running, I tap each finger on my left hand against my thumb and chant in my head "Every mile is a blessing. Every mile is a blessing. Every mile is a blessing..." I have no idea why I started doing this, but it keeps me focused (usually).

7. All of the food in my pantry is arranged by type--labels out. I recognize that this makes me sort of like Julia Robert's creepy husband in "Sleeping With the Enemy," but I can't help myself. I also make sure my towels are hanging the same length and that the stripes at the bottom are lined up.

8. I love to read. Once I start a new book, I'm pretty much out of commission until I've finished reading it. Some of my recent favorite books are: "My Sister's Keeper," "19 Minutes," "Kite Runner," and "A Thousand Splendid Suns."

OK, so that's my eight random facts. Now I get to "tag" some friends. Cortney, Staci, Summer, Kristi, Lisa, Ashley and Rachel--you're it!

Sham(e)less Bragging

I've had this blog for a few months now. I look at it multiple times a day. I post at least once a week. Over 2000 people have looked at it and a handful comment each week.

With all that viewing, by myself and my friends and family, how many of you noticed that the title of my blog was misspelled? Or, more to the point, how many of you corrected me?

None.

So for the past several months, I've been pouring my heart out to the Internet on a blog called "Shamless Bragging." Shamless Bragging.

Shameless Bragging, indeed.

New York State of Mind

I got back from New York City Monday night around 11:00 and have spent the last two days trying to get back in the groove of grocery shopping, laundry, and reading "If you give a moose a muffin" 500 times. That quiet French restaurant in the West Village seems a lifetime away.

If I were adding to my list of "Things You Can't Tell by Looking at Her," number 11 would be that I've always wanted to live in New York. The fantasy used to involve me as a principal dancer in the New York Ballet Company, but since I'm neither a) a ballerina or b) young enough, I've moved on from that. Now it involves me living in a penthouse on the Upper East Side, taking my girls to the Met by day and going to Broadway shows by night.

Since my mom turned the big 6-0 this year, my sister and I decided a girls trip was in order. We let my mom pick, and she chose New York. She'd never been before, so I wanted to make sure we saw everything. And we pretty much did.

Our hotel was in a great location on the Upper West Side. We were two blocks from Central Park and two blocks from the subway. If you look at a map of Manhattan, we seriously touched on every major area in the city--Central Park, Upper East Side, Upper West Side, West Village, Chelsea, Greenwich, SOHO, NOHO, Little Italy, Chinatown, Financial District. We probably walked 100 miles. Well, maybe not, but it felt like it.

I was having such a wonderful time that by Sunday, I was ready to pick out my penthouse. And then it started raining. The thing about rain in New York is that the city is all concrete and so the rain just begins puddling. Everywhere. As we were sloshing around the Financial District, making our way to Battery Park, I began having second thoughts about my New York dreams. My shorts were soaked, my new sandals were failing me as I was slipping and sliding all over the place in them, and the thought of riding the subway with a bunch of other wet people was mildly nauseating.

As were got off the subway and were walking back to our hotel, where a pair of dry sweat pants and coffee awaited, I decided I was only a fair-weather New York wannabe. The rainy days were a deal-breaker. And then I looked into a store window we were passing and saw the thing that made my New York dreams come alive again--rain boots! Rain boots in all kinds of crazy patterns and colors.

The dream lives on!

Things you can't tell by looking at her....

Since I don't have anything really blog-worthy to write about today (because, really, how many blogs can I write about swimming and going to the library?), I'm going to do something a little different. The following is a list of 10 things that you probably don't know about me. Anyone else want to play?

1. When my kids aren't in the car, I listen to Pearl Jam and Pink Floyd and Tom Petty--and other artists whose names aren't Bob & Larry (that's Veggie Tales, for the uninitiated).

2. If I could be rock star, I would be Gwen Stefani and I would totally rock the pink hair.

3. I hate to drive. I was the first one of my friends to turn 16 and the last to get my driver's license.

4. I wanted to be an astronaut when I grew up, but I really hate to fly, so that probably wouldn't have worked out anyway.

5. I can't stand to be barefoot, even in my own house. I am one of those people who actually use the footies at airport security. No bare feet. Ever.

6. If there are Oreos in the house, I will eat an entire row in one sitting. And feel no remorse.

7. I hate to run. And yet, I've committed myself to another half-marathon.

8. I am addicted to "So You Think You Can Dance?" And yes, I do.

9. I know all the words to "Ice, Ice, Baby".

10. I saw "Titanic" five times. In the Movie Theater. That probably qualifies me for some kind of loser award, but then again, so does making this list...

MRIrrational

****UPDATE****
My MRI results were great--no abnormalities. This means that I most likely had a migraine, even though it didn't get better with the shot the doctor gave me. I would like to take this time to publicly apologize for ever thinking that a migraine was "just a bad headache and can't you just take some advil and get over it already." It took out my peripherial vision, made my neck so stiff that I couldn't turn my head and basically knocked me out of commission for two days. Now that I know how bad my head is capable of hurting, the next time I get a little sinus headache, I'm going to be all "Ha! Is that all you've got?"
***********
So, I had an MRI today. This was my first experience with any kind of medical testing, but I watch a lot of Grey's Anatomy, so I sort of knew what to expect. What I did not expect, and is certainly never shown on GA, is that once you lie down on the table, they encase your head in a plastic cage. A plastic cage, people.
Now, I don't consider myself claustrophobic, although I much prefer wide, open spaces to small, cramped ones. And I think I'm a fairly well-adjusted, intelligent, logical person (I heard those snorts, peanut gallery). But once that plastic cage fit over my face, well, all that went out the window and irrationality took over. I had to force myself not to rip open the cage. I focused on my breathing. I went to my happy place.
Just as I was settling down, it got worse. The tech slid me under the giant circle (love my medical terminology?) and then went to leave the room. "Be very still," she said and then went out the door. I was staring up at the giant circle when I heard the door seal with a whoosh and then lock. WHAT??? They don't lock the face-caged patients in a room on Grey's Anatomy. And where was Patrick Dempsey talking me through this ordeal from his place in the sound room?
My survival instincts kicked in at this moment and I found myself plotting my escape. Could I wiggle my head out of this face cage? I definitely could wiggle out from under the giant circle. Surely the door unlocked from the inside too? Where those windows sealed or could they be opened? Could anyone hear me or was this room sound-proof? Was this all a big set-up and had the tech locked me in here so she could steal my jewelry from the locker I had left it in?
As the questions swirled in my head, I realized the actual test had begun. The tech told me that once the machine started, it sounded like a woodpecker was in there with you. Right. Only if by "woodpecker" she meant "jackhammer". If my head wasn't killing me before this stupid test, it would be by the time we finished.
I could feel the panic starting to rise up again, so I racked my brain trying to think of a song to sing to myself. Something soothing. Something rhythmic. The sound of the jackhammer was making it difficult to think. Something soft. Something slow. Maybe a hymn. Maybe a lullaby. Maybe kumbya?
Anything. Anything, that is, except what finally did pop into my head. I'll leave you with a bit of the chorus: "My humps, my humps, my lovely lady lumps."