Lucy in the sky with diamonds

So I have not been sporting my wedding ring much lately and my supermodel good looks have been suffering a bit as well.  Let me put any rumors or theories to rest.  My marriage is great.  Fantastic actually!  I can see why a few people have asked if everything is alright...I look like hell, dark circles under my eyes, a catatonic stare and, as of late, no wedding rings.  Again, let me reiterate; Chuck and I are fine, really we are, that being said, I believe someone is out to get me.  I have this nagging suspicion someone is slowly killing me. I can't prove this hunch, but, I think it is Emily.  Yes, my darling daughter may just be the cause of my demise.  When Chuck called home the other morning I told him I believed I may be living my last day here on Earth...that I was not long for this life.  Let me lay the case out against Emmie and you can decide for yourself...

Why do I believe Emily is slowly killing me?  Well, there is no one big thing but many, many little things that when combined together are not compatible with life.  Let me start at the bottom and work my way up.  Literally, I am starting at the bottom.  My feet. So I know it is typical a woman's foot may grow during pregnancy.  Mine did with Sara, my first child.  They went from a 6 to a 6 1/2.  Fine, I can deal with that.  When I was carrying Anna my feet stayed put at 6 1/2.  So I figured that would be it.  Nope, with Em they grew again!!  Now I have a 7- 7 1/2 depending on the shoe.  Now I really don't care about the actual number, but, I have tiny bird ankles...the only thing on me I can confidently describe as tiny!  So when I am forced to wear a size 7 1/2 shoe my feet not only look as if they are ensconced in a cement block, it kind of feels that way too.  It does something to my center of gravity and I am constantly tripping over my own feet.  It makes me wonder?  Was her plan to take me out in some "accidental" trip and fall?  Either way I am putting Jim Sokolove's number on speed dial.

Now moving up a bit to my belly.  Or the misshapen blob that holds the place of what used to be my belly.  I am not going to revisit the 'hole in my belly' fiasco, and I don't want to call anyone out on that but, Emily may have some ownership on that one.  So my stomach has settled into this terrible squared off formation.  I guess this  is what people refer to as the "new normal".  My new normal belly looks like a block sitting atop two normal looking legs.  Picture if you will, a lego person.  They have a normal head, a squared off torso and regular legs.  If push comes to shove and I ever find myself out of work I think I have a decent shot of making it as an extra in the next Lego's movie.  Everything is Awesome!!  I have so many scars on my belly and thanks to Emmie my stretch marks are EPIC!  The other day Anna asked why my belly looked like a raisin.  I gave the standard mom answer, "oh those are a badge of honor...blah, blah, blah...bullsh*t, bullsh*t, bullsh*t".  Then it hit me.  I have seen those Youtube videos where a hawk comes down and swoops up a baby...what if on some extremely rare occasion my belly were to see the light of day...which would never happen, because I have way too much respect for my fellow human beings to subject them to that..But what if?  Would an eagle, hawk or better yet, a vulture mistake my belly for a plump, ripe raisin and swoop me off for dinner?  Is that how she is going to "off" me?  Turn me into bird food?  God this baby is good...

My misshapen belly still looks pregnant and surprisingly only fits into maternity pants.  Fine, whatever.  Not really, because, even though it fits into maternity pants that doesn’t mean they look good on me.  My belly, though huge again, is a deflated version of its pregnant self…meaning it is not taut and does not look round and smooth in the high waisted slacks.  That presents a bit of a challenge…enter my maternity spanx.  Remember those from blog posts past?  I am forced to wear the spanx under my pants.  Those do not come without risks.  So, if Emily’s plan of turning me into bird food doesn’t work out there is always the chance I will die from severe internal organ compression due to the spanx, or if it is a particularly hot day, spontaneous human combustion is always on the table.

Since becoming pregnant with my dear, sweet Emmie girl I have been sprouting weird, random hairs.  Don't get me wrong, I am not becoming the bearded lady or anything but my tweezers are in high demand these days.  She did something to my hormones that have made my eyebrows try their hardest to become a uni-brow.  So her previous plans to get rid of me may have failed...so her thought is turn me into a Sasquatch and have Bo-Bo come a huntin'...or even better, I may be mistaken for the ever elusive chupacabra.  For her it would be a win-win...if I were to be captured she would be rid of me and rich beyond her wildest baby dreams.  I am sure there is a handsome bounty on a real, live chupacabra.  

So now for the reason I am not wearing my ring...I have been suffering from carpal tunnel.  This started when I was pregnant with Emily.  I just thought since I was so huge my girth must have been cutting something off somewhere.  My arms and hands would go numb when I would try to sleep.   I thought since I was still carrying around the extra weight that was still the issue.  It has become unbearable lately; Aleve and wrist splints aren’t cutting it anymore.  I ended up at my doctor’s the other day.  She is sending me for an EMG.  I am not sure what those letters stand for and I refuse to Google them because I am afraid the ‘E” might stand for electrical.  I would rather just go into the appointment ignorant, and, if they shock my hands into submission so be it…I will just deal with it then…why add to the stress and worry about it for the 3 weeks leading up to it?  If you do know what the “E” in EMG stands for, good for you, please keep it to yourself.  I would like to think the “E” stands for Easy, like Easy Muscle Guidance or something similarly blissful sounding.  My doctor did say there is a good possibility I will need surgery to correct this condition.  It is quick she said.  You will be in and out in a few hours she said.  Have you met me? I said.  If you know anything about my past medical history, you will know nothing is easy.  I told her I would end up inpatient for 4 months nursing a whopping case of MRSA and would eventually need bilateral, above the elbow amputations.  Of course for dramatic effect I am saying this with my arms bent at my elbows kind of flopping them around.  I ask Anna if she would still love me if I looked like this and she said, “Yeah, you won’t be able to hug me anymore but you could pat me on my head with your baby arms”…God I love that kid!  She truly is my mini-me!  So for the next 3 weeks I have to wear the braces as much as possible.  Translation; for a few hours each day after the kids go to sleep.  Why don’t I wear them?  1.  I look stupid wearing them in public.  Yes, I know that is not the strongest argument. 2.  They are really hot and make my arms sweaty and smelly.  Again, I am aware that is not the best reason either.  Finally, 3.  They make me have Lego hands.  You know what I mean?  4 of my fingers are permanently cupped into a circle with my thumb all by itself directly opposite them.  A Lego hand.  It is next to impossible to function with a Lego hand, I can’t prepare bottles for the baby, change her, wipe, cook, etc., etc.  So I now have Lego hands, add to that my Lego belly/body from a few paragraphs ago and I am steering clear of the new Lego Land store in town.  All it would take is one smile from Emily and I am sure she could convince her two older cousins, Declan & Aidan to pick me up and sit me on one of the Lego displays.  Have you seen how those things connect?  Unless someone picks me up I will have a circular, plastic nub up my ass and become a permanent fixture in their window display.  Well played Emily, well played!

Since having Emily my eyesight has gone down the sh*tter.  I am the not so proud owner of bifocals now.  I hate them and try as hard as possible to not wear them.  If I go to long without them my eyes start twitching.  An eye twitch can have several unintended consequences; if I am glancing at someone while this happens they may think I am coming on to them, not good for many reasons or, the twitch may cause such a distraction I walk into something, drive off the road or dig my own eye out in a fit of rage.  It is true when they say having a baby changes your life.  Emily has changed my life in ways I never expected…

Still not convinced she is trying to kill me?  Need a few more examples?  OK, remember back to my post about Emmie just stopping nursing?  Just quit.  One day she was done.  That had a whole host of repercussions in itself.  Little did I know her quitter attitude would end up with me in an MRI scanner.  I had several instances where my vision got a little funky.  A portion of my vision would get fuzzy and then a spot in the center made everything look as if I were looking through a kaleidoscope.  Now, I am not a doctor or a nurse but even I know that is just not right.  I end up getting an MRI and seeing 3 doctors for this.  Like I have time for this crap? Anyway, turns out they are ocular migraines.  Get this; caused by a shift in my hormones from no longer nursing, thanks Emily, and from a lack of sleep.  So to clarify for you, since they are caused by a lack of sleep there is absolutely nothing I can do to fix this except get good, quality sleep.  So basically I am screwed.  I guess I should just change my name to Lucy, you know in the sky with diamonds?  Cuz I am now the girl with the kaleidoscope eye.  Lack of sleep may be the manner of death she is angling for now.  Thoughts?

Exsanguination?   Perhaps.  I have proof, albeit circumstantial that Emily may be trying to have me bleed to death.  The other night I was making her a bottle at about 3 a.m.  Don’t judge!  I know she is too old for a middle of the night bottle, but I am in survival mode these days.  So I have the annoying wrist guards one, I am trying to hold Emily without dropping her and I am fixing the bottle.  Emily sees my vulnerability with my Lego hands and she slams the sharp, plastic formula container on my finger.  She would not let go.  I wanted to scream but I didn’t want to wake the other kids lest feel the wrath of Sara at 3 a.m.  So I am trying to be all sweet as my finger is starting to bleed and I am seriously getting a plan together for when my finger tip drops to the floor.  Do I put it on ice?  Or is it milk?  Should I call 911? Or just drive myself?  Fortunately she relented and a Band-Aid was enough to keep me alive.  The little vampire struck again the next day when she lifted up my shirt and dug her dagger finger into my belly button.  Drew blood and gave me a good scratch.  If you have never experienced a baby’s sharp nail inside your belly button, I am going to let you in on something; it hurts like a son of a bitch!!!  Fortunately I survived those assassination attempts.  But she is not giving up.  I swear she should hang out with Edward Snowden…she is that good.  She will look you straight in the eye all while plotting your death.  She knows that I am on to her and she has changed up her M.O.  Now, Emily has become even more devious.  She has begun hatching plans where it will look like I am responsible for my own undoing.  Case in point, the other night after everyone went to bed I was in the kitchen minding my own business, read between the lines; sneaking some ice cream.  The baby started to cry so I threw the ice cream in the freezer, bowl and spoon included.  It takes a good 10 minutes to get her back to sleep.  I put her down and go get my frosty treat.  I sit down on the couch, get the DVR teed up, pick up the spoon a la Bob Dole and one of his pens (believe it or not I was actually wearing the wrist splints)  and take a bite of the ice cream.  No word of a lie my effing tongue sticks to the metal spoon.  I sh*t you not when I say it was stuck there for a sold 3 minutes.  Now it hurt like a mutha trying to get it off but I couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of my life.  I thought about calling out to "Thuck" aka Chuck but then I would have to admit I was eating ice cream at midnight.  I just had to wait it out and let it melt.  I am not positive, but, I think I may have heard Emily giggling in her sleep.