Suburban Bliss:: Birth Control Via The Written Word

Reuse: How To Make A Doorstop or Bookend Out Of A Stuffed Animal

When I was pregnant with Maddie I bought a Max The Bunny stuffed animal and pretty much every Rosemary Wells Max the Bunny book I could get my hands on. I was pretty much convinced Maddie was a boy when I was pregnant and we'd decided to name him Max.

I believed she was a boy mostly because I wanted a girl very badly and back then I had a belief that what I wanted would never happen.

When Maddie was born, well, we had a lot of Max stuff laying around.

About two years later, Max arrived and the Max the Bunny stuff became more meaningful again. Except, it seems like Max always knew we didn't buy the Max Bunny for him specifically, it was more for the idea of him that turned out to be Maddie.

So he never took a strong liking to the bunny I thought should be his comfort object.

I have a strong loathing of stuffed animals. They are promiscuous little things that sit around and multiply. Every year I have the kids do a one-for-one clear out of their stuffed animal baskets. They get one, they put one in the pile to give away.

Max the Bunny always ends up in the Give Away pile but somehow sneakily makes it back in the house. I can't get rid of Max the Bunny. He's not Max's comfort object but he's mine.

So I decided to put him to work. Max's door doesn't stay open, we called the landlord about it but he said to use Common Sense and stand in front of the door to keep it open. (Kidding. Didn't call him! But wanted to!)

I read an idea in Real Simple and decided to try it out. I transformed Max the Bunny from a good for nothing stuffed animal who lays around all day reproducing and collecting dust. Into a door stop (or a bookend) using dried beans, thread and a needle.

Here is Max The Bunny. (Pardon the light in these pictures. It's winter now, we get 2 hours of daylight a day.)

Here are the pinto beans. I bought a huge bag and I'm not sure what I was thinking.

I used a seam ripper to open up the back of Max. A seam ripper is the thing you use when you screw up your sewing project and undo the stitching you did wrong. Use it with plenty of shits and dammits. (If your kid really loved this stuffed animal, you may want to not have them in the room for the unstuffing.)

Here he is deflated. Poor Max.

Here he is full of beans.

I sewed him up using an invisible stitch I learned in knitting class.

May I get the door for you?

Now Max the bunny has a JOB. Which is more than we can say for the cats.

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Have a wonderful Thanksgiving everyone! I've been planning what I'd eat since my tonsillectomy. I can't wait to get started!

*I did my best, but the Velveeta Challenge winner was My Wooden Spoon who gave away prizes to get people to vote. I thought about voting for her myself hoping to win the Kitchenaid Appliance of my choice. Oh well. Congratulations to her!

Last Chance: Velveeta Casserole Challenge Voting ends Tomorrow!

Have you tried my Velveeta Challenge recipe? Remember, the one with the lame name that is pretty much an ingredient list. So creative.

Anyway, if you tried it and you liked it, please go vote for me and my big face over at Velveeta! Voting ends tomorrow, November 23.

Have a great weekend!

(PS: I ate a hamburger last night for dinner. With a crusty bun and my throat survived. Take that Tonsillectomy!)

10 Year Old Birthday Treats

Do you remember having a birthday in school? Your parent generally brought in a treat and you shared them with your classmates.

Usually we bring cupcakes to school to celebrate these events. However, this year, we've got a kid in Fifth Grade.

When you were in Fifth Grade, if you remember, you were the Kings and Queens of the school. You rule the most grades you will ever rule.

Middle school: you will only rise above 6th and 7th graders. High School: You'll be more than 9th, 10th, & 11th graders.

As a 5th grader you're outranking Kindergartners, 1st, 2nd, 3rd, and 4th graders. Yes!

I guess, this is the only sense I can make of all of this, if you're the King/Queen of the school you can't just have simple cupcakes to celebrate your big day. Lame.

So far, in the first three months of school we've had Individual Slurpees brought to school and another time Doughnuts. What? What happened to cupcakes. Simple sugar-filled cupcakes?

So I saw some chocolate bars at Amy Atlas's site and suggested the idea to Maddie.

Logan came up with this.

(Pardon the terrible lighting on the picture. You see winter has begun here which means there's about 2 hours of sunlight here now.)

Goofy Glasses as Ice Breaker

Yesterday I took a shower, put on clothes and makeup, drove to the doctor, bought myself a Taco Bell dinner, ate it all (without crying), cleaned out a junk drawer and finally pulled down the party decorations from Maddie's big sleepover bash 2 weeks ago.

This was a banner day. Right now, I'm thinking about what to eat for lunch and the possibilities are so overwhelming and awesome I can barely stand it.

I think I may have turned the corner on this stupid thing and might be back to reasonably normal (though my throat won't be totally healed until next week). I am beyond happy about this. I even get to go on a little overnight trip with my friends (my real life friends who are always so busy with their 5 billion children they never get to do anything fun with me ever) on Saturday night.

God I am relieved. (Knocking on wood).

But this post isn't about that. This post is about being a good guest at a party. Advice about parties from the woman who gave birth to my husband that still holds true: "The host did all the work to give you this great party, your job as a guest is to make sure it's fun." (Other parenting advice she gave that is still true: "Nothing lasts forever." True, but somethings like to pop back in for a visit. Like constipation!)

Ryan and Kristen's wedding was held on the same night other friends were having a Halloween party and since we wanted to make it to both we took a few mustaches with us (you don't have a drawer of fake mustaches in your house? Lame.) and some nerdy glasses to wear in case we had time to make it to the Halloween bash.

We brought them into the (incredibly lovely) wedding reception and guess what? Making people wear fake glasses is an excellent ice breaker.

See?

Another side note, on the way to the reception we drove through a little part of Bloomfield Hills I hadn't been to before. On the drive we were discussing cutting our budget, maybe downsizing the house and being a one car family for a year. As we talked we passed by all these huge lakefront estates and suddenly it felt like we'd already downsized. Jesus, time for some perspective.

Turns out my body isn't just Not-Bionic it's super lame too.

Maybe you had a tonsillectomy last week and you're hell bent on recovering, only your body is all, "Fuck Off, I'm Tired." Maybe you've given up eating because everything, everything, hurts going down. Even the easiest things, like broth and noodles that I forced myself to eat last week because I read that swallowing will help the recovery process, hurt and you eat them with your head turned in different directions trying to make the pain stay to one side or something.

But this is week two you think to yourself, week two is when you should be able to get up in the morning and put lunches into lunch boxes and empty trash cans and put away dishes. Turns out, I can't. Turns out a shower is like running a marathon and my God that is depressing in week two. In week one it was 'expected'. In week two it feels like a personal failure. It's not a failure for my mind though, my mind is the only part of me that's ready to be normal again. It's my stupid body who's all, "What? I'm 35. I'm too old. You don't take good enough care for me. How about a multivitamin or some calcium every once in a while. Enjoy this process dummy!"

Hey, here's a great idea, decide to invite 20-ish people over to eat some food exactly 7 days after your surgery when even taking a shower feels like a marathon event. Around 2pm as I laid on the ground in the family room trying to will myself to wash a couple of dishes I realized that was not my best move. At 10pm last night I thought there was no way, no possible way I would still feel like hell today.

My mind, my mind is ready to eat food and talk to people and enjoy life that is outside of my bedroom. I thought I could force my body into shape, I assumed my body wanted the same things my mind does. But it turns out my body is a huge pain in the ass and would rather suck.

I had the bright idea to invite people over to taste test my Velveeta recipe because voting ends very soon (11/23) and I thought it would be a pleasant way to remind you all to vote for me and my delicious dish. But my body said, "No, let's sleep and lay in bed and feel like shit for a little while longer instead!"

Oh Boy!

The weekend before surgery we packed in every social event we could come up with because we knew I wouldn't be feeling well for a period of two weeks to three years (according to some estimates). So that Friday night we hosted Maddie's first big sleepover party where 12 ten-year-old girls took over our family room and screamed a lot from 6pm until 11:30am the next morning.

Then Saturday we had 16 adults over for cards and though they didn't scream they did drink significantly more than the guests from the night before. On Sunday we went to a one year old's birthday party and later to my friend Laura's house to brainstorm for her new business (exciting stuff!).

We were tired after that weekend but after 7 full days of being in my house without any social activities, it turns out I really like social activities a lot. Too bad my body is all lame and is ruining my life.

I see the doctor tomorrow and Logan's all excited. He's hoping to hear "good news". Don't tell him, but there will be no good news. The doctor will look at my (really gross looking) throat and he'll say, "Yep. That's what it's supposed to do." And I'll tell him about how I'm so tired and he'll say, "Yep. You're no spring chicken!" I'll tell him how I'm going to go totally crazy if I can't take a shower and function in a normal way very soon and he'll say, "Have a nice day."

And then I'll come home and eat another ice chip and take another stupid nap.

Stupid body.

My Body Is Not Bionic.

I should have bought myself a silk robe with a matching silk eye mask for this period of recovery I'm going through. What with Logan bringing me food and medication on a tray all last week I could have really lived the part of Joan Crawford. The refried beans my friend Laura brought over and the slurpees my friend Jodi brought me along with the milkshake my friend Leslie brought me would have been a little incongruous with the glamorous convalescing but still.

Here's what I think about my tonsillectomy. I think you all had me (rightfully) scared shitless about the recovery. If you're here because you googled "Tonsillectomy How Bad Can It Be?" I think you should go and read the comments on this post. If you're still willing to get them removed, that means they've overstayed their welcome and should come out.

Words like "The worst pain...." "Months of recovery...." "Lost 20 pounds...." came up over and over and I still couldn't face another month of waking up and fearing the strep was back. Or that I was going to be down for the count yet again with a terrible sore throat.

I would not call this the worst pain I've ever been in. Then again my delivery and recovery from Madison's birth was particularly hellish. So hellish that even my c-section with Max was a walk in a field of daisies. I took the pain medication after that for just 3 days and was fine (with small annoying things like not being able to get out of bed without rolling off the side and then standing up).

I will say this probably the most annoying pain I've been in.

When I came home after the event and didn't feel like writhing and moaning, all before I'd even taken any pain medication, I thought it would only get better from there. It didn't really get worse, as some predicted it would. (If you don't count the first night where I laid on the bathroom floor alternately throwing up, sweating and praying for death) (This is a reaction I have to anesthesia...I did the same thing after my c-section). Aside from this, it never got worse. It just remained the same.

Usually when I get one of my many sore throats, the first day is intolerable, the second and third day feels like someone's punched me in the throat and by the fourth day I'm like new.

This surgery left me feeling punched in the throat, so I thought I'd feel punched in the throat for a day or two and then be getting slowly better. Instead I feel like I'm still being punched in the throat even six days later and I'm more than tired of it.

I'm also a little disappointed in myself. You see, I consider myself a Champion Sleeper, a Professional if you will. I thought if I just stayed in bed and didn't push myself too hard and slept 12-18 hours a day, my body would show it's Bionic Capabilities and fix me.

My body is not bionic. I have to accept that. But maybe if I just take one more nap I'll wake up and be better.

Other Places: The Mighty Edition

Over at Mighty Junior we've been pulling together gift guides for every age. So far we have One Year Olds, Two Year Olds and we recently came up with some great gifts for Three Year Olds.

We've also started our Holiday Guides with Kids' Gifts Under $30.

Finally, at Mighty Haus, we closed out the Thanksgiving At Your Haus and it's got me all excited to host a big Thanksgiving bash. If only all our friends would ditch their "family" obligations

Other Places: Target Christmas Wrapped

I am writing a few posts for Target's Christmas Wrapped guide this season.

I wrote about our Holiday Progressive last year after we hosted, but for this post I worked out more of the details on setting a great big table on the cheap. You can read it here.

I just volunteered to host this year's progressive again. I can't understand how we'd live in this awesome house and not invite as many over. Watch for next year's post about hosting a big holiday party in 1100 square feet. (That's a hint for those of you playing along at home.)

The Reign Of Terror Is Over. Sort Of.

After a very long weekend of fitting in everything we might want to do in the next 2 weeks to 3 years (the various amounts of recovery time I've been told I'll need), I went to the doctor at 5:50am to end the reign of terror my tonsils have held me in for my entire life.

It's funny when people tell me they're afraid of Barack Obama as a president. I've had something far worse lingering in the back of my throat for my entire life. A tonsil that swells and gets infected at an alarming rate making it next to impossible to live a normal life. Nothing could be worse. Just ask my family who has endured all these strep infections with me.

Yesterday I got home and thought to myself, "Wow, this is nothing compared to the last glass swallowing strep infection I had!"

And there was the internet to burst my bubble, "Oh no no no.....it will get worse on day 2,3 and 4. That's when you'll want to hang yourself in a fit of desperation. Also, locusts."

I did feel good almost the entire day yesterday. I sucked on ice cubes, worked a little, napped, took my pain medication.

Then at 5pm all hell broke loose and there was throwing up and other kinds of unimaginable pain. My tonsils just weren't ready to give it up. So I laid on the bathroom floor in a pool of sweat and tried to will myself to lose conciousness. Throwing up just after your throat's been sliced up, well, it's not on the list of pleasant ways to spend an evening.

Or, if you're wondering, not a nice way to spend the entire night.

But now it's day time and I'm up and typing this and have only a mild stomach ache. So for now, Tonsils, I am beating you. And I will continue to beat you. Because you suck.

Does anyone have any good dvd recommendations? Because this is going to be a long three year recovery.

I'm still more awkward than a camera in the ass.

Yesterday Logan had to go in for his first Colon cancer screening. His dad had colon cancer in his late forties, so it's important for him to get checked out. Logan remembers going to the hospital before his prom (one of the 5 he went to....oh me? I went to exactly zero proms), so his dad could see him and his brother. I can't imagine what life was like for his family then. Actually I can and the thought of going through that with Logan is unbearable.

So camera in the ass it is!

My mom had breast cancer, so the nice thing for me is I can just walk around feeling myself up 24/7 to watch for lumps (with the occasional mammogram) and I'm thoroughly screened. Logan's screening is a little less pleasant.

I've never seen Logan in a hospital bed. I've taken up all the hospital time in this family, Logan got all the proms and I get all the hospitals. But seeing him there with an oxygen mask on his face, I was not prepared for the feeling like I couldn't breathe. Even though I knew he was just a sleeping off the anesthesia and this was a no big deal type of procedure. Well no big deal if you like having cameras in your bottom.

After a few minutes he started to wake up and I'm used to a Logan who can get very disoriented while he's sleeping. I'm sure I've told this story before and I'm sure Logan's LOVED hearing it every time I tell it.

One night I woke up and Logan was on his hands and knees in the bed, looking around frantically. I said, "Honey, what are you doing?" (As one might do in that sort of situation.) And he looked at me, shocked and said, "Oh my God, what are you doing up here?"

He'd been dreaming he was crawling along the edge of a building.

Coming out of sedation was a lot less entertaining than that. He kept saying, "Should I have air? Is air normal?"

He was referring to the air in his body from the test and needing to, as the common man would say, fart. Suddenly Logan was shy about farting.

The next half an hour was spent trying to get the "Air" out of his body. I tried not to laugh, but you guys, the entire recovery room was a chorus of people trying to get the "Air" out of their bodies. I suddenly thought being the recovery nurse in the Colo-Rectal department would be insanely hilarious.

He had one polyp they found and the doctor saw the frantic collecting of everything I know about Polyps in my brain and assured me it was very small, "Like a piece of skin dressed up for Halloween as a polyp! A Junior Polyp!"

It hadn't occurred to me that they'd find anything but a really nice looking colon, as far as they go. The word Polyp, even Junior Polyp was not part of my plan for this. I'm certain it's nothing, really even if it's precancerous after the biopsy it only means Logan has to go back every three years instead of five.

Which, according to Logan is almost worse than just having the entire colon removed.

At breakfast after the procedure we were talking about how awful it was. How he felt really weird about everything. I can imagine it's pretty unpleasant to have a camera in a place generally marked for Exit Only. But then I reminded him about Maddie's birth.

How her heart rate kept dropping and they were trying to find a new position for me so the heart rate would go back to normal. I reminded him of the time I ended up leaning into a bean bag chair on my hospital bed, on all fours....in a hospital gown...with my ass hanging out for the 20 or so doctors and nurses who had gathered in case the situation became an emergency.

At least he was asleep when he was in that position. I got to live it.

It happened!

This week has flown past me. Monday I spent the day in Chicago walking around endlessly. I have no skill at catching cabs. I think I'm afraid of being ignored so I only just barely raise my hand to get the cab's attention. Cabbies don't pick up on subtlety.

Then I took the 6pm train back to Detroit and it was a train straight through hell. I sat next to a man who must have had a closed head injury. He wouldn't stop talking (about what snacks he bought at the drugstore) and he didn't want to part with his suitcase so he kept it on the floor between us leaving us with no leg room.

There were about 8 kids on this train. Four of them boarded the train and their mother made an announcement, "My Kids Have Been On A Train For The Last Four Days. I Apologize Now!"

Then they sat around screaming. For the first 4 hours of the trip.

I can imagine how awful it was for everyone involved. I can imagine it because I gnawed my tongue off while trying to have empathy for them.

Once those kids got quiet, I realized another kid at the front of the train was losing his shit. He continued to lose his shit for the rest of the trip. He was so over tired, he was literally falling down as he tried to run around the train. His parents didn't speak english but I really wanted to tell them to buy Benadryl next time they take a train with an 18 month old that doesn't end until 1:30 in the morning.

Verdict: Never taking the train again.

On the bright side I had a pleasant day in Chicago having lunch with Velveeta's people and then sitting in Millenium Park reading a magazine and listening to the Obama rally sound checks.

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In past elections I've been surrounded by people who think about things a lot like I do. So that when things like a constitutional amendment banning gay marriage passed in Michigan a few years back I was completely knocked on my ass. I literally had no idea it would pass, I didn't believe it could.

During this election all of my friends had McCain signs in their yards (except one) and I was more than aware people didn't believe the same things I do. I watched videos and read the Twitter Election feed and every day felt like I was going to throw up.

I was worried the fear campaign John McCain and Sarah Palin were running was working. I worried our country's veiled racism would ruin Barack Obama's ability to win the presidency.

When it happened Tuesday I was at a bar with Obama campaign volunteers. We counted down to the closing of the later polls and just like that he did it. And though it was shocking as I stood there watching everyone celebrate, it also felt like it couldn't have gone any other way.

I love this country. I believe we all love this country. I think we all have the same end goal, at least when dealing with non-social issues. We want to be safe, we want to prosper, we want our country to be great.

This is going to be okay.

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Chicago Weekend. Still political.

On Halloween night we had people over for pizza and then the dads took everyone trick or treating. The nice thing about Halloween is it's another chance for the neighbors to be outside before the weather gets too cold and unbearable.

As I've mentioned there are a lot of McCain signs in my neighborhood. From what I understand these people fell down a set of stairs, hit their heads and woke up with a McCain sign in their front yard. That's what I understand anyway. It's not really their fault.

A neighbor walked by and said, "What are you not voting for Obama anymore? Where's your sign?"

Well well well. Last week my landlord drove by to spy on the house, you know to make sure we're still taking better care of it than he has in the last 12 years he's owned it.

Ahem.

He emailed "Folks, I don't allow signs in the yard. Please remove it."

Which is really ridiculous since he refuses to give us a new lease to sign so there is no legal obligation to adhere to. Also it's total crap. Also he's an unpleasant person (who probably reads this site and is really angry right now). But I understand when your candidate is flopping around all over trying to win the presidency you get a little sensitive about the other guy. Also Logan is not really into "Fighting The Man", he's into living in a comfortable house with great neighbors. He's trying not to incite the landlord. Which, as we can see is something I'm not particularly into.

The funny thing is even the McCain supporters in the neighborhood were flabbergasted and went ahead and put the Obama sign (I'd stuck in the neighbor's yard, right on the property line) back in front of our house for us. I had no control over it.

It's a rogue sign!

But then, because that was a lot to ask the neighbors, to support my really unattractive love of an Obama presidency, I woke up the next morning to find three signs in my yard. Two McCain and one Obama. I laughed, you know, it's funny.

And now I kind of can't believe I've got a McCain sign in the yard. I feel a little like I fell down the stairs and work up with a McCain sign in my yard.

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I'm in Chicago this weekend spending time with Susan and Chris. I'm lucky.

Last night Danielle invited us to her house to celebrate her birthday (pictures coming). It was pretty fun meeting her friends and saying, "I'm frum tha INNERNET."

Nice.

Luckily she has other friends from the Innernet.

If you have to be somewhere the weekend before an anxiety producing election, Chicago, Obama Land, is probably the place to be.

Not only because everyone seems to be on the same Obama Ship with you, but at least three people told me personal Obama stories...like, "Oh yeah, he works out at my gym." And "I saw him grocery shopping all the time before." "I've seen him at the park with his kids!"

Being here, it's hard to believe what I'd like to happen on Tuesday isn't going to happen.