A galling situation

My gallbladder hates me.

It suprised me greatly to find this out, because I can honestly say that I had no feelings whatsoever about my gallbladder. In fact, until a week and a half ago, I would have been hardpressed to state with the utmost confidence that I actually had a gallbladder. I do not know what I did to inspire such hatred from an internal organ, but the fact remains that the hatred is there, and it is fierce.

How do I know this? Last week I had occasional, off-and-on abdomen pains. Nothing too serious, but enough to make me sit up and take notice. Then, perhaps tired of its thankless and unnoticeable job, my gallbladder completely went on strike. Of course, I didn't know this at the time. All I knew was that there was incredible, ceaseless pain that made me think that going to the emergency room (because, of course, it was late in the evening) was a good idea.

Upon coming to that conclusion, however, a slight problem arose. I was home with the kids, unable to drive due to pain, Sabrina was not yet old enough to drive for me, and David was off in a tube, with no phone, getting an MRI. But get to the emergency room I did, eventually. There they shot me up with super duper drugs that got me higher than a kite. After the second shot (because the first one basically did nothing), I was giggling like mad over the size of the needle on the shot they gave me. (I am sure it was a foot long.) The ER doctor asked me how I was feeling now, and I replied that I thought the pain was still there, but I just didn't care anymore. And that I loved him. Luckily, David was there to hear follow-up instructions.

The last week has been a blur of doctor's appointments, ultrasounds, and blood work. Diagnosis? My gallbladder hates me.

Here is a picture my surgeon drew for me:

I think we can all agree this is some excellent drawing. Hopefully, he's just as good at surgery.

Sabrina wanted to know what was wrong, so I pulled out this handy-dandy picture and showed her. Because she is smarter than me, and has also just recently finished a full year of biology, she was very familiar with the organs shown.

Sabrina: What are all those little balls in the gallbladder?

Me: Those are gallstones.

S: What are they doing there?

Me: My gallbladder produced them.

S: What's their purpose?

Me: Their only purpose is to torment and torture.

S: Well, they've done their job then. Why does your gallbladder have a frilly bonnet?

Me: That is to show it is very inflamed.

S: I want to congratulate you.

Me: What for?

S: That is an impressive amount of gallstones and inflammation. Obviously, if you do something, you commit wholeheartedly. Go big or go home, I always say.

Me: Thank you. I think.

So, because my gallbladder hates me and is trying to kill me, proactive measures have to be taken. Tomorrow, I am going under the knife to remove that sucker. Hopefully, when it's all done, my innards will look more like this:

Go, Team Surgery!

Where are my pants?

Sabrina: What are you wearing???

Rose: Pajama pants.

S: Those are MY pajama pants.

R: No, they're not.

S: Yes, they are.

R: No, they're not. They've been in my drawer for more than a year.

S: That doesn't matter. They're mine.

R: No, they're not.

S: I've been wondering where they were.

R: They've been in my drawer, because they're mine.

S: No, I remember distinctly what happened. Mom bought me some pajama pants at Old Navy. They were slightly too big, so she went back and got me the next size down. I've always had two pairs of pants that look exactly the same.

R: Well, they are mine. But even so, you shouldn't miss these because you already have a pair that is EXACTLY THE SAME.

S: Give them back. They're mine.

R: No, they are not. Why do you need two of the same thing anyway?

S: Because I like them, AND THEY ARE MINE!

R: No.

S: GIVE THEM BACK!!!

R: No. I am not taking these pants off and giving them to you.

S: Take them off, wash them, and give them back.

R: No.

Me: Can we please talk about something else? I am really tired of hearing about the pants.

Grandma: I heard you girls saw a movie yesterday. Did you like it?

S: Mom and I did. Rose didn't watch it, because she doesn't like any of the same things that I do.

Calvin: She likes the same pants.

Life Skills

Friend: Do you know what your children are doing downstairs?

Me: No. Why?

F: Just thought you should check, because I found both Sabrina and Calvin doing something with doorknobs.

Me: Sabrina, what are you guys doing?

Sabrina: Calvin and I are trying to pick a lock.

Me: Why?

S: Because I think it's a life skill that would be useful to know.

C: Yeah, you never know when it might come in handy.

David: Do you know what you're doing?

S: Not really.

D: You might want to be careful. Instead of picking the lock, you more likely will end up breaking the doorknob.

S: How do you know?

D: Let's just say personal experience.

C: You don't need to worry about that with me, Dad. I think I picked a tool that is too big. I haven't even been able to get it in the lock yet.

Truth in Advertising

Sabrina: Wow.

Me: What?

S: I just saw an advertisement for "The Fault in Our Stars" movie.

Me: Oh, do you want to go see it?

S: No. The casting looks horrible. They obviously got both Augustus and Hazel Grace all wrong. But that's not the issue here. They had a commercial for it on TV just now, and it said it was going to be the "feel good movie of the year."

Me: No way.

S: What were they thinking? I've read the book, and it's amazing. But let me tell you, people will not be walking out of that theater "feeling good."

Helpful 2

Sabrina: What happens if I go out with this boy and I have nothing to say! So awkward! I just might die.

Me: Knowing you, I somehow doubt that will happen.

S: I could be tongue-tied and then he'd never want to see me again, and he'll tell all his friends how weird I am.

Calvin: Sabrina, I've been thinking about this, and I believe you need to have some questions ready to bring out for when there are lulls in conversation. Luckily for you, I have some questions prepared.

S: Cool! What are they?

C: Here they are. I think they'll be great conversation starters. Let me know if you need more.

    1. Do you know how to make a bow and arrow?

    2. Do you know how to make a slingshot?

    3. Have you ever been to prison?

    4. If so, what are the people like there?

Helpful

Sabrina: Guess what? I asked that boy out and he said --

Rose: No?

S: As a matter of fact he said yes.

R: Really? I guess he must like snacks or romantic play dates.

S: Shut up. I didn't use either of those terms. But I forgot to ask him for his cell phone. What should I say?

R: Here's an idea. How about, "Hey, what's your phone number?"

S: I can't do that!

R: Why on earth not?

S: Well, for one thing, that sounds too simple. Besides, what if he forgot I asked him out? Then he'd think I was weird for asking for his number, and I'd be really embarrassed.

R: That's not going to happen.

S: But what if it does?

R: Okay, how about this? Excuse me, could we possibly exchange numbers for our cellular devices so that we may communicate about coordinating any future romantic get-togethers?

S: Seriously?

R: You said my first suggestion was too simple, so I was just trying to sound like you.

That was easy.

Sabrina: I think I want to ask this boy out. Is that okay?

Me: I guess. What were you thinking of?

S: Maybe asking him to go out for a snack or something.

Rose: A snack? What are you, a preschooler?

S: How about a romantic play date? Would that make you feel any better, Rose?

R: Oh, my gosh, you are killing me. I won't ever be able to show my face around school again.

S: That was just too easy.

Pick a kid, any kid.

Me: I swear one our children will not make it to adulthood. At this point, I don't care which one it is.

Sabrina: I would suggest Calvin. In my favor, I am the most capable, I'm able to take care of myself, and I am only the second highest maintenance kid here.

David: And she's persuasive to boot.

Guest Post by Sabrina

Giraffey

When I was a little girl, I got a stuffed giraffe. It was at an old friend’s birthday party at the Build-A-Bear that isn’t there anymore. I think only three of the ten or so kids there actually made bears. My sister got a poodle. I don’t recall the actual party; I remember very few specific events from my young life. Even so, I do remember how much I loved that giraffe.

Since, as a child, I was the proud possessor of boundless creativity, I named it Giraffey. It never had a gender, because no matter how I tried to stick to one, it would inevitably change within a week, at most. I deliberated over that issue many a time, but eventually gave up and left it. Giraffey was simply Giraffey, and was a boy or girl whenever I decided it should be.

I loved it so much that I even made up a rhyme to sing with it. It went: “Giraffey, Giraffey, Green and yellow Giraffey.”For a six or seven year old, it was genius. However, there was a problem, as I soon realized after coming up with this breakthrough jingle. Giraffey was not green and yellow. As I was indeed creatively blessed, I did some quick thinking and was able to answer the questioning looks promptly. “Green and yellow are Giraffey’s favorite colors,” I told them. I was safe. And even if they weren’t Giraffey’s favorite colors, who would know?

Ever since I was little, I have been what my mother calls “a thrower”; that is, someone who doesn’t get sentimental about material things. She is one of these people as well. We don’t save birthday cards, or feel the need to hold on to insignificant objects that the more sentimental person would feel inclined to. We don’t want to keep the un-listened-to records and cassette tapes that my dad insists on hanging on to, or the three bins of stuffed animals that my sister once proudly owned. So, you would think that my giving away Giraffey during one of our semi-annual deep clean-outs wouldn’t be a big deal. You would be wrong.

I don’t regret getting rid of a lot of things. Out of everything I’ve thrown out or given away, there are maybe three at most that I regret. Giraffey is one of them. As soon as I realized that it was too late, that I was never going to see the beloved stuffed animal again or sing its song, I regretted it. I had thought that letting go would be easy; I was older now and didn’t need all fourteen or so stuffed animals that I had. How sadly mistaken I was. I still miss Giraffey sometimes, and the little rhyme that went along with it still gets stuck in my head, an echo of my mistake: “Giraffey, Giraffey, Green and yellow Giraffey… Giraffey, Giraffey, Green and yellow Giraffey.” I still think that I let go of my precious giraffe too soon; but then, we always forget to really appreciate what we have until we suddenly don’t have it anymore.      

Best pickup line ever?

Sabrina has to do a partner project in English. These types of projects have never been easy for her, starting with pairing up in the first place. Attending a new school has just exacerbated the problem. This morning she was standing around looking lost in the library, figuring she would just wait again until the teacher paired her up with another lost soul or an absent person, when one of the boys in her class walked up to her.

Boy: You will be my partner.

Sabrina: Um, okay. Why?

Boy: Because you are smarter than at least two-thirds of the class, and the other third wouldn't be my partner.

Who's the smart one now?

Shortly after we moved to Half Moon Bay, I went with the girls to enroll them in the local high school. We met with their counselor. She looked at their transcripts and the classes they were enrolled in at their previous school and started to put together schedules for them. One obstacle appeared when we asked  for advanced English and advanced math for both the girls, and AP World History for Sabrina. The counselor was extremely reluctant to enroll them in these classes. Her reasoning was that we were coming in after the start of the year, these advanced classes had required a fairly heavy summer workload, and therefore they would be behind.

Sabrina started to get quite upset and insisted that she needed to be in those classes. The counselor hesitated and then said, "Well, if you agree to do all the summer work to get caught up, I will enroll you in your requested classes." Sabrina immediately said yes, of course she would do that. Sign her up now, please. Rose, on the other hand, was silent. When the counselor turned to her and inquired, "Will you agree to do the summer work also?" Rose replied, "No, I will not. Enroll me in regular classes, please." The counselor looked at me, and I shrugged and told her to do as Rose asked. If Rose did not want to do the extra work, I was not going to fight her.

The girls started on a Thursday. Sabrina had a horrific first weekend. Despite her new school starting a week later than her old school, she was astonished to find that her new AP World History class was moving much faster. She was already three chapters behind. In addition, her English teacher told her she needed to read a 300-page book from the summer assignments. Sabrina spent every waking hour trying to catch up. She got very little sleep and became slightly hysterical. Meanwhile, Rose played games with Calvin, slept in, and watched TV.

On Monday, Rose's counselor called her into her office. After administering a couple of tests, Rose's English teacher had called the counselor and said, "Don't be ridiculous. Move this girl up. She belongs in Advanced English." So the counselor looked at Rose and said, "If you do not have to do any of the summer or catch-up work, would you consider moving to Advanced English?" Rose replied, "Of course."

At dinner, in an off-hand manner, Rose mentioned they switched her classes that day. I asked why, and she told me what had happened. I looked over at Sabrina, whose eyes were still bloodshot from reading a 300-page book and doing six history assignments in 48 hours, and hoped the mess to clean up wouldn't be too extensive after her head exploded.

She's charming and she knows it.

Me: How is school going? Are you getting settled in? Do you like your teachers?

Sabrina: I like most of my classes. The class I like least is Art.

Me: Really? That surprises me.

Sabrina: Yeah. I don't think the teacher likes me much.

Me: I'd be shocked if that were actually true.

Sabrina: There have been some teachers over the years that haven't liked me, Mom.

Rose: Here's a list of teachers over the years that haven't liked me. (brief silence) I'm done.

Two out of three.

The other day we heard a story about a family who had three sons, two of whom were gay.

Me: That's statistically unlikely, don't you think?

David: Unlikely, but not that improbable. Look at our family.We have three kids, and two of them are smart.

Sabrina: (laughs) Wait. Which one . . . ?

Calvin: Sorry, Sabrina.

A different kind of cool.

Me: Sabrina, you're such a cool person.

Sabrina: That's not surprising considering who I come from.

David: (laughing) I think that's the first time either one of us has ever been described that way. Cool doesn't exactly run in our family.

Sabrina: No, other people just have the wrong standard of cool.

Ouch

Sabrina: Mom, you should go on The Voice. You're as good as anyone there.

Me: Aw, that's so sweet of you to say.

S: Yeah, and don't worry, because it's not like American Idol. They totally take old people.

Honesty may not always be the best policy

Me: Sabrina, you have such gorgeous long eyelashes.

Sabrina: So do you.

Me: No, I don't. See?

S: Oh, wow, um, they're fine. Not as long as mine, but they're really . . .

Me: Shut up. I see the look of pity on your face.

S: Well, at least you match. You don't have eyebrows either.

Me: Nice.

S: Look on the bright side. At least you won't get an old lady's beard.

Who says schooling stops during the summer?

Sabrina: What should I do, Rose?

Rose: This, this, or this.

S: No, no, and no. I don't like those options.

R: (very calmly) Fine, I'm leaving.

S: But I need your opinions and help.

R: (also calmly) No, you don't. And I'm not happy. (leaves the room)

(a short while later)

S: Rose! Come help me mash the cookie dough. I don't like getting my hands dirty.

R: Awesome! Kill the butter! Kill the butter!

S: You're not doing it right.

R: Yes, I am.

S: No, you're not. Do it this way.

R: Trust me. I've mashed many, many doughs in my life. I'm an expert.

S: No, you're doing it wrong.

R: Do it yourself then. (and walks away)

S: Come back! I don't want to do it! I hate how messy it is!

R: Guess you should have thought of that before you started criticizing me.

In the dark

When you live near a city, you never really experience true dark. Except for the few times they have gone camping with their dad, my kids have lived with light. More often than not, when I check on them before I go to bed, they are asleep in their rooms with their lights on. So this week in Wyoming has been a learning experience for them. We are in the middle of nowhere, and when the lights go off, it is dark. You can't see your hand in front of your face. We gave the kids flashlights to keep beside their beds in case they had to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night. Sabrina decided very shortly after the lights went out that she needed to go, but she was having trouble finding her flashlight.

Sabrina: Dad! Dad! Help me! I can't find my flashlight! What should I do?

David: It's right on your bedside table. Just pick it up.

S: But I can't find it. I can't see! How am I supposed to find it when I can't see?

D: You need to use your other senses.

Calvin: Taste?

Me: Yeah, you'll need to lick your way to the bathroom.

S: That is not funny, guys.

(a little bit later)

C: Dad, is it true that when you can't see, your other senses get sharper?

D: Yes, that is true.

Rose: Is that why I can smell someone's fart?

Ah, the joys of communal living.

Dirt revisited

Sabrina: Mom, Calvin won't put down his sunshade. Make him put it down. He's obstructing my view of dirt.

Calvin: No, you've got miles of dirt on your own side.

See how much fun we're having?

We're on a family vacation, driving through the desert in Nevada. The girls and I are gritting our teeth and doing the best we can to endure. David and Calvin are having a grand old time. David gave our son an atlas of the 50 states and showed him the route. Calvin instantly fell in love with this concept and has been keeping us informed with regular updates as to where we are and how far we have to go. When not poring over the map, he's been looking out the window and peppering David with questions.

Calvin: Look, Dad! Did you see that?

(a few minutes later)

C: What about that, Dad? Did you see that?

(a few minutes later)

C: Did you see that? Did you? Did you?

Sabrina: It's dirt, Calvin. Just dirt. It's ALL dirt.

David: Hey, guys, we're over halfway there!

S: We're almost there?

D: No, I said we're over halfway there. We still have five hours to go.

S: So. Much. Dirt.