June 29th, 2011 by Kateastrophe

My uterus looks like it loves me, but in reality? It hates me. Here is a picture of today’s saline filled ultrasound — about which I’ll write more details over on the other blog when I get a chance because really? Who doesn’t love stories of saline pumped where the sun don’t shine? — and it’s confirmed that I have a bicornuate or “heart shaped” uterus. It’s not messing around. It’s more like a two year old’s attempt at a heart. See?  I’ve outlined it in pink for your viewing pleasure.

As a reference here is what a normal uterus should look like.  Flat across the top.  Triangle shaped, if you will.

…one of these things is not like the other…

This news is good and not good. Not good is that I have weird shaped uterus which is most likely killing my babies. Good is that we know what’s causing it. Not good is that it could be a muscle in the middle which is non-repairable. Good is that it could be an internal septum which we can remove easily.

I go in for an MRI later this week and we’ll know more. I never thought I’d be praying for a septum in my uterus, (or saying uterus eight thousand times a day) but welcome to my life. It’s a heart shaped party up in here.

June 18th, 2011 by Kateastrophe

I haven’t written a truly embarrassing story in a LOOOONG time and thought it was high time I added some humor around here.  Lucky for you, this might be one of the best yet.  I think my anti-depressants are also causing some sort of weird don’t give a **** reaction because truly, I should never tell a soul this story, let alone the whole internet.  Lucky for everyone but my spouse I was born without a filter so…onward!  Oh, and fair warning guys, this involves underwear and bathroom talk.  I guess fair warning girls as well.  YOU HAVE ALL BEEN WARNED.

As does any cheese loving woman, I own a few pairs of Spanx.  (Trust me, this is not a paid advertisement for Spanx.  In fact they might pay me to never mention their products again if they ever see this story)  Most of them are the kind that keep me squozen (new word!) from knee to boob.  I get to look two sizes smaller AND have the ability to (slowly and painfully) pull those babies off to the bathroom without having to use that…hole.  Those of you with Spanx know what I’m talking about.  The frightening hole that makes you go “uh, whaaa?” and run away screaming at the thought.  This piece of information becomes extraordinarily relevant shortly.

A couple of months ago on Rue La La (or a similar website, I don’t remember)  they had a super sale on Spanx and one was a set that looked awesome.  It was like a knee length body suit of fat sucking awesomeness.  I tried to find a picture but it appears they have discontinued this particular style - probably for reasons I’m about to expound on (I LIED!  I found it.  You can see it here if you’re super curious).  Anyway,  the price was SUPER cheap as far as Spanx go so I immediately said “purchase please” and wham, bam, Spanx in the mail.

The Sunday after my amazing new fat sucker arrived I was getting ready for church.  I realized I had the ability to wear some of my “slimmer” clothes and I pulled out a svelte little black number that I love to wear when I’ve got the sucker-inners on.   It’s kind of a complicated dress with a high neck and a patent leather belt.  I always need help getting in and out of it but I don’t care because I always look pretty snazzy, if I do say so myself  - as long as I have Spanx, that is.  I slipped on the Spanx and had Matt help me into the dress.  I slipped on my red patent leather heels and addressed myself in the mirror.  Sleek black dress, no jiggly bits, sexy shoes…check!  I was looking good.  Off to church we went.About two hours into our three hour church (yes, we go to church for three hours and someday we’ll have a chat about how awesome that is) I had the inklings of the need to pee.  It was at that point in time I realized I’d gotten myself into a bad situation, thanks to the Spanx (ha!  A ryhme!).  As you can gather from the picture up there, there isn’t a waist band which comes down to allow the bathroom thing to happen.  That baby is like a wetsuit - it covers just about as much and is probably harder to get out of.  Especially when you’re wearing a sexy black dress OVER it.  So, I tried to hold it.

HAHAHAHAHA.  You’ll remember that a few months ago I was pregnant.  Any of you who have been pregnant know how rolling on the floor hilarious it is that I attempted to HOLD IT while I was PREGNANT.   I lasted about five minutes and booked it for the bathroom.

Then the stare down with the toilet began.   It was like a wild west showdown.  I was at the end of the handicapped stall staring that mofo down trying to figure out how I was going to attempt this.  Did I just completely undress in the stall at church??  Well, that wasn’t going to work unless I enlisted the help of someone else.  Remember the difficulty of the dress?  And the fact that I was at church?  Hmmm.  Did I attempt to use “the hole?”  The frightening “how does this work and hwy is it there” hole?  My brain is moving quickly because the need to pee is increasing and sooner rather than later, I was going to run out of options and pee my Spanx.   So, I made a quick decision.  I was going to use “the hole.”

So, I yanked up my dress and then attempted to…um…open…”the hole” with one hand which, given the tightness of the Spanx wasn’t the easiest of things to do.  It kept…shutting itself.  So  I decided this was a two hand job and I maneuvered myself into a position that allowed the use of both hands to hold open the trap door.  Right on time, too because I was seriously about to wet myself.  In retrospect, that might have been a better choice because what happened next is…just…wow.

Guys, somehow by holding that **** trap door open I maneuvered my…stuff…into a weird position and then when I started to pee time all of a sudden stood still. Like a slow motion movie I watched an arch of pee shoot straight out and ONTO THE FLOOR.  OF THE PUBLIC CHURCH BATHROOM. I DIDN’T EVEN KNOW THAT WAS POSSIBLE WITH GIRL PARTS!!!  But of course it was, because it was me, trying to use the bathroom in full body Spanx.

The first thing I did was figure out a way to, um, aim downward so I stopped peeing on the floor.  The second thing I did was laugh until I cried.  On the toilet.  In church.  Holding open “the hole.”  I’m sure the four year old in the stall next to me thought somebody’s Mom went crazy in the bathroom.  I could not stop laughing.  Finally, when I caught my breath and was able to release my grip on “the hole” I realized I had another problem.  I couldn’t just leave the puddle on the floor!  I mean, I guess I could have and pointed the finger at one of the recently potty-trained young-uns we Mormons are so fond of having so many of, but that just seemed cruel.  So,  the fourth thing I did was attempt to mop it up with some paper towels.  Try doing THAT without getting pee on your hands!  And try not slipping in it in your red patent leather heels.  (Sad note, I accomplished neither).

Then, realizing a simple paper toweling wasn’t really what the floor needed, I got the GENIUS idea to utilize the anti-bacterial hand stuff (which I’m not supposed to use on my hands but do anyway) and another paper towel to sanitize the floor.  YOU ARE WELCOME for the delicious warm vanilla sugar alcohol smell in the handicapped stall of the ladies restroom, people who go to church with me.  Not so welcome?  My hands.  Especially when I realized I was out of anti-bacterial cleanser and the dispenser was out of soap.

Best.  Day.  At.  Church.  Ever.

June 4th, 2011 by Kateastrophe

Guys, I work, like, a lot.

I’ve always had jobs that I was good at.  Sometimes TOO good at.  I could get my eight hours worth of work done in a few and either move on to other projects or whatever else during the day.  Boy oh boy are those days OVER.  Last week my shortest day was 10.5 hours.  This week is looking to be about the same.  Thank goodness my company provides catered lunch for $2 or I swear I would either starve to death or survive on the vending machine frozen burritos our call center employees insist on having.  I eat at my desk most days or run to Paradise Bakery for a sandwich and run back.  Some days I don’t see a glimpse of outside other than while I’m on the way to or from work.

Despite this I LOVE my job.  Lovelovelove.  I love the people, love the challenge, love the strategy, love it all.  Even the hours.  Sure, I totally screw stuff up.   I feel like I’m still learning and there are hard days and things I wish I could change.  But still, job love?  I has it.

Downside?  No time to do much else but work.  It’s been a fight to get to the gym, especially because I don’t do so well at the early morning workouts.  Sleep usually trumps all else.  Matt and I have been trying to set aside time to spend together and that’s usually my focus when I get home.  I’ve got my voice lessons on pause for the moment both for personal reasons and limited time.  I finally convinced Matt it was time to hire some cleaning help.  Our neighbor across the street cleans for cheap and I feel great helping out a friend/neighbor a bit.  They have seven kids and I’m sure lots of bills.  I have her come once a month and I swear, it’s almost the best day of the month.  She does and AWESOME job and is remarkably fast.  Coming home to a sparkly clean house is awesome and it frees up most of our Saturdays now that the deep cleaning is getting done and we can just do the maintenance work. Totally worth the money to me.  Anyone in my area who needs a good cleaning lady, I’ve got your (wo)man.

I’m working on finding other things to help me have more time to do the things I want to or should be doing.  I wish I could hire someone to sleep for me so I’d have eight extra hours a day.  I also wish I didn’t love sleep so much and was one of those people who only required four or five hours.  Oh what I could do with that extra time!!

So, any of you busy people out there have time saving suggestions for me?  I’m open to all things except illegal drugs - even though there are times those sound good too.  Oy vey.