Shrinking Spaces

It may be because I didn't sleep long enough this morning. It may be because of this raging headache I've had for the last five days. Maybe it is because I haven't eaten anything. Perhaps it is because my children like to put their half eaten special green pancakes on a cabinet (where the dog can reach them and then try to wolf down) instead of putting it in the trash. I may just be feeling a little peeved because no one else in this house knows how to do laundry or clean. Whatever it is today, I am simply in a horrible mood.

I woke up FAR too early for a Sunday morning. I was exhausted after a very long and psychically demanding day at work yesterday. I wanted to crawl into my bed and at my personal discretion, either curl up tight into a tiny little ball of leave me the fuck alone or spread out wide, extending arms and legs, letting my sore muscles elongate and stretch out. Instead, I had crazy dreams and was a pile of sweat and the work days full face of makeup. At some point early this morning, I had my usual visitor(s). I woke up sandwiched between a barricade of pillows my husband put up and the constantly moving body of my nine year old. There was no place for my body to go. My arms were trapped, forced to either raise above my head stiffly, come down by the sides of my body in a stiff military style, or simply be removed to make room for the many bodies in my queen sized bed. My hands fell asleep, my elbows ached. The Whirling Dervish next to me was clearly working on her dance moves and the fact that my prone body was in her way was of no concern. The second child entered the room looking for a position in this Cuddle Factory. Upon seeing that the Inn was indeed too full, he left and I breathed an uneasy sigh of relief. I couldn't possible manipulate my body in a way that would except a fourth body into my increasingly shrinking bed. Did I mention the cats were in there as well? My husband (who was barricaded safely off from the Juggernaut next to me) got up and was quickly replaced with our overweight and extremely flatulent dog. Good sweet Jeebus, will this torture ever end? I decided to exit this Den of Iniquity and start my day, sore and tired and very much in need of more sleep.

Green pancakes were made in celebration of St. Patrick's Day. Bacon was consumed in celebration of it being Sunday and the fact we actually had time to oven bake said bacon. I wanted to sit on the couch and do my internet stuff (why yes I WILL pin 17gazillion pictures of furniture made of pallets thank you oh so very much!!). I wanted to drink eight cups of coffee while I think about getting on the treadmill. I wanted to nestle up in my favorite corner of the couch, ALONE, and think as to whether going to Ikea today was the best or quite possibly worst idea ever. I did none of this things because my sweet dear child saw me alone, completely untethered, on the couch and decided that this was really very much unacceptable. I was immediately set upon and her small body were attached to me in a way that  can only be compared to a parasite clinging for to its life onto its host's body. We clearly must be touching at all points of the body. Arms must be in twined and wiggling while connected is mandatory. Hands should slide in and out of this embrace and little fingernails that are in an almost desperate need to be cut shall scrape the tender inside of my upper arm. Sweet words of love will be exchanged and deep sighs of contentment will flow softly out of the babes mouth. She will take over the Pinterest page and read emails, ask questions about paying bills, and tell me to stop scrolling over the news so quickly because she thought she saw a dog (and she did see a dog and the dog was busy mauling a child so no, I will not stop scrolling so fast over that picture). She will ask to look at more animal pictures and become oh so disappointed when I go over to the Ikea website. The other child will now see the massive cuddle sesh and try to horn his way in between she and I, only to be quickly stopped by her now iron grip she has on my arm. I am looking flooring on the Ikea website I tell him and he shrinks away in both disgust and dismay. The girl gives a smirk of absolute victory and squeezes me tighter, all while digging her too long and must be cleaned finger nails into my triceps. I can take this no more! Please, I plead, PLEASE! For the love of all that is sacred and holy, please give me a little space. Please go snuggle on your father. Please let me have my own space, my own skin. I want to sit here and check out textiles, clutch my coffee, regret not washing my face before I passed out last night, plan out activities for what it turning out to be the longest day in history, and think about what to feed you people for dinner in peace. I need space. 

I know there will be a day, probably in the not too distant future, where my children will shrink away from my embrace and be disgusted at the mere thought of sitting, snuggling, on the couch for two plus hours while we watch Harry Potter. The oldest will be ten this summer and the younger one has already forbade me from kissing him in public (much too embarrassing!!). I know I will miss these moments as I gaze back longingly on them, adjusting the rose colored glasses so that the memories are moments of sheer perfection. I won't remember her dirty fingernails raking the sensitive skin so that it starts to tingle painfully. I won't remember the pimple sprouting from the clogged pore on my chin. The image of the dog choking down green pancakes will be replaced with the vision of the dog ignoring the food on the cabinet and behaving so well that I am smug with pride. My husband won't be remembered as sitting on the other end of the couch in his underwear (maybe I will replace him with Nathan Fillion. My Captain, oh my Captain!). My back, feet, arms, and wrists won't be sore but both strong and light.

Moments and memories are fleeting. Childhood is entirely too short. We age everyday we are here on this planet. Taking the time to embrace our loved ones, gaze on our children in wonder, and snuggle, yes snuggle, hard and furious is what makes life great. But also being able to drink my fucking coffee and look up shit on the internet alone is pretty fucking awesome too.

Blizzard Conditions

I have done nothing today. Well, close to nothing. I brought up the laundry, but have yet to fold it. I was planning on doing my roots, maybe throw in a few highlights, run on the treadmill. Clean a little.  You know, be productive.  In reality, I haven't even showered or even thought about brushing my teeth.

Well, Missy, what have you done today? I'll tell you what I did, you judgemental busybody. I baked cookies with the kids. We snuggled under the blankets and watched the snow fall. I sent off a long email to a friend in hopes to ease her anxiety over her possible breast reduction. I bundled up my son so he could get out into the snow for a few minutes this morning, sending him off with a kiss. I looked up some possible classes to further my career to provide a little more financial security for my family. I called my mother in law and planned for her to come over tomorrow to celebrate my neice's birthday (and maybe mine as well...).

I haven't done much today but I feel like I got a lot done. I can't wait to see what tomorrow brings.

     January globbin' 17th. I cannot believe that it is already half way through January.There has been so much that happened in the last few weeks, so much more to come in the next! Christmas came and went, quietly and uneventfully. New Years Eve, much of the same. I started back at yoga and dusted the off the old treadmill. I have races coming up and bikinis I want to wear. Getting into better shape was part of making 2013 an awesome year. I got sick last week and thought that maybe, just maybe, I was going to die. A bit dramatic, I know, but I felt like warmed over crap sandwiches. Migraine, inner ear infection, sinus infection, all took a hold of my head and assaulted it with the strength of 100 army's. I was miserable.
     Currently on the mend, I am looking forward to some momentous occasions. First, the one year (!!!!) anniversary of the new "Lady Friends" is quickly approaching and I was thinking of throwing myself a little party. I love parties, I love baking, I love celebrating ME, so why not combine the three and have a little Boobaversary Party. This is all in preparation for the bigger event...my 36th BIRTHDAY. I am planning on making 36 BRILLIANT. This is the year where I run races, improve myself both psychically and emotionally. Where I wean myself from the teet that is Facebook, only to replace it with this blog, my twitter (https://twitter.com/tmfvaughan), and hey, did you guys know about my tumblr (http://tmfvaughan.tumblr.com/)? I am planning on working HARD this year, both personally and professionally. I want to practice what I preach, spread kindness, but also stop letting people take advantage of my (mostly/sometimes) good nature. I want to spend time with the people I truly love, get the dog's weight down to a healthier number for her. Learn something new, make beautiful things, sing beautiful songs, spend quality time with the kids, and hopefully save for an amazing vacation.
     I hope to inspire you all. I hope to entertain and teach. I hope to bring the tiniest bit of beauty into the lives of each and every person around me. Have no fear, this is certainly not going to turn into some earthy crunchy spiritual crafty bullshit "I am Mommy, Hear Me Roar" blog (I can't stand that shit.) I'm not that girl. Big things are happening, and if we allow them to blossom, they can be beautiful. Sit tight, friends, the new year is only just beginning. xo

Don't Call It A Comeback!

I realize that it has been awhile since we last spoke. Since March, actually.  Have I been so busy I couldn't blog? Was I kidnapped? Was I on some glorious extended tropical vacation? Nope. I was dealing with a very old laptop that wasn't compatible with the new blogger format. Now that I have a newer (to me, anyway) and better laptop, we can start hanging out again. My last blog post was written 9 weeks after my breast reduction surgery. So let's pick up where we left off.

I have been VERY happy with the results of the surgery. Sleeping without a bra at night is pretty awesome. Running in ONE sports bra is like a dream come true. Practicing yoga wearing only a yoga top is pretty exciting. The only downside to the surgery is the scarring. (Before I go on I should tell you that I have VERY sensitive skin and I am ever so lucky to end up with keloid* scarring after any kind of trauma.) The scars, aesthetically, don't bother me. I am pretty comfortable with my body and seeing as I don't make a habit of leaving the house topless, the scarring was the least of my worries. Physically, it was a different story. I would wake in the morning and the scarring on the sides and where the drainage tubes were would be achy, feeling almost like a sore, strained muscle. Stretching out helped but waking up pain free would be preferable. I saw the good doctor for my 6 month check up and he asked about the scars. He told me about a laser trial he was conducting. By using lasers on the scars the appearance, thickness, and texture can be drastically improved. I signed on, armed with the knowledge that the lasers may or may not improve the scarring and being fine either way.

The surgery, from start to finish, took under an hour. It was performed in the doctor's office connected to MGH. The area that was going to be worked on was prepared by using a numbing gel. That part actually took the longest amount of time because the gel had to be applied about 20 minutes before the procedure was to begin. Aside from feeling cold, it didn't really feel like anything. The sensation you get from Novocain, or even some really strong pain meds, has a distinct feeling. With the gel I felt nothing. I was brought into another room and sat on a reclined chair. Two other doctors were in the room with my doctor. One held a fan while my doctor used the laser. The point of the fan is to lessen the pain and feeling of heat. In regards to pain, it almost like being tattooed but much more quickly. For me, the worst part was the smell. Burning flesh is not my favorite scent but both breasts were done in less than 5 minutes. It was tender and the seat belt rubbing against my chest was close to unbearable. I'm glad my husband came with me because I am not sure I could have driven and held the seat belt away at the same time.

When I got home, I avoided hugging the children and took 4 ibuprofen. It was sore, but not unbearable. I was told to keep it moist (ugh, I  HATE that word) so I applied bacitracine. The next day I was a chaperon for the third grade trip to Plimoth Rock. I was very uncomfortable the end of the day and my skin was all blown out from the bacitracine. I started using Egyptian Magic after that and my skin started to improve immediately.

The skin where the laser worked its magic had a comic book look to it. It had a ton of tiny little red dots and when I didn't keep up with the ointment it dried out. Today was my 6 week check up. The scarring has minimized and there isn't any more morning pain. The scars haven't disappeared completely and I am fine with that. The laser surgery certainly helped with the pain, the raised areas, the texture and color, and overall appearance.

And as of this morning, I am done with appointments. I am very pleased with my new breasts and the overall experience. My next blog will happen sooner, and have a lot less booby talk. xo

*for more information on keloid scars, check out this website http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmedhealth/PMH0001852/

Nine Weeks Later

This photo was taken the night before my breast reduction surgery. I was disproportionate and very very saggy. I did nurse two children with these monsters. I'm not 100% sure what my actual bra size was because I ha been wearing ill fitting and painful bras for years. I was somewhere between a DD and an E. Aside from the major back/neck/shoulder/head ache pain, dressing was a nightmare. Nothing fit properly. I was wearing L/XL shirts.

This is a photo of the new girls nine weeks post surgery. I am currently wearing a 36C bra (the same size I wore in FIFTH GRADE). My shirts are now S/M and I actually bought and can wear button down shirts. The constant pain I was in is gone. The scarring isn't too bad. you can't see the incisions that go along the bottom and into the cleavage area. The scars that are  most prevalent are on the side where he drainage tubes were and down the front of the breast (from nipple down the center to meet the other incisions running along the bottom) but in nine weeks they have already healed and are starting to fade.

I cannot say enough wonderful things about this surgery. Yes, it was extremely painful. Yes, the recovery was hard. Yes, I had a moment of "What the fuck did I do to myself!?" But yes, it has also improved my quality of life (and wardrobe!!). Yes, it has most definitely improved my self esteem because I was VERY self conscious of their size. And no, I am no longer in pain every day.

This is MAJOR surgery. If anyone out there is considering this surgery to improve their quality of life I say go for it. But make sure you have a good support system at home because you will need help, and a lot of it. And if you need the name of my doctor please don't hesitate in asking. xo

There's No Bad in This Romance

I never win. I buy scratch tickets. I never win. I enter raffles. I never win. Whenever it comes to winning by chance I, wait for it....never win. I'm okay with it.  The raffles I enter are almost always for a charity so in the grand scheme of things, when we donate to a cause we are passionate about, we are all winners. Yeah, you can totally barf at last sentence. Because people like winning stuff. People like getting stuff for "free." I am no exception to that sentiment. So now that we have established that I have crap luck with winning anything but I would really like to win something awesome, I just want to tell you that I won something. Something BIG. Something that involves charity and a great love of mine. LADY frickin GAGA.

Lady Gaga has established a foundation with her mother, Cynthia Germanotta, that takes a stand against bullying. As you may know, I feel strongly about bullying and gay rights. I'm not going to go off on a tangent about that right now but it is something, as a mother and basically decent human being, I really am passionate about. The foundation is called The Born This Way Foundation (www.bornthiswayfoundation.org) and they are formally launching today at Harvard University in lovely Cambridge Massachusetts. When I saw this posted I knew I had to be there. I planned on going with my fellow die hard  "Little Monsters" but unfortunately, if you wanted to go you had to enter a raffle and be one of the lucky FIVE people that were chosen randomly by computer. I entered and thought  no more of it because I never win. I was at work Monday, took a quick peek at Facebook and saw  that the names would be chosen and revealed later that day. I went about my day, doing hair, when I called my husband to check on the kids days at school. After a bit of chatter about the kids, he asked me what I had won. I was confused because I was at work all day and yes, never win. Long and confusing story short, in turns out I won. I won the Lady Gaga raffle. I was in shock and weepy. I went home after my work day, checked out all the details and then couldn't sleep that night.

I bought a new dress and broke out in hives. I am beyond excited. I am thrilled to be able to part of the launch of a foundation that I know will help a lot of young people who have no support system to help them through what could destroy them. Please check out the link I provided and see what you can do to help kids who may otherwise have no help at all. Be kind to each other, take care of the ones that need it and don't be afraid of being true to yourself. And when you get the chance, dance and bring a little glamour into your life. It's how Lady Gaga (and I) would do it.

Outside My GD Mind...

I can't workout for at least another three weeks. I haven't worked out in a month. My muscle tone is gone. My cardio vascular system is in deep hibernation. So I decided that now would be a great time to sign up for a 5K. And not just any old 5K, but a Zombie infested OBSTACLE course 5K. Smart, huh?

I love horror movies, I love zombies. I love being scared by the things that go bump in the night. I really love being social and having a fun time. So when I saw the commercial for the Zombie 5K during a break in The Walking Dead, I thought it would be an awesome time. Zombies, a group of people having fun. Beer! Problem with that is, I don't run. I don't like to run. And I am medically not allowed to run. So signing up for a 5K sounds like a great idea, right?

So now I have to figure out a way to start training without hurting myself. I think I will take advantage of this mild winter weather and start walking through the conservation land close by with the dog, because we all know that fat bitch needs to amp up her workout!

http://runforyourlives.com/