AstroSLAMMED! And Lovin' Every Prophecy Revealed...

In a universe that becomes more and more isolated, I have looked above and beyond for inspiration. BK (Before Kids) I would be inspired by a movie, a book or any other outlet that required my undivided attention for hours at a time… Enter: Children. Exit: Free Time. Where's a girl to look for guidance from an unbiased third party? Enter: Astrology.com

Before you pigeon-hole me as a flake (I know my dad would), let's get a couple of things straight. YES, I read the disclaimer that reiterates this is for entertainment purposes and should not be taken literally. And while generic foreshadowing based on a person's birthdate seems too general for an "accurate reading," provide the date, EXACT time and place you were born and voila: a no-holds barred prediction straight from the astrologers mouth OR mathematical conclusions of the stars based on their latitude and longitude alignment at the exact time and location of your birth.

I thought it would be fun to post these and decipher their relativity as it relates to "My So Called Life." (LOVED that show; circa 1994. All 19 episodes of it.)

A.S.= AstroSlam M=Mary's Reflection A.S.: Your inability to form relationships with other people chips away at your soul.

M: You ain't whistlin' dixie...Another way to phrase it with a more positive spin: My constraints as a single mom make maintaining and forging new relationships close to impossible.

A.S.There has to be a better way to spend your energy!

M: Really? Tell me how, AstroSlam. Be my guide…Is this the part when you ask me to pay $9.99?

A.S: Waiting for others to contact you is dreadful, because your phone is ever silent and your inbox is always empty.

M: More like, your mobile phone plan is maxed out and at .40 cents a minute, are you worth the call? My inbox currently has over 1700 unopened e-mails, mostly from would-be friends who also call themselves "SPAM." The fools…

SO Ready for 2010

Even by my "Bad JuJu" standards, 2009 has been a pain in all our asses. I use the word "our" loosely, as I refer to the rectal cancer that joined our family officially in November of 2008, only to surgically part in early 2009. My dad's cancer has seemed like a group diagnosis as we live our lives so tightly entwined. Through the chemo, the surgeries, the questions my daughters keep asking, the prayers they repeat each night "Please make PoPo good," my two-year old says. My five-year-old is all about herself: "Please make PoPo better so he can play 'the claw' with me." While I am forever grateful for all the blessings in my life, I can't seem to shake this feeling of bah-humbiness, which is TERRIBLE to admit, but I'm not one to say what people usually like to hear. Not on my blog, ESPECIALLY. My one cathartic outlet. Hell, my only outlet. Looks like I need some new resolutions for 2010. Be A Better Mommy is always at the top of my list, but this year, as kindergarten foreshadows the coming years of studying and preparedness that always seemed to be put off to the last minute when I was in school, I pray that God helps me help Sara see that schedule and routine are good things. Who are we kidding? Should I just embrace my faults now and work with them the best to my ability? The funny thing is that up until I had children, I thought I was SO cool and if I do say so myself, the life of the party. Talk about a 180. I'm lucky to get out twice a year, and even then, those girls are constantly on my mind - health, well-being, education. That is most likely the single most fearful aspect of being a "true" single parent (a.k.a. no back-up) - I am 110 percent responsible for their livelihood and well-being...and the women they will become. It's an awesome responsibility that weighs on me from time to time. Not like "weighing" in my thoughts, but more like "weighing" on my chest, sending pain down my left arm and causing me to have shortness of breath. You can see why I haven't blogged much this month. Talk about Debbie Downer. I'm depressing my own self. But I attached two of my favorite pics from this summer. If you look closely, Josie is about to cry b/c her ice cream is almost finished. Did I mention she weighs almost as much as her 3 + years in age older sibling? There's a reason...

Why I Still Need My Father: Reason #136:

There are many things I have "taught" myself or have figured out how to do without a male counterpart by my side. Assembling toys...Using a Phillips screwdriver...Changing diapers...But when it comes to anything "plumbing or pipe-related" I am in the dark.

And like everything else in my life, bad timing seems to seek me out. The girls surgeries went as well as could be. Josie was herself within 30 minutes post-op, dutifully drinking her sippy cup and ready for "ickin-uggets." What can I say? The girl has a healthy appetite. Sara, on the other hand...

She went in all smiles and talking the nurses' ears off. She came back incoherent, crying, moaning and looking at me with panic in here eyes. Trustworthy mama told her there would be "no shots" - I was under the assumption laughing gas would be administered. In Sara's case, they had to give her an IV, which stayed on in post-op...Oy, the tears and drama it invoked. Not to mention the copy-cat antics Josie employed once she saw her idol/sister in bad condition...One word: DRAMA!

But at least they arrived home healthy and able to hear better:)

I am happy to say my dad finally returned home from what was intended to be a 7 day stay at MD Anderson, but ended up at 14 days. All I can say is I am blessed to have him home even though he is still not up to par, and probably won't be for quite some time. But he's home. Let the liver growing begin!!

I realized today I count on my dad for too many things. Things I can do on my own if pushed. Take for instance my current plumbing situation. All of a sudden, my washer stopped working mid-load. My kitchen sink emits a drizzle of water and both bathtubs spurted out what looks like poo-poo highway. What in God's name causes that color? I'm sure it is doing wonders for the air quality of my home. Maybe there is a rhyme and reason to my low immune system? All I know is that this plumbing issue is too much for me. I've attached a picture to engage your sympathy. I've got six loads of laundry to finish...and baths to take. I think God knew what he was doing when he made the home next to my parents available for rent. He also has quite the sense of humor. And while I could throw my hands up in there and cry crocodile tears, enjoying my own self-pity party...I shall march on; bold and confident in my steps. I shan't let poo-poo highway stop me and my girls from living our lives. Maybe we'll live at my parent's house the next few days...Clean, cozy and...clean.

Adenoids and Ear Tubes and Ice, Oh My!

I think this is the one time in the past three years I have wanted the girls' father at my side. As my mom sits at dad's bedside at MD Anderson, I have a 6:00 a.m. appointment at the hospital for both girls to have tubes and adenoids taken out. What's the deal with these tunes anyway? This will be their second set! Adenoids I understand. It's a family thing. I had a doctor tell me when I was 21 that I had the largest set of adenoids he'd ever seen. Gee, how…charming. Way to boost a girl's self confidence. Anywho. I have always had my mom next to my side when it came to anything medically-related to the girls. Sara's doctor told us she should be fine and ready to play by the afternoon when her first set of tubes were put in. Really? I should have called him the next day to report her three hours of vomiting following the surgery and she cried off and on for two days. Josie handled her first set better, but the ride home…by God, the ride home…a NIGHTMARE. They say after surgery your ears are very sensitive to sound. Our drive from the hospital to the house is 67 miles. And should there be ice on the roads less travelled; our driving time could stretch out considerably. They will both expect equal amounts of TLC…can I give that to them? We'll certainly see. I haven't had this level of anxiety since…since…I filed for divorce. I take that back. The highest level of anxiety I've experienced was taking Josie to daycare when she was 16 months-old. I didn't sleep the entire night and cried for three days straight. She did too. Okay, my blog reading friends. Pray for us. Please. Did I mention I wish I had a tranquilizer?