Life is looking a little crazy right now.

Let me start this by saying... I thought we all agreed that 2025 was going to be a better time. Like... just in general and away from all the tomfuckery that has managed to invade our lives the last... however long it's been. Are we all stuck in some crazy fever dream right now?

I digress. Because if not... well... it's been a long couple of weeks.

Dev and me have been in Florida for over a week now. And while that may sound like vacation fun for most, let me assure you, if this is your idea of a vacation, neither of us EVER want to go on vacation with any of you. NEVER EVER.

A few weeks ago, Dev's daddy had to be rushed to the ER. After a week in the hospital, he was diagnosed with pancreatitis, told he had a pocket of fluid above his pancreas/pushing on the back wall of his stomach, and needed his gallbladder removed. He was sent home to "manage the inflammation" until his doctor returned from vacation. 

Cut to the Friday before last...I get a call at work in the afternoon from Dev telling me his daddy's friend is taking him back to the ER because he's in so much pain. So I immediately call my boss, pack everything I need to work remote, and headed to the house. We loaded up the car and our babies and to Florida we came. It takes us approximately thirteen hours to make it to the part of Florida we need to be. Luckily... this isn't exactly our first f*cking rodeo.

Eleven hours after making it to the ER waiting room, my FIL was finally admitted... and he's been there ever since. I'm not usually one to complain about healthcare. I've worked it... I've lived it... I understand it... I KNOW things can only move so fast and you can only do so much.

But when I tell you this has to be the most frustrating hospital experience of my entire life, I'm not exaggerating. I dealt with a lot of crazy shit when it came to Momma's health... A LOT. But this? Come the f*ck on. He was in the hospital from Friday afternoon (admitted Saturday morning) and they literally did no testing on him until Wednesday. Which is when they did the CT scan... and determined the fluid pocket hadn't gotten better under their "supervision"... it had actually gotten worse... and there were two.

You know what that means? That means his Thursday gallbladder removal was cancelled, and a Friday endoscopy with drainage was scheduled. Should be fine, right? Cool... it happened... they drained, put a stint, had a look around. Cool. Informed us they had to go in and do it again on Monday. Ok... but they don't know if or when they'll be taking his gallbladder. Why? Because they want to see if the inflammation can be managed. You mean the inflammation that had increased by six because this wasn't handled three weeks ago? And then what?

Don't know. We've had three doctors... doctors... not nurses, techs, administrators, case managers, no... DOCTORS tell us THREE different things and while they all start the conversation with "I've conferred with my team of fellow doctors" not a damn one of them seems to have EVER talked with the other two. They're confused, unfocused, and quite frankly, I don't understand how my FIL thinks they're so fantastic when literally the ball has been dropped at every opportunity presented.

He gets a new tray each time there's a meal because they can't agree on which diet he should be on... he was told to tell them as soon as as he feels pressure in his spine because they need to manage his pain for the inflammation... and then proceed to get lost in route to their medcart. And before people get butthurt, YES, I know nursing is a stressful and strenuous job and things happen out of your control. Multiple patients, one of you. I get it and I empathize. You can't drop everything for one person and you're not at their beck and call. I get it. However, when your patient has strict instructions and you leave their room and say "I'll grab that and be right back" and then I have to track you down over two hours later because at this point he's in fetal position pain, that's a f*cking problem. I shouldn't have to find a completely different nurse, ask where she is, get the response "I have no clue where she is" and tell them to find her before I throw a temper tantrum level hissy fit that would make my ancestors raise up and be proud of my level of petty before they assist him and do what the orders say.

COME ON. 

Unless you are working the triage unit of the ER... why the f*ck are you not on your own floor taking care of the patients assigned to you?

I didn't pull this shit out of my hat... they're your rules and guidelines and you're not even f*cking following them? Over two hours later? If your time management skills are that shit, perhaps you should find a new career. This one? Not for you. And I say that holding alot of love for nurses in my heart... this isn't an attack on all nursing. This is calling out one situation that repeated itself more than once and they still can't manage to get a handle on it. 

The entire thing is frustrating because they seem as confused and unsure as the rest of us. Hey guys, it's literally y'alls thing to have a plan. That's the whole reason he came here. For the third time. With pancreatitis. That still hasn't been handled. Because it keeps getting put off. And no one can seem to agree on a f*cking game plan.

Fun fact: this is the third time he's been admitted to this exact hospital for pancreatitis (the first time was March 2020).

Fun times. Hopefully, we'll find out something after the second endoscopy/drainage tomorrow, but with this team of doctors and staff? I'm not holding my f*cking breath. Mostly because I don't trust a damn one of them to know how to get me breathing again once I pass out.

My FIL? Pissed... irritable... angry... all the adjectives that encompass being rude and shit to my husband. And yeah, I understand he's frustrated and at his wit's end and he wants to go home, but f*ck, Dev is literally the ONLY person trying to help and he's getting a f*cking flogging for it. My BIL? Fantastic at being completely unhelpful and self-victimization. So... that's fun. Everybody else? Has an opinion or excuse but no justified reasoning.

And my husband? Bless his sweet, big, amazing heart. He's trying his best and doing all he can. We've been to the hospital everyday to visit, get updates, and cleaned the house inside and out. Cleared land, cut trees, kept the pups on their schedule. And all he wants is to do all he can to help get his dad better... he's not asking for praise or anything else... but not making his life more difficult by fighting, arguing and treating him like shit would be much appreciated. He didn't put anybody in this situation, and he 's doing all he can to help, and somehow he's the bad guy?

Yeah... I'm f*cking over that. My husband has a heart condition and I can't in good conscience let his mental and physical health be determined by shitheads who want to act like children. So... something has to give. Or, I'm going to have to make it give.

Thinking maybe we'll just load up our babies and disappear into the mountains never to be seen or heard from again by any person we've ever come into contact with throughout life.

TBD.

It feels hollow and cold... there's just a massive piece missing.💔

The last four days have been... debilitating. I can think of no other word that encompasses the feeling of this. It's sad and I feel cold... down to my bones and throughout my entire body. There's a hollow feeling in my chest and three out of four times when I open my mouth to speak... tears.

We had to say goodbye to our baby, Xur-Xur. 

My big, strong, cuddly grizzly bear got too sick too fast and there was nothing we could do. Literally... nothing. We tried... I begged... BEGGED the vet to give me any other option to where my baby could have a good life and we could keep him. But... there was nothing.

It all started with that hip... when he originally hurt it we made him take it easy and we iced. It seemed to be getting better... slowly but surely... and then he hurt it again. So... we started over with the rest and the ice and again... it started doing better. But then, last week it reverted and kept getting worse instead of better. So... Thursday we loaded our baby up and took him to the doctor.

We had no clue what they were going to tell us. We assumed he would be loaded up on meds... have to have physical therapy... maybe even surgery. Our "worst case scenario" was an amputation or something, because again, we had no clue what was going on. But, he was in constant pain and getting around was terrible for him... so... doctor.

But the news we got... what the fuck? Our baby wasn't just hurt. Our baby had advanced and aggressive osteosarcoma that had already metastasized to his lungs. Our vet pulled up the xrays and my baby was lit up like a fucking Christmas tree. I went through all the options... everything... trying to find some route that let Xur stay with us, but make sure he could have a good quality of life as well. 

And then that vet had to essentially look me in my eyes and tell me there was absolutely nothing we could do for him that wouldn't make him feel a thousand times worse than he already did. Once we came to that fork in the road and we knew there was no "saving" or "improving" we asked how long we would have with him. And if shit wasn't bad enough, he again had to look me in the eyes and tell me they could give me enough meds to keep him "comfy" so we could "have the weekend" but extending it past that would be... well... not recommended.

With that devastating news... we loaded our baby in the car and brought him home and spent Thursday night through Monday morning together. We did everything we possibly could to make him comfy, shower him with affection and love, and just try to make him see how much we love him. He ate all the foods he usually doesn't get (and was a big fan of bacon), got as many cuddles as we could give (you know, the kind we could give because we had to be careful not to hurt him). He had visitors and even his Gma flew up from Florida on Sunday evening so he could spend some time with her.

By the time we were supposed to take him in on Monday, it was very clear to us why they said not to extend any longer. In a matter of three days our baby had lost even more weight (he had already lost a ridiculous amount in a small amount of time), his leg was six times the size it should have been, he could hardly move, his breathing was labored at best and he was never comfortable. Essentially, he was hurting but holding on for us.

But even with all that going on and knowing what we knew... having to make that decision is fucking haunting. No, I didn't want my baby to be hurt or sick... I wanted him to be the free-loving wild card he's always been and I wanted to cuddle him and kiss him and keep him forever. Once that option was no longer on the table... the anger, sadness, disbelief, and emptiness started rearing it's ugly head.

There are so many questions that we'll never have answers to. The fact that we are very much NOT ok with the circumstances doesn't change them. And I know everybody whose ever loved has to deal with this, it's a fact of life, but knowing that doesn't help get you through it when it's your turn.

I want my baby back. I want my grizzly bear to give me cuddles and keep me warm. I want him to get up with me first thing in the morning and wander the house and check in on things while I'm getting ready. I want to be outside with him in the dark to feel safe and I want about fourteen million more excessive kisses. I want to lay my head on his chest and burrow in.

I am not ok. My husband is not ok. And our other two babies are not ok. Xur-Xur not being with us has left a massive hole and none of us know how to fill it. I know we'll move forward together... we love each other... we're a family... but I would be lying if I said our family didn't feel a little lost and broken right now. He was the glue and the comfort and the warmth and how do you account for that when it's no longer there?

We know we did the right thing. Deep down in our bones, we know. We would never want Xur in pain and only wanted amazing things for him. He was the best pieces of both me and Dev that we had to offer the world. But knowing it was right, and coming to terms with it are completely different. We didn't want this... we wanted our baby. I still want my baby and honestly, I kind of want to crawl into a ball and cry and scream until somebody gives me my way. Except, they can't. Because no one or nothing can fix this. And that fucking sucks.

I don't know what happens from here. I don't know what our family is supposed to do or what the dynamic is or how any of this is going to work. We're all just so very lost and so fucking sad.

We all love our Xur-Xur something fierce, we'll miss him always and there will never be another pup that is like him. He was unique and had so much damn love to give. I miss him... I'll continue to miss him... our family will always love and miss him.

He may no longer be here next to us, but he's very much still here. In our minds... in our hearts. In every decision I have to make where love is involved, that's his sweet spot.

Rest easy, my big ole grizzly bear. Thank you so very much for letting me be your mama... it was the greatest gift and something I'll never be able to repay you for. You keep watching out for us and we'll continue to carry you with us until the day we come to join you. I love you so much, Bubs.

💕Keeping this little cutie on the lowdown is NOT for the faint of heart.💕

Things in the Glisson household were hectic this past weekend... and while it feels like we should be in the clear now... well... we ain't out of the woods yet.

Steve had her spay surgery on Friday and she came through it like a fuckin champ. And when I say it like that... I mean it. She has literally been a beast through this ordeal... resilient little shit. But... beast in a good way. For the most part. She's still her adorable little self but the problem is... she's also still her little rambunctious self. 

They gave us strict orders when we picked her up on Friday to make her get as much rest as possible and not to let her do anything too strenuous for the next two weeks. ESPECIALLY the first week. No jumping, stretching, running. Nothing.

HA.....Ha.....ha.....HAHAHAHAHAHA.....HA.....HA.....Ha.....

I don't mean to be sarcastic or anything... BUT... trying to get this little hellcat to be calm and not run around like a damned ole headless chicken is NOT exactly an easy task. Even if I was ten years younger I'm pretty sure I couldn't keep up with this little shithead... this has got to be what all those moms have been talking about. 

Daughters are NOT for the fuckin weak, dude.

She's been so turned up that Dev called the vet on Saturday and had to make a special run up there before they closed (ah... weekend hours) to get her something to calm her down. We gave her one pill... and I know it sounds insane... BUT... that shit had the opposite effect and jacked her to Jesus. She was running circles like a fuckin crackhead and it took FOREVER to get her to calm back down. Needless to say... she hasn't had any more of that one.

Nope. Just strictly pain meds (that she gets once day... first thing in the morning... and tomorrow is her last day)... the occasional benadryl... and hoping for the best. 

She's doing good as far as I can tell. We're trying to be as gentle as possible with her... carrying her outside and lifting her down from the bed and steps. We're trying to keep her as calm as possible... lowkey activities and lots of snuggles. Even her big brothers have been more gentle and caring towards her... and I hope it stays that way.

Basically, the only person who won't acknowledge that she had surgery recently is her. Dev likes to say she takes after her mother like that. He meant it as a joke... but also not really because accurate. I love that our pups are our legit kids and take on characteristics of me and my husband. It's a win/win for me and so damn hilarious.

And that's where we are. Trying to keep it lowkey and calm at the Glisson household. Easier said than done... but our babygirl is in recovery so we're doing our best. If you need us... well... we'll be at the house. (Or work... but mostly the house).

Hanging out, trying to make it in this economy, and snuggling puppies.

Is it just me... or... do we ALL feel more broke than usual right now? Don't get me wrong, I make decent money... more money than what my childhood could have ever dreamed of... nothing extravagant but enough to live comfortably. Everything should be great and I should be rolling in the dollars and taking extended weekend vacations... but like... shit be expensive.

And it's not just me... I've heard ALOT of people mention it recently. Seems like as soon as we get on a budget and get shit aligned... something's price increases... or something expensive breaks... or a random cost increase that no one saw coming or warned you about takes effect.

I don't want to ramble on about this... I just wanted to mention it. 

Mostly for the comfort of others... because they're new poor... but I'm old poor so if they need some pointers... I got you.

Aside from that... Dev's been sick for the last week. It doesn't seem to be the flu... it's all upper respiratory. He feels like shit and has a terrible cough but I think the new Tylenol we got seems to be helping. I hope so... poor guy is a trooper but I know he's been feeling like he was hit by a truck.

Steve officially had her last set of shots yesterday... and she's scheduled to be spayed... tomorrow. We didn't think she was gonna have surgery this soon... but the vet recommended we do it before her first heat cycle and they had an opening to get her in and offered it so here we are. 

We always planned on getting her spayed, we just didn't know how old she had to be and we wanted to be as safe as possible. Hence, the vet advice. The whole reason we're not letting her have a litter of pups is because if Steve has a litter of twelve... well... now me and Dev have fifteen dogs and we HAVE to keep them all. Because neither of us have self control. So... appointment for Steve. 

I'm nervous about it (she's my baby and it's surgery!) but we're hoping she can recover throughout the weekend and she'll feel better soon. Her brothers are definitely gonna be all up on her wanting to know what in the hell is happening. She's so damn rambunctious all the time, when she's in recovery they'll probably think it's apocalypse time.

Since Steve will be in recovery we'll be having a chill weekend at the house. It'll just be us and our babies... and I can't wait! Things are very different without my brother living with us... more on that some other time... but the strangest is the fact we're still trying to get used to not being on anyone else's schedule. It's only us in the house doing what we want at all times.

And if I don't want to leave the comfort of my critter hole... I don't!

Before that can happen though... there's preparing to be done (we should probably do all weekend errands tonight so we can just stay home with the Steve)... there's still one more work day to get through... Steve has her surgery... and then we'll be in recovery all weekend. And by we I do mean yes WE because the Glisson's do EVERYTHING together.

All for one... and one for all.

The ramblings of a cold little gremlin. *it's snaining outside*

It's that time of year again where everybody feels the need to be extra. Extra blessings (braggadocio), extra tidings (passive-aggressiveness), extra presents (audacity), extra extra extra. I really shouldn't be as cynical as what I am and yet, HERE WE ARE. You know, I wouldn't be this way if people didn't make me this way. But, I digress.

Christmas is in one week and would you like to know what I've done for the holiday season? Not a damn thing. Ok, that's not entirely true... I did make cards and get them sent out (literally all done on the 15th) and we put up our tree yesterday.

Other than that? Zilch.

It's been an off year so we decided to take an off year. Usually this time of year we're running around like crazy people. D's making jerky and I'm baking treats and we run everything down to the last minute of getting everything done and shipped out. This year? Nope. With D being off work with his health and me having very little to no will to actually roll out of bed in the mornings, we decided this year just wasn't it. So, we didn't.

And you know what? While it feels a little off and there are certain moments that you feel guilt, the majority of the feeling I get is... oh well. And I know that sounds shitty, but I don't mean for it to. I just happen to like the feeling that it's holiday time and there are no expectations. We're not killing ourselves trying to finish baking and cooking. We're not running crazy trying to remember if we got everybody gifts. We're not going into monumental amounts of debt to show people hey we're here. We're just doing our thing and have no set plans.

Sparkles ear is still swelled up. Poor little guy has had this issue for weeks now and while I would like to feel like it's better, I don't really know. It looks like the swelling is going down to me but I'm also not a doctor. I'm just a gal doing what I do and trying to be a good wife and (pup)mom over here. We still have him on round the clock meds and he's still a little turd about all of it (anybody ever tells you pitties aren't stubborn is a damn liar), but for the most part, I think we're doing all we can. He's still stubborn, I'm still a worry-wart, and D probably needs a vacation from us all.

We've had a little craziness at work lately. The last few weeks have been hectic. Between year end and the holidays, letting people (one person) go and people wanting the final of everything, things have been round the clock consistent. We're not doing a big holiday party at work this year like we usually do (and I for one am NOT sad about it), but we are doing a little something. 

I have to get payroll done early so we can get all that lined up because we are having a little meeting on Friday. Everybody is supposed to be at the shop around noon and we'll have pizza (that I preordered last week), soda, beer (no worries, all employees are 21+), and some treats. Then they'll hand out checks and the little treat bags Dani and I made last Friday (she had a cute little idea and who doesn't love a good treat bag?) and everybody can be on their merry way.

Festive and efficient. Just the way I like it.

Other than that, we've been going through the things in our shed/garage. It may not sound like much, but let me tell you, it is quite literally my entire life for the first almost thirty years thrown into boxes and shoved into a bin to deal with another day. The only reason it hasn't been done before now is because I quite literally find the task to be so overwhelming. It's my life, my Momma's life, and some of my Grammy's life. All shoved into boxes and bins and totes and honestly, at times it all makes me want to cry. It's alot. To deal with, to carry, to go through, just all of it. We've made pretty good progress and I'm pretty happy with the results so far. While it is overwhelming and at times wants to take me to my knees, I carry on and eventually, I'll be through it all.

The amount of tattoos I now have is a little insane to me. I currently have four healing (two small, one medium and one large) and I don't see myself stopping anytime soon. I used to think I would hate being covered in tattoos. It was always a bit of a "no no" and was kind of engrained into me that it was something I just wasn't going to do. And then one day I realized I didn't do it for all reasons someone else had that I didn't believe in the first place... and then the cycle started. 

Personally, I love feeling like a doodle pad. It may sound strange but I almost feel like a piece of art in a gallery. Not a fancy and/or expensive gallery... perhaps not even a gallery at all... yeah, I more feel like a graffiti wall that people adore. Maybe people don't adore me but the art on my skin makes me feel like how I think people feel looking at the art they love. And that's a good feeling to me. I like looking down and seeing pieces of me and reminders of my life told through a story on my skin. It's fun and addicting and beautiful. D's currently reworking a moon piece on my back (he completed my thigh angular fish last night) and I was up until one this morning getting the work done and then all cleaned up. It's nowhere near finished but it's looking beautiful.

D finally got his new/permanent plate. He's going through the adjustment period of getting a new one (you wouldn't think it's a thing but it truly is a hell of a learning curve) and he's still sore from the bone/tooth fragments that are working their way out, but for the most part, he's doing real good. While it's been a hell of a process, he says he would do it all over again to not be in the pain he was in, and honestly, that means it was all worth it to me.

And yeah, that's where we are. We're waiting for the holidays, and getting tattoos, and spoiling our pups while watching Sparkles ear, and unpacking all of my childhood trauma. It's been a good time. Also, I've successfully avoided round the clock Mariah Carey this season, so we're taking the f*cking win.

Hospital visits, X-Men, applesauce, towels, and Becks.

My little Gatorbaby finally had his oral surgery (10/9) that we've been waiting MONTHS on. The poor man has been in round the clock agony and to say we're relived for this part of the process to be done would be an understatement.

Now... he's a whole new kind of sore.

He came through the surgery fantastically (the docs words, not mine) and did so damn good with the anesthesia. That's the part we're always sketch on but everything went as smooth as possible (thanks!) and he was back to me in no time.

Well, I say no time now but it felt like an eternity and I was a little dramatic about it. Luckily, I was in the room by myself so the only person to actually see my internal freakout and constant leg shaking was... well... me. (I was a little on edge.)

Now, he has to go through the healing process (he's been doing pretty good and taking it like a champ!) and relearn a couple of things, go to a few more follow-up appointments and he'll be good to go. 

We spent his recovery time laid up in the bed (well... I didn't spend the whole time in the bed I was doing things around the house and for him... that's besides the point!) watching X-Men movies and the new Beckham documentary on Netflix (that I highly recommend!).

Like when I had my surgery, he's real sore and there's some frustration because you have to relearn to do so many things you don't even realize you do naturally (like holding your jaw). 

He also had three additional teeth at the bottom that had to be surgically removed (they had to cut his gum open to the bone... eek!) so he's more sore than I was... probably... it would make sense to me.

BUT he's recovering and his first follow-up appointment is on our third anniversary. Because we know how to party. I love that we're a legit old married couple even though we're still young.

There's mostly a diet of cup-a-noodles, applesauce, and jello happening at our house and we're staying inside as much as possible (the cold has hit the Midwest!). There's also a whole lot of relaxing, netflix-bingeing, and drool happening (maybe some tattooing... shh), so there's that.

All in all, I'm happy this step for him is over. I know he has a long road to go but the fact that he's sore from his surgery but not in constant throbbing pain is a bonus in my book. Trust me when I tell you it's a different kind of pain.

So basically, if anybody needs us, we'll be at home (with the exception of when I'm at work or we go to the grocery store) with each other doing as little aside from what we want as possible.

Catch up... not to be confused with ketchup.

Life has been... lately. Things seem to be moving at warp speed and slowly crawling all at once. If I'm being perfectly honest, it feels a little Twilight-zoney around these parts.

But I digress... mostly because I don't know where that potential ramble is headed off to.

Our days are basically filled with work (both me at the shop and D at the house) and spending all the rest of the time together when possible. 

We finally got a call about Dev's oral surgery... they can't fit him in until October 9th. I'm so frustrated with that but also just want it done so he can stop being in constant pain. Poor man literally just has a toothache round the clock and I feel miserable for him because I know he's miserable as hell. We're just waiting on all the calls from the hospital and labs to confirm appointments/etc. Hopefully, things will go streamlined from here... fingers crossed!

Dev took me to my "lady" doctor appointment a couple weeks ago and I go in tomorrow to have my Kyleena changed out (its due in September). Thankfully, my insurance still covers birth control (for now) so while I'm not looking forward to being poked and prodded, I am happy to have this taken care of on the quick and up.

We've been spending quite a bit of time with Mavis and the cutest little Bean on the planet. We've come to the conclusion that we can rock this whole Aunt/Uncle life. Kids might not be our forte (we're not having any of our own) but dog parents/auntie-uncle life? We got this. Along with spending so much time with Mavis comes the fact we all have many more tattoos than what we started with. Dev and I counted the other night and he's on like forty-five/six and I'm on thirteen, I think? We're basically just all walking canvases at this point. I ain't mad at it.

Dev, Greg, Gabby and I went on a nice long bike ride yesterday. We were gone about four hours and had a real nice time. We ended up riding down to Morgan and Dev and I talked about moving out there someday and finding our forever home. That would be hilarious, right? For me to move myself and my husband and our kids (pups but they count!) to the first ever town I remember living in. Talk about full circle.

Other than that, we've essentially just been living life and going about our business. Work for me has been insane and busy as all get out (though I'm not mad at it and prefer to stay steady busy instead of lagging around) and Dev has been doing lots of cleaning and reorganizing the house. 

I would be lying if I said I didn't miss my Tayderbug so damn bad. Honestly, I look for him everywhere and think about him constantly. I just want to hold and cuddle him and love on him after a long day. But I can't and that makes me so incredibly sad. I still go looking for him and listen for him every single day. Dev told me it wasn't a "habit" that I do this, it's just my natural instinct for almost two decades, so it's going to take some time to be ok. Because I am not ok with it. I mean, I'm "ok" but I'm not "ok." Ok? Ok.

At the end of the day though we're just doing what we can... we're dreaming and making plans and loving each other.

The happenings of the Glisson household.

How are we already six months into 2023? Things have been crazy and weird and lovely and insane.

We've been painting our house black and while we were on a role for awhile, it has essentially died off for a minute. Don't get me wrong, we still plan on completing it all, its just going to take longer than we originally anticipated. Then again, doesn't it always?

The pups are still spoiled rotten and as cute as they've ever been. Xur is still the protective middle child, Sparkles is forever playing the part of youngest child, and our little tiny Tayderbug is still the King of the Court with his oldest brother status. I love our babies and it would be a lie to say their presence didn't bring me extreme amounts of comfort.

Dev's been off work so far this year so we can get his health in check. Its almost like a snowball effect. It started with his heart and progressed to his teeth and now we're somewhere in between waiting to hear back from doctors and trying to pay medical bills as they come in. I just want him healthy and to feel good. The way I look at it, as long as we can get him happy, healthy and safe, we can catch up on the rest. That's what life's for... right? Right.

My poor husband. When we relax at night, we usually lay in the bed and watch tv, talk, or scroll on our phones. Sometimes a combo of all because we're multitaskers like that. However, I have this real bad habit of falling asleep while watching true crime documentaries and I think he may be scarred now. I mean, he's watching this crazy and then looking sideways at his wife passed out cold? Its funny to me, probably a little insane to him.

Travis and Macey (aka Mavis) are having a baby and we've been spending alot of time together. I would essentially say that those two are not only our family, but have also become our best friends (aside from one another of course). We cook together, laugh together, hang out and have a grand ole time. It's strange to have another couple that we can hang out with and either spend time all together as four or sectioned off. We've never had a "couple" friend like this and the fact that its family we love makes it all the much better.

Dev's got the yard looking incredible. It's been a long process, but everything is looking real good. And just in time for Summer? Whhhaaaaaa. We've decided that we want to have a bajillion plants (ok, I decided and my husband was 1000% on board). Seriously, I'm in this weird stage of life where plants are making me happy for some unknown and ridiculous reason and instead of fighting it, I have decided to embrace it fully. Along with Seth Green Bonsai, we've also started out propagating garlic and some other herb (I can't recall which it is because D started it, but its doing good!). Oh, and my mint is spreading and taking over EVERYWHERE. I love it. The irises and lilies look good this time around as well. I talked to my Aunt Mary and she let me know when we're ready for more plants to let her know and I could come out to her house and have a field day with her flowers/plants. I kind of want to go pick out a bunch of stuff in the next few weekends!

Along with that, I really want to delve into this plant thing and learn and grow (pun intended).

We've picked up a new recipe for chuck roast that is essentially our new go to favorite. We made it twice in one week just so we could have French-dip sandwiches. I'm pretty sure this roast would be delicious about fifteen thousand ways, but I had a new idea the other night for "Holler Pie" and D is so onboard. TBD on when that's happening (maybe when D has his teeth surgery and has to eat softer foods).

Oh, and D blew up our microwave. It's not really relevant but made me laugh the night it happened so I thought it was worth mentioning. Aunt Mary had given us some homemade zucchini bread and after eating a bit I wrapped it up and stuck it in the microwave. D didn't see it when we tried to heat up the au jus and well... the bread was in foil. Now our microwave only works in twenty second increments and then shuts off the power for that side of the kitchen. Looks like we're using all our other appliances for warm food for awhile.

So yeah, that's where this Glisson household is six months into this year. Trying and doing and laughing and crying and loving and living and essentially, trying to live an all around peaceful and comforting life together with our babies and each other.

Everything, everywhere, all at once. I can't stop rambling for nothing.

No, I haven't watched the movie... not because I'm against it, but because we haven't had the opportunity to check it out. We have however been watching a lot of random shit.

Like Knock at the Cabin. And Scream VI.

Before that, Avatar: The Way of Water. (Having just seen the first Avatar movie- for me- the night before).

I digress though, because this isn't all about movies. Even though it could be. No, this is just a little catch up on all the happenings as of late.

We've been painting around the house like crazy. The kitchen, laundry room, hallway... it's all different at this point. I both love it and want to get the rest of it painted but also have to kickstart myself every time to actually get the painting part done. Procrastination party of one? Right here.

On top of that we've basically been playing the waiting game trying to get D into the oral surgeon so we can get his dental problems handled (his appointment is on the 25th of this month). He'll feel so much better once it's all taken care of and I'll feel better knowing he's not in constant pain 25/8. Just one more step to get my love on the health and narrow.

We also came to the conclusion to maybe sell the Juke. It was Dev's idea/decision and we're seriously putting a lot of thought into it. Hopefully, if we do end up selling, it will be a painless process. *fingers crossed*

Hold onto your hats, because a couple of weeks ago we found out Travis and Macey are having a baby. That's right, another little Glissonbug is on the horizon and we're all so damn excited for them. She's been having a rough time with morning sickness and everything, so hopefully, it'll all ease up on her a bit soon. I don't know how shit like this works, but I hope she doesn't have to feel like shit the whole time.

Speaking of Trav and Mace, Dev and I took the Z up to their house on Saturday for a drive and a hangout. We had so much fun on the bike, but I can guarantee long trips are something we have to work up to, because their house is about 1.5 hours each way, and my whole body is feeling it. It was feeling it yesterday and it's definitely feeling it today. I am young no more. 

But, it was totally worth it.

And speaking of kids, Gabriel lost his two front teeth. He definitely resembles his hillbilly Aunt Katie a little more for awhile.

Work is work. Crazy and hectic and exhausting, but we're trekking forward and doing what we have to do to make sure shit gets done. Because at the end of the day, isn't that all we can really do?

My Tayderbug is an angel and demanded to go back to regular dog food. I swear, we make that little shit his own batch of fresh chicken every night and he just ain't having it. He wants regular ole pup food. Meanwhile, his brothers are drooling every which way trying to get a little piece of the actual chicken.

Dev has been feeling a bit better and doing so much around the house. I swear, I do dishes, but I don't do anything else really around the house. He basically has all the important stuff done by the time I get home and then our time together can either be spent relaxing or doing projects together. And I love both.

Just a side note, yesterday was the four year anniversary of Dev proposing to me and I was all heart-eyed once I realized it.

So yeah, a little catchup with shit I am most definitely forgetting, but here we are. Doing our best and making the most. And doing it all with a little hope, some happiness, and a fuckton of love.

He apologized to all the nurses for having to see his junk. *because surgery*

Things have been calm and crazy lately. I know, that sounds insane and you would be correct to assume I'm rambling from multiple cups of caffeine (aka, liquid coffee gold). That doesn't change the facts however.

Things have been crazy... 

Dev finally had his surgery 3/17, but things didn't go how we would have liked. He went through the entire procedure, but they were unable to get his heart to misfire while he was under, so he basically has full recovery with no benefits. It was a kick to the gut when the doc told us it wasn't a success, but he's also not giving up and we're just going to have to look into other alternatives. 

He goes back for his follow-up on 4/10 and we'll decide where to go from there. They now think instead of SVT, he may have a cluster of cells in his heart misfiring together and they have to locate them and will try to do surgery again once they've been found. In order to do that, he's either going to have to wear a holster or have an implant put under his skin (located in the chest... kind of like a birth control implant, but not). Either one will record when his heart acts up, but I think we're leaning towards the implant as it has more effective results. 

While he's sore and stressed from the surgery not going how we would have liked, he's also optimistic and ready to take the next step to get a handle on this thing. I will say though, even though the surgery didn't work, doc said they pressed his heart damn hard and it's a strong one. It was a real nice thing to hear and definitely lifted some weight from our chests. I should have known, my baby is all heart.

Things have been calm...

With everything's that's been going on in the last four months, things have been hectic. However, Dev and I have been spending exorbitant amounts of time together and to say we both love it would be an understatement. While we love spending time together doing all kinds of things, the fact that he's been having "spells" and is now in recovery means that we've mostly been house bound in our adventures. The weather also hasn't helped with that.

A few weeks ago we loaded the pups up and made the 1.5 hour drive to Travis's to hang out for the day, but other than that, it's all been local and homey. I love getting to see him all the time and spending the evenings cuddling and talking and hanging out with each other. Most people might find that "too much" or their significant other would get under their skin, but I'd say we lucked out. We can literally spend all of our hours together and it's just like hanging out with my best friend. He truly is the gift of mine that keeps on giving.

Dev's mom even flew up for his surgery and spent the weekend with us. He picked her up from the airport on Thursday and then they both picked me up from work! She stayed through the weekend and then Sunday morning we took her back to the airport (SUPER EARLY) to catch her flight home. While we all wish it would have been better circumstances, the fact we got to see his mom and spend some time with her talking and catching up and checking in, it was so nice. She's an amazing lady and we love her to pieces.

Things have been crazy...

Dev's Pre-Op appointment was the Tuesday before his surgery. I took the day off so I could go with him and set an alarm so we could have a nice relaxing morning and then head off to the doc. Well, my alarm didn't go off and I woke up exactly four minutes before his appointment. I screamed "FUCK!" and leapt out of bed like my ass was on fire. I called the doctors office to tell them we were running late... and then I had the audacity to be aggravated at the woman on the phone because I called the wrong place. (I wasn't an asshole or anything, but I was like well shit, oops and hung up... not my finest moment). I finally got the right office... all while running around trying to put clothes on... and they informed me if we didn't get there in the next fifteen minutes we would have to reschedule, which also meant pushing the surgery. We live at least twenty minutes from his doctors office. Again, cue the fuck. 

We ended up making it to the doc office in time. I'm not going to tell you how we got there in like twelve minutes, but my husband likes to say he woke up, saw how pissed and anxiety riddled I was and decided "nope, not today, not having this argument today" and followed me and sat there until we were in the office. We laugh hysterically about it now, but at the time, not so much.

So yeah, that's where we are. Still nowhere near a conclusion, but at least on the right track to get him taken care of. We're optimistic and just keep reminding ourselves that we're strong and have each other. We'll figure things out, it's just going to take longer than what we were hoping. Until then, we'll keep doing what we're doing and spend all the time together.

I'm a genius for marrying my best friend. And if you don't believe me, refer to the picture. I look like this 98% of the time and the man treats me with nothing but adoration, affection, and understanding. Not to mention he looks at me like I hung the moon and acts as though his entire life begins when my sunshiney face rises in the mornings.

And that, my friends, is the ultimate goal. Happiness. And he is my happy.

Let's play a little catchup and see what happens.

I'm having a real hard time with my attention span lately. Sure, I buckle down and manage it while at work, but once that clock dings, I'm out. Quite literally... mentally and physically, I'm in Lalaland.

But, that's ok. Because while I may be a bit of an airhead on the regular, D and I have been in a blissful little bubble. Sure, there are things looming in the background and we're on edge more often than not, but we've been trying to take it easy and be serene.

Personally, my goal for life has always broken down into four things I wanted: calm, happy, peaceful, stable. That's it, all I ever wanted for my life. Most people have big plans and goals and dreams. And maybe it sounds a little sad to most, but I never wanted all of that.

I just wanted a calm and happy life with a little stability. And I wanted to share that life with my best friend. I didn't need bunches of money or a fancy house. I didn't want to be entrapped in drama and I didn't want to have to answer to anyone other than myself.

And that's the life I have. 

We did finally get D's surgery scheduled. His pre-op appointment is on 3/14 and his surgery date is 3/17. We're both happy and nervous to have it finally on the books to be taken care of. We've been keeping his stress down and it seems to be helping quite a bit. His mom wants to fly up and be here for his surgery and I'm sure he would appreciate her being there. Personally, I was just going to sit in the waiting room alone and have a nervous breakdown, but it'll be nice to have company to melt down with.

Ok... probably not melt down. But, it is a nerve inducing situation.

My birthday was this past Monday and D has been spoiling me since last Friday because of it. He said I get a whole week, because I'm special and if I want the whole month or year, I can have that to. He's such an enabler and spoils me rotten. I love it.

Dani also invited us to my company's "gala" event this year. Basically, D and I are going to get all fancy and show up with the other fancy looking people and hang out. It's a formal event, so while D is wearing a suit (one that he looks damn fine in by the way), I have to find an appropriate dress to wear. Just the thought of dress shopping makes me itchy, but this time around D is taking me. He's actually really good at picking out clothes that look good on me and frankly, I could use all the help I can get. Besides, I'm usually in a pair of boxers and an oversized sweatshirt (that belonged to my FIL Dennis), so it'll be nice to let my husband see me all dressed up.

We've also been out on the bike a bit recently. Of course with winter being cold, wet, and all around miserable for most, the rides have been fewer and further between, but we've managed to get a few in here and there. We were gonna ride it when D took me to the Famous Tomato, but we didn't really want to drive on that side of town, so we've been taking random rides with no destination in mind.

Other than that we've mostly just been hanging out at the house with our pups and having chill evenings (and days). And I have to say, I'm into it. Like, this could keep on keeping on and I'd be extremely good with it.

We're on our way to fix it... just give us a couple minutes.

You know my hubby, correct? He's the tall, handsome guy that's always hanging out with me and making me feel like a princess? Well, he's had some health issues recently and we're trying to get a handle on them. 

He was diagnosed as having supraventricular tachycardia (SVT) when he was around twenty-five years old, I think? He's not sure of the exact date, but he remembers that he was in his earlier twenties and it's when he stilled lived in FL. He's managed to live with this since that time with only having "spells" on occasion. He even went the majority of two years without any at all. 

That was until the last three months or so. Since that time his "spells" have gotten worse and they're at the point of being terrifying and debilitating. I mean, constantly feeling like you're about to have a heart attack? That's alot for any person to take on. 

We've taken measures to get this taken care of... went to a primary... twice... and finally got to see a cardiologist on 1/27. Basically, the only option for this is surgery. D kind of knew this going in, because they had told him about the surgery when he was first diagnosed. I asked him why he didn't have it then and he told me that he thought it was something he could learn to live with.

However, the older he gets, the worse they get, and now they're so bad that he honestly just wants to get it taken care of. I guess it's true when they say you realize you're not invincible as you age. 

But dude, when you're twenty and the world starts crashing? You feel like you're ten feet tall and bulletproof. Not so much past thirty. And that's not a bad thing at all, it's just a realistic thing.

Now we wait. Mostly, we're just waiting on the cardiologist office to call me so we can schedule his surgery... I spoke with her the other day and she said she thought it would probably be somewhere in mid-March, but she wasn't 100% sure. 

Until then, we're doing all we can to minimize D's stress. We both agreed that he should take some time off work to relax and destress (a suggestion made by his doctor). Honestly, it's been real nice to have a "house husband" for a little bit. *insert laugh here* He's been doing projects around the house, cleaning, taking care of the pups, running errands. He's basically doing all the things that are stressful when you don't have time to do them, but aren't bad when you don't have a deadline.

It seems to be making a difference. D seems to be able to tell in the fact that he's had less "spells" and the ones he's had he's managed to get himself calmed down and they don't last as long. I can tell it's making a difference, because he just seems to feel better all the way around. Those things take so much strength and energy that when they're over he feels drained. Now if he feels drained he can sit down and relax in our home until he's ok. I know it doesn't seem like it would make all that much difference, but it really has.

So yeah, that's what we're doing. I haven't mentioned it, because it's been scary and we're trying to figure everything out, but that's where we are with it. Waiting until we get my little Gatorbaby into his surgery and until then spending time together, hanging out, doing house projects (he converted our "spare" room into a kind of walk-in closet for me and I'm here for it), playing with our pups, and trying to be as happy as we can possibly be.

Either way, we have each others backs and will take on anything and everything together. Because he's my love, my best friend, and my soulmate, and that's what we do.

😢 My pitiful little pitty baby had to go to the doctor. 😢

Last Tuesday evening, D and I noticed Sparkles had a giant hematoma on his left ear. He has a history with ear infections/problems and has had to take meds for it on and off since I've had him. I was actually giving him some meds for his ears, but apparently they were not strong enough. I've had pups my whole life and had to deal with many different illnesses/injuries, but I've never dealt with a pup hematoma. Human? Yes. Pup? Nope. I was at a loss.

Cut to that evening and calling our vet to get him in asap. They informed me that they couldn't see him for two-three weeks, but this was something that needed handled asap. Like, the fuck? My baby needs medical attention and you can't see him for that long? I know I sounded like a real pain in the ass, and I really try not to be "that person" but when it comes to my hubby or one of my babies, all bets are off. I'll quite literally sit there with my arm hanging off my shoulder by tendons, but I want the four of them handled as quickly as humanly possible. It's insane, but it's honestly just how I feel on the daily.

I continued to freak out and we decided to take him to an emergency vet. The first one we took him to informed us that there was an 8+ hour wait before someone would even be able to look at him. So.... off to the next emergency vet we go. Two hours later the vet tech informed us that while this was considered an "emergency" it was not considered a "life threatening emergency" so there would be an 8-10+ hour wait, but if someone came in after us that was more "serious" he would get bumped. I know they were just doing their job and everything they could with their current situation, but I was livid. I didn't take it out on them (as I said, there was nothing the vet tech could do about the situation), but I'm fairly certain I had steam coming out of my ears and nose. Probably looked like a psychotic bull of some sort.

I'm not even gonna lie, y'all. By the time we left that vet I was in tears. I honestly just wanted my baby to have some help and the fact that I knew he had to be in pain made it worse. We decided to go home, med him up and try again in the morning (because at that point it was past midnight and there were no other emergency vets open around us).

Wednesday I got up and came to work and proceeded to call and track down any and every vet around us that could possibly help. On my eighth (yes, eighth!) phone call a new vet (well, he's new to us, not a new vet) finally set an appointment for me for that morning at 9:30. I was so relieved that someone was going to help him that I was quite literally in tears.

Honestly, this entire process has had me in tears. Apparently, the older I get the more emotional I get? Fuck.

Once we were in the appointment and went through the rundown of his history and what was going on with him now, it came to the conclusion of he has a double inner ear infection and from shaking his head or something due to that he ruptured the blood vessels in his ear.... hence the hematoma. He was tested for allergies and heartworms (just in case) and they gave me six different meds that he has to take.

I was informed that while his ear would eventually reabsorb on its own (as with most hematomas) that it would take ten-twelve weeks and he would be in excruciating pain the entire time. After that, he would have "cauliflower ear" and it would just add to his excruciatingly long list of ear problems. I couldn't stand the thought of him being in so much pain for that amount of time, so it was decided that he would have surgery to repair the damage.

I dropped him off on Thursday morning for his surgery (and can I just say that having to leave my baby anywhere and the thought of him thinking I may have abandoned him made me break down? seriously, what is with all of these emotions?!) and got to pick him up that afternoon after work. He was completely out of it and the poor thing couldn't even sit up right or at all without help. I had to load him into Doug Judy and unload him and carry him in the house when we got home. 

We set him up on the futon and the poor thing was just so loopy. After carefully carrying him in and out about four times to use the bathroom (he's on steroids, so lots of peeing, but he couldn't get upright or stay stable long enough to go on his own without some assistance), I finally got some food, water, and meds down him and he passed out.

I stayed home with him on Friday and honestly, that was a really good idea. My poor buddy couldn't really do anything without some kind of help until Saturday afternoon. Apparently, he and anesthesia don't gee haw too well. 

He's still in recovery and has to wear a cone when someone's not home with him. Something that he is very unhappy about, might I add. He just can't seem to figure out that he has to hold his head up to hold the cone up and continues to trip and flip over it, or simply just sits down until you come to help him.

His stitches get removed on 7/15 and hopefully he is and will still be feeling a whole lot better. So.... one serious round of meds (spanning a week and a half) and one surgery (for a hematoma) later and our baby is plum wore out. 🥺

But, his brothers (and parents) are very happy to have him back home. (Side note: we've decided to switch to this vet full time, because we really like him and he's super nice and helpful.)

Sometimes you have to drive 1,000 miles on a whim.

After my post last Monday, I received a call from D that worried us enough to make an emergency trip to Florida. While I won't go into in-depth detail, I will say that what has hit our family is devastating and unimaginable. My FIL needed us and we all felt the need to rally behind him. 

Not felt. Feel. We still feel the need to rally behind him, we just all have to find our own way to do that. For whatever he or my MIL needs. 

While there, we made sure things were done around the farm and house. Just trying to keep busy and make things as easy as possible for them for the next while. You know, those things that you have on your list to be done eventually, but then "eventually" smacks you in the face and it feels like everything is closing in on you? Yeah, we did those things.

We also managed to wrangle five kids between the ages of two through ten, sweat off seven pounds, and live on coffee to the point I thought I should've just hooked up to an IV of it. Oh, and the immediate family (Dev + MIL + FIL + BIL + SIL) made a hand cast for my MIL to keep around for when she feels like she needs it.

(Side note: I ordered one for D and I upon his request once we got home and I can't wait to do it together!)

There was some much needed time spent with Grandma and honestly, I think everyone just needed some hugs, understanding, and reassurance. Even though we were just there in April, we (especially D) really needed this trip.

I hate that D is so far away from his family. And I hate that he's so far away from them, because of me. But, this is where we've built our life together and everyone understands that we have to be at our home where our lives and jobs are. Does that make it easier, especially in a situation like this? Hell no. 

But, we're trying. D's having a hard time with it, which I completely understand, and we're truly just hoping for the best at this point. At all the points. 

They all know we're just a phone call away and we can't wait to get down and see everyone again soon!

I feel like someone took Lucille to my face: Post Op. (Part II).

Well y'all, it's official. I'm never gonna dance again. Why? Because guilty feet have got no rhythm.

I'm just f*cking with you, I've never danced. Not well at least. No, I'm just trying to stay positive and use my favorite defense mechanism.... sarcasm. 

The truth is, I had my top row of teeth removed and had to get a temporary plate (until my custom one is finished) last Friday. This entire process has been ongoing for a bit and we're at the second(?)/third(?)/something stage. I'm not really sure what stage you would count this as?

Whichever one it is, it's the painful and frustrating one.

I have to wear this plate damn near 24/7, with the exception of the time it takes for me to shower (that's when I have to take it out and clean it hansolo style), including but not limited to sleeping. Don't get me wrong, I don't mind at all and I much prefer to have some teeth in my head, but it's still pretty sore so even moving it a tad makes me want to pee down my leg.

I just keep reassuring myself that this is all temporary. That this is just part of the healing stage and eventually things will get better and easier. I'm not real sure if I believe that or if I just keep telling myself that in hopes of living in denial, but there's a 50/50 chance either way.

One thing I didn't expect this process to do was make me so damn emotional. Seriously, I woke up at three o'clock Friday morning crying and proceeded to cry on and off for the next... oh, I don't know... EVEN NOW. Like, what? I cried before, during, and long after. It's been a few days and has that stopped my random ass waterworks? Hell no. And I can't even pinpoint exactly what it is that's making me cry, so I can't even fix it. Maybe it's just from being so overwhelmed in general? Ugh.

The entire appointment Friday went by real smooth and pretty damn quick. The hardest part of that was getting numbed up for the extractions. You ever had to have work done on your very front teeth? Feels like the needles are being shoved up your nose repeatedly. It's not what I would call a fun time. But, he popped out six of the seven before I even realized he had started. He got to the seventh one though and I almost ran away, because it had been causing me pain. It crumbled on him, but once he got it out informed me that I had so much pain, because I had an exposed nerve. Glad that problem's taken care of.

My adorable husband went in late to work so he could take me to my appointment and he has been taking care of me round the clock. He insisted I not move and do as little as possible over the weekend and still won't let me do anything too crazy around the house, because the doctor said taking it easy is the best way to heal. Luckily for me and my adorable little Gatorbaby (is it lucky? I don't think that's what that means), this entire process has been fairly draining, so getting me to rest as much as possible hasn't really been too bad of a challenge.

The current plate that I have in is for healing/training. It's basically made too large to accommodate for all the situations that will happen in the healing process and it's to help me train myself into wearing one and learn how to eat/talk/etc. before receiving the "custom" one. And I say custom, because it's what I had to have my impressions made for. I'm hoping the new one curves with my jaw, because this one doesn't and it's a pain in the ass trying to get it sealed and stay up there. I also can't use adhesive anywhere except the roof of my mouth (or palette for fancy folks) until my extraction sites are closed up, so it's a process.

A slow, demanding process. That may or may not be my downfall.

I've been trying to have a good sense of humor about it. Even my jokes have been killing it. Everyone has been fairly kind so far, even though I know I look ridiculous, and I'm pretty sure D would punch somebody in the throat if they were mean or hurt my feelings either way. Of course, I can always count on my brother to call out how ridiculous I look. Yes, bro, I know I look like a resident of Whoville.

I played Cindy Lou Who in the Christmas play when I was little and this is just giving me flashbacks. In my defense, I was a lot cuter of a Who at six than I am at thirty-two.

I wouldn't say that I'm in pain. Well, not constant pain at least. I'm more sore and tender than anything. And taking out this plate to clean it, rinse my mouth, and having to put it back in? Cue the peeing down my damn leg. However, I've also refused to take anything more than ibuprofen even though I have the option of something stronger, so I've been trying to keep my complaining about that down to a minimum. 

I'll tell you what, I'd rather deal with this sore/tenderness for a bit as opposed to dealing with that constant toothache. 

Oh, and the entire left side of my face has a nasty bruise. The right is bruised a little too, but nothing like that left. Did I mention I feel less vicious without my natural canines? No? Oh, well, there's that.

Also, how am I ever supposed to french kiss my husband again? Get back to me on that.

Eating is completely off the table right now. My mouth is simply too damn tender to deal with food. And trust me, I HAVE TRIED. Since I can't have food, D has been making me these breakfast essential/protein shakes with extra chocolate syrup. Mostly because he's the absolute best, but also so I don't starve and hopefully get some much needed vitamins.

Speaking of D, y'all, he has been taking such good care of me. I thank him constantly and he's all "I'm your husband, I'm supposed to take care of you, I love taking care of you, I love you." This hasn't been a pleasant experience whatsoever, but it would've been a shit ton worse without him. He's really just made sure I'm ok and I can't tell you how much that means to me. Because I most definitely have not been ok.

Oh, and my lisp is back. Like, full force pretending like I didn't have to take four years of speech therapy growing up to improve my speech impediment kind of back. And I whistle my s's. Fuuuuuck me.

My days have been full of rest and taking it easy. I go to work and do little things around the house (a load of laundry or wash some dishes), but for the most part, I've been trying to stay calm and relax. It's not like I actually have the energy to do anything even if I wanted to. 

I go back in to the dentist tomorrow (5/19) for my first follow up since the extractions and hopefully they can readjust this current plate a little and he thinks I'm healing up well and making decent progress. A girl can dream, right?

So, that's where I'm at with it. Swollen and looking like a member of the Whoville senior citizens club. But, I'm taking it the best I can and chugging along. Because I'm not a quitter and as my hubby said, I'm adaptable. Sure, it may take me awhile, but I'll be damned if this learning curve is gonna best me.

At least, that's what I keep telling myself. *insert nervous laughter here*

❤️ When mama is down for the count, her boys don’t stray too far. ❤️

Wooaahhh, we're halfway tthhhheeerrreee: Post-Op. (Part I).

As I said yesterday, I went to my dentist appointment and started the process of having my top teeth removed and receiving a plate. I had three teeth removed from the right side of my mouth in the back (including wisdom/molar) and had to receive stitches. Not to mention, I bled and am currently bleeding like I've been stabbed.

Was it fun? Hell no. Did I die? Also, no. 

It wasn't fun by any means, but it's over now and I just have to heal up and wait until my next appointment. Which is a week from tomorrow. And yes, I realize that I'm having all of this major work done on Friday the 13th. The irony is not lost upon me. 

I didn't take the day off this time around, but next Friday I will be taking the day off, because my appointment is at 9:00am and I'm assuming that I'll be feeling real shitty afterwards. 

Three teeth this time, seven the next. 

Oy vey. I don't particularly like taking pain meds. I'll take them if I absolutely have to, but I'm not a fan of how sick and gross they make me feel. So, I'm managing this pain with ibuprofen and hoping for the best. Hopefully, I'll be that way next week too. That's the best way to go about it, right? 

Livin' on a prayer.

So.... after work today (I seriously just want to crawl into my bed and stay there for six days) I think I'll pick up my prescriptions (antibiotics, yay!) and try to take it easy this weekend. Because I'll have to take it easy next weekend too. Honestly, it's gonna be rough for a little bit. 

But, I'm a tough cookie. Even though I can't have cookies right now, because I can barely choke down some jello and pudding. But, I digress, because at least this shit show is on the road.

They also took my impressions yesterday. Have you ever had impressions made? If not, let me tell you, I straight up thought they were gonna pull my teeth out of my head while removing them. Those things set up like nobody's business. My dentist told me he wanted to make my new teeth the same size as the originals, because it fits my mouth "well." Which sounded a little weird, but also exactly like what I wanted, so I'm going with it.

If y'all need me, I'll be over here trying not to let my face explode. 

I'm trying to whoosah through my anxiety attack and it's not working.

Today is the day that I go into the dentist to have the first round of my top teeth removed. To say that I'm nervous would be an understatement. D and I were talking about it last night and he asked me what I was most worried about.

Honestly, I'm not really sure what I'm most nervous about. I'm not excited to have to go through the pain and process of healing, but I've had many teeth removed over the years and that's not necessarily a problem. Sure, it's uncomfortable and inconvenient, but it comes with the territory. 

Maybe it's the fact that I think I have infection in one of my teeth and I'm worried that with my immune system not being what it used to be it could cause issue. Then again, I trust my dentist and antibiotics are a factor, so that's probably not it.

Perhaps it could be that I don't know how long I'll have to wait between this appointment and the next and I really just want this process to be over with so I can heal and get used to the new normal. Added to this is the fact that I'm constantly worried one of my remaining teeth are going to break off and I'll be walking around dealing with that. Hopefully, this will be only a couple of week kind of situation, but you never know. 

Then again, it could just be the itty bitty vain part of myself from deep inside calling out my insecurities and wondering if I'll still look like me. I know I will look different, but I still want to look normal and like myself. You know? 

Either way, this entire process starts off today (technically, it started on 4/26 with the actual appointment, but you know what I mean). And my amazing husband took off work early so he can meet me at our house and drive me to/from my appointment. He loves me like that.

I don't know what the healing for this all is going to look like, but since I didn't take today or tomorrow off work, hopefully it won't be too awfully terrible. I guess we'll see. 

Now if you'll excuse me, I have to plan out my meals of jello, mashed taters, and ensure for the next however many weeks. I know, it sounds real glamorous. And just so you're aware, the only reason I'm adding in the ensure is because my husband is convinced I'll waste away to nothing (his words, not mine). *dramatic* Wish me luck and May the Fourth be with me.

Three anxiety attacks and bunches of money later.

I had a dentist appointment yesterday to determine what could be done with my remaining teeth. Everyone that knows me knows that I've had dental problems for YEARS. And this is not one of those times that I'm being dramatic. I legit mean my entire life kind of years.

And unfortunately, dental problems aren't just a vain "I don't look good" (even though I in fact do not) kind of situation. On top of being mortifying (yes I'm missing one of my front teeth and yes it's an issue for me) it's also increasingly painful. I honestly can't remember the last time I ate or slept or hell, even just sat there without a constant throbbing or ache in my mouth.

Shit gets old real quick and frankly, years later, I am beyond over this big bag of dicks.

I've had so much dental work done. SO. MUCH. Thousands upon thousands of dollars trying not to be in pain and look halfway decent and it was all for not. And if I'm being perfectly honest, I didn't have the thousands of dollars to begin with. It was a I needed to have it done and had to pay on it for months at a time to pay it off deal. Which I know is how most people have to go about these types of things, but damn, when it's draining your bank account it hurts.

Especially when it ends up not working out. I mean, two and a half years ago I had a double root canal on my two front teeth and they're in horrible shape. Seriously, they're both broken and I'm incredibly paranoid that I'm going to wake up one morning and be missing one or both of my front teeth. 

That's the extent of it. 

I have to eat ibuprofen like it's goldfish crackers and actually eating? Pfft. I have to cut my food into small pieces or try to shove everything to one side of my mouth to bite and/or chew, because I can't actually use my front teeth to bite anything. They're too weak. 

To say it's frustrating would be an understatement. Mostly because I've always had good oral hygiene. Actually, good hygiene in general. We didn't have a lot growing up, but Momma always made sure we looked nice and were clean. We couldn't afford expensive things, but you best believe we afforded soap, toothpastes, all the essentials for hygienic purposes and care. Throughout my entire life I have brushed my teeth twice a day, flossed regularly and use mouthwash. Still to this day. But, do my teeth care that I try to maintain and be nice to them? 

Hell no. They're ungrateful.

They're too soft to hold any proper fillings and they're constantly wearing down and snapping themselves off at any given moment. They're sensitive to everything (hot, cold, sweet, savory, doesn't really matter). And my tongue is constantly raw and burning. It makes swallowing and getting through the day real sweet. Probably doesn't help that I have the horrible habit of clenching and grinding my teeth without realizing it, but here we are. 

And there I sat. Explaining to my new dentist all the things I've had done to my teeth and how I take care of them and how many problems I've had and keep having. Trying to explain and make him see that I have been trying my entire life to get a handle on this situation and can't seem to hold that grasp. Recalling the times I've had to have teeth pulled from horrible pain. And there have been many. More than many. A plethora really. The man took one look at my x-rays and calmly explained to me that he could see all the work and how hard I've tried. He explained that it wasn't my fault, sometimes these things just happen no matter what we do. 

I was speechless. Because never once in all my time explaining what my teeth are doing has a dentist actually looked me dead ass in the face and understood where I was coming from. He just got it. Didn't think I was crazy or dramatic. Didn't question why I was this frustrated with my mouth at thirty-two years old. Didn't try to talk me into some ridiculously expensive procedure that wasn't going to work out and keep me in the same sinking boat I've been paddling in. Nope. Dude literally just looked at my x-rays, listened to what I had to say and explained why he thought it was happening and what we could do to help. That's it. That's all the man had to say and offer. No judgment or superiority, just understanding and solution.

Shit blew my entire mind.

So that's where we came up with a plan. And that's when I put down the money to have the work done. D and I had already discussed my situation and he informed me "do what needs to be done, we'll make it work, I'm tired of you hurting all the time." It was less than we thought it was going to be, but still hurts me to think about.

And what is the plan? Well.... luckily, my bottom teeth aren't too bad. They could use a little TLC, but they're not in horrible shape. Mostly because every time one of my bottom teeth have hurt it's been so excruciating that I've had it yanked out of my head as soon as possible. So, those are on the back burner (for now). 

The real issue is my top row. I literally have no good and/or salvageable teeth up there. Therefore, I go in on 5/4 to have a few back teeth pulled and an impression made. From there, we'll set up another appointment and when I go in then, they'll pull the remaining teeth in the front and slide a plate right in.

Am I nervous? F*ck yes. Am I excited to not have that constant pain anymore? Also, f*ck yes. Am I excited about the healing time, paying off the money we had to spend, or having to get used to having a denture plate at thirty-two years old? F*ck no. 

But, at the end of the day, this is what is best and I'm so exhausted trying to find another solution. Then again, I honestly think this one is the best and only one I have, so there's no more looking. The plan is set in motion. 

And here my nervous little self sits waiting for this shit to get on with.

It will always be a struggle, but we try to help my mental health with activities together and a stress free home life.

Ever since we went on vacation and came back, D and I have had an avid "chill" about our lives. We do everything that we're supposed to do (ie: work, pay bills, be semi-productive members of society), but I would be lying if I said we weren't in a zen state. And it would also be a lie to say that we hate it. Because we don't. 

Sure, there are things that bother us. Things that make my anxiety go through the roof and things that make his temper flare, but for the most part, we've accepted that we're happier just being together and whoosah about life. 

Honestly, I don't know if it's marriage or my thirties, but whichever it is, I am here for it.

I go to the dentist tomorrow to look into having some pretty extensive dental work done and I've been a bit (I feel justifiably!) nervous about the whole ordeal. D has assured me that it's all going to be fine, because I'm tough and there's nothing we can't handle together (yeah, we treat all things in our lives to be equally important!). I'm going to a new dentist (that my cousin Jen recommended) and he's apparently real nice and effective, so hopefully we'll get this handled and it won't cost me our first born (because those bitches ain't getting my Tayderbug!). 

Nerves, anxiety and stress aside, at the end of the day, I get to come home to my loving husband and amazing furbabies and they do shit like leave me a trail of flowers from the front door of our house into the kitchen (to the steak), so I officially know my little Gatorbaby is cooking me dinner. 

And that, my friends, is what they call balance.