Spice Girls Neck

About 8 years ago we took our two young daughters to a Spice Girls concert. It was at a venue in Denver that used to be Fiddler's Green, now I don't know the name. Anyway, at any normal concert it's a great venue. It's outdoor and there are a few rows of regular seating but the rest is a grassy hillside. We saw Sting there once and it was one big, grassy love fest. This was not Sting, this was the Spice Girls. Every little girl in Colorado and her parents were at this concert. I don't know what the capacity of the former Fiddler's Green is, but I am sure this crowd of wanna-be Baby Spices exceeded it. We underestimated so many things about this concert. We had to park really far away; too far for the girls (at that age) to walk the whole way. When we got inside, there were no general admission (grass) seats to be found, in fact, it was standing room only and we were in the veeeerrrry back, as far back as you could be and still be inside FG. Our girls were little and there's no way they could see the 4 (Ginger had quit at this time) little dots down on the stage unless we picked them up. So yes, we stood and held kids for the 2+ hours of the concert. Plus, we carried them to and from the concert and that's when I developed what I lovingly call: Spice Girls Neck. The next day my neck was a wreck with a teeny little range of motion. Sudden movements were a nightmare. It eventually got better by itself but over the years has come back occasionally. I have a fear of chiropractics, you see. I've seen way too many Jackie Chan movies. My husband was able to get me into his chiropractor earlier this year when I was having a bad case of SGN. My greatest fears were realized. When he twisted my neck it made a really wild noise and I literally screamed. Then, it didn't hurt anymore! I have SGN as I write and I need to get in there and get it tweaked, but the sound just about makes me hurl.

Mable's got the Fever


Ah, Spring Fever. It's completely infectious. So, the other day my daughter called me from her Jr. High to ask me to bring her some forgotten homework. It was a beautiful day and I was to deliver the papers to her at the outdoor commons where she and her friends were sunfesting over the lunch period. Feeling saucy, I grabbed a box of ice cream bars and drove to the school where I (and the ice cream) was greeted most enthusiastically. Later my daughter told me she offered a bar to her history teacher and he was so pleased he gave her enough extra credit to raise her grade! Pay it forward, people. Pay it forward.

Mable's Baby Story

So, here's a little birth story. It happened three years ago and I still have little panic episodes. Warning: for those of you who may be pregnant, this is probably one of those stories you don't need to hear.Let me start by stating the fault lies with many people, including me. I look back and see things I could have/should have done differently, but the fact of abandonment by my medical team is undeniable.I was due with my 4th baby. I love babies. I love being pregnant, I have honestly enjoyed labor and delivery drug-free each birth No, I'm not a pioneer woman or earth muffin. I always told my husband and doctors/nurses "If I feel I need it, give it to me". I just never got to the point of asking for meds, I just handled it like they taught me in Lamaze and tried to stay calm. Anyway, I start having interesting contractions one day and some bloody show (sorry to the men and/or queasy readers - this is your last chance to exit this blog....) but, hey, I've been through this three times, it's gonna take a lot to get me to the doctor. I experienced false labor with every pregnancy and those middle-of-the-night trips to the hospital only to be sent home still pregnant are no fun. Well, the contractions keep coming and are getting regular so I decide to sleep and go to the doctor the next morning. Note: I went to a clinic with 3 doctors, A B & C. Dr. B I loathe with the fire of a thousand suns and refuse to let him near me after a really bad moment during my second labor when he called the hospital and told them to tell me not to push, he'd mosey over when he finished dinner. I was at 10cm. Dr. C is okay, but Dr. A is my hero. He has really taken care of me over the years, he knows all of my ins and outs, literally. (sorry, couldn't resist) He and I have an agreement that he will deliver this baby no matter what, whether he is on-call or not. He even changed his vacation to accommodate my due date. At the clinic, good old Dr. A examines me, but is not impressed. He tells me to go home, but if anything happens to call and go to the hospital. After I hang out at home for a while, I'm feeling pretty much like having a baby so I call the clinic. The receptionist tells me Dr. A has gone for the day and no, she won't page him, he isn't on-call. "But we have an agreement!" I say. She says, "Sorry, if I don't have his written orders, I am not to call him. You'll have to go to the hospital and see the Dr. on-call". In the hospital I am hooked to a monitor which also isn't showing anything very impressive and the nurse tells me Dr. B will be in soon to do an internal exam (nurse already did one, I am starting to dilate). Remember, I hate Dr. B's guts. After an hour Dr. B still hasn't moseyed in to check me so I pull the monitor off my tummy and say I'm going home. The nurse checks in with Dr. B who orders her to give me 2 Ambien and send me home. Mind you, I am a lightweight with all meds/alcohol/whathaveyou. I once took 1/2 an Ambien and it was, "Bye bye, Mable. See you next Thursday". So, off I go to labor at home. I think I've mentioned that I've done this a few times so I'm thinking, the best way to hurry up a baby is movement! We played badminton with our three other kids in the backyard. Now my neighbors tell me it was a really scary sight seeing this hugely pregnant woman running around. I would pause for each contraction and go on playing. When it got dark we went inside and I continued the reading aloud of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. Again: read a little, have a contraction, read a little, and so on. At bedtime I dutifully took my Ambien (only one though, I 'm not a complete fool) and we all go to sleep. My eldest daughter is worried about me so she camps out on the floor in our room. At about 3am I wake up suddenly, having to use the toilet. I clamber out of the bed and go into the bathroom when I realize I don't have to go potty, I'm about to have a baby. Apparently I've slept through transition! I call my sweet husband who comes in saying, "Oh no, oh no, you can't have the baby here!" He said I had the look of a wild animal in my eyes as I sought a place to deliver. Fortunately we had been in full nesting mode and a huge pile of clean, folded towels was at the ready. He threw them all over the bathroom floor so I would have a semi-sanitary place to deliver. Like all my babies, a couple of pushes was all it took. I had been reading a fabulous book on Midwifery to prepare for this birth and the knowledge I gained was a saving grace. I remembered not to push too hard, but to pant and let the baby exit easily. I still tore, but oh well. By this time my husband had 911 on the line. They were instructing him to tie off the cord. He told them he didn't have anything to use and then he remembered his brand new pack of shoelaces! After the cord stopped pulsing, he tied a lace around it as instructed. The baby was born and didn't make a sound. She was really warm, of course, but her eyes weren't open and she wasn't moving. They kept telling us we had to get her to breathe. My husband put his face against hers and she wasn't inhaling. We had her laying on my chest/tummy and we began rubbing her back vigorously, back and forth and finally she gave a huge cough and blew out all the stuff that was blocking her mouth and nose. At his point the paramedics arrived and loaded us onto a stretcher and into the ambulance. I delivered the placenta on the way to the hospital. One thing I forgot to mention was that the hospital I planned to deliver in, the one in which I'd been checked that day was in another town. The ambulance took me to the hospital in the town where I live, which didn't know who I was. After checking in, baby to NICU, stitches, etc. Social Services comes to see the homeless lady who had the baby on her bathroom floor! They thought I had no doctor! Oh, and my husband wasn't yet at the hospital because he was at home cleaning up the bathroom and waiting for the sitter to get there. When we finally got the story straight, the new hospital was in shock about what had happened. They called my doctor's office and told them they had his patient. Do you know, my own doctor, my beloved Dr A NEVER CALLED ME? Not one word, no "how is the baby", no flowers, no check-up, no "how are you doing". Nothing. The baby went to the NICU and stayed for a week. She was healthy, but had a hard time breathing room air. Her little face was obscured with tape and tubes, it was an unbelievably difficult time. She wasn't able to breastfeed with her tubes so I pumped and tried to bottle feed her. When we brought her home she was still on oxygen, but soon that wasn't needed. Today she is a fabulous, healthy girl about to have her 3rd birthday. I will never move from this house. In my bathroom I've hung a print by Gustav Klimt of a detail of a painting depicting a mother holding her baby. I think they kind of look like us.

I've just returned from a trip to Mexico. We stayed at a beautiful resort and had a wonderful time. Mostly, it was one of the best trips I've ever been on. I said "mostly". We left our four kids in a babysitter's care while we were away. One day, my 11 year old daughter called me, sobbing. The fact that she reached me at all was miraculous. The cell phone coverage where we were is almost non-existent, and certainly unreliable. I was in a gift shop when I took her call. She was crying and it was hard to hear her clearly, plus the call kept garbling. I heard her say, "We were all in the car and we were coming to a stop, only Rebekah (babysitter) didn't stop. (Garble garble). There was a really big truck coming (garble garble) just before it hit us." Then sobs. I hit the ground. I just went straight down to the ground outside the gift shop and my husband bent down and picked up the phone. I sat there with my head in my hands and cried. The part I missed hearing my daughter say was, "but it stopped just before it hit us." My husband is trying to get this through to me and now my daughter is hysterical because she realizes the misunderstanding and is even more upset. As it was, our babysitter was on a road that crosses a 50 MPH highway. She had a stopsign, but she didn't stop and didn't see the cement truck barreling down the road. My oldest daughter in the third seat started yelling, "Watch out! Truck! On your right! On your right!" Rebekah stopped the car right in the middle of the highway and the truck skimmed right across the front of our car, but didn't hit them. They said it was a matter of inches. I know if they had been hit by a 50mph cement truck, all my kids would be gone. I'm still trying to tell my brain it didn't hear what it thought it heard. I thought I lost them..........

I am so happy to be home, Happy Mother's Day.

P.S. I've been talking to my kids about the almost accident. My daughter (the one who called me) said when she saw the truck coming, she knew she was going to die and she kept thinking, "What are Mom and Dad going to do?"

I've gotten some reports that my last post was too negative. Sorry, I'm really mad and I won't talk to anybody around here about this so this blog is saving me! Besides, I changed almost all the names and identifying information. Put your hands in the air and sing with me, "that's what blogs are for........"

Okay folks, let's return to a happier, gentler time. A time for:

Mable's Movie Review 3

Here is the grading system, in case you've forgotten or don't want to go back to earlier reviews. That's understandable. I've made the peppers red! Ooooh pretty.

, the worst thing I've ever seen
,, barely watchable
,,, tolerable if multitasking
,,,, good, but still willing to pause for potty breaks
,,,,, Oscars! Oscars! Oscars!

I have several movies sitting here waiting for me to view and review, but I was only able to see one this past weekend:

I Am Sam
At the time this film came out I wasn't interested in seeing it. I loved Rainman and didn't want to see Sean Penn's version. Also, this just seemed like another in a long, boring list of Michelle Pfieffer movies that all blur together. What brought me to order this movie from Netflix was Dakota Fanning. She is currently my favorite actress followed closely by her little sister, Elle (see The Door in the Floor. No, first read A Widow for one Year, THEN see TDITF) Dakota steals any movie she's in. I love her. She is priceless and I hope she has a nice, normal life and doesn't turn into a monster. I Am Sam was was good if you can suspend your belief that this mentally challenged man (autism +) who bussed tables at Starbucks could afford his apartment and raise a daughter from infancy who turns out to be Dakota Fanning. I've had babies, it's really hard taking care of them and I was prepared. Well, except for the one born on the bathroom floor, but that's another post.... I knew everything was going to be alright when I saw Laura Dern, though. She just had to be what the situation needed to make it all okay again. Michelle Pfieffer is soooooo unlikable as a rich, selfish attorney and absentee mother. If you like Dakota you'll like this movie, she MAKES this movie. If you don't like her, skip it, by all means. ,,,

Drama in Real Life

Okay, so I know these people, I'll call them the "Whys". The husband is Ed and the wife is Jill. If you've seen SNL, the Whys are the couple who should be divorced. You can't be around them without Jill calling Ed a pr#$*. We had the non-pleasure of being in a business partnership with the Whys for several years. We entered into this partnership before we knew the nature of their relationship and their personalities. Ed is no picnic, either. When he drinks his friends call him "Devil Boy", for good reason. When business was good, Jill took full advantage of any perk she could find including free gas for her 2 suburbans, free cell phones and service, new boobs, and trips to Vegas. Ed, most of the time walked around with this one throbbing vein in his forehead, ready to kill anyone who got in his way. Oh, and did I mention they have FOUR KIDS? The amount isn't the problem, the problem is that Jill doesn't like kids, she just likes the attention she got when she was pregnant. This is not my opinion, she told me this. This is a woman who is completely selfish, but also completely upfront about it. Oh, and another perk of our business relationship was entering their 3 boys in Motocross. We're talking trailers, bikes, equipment, practice, travel, etc. Ed left work each day at 3 to go ride bikes with his kids. This is a lovely thought in theory. More time with the kids and all. The whole leaving the business behind part wasn't really working for us, though. And did I mention how many injuries these kids sustained? For three years, someone in that family had a broken bone. When one would heal, another one would crash and break something. Or fall down the stairs, the did that a lot, too. One time, when Jill was 8 months pregnant, she took little Timmy(3) on a ride on an ATV. Of course they crashed, Timmy breaking his collarbone and Jill breaking her pelvis. I did mention she was 8 months pregnant, right? One day, after Ed discovers Jill canoodling with a fraternity brother, Ed announces he wants to end our partnership so he can focus on his family. We tried to act disappointed, but really we did a happy dance and gladly signed the buyout agreement. For the past couple of years it's been really quiet, not having to hear the daily drama of the Why household. Then, when we were one payment away from complete ownership we get the big news: The Whys are getting a divorce. Ed tells us Jill has had three affairs, the current one with a female contractor who was remodeling their house. Soon, lawyers are hired, restraining orders are filed and the divorce is under way! They agree to custody of alternating weeks. So far, Jill has gone on vacation with her girlfriend during her week and once left the kids home with the emotionally wrecked 12 year old son while she went out to a cowboy bar. Is my bias showing? It needn't, Jill's actions are stranger than any slant I could possibly put on this sad-but-true story. When they went to court, Jill asked for maintenance of $7,500 a month, based on what her other divorced friends were getting. The judge reviewed this and awarded her $1,300 a month based on Ed's new status of "unemployed." Now she's really mad. No longer having the free phone and service from our business, she has to go out and buy a new phone and get a new number. Since 1997 my cell phone number has been 433-7777. A nice little number, easy to remember. Jill's new number is 443-7777. She the difference? No? Neither does anyone else. My phone rings all day long with wrong numbers for Jill. This is the worst and weirdest coincidence in the history of the world. Jill and I are no longer friends. When we were in business together I tolerated her at best. Once we cut that tie, I was over her completely. Now I'm her answering service. Oh yes, I am delivering messages to them. One lady called to ask what she should do with the Why's dogs that Jill doesn't want anymore. I had my husband call Ed to go and rescue his dogs he didn't know were in danger. Divorce is the ugliest, most painful thing in the world. What those kids are going through... I can't even imagine. I'm sure it was terrible when their parents were together, but now it's hell on earth. I don't feel comfortable talking to anyone about this. It's still a small enough town that we're all connected by a very few degrees of separation. But having changed all the names and numbers and blogged away, I feel much better and I'm going to go out and plant some flowers now. Thank god for technology.