kidney stones, thanks for the update on medical info, "mom." pfft.

this will be my 3rd and final attempt at writing the story on kidney stones.

but first, things that are going on in the life of rachel in no particular order of importance (don't front, you know you're interested..)

kays in my closet playing dress up. im sure that it will require 3 hours of cleaning as she is now in the shoe department pretending she's a cast member of high school musical..

i now only communicate with casey in the mornings via emails and comments on myspace. he has not learned that you are supposed to say goodmorning before going back to his underground cave filled with myspace and an xbox 360.

a girl ive worked with and known for 7 years lost her son thursday night. dont forget to show your loved ones how much you love them, you never know if it will be the last time. (perhaps i should go tell my son, instead of emailing him..hmm.

save ten cents a gallon with a "green" car and the fuel made out of corn, pay an extra 2 dollars for milk and beef per pound. logical.

if i sound like a republican, perhaps on some issues. dont forget, however, that one of my best friends ever is gay. I love her more than life, itself. My nephew has a great view of all this, so in case i get any judgment comments, i will refer you to him to set you straight. (straight..yuk yuk)

I absolutely hate my ex brother in law. I won't get into it, though.

My mama and I had the most amazing conversation the other night.

now, onto the kidney stones, because that is what you have been waiting for..

Last Tuesday evening, I went to bed like any normal evening (ive decided right now to throw out all punctuation and grammar skills, for the sake of time), 7 oclock on the dot, EB had the kids taken care of for the evening, and I was trying my hardest to get over a wicked lung infection that had left me tired, ornery and coffee. coughie. coughey. coffee. hmm.

I woke up, 'round 2.. had to pee, but it was different, I hurt. Now, anyone that knows me, probably just my sister and those other girls i think of as sisters, knows that i have been plagued my kidney issues my entire adult life. coincidentally, i drink mountain dew every day and a glass of water A WEEK is about as much as i can stand. I figure it has something to do with me being too lazy to actually take time out of my day to go to the bathroom. besides, i always end up turning around tocheck my butt out, and that always depresses me, anyway.

I proceeded to get up, take some motrin and try to get ready for work. I knew i couldnt have a kidney infection, because i had just gotten off the antibiotics for the wretched black lung disease. as i was putting on my fake up, i knew my time was up. I woke the kids up, begging them to get ready that day with no problems, as I figured i had about 30 minutes left before i was full on in the fetal postion sucking my thumb like the baby i truly am and drove myself to the ER.

well, i got there 'round 7.12 (i guess that would be "precisely," wouldn't it?) parked beautifully (i drive the biggest gas-guzzlin' SUV ever made. pay attention, this will matter soon..) and went into the medical facility lexington dares to call a medical facility.

the first person who met me was the security guard. he and i would later have an intimate encounter, but for now, he informed me that they wouldn't be able to see me until 8, perhaps id like to wait? i told him id rather stick a fork in my eye, i didnt have time to wait, and thought that if i drove down to the doc in a box down the street, theyd throw me in an ambulance and id get priority treatment.

what a bad bad idea. i got a block down the road and turned around. i felt like i was about to deliver Jesus Jr. (as that is what i would have named any [seemingly] 22 pound baby that was at that moment giving me labor-esque like pains, but you can call me "Mary,mother of baby kidney stones," if you wish.)

I pulled in the big green monster.. thought i was doing a fabulous job at parking, and got stuck. at this moment, ididnt even CARE that i was stuck and contemplated just leaving the car right where it was and crawling back inside. i did, however, realize that this was a bad idea, even in the state i was in,and gunned my v10 like i was ...gunning a v10. went inside, told my new security guard friend that i would, indeed like to stay if they'd have me, as polite as you please, and then proceeded to tell him that i just made mince-meat pie out of that shiny new 2008 dodge ram parked next to me.

that'llteachyoutodriveaford.

I crawled to the seat to wait, where the nurses took me in via wheelchair. I gave the guy an expired (who knew?) car insurance card, and proceeded to weep my way back to some room where they took my next insurance card. ahh,the day i was grateful i have insurance on everything.

After i was in a bed, and the morphine was in full progress running through my veins, helping everything BUT my pain, the police officers arrived. i was still writhing in pain (can you believe the morphine didnt even work? i was shocked..), but had enough sense (not really) to wonder if they'd give me a DUI since i was totally drugged up. later , i figured out theyd figure out i got the morphine from the doctor, but thats when i had sense again.

did i mention that i had to take my clothes off and get in a gown that showed everything but my 4th rib on the right side? well, that and some socks. my nurse was kind enough to bring me some socks because as i took off my shoes and examined my pedicure in the flourescent lights, i panicked, thinking back that i had been so sick the week before that i missed that step, and would have to wear heels with my gown. i think she felt a little sorry for me and (perhaps) thought i was a tad..on the vain side,and went and fetched me some socks.

so..police officers and security guard in my room, me on morphine, halfway 'nekkid' and wearing borrowed socks. "oh, thats right, the little accident. it was what? a brand new truck i hit? oops. it was a rental car? oops. i guess ill claim responsibility,and SURE you can have my keys, just go dig them out of my purse, thats right, right next to the xanax , there you go, sure you can go get in my car and get my real insurance card and registration. document all the stuff i cant see, and what? oh sure, you can blame every scratch on the rental car on me!! thats fine,no, really, i totally understand! have a nice day, 'occifer."

dumb. dumb. dumb. now eb probably was wishing he had gone on ahead and met me at the hospital, heck, even driven me would have been okay, since he pays for the insurance on that car. hes thinking now that hes a sucker and should have stopped paying that bill when i got my current job.

anyway, for the sake of time, as my fingers are getting tired ( i swear if myspace deletes all this, i will delete my account in protest, THAT will teach Tom.), after a CAT scan, it was revealed that Jesus jr. was not on the way, that i was, indeed passing kidney stones, poor poor rachel.. they gaveme dilaudid, took me to the potty and taught me how to strain my pee, and sent me on the way. EB did , in fact, come to save the day, anddrove me home, and got the medicine and took care of the kids for thenext few days. i was a mess. no body told me you get violently ill passing kidney stones. let that be a lesson to you all.

anyway. im resting. comfortably, thank you very much to vicodin. have a great day,enjoy the fair if you are going, if its colder than a witches tit where you are (that'll teach you to say that particular saying, as i will then proceed to ask you when the last time you can remember taking the temperature of a certain witches boobie..), then throw a scarf on and enjoy the day.

kayley, matthew and pine trees-broken backs for the lot of ya!

I couldn't make this stuff up if I tried. I know it seems as if I have a lot of drama in my life, and while it's true, I directly attribute it to the fact that I have 3 kids, a lot of people walk in and out of our lives , so we have so much going on at all times.

Please know in advance that what I'm about to write is very scary, if December 12 brings bad memories, please stop reading. If you do choose to keep reading, even though you know that date as the day you lost your precious child, know without a doubt, his memory lives on in my mind as it did 3 years ago, and will continue to do so as long as I live. I loved that little boy.

Wednesday was almost like any other day. Almost. Except that it was specifically Dec. 12. The day that our tight-knit community and one of my greatest inspirational friends lost her precious baby boy who went to heaven too early. He was 7. He had the most beautiful brown eyes, and I can still remember his voice. I made a promise to myself that I'd never be flippant about this specific date, and no matter where I was, or what I was doing, every Dec.12, I'd visit his grave, so his family would know how much he influenced me and how important he was.

I didn't get there.

My friend Lori had her 2 daughters and my little K on Wednesday. After school, they went to Sonic, got something yummy to drink, then headed back home. They passed the church where Matthew is buried, all knowing that we would all be going back later that evening to pay our respects. As soon as they passed the church, Lori veered into the other lane (was talking to the girls, turned her head for an instant, and bam), hit a huge Ford 350..broke his axle, flipped him a couple times, she ran into a retaining wall and was stopped by a pine tree.

All of this and I have no phone, no way for them to get a hold of me. Finally I went home to use the house phone, I knew something was wrong.

We ended up getting to the ER (this makesFOUR trips to the ER this fall.. helllooooo), they checked Kay out, told her she'd have some amazing bruises, and hurt like the dickens for a couple days and released her. Lori's girls are the same. Lori broke her back.

her back-yeah, totally serious. her spinal cord isn't damaged, though, so she's in a lot of pain, but she's not paralyzed, thank GOD.

Everyone I have talked to that saw the wreck can't believe no one died. Everyone was extremely lucky.

Anyway,. you're probably wondering how Matthew fits into all of this.. well, 3 years ago on the very night of Lori and the girl's car accident (down to the exact hour), we were all there in the ER. After we finally got Kay released, we walked through the ER, and as I looked to my right, there was the trauma bay where we all stood vigil 3 years ago. I just stared, kept my composure and asked God to ask Matthew to understand why we couldnt get out to the cemetary that night. God, in his own little way, still allowed us to feel closer and remember, and for that, I am truly thankful.

fires and mindfucks

Alright, I still want to blog about the fire story, but it's just not so funny anymore, I think I waited too long. I was cleaning and (who knew there were little screws you could unscrew the vent off the mircrowave so you didn't start fires whilst trying to get all that filthy grime out of the vent??) Bleach started an electrical fire, I saw black smoke-knew that wasn't good, and opened the microwave door and bam, fire. okay, that sounds exaggerated, and it is, but if you know me, you know this is par for the course. I panicked, of course, got the INDUSTRIAL sized fire extinguisher and proceeded to empty the ENTIRE contents into my little broken microwave and kitchen. um. not a grand idea. Now, because I'm not schtupid , I knew I should turn off the breaker, but then how could i call 911 and wait for 9 rings while Zelda was returning from her smoke break? Firemen came, I was made an honorary Red Bank Firefighter, because damnit, I can put out some fires, boys, and then cried on my bed for the next 20 minutes thinking of cleaning that mess up. Ever seen how messy that is after you extinguish a fire? ME, and MT, CK, I know ya'll do bc , well, experience and all, but if you don't know, trust me, you never want to find out. 2 weeks post-op and I was having a nervous breakdown. Anyway, 3 hours later it was alll cleaned up, thanks to my saving grace who called and calmed me down and Rachel stood up and got it done, boys.

Now on to my rants of the day, in no typical form or fashion, and none more or less important. ***WARNING-if you are a child (biological or not) , niece, nephew, mama or daddy of mine, stop reading now because I just MIGHT drop the F bomb.***

i gave you your warning why are you still reading this, nosey?

I'll make it short, sweet and to the point.
..
I am as loyal as they come. You F with one of mine, I turn redbankredneck on your ass. I grew up in Americus, Ga. I know how to do that. In like..2.2 seconds if need be.

2 things.
1.you mess with my best friend and mind F*ck her (and not in the good way, I've learned recently there is a good way), I'll have your balls charbroiled and feed them to the dogs.I promise one of them is so big he won't even have to chew, he just swallows 'em down whole. The other one will play fetch for a while, then get bored and gnaw on them for about 20 minutes. Ouch. Got it? You better, you little weeenie.

2. you mind F*ck my kid to the point where she has to wonder whether you love her or not and you will be cut off forever. I'm not bullshitting. I've done it before, I'll do it again. My child is precious, and priceless and if you can't or won't see that, then I have zero left to say to you. Why, as adults, do we let children down so we can do whatever it is that we want to do?

I even edited the F bomb. go me.

I'm done. Rant/Over/Chh.

alright, another light one, happy tuesday

Things I’ve learned this week in no particular order

Drunk dialing is out. Drunk texting, on the other hand, is totally the way to go.

When you're awake at 2a.m. you assume everyone else should be, as well.

The ladies in the mall who work at makeup counters seriously think they are the most cosmopolitan women in all the land. Come on, you work at a mall for christ sake, quit being so snotty. Besides, Loreal is more expensive than Clinique these days, you bitch.

It takes my body 2 weeks to metabolize an entire loaf of pumpkin bread.

I talk louder than I think I do. No scary biker dude likes to be looked at, pointed at, and laughed at while someone is telling her friends that his beard looks like pubic hair. I don't recommend this unless you have a man who has a gun sitting in close proximity to you and is willing to use it.

The term "beer shits" makes me laugh. It always reminds me of Rhonda's feet hanging out of a bathroom stall while hearing her moan. And not in pleasure, if you know what I mean.

People who shop at WalMart later than 12 a.m. usually are the freaks who have a gimpy leg.

Christmas shopping doesn't get done by its self.

My cousin had a baby in October. I still have the present in my trunk right next to the beach chair.

Linen closets can be made to look like they are really clean if you fold the top layer of linens really niceley to cover things up.

Once you dust the fan blades and scrub the floors, your mother in law will call to tell you she doesn't want to come. At least I get a clean fridge out of the deal.

Shorts in December is a stupid look. Shorts in December with Ugg boots is even worse. I seriously don't care that your legs are gorgeous, you look ridiculous.

No matter how quiet I am on the mornings I just want to sneak out of the house to get the grocery shopping done, my little one will hear me and want to go. Waking her up for school, on the other hand, takes an act of congress to get her out of the bed.

Most cars will move for a crazy woman in an Excursion when she's uptight and in Christmas traffic.

No matter how much I yell with my head out of the open window while stuck in school traffic, it will not make the trip faster. Especially if I throw the F bomb out with it. It actually has the opposite effect and makes asscracks let more people out in front of them.

My mother just told me that Santa isn't real. wtf, you were pretending???

I still can't watch Frosty or Rudolph. It seriously makes me cry. Stephie can't either. Maybe now I know the reason, my parents scarred us by telling us there wasn't a Santa..

I can, however, watch the Christmas Story for 24 hours straight. You'll shoot your eye out!

I still love Britney. I know, I know.

I plan on watching Psycho and eating farm raised shrimp for New Years. Yes, I know I suck.

Liquids can't turn to solids while passing through intestines.

PO boxes are the closest things to engagement rings.

Wool sweaters seem like a good idea when it's freezing out. Not such a good idea when you're huddled with the masses in the mall and have claustrophobia and huge fake boobs.

Huge fake boobs make you sweat.

Upon further inspection, it has been deemed by me that there is no nice word to describe that thing that hangs down on obese men..you know, the thing that starts at the waistline and ends at their..knees. I seriously want to know how they pee.Hoist? Lever? Pulley system? What.FOPA!

Never try to thin out your own hair. Your hairdresser can and will chastize you for screwing up your hair.

On the days that I have to get a shower and scoot out of the house, one of my children can and will sneak in before me and take all the hot water.

Legs don't shave well when you're sitting in half an inch of lukewarm bathwater.

I never have bandaids in the house when I need them.

It really is more windy at Lake Murray.

Coach really makes tennishoes. How tacky.

If you own a zebra striped bag, don't admit it. You and every other woman out there. Good Lord. Especially if it's not really D&B. Flea markets aren't really reputable, know what I mean?

Condensed version of non-identifying information. I hate this shit.

I hate being adopted. Oh, I love my family alright, but this is bullshit. Word. to your frickin' mother. or to mine.
Birth took place in a "local hospital" (Kinston has only been confirmed via adoptive parents and LCDSS says they can't give me anymore on that bc that is considered identifying..) Born on 12-9-1972. Full term, 7 lbs. 3oz. APGAR-10. Nothing remarkable. Birth mother lived with her paternal grandparents, after they adopted her at age 3. Barely had a relationship with her own parents, but did write her mother a letter informing her she was pregnant. Saw her father from time to time, but he lived in a different state. Had not actually seen her mother since she was young. Both of her parents had multiple marriages and divorces. Pregnancy was entirely concealed from everyone but Birth father (and letter to her own mother) until the moment she was taken to the hospital in labor.Grandparents were "shocked." Birth father wanted to get married, but she refused, citing that would be a mistake. He moved to another state, and she did not maintain contact with him. (Because of her own adoption and seemingly sad life, she stated she wanted better for her baby, and had wished that instead of her grandparents adopting her at age 3, she would have been given to an agency for adoption.) There was no prenatal care. In the hospital, a social worker was contacted. Birth mother did not see me, and did not want to. She showed very little emotion at signing consent forms. She repeatedly stated this was the best thing for her infant daughter. Birth mother / Birth mother Family Details: 19 at the age of giving birth. Graduated highschool in ?-?-1971. Had previously worked in a shirt factory, but had not worked during the pregnancy. She had plans of going back to that job, or to start a cosmetology course at a local community college. She was overweight, and was 5'1" weighing 180lbs. She had a pretty face, reddish-brown (Mine is considered Auburn...) hair, green eyes and a fair complexion. History of Hay Fever, frequent bronchitis as a child. Family Dr. suspected asthma, but was not on any medication. One of her grandparents (unknown) had diabetes. (Please note: I had stated in my info for the registry that she had Diabetes-incorrect.) As stated previously, she lived with her paternal grandparents. Her (P) grandfather was a cotton mill worker, (P) grandmother, a housewife. They lived in a modest frame house located next to the cotton mill. Mothers Parents (my maternal grandparents): (M) mother 5'1" and 130 pounds. Dark hair, brown eyes. High school education and worked in a shirt factory. (M) father was 6 feet tall and had a medium build.Black hair, green eyes. He was a carpenter and had a high school education. Birth father / Birth father Family Details: (Birth father's name was not revealed) 6 ' tall, weighed about 175 lbs. Black hair, dark brown eyes and dark complexion. (I'm assuming an Italian look, I look like I'm straight from Sicily.) He had one year of college and was planning to eventually return to school . At the time he was operating a steam business. His parents -(P) father-deceased. (P) mother was described as being short and stout with a ruddy complexion in good health. Birth father had 3 brothers and 2 sisters; all of which had dark hair. All are described as tall, except for one brother who was short. Placed in foster home from hospital on 12-13-1972. 12-19-1972 Adoption Committee made a match with adoptive parents (Charles and Georgianne who resided in Goldsboro, Wayne Co.) Wayne Co. is the amended birth county on amended BC. 1-19-1973 Placed with adopted parents. He was a fighter pilot, USAF, aged 25. She was a homemaker -25. They had previously been foster parents themselves

rage

ive figured something out. ive figured that i only use perhaps 3% brain capacity when interacting with others. or myself. or day to day life. there is so much more just skimming the surface. its like i have a brain degenerating disease that has taken over my mind, locked it in a little box.

click.

everything is right there, straining against the lock to get out. my hopes, my fears, the words i really want to say, to write, but wont. where does the anger come from? is it locked in my brain along with the alphabet i learned when i was 5? is it sitting next to the abilities shelf, shoved up against my knowing how to tie a shoe or make a bed with no wrinkles? perhaps its closer to the window ledge that holds memories. that would make more sense. i suppose you cant get angry if you dont remember why you are angry. will the lock break under the strain if there is too much in there? seemingly, it seeps out slowly, giving me bitch status at all the right moments. how can others know where the key is, and let it all out? open the damn window. i need it out. let me spew forth my venom obliterating, if just for a moment, the facade you have come to know and love. why can you tell me whats wrong with you, but i cant tell you whats wrong with me? why can you tell me whats wrong with me, but i cant do the same?

perfect moments come out clearly enough. sitting in inky blackness, my ankles itching every now and then. i try to see how long i can go without scratching that itch. not very long.. i dont have the fortitude to endure very much pain. the inky sky is punctuated with little pinpoints of light, bigger than all of us put together, and we focus on something else, entirely man-made, reminding of us to love one another, when we can't even love whats so beautiful around us. the wind is softly playing with my hair, more sensual than a lover, because i actually let myself feel. its taking that little curl that i hate so much and try to straighten, and teases my eyelashes. keeping at a safe distance , so at just the right moment, when i go to swat it away, it moves effortlessly away from me, mocking me. i know it will happen again. when the wind died, and the lights came on, that perfect moment was sucked back in through the little crack .. put on the ledge to remember for another day.

punctuated anger is now back with a vengeance-i hate the scratching on the door.. i hate that you wont help me. i hate that i have 16 days to do all im supposed to do, and do properly, and expected to do more. i cant give more. leave me alone. i want to drink out of the hose, and not come back in the house until the street lights come on. i want to scream and have everyone listen that im not going home. take a rock and break that window and have everything dark and ugly ooze over the ledge..and just run back to where i feel the wind, maybe this time ill let it play with my hair without getting anxious. maybe im safer in the dark, with my eyelashes being tickled and my ankles itching..

click.

in no particular order..

fighter..lonely...need new furniture...want..i hate my dog..she needs prozac..i love you.. hated you for so long..don't leave me.. the color of the sky at this precise moment is what I wanted for the accent wall...why can't I take a picture..let me go..never let me go..new best friend..old soul..wrap you in my arms and never let you go..let go..get a job so i can quit mine..i hate my dog...unorganized.. too organized...make me forget..help me remember...i do too much...i dont do enough.. you do too much..you do enough..reckless abandonment.. when will it be all about me..when will it not be all about me..italy...hawaii is sinking, forget california..you should see my new shoes..vera bradley is my new favorite..it covers my ass its so huge..i want to write..i cant write shit..i hate that dress that i love..i hate what it stands for.. im going to burn it soon..lets have a dress burning party..write all the things you want to do before you die..life is the book you write.. dont grow where youre planted..that sucks..its settling..dont settle..i hate weeds.. i miss the L's..i miss what my parents never were..i miss what they've given me..horrible child.. lovely child.help me find my MOTHER.beautiful women..hurting so much.. just let me laugh again..those arent laugh lines, my dear..i cant believe you all didn't wait for me..dont leave her..not now..she didn't give you permission..you cant go..talk..damnit, talk to her..fight...you look horrible..youre beautiful..stop not giving a shit..dont sit back and let me make all the decisions..im not old enough to do this.. im too old to do this..inspire..ill wash your hair in the bathtub if it means youll get up and stop smiling..your smile does not hide it all, m'dear..i know different..let me see you cry..aha..i saw it for a second.. lets go to walmart and pretend everythings okay for a minute..the world doesnt stop when we are in pain..it should..just for a moment..i like the pumpkins..ive never seen green ones..or white ones..still hating my dog, but not so much..if i keep wearing yellow on fridays, ill have to dye my hair..it doesnt match..did he find the phone..is she in trouble..ive got to go grocery shopping..someone help me..someone save me..i cant save myself..fight