Well, here I sit. I'm supposed to be post surgical right now but instead I'm mopping the puddles from the floor for the 17th time from the kids dropping their snowy gear on the floor. The cat continues to eat Leah's chocolate creations (fuck you Santa), and I have tirelessly placed ALL of my Monopoly Pieces from the Shaw's Grocery Monopoly Game on the game board. Maybe THIS will be the year that I win a 1 million dollar vacation home. Side note, I won UNDER a pound of bananas and a WHOLE pound of iodized salt.
I have cleaned the walls, made the beds, and done everything I can think of to try to keep my mind occupied so the tantrum is kept at bay. The TV is on in the background, Someone just said "fudgetastic." I feel the rage in my throat. I want to roundhouse kick the TV, but it's new, and expensive. So there's that. Who the FUCK just says "fudgetastic?"
My mind wanders again. I can't help but feel sorry for myself. The grocery stores are open, people will get their seltzer water, but I will not get the lump removed from my breast today. Part of me is relieved because there was no time for a manicure and my hands look like a 70 year old mechanics. My skin is also in shambles. My body has not gotten the memo that I'm almost 37. The stress also isn't helping. Make-up is frowned upon during surgery. As a surgical nurse, I have no idea why. I don't follow that rule, but all of the makeup in the would wouldn't have helped my cause today. There is something comforting about at least feeling pretty while you're going under the knife. It's trivial and vain, but have you met me?? I don't leave the house without my brows or lashes, no matter what!!
I'm wrapped up in a blanket on the couch. I've had 3 cups of coffee. I haven't blogged in a while, life got in the way. I remembered how good it made me feel and I feel bad that I haven't made the time. Long Island Medium is on TLC. I LOVE her, but the only thing I can think of is how she wipes herself with those nails. Also, bacteria.
I have come to grips with the fact that my surgery has not happened yet. I know it will be soon, it's just waiting that I'm REALLLLYYYYY not good at. I am super optimistic, I just don't like not being in control (SHOCKING, I know). I want the surgery to be over-with so I can pour more energy into perfecting my resting bitch face (RBF for those of you who are not down with the lingo). There is so much I could be doing. I could be watching cheering videos to get ideas for my team. I could obsessively be counting the 8-counts to my cheering music (I swear I count and clap in my sleep), I could be standing in the mirror with my magnifying glass and tweezers working on perfecting my brow shape. I could be tending to the corned beef dinner that my people requested for dinner. Oh yeah, that's right. There's nothing to tend to when you're just boiling the shit out of salted, fatty meat and veggies. #Italian #ItaliangirlsdoNOTboilshit #Ikindoflikethecabbage I could be obnoxiously pinning recipes on Pinterest that require 8,000 ingredients that I don't have. But I'm choosing not to. Not today.
I just checked on the spawn. Gabe is shoveling the street. Leah is swinging with her hair wild and tipped with icicles. Both of their cheeks are bright red. It made me smile. Tantrum and anxiety remain at bay. I just texted Ben to get mustard. I cannot be forced to eat this "meat" without at least a gallon of mustard.
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| Rosy Red Cheeks |
For now, I'm going to stay strong and keep my bitchy, strong attitude that I have about everything. I'm going to remind myself that everything happens for a reason (SO cliche, GAG). I'm going to TRY not to roundhouse kick any objects. and I'm going to
Until the next time...
Peace, love, wine and a PERFECT RBF!!
Danielle <3
