Ordered my 16 year old a queen size bed frame with headboard and footboard. It came in 100 pieces. The 13 year old and 16 year old may have electronics back when the bed is assembled correctly. This is a life lesson and a punishment all at the same time 😂😂

If you were wondering how the pizza deliberations ended – good choices were made for two whole days so we took the girls to Pizza Mavens for dinner. Although it was like herding cats covered in Parmesan cheese, it wasn’t nearly as bad as it could have been. I did profusely apologize to everyone in the restaurant for the loudness of our group 😂

The pizza was amazing, the girls didn’t maim anyone, plates didn’t get thrown and they managed to sit still for a whole hour 😍😍😍😍

My husband just got into an in-depth, serious and introspective conversation with a four year old about ear wax, how microwaves work and the magic of our robotic trash can

thisisfostercare

ilovethisman

Lesson: With three teenagers – meal planning becomes an absolute. Mainly because it helps keeps my grocery bill down.

This week I have changed a few things up

Each teen is tasked with cooking dinner one night. They have to create the grocery list for their meal and they have to feed five people with that meal. It is a meal that they pick. This week’s rule was that it has to include a vegetable. They have $10 budget each. They are also allowed to use the waffle maker, crockpot, stove and oven but no straight microwave meals. They are allowed to use sales and coupons but they haven’t thought that far yet. 😂

I didn’t really think this out as pasta is on the menu twice this week 😂😂

Next week the rules will include no pasta and it has to be healthy 😂

I feel like they should really have a better understanding of why I get so irritated when they waste food plus they are learning budgeting for when they are poor college students 😂😂😂

Hopefully I don’t get food poisoning 😂 #parenting

Some days I want to be a ripple, some days I want to be a storm, and then some days I want to be a tsunami accompanied by a mythical creature that rises from the sea to lay waste to everything in search of chocolate – today I want to be a calm, still pond – however after waking up, stubbing my toe, tripping over a dog, spilling my coffee and burning my toast – the calm is not going to happen … Godzilla it is

In the twenty year saga of Dusty VS Technology – Tech won today. My computer got a virus. Alarms went off, screens went black, blinking warnings flashed across my monitor, frantic screaming was heard in the distance as a robotic voice warned me repeatedly that my computer had been compromised.

All during a work zoom meeting. Before I was even finished my first cup of coffee.

The robot overlords have thrown down the gauntlet with this skirmish. Though it scared me- they have not won. I slapped my toaster as a sign of superiority after this unfortunate event. I glared at my microwave. I side eyed my dishwasher. I hugged my pink mixer because she is beautiful and would never turn on me.

And I ordered a pink crockpot for our Superb Owl snacks because if tech is going to turn on me, it should at least be pretty to look at.

My lack of sleep today is brought to you by hot flashes, cold flashes and a cat who, during previously mentioned hot flashes, insisted on pressing her ridiculously hot cat body into my back which elevated my hot flashes to Mordor level of ridiculousness.

4:28am sucked this morning and I finally gave up and got up right before five. I did throw a menacing look to the previously above mentioned cat (jerk) who was sound asleep before stumbling into the kitchen for coffee.

Story Time – on hauntings and tampons – the universe is hysterical (insert sarcastic tone here)

Did you know that women who have hysterectomies may experience phantom tampon pain for days, months or even years post surgery? What kind of F-ed up crap is this? It is really a thing.

Phantom tampon pain. Even the name is absurd. Like some sort of CVS haunting – picture it- an urban legend of sinister Tampax skulking the aisles of Walgreens at the witching hour.

Teens dare their friends to go in on Halloween night when the realm between the living and the ridiculous is most thin. Almost as thin as an Always pad. At least that is what the marketing will have you believe.

Stories spread until catching the attention of local paranormal groups.

Now imagine: in an effort to up their YouTube feed views and their TikTok likes- novice Ghost hunters decide to investigate the local pharmacy just before the witching hour as the legends suggest.

Of course they are all men. Thinking they can tackle this location with ease. It is just a phantom tampon after all. It can’t be that bad right?

They approach a local Walgreens, lights out, moon high in the sky. An ominous mist covers the parking lot.

They enter the store cautiously but with a certain amount of false bloated confidence. Something feels off. Just sideways. They start to sweat. They feel a bit crampy. Their dinner must not be agreeing with them.

Cameras rolling, they approach the dreaded aisle of feminine products – only to hear the immediate whispers of a wrapper opening. They look to each other in confusion. Who is opening a bag of potato chips? Because of course, they don’t recognize the sound for what it is. None of them are even close to the chips aisle so they move on.

Suddenly –

EMF detectors start going bonkers as the hormonal ghostly cardboard tubes search for their long lost love – chilling chants of “peannnuttt butterr” can be heard on EVP recorders. The bathroom door swings open and slams shut. Open. Shut. Slamming over and over again.

Thermal imaging shows hot flashes right around the wine aisle. The ovilus is screaming “peroxide removes blood” – sinister tomes over and over … it is maddening in its repetition.

The show is just beginning, this amount of activity is just the precursor to more intense happenings.

Research found that historical accounts and stories state that you can reach peace with the phantom tampon with an offering of heating pads and midol. This advice is ignored by most as simple legend. Surely heating pads wouldn’t appease a phantom. Hogwash. Our crew moves on. Not even a Reese’s to protect them.

Entering camera frame is an overly masculine ghost hunter wearing the requisite black tshirt, three sizes too small- You know the type – the type that, when purchasing said products, will hide them under a head of lettuce at the check out. Averting his eyes from the cashiers in an attempt to be subtle.

Our overly masculine ghost hunter starts antagonizing our phantom tampon. Insisting on its attention to his presence. Demanding an audience. Inserting himself into the realm of the phantom tampon without a care on how to deal with such an entity. His bravado clearly backfires…..

Almost immediately, a hissing can be heard, a rising crescendo of seething hatred. The temperature drops drastically. Chilling the whole team to their core.

All the instruments are suddenly quiet as their batteries have been swiftly drained to nothing.

No light. No sound. And then …..

Our supposedly fearless ghost hunter feels a tugging on his arm. He jumps in surprise, shouting to his colleagues.

He looks at them, only to see the color drain from their faces – their eyes wide with terror.

He turns and is instantly shocked to see tampax flying off the shelves at him. Pads, tampons and even the diva cups have gotten in on the action. He is under attack.

He runs from the store, knowing that remaining for one more second would certainly mean his horrific demise. His ghost hunting crew follows suit as the phantom tampon increases its activity. The teams makes a hasty exit … fearful of what could happen next.

Outside in the parking lot –

They are out of breath. Shaken. Obviously unsure of next steps. They talk of shamans, exorcists, sage, burning it to the ground ….

Suddenly we hear a giggle off camera. The giggle turns to outright laughter as the camera pans to a female assistant who is standing at the pharmacy door. Her laughter is chilling to our crew of ghost hunters. She turns to them with a knowing smile. In her hand is a bottle of Midol. The camera centers on the bottle and fades to black.

Cue credits.

To this day, the legend of the phantom tampon is told around campfires and in bars over wine and charcuterie. It is also mentioned by women haunted by the presence post hysterectomy.

hauntedhooha #paranomalpads #phantomtampon #poltergeistperiods

It’s the final countdown (cue keyboard solo) …

Today is final prep. Sheets getting washed, heating pads placed in bedroom, med basket ready with all the things, books on night stand, liquid diet today … all the things.

The prep work has actually kept my anxiety at bay. Let’s talk trauma for a hot minute. I have trauma. I have a lot of issues due to my trauma. I have spent decades finding work arounds that are somewhat healthy for my trauma recovery. Others haven’t been healthy. I like the ones that aren’t self destructive better.

Let me explain – Trauma is like a dragon standing in your kitchen. It is big, bulky, in your way and sometimes that dragon bites. Other people can’t see your trauma… so therefore you are on your own with dealing with it.

Now here is the shitty part of your trauma dragon. If you ignore it, it is still there and it gets bigger and meaner. All scales and teeth and bullshit.

But facing your trauma dragon is scary. Super scary. However eventually you might face it and that is where things with your dragon get interesting.

It starts to get smaller. It might help you put away groceries or maybe do the dishes or heat up your dinner with its fire breath. You find work arounds to having a dragon in your kitchen. Or trauma in your history.

Slowly you learn to deal with the dragon in your kitchen. Somedays it gets bitey and somedays it might get bigger if you have triggers but overall life goes on and you have a dragon that will never go away.

Everyone deals with trauma differently. In different ways. There needs to be grace given when dealing with trauma. Grace to yourself and to others who can’t see it.

My coping mechanisms sometimes border on extreme. Like planning, prepping, rescuing animals, helping others, Christmas decorating – um … total transparency – Via is a coping mechanism in a way. Finding things bigger than myself that I could be involved in was a huge step in my healing. Making authentic connections with other people was another huge step.

Dealing with physical pain all the time from a uterus that is cosplaying as Jack the Ripper means less energy to focus on the daily workarounds for coping with trauma.

This last two weeks has been not fun. I can’t take my RA medicine because I am having surgery. My fallopian tubes feel like barbed wire and all the hormones are all over the place. My trauma dragon is totally in my damn way.

There has been a lot of grace and support given. For this I am so thankful –

Professionally I work for the most amazing organization. They have been patient, thoughtful and are working with the Godzilla I currently have showing.

Personally, I have the most amazing friends and family – people have brought flowers, food, books and wine. They have sent supportive messages, commented on my posts through this journey and texted and called.

This part of the journey is almost over. Next will be recovery. I am almost positive I will have a funny story or two. Like reviews on the products I have purchased or just statements that run through my brain.

Than moving on in life. My next countdown will be to when I can get myself back on the water in my kayak. I need warmer water and less stitches for that one. My dragon likes kayaking. And this year, I am going to try and take Elsa with us. Because I think she might like it.

Today though, today is still final prep as we are still blasting the keyboards of the final countdown…. And tomorrow – bye bye uterus and your friends.

❤️ 1/22/2023

Adventures in Uterus Land today began at 2am with cramps. Cramps everywhere. I swear even my hair has cramps. Fortunately I have heavy blankets and muscle relaxers. Both of which came in handy.

This got me to thinking about period statements. Things like “she is on the rag”, “just her PMS”, “cramps can’t be that bad, suck it up buttercup” – which led to me being infuriated that I tolerated shit like this for years.

It is statements like this that lends heavily to women thinking excruciating pain, hot air balloon sized clots and bleeding close to death is normal. Why we accept that we have to stack two overnight pads the size of an old Buick into our designated period underwear which probably came over on the Mayflower, insert a super plus tampon, and sleep on old beach towels that will probably look like the Japanese flag in the morning despite our efforts.

It is why we spend thousands of dollars on Midol and products to combat the bullshit. Why so many doctors still insist it is not a big deal when in fact it is a very big deal. Why we still hide our feminine products under lettuce on the grocery conveyor belt. Because so many of us have been shamed into thinking that our menstrual cycle is a societal taboo thus leading some women to ignore serious health issues because it is deemed “normal”

Well let me tell you – it isn’t normal and frankly it is vile that this is a real thing that is still present in our society in this day and age. Unless we start talking about it … it won’t change.

Even if we do start talking about it, there is probably going to be a little girl somewhere who starts her period and thinks she is bleeding to death because no one taught her about the female reproductive system. There is still going to be a teenager who hides her tampons because people make her feel ashamed to have a menstrual cycle. There is still going to be a women in her 40s who thinks the cramps and clots she experiences are awful but normal. And there are still going to be people who make jokes at the expense of women while chugging their bud light because it is the thing to do.

So today – in addition to bitching online- I will celebrate that I have doctors who offer help, an upcoming solution to my health issues and the fact that at least I don’t have to wear a cone after my hysterectomy.