The QUEEN of Bad Ideas

I am the Queen of Bad Ideas. Remember when you were a kid and would get busted and the teachers and parents would talk about the "Ring Leader" and how this person had come up with the bad idea and then made everyone else go along with it....well, see, I AM the Ring Leader.

I was always the one thinking up the stunts, pranks and all around stupid stuff that got us all in trouble. This week I will dedicate my posts to list all of these incidents starting back as far as I can accurately remember. There are instances that I have heard repeated by my family that I don't actually remember myself, like the time I slipped out the hotel room, stripped and was found posing in the nekkid on a coffee table in the hotel lobby. I was easy to find, as the followed the trail of my clothes. I was 3 and already exhibiting exhibitionist tendencies. This one doesn't count, since I don't remember.

Granted, they will get worse as the weeks go on, because seriously, the trouble you got in in the 3rd grade can't possible compare to the trouble you can get into when you 17, can drive and are drinking, just saying. I will spare the names of my accomplices, which after the 8th grade were mostly boys, as I could no longer get girls to go along with my cockamamie plans and pranks. Boys always seemed much more open to being bad, and more willing to do what I said (this still hold true to this day.)

Brownies- the few short weeks, before I was kicked out.

Strike 1- refused to do the sewing project for the badge, mostly just sat and chatted with the other girls while they sewed. One poke in the finger with a needle was enough for me.

Strike 2- stole a box of Nilla Wafers and a pitcher of Kool-Aid and ate them as fast as we could, just for shits and giggles and then chugged the Kool-aid, come snack time, there was none (that was bad) then my little accomplice went home and threw up red goo (thought it was blood and she was dying) and confessed to her Mom on her death bed. Of course I too threw up red goo, but had the good sense too keep it to myself, that was proof the Brownie Leaders needed to nail us (like the kool-aid mustaches weren't enough???)

Strike 3- Went camping to a lake overnight. In my defense, we were sold a whole lot of hooey! We were told it was going to be FUN, swimming, dancing, singing by the campfire and "Smores and more 'Smores. Well, there was no mention of, clearing ground for the tents, gathering water to boil, gathering fire wood, pitching the tent, digging a latrine, yes, let me repeat digging a latrine (in the 4th grade) and then they decided it was too cold to swim. Awwww HELL to the NAH, snuck off (got at least 2 girls to go with) ditched the chores and went swimming in our clothes, then my brilliant plan was to say "we fell in the lake, whilst gathering water" apparently the 35 minute dip, the laughing, screaming and playing gave us away. Aslo in my defense, as I told my parent later, at least we didn;t go SKINNY DIPPING! jeez....

Your out of the Brownies!

3 sisters make a pact

On the Saturday night I got the news my mother was ill, I cried, I bought an airline ticket on-line and then I started to pack.

This was hard:

• I was scared and emotional
• I had no idea what clothes actually still fit me in my closet and now was not the time to start trying crap on
• I needed comfortable, but presentable, you know all the old biddies will show up at the hospital and you have to at least have clean hair and NOT be in sweat pants
• I wasn't sure what the weather was like in Guatemala and was too frazzled to check weather.com
• I wasn't sure how long I would be there
• I had to pack some black clothing, a dress, a skirt, a top, panty hose and shoes.

I shoved the black items in my suitcase, thinking how unreal the whole situation was. My Mom was the healthiest person I know, works out EVERYDAY, does yoga, stands on her head for 30 minutes, doesn't smoke or drink and eats super healthy....STANDS ON HER HEAD!

As soon as my mother was able to open her eyes and mouth words, she wanted to shower and shave. Now this shows you the what is truly important to ALL women. We knew this before hand and had her make up bag, her favorite scent and a tweezers at hand. I had been carrying the tweezers in my purse since day one. You see women (all women, don't you lie) get strange hairs that appear overnight. Sometimes it's just one on your chin or your neck, but that one hair will drive you BATTY.

I did not want to simply go in there and start plucking away at my mothers face when she was unconscious, but lo and behold it was her first request oce she could formulate words.

We knew she was paralyzed on her left side (her leg and arm) but we were not sure about her face, so as I am plucking the few stay hairs from the left side of her face I ask "Mommy, does that hurt?"

Her answer: OBVIOUSLY

We all bust out laughing, my middle sister comments "yeah Mom, all this waxing and shaving and plucking is a big pain!"

Mom states: but necessary!

We all laugh again, that night as we ride the elevator down to to parking garage the 3 of us make a pact: This is the 3 sisters pact

No permission is needed, I don't care what sate I am in, one of you 2 will pluck my hairs, comb my hair, slap some make up on me and make sure I am damn presentable, if only for the nurses and doctors.

Fat Trifecta

So I am not even going to mention how much weight I have gained...it is OBSCENE. Let's put it this way, I have NO right to call my BLOG Former FAT Chick....no right at all!

I will let you get a visual of how bad is has gotten. The other night I pulled out a pair of jammies and went to the bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth and get in to my jammies. I went to pull up the silk pajama shorts and UGH!!! they would not go over my big ass THIGHS. That's right ladies and gentleman I am TOO Fat to fit into my pajamas! Seriously, not my skinny jeans, not some tight hot pants, my DAMN pajamas, now if that is not a SLAP in the face I don't even know what is.

I am calling it the FAT TRIFECTA- (otherwise know as my excuse as to why my ass is the size of a Clydesdale horse)

1. The damn lap band which had been my best friend and savior deiced to try and kill me (that bitch) by eating it's way in to my stomach, resulting in major surgery and 3 weeks in bed.
2. Simultaneously my thyroid decides to REVOLT (probably for all the times I lied and said I was fat because I had thyroid problems) well that bitch decided to sprout some nodules and stop working (16 weeks on medication and that there is NO controlling that one.)
3. Let's add to this my mother's illness. I am a eater on any given day, but if you add stress, fear, anxiety, depression and lots of crying, well, we all know those things can only be cured by the following: cake, cookies, ice cream and BOOZE, lots of booze.

The day my mother had her surgery I sat in the Hospital form 7am until midnight, and think the only reason I did not EAT myself to death was:

• there was no all you can eat buffet (thanks goodness or I would have been hospitalized for a ruptured stomach)
• I had no local currency, so I had to make friends and family buy food for me all day

I am back home now, my Mom is doing better and we are bringing her to Orlando for in-patient rehab.

I wouldn't say I am on a diet, but I am back to eating like a normal person (OK, maybe a normal sweet tooth), I have decided to cut back on the alcohol (except Saturday night I had 3 mojitos, but I danced, ALOT!) and I am going back to those PAIN in MY ASS Pilate's classes starting this week....

Stay updates to find out if my damn pajamas ever fit over my giant ass again....

Life

I was a soldier, I was in combat, I was shot, and returned to battle a couple of months later. One time I was face to face with an enemy combatant and he fired his pistol 2 feet from my chest, I heard his weapon click, it misfired, that gave me time to pull out my weapon and shoot him point blank. From behind me, I heard my commander yell “run, run, get the Hell out of here!” Three days later I was captured and held prisoner for 32 damn months. Darling all that put together is nothing compared to these last three days.

My father has said this to me twice since I have been here, his eyes well up with tears every time, he is not exaggerating, he is dead serious when he says he would die without my mother.

My parents have been married over 50 years, my father no longer knows how to exist without my mother, how to breath, how to eat, how to wake up and get out of bed in the morning if she is not by his side. His thoughts are not so much incoherent, as they are irrelevant if she is not there to hear them and share them. Nothing makes sense to him if she is not here. This is painfully clear to me and to him, and he has told me more than once in these last few days. This is a fact that truly freaks out my poor sister, since she was alone with the first 24 hours that it took me and my oldest sister to make our way to Guatemala from Florida, and she alone bore the brunt of the immense anguish my Dad was in.

My mother had a brain aneurysm Friday night just after midnight, I was not able to get here (Guatemala) until Sunday at about 9pm. She had a stroke sometime Sunday night and was put in a medically induced coma on Monday morning. Before she was put under she would grab my father’s hand and say “Thank you, thank you for staying with me” The old man’s response was, where else would I be? I have always been here and will always be here. My Mom is 70 (Mom, if you are reading this, I’m sorry for revealing your age, I’m sure you’re not thrilled about it, but if you are able to read this then I couldn’t ask for anything more) my Dad is 75, he is a man and doesn’t mind revealing his age. He and I are big cry babies, so it is not as shocking to see his eyes tear up, as let’s say as some other men who never cry. What is shocking is the fear that was there the first few days where as he repeats to me frequently was touch and go, he shakes his head and says I almost lost her, I almost lost her.

We go back and forth from the Hospital to the house all day, and we gather little bits of good news, she opened her eyes, she moved her right hand, she wiggled her left foot, she responds to verbal commands, she squeezed my fingers, we removed the ventilator, she breaths on her own, she said Mama and she said Papa! This is not how I think of my Mother on a regular basis; she is as strong, willful woman. Smart, disciplined and daring. Now we are brought to tears of joy and relief because she said mama, our lives changed forever, none more so than her's and my father’s.