Three different moms. Three different stories. We're here to vent.
3 different single mamas; 3 different stories. We invite you to join us in the triumphs and failures as single mothers! Let’s lift each other up! We would love your feedback, and we encourage you to share your stories.
So everyone has the one time in their life that they think "Geez, I really could have died." Well I could have died pulling walking to the mailbox and tripping over my own feet and cracking my head open but that never happened. I'm just saying, everyone gets at least one of those oddball stories. Y'all, I have tons. Most of them are from driving in Houston, because let's face it... the driving lessons must have slipped their minds before getting behind that wheel. My number one was my most recent surgery back in February of 2017. Now if you read my first ever post, this would be my second tumor removed out of my head. I think I've got this surgery thing down by now. You see a ton of doctors and get lots of MRIs and tests and blood work, and ohhh the paperwork. I sign my name so fast it doesn't look like a name. It doesn't resemble a letter. Okay. Back to the point. So this tumor is right next to my pituitary gland and optical nerves and major arteries... here. You can watch a video.
Gross right? So mine was bigger and more complicated because they had to go in the same hole they drilled through the last time and they weren't 100% sure I'd make it out at my 100%. I'm pretty stubborn and my kids need me so I did. So here's the skinny, I was in recovery and my son came in just to see me. I was not letting him see me like that. So what did I do? Selfie!
Yes. Against everyone telling me to lay down and I was too drugged out to even be awake, I set up and showed my son that I was okay. That's what moms do. So my little anxiety ridden son left that day with a lot less stress about me and more stress about going home without me. So, after my fair share of torture in the neuro ICU (just kidding, Houston Methodist is amazing) I'd had my fill of hearing the crying and the smells of God knows what I was smelling cause it was NOT coming from me. They checked to see if I could stand up, and I did. They just stared at me like I was a freak of nature. I was like, cool. Can I go home now? No such luck. They don't let you leave a day after brain surgery. BUT I can can talk them into three. I was in my own room, walking myself to the restroom, moving around like an old lady... slightly nauseated. I had to get out of there. My kids needed me. So day THREE: I was outta there. Bruised. Alive.
I know there are the DUH rules about being a mom. There's the bedtime rule, the feed your kid rule, and of course the potty train your kid before they get into school rule. Let me tell you something. I am not spending one more minute hovering over my kid's sink trying to shove their toothbrush into the right spot just to get spat on. I am taking my kids to the dentist every six months like I'm supposed to. I tell them to go brush their teeth like I'm supposed to. For the love of all that is holy! My son is 14! So yes, I took his whiny butt to the dentist today to get a few fillings. Yes, the dentist glared at me and was trying to talk to ME about oral hygiene like a freaking 5 year old. Kid, I'm older than you and I was learning how to brush my teeth when your parents were in middle school. Don't talk to me about how to brush teeth.
So check this out: I sat in the corner of the room watching my son get his fillings and I was just commenting on how it didn't hurt, it was just the cold water. He's never going to get a girlfriend with nasty teeth and bad breath. The assistant literally turned around and asked what my problem was. MY PROBLEM? Heffa! The kid won't brush his teeth and I'm sitting in a chair while your boss is drilling holes in his permanent teeth. Are you paying for it? No? Shut it. Yes, I was the ultimate bitch today. I have to use that word because there is not one single word that could possibly describe what was going through my head. How did I end up with a daughter that is going to need major orthodontic work, yet brushes and flosses and even uses mouthwash like she's supposed to, yet her big brother can't seem to brush his teeth? I quit. I'm done. Not even two hours later he had managed to hunt down one of those push-pop suckers that moms fear at the check out lines at grocery stores. BLUE TEETH y'all. They were blue. Like I wouldn't notice? COME. ON. So, I'm gonna feed him. I'm gonna provide for him what I'm supposed to. But if one more person tells me I need to brush his teeth for him... middle finger right up in their face, cause it ain't happening. Nope. I am done. Forget the rules.