Star Wars. No Really, I Get There Eventually.

I broke 2 ribs a few months ago. I was goofing around with Shawn and he was all "Dirty Dancing!" and I was all "the fuuuck?" and then he tried to lift me over his head but I panicked (because I've never seen Dirty Dancing) and I twisted awkwardly and 2 ribs snapped.

A few things:

Yes, really, I've never seen Dirty Dancing. We weren't allowed to watch a lot of tv when we were growing up. I had seen maybe half a dozen movies by the time I hit 13 years old. Our (only) television had faux wood panelling on the sides and no remote control until my grandparents took pity on us kids and bought us a "real" tv in the mid-90s.

No, Shawn didn't punch / hit / shove me. My bones are pretty small to begin with and I'm breastfeeding and osteoporosis runs in my family - it just happened and it *is* weird that the ribs broke just from being lifted awkwardly but they did. I don't know what to tell you.

Anyway. The ribs broke. I didn't go to the doctor for 10 days because I was worried they'd think I injured myself in some crazy sex accident. Which totally happens, by the way. Not to me (knock on wood) but to other people. When I lived in England there was this C-list celebrity who experienced a surge in popularity after she almost DIED because she caught some weird lung infection after she broke a rib during a sex accident.

So I didn't go to the doctor and then one morning I woke up and I couldn't breathe and I couldn't lift Grady so I went to the emergency room. The emergency room doctor was a total babe. He was kind of like an Anderson Cooper / tall Jon Stewart silver fox blend and he totally rolled his eyes at an annoying patient and called him an ass when he was out of earshot. I loved him.

He was examining my ribs and asking me how it happened and I got all flustered because a: he was a total babe and b: I had already had the "does your husband hit you?" conversation with the triage nurse. So I started trying to describe the Dirty Dancing lift move, having never seen Dirty Dancing. It was so bizarre and cringe-worthy and just laughably mortifying.

Some good did come from the situation though. I decided to finally watch all the movies I missed growing up. It's a daunting task (especially for someone who doesn't really like movies) but I'm up for the challenge. In the last two weeks I've watched all three of the original Star Wars movies. Pop culture is starting to make sense to me. Dudes, I understood this week's Parks & Rec.

But now I can't stop thinking about Star Wars. Have you guys seen these movies? What the eff is with this "The Force" business? You just know stuff because of The Force? Why didn't The Force tell you whatshername was your sister before you kissed her? And don't even get me started on the dead Ewoks. Shawn warned me that I wasn't emotionally ready for the third movie and I should have listened to him. I was not prepared to see dead Ewoks. Ewoks are like toddlers. Cute, cuddly toddlers who wrap their arms around your neck as tightly as possible and yell, "squeeeeeeze" in your ear, not the toddlers who scream holy hell and cry real tears for half an hour because you put the juice in the blue cup instead of the green cup.

So. I can't sleep. Broken ribs suck. I still haven't watched Dirty Dancing. Star Wars is blowing my mind. I want an Ewok.

What movie should I watch next? Suggest anything - there's, like, a 95% chance I haven't seen it yet.

Two Sleeps

I was told I would have two weeks' notice but Monday morning I got the call and this Friday I will be having my surgery.

I've reached the level of crazy where I can't sleep because I don't want to waste any time. Time that could be spent staring at my sleeping son and googling general anesthesia horror stories. So. Nothing good is happening here right now.

I'm excited for life to return to normal. If you could send some healthy juju vibes my way at 9:30am PST on Friday I'd appreciate it muchly. My little corner of the internet has been such a source of support - I don't think I can properly thank you all but I do appreciate the shit out of you guys.

80085

I dressed up for something on Saturday. I did my hair and makeup and wore a dress. I was in a bit of a rush so while getting dressed I made a split second decision to forgo my manky old nursing bra for a lovely pre-pregnancy bra. It was a horrible decision but because of the rush I had no time to fix it. I spent the day pulling my bra back down and adjusting myself. It was rotten.

My body is so different post-Grady. I am still nursing so I know there are more changes to come when he weans. I'm surprised at how changed my breasts are though (which is ridiculous, I know. My breasts have fed my child for 20.5 months. Of course they've changed.)

Part of it is losing weight. The first place I lose weight is in my chest. I can tiptoe my fingers down the staircase that is my ribcage while still rocking thick hips and bum rolls. I am the definition of pear-shaped. So the loss of my ample Bs shouldn't surprise me. I no longer sit in front of a computer all day, snacking on yummy treats. I chase an active toddler all day and eat when he's asleep (which is never, oh my hell, why is there still no sleep?)

I know that a crazy high number of women wear the wrong bra size. And I don't want to be one of those women. I'm just flummoxed by the whole bra fitting scenario. Do I just ... go to the mall? Ask the lady what size to buy? Ask her to measure me? Do I get naked to be measured? I've never been professionally fitted before. Partly because I am a crazy lady who frets about situations like these (do I talk to her while she's fitting me? What if I accidentally make eye contact with her in the mirror?) and partly because I am cynical about having a bra fitting done at a store. Will I only be able to buy that specific store's bras? Stupid stores all have stupid different standards for sizing. It makes me ragey.

Did your breasts change after pregnancy? Have you ever had a professional bra fitting? Let's talk boobies!

Ups

I seem to only be posting here when I'm down. I've been down a lot lately but there have been some really great ups too. Grady is hilarious right now. We spend a lot of time laughing together. Today I made him laugh so hard that he literally fell over. It was the best I've felt all week.

I'm kind of stuck in limbo while I wait for my surgery. I know (now) that it's silly to put my life on hold and not make any big plans until after I have my surgery, but I'm still finding it difficult to commit to anything. So I'm starting small. I won't plan our (August) anniversary trip yet but I will plan Shawn's (May) birthday dinner. I ordered the official Game of Thrones cookbook and I plan to make a feast to celebrate. I also ordered the books so I can read them and actually know what they're all about. Shawn is obsessed with the show. It takes a lot to get him excited about television so I'm trying to keep an open mind. I haven't watched any episodes yet because bone-crunchy noises make me physically ill (I have the weakest gore tolerance) but I reckon if I read the books I will be able to talk nerdy to Shawn and it will make him happy.

I'm trying to focus on the ups to stave off the downs. It helps that I'm surrounded by really good people. And chocolate shakes.

NSFW

I was going to post a hilarious video of Grady swearing up a storm but my phone is being a dick and I cannot be arsed to figure it out.

I'm trying to come up with something I care less about than my stupid dickish phone, but I can't.

Meal planning. I care less about meal planning. I was going strong there for a while but then the wheels fell off the cart and I'm back to square one. We had takeout pizza for dinner last night is what I'm saying.

So to summarize: my phone is a dick, Grady says the F word now, and my feelings taste like extra cheesy pizza. How are you doing?

Baseball

What started off as a marble-sized nodule is now a baseball-sized mass in my neck. It doesn't protrude (small mercy) (I'm vain) but instead grows inwards. Three of the four main types of thyroid cancer have been ruled out. I am left with either a benign lump that needs to be removed before it damages the structure of my throat, or a very treatable form of thyroid cancer. It could be a lot worse is what I'm saying.

I met my surgeon yesterday. He was like a cross between Sheldon Cooper and Gregory House. I have a soft spot for awkward people. I wasn't put off at all, not even when he referred to me as a "girl" numerous times (it's one of my triggers - being called a girl makes me feel like I'm being chastised or belittled. I stopped being a girl a long time ago, thanks.)

I don't know when my surgery will be. I'll get a call and then two weeks later I'll have my surgery. It could be in a month. It could be in six months (I'm not complaining about my "free" Canadian healthcare but look, there's room for improvement, okay?) I feel like my life is on hold. Do Shawn and I go ahead and book our anniversary trip? Do we plan a big party for Grady's birthday? Does Shawn put the money down for his stupid annual stupid boys' stupid May long weekend trip? (I'm going to go with "no" on that last one.)

I'm feeling very twisty right now. It's good to have a plan. I always do better with a clear course of action. I just don't want this particular course of action. I want my wonky baseball thyroid to be gone, I just don't want to have surgery.

Results

I was expecting to know a lot more after today's appointment with the endocrinologist. I was expecting a black or white answer but right now I'm left with more grey.

The good news is that one of the scarier types of thyroid cancer has been ruled out.

The bad news is that I have to have the left lobe of my thyroid and the nodule surgically removed.

I don't know a lot right now. I'm meeting the surgeon tomorrow afternoon so hopefully he can tell me more. I am trying to have a positive attitude but I just feel deflated.

Thank you so much for all the well wishes and love you guys have been sending. The emails and text messages and tweets and just general loveliness have really helped to put a smile on my face. You all rock, dudes.

Banana Muffins and I Broke the Baby

So Grady's fine but he's got his first stitch in his forehead and I am never sleeping again. There is some emotional eating going on at our house is what I'm saying (thyroid results tomorrow! All the feelings!)

I had some deliciously overripe bananas and a hankering for some baked goods (Shawn asks when do I not have a hankering for some baked goods. Harsh but fair, Shawn. Harsh but fair.)

I started with this recipe and went rogue. The result was amazing.

Hillary's Banana Muffins for Emotional Eating 

Makes 12 regular-sized muffins.

Preheat your oven to 350F. (Real talk: I used the convection setting and dark non-stick muffin pans so I went with 325F.)

Melt 1/3 cup butter (real butter, folks. Live a little.)

Whisk (or sift, whatever) together:
1.5 cups of all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking powder
1 teaspoon baking soda
0.5 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon cinnamon
.25 teaspoon nutmeg
pinch of ground cloves

In a large bowl, mash three overripe bananas. We're talking brown spots on the skin overripe. Sickly sweet smelling overripe. Attracting fruit flies overripe.

Add:
1 egg
1 teaspoon vanilla
0.5 cup packed brown sugar
your melted butter

Whisk your banana mixture until everything is well incorporated.

Add your dry ingredients and mix just until combined (I like to use a rubber spatula for this - if you use a whisk it gets overworked quickly and you end up with rubbery muffins.)

Spoon into muffin tin (lined with papers or lightly greased with oil.)

Bake for 25 - 30 minutes.