Eensy, teensy, puny little blog posting

UPDATE:  Javi had FIFTEEN kidney stones removed from his bladder, kidneys, and urethra.  He made it through surgery and is home now.  He still can't walk, so he has an appointment in two weeks for acupuncture, but the stones are gone and he is on the mend.  Thank you so much for all the good thoughts, well wishes, happy dances (Grammy) and prayers!!


I just took my little Javi dog to the vet for surgery.  He will need to stay over night and actually won't be allowed to come home until he pees.

Which reminds me a lot of childbirth, somehow.  I remember being told after Baby Numero Uno (hereby forever known as "Shea") that I had to "urinate and have a bowel movement" before they'd let me go home.

I lied like a rug just to get my sore and sorry ass out of there.  After being sliced from stem to stern and having a baby ripped from my loins, I made a promise to myself to never poop again.  I did not share that information with the nurse.  I just said, "Oh yeah... I totally pooped.  Totally.  Now, give me my baby and I'll be on my way."

Javi may not have that luxury.  He's probably going to have to show the evidence.  But he's a smart little doggy so he'll probably spill his water and say, "See?  Pee.  Right there.  Now call my mom."

I'm trying super hard to laugh this morning.  In reality, I'm scraping the funny off the bottom of my shoe, like a sticky piece of something that you're hoping is gum but also could potentially be dog poop.  

We took Javi in to the vet this morning and after I left him there, the vet called to tell me that he might not be well enough to do the surgery.

My choices were:  

1.  Go ahead with the surgery, but he might make not make it through.

2.  Don't do the surgery, but he will suffer and die.

The vet wasn't sure which one I'd want to go with.

Also, even if the surgery is successful and he comes out fine at the other end, he might not ever walk again.

They forgot to tell me that in person.  MUCH better to hear it over the phone, after they told me that the kidney obstruction was the reason he wasn't walking in the first place.

But have you ever been so worried and so upset that you just sat there and nodded your head, even though what you were being told made NO sense and completely contradicted everything that was said to you previously?

That's what I did this morning.  I nodded and "uh huh"'d and agreed and smiled stupidly and kissed my precious doggy good-bye, then got in my car and bawled all the way home.

But enough of that.

I'm going to share a Jessie story (my 9 year old disabled niece).  No one makes me laugh like she does. NO one.  

Last night we had pizza for dinner from Pizza Hut.  Dan and I went to pick it up without telling the kiddos and when we came home and sat down for dinner, Jessie looked at the pizza boxes and said, 

"What's that?"

Me:  "What does it look like?"

Jessie:  "Pizza Hut."

Me:  "So what is it?"

Jessie:  "I don't know..."

We had gotten half pepperoni and half cheese for Tori and Jessie, because one likes pepperoni and the other doesn't.  Usually (always) the one that doesn't like pepperoni is told to pick it off.

So when I flipped the lid of the box and displayed a magical pizza that was half and half, Jessie gasped in surprise and delight and clapped her hands.

"Aunt Dani!" she squealed, "HOW DID YOU DO THAT?"

I'm the bomb, y'all.

I.  Am.  The.  Bomb.

Motherfucker, I'm AWESOME.

That, in and of itself, is what will make me smile today.

A  9 year old thinks I can move mountains, change the world, and create a pizza that only has pepperoni on one half.

I am Legend.