The look of concentration

 

We went to Playmobil FunPark again today with a friend from Wendall's school. All of us had a great time. 

Swing

A quick reminder of the little guy when he was a little guy. Oh, and still one of the funniest videos we have.

TargetCat is Five Today

  

Goodbye my friend....

My broken iPod
Originally uploaded by allysther.

Goodbye iPod, my little one
You gave me love and helped me find the sun
And every time when I was down
You would always come around
And get my feet back on the ground

Goodbye iPod, you have just died
When all the bird's are singing in the sky
Now that the spring is in the air
With the flowers everywhere
I wish that we could both be there

We had joy, we had fun, we had seasons in the sun
But the stars we could reach were just starfish on the beach
We had joy, we had fun, we had seasons in the sun
But the wine and the song like the seasons have all gone
All our lives we had fun, we had seasons in the sun
But the hills that we climbed were just seasons out of time

With apologies to Terry Jacks
http://homepage.ntlworld.com/gary.hart/lyricsj/jacks.html

Head in the sky

You may not know this, but our family has a theme. We have always used the sun, moon, and stars as stand-ins for ourselves. It has helped when Wendall is away to know that as the moon, he is with us all night long. My job as the sun is to watch over us all day, and the boy is the stars, bringing sparkles into our lives.

Last night the boy came to a conclusion.

"Daddy- you are the moon because you are out at night, when it is dark. And you are dark, so you are the moon. Mommy is the sun because she is light like the sky during the day. I am the stars because I am lighter than Daddy but darker than Mommy, so I am light but at night. That's why we are who we are!"

I guess I can live with that.

(Note to a friend--yes, I do find it funny that I've become Sun Moon Stars. Stop giggling!)

My Mensch

My Mensch
Originally uploaded by allysther.

The three of us were in the basement, staying cool and doing a load of laundry. Not at all surprisingly, the cats were with us. They love the basement because it is much cooler than the rest of the house, but they don’t go on their own because they cannot work the lights. Poor girls.

I had finished loading the washer and announced that it was time to head upstairs, but only after we stopped to pet the kitties. The boy responded by petting the nearest cat while saying “Mensch!”, which is the German word for “man”. It is used as a minor curse, as in “Oh man!”

The amusing thing (beyond the boy cursing in German!) is that the word also exists in Yiddish, where the meaning is a “good man”. Precisely the type of person who would stop what he was doing to pet a kitty.

Topics for discussion

Wendall and I were having a conversation with some friends here (a couple) a few days ago and eventually the discussion went to how I was feeling, along with my general thoughts on the surgery and such. Wendall said someting to the husband and they both laughed. I asked what was funny, and he said, "Well, I just realized that as long as I'm standing next to you I get to talk about breasts as much as I want ad it's ok." He was very happy about his realization, though I did tell him he had a time limit. When people stop asking how I'm doing he will have to stop talking about breasts in public. Sad, but true.

Afternoon in Vilseck

Sorry it's not a better shot. This was a covert shot with the camera in my phone.

 

I could not let this woman get away! There are very few YELLOW cars here, so the meeting of the yellow car and the yellow bag could not be ignored. 

A boy can dream....

  

Before and after

 


 

Ok, neither are great shots, but they are just over a year apart, and they show the difference pretty well. I'll keep looking for a better example. 

3.414

Pounds, that is.

I'm letting everyone know ahead of time that you might want to skip this post if you don't feel comfortable with reading about my body. I'll post other things soon, so come back in a day or two and there will be something else to read. Promise.

Last week I realized that I had done very little reading in June. I had to take some drastic measures to change that, but I'm happy to report that I finished the month by reading 5 books in three days. The only way to do that, of course, was to check myself in to the hospital for some down time. My excuse? 3.414 pounds of extra breast tissue.

In the States, a breast reduction is an outpatient procedure, but here it requires a stay of at least three days. So I checked in on Tuesday, had the operation on Wednesday, and recovered on Thursday and Friday. I checked out on Saturday morning, but only after being assured by my surgeon that she could keep me in until Tuesday if I wanted to stay. She would check on me once a day (except Sunday, of course) and I could rest and be observed until my stitches came out on Tuesday. I thanked her and came home. We will meet her in her office on Tuesday afternoon and she can finish things up then.

So why did I decide to have the surgery? I have worn a bra since I was eight, and I’ve had stretch marks since I was ten. All of my life I have suffered headaches and other issues that can be traced to the size of my chest. I have always denied back pain, but that is largely because I always have an ache or a pain somewhere, so I tend to ignore it and continue whatever I’m doing. Two other factors were a part of the decision. A few years ago I lost a bunch of weight. I’ve found most of it by now, but while it was gone it was easy to see that the weight loss had not affected the size of my breasts. The other factor, and the only one that was worrisome was that I had increased in size after the boy was born. The increase was likely to continue, and there was no way other than surgery to halt that progress.

Beyond all of that, however, my clothing has always been an issue. I have never been able to wear a button down shirt without the help of at least one safety pin. Tee shirts, even those designed for plus sizes were not designed for my proportions. Even dresses were difficult because my top and my bottom sizes were so different. As a result, many dresses designed to be flattering for my general shape simply made me appear pregnant. Add that to my last bra costing almost 60 dollars (and being one of the ugliest pieces of clothing I’ve ever seen) and it was time to make this change.

The fact that the generally stingy insurance company was willing to pay for the entire thing was also a major part of the decision. For an unknown reason they are happier to allow plastic surgery in Europe than in the States. I’m pretty sure I would not have had a problem having it approved wherever I lived, but here it was way too easy. From the time I sat down with the surgeon to the time I lay down on the table less that a month had passed. Any of you who might be wondering why I did not contact you before Wednesday to let you know…. this would be why.

So now it is done. I will write a separate post in a day or so about my experience in the hospital. It was not bad, and the language barrier was lower than it might have been for others. All that matters now is that I am home, and that I am not in pain, and that I think it went well. I won’t know for another few months, because scars need time to heal and the swelling needs to subside, but from what I can see so far, I look pretty darned good. I actually look very much the same, just better. I will post an (clothed) “after” shot in a bit, after I have managed to scrub all of the iodine off of my neck.