Thanksgiving was great. Had six kids at my house and family and good food. Then went to David's folks house for more food and family. Jackson played very hard and still keeps saying, "I had fun with my cousins, Mommy."
I stayed in with Jackson Friday morning while David and his family braved the pre-dawn crowds for Black Friday. They said the crowds were less in the tech stores, but Kohl's was even busier than last year. Which is saying a lot. I am happy to stay in bed and let them get out there in it. David bought me the GPS system for my car that I have been wanting. And he got himself a new monitor. So we got our big presents already. But that is ok. They have such a good time researching and finding the great deals.
On Thanksgiving mishap stays with me though. My cell phone was on the island in my kitchen when we were setting all the food out. And it got brisket grease all over it. (Yes we had brisket as well as turkey and ham.) It still works just fine. But damn! It reeks of smoked meat. I wiped it down with a Clorox wipe and now it smells like bleach and smoked meat. I keep forgetting about it till the phone rings and I sit there thinking "Who's bbqing? Oh, yeah, that's my phone." Sigh. We are in the process of looking at new phones and switching to AT&T so I will have to deal with the meaty phone till we make our decisions. And our Verizon contract isn't up till December 23rd. So Christmas. Yes. Mmmmm...brisket.
I am watching MTV's Britney Spears documentary. I still find her so fascinating and find myself rooting for her to get it together. She is physically looking pretty darn good, much better than the last couple of years. But I am wondering about the hair. We all know she shaved it off when she was in a crazy fit. We know it isn't down to her ass anymore. Why does she persist in the long blond extensions under the visible short layers of her real hair? Why can't she take them out and just rock the short-hair for a while? She can't pretend her crazy time didn't happen. It just seems like such a pretension to me. You aren't 20 anymore, Britney. You had a hard time and shaved your fricken head. I had cancer. Neither of us has our gorgeous long hair anymore. Difference is she can afford the expensive extensions to pretend it didn't happen. I just have to grow through my layers. I am not the same person and neither is she. So off with the extensions Britney. Show us a 26 year-old mom who can rock the layers and be happy with it. I think it would be awesome.
Jackson and I have a new game. It's the "How was your trip?" game. I went to the store a few days ago by myself and when I came home he asked me 'How was your trip mama?' And randomly throughout the day now he asks me again, even though I haven't been anywhere. So today he asked me how my trip was and I made up a story about going to an ice cream mountain and climbing up to the top to take a bite out of the great big cherry on top. Then I asked him how his trip was and he said "Not very good." "Why," I asked. "It melted. Mama. My trip melted."
We went on telling stories for a few minutes and I ran out of ideas. He was playing with the little NYC Police car I brought him back from my NY trip in Feb. So I told him the true story of that trip. I told him Daddy and I flew on a plane and saw all the tall buildings and the lights of Time Square and we watched four Broadway shows and I bought you a New York City Police car and flew on a plane all the way home and brought it to you. Jackson loved the true story best of all and made me tell it over and over again. "Tell it again, Mommy! How was your trip, how was your trip?" Such a sweetie.
Tomorrow morning I go to the plastic surgeon to get my scar revised, as they call it. Basically the doc will numb it up, which will probably hurt like hell. Then he will cut out the scar tissue and work his plastic surgeon magic and stitch me up. I will have stitched for five days and hopefully the divot in my face will be gone. I will always have a scar, but maybe we can reduce it a little. I am a bit nervous. I am doing this under local, no happy drugs, and I am used to getting happy drugs during procedures to escape the reality of it. But not this time. I am getting my face cut into and I have to remain right there in my mind while they do it. Makes me nervous. But I am sure I will be fine, after all I gave birth without any happy drugs or escape. What is a little scar revision?