My nice quiet bubble of solitude has been popped. Chickadee came home filled with stories about her trip, all of the things they did and which kid said what and how she ordered a veggie burger one day that was GREEN on the inside, SO GROSS.
Me: Maybe that means it was made of real vegetables! Did you try it?
Her: No, it was just GROSS. Veggie burgers are not supposed to be GREEN.
Me: Plenty of vegetables are green. Maybe instead of soy and chemicals it was made of GREEN VEGETABLES?
Her: I don’t think so.
Me: So what did you end up eating?
Her: Oh, it’s okay! I had my french fries, and a Sprite, and some chocolate mousse thing for dessert.
Me: Truly, you are a beacon of health and an example to vegetarians everywhere.
Her: I KNOW, RIGHT? Hey, do you have any SUGAR??
There are many important things she has to tell me, is my point. I am actually enjoying it, in a horrified, bleeding-eardrum kind of way. (Apparently the Tower of Terror is REALLY SCARY. Who knew?) But there is the matter of her sunburn.
First, let the record show that although we somehow both overlooked packing sunscreen (give me a break, it’s only March), this child had plenty of protective clothing, and a hat, and a giant wad of cash with which she could purchase sunscreen (after she blew part of it on veggie burgers she refused to eat, natch). And while a sunburn is no laughing matter for anyone, for a kid like Chickadee who has an as-yet-undiagnosed chronic skin condition, it’s really, really bad.
Sunburns hurt. Guess how much they hurt when getting one sends your system into overdrive and causes you to bust out in an itchy rash on top of it? Yeah. ‘Tis the season to head back to Atlanta to work on figuring it out (FOUR YEARS RUNNING, in case you’re keeping track—four years and they still don’t know what it is), but in the meantime, inbetween stories of great middle school importance there was much whining about being itchy and hurt-y and lumpy and tragic, so yes, I put her on a course of Prednisone to clear the rash.
This is helping the rash but not the talky-ness, because if I thought she was chatty before the steroids, OH MY, I had forgotten that Prednisone is good for:
1) clearing rashes
2) amplifying hunger
and
3) turning my kid into a crack-addled jackrabbit of talkitude.
Fortunately, the fact that she barely slept while gone means that at least I get a break while she sleeps half the day. Phew.
In the meantime, Otto arrived home at about 2:00 this morning. There was much rejoicing, and by “much rejoicing” I of course mean that Licorice went completely ballistic, jolting me out of a sound and drooling sleep with her alarm bark and subsequent need to play, because MOM MOM MOM LOOK DAD IS HOME MOM MOM SEE MOM IT’S DAD YAY DAD YAY BALL BALL BALLBALLBALL?
I missed my darling and I’m delighted he’s back, but he, too, was chatty, and as we lay in bed catching up on the last few days I knew it would happen, but it pissed me off, anyway—around 3:00 a.m. he turned over and went right to sleep, leaving me to stare at the clock for another hour and wonder if I shouldn’t have just pretended to sleep through the dog’s barking. Or if maybe I could’ve played possum before we talked enough to make me wide awake. I did resist the urge to poke him or keep talking, but I’ll confess I wasn’t quite as repentent as I maybe should’ve been when Licorice pounced on him this morning. Ahem.
Today I got up early and enjoyed the silence for a while. I’ll miss it, and I’ll complain some about its absence, but it’s in good fun. I’m so glad to have them home. Togetherness rocks. Why—wow, did I just have a great idea or WHAT?—I think a special step-father/daughter activity is JUST what they need today, don’t you?
“Crack-addled jackrabbit of talkitude” is a pitch-perfect description of my 5 year old son when he wakes up every day. In the meantime, I’m all “Just please let me have some coffee . . .”
Glad your family is all together again!
I think the step-outing sounds like a GREAT idea!
Ahhhh, the noise. Gotta love the sound of family!
Gosh, I so feel you’re pain. My husband, whom I love, (and who got back less than a month ago from a six month deployment, so there is much gratefulness, except…) has the alarm set for 5 am. Yes, 5 am! So while he gets up to start his day and get to work I have to lie there and listen to him and try to fall back to sleep. Which I usually don’t/can’t. I’m somewhat of insomniac. It drives me crazy because it takes me forever to fall asleep the night before too, so since he’s got back I’m running on so little sleep. And I don’t like coffee!
Sarah was a vegetarian for a while. I never told her that McDonald’s fries contain beef extract.
Oh my. I get three hours of peace and quiet three days a week while my two oldest are at school and my youngest is at preschool. I had thought to dedicate this time to volunteering at the elementary school or maybe teaching illiterate adults to read or perhaps simply CLEANING THE HOUSE, but it turns out, that I enjoy this fraction of the week too much to dedicate it to anything other than writing or reading in the blissful silence. I am totally selfish…
Yesterday around 8:30 a.m. I was thinking of my almost-five year old, “Oh my goodness, she is just not going to stop talking for even one minute until Word World comes on at 9:30.” Thank goodness for tv. I think preschoolers are undrugged versions of C right now.
“crack-addled jackrabbit of talkitude” made me laugh out loud
“crack-addled jackrabbit of talkitude†is the absolute perfect saying! Mine woke me up at about 3:00 am this morning. Why my 2 year old chose that time to go on and on saying, “Mommy cleaned the kitchen” and “Mommy ate dinner” and, “Mommy, I got an owie” over and over and over again is beyond me. And it’s not even true…her Daddy cleaned the kitchen. But I figured that if I got to be up with her at 3:00 am, I could take credit for cleaning the kitchen.
I hope Chickadee’s skin condition is figured out and she is feeling better again. And I am glad that her talkitude is good stuff rather than unending woe and doom!
LOVE the vegetarian’s horror of green!
But… FOUR YEARS without an answer is appalling.
I need a T-shirt with this on it:
<——-“crack-addled jackrabbit of talkitudeâ€
or
I'm with “crack-addled jackrabbit of talkitudeâ€
Perfect! I mean, w have to put up with the "yack, yack, yack" …we should at least get a t-shirt. ;o)
Aw, man. I was hoping when I first heard about the sunburn that it meant her rash *hadn’t* come back. My Bee-baby came down with never-ending hives last week and I’ll admit – Chickie’s undiagnosticated-mystery-illness came into mind and I started worrying. Hope Chickie’s on the mend soon! And, hey, maybe this is the year you find out what it is?
Oh. Not a good omen. Pook got started on five days of Predisone today for poison ivy all over his poor face and neck. He’s also on Benadryll, so maybe the chatties will be balanced by the sleepies? Or will I get a tired and therefore whiny “crack-addled jackrabbit of talkitudeâ€? Good to be forewarned I guess.
Crack-added jackrabbit – oh Mir, you do have such a delicious way with words heh. I think on occasion I may have to use that phrase to describe myself, actually.
There are times that I think my husband believes he is surrounded by crack-addicted jackrabbits of talkitude! In this house three of four people love to talk…poor guy, and he’s so quiet.
I will say that we’ve laughed about the fact that our son can out-talk ME and that’s saying a LOT!
I think “crack-addled jackrabbit of talkitude” is my new favorite descriptive phrase. Ever.
I love the descriptive phrase “crack-addled jackrabbit of talkitude”. It could definitely describe a few people I know.
My SIL and niece (her daughter) both had *horrible* skin conditions that remained “undiagnosed” for years. Then, somehow, they found out they both have Celiacs and, once they cut the gluten out of their diets, they have had no further skin issues.
Question because I’ve always wondered- what exactly does “natch” mean? As in “(after she blew part of it on veggie burgers she refused to eat, natch)” And yes, this is the question I chose for my first comment ever on your blog, haha.
Lydia, it’s parent talk for naturally because we’re so use to not getting a word in edgewize we try half words.
Gotcha! Thanks! My little one hasn’t started talking yet so I guess that’s why I didn’t know! :)
I have a 4yo who is a full-time “crack-addled jackrabbit of talkitude.” I seriously think she breathes through her ears bc she NEVER. STOPS. TALKING. I do believe I see a t-shirt in my future (I’m the mom of the CAJROT).
She’s only 4, I fear what she’ll be like at 14, on the phone…..
Reminds me of when my DD sleeps over at Grandma’s, and I’m always so happy to see her when I get her back. 20 minutes later I feel wiped and wish she was ready for bed.
Thought it was just my oldness and laziness, but her friend’s parents have said (multiple times) that they’ve never seen a kid with so much non-stop energy. I guess she’s a crack-addled jackrabbit as well, but of everything-itude!
Hi Mir. I pop in and out of your blog and don’t know if this avenue has been investigated with Chickadee’s skin woes but my husband had a red itchy rash for over a year that has just recently been diagnosed as a food allergy.
Best. Line. Ever: crack-addled jackrabbit of talkitude
Fantastic idea. They really should go catch each other up on their time apart. Besides, you don’t want to hog all her intriguing conversations, you should spread the love to Otto so he can hear some of the mind bending she has in that steroid filled mind right now. It just makes sense.
Dude, we’re in the middle of family vacation now I LOVE my kids but vacation is SO much easier without them…just saying. Hope Chickadee finds some relief this summer. (We have specialists in Houston if you need…)