It's Friday, and that means I'm over at Five Full Plates with support and inspiration for this whole "getting fit" thing. Or maybe I'm just gnashing my teeth and rending my garments. Or maybe I'm still coming to terms with the reality that it may be time to pony up and buy a decent scale. Does anyone have a recommendation for a good scale that's not too pricey? Alternatively, does anyone have some chocolate they'd like to give me? I'm just trying to keep my arteries clear, people.
This whole "getting fit" and "losing weight" thing is completely screwing me up. For example: In the past, when something was unpleasant, I would avoid it. I like to think I lead a pretty Darwinian life. Exercise was unpleasant and made me sweaty and sore, so I opted to park my ass on the couch and eat cookies, instead. Eating less food made me less full, so I ate more. Eating fat-laden food made me happy, SO I DID. Sigh. Let's have a moment of silence for the good ol' days, shall we? Now I'm all CONSCIENTIOUS and HEALTHFUL and I have CONCRETE PROOF that it's bad for me. Listen, before I...
Dear Dr. Jerk, Mamas know. Mamas know when their babies are sick, and mamas know how their children react to pain. Do not roll your eyes when my child who has sensory integration issues complains that you are pressing too hard, nor may you prove some sort of point by pressing twice as hard on the other side (and then act surprised when he screams). Do not smirk or make condescending remarks like, "Oh, REALLY?" when I try to explain to you that his assessment of pain being a "2" on a scale from 1 to 10 means absolutely nothing on account of the aforementioned sensory disorder, as well as a...
Good news! Chickadee doesn't have mono! Bad news! Chickadee is apparently severely anemic! Worse news! The doctor is now out of town until next week, so sorry, he'll call when he returns to talk about "next steps." Helpful tip: Do not ask Dr. Google about children and anemia. Seriously. Just don't. If you need me, I'll be spending the day hand-feeding my child popsicles, buying her ponies, and also bleaching my brain. [Edited to add: Got a second call from the doctor's office to schedule a follow-up, and this time had the presence of mind to ask for actual blood test results. Hi, my doctor's...
Chickadee has been malingering. Except malingering is really the wrong word, because I do think she's sick... or sickISH... certainly she's just plain not feeling great; but given her bent towards the DRAH-MAH and the fact that MALINGERING just tastes exactly like what she's been doing---dragging herself around, looking all peaked and weary---I stand by my original verb choice. Last night in addition to the "my throat is sore" complaint that's been around for a couple of weeks, she started adding in "my ear hurts," and I could avoid it no longer: Today I took her to the doctor. We waited for...
So we were supposed to go on our last big camping trip this weekend, and we shopped and packed and measured out dog food and loaded up the camper and then I spiked a fever. Because I am nothing if not able to ruin everyone's plans without breaking a sweat. (Actually, I'm totally lying. The fever, you know... I was a little sweaty.) Rather than TRULY ruin everything for everyone else, I assured the family that it was okay if they went without me. Because everyone had been so looking forward to it, and there was no reason for everyone to stay home just because I was feeling crummy. The kids...
Every so often I get an email asking me if we've finally resolved Chickadee's skin issues and seeing a specialist, and my response is generally "Ummm... mumble mumble oh look, something shiny! She's fine, thanks," because---just like last year---as soon as the weather started to cool off, her skin healed up. Just like that. And I'm left trying to figure out if if makes sense to go see a specialist while she's perfectly fine. I do gesture a lot when I talk, so maybe I can convey the full horror of the height of the Creeping Crud days, but still. I just don't know whether that's the thing to...
You would think that---after nine and three-quarters year with the child---I would know certain things right off the bat, even those that require a bit of interpretation. Like, say, that, "I may need a little help here" = "I just spilled an entire gallon of milk." Or that, "I had kind of a bad day today" = "Did the principal call yet?" Or, in the case of this morning, that "My head hurts" = "I have a fever that puts my head at roughly the same temperature as the surface of the sun." Sorry it took me an hour to get you that Advil, kid. I really did think you were just thirsty when you said it...
I had this grand plan to tell you all about where we are in our dog search, but last night my cold morphed into something I was sure was the flu, but after going to the doctor this morning and being swabbed I have been assured that I do not have the flu. I was sort of disappointed, frankly. When you lay down on the floor and cry because you haven't slept all night and your head feels like it's going to explode and you have a fever and you can say, "I HAVE THE FLU!", well, people are understanding. If you do all of those things but you have to say, "It's just a VIRUS!", you kind of feel like...
