Did I mention…?
The best whines are ones wrapped up by an incontrovertible statement of pitifulness, one you cannot help but grant an immediate and full free Pass To Wallow on, as it were. So for a week if I need to complain about anything, I’m sure to tie it all up with a simple, “… and I can’t sleep because of the stupid Prednisone!” Because how could you possibly argue with me THEN? You can’t. Because I’m simply TOO PATHETIC. You wouldn’t argue with a woman suffering from steroid insomnia unless you were some sort of MONSTER.
This is a skill I’ve passed along to my children. Monkey—Literal Boy that he is—often changes it into something along the lines of “… because I’m JUST PITIFUL,” figuring why bother for imagery when one could get right to the heart of the matter. Chickadee, on the other hand, will highlight any little thing (“… and I have a little pimple RIGHT HERE!”) as proof that her life is tragic beyond compare and she requires your immediate pity. That’s my girl.
Anyway, I do believe we’ve reached the zenith of the Pity Olympics, this week. read more…
A tale of two vets
Allow me to preface the following, for my fellow worry-warts, with this: Licorice is fine. Thank goodness.
Some of you who’ve been around a long time may recall that when we first met Licorice a year ago, she had quite a few health concerns. For one thing, she was half-bald (as in, her entire butt and a good portion of her legs were naked), and what had originally been thought to be mange turned out to be allergies, but even so, we were warned that she might never regrow her fur. She also had chronic ear infections, although thought to be a side effect of allergies and general neglect.
I spent a lot of time at the vet with her, those first couple of months. I love the vet. She was kind and encouraging and assured me that we were on track to a healthy dog and that—even in my nervous over-mothering—I was doing fine. And I knew there was a second vet at our office, but we saw LadyVet exclusively for the first year, somehow, and that was fine. read more…
Sleep would be useful, here
I am really feeling SO much better. It’s funny how you don’t realize exactly how fond you are of oxygen—and the partaking of it with unencumbered lungs!—until that part of your life is a bit hampered. It’s been a long time since my asthma got aggravated like that, and I’d forgotten that the so-tired-and-achy feeling I was having often signals an inability to breathe. So. Definitely enjoying taking deep breaths, again, and trying to finish recovering from this stupid cold/allergy thing.
HOWEVER. Oh, steroids. How you eat into the gunk in my lungs! And then on into my brain! I’m sure there’s a perfectly valid scientific explanation for why Prednisone makes it hard to sleep, but I neither know nor care what it is. All I know is that I am awake and I must GO and MOVE and DO and be extremely cranky about it.
This, of course, means I am really a joy to be around. What with the BUSY and the CRANKY and the SLEEPY and the enhanced NEUROTIC from the convergence of all these things. Prednisone’s tagline should be: “You, only TOTALLY MORE ANNOYING.” read more…
Some things change, some don’t
I’m thinking it’s not much of a secret that I like to shop. But the thing is that I like to shop, but I don’t like to spend money. Those two things can go together, of course, but it takes a little more work.
One of the things I’ve done for years and years is to maintain a stash of gifts—assembled from various clearance finds—and then when it’s time to head to a birthday party or round up teacher gifts, I don’t have to run out and shop. This saves me from going to actual stores (because those places are filled with cranky people, plus they require getting dressed and leaving the house), plus it saves money because I’d rather buy stuff on sale whenever than buy stuff at full price because I need it RIGHT NOW.
[The best part about toys in the gift closet is that as the kids and their peers outgrow stuff, each year I do a November clean-out and go donate a bunch of stuff for the various holiday charities, and that’s all kinds of fun.]
Unfortunately, like SO MANY other things in my life, my children are ruining my careful planning. Typical. read more…
Love fixes a bad day
So today I was still sick, and like a responsible human who has been threatened by her husband if she doesn’t call the damn doctor already I called my doctor and went in to chat with her about this little problem where it’s become difficult to breathe, lately. To her credit, my doctor was a little alarmed about that.
As I sat there and bemoaned the fact that I have really been working really hard on getting fit this year, I’ve lost weight and started exercising regularly and STILL I seem to get sick all the time… she looked at her computer and looked at me and helpfully offered, “You should get a flu shot. Only, not today. Once you’re not sick anymore.” She was not even trying to be ironic. I think.
Anyway, it was determined that my asthma has gone rogue and maybe I have an infection on top of that and here, take these meds and oh by the way, I gave you this cough medicine before, do you still have some? I couldn’t remember if I did. read more…
The best nurse ever
I had a cold, and it went away, and then it came back, because I am the Amazing Immune System Free Lady! Step right up and watch me get sick from everything! You’d think I spend my free time licking grocery cart handles, or something.
Anyway, today is a busy day AND I feel like crud, so instead of eating lunch I took a nap (hooray for being self-employed), and then I decided to just stay in bed with my laptop.
Monkey got home from school and was very concerned, and I assured him I’m fine, I’m just sort of resting because my head is full of snot. He patted my arm and stroked my hair and told me he’ll take extra good care of me.
Then he left the room for a minute and came back in declaring, “I lost a tooth at school today!” With a raisin stuck to one of his front teeth (blacking it out).
I feel better already!
Pants on various degrees of fire
I am fascinated by lying. Seriously. I always have been. I was a theater major, for pete’s sake. The act of pulling on a persona has always been appealing to me, and my parents are only too happy to remind me that I was something of a pathological liar in my youth. I do recall sometimes saying things just to see if lying would work, and of course can think of plenty of times I simply lied as an attempt to get out of trouble.
This may or may not be on my mind because yesterday, after I posted about our SUPER FANTASTIC morning and my caving on taking my child to school because it was so very important… it turned out that she’d lied about needing to be there.
The thing about lying is that we all do it, to some degree or another. Did you know that this guy says we all lie regularly, maybe as much as three times in ten minutes of casual conversation? Kinda makes “the truth” seem like a unicorn. read more…
Philosophy vs. Reality
I am a totally awesome parent. Possibly the very best around, in fact. I am consistent. I am firm but loving. I pick my battles, refuse to sweat the small stuff, and set up natural consequences. I have high expectations and foster an environment in which independence and success are the natural default.
All of this, of course, is IN MY HEAD. It’s philosophy and theory. And even the parts which I manage to put into practice never seem to have the results I expect, which is WEIRD, you know, because back before I became a mother I’m pretty sure I knew everything.
Damn these children and their individual personalities and pacts with the devil and whatnot. SHEESH.
One of the things I really love about having Otto along on this parenting adventure is that he really challenges me to examine my parenting decisions. We’re at a point now where he does nearly as much parenting as I do, but I am still the “final word” in discipline, so he runs his ideas past me and asks me to explain mine, and it’s all very cooperative and enlightening. read more…
Day of the Dog
Let’s get this out of the way right up front: I’m a sap. I’m aware; no need to point it out. I choose to believe that awareness of my penchant for treating the dog like a toddler mitigates whatever degree of crazy comes along with that. Ahem. Don’t bother telling me it’s not true.
So. Tomorrow we celebrate one year since Licorice came to live with us. Chickadee has informed us that tomorrow is our Doggiversary, but that today—her 365th day with our family—is Day of the Dog.
It seemed wrong to explain to her that EVERY day is Day of the Dog, ’round here, and Licorice is our household’s equivalent of the spoiled baby, doted upon and adored by all. Sadly her lack of opposable thumbs leaves her unable to exercise the pinchy hand that would best enlist us to do her bidding, but her unbearably cute face seems to get her message across, nonetheless. read more…
I love…
… the way Licorice’s tongue flops sideways out of her mouth when she’s getting tired at the end of a walk.
… getting into a bed of clean sheets after a long day.
… that Monkey has named every one of his army of plastic bugs, and can keep them all straight.
… the first sip of coffee when everyone else in the house is still sleeping.
… that Otto and I are equally lousy at staying mad at each other.
… the guilt-free reading time I get on an airplane.
… when Chickadee tries to curl up in my lap, all legs and elbows and frequent disdain, but still my baby girl.
… shamelessly copying this Love Thursday post idea from Karen.
What do you love?