Sometimes I don't like being right all the time

Over the past several months, Erik and I have often had this conversation:

Me: "I swear it looks like her right eye is crossing in. Don't you see it?"

Erik: "No, I think you are just imagining it. I don't notice anything at all."

Please note exhibit A, to your right, as evidence in support of the fact that I AM ALWAYS RIGHT.

But I'm not happy being right about this. I took her to the eye doctor today and it turns out she is not only far sighted, but much much more far sighted in the right eye. Hence the right eye crossing in, as it has been getting weaker over time.

The doctor gave me a pair of lenses to show me how the world looks to her - I wanted to cry. How could I be her mother and be with her every day and not know she couldn't see clearly??

She picked her frames - they are Barbie pink frames with gold butterflies on the sides. They are adorable and will be ready by Friday. We are trying to get her excited about this - we had her call all the grandparents and tell them this exciting news.

But still - in the pit of my stomach that mom-guilt knot. For having absolutely no idea her world has been blurry? For having bad genetics that skipped me but hit her (Erik and I both have perfect vision)? For being pissed off that I have to pay $225 for a pair of glasses and not really sure where in the budget that is going to come from at the moment? I'm not sure for what exactly. I suppose that's how mom-guilt works - when something unexpected and not pleasant happens to our children, we simply feel guilty that we couldn't see it coming and couldn't stop it from happening.

I have given birth to Ewoks...

My children are running around (post special bath in the hot tub to celebrate all the snow) naked, carrying glow sticks, with their towels wrapped around their heads and yelling "UTINI!!! UTINI!!" while trying to catch the cats. This is just really cracking me up.

It has been a good day. I am feeling much better and much more stable. Yesterday Erik took me on a real date, to a local winery where we enjoyed fondue and wine and conversation that didn't involved me sounding like I have Tourette's because I keep having to blurt out "STOP!" and "SHHH!" and "STOP TRYING TO RIDE THE CAT" every 10 seconds.

We got a good bit of snow today. I was planning on going to work out, then going to catch up on some files at work, but the snow/sleet mix made me not feel like driving. So instead, we did some house cleaning....

Project #1 - Operation Evil Weevil Removal

For the past week we've noticed little bugs all over the basement. Erik finally used his mad google skills to identify them as weevils. He asked me, why in the world would we have weevils in the basement? They only eat grain. Then I reminded him of the metric shit-ton of food storage that my parents left in the house when we bought it from them 3 years ago. This food storage was bought when we built the house - and that was 1976. I've had some sort of weird resistance to getting rid of it, mostly because I didn't want to offend my parents who essentially gave it to us by leaving it here.

Anyway, I figured that the existence of a weevil infestation was a great excuse to get rid of it. We are hoping it will also help with our mice problem. Erik spent a good portion of the morning hauling 40 lbs boxes of god-only-knows-what up the stairs. At one point he came up carrying 5 lb buckets of honey. He said, what are we going to do with this? I suggested draining the hot tub and refilling it with the honey to add an extra level of sticky fun to our annual tiki party. Since Erik would have to clean it up, he vetoed this idea. Damn it.

Project #2 - Operation 3T into the Attic

I measured Lisey today and confirmed that yes, indeed, since this exact date last year she has grown over 4 inches. And since we haven't cleaned out her dressers since then, it was time. I've noticed a few times she's come out dressed in pants that are too short or a shirt that is showing her belly in a my-mom-doesn't-really-pay-attention-to-how-I-dress sort of way.

I always get a bit sad cleaning out the dressers for my kids. All those adorable dresses and shirts that she just won't ever wear again... Things she's outgrown... Undeniable proof that she is growing and changing. It was even more shocking to be putting away outfits that Marc passed down to her - T-shirts that have now gone through not one, but two children. That was sobering. No more babies in my house, and now no more toddlers... Lisey shops in the girl's section now.

Project #3 - Operation Super Nap

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah. Snowy day naps snuggled up with my kitties are the best.

Project #4 - Operation iPod update

Today I mostly focused on updating my playlists. Taking out songs I usually end up skipping. I made some new playlists for driving to work depending on my mood. I also updated my Pole Dancing playlist, taking out songs that I've found are really too fast or too slow to get a good groove going. I also downloaded a few new songs that make me involutarily start shaking my ass every time I hear them, which is always a clue it would be a good song for swinging around a pole to. Today's choices included Shake That Ass by Eminem, Headsprung by LL Cool, Put Your Money Where Your Mouth Is by Jet, and Smack That by Akon, and Tell Me by Diddy.

Project #5 - Operation Sleepy Marc

Poor Marc is really sick. He's got a terrible cough, the virus that Lisey is finally just getting over now. Marc has asthma, so any little cough is a big deal for him. We've been doing round the clock Albuterol and Robitussin-DM to try to keep his lungs clear and his cough under control. We've now doped him up pretty good and are hoping this will make him sleepy enough that he can get some rest tonight. Poor kid - he's really miserable. But not too miserable - he remembered to wear his jammies inside out hoping that schools will be closed tomorrow!!

Marc's thoughts on Lent

My hubby's father had a big Mardi Gras party Tuesday night. I was explaining to Marc about Mardi Gras, Lent, why people eat pancakes, etc. When I was done, he said, "So, you have to give up really good stuff for 40 days? I couldn't have butter in my grits for 40 days? Sheesh. Wow, Mom, thank you SO MUCH for not believing in that stuff!!"

You're welcome, bud. No problem. Let's go eat some more chocolate cake for breakfast.

Crying over Coffee

I burst into tears this morning over my coffee because I didn't get the kids ready quick enough and hubby was now running late. I got so upset that Lisey wouldn't put her shoes on that I picked the shoes up and threw them at the window. Then I was late to work because I just couldn't get up from the kitchen table to get in the shower.

I'm really trying very hard to believe that this is just readjusting my body chemistry, and it will pass, and I will feel fine soon. I can sit here and rationally know that this is genetic and it isn't my fault and it's a medical condition but... But right at this moment, I just hate my brain and I hate feeling so fucking defective.

Life happens

I am home from work today with Lisey. This is day 4 of whatever virus she has - she's been running a fever of over 101 since Sunday morning. She is sleeping right now after being up most of the night fussing. It's morning and I am sitting at my computer with the sun coming in through the window and three cats lined up on the floor behind me stocking up on their solar power. I just finished my coffee and allowed myself to eat leftover cake from the Mardi Gras party last night for breakfast. I don't believe in Lent.

This has been a strange week. Nothing has changed in my life, but around me other lives are changing dramatically. In the past week, I've learned that 2 of my couple-friends are divorcing, another is separating, another is having their first baby and another is getting married. My mother had surgery last week and although she is completely fine, it did make me take a step back and say, yes, my parents are getting older. I've taken all of this things in and am happy, sad, anxious and overwhelmed all at once.

I am just feeling life more acutely today. Perhaps part of it is that I'm now Zoloft-free? Although I will always acknowledge that the Zoloft helped me immensely, the reality is that it did blunt my emotions - not drastically, but enough that I notice them returning. My hubby asked the other day if I was high on something because I was laughing so much while we were watching TV. Nope - just everything seems funnier, sadder, more exciting, more melancholy.

I need to wake Lisey up soon. I have a dentist appointment this morning and my darling sister and mother have offered to watch Lisey for that half hour that I am gone. I just went in to check on her and she's sleeping - looking peaceful right now, but still so warm to the touch. I never knew how my mother could tell if I had a fever by kissing my forehead. But I know now because I can do it too. Sometimes I see myself and wonder how I became a mother. I never really feel like I am very good at it, but then I look at my kids and they are happy and polite and wonderful. And today, I am going to allow myself to take partial credit for that.

There is no real point to this post. I was just feeling full and needed to write some of it down.

Detox

Perhaps detox is too strong a word. Drug withdrawal? I guess that's more accurate. Anyway, the weaning off the Zoloft has begun. Actually, I started the process weeks ago, but this week it was time to start skipping doses. And on Friday, I started to feel it.

One thing I am very very glad about - my doctor is so wonderful. She takes the time to explain everything. So she warned me how I would feel - like I have the flu, only no fever. Not painful or dangerous, just uncomfortable. And that is exactly how I feel - like I have the flu. Achy, tired, head hurts. Nothing traumatic. It isn't painful. It is... uncomfortable. And I am cranky. And my husband is being infinitely patient and for that I am infinitely grateful.

And in other news - Happy Chinese New Year!! We celebrated by ordering all our favorites from the best Hunan restaurant around and now we're all sitting around sloshing our fat.

And speaking of sloshing fat, I just ordered my new swimsuits for the Summer. And they are all bikinis, which is incentive to get my mushy butt back to the gym so I can wear them without frightening the porpoises at the beach. So I will allow myself to indulge today in the yummuy Chinese food, but tomorrow... It's back on, baby... 4 months to lose 20 lbs...

Yeah, I don't really remember that...

It all starts innocently enough. Enjoying a nice birthday dinner with good friends and good beer.

A few Irish Coffees later...

And suddenly the boob grabbing begins...

And another Irish Coffee...


And suddenly you really looooooove everyboooody...

And then you see this picture and you have absolutely no idea what the hell is happening here and don't remember that at all...

But you are fairly certain that this must have involved a Dick in A Box...

Happy 30th Birthday Erik!!

(And thank you Jen for letting me steal all your pictures!!)

I made an MTV logo... Wanna see?

I finally broke down this morning and went back to the doctor. I left with a Rx for a combination antihistamine/decongestant. Whoop-dee-doo, I thought. I've been taking that stuff over the counter all week with no improvement.

Oh, I was wrong... This magic white pill... Where do I begin?? I took the first dose at one, and then laid down for a nap (doctor's orders - fluids and rest, fluids and rest). I woke up around 3:30 and my first thought was... Hey, I can BREATHE!!! Then I got out of bed and immediately coughed up the first wad of phlegm. It was a doozey.

Now, you may not want to hear about my snot, but damn it - I'm gonna blog about it. Because it's been sitting in my sinus cavities for over a week and I was happy to see it OUT OF MY BRAIN. I have spent the past few hours hacking up loogies like a seventy year old man. It's fabulous. The magic white pill took a chisel to the snot rocks resting in my skull and the wall's a-tumbling down.

My husband doesn't see the beauty of this whole process and told me it was, in fact, NOT sexy to call him in to see what I coughed up in the sink. I told him the level of snot in my head is directly proportional to my level of bitchiness, so he'd better appreciate what's happening here.

Complete Total Utter Frustration

Damn it all. 4 days in to my course of the antibiotics for the strep and I caught a freakin' COLD. Not just a little sniffle either. A nasty evil head cold with a continuous snotty nose, coughing up blobs of crud, constant headache, persistent cough.

And I can't even stay home to try to sleep and get better, because I missed two days last week and everything got rescheduled to THIS week. I am seriously just suffering through each day until I can get home, eat soup, take happy drugs and crash into bed.

So this is my whiny pity-me post for the month. I am just so miserable!!! Waaaaaaah.

Situation MUCH improved!!

Love the Z-pack. It has been two days and the doctor was right - I do feel much better. My throat is still a bit sore, but the fever and aches are gone. I feel somewhat human again, though I am tired - getting better is hard work, my friends! I am feeling good enough to go out tonight, though I suspect my partying will be kept to a minimum.

Thanks for the well wishes - I'm sure I will have plenty of tales to tell tomorrow after our big night out for hubby's 30th!!

I think he meant STRIP club

It started yesterday. That little tickle in the throat. Which progressed to a big tickle in the throat. Which progressed to the worst sore throat ever plus a nice high fever this morning. I woke up and felt like someone had taken sand paper to my throat. Every muscle in my body ached. I didn't even bother - I just went straight to Patient First and had the test done. Yep, it's strep.

I called work and cleared my schedule to the next two days, then crawled into the recliner and watched Dawson's Creek re-runs until the high doses of pain killers started working enough that I could sleep. Which is what I also plan on doing tomorrow as well. Strep sucks.

Hubby's 30th birthday is tomorrow. He has a huge weekend planned. Saturday night we are supposed to go to our favorite Irish Pub and then to Scores with a group of, like, 25 people. The doctor assured me that I WILL feel better in 48 hours. I hope so, because right now I feel like cat poo.