Dear Hanes,

Yes, you Hanes, the underwear, socks and T-shirt company.

Ok, good - I and all of my 20 readers have your attention with that clarification.

So, uh, yeah....your new "wedgie free" undies? Let's talk 'bout that.

They feel great upon slipping them on.

They even stay put, as promised.

Er, sort of.

On a low-moderate activity, kickin' it at the house kind of day - A+.

While working out, when being wedgie free is an absolute must lest we get our lady parts all mixed up with sweat from other parts and other nastiness, ahem, Not. So. Much.

Might I suggest that you invest in Goody stay put headbands technology for your leg holes?

Seems like that might actually work.




© 2009 Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-Child. All Rights Reserved

They Didn't Teach THIS in Anatomy Class!

Several years ago when Punkinhead was 18 mos or so, he started staying dry overnight. As I'd go to change his diaper every morning during this time, I would find two things:

1.) a dry diaper; and

2.) his little "soldier" standing at attention

It kind of creeped me out - me thinking it was some kind of weird Freudian mother-son thing going on. But later upon recounting this to Charlie Brown, he told me, "He's got morning wood because his bladder's full, duh." I HAD NO IDEA that male plumbing worked that way!!! But, ahh, that made a lot of sense, thinking back on patterns in our own bedroom. Hmmm...

Fast forward 4 1/2 years.....

The other morning Punkinhead came down the stairs FREAKING out about having an erection.

"Mama!! My weiner," and let me just interject here that I insist on the appropriate anatomical terms in our house, but Daddy tends toward the more slangy terminology, "my weiner, it's all big and going places that I don't want it to - it's going up instead of down!"

Then.

He completely drops trou and says, emphatically, "SEE?!?!"

It. Took. ALL. I had not to just bust up laughing at him, bless his little heart, and the irony of how now this concerned him and yet later in life....

Calmly, I nodded and said yes, sometimes a man's penis would do that, and that perhaps he just needed to go pee for it to go "back to normal."

Skeptically, he trudged up the stairs to the bathroom. Within minutes I heard him shouting from the stairs that I was a genius and IT WORKED!

If only he knew how ignorant I would have been if not for Charlie Brown's enlightenment several years ago.



© 2009 Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-Child. All Rights Reserved

A New Level of Marital Miscommunications

So, Charlie Brown and I are pretty tech savvy, right?

Yesterday, I had a pretty crappy day. I was so stressed about medical bills vs. income we had coming. Compounding this stress was the fact that my hormones were flying high as I [TMI in aboout 3, 2, 1] was on day 2 of my second period since Lil Guy has been born. [Sidenote: I know you're thinking it - she's like what, 3 mos postpartum and she's had not one but two periods already?!? I KNOW!!!] I'd cried most of the night before and several times yesterday as well. Charlie Brown had called me a few times during the day, all of which I ended up crying during.

Later, I received the following texts from him, right in a row before I had a chance to respond. My thought responses are below, however. Prepare to be entertained

CB - Wanna play tonight? Only 2 conditions...

Indignantly, Uhmhm, I have now I have confirmation that the man never listens to a word I say! I told him that I am "otherwise incapacitated" this week.

CB- [I] know you can do all that, you like a challenge

:chuckles: ok, well, let's see just what he has up his sleeve, even if it's all for naught.

CB - 1. hour of 100% positive encouraging words and body language towards everybody on the field, 2. Doing what I tell you if I need to (prolly won't)

At this point I was stymied and automatically sent a text back to him:

RR - ????? Is this meant for me???

But upon further analysis, I had the following thoughts:

1. I know I've been down today, but c'mon don't you think I can pull myself together for your softball game? It's kind of sweet though. And 2. What kind of kinky stuff are you thinking about, anyway? Dang, boy!

Right about then, he called me. He says, "Our friend sent those to me, as conditions for subbing on their team tonight. It didn't show that it was a forwarded msg?"

Nope.

So I told him what had been going through my mind as I'd gotten each text, and he got a good laugh out of it.

© 2009 Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-Child. All Rights Reserved

My Empyema Battle Scars

DISCLAIMER: GRAPHIC surgical photo below - do not look if you are squeamish as I am not to be held liable for any laptops ruined as a result of their owners vomiting or dropping said laptops because they passed out. Just sayin', you've been warned.


Sidenote: Everytime I say or think the word empyema, it makes me think of that catchy bossa nova tune Girl from Ipa Nema, which is tied into that old Special K commercial in my pop culture relating mind.

Without further ado, I share with you my battle scars:

That's a 5 inch incision where two little arthoscopic probes were supposed to have been able to suck the junk out, but as they got in there they realized that my empyema was MUCH WORSE than originally suspected. I only wish I could share with you the pictures in my chart from my surgery, it is feaking insane how much crud was in my chest cavity!

I also have bruises all over my right arm where they tried, and failed, miserably, to insert a PICC line in me. Said failure was so traumatic that when they tried to re-attempt on the opposite arm the next day, they had to give me Ativan. The PICC line is in my left arm and looks something like this:

Mine has more tubing coming out of it though, of course. And lastly, I have some beautimous scabby reminders on my neck of where my central line was for a week.

And to top it off, I'm 1 month postpartum. Can you say body image???

© 2009 Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-Child. All Rights Reserved

Ooooh, and I Just Can't Fight This Feelin'

I have always loved REO Speedwagon.

And because I think in reference to pop culture at any given moment, it is no surprise that this song popped into my head this morning.

You see, I am still puking in the mornings, despite being in my 3rd trimester, despite eating protein at night and taking my prenatal with food earlier in the evening (as opposed to right before bed), etc., etc. But it's ok, really because once I'm done (usually before I eat or drink anything) I'm done for the day and good to go. No all day nausea or inability to eat/drink for fear of not keeping it down, or anything serious like that.

But there is this rather indelicate problem that sometimes arises. Sometimes the urge to purge strikes me before I've had a chance to eliminate the night's culmination of holding my bladder.

And so I puke and pee simultaneously. Each heave forces a new trickle of urine down my leg. Makes me feel SOOOOOOOO grown-up and self-assured, let me tell you.

So how in Hades did my twisted brain connect the dots between an 80's love song and this disgraceful phenomenon?

For starters, the original video (see below) has a baby at the beginning of it - coincidence? I think not.

Moreover, check out the first two lines of the song:

I cant fight this feeling any longer
And yet Im still afraid to let it flow

I know, I've got a sick sense of recall at the strangest moments.





© 2008 Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-Child. All Rights Reserved

O, O, O!!!!

Note to BlogHer: No, Zestra is not paying me to write this. You MUST see if they would like to play in our ad program - because EVERY WOMAN needs to know about this product.

Ahem...

Remember how I said that I lost my friend, O? (And no, that does not stand for Oprah or her mag) Because of the very necessary evil that is an SSRI antidepressant? And then I said, well, she's not GONE forEVER....just not a frequent flier like she used to be?

Well...that last part's still true. As is the fact that she doesn't pack as much of a bang with her anymore, and well, lately I've been kind of ambivalent because why do ALL THAT WORK for ho-hum?

I mean, when a girl breaks out the toys and the O is still just so-so...meh.

So tonight I'm at Wally World picking up some last minute stuff for our trip. (2 more days!) And I walk by the condom/lube display when I saw something I'd not seen before.

After thoroughly checking it out, I decide what the hay, right?

After a trial run....I have this to say:

RUN, do not walk, and go get thee some Zestra!

I have tried some other stuff that was "sensual," and "warming," etc, and they all fell rather flat.

Not only did my O show up to the party, but she packed a toe-curling wallop that I haven't felt in 2 months or so.

:enter contented sigh:

Heehehe

I am sharing all of this because I'm haunted by Madeline Albright: There is a special circle in hell for women who don't help other women.

I'm HELPING, y'all!




© 2008 Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-Child. All Rights Reserved

Thanking God For a Not-So-Small Miracle

So, I think we're effectively weathering the parenting storm maelstrom that popped up late last week.

Punkinhead is getting it.

And to be clear, for the newer readers - he is the younger child, as was his friend. LMNOB is older by 2 1/2 yrs.

But, as LMNOB put it Thursday morning, Punkinhead and his friend are "both 4, and 4+4 is 8, which is bigger than 7!" No matter how you equate it, 2 is always greater than 1.

Oh, and does that not strike anyone else as a little Rainman-ish? It frightened me a bit, as she continued with this adding theme that morning, noticing that her [tan] camouflage capris + his [gray] camo shorts = 1 whole pair camouflage pants. She does that, though - retreats into her world rightontheedge of the Autistic spectrum, when she is traumatized. Also, she pooped herself that day while with the babysitter - again a common regression with things such as these.

Today at church, I braced myself for the awkward - as last night Punkinhead was convinced that he needed to write his friend a note [the boy can hardly grasp a pencil correctly, much less write at this stage, so I thought that was cute] telling him why they couldn't play together anymore - as Punkinhead is still processing this deal, telling everyone the concrete details, that because of what they did, he cannot play with this little friend anymore.

But praise the Lord, said friend and his family were out of town today - which means that we have more time for this to blow over.

Another not-so-small miracle? My O is not GONE per se, just intermittent ;) Yes, Becky, we are so doing it to test it out ;)


© 2008 Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-Child. All Rights Reserved

It's Like Losing My Best Friend

I had been telling myself that it didn't mean anything.

That it had just been the wrong time of day.

Or the wrong position.

But we had a perfect storm today, and I was SOclose!

But no cigar...After an encounter with a "pinch hitter," and still no cigar, it became official.

I've lost my "O."

And that is hard to accept, as my "O" was fairly frequent, significant part of my life. Charlie Brown rather likes her too.

She shall be missed.

Question is, what do other women do when faced with the no depression v. no "O" conundrum? I have to cope with this and I'm not quite sure how.




© 2008 Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-Child. All Rights Reserved

Hello, Karma? Are we about done with this whole crap phase?

Porter puppy's ass blew up tonight.

Conveniently, Charlie Brown was gone buying dessert.

I was bathing Punkinhead when all of a sudden, sniff sniff, "Hey who far..." I trailed off.

In unison, LMNOB and I shrilled, "Oh, EWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW," as we spied the brown puddle on the bathroom floor. Said Hershey squirts also trailed down my carpeted stairs.

Punkinhead wailed, "It Stiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinnkses, Mamaaaaaaaaa!"

Yeah, tell me about it.

It got cleaned up. The bathroom was fairly quick going, but the stairs?

Took me an hour of scrubbing with carpet cleaning granules and vaccuuming.

I was not able to commence my homework until 9:00pm - so I was a bit growly about that.

I'm just wondering what the heck I did to deserve this.

Note to Karma: I would really prefer some sphincter control vibes sent my way. That or Mike Rowe needs to come live with me.






© 2008 Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-Child. All Rights Reserved

I'm just fan-freaking-tastic! :0D

My [Master's level] Economics and Public Finance class started today. I have never in my life taken an econ class. Intimidated much? Uhhh....yeah. Is my book here yet? Nope. Was I able to log into the class today? Nope. Seems the CU-online platform had a "glitch" today and they had to manually add everyone WHO WAS ALREADY REGISTERED in today. IF they called. Which I did, but frick, folks, why not send out an e-mail letting folks know what is going on before causing widespread hysteria, eh?

That would be too easy.

Oh, and my lappy's still down. Has lost her home network connectivity too so file-sharing is non-existant. BIL thought my wireless card had tin whiskers and so we ordered a new wireless card. Got it today and put it in - didn't change a damned thing. So I have no mobility with my class work and that sucks.

Note to all - summer school = condensed session, which means time is of the essence. I don't have time for this crap!

Oh and speaking of crap....

Per her responses to my daily poop inquisitions, LMNOB has been eliminating regularly...and her breath is fine. But (pun delightfully intended) she still has issues with knowing when to go.

She has an unconscious signal that I've honed in on over the past 14 months - she brings her hand to her tailbone just minutes before she needs to go. It's generally fool-proof - I see the sign, I tell her to go potty and we have no accident.

But lately, she's taken offense to Mommy minding her potty habits. "I don't need to!" And she's probably right on in that it doesn't SEEM that she needs to, but the hand keeps finding the tailbone and I usually keep insisting.

Well tonight we did that dance, with Mommy Knows Best and Daughter's Willful Independence duking it out for the lead. DWI won out, briefly.

But then, "Maybe we should go the bathroom," uttered by a sheepish LMNOB.

So, as we were all at Charlie Brown's softball game, LMNOB, Punkinhead, and I all corralled ourselves into the disabled bathroom (space is a handicap, right?). As LMNOB clearly began a #2, I asked her about her stools today.

Had she gone?

Yes, three times today, she informed me with big eyes.

Hard, regular, or runny?

Mmmmm, regular, but kind of runny.

"That's because we had a lot of fruits and veggies yesterday."

And then I spied her panties...full of fresh crap.

"LMNOB....honey, you've got to tell me when that happens - you can't just sit in it, honey - your bum will get raw. When did that happen?"

"Just a few minutes ago, Mommy."

And so it goes.

Hopefully the next woman on the rag in that stall won't freak too much when she sees a shitty pair of panties in the feminine hygiene basket as she throws her pad/tampon applicator in there.





© 2008 Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-Child. All Rights Reserved

Out of Sync

Note: This post is about sex, and will be very frank - which some of my Christian readers may find offensive. Just FYI, and comments about how Christian women just shouldn't talk this way will go the way of the dinosaur, just sayin'.

Lately I've been wondering why in the heck the pubescent audience have staked their claim as sole proprietors on books/seminars/etc with titles like "Your Changing Body."

I mean, women especially could run a series on that.

Your Changing Body: How the Miracle of Life Destroyed my Body

Your Changing Body: The Physiological Need for Sleep Has Now Trumped my Desire for Sex

Your Changing Body: I'm Pushing 30 and Hello Vagina!

Yes, my biological clock, it is a tickin', and boy howdy do I feel the surge of hormones flood to my nether regions for about a week out of every month. It's that time known as "Fertile." And damned if my body is not saying, "We are gonna make you want sex so bad that you can taste it this week, and then you are going to have wild, passionate sex, because honey, our baby making days, they are numbered."

But the joke is on my body thanks to my lovely intra-uterine device. Which is totally ok, because the sex? WoWzAs! Why has someone not told me about this? Also, if boys feel this when they are peaking in their late teens/early 20's, well that explains a whole freaking lot to me. Instinct is a hell of a master, eh?

So this week is my fertile week. Forget Fertile Myrtle and her mousey ways. No way, honey, I go all Virile Va-freaking-Voom Vixen with the clothes and the makeup and then I plot how to proposition Charlie Brown all day, which only adds to the steam. (After all women are like crockpots and men are like microwaves, right?)

Also, isn't this every married man's dream - to have a playful, creative, and available bed mate? I mean we hear and see so many trite scenes of the married couple where the man is trying to get a little sumpin' sumpin' and you hear, "Not tonight, dear," that it makes me feel a bit of pride in myself that I'm not that wife.

So last night I'm at the store picking up dinner items and I text Charlie Brown:

i want ur body 2nite...and not 4 a quickie either ;-)

Get home, start dinner.

Suggestively, "So I sent you a naughty little message babe..."

"Yeah, I got it."

PERIOD.

Whoa, whoa, whoa! The non-verbals screamed out loud to me: AIN'T HAPPENIN'!

Play a little harder and chase a little more as he's doing this hard to get thing.

Or so I thought.

I try to talk to him about his day.

It was. FINE.

It's just not happening. Like last month when I walked down in slinky lingerie and he kept watching motocross.

And I feel like I could burst with the ache down there. Again.

The frustration was almost rage worthy....

And then there's that same feeling of rejection. Note: if a woman steps out and initiates, because you know, we hear men like that, then TAKE HER UP on it, for crying out loud. Because once bitten, twice shy guys.

Granted, we're having more sex than just this one week per month, but if we could just get in sync it could be SOGOOD!!!!!

We have got to get out of this rut. Or I have to go over the hill. Soon.




© 2008 Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-Child. All Rights Reserved

When Crazy is Really JUST PMS

Sunday and all of this week I seriously considered going to the doc for antidepressant meds.

Thought I was losin' my mental shiz again.

Crying for NO reason. Raging all the time. Not. motivated. at. allllllllllllllllllllllllll.

Yesterday in the bathroom, I came face to face with the culprit of all this emotion.

Effin' Estrogen - I hate that biatch.

Cuz she makes me a certifiable, grade A, loony biatch.

Damn Eve. Was the apple so good that it was worth this hell on earth?

My Cup Runneth Over

Reason #181 why I have got to get serious about the weight...

Today I looked down at my chest and my right bra cup was, ah, overfull....with a full coverage bra.

Not a hawt look, at all.

37 hours...

Ya'll are probably sick of this shit too, eh? Well, too bad. You're in it with me, albeit vicariously.

Punkinhead even had a "formed" stool this afternoon for the poop watch.

And yet...

He still had diarrhea this evening. What good is the 24 hour guideline when we seem to go justpast it, to no avail?

LMNOB has been having tummy cramps just before a BM and then diarrhea at least 3 times today on my watch.

I turned the samples into the lab today at 12:30. Then left to help at LMNOB's school for FUN DAY (and oh what a not fun sensory nightmare it was - for me!), which we then left just prior to the end for the reunion with BT the OT. (She'd had to cancel us for a hospital patient 3 wks ago, and then went on a 2 wk vacay. God has heard countless times how we've missed her work over the past 3 weeks!) I VENTED my heart out to BT the OT, about how M-D does not spell "GOD," and she was sayin' "Sing it sistah," at the end.

I, for some unknown reason, had expected a phone call from the doc about lab results - 'cause ya know, a heads up either way would be nice.

I was disappointed.

Me, my kids, and Dr. PediatricianThatWe'veHadFor.EV.er?

We are so over.

Sick of this CRAP!

That is of the watery, incognito-then-recurring variety found here at Casa del Meyer.

Also? I am very disturbed right now. The language is much harder than my normal PG 13. You sailors can laugh all you want, but this is hard core for me, and possibly for many of my readers. That said - take cover, F bombs are present in this post.

I alluded to our malaise in yesterday's post, but there's a couple of reasons why I think it fits for us:

Scenario 1:
Labor Day, September 3: Pancake Breakfast with church at an elderly couple's rural farm. Said farm has a wonderland for thrill seekers, including a rip cord across a canal, rope swings and a giant platform "hop on" swing. My kids of course, fully submerged themselves in the canal water after repeated stints with the rope swing.

Crypto is a waterborne parasite...

Incubation....

Scenario 2:
2, maybe 3 weeks ago...daycare provider's 2 y/o son had diarrhea that would. not. GO. AWAY.

Exposure...prior to crypto warning and subsequent ritual cleaning...

Plus, toddler hygiene - need I say more?

Incubation....

Nevertheless, the end result is that Casa del Meyer has had the following GI timeline:

September 18th - I hosted a direct sales party at home, and stayed home to clean and prep. Charlie Brown called me - mortified - from work. Could I please bring him a change of underwear? He'd apparently shat himself.

18th - 23rd really vague and general "Mommy, my tummy hurtses" statements from Punkinhead and LMNOB.

September 24th: Punkinhead throws up. Charlie Brown not well. They stay home.

September 25th: all clear - daycare, school and work we go.

September 26th: LMNOB throws up. All. DAY. Long. I stay home with her.

September 27th: LMNOB has had diarrhea - I stay home again.

September 28th: We're all good. I go to work, for a training in Denver. Upon returning to the office at 3:00pm, there is a msg from daycare: Punkinhead has had diarrhea all day. Pick him up.

September 29th: Kids ok. Charlie Brown is vomitting and diarrhea-ing.

September 30th: Kids still ok. I am vomitting and diarrhea-ing. Charlie Brown is slowing down on the sick.

Monday, Oct. 1: I stay home - kids go to school and daycare. Daycare calls at 3:00 - Punkinhead had diarrhea explosion during nap. I pick him up. That evening, daycare provider calls with crypto information.

Tuesday, Oct 2: Punkinhead is solid. We all go to school, daycare, work. At 4:15 e-mail from LMNOB's teacher pops on screen, saying "LMNOB had an accident at school today. She's ok, got change of clothes from the nurse, and we talked - she said her tummy was not feeling well."
Pick kids up at daycare - tell daycare provider - she tells me she can't take them until they've been "solid" for at least 24 hrs. Which is fine, except, they have gone 24hrs without diarrhea multiple times, and yet here we still are. I, being the public awareness minded person I am, sent LMNOB's teacher and principle the health alert, explaining that LMNOB would be home tomorrow.

Weds. Oct 3: I stay home with kids (note this is the 4th day home from work). I bought new shower curtain and bath accessories for the kids, totally sanitized every surface imaginable with peroxide, called the health dept - who told me to call the kids' pediatrician and get them tested.

Call the pediatrician - he's not there but one of his associates is - ok, that'll work.

We go in. Tell the nurse EV.er.Y.thiiiiiiing, no diarrhea from Punkinhead today, some from LMNOB.

Wait for MD.

She comes in - makes me repeat EV.er.Y.thiiiiiiing, tells me the standard "GI bugs transmit fecal-orally, they spread back and forth a lot in daycare due to poor hygiene, yada yada, oh, hey are ya Rockies fans? They're winning! Bye-bye. Kids, make sure you get a sticker on the way out."

"Whoah - wait," I interrupt, pointing to my Larimer County Health Dept. handout, "Don't you need to test them for this outbreak thing?"

"Nah, we don't do that."

"Ooooooooookay." I am not impressed. Especially given our last interaction with this clinic.

"Well," she asked, now feeling acquiescent...sort of? "Do you need anything - like a note, or something?"

:LOUD sigh:

"Uhm, yeah - I mean since the diarrhea has been recurrent, my daycare provider is leary of taking them back in. And, you know, I surely don't want to be spreading something in the absence of diarrhea and then having it pop back up again." Ya know, because I am a somewhat responsible member of this community and all, and have a CONSCIENCE about communicable health.

She wrote them notes to get back into daycare/school tomorrow. EVEN THOUGH I'D TOLD HER LMNOB HAD HAD DIARRHEA NOT 3 HOURS EARLIER!

I left - pissed that I would have to pay upwards of $100 for 10 minutes of a less than half-assed (quarter-assed?) pass at feigning interest in my children's health. I'm sorry ya'll the F bomb is about to be utilized. FUCK if that isn't the reason we are in a damned health CARE crisis in this nation, is crap like this! And I have insurance!

LMNOB proceeded to have more diarrhea in the afternoon.

I continued cleaning. Cooked the best meal we've had in two weeks since this shit began, and all seemed to be on the up.

Thursday, Oct. 4: I'm up, getting myself and LMNOB ready, when Punkinhead wails frantically from the bathroom, "Mama, I need help wiping!"

Go in and assess. The toilet bowl is full of brown water. Again.

Now..."mother cow" is my euphemistic attempt to avoid motherfucker - but it ALL came out, "Mother fuckin' cow! Dammit."

Punkinhead: "Mama, I'm swowwy!"

"Oh honey, no, it's not you - you can't control it. It's ok. I just REALLY want you to get better."

Wipe up the toilet bowl with peroxide. Wash hands for a period of time only an obsessive compulsive would approve of.

Get LMNOB off to school. Call the school, say she's on her way. Explain yesterday's visit. Explain that we are again dealing with diarrhea in my son, and that we will keep the school apprised as to what we're told.

Call the pediatrician's office.

"Clinic Name, this is Darlene."

"Hi Darlene, this is Heather Meyer, my kids were in yesterday to see Dr. OnlyWomanInThePractice."

"Yes..."

"Well, Darlene, Dr. OnlyWomanInThePractice virtually told me I was chasing a GI bug, that there was no need to test for crypto, and sent me on my way. And now, my son has just had diarrhea AGAIN, which makes for the 10th day, and this is not normal and I would really like to talk to someone about actually testing for crypto. Dr. PediatricianThatWe’veHadFOR.EV.ER, perhaps?

"Well, Dr. PediatricianThatWe’veHadFOR.EV.ER is not in yet, can I put you through to his PA's line?"

"Sure...whatever."

Get Voicemail. Leave long message, explaining that I am tired of being dismissed, I am looking into switching providers, and that I really would like to have a call returned about the feasibility of this crypto test.

That was two hours ago.

I am sick of this crap - nah, I'll call it like it is. I am sick of this SHIT, on more than one level.

Speaking Candidly About Candida

Oh, hell yeah, men if you are reading, it may help persuade you to NOT read this post if first I clarify one thing:

Candida = Yeast, like the kind that Monistat commercials insist their product can eradicate. And 1.. 2... 3...yeah, that's the sound of millions of women in the country laughing out loud.

Or...you might be interested, since this post only briefly touches on the vaginal flora known as Candida albicans; the rest is all gastrointestinally/psychoneurologically related. 'Tis fascinating stuff. Reeeeeeeeeeeaally.

But first, to give you a wee bit of context, I must venture into the territory of "WAAAAAAAAAY TMI." Brace yourselves - you will know far more than I really would like for you to know about the workings of my innermost parts before the end of it. But...it is necessary to divulge, in order to fully convey the AHA! moment we had with BT the OT on Friday, (And, that is really why you love me so, isn't it - because I am such a free sharer?) so for the sake of public service announcement...it works. Roll with me - if you no likey, there is a big red x to your upper right.

:sighs: Hoooooo-kay. So, Candida and I are like BFF's, only, she's the BFF that I REALLY can't stand and wish would just go. the. F. away. Clearly it is an unrequited friendship - more like a parasitic relationship gone way past symbiotic civilities. Every month, after Aunt Flo comes in and messes around with me, my hormones, and oh, hello, SEX life, well Candida sends a little "note" that she's coming over to crash the party that is my life also. I usually respond with an "Oh really? Gee, I'm not sure that's going to work," by way of an increased dosage of acidophilus (that I already take every. single. day), and when it becomes apparent that this is not working, I go get all buddy buddy with Monistat, hoping for the whole 3's a crowd message. But, apparently, Candida is the type that just doesn't get the hint, because my friend Candida has become resistant to Monistat 1 and even more recently, to Monistat 3. So now I'm stuck with choosing lucky number 7. Which means even further restrictions upon the sex life. Also: yes, another factor than the obvious emotional rift that exacerbates the sexual drought at Casa del Meyer. I just LOVE complication, don't you??? It flat out sucks. Candida has made herself welcome all too often in the past 6 years, but within the last 1 1/2? I'm done with that bi-atch. Seriously. I was all ready to suggest to Charlie Brown that he go get a yeast test at our family doc's just to ensure he wasn't passing the joys of Candida around unbeknownst.

Oh, and another weird, ewwww gross thing? About every 3 months or so, I get this funky urine. It's all cloudy, sweetish-but-stanky and freaks me the hell out. It is the same odor and it is still cloudy, albeit differing shades of yellow, whether I've had lots of water or not. Everytime it happens, I look up what my friend Dr. Google has to say and I could have kidney stones and/or infection (except that pain is not in the equation, so guess not?), diabetes, or some mystery issue. This has absolutely nothing to do with Candida, or so I thought.

Yes...I realize this is totally a woman story, telling you all the landmarks without telling where you are, but I promise, it does tie up neatly in the end. Hang in.

Please now divert your attention from everything I have just shared to the latest and greatest in LMNOB's OT.

2+ weeks ago, LMNOB did her blank-stare-I'm-in-a-different-world-presently-thus-am-not-in-tuned-to-what-you-are-saying number in front of BT the OT. That was the visit where BT the OT wanted me to track LMNOB's diet and behaviors and see if there tended to be any patterns. I've done the tracking - however, I have not gone back to see if there are any triggers that might be attributable to food.

Friday, she gave me an article from a 2004 Autism Asperger's Digest that talked about some nutritional/dietary trends among kids on the spectrum. Which, LMNOB is not diagnosed with autism, but seeing as how 90% of autistic kids have sensory integration issues...yeah, might be correlated.

It talked primarily about IgG "allergies" (I'm not gonna explain - it's tricky, but the link does an excellent job!) which are primarily due to gluten (a wheat related grain) and/or casein (a milk protein). In fact, as I read about this, and how kids with spectrum issues are not "allergic" by a scratch test, but are (sorta...allergy, sensitivity...they can't just call it what it is) with the blood tests described in the article, I thought about Purple Kangaroo and all her allergen issues with Baby E. Check out what this article that BT the OT gave me says (emphases mine):

Determining whether or not IgG food allergies are present is important. These allergies or sensitivities are associated with the reaction of foods with certain white blood cells that release powerful cytokines, protein like substances like gamma-interferon that can cause profound behavioral changes and even psychosis. IgG allergies are found in children and adults on the entire autistic spectrum, including autism, PDD, and Asperger's Syndrome. These abnormalities are also very common in attention deficit disorder.

The Candida connection was also very alarming...(Again, my emphases, also: my paraphrases are italicized)

Another common abnormality in autism is a gastrointestinal overgrowth of Candida...There are about a dozen species of Candida, but three of the most common are Candida albicans, Candida parapisilosis and Candida krusei...

Excessive Candida can inhibit normal digestion and absorption of nutrients in the bloodstream, as well as prevent the production of important vitamins needed for optimal health. Candida produces many toxic by-products, including gliotoxins, which can impair the immune system.

Parts of Candida cells are similar to gluten cells, and thus Candida can sometimes (often) bind to a gluten enzyme in the intestinal lining. This binding to transglutaminase anchors long strands of the yeast cells to the intestine like ivy vines climbing a brick wall. This anchoring inhibits the yeast from being mechanically dislodged as food passes by. Also, this incorrect binding of yeast to gluten enzymes interferes with the normal function of this enzyme in the digestion of gluten. (My notes: especially a compounding factor, and problematic if there is already a gluten sensitivity going on) If Candida cell pieces enter the blood, because of the gluten mimicking it does, this can affect blood clotting activity, because it is tied to gluten enzymes. These modified proteins may not be recognized by the immune system, and can lead to autoimmune diseases. Lastly, the Candida cells can produce digestive enzymes like proteases and phospholipase that actually eat away the intestinal lining, allowing undigested food molecules to pass through into the bloodstream, and as a result, cause more food allergies....

It goes on, and on and on, about the yeast, talking of all this gluten mimicking and how damaging that alone is, but also talks of the yeast's by-products, particularly if and when they ferment, and how they travel to the liver, to the bloodstream, and then some of them say bye-bye thru the urine! Eureka?!? Sweetish-but-stanky (hey, that's what I thought fermented apple juice smelled like, sweetish-but stanky) urine experienced by a woman who is haunted by vaginal Candida - think there may be a gastrointestinal version of the Candida problem going on?

Not to mention for LMNOB, who, I've noticed - as did my friend DSW, who is an RN and commented on it once - also sometimes has that sweetish-but-oh-so-stanky urine. Hmmm....

We can do an elimination diet. But we also have a med lab that is wise to some of this IgG testing, and if we do both the IgG test and the yeast test (a poopoo and a urine culture - I soooo do not envy that person's job!), it could give us answers fairly quickly.

And guess what? The article talks of a child with severe autism who tested for everything, (the article goes into mercury, clostridia, etc, etc, as well):

Two years later, I received a letter from the parents who had implemented all the therapies indicated by the testing. Their son had completely recovered and was successfully attending a regular school classroom without an aide.

I got goosebumps. Research does amazing things, eh?

P.S. For anyone who wants the article, e-mail me.

Back from the Dead

So, on Friday, I got into the office, had said few more words than, "Good morning," when the Boss said, "Go home - you're sick!" I knew that I was sick, but I'd been out on Wednesday, and there was work to do - was she sure?? Yes, she was. Home I went and into bed, with the alarm set so that I wouldn't miss getting LMNOB to her OT appt that afternoon.

Without a lot of any forewarning, Charlie Brown decided he wanted to help his father put in a sprinkler system in the backyard for Memorial Weekend, since it was 20 years overdue. So, a venture to the hometown was born.

In a haze of sinus pressure, I sent my mom an e-mail saying we'd be there and for her to call me if she wanted to get in touch. I had no idea of her plans, and really didn't know how I was going to fare with this crappy cold. (Sidenote: LMNOB has picked up my habitual usage of crappy as an adjective. Must. Stop.. NOW!) Besides, new classes were starting on Tuesday and I needed to get started on the reading.

Go to OT. BT the OT kind of round-about-ly says she wishes I'd have canceled, in that I-know-it's-important-to-you-but-how-good-is-it-if-I-get-sick? kind of way. I kept myself covered and across the room from them as much as possible, while LMNOB picked out the heaviest medicine ball (a sign of being "truly sensory" as BT the OT put it) for BT the OT to roll over and around LMNOB's body and joints, respectively. LMNOB loved this. And truth be told, I think I would have too, as much as I like deep tissue massage, I think that would have been totally up my alley.

Go home, pack. Hack a lung up - gag as a result (I have never been able to gracefully hock a loogie - I mean seriously, like anyone can do that with grace - errr...I've never been able to hock a loogie with ease, all nonchalant and its-a-fact-of-life-we-all-have-snot like) - and whoah, nelly, up comes the chuck. Yum.

Hit the road, Jack.

Had the weirdest phenomenon occur, in that every time I closed my eyes, I saw the screen from Bejeweled 2. Yeah, I'd put some serious time in on that game the past two weeks - I am sufficiently and successfully weaned now. Anyway, the Bejeweled backdrop of my eyelids was counterproductive in my aim to sleep it off. That and the fact that as we crested hills and plunged into valleys, my ears would not equalize the pressures. I think it was related to the fact that every cavity in my head was plum full of mucous.

Checked in with the IL's. Hit the sack, never to wake again all weekend. Save for the 6am trip to the potty that left me gripping the toilet seat with panic as the room was painted black. I used to faint all the time as a teen when I had way-low blood pressure...this was different. A blackout, without the loss of consciousness, the threat of which was this strange wave-like roaring in my ears. Tried to do the Valsalva manuever to bring my BP up and that did nothing but pop my ears beyond the point of comfort. Sit. Eventually the scenery of the bathroom comes back before me.

Ok, wipe, wash hands, walk into the kitchen, and WOW! There goes the room again! It felt like the room was spinning and as I grabbed a chair to stabilize myself, I opened and shut my eyes several times to try and make the room appear again - each time as I opened my eyes, it was as solid black as if I'd had my eyes clenched shut. Oh, Holy Hell, I thought, as I felt pain beginning to spill into my temples, I am going to die of an aneurysm, in Craig of all places, at the ripe age of 28. This was scary. More scary was the length of this episode; I probably stood at the chair for 5 or more minutes waiting for my sight and strength to be restored.

Tick...tock...tick...tock. The daylight broke through the darkness before my eyes, and I cautiously returned to bed...where I stayed most of the weekend.

Charlie Brown checked the e-mail over the weekend to make sure that we didn't overlook my mom - but we never heard from her. This was ok, as I was such a big ball of snotty-goodness. Thankfully, it was a low-key weekend and I got plenty of rest and recuperation.

Yesterday as we came home, I was feeling much better - sinuses completely dried out and clear.

Today I resumed work in the office, and my nasalness is back - it's got to be allergen related. I saw that my mom had e-mailed yesterday, saying that she hadn't gotten the Friday message and that she was bummed. ::sigh:: Me too...but again, that health factor was severely lacking, and the visit wouldn't have been much fun.

Hodge Podgery

*****
So...today, I was in a bathroom stall seriously glad for the fact that I am not a conspiracy theorist who is constantly fearful that big brother is watching. Reason being? I spent nearly 5 MINUTES wrestling with the damn cellophane wrapper on an OB tampon, and couldn't for the life of me get it to open. So you can understand the gratitude that I silently felt when I realized that I could be under the delusion that everything I do is seen and heard and that this would be grounds for serious mental anguish were I to actually be in the paranoid schizophrenic camp. It's the small things sometimes, I tell ya.

******
Then...at LMNOB's school, two things of note:
First, Ms. S marveled at how well LMNOB is doing recently. Particularly in regards to separating from me in the mornings. I KNOW!!! She basically has been kicking me to the curb every morning, instead of having to be pried off of me with the jaws of life. A miraculous improvement, among others.

Second, M tells LMNOB loudly, "You're the smartest girl I ever met!" and it's all because she made the distinction that "next recess" was actually going to be tomorrow as they were planning just how they were going to play together next. All the other girls are so obviously NOT detail oriented, and you most certainly ARE, LMNOB - to the point of obsession. I dunno...it just cracked me up, the level of awe that was genuinely in his voice. LMNOB, you might consider this in your future with M - men who are in touch with their feelings are great.

********
How many ADHD kids to change a light bulb? Hey, where's my bike?
(thanks Ms. S)

Should it be this hard??

So...last week and this week I've been full of self doubt about LMNOB and whether SID is the real issue at hand for her. Or...not?

I've been rationalizing away - the fits seem to increase relative to periods of significant changes, it's age appropriate behavior - common in any 6 yr old...from time to time, she's just working through some "issues..."

But then there was today.

Charlie Brown had to work, but I was actually not dreading the day, for once!

You see, LMNOB's strep fever broke early yesterday morning and as we passed the roadsign that said, "Now approaching 24 hours of Amoxicillin," I was given the green light from the doc to let her out of quarantine... which meant... DATE NIGHT!

Yes, last night was our much desperately needed night to reconnect - and oh, boy, did we!! After all the fireworks were had (BIG, beautiful, glorious fireworks) Charlie Brown slung his arm across me, and actually said, "It's nice to be in love again, isn't it?" As opposed to merely knowing that love does reside in our home but has been placed somewhere that we aren't quite sure of...*sigh* that is the sound of a contented woman... Can I just live in the reverie of this memory??? Mmmm....

Needless to say I was rested, content and ready to play with the kids today, planning a variety of sensory diet-type activities. Riding bikes, playing ball, a trip to the park? The sky was the limit.

We ate breakfast with little struggles, and talked about what we'd like to do with the day we were about to embark on. We had some minor chores to do, which the kids begrudgingly and mediocrely performed, but did nonetheless.

At approximately 9:45 am this morning, LMNOB began to melt down.

She wanted to go to the park - I said great, let's get dressed. She wanted to wear a dress...I said no, reason why is sidenoted below -

becaaaaaauuse, it was a little overcast, drafty and not quite as warm as it had been yesterday, and LMNOB has a proven track record of underdressing for an outing, only to be subsequently followed by an irascible fit causing immeasurable public mortification, followed thereby with an exit, equating such outings as a WASTE. OF. TIME.

In trying to prevent a meltdown - I'd created one. Quickly I tried to do some damage control before the fury unleashed in its fullness.

"So that it's not too hot, but also keeps your legs warm - let's try a pair of capris. Here, here are 3 equally pretty pairs of pants, pick one of these."

No dice.

Enter the hateful, aggressive, banshee of a stranger my darling daughter becomes in moments like these. She is averse to pants, preferring the freedom that the bare skin beneath a dress affords her. But, again, I was trying to pick my battles and, for me, the prospect of a wasted trip trumped the personal comfort style I know that LMNOB prefers.

I tried explaining.

I gave her the ultimatum - pick a pair in 10 minutes or else we simply are not going. Of course, as you will see, it was an idle threat...I have equally mixed feelings about that too.

After many minutes, I tried to leave her in her room, explaining that Mommy needed a break from her, that I would let her cry it out and be back up.

That just left her screaming her freak-out wails of "I Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaant Yooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooouuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu," pinching me (as a means of her frantically trying to ensure I would stay with her), pulling on my shirt to the point of nearly tearing it, and flinging her body at me while she shook her head no to anything that came out of my mouth.

I narrowly escaped her grasp and shut her bedroom door. She immediately came after me, but I, having had experience with this stood outside clutching the door knob. She screamed, oh God how she screamed these ethereal, you-couldn't-possibly-understand-the-hell-that-it-is-to-be-me screams. I began to cry, as all of my rationalizations over the course of LMNOB's lifetime suddenly failed:

She's just a really particular baby.

She just likes to be held. A lot.

She's just really strong-willed.

And smart... she just knows that if she keeps it up, she'll get her way.

She's just clumsy like I was - she'll outgrow it.

She just gets so busy that she waits to pee until it's too late.

Or this one... how many times have I used this on family outings;

She's just not in her routine - she's not always like this.

Yeah...they, and a hundred others, all flashed before me and I sobbed, because I painfully realized, without sugar coating, excuses, or what have you; this is not "normal."

After several moments, I felt like she'd given up on leaving, and would continue the fit for its duration in her room. I let go of the knob, and stealthily went down the stairs. Punkinhead, who had become somewhat antagonistic to LMNOB at the beginning of the rage, had somehow gotten the memo on his own that this wasn't going away and had kept to himself downstairs. That was a miracle in itself.

I embraced him hungrily. "I'm sorry sweetie. LMNOB's having a really hard time like she sometimes does. Thank you for leaving us alone while we needed to be. I love you."

He hugged me back and looked back at me, all innocent and big blue eyes, and mumbled, "I know you do, Mama." And he hugged me, again, with fervor.

We sat together and listened to her howl, silently wondering if indeed we would ever make it to the park. It was now 10:45.

In an optimistic gesture, I went and made two PB &J's (who knew what the little miss would prefer - so I left that blank).

She came down the stairs - clad in one of the pairs of capris I had selected.

I tested the waters; "Are we done?" Eyebrows raised with compassion, not annoyance.

She nodded tearfully, hiccupping in that post-sob way, "Mama, my brain's just not awake yet, but I am!"

That's a little different variation of her standby for the past 18 mos or so: "My brain just isn't working/thinking!" Where she came up with it, I dun.no....

I hesitated to ask, b/c I knew what turmoil I was about to cause. "What do you want for lunch - PB & J or turkey sandwich?" I may just as well have said, "Lather, rinse, and repeat," for that was the immediate effect.

At 11:30 this morning, nearly 2 hours after the onset of everything - we were able to leave. OT #1 told me that these normal spectrum behaviors that everyone has to some extent become problematic only when the "frequency, intensity, and duration," become damaging. I don't know if every 3-4 weeks for a superfit is all that frequent, but the intensity and duration of them freaking wipe me out.

This was the first superfit since we recognized SID as a plausible explanation for LMNOB's "issues." Also the first superfit since having been somewhat educated as to what SID entails. As a result, I have been hypervigilant, looking for displays of "SID behaviors" - whatever that means, since it tends to be so individualistic as to the issues each child will have. Today, the two fit factors were clothing and food - both very sensory related issues. Add to it, that at one point, I grabbed LMNOB's arm while she was flailing at me, and she screamed as if it was the most agonizing thing ever - and I barely had my hand around her forearm. Afterward, her tip toe walking was much more pronounced than it normally is - with her entire foot, minus the toes, up in the air as she took her steps, instead of the usual heel only. As we were walking, she pulled Punkinhead in the wagon for a time. It was then that she wanted me to hold her free hand - to which I gladly obliged - these public displays of affection are lessening, after all. I was a little shocked when she said, "No, Mama, can you squeeze it harder, please?" but I did as she asked, and held her hand much firmer than a bigshot's handshake until we got to the park.

She was fine the rest of the afternoon, and had a blast. When home, I noticed the "w-sit" position was constant for her - but hey, if she was happy, right? They rested for a time when we got home, but then when it became dinner time (which I have always called the witching hour - since she was a baby it has always been the most stressful time of day for me - except maybe now, which is getting ready for school in the mornings), it all went to pot again. She "punched" Punkinhead in the eye (I put it in quotes b/c it wasn't as forceful as a punch, but it was a punch-like jab nonetheless) accidentally - to which she said she "didn't know what she was doing;" while I realize that she still tells fibs that are not explained away by SID so much as they are by the normal fear of consequences, there was that blank look in her eyes that told me this was beyond sibling rivalry. Several minifits - seemingly like afterquakes, when looked at wholistically, followed and now that she is sleeping on her Daddy's shoulder on the couch - only now can I feel like I can process what today has been.

The third-scheduled appointment for her evaluation is set for Thursday. Let's hope that saying about this being the charm holds true.

"My tummy HATES me..."

This rather obscure gem from this movie gets repeated at casa del Meyer often...

Usually from its two older, more gastrointestinally-challenged-as-we-go-over-the-hill, inhabitants.

Tonight, it's me.

Peeeeeeeee-ew...poor Charlie Brown just watched a movie with me, and all of his nosehairs are now completely singed.

Not to mention that my gut is in that HORRIBLE, please-just-puke-already-it-will-feel-better-than-this stage. Yukka yukka.

It probably has nothing to do with the crap-load of Jason's Deli potato chips I kept shoveling in as I frantically wrote THE. LAST. PAPER. for my class today - nahhh, no way.

Or the Taco Bell we ate for dinner.

Or my diet of late in general.

Why does everything have to culminate all at once? I mean, crap, spring cleaning is something I have to do, lest I go nuts, and the time for that is, uh, now. Grant season, in which the Boss and I go temporarily insane, is, uh, now. Finals are, uh, now upon me. What else? Oh, yeah, LMNOB and SID sittin' in a tree...oh, wait, I'm getting ahead of myself, aren't I? And then, all of the everyday ordinary stuff...meals, bills, marriage maintenance - screech go the checklist brakes!

Our last date night was two. months. ago. It feels like an eternity. And while we haven't had time to connect emotionally, I was thinking va-va-voom, until my innards decided to self-destruct.

Poor me. *sigh*