Pastors, your Mother's Day stuff is nice and all buuut....

I have friends who skip church for Mother's Day because of you.
After being told she's less of a woman by people who were supposed to be on her side, your decision to have mothers stand and be honored or prayed over by the congregation has driven her decision. Even 50 some-odd years later, my father still grieves the loss of a child, and then the other loss 30ish years ago. My FATHER, a man, who is supposed to apparently be stoic and push aside *his* grief. My own husband is having a difficult time of it himself. My best friend's grandmother had a loss in the 60s, and the doctor was anything but compassionate toward her. She told him to never say that crap again and he was not to return to her room. He returned the next day with more of the same junk, and she threw a bar of soap at his head. She is 50+ years out from that loss, it still burns with an indescribable ache, and she was one of the ones who suffered in silence all these years. Women like her are why I have my big mouth and why I refuse to keep it shut.

So, pastors, get creative. Get compassionate. Get your congregation involved. Get them talking. Get them to understand the pain. Get them to show love to the women with empty arms, even if they also have full ones.

I will keep it simple and share these links with you, because they say it so much better than I could or would. 

http://www.messymiddle.com/an-open-letter-to-pastors-a-non-mom-speaks-about-mothers-day/
http://www.messymiddle.com/Beyond-the-surface-of-mothering

I am NOT saying skip the celebrating of mothers. I am saying shift a couple gears and rework it. I'm saying that while you're celebrating mothers in May and fathers in June, that you plan for October to honor the reason parents grieve too. I'm saying you've got noble intentions, and there is room to make it better. Believe me, word will get out that you do something awesome for the moms-of-a-different-sort, and you will build your community and have a group of women who are going to wrap their arms around newly-grieving families so that they do not suffer in silence like my friend's grandmother and countless other women, or like my father and husband.

Birthday gifts

It's been a while since I posted anything, which is not uncommon for me to do around here. Like a lot of people, I thrive on the instantaneous potential for feedback over on crackbook. As those folks over there know, I've recently been tasked with my father's care. He had a stroke, or multiple strokes, over the Christmas holidays. It is coming to light exactly the small missteps others made that led us to where we are today. It has only been a week, and like God tells us, "we know not the hour" of the culmination of this leg of the journey. I have high hopes to tolerate it for the long haul, with the rocky crags, the beautiful sunrises, the smooth terrain, and the potholes along the way.

As my readers know, I couch virtually everything in humor, whether it's truly an amusing situation, a heart rending one, or something that has drawn my ire. My father has a certain wit about him, and he instilled it in me. He is also the genetic source of my debaucherous side. He also taught us many other lessons. He is a living message of "preach the Gospel at all times, use words if necessary." He has always given his time and talent where he could. He has served as church sexton, usher at Mass, and bread slinger at a food mission. The bosses at the bread mission expressed concern over a man of a certain age who was heaving stacks of full bread trays, 5 at a time. My father quite handily put their concerns aside with his feisty wit and determination, outslinging "the young bucks"  as he calls them, and finishing the prep work for his station in less time than it took for the younger volunteers to even get their product to their stations.  Telling him no means he is even more determined to prove the naysayer wrong.

And this stroke has slapped him with a big fat NO. No, sir, you can't drive anymore, because you are blind in the right half of both eyes (hemianopsia). No sir, you can't be alone anymore because not only can you not see half your world, but you will now start seeing things nobody else can, your depth perception is skewed, and your idea of slow is still too fast for your safety. No, sir, your dementia has been made worse by the stroke, and life as we know it has changed. No, sir, you must use that walker because the vision loss is going to affect your balance. No, sir, it is no longer your time to give and do for others, but it is your time to receive. And he quite simply does not know how to sit back and accept others serving him.

For a man who has always given, always done for himself and others, this is a huge blow. It is a slow painful death to a man to not be needed. And as I just typed that, I realized that in my insistence on serving him, I have inadvertently caused him to not be needed. My oldest sister suggested I have him help with small tasks that he can do, like folding the baby's diapers for me. This is a lesson to me as well, because like my father, I have a need to do things for myself. I need to loosen the reins on the small tasks so I can focus on where my purpose currently lies. That purpose is to manage my father's care and keeping, that of my household, and to work on growing my business. And my other purpose is to serve as my dad's protector - from himself, the pitfalls of his environment, and people who would take advantage of him.

Dad has always taught us to never expect anything from anyone, but should someone give you something, you are to be damn grateful for it. It has a link to his upbringing during the 1930s, with parents who, to be polite, were difficult. For whatever reason, Dad feels unworthy. He's always felt that way, but it is truly showing itself as an impediment at the moment. He feels unworthy of being served in his old age. I know how that feels. It's exactly how I felt when I attended a retreat at church, and these women refused to let me lift a finger to do anything except tuck myself into bed, dress myself, and use the bathroom. To a mom who did so much for her family on a daily basis, it was truly FOREIGN to have someone else take care of her. Right now, I've been speaking a horrible foreign language to Dad, and he can't translate.

So, here's this aged man, who has been forced out of his world, and into ours. His presence in our home was my birthday present. He was discharged from the rehab hospital the day after my birthday. I was joking the week prior, and still do, "Happy Birthday! Here's the care and keeping of your father!" It's a very important task, and it's not rainbows and sparkly fairy unicorn farts by any stretch of the imagination. But humor is how I handle things. Despite the snark of the outward appearance of that statement, I am finally getting the opportunity to see a part of my father he hid from the world. His vulnerability calls for my strengths to be put into action. The life experiences I've collected along the way with Devildog have been training grounds for this stretch of the journey.

Having a dad who was 49 when I was born, I always had an appreciation and respect for the elderly. They've been there, done that, got a thousand t-shirts to show for it. Just this week alone, I have seen beautiful things about him, about my oldest sister, and about my husband and children. And that is a gift that can't be taken lightly.

One little thing can cause big issues

Today, I am in the mood to talk about mouth ties. Tongue ties and upper lip ties are small little things. But they can create really big issues. And long term, they can become even bigger issues.

I have 5 kids, and 2 have a known mouth tie, 1 is suspected. That one is now an adult. But the youngest 2 kids have confirmed mouth ties. The fourth child has an upper lip tie that did not impede her ability to nurse till 14 months of age. I ended up with major vasospasms and had to stop due to pain lasting all day. I now believe that the tie + a growth spurt changed the mechanics of her mouth and latch, and my body didn't do well after that. I was ok with weaning at that point. Because upper lip ties (ULT) can cause speech problems, dental issues such as decay or orthodontia needs, we are monitoring her mouth over the long term.
The youngest is now 6 months old as of this blog post. But he and I had a rocky start. I was told in hospital that he had a tongue tie, but that it was minor. He had a champion latch, nursed well as far as we could see, and seemed to produce the requisite # of diapers typical of a newborn. Then we went home. He was a speedy exit, like #4, and he too was a bit jaundiced. The ped wanted to monitor the bilirubin levels, so we had to get labs drawn. Instead of leveling off or coming back down, #5's went up as the first week progressed. I was advised to try pediatric rehydration drinks, formula, pumped milk....but the baby refused anything but the breast. I dutifully pumped so I could do what I had to do to feed him, despite his refusal of any bottles. Meanwhile, we made about 5 or 6 lab visits in the first 2 weeks for bili checks. It was draining in every possible way, and if this had been my first child, it would have definitely painted my perspective of motherhood in the negative.

By day 10, my son was going through maybe 4-5 diapers a day, when the "norm" for newborns was almost twice that. He should have been having a poopy diaper at least every other day or so, not just a smear. His bilirubin should have been back down to what it was when he was born, not doubled that. I knew what the problem was, and was looking for a way to solve it. I was considering a laser revision with a local pediatric dentist who trained under Dr. Larry Kotlow.

That same day my friend took her 3 day old for frenectomy, and related my situation. I'd just gone to the lab that morning and our own ped at lunchtime for yet another round of the same. I was about ready to find a new ped over it for their not listening to me. My friend's pediatrician is also an IBCLC (highest level of schooling/certification a lactation consultant can attain), and helped with a UNICEF breastfeeding campaign in the 1980s. She told my friend, "tell her to get in here right now" because my supply was not going to hold out too much longer the way things were going. I high-tailed it to her pediatrician's office. While we had to wait, I decided to do a weighed feed. Weigh baby, feed baby, weigh baby again. Half an ounce in 10 minutes of feeding. A while later, we weighed, ped revised the tongue tie, I fed him for 10 minutes, and we weighed him. This time, a full ounce difference. Over the course of the weekend, he pooped 4 times in 3 days, peed through the "normal" number of diapers for a newborn and other things that made me sing.

He could move his tongue past his gums. YAY! look at those cute faces he makes now - and still does! My nipple was no longer flat, lipstick shaped, or in pain. And here's a biggie: He was able to empty the breast!!! Yes, he was getting full and I was getting emptied. I was no longer engorged and in pain from the backup it was causing. And then on Monday, just 3 days after revision, we went back to the lab and ped again for yet.another.draw. The phlebotemist was one of our previous foot-stickers and she said "oh my gosh, you have meat on your feet now! The blood draw was so much easier and faster versus the 10 minutes of screaming, squeezing, and scraping to get any drop of blood they could out of his tiny foot the previous week. The scale at the ped's office indicated he was up several ounces from that Friday. His color was getting better.

All that improvement over such short time, because one pair of sterile surgical scissors, 2 sterile cotton swabs, and a pediatrician with actual breastfeeding experience and knowledge made things right again. There's plenty of debate over circumcision versus remaining intact, and the thinking that leaving a mouth tie intact is on the same level as circumcision. But that's comparing apples to oranges. This is the ability to feed, nourish, and grow that is at stake. This is future issues with apnea from a high palate. This is potential for speech problems. This is potential for things like TMJ, neck and back issues. This is potential issues for the mom trying to feed her baby - mastitis, mangled nipples, breast pain, nipple pain, needing nipple shields, having to pump and feed vs nursing directly at the breast. Tongue ties are even related to acid reflux issues.

This is NOT an old wives tale.

Medical school barely spends time teaching about breastfeeding, much less anything that could interrupt that. A couple generations of formula feeding has drastically changed the landscape of medical training in regards to the art of feeding a baby the way nature designed. So, as such, women were told "oh your milk is bad" or "you're not making enough milk". And subsequently, babies were moved off the breast and onto a bottle. I don't know about my mother-in-law who was told this twice, but I could pump 4 ounces at a time that first week, which is more than a newborn would typically consume. The problem was not me, or parts of me. It was with that little frenulum being too attached under my son's tongue. My supply was never an issue. Again, had this been my first or maybe second, it would have stressed me out, and given me some emotional and mental scars. This was my FIFTH child, and as a veteran, I still had some emotional and mental hiccups over it despite my logical brain knowing what was happening and how to rectify it.

So, if you are in a position to provide medical or dental care, please, I BEG YOU, do not dismiss or minimize the presence of a mouth tie. Please reach out to other trained professionals such as Dr Larry Kotlow in New York, or Dr Bobby Ghaheri in Oregon for advice. Educate yourselves on breastfeeding, its mechanics and physiology for both baby and mother. Advocate for the mother and the baby. Don't just stick your gloved finger in baby's mouth and say "baby has a good strong suck, baby is fine." That tongue has to move milk from breast into the baby's mouth. It's not like a bottle nipple where sucking does the job of transfer. Don't take a wait and see approach. If we'd waited longer than 10 days, baby and I both would have suffered even more.

In the Breastfeeding group on one site, and a Tongue Tie Support group on another site, there are posts relating how the tie impacted the ability to feed a baby directly at the breast. On the Tongue Tie Support group, there are posts DAILY relating how frustrated parents endure doctor after doctor refusing to revise a lip or tongue tie because the doctor doesn't believe it has a negative impact. Or a doctor says it's an old wives' tale. Or a doctor blames a mother's supply. These doctors are pediatricians, general practitioners, ENTs, dentists and other well-trained people. They're all misinformed, and misunderstand. There are kids in speech therapy who are learning to make sounds close to the ones they're missing, when all they could potentially need is a revision to a mouth tie, a little retraining on how to use the tongue, and some time for the mouth to heal from the revision. There are newborns who can't or won't latch for several weeks and suddenly they get a little bigger and can get more of the breast into the mouth and figure out how to eat.

If you're in school for a medically related field, take up this topic in one of your research papers. Share it with your peers, educators, patients and friends. The only way for this to gain more respect or recognition is for other providers to share it. Many highly-educated people still attach a stigma to mothers as being uneducated or uninformed or misled. Mothers are in the trenches, and we've got battlefield medicine skills and experience that hasn't reached the books yet.

I have a friend whose 4 year old had challenges nursing as a newborn, and has been going to speech therapy, but still unable to rectify a set of sounds known to be related to mouth ties. She shared a picture of her child's mouth, and I told her that it looked to me that there is a tie present and she may want to explore that as a potential means to help her child's speech. She contacted Dr Kotlow, who indicated it seemed like a tie to him, and that the child might benefit from revision. She has a mix of relief that there is a solution, and sadness that the speech therapist hasn't connected the dots. How many more suffer without the benefit of knowing?

You can also use your preferred search engine to search for "tongue tie baby" or any similarly worded query and come away with a broad range of blog posts, support group forums, medical provider pages, and other information from well known medical facilities. My point here is that if you ever have a patient who is exhibiting the signs of a mouth tie, do not dismiss it!


Some helpful links:
Dr Lawrence Kotlow http://kiddsteeth.com
Dr Bobby Ghaheri http://www.drghaheri.com/about
Blog post on The Leaky Boob regarding mouth ties written by Dr Ghaheri & Melissa Cole, IBCLC that also has photos http://theleakyboob.com/tag/bobby-ghaheri/

Parental Wringers

Because of the speedy exit Mr Mambo#5 was jaundiced, just like his sister was. The muck didn't get squished to the southern exit. Apparently newblings need more than 20ish minutes being squished out of mama's nether-regions for that to happen.
And so began the incessant trips to the lab, back to the pediatrician, lather rinse repeat. He was also tongue-tied. The perinatologists and the pediatricians all said that it was minor. But it was indeed NOT something to be left unrevised here. In our case, baby boy could not extend his tongue far enough to pull milk out of the breast. He was always hungry, always nursing, always gassy and unhappy. He wasn't moving enough of the foremilk to get the fattier hindmilk that keeps him fuller longer. He was exhausting himself nursing all the time, trying to fill his little belly. I was pumping sufficient amounts of milk, probably more than he was moving out of there himself. Babies are supremely more efficient at transferring milk than a pump is. If I was able to pump 3 ounces from one breast with a nursing newborn, then something is definitely amiss.
Add to this scenario, twice a week lab checks, with ped follow up - and a 4 year old in tow. I was supposed to be recuperating. Pregnancy and childbirth takes a big physical toll on a woman's body. And I had a pediatrician's office not listening to me about the tongue tie being part of the problem. They kept suggesting the same things: supplement even an ounce of formula or give pedialyte, or pumped milk - anything to improve what he was taking in, so he could flush the bilirubin faster before it started posing more and major health problems. The problem was my child hated anything but the "gourmet groceries" as Mrs. A calls them. He would begrudgingly suffer a bottle of pumped milk - very reluctantly suffer it.
A friend was at her pediatrician's office, getting her son's tongue tie revised 3 days after he was born. She related our situation. The doctor told her to call us and get in there *NAO*. It was Friday, at 5:30 pm, and the pediatrician could have said "tell her to come in here next week." No, she said NOW. So, we hastily packed up everyone and left. My lil man was 10 days old, barely gaining, still jaundiced, and barely going through any diapers. Average is 10 diapers a day, but we were using maybe half that many.  We had to wait a while, and finally we got his tongue tie clipped. The pediatrician regularly does frenectomies, and understands the impact a tongue tie has on breastfeeding. I was about ready to take him to a pediatric dentist who would laser the tie, as trained by Dr Kotlow. But someone closer to home could do it, and covered with insurance and a copay. And she was insistent that I get to her office immediately, on a Friday evening, because my supply was at stake.
The first day after the revision, he was a little cranky and clingy, but that's to be expected. Then he started making up for lost time. He filled so many diapers over that weekend, and actually did more than a smear of poo. If he had a blowout diaper, I would've celebrated because it meant the bilirubin was moving out of his little body. Thankfully he didn't, but if he had, I would have cheered anyway. Diaper output immediately doubled. And then we had yet. another. follow-up. that Monday. He lost an ounce and the ped's office got all panicky. DUDE! He finally started producing diapers that were worth changing! Look at the whole picture here, will ya? I was supposed to go to a weight check on the Friday of his 3rd week, and I was exhausted. I refused to get in my mom-bus one. more. time. that week. My sanity, and that of my 4 year old needed to push pause on this incessant going places. Not to mention, the household budget needed a break from the fuel expenditure when I was not working to pay for said fuel, and copays.
I'd already had an appointment for the next Monday, so, really, I didn't feel a need to cater to the demands of the pediatrician's office when my sanity just was D.O.N.E.  and I needed to rest. This was not my first rodeo, and I felt safe staying home despite the objections of the nurses at the doctor's office. If mama is fried, the kids suffer. I learned that a long time ago. And I didn't care that they thought I was being neglectful. Yes, it's *just* a weight check. But to my 4 year old, it was yet another disruption this baby has caused her life, and making mommy impatient and cranky with her. She was devolving into a petulant, foot-dragging preschooler who was making mommy late for everything. We stayed home, and I napped on and off all day, with the little girl happily able to do what she wanted.
That next Monday, I had another ped appointment in the afternoon. I made them fax the lab order before my appointment, because I refused to spend my day waiting around and dealing with inefficient travels. I'd done this enough in the 3 weeks, I had a good gauge of the timing. Sure enough, he gained almost half a pound in a week, and the bilirubin was almost what it was when we left the hospital. No more wringers for us. We could resume a typical well-child check schedule.

And then 3 weeks later, for the well child check, Mr Mambo porked up an entire pound. No wonder I was losing circulation in my arms while holding him. Silly medical people, this mama is smarter than you think she is. Maybe you should listen more and wring her less.

Kathryn's plight

I interrupt my usual snarky banter with something important.
Please keep this girl, her family, and those tasked with her medical care in your thoughts and prayers, as they embark on a long journey. After many days and nights of searching for an answer to the problem, she has been given a diagnosis. And it's a heartbreaking situation.

http://catholichusband.wordpress.com/2013/12/31/kathryn-gets-a-horrific-diagnosis-and-needs-a-miracle/

Food...and my yammering about it

Growing up broke, living off 2nd (or 8th) hand tangibles, I didn't have the same kind of upbringing my peers got. Mom didn't learn to cook from her mother, or anyone else. We ate some gross stuff, some weird stuff, and lots of carbs. The only thing Mom cooked well was roasted chicken and egg noodles with TONS of butter, but it was probably margarine. Dad's parents were Irish immigrants and the only way his mother cooked was to boil everything, and you brought the salt shaker to the table. To this day he STILL salts his food first before tasting the first bite.

So when my sister went to the doctor at the end of 2011 for an issue with sleeping 99.999% of the day during certain parts of her cycle, her doctor sent her to an endocrinologist who told her on the first visit that if she didn't get the carbs out of her diet, she was going to be diabetic inside of a year. Well those labs came back the opposite - sis is actually hypoglycemic. She still needed to get off the carbs though. Her physiology just doesn't do well when wheat is involved, plus she has other allergies to tomatoes, beans (legumes), and I forget what else. In her search for foods and recipes that she COULD eat, she found Paleo-style eating. And she's done really well eating this way. She eats more calories per day than before (1500 easily vs the <1000 she ate previously). She weighs less, feels better overall, and has more mobility where she previously had injuries that plagued her ability to walk through the house. Of course she weighs less, she's fueling her metabolism instead of scaring it into dormancy for lack of sufficient fuel. In turn she's been preaching her diet to anyone that would listen, and anyone whose eyes glazed over after several hours listening to it anyway.

Prior to her diagnosis I had been cutting back on my sugar intake for a few months. I've encountered varied levels of success in the last year. I found that in general, I crave less in the way of baked goods, carbs and sweets in general. It started by simply reducing the sugar in my coffee by one spoonful. After a while, I didn't need as much sugar in my coffee. This does not entirely apply to coffee I have gotten from McDonald's or Chick-Fil-A, as their brews are just really bold and strong. It's not bad, so much as just stronger than I usually have my own home brewed coffee. Even then, I'm not putting as much sugar in the strong coffee as I was before making a conscious effort to reduce the sugar intake.

Sis found an Irish blogger who eats Paleo, and shared the link with me. We're all over on crackbook too, but seeing as how this is a slower paced, easier to follow blog I'm just gonna share it here. The little I've perused, has been interesting. But the crackbook page/wall/timeline (what ever the hell it's called anymore) has some useful bits too.

In the meantime, my sister's improvement can be summed up nicely with: it's a VAST improvement over a year ago. My improvement can be summed up with: I crave protein and vegetables frequently before I'll crave sweets. Tonight, Evil Genius wanted to eat at Subway, and I didn't want anything. Except, they have white chocolate macadamia cookies and those are some of my favorites. And I only ate one cookie. A year ago, I would've eaten 2, and seriously considered eating the others. And the one I did eat seemed like a lot to me.

Post Crash, Day 4

So, here I am day 4, and while I am not 100% by any means, I am MUCH improved.
I was able to work a couple store service calls yesterday, and I'm going to attempt 4 today so I can be home tomorrow. We'll see how it goes by lunchtime.
I want to thank everyone for their concern, prayers, admonishment, advice, and love.



Devildog is having fun teasing me about my injuries and of course giving me flack for dropping his bike. But he's not being a jerk about any of it, and for that, I am also grateful.

My sails and their wind

The copious tree sex coupled with insufficient rain after what can only be described as a "day and a half winter", has sent my allergies into overdrive. That in turn has sent my asthma over a cliff. I've had a rough week of trying to breathe, not cough, cough to clear my lungs, talk, talk without coughing, etc. The blood bank vampires keep calling, and I can't help them. Some days my voice is great, others it is shot. I've managed to stay holed up in my house the last 2 days, which has helped but when I have to venture outdoors, I feel it almost immediately reaching into my pulmonary place and parking itself in my airway and throwing a proverbial fit to incite a riot in my lungs.
Of course the weather is utterly gorgeous and I'm stuck inside. I would love to be enjoying the beautiful environment around me, but it is sucking the wind out of my sails. I have friends praying for me, as I utilize all kinds of treatments (home remedy and medicinal interventions). We need me well. I'm reading Sunday at Mass, and it's going to involve a LOT of talking, because it's Passion Sunday. I may have to reluctantly step back and give someone else the opportunity to do it though.
And then there's the 2 wheels thing. I did ride around the neighborhood last week for a few minutes finally. But I can't be out on the bike without a bubble around me, so I am stuck inside, reading motorcycle forums full of people rejoicing about their ride that day.
This is new to me, and I first thought it was bronchitis. Then 2 different people told me that it was likely that my asthma was uncontrolled and causing me problems. I started to realize they were probably right after a few days where I wasn't feeling or sounding worse, but I just couldn't breathe well at all. So, I am hoping that the elusive rain shows up to wash away all the stuff that is making me unwell. My wind therapy needs a recharge soon.

Pulmonary Revolt

My oldest, the Evil Genius, brought home some germ infestation recently. It struck strong and swiftly. Blessed is the husband who understands the value of his wife's health. Devildog sent me to the bedroom Monday evening, with my nest of stuff I'd need, so I could bed-surf and recuperate. I tried avoiding carbs and sugar all day with fair success till the evening. As I'm told, it slows your recovery when you consume those things. I then spent Tuesday and Wednesday bedsurfing as well. I would have still been there except things like signing up for a motorcycle endorsement class and a job yanked me out of the bed.
As with every variety of cold that comes my way, it becomes bronchitis. YAY! ASTHMA!
The coughing could be potentially tolerated if #1 it wasn't wearing me out, #2 it wasn't non-productive, #3 it didn't make me feel oxygen-deprived.

You know what happens when a mother's brain becomes oxygen-deprived, right?
It's never pretty.

students

I have 4 students in my household. One is in elementary school, 2 are in high school and Devildog is in college. And it's amusing sometimes when he and the boys get into conversations about math and correct each other.
The schedules however, are not so amusing. Devildog started a 3rd class last week that is a 4 hour class, once a week. The juggling and shuffling are part of the challenge and at the moment my work schedule is making it impossible for him to get homework done. The kids have to be in their rooms and not distracting him before he can focus. He hates my laptop, so he refuses to take it to the library or some other quiet, wi-fi equipped location and do homework there.

Let's add that the oldest son also moved to a different school, in conjunction with my husband going to school. Both places have new germs. As a result they brought new germs home from school, plus Clone picked up a stomach bug from a classmate that she shared with the little sister. This undoubtedly threw a huge wrench in my schedule. And by Saturday afternoon, I was coming down with something. I slept a lot Saturday afternoon and evening, and spared my fellow parishoners the germs by staying home from Mass. I hate missing church. Sunday's weather was lovely, and I aired out the house and sent the girls out to play. Mini-Human was so beside herself with excitement she was rather spastic. So, this last week of reset season is hopefully going to see the kids healthy so I can send the little to a sitter on the shorter of his schooldays (which happens to be my longest day of the week in general), so I can shorten my workdays and get back home at a humane hour so he can get started on his homework earlier.

And we haven't reached mid-terms and finals yet.

Perspectives

I have one, and it's colored by my experiences. I can't say I've always had stellar experiences, but I can say some of those experiences make me dig in my heels even more - and sometimes to my own detriment. I'm a hard-headed Irish woman, I doubt anyone would expect any less of me.
My own perspective got reeled in really quick today. Devildog's phone rang while he was asleep. As I sometimes do, I answered his phone. It was our friend C. I commented that he sounded thrilled to be alive...um, oops. Yeah, I got a big shock from him, saying his son J. was in the hospital. As it turns out, J has Type 1 diabetes, and his blood sugar had been over 500 this past weekend when he was at his grandparents' house. GP, as he's called, has Type 2 diabetes and sometimes the other members of the family will spot check their blood sugar levels. Gma told C & S about the high reading and said "get him to a doctor". That was Sunday. J already had an appointment on Wednesday for a camp physical, so C&S decided to ask about it at the appointment. The nurse took the reading, and promptly said "Take him to the hospital. NOW." They did, and J was admitted Wednesay evening with a blood glucose reading of 540. By Thursday, they'd gotten it down to 243. Normal for J is 120.

The silver-ish lining in all this is that C has struggled with weight for ages, but his diet always reverts back to what it was previously. With the diet that J needs, the family will all be following it, and C hopes to gain control of his weight and avoid the fate his dad has met, and now his son must tend.
The real ass-kicker for J? Thursday was his 13th birthday. It was spent in the hospital with a life changing diagnosis. Happy Birthday, welcome to adolescence, and oh yea, you're diabetic. Enjoy the hospital stay. (and I say that with all the dripping sarcasm my regular readers know I possess.)

Universal Donor 2

I am what you could call a Universal Donor. My husband, the Devildog, has some dominant genes, and all four kids have his blood type. Not one of these suckers have mine. Story of my life, it seems like I've got what everyone (in my house at least) else wants or needs.
However, last year when I donated blood in January, little did I know I was going to need to keep that blood. OOOPS. No wonder I had a stronger than usual reaction to the donation. It was December when I finally donated again. So, that meant it would be February when I could donate blood. I dragged 3 of the 4 kids with me. It's a long story why, and I won't bore you with it. MaNiC MoMMy does a virtual blood drive and her deadline looms, which is the only reason I'm getting around to posting this. I live by flying by the skin of my blessed assurance apparently.

In any case, I went to donate and the vampires - they love me. I have good veins that behave and don't roll. I had the Oldest Boy take the picture. It was difficult for him because he wasn't on the front side of the camera this time. He followed instructions better than Devildog did last year though. He got more than just my arm in the picture. However, he caught me looking down at something, and I look like I've got my eyes closed. And then when I was done, we got freezer pizzas from the grocery store even though I really wanted the kind from a pizza place (name withheld), and I went home and had to have a nap. This is why I schedule my donations for Fridays. I can go home and slack around and not do anything the rest of the day. And I'm incredibly thankful that even though I have FOUR spawn, they are spread apart in age and they entertained the mini-human till she needed feeding...because I've got the good stuff somebody else inevitably wants or needs.

oh boy and egads

the oh boy? I was given a TENS unit...ohhhhh the joy and near squeeee I had when the gift bearer said it was mine. Devildog just doesn't get it. His inability to walk properly 11 years ago was a joint injury. Mine was a huge misalignment of the hips added together with pregnancy and a physical job. He is no stranger to pain, having been severely injured as a child and enduring multiple surgeries from it. The person who gave it to me has endured their own share of pain and injuries. They understand my joy as recipient of this gift.

I love my chiropractor. I got him from my sister. I can walk more like a normal human now. My chiropractor has given me TENS therapy several times and I looooove it. Apparently I mentioned it in conversation to the gift bearer and they decided I needed one. So wooot! I got a portable, battery operated TENS unit and have already put it to use. I kinda think this is cooler than my sister's breathalyzer thing.

the egads? Shopping takes energy when you're difficult to fit in the first place plus 3 months postpartum and still shrinking. I did score a pair of khakis and grey pants to expand my wardrobe beyond the jeans and the one pair of black pants. I have a sneaking suspicion that I will be in this size longer than I want to admit and my prepregnancy pants will be out of style by the time I fit back into them. Four babies does things like that to a mother's body.

the other egads? I-and everyone else- forgot the diaper bag when we went shopping. Thankfully I had a contingency plan for that and put a diaper in the van. That got full and had to be changed while shopping. Then between stops the baby filled the diaper with vileness. Poor thing, Mommy's antibiotics get shared and as a result her diapers are big messes. The one diaper in the van was all I had in there too. Devildog ran home to get the diaper bag and a change of clothes because she oozed. I had to wash the carseat cover when we got home. Yuk.

I'm still hacking and coughing because my lungs are still compromised. But that fever that slowed me down broke last night. What a Christmas gift! I awakened at 5 am fully drenched and smelling so abhorrent that it rivaled Beast's football funk. That aspect wasn't such a pleasant one. I do feel a bit better, but certainly won't complain about a return of my pulmonary function.

"Oh wow she really must be sick"

This is what my MIL said to Beast on the phone Christmas morning. I was not well enough to go to church Christmas Eve or Christmas Day. She called and the phone got passed around and when Beast had the phone, MIL asked to talk to me, and he told her I couldn't talk and had no voice. I heard her ask if I went to Midnight Mass (always went when we visited her for Christmas, but my parish has 10:30 Mass the latest), and he told her no, nor did we go this morning. I woke up when we should have been at the church already. She then said "Oh wow! She really must be sick then if she didn't go to church"

Yes I am. Augmentin = horse pills. Constant coughing due to lung spasms for lack of sufficient oxygen = raw throat. Devildog hates the "psst" I have to use to get someone's attention, despite the fact that's how I call my kids when we're in public. The number of "psst" is the number child I'm calling, and it's more fun to see what kind of looks I get from people than a game of Marco Polo. Everyone's becoming more proficient at figuring out the mix of charades and handful of sign language signs that I remember. And when all else fails I get pen and paper or use my cellphone text screen to get the message across.

Merry Christmas family, you got a wife & mother that can't nag you because she can't talk. Now I just have to figure out which one of these yayhoos put in that request to Santa. Next year they're getting a huge pile of coal.

Too busy for sick, too sick for busy.

I have bronchitis. For asthmatics it's one of the biggies we try to avoid because of the compromised lungs. I worked 4 service calls each on Monday and Tuesday so I could get last minute things finished Wednesday and Thursday. Well last week's menopausal weather stirred my allergies and having 4 kids who create mommy-brain, and the increased workload draining my cranial function further, I forgot that we even had allergy meds in the hall closet. I could've avoided the copays for this bronchitis if I'd taken a few allergy meds a week ago. I'm thankful that I had enough in the bank to cover those copays. The Augmentin wasn't too expensive, but the inhaler was not exactly cheap. Thankfully I told them I'd come back for it. In the 20 minutes between doc and pharmacy, I totally forgot the doc gave me a coupon for the inhaler. DUH. So I went back later to get it, and between 2 doses of the antibiotic and a shot of the inhaler, I'm feeling a bit better. And I heart my chiropractor. He helped release the tension in my chest and upper back from all the coughing. A few naps and a few rounds of crisis cleaning per FLYLady's instructions, with help of course, and the hovel should be decent enough. I'm verrrrrry thankful for Beast though. He's been primary babysitter though my extended work hours, and today's adventures. It's a good thing the baby likes him.
I may have to rethink my primary care provider though. Mine is a walk in clinic, but it is NOT a doc-in-a-box. So the caveat to that is waiting. And waiting. And waiting. Thankfully I brought my knitting with me and got a good bit done. Thanks to Devildog's aunt for teaching me to knit Continental. It goes SO much faster. I might actually finish this project in time for next Christmas. In the meantime, I am just too busy to be sick, but alas, my body said "HAH!" and now I'm too sick for busy. When you don't get enough oxygen, it makes things just a weeee challenging.
I really am trying to keep my focus on gratitude in all my challenges. No point in making things worse by whining like I so often do right? I'm too busy to whine about being sick or busy anyway.

Universal Donor

That's what I am, and the vampires love me. Um, yea, I mean the blood bank. I donated for the first time last year and it was something I'd wanted to do for a long time but was way too chicken to do it. Then, the radio station across the street was doing a blood drive and I was done working for the week, plus they reportedly had pancakes. By the time they got me out of there, the pancakes were gone and I still needed additional nourishment. The lady that took my blood the first time was celebrating her birthday too. She told me to squeeze the stress ball thing and hold it. When I delivered my spawn, the nurses loved that I was not a "roller" and it was easy to get an IV in my arm. I told blood bank lady I have good veins and I might shower her if I held it. She said it would be alright and to just hold it. I warned her, but she didn't listen. She got fireworks for her birthday. I can't look when I get a needle stuck in me, I hate the pinch, why would I want to WATCH? Between that sharp pinch and being drained, I sometimes avoid the calls at the 2 month mark because I know I haven't eaten well enough to handle the depletion, and I have to allot a full day because I need to recover. I didn't have time to commit to recovery and I wasn't eating well in December, so I missed that 2 month point as usual. I was going to go in January, but hadn't scheduled the visit. Then I got to visiting Dawn's blog and she has a pal doing a virtual blood drive. Talk about some extra motivation! As it turns out, the next day the blood bank called to schedule a donation. I made the appointment for Friday and off I went. So, I had Devildog go along to take pictures, advising him only get me in the picture and no one else (that whole HIPPA & privacy thing, plus other permission/copyright stuff). So, what does he do?

He takes a picture of me with the blood pressure cuff on my arm, before any vampire work is done, and then he gets a picture of the nurse/phlebotemist with the needly contraption.









So, I took a picture of myself in the truck holding the little paper they give you to go online later and check your cholesterol etc. I probably should have waited till I got home, but by that time I was feeling the effects of having my blood removed from me, whatever amount it was, weighing 620 of some sort of measurement. If you look, you can see the goofy bandaid on my middle finger from the spot where they test your blood. That test alone makes me thankful I'm not diabetic. That junk HURTS. And the needle pinch...my inner elbow is still tender. But I would do it all over again. Perhaps taking the children with me to donate will spark an interest in them when they're eligible to donate. And maybe they'll be drained just enough to be quiet for a while and leave me in some peace and quiet. My kids are the same blood type as Devildog, which is that of universal recipient. Once again, my life demonstrates the humor of this situation. Me the universal donor, and the rest of my yayhoos being the universal recipients.

Go donate blood if you can. Since there's only so much meat on my bones, I can only give so much personally. Except my family still has me on their Universal Donor list for everything else of mine.

No resolutions, diet or special goals here

I was just over at the Suburban Correspondent's place and she posted this nice blog advising that based on a couple studies, dieting during cold and flu season is a bad idea.
Devildog is all about getting in shape, just inconsistent with his efforts, and occasionally misguided. For instance, his food consumption could be better. As in, rather than eat one meal a day of huge proportions, he should eat more often. Hey, it's how I keep my girlish figure. That alone will aid his effort to lose weight. But who am I to speak to a Marine about health and dietary concerns anyway right? However, we're not speaking of my lack of strength today. Maybe we can talk of that another time, like when we're packing up and moving to whatever house we buy that hopefully will have enough bedrooms to keep the teenagers from killing each other every other minute of the day they're in the same dwelling. I will just play the old injuries card as long as I can, but don't tell the Devildog even though I suspect he's onto my game here.
Part of good health is adequate sleep, according to a million other studies that I won't link to or reference. It's hard to sleep well when you have apnea and keep your spouse awake half the time, or interrupt HER sleep repeatedly throughout the night. I especially love the comments from him about my needing a nap, or falling asleep at the desk late at night. He's prone to falling asleep in front of SportsCenter, and last night was no exception. The difference this time was that instead of being slouched down in the chair or with his feet on the coffee table....he was sideways in the chair like our youngest child, my clone, crashes in the chair. The only reason I dare share this picture was because he had a blanket over him, and he was sideways. I will spare you the typical visual I would get if I'd remembered to turn the heat back on after we'd had windows open yesterday. Ahh, the perks of living in Florida....no snow to shovel. This wench doesn't do cold, so I'll thank you not to comment about how much snow and ice you have, nor what germs are residing in your person because you decided to start a diet before cold and flu season ended.

And the Generosity Continues...

I am getting better, and have regained the use of my vocal cords again. I still have bouts of coughing but overall the lungs are returning to their duties, albeit reluctantly. Meanwhile, my husband has something painful. The left side of his face is swollen, and tender. He thinks some food or something may have gotten caught in a crevice and is irritated. He came home from work and went straight to bed. He got up a few hours later and I talked him into going to a doctor (he HATES doctors after many years of painful experiences with them after a childhood injury). However his timing sucked mucho. The doctor's office is 15 minutes away at a minimum, it was half an hour after they take their last patient, and he wasn't willing to wait at the Med-Mill (walk in clinic chain) because he'd likely be there 4 hours just waiting. So, he's making do with what he can and we're going in the morning. He's a big baby and won't go if I don't take him. Maybe I'll tell you about the ER visit sometime. Except this time, he probably needs a translator or something. Even the kids didn't understand him when he was talking. His dad's ex-wife (yes we get along) called to invite us to Thanksgiving dinner, but the germs aren't worth it. I begged off, citing unknown contagions. As much as I'd like to share Thanksgiving with friends like we did last year, I don't see that happening. It was a complete and total blast, and I would need no reason to hang out with them, especially since they won't gripe about how I cook the turkey upside down like a certain nameless fat man complained 2 years ago. Never mind that he piled his plate with it, and didn't leave any on the plate. So as much as I'd like to be generous and invite someone over here for dinner, or offer to share the cooking workload at their house...I'm fighting urges to over commit myself and remember to adhere to the K.I.S.S. principle. I can make those special side dishes anytime, and I don't need a date on the calendar to tell me it's ok to do it. Besides, I am the only one who will eat the darn broccoli casserole and my neighbors might not want any. Then there's the whole germs thing. Devildog has such generous coworkers. I hope to personally thank them in a couple weeks at the Christmas party.