A Mommy Blog About Raising Men, Not Boys.

Sunday, January 31, 2016

I Don't Have Enough Energy For All Of This

There this vast chasm between who I am and who I want to be and today I feel like it's widened. I'm tired.  I'm damn tired. I'm sore. I'm out of sorts in 50 ways. To start with I pushed it on the Total Gym on Friday and I woke up barely able to move yesterday. Some people enjoy being stiff and sore but I call it pain. Being unable to move without wincing pain isn't pleasant. It makes me cranky. Not being able to move my body normally without parts of said body screaming isn't pleasant. It sucks.

It makes me sort of hovering-ly on angry all day.

I've got a wicked case of tendonosis and Plantars Fasciitis in my left foot that hurts every single day. The only thing that varies is the degree of which it hurts. I haven't been as diligent as I'd like to be on doing stretches so that bit is just simply my fault, isn't it? This also makes me angry.

Add to that today I woke up in a fog. It's a wide open Sunday where I had wanted to accomplish a thing or ten. But upon waking I realized I was fuzzy. Terribly, terribly fuzzy. I took a muscle relaxer last night at bed time hoping to release some of the body tension I had going on and it seems that it hadn't let go by the time I woke up. I consumed coffee after coffee, thinking that if only I had one more I would shake it off. I took a steaming hot showering with a soap called Happiness which did help get me one more step toward coherent but still, not quite there.

I'd like to be the sort who has fingernails that shine like justice, is well read and abreast of the latest games and movies. I want to be interesting, hold meaningful conversations and be a fascinating person. I want to participate in wry repartee and drink whatever is the hippest cocktail - in moderation. I want to wear pencil skirts, and high heels every day and find cute up-dos on pinterest.

Instead, today I changed 10+ poopie diapers and sat like a drugged slug on my sofa while my child played legos and watched the Lego movie. I may have nodded off despite my coffee intake. I tried to play with her but was informed I was messing it up. Eventually I begged for a nap and collapsed in an unmade bed. If you know me, you know that unmade beds are my kryptonite and this isn't a likely scenario. I'm not ever too tired to make the bed. It was when I went to finally lay down, that I realized my real malady in addition to the muscle relaxer. As I took off my bra and my boobs screamed I realized what had me in it's grip.


Fucking PMS.

PMS is a real thing. I don't really ever know when it's due because due to my endometrial ablation I am not in tune with my cycle. It's here however. It explains my desperate need to eat everything in the house, my desperate need to sleep and my overall achy unhappy self. My ankles are swollen and everything is making me annoyed.

It sort of helps to realize that when you feel crazy and like a loser/failure who is failing at life that in fact it's just your hormones raging and turning your brain upside down. I had a nap, and then a hard lemonade and an hour or so of playing The Witcher 3 (good game btw) all the while listening to small children be small children in my proximity.

My nap was interrupted by a hand jiggling my door handle, calling "I want mommy, I want mommy" which was Miles, calling me. I got up and opening the door and he climbed into bed, saying "snuggle". We fell asleep until a small voice said "Is there room for me to snuggle? It's Julia."

I could use another hard lemonade. I could use a brain break. Not that I just wasn't gone for four days but today I'm on short fuse. It's all hormones and so I just need to roll with it. Right now I'd like to finish this post because I'm sure I had some sort of point, but it's all loud noises.

I had some sort of a point. What was my point?

I don't have a fucking clue.

Friday, January 29, 2016

The True Story of How I Ate My Way Through Las Vegas...or 8 Pounds Later

I think the fact that we started off with a chocolate tasting pretty much set the tone for our trip. "Would like you to have a chocolate tasting while we get your table ready?" Despite the fact that this was an OBVIOUS stall tactic as the place was mostly empty, so clearly the servers were just bickering over who was taking us but REGARDLESS - CHOCOLATE TASTING!!

It was Michele's birthday and who were we mortals to turn down a chocolate tasting? NO one, that's who! So we started off with a chocolate tasting of single source local friendly whatever else I'm supposed to say that indicates that no indigenous people were deprived of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness to obtain it. After that we floated, high on whatever it is in chocolate that makes all right with your world, to our table for various appetizers and drinks to celebrate my arrival and Michele's birthday. Her friend Candy joined us and it was a lovely evening of calories and visiting.

The next day was a fancy lunch at a buffet featuring foods from the regions of France. The food was delicious. The dessert was divine.
I always wanted to try macarons. I've never seen them anywhere that they weren't about $3 A PIECE and honestly I hated the idea of wasting that much money on something so small. Now of course I have learned that it wouldn't have been a waste. IT WOULD HAVE BEEN AN INVESTMENT IN HAPPINESS.

Because wow were they good. The creme brulee wasn't carmelized enough. I give it a B.
For dinner we tried Gordon Ramsay's Steak and I have to admit I'm far too unsophisticated of a palette to really appreciate food that costs that much money. This is a wheel of steak choices. Each one is more expensive than the next. It's all still made of cow, however.
This was my steak. It was pretty good. I mean, it was steak. It was tender and juicy and good. I'm not sure it was the demi-god of steaks, however. I'm not even sure it had super powers.
But based on the bill - it should have. That's all I'm saying.

Lunch the next day was at a place called Mon Ami Gabi and once again, French food. I can tell you it was amazing and delicious and, so cheese, so meat, so good. It was like dinner and a show however thanks to these guys.
This guy had a bullhorn and really had a lot to say but I personally found that he lacked passion. I didn't see the crazy in his eyes. He was just sort of blathering as he walked. It was entertaining, however.

That evening was cocktails and appetizers at one of THE destinations in Vegas, it was a work event so we had to behave.
I had to grab a picture from Google just to show you how amazing this location was.
It looks out over the strip and as the sun set the show of lights was AMAZING. They served cocktails and appetizers, which included lots of things but my favorites were the peanut chicken AND - the braised beef spareribs, served in thimbles.
I only had two of them. That can't be THAT many calories, right?

After we wrapped up that event however it was time to actually go out and eat, so I met up with my brother and work friends and we hit the town.
Harley Davidson on the strip does NOT have the best barbecue in Vegas THAT was a lie. They do have good blue drinks however, so it evens out in my book. Of course after dinner we needed to get dessert. I'd promised Scott we'd go Holstein's because according to YELP they have the best milkshakes in Vegas.
I had a birthday cake shake and I do admit, it was pretty good. I feel like it was an A in shake world but I also think Steak N Shake is an A in the shake world so this isn't necessarily a huge upgrade from my normal shakes available in life. It was fun though. We also got to see a dude with the drawers down to his knees hitting on a pro. I didn't get a clear picture of it. But it was funny.

My trip started the way it ended, with my friend Michele which honestly was awesome. She was going to take me to the airport but first we headed down to Fremont to show me old Vegas and get some lunch. We went to that classic, the Golden Nugget and had some buffet which was not as fancy as the French one but I'm positive no less calories. We toasted our friend Renee, who was the third of our lunch bunch. She is sadly missed by us, it was one of those times she should've been with us, laughing and eating and gossiping. That won't ever happen again, but I'm glad we were able to toast to her together and remember her.
We were having mimosas, and toasting our friend who drank herself to death. She'd actually have probably thought that was funny. We had the thought, "this is probably in bad taste" but we quickly gave it the meh, whatever because that's how we roll.

Like it or lump it, Renee. If you don't like it, you shoulda been there to tell us so.

This story doesn't include breakfast, which occurred each day. It was at the boulangerie and it was so damn good.
It doesn't include snacks on the plane each way. It doesn't include cocktails. There were cocktails Many many many cocktails.

The end result despite WAY over 10 k steps walked every day was pretty frustrating. I wasn't keeping track of what I ate, so even though I KNEW there was no way I was even close to making up my intake well, let's face it - I didn't stop because I didn't care.

So here I am. It's 8 pound heavier and now I have to take it off. Which is fine, because honestly when in Rome (or Paris). I'm a little annoyed at myself and yet, I'm mostly not. It was fun. I hate the way in I look in the photos but I don't know that I ever will like the way I look so I've decided not to care and to crop out the bits I hate the most (above, totally did).

And now I'm muscle sore from the total gym and requesting curly fries for dinner.

You can take the fat girl out of the....oh wait.

No, you just can't.

Oh well, I'll get there.

Saturday, January 23, 2016

The Winter Storm That Wasn't

They said it was coming. They said it was going to be four inches of snow. As the day wore on, the forecasts grew more dire, the amateur forecasters more snarky in their predictions. Snow was coming to SOUTHTOWN and it was gonna be a doozy.

We started out our day with an IEP and if you've never done that it takes forever and is boring as hell but you have to pay attention because it's serious stuff. The wind was whipping the feeling of ICE around us, and the rain was pouring down like it was the Great Flood itself. The sky, the air, and everything in my bones said - this shit is about to get real.

After the IEP we had the 7th Grade awards program where the oldest boy made the Honor Roll. Cue proud parents.

Shortly after that, as the temperatures dropped, the husband had a tooth cleaning and I turned into Bill Brandon 2.0 and decided all of my children had to come home right now. I drove around to fetch them all.
 The girl had just completed her 100th day of school celebration and was covered in chocolate. My timing was perfect. After we picked up the twins, it began to rain ice. As we approached the house, it began to snow.

Any snow in Atlanta is a bad thing. We just don't have the mental fortitude for it. We don't have the "oh well just keep going" attitude. We have to hunker down in a blind panic. Or at least hunker down.
At our house, we settled in for the night, expecting Snowmageddon to rain down on us like a fabled Nor'easter.

As temperatures dropped and snow swirled, I prepared myself to rise early and drag these kids outside for SNOW FUN! SNOW! SNOW! LET'S PLAY!
Except, we just got a dusting. Not enough to play. Not enough to be interesting. Just cold as shit however. Cold as ever loving shit.  By 1 it was melted in the sun.

We spent our day inside, and the girl did this to my phone.
I didn't even know that was POSSIBLE.

I downloaded Neko Atsumi because everyone seems to have it. I discovered I don't understand the point of it and then I learned that there is no point, I'm just feeding and collecting cats.
So fine, this skill I have. Behold my cats. This is what I accomplished on this freezing cold day. It was a good day to stay inside, that's for sure.

I hate being cold, that's why I like living in the south.

So much for Snowmageddon 2016 in Atlanta. Although, the French Toast report guys say we're doing this again later this week. We'll see boys, you got this one so very wrong!

Wednesday, January 20, 2016

Will They Be Autistic When They Grow Up

Julia and Miles can be the best of friends when the stars are aligned. He still calls her "Baby" and likes to hug her. He likes to do the things Kindergartners like to do very often, however, so that makes them very likely playmates. 
Sunday the toll of our family activity being nil because mom has been so sick was mounting so I gave in to pretty much every activity suggestion from the smallest one. Painting? Sure. PlayDoh? Sure. And with everything she wanted to do, there was Miles right with her. In fact the only upset he really experienced was when I finally had to put the PlayDoh barbershop away because tiny pieces of gross faux clay were just going EVERYWHERE and my prednisone fueled stress wasn't having it any more.
They played in her room, they played chase, in fact the best part is really just that they PLAYED. There's something so comforting about watching your special little guy do something NORMAL like playing, if you don't have that gap in your life I can't explain it to you.

At the end of our day while we were settling in for some evening family TV, Miles and Julia snuggled up together on the love seat, wrapping in each others arms like the best of friends. Julia looked at me and asked, "Mom, will Miles and Charlie still be autistic when they grow up?" At that point a Road Runner dropped an anvil on my head and I was struck dumb. I didn't know if I was going to cry, or cry, or cry. My husband walked into the room and carried the ball, and told her well they might be but you never know what science will learn that might help them etc etc etc.

You could tell though, it hadn't occurred to her that this is a permanent situation. She snuggled Miles up and just said OK, accepting the news far better than we ever did. I guess children have more bandwidth for accepting some things. 

She also made a PlayDoh person with boobs that she asked me to show everyone.

So, now I've done that.

But yes my sweet little girl, they'll always be autistic. This might be it. We don't know. But I'm trying to be hopeful that maybe there will be something in our future that makes their lives easier and better, and ours. I don't know what that thing is yet, but I'm counting on science to bring it to me. And if it doesn't? Well that's ok too. I've got no issues with a 40 year old playing PlayDoh barbershop if that's the future. The dining room carpet doesn't mean that much to me anyway.

Monday, January 18, 2016

At Least There Are No Wampas

I've had a steaming hot, soapy shower and three cups of coffee. My intention today has been to shake off the stress and strife of yesterday and last night.

I'm medicated you see.

Round two of prednisone is being no kinder to my personality than round 1. I can't help it. I go from fine to rage, happy to despondent in moments. I'm also on a cough syrup that's got phenergan in it and that's making me sleepy, dopey and sad. All in all, it's a pretty terrible combination of drug induced feelings. That being said - I can breathe.

I can inhale. I can COUGH. I can exhale without feeling like two wet heavy sponges have replaced my lungs. If my lungs were any measure of my health - I'd say I'm better. But I can't tell that I'm better because I am so fucking medicated. Levaquin, my current antibiotic on deck (having replaced azythromycin which didn't make the grade) is wreaking havoc on my internal workings in a socially unacceptable way.

But I'm tired. I didn't even take the cough syrup because I don't want to be dopey and drive.

Last night I fell into a lovely, deep medicated sleep as my husband made one of his unfortunately necessary late night runs to the store. All the children were in bed, and I drifted off, letting the phenergan take me into dreamless sleep when sounds of the twins fighting woke me up about 20 or 30 minutes later. After that point I was up and down repeatedly, getting water, refereeing and then finally moving Miles into bed with Julia and I.

There were three in the bed and the little one said, roll over...roll over...

And then I couldn't sleep.

I slept on and off, I heard my husband come home, I heard him doing the dishes and I could hear music sometimes. Miles finally stirred and I whispered "Go to bed now" and he got up and wandered back to his bunk without argument. Then I slept.

My husband came to bed and talked to me for a bit. I don't know about what, I hope it wasn't important.I rolled over and looked at the clock - 5:58. So here I am.

I extracted myself from the arms and legs of a five year old, made coffee, showered and am considering exiting the house with wet hair like it's the 80s again. I'm not so tired as I am fatigued. I'm tired of inactivity. I'm tired of feeling this way. I want to do like 60000 things but instead I need to rest.

It's boring as hell.

But, I'll take my happy thought from my Star Wars weather forecast for the day - at least there are no Wampas.

Saturday, January 16, 2016

Finding Gary

Back in the day, hell even in MY day as a child, your family doctor was as much a family friend as anything else. In the little town where I grew up there were two practices. You either went to Dr (Bill)Province & Dr Chappell or you went to Dr Records who also had a partner whose name escapes me. We went to see Dr. Bill & Chap as he was called. Their office was downtown Franklin and I'm told that back during the war the upstairs was a hospital. I remember going up there once when I was about five and seeing rows and rows of white metal beds, just like a movie.

Our family doctor knew us from the day we were born, knew our parents and our grandparents and because of that you knew they cared. Even if they were busy that day you never felt like a number. The receptionist went to school with my mom, her sister was our school secretary. It wasn't just a product of being in a small town in Hoosierland, we just did medicine differently then.

I'd say it pretty much has been in serious decline ever since. The science behind it has exploded while the way we practice it has just gone to hell. Doctors are overloaded nurses are overloaded and we patients are just a number now.

I'm lucky that in some areas I actually DO have doctors I feel like I matter to. My OLOGISTS are top notch. When you have OLOGISTS you want them to be very good. So cardiologist, gynecologist, rheumatologists are people who all listen, talk about what's best for me. I would say with confidence that my gyno and rheum doctors both know me well, and I have great conversations with them about and my life and health. I feel GOOD when I leave them.

I have always invested time in finding the RIGHT pediatrician for my kids and I'm happy where we've landed with them, although my favorite partner there died recently, still, they are consistent although I'm not sure our relationship is quite PERSONAL there, the care is good.

But for us, a general practitioner has been something we've struggled with for a long time. As we're aging we need a doctor to help us take care of US. Everyone needs a doctor that you can call when you're sick, a doctor who knows you when you're well and what's NORMAL for you. Everyone needs someone who cares about them in some way involved in their healthcare.

I can't remember the year, but once upon a time my diabetic grandma got an infection from getting her toes clipped at some podiatrist. They cut her, and it didn't heal. And it didn't heal. And it didn't heal. Then it became gangrene.

She ended up in the hospital in Indianapolis on the north side and they were going to take off her leg. That's how my family met Gary. His partner (I forget her name) at that time who was a lady was making rounds, and came in and chatted with my mom and grandma. The more she talked to mom, the more she seemed to question taking off Grandma's whole leg. She made a lot of notes, and then she came back the next day with a different vascular surgeon. In what ended up being a serious of serious surgeon shuffling suddenly the plan went from cut off her leg at the knee, to cut off the toe and save the leg. Gary began rotating in to visit Grandma and Mom during this time when his partner wasn't available.

A relationship of about 30 years or so was born.

Gary was an advocate for my mom and dad like you would not believe. He called me here in Atlanta and talked to me for more than an hour about their health over the past two years, more than once. I haven't been his patient since 1999. He was there through a lot of their life changes and I do not doubt that because of him mom got more time than she might have had, because he got her into a very good group of doctors at IU.

My brother found out recently that it seems their message that dad had died never got through to Gary's nurse, Delphine (also our family nurse). That just gutted me. Nothing changes that they didn't know, Dad's still dead, Mom's still dead. But that's just this HOLE in the process. Our family doctor is supposed to be part of the process of the dying and the grieving and the ending of the things.

When my grandpa died, Dr Bill gave my mom fucking Xanax because she was a wreck. He came to the house and talked to me and I cried on his lap. He told me I could come see him any time I want if felt sad. Dr Bill came to the house after the funeral and was almost like the field marshall, directing church ladies "Maybe put on some more coffee." "Lou Ann why don't you go lay down I'll sit here with your mother."  I don't think Gary would've done anything like all that, but mentally there is something about him not knowing that just shakes me still. It's like a huge box went unchecked, and now the fact that my brother had to open up the door of "TELLING PEOPLE DAD IS DEAD" is so hurtful. To him, to me, to Pete, etc.

In the last month I feel like I may have in fact found my new Gary. My pneumonia has reared it's head again and I admit that there is a part of me, that with dread, realizes that for the past 20 years or so my dad got pneumonia every January or February. Why do I have pneumonia out of the blue? Why? I'm going to talk to him about it, my new Gary. His partner spoke to me on the phone last night and gave me his personal cell in case I experience any worsening of conditions. His office remembered me when I called in yesterday afternoon asking for refills. I may have found my GP after all this time.

Times change, and Gary is now part of a mega practice. The patients who go to see him are so very lucky to have this man who is so very caring, and thorough, and just a damn good DOCTOR. Don't try to leave him an important message though.

Thursday, January 14, 2016

I Have Dreams, You Know

It was the last day of the Mo Willems exhibit at THE HIGH and so despite my reduced lung capacity and general malaise we drug the troops to midtown for an excursion this weekend.
I think as an author you've really done something right when children actively crack up at your stories. We don't actually own any of these books at our house, but they've been a mainstay coming home from the library since even when Louis was little.

Sometimes people wonder how we take two severely autistic kids to an art museum?
First of all it helps to do something kid friendly where they can touch things. A whole day of NO TOUCH isn't good. Also - letting them lick the walls is one of those battles I don't much fight. I would rather they not lick the walls - but knowing WHICH walls it matters about is really the key. yes, part of my parenting skillset is knowing which walls to allow for licking. 
My main reason for taking my children so often to places like this though is that I want them to be crammed full of experience. I want them, even Miles and Charlie, to have a wealth of amazing memories to pull from - and I want them to include not just the positive emotions of love, security, self worth, but experiences that aren't every day.

Such as, remember the time we sat and had a snuggle next to the Rubens?

And look here is a dress that was worn by a REAL princess.

And this lady? She was a queen! She was the third wife of Henry the VIII (Divorced Beheaded DIED - she's that one, Jane Seymour).
And it's true Miles and Charlie don't always take away the finer points of what we're doing or seeing but that's ok.
Sometimes for the sake of their attention span, especially in a bigger exhibit, we split the place up and find a place to sit and hang out with them, and take turns viewing the items. They usually don't mind. They thought it was fun to look at some of the things but the finery of the Hapsburgs wasn't really on their list of cool stuff to learn about, so we found a sofa in an alcove.

Two of my favorite pieces were this sorbet dish - just take the one with your portrait engraved on it!
..and this sleigh....dashing through the snow....
It was a really big exhibit but the twins did great, especially with some chill out time in the alcove, and Julia & Louis loved it a lot. Louis wasn't interested and then he got inside and was amazed.

I have dreams, you know. I'm just lucky that mine walk around with me every day.

Sunday, January 10, 2016

I'm a Salty Old Girl Scout

Yesterday I drug my mostly-not-so-sick butt out of bed and took Julia to her first ever COOKIE RALLY for Girl Scouts. I was a Girl Scout for years and years, until I was in high school, but I don't ever remember us doing anything like this. Back then it was more like "Here are your order forms, maybe sell some cookies." In fact, I tried really hard to remember SELLING cookies while I was there but couldn't for most of the meeting.
They had older girls on hand to talk to the little girls about how to sell cookies, how to be safe, what to do, what not to do, how to always use good manners etc. It was actually a really cute event because all the activities were divided up into games.

That's how I ended up getting salty.
We were playing BINGO - learning about lots of Girl Scout Cookie related words. The girl doing the calling says "OK this is the symbol of the girl scouts. It's the clover thing."

Apparently my face froze or I shot daggers out of my eyes or something because she stop and looked at me.

"Trefoil," I said trying to be calm. "That's the GIRL SCOUT TREFOIL. It has a name."
She still looked at me like I was crazy, and just said "Oh" like this was news. So at that point then I was fully loaded on prednisone, years of Girl Scout training and just being who I am. I responded "I'm subtracting 10 Girl Scout points from you."

Now I'm torturing a 16 year old. She says "Really?" Then I felt bad and said "No, not unless there are real Girl Scout points that I don't know about. ARE THERE?" 

We got to sample all of the cookies, and she like all humans decided that SAMOAS are the nastiest cookies on earth. I don't think I saw a single kid take more than one bite of those. I also lament that there aren't SAVANNAHS any more, Do-Si-Dos aren't SAVANNAHS. Savannahs were better. 

Regardless of my irritability it was an adorable event, I think the older girls loved having the little tiny ones there to show things to. As an old Girl Scout it was fun to watch and think about all of my years of earning my patches, all of my time spent sitting around tables in church basements dressed in green doing crafts and planning activities. 

I think it's weird I can't much remember selling cookies. I know for a fact my dad would NEVER take stuff to work to sell for me. And I wasn't allowed to go door to door ever because that's unsafe and if you think I'm over protective you SHOULD HAVE MET MY PARENTS. It was while she was doing an activity that what seems to be my ONLY memory of cookie sales popped up. Our troop used to go to GRANTS (imagine if Walmart and an old fashioned Woolworth had a baby - that was GRANTS) and put up a card table outside. One year in probably 6th or 7th grade I was on crutches because of a basketball injury - and we realized that we were getting sympathy sales because of the Girl Scout on crutches.

Suddenly I was the approach person. A little girl with long blonde hair in her green uniform, on crutches, is apparently someone people couldn't resist because we sold out of cookies quickly. We thought it was pretty funny. 

She won a bracelet at BINGO. What's that on it? THAT'S A TREFOIL says I. 

It was a pretty good day, despite how bad I felt.

Friday, January 08, 2016

Major Victories Minor Setbacks

The setbacks started just before NYE. I was feeling this nasally, congested-not-good feeling sort of way that you feel when THE SICK is upon you. Except, I didn't really quite feel sick. It didn't morph into THE SICK but it seemed to settle into my chest by New Year's Eve.When I got home from work the tightness in my chest and ensuing coughing fits that brought no relief made me sit down with the nebulizer, hoping to shower my lungs with drugs to relieve inflammation and dilate bronchial tubes.
Every day since then I've felt worse.

But not in a "hey I'm sick" way. No fever to speak of. No aches and pains. I just can't breathe correctly. As someone with asthma that told me just one thing, an attack was in progress. That's the funny thing about asthma attacks. While the kind where you go from fine to suddenly wheezing in distress DO exist, for me I find them to be things that creep up and you go from sort of not ok to wow really not ok to hmmmm something is terribly wrong to BOOM you are in the ER with plummeting pulse ox levels and and suddenly you're being pumped full of all sorts of drugs to keep you from dying.

I decided this was a bad idea and went to the new doctor. I was a little apprehensive about going to a new doctor WHILE sick, I usually want to meet and greet when I'm well and get to know them. I feel a bit like when I'm sick, I'm in a helpless position and if I don't like them well hell I'm sick so I need them anyway.

This guy was amazing. The first thing he said after we talked was "Let's do a chest Xray" and I responded "For Asthma?" feeling like wait that's dumb. His response wasn't. "I tend to find that long term sufferers of asthma don't have a good litmus for their lung health, because your lungs never feel what others consider GOOD/NORMAL. So you can be sicker than you realize, and not even know it."

And guess? This girl has pneumonia.

I went to work with an RX for antibiotics and steroids, and with a couple of shots IN me of same to kick start the healing. I'm OFF any sort of exercise until I have finished all my meds.


We're 8 days in and so far this year and I aren't getting along that well. Thus far:

Minor Setback: Pneumonia. I haven't worked hardly out at all in 2016 and I can't for another ten days at least. I had a lot of plans to really start pushing myself and they are delayed which frustrates me to no end.

Major Victories:

  • I did a lot of research on how to eat based on my health, my body, my age etc. I decided to adjust my macros based on the fact that I've lived as "pre-diabetic" for about 25 years. Both of my parents were diabetic and I would like to be NOT diabetic so I'm really striving to prevent this through diet, weightloss and working out.
  • I dropped my caloric intake just slightly also based on other research and my bodies propensity to hold on to weight. It's working well. Yay.
  • My new doctor TOOK ME OFF MY BP meds. This was a major life goal for me. Almost more important that weight loss, I wanted off this pill. My blood pressure was so low yesterday he said "Why the HELL are you on bp meds?" I explained my heart condition and he said that drugs aren't indicated for that UNLESS it's coupled with HIGH bp AND serious obesity and at my height he's amazed I'm not dizzy all the time. I said "Oh funny you should mention that...I am." 
That being said, these steroids are KILLING me today so I'm having a day of rest which is much needed. Thus, I'm off to bed so sleep, perchance to dream.

Tuesday, January 05, 2016

Too Many Plans

I always make too many plans on Football Sundays. My husband goes to watch football and I think I'll get 54690508 things done and I'll spend time with the kids and I'll be a good PINTEREST MOM and I'll do things and we'll make crafts and play games and omg it'll be so magical and I'll be the BEST MOM IN THE UNIVERSE BECAUSE YES I SPENT TIME WITH MY KIDS.

Then time happens and I suck and nothing happens.

I started out ok. I decided to make pancakes and Louis was playing a video game and Julia was doing I don't know what and only Miles wanted to participate in the making.
But that's ok because Miles LOVES to make things, he wants to stir always so he thought it was great and I thought it was great.
Damn Russian Proverbs - David Stone you're right, THE FIRST ONE IS ALWAYS RUINED.

Julia wanted to make cupcakes on this Sunday. "Can we make cupcakes together?" she had asked. But then she also wanted to put together her pony that Santa brought her.

I agreed to participating in the pony construction. It was really around that time that I realized my cough wasn't just a cough, it was an inability to breath in exactly properly. And that means my lung capacity was decreasing and that means my asthma is kicking it up. I haven't had an issue in years like this so it's frustrating because of my medicine which keeps me in check so I'm not sure what's causing it.

It was also frustrating because I had a workout planned AND cupcakes to make.
I gathered the mix that her daddy had got us and said hey let's make our cupcakes, figuring my timeline of feeling good was getting short. She responded "I can't make cupcakes right now, I'm in a pony race."
So the oldest boy an the second oldest boy and I made cupcakes while she and her pony, who also happens to be named Julia, raced around the first floor over and over and over and over and over.

They turned out pretty well.
And as for me, I had a breathing treatment, and sat on the sofa and pondered a doctor visit for some steroids. I also feel a bit cheated that I'm ready to start really pushing myself physically when my lung said NOPE DON'T YOU EVEN so no, no workout for me any time soon.

I got a pony made, cupcakes and pancakes made. That's 3 things. Not 54690508 things. I suppose that's ok but I was disappointed. 

It's going to have to be good enoough.

Sunday, January 03, 2016

Holiday In The Park

We decided that since our passes haven't been used at all this year we ought to at least make a go of trying out the Holiday in the Park event at Six Flags before it ended. We tried last time to replace our Stone Mountain Christmas with this one, and that was a fail. I think we enjoyed it a lot more this time just realizing it's only Six Flags with a Christmas "flair". It's a lot of fun but nearly half the park isn't operating, and so there isn't a ton to do - but that's ok because for us we can't really "do" a ton with our special little guys. Louis doesn't want to ride the mega coasters and Julia is too little so that limits what we want to do anyway.
Carolers greeted us upon arrival and Julia sang back to them loudly with great enthusiasm.

We had been in a rut for so long, not getting out, not doing "things" that I think they kids don't know what to do with themselves lately. We're more like us again and I'm glad.
We made straight for a roller coaster to start our day and Julia has decided she's a coaster fan. I personally can't figure out how much weight I'm going to have to lose to fit comfortably but man, my butt is still too big to be comfy that's for sure.
Next up we made for the train which takes you to the North Pole! WOOO! Ok really they've just decorated up the OTHER train station to look like the North Pole. Here's where it got....tricky. They're hired actual little people to be Santa's Elves...ok so, ummmm. I felt super awkward about it and I don't know why. Is that not appropriate? Is it just perfectly appropriate? The kids thought it was great, but I felt like oh man I shouldn't take their picture and I don't know why.
The kids thought it was great, so I suppose I won't fret about it too much.
We met a Polar bear and he seemed happy enough to see us. Julia told him she had his baby at home and he seemed shocked. It was a little funny. YOU OWE US CHILD SUPPORT, MR. BEAR!
The temperatures are supposed to plummet in the next 24 hours but it hasn't happened yet and we're lucky for that. It was cold, in the low 40s but not so cold we were gonna die.

We rode the Monster Mansion which Julia always gets mad at us for because she says it's too scary. I have to admit, parts are a bit scary, but we rode it anyway. She didn't seem too traumatized by the whole thing anyway, and got a pretzel which made everything better.
I told my brother she loves pretzels and he responded "Well shit who doesn't?"

Good point.
I think they should really have more indoor dining available, I'm all for the fun of the outdoor festivities and all but your food gets damn cold fast when you have to eat outside. What's the point of that? It's dumb. If I have to keep my coat on, my food's getting cold. I just paid 42 dollars for chicken tenders and fries, I would like them hot, you know?
For the first time ever we all rode the bumper cars and I have to admit it was sort of insanely fun. I let Miles drive - I had to help him a little but I think he mostly got the idea of it.
Since he proved his worth on the bumper cars I let him drive completely on his own on the Hanson Cabs...which he actually did great. Ok I worked the pedal but I figure one thing at a time. I've never let him drive before and he thought it was great - and he actually DID IT without us being herky jerky on the guide rail. I was really impressed with my little guy on this one.
According to reports from the car behind us, Louis did not fare quite so well.

About the time the cold really settled into our bones and we were all properly too cold to have fun we'd done all the things we really wanted to do and decided it was time to go home. We probably won't be back for a couple of years because our passes are up but that's ok.

On our way out we wandered through the JellyBelly store. Seriously what the hell is this about?