MFA Mama

bits and scrids

* Middly is home from the hospital! He came home last night after dinner; it was kind of touch and go whether they'd really let him out and he did come home still sick (he still has a low-grade fever and a bellyache), but he is eating and drinking, and Tylenol is enough to manage his symptoms so we all agreed he'd be better off recuperating at home. The official diagnosis is "gastroenteritis that was getting better at home with a bland diet but was exacerbated by Daddy feeding him fast food." I have railed about my ex's refusal to feed the children anything that doesn't come in a decorated paper bag or box with a toy until I am blue in the face, and now he has put one of my kids in the hospital with that crap! Just not the one I always thought it'd be (Little Child's digestion is still not that of a normal kid and feeding him a greasy fast food meal is like setting off a bomb in your bathroom, the poor kid--this isn't much of an issue at home, but...). I don't think I even need to tell you how caps-lock filled with mothereffing RAGE I was over this for about five entire minutes...that's all I really had the energy for. It's been at least a week since I got even six hours of sleep in a night between the children being ill, Hotter being ill, Middly being in the hospital, and my trying to catch up on everything at home. RAGE! Ooh look, a shiny object...

* Please do not, any of you, suggest that I take this up with Social Services. Social Services doesn't care that my ex feeds my kids crap, and the doctors who treated Middly probably wouldn't be willing to testify in court that Middly ended up in Club Med due to Death By Supersizing, and even if they were a) there is no HARD EVIDENCE that that is what did it and b) I have no money for lawyers, especially for a lost cause like trying to amend custody and/or visitation over something like this. Yes, Little Child is medically fragile and I could MAYBE, if I could afford to bring his out-of-town GI specialist to court with my imaginary lottery winnings, MAYBE get a judge to ORDER the XY to stop feeding him crap, but y'know what? Even in this little fantasy all that would accomplish would be to make everyone miss work to go to court because civil court orders are only enforceable with a) evidence that they've been broken, like photos from a PI or something and b) time and money to go BACK TO COURT. And all of that is if I even thought it was for the Greater Good to take away the XY's visitation, which I do not. For all that he is a shitty father and human being, he IS the MFA Children's father and they are going to have to draw their own conclusions about him. If I force the issue they are going to end up lionizing the fucker and demonizing me for taking him out of their lives. They already pretty much know he's a tool, but he's a charming tool who buys them things I can't afford to give them and they do love him (which is more than he deserves, but then Life Is Not Fair).

* Don't worry, karma put on her shit-kickers and ran roughshod over the XY. I very nearly had to go and pick Middly up from the hospital (where the XY stayed with him from Sunday night until he was discharged) because the XY couldn't go more than five minutes without puking. HAHAHAHAHA! Rad.

* Last night I made dandelion chips! They're like kale chips, but wilder--I got the idea from the Pinterest but you make them the exact same way as you make kale chips. Most people's first reaction on hearing "dandelion" is something along the lines of "OMG BITTER!?!" The trick is to pick the leaves from dandelions that have NOT flowered yet. Once they flower they're gonna be gross. Also, you obviously don't want to pick your dandelions from somewhere that's been treated with any kind of herbicide, pesticide, or chemical fertilizer, or an area where they're likely to have been walked on by people or pooped on by animals. I pick mine from fairly "wild" areas of the yard (we've been living in our current home for upward of three years and I know the lawn hasn't been treated during that time) like around the compost pile and the edges of my garden, and go for new growth that's unlikely to have been walked on. I also soak my dandelion greens in cold water with a little vinegar in to kill any soil-cooties prior to oiling them up and baking them. Why dandelions? Well, for one if correctly gathered and prepared they carmelize in the oven to a delicious, almost nutty flavor and are quite tasty in addition to FREE! Plus they're loaded (and I mean LOADED) with Vitamins A and especially K, which are safest to get from dietary sources. They've also got a decent amount of Vitamin C and Omega 3 and 6 fatty acids. I don't much care for boiled or fresh dandelion greens, but I love me some kale chips and now dandelion chips as well; I've gathered the fuzzy seedheads from a dozen or so dandelions and plan to try and grow them in a large pot for guaranteed-clean snacking.

* I freaking hate it when work computers force me to change my password. I understand the reasoning behind this, and should probably change my personal computer and various account passwords more often, but...it's put a kink in my happy little morning work-routine of "arrive, drop lunch off in kitchen fridge, get coffee, log into computer." It's like when you're walking up or down stairs and you think there's one more but there's not. ANNOYING!

* Since my body apparently reads my blog and responds to written complaints (I am now TEN ENTIRE POUNDS lighter than when I posted my whine about the water weight last week, which I would link to except that I am posting this via e-mail from The Precious because HOTTER HAS STOLEN MY COMPUTER) (the part he ordered to fix his was the wrong one, grr), I would like to hereby go on record and say that it wouldn't hurt my feelings any if my tits crept a couple of inches back up my chest. Please and thank you.

* I saw a recipe for HONEYSUCKLE JELLY on the Pinterest and now it is pretty much all I can think about when I have the free time to consider such things. Honey. Suckle. Jelly. You'd best believe I'll be trying THAT out! We have a nice patch of honeysuckle around the blackberry patch at the back of our yard where I can get clean, pesticide-free honeysuckle blossoms.

* Speaking of food from the yard, we are now getting mixed baby greens aplenty. We had salad made of them with dinner last night and I packed a big Tupperware container of them and a four-ounce Mason jar with some home-made dressing to have with my lunch. I love me some salad! I can't wait for the tomatoes and cucumbers to start coming in!

* How are all of YOU?

still here in Club Med

Well, Middly didn't pull a miraculous recovery overnight or anything. Booo! He's in less pain though, so that's something. Getting by on Tylenol today, albeit grudgingly ("Do you have any of da meh-cine da udder hopsital gave me? Dat helped a LOT!"). He's only managed a little Jello and a couple of popsicles, though, and that won't cut it hydration-wise so we may be stuck here another night...I'm hoping the XY can take over tonight so I can go to work tomorrow if Middly has to stay. I don't love the idea of leaving while Middly is in-patient, but we are already in a bad spot financially from my missing work last week...ugh.

Thank you for the kind comments, tweets, e-mails, facespace messages, and texts. How are all of YOU?

Sent from The Precious

hospital, dammit

After staying up until four this morning with a puking, feverish Hotter, I was pretty sure I'd end up seeing the inside of an ER this weekend. What I didn't expect was a frantic phone call from the XY with a screaming Middle Child in the background asking me to meet him at the hospital.

Several x-rays and ultrasounds, and a transfer by ambulance to a facility with pediatric ORs later, we don't know what's wrong, although we've ruled out a ton of stuff. Middly is vomiting and in severe pain WITH IV morphine and Zofran, and as you can't have those at home, they've admitted him for observation and pain management.

Since Hotter isn't up to watching the other two MFA Children (although he seems to be on the mend), the XY took them back to his place and I'm writing this from a pull-out recliner by Middly's hospital bed.

I already missed more work last week being sick myself (a stomach bug passed through Casa MFA and felled us all one by one, although Middly was the vector and had fully recovered by Thursday when I dropped) than we can afford, so let's hope the ER doc who said this "looks surgical" was wrong, mmmkay?

On a personal note, this is the same hospital where Little Child and I lived for several chunks of his infancy, and I was fine until a nurse brought me some baby wipes to clean Middly up after a puke. Then I smelled the godawful cloying hospital-wipes perfume and came down with a serious case of tsuris. I hate this place, and while I have a "Calm" herbal teabag and am about to venture out to the "nourishment room" for hot water, I'd kind of rather run screaming to the nearest liquor store, or maybe take the elevator up to the psych ward and holler for some haldol.

Oooof.

Sent from The Precious

by popular demand...

...the story of how I gave up shampoo, probably forever!

   Going no-shampoo is apparently quite A Thing lately. Like as in all the cool kids are trying it! When I decided to give it a whirl I wasn't thinking "trendy" though so much as "green" and more importantly "cheap." We already make our own laundry detergent, and have even started making our own automatic dishwasher detergent (I'm still tweaking the recipe on that), but in my quest to shrink our household's carbon footprint (and hopefully grow our bank account), one of the very LAST things I considered going dirty-hippie with was hair product. Because, see, here is the thing: I am super-vain about my hair. It's stupid-long, and I love it, and my husband loves it, and I am guilty of spending upward of twenty bucks per bottle on things to wash, condition, and gloss it with, but clearly that had to stop with our finances being what they are.

   So I Googled around, and landed on A Sonoma Garden, and pretty much did exactly what she said. A tablespoon of baking soda to a cup of water, and let it age a bit before using (two weeks seems to be the magic number--I put a batch of baking soda and water in a Mason jar to sit while I finished the shampoo I was using, then rinsed the bottle out and poured my baking soda-water into that) (and once I saw the kind of results I get from this stuff I refilled the Mason jar so I'd have more when I finished what was in the bottle). After I've wet my hair through I shake the bottle vigorously and squeeze a generous amount onto the top of my head, then massage it in really well, using my fingertips to scrub my scalp. Then I rinse, use a TINY bit of conditioner (seriously, the baking soda mixture doesn't strip your hair the way shampoo does so you don't need as much), rinse again, and dry (by which I mean towel-turban that shit up, then use a little glossing cream and a wide-toothed comb and let it air-dry the rest of the way, although if you want to fry your hair with a blowdryer then by all means). That's it, y'all. 

   As to the results...well. Hotter read on here that I was going to give the shampoo-free thing a whirl and tried to dissuade me. "I don't like the smell of dirty hairrrr..." he whined. Hotter is very sensitive to smells. He's like a hormonal pregnant woman, except his belly is from peritoneal dialysis instead of a baby and he has boy-junk. But other than that EXACTLY THE SAME. "Okay honey," I said, "I don't have to give up shampoo."

   And then I did it anyway and just didn't tell him. I think it helped that I kept my mixture in a shampoo bottle (Hotter uses manly shampoo from a different bottle). In any case, I never had a "greasy phase" or anything; the mixture worked like a charm and my hair actually looks BETTER than it did when I was paying through the nose to strip it with toxic chemicals. I finally fessed up a couple of weeks into the experiment after Hotter complimented me on my hair looking especially nice (which? It really really does--it's soft and shiny and has more body than it did before!), and he laughed and said he hadn't noticed anything amiss. WIN!

Figure One: Do not adjust your monitors; I actually *am* that pale. But look how shiny my hair is! Incidentally if you ever want to a) look absolutely douche-tastic and b) reduce yourself to tears over the wrinkled state of your forehead, try taking a picture of your hair without any of the rest of your face in it sometime and have a gander at the outtakes. You see what I put myself through for you people?!?

my body is an asshole

*   I am home sick today, which I can ill afford, but the stomach bug that felled Middle Child over the last Daddy Weekend got Hotter, Little Child, and Big Child yesterday and today it is my turn. I'm actually less sick than I thought I would be when I took stock after the alarm went off and kind of regretting staying home, because I *probably* could have at least APPEARED to keep it together at work today, but...meh. Probably I could use the rest. I've developed a whole new fear of what my body will unleash on me if I don't listen to it lately...

*   Speaking of which, yesterday was a horrible day with Jank Jaw; Hotter reported that the night before last it sounded like I was chewing rocks in my sleep, which I guess accounts for the ringing earache and splitting headache that lasted ALL DAY. Eff me. I am starting to think the grisly procedure the oral surgeon suggested might be warranted, after all (although there is a huge difference between "warranted" and "going to happen" because of "money").

*   The above might have SEEMED like I was just whining, but apparently calling my body out on stuff shames it into toeing the line. Remember the weight issue? Well, now look:

Figure One: Yeah, I dunno either, but I'll take it! Five weeks into the diet, and I am down by 0.2 pounds. Still, things are heading in the right direction! I was seriously considering calling my endocrinologist and asking him to weigh in (SEE WHAT I DID THERE?) on this, because while on one hand going to the doctor for anything short of "arterial spurting" at this point goes against every frugal little fiber of my being, on the other hand gaining a significant amount of weight while active and on a reduced-calorie diet is potentially a sign of Things Going Awry that ought to be addressed. For now I'm just going to keep watching this and blame the steroids.

*   I feel like all I talk about anymore on here is my stupid health, which is not what I want this blog to turn into AT ALL. What would y'all like to hear about next? Possible topics include DIY drip irrigation, how I haven't used shampoo in over a month and don't miss it a bit, homemade dishwasher detergent, and what's growing in the garden. Also I read the Fifty Shades of Grey trilogy if anyone wants to talk about that. How are all of YOU?

still here, now with MOAR junk in the trunk!

   I'm still around, y'all. I'm just kind of laying low waiting for things to suck a little less so this isn't one big whiny depress-o-rama (I know, I know, FEW YEARS TOO LATE, HA!). Plus, lacking the funds to replace the video card on his computer, Hotter's solution was to plunk my laptop down on his desk, run the monitor cable to his Giant For The Blind Man Monitor into the side of it, move the charger to the outlet under his desk, and...yeah. I'm like a fourth-world nation over here, wandering around with my iPhone bundled up in a spotted handkerchief tied to the stick slung over my shoulder. It's super-tragic.

   Meanwhile, life goes on. I've added to the garden and there are now five twenty-foot rows and a 3x12-ft bed at the end of those in the back yard in addition to the six original beds out front and two new raised beds in the side yard. I DIG WHEN I HAVE FEELINGS, OKAY? As far as my feelings...eh. I'm still utterly panic-stricken about money, unsure of how long my job will last, and not feeling entirely fabulous, although (knock wood) Bad Ear is no longer painful and Jank Jaw seems to be subsiding somewhat as well. I am hopeful at this point that Bad Ear was the reason for Jank Jaw acting up, and maybe now that I'm not in pain from the ear the jaw will settle the eff down and revert to its' pre-ENT Clusterfuck of 2012 level of brokenness (status: effed up but nothing a $500 mouthguard and daily PT exercises at home doesn't keep to a dull roar). Bum Leg is doing better since I quit running (again), the Mystery Surgical Situation I mentioned before is no worse, and my lungs are behaving. I am quietly optimistic; maybe this won't be the bump that upsets the whole goddamn applecart of my health after all, and wouldn't that be nice? Most of what still ails me is, I think, the lingering effect of all the stress on my body (my adrenal glands, judging by the dark purple scarring I tend to do lately, are struggling more than usual, which makes sense given all the stress and steroids of the past couple of months and I'm bone-tired in a way that I was no longer accustomed to being on a daily basis--today, for example, it was utterly gorgeous and I came home from work, changed into gardening clothes, applied bug spray, and then crawled into bed and took a nap).

   Hotter's next dental appointment is in two weeks and I still have no idea how we're going to pay for that. Dammit, we really need to win the lottery over here (not that we play it, which might be why).

   I...still have nothing to say, really, unless you want to hear about how pissed I am that in over a month of religiously tracking my caloric intake and exercise using MyFitnessPal I have managed to...wait for it...gain eight pounds. 

Figure One: Weight loss. UR DOIN IT RONG! Center number redacted because my husband reads my blog and my weight is the one secret I have from that nosy, nosy man. If it weren't for him I'd tell the rest of y'all, if only as a PSA of sorts, because the number is one that commands some motherfucking attention and yet I don't look all that bad. Society is so stupid about womens' weight :(

   So either I have some kind of infection brewing, or I'm just legitimately gaining weight on 1200 or fewer net calories per day, and neither option makes my heart sing, but oh well. On the bright side my clothes still fit about the same (yes, I know that muscle weighs more than fat and I get a TON of exercise in the garden, but I still think this is a little absurd), so if I hadn't bought a scale in order to become healthier I'd never even know to be worried (no joke, I am thinking of just getting rid of the scale and going back to eating what I want as long as my clothes fit--I felt a lot better about myself when that was my system).

   And that is all the non-news that's fit to commit to rambling pixelated print. Except that via TFLN I learned today of a sex act called The Pterodactyl and I haven't stopped giggling since (especially after Hotter attempted to pantomime how one might go about doing such a thing). How are all of YOU?

live from the tub

Imma format this normally and we'll see what Typepad Mobile does... So there was this Big Stressful Situation involving in-laws that'd been building up over several weeks that I didn't talk about. It was one of only a handful of times in my marriage where I genuinely wished Hotter didn't read my blog, not because there is anything scandalous or that I am forbidden to tell the innernet to dish but because I was really bunched up about this. I was forced to vent to close friends like it was the fucking nineties or something! I didn't want to Mention This to Hotter until I was off the prednisone and well cleared of the stuff, because I pretty much asked him to cut back on something I'd told him was fine by me if it only cost us his time and not any of mine, and didn't cost us money, and was kept two full degrees AWAY from the children. I just am kind of a physical and mental basket case right now though, and I need my husband. Sad and, to me Ms. IAmAGoddamnIsland, worrisome, but true. And because I suck at being loved and cared for I had it in mind that Hotter was going to be furious and yell at me and maybe even leave or something. Last night I thought I'd forego a pain pill for Jank Jaw/Bad Ear and have some wine, just enough that it would make me brave enough to Spill It, but I overshot the mark. That's all I have to say about that, except that I woke feeling far better than I deserved and was on time to work and on-the-ball during several meetings. Fool's luck? Anyway so I told Hotter today via IM that we needed to talk when the boys had left for the weekend, which meant I couldn't chicken out. While we all waited for the XY I sodbusted and dug ten row-feet to the hardpan out in the garden, hauled two loads of leaf-mold to break up the clay, sifted the soil back on top of that and minus any weedroots, rocks, or worms (those went in a bucket to join the Castings Crew), and topped it with a load of compost. I had lots of feelings, okay? And then the boys left and I said my piece and Hotter listened and said "Okay," and took me into his arms and held me, sweat and all (Hotter does not enjoy sweat on me if I also have clothes on, like AT ALL). I am such a dork.

oral surgeon, etc.

*   I have lived in MFA Town for nearly thirty-three years of my thirty-three and change and managed to make it until yesterday without ever knowing there was a cookie-cutter office complex off Main Rural Drag with at least eleventy-five hundred oral surgeons', dentists', and maxillofacial surgeons' offices. AT LEAST. And they all had the same tooth-with-roots cutout on the side of their building, and the same three signs reading "ORAL SURGEON," "DENTIST," and "MAXILLOFACIAL SURGEON." And the same color and font used to paint their names on their office doors (the only variation in these offices was the names--I didn't even see any damn address numbers). After I found the office I was meant to go to I got out of the MFA Minivan and kissed the ground on my hands and knees, giving thanks for small favors like only seeing THIS place once in my life to date. Although I am sure it will be appearing in my anxiety dreams FROM NOW ON.

*   The oral surgeon seemed very smart and was quite engaging, which...well. I instantly wonder about him, because men who are people-persons usually lead me to make stupid decisions. Be that as it may, since he did have an advanced degree and years of surgical experience, plus the personal recommendation of Dr. JewishName, I heard him out on his interpretation of my Jank Jaw.

*   Jank jaw is jank, y'all.

*   Dr. PlasticFantastic thinks the next (and also, in my case, the LAST, on which more in a moment) step would be arthrocentesis of the temporomandibular joint.

*   Arthrocentesis (go ahead, Google Image that shit, I'll wait) may or may not work. My insurance company may or may not agree to cover it. It may or may not be a good idea for various reasons inherent to both general risks and specific physical oddities of mine. If it doesn't work, though, I either have to figure out how to live with the symptoms (which currently I do) or pursue pain management as an ongoing part of my permanent medical "team." Which? Barf. But my connective tissue disease (which I had stupidly neglected to put on my intake paperwork because seriously what would that have to do with my clenching and grinding my jaw? OH EVERYTHING APPARENTLY IN THAT AN ENTRAPPED PIECE OF DETACHED CARTILAGE IS BEHIND THIS BULLSHIT) makes any kind of open joint surgery (YES HE MENTIONED THAT) dumb(er even than for the general population--joints are like engine cases, people, you open them and it voids the warranty no matter how skillful you are about it). Bottom line is, my body is going to do what it's going to do, and any attempts to stop it will be temporary at best and crippling at worst. 

*   So I have to decide whether I want to pursue arthrocentesis (in theory--in reality I don't know for certain how I will feed everyone for the next six days and surgery? OH HAHA, YOU SILLY GOOSE!), which may relieve current symptoms, most likely on a temporary basis, or just shrug and choose to live with this evenifIcouldaffordtofixit.

*   Hotter's computer is totally dead. Like, giant lovingly hand-built paperweight attached to desk-sized monitor dead. He is very sad about that. And bitter. By which I mean prone to sniping at loved ones. But he's so upset I don't even really want to call him on much, so I'm gardening tons. "That's fine for you," he groused at me yesterday, "but what about MY rage and anxiety?" Implication being that I should come the fuck inside and keep him company. "I can't address YOUR rage and anxiety," I said, "I can barely handle my own." And I kept on digging, so. Yeah.

*   My health, aside from the various ongoing TMJ/ENT/Asthma clusterfucks and despite my major "diet/lifestyle/headspace adjustment," is not what I would like for it to be. I am retaining a TON of water right now (by which I mean more than ten pounds' worth that appeared literally overnight), which is uncomfortable, unsightly, and unsettling. I am starting to fear that my autoimmune bullshit is waking and stretching preparatory to looking for a nice snack. I don't want to talk about my health. If you asked me to describe it in one word I'd hiss at you like a cat.

*   So things are...not good here. At all. How are YOU?

test post by e-mail

Dear Blog,

   Aten't dead. Planting stuff (a row of groundcover/bunny fodder plus broccoli, another row of cauliflower transplants, peas, some test-corn to see if the seed is still any good, a row of red potatoes, pots of lime basil and thyme and German chamomile from last year's seed to go with this year's Roman chamomile, parsley from seed, spinach ditto, okra, catnip, etc.). Hotter's computer is utterly deceased (RIP), but his mom had that surgery I'd sort of vaguely mentioned and is fine. I see the oral surgeon this afternoon and am already less than enthused. Three weeks until Phase Two of Hotter's dental work and I have NO IDEA where the money for that will come from. Am kind of walking around in a state of shock like "really...SERIOUSLY?" over life in general right now. When it gets too bad I plant another row of something. I think this is going to go down in history as The Year of The Garden. xox me

today is testing my zen

   I've continued to do pretty well with the reduction of stress and stuff, even handling an Epic PDD-Driven Meltdown from one of the two children here on the spectrum with a fair amount of aplomb (which, well, I always do EXTERNALLY but this time interally too I was just all "this is not a new thing, I got this"). I just refuse to take on stress. Re. Fuse. 

   Right about the time I was planning how I'd narrate the audiobook version of my best-selling self-help Assvice Diatribe myself and give Belleruth Naparstek a run for her sweet, soothing multimillions, Bad Ear started to hurt again. Fuuuck. I had already mentally canceled the Oral Surgery consult on my jaw, y'know? But now I would go into the appointment with the knowledge that handling The Situation is truly beyond my control, and feel good about placing my wellbeing in the hands of others, ommmmm.

   Today I woke up full-blown sick with crap lungs and Hotter's computer just upped and died.

   I...yeah.