Shark bites (or Adventures in Dermatology)

As the Dermatologist headed towards her, Jaime felt a sudden apprehension...

Don’t worry, I haven’t gone anywhere. You were worried, right? I thought so…

Life has thrown me a couple of really busy weeks and I feel like I’ve put on the veil and disappeared from posting about every little teeny thing that is going on in my life…

Biggest thing has been my exciting trip to the dermatologists a few weeks ago. What I thought was just going to be a quick trip for a refill on meds turned into a full-blown skin check. And that ended in the doctor saying to me “Well, I think I’m going to biopsy this one. And…. this one over here. And this one. And then just this last one. Ok?”

No harm in being proactive regarding your skin especially when you live in Florida and it’s hot as Hades 9 of the 12 months of the year.

A few days later I got a call at work from the dermatologist’s assistant, who said the following “Do you have a moment to go over your results?”

This is medical speak for ‘it’s bad’.

Gah.

And not that it was really that bad. But it wasn’t like they were calling me to tell me “We just wanted to let you know that your skin is PERFECT! The most perfect we have ever seen! And below the surface? You are made completely of angel dust and gold sparkles!”

In reality, it was 3 abnormal areas, with the potential to possibly develop into something worse given time. And removal was what was suggested. And I agreed.

First spot to go was on my hip. Didn’t feel a thing. I got an enormous bandage that sort of looked like perhaps a rabid animal had bitten me. Maybe even a shark. I was an enormous baby by the end of the first day. But, the following day it was fine. I removed the giant bandage and replaced it with a little teeny one. I skipped the gym for a few days, haven’t been swimming in 2 weeks and have been going through hydrogen peroxide like it’s going out of style.

Monday, site 2 is removed. Right below my collar-bone. Shark bite take 2! I wonder how enormous the bandage will be this time?? Hopefully people will take pity on my Tuesday at work and bring me cookies (Jen, I’ll be in Winter Park that day, ok??).

I keep thinking ‘proactive, proactive, proactive’. And also ‘stop being a baby, it’s not a shark bite and stop pretending it is’.

Third site will be on the back of my right arm and will be removed in two more weeks, when I go in to have the stitches removed from the site on my chest.

This is just one of the ridiculous things that are going on in my life right now… Thrilling, is it not?

So I am still here. Giant shark bite and all…

 

xoxo a.m.

 

Mama drama

I am a big brave girl. At just shy of 35 (why am I telling you that? Shhhh), I finally have struck up enough courage to try to make friends with complete strangers.

It actually was a New years resolution. I resolved to meet other Mum’s in the neighbourhood (even though I am crap at chatting people up), Mums that would ideally have kiddos Vince’s age thus creating a sort of impromptu playgroup.

But honestly, when does that happen in real life. I mean, clearly it happens in the movies enough for us regular Mum’s to think that it might happen to us? Of course it would! We are exactly like all those Mum’s, right? So why wouldn’t we?

But we don’t. For whatever million reasons there are.

And so, as Vince enters the age of 3, I am looking for lady friends. With benefits. Ie: you have children.

It is a whole tricky thing. It is like A) online dating, B) a blind date and C) perhaps total insanity.

So last weekend, as I was checking out a bunch of site:s I discovered, I learned, I gained knowledge. All of those groups are pretty darn private. You have to make a huge effort to show your interest in joining. You probably are going to have to answer a tons of questions about yourself.

And so I put it all out there. All of it. In a very restrained sort of way. No way do they need to know I am a book spazz, addicted to Project Runway and Top Chef and steal dirt from my father-in-law. (Ok, he surreptitiously gives it to me. Regardless). They probably also don’t want to know that I am blogging about this.

But guess what? After the several group rejects I got, plus the “We meet on Tuesday mornings at 10 am” illuminatons, what I ended up getting acceptted into is pretty nice.

So this afternoon, I met them for the first time. A bit scary. A real huge scary. And innocently enough, it ended up being just one person that I met. And somehow that seemed to be perfect.

So despite my so-called stress over this days events, somehow it worked out just right for us.

We have been accepted. Gosh that sounds dramatic and it is! It is wonderfully dramatic. And I met a new friend.

Hurray!!’xoxo a.m.

Naughty

Running on the end of the weekend, M and I finally get a chance to sit down together and talk.

“How are you?”

“Fine. How are you?”

“Fine. It’s been a while since I’ve seen you.”

“True dat. I’ve missed you!” (I know M likes when I talk like that)

“Me too!”

And our weekend went like this:

No internet for the majority of Saturday which really put a damper on M’s giant project, that one that he needed to use his work computer for that could only be accessed wirelessly. And so that day was just a huge disaster. Full of stress, more stress, random calls to BrightHouse and some more stress.

Life? Dull? I think not. And then he had to go to work (Job #2).

Shit.

But, you ask… what happened after that? Oh my! Things just so much better!!

V demonstrated his slapping skills on my face. And demonstrated his hitting skills on my chest. Oh my poor chest. And my poor face. But mostly my poor chest. Ouch. Ouch ouch ouch.

And where did this lovely skill come from? I am assuming Daycare as M and I don’t have the habit of smacking each other around. Dude. Total dislike.

As he was hitting me, he laughed. Repeatedly. And it just made me more upset. No amount of “No” and stern looks made it any better. And I have a really good stern look too. It has, on the odd occasion, made M wash dishes and pick up his underwear.

I digress…

Huge upset for me. Why is he hitting and why is he pretending to enjoy it? What am I parenting wrong? And then, just a random guttural scream.

Later, skyping with my Mum, I spilled the whole shebang.

Mum: “And so he hit you, and then what did you  do?”

Me: “I hit…. oh. I hit him on the hand and said ‘No hitting’. Crap.”

Mum: “Did you just say ‘crap’?

Me: “Yes. And I hit him while saying ‘no hitting’. Huge parenting win for me.”

Mum: “What?” And then she laughed at me.

You will figure out your discipline strategy, she said.

Let me be honest. I have no idea what to do about discipline. No idea at all. At all. So much so that I went and bought a book today.

I mean I do the usual. Stern looks. Solemn speaking. “No. No. No.”

But I say that so much that V now says “Mumma no no no.”

Great. And also lol. But with a period at the end. So that makes it ironic. Or serious. Either.

So I am now reading some books. Books that I will tell you about later as I am about to go to bed with them. Mmmhmm book love.

xoxo a.m plus books (Hi Sunday night !!)

Tush

Sometimes thinks that I need to have more Cham-pag-knee in my life.

Especially after this weekend.

And not that it was anything that awful, it’s just that it was all awful.

M has tonsillitis. And V is now allergic to Milk. There was projectile vomiting, diarrhea and severe diaper rash going on over here.

1) Tonsillitis. Antibiotics. Steroids. Magic Mouthwash. Literally he was sick for days before I forced him to go and see a doctor. The doctor told him that tonsillitis was contagious (which it is). He’d been sick for5 days at that time. He came home and refused to touch anyone.
“Jame, I’m contagious!”

Oh you dramatic Italian you. You are lucky that I love you, or you’d be dead. My patience had run out 3 days prior to this doctors visit, so you can just imagine how I greeted this exciting news. And also just how loving I was.

2) Projectile vomit. I hate you.

V has started coughing again. And Saturday was a rough coughing day. He came toddling over to me in the middle of the afternoon and climbed up into my lap and put his head on my chest. Oh dear. I immediately know something must be wrong as the only time he seeks out a cuddle is when he is feeling poorly.

He started coughing so violently that automatically my hand went up in front of his mouth. Good thing too since he started throwing up! A small quantity ended up in my hand while the rest of it ended up everywhere else. Pants, shirt, floor, chair, baby etc. When he was done, all I could do was sit there in shock with a hand full of vomit. And just what do you do with that? There I was, sitting in my computer chair with V in my lap, holding some puke.

I just had to rub it into my pants, suck it up and try to not throw up.

3) Milk allergy. No idea. But I swear since we found this out, he has had constant diarrhea. Sweet. And today? The day before we go and see the allergist? More diarrhea and the worst diaper rash ever. So bad, so bad and it just snuck up on us. So bad that I couldn’t even clean his bum properly he cried and screamed so much. It was so red, and red all the way up the front if you know what I mean *cough* the boys *cough cough*.

Poor little man. Poor big man. Poor Mummy.

So as Monday comes, I am crying tears of happiness.

Allergist. Diarrhea. Tonsillitis. Milk. Yay Monday.

Allergies, ahoy!

I love my Little V.

I accept his allergies with a smile and, in some small ways, enjoy the challenge of his lifestyle. In a way, it forces me to make his meals healthy as the challenge of peanuts and wheat really narrows down the kind of things that you can feed a child out in public. It really cuts out large amounts of crap.

Nice challenge, eh? I am a well-prepared mother when we are out and about, as Lord Only Knows what people put in food these days and either don’t mention it or mention it in a super low-key way.

Like Chik-Fil-A.

Did you know that they cook all of their food in peanut oil?

Really, Chik-Fil-A? In an allergen filled world, with peanut allergies becoming extremely prevalent in children, this is a good idea?

Are you even aware of peanut allergies? Or people? Or people with allergies? Or anything? Anything at all? Bastards.

And yes, I didn’t ask at the drive through. And yes, I am a terrible mother. And yes, I was surprised that I hadn’t heard anything about this before. And yes, I tried to steal his chicken nuggets. And yes, that’s how I found out. And yes, I was terribly mad. And yes, finally, I know it is all my fault for not asking. Totally my fault.

However, still annoyed with Chik-Fil-A. Annoyed with their cute kids meals that have Berenstein Bears books in them. It really was one of the few places that I felt ok about Chicken Nuggets. It is actual real chicken,  not that chicken goop that is formed into nuggets.

Maybe I am just a little naive in thinking that in these days of enlightened eating, where everyone is a gourmet chef and food critic, that I would have heard it mentioned before physically running into it. Head first.

Although, CFA is not exactly the most gourmet of eateries.

In reading over their website and allergen claims, it seems quite clear-cut from their point of view. Their oil is heat processed and refined, which apparently makes it safe for consumption by people with allergies.

However, I still feel a little overtly ‘mother concerned’ and am banning them. It weirds me out just a little.

Anyways, that is the end of my Chik-Fil-A rant.

Really, this was all about how V and his allergies. And what I do about them.

Well, I got allergy tested. First part was last Monday, RAST testing on my back. Very interesting. Apparently I have some kind of dermatological skin , which makes skin testing rather tricky because of the welts.

I had a lot of positives for different molds, a few pollens, MAPLE TREE (if you can believe that! AND I am Canadian… whats up with that!), Orange tree. It was very very interesting.

My lovely Nurse  friend drew some blood for food testing and tomorrow I am having intradermal skin testing done.  How allergic am I? Am I an allergic person? Does V get it all from me?

AND, on an interesting side note, it appears he might be allergic to penicillin as well. This is based on a weekend filled with vomit roughly the colour of the amoxicillian he is taking.

I am allergic to it, or was at least sensitive to it as a child, and stupidly haven’t ever mentioned it to V’s Dr.

Dumb-ass.

Just one call to her this weekend, and she happily reassured me re: Vomit-Fest 2009 hosted by the Melvins.

More to follow tomorrow, post testing…

xox a.m.

ps: Kids allergy testing info here…

Karma

So the other day my son  threw up everywhere. So awful. And even more so since the whole incidence was in public.

And then it suddenly was Christmas.

How are these 2 events linked together? This was information that I learned during Christmas morning with my sweet boys while I was unwrapping a prezzie from the Big M.

And so back to Tuesday we go, V and I wandering around the Mall on one side, while M went the other way. He likes to do his shopping last-minute. So as V and I were cruising, we strolled past the Aveda store. I am such a sucker for anything Aveda and was thinking about something for my sister-in-law and so in I strolled.

It’s basically like shopping at MAC, the shop staff is quite posh and slightly unapproachable. Completely dressed in black.  Impeccable hair.

Anyways, strolling in and around the closet that is Aveda, deeply inhaling the gorgeous aromas of their products. Of course, just staffed with one person who was deeply involved in a complicated discussion regarding conditioners.

I had a wee question to ask him, so V and I waited patiently near the till while he rang his customer up.

Suddenly, without any warnings at all, started projectile vomiting.

All I could say was “What the hell?!?!” as I tried to catch the vomit spewing out of him with one hand, while the other tipped him forward so he wouldn’t choke. And spew it did. Seemingly endless in manner…

While my hands were outstretched, both catching and supporting, the Aveda guy and customer made horrified faces at me and my child. Aveda guy offered me some towels and then went back to the counter to endlessly apologize to the blond woman who just stared at me with her lip curled in disgust. Childless bastards.

It felt endless, but maybe was approximately a minute or so. And then I cleaned up vomit for a few minutes. V just sat there in his stroller, looking shocked, I was shocked. Aveda guy was shocked. I was embarrassed. And apologetic. Aveda guy said “I’d help you, but I hope you understand that I am feeling a bit nauseaous” . And gave me a garbage bag when I asked.

I joked “Well, there could be worse places than Aveda! At least you can easily cover up the smell!!” I don’t think he thought it was as funny as I did.

I pretty much ran out of there with V, on the phone with M the whole time…

“Honey? Vomit-fest. V is covered. We are leaving. Meet you are Sears?”

“Sounds good. Why don’t you buy V something clean to wear at Sears?”

“Ok!” I said, slightly freaked out and panicked. But, of course, calm at the same time. Outwardly, anyways…

That stroller was practically on fire, it was going so fast. And a trail of vomit-odor followed us through the mall and into Sears. And into the elevator. And as the doors were starting to shut, someone shouted out for us to hold it. Really? Are you sure?

She was, and politely rode with us up to the second floor. In a vomit elevator.

I raced into the kids section going “2-t 2-t 2-t 2-t” in my head.  I only wanted that size, a shirt and pants or shorts. Quickly found some serviceable things and dashed off to the check-out.

Standing in line, anxiously shifting from one foot to the other with V in front of me caked in vomit. No-one gave us a second glance.

I reached the counter and had the following ridiculous converation:

“Did you find everything you were looking for?”

“Yes, thank you, I did.”

“Do you have any coupons you’d like to use today?”

“No, thank you.”

“Would you like to use your Sears card?”

“No, I don’t have one thanks.”

“Would you like to apply for one?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Everything would be almost free if you did~~~!”

“My child is covered in vomit, so I am not really interested at this time.”

The look on her face was priceless. And then she started apologizing. And frankly I didn’t care at all. I just paid, ripped the clothes off the hanger at the counter and refused her offer of a bag.

Back to the elevator, down to the second floor and out into the parking lot. M met me with the car on the sidewalk, which was where I stripped the Little Man down and changed his vomit-clothes. Most of them went right in the trash.

The day didn’t get any better from there. It basically sunk into vomit-hell.

Vomit, phone calls to the pediatrician, more vomit. Quick stop at home. Bath. Change. Vomit. Off to the Dr. More vomit. Vomit. Vomit. And some more vomit. Slight dehydration of the little man.

Christmas morning, as I opened a package from M, I learned more about karma than I ever knew. As I unwrapped several bottles of Aveda haircare products, M could barely contain his glee as he recounted his story. Apparently he had been in the Aveda store about 15 minutes before me. And Aveda guy was a total ass to him. So awful and condescending that M wondered why I liked their products.

So Aveda guy? Right back at ya…

Fever, again

Mummy? Change me. NOW.

As I type this, my eyes are closed. There is a glass of Merlot in front of me. Julia and Julie is playing on the Blue Ray. V is sleeping. I just finished sauteing some scallops for my salad.

Key phase in above ramble? ‘V is sleeping’

3 days of super sick baby, Mummy has now reached an insane level of ‘over it’.

Except, Mummy can’t be. Not like Mummy is when Daddy gets sick. Nope, with Little Booboo, Mummy is always on.

Wednesday morning was a low fever, Wednesday evening it was 100 degrees. Thursday early morning it was 101. I stayed home that day with the sick Little Man. It was awful. Fevers scare the crap out of me.

Thursday was a ‘Motrin’ day. And a ‘Tylenol’ day. And a “Mummy, I need a cuddle’ day. And that is how I always know my V isn’t feeling well, when he searches out Mummy’s lap and snuggles down.

Thursday afternoon was 102 and Friday morning was 103.2.

POINT TWO! POINT FRIGGIN’ TWO!

Jesus Christ, how can anyone’s heart take this sort of thing?

And then I had to go to work.

And M took him to the Doctor. Bad sinus infection and a molar coming in. How Dr E even managed to get into his mouth to look, I have no idea. I can barely get a toothbrush in there. One time I had to remove something(s) (paper, pennies, dog kibble, pieces of wood, dirt from the floor etc) and I swear he almost severed my finger. Baby teeth are sharp things.

So apparently those 2 things are enough to raise ones body temperature.

Sooooo… amoxicillin, Motrin with alternating doses of Tylenol, decongestant cough/nasal drops, Singulair tablets AND Pulmacort nebulizer treatments.

Last night, while I was dosing the Little Man, I couldn’t believe how many things I was administering to him. Basically 5 (or 6 depending on how the day is going)  different things. Seems like an awful lot for one small body.

Something which was rather apparent to me this morning. Let me fill you in on last night.

Last night, post-bath, as I went to diaper and pj the Little Man I discovered there WERE NO DIAPERS upstairs in his bedroom. Which actually meant that there were no diapers in the upstairs. Which meant there were no diapers in the house. Carrying a naked baby downstairs, I rifled through the diaper bag and found 2.

Oh thank god. One for tonight and one for the morning. And then M would be up (from his double shift) and I could do a run to the drug store and it would all be ok.

So this morning, at 7:30, it was not. My morning started with some hard-core grunting. Oh say it ain’t so. Say it ain’t so!! But the smell said otherwise. Of course, being that the last diaper in the house had just been put on a small bum, it only made sense to use it. Apparently immediately.

Oh sick child of mine, we now have an endless supply of diapers and you can fill them to your hearts content. Which you will. I know you too well.

Gravy

Maybe that's what I should dowith the left-overs...

No more verbal diarrhea about, well, garbage. Part of my New Years resolution.(see last nights post for garbage)

Plus do more yoga, blog more about interesting things that attract more readers, potty train V, run a 10 k, spend more time with M, lose this damned baby weight, contemplate a Masters Degree, maybe get pregnant… Clearly I am setting my sights high… nothing wrong with that!

I am just getting a head start, preparing the list of ‘resolutions’ a little early. We all know how much I like to make lists.

Can I just complain about the baby weight for a minute?

It’s a son of a bitch to lose.

SON OF A BITCH. Period.

Before there is even a conversation about baby #2, this weight needs to be so last week. Let’s ignore the fact that I have been talking about another baby for EVER. And focus instead on how I am going to find time to shake this crap off.

Already I am back on the super diet. And am about to hop back aboard the exercise train. I had deboarded due to some antibiotics that I was taking that made me feel a bit funny. But that kicked that nasty cold to the curb, so I was happy to sacrifice a week of exercise for that.

So welcome back yoga!! My first class will be this Thursday night. Now it won’t be Bikram yoga. The studio is now just too far away from my house, plus now that my home owners association fees include a membership to the YMCA I have no argument to not go to ‘free’ yoga. I don’t care, I just need yoga.

I really feel like it brings some measure of balance into my life. Calms me down. Makes me slightly less spastic.

So I eagerly await Thursday night’s appearance.

And on a completely different topic, my husband made  2 litres of gravy last night.

Why you ask? Not too sure.

We were eatting left over roast from Sunday night and I asked him to go and get some dry gravy mix. Gravy in a jar creeps me out.

Anyways, he came home with 2 packages and proceeded to spend about 30 minutes sauteing mushrooms in red wine, mixing the powder and water together in a separate bowl and then slowly added it to the boiling water on the stove. You would not even believe the mess in the kitchen. It looked like he had been cooking a la Julia Child.

It was gravy!!

Anyways, if you need some, just let me know. I have about 2 litres in the fridge and am happy to share it with you…

xoxo a.m. (a gravy-filled atlanticmama)

Epic Lighting

As this Christmas season pulls up, M and I are gearing up for ‘YAY!’.

With our first house, we both really feel like we can really put effort into outside house decor.

So.

We went to Home Depot. And then to Lowes. And then back to Home Depot again.

Eventually we emerged with lights. The selection of lights involved us breaking out the calculator app on M’s crap phone to estimate if our choice was a ‘good buy’ or not. It was. Only took 35 minutes to decide upon.

We got home, V went down for a nap and M broke out the big ladder and started hanging lights for the FIRST TIME IN HIS LIFE.

And I watched him FOR THE FIRST TIME IN MY LIFE.

We have no idea what we are doing. Other people on our street have such nice displays, we are rather jealous. How do they do it? Do they plan? Diagrams? Blue prints? What exactly?

Anyways, we just went and bought some stuff… And some hanger-ish things.

We had a few issues with, well, lots of stuff.

And so I was sent off to Home Depot to ask ridiculous questions while M made festive beef stew for us to enjoy in this cold Florida weather.

Ridiculous Question #1: “Where do I find a double ‘male part’ extension cord?”

Ridiculous Answer #1: “Um. They don’t exist. Did your husband hang the lights up backwards?”

Me: “Maybe. I don’t know and I am not going to ask.”

V was currently on one hip, runny nose and one sticky finger up one nostril (Yay discovery!). My other hand was clutching a few packages of window clings. I was wearing slippers.

Ridiculous Question #2: “It looks like we are going to end up with some dangling male-parts hanging from our roof. I don’t want to leave it so exposed. Is there anything I can insert it into to protect it?” (I was actually talking about extension cords. I realize I should now not ever use the term ‘male parts’ ever again)

Ridiculous Answer #2: *blank stare*

Ridiculous Answer #3: “Just use some tape.” He then shook his head and walked away.

V, our window clings and my slippers left Home Depot quickly. I called M.

“Hey. It’s me. It doesn’t exist. Ya. Next time, YOU get to ask… *click*”

Our lights are slightly crooked and not as beautifully blue-printed as some of our neighbours. And there still are ‘dangling male parts’ hanging off of my roof.

Looks so gorgeously amateur, it really couldn’t look any more beautiful.

xoxo a.m.

Neb Ninja

Just another post about nebulizers. This must really get boring for you to read about, but seriously. I have to vent about them.

Back at the Dr suddenly last week (due to a awful cough), we are back on the neb, different medication and 2x a day treatments. Discussing the previous issues with the nebulizer with V’s Dr, she offered some options. Try something different but slightly similar, or try the neb again. Since he was literally an angel taking a treatment at the office, I felt confident that we would be able to continue this at home!

So Tuesday night, treatment time and again, so well-behaved. I was in shock. Lollipops really work!! Is that all it really took? I can’t believe I scoffed at them and their magical powers, without even really giving them a chance.I was thrilled with his behavior. I bought a huge bag and happily planned things that would work as ‘distractions’ while we did treatments.

Day 2 of the ‘treatment’ didn’t go so well. We only managed 1 as opposed to the 2 we were supposed to do. But I figured that was better than nothing. And his cough was loosening up, he didn’t sound that wheezy, so not so bad.

Day 3? Forget it.

Disaster.

M did treatment in the AM and we double-teamed in the PM. Apparently my ideas of ‘distractions’ collide with reality:

Sesame Street.

Elmo books.

Gluten-free chocolate chip cookies. Lollipops. Squeezey fruit packs (Celine, these did not go over well). Juice boxes. Giving neb treatments to the dog (not really), Daddy (ditto) and whatever was nearby.

Please picture reality colliding with all of these things and then exploding all over them.

This evening he cried until he literally was red-faced. As soon as I let him escape my lap and those feet hit the carpet, he clapped his hands. He was so happy to be free from the neb. He clapped and clapped.

I might have commented previously on how V has taken the trait of ‘stubbornness’ from both M and I, so it’s multiplied. Not such a good thing. As evidenced every time I try and hold his hand when we cross the road. He not only doesn’t want to, but crouches down and tries to pull his hand out of mine. This results in a lot of crouches and stopped traffic.

Man. Nebulizers are exhausting. How on earth I am expected to fit these into a day, I don’t even know. I feel overwhelmed.  But concerned at the same time. I want to make sure that Little Man  is a healthy beast, but.. well…. I think I really should just be feeling grateful that this is the most dramatic of health issues that we are dealing with at the moment. Other familys are dealing with so much more…

And I can think of one in specific (Joa xoxo), so it easily puts my health issues in the backseat of my crappy Hyundai. And lets them just sit there. And maybe have a juice box since they are cranky from being on the back burner(ish). Juice boxes make everything better.

Oh Nebulizer, how we want to love you. Can you just please love us back?

xoxo a.m.