We started Christmasing on the 23rd and finished last night. Whew!
We went to Mike's parents on the 23rd. It's always fun. In addition to our regular presents we exchange dollar gifts. The rules are you have to buy a gift for everyone (except yourself) and it cannot cost more than a dollar. We have more fun buying and exchanging these gifts than we do all of the others. Mike and Lullah always take a day the week before Christmas and go buy their dollar gifts.
Lullah raked in the gifts as usual. I always end up getting her more than I'd planned on. It's easy to do.
I got my Chanel No. 5 stash replenished, so I'm happy. And I smell nice too.
I plan to give y'all a better update later.
I hope everyone had a great holiday.
Tuesday, December 27, 2005
Wednesday, December 21, 2005
Gilmore Girls and baking...
The last few days have been spent in a purchasing haze. I took my car in for repairs and Lullah, my mom and I spent the day finishing purchasing Christmas presents. Now I have to wrap them all.
Lullah and I baked today. Magic Bars and sausage balls. Yum. We delivered them to some friends, her "not-a-boyfriend" guy friend, and Mike's parents. Now we are going to sit down for a Gilmore Girl frenzy. Season 5, yaaaaay! We're sad.
Lullah and I baked today. Magic Bars and sausage balls. Yum. We delivered them to some friends, her "not-a-boyfriend" guy friend, and Mike's parents. Now we are going to sit down for a Gilmore Girl frenzy. Season 5, yaaaaay! We're sad.
Monday, December 19, 2005
Not very sweet at all...
Yesterday morning sucked. Lullah came into the kitchen and asked for some orange juice because her blood sugar was low. She was shaky and pale.
After 16 ounces of orange juice we checked her blood sugar. It was 34. SHIIIIIT! was the word that my mind was screaming. We get nervous when it gets below 70. We treat it immediately if it's below 65. 34 is seriously low. Seizure low. Holy crap low. I managed to stay calm and got the glucagon injection just in case she actually seized. She was shaking all over, she does this weird head jerk thing when she's super low. It's extremely scary.
After more orange juice and some graham crackers she was finally 90. She was also nauseated and exhausted. When she gets low it completely wipes her out.
Once the crisis had passed she said to me "I hate this shit."
I concur.
After 16 ounces of orange juice we checked her blood sugar. It was 34. SHIIIIIT! was the word that my mind was screaming. We get nervous when it gets below 70. We treat it immediately if it's below 65. 34 is seriously low. Seizure low. Holy crap low. I managed to stay calm and got the glucagon injection just in case she actually seized. She was shaking all over, she does this weird head jerk thing when she's super low. It's extremely scary.
After more orange juice and some graham crackers she was finally 90. She was also nauseated and exhausted. When she gets low it completely wipes her out.
Once the crisis had passed she said to me "I hate this shit."
I concur.
Tuesday, December 13, 2005
diabetes sucks...
I've been so frustrated the last few days that I can't hardly see straight.
Last week we got a letter from Lullah's endocrinologist with her lab results. Her HgA1C was 9.6%. It's a test that measures a persons average blood sugar for the last 3 months. Her blood sugars are NOT in control. The results for the last 3 visits (we go every 3 months) have been about the same, in the 9% range. The target goal is 7% or less.
The thing is, I'm pretty sure she isn't taking her insulin like she's supposed to. I think she randomly chooses her doses. She takes minimum of 4 shots a day. Her morning dose is an intermediate acting insulin(NPH) mixed with a sliding dose of a fast acting insulin(Humalog). She takes a sliding dose of the fast acting insulin at lunch and supper. She takes a long acting insulin(Lantus) at bedtime. She's supposed to decide the sliding dose based on the number of carbs she's going to eat. I think she's shorting the dose. In addition, she isn't taking the amount the MD prescribed for her am NPH or the evening Lantus dose.
It's been a long time since I've felt this helpless. She has to be the one responsible for her diabetes care, but she's not doing well. If I take over, she's going to end up resenting me for it. Also, I can't be the one to take care of her everywhere she goes. She's not 8 anymore.
I talked to her Friday night about the serious consequences of not getting her levels in control. Blindness, kidney failure (ending up on dialysis), amputation, heart disease. We've talked about it before, but not in depth because we didn't want to instill fear or hopelessness in her. But the reality of diabetes is that if you don't take care of it, you WILL end up with some really serious health problems. There's no maybe.
For a 15 year old, I guess those things seem like scary bedtime stories. But, for me the monster waiting in the dark is very real.
Mike thinks she's in denial. That she's trying to maintain some semblance of normalcy. If she does just what she's supposed to do and doesn't think about diabetes then, she's just like all the other kids. He's probably right. I also think she's afraid of her blood sugar getting low and acting foolish or having a seizure in front of everyone. Which also goes back to wanting to be normal.
I am so afraid and helpless right now that I feel like I can't breathe. I HATE DIABETES!!!!!!!!! I am being irrational, I know. This is a manageable disease and things could always be worse, but I'm so pissed about the whole mess.
I hate the bruises on Lullah's stomach from the shots, I hate that there isn't a cookie in my house, I hate the tiny specks on Lullah's fingers from the fingersticks, I hate the box of insulin in my refrigerator, I hate that every purse we buy Lullah needs pockets for her damn meter, I hate that food is a major topic of discussion at least once a day at my house, I hate the bottle of used syringes in my kitchen, I hate the look that people get on their face when the find out she has diabetes, I hate the food police that question her when she's eating something they think she shouldn't. I hate it. I just do.
And I don't know what to do.
Last week we got a letter from Lullah's endocrinologist with her lab results. Her HgA1C was 9.6%. It's a test that measures a persons average blood sugar for the last 3 months. Her blood sugars are NOT in control. The results for the last 3 visits (we go every 3 months) have been about the same, in the 9% range. The target goal is 7% or less.
The thing is, I'm pretty sure she isn't taking her insulin like she's supposed to. I think she randomly chooses her doses. She takes minimum of 4 shots a day. Her morning dose is an intermediate acting insulin(NPH) mixed with a sliding dose of a fast acting insulin(Humalog). She takes a sliding dose of the fast acting insulin at lunch and supper. She takes a long acting insulin(Lantus) at bedtime. She's supposed to decide the sliding dose based on the number of carbs she's going to eat. I think she's shorting the dose. In addition, she isn't taking the amount the MD prescribed for her am NPH or the evening Lantus dose.
It's been a long time since I've felt this helpless. She has to be the one responsible for her diabetes care, but she's not doing well. If I take over, she's going to end up resenting me for it. Also, I can't be the one to take care of her everywhere she goes. She's not 8 anymore.
I talked to her Friday night about the serious consequences of not getting her levels in control. Blindness, kidney failure (ending up on dialysis), amputation, heart disease. We've talked about it before, but not in depth because we didn't want to instill fear or hopelessness in her. But the reality of diabetes is that if you don't take care of it, you WILL end up with some really serious health problems. There's no maybe.
For a 15 year old, I guess those things seem like scary bedtime stories. But, for me the monster waiting in the dark is very real.
Mike thinks she's in denial. That she's trying to maintain some semblance of normalcy. If she does just what she's supposed to do and doesn't think about diabetes then, she's just like all the other kids. He's probably right. I also think she's afraid of her blood sugar getting low and acting foolish or having a seizure in front of everyone. Which also goes back to wanting to be normal.
I am so afraid and helpless right now that I feel like I can't breathe. I HATE DIABETES!!!!!!!!! I am being irrational, I know. This is a manageable disease and things could always be worse, but I'm so pissed about the whole mess.
I hate the bruises on Lullah's stomach from the shots, I hate that there isn't a cookie in my house, I hate the tiny specks on Lullah's fingers from the fingersticks, I hate the box of insulin in my refrigerator, I hate that every purse we buy Lullah needs pockets for her damn meter, I hate that food is a major topic of discussion at least once a day at my house, I hate the bottle of used syringes in my kitchen, I hate the look that people get on their face when the find out she has diabetes, I hate the food police that question her when she's eating something they think she shouldn't. I hate it. I just do.
And I don't know what to do.
Wednesday, December 07, 2005
Monday, December 05, 2005
My Dad called this morning...
and he was telling me about a funeral he attended Saturday.
One of his friend's sister lived in the 9th ward in New Orleans and had been missing since the flood. She had decided to not evactuate. Like a lot of people, she'd evacuated before for what had ended up being a false alarm. And like a lot of people she felt the levees would be fine. Noone had heard from her since the night before the hurricane. Her son had went back about a month ago to look for her again, but found no sign of her. The family was in limbo and worried.
A week ago, they went back and did a more thorough check. They found her remains in her attic. She most likely drowned there.
I can't imagine a death like that.
In the midst of all the rhetoric and finger pointing that's happening down there we can't forget that real people died. There are still people searching for their loved ones.
One of his friend's sister lived in the 9th ward in New Orleans and had been missing since the flood. She had decided to not evactuate. Like a lot of people, she'd evacuated before for what had ended up being a false alarm. And like a lot of people she felt the levees would be fine. Noone had heard from her since the night before the hurricane. Her son had went back about a month ago to look for her again, but found no sign of her. The family was in limbo and worried.
A week ago, they went back and did a more thorough check. They found her remains in her attic. She most likely drowned there.
I can't imagine a death like that.
In the midst of all the rhetoric and finger pointing that's happening down there we can't forget that real people died. There are still people searching for their loved ones.
Saturday, December 03, 2005
aaah, Saturday...
I love lazy Saturdays.
This week has been crazy.
My sister-in-law came over most of Monday and all of Tuesday for my help with an English paper. (I may one day blog about that, but for now let me just say...I've got some issues with the English class).
After she left Monday I started to put lights on the Christmas tree. It fell on my head. The stand was kaput. I made a flying trip to town (an hour away-no stands here that were big enough) for a new one. Picked Lullah up after dance line practice, dropped her home and went to play practice.(I'm Jeanette in "The Last of the Red Hot Lovers") Mike took her to dance class and picked her up (whew). Got home, we fixed the tree. Then I found out I only had one strand of lights for a gigantic tree.
Tuesday the SIL was here until 5:15pm. I left her here and went to the local WalMart. I had to be at practice at 6. After practice I once again started decorating the tree.
Wednesday is dance class for Lullah (an hour away).
Thursday was dress rehearsal for the play.
Friday was the town Christmas parade (I did the music for the dance line, the high school cheerleaders, the jr. high school cheerleaders and the dance studio that Lullah dances at). I left the parade and went for our first play performance. Home at 10:15 after stopping by Popeyes for a biscuit. Oh and the ex-danceline sponsor is a charter member of our local community theatre. Yeah, she was there. It was weird.
So...I love lazy Saturdays.
And then LSU got the crap kicked out of them.
Poopoo.
Buttercup is seriously depressed now.
Thursday, December 01, 2005
Wednesday, November 30, 2005
I guess I should apologize...
I guess I should apologize to everyone, because apparently I suck.
BitchPhD has posted her "radical-married- feminist-manifesto". It has stirred considerable debate. At last check there were over 200 comments. Wow. I think she's stirred the pot.
I adore BitchPhD. She makes me think, she makes me laugh. Both accomplishments I value greatly. I completely enjoy BitchPhD's blog and found myself nodding in agreement with her post on numerous points. I also read the article she's blogging about(it can be found here) and found myself doing the same. The article and Bitch's blog entry take on the issue of educated women opting out of the work force.
Here's my problem. I consider myself a feminist. I've come to the realization that there are probably alot of other feminists who would disagree and say that I am not. The article BitchPhD references kinda smacked me in the face with that fact. The stay-at-home-mom debate is apparently alive and well and I guess I'm on the wrong side of the argument. After reading the article, I felt extremely marginalized and diminished. Isn't that one of the things the women's' movement had hoped to end? Maybe since it's another women doing the marginalizing it's ok. (I'll stop being sarcastic now.)
I'm happy with my life. I'm essentially a stay-at-home-mom. I work as a contract nurse so I schedule work when I want to, otherwise I'm a SAHM.
I didn't end up a SAHM. I wasn't coerced into staying at home. I am not a SAHM under duress. I realize the financial ramifications of my being a SAHM (which is one of the points the article seems to focus on).
The thing is this...
I am tired of having to justify myself to other people. This decision was made by ME. I am NOT wasting my potential (as a family member attempts on a regular basis to convince me). I am not holding back the women's movement (as the article made me feel I was doing). And I am not sitting at home on my laurel's watching Oprah (as a women in Wal-Mart inferred yesterday).
I have done both full time work and been a SAHM. I worked full-time when Lullah was a baby and helped my husband finish college. I took a year off after he graduated because we knew it was a temporary placement and Lullah started a half day Kindergarten program at the same time. We were also living 3 1/2 hours away from anyone we knew. When we moved to a more permanent place, this time 7 hours away from our family, Lullah started a full day school program and I went back to work full time. Our lives stayed this way until her diabetes diagnosis. At that time, I became a SAHM to take care of her needs. It wasn't a difficult decision. I'm a nurse, Mike is an engineer. Who was better suited to take care of things?
We were able to move closer to our families eventually and at that time I once again went back to work full-time. A health crisis with Lullah precipitated another status change. My boss (a woman) told me "you have to decide which is more important, your job with us or Lullah." I decided. After the crisis abated, I was back to work full time until the last two-three years. My schedule and Lullah's has become much fuller and Mike is traveling more. And so I have worked part-time. Next year when she gets a drivers license, that will change. But for now, I can't work full-time and be the kind of mother, wife, daughter, friend and woman I want to be.
I am tired of other women beating me down because I'm a stay at home mom. Not just "feminists" either.
The woman in Wal-Mart (I had considered her a friend) said "it must be nice to not HAVE to work." Among other things. I didn't bother to point out that almost every stick of furniture in my house is second hand, my husband's truck is 7 years old, umm I was in the clothing department of Wal Mart (not Saks). We ain't exactly living a jet set lifestyle.
The family member (an aunt) probably 90% of the time pointedly asks "when are you starting back to school". The implication is that until I am, I'm wasting time and taking up space.
I'm tired of it y'all. Call me crazy but I thought the women's movement was about choice. Individual choice. Guess I was wrong.
BitchPhD has posted her "radical-married- feminist-manifesto". It has stirred considerable debate. At last check there were over 200 comments. Wow. I think she's stirred the pot.
I adore BitchPhD. She makes me think, she makes me laugh. Both accomplishments I value greatly. I completely enjoy BitchPhD's blog and found myself nodding in agreement with her post on numerous points. I also read the article she's blogging about(it can be found here) and found myself doing the same. The article and Bitch's blog entry take on the issue of educated women opting out of the work force.
Here's my problem. I consider myself a feminist. I've come to the realization that there are probably alot of other feminists who would disagree and say that I am not. The article BitchPhD references kinda smacked me in the face with that fact. The stay-at-home-mom debate is apparently alive and well and I guess I'm on the wrong side of the argument. After reading the article, I felt extremely marginalized and diminished. Isn't that one of the things the women's' movement had hoped to end? Maybe since it's another women doing the marginalizing it's ok. (I'll stop being sarcastic now.)
I'm happy with my life. I'm essentially a stay-at-home-mom. I work as a contract nurse so I schedule work when I want to, otherwise I'm a SAHM.
I didn't end up a SAHM. I wasn't coerced into staying at home. I am not a SAHM under duress. I realize the financial ramifications of my being a SAHM (which is one of the points the article seems to focus on).
The thing is this...
I am tired of having to justify myself to other people. This decision was made by ME. I am NOT wasting my potential (as a family member attempts on a regular basis to convince me). I am not holding back the women's movement (as the article made me feel I was doing). And I am not sitting at home on my laurel's watching Oprah (as a women in Wal-Mart inferred yesterday).
I have done both full time work and been a SAHM. I worked full-time when Lullah was a baby and helped my husband finish college. I took a year off after he graduated because we knew it was a temporary placement and Lullah started a half day Kindergarten program at the same time. We were also living 3 1/2 hours away from anyone we knew. When we moved to a more permanent place, this time 7 hours away from our family, Lullah started a full day school program and I went back to work full time. Our lives stayed this way until her diabetes diagnosis. At that time, I became a SAHM to take care of her needs. It wasn't a difficult decision. I'm a nurse, Mike is an engineer. Who was better suited to take care of things?
We were able to move closer to our families eventually and at that time I once again went back to work full-time. A health crisis with Lullah precipitated another status change. My boss (a woman) told me "you have to decide which is more important, your job with us or Lullah." I decided. After the crisis abated, I was back to work full time until the last two-three years. My schedule and Lullah's has become much fuller and Mike is traveling more. And so I have worked part-time. Next year when she gets a drivers license, that will change. But for now, I can't work full-time and be the kind of mother, wife, daughter, friend and woman I want to be.
I am tired of other women beating me down because I'm a stay at home mom. Not just "feminists" either.
The woman in Wal-Mart (I had considered her a friend) said "it must be nice to not HAVE to work." Among other things. I didn't bother to point out that almost every stick of furniture in my house is second hand, my husband's truck is 7 years old, umm I was in the clothing department of Wal Mart (not Saks). We ain't exactly living a jet set lifestyle.
The family member (an aunt) probably 90% of the time pointedly asks "when are you starting back to school". The implication is that until I am, I'm wasting time and taking up space.
I'm tired of it y'all. Call me crazy but I thought the women's movement was about choice. Individual choice. Guess I was wrong.
Monday, November 28, 2005
A decision to make...
I have throughout my life been on and off various anti-depressant medications. Specifically zoloft, serzone and lexapro. Not at the same time. :-) At present I am unmedicated.
The first time I took an anti-depressant (zoloft) was sometime in the early 90's. I wasn't overly impressed with the results. I felt somewhat better, but I couldn't pinpoint that is was actually the medication. When I titrated off of it, I didn't notice it being gone. Of course, back then I was a bit of a mess all the time so how would I have known the difference. I just wasn't as sad as I had been.
The last time I was on medication was about a year ago. My depression seems to do that. It cycles. I'll feel ok for a year or so, then wham! Out of the blue, I don't. The last time I was beginning to have suicidal thoughts before I finally admitted I'd better do something. I'd been off any kind of medication for about 3 years at that point and I just didn't want to go back to a daily regimen again. I take daily medication for a hypothyroid and I have a terrible time remembering to take it, I didn't want to add another pill to forget.
About 2 months ago, I realized I wasn't feeling right. My mood was labile. I don't want to be around people (a sure sign-I love socializing). My insomnia is way worse than usual. All signs that the ship is arriving.
But, I just don't want to take anything. Partly because I'm lazy, partly because... well I just don't. I know it's crazy, but I want to just get better. I want to do it on my own. I want to just be...normal. I HATE taking medicine. Of any kind.
At any rate, I'm trying to decide whether to call the doc and get a new scrip for something. Or wait and hope it passes.
Damn it.
The first time I took an anti-depressant (zoloft) was sometime in the early 90's. I wasn't overly impressed with the results. I felt somewhat better, but I couldn't pinpoint that is was actually the medication. When I titrated off of it, I didn't notice it being gone. Of course, back then I was a bit of a mess all the time so how would I have known the difference. I just wasn't as sad as I had been.
The last time I was on medication was about a year ago. My depression seems to do that. It cycles. I'll feel ok for a year or so, then wham! Out of the blue, I don't. The last time I was beginning to have suicidal thoughts before I finally admitted I'd better do something. I'd been off any kind of medication for about 3 years at that point and I just didn't want to go back to a daily regimen again. I take daily medication for a hypothyroid and I have a terrible time remembering to take it, I didn't want to add another pill to forget.
About 2 months ago, I realized I wasn't feeling right. My mood was labile. I don't want to be around people (a sure sign-I love socializing). My insomnia is way worse than usual. All signs that the ship is arriving.
But, I just don't want to take anything. Partly because I'm lazy, partly because... well I just don't. I know it's crazy, but I want to just get better. I want to do it on my own. I want to just be...normal. I HATE taking medicine. Of any kind.
At any rate, I'm trying to decide whether to call the doc and get a new scrip for something. Or wait and hope it passes.
Damn it.
My furry boys...
Sunday, November 27, 2005
Post-Thanksgiving Post
The final Thanksgiving meal is done. Whew.
Thanksgiving is a weird holiday for me. My mom never made too much of a thing of it. I can remember seeing TV families celebrating. The dad carving the turkey at the table. Do people actually do that? Ours was always electric knifed and plattered on the table, ready to consume. The TV families always seemed odd to me.
Thanksgiving was of course about the food and being thankful and all that crap. But what Thanksgiving really meant (and means) to me is the day CHRISTMAS STARTS!
Once the dishes were done and put away the real fun began. Down came the ornaments, down came the tree (artificial-real ones are too messy and make me itch like a mofo). This was the official kick off to Christmas at my house. Wheeeeeeeeee!
My Mom decorates for Christmas.
She was Martha-ing up the joint before there was Martha. The women will decorate anything that will hold still long enough. And it is always beautiful.
My Mother's tree is always the most beautiful tree I've ever seen. When we were kids, it was covered in ornaments that we'd made or picked out. It was still gorgeous. My mom was the first person I knew who used clear lights. She was the first person to use solid colored lights. When multicolored lights were back in vogue-she was a year ahead of everyone else.
When she "changes" her tree Mom doesn't go to the local Hobby Lobby and buy a Christmas Tree Kit. She goes everywhere. She will sometimes use some things she already has on hand and add to them. She usually picks up things at different places. Including the grocery store. She never spends outrageous amounts of money either. She says that'd be silly, since she'll want to change everything in a year or two anyway. Gotta love her.
I love my Mom's house at Christmas. We lived in a trailer when I was a kid and I remember thinking that our house was the prettiest one in town at Christmas. It was.
My Mom and step-Dad live in a beautiful log house now. By the time my Mom finishes this year it will look like a magazine. They came over this evening and we had Thanksgiving with them. After the dishes were in the dishwasher, we started on my trees.
Lullah had put her tree up Thanksgiving afternoon (it's extremely pretty and very pink). So we put the one in the living room together and the three tiny trees in my dining room together. We'll finish the decorating tomorrow.
My mom had a stroke one October evening 5 years ago. You would never know it if you saw her on the street today. That Christmas was the only year that she has't completely decorated her house. Lullah and I broke in and put the tree up while she was at physical therapy. But it wasn't the same. I just can't do the things my Mom can do with floral wire, greenery and some balls. Seriously.
So on this and every Thanksgiving one of the things I am thankful for is Christmas.
My Mom is still here to help me get my Martha on and I see sparks of her ability in Lullah every year. I love Thankschristmas.
Thanksgiving is a weird holiday for me. My mom never made too much of a thing of it. I can remember seeing TV families celebrating. The dad carving the turkey at the table. Do people actually do that? Ours was always electric knifed and plattered on the table, ready to consume. The TV families always seemed odd to me.
Thanksgiving was of course about the food and being thankful and all that crap. But what Thanksgiving really meant (and means) to me is the day CHRISTMAS STARTS!
Once the dishes were done and put away the real fun began. Down came the ornaments, down came the tree (artificial-real ones are too messy and make me itch like a mofo). This was the official kick off to Christmas at my house. Wheeeeeeeeee!
My Mom decorates for Christmas.
She was Martha-ing up the joint before there was Martha. The women will decorate anything that will hold still long enough. And it is always beautiful.
My Mother's tree is always the most beautiful tree I've ever seen. When we were kids, it was covered in ornaments that we'd made or picked out. It was still gorgeous. My mom was the first person I knew who used clear lights. She was the first person to use solid colored lights. When multicolored lights were back in vogue-she was a year ahead of everyone else.
When she "changes" her tree Mom doesn't go to the local Hobby Lobby and buy a Christmas Tree Kit. She goes everywhere. She will sometimes use some things she already has on hand and add to them. She usually picks up things at different places. Including the grocery store. She never spends outrageous amounts of money either. She says that'd be silly, since she'll want to change everything in a year or two anyway. Gotta love her.
I love my Mom's house at Christmas. We lived in a trailer when I was a kid and I remember thinking that our house was the prettiest one in town at Christmas. It was.
My Mom and step-Dad live in a beautiful log house now. By the time my Mom finishes this year it will look like a magazine. They came over this evening and we had Thanksgiving with them. After the dishes were in the dishwasher, we started on my trees.
Lullah had put her tree up Thanksgiving afternoon (it's extremely pretty and very pink). So we put the one in the living room together and the three tiny trees in my dining room together. We'll finish the decorating tomorrow.
My mom had a stroke one October evening 5 years ago. You would never know it if you saw her on the street today. That Christmas was the only year that she has't completely decorated her house. Lullah and I broke in and put the tree up while she was at physical therapy. But it wasn't the same. I just can't do the things my Mom can do with floral wire, greenery and some balls. Seriously.
So on this and every Thanksgiving one of the things I am thankful for is Christmas.
My Mom is still here to help me get my Martha on and I see sparks of her ability in Lullah every year. I love Thankschristmas.
Wednesday, November 23, 2005
November 24, 1997
November 24, 1997 Lullah was diagnosed with juvenile diabetes. The Monday before Thanksgiving. Tomorrow is her anniversary.
Probably part of the reason I don't particularly enjoy Thanksgiving.
Mike (the hubby) was diagnosed with juvenile diabetes January 15, 1992.
My birthday. I don't particularly enjoy my birthday anymore either.
Probably part of the reason I don't particularly enjoy Thanksgiving.
Mike (the hubby) was diagnosed with juvenile diabetes January 15, 1992.
My birthday. I don't particularly enjoy my birthday anymore either.
Tuesday, November 22, 2005
Birth control woes...OR a ring-a-ding-ding.
I went on the pill at age 15. I remained on it until I got pregnant with Lullah. No one had bothered to school me to the fact that antibiotics pretty much make your BCPs about as effective as Tic-Tacs. But I digress.
In 1993 I began searching for an alternative method of birth control. I was getting lazy about taking my BCP at the same time every day. I occasionally missed pills. Waiting for my period was stress my broke 22 year old ass didn't need. So, after dismissing Norplant as an option and my MD poo-pooing my questions about IUDs, we settled on a new medication on the market. Depo-Provera. A shot. Every 3 months. That was something I could definitely do.
I LOOOVED Depo. It worked wonderful. I was a little nauseated the first 2 weeks after my initial injection, but that was it. Oh, and joy of all joys-NO period. I didn't have a period. EVER. Yay! I was very pleased with Depo.
I have remained on Depo except for 2 brief intervals. Both were caused by out of state moves. I wanted time to find a good gyno and so I briefly went back on the pill until I could do so.
Last January at my regular yearly lady visit, my gyno informs me that he'd like to take me off of Depo. Apparently it can cause irreversible osteoporosis. I had a bone scan done and things were pretty much ok, but he still wanted me off the shots. And so, once again I became a pill packing mamma.
Y'all I HATE birth control pills. I can't remember to take the damn things. When I do remember, I have to take 2, sometimes 3 at a time. Then of course I'm pukey. I hate the cutesy packaging. I hate the little tinfoil circle thing left after you push them out. I hate them. Hate them. Hate. Them. I just do.
Which brings me to yesterday. After, yet again,tensely waiting on my period to arrive. I was officially in search of a new method of birth control. Hooray.
I called the gyno office asking about a prescription for the BC patches. The nurse was very sweet but apparently, they will kill you. They have an increased incidence of blood clots. She suggested the new NuvaRing (the site has cutesy music, blech).
At this point, I'd try just about anything. I'm sick of waiting with bated breath for my period. I'm sick of the whole pill mess. So, after asking a few questions about it. I said ok. She said they'd call it in for me. ( I of course also checked out what info I could find on the internet)
Trip to the pharmacy to pick up my new NuvaRing. You could feel this semi-hard ring thing through the foil envelope. Weird. Get home, open sesame and there it is. The clear O-ring that caused the Challenger to explode. A clear, baby sized version of those stupid plastic bracelets I wore en masse in 8th grade. A small plastic shower curtain ring. Weird.
Read instructions. I have to say, I especially love the cartoon lady squatting, laying and standing with one leg precariously raised. I chose a cartoon lady to emulate (I won't tell which) and plunged forward. Pun intended. Weird.
So far so good. I was a little queasy within about an hour of placement, but that comes and goes. I figure that will eventually go away. But I'm hopeful. The nurse said I can manipulate my periods with the ring, so that I skip a period if I want. I plan on doing just that. Plus now I can make all sorts of Lord of the Rings references to freak out the H.
This is the thing.
First, I'd love to see the first memo regarding the ring. Did somebody say "hey, a plastic ring! I bet women would TOTALLY put a plastic ring in their vaginas?"
Second, the discussions about color had to be funny. You know some ass suggested pink. "Cuz girls like pink".
Third and this is my main point. Why in the hell did I have be the one to stick ANYTHING anywhere? It's a poor beaten dead horse, I know. But it pisses me off that the responsibility for birth control lands pretty much in my FEMALE lap. Don't get me wrong, the H has suggested and he will probably eventually have a vasectomy. But in the meantime, why do I have to put something in my body that puts me at risk for stroke, heart attack, blood clots and god knows what else?
Why is the only birth control option for men a condom? It ain't right. It just ain't right.
In my opinion when we talk about women's reproductive rights this is an issue we must address. You can't lay the entire responsibility for PREVENTING pregnancy in my lap and then tell me that if I screw up and don't prevent a pregnancy I have no more say in the matter.
I'm pro-choice. For a lot of reasons. The search for new birth control just reminded me of one of the reasons.
In 1993 I began searching for an alternative method of birth control. I was getting lazy about taking my BCP at the same time every day. I occasionally missed pills. Waiting for my period was stress my broke 22 year old ass didn't need. So, after dismissing Norplant as an option and my MD poo-pooing my questions about IUDs, we settled on a new medication on the market. Depo-Provera. A shot. Every 3 months. That was something I could definitely do.
I LOOOVED Depo. It worked wonderful. I was a little nauseated the first 2 weeks after my initial injection, but that was it. Oh, and joy of all joys-NO period. I didn't have a period. EVER. Yay! I was very pleased with Depo.
I have remained on Depo except for 2 brief intervals. Both were caused by out of state moves. I wanted time to find a good gyno and so I briefly went back on the pill until I could do so.
Last January at my regular yearly lady visit, my gyno informs me that he'd like to take me off of Depo. Apparently it can cause irreversible osteoporosis. I had a bone scan done and things were pretty much ok, but he still wanted me off the shots. And so, once again I became a pill packing mamma.
Y'all I HATE birth control pills. I can't remember to take the damn things. When I do remember, I have to take 2, sometimes 3 at a time. Then of course I'm pukey. I hate the cutesy packaging. I hate the little tinfoil circle thing left after you push them out. I hate them. Hate them. Hate. Them. I just do.
Which brings me to yesterday. After, yet again,tensely waiting on my period to arrive. I was officially in search of a new method of birth control. Hooray.
I called the gyno office asking about a prescription for the BC patches. The nurse was very sweet but apparently, they will kill you. They have an increased incidence of blood clots. She suggested the new NuvaRing (the site has cutesy music, blech).
At this point, I'd try just about anything. I'm sick of waiting with bated breath for my period. I'm sick of the whole pill mess. So, after asking a few questions about it. I said ok. She said they'd call it in for me. ( I of course also checked out what info I could find on the internet)
Trip to the pharmacy to pick up my new NuvaRing. You could feel this semi-hard ring thing through the foil envelope. Weird. Get home, open sesame and there it is. The clear O-ring that caused the Challenger to explode. A clear, baby sized version of those stupid plastic bracelets I wore en masse in 8th grade. A small plastic shower curtain ring. Weird.
Read instructions. I have to say, I especially love the cartoon lady squatting, laying and standing with one leg precariously raised. I chose a cartoon lady to emulate (I won't tell which) and plunged forward. Pun intended. Weird.
So far so good. I was a little queasy within about an hour of placement, but that comes and goes. I figure that will eventually go away. But I'm hopeful. The nurse said I can manipulate my periods with the ring, so that I skip a period if I want. I plan on doing just that. Plus now I can make all sorts of Lord of the Rings references to freak out the H.
This is the thing.
First, I'd love to see the first memo regarding the ring. Did somebody say "hey, a plastic ring! I bet women would TOTALLY put a plastic ring in their vaginas?"
Second, the discussions about color had to be funny. You know some ass suggested pink. "Cuz girls like pink".
Third and this is my main point. Why in the hell did I have be the one to stick ANYTHING anywhere? It's a poor beaten dead horse, I know. But it pisses me off that the responsibility for birth control lands pretty much in my FEMALE lap. Don't get me wrong, the H has suggested and he will probably eventually have a vasectomy. But in the meantime, why do I have to put something in my body that puts me at risk for stroke, heart attack, blood clots and god knows what else?
Why is the only birth control option for men a condom? It ain't right. It just ain't right.
In my opinion when we talk about women's reproductive rights this is an issue we must address. You can't lay the entire responsibility for PREVENTING pregnancy in my lap and then tell me that if I screw up and don't prevent a pregnancy I have no more say in the matter.
I'm pro-choice. For a lot of reasons. The search for new birth control just reminded me of one of the reasons.
Insomnia and memories...
My family has been going to Gulf Port, Mississippi since I was 12 years old. We would spend a week at the end of June. We've stayed at the same place each time. That place is now gone.
I read the post on thatfarmgirls site and couldn't help but think of the changes that Katrina has wrought.
New Orleans and Gulf Port are intertwined in my memories. We would usually go and spend the day in New Orleans while we were on the Gulf (that's what we always called the week we were there, our week on the Gulf).
Like most families, we have vacation traditions.
We've only missed one summer going to the Marine Life Oceanarium. We always went to Haagen dazs at least once. I had Key Lime pie at least once. We'd walk on the beach at night at least once. We bought peanuts to feed the squirrels. We ate fried shrimp until we thought we'd never want shrimp again.
The Oceanarium is destroyed.
The pool you see in the middle left is where Lullah swam with a dolphin. The largest circle was the main dolphin tank. Lullah saw her first baby dolphin there. This was where the sea lion gave her a smooch on the cheek. He didn't survive. He was one of the sea lions you may have seen on the news coverage.
I read the post on thatfarmgirls site and couldn't help but think of the changes that Katrina has wrought.
New Orleans and Gulf Port are intertwined in my memories. We would usually go and spend the day in New Orleans while we were on the Gulf (that's what we always called the week we were there, our week on the Gulf).
Like most families, we have vacation traditions.
We've only missed one summer going to the Marine Life Oceanarium. We always went to Haagen dazs at least once. I had Key Lime pie at least once. We'd walk on the beach at night at least once. We bought peanuts to feed the squirrels. We ate fried shrimp until we thought we'd never want shrimp again.
The Oceanarium is destroyed.
The pool you see in the middle left is where Lullah swam with a dolphin. The largest circle was the main dolphin tank. Lullah saw her first baby dolphin there. This was where the sea lion gave her a smooch on the cheek. He didn't survive. He was one of the sea lions you may have seen on the news coverage.
The mall where we ate ice cream is gone. Our favorite place for shrimp po-boys is gone. It's all gone.
Every inch of Beach Boulevard holds some memory for me. I'm just a tourist and my heart breaks everytime I think about it. The people of the Gulf have received such a devastating loss. I cannot imagine their grief.
It's been weeks since Katrina hit. Things will never be the same, but they will be ok. Maybe even better. In the coming year and probably the next few years, the Gulf coast and New Orleans area will need help. Financial, spiritual and emotional. Please don't forget what Katrina left in her wake.
Monday, November 21, 2005
Thoughts and tears
New Orleans holds a weird and special place in my life. I have truly wonderful memories of New Orleans. I have memories I'd rather not have. It is at once a mythical magic place and I place I wish I'd never heard of.
I went to thatfarmgirls blog this evening and found the following and cried:
There's not a working clock in this entire city. This morning I went on my walk and the big clock by St. Patrick's Church on Camp said it was 2:30, as I walked on the Whitney clock said it was 11:15 and by the time I hit the French Quarter a clock there told me quite firmly that it was 6:00 o'clock.I'm not really surprised at this' New Orleans has always had a problem with time. Time is not linear here. This is a city where people live in two-hundred-year old houses, have wireless Internet and use 600-year-old recipes while singing 60's songs to their newborns. Time is more of a mental game in New Orleans, you can pick the year you liked the best and stay in that year for the rest of your life here and no one says a thing. You can talk about your great-great-grandparents as if they were still alive and talk about your neighbors as if they were dead, we all understand.Time marches to its own drunk drummer here. This morning as I walked into the Quarter on Chartres, a woman ran out of a cafe to greet me, "Hey dahlin" she yelled as she hugged me, "Where ya been?" I looked at her and realized it was one of the exotic dancers from the smaller establishments on Chartres. Over the years I'd become friendly with several of the dancers as I would take my morning walk, we'd smile, wave, exchange pleasantries. This morning I realized that even though I had said hello to this woman three times a week for four years, I didn't know her name. I smiled, hugged her back and told her how badly I felt that I never knew her name and she laughed "Dahlin, you know my name, it's Baby!" Time to laugh out loud.Twenty minutes later as I walked up Royal from Esplanade on my way out of the Quarter, a dark sedan stopped in the street right by the Cathedral and all four doors opened at once. I was twittering with curiosity when the driver hopped out, ran to the other side and escorted a smiling Lindy Boggs out of the car. Before I could stop myself I'd yelled out, "Hey Lindy, good to see ya!" Mrs. Boggs, accustomed to such raffish behavior, smiled and yelled out "Hey yourself" as she waved, laughed and headed to church, surely thinking it's time to pray for better manners for the likes of me.We're dealing with a lot of time issues these days, time to meet the insurance specialist, time to call FEMA, time to put out the refrigerator, time to get a new refrigerator, time to decide whether to stay in New Orleans or head elsewhere, time to register the kids for school, time to sell the house, time to buy the house, time to find a job, time to leave a job, time to figure out the rest of your life.Could we maybe, while dealing with all those time issues, take a minute and remember? Remember that there was a time when all of this was different, there was a time when slaves were sold in Napoleon House, a time when Mid City was considered the country, a time when people staged sit ins downtown, a time when there was no McDonalds or Wendy's or even Popeye's, a time when the Quarter burned, a time when people spoke French or Spanish, a time when the Opera House was open, a time when this was all uninhabited, a time when your refrigerator worked, your house was whole, your neighborhood wasn't flooded and your city wasn't defined by a Hurricane.More than any other city in this country, this is a city defined by the quality of the times people have had here. Maybe it's because it's a port city, maybe it's because of the food, maybe it's because of the heat, but this city remembers everyone who has ever lived, loved and laughed here. People visit us because they can feel the difference as soon as they get here, they can feel how time is honored here, in the time to craft our houses and the time to make a roux. They can feel that the city holds all of our memories, our joys, our sorrows and our triumphs. That any time spent in New Orleans is kept in the breath, air, water and sky of New Orleans. What happens in Vegas may stay in Vegas, but what happens in New Orleans changes the city and its people, minute by minute, day by day, year by year so that we can't help but live in the past, present and future.Time will tell what we will end up looking like, how strong the levees will be, how many houses will be repaired, but we will tell time how strong the people of New Orleans are, how deep our commitments to each other are and that sometimes the best stories are the ones we write for ourselves.Once upon a time in a city called New Orleans...
posted by thatfarmgirl at 12:57 PM on Nov 21 2005
I went to thatfarmgirls blog this evening and found the following and cried:
There's not a working clock in this entire city. This morning I went on my walk and the big clock by St. Patrick's Church on Camp said it was 2:30, as I walked on the Whitney clock said it was 11:15 and by the time I hit the French Quarter a clock there told me quite firmly that it was 6:00 o'clock.I'm not really surprised at this' New Orleans has always had a problem with time. Time is not linear here. This is a city where people live in two-hundred-year old houses, have wireless Internet and use 600-year-old recipes while singing 60's songs to their newborns. Time is more of a mental game in New Orleans, you can pick the year you liked the best and stay in that year for the rest of your life here and no one says a thing. You can talk about your great-great-grandparents as if they were still alive and talk about your neighbors as if they were dead, we all understand.Time marches to its own drunk drummer here. This morning as I walked into the Quarter on Chartres, a woman ran out of a cafe to greet me, "Hey dahlin" she yelled as she hugged me, "Where ya been?" I looked at her and realized it was one of the exotic dancers from the smaller establishments on Chartres. Over the years I'd become friendly with several of the dancers as I would take my morning walk, we'd smile, wave, exchange pleasantries. This morning I realized that even though I had said hello to this woman three times a week for four years, I didn't know her name. I smiled, hugged her back and told her how badly I felt that I never knew her name and she laughed "Dahlin, you know my name, it's Baby!" Time to laugh out loud.Twenty minutes later as I walked up Royal from Esplanade on my way out of the Quarter, a dark sedan stopped in the street right by the Cathedral and all four doors opened at once. I was twittering with curiosity when the driver hopped out, ran to the other side and escorted a smiling Lindy Boggs out of the car. Before I could stop myself I'd yelled out, "Hey Lindy, good to see ya!" Mrs. Boggs, accustomed to such raffish behavior, smiled and yelled out "Hey yourself" as she waved, laughed and headed to church, surely thinking it's time to pray for better manners for the likes of me.We're dealing with a lot of time issues these days, time to meet the insurance specialist, time to call FEMA, time to put out the refrigerator, time to get a new refrigerator, time to decide whether to stay in New Orleans or head elsewhere, time to register the kids for school, time to sell the house, time to buy the house, time to find a job, time to leave a job, time to figure out the rest of your life.Could we maybe, while dealing with all those time issues, take a minute and remember? Remember that there was a time when all of this was different, there was a time when slaves were sold in Napoleon House, a time when Mid City was considered the country, a time when people staged sit ins downtown, a time when there was no McDonalds or Wendy's or even Popeye's, a time when the Quarter burned, a time when people spoke French or Spanish, a time when the Opera House was open, a time when this was all uninhabited, a time when your refrigerator worked, your house was whole, your neighborhood wasn't flooded and your city wasn't defined by a Hurricane.More than any other city in this country, this is a city defined by the quality of the times people have had here. Maybe it's because it's a port city, maybe it's because of the food, maybe it's because of the heat, but this city remembers everyone who has ever lived, loved and laughed here. People visit us because they can feel the difference as soon as they get here, they can feel how time is honored here, in the time to craft our houses and the time to make a roux. They can feel that the city holds all of our memories, our joys, our sorrows and our triumphs. That any time spent in New Orleans is kept in the breath, air, water and sky of New Orleans. What happens in Vegas may stay in Vegas, but what happens in New Orleans changes the city and its people, minute by minute, day by day, year by year so that we can't help but live in the past, present and future.Time will tell what we will end up looking like, how strong the levees will be, how many houses will be repaired, but we will tell time how strong the people of New Orleans are, how deep our commitments to each other are and that sometimes the best stories are the ones we write for ourselves.Once upon a time in a city called New Orleans...
posted by thatfarmgirl at 12:57 PM on Nov 21 2005
And now presenting...
Buttercup!
This is Lullah's cat, Buttercup. He's one big ball of fluffy love. He really is the sweetest cat we own.She'd broke her leg in 3rd grade and was home bound for 3 1/2 months. We'd been to the doctor and went by the pet supply to purchase some cat food. At the time we only had one cat, Popsicle, so I fed top grade cat food. (Those days are gone by the way). They had a litter of half persian kittens that were free with a $20 purchase.
One sack of Science Diet and a cat toy later, Buttercup was ours.
He sat in her lap pretty much the entire 3 1/2 months. When she finally had to go back to school he was miserable. He still whines for about a week when school starts after summer. I have to leave her door open, because he will think she's in her room otherwise. It is truly pitiful to see 15 pounds of fluff cry at her bedroom door.
We think he's beautiful, but that's just us.
At any rate, we love him.
Saturday, November 19, 2005
I got tagged!
MamaKBear Tagged me, so here goes.
Rules are as follows:
Remove the blog at #1 from the following list and bump everyone up one place; add your blog to the #5 spot.
Dzer
Mamalicious
Here's Your Sign
MamaKBear's World
Kim's World
Next:
Select 5 new friends to piss off.
I'll add these later.
What were you doing 10 years ago? Living in Texas. Married with a 5 year old. Hating that she was in school.
What were you doing 1 year ago?
Pretty much the same thing as this year.
Five snacks you enjoy:
1. Cheese 2. Cheese dip 3. Chocolate anything 4. Oreos 5. Cherry tomatoes
Five songs to which you know all the lyrics:
1. Amazing Grace
2. Rapture-Blondie
3. On Jordan's Stormy Banks
4. Crazy-Patsy Cline
5. Santa Baby-Earth Kitt
(this is actually a cheat category for me, I have a weird affinity for lyrics)
Five things you would do if you were a millionaire:
1. Pay off my debts.
2. Put away enough so that can go to any school she wants to.
3. Start a college fund for my nephews and niece.
4. Take my Mom and step-Dad and my in-laws on a really cool vacation.
5. Go back to work, 'cause I've spent the million with 1-4.
Five bad habits:
1. Procrastination
2. Interrupting
3. Nosiness
4. Cursing
5. Beating my self up
Five things you like doing:
1. Watching Lullah dance
2. Spending time with the hubby and Lullah.
3. Reading
4. Sleeping (I never get enough)
5. Laughing
Five things you would never wear again:
1. Jelly shoes
2. Neon socks
3. Parachute pants
4. Those crazy Z-Cavarichi pants that sort of looked like MC Hammer pants.
5. Those sequined, hand painted cotton pant suit things (matching top and pants)
Five favorite toys:
1. My computer
2. My XM radio (I am officially addicted)
3. From childhood- Barbie
4. Childhood- Easy Bake Oven
5. Childhood- Fashion Plates
Rules are as follows:
Remove the blog at #1 from the following list and bump everyone up one place; add your blog to the #5 spot.
Dzer
Mamalicious
Here's Your Sign
MamaKBear's World
Kim's World
Next:
Select 5 new friends to piss off.
I'll add these later.
What were you doing 10 years ago? Living in Texas. Married with a 5 year old. Hating that she was in school.
What were you doing 1 year ago?
Pretty much the same thing as this year.
Five snacks you enjoy:
1. Cheese 2. Cheese dip 3. Chocolate anything 4. Oreos 5. Cherry tomatoes
Five songs to which you know all the lyrics:
1. Amazing Grace
2. Rapture-Blondie
3. On Jordan's Stormy Banks
4. Crazy-Patsy Cline
5. Santa Baby-Earth Kitt
(this is actually a cheat category for me, I have a weird affinity for lyrics)
Five things you would do if you were a millionaire:
1. Pay off my debts.
2. Put away enough so that can go to any school she wants to.
3. Start a college fund for my nephews and niece.
4. Take my Mom and step-Dad and my in-laws on a really cool vacation.
5. Go back to work, 'cause I've spent the million with 1-4.
Five bad habits:
1. Procrastination
2. Interrupting
3. Nosiness
4. Cursing
5. Beating my self up
Five things you like doing:
1. Watching Lullah dance
2. Spending time with the hubby and Lullah.
3. Reading
4. Sleeping (I never get enough)
5. Laughing
Five things you would never wear again:
1. Jelly shoes
2. Neon socks
3. Parachute pants
4. Those crazy Z-Cavarichi pants that sort of looked like MC Hammer pants.
5. Those sequined, hand painted cotton pant suit things (matching top and pants)
Five favorite toys:
1. My computer
2. My XM radio (I am officially addicted)
3. From childhood- Barbie
4. Childhood- Easy Bake Oven
5. Childhood- Fashion Plates
Fantastic voyage...
One on Lullah's friend turns 16 today. The girls mom rented a limousine to pick the girl, Lullah and another of their friends up at school yesterday. They were completely surprised! It was pretty cool! They had a good time. Debra had bought sparkling something or other for them to sip, we'd also gotten them drinks from Sonic (their favorite place for sodas). The driver drove them around town for a bit then took them to Copeland's, about an hour away.
We met them at the restaurant and ate dinner with them. Chocolate martinis for the grown ups, cheesecake for the girls. Yum. Then we all went to see Harry Potter. Coffee after the movie.
I think they had a good day.
We met them at the restaurant and ate dinner with them. Chocolate martinis for the grown ups, cheesecake for the girls. Yum. Then we all went to see Harry Potter. Coffee after the movie.
I think they had a good day.
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