Something Startling

On iTunes radio, there's a station of bird songs. Nothing but birds. Chirping, hooting, wood-pecking, tweeting. That's it.

It's playing in the background right now.

Sort of eerie. Especially with the volume up really high.

Just Passing Time

Here I am passing time until I hear from Dr. D what's up with my mother. An hour or so ago I got a call, "Hello, this is ..." (St. Nick said something and obliterated this part.) "Your mother has been in a car accident." I now know her car was totaled, she is fine (her wrist is hurt and Dr. D is taking her to the med center now), but she had left her keys in the ignition, so she couldn't get in the house. Hence Dr. D going over there. Makes me wish I had the van so I could have gone - I'm a little worried about her, but she sounded fine. Anyway, now I get the FUN of sitting at home and waiting. And Arthur is on, so the boys and girl are in the basement for their half-hour dose of animation.

Time for a homeschool update!

I have two weeks to catch up on, so rather than go day by day, I think I'll just list what we did in each area.

Discipleship Studies:
Read Leading Little Ones to God lessons 54-58
Read Genesis 35
Read Psalm 100

St. Nick did much of the reading, except of the chapter from Genesis.

Math:
Singapore 1B exercises 57-63

We're nearing the end of the book! But we need to do some of the Intensive Practice because this adding and subtracting within 100 is tough stuff. I keep my fingers hidden when checking answers. Note to self: Next year you're going to need the answer book!!!!

Language arts and whatnot:
Scholastic Success For 1st Grade, finished the section on maps
Worked on lowercase and capital letters
Reading Reflex page 315 on word chunks
Scholastic Success for 2nd Grade, Exclamations and commands and something else (forgot what)

I really thought St. Nick had a handle on capital vs. lowercase, but we needed some review. Syllables were easy, however, and we've pretty much exhausted most of Reading Reflex and the 1st grade SS workbook. See, we are making progress.

Reading in history and science:
Going to War in Roman Times by Moira Butterfield, which inspired St. Nick to make shields and swords from cardboard and have a war with his brother.
St. Nick read American Born Chinese, which is a graphic novel for teens. I couldn't believe he read it, but when I quizzed him on the details (I knew since I'd picked up the book for ME to read), he got every question. Wow.
Who were the Romans (Usborne)
A Walk in the Deciduous Forest (skimmed) by Rebecca L Johnson
What is Volume? by Lisa Trumbauer
What is the World Made Of? by Kathleen Weidner Zoehfeld
Cleopatra by Diane Stanley (that was a looooong picture book)
Chapter in one of those Cleary Ralph books (Dr. D read it)

What else?
Made Ooblek
Went to the library, twice
Sold our house (last Thursday)
Toured a bunch of potential homes
Had a (small and rather unremarkable, if exciting) fire
Learned much about fire safety
Had home inspections
Un-sold our house (this Thursday)

Cute quote of the week: St. Nick said, while Pie was throwing a tantrum, "No one will ever be as cute as Mud Pie. And no one will scream as loud as her!"

True on both counts!

Pre-Home-Inspection Excitement: Fire!

So, we have home inspection and appraisal today. And we wrote an offer on another place last night. And yesterday afternoon a fire broke out in the alley and our garage started on fire.

No, I'm not kidding. St. Nick was playing outside with Fish (digging for worms - I know, exciting), and I heard him opening the back door. I got up thinking I'd have to quick get them to take their muddy shoes off, but they got quiet, like they were going back to play. But then St. Nick started yelling Fire! Fire! Fire! And I hurried out intent on telling him not to cry fire when there's no emergency. Only I looked out the back door and saw FLAMES!!!! Quite a lot of them right at the back corner of the garage.

After calling 911 I saw that the wind was blowing the fire away from the garage, thank heavens, but that if it shifted, the whole thing could go up. The boys asked, "What can we do?!" and I said, "Pray the wind keeps blowing the flames away from the garage!" So they started praying, but after another minute without hearing sirens and watching the flames lick the side of the garage every time the wind slowed, I went in and grabbed our kitchen fire extinguisher and tried to spray it from the side of the garage first, but the smoke drove me back. Then I went in the garage (terrifying St. Nick - he thought I was running into a burning garage, which I suppose I was), and then out in the alley where a neighbor had gotten his garden hose and was trying to hit the flames with that while I emptied the fire extinguisher on the flames closest to the garage/on the corner of the wood. Then the fire dept. showed up and put out the rest. Excitement!

They think someone walking in the alley tossed a cigarette in the bushes beside the garage. The garage itself only sustained a tiny bit of damage. And great timing, right as our Realtor was showing up with the "Sale Pending" sign under her arm and the day before inspections.

I don't want to think what could have happened had St. Nick not been out there or had we been away from home. Yikes! Poor St. Nick was beside himself last night, terrified that a forest fire would break out (the house we made an offer on is the one in a wooded area) or that the house would start on fire or or or ...

The most reassuring truth of all for both St. Nick and myself: there is One in control of the winds - winds that truly did not shift and kept our garage from sustaining more than minor, mostly cosmetic damage.

Grand Ohio Adventure

One full day back and hardly a moment to reflect. In short, the visit to Dr. D's parents Thursday through Saturday was one of the easiest but strangest we've had.

First, we went out for pizza with Dr. D's parents to our absolute favorite pizza place ever - Marion's, which defines good pizza. Really. It just doesn't get better, even if it comes on cardboard trays and we all were crammed in a corner of a very busy restaurant. Delicious and fun. After which we all went to the pool. Dr. D's dad hung out in the hot tub and his mom sat and watched while the rest of us frolicked. Or while Fish and Mud Pie frolicked and St. Nick screeched every time anyone came near him. The water was only up to his chest, but he's always been touchy about the water. Swimming lessons were a disaster, and that was when he was 2.

Now for the strange thing: We stayed in a hotel. A Residence Inn, to be exact - two bedroom suite with a living room and kitchen. All to ourselves! It was bliss. Well, mostly. We expected it to be bliss, and it sure seemed like it would be. Night one we put the boys down in the queen bed and Mud Pie in a portable crib (she barely fit) and all were out by 9pm. Only Mud Pie awoke a handful of times between 11pm and 3am. 3am is when Fish's cough woke him, and heaven forbid he be awake alone. So he chatted to St. Nick until he woke, and Pie of course joined in the fun. Dr. D went in with Fish, St. Nick came in with me, and Pie lay awake happily kicking her feet in the crib. Finally, around 4am I sent St. Nick to the couch (far, far too wiggly) and slept until 7:30. That was good enough for me. I let Dr. D snooze until 8:30, but I knew breakfast was done at 9, so we all dragged out of bed and had a truly incredible full hot delicious breakfast. With coffee. Lots of coffee (for lucky Dr. D. I'm off caffeine).

And what do good hotel-staying parents do after breakfast? Return to the pool, of course! More frolicking (Fish and Pie). More screaming (St. N.). But fun.

Now, after the pool, the parents got smart. We went to Walmart and bought children's Nyquil and some pool floaty toys, like an inner tube and a raft. But, alas, next stop was not the pool, it was a shopping center to meet Dr. D's parents for lunch.

We got there half hour early. And we saw this fascinating restaurant called The Pub with authentic British goodies, and Dr. D and I were dying to go there, and we even convinced the in-laws to go there, and it was fabulous - the decor, the menu, the servers, only ... there was no children's menu. So, despite being slightly embarrassed (mostly me, and slightly is a slight understatement) we left and went to Panera instead. There we learned that a kids menu is not a must since our kids don't eat real food anyway. They were cranky (see above on how we all slept), we were cranky, the poor in-laws didn't know what to do with us.

Dr. D wanted some time to talk with his dad before he starts stem cell replacement next week (can understand that), so Mom and I took the kids and walked around the shopping center. Highlights: Great bookstore, cool bathrooms (sigh. life with kids), and nice level sidewalks for running.



We fetched Dr. D and Dad and went back to Legacy (where they live) to hang out. There I remembered exactly why we opted for a hotel, and decided that yes, a night of very little sleep was much better than seven people in a two-bedroom, one bath townhouse. We took a walk, and ate a yummy dinner, and spent some time gabbing, and went back to the hotel where we ... drum roll ... went to the pool! Much more fun for St. Nick with the floating toys.



After which we made use of the Nyquil and let St. Nick stay up so Fish and Pie could sleep. Then he slept on the sofa and we slept (wonderfully) in the other room. Next morning was yet another delicious breakfast and yet another visit to the pool. I was getting a little pooled-out by that point.

And then it was time for the six hour drive home. Heaven be praised for technology, like VCRs in minivans. Since then we've gone to church (fantastic service), straightened the house for two Sunday afternoon showings, visited two open houses (one of which I went to myself while Dr. D and the [fussy] kids waited in the van), ran an abundance of errands, and finally really truly came home.

For a photo-journey of our trip, click here.

Adventures in Home Searching

Picture it, long winding drive with lovely homes off to each side. Quaint bridge over a stream, woodlands spotted in snow.

We're on the look for the house belonging to the For-Sale sign out at the road. I'd seen it on the MLS and had written the address in my notebook, a notebook which was sitting helpfully on the mantle at home.

"I think it was in the 5500s, or 5600s? The first number was 5," I said. Only we didn't see any house that looked like the photo online. We came to what appeared to be the end of the road. There were wheel ruts going on, through what was left of the winter's snow, but it was such an untraveled path. We didn't dare risk it. We went home.

And we checked the address. "It WAS down that path!" So, ever-determined, we returned last night. The snow makes the drive treacherous, but there it is, the house from the picture. Only we can't take time to see it. We're focussed on making it up the gentle, but snow-covered incline of the driveway. Near the top, the wheels begin to spin.

We try pushing, rocking, packing dry leaves under the tires. No use. We are stuck.

But! The 45 minute wait for a tow truck gives us opportunity to peer in the windows, walk around the property. Since it is vacant, we don't feel too awfully like trespassers. It's lovely!

I was still thinking of the last time we drove up to an out-of-the-way house and nearly got stuck, so I dismissed this house as soon as it was clear we weren't making it up the drive, but Dr. D wasn't so quick to judge. And, standing there in the snow, stranded with three kids in the van, was about the most normal I've felt in weeks. Unfortunately, that hasn't lasted, but the house is still beautiful.

Pharmaceutical Guinna Pig

Over two weeks of illness - not sure what's going on. St. Nick's hearing is still not right (though it's only been three days since he started the 2nd antibiotic for the ear infections), and me ...

I took a prescription last night and had a horrible reaction to it - tremors, restless, quaking muscles. Like having fever chills without the fever. And the real kicker: I had not read the package info to even think these could be side effects. Dr. D read it after I started experiencing things and could hardly believe he was seeing my symptoms on the "serious rare side effects contact your doctor immediately" list. So we did contact my doctor, but once you take a pill, there's nothing to do but wait out the effects. It lasted until probably 9am before finally subsiding.

Will I ever feel like myself again?

Best Laid Plans, Uh huh

So much for the diet. No, not really. I haven't given up, but I'm taking a day off (yes, that's what we'll call it). Because ...

I've had the worst few days. It all started Wednesday night. I took a Mucinex around 7pm, thinking it would help my cough so I could sleep better. But when I went to bed my heart started going crazy - thumping like I'd just run a marathon. I'd start to feel restful, then it would go crazy again. Add to that total nutty anxiety. At 3am I was up in the kitchen eating forbidden bread, thinking fuzzily that maybe the diet was causing this strange anxiety/sleeplessness.

Then, about 4am, I realized that Mucinex (which I've only taken two or three times, usually during the day) tends to make me jumpy and it did seem to give me a restless night once. Even though I'd taken it the night before at 7pm, it's a 12 hour slow-release capsule. Usually when a pill says "12 Hour" I figure I'll get about six or eight hours of relief. But Mucinex is true to its word. I honestly got NO sleep until 7am. And of course the kids are up by then, so...

All the next day I was exhausted, and still anxious. And then started in with a stomachache. By dinner I couldn't eat, was sooo tired, my chest tight and that horrible cough. But then it occurred to me, hey dumbell, your chest feels tight and awful not because you're having a panic attack/rare terminal genetic disease, it's tight because you can't breathe!

So we went to the med center, and Mud Pie and I were diagnosed with bronchitis. UGH. My blood pressure was off the charts (for me anyway), and the doctor confirmed that Mucinex, especially the ones with added ingredients like D or DM (I'd taken DM), has this awful side-effect on many people. She also said I shouldn't take it again. Which will be easy considering I flushed the rest of the bottle (the pills, not the whole bottle) the morning after my horrid night.

Last night I took the prescrip cough syrup from the med center thinking the codeine would knock me out, but it only made me feel floaty. So, I floated above sleep (reminding myself that the previous night was the Mucinex) until midnight, then crashed and slept like a rock until Dr. D, sweet wonderful man, woke me at 8am for an already scheduled dr's visit.

Needless to say, what I could or couldn't eat was not much of an issue the past two days.

I did discover at my visit this morning that I was down three pounds. Yippee!

Diet Never Tasted so Good!

I never had to think about dieting in my younger years. I was a skinny pre-teen, and an average teen, and an average newly married woman, and a slightly round first-time Mom. And after my first child, I lost the baby weight fairly easily. I never got back to pre-first-desk-job weight, but I was healthy and my clothes fit. But then I had second child, and not long after that, third child.

And ugh, now I weigh frighteningly close to what I did when I *birthed* first child. But I just don't do diets well. I tried Slim Fast for two months, and after having four weekends spent in bed with severe vomiting, I discovered something in the diet wasn't doing it for me. Then I tried Weight Watchers (I pilfered my mom's instructions). That worked when I really paid attention, and exercised like a maniac. Only I'm not a maniac. I'm a homeschooling mom and I have other things to do than jog on the treadmill every single day. I'd work at the diet/exercise thing faithfully for a few months, lose maybe three pounds, and feel so disheartened that I'd give up on both.

But now I'm trying again. And although I thought the Atkins diet was strange (we tried it briefly when I was working at that desk job - it was horrible, both the job and the diet), a relative of his diet, the South Beach Diet, might be worth a try.

Here's how it works: for two weeks I can have unlimited lean protein (well, I shouldn't gorge myself), fresh low carb vegetables (i.e. not corn, potatoes, or other "sweet" vegetables, and only certain beans. Like I can have black, but not pinto), and limited cheese. What I can't have is bread, pasta, starches like potatoes or corn, or fruit. Obviously deserts that are sugar-sweetened are a no-no too. I think I'm limited to one tomato per day (or the equivalent), used in juice or fresh or in a soup or chili.

After the first two weeks, I can introduce (gradually) a maximum of two servings of fruit (avoiding the super sugary pineapple, watermelon, and bananas), and two servings of whole grain - so brown or wild rice, whole grain bread, etc.

So I'm going to keep track of how it goes. I actually began yesterday and this is what I enjoyed:
Breakfast: 1.5 eggs with peppers and onions.
Snack of nuts
Lunch of meat and cheese and lettuce rolls (like a wrap without the bread) and radishes.
Snack of nuts (I know, getting bored here)
Dinner of "mock" gyros (lettuce replacing bread). The meat was a delicious "meat loaf" that is then sliced and lightly heated in a skillet, served with feta, cucumbers, green peppers and hummus. Amazingly delicious!

And today:
Breakfast: eggs with ham and onion and tomato juice.
Snack of nuts
Lunch of leftover gyro meat on salad with leftover cukes, feta, etc.
Snack of meat and cheese roll
Dinner will be rosemary and garlic sirloin, steamed broccoli with a dash of lime juice, and fresh cucumber salad (cukes diced and marinated in olive oil and vinegar)

I love not having to count anything - carbs, points, calories. And I can eat until I'm sated, unlike Weight Watchers which left me feeling severely deprived. And it was too easy to eat a pop tart and just count the "points" of it, as if that is real food.

Dental Update

My dentist had said tooth 15 and one other needed onlays, this after some major dental work last year (details here). I was suspicious then and more so now and debated what to do. I did go for that 2nd opinion after all, to a dentist that is actually far closer to us than the other, but who still seemed like a used car salesman.

That aside, he gave a surprising diagnosis: tooth 14 was fine. A "virgin" tooth, as he called it. Entirely free of defect. But, he said, my dentist probably meant tooth 15, which did indeed have a crack. A small one, not one needing anything more than a filling. He'd recommend a small filling on that tooth, but could see that an onlay (as my dentist was prescribing) might work as well. The other tooth he recommended for a more severe treatment. A full crown instead of an onlay.

So, as long as my dentist mixed up his numbers a little, his treatment plan was A-OK.

I went back to my dentist to get the first (tooth 14/15) taken care of. I assumed he'd say something like, "Oh, oops! Wrong tooth number. Let's change that." But he didn't. So I asked, "Now which one are you working on? The one farthest back? (14)"

"Yup," he said, and explained that it was badly cracked and it was amazing it hadn't sheared in two yet.

"So it's not the one in front of that? (15)"

"Oh..." he looked again. "Why, do you feel a problem with it?"

"No, uh..." I didn't want to tell him I'd gotten a second opinion. He's sort of a wicked guy* sometimes and I really don't want him taking revenge on my mouth, thank you very much.

He said it did need some work, but nothing immediate, but this crack was a major one and needed to be fixed. If the tooth broke, it would be a root canal and crown for sure.

I insisted he take pictures, both x-rays and digital. He claimed a crack wouldn't show on x-ray, but took them anyway. Because he remembered as well as I did how some work done on Dr. D years ago had to be sent to the dental school before the insurance would cover it.

Still, I was torn. The other dentist said there was nothing wrong with this tooth at all! No crack, it had never had a filling, nothing. Yet here my dentist wanted to drill the side off of it and attach an onlay. Yet would he risk his practice for one silly onlay? Would he truly perform an unnecessary procedure?

I couldn't imagine that he would, so I had the work done. Now the insurance company is questioning it. But our insurance company questions a lot of things ...

And the second tooth? The 2nd opinion dentist pointed to the grayed tooth wall and said this really should have a full crown, that my dentist would be surprised by the extent of decay. I had a bad experience with a crown before (last year's root canal was because of a leaky crown), so I thought surely the onlay would be better. So I got that one done too, and the onlay was huge. I could tell my dentist was a little shocked by how deep he had to go to clean it out. He never mentioned crown, likely because a crown has to be made off-site (and he has to pay someone else to make it), while an onlay is made by a machine in his office.

I'm not sure a crown would have had a better outcome, but I haven't been able to bite on that side or tolerate hot or cold since.

We're so frustrated and torn up, again. This has to be the last visit with this dentist, but where to go now? How can you tell an honest doctor from a scam artist? The worst thing is that we all really like this guy as a person (despite his "wicked" side) and the kids actually look forward to going to the dentist. I'm just not looking forward to starting this search process, especially if I'm not 100% sure I need to.

*Recently been burglarized and told me of his "trap" that would involve nails and mutilation. Pretty ingenious idea, but not politically correct in the least!

How'd it get to be Thursday?

I woke up this morning feeling miraculously free of mucus, and with only the slightest muzzy-headed Nyquil hangover. Ah, finally, now I can start my week. Only, the week is almost finished! I can't say I'm disappointed by this, because I'm not. But I am surprised. I don't really remember much of anything since a playdate at a friend's house. But that was last Tuesday!

Let's see, since then St. Nick was horribly ill, and by Thursday I was ill, and by Friday Little Fish and Dr. D were ill, and on Sunday Mud Pie came down with it. Tuesday of this week we all (yes all five of us) tromped into the doctor's office and yesterday it was so bitter cold and icy that Dr. D decided to work from home for yet another day. Well, yes, that would explain the week-long gap in my memory, I suppose.

But January is a blur as well. What on earth happened to the first month of the new year? Besides losing a week to illness, we listed our house for sale, scheduled a showing of one we'd hoped to see only to have the showing canceled because that place had sold (drat!), I read a long door-stop of a novel for a book review at my other blog, finished two weeks of Tapestry of Grace and some other schoolwork, fretted about dentists, got Mud Pie fitted for orthopedic shoe inserts (her feet pronate), and did the day-to-day things like eating, bathing, cleaning (sometimes). Not all that different than other months. So, where'd January go?

A mystery. Let's see if we can keep from losing the rest of the year into the vortex, shall we?

Dental Humor

So, in relaying my dental saga to a friend, she suggested the Dentist's Favorite Hymn:

Crown Him with Many Crowns.

I can't stop laughing!!!!

Drillings and Fillings and Flim-Flam Scams?

Frustrated. Torn. Confused. Angry. Betrayed. Worried. And a whole bunch more adjectives.

I visited the dentist this morning, feeling pretty good about life. We're listing our house this week (great timing, I know. ::snicker::), Dr. D is super busy with his zillion and one projects, which stresses him out but makes him far easier to live with than if he is, heaven forbid, bored. (Neither of us tolerate boredom well, nor do the kids, big surprise there.) So when the hygienist said, "You're not slated for x-rays this time," I thought GREAT! No x-rays mean no major problems. I've had my fill of dental problems. More than.

Flashback to about this time last year. Head-splitting pain in my tooth that required an emergency root canal (on a tooth that had been capped just over five years previous. Curious how it went south so soon after the warranty expired, eh? The specialist said the crown was leaking. I don't think they're supposed to do that.). The root job and the subsequent new crown used up all my alloted funds for dental for the year. So flash forward to my regular appointment that August (that I'd pay for out of pocket). X-rays showed a desperately needed filling and - what's this? - another crown. The filling should have been a crown, too, said Mr. Dentist, but he'd try to slide it by as just a filling.

Yes, he would! I wasn't paying for yet another crown! The largest troubler at that time was the problem being filled. Three years earlier I'd had a filling pop out. I was pregnant with Fish at the time, so the dentist didn't want to do any major work if he could help it. It was a superficial cavity, clean, and if I brushed well, it could last until I had Fish. I went in mere weeks after Fish was born. "Oh, it's doing fine. Let's give you a little time to recover from this baby!" Every visit after, I'd ask, "Shouldn't we re-fill that tooth?" "It's looking ok, we'll keep an eye on it. I think we can wait until next visit." We played this game for THREE YEARS! I'm not going to insist on a filling when the dentist, the expert, tells me it's not needed. But then, when I had zero funds left in my insurance account, the "insignificant, clean, doing fine" spot on my tooth suddenly needs to be taken care of. Now. And should be a crown, but he'll try and fill it and we'll hope for the best.

I really should have let that be the end with this dentist. I really should. But I have this fault of giving people the benefit of the doubt, particularly when I've known them most of my life (he's been my dentist for over 15 years), and they purport to be Christian.

So, anyway, this time around, I figured I was due for a good checkup. The cleaning went fine, although I suspect the hygienist is in the CIA. (She's the one who trains the agents how to kill a man with dental floss in three seconds flat.) But then the news. Another two crowns. TWO! The treatment plan has us shelling out minimum $800; the expected insurance cost is very near to my maximum benefit for the year. All used up before the end of January. Again.

I'm calling around now for a second opinion, and not just because of the past. Can tooth problems be diagnosed without x-rays? Because, remember the comment that I'm not due for x-rays? Well, they never took them. They took digital photographs (which may or may not be my teeth. Would you recognize a macro shot of your #30 molar?) and diagnosed from that. Maybe that's standard practice these days, but it seemed choreographed. Hygienist takes pictures, dentist comes in with a rather strange Used Car Salesman smile (remember, I've known this guy for 15 years), and suddenly I owe them $800. Which for us, despite the dentist's belief that I have a JK Rowling-like fortune, is not pocket change. It's a returning-my-new-camera-lens and holding-off-on-buying-that-science-curricula expense.

The whole experience leaves an emotional aftertaste reminiscent of the parking lot incident right before Christmas - some guy asked me for a coat hanger to unlock his door (apparently the large super-store I'd just shopped at didn't sell wire coat hangers), then when Dr. D appeared with the cart full of groceries, the guy asked, "Oh, is that your husband?" and shot away like lightning.

Why I Love My Husband

Or, rather, why I love him today, since there are lots of other reasons to love him.

Earlier in the week I started pestering him to get me a can of primer. I've detested our upstairs bathroom ever since I painted it it about six years ago. What on earth was I thinking to put royal blue, colorwashed with BLACK in a teeeeeny bathroom with one window?

I know what I was thinking - that the dark colors looked so great in the living and dining room, why not continue the theme? And wouldn't the new white utilities be oh-so striking against blue? They were, I suppose. But for six years I've longed to have a fresh, clean feeling bath rather than an oppressive, dark one.

Dr. D didn't particularly want to do any house projects over the holidays. But he gave in, we primed last night, and today we went and bought our paint.

And what did Dr. D say this morning on the way to the Benjamin Moore store?

"I really think we should paint the ceiling too. It just won't look right if we don't put a fresh coat on the ceiling."

I love how he does everything to absolute perfection! But right now he's waiting for me to go open the wall paint. Before and After pictures coming soon.

Only the Funniest thing I've seen in Ages

This. Oh. My. Word. Can't stop laughing!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

This very day, Dr. D is celebrating his FOURTH DECADE of life!!!! (And I'm sure he's thrilled beyond measure that I've shared it here.)

Now to go bake his cake!!!

Unnecessary Anxiety

I won't mention that all anxiety is unnecessary; right now I'm facing the overwhelming silly decision of which doctor to visit for a probably little issue. This shouldn't be hard. Dr. D. certainly isn't giving me any sympathy on it, but ... I have three choices.

Option 1: my "new" family doctor, rather my husband's doctor. I went to see him for one of those routine thingamabobs this summer, thinking "He's a homeschooler! What could be better?!?" Ugh... I thought I saw him at CVS the other day, and hid down the next aisle because of my imagined conversation - He says: "Hey! How are those inverted nipples?" Me: "Um, I think you have me confused ..." He say: "Right! That was the other homeschooling mom - you're the one with the ugly finger wart. By the way, did the freezing work for that?" Me: "It, uh, well ..."

Okaaaaay, I can see why Dr. D (hubby) doesn't buy this particular excuse, but what if I happen to run into this doc and his family at a homeschooling event? I know he wouldn't say those things, but he'd be thinking them. Or I would be, which is what matters now, isn't it?

On to option 2: my old family doctor whose office just recently moved to Mars (or somewhere thereabouts). "Hi! I've been your patient since I was 15, that's why my file is the size of a telephone book, and, well, yes, I know I haven't seen you in over four years, because I've been seeing my OB and my husband's doctor, because, well, I don't really like you (you could try smiling - it wouldn't kill you), but I like you better now since I'm not likely to ever see you outside of the office and even if I did you'd have no reason to recognize me so how about we get started?" I'm sure that would go over well.

So, option 3: my OB-GYN from my second child's (complicated) birth. "Hi! Remember me? Yeah, thought so given how much of a problem I was for everyone. Well, I have three kids now. Decided on a midwife and homebirth for the most recent addition, which went well, but now, see ..."

Sigh. That last one is looking like the best option at the moment. Now to pick up the phone and call.

Land of Catastrophe - And Yet Another Reason to Use Cloth Diapers

Who says catastrophes have to be saved for Dr. D's trips out of town?

Today, as I was cleaning up after lunch, St. Nick said, "Wow, Mom, what stinks?" and a second later, "I smelled something really stinky but now I smell oranges." And a second later, "MOM! MOM! MOM! THERE'S A FLOOD A FLOOD A FLOOD!"

That caught my attention. I set aside Mud Pie's plate of goo (once a jelly sandwich and orange slices), which I'd been ready to stuff down the disposal, and peered around the refrigerator.

Water, seeping out from under it. My first thought was that the leak in the refrigerator had worsened, but the leak is just a trickle from a frozen line - the fix is simply to unplug the thing for a few days, but when on earth can a family of five unplug the refrigerator and leave the door hanging open for days at a time?

Anyway, the water was orange. And chunky. And there was a lot of it. An awful lot.

"Get diapers! Get diapers!" I hollered to Nick and Fish. Since, as we all know, cloth diapers are about the most absorbent thing on the planet.

I sopped it up, pulled the refrigerator out, checked the drip pan inside, emptied it though it wasn't full, washed my hands, rinsed Mud Pie's gooey plate.

"Mom! There's MORE WATER!"

Hmmmm. Water running + water running across the floor = leak. (Guess who's teaching my kids logic! Yeah, not me.)

I opened up the cabinet beneath the sink, pulled out the trash can. An orange had exploded under the sink, and was still exploding, gushing out of the pipe that connected the disposal to the rest of the pipes down there. That's when I turned the faucet off. Gushing slowed to a trickle.

I then called Dr. D, cleaned up from lunch (using the bathroom sink), went to the basement with a bucket of orange-chunk diapers, only to see another lake down there. Now why hadn't I put the lid on the train box? Why had I set it directly under the spot where the kitchen drain pushes through from upstairs? We now have a box full of orange-scented Brio train track.

That was plenty enough catastrophe for me. I went upstairs to put Mud Pie down for a nap only to smell an odd burning something. Water from downstairs and the electrical system? No, the box fan we use for white noise during naps wasn't working. The motor had burned out.

I'm glad it just quit working instead of causing a fire! And I'm glad I'd been running orange peels through the disposal and not the usual mix of bits of this and that with a few unsightly things I discovered in the back of the refrigerator tossed in for good measure. You'd think, given the fact that I've been using cloth diapers for six years, that I have a strong stomach. But I really, really, really don't.

Dr. D just walked in the door, new box fan in hand. We are so going out for dinner tonight.

Did You Get Your Flu Shot Yet?

Who wants to stand in line? I could mix up my own batch and keep it in the refrigerator. Let's hope I don't confuse it with the yogurt ...



(Thank you to A Garden Full for the laughs!)

Always a Crisis

I am hard pressed to think of a single time Dr. D has gone out of town in which there hasn't been some crisis, either right before he leaves, or while he's gone. Last week he was gone for two days and I had to get in to the doctor for a sinus infection. He's in Chicago today, so something had to happen.

Last night St. Nick lost his balance while spinning on the wood floors and slammed his nose into the floor. I'm sure if he had his two front teeth, they would have been knocked out (or at least loosened, or at the very least, put a slice in his upper lip), as it was, the poor kid got a bloody nose. He is such a gusher. One bonk on the nose and he's going through half a box of tissues. And later in the evening he walked into a wall and even later, very nearly tripped over his sister.

That's a pretty tame Daddy-out-of-town crisis. We've had a whole assortment of other things - bad news in the mail, even a broken collarbone (Little Fish now knows not to jump off chairs backwards with his eyes closed).

I'm glad we made it this morning to St. Nick's outdoor adventure class, which is 40 minutes north, without incident. It's the coolest place - a campground where the kids spend most of the day outside learning about wildlife, ecology, geology, and all sorts of other things. Dr. D usually drives St. Nick, then works for the day at a McDonald's a few minutes from the camp. Today (because of Chicago) it was my chance to take him (and Fish and Mud Pie). Fish was enthralled by the scary taxidermied animals at the camp; Pie less so. But I can see now why St. Nick absolutely loves going to this class every week.

Surprisingly, it was warmer this morning than we'd expected. A pleasant blessing. The rain that's been pouring ever since I got dropped him off, however, is not so pleasant. But maybe it's not raining up there!

Update: I found out later that it did, indeed, rain, and that they all built shelters outdoors in the rain! So incredibly fun. St. Nick was beside himself with glee over how filthy and wet he was. And now Dr. D is home safe and sound and we can enjoy crisis-free living! Let's hope, right?

It's Official!

I am a dork.

So, I visited the doctor this afternoon for the hideous non-cold, and he asks me about my symptoms. I start rattling them off, "Bla bla bla, and the stuff in my nose! Noah could have used it to water-seal the ark!"

I went in for antibiotics, not to convince this doctor that I'm a complete moron. *whine* I'm not good at small talk! And I was hacking into a tissue between every lame joke sentence.

The doctor seemed a little scared of me! This red-nosed, red-haired lunatic is cracking snot jokes in his exam room?

Anyway, I have my antibiotics, and at least I said Noah and not Moses (at least I'm pretty sure I said Noah ...).