Scary Day
Lil C had what appears to be a severe allergic reaction to an antibiotic she was on for an ear infection. She started with a couple hive-like bumps on her legs. Today, the few small hives erupted into a full fledged all out attack on her joints. Lil C’s knees swelled to about four times their normal size. Her wrists, fingers, ankles, and toes were swollen too. She had hives everywhere from the top of her little head to the tops of her little feet.
I talked to my Mom this morning and told her I was concerned. I didn’t want to be an alarmist though so I thought I would give her a bath and see how she was. It was when I started undressing her that I saw how much worse it had gotten in only an hour. I immediately called the doctor, and then drove her frantically as fast as I could to the appointment.
As the doctor asked me questions about whether or not rheumatoid arthritis or Lupus runs in our family, it was all I could do not to cry. It was terrifying to watch her swell up so severely, so suddenly. My Mom works for an allergist so I know how serious allergic reactions can be.
The doctor put her on oral steroids and round the clock benadryl and we’re supposed to watch her closely over the next 48 hours. Hopefully, an allergic reaction is all that is was and it will all go away. Tonight, she seems much better already.
I couldn’t help but think about the little girl Julia, whose battle with cancer I’ve been following over the past several months. My fear and panic today is probably only a fraction of what her mother feels every single day, and has been feeling every day since her daughter first got sick. I pray for that little girl every single night, but I’m going to make sure I remember her family in my prayers as well.
It was an absolutely terrifying day. I hope that this ordeal is over and that we won’t have any more incidents like this ever again.
Update: As of Sunday night, Lil C is doing much better. Her joint swelling is pretty much gone. We’re still dealing with an occasional hive popping up here and there, some itchy eyes, and some minor bruising under the skin where the swelling was the most severe. But it appears that we are out of the woods for now and that is a HUGE relief.
Self Defense against a Shower Rod
Our bathroom makeover is nearing completion. It is now possible for us to actually use our bathroom again. We still need to put the stone up around the shower stall and replace the flooring, but we’re taking our time with that part (i.e. waiting until we hit the lottery so we can pay someone to do it for us). Pictures will follow soon.
There was, however, one casualty in the bathroom renovation. My middle finger suffered quite an injury when my husband, a little loopy from paint fumes, started swinging shower rods at me Star-Wars-style in Target the other night. He smacked me on the butt a couple times as annoying husbands will do, and then I was done.
I brought my right arm up and was going to use an inside block/knife hand to knock the pole away from me, grab it, disarm him, and of course, retaliate. (The girls were with my parents by the way.) What I wasn’t counting on was the whack that came down across my knuckles from his other shower rod wielding hand. The rod smacked across my middle, ring, and pinky finger and it hurt. My middle finger took the brunt of the smack.
My husband thought it was pretty funny and kept saying that I "punched the shower rod," and that he didn’t hit me with it! Yeah, right. If I only had my tunfa handy at the time . . .
So, I told him that when he wakes in the middle of the night to find the shower rod jammed up his nether-regions, I’ll just tell him that he happened to roll onto it while sleeping.
That kind of thinking can work both ways, don’t you think?
Ooh, and this marks my 200th post!
It’s my party and I’ll cry if I want to
Today is the third anniversary of my 29th birthday. I decided at age 29, I was done with this whole highly over-rated aging thing. When I asked Big I if she knew how old I was going to be, she said 60. And here I thought my wrinkle cream was actually working.
Since turning "29", I’ve discovered a couple things about birthdays. Up until you turn 21, birthdays are pretty cool. Then, it seems that the big deal that used to be your birthday becomes just another day on the calendar filled with bills, chores, and other nonsense. People don’t make a big deal about your birthday anymore until you’re like 80 and have beat the average person’s life span. Then, it’s time for surprise parties and celebrations again.
I thought I would celebrate my birthday by including some pictures for your enjoyment and laughter (You don’t get through the 80’s as a kid without some serious fashion no-no’s). Plus, 9 out of 10 blog readers agree that pictures keep you coming back for more. So, here are some of the highlights from my "29" years of this Earth.
You might recognize these baby eyes in my munchkins? I’ve never been accused of having small eyes.
Here I am at age three, where my dream of being a pro-hockey player (or marrying one) began.
Here I am at age five, on "the good ship lollipop," sporting the ever popular Dorthy Hamill bowl cut.
Second grade, or the year of Mom cutting my bangs before school pictures.
The rest of elementary school is a mixture of more bad hair: boy cuts, first perms. . . and here is the spiked hair perm. What the hell was I thinking when I requested that style?
This is 9th grade when I got to meet my FAVORITE hockey player in the ENTIRE WORLD, Rick Tocchet. Notice the deer in the headlights look. I was shaking like a leaf when I met him. I realized that his head was like twice the size of mine and that I probably didn’t want to be birthing any hockey player kids (Instead I married a valedictorian with a big head anyway).
10th grade brought a longer and bigger hairstyle. It was the age of the spiral perm. My bangs never cooperated and besides an occasional zit, my bangs were my biggest teenage "issue."
Here I am with my best guy friend (who happens to be the designer for the banner on this site). The hair only gets bigger for a while. . .
See what I mean. This is my freshman year in college and I’m still loving the big hair.
Just one of many "ripped the jerk out of the picture" pictures. This is actually the last one, and you’ll see why in a few seconds. . .
Here’s my first car, after I bought a custom leather "bra" for the front of it to make it look "cool." I also had my best guy friend install a booming system that would make LL proud. In the end, I had to come to grips with the fact that it was still a Geo Metro with no AC. (My sister took over this car when I went back to college, put Animals Rights stickers all over it, and added Christmas lights to the back seat. I kid you not.)
Edited to add: Apparently my sister doesn’t recall the stickers. My Dad taught us to NEVER put any stickers on our cars, but I swear she taped them to the inside of the windows or something. I distinctly remember stickers. She also reminded me that there was an animated Santa standing on my booming system speakers in the back. Gotta love little sisters when they take over your car.)
Here’s a picture from the early days with Mr. BBM. Apparently I thought this pose was an appropriate enough one to let my Mom photograph us. Um, no, so NOT happening with MY GIRLS EVER EVER NEVER.
And four years later. . . one of our wedding picture.
My first moments with my first baby. . . Big I. I look like that because it was a very long and painful, but life altering and amazing day.
My first few hours with Lil C, after a shower because I didn’t want to subject you to two pictures of post labor and pain BBM.
Obtaining my brown belt in karate, which was such a cool day.
Meeting Sebastian Junger, because OMG!
Hanging out with Santa and the girls. . .
My most recent picture, hiding behind Lil C because Mr. BBM is determined to take the least flattering pictures of me EVER.
And that about does it. Happy "29th" Birthday to me! Enjoy the pictures. My family certainly enjoyed helping me pick out the school days ones.
Now where’s my cake?
Mish-Mash
There’s so much to say but I can’t seem to focus on any one thing. So, here are all the posts I started this week and never finished.
1. Do not, under any circumstances, purchase a home with wallpaper on the walls unless you are EXTREMELY happy with said wallpaper and plan on keeing it on for all eternity. Can you guess what I’ve been doing this weekend?
Mr. BBM and I have been removing all traces of the peachy, flowery wallpaper from our bathroom. Why didn’t anyone tell me that hitting myself in the head with a hammer would be a better use of my time? The not being able to put anything coherent together could be that I’m coated in gooey wallpaper glue. Is that stuff toxic?
2. At karate this week, we worked on bunkai for waza’s and it was awesome. I got to work with my instructor while working on the application. He went first and then I tried to go as fast and furiously as he did. I didn’t succeed at matching his speed, obviously, but I didn’t do a bad job either. This whole faking confidence until you have it thing is working out well for me.
3. After black belt class this week I spent some time trying on my instructors gi’s to determine size and weight. I’ve been using my lightweight student gi all this time. I’m going to upgrade from a 6 oz. gi to a 12 oz. heavyweight gi. I tried a jacket on and threw some punches and it was like I was a different person. The snap that I’ve been longing for was there. The only problem is deciding which one. There are so many different gi’s out there, and the size charts are crazy.
I think it’s worse than shopping for a good pair of jeans. For guys it’s simple. I’ve watched my husband buy clothing over the years that he doesn’t even try on until he walks in the house, and whatever he buys always fits perfectly. Then there’s me. . . a size 4 in some brands, a 6 in others, an 8 in yet another brand and if it’s a dress? Then all bets are off because I can fall anywhere between a 2 and an 8. If someone inspected my closet they’d think three different people share it.
After black belt class I had a decent idea of what size and brand I wanted to order, but the jackets I tried on were all different brands and between brands, just like jeans, there’s a big difference. So, short of asking my instructors to strip down and let me try their gi’s on, there really weren’t any other options. So I did just that. My instructors recommended the Pro Force one so I’m going to go with that one. I don’t need an expensive one-I just want one that snaps.
I wish I could get a black gi, but unfortunately those are reserved for black belts only right now. I don’t want it so I can look all big and bad. I’d just like it for the fact that it would hide the pre-karate dinner stains that are inevitable when you have kids in the house. Take for example the sloppy joe stain on my pants last week. Despite a generous dose of Oxyclean (that didn’t work), followed by a shot of carpet cleaner that my husband guaranteed would work (it didn’t), I went to the dojo with a sloppy joe stain AND a big wet mark on my leg, all the while smelling like carpet cleaner meets Oxyclean. There was no doubting I had my shower for the day.
And now, Lil C is bugging me to put headbands and bows on her stuffed Elmo, so I have to run. That and I need to go inhale some paint fumes or something. My bathroom is a disaster. Before and after pictures to come when we’ve managed to transform our bathroom from the mess it is now into a masterpiece.
Happy Super Bowl Sunday!
Don’t Go It Alone at the Mall
The girls and I have been settled into this boring routine since Christmas. The money’s all been spent and as the credit card bills roll in, there’s not much to do other than hang out at home. I decided that we needed to get out of the house for a bit so we attempted to go shopping, the three of us. Since I don’t have any local shopping friends and my relatives all have day jobs, I had to go it alone. Can you say "nightmare"?
Here are the reasons why, if you have a 5-year old and a 1-year old, you should NEVER, under any circumstances, go to the mall alone:
1. With no one to supervise the stroller as you’re unstrapping your 1-year old from the car (and since Mr. BBM recently pumped up the stroller’s tires), the stroller will decide that now is the perfect get-away attempt time. You will end up chasing the stroller across four parking spaces and into moving traffic with your 1-year old in your arm and your 5-year old screaming and crying from the car because she thinks you’ve left her there for all eternity.
2. Once snug in the largest dressing room known to man, your 1-year old will inevitably attempt an under the door escape, but she’ll most definitely wait until your pants are around your ankles.
3. Attempting to browse the 70% off sale racks is futile as your children will decide it’s a perfect time to chase each other around the racks, giving you an anxiety attack every seven seconds as you lose site of them and then reestablish contact.
4. Your 1-year old will decide that in order to get away from her sister, crawling around and under the racks is a fabulous idea.
5. In fact, laying face down on the floor in the department store, right next to the 20 year old gum stain, is a PERFECT place to rest a little 1-year old head when the chasing game gets to be too much.
6. Without an additional person to supervise while you divide up soft pretzels and drinks, your 1-year old will decide to take a fateful sip from your diet coke and send diet coke flying all over the bench, the pretzels and herself. This, in turn, will make your 5-year old lose part of her slushie through her nose.
7. At some point, your 5-year old will step in the elevator and your 1-year old will decide this is the PERFECT time to run back towards the clothes racks away from the elevator. Everyone around will think you’re insane as you charge towards the 1-year old and SCREAM for the 5-year old to "GET OUT OF THE ELEVATOR" Jack Bauer style.
8. Bathroom stalls are not made to accomodate a stroller, a Mommy, a 5-year old and a curious 1-year old.
9. Because there’s no way in HELL, your 1-year old will tolerate sitting in a stroller. PSHAW, yeah right Mama! Instead she will run at full speed towards store-front glass windows, make mad dashes towards the Disney Store and their stuffed animal rotunda whenever she sees a chance, and decide that the mulch surrounding the wishing fountain isn’t such tough terrain if one truly wants to take a little swim.
10. Your Christmas gift certificate will end up getting spent on pretzels, slushies and other miscellaneous crap for your kids. The entire afternoon will be such a nightmare that you swear off shopping with the children forever (won’t Mr. BBM be happy?).
Anyone want to be my shopping buddy?
With training like this. . . karate class will be a piece of cake.
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