a break in the break

As Elton John said, so very eloquently, "the bitch is back."

I try to keep my language PG here. I know that "bitch" pushes the limit on PGness. Sorry.

But in my life, the bitch is all in my head. And her name is Migraine.

Aunt Flo is no fun for anyone, but I'd trade Aunt Flo for Migraine everyday of the week and twice on Sunday. Endometriosis and cramps have nothing on eyebrow-splitting, turn-off-the-lights-be-quiet-its-hot-in-here-but-I-must-be-under-the-covers-preferrably-w/o-clothes-don't-bump-the-bed-or-look-at-me Migraine pain.

I've had migraines since I entered the dreaded hormonal fluctuations of puberty and adolescence. They seemed to coincide with my periods. I simply laid in bed, suffering, the first few years. But they became more intense and more regular. Regular = every single month, every Thursday of that week and sometimes Friday, Saturday and Sunday.

Typical migraine meds worked for me. Imitrex did the job, but after a while, I had to increase my dosage to a point that I felt was too high and too frequent. I tried the newer version, Relpax, and got GREAT results from it. But these were only treatments for AFTER the onset of the headache.

My ob/gyn and I tried different Pills and dosages and even the birth control patch. They all worked well for 3-6 months, but then the Bitch figured it out again and worked her way back into my life again. My best results were from the Pill without a break.

While pregnant with Stinkerbell, I had ZERO headaches. I thought pregnancy would be the end of migraines. However, my first trimester with Lucky was near constant migraines, with bonus trips to the ER for IV pain and nausea/vomiting medicines. Lucky me. They'd get me good and drunk and send me home. I remember trying to walk down the hall to the bedroom and bouncing against the walls.

With the passing of that painful, torturous first trimester went the migraines. By this point, I had my own stash of Tylenol 3 with codeine to eliminate the need to go to the hospital and be treated as a drug addict seeking my fix.

I'm still breastfeeding Lucky and have yet to have Aunt Flo to visit again. Yes, that's great. But I suspect she's on her way to my house.

Friday afternoon, I got a headache, but plain Tylenol helped it. Saturday, however, it came back and the movie feeteyur (theatre in Stinkerbell-speak) popcorn (Ratatouille - pretty good, cute, fun for the kids) made it worse. (I think I'm allergic to the butter or some preservative in the butter.) (Enough parentheticals.)

Sunday morning, she was still here and trying to plant her roots deep. I fought her off without resorting to the serious drunk-inducing medicines. But she's still here this morning.

And the Doodlebops are her conspirators.

GOOD LORD I hate the Doodlebops!

sweetest words to my ears

Mama 07-23-07 from auburngalalways and Vimeo.

If the player doesn"t open, click here.

2:05, 13, 6, 4, 101.1F, 2, 12, $10, 1, and 252nd

Technically, I'm still on my bloggy break. It's 2:05am. So, I'm not taking away time from Stinkerbell and the Countdown To School. (13 days BTW)

Why, you may ask, am I up at 2:05am?

Good question. I am up at 2:05am because Lucky had his 6 month well-baby appointment today. And you know what happens at well-baby appointments.

Shots.

4 of them. He was so sweet and pitiful. I hold his little legs at the knees, and the nurse leans across the table and blocks his arms. He thought we were playing a game or loving on him. Grinning and cooing at us. Then the happy little eyes looked at me with fear and pain in them. It was pitiful.

He has felt good all day. But at bedtime, he began to act like he wasn't feeling well. At midnight, he cried and wouldn't nurse or take his pappie. His head was hot. His arms and belly and legs and feet were hot too.

101.1 F (rectal, so it's as accurate as possible.) In my fatigued, post-partum depression mind, I couldn't find the infant tylenol/ibuprofen. So, I dashed off to the Super W-M that is 2 miles from my house. I arrived on the night when the employees of W-M's everywhere get their paychecks. And they cash them. At the cash registers. Without buying anything else. Or sometimes buying 12 things and forcing them to do a price over-ride because K-Mart has the booster seat for $10. And there is only 1 cashier! working. And NONE of the self-checkout lanes were open (which I use all the time, because I am a better and nicer cashier than the ones they pay and I don't have to smell anyone else's bad breath while I pay for my baby's pain/fever reliever!)

So, I come home and give him his medicine. And am too worried to go back to sleep yet. I know he's ok. I just can't sleep when my babies have a fever. I've got to try though.

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I noticed the other day that I have passed a milestone in my bloggy life.

This is my 252nd post.

You would think that I could have come up with something more profound, more important, more funnier, more better to write.

I definitely could have come up with a better title.

But, I'm on a break. SO shut up.

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Good news. My Friend Rachel, who lives in Minnesota, is coming to visit her parents in Montgomery for a few weeks with her beeeuuuuuutiful baby boy. And I'm going to go see her and nibble his ears! I can't wait!!! I haven't seen My Friend Rachel since she got married!

**************************

I'll be back again soon. I'm going back to bed now.

I miss y'all. Funny things keep happening, and I think "I need to blog about this." But I don't do it immediately, and then I forget what in the crap it was that was so funny anyway.

I suppose I could write down the funny things to help me remember them!

After these messages

I simply must share what just was said over our late Sunday morning breakfast.

The fact that this breakfast occurred at 11 am should tell you two things. 1. We did not go to church. SINNERS REPENT! 2. We slept very late but will still probably find a way to nap this afternoon. Even the Lord rested on Sunday. Who am I to argue against that logic?

So, The Mighty Hunter had the tv on, as it always is. And, naturally, it was tuned to the Outdoor Channel or the new hunting channel MOR - which I lovingly refer to as the MORON channel.

Odd to think that The Mighty Hunter doesn't laugh at that particular joke.

anyhoo.

There is a commercial on these channels for some deer hunting lure. Let's just call it piss in a bottle.

Cause that's just what it is.

This particular commercial talks about collecting this piss at the moment that a buck deer has tried to, um, err, um, mount the doe.

For those of you not familiar with the life of a deer hunter, a buck is the boy deer; a doe is the girl deer; and the mounting of a doe is exactly what it sounds like. And the piss of doe at all stages of her fertility (estrus) cycle has different effects on the bucks.

But the piss of a doe who is, shall we say, ripe and ready is like beer goggles for the buck. It wil make the ugliest doe a complete hottie.

So, someone who has no dignity left and doesn't mind the extremely nasty and humiliating task of collecting said piss has developed quite a booming business.

And here is where I talk about the deer p*rn.

This one commercial has a picture of a buck mounting his hottie. Earlier this week, I told The Mighty Hunter that this was a disturbing commercial and didn't feel comfortable looking at a picture of deer "getting it on."

We had a good laugh. Neither of us needed a cold shower. Life moved on.

Then as we were having breakfast, this same commercial came on.

And Stinkerbell saw it.

And Stinkerbell saw the deer p*rn picture.

And I gave him "the look". You know the look. The one that says "where's the clicker? why do you have to watch deer p*rn? find the clicker FAST! oh crap. it's too late. she's already seen it. what do we do now? ignore it? explain it? wait. pretend to be deaf and blind. yes. deaf and blind. just don't laugh."

And Stinkerbell says "look at that buck! he's on the girl's back! what's he doing there?"

don't laugh

don't answer her

pretend she didn't say anything at all.

don't make eye contact.

isn't there ANYTHING I can point out to her?

don't laugh

We manage a good 30 seconds before The Mighty Hunter manages to say "and there went an uncomfortable silence."

deer p*rn.

What's this world coming to?

I suppose this is what we get for not getting our butts to church this morning. This is one of those times when being Catholic and having confession would be handy.

Forgive me father, for I have sinned. I've looked at deer p*rn 4 times this week. I didn't enjoy it. I promise, but I feel guilty all the same. I feel so dirty. Dirty and guilty.

We're on a BREAK, ok???

Stinkerbell has been weepy of late. This big sister gig is not all coos and goos and giggles, like she thought it would be.

She turned 6 on Jan 20, and Lucky was born on Jan 25. She had our undivided attention and devotion for 6 years and 5 days and is now in full withdrawal. And her emotions are flashing red and purple and blue neon:

"Feeling left out and sorry for myself"

Yes, she's a wonderful, loving big sister. She is mature and responsible enough to care for him and entertain him when I need to shower or cook or go to the bathroom. She enjoys the approval she gets when she does these things for me and eagerly (sometimes) takes on the job.

Then there are times like yesterday and the day before and the day before that.

There are times when she cries at bedtime because she just wants me.

"me to do what?"

"just you"

"just me?"

"yes. you. would you lay down with me please? without Lucky?"

"sure baby"

There are times when I can let The Mighty Hunter entertain Lucky, allowing me to spend girl time with Stinkerbell. I am resolved to find these times and use them to their utmost. Screaming baby or no.

There are more times when she will have to simply share my time and attention - "never my love" - with Lucky. And she will have to learn to not begrudge them.

But there are times when she could have more of my time and attention and I'm not giving it to her.

And many of those times, I'm here. With you. And as much as I like you and being here, I like her more and really I should be with her. And being here prevents me from being with her as much as she deserves.

No problem in choosing, right?

Right.

Except that I need some form of outlet for my pent-up anxieties and insecurities and worries and manias and giggles and hermitness. And that is what I get here.

20 days till school starts.

20 days till I take Stinkerbell to her first grade class.

20 days that I can devote maximum time and attention on her.

20 days that I can play with her, color a princess coloring book with her, water her tomato, pepper and eggplant plants with her, take her to the pool, play with play-doh, teach her to cook, take her to the OTHER library, go to the park, organize her room, watch "kids shows" with her, chase her with the waterhose, play dress-up, paint her toenails, make chocolate chip cookies, read stories to/with her, help her improve her writing and spelling, play horsey/doggy/kitty/bunny, watch her play...

So, although this may feel like I'm breaking up with you, we're really just taking a break. 'kay?


Ross and Rachel Break Up

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