Update.

You people and your caring and your emails and your phone calls and whatnot... you're too kind. So where do I start?

1. I am off the birth control pills. I repeat... the birth control pills have left the building. My wonderfully brilliant girly doctor diagnosed me as "about as diabetic as you can get with out being diabetic yet" and put me on Metformin. I was killing myself with watching what I ate and running and still I lost no weight and my blood sugar stubbornly stayed the same - a fasting number anywhere between 100 and 124 on any given day. It's been going up steadily for the last two years even though my diet and exercise has been enough to lower my cholesterol from 202 to 187. The doctor basically said we can wait another six months until your blood sugar reaches a certain point and say, "Gee. You're diabetic. Here's some medication" or we can start treating you now, be proactive, and see what we can do. I opted for the proactive. I got to stop taking the pills (and for anyone who got that email? I wasn't depressed so much as horrifically hormonal.) It's all better now. You may go about your business.

2. Liam was sick last week. Specifically, Sean found Liam passed out face down on the family room floor. The short version is that he had something called a Confusional or Complicated Migraine. Two trips to the ER and then admitted to the neurology department at Children's. Three IV's, a CAT scan, MRI and spinal tap later we know Liam's brain is fine... relatively speaking, remember, he's an eight year old boy. And he will most likely continue to have migraines. Boo, heredity. Rusty's migraines are bad enough.

P.S. Heredity, you truly suck with giving Sean his first flat out, full on, throwing up and light hurts my eyes migraine yesterday. Have mercy, will you?! I'd like some sleep, please.

P.P.S. Thankfully, with the birth control pills out of the way, I was able to cope with Liam's situation a brazillion times better than I would have a month ago.

Back from Disney.

Oh man. I'm exhausted, my shoulders are sunburned and we have mountains of laundry to sift through. But it was totally worth it. We had a great time. It was the first vacation Rusty and I have taken together since our honeymoon ten years ago.

I'm going to post some photos (including the Sapper Mouse Ears Project.) But I need to vent about some things that happened during our trip, and I want to get it overwith now so the rest of the posts and photos aren't tainted by stupidity.

The last full day we were there, Thursday, we went to the Animal Kingdom park. It's gorgeous, a lot of fun, has great attractions (the Expedition Everest ride was one of our favorites from the week.) But for some reason there were some dumb angry people out and about.

Incident #1 was at the dinosaur institute ride thing. The line waiting time was supposed to be about 40 minutes. Which was actually short compared to some we saw at the Disney MGM park. We weren't surprised - our travel agent told us flat out that Spring Break (considered mid-March through late April) is considered the second busiest time of the year.* Considering our travel agent stressed this fact, it's plastered all over the web and it's stated flat out on the Disney World planning pages I'm assuming most everyone traveling to Disney World this past month was probably aware. Makes sense.

So the line takes a bit longer and people start going nuts. The family behind us was whining enough to be mistaken for a troup of three year olds (and it was a mom, dad, a couple of ten or so year old kids and a set of grandparents!) Seriously. One of the kids was talking about the "stupid 'Fast-Passers'" and sounding awfully bitter for a kid that young. The parents? Only encouraged it. The guy working at the front of the line was named Jorge and was from Spain (every Disney worker has their hometown/country listed on their name tag.) Jorge tried to make an announcement about the wait time but was interupted. Then this stupid, cruel, stereotype of everything that's wrong with America today teenager stands up on the rail and announces to the crowd, "What he said meant to say in English was that the wait is going to be longer than they said!" A few upset people thanked the kid, some people laughed, and poor Jorge looked like he'd had it. For the first time in my life, I called someone a "Dick." I hope that kid heard me.

The next round of people went in and Rusty and I were cut off at the front to be the first to go in the next time. Poor Jorge wouldn't make eye contact with anyone and was just trying to do his job. I leaned over and asked if they paid him enough to put up with the whining and he smiled and said Disney pays him well but no one could pay enough to put up with a lot of what he hears. Once he decided Rusty and I were friendly, he totally opened up and asked our names, where we were from, how our trip had been and then thanked us for being so nice before shaking both of our hands. When he turned to check the next ride, the super annoying family behind us went into action again. The mom pushed up to Rusty and I and asked what Jorge had said. I replied and she asked again, "But what did he say?!" getting almost hysterical. Rusty and I were confused but realized later that she must have assumed that we were telling Jorge how upset we were about the wait and didn't understand we were just chatting (seriously, the wait time was only about ten minutes longer than they originially said and as I mentioned, that was way short compared to lines over an hour and a half at some of the other parks.) When it came time to move to the next room to get ready to board the ride, they asked everyone to move up to the front by the movie screen to watch the little video and the family behind us refused saying they were staying right by the door so they could be first on the ride (yes... they actually told the worker that.) Rusty and I moved as far as possible from them. Between them and the wonderfully helpful teenager mocking the accent, I was upset. Rusty said later I was so angry that I was shaking. I just don't understand why people have to go out of their way to be rude. And why you can't just realize that #1, no one forced you to wait in line, #2, you're waiting for a ride at an amusement park for fun and not water or food in Darfur or something and #3, of course there are long lines, you freaks, it's Disney World! Good heavens.

Ok, incident #2 wasn't as big a deal but made me cry at the time (remember, I'm delightfully hormonal right now.) We were watching this group of acrobats doing an open air show at an outside restaurant. I walked around the back of the crowd, making sure to duck down and not get in anyone's photo shots and checked behind me not seeing anyone there. I took some pictures then the show ended. This older guy comes up behind and says in my ear, "Thanks for coming and standing right in our way" in the most hateful tone I've ever heard in real life. I turned and said I was sorry as he walked away and said, "Sorry" to the closet people I saw who kind of looked at me funny. Turns out they weren't with him and he and his family were off to the side in the very back sitting at a table (everyone watching this show was standing in a circle around the area where the acrobats were performing.) This guy could have come up and nicely asked if I could move but instead he waited ten minutes or so then came up afterwards? And I said I was sorry three or four times to everyone in the area because I didn't know where he was sitting and he just glared and walked off. Why?! What's the point of that? It doesn't help you see the show again and just makes someone feel bad. I just don't get it. If the show was that big a deal, you'd want to see it and not just sit there fuming. Get a grip. I wandered back over toward Rusty. This was only ten minutes or so after the first incident with Jorge and I was pretty much convinced people enjoy being mean and rude and hurtful and started to sniffle. Looking back now I can say it's not that big a deal but at the time it just seemed like too much.

Our experience overall was fantastic and we can't wait to take the boys in September. Of course things weren't 100% perfect, they never are. But it was nice. And a lot of fun. We found that when people got on the crowded shuttle bus and complained, the mood suddenly changed if we offered our seat to a family with small kids. All of a sudden someone else would notice and would offer their seat to someone who needed it more and it started a chain reaction and almost a sense of relief and collective sigh of relief that things weren't worth getting upset about. That happened more than once and it was nice to see. We met some really, really nice people visiting the parks too. A special ed teacher from Jersey and her daughter who sat next to us at dinner one night and told us about their experiences there in the past, a family not from Cincinnati but with the father wearing a Graeter's Ice Cream t-shirt, the guy carrying the sleeping little girl who thanked us for letting him have our spot under an awning in the rain at the bus stop, a couple caught in the thunderstorm with us at Downtown Disney when we waited for the shuttle and laughing when we all got on the bus dripping wet. Letting a family with little kids have your seats or getting rained on so a dad carrying a sleeping three year old doesn't have to is not a big deal to us but seemed to really make a different to those people so we were happy to offer. Consider it servant-evanglism Disney style. If a few more people would not even go out of their way but just be aware of what's going on around them, I think things would be a little more laid back - not just at Disney but in life in general. Disney is just a great big dose of humanity all at once and I'm not sure I was prepared for the uglier side of that!

*Christmas/New Years is their busiest.

Primey McPainterson.

Oh, yes. We've started again with the painting. The painting of the powder room. The front entry, the hallway going upstairs and the upstairs hallway. The boys' bathroom (and their bathroom vanities!) Liam's room. These rooms are on schedule to be transformed over the next few weeks. We bought paint for the boys' bathroom, the entry and hallways and the powder room today. I painted the boys' bathroom vanities Friday/yesterday (a nice flat black - very "Pottery Barn" looking.) They need a final light sanding then a few coats of polyerothane and the doors are ready to go back on and we're good. That'll happen tomorrow. In between coats of drying poly, I'll tackle the hallways and entryway and see how far I get.

Ok. Anyone who's lived through this blog with me so far knows that #1, I love fixing up our spaces and #2, I tend to jump in and get it all done instead of letting it lag. Can't stand having stuff half done and right now, there are quite a few things to do to finish making this place really feel like it's ours. Little by little this house is starting to look more like we live here and that's really nice. We're planning on staying in this house for a long time and that makes me very happy ::insert silly smile here::

I'll try to post some photos over the next few days so you can tell me how awesome I am (positive reinforcement helps me stay focused you know...)

P.S.

If you were ever a fan of the "Faith & Art" blog? It's making a comeback... (CLICK HERE FOR VERY VAGUE DETAILS)

Sunday night.

I'm tired. Are you tired? I'm tired.

It's been a very long week. I had two deadlines, one of which has come and gone, the other is coming up. The project is already submitted and I'm just waiting to hear if there are any adjustments that need to be made before going to print. It's the first time in a while that I've worked with a strict deadline and I found I couldn't get it off my mind. I'm discovering I have an anal retentive streak that threatens to leave me sleepless (and useless!) if I don't watch it. I used to think Liam's issues were random, now I wonder if some weren't inherited from his mother...

Speaking of the boy wonder, tonight is Liam's last Sunday as a seven year old. Tomorrow is his last Monday of being a seven year old (starting to imagine how my last week has sounded?) Liam turns eight on Tuesday. And I'm going to break with convention here and say I can honestly see where the time has gone.

It doesn't really seem like "just yesterday" since he was born. It seems like Liam's been a part of our lives forever. I honestly don't remember that self-conscious, post partum person I was when we brought him home. I've tried to block out those feelings of inadequecy I felt when he refused to nurse or the hurt I hid when other babies were in the throes of seperation anxiety and Liam cried when we tried to take him out of the church nursery (true story.) Since his testing back in 2005, when we had some things finally explained to us about who he is and why? Those feelings have been replaced with new ones and I'm finally able to believe the negative things weren't caused by our parenting and many of the positives were. That is a good feeling. A powerful and reassuring feeling. Now when I look at Liam? I see a miracle to watch and be thrilled with instead of a puzzle that needs to be solved.

Tag, I'm it.

Yeah, I'm only a little slow on the draw. Betsy tagged me last month but because I'm a giant weinerschnitzel I had lost the link to her blog and had not caught up. Because I suck lately. Ok, I only semi-suck, the rest of the suckage can be attributed to my crazy body and the turmoil it is causing me lately (did I mention that I hate birth control pills? Because I do. I hate them like that dog outside apparently hates peace and quiet. Shut. UP!)(And could I possibly be more random right now? Probably not.)

So here are five things the world may not know about me:

1. I am a big fan of "The Tick" cartoon. Spoon!

2. I would much rather do art with my hands than with my computer.

3. Though I use a Mac and appreciate its ability to render graphics without wigging out, I really don't dig the whole Mac subculture thing that's going on. I love my computer but it does not make me smarter, cooler, richer, prettier or smell better than anyone else. Just saying. I think we may need some perspective here, people.

4. I get way too emotionally invested in the secrets I read every Sunday. (and thanks to Betsy herself for the heads up on Post Secret a few years ago.)

5. I'm a big fan of Guinness, on tap if possible.

So do I know five people who blog who will also take up this tag and go with it? Let's see...

"Red rover, red rover, send Heather, Amy, Jodi, Linda and anyone from my family who will respond over..." (you can put yours in the comments section!)

Train wreck.

So I must have been offline most of the last few days or something. How the heck did I miss that Britney Spears shaved her head and is now bald? What the crap is that? I mean, I'm not a big fan or anything but after seeing photos of her (on CNN? And what's that about?! Is CNN the new E! and I missed
it?) Anyway, the photos I've seen of her online or on TV lately? She looks so sad.

I know she has kids to take care of. And I don't know if this crap that's causing her to have so little self-respect and dignity is drugs, drinking, something in her past or personal life or post-partum depression. I don't know who's to blame for her problems, I'm sure she should be held responsible for her role as well, at some point (when you're trying to help someone I don't think telling them how crappy they are is the best way to start the conversation.) Regardless, I feel like I'm watching someone drowning and can't do anything about it, you know? Even when you try to not see it, it's everywhere. I hope someone can reach her before she hurts herself.

Good heavens. She makes my head hurt. And makes me a little sniffy for her.

Cincinnati.

*Check comment section for clarification.

I've been doing a little project that required me to answer some simple questions about myself - birthdate, family, location, etc. My "location" answer? Cincinnati. Some of my neighbors here in the northern suburb of Liberty Township disagree. They want nothing to do with the city anymore as they consider it an outdated, badly run embarrassment. They wear their suburban titles proudly. Which is fine... I guess. I mean, it's true, we don't live within city limits (in fact, we're probably a fifteen or twenty minute drive to the city limits.) Not only do we not live in Hamilton County (the county in which the city of Cincinnati is located) but we're in the next county north, and at the middle of that county, closer to the northern edge than the southern. So I get the feeling of being removed. And for people who've moved from other larger urban areas ours seems very removed for sure. I really do get that. But I will always say "Cincinnati" when someone asks. Whether it's habit or stubborness (with a little optimism thrown in) I don't know.

My immediate family moved to the suburbs when I was in kindergarten. But my family, all sides, have their roots down in St. Bernard. It's a tiny little city, surrounded on all sides by the city of Cincinnati. St. Bernard always maintained its independence from the city around it because Proctor & Gamble had many of it's manufacturing facilities within St. Bernard's city limits. The tiny little city raked in big tax revenue and up until a few years ago was doing fairly well for being a non-trendy area so close to downtown. But then Proctor & Gamble pulled out, Ivorydale closed and for the first time in decades - possibly longer - St. Bernard was hurting. It's really sad to see, though we don't see much of it anymore as my Grandparents are no longer there. Grandpa Stegman died when I was in high school and Grandma Stegman moved this past year. Grandpa and Grandma Kelly died when I was in college. Grandpa Joe died eight years ago and Grandma moved into a retirement apartment a few years ago.

We have no living connections left though we stop at Chili Time on the way to the zoo or the way back from the hospital. Then I find myself taking a detour up Tower Avenue and onto Jackson, smiling at the little girl making her way up my Grandparents' front steps into the house I can navigate with my eyes closed yet would probably no longer recognize with my eyes open.

The photo above is from St. Mary's cementary in St. Bernard. It is where two of my grandpas are buried, along with my great grandparents and great-great grandparents. I have personal memories of some of them and only know stories about others. But to be able to walk into a place and know that connection is grounding. My great-grandmothers were friends growing up here and that's what I think of when I've wondered through the tombstones, not the literal reality of death. It's not morbid at all; it's comforting.

Regardless of its crumbling outside, St. Bernard has a history too old to ignore. Like the city of Cincinnati surrounding it, it's just waiting for someone or something to come along and pull it up. I believe it can be done. I believe Cincinnati, too, can once again become the energetic city it was up until the early 1990's. I guess in St. Bernard I see a smaller version of what the city of Cincinnati has to overcome. And I'm praying for both. I can't change my history, and I wouldn't choose to. So the next logical step is to try to preserve it in a way that honors the people that built and populated both cities. Anyone who's read this blog for a while knows some of why we landed here in the suburbs rather than the city when we moved from Maryland last August -- Liam's stuff required a school district with a record for being able to help kids with diverse abilities. Rusty's job is in Mason, another far northern suburb, and he's able to commute fairly quickly and without needing to drive the interstate. We couldn't afford most of the family friendly areas within the city and a school for Liam's stuff (Cincinnati public schools are not equipt, as my friend Jen can verify after teaching there.) And we weren't ready for another rehab... yet. Maybe one day we'll be closer to the city. Regardless? If there is some way of helping restore some of the life, I'm happy to do it. I think I'm going to explore the possibilities and pray about it more specifically.

I want to end this by linking to a blog post I somehow stumbled onto. Honestly, I have no clue how I found this but I'm SO glad I did. I think reading something like this makes me realize my feelings aren't unique. And that gives me a reminder to pray about this, for this area, the cities of St. Bernard and Cincinnati and the people there. If you live anywhere in the Greater Cincinnati area I really want you to read this and pray too. I'm interested and excited to see God answer these prayers:

http://mariatortilla.livejournal.com/362124.html?view=892556#t892556

Bruiser.

"Sean's face? Meet the table."

"Table? Meet Sean's face."

(Hoping this isn't an ongoing thing.)

Doritos Commercial

So Doritos ran a contest for people to submit commercials and the winner will play during the Super Bowl. This is my favoriate and makes me laugh every time. The actress is hysterical and her "old school" hand sign cracked me up. And the mustache? Dude, the commerical should totally win on the mustache alone.

Here she is, the "Checkout Girl":

Horrifying.

You know what's scary? Tonight, I turned on the radio in the car and the station I scanned to advertised that they were having an "All Hits Weekend." And then they played Ice, Ice Baby by Vanilla Ice.

What makes it more than merely scary? I sang along to the chorus. And may possibly have bit my bottom lip and bobbed my head while car dancing.

Then the kicker: the next two songs in their "All Hits Weekend?" Black Eyed Peas and Kid Rock (I'm considering the possibility that my burrito contained hallucinagens and instead of "All Hits Weekend" they were really saying, "Songs that sucked hard weekend.")

Word to your mutha'.

My Haiku Gift to You.

(Ok. So I'm a little inspired.)

Unpronounceable
Swedish name on flat pack box
Blue and yellow joy.



(P.S. No, I don't own that table. Just love the name.)

Sunday night.

I've been avoiding you, internet. I've been avoiding this blog. At first I was able to blow it off as not wanting to deal with Blogger's Beta template conversions and having to go back in and re-write my header code. But that's been done. And I'm still lacking any motivation to blog. It's not like I'm not thinking about writing. It's always there, in the back of my mind. Because this started out as an outlet for me to work through my salvation (if you dig far enough, back to 2004?)

I'd love to tell you that I've been deep in spiritual thought, wrestling with God over my life and what it means and what I'm feeling. I wish I had a smart ass way to tell you how totally uninspired I feel right now in a lot of ways. I know those of you who know me will read that to mean I haven't worked on anything lately. Which isn't the case - I've been working on all kinds of stuff lately. And some of it has been pretty good (some of it has not, but that is just because I'm working from a pre-existing site that was not my own design and the design snob within is being a mighty beeyotch.)

No, I've been busy work wise. But I just feel kind of "half there" in everything right now. Am I unhappy? No, not overall. Am I depressed? I don't know. Am I uncomfortable? Most definitely. I feel as though my body is betraying me and these birth control pills I'm taking to regulate my hormones for the PCOS nonsense are doing a job on me. Add to that the fact that Liam has decided he "hates" school and spent close to an hour crying at bedtime trying to convince Rusty and I that his principal and teacher told him there was no school tomorrow (ok, that look of total "I'm serious, we really don't have school tomorrow" was funny, I'll admit.) I'm just... I don't know. I was going to type "drained" but that doesn't feel right. I just feel uninspired. Maybe I keep coming back to that word because the artist in me really does find bunches of tiny inspirations every day. I get sidetracked by a glass cup full of sparkly junk in my workroom and it makes me happy. Usually. Now I find myself missing it in the moment and wondering later what happened to that minute of my day today?

I guess the bottom line is that I don't feel like myself. I'm not depressed. I'm not falling apart over Liam now being back in therapy once a week for a while. I'm just tired. And missing my old self. And hoping to God that Heather's right and this will pass once my body starts to regulate itself more efficiently.

A month ago I'd have told you I don't like my body, I am unhappy with myself and my fitness and my attitude. Now I just can't wait to get "myself" back.

Cheese, anyone?

*EDITED: For some reason, when I pasted the link the computer had retained a stamping link I had used earlier (that was posted on the Design Board for Amy at RMH) -- Try the link now. You'll know you're in the right place when you see the kid holding his blocks of Christmas cheese (And I had no clue what Heather's comment meant until I read Jodi's and put the two together...)

You have to read this. Especially if you have kids. Or know any kids. It will make you laugh. A lot.

In Response to Raisins

P.S. Make sure to read that kid's Christmas list. I adore the request for cardboard boxes ("for hiding places.")

P.S.S. I know that you know this is a shameless way of adding a blog entry without really blogging. But let's just ignore that, shall we? It's been a hard week.

Greatest Hits Volume 1.

This cold is kicking my butt. Sean has been up each of the last two nights for random conversation and snuggle time. I'm exhausted. My house looks like Christmas threw a wild party and then split when it heard the cops were on the way. Liam is back at school (he's not very happy about that, I might add) and our master bathroom hasn't been cleaned in at least two weeks. So what can I write that will make it seem like I'm making an effort, yet will require as little effort as possible? I'll do what the great recording legends do... a Greatest Hits collection! Brilliant!

I figure this is probably a decent idea as I've had this blog for over two years now, our family has gone through a lot of changes in that time and what better way to bring any newcomers up to speed than to post links to some of posts that kind of explain who I am and who we are and why we seem to be in a state of semi-chaos a good deal of the time (or I could just give you the short answer to that last one: we have two little boys. Any other questions?)

I wasn't sure how to go about dividing these "Greatest Hits" (oh yes... "dividing"... indicating this will take up more than one post.)

(Again: Brilliant!)

I would say the posts in this blog come under one of a number of headings: Our family in general, the boys specifically, Liam's issues, home renovations, my issues with church and "Christianity" and trying to work through that, and general stupidity. A few of those topics are kind of heavy. So let's start with general stupidity and the boys as they are the most fun, easiest to read, and won't drive you away wondering how you'll ever recover those lost minutes of your life spent reading my stressed out rambling.

So without further ado? The Art Chick Blog Greatest Hits, Vol. I: Nonsense - The Boys' and Just in General

(arranged from oldest to most recent)

Chapter One: Fun with Parenting
Why I Don't Have Dogs

Funny Boy

Because Things Aren't Fun Enough Around Here

Another Day

Mug Shot

Summer

Conversations with Sean - Age 3

Quote of the Week

Twinsies

Chapter Two: Basically Kind of Silly
This House Hates Us

Dictionary Time

My Musical Tastes

Sorry Excuse for a Post

Shame - It Can Be A Good Thing*

*The "Shame" posts needs to be noted that I am not dogging on the 80's. I'm totally dogging on watching Red Dawn (for the first time, as an adult, out of context chronologically and politically.)

Prayer for Deedie and Ramsey - Christmas Day

Merry Christmas, everyone!

Please pray that God would keep Deedie, Ramsey, Aschen and all of those involved with the adoption process safe. That He would protect the other children and caregivers in the orphanage and that others won't be afraid to continue with their adoption plans now that primarily Christian Ethiopia has gone to war with mostly Islamic run Somalia (by all accounts the fighting is taking place in Somalia and Ethiopia is safe.)

Even knowing that the fighting isn't happening in Ethiopia itself, I'll be so relieved to hear Deedie and Ramsey and Baby Aschen are back safely on U.S. soil.

Running playlist.

Three times this week someone asked what I listen to when I run (plus I told one other person who didn't really ask but I told them anyway.) Here's a partial list:

(Warm Up)
Killing Me Softly - Fugees

La Tortura - Shakira & Alejandro Sanz
Pon de Replay - Rihanna
Bitch - Meredith Brooks (seriously, if you're shaking your head and tsk-tsk'ing right now? The lyrics to this song are perfect. One of my favorite songs.)
Alison's Starting to Happen - The Lemonheads
Nearly Lost You - Screaming Trees
Bring Me to Life - Evanessence
Faint - Linkin Park
Sabatage - Beastie Boys
Girlfriend - Matthew Sweet
Be My Yoko Ono - Barenaked Ladies
Ain't No Other Man - Christina Aguilera
Authority Song - John Cougar Mellencamp
Stupid Girls - Pink
All I Really Want - Alanis Morissette
Beverly Hills - Weezer
Hey Jealousy - Gin Blossoms
Your Love - The Outfield
The King of Bedside Manor - Barenaked Ladies
I Want You to Want Me - Letters to Cleo
The Boys of Summer - Don Henley
The Distance - Cake
Desire - U2
All Right Now - Free
Mama Said Knock You Out - L.L. Cool J
And She Was - Talking Heads
You Spin Me Round - Dead or Alive
Just Like Heaven - The Cure
Hit Me Up - Gia Farrell
Life Less Ordinary - Carbon Leaf
Why Can't I? - Liz Phair (Yes, not "real" Liz Phair tunage, I know, but still runable.)
Gone - Switchfoot
Are You Gonna Be My Girl - Jet
Wonderful Night - Fatboy Slim
Tainted Love - Soft Cell
What I Got - Sublime


Very schizo mix, no? Works for me. Obviously I don't get through the whole list... yet.

Running Challenge Accountability: Friday 12/22 - 3 minute warm up, 35 minutes running

What the farm?!

So all night I've been trying to figure out the anwser to this burning question:

Who sang the 80's rock ballad classic "Total Eclipse of the Heart?"



If you said "Bonnie Tyler" then you are way smarter (or older) than I am.

P.S. After we hard this song on the radio? We heard one with the lyrics "...closer than my peeps you are to me, baby..."

Pure. Musical. Genius.

Girly Health - UPDATE

Hmm. Yesterday? Not a good day. Had my appointment with my primary care doctor. Took in my info from the the girly doc, printed out a week's worth of Weight Watcher's food diary to show what food I've been eating and the running I've been doing (down to the time and speed I've been running) and didn't wax or pluck any of the fun little facial hairs because I figured they're "symptoms" and he'd need to see them. I was actually pretty excited to be getting this taken care of, remember? Yeah, not so much.

First hint that things may go bad? I'm telling the doctor about my blood work in Maryland (which is in the chart in front of him) and about my girly doc appointment Friday. He glances down at the chart and says, "That's odd because I don't see anything about glucose in here." Since the nurse from this very office called me last week to let me know they'd gotten my records and the nurse from my old practice in Maryland called me to see if I'd followed up with my new doctor I figured that was a good reason to go ahead and follow up with my doctor, right? He just seemed... irritated? I think that's a good word to describe it. So I mentioned that yes, that's a little weird considering that was the whole point of the appointment and start telling him about the reason I went to the girly doctor and what's been going on.

First I mention the acne and weird little facial hairs. He didn't write anything down, didn't ask if how long this had been going on or if I had any other symptoms. So I also mention the fact that I'd never had a weight problem before and the only other time I'd needed to lose weight (which was after two pregnancies) I followed the program and did it with no problem. I showed him the print outs from Weight Watchers. He didn't look at them. But he did start talking:

Dr.: Your body is like a checking account. You put energy in, in the form of food, just like you'd put money into your account. You take energy out when you exercise, just like making a withdrawal from your account...
Me: What?
Dr: At the end of the month, if you have more energy in your "account" than what you use? You won't lose weight.
Me: Uh, ok, but what about this then? (holding up print outs) And why is my body no responding to the very same thing it did two years ago? And why is this weight more around my middle and torso (probably first time in my life I ever said "torso") instead of around my hips and thighs like any other time I gained a few pounds?
Dr.: See this piece of paper? (holds up paper) This is your checking account statement...
Me: ...the hell?!
DR.: ...at the end of the month, if this shows more in than out? No matter what you say, you won't be losing any weight.
Me: Are you kidding me? ::sniff::

Oh, yes, the crying started. This doctor had no clue as to what I had come in for. He didn't pay any attention to anything I'd said - didn't pay attention to the acne, the hair, the weird weight gain. If I hadn't had everything written down by my girly doc I doubt he'd have done anything at all. I started sniffling. That's the first time I've ever had a doctor talk down to me like I'm a ridiculous child. I know how my body works. I know to eat less and exercise more. If I didn't, I'd have had a weight problem long before this started. He has my records, he can see (if he looked) that my weight is higher than normal for me.

Aside from the weight, this guy has to have some clue that this PCOS issue also means Rusty and I won't be having any more kids unless we want to go through a lot of fun drug interaction. Right now I need to start taking birth control pills to get a regular period again. You have to be ovulating and having a period to get pregnant. But you can't get pregnant while taking birth control pills. So stop the pills... and stop ovulating and you're back to square one. PCOS is one of the most common reasons for infertility. He has to know that. And yet no questions about whether I was ok with this or if we'd been wanting any more kids. Do we want more kids? 99% sure we'd have said "No, thank you." But having that 1% taken away with no say in the matter really cements the deal for you and that's a hard thing to think about - having no choice anymore.

Now, I'd like to pause for a moment. Some of you may be thinking, "Well, doctors can be kind of bad when it comes to personal matters or empathy or whatever." And, you'd be right. Except? I found this guy through the Christian Blue Pages. Yes, against my better judgement. I don't automatically go for "Christian advertising" for this very reason. This doctor's resume is very impressive and his resources are another reason why we chose him (he runs a sports injury clinic as well) so I figured it was a good mix. The first appointment we had he asked if he could pray for us because (he said) it sounded like we'd had a hectic couple of months with the move and Liam's therapy. I was a little surprised but it was kind of nice I guess. He's a nice guy and was great with Sean at his appointment. But when something really personal happens and I could use a little bit of extra understanding? You'd think Mr. Christian Doctor Man would be the first in line seeing as how he really should understand the implications of how this will affect a lot of personal areas of my life. But no. Instead I get the condescending "Your body is a checking account" talk and when he sees my total amazement at his lack of sensitivity he leaves the room, comes back with my lab orders and walks out again (I'm still sniffing and obviously trying to not fall apart.) He does turn around once in the hallway and says, "If you have any questions don't hesistate to call me!" and walks away. So much for all those bible versus plastered on your website and your Christian music playing in the waiting room. Where's all that "Can I pray for you?" crap now?

Maybe I'm just irritable (or hormonal! Surprised he didn't throw in the old "you're just hormonal" angle to really seal the deal and get me going.) But I was insulted. Was I talked down to because I'm chubby? Because he's a Christian man in a position of authority and I'm a woman? Because he's a clueless wonder and had no idea what to say? I don't know and I don't care at this point. If you're going to claim to be a "Christian Doctor" and a "Christian Practice" and advertise it all over the place then follow through and even if you do think I'm just a hormonal whack-job? This is what I mean... use Christianity to suck people in and then once you've got them, treat them like dookie. Has happened at churches we've been to while I was growing up, happened in school all the time and that's why I avoid "Christian professionals" who us Christianity in their advertising. Liam's therapist is a Believer but he doesn't advertise it. And he's amazing. God really does work through him. This doctor I saw yesterday? I know I'm not supposed to be judging and blah blah blah but I'm going to go with my initial feeling that God would have whacked him on the head and asked what the crap he though he was doing talking to someone like that.

And I guess this post kind of reveals my feelings about "Christians." I'm scared of them. I'm scared of anyone who uses their Christianity to gain anything other than their salvation. I love people who are sensitive, sometimes unsure, funny, sympathic, occasionally angry about something, empathetic, and sometimes not very nice and who also happen to be followers of Christ and will openly admit they're imperfect and sorry about that. But I can't stand "Christians" who are "Christian" when it suits them and otherwise have no use for you. Maybe I'm being harsh. But I had a hard day yesterday.

And my "checking account" is a little low this morning because I've yet to make my daily caffeine deposit.

UPDATE - Mystery Smell

Ok, this is weird. The smell is gone. It was gone the next morning after that last post. I hope it's not just messing with me and we'll come down Christmas morning to be b-slapped with the mystery odor again . Can't take stinky-ness (which is probably causing at least a few of you who know Rusty to shake your heads in confusion.)

Speaking of "stinky" and "Rusty?" I went to one of his indoor games this evening. Walked into this very nice complex, opened the door to the smaller fields and oh my heck it smelled like dead feet. What is that? How can a smell fill an entire two-soccer-field sized area? Why would you not pad the walls with Odor Eaters or Febreeze the turf? Sprinkle some baking soda? Light a match for the love all that's good in the world?! Worse part of this story? I knew that smell. Rusty's car smells like that. Like an open Adidas soccer bag full to the brim with sweaty gear. His Civic smells like that, his last car smelled like that and the first car he had when I met him smelled like that (though he cleaned it up well when I first met him so the smell hit me sneak attack after I decided Rusty was kind of cute and had nice legs...Niiiiiiice, soccer player legs....)(Sorry.)

Ok, so point of this post: stinky smell in kitchen gone. Stinky smell at soccer plex conquering multiple playing fields. Rusty has nice legs.

The End.