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Last night I attended a girl’s night out for some women in my area and met some of the most delightful people. We went to a dessert bar named Salara. Delicious doesn’t give it enough credit. Sinful adds 5 more pounds to me. Their wine list slogan is, “twinkle, twinkle little sip.” So, how could one not go into it with a smile? We got there and there was live music and it set a nice tone while everyone chatted it up. I started the evening with the chicken crepes and finished up with the blueberry fritters. YUM-O.
April’s girl’s night out: Second verse, same as the first. Can’t wait!
Those are the words every parent loves to hear. It signifies the steps from being a baby to an independent, strong-willed tot. I hear these words a lot and we’re all about Fabul-O doing things herself. Except when it comes to haircuts.
Sunday morning, Olivia was in her cute Easter frock and I had pulled her hair up into a uni-tail. Bangs needed a trim. I would get to them. I was styling my do and hiding the bags under my eyes touching up my make up when she walks into my bathroom with her scissors in one hand and a hand full of hair in the other and proudly exclaimed, “Me do it meself, mommy.” I shrieked. I couldn’t help it. It could have been a lot worse, it just wasn’t expected. Her lip quivered and her eyes welled up. I took the handful of silky locks from her hand and tossed them in the toilet and very politely explained about the use of scissors. Again.
Again? Yes. That was my fault. I had left my scissors where she could get them. She told Will she was going to her room to read. After a few minutes of quiet, he checked on her. I hear, “Your mommy is going to be sooo mad.” OH, my…. I come barreling out of my office to find out she had taken her scissors and started randomly dissecting books from her bookshelf. Angelina Ballerina has chunks missing as do some of our family and adoption books. *sigh* Behind tears she tells me, “It was for the soldier boys, mommy. They need pictures.” Books weren’t all that bad, but I made her throw them in the trash to show consequences for doing things she shouldn’t*. She was following my lead in trying to take care of others. My girl does listen and she does understand.
Oh, and about “mommy being so mad.” Yeah, I nipped that one right then and there. It’s not just mommy who is supposed to get mad. I explained to Will that he’s the daddy and he can be a bad guy, too. 50/50 bucko.
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*Books have since been returned to the bookshelf and all is well…point was well made and well received.
I’m allergic to my dog. Well, not just her, but she and all her canine brothers and sisters as well as cats, dust mites, pollen, grass, trees and cockroaches, but not bad to cockroaches. Great. The one thing I don’t have in and around my house (thank goodness) I’m not allergic to.
Last year sometime (might try to dig up post later, but it wasn’t all that fascinating) I had the blood allergy testing done, but it’s not conclusive, blah, blah, blah. Well, with all the issues with the girls and their recent “photo shoot” (mammogram sounds so blech), we’ve met our family out of pocket deductible and are pretty close to our maximum out of pocket for the year so I’m gettin’ worked up from the top of my roots-need-to-be-done head to the tips of my way-in-need-of-a-pedicure toes. Because of the rash of unknown etiology plus the fact I get all splotchy with beer, mustard, ketchup and anything that has to do with spicy, I had enough of a reason for more allergy testing. I had the scratch test done. Wasn’t pleasant, but it wasn’t unpleasant, either. Apparently, I’m a dermatologic nightmare with my freakish way of splotching to things that touch me and I caused a bit of a rift between the all knowing doctor and the stick lady. Stick lady said it shouldn’t/couldn’t be done for the risk of being inconclusive, doc says do it. Rock, paper, scissors…doc wins. Stick lady was nice, but I found her personality to be a little dry. I stupidly asked the question, “So, if you’re having a bad day, do you ever stick someone just a little harder?” (Secretly wishing I had something to stick people with some days. What an awesome super power to have.) She answered, “No, not really” as she jabbed the next thingy into my back. Now, I’m not saying she did it harder, maybe that area was just a bit more tender than the other 20 she had done. I couldn’t help but laugh and it brought about a chuckle to her, too. So, when she did the ones on my arm, which hurt like a motha, I didn’t say a word. Aside from wincing in pain, there wasn’t much else I could do anyway.
I then find out my beloved Zy rtec D is now over the counter and will cost me waaaay more than my insurance ever did. Damn it. Apparently the non-decongestant version you can still get with prescription because of the generic equivanelnt but there’s not a generic for the D, which I need. So, I have the latest and greatest version of Z-D, but have to take it at night because it might make me drowsy and something else to take during the day.
No food allergy testing until my tongue swells and my eyeballs pop out. At least that’s my interpretation of it.
Next week in the world of what ails me: Patch testing to see if I have a contact dermatitis. Get patched on Tuesday, peeled off and read on Thursday. Hey, at least they gave me a heads up that the doc who will be seeing me always runs behind. So my 4 p.m. appointment means I’ll be home by midnight, Saturday at the latest.
Happy Monday!
And it’s US!
Many Blessings for a Happy Easter!
The Ls
(This is the Easter card Olivia made with her thumb print…I’m sad it didn’t scan better 
)
Over the past several months, I’ve been dealing with some issues with one of the “girls.” I had a rash we thought was an irritation to soap, detergent, or something. After trying different things to clear it up and then having a discharge, my family doctor sent me to a surgeon to be evaluated for a type of breast cancer called Paget’s disease. Yes, it was that serious. I had a biopsy done and was sent for an ultrasound, at which time the radiologist shuffled me down the hall for a mammogram. There was a lump found, which has turned out to be a benign cyst, but I never felt it on self-exams. The biopsy was negative, too.
I was at Shanny’s one day and a lady attending the Pampered Chef party told us about the Aware pad for doing self-exams. I was on a website once to buy it and, for whatever reason, didn’t. Mine should arrive in the next week or so.
The point of my post? Even though I’m in my mid-30s with no significant family history, it doesn’t matter. Take the changes in your body seriously and make sure your health care provider takes them seriously, too.
This year, instead of just donating to breast cancer research, I will be participating in one of the walks. Stay tuned for details.
Me: I love you
Olivia: I love you, too.
Me: Do you know what love is?
Olivia: M&Ms.
Olivia’s school works closely with the county in preparing children for kindergarten. Since she’s in the 3K class, they come in teaching about good health habits, etc. I picked her up yesterday and she had been weighed and measured…
At 3 years, 2 months and 2 days, Faubul-O’s stats are:
Height: 36 1/2 inches
Weight: 30 pounds
Oh, her new shoes…size 7! Yes, my girl is growing up. (a tinsy bit) She can still wear a 6 pretty comfortably and 6 1/2 would be “the” size, but I bought 7s.
No, they aren’t! And just who, pray tell, am I referring to? Bon Jovi fans, that’s who.
The newest member of the L household is the boxed set of (mostly) unreleased Bon Jovi songs entitled 100,000,000 Bon Jovi Fans Can’t Be Wrong…. The Premiere Collection. Yes, it’s release date was in 2004, so I’m a wee bit late, but who knew there were four CDs worth out there and I mustn’t forget the bonus DVD. I’ve seen this set over and over and wondered how it would be. I’m not a big fan of purchasing boxed sets of anything, but B M G had it for the delicious price of $8.00. Yes, my darlings, that is EIGHT dollars and free shipping. Bons rocks and Susan loves a good deal. Win-win. If you could only see the delight in my smile….
On the way home yesterday afternoon from school:
O: Wus for dinnuh? I’m hungry.
Me: I don’t know, what would you like.
O: Let me think…going left or right? (Turning off of our street, we have to go left or right and, depending on which way we turn, that decides our choices of restaurants)
Me: Left.
O: Chinese. I’ll eat green beans, noodles, and baby corns.
Me: You’ll need to ask your daddy if he wants Chinese.
O: He will. He likes it.
Me: We’ll see.
O: We’ll see.
Fast forward to dinner at the Chinese restaurant….
O: Daddy…You dinner good?
W: Yes, it’s delicious.
O: Bon appetit, soldier boy.
Before anyone asks, that’s all the French she knows…we practiced it all the way home. He scowls at me for teaching her some of her most beloved catch phrases. He’s still grumpy over “Bons (a.k.a. Bon Jovi) Rocks!” I, on the other hand, simply love it. love it. love it.
Heh.
Olivia has a word she says, but we can’t understand what it is so she’s not allowed to say it. Well, she’s not allowed to say it for two reasons. One is that we don’t know what she’s saying and two she uses it in a manner where it appears she’s calling someone a name, which is a huge no-no.
Saturday morning, Will had to work so she and I headed out for breakfast and then to do a little shopping. She had been good as gold all morning and we were shopping for Easter goodies for the soldiers and she spied a box of Dora jelly beans. (huge surprise there) I told her since she had been so good, she could have them once we paid for them and got to the car. She was okay with that until that toddler moment struck and the word started flying. Three strikes and she was out. Two eye-to-eye conversations about it with the second a threat to take away her new most coveted prize – Dora jelly beans. Third time, Dora was gone. Plain and simple. Of course, she didn’t like this and went into super stand-off mode. I swear it could be a scene out of an old western, just needed some tumbleweed to blow by before she drew. We put our goods in the car and started on to our next destination. About 5 minutes into our trip this is the conversation that took place:
O: Mommy…
Me: Yes, baby?
O: I so sorry.
Me: For what?
O: Being so ugly at the store.
Me: It’s okay, but we need to work on our behavior and listen to mommy.
O: I love you so much.
Me: I love you, too.
(then I hear a ’sniff, sniff’)
Insert heart melting here. My girl understood. She understood and was remorseful. I’m so proud.
Wait, don’t get your “awww” all worked up just yet. This was all until I got where I could turn to look at her. That ’sniff, sniff’ wasn’t tearful or remorseful, she had the biggest p00-eating grin on her face the.entire.time.
I got played. Plain and simple. Dora is still being withheld on principle.
