Transitions

All along I thought The Boy didn't have a transitional object.

Turns out, after all, he does. A little plastic sheep. It's something that he carries everywhere, and has for months. He only lets go of it in his sleep when he's unconscious. It's the first thing he looks for when he wakes up in the morning, and the last thing he lets go of at night. I've replaced it twice already when the earlier versions were either lost or broken.

I'm so hoping he doesn't want to upgrade:


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QOTD:

"Nothing now remains for us ... but to go back to Stable Hill, proclaim the truth, and take the adventure that Aslan sends us." -- C. S. Lewis, The Last Battle

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Dino Wrangler On the Loose!

Here's an image that sets the tone for the weekend:

Energy to spare! How I wish I was that young again.

Happy weekend, everyone!

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It's Friday Again

I'm short on words today. So here it is: go to Carrie's and get in on the Friday Fun.


Here's mine. Whenever I forget what it's all about, I get a reminder...

... a very sleepy reminder!

Adorableness just oozes out of him lately. Am loving it while it lasts (until the next growth spurt that is.... he's outgrown most of his size 3 clothes, and he just turned 3!!!!).

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QOTD:

I found the following comment today in a book, and it brought me much amusement:

"On enquiry and mature deliberation, I prefer Canada to New York for two reasons, that it is wilder, and that the women are handsomer...." -- Frances Brooke, The History of Emily Montague

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Existentially Speaking...

(... this could also be titled: Spring Resolutions... but who makes resolutions in the spring? That's just weird! =P )

I'm still trying to figure out who (or what) I am. Lately, I've spent a lot of time so focused on being WackyMummy that I haven't spent much time being the other parts of me, and now I'm not very good at those other parts. (I figured this out because most of my blog writings are on either The Boy or some aspect of wackymummyhood.)

Here are things I know I am:

• WackyMummy
• complainer/whiner
• student
• The Boy's chef
• wiper of messes
• do-er of laundry
• browser of internet sites (mostly Facebook, Blackboard and blogs)
• oh yes, writer of WackyMummy blog

Here are some things I've lost touch with and am not so good with being/doing anymore:

• friend
• sociable person
• seeker of truth (yes, can forget about this in being a student)
• volunteer
• employee
• wife
• small-talker (goes with being sociable, I guess)

There are a lot more, but these are the ones I miss the most.

I don't like being a hermit, but that's pretty much what's happened. I blame it on the area I live in. Sad thing is, I don't know if I'd be living any better anyplace else. But I damn sure want to try and find out! In the meantime, I guess I better use what options I have (mostly the internet) and try harder... even being a friend online is better... they have been my lifeline since I've been here, so I owe it to cyberspace... and myself... to be the best person I can be. Even here.
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Loose Ends

We've achieved some awesome goals here at the WackyHouse: The Boy has finally completed his growth spurt (of approximately 2 - 3 weeks duration) and is back to his normal cuddly self. Thank goodness! I didn't know how much of the other creature I could take!

I have finished my online business class (but will be starting another in a couple of weeks).

I'm finally over that horrible cold... which thankfully didn't hit The Boy as hard as it hit me.

And I'm done, hopefully, with the latest fibromyalgia flare-up. (Yes, we've been busy.) Because of the fibro flare-up and the cold, I've gained at least 15 pounds and am in my "fat" clothes... 2 sizes up. That's what fibro does to me. Oh, yeah, and that whole "feed a cold" saying is so true; I couldn't stop eating! It was unreal. Luckily I'm back to my normal abhorence for all food (except spicy ethnic, of course). Gotta get back to what exercising I can do to fit back into my normal clothes. So glad spring is here and that nasty dirty cold snow is gone. Yes sirree!

So, as you can tell, I've got a lot of loose ends to tie up here. Might be busy for some time.

Then again, I might not.

Apma and our kindly neighbour helped me move "the rock."




It was awfully nice of them to help, but now how am I going to spend the summer? Oh, yeah: digging out one of the other dozen or so big-ass rocks that are everywhere in my yard!
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Roasting Wienies

You know winter is gone for good when you have your first wienie roast of the year. While I recycle like an obsessive-complusive, I don't always compost, so I have a nice collection of deadwood I've scavanged from the edge of my yard (technically the edge of the woods next to my yard, but that's merely semantics, right?). We needed to burn stuff tonight--in part due to Evan's request, but also to get the dead stuff cleaned up while we're "making over" our yard. Tonight was so calm and peaceful (and not much like the rest of the week) so I just let it all go and made him happy with a campfire. Our little campfire is approximately 3 and half feet across and lined with rocks, but the seared earth extends a little further out... we take our campfires seriously. (To date, several trees at that end of the woods have died from smoke inhalation, leaving up a few upright dead ones which have become inhabited by beautiful red-headed woodpeckers. Ooops.)

Evan has been around fires since, well, shortly after his birth. He's fascinated by fire. But he's learned to respect it and is pretty good about it, so I watch him but I don't worry. We picked up pine cones and deadfall and got our little pile up to a fairly respectable blaze. Which then concerned me because the wind picked up and headed towards the woods. I kept a close watch on that, and thank goodness the fire behaved... as good "little" fires do.

Then I got the brilliant idea of a wienie roast. Yes I did. We got our food together, dusted off the old crate we use as a table and just went hog-wild. I was so relaxed and having fun with Evan... almost makes me believe that his recent growth spurt is over. (Yes, my friends, about an inch in under 2 weeks). Those few nights of misery (mine and his) and his recent personality change were, thankfully not a permanent alteration nor a sign of future ritalin scrips, so Yay!!! But back to our story.... he ended up eating 3 hot dogs, all on his own. Then he asked for more. Luckily I knew better than to give him all that he wanted (but only from my dear friend and mentor: experience), so I cut him off and we went inside. Yes, it was a campfire, but darn, it was getting cool.

Thought I'd like to share a picture or 2 or more of our very first roast of the season. Summer's almost here! Yippee!!!

He takes his job pretty seriously.

Or, I should say, he takes MY job pretty seriously. What the heck. He just takes my job!

I think I could handle more of his cooking!

My dirty little guy! Awww!

I just went with the mess... I mean, we were outside. Why fight it?!

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Digging Away

I'm really struggling this week with The Boy listening to me. And by listening, I mean actually hearing me, processing the information or request, and then following my directions. It's either a blank stare at me or "No! I won't!" It's really tiring me out.

I do have a picture to post here for Foto Friday. Something good I'm trying to direct our attention at until this Tyrannical Three phase passes: we're digging rocks out of the garden. Big rocks. The biggest. I'm not sure how big this rock actually is, but we've been at it a couple of hours, and I'm starting to fear that it might actually be bigger than our house. (Now, our house is only 850 sq ft, but that's still saying something.)

Happy Friday! May next week be soooo way much better than this week!

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Happy Special Day of Spring and Renewal

Spring officially comes in late March, but so does snow usually, and therefore it doesn't feel like spring to me. Easter is about the time that I really begin to see the season change and feel like it could possibly become warm again, maybe. It really helps also to find a pile of hardy little crocuses bursting through the ground, growing despite the fact that just a few weeks ago the area burned quite thoroughly.

So to make a long story short: Happy Easter, Pesah, Baisakhi, Saka New Year, and a belated Happy Jalal, and Spring Equinox!

Easter Outfit... Says It All

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Lights On, No One Home

I'm not really here this week... very stressful week. It's taking all my focus to stay SaneMummy. Too much whining, too much defiance, not enough cooperation. This time, it's all on The Boy's side. I hope it's just Being 3 that is doing it, and he's not emotionally stunted due to my parenting errors. One can hope, anyways.

I will be back once sanity is no longer an issue. Take care, all.
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A Milestone

Today's a milestone for me: my 100th post on this blog. Okay, so, not such a big deal. But for me, someone who in her childhood dreamt of becoming a writer, and then while growing up realizing that I actually had nothing to say... well, this is cool that I still have nothing to say and yet, here I am: writing. That rocks.

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My beloved, The Boy, raised the bar on Saturday night. Just feel that it deserves mentioning here. I use Blackboard and Eluminate Live! for my online studying (yes, just trying to better myself). I had a meeting set up on Saturday night ('cause I really know how to party on the weekend) to discuss a group project with my fellow unfortunate group members. It was as if The Boy sensed that there was something important going on that he needed to be awake for; and no, I did not tell him I had a meeting because that would have kept him awake. Silly me! (I've not attempted this before without having someone else watch him for me.)

Long story short, he stayed awake throughout the rather brief (45 minute) meeting of which I have no recollection: he coughed repeatedly into the microphone, sat on my lap and played with the keyboard, cried periodically, and then pooped in his half-assembled potty in front of me which required a recess from the hugely productive (I hope) meeting to clean it up. He finished off the evening by falling asleep rather abruptly in my lap mere minutes after signing off--a full 2 hours past his bedtime. (I won't even mention that I still had a sore throat and could barely talk during the meeting... I actually think croaking is the correct term in my case.)

Still sick and desperately needing to study. (So why am I here?!) Just saying...
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Cute Boy Stuff

Waiting through this cold is kind of annoying, so I decided to take matters in my own hands. I'm sick of feeling sick, so I decided to make The Boy and myself feel better. He loves to go to the mall. He begs to go to the mall. (A boy after my own heart.) Our mall here sucks, but he still likes to go and look around and run down the hall, and maybe connive a ride on the carousel. I'm a sucker, what can I say!

Yesterday after venting, I put makeup and jewelry on--not something I usually do but a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do--and dressed The Boy in a cute outfit and we went. Well, he was so adorable that he charmed not only compliments from complete strangers, but also cookies and a stuffed toy. Yes, we know how to work it. It's the kind of thing that turns around my whole day. And then on the way home, he wanted to hear LeAnn Rimes music and asked me to sing too. (He usually doesn't like my singing because, frankly, I can't carry a tune.) Doesn't get better than that.

Here he is in all his cuteness. And he knows it too.

Watch Out! She's About to Blow!!!

I'm a little angry. Not a lot. Just a little. I hate being sick. Hate it hate it hate it. I would like to put more emphasis on it, but am a little tired from the whole sick thing.

I'm not a wuss. I've had this cold for a week, and while I realize that it's not that long (for one of those long drawn-out 2 week affairs of sniffles sneezing and snot), it's more than long enough for me. I usually get sniffles for under a week, and NEVER have a cough. I simply won't allow it. (Goes back to traumatic childhood memories of hearing my dad cough for 3 years... straight... before finally succumbing to lung cancer.) And now I'm sicker than a dog. (Whatever that means.... I've never seen a sick dog, so I don't know. Now, I've seen sick cats--lot of 'em.)

But it's not that. I was finally feeling well again recently after being sick for so long. I had energy; I was gettin' stuff done... I was even kickboxing again. Well, doing some of the aerobic kickboxing exercises I used to do a long time ago. That counts for something, right? But the point is, I was better. You see, I've been "feeling unwell" for about 4 of the last 7 years... that's a long time... from this stupid fibromyalgia (or so my doctor says). From '02 through '04, and from late '06 to January '09. That's a lot. I went from being a fairly confident, energetic, interested, and active person who kickboxed and traveled regularly to someone who could barely get out of bed. (I've had symptoms of this condition since I was 19, but only experienced "life is unbearable" episodes for 4 years.) While the chronic pain was a bitch, it was the chronic fatigue that got me. And while I lost interest in doing things, it was the inertia I experienced that kicked it out of me. It was a slow decline, and I lost my ability to do things faster than my interest in doing them. So I was very confused and frustrated for a long time. I started getting better, and then "complications" of having a teething infant set off another "episode" that lasted for over 2 years.

There is no cure. There is no real treatment. There is a part of the medical community that doesn't believe it's a real condition. (There's a part of me that believes I don't even have it... that it's something else... something simple that nobody sees...) The only "treatment" that doctors (plural) have tried for me is anti-depressants. They have a theory that it helps with the same chemical reactions in the brain that contribute to the fibro. I can tell you: it doesn't work. Let me state it again just to be clear. It Does NOT Work. In fact, that "treatment" made me consistently worse; it not only worsened most of my fibro symptoms, it made me depressed. Yes, that's right, anti-depressants make me depressed. And I let the doctors try no less than 7 different ones over the years. Doesn't that say something? What kind of person gets depressed from anti-depressants? Someone who obviously doesn't need them! (Sorry. Sorry, just bitching here.)

So, yes, I'm just venting about the fact that I was finally feeling better and almost back to normal when this cold kicked me on my ass. I can't take traditional medicines for colds... anything from cough syrup to antibiotics sets off my fibro. So I can't treat cold symptoms like everyone else. I just have to use home remedies (hot lemon/honey tea, Vick's rub, and lots and lots of Advil) and wait it out. Wait and wait and wait.

I just can't wait until I kick this cold and can get back to getting myself better. That's all.
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Dino's Shouldn't Jump On the Bed With Boys

Still sick... still feeling crappy. And then I got a burst of energy out of nowhere. I don't know how it happened. But I was using it to play with The Boy... jumping on his bed. I know, I know. Dumb idea. But if I'm there, nothing bad can happen, right? Right!

We had 20 minutes of good fun jumping, tossing pillows at each other, etc. He was full of giggles and enthusiasm for it. Then Nannie came by to pick him up for the afternoon so SicklyMummy could get some rest and get better. (Yeah, right!) And of course it had to happen. Of course it did. Just then, the dino that Evan carries around in his hand all day long connects with his mouth and he's off into Wah-wah land. Crying and crying. Of course, I made light of it. (After all, aren't kids always getting little boo-boo's?) Then I see the blood.

Twenty minutes of careless harmless injury-free fun, and a cut lip the moment Nannie walks in. (My poor little baby!!!) Oh boy. Am I going to hear about this now!!!
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Nothing To Talk About Today

When we're not wrangling dinos here, we do other things. Right now I can't remember. We have such colds! I'm so stuffed up I can't think. So, there hasn't been much to write about. I mean, just because we've seen all imaginable and unimaginable colors (for that matter) of mucus doesn't mean that particular rainbow is aesthetic. So I won't mention it.

The Boy crawled into bed with me last night, probably because he was fussy and cranky and coughing. So then, despite earplugs and another half sleeping pill, I didn't get much sleep due to unanticipated random jabs in my spine from his kicks--through the pillow I placed between us to prevent such nighttime atrocities. Being as tired and grouchy as I am now, I'm very tempted to yell at him, but it's not a good idea because he doesn't mean to be so annoying. As well, I've as good as lost my voice due to the same coughs and cold. So I won't talk about that either.

I'm back on coffee since I still have things to do and get through my regular routine. The muddiness between my ears sort of prevents any valuable contribution to my life, hence coffee to clear away the mud. I think of it as a big caffeinated shovel. I was trying to get off the joe because of the jitters, and I'm not entirely happy about being sucked back into the necessity of drinking this dubious brew (especially because I don't even like the taste) so I'll probably just skip over that subject altogether.

On the upside, The Boy is in such a kissy mood: he wants to give me and everything else (especially dinos) kisses. He even wants to kiss the cat, but can't because she will scratch him. There is the aspect of spreading germs through his demonstrations of affection, so I shouldn't really discuss that here.

So, as you can see, I have nothing to talk about. How about you?

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Almost forgot: first day of the month, so...

Rabbit! Rabbit!

Now good luck will follow!

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