Archive for October, 2007

Allergy tests.

My son went for allergy tests yesterday.  They pricked his back so many times, they ran out of room and had to move to his upper arms.  And his skin is so sensitive, the marks left big red welts for everything, not just things he was allergic to.  But not to worry, they didn’t mistake any of the little welts for allergies because the ones he was actually allergic to turned into ginormous welts.  My husband said his skin bubbled up like it had liquid underneath it.  In fact, they were supposed to wait 15 minutes after to pricking his skin before the test was over, but they stopped it after 6 minutes.  He was swelling so bad.

So apparently, my son is allergic to peanuts.  Which, who knew?  I mean, he won’t eat peanuts.  Never has, never will.  He’s too picky of an eater.  So in this instance, it worked out well for him.

Also, he’s allergic to dust. 

And the whole outside world.

I’ve been given all the information about how to reduce the dust in my home, and have had to take a few deep breaths to stop myself from freaking out because–oh my god–everything in my house is either dust producing or dust harboring.  But I’m working on it.

And the pollen/grasses/weeds/trees, well, there’s not much we can do about that.  Unless you know of a bubble for sale, one big enough to fit a child into as he grows into an adult.  The only thing he has to do that is different from all the things we’ve been already doing is take a shower after playing outside.  Right after playing outside.  I just thought that as long as he got himself washed off before bed, we were doing well.  But I guess it’s not just sleeping in it all night that would bother his allergies, it is also having it on his skin for any period of time.  He’s also been put on yet another medication–this one a nasal spray–to help keep his symptoms at bay.  That makes three different allergy medications.  The boy is getting good at taking medicine.

And there’s a lot more rolling around in my head, but I think that’s what I’ve got to say for today.  I was going to write about the different reactions he’s been having (the throwing up, oh my, the throwing up,) his skin issues, and what the five days off of medications before his test were like, but I don’t really think I have the energy right now.  I’m just glad that we’re doing something that feels sort of like moving forward instead of always stalling out.

Oh, and if you see that bubble, let me know.   Maybe I should check Ebay…



I know, I know, I’ve already told you how much I love XM radio.  But I just have to say it again:  I love XM radio. 

I also love the station called LUCY, for they play the most awesome music.  Here’s what I heard today (all in this order):

The Mighty Mighty BosstonesSomeday I Suppose 

Green Day – Brain Stew

Dinosaur Jr. – Start Choppin’

  Continue reading

Open letter to a cat.

Dear Cat Who Hangs Out Outside My Door,

You do not live here.  You have never lived here.  Please stop trying to come into my house every time we open the door.  And please stop just sitting outside the door and meowing.  It is driving my dog crazy.  She attacks the blinds, whines and barks, and is subsequently driving me crazy.

Now, you seem to be a friendly cat, so I’m going to give you a bit of advice: GO FIND SOMEONE ELSE’S DOOR TO HANG OUT IN FRONT OF.  There is bound to be someone who is very much in love with cats, and who will find you very endearing and ultimately give you a nice home.  I, however, am not that person.  I am highly allergic to cats, and have developed quite a dislike for them.  Nothing personal, but you give me the creeps.  Cats in general give me the creeps.  I am not up for your type of aloofness and rubbing around my legs.  I am more the type who likes to have a dog jump into my arms and lick my face.  (But please, for you safety, do not attempt to do so.  I will probably hurt you in my haste to get you off of me and far, far away from my face.)

In summary, GO AWAY.


E  (the lady who keeps yelling at you to go! shoo!)

Carry on.

Carrying on with the certain theme I started yesterday (Things That Make Me Crazy or TTMMC, for short,) I couldn’t help but tell y’all about my toilet paper.

You see, I bought some toilet paper.  And while I usually do not stray very far from my usual brand, I was enticed by a new! kind, and I thought I would try it.  It was Ultra!  And Softer!  And Thicker!  And who could resist that?

But let me tell you, Ultra Quilted Northern is not necessarily all it’s cracked up to be.  True, it’s soft.  Probably thicker too, although I couldn’t tell for sure.  But it’s only quilted on the first ply.

It’s two-ply toilet paper, and it’s only quilted on the first ply.  The second ply is all kinds of not quilted, and that makes me think that Quilted Northern is trying to pull one over on me. 

Truly, I don’t know why it bothers me so.  I guess it’s because those little quilters on the commercial make such a big deal about the quilting.  Every time I use my toilet paper (oh, there’s a vision for you) I feel like I’ve been cheated somehow.

(And if you click on the link up there, who else is kinda weirded out that they have a Personal Moments – Tell your story section?  I mean, tell your story about their toilet paper and your personal moments?  No thank you, is what I’m saying.)

I’m going off the rails on a crazy train.

I sat in the car line, waiting to pick my children up from school, and noticed a woman walking with an umbrella.  And it bothered me terribly.

I know, I know, an umbrella is usually not the sort of thing to send a mildly-obsessive person into a tailspin, but this time it did. 

It was not the umbrella itself that had me worked into a tizzy, it was the fact that it had stopped raining.  It was no longer raining.  It was dry and the sun was coming back out. 

I just wanted to get out of my car and go over to her an tell her that she didn’t need the umbrella anymore.  More than that, I wanted her to close it right now.  Right. Now.  And I had visions of going over and ripping the umbrella out of her hands while yelling, “It’s not raining!  It has stopped!  You MUST CLOSE your umbrella!”

I watched her walk all the way up the sidewalk and to the front of the school.  I watched her greet her children, and then huddle them close to her under the umbrella.  I then watched her walk all the way back down the sidewalk.  Under the umbrella.

All the while, she passed people who were carrying their closed umbrellas.  She passed people walking with nary an umbrella.  She passed these people and obviously didn’t think a thing of it.  And it bothered me.  Oh how it bothered me.

I think it’s a testament to my strength that I didn’t say anything to this woman.  I realize that my problem with her carrying an open umbrella while it wasn’t raining was mine, and mine alone.  I know deep in my heart that it is perfectly fine for her to walk with whatever she wanted to walk with. 

But, man, it really bothered me.  It’s going to take a long time for me to forget this.

Realizing what is important.

The other day we had one of my son’s friends at the house, playing.  They were playing so well together, in fact, that when in came time to eat dinner, we let him stay.  (Normally, we chase off all the children so we can sit down to eat and have our children actually eat instead of taking a bite and declaring themselves full so they can go back to doing whatever it was they were doing before we so rudely interrupted them with life-sustaining sustenance.)

We invited this child to sit with us and have a little something to eat.  He was so very polite and nice, I marveled at how wonderful he was behaving.  And when he knocked over his mostly full cup of milk, I didn’t bat and eye.  I just told him it was no problem and got the paper towels out to clean it up.

While I was cleaning up the mess–I so want to insert something about not crying over spilt milk here–I thought about how I probably would have snapped at my own children had they spilt their drink.  I know I would have at least came out with a loud sigh and a reminder to be careful and pay attention to what they were doing.  I told myself that maybe I should treat my own children as nicely as I would treat a visiting child.

And the next day, when my son spilt his drink, he began to apologize profusely, afraid he would be in trouble.  I told him not to get upset, it was just an accident and I wasn’t going to be angry with him.  And my husband sat there dumbfounded, wondering why I was so serene about it.

I guess you could say I’ve had a revelation.  Or maybe I’ve given myself a goal.  I want to treat my children as nicely as I do others.  Because, really, they’re much more important to me.

On a lighter note…

ha hA HA!