She's No Toni Basil...

I think I must have done something right with my children.  They're happy little elves; such charming sprites.  Somewhere on the corner of Crazy Avenue & Neurosis Street, these kids stand positive and shining and good humored...and dancing.

It's understandable, I suppose.  We have random dance parties.  You *could* be one of the few & proud to have driven by our home, with our blinds up, while we Get Down, Get Down to some grooving beats after dark.  My husband and I arbitrarily engage in bad ballroom dancing in the kitchen whenever we have a moment.  And our children love it.

Music.  We definitely need music!  I've sung to my kids since they were babies.  We sing in the car.  And, most recently, we've encouraged lip-syncing (due to multiple ppl listening to different music at the same time).  Bad. Bad. Lip. Syncing.  Which they get from their father, who can never remember the words of his beloved favorite band, let alone whatever happens to be hip at the moment.

In a rare moment, my youngest slid off the couch from where we were snuggling, and she was enjoying the musical stylings of Katy Perry's "California Girls" (she's a bit obsessed with CA, btw) - and burst forth into full performance.  I can only hope this makes you smile as much as it makes me.  Prepared to be wow'd - and just know, she gets it ALL from her father.  Look out white girls everywhere...this kid can break it down....

Do You Kids Ever Sleep?

This past weekend, we took a road trip.  Stayed in a hotel.  Ate out.  Went swimming in a hotel pool.  Ate out.  Went to a museum.  Stayed. In. A. Hotel.  Did I mention that we stayed in a hotel?  Hmmm.  We did.  All night long.

We had a few days off, and wondered what to do.  Let's do something special for kids!  There's this wonderful museum a ways away (two hours-ish, give or take, but with three small kids, that is not an easy road trip to make) that we've always wanted to venture to, but didn't think it was a good day trip.  AHA!  What if we go the night before, stay in a hotel...do the things our kids have never done before - you know: swim in a hotel pool, jump on the beds, use those little annoying shampoos that never have enough for my insanely thick hair...  YES!  And so we did.

We traveled successfully.  We swam swimmingly.  We ate heartily.  And then we went back to the hotel.   Worst night of my life.  Everyone had their jammies on.  The girls shared a bed.  My husband and I shared a bed, and my son got the roll-a-way cot.  At around 9:30pm, we all climbed into bed.  And then it began....

Whispering.
Talking.
Complaining.
Rolling over.

45 minutes later, I yell, "GIRLS!  CUT IT OUT AND GO TO SLEEP!"

Rustling sheets.
Rolling over.
Moving.

Two hours later I yell again, "OMG, LADIES: GO TO SLEEP!"

Moving.
Rustling.
Sighing.
Fake yawning.
The pitter patter of little feet?

Another hour later I freak out, "WHAT THE HELL, GUYS?  GO TO SLEEP...FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, I'M TIRED!"

Rolling.
Frantic rustling.
Groaning.
THE PITTER PATTER OF LITTLE FEET....

Another hour passes, and God-so-help me, I must be the worst mother ever.  "WHAT THE SHIT ALREADY?  CAN'T YOU GUYS JUST GO TO SLEEP?!?"

At this point, my poor sweet son blurts out, "THE SHIT'S IN THE POTTY, MOMMY!  I HAD TO POOP AND DIDN'T WANT TO FLUSH AND WAKE YOU UP!"

I roll over and cover my face with my pillow.  Somehow, amidst the best laughter of the day, we all fall asleep...only to wake up about four hours later; exhausted.  My three wee ones are bright eyed and smiling.  I inform them it's time to leave the hotel.  I'm sure they'll be thrilled to know we're not coming back after barely sleeping last night.  Right?

Wrong!  I've decided my children must be the undead as they never sleep...and had to be dragged out of the hotel.

Yield To The Right Of Way

My oldest and I went to the store the other evening.  It's wonderful how children grow and change and form their little personalities, isn't it?  She's eight now, and very smart, and veeeery precocious.  We were discussing music.

Musically, I'd like to think of myself as pretty eclectic, listening to a bit of everything, and I'm trying to expose my kids to the same.  In any case...I'm driving along, just enjoying the moment.

"Mommy, who is your favorite singer?  Billie Holiday?  Adele is mine.  What is your favorite Billie Holiday song?"

Whoa.  This question caught me off guard, I admit.  Interesting, "Hmmm, baby - I'm not sure.  I have to think about this one.  Can I give you more than one? [she shakes head]  Ok...lemme think..."

At this time I approach a three-way intersection.  I love math games: Three cars approach the intersection at the same time - who goes first?  NO!  You are wrong!  The guy who doesn't even bother to stop at his stop sign gets to go first.

"NICE STOP DICK FACE!"

I hear giggling coming from the back seat.  Inside, I am shuddering at my outburst right as she pipes up, "Wow, that sounds like such an interesting song!  I'm going to make sure to play it as soon as we get home..."

Who is last to go at the intersection?  The mom in the minivan, head on steering wheel, laughing her face off.

It's NOT a Tumah...

So, it's been a while.  I know, I know.  So much has been up lately for me on a personal level that I just couldn't post again until I was comfortable with my results and talking about it.  You know me, I have to talk about everything: the good, the bad...the leaky plumbing.

So, about nine months ago, my endocrinologist decided to pull me off my meds.  What was the worst case scenario she asked?  I could get my symptoms back, which could prompt for insurance to cover additional testing and better treatments.  [spoiler alert - I'm about to post a TMI - if you're not interested in learning something personal, don't click any links].  See, I have Hyperprolactinemia.  No big deal right?  Except that the ONLY known cause is a tumor of sorts.  A. Brain. Tumor.  But...whatever.  This is old hat to me as I've been undergoing treatment for eight years now.

Here's where it gets interesting: normal levels should read about 10-ish.  Mine is about 130 and no one knows why.  So, Doc pulls me off meds, my once controlled prolactin levels once more sky rocket...and I'm immediately put back on meds and sent for MRIs.  They're sure it's a tumor this time!  Guess what?  It's not a tumah.  Good news, right?  Nope.  Not for me.  Seriously, could I be the only person on earth who PRAYS that I have a brain tumor?  Probably [shaking my head]...

So, eight years later, I'm back at the drawing board.  I'm on such a low dose of a medication that the doctors have no idea how it is lowering my levels and stopping my symptoms...but I'm on a medication that has no known long term effects; indefinitely.  No long term effects you say?  That must be good.  Nope.  Not for me.  There's no *known* long term effects, b/c it is not meant to be taken long term.  It is meant to be taken in a high dose until that pesky tumor is shrunk and has vanished then stopped completely.  But, I have no tumah...so on my circle goes.  I can't come off the meds, b/c who on earth wants *those* side effects?

The worrisome part, the part that I've had to take some time for me to come to grips with is that while I'm being labeled as 'Atypical Hyperprolactinemia' (Fancy, huh?), that it could be something else completely that I'm not exhibiting symptoms of.  What all that really means is that there's something wrong and causing my issues, but no one knows WTF it is, nor can they test for it (as it is, insurance doesn't cover my bi-annual blood work, b/c some presumed pimply faced intern deigned that it was not needed.  Thanks, and your medical degree is where?  Oh...).  It's hard for me, the planner, to rectify that something *may* or *may not* surface in 15 years that could be detrimental to my health, that could have been easily prevented.  [sigh]  It's not easy for me.

But all things considered, I'm happy.  I don't have a tumah.  And I guess I should be thankful that the faucets are in place; even if they have a slow leak....