Letter B

FOLB

Do your friends read your blog? By friends I mean those, you know, "in real life" as they say. As far as I can tell most of mine do not (or if they do, they never mention it). Which is of course okay, I am shocked that anyone reads this stuff, but when I think about it I start to wonder why they don't. If any of my friends had a blog I'd be all OVER it. Like crazy-ocd-refresh person all over it. I guess I expected that people who know me would be more interested than strangers in my musings about my extremely exciting and important life but that does not seem to be the case. (Um, if you are one of my real-life friends that does read this blog, then present company excluded and all that. And, I love you). On the other hand sometimes I think that my entire extended family reads it religiously (hi guys). That gives me a very warm and fuzzy feeling. Kinda like vodka... I mean, tea with milk. I don't know why I bring it up, I just wonder if I am the only one or if other bloggers experience this phenomenon with their friends. (A little footnote to this: one unexpected perk of blogging has been the emergence of long-lost friends who have googled onto this site and gotten in touch. This has happened a few times now and it makes me want to just hug the Internet).

I am ready for fall. Actually I am ready for winter if only to kill all the f*cking bugs. Jaysus. I am still not down with all of the bio-diversity up here. Everyday it seems like a new thing bites me. I almost posted a picture of my lower extremities that were set upon by a serial-killer mosquito. They were polka-dotted with welts. I chose not to post the photo because 1. it was really disturbing since my skin is so pale and 2. the camera adds 10000 lbs to my already ample calves. Also, what is with spiders? And the constant web-making? I have walked into more spider webs in the last 3 months than I have in my entire existence on this earth. Can I tell you that spiderweb-on-the-face is possibly my least favorite sensation? I have trained Lowell to spot them and so he is pretty good at saying "spider" now.  I am surprised that he hasn't picked up "Oh f*cking hell spider aaahhh! Motherf*ck!" (Speaking of which I have been trying so hard to clean up my potty mouth lately since I know that the reckoning is coming. This might be the most difficult part of parenting yet. Why, god? Why was I raised by sailors?). Anyway, bring on the frost. I have had it.

Train I Ride

Last week we finalized the plans for my grandmother to come for a visit. She was coming to see her daughter's family (my aunt and uncle who were the impetus for us to move to this particular town), my other auntie who lives close by, and me, Lowell and Matthew as well. Then, last week, she nearly got run over by a train. Seriously. She was running to catch a commuter train after visiting friends on the south side of Chicago (she herself lives downtown) and tripped onto the track. With the train nearly upon her she flattened herself against the rise of the platform as it came into the station. Some good samaritans lifted her out after the train came to a stop and were relieved to find that: A. she had legs attached to her, and B. she could actually walk on them. She refused to go to the hospital with the EMTs that materialized almost immediately on the scene and was instead driven home by her friend's son. Later, after being talked into going to the emergency room by her nurse daughter it was discovered that she had two broken ribs. My grandmother still boarded an Amtrak train 3 days later to come and visit us. Are you amazed? I was. She will be 85 in December and this is quite indicative of her unsinkable nature. Did I mention she had 12 children? Including giving birth to triplets with 5 children at home? Did I? No? Well, that will give you some idea of whom that train was dealing with.

We had a wonderful visit, all the more poignant given her recent brush with death. Lowell was very shy at first but warmed up after realizing that she could not only catch a beach ball but bounce it off his head on command. He was hugging on her after no time, which was allowed since he only reaches her knees (the rest of us had to settle for air-kisses). I am so thankful that Lowell's two living great-grandmothers can enjoy him. I cannot imagine even getting to hug Lowell's own children let alone his children's children. It must be a joy that is unsurpassingly sublime. I hope I live to feel it myself someday.

In other news we are close to unpacking the last box (for the duration anyway, we won't count the 50 or so in the basement) so I will have to change the design of this blog's header soon. I finally sent out our "we moved" cards with our new address. I think that it took me this long because I really wasn't sure if we were going to stay here. Ha! No, really. I was engaging in elaborate magical thinking where we could actually move back to Brooklyn if we wanted to (we couldn't even begin to afford it at this point). This transition has been so much harder than I ever thought it would be. I think that I assumed that it would be easier because we would have so many more material comforts that it would make city-life-with-toddler seem like a deranged experiment. I was very, very wrong. The deranged experiment has taken on the rosy hue of nostalgia and both Matthew and I have been feeling awful, stabbing pangs of regret. Of course we could undo this if we absolutely couldn't stand to stay in this adorable house with our awesome yard and couldn't face assimilating into this funky and friendly community. We could undo it and flee back to the city. But we won't. I know this now so I sent out the damn cards. (ps. if I didn't send you one it's because i don't have your RL address - my ancient palm died in the middle of our move. Please, please send me an email with your addy if you would like our particulars). This week I have been feeling better about the whole thing, probably as a result of coming to some kind of acceptance of the situation. I know in my heart (as fickle a chamber as it is) that we did the right thing because we couldn't stay in the city without making unacceptable compromises. I know that we'll make friends here and Matthew will find a great teaching job and we'll live, you know, satisfactorly ever after. I know this. I just can't help mourning our old life. It was grand. Even with the cockroaches and the car alarms. It was grand and I some days I miss it bitterly.

List Therapy

Here are a few observations to tide this blog over until I can manage to write an intelligible paragraph again. Enjoy.

Things I have done in the past week that until recently I couldn't have imagined I'd ever do:
1. Considered putting a tv in the kitchen.
2. Drove to a store that was totally within walking distance.
3. Worried about the condition of our lawn.
4. Signed a contract for heating oil (okay, matthew actually took care of this but I stood there wringing my hands in my apron while he did it).
5. Wore shorts almost everyday.
6. Fed Lowell non-organic fruit. (Dammit, it's just too hard to get good organic mangoes here, okay. Stop looking at me like that).
7. Decided to sell a kidney so we can get HBO.

Things that tell me we are not in Park Slope anymore:
1. The cigarette brand of choice among moms at the playground is Newport Lights.
2. Nobody argues about where to go for sushi.
3. Fewer strollers on the main drag. Sometimes we're the only one!
4. Have not had to wait in line for a turn on the swings.
5. Not as much random urine smell.
6. No dog bakery. (Wait! One just opened. Okay, only one dog bakery).
7. There is no such thing as no place to park in this magical land.

On Cold Medicine and Why I Should Not Take It -or- Bad Trip: My 24 Hours on Claritin-D

I am well aware that I should never take anything containing pseudoephedrine. That means pretty much any decongestant on the market is off-limits to me. I learned this the hard way. I would take Sudafed or some other cold medicine and find myself a couple hours later still sitting on the couch staring into space with my mouth open. I stopped taking it except at night. Then came pregnancy and breast-feeding and all the attendant paranoias and I didn't take any type of cold medicine for over two years. Fast-forward to this past friday: I am losing my mind because of the congestion. I am about to rip my nose off my face if I don't get some help. I get cocky, I think, I can take it. I grab the package of Claritin-D that Matthew has been taking for some antihistimine relief from the ivy ("I gots the ivy Ma, the ivy!") and I scan the active ingredients. It does contain pseudoephedrine but what the hell, I think, and I down a pill.

So very stupid. The side effects came on quickly and I realized that perhaps I had made a mistake but ,sadly, it was too late. I was by turns dizzy, thirsty, dull-witted, headached, sore and fatigued yet with racing thoughts of a manic variety. It was similar to my previous brushes with pseudoephedrine but way, way more intense. The side effects would seem to wane a little and I would start to feel just a little bit normal and then all of a sudden I would have to lie down again. I called my sister because the tiny portion of my brain that was still functioning remembered something about her having a bad reaction to Claritin-D. She nearly hung up on me in disgust - "Claritin? You took Claritin? I told you what that sh*t did to me!" She was kind enough to stay on the line long enough to explain to me that it was the delayed release that was causing the ebb and flow of side effects. It gives another dose about every 60 minutes (aha!). Did I mention that I took the 24-hour kind? Last night in bed my brain would not shut down. It was like having a very animated, slightly annoying friend whispering in your ear about all your neuroses ("then, you'll write about this on your blog and it will be the worst entry ever, then..."). And, to my deep dismay, I was still congested. *Shakes puny fist at sky* There was very little actual sleep last night. But who needs sleep at a time like this? With a crazed rash-ridden husband and snot-filled toddler? Bah! Anyway, I have been chastened. It's mentholyptus and neti pots from now on. With the occasional vapo rub possibly. But no more OTC cold drugs. Ever.

Feeling Like Croup, Thanks.

Hey! Do you have any worst enemies? I have something brand new to never wish on them: that their 20 month-old comes down with croup during a heat wave. Lowell woke up at 4 am the other night with that awful croup bark and wheezing so badly that we had to go straight into the bathroom and turn on the shower. Hot, steamy shower on a hot, steamy night with your poor baby clutching you struggling to breathe. Unsweet!

Remarkably we did not panic (even when we realized neither of us knew quite where the closest emergency room is if things got worse. They did not, thankfully). We got him on medication the next day and he is slowly on the mend, but we have been housebound due to the triple-digit heat. Have you ever been housebound with an extremely unhappy, inconsolable, crying, coughing toddler while you sit in a pool of your own sweat? If you have, how did you survive? I am looking down the business end of another long hot day with him and I'm not sure I am going to make it. As an extra added bonus to the world's unhappiest toddler I have a raging head cold, a husband with an outbreak of poison ivy on both arms, and a puking dog. Whoohoo! Superfecta!! Pray for me.