Sunshine and Lollipops It's Not

You know those days when you're just so happy to be a parent? You just look at your children and you know that bringing them into the world was the best thing you ever did, and you can't believe how cute and smart they are and you don't know how you got so lucky but you want to praise Allah or send a shout-out to the Goddess or whoever was responsible for blessing you with such a marvelous gift?

Today was not one of those days.

Actually, this whole week has not had a day like that in it. Both boys are sick, G. and I are sick (but not as bad) and the amount of mucus in this house is reaching biohazard levels.

A. is quite stoic and refuses to admit when he's sick.

"I'm not sick! I'm fine! :::cough-cough-hack-hack-blow-bubble-out-of-nose::::" So he's fairly low maintenance except that I have to run around after him with a kleenex all day. He refuses to keep a tissue under his pillow at night saying, "If I need to blow my nose, I'll just call you." Yeah, that's kind of what I'm trying to avoid.

Ben, on the other hand, really doesn't like being uncomfortable. So he wants to be held constantly and won't sleep for more than half an hour at a time. He doesn't just want to be held, he wants to be held and walked. And not just walked anywhere, but walked in the direction in which he is pointing. I am his personal Segway. And, you know, he's sick, so if you don't go where he's pointing, or, Gd forbid, if you try to put him down, he's all, "Waaah! I'm sick! I'm miserable and all I'm asking for is a little help getting around but you're ignoring me and fine, I'll just sit here and produce a river of mucus from my nose to drown in. And good luck paying for all the therapy bills when I'm a teenager and I remember how you neglected me!"

Having to walk Ben all the time means A. gets whiny and goofy in a bid for equal attention. So they're both whining and crying constantly and my clients want me to call them back and I just want to go far, far away and have Miguel bring me fruity drinks with umbrellas. I want to lie back in the sun and listen to my tunes and have someone else wipe the noses.

Add to that the fact that it's been raining for most of the month. So we're stuck inside most of the time and I'm cursing e-Bay's rules that won't let you sell people, especially children.

A. is working on using the potty. We finally decided that if we waited for him to show the signs that he's "ready," we'd be buying pull-ups until he was in college. So we took off his diapers at home and he finally got tired of getting his legs wet. Now he's pretty well potty trained (for pee at least), but he also insists on being naked all the time. This limits our activities just a bit.

I spend a lot of time cleaning out the potty chair, and Ben knows it's an important piece of furniture. And, by the way, here's what he thinks of his Veggie Puffs. (edited to add: he's putting them in, not taking them out)

Updates All Around

I was feeling OK about things because G and I had remained healthy although both boys were sick. Then Gd smote me for my impudence.

I gotta tell you, though, those Zicam things really work. A. and Ben are still all snotty, but I'm already feeling better.

You know, when you're anticipating being a parent, you might think about some of the gross things that come with being a parent - poop, vomit, etc. But I'm here to tell you that the grossest thing about being a parent and the best form of birth control for me is sleeping next to an baby who can't blow his nose. Arrrgh. And don't believe those nurses who'll tell you to use the bulby suction torture-thing. I know of one person in the world who can get a reasonable amount of mucus out of her baby's nose with that thing. The sound of a baby breathing through his nose despite an enormous amount of mucus will make your husband's snoring sound like sweet music. And yeah, I gave him decongenstant and we had the humidifier going full blast. I also steamed him and served him up with a nice dill sauce. Just kidding. I steamed him in the bathroom with the menthol stuff. I did everything I could think of to get his sinuses to drain.

And regarding my head: I had another CT scan yesterday and guess what? I'm released from neurosurgery care! I don't have to have another CT scan and I don't have to go back to see Dr. Clean. When we left, G. thanked the doc for helping us avoid surgery, and the doc said, "Yeah, well, I'm glad it turned out OK, but you don't really want to be that close to surgery again." I keep forgetting that I came really close to having my head shaved, my scalp peeled back, my scalp cut open and staples put in my head.

OK, now I've really gotta go wash the hair I still have.

Never a Dull Moment

Heard this morning from A's room, 3:30am:

A: Papa! PAPA!! (BTW, whom he calls has no relationship to who actually gets up and goes in)

Me (stumbling in): Whatwhatwhat? You need to go back to sleep, buddy, it's the middle of the night.

A (eyes closed): I was thinking we could make fruit salad tomorrow.

Me: Um, OK.

A: I will get the grapes and maybe some watermelon.

Me: Yeah. OK.

A (still not opening his eyes): OK. Goodnight.

Me (goes back to room and pokes G. because these are his genes that are waking me up in the middle of the night): Hey! Wake up! A. wants to make fruit salad tomorrow.

G: mumble mumble

The Cutest Thing

You know how when your friends or siblings have kids, and you don't, and they say stuff like, "Oh, you've got to see this! Look how cute this is....C'mon Taylor, give Mommy a kiss..." and the baby leans forward with their mouth open and goes, "aaaahhhh" on your friend/sibling's nose?

And you're like, "Yeah, cute. Just like every other baby I've ever seen do that."

And friend/sibling's like, "Oh dass so sweeeeet! Such a sweeeet baby!" And you think, "Damn. When did friend/sibling lose their mind?"

Well, Benster is doing the open-mouth kiss thing. And he climbs up on me at least 10 times a day, says, "aaaahhhh" and puts his head on my shoulder. Then he's off again. And I cannot get enough. It's the cutest thing I've ever seen. Seriously.

So that's as good as it gets with trying to take photos of the two of them. (papers and elements by Nikki Meador at www.scrapwithnikki.com )

Before I had kids, I used to go all out on St. Pat's Day. I tried starting an annual Irish dinner, but Irish food sucks, so I changed it to all green food. NO food coloring, either, if I can help it! We've had salad, green vegetables with herb sauce, pesto pasta, cream of various green vegetables soup (the best was roasted asparagus and leeks), and fish with dill sauce. Lime jello, too - although I concede that probably has food coloring in it.

One year I made Irish Flags - a layered drink with brandy, irish creme and creme de menthe. Yeah, yuck, but after you drink the first couple practice ones, they get better. Now that we have kids, I made do with shimp and pesto spaghetti and beer in green bottles. That's as festive as we get around here.

A. is very into holidays, so I told him that St. Patrick's Day was a day when we all wear green and eat green food. I don't want to get into the "our ancestors came from Ireland" talk because it's hard enough for him to understand that much of our family lives in another state, let alone another country. We did mention at dinner that a long time ago, St. Patrick went to Ireland and told all the people there about God and so we have a special day for him. That's it. He watches only PBS which didn't mention St. Pat's Day as far as I could tell.

So he turned to me and said, "I love being Irish." I've never told him that he's Irish. I don't think I've ever used that word around him. I asked G. if he'd been saying it, and he said No, and besides, if he'd said anything it would be that A. was Irish and Italian.

What freaks me out is that there are times I swear he's channeling my mother. When he was a baby, he'd reach up and mindlessly finger his hair, exactly the way my mother did when she was watching TV. So I said, "Wow, who told you you were Irish?" and he answered, "I don't know. I just knowed it." He's the only grandchild (on our side) with her treasured red hair, and I know she would've thought he was hilarious.

So after claiming pride in his heritage, he told me, "When you were a baby, I used to teach you stuff." OK, this was getting weird.

"Like what stuff?" I asked.

"Like how to dance while you were standing up."

Phew. My mother never taught me to dance while I was standing up. Couldn't be her.

Chicken, Rice and Blogs

Thank you, everyone who weighed in on the posts they liked best! I really appreciate it.

A. was giving me a list this afternoon of what I could make for dinner. On his list was, "Wine with potato sauce," and "Oversize chicken."

"Oversize chicken?"

"Yes. That's the new chicken that tastes like strawberries."

He then decided he wanted chicken-rice-and-sauce, which is chicken breasts with Dopiaza sauce (mmmmm),
but we didn't have any sauce. So he suggested "chicken-rice-and-flour." I told him I didn't know how to make that, and he tried to explain it to me, but I finally got him to eat chicken nuggets.

He's just trying to get out of cooking later.

Have I Told You Lately That I Love You?

So I need some input on your favorite posts here at Everyday Lunasea. Here are some that got lots of comments, but if there are any that you think were particularly memorable, like, if you remember them at all, could you let me know? I need to collect a few. It's hard for me to pick because darnit, I like 'em all.

Strange Things I Believed As a Catholic Child
Scary Kids Books
Oh, I liked this one too
You've Been Talking In Your Sleep (in which we are introduced to G.'s sleep-talking)
Congratulations, Your Baby's a Klutz
Confessions of a Neighborhood Snob

I've been drawn in by the Cult of American Idol again. I really like that several of the contestants are funny-looking this time. I really like Taylor and His Spams (the name of his future band). And Bucky's hair tonight? That's how my hair is supposed to look. I thought it was quite lovely. Chris - he's the one with the stepkids, right? I remember thinking that it was really touching that he adopted his wife's kids so he's good too. And Paris, even though she's a baby, she's pretty darned talented. But I'd bet on Katharine to be in the top two. Melissa and Kevin are going pretty soon.

Happy Birthday, Buddy

One year ago today, Fussy/Smiley Boy came into the world. On the one hand, it's gone by amazingly fast. On the other hand, it seems like he's been part of our family forever.

Little Mr. Freud

When I get home from work, A.'s already gone to bed but he's usually still awake, so we snuggle for a bit. He always asks about my clients and what they said. I give him a quick synopsis and try to answer his questions as best I can. He always amazes me - is he really interested or does he just have really good conversational skills?

A: Did you have another client?
Me: Yes.
A: And how are they doing?
Me: Well, she's pretty upset because she feels like her work is too hard.
A: Too hard?
Me: Yes.
A (thinks): Well, sometimes people can get tired of work and they don't know how to change it.

Um, you're three and a half and you don't even know what work is. Where do you come up with this stuff? Who are you channeling?

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This afternoon, G. was playing with A. and told him, "Pretty soon it'll be time for your nap."
A. replied, "Oh no! I think I know better than that!"

Payback

Longtime readers (and family members and friends and anyone else willing to listen to my stories) will remember that G. talks in his sleep. Last night, around 2am, A. shouted out, "Papa! PAPA!" with such intensity we thought there actually was was a monster in his room. As G. got out of bed to go check it out, A. yells, like it's an emergency, "WHAT ARE YOU DOING NOW?" I started laughing and when G. came back to bed, I whispered, "He was fast asleep, wasn't he?" G. said yes, and I said, "Yep. Welcome to my world."

The other night G. shook me to wake me up, right on schedule (between 12 and 1 am), and asked, "Are you OK? Do you have enough oxygen?"

The thing is, even if I answer him, he doesn't believe me.

"Are you SURE???"

"Yes, goddamnit, but you're not going to have enough oxygen very soon because I'm going to stuff this freakin' pillow into your mouth."

I'm Wearing Eddie Bauer Tonight

We were driving a friend home today and he said, "So, no crises this week? You guys are getting boring."

Little did we know that when we got home, I would find that the VCR that I programmed to catch the first 3 hours of the Oscar coverage would have spit the tape out and therefore, not recorded anything. It's evil and I hate it. It does stupid things like spit tapes out all the time for no reason. How sorry are you for me that I don't have an iPod, Tivo or even extended cable?

So I did watch the end of the Oscars, and I have a question - did they play music during all the speeches? It was distracting and just an overall bad idea. You could tell the winners were thrown off because you hear music during your speech, you think, "My time's up and I'mgonnatalkreallyfast." Even though I'm sure they were warned ahead of time, if you win an Oscar I'm guessing you're just trying to get up the stairs without tripping.

Donatella Versace needs to stop the plastic surgery.

Wasn't Rachel Weisz the one who was married to Macauley Culkin? OK, no. I love the internet.

Before I had kids, I used to try to see all the big nominated films before the awards. Those days are long gone, unless they start giving Oscars to Heffalumps.

OH! I forgot some firsts in my post about firsts - for the first time in 4 years, I am wearing non-nursing bras. This is the first time in 4 years that I have not been either pregnant or nursing. Yep. Dug the old VS bras out, and while they're a little small still, it's nice to wear something besides white cotton bras with flaps.

The other first is that A. is sleeping without a pacifier, finally. So now without it, A. needs more snuggling before bed, which is kind of sweet. We take about 10 minutes to rock in the glider and talk about the day. He told me while we were snuggling last night, "I'm a boy who likes to talk a lot." Yeah, I noticed. What's not sweet is that he calls us back about 8 times after bedtime to ask, "What are you doing?" and "What are you going to dream about?" He decides ahead of time what he's going to dream about. Last night he said he was going to dream about being a clock. Tonight he's going to dream about being out in the rain. Nothing like taking control of your dreams.

My Head's Feeling Roomier Already

According to my Johari window,

93% of people agree that Lunasea237 is intelligent.

So of course I'm like, "Wait a second....who doesn't think I'm
intelligent?"

Turns out everyone but G. chose "intelligent" to describe me. Hhhmph. He's just threatened.

So the CT scan looks quite good - my brain did much better this time. The clot is down from 1.9 cm to 1.1 cm. So it's almost half the original size. What pleased me most was that Dr. Clean (who we know now has 7 children, 3 of them redheaded) said, "That's better than I expected."

I told him I was still having some visual weirdness in my left eye, and he said, "Oh, I'll send you to the eye doctor. They'll test your visual field and other things. (pause) Of course, it won't help. They can't do anything, but...." Then he led me out of his office. He's a nice enough guy, but he never finishes his sentences.

This time we had to take the kids with us, and A. got to see the CT scan. But what really impressed him was a bunch of men gathered in the hall discussing how to move another CT machine in. They pulled out their measuring tapes and A. was entranced.

One of them measured the hallway and then snapped his tape back into its case, (you know, where you release the button and the tape retracts quickly into its case) which I guess is against Contractor's Code of Ethics because the other men acted like he'd painted over a window. One said, "That's YOUR tape, right? Sure am glad you didn't do that to MY tape!" accompanied by gasps and groans from the others. The next time he slowly eased it back into the holder (case?). So I was wondering, what happens if you snap it back?

It was weird explaining to A. what was happening. We were in the waiting room with a bunch of old people and I was telling A. that they would be taking pictures of my head, then we'd see the doctor. I could feel everyone's eyes on me and I wondered what they thought. Same thing in the neurosurgery waiting room - everyone was pretty old except me, G. and the kids. You could tell people were wondering what was wrong with us/me. Nobody gave us any money, though.

Tell Me What You Think....

....my blog says about me. Or what you think if you know me IRL. The problem with this window, of course, is that it's not exhaustive and it only lets you pick 6 items. But hey, give it a go. I'm curious. My Johari Window

Oh, and I get another CT scan tomorrow. I'm hopeful that the clot is much smaller. I'm feeling much more like myself this week, and I'm tired in the I-have-two-kids-in-diapers kind of way, not the my-brain-is-damaged kind of way. So I'm hopeful.

Big Week

So it's been quite the week of firsts here at Chez Lunasea.

1. Ben is crawling and cruising. He finally figured it out, a week and a half short of his first birthday. He still goes backwards most of the time, getting stuck under furniture, and still does the crawling-furiously-but-staying-in-one-place thing, and he complains most of the time. But he can make it across the floor, and can cruise around the train table, much to A.'s dismay. And he claps. That's new. I'm going to find a patty-cake marathon to enter him in because he could go all day. He grabs my hands and forces me to patty-cake against my will all the time. Since I manhandle him against his will all day long, I figure it's fair.

2. I have a nice routine during bath time - get Ben out, dry him off, get him at least in a diaper, go get A. out, wrap a towel around him, let him parade naked through the house while I get Ben in jammies. Worked great. Tonight I'm drying Ben off and A. appears, with the bath mat wrapped around him, at my side. "I got myself out of the tub!"

"How did you do that?"

"Because I wanted to get out."

"Yeah, I know why, but how?"

"I don't know."

3. A. also got himself nekkid all by himself for the first time.

4. A.'s also gotten 3 stickers for peeing in the potty. He's tired of me asking him if he wants to poop in the potty, so if he's about to poop, he fixes me with a stare until I ask him, "What?" and then yells, "I don't want to use the potty!" That's how I know I'll have to change him in a few minutes.

5. Ben eats grown-up food now. Only grown-up food. He eschews baby food, leaving me with a pantry full of organic bananas and oatmeal. He only wants to eat something if he sees us eat it. That means he'll eat Life cereal but not Cheerios. I've told him over and over that babies are supposed to love Cheerios but he's not swayed.

I think A. might be spending too much time on the preschool computer programs. While he was picking out his four books for night-night time, he pulled one off the shelf, looked at it, mumbled to himself, "No, that's not right. Try again." Then he pulled another one off, looked at it and rejoiced, "That's the right choice! Good job!"

He told me before bed tonight that we needed to say prayers. I asked him what we should say and he said, "Ga-ba A."

"Ga-ba A.?"

"Yes. And Ben."

"Ga-ba? Ga- ba. Oh....God bless A. and Ben?"

"Yes. And Papa. And Uncle Barry."

Uncle Barry gave him 6 EXTREME STEAM train DVDs at Thanksgiving, which I think is why he gets top billing. Or maybe he thinks Uncle Barry needs the extra blessing.

If you need to laugh...

..and you might, after contemplating the previous entry, watch this video. Make sure your sound is on. I promise you'll laugh too. Thanks to Busy Mom for the link.

Question

Deep question: If there was a particular date on which you were going to die, but you have a choice of either knowing about it 4-5 months in advance, or just dying suddenly on that date without warning, which would you choose?

Sorry, But I Gotta Record These Somehow...

...so I'm gonna share them with you. More conversations with A:

"Mama, did you have any dreams last night?"

"Yes, but I don't remember them. I think there was fruit involved."

"Fruit? Banana's a fruit. What fruit did you dream about?"

"I don't remember - maybe an orange."

"Oh, an orange. An orange is a juicy fruit. Can you think of other fruits that are juicy?"

"Um, grapes."

"Yes, yes! You're right! Those are juicy fruits! Now do you know one that's red?"

OK, look, dude, I went to almost 30 years of school. I don't need an oral exam first thing in the morning. He's not even in preschool and he's already the teacher.

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He's been trying to stall bedtime lately. He goes in fine, but then comes up with all kinds of sudden needs.

"Mama! Mama!"

"WHAT??" (He'd already called me back to use the potty and get cough medicine, so my patience was wearing thin).

"What are you doing in the kitchen?"

"You don't need to know what I'm doing in the kitchen. It's night-night time."

"But WHAT ARE YOU DOING??"

"Remember the spoon you just used for the medicine? I was putting it in the dishwasher. Good night."

"But I have some things to talk to you!"

"After night-night is not the time to talk, though, it's the time to sleep." But last night I came home from work after he was in bed and we had a nice little snuggle and talk in the rocker, so I knew he wanted that again. It was also his second night sleeping without a pacifier, so I knew his anxiety level was a little bit high.

"OK, what do you need to tell me?"

"I thought you were watching the 'lympics!!"

"If I ever make it back to the family room, I will watch the olympics. Or I might turn 'Dancing with the Stars' on."

(heavy sigh) "I wish I could watch Dancing with the Stars."

"Yeah, well, you didn't take a nap today so there's no way you're staying up late."

"But, but...stars don't have feet!"

"True. Good night."

"Stars can't dance! That's silly."

"Yep, you're right. Good night."

"But sometimes stars can come down to the sidewalk."

"They fall out of the sky?"

"Yes. And then they have feet. And then they can dance!"

"OK, that works. Good night."

"But Mama, I can dance. I can do dancing tricks. Like upside down. That's a good trick." He was getting desperate.

"Yep. Maybe we'll dance some more tomorrow. Good night."

"But I don't know how to go to sleep all the way!"

"Yes you do. You're a very good sleeper. You can start by lying down."

"I want more lights on."

"No, because that will make it hard to sleep. And it's sleeping time."

"It's fine. I'll be FINE."

"No. You're three years old and it's your bedtime. Good night."

The one good thing is that at least he understands what I'm saying. Ben just plays dumb when I tell him 4:30am is not an appropriate time to wake up. It's like that Gary Larson cartoon where the human is talking to the dog and all the dog hears is "blah blah blah blah blah." Ben grins his big grin at me like he's hearing "Oh Ben, you're such a cute baby when you get up early!" even though that is most certainly not what I'm saying.

Speaking of Ben, he's going to be one year old in two weeks. How'd that happen? He's still not moving around of his own accord, and appears to expect us to carry him to high school.

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Conversations with A.

This morning A. decided we needed to discuss the ottoman.  

“I think it has a screw wrong.”

“Oh, a screw is wrong, huh? What should we do about that?”

“Actually, I fink it needs to be zamined.”

“Um, what?”

“I fink it actually needs to be zamined.”

“You think it needs to be examined?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m going to move it into the kitchen and then we can cook on it.”

Good as his word, he pushed it onto the linoleum in the kitchen, and returned. He sat in Ben’s little chair, and said, “Now I will talk to you about it.”

“OK.”
“It’s in the kitchen now. We can use it to cook.”

“Um, I guess so.”

“Yeah, and the screw is still broken. But I don’t fink it’s really bad.”

“Do we need to fix it?”

“Yes, but maybe we’ll fix it a different day.”

I love these conversations because I never know what he’s going to come up with. I just wish I sometimes knew what the hell we were talking about.

A Few Random Stories

A few stories from the hospital:

There was no traditional nurses' station - the nurses worked at built-in desks along the walls of the corridor. So walking down the corridor, I walked right between these desks. They had files, binders and supplies on the shelf above the desk, and one of the bins was labeled, in really big letters: CADAVER BAGS. I had vision problems and even I could read the label and see the bags as I walked by. Don't you think they could have put them in a cabinet somewhere? I mean, do they really need such quick access?

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G and I ventured down to the vending machines one night and, hungry but trying to be healthy, I asked him to buy me some Kashi cereal. Upstairs, I found my nurse and asked if there was any leftover milk I could have. She brought in a carton, and was carrying a brownie that looked like it was leftover from a dinner tray. She said, "I wasn't sure if you wanted anything with it." But it was weird - she was holding it sort of to her side, like she didn't really want me to see it. She turned back to the door.

But I had a head trauma and figured I could be bold, so I pointed to it and said, "What's that?"

"Oh," she stared at it like, how'd that get in my hand? "It's a brownie."

Might as well go for broke. "Well. Can I have it?"

"Oh, yeah, sure."

I hope I didn't take her dessert, but hey, I had an epidural hematoma and they were waking me up every 3 hours to take my vitals. The least they could do was give me a damn brownie.

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While A. and my niece were visiting, they found the buttons at the end of the bed and pushed them all. I didn't know they did anything until an aide came in to help me unplug the pump and wrestle the IV into the bathroom. When I got up, an alarm sounded. We didn't know what was going off until the aide figured out it was the bed alarm - they set it to alert them when a confused patient who is supposed to remain in bed gets up. When she realized it was the bed alarm, she grabbed my arm and said, "That's for disoriented patients! C'mon!" and grabbed my arm and started dragging me back into the bed.

"No! The kids were playing with the bed! That's not for me! I can go to the bathroom!" They were pumping me full of fluids so the situation turned dire rather quickly with her pulling on me and me trying to free myself.

Eventually she believed me, but I was afraid I was going to have to punch her like Jack Bauer in 24.

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I asked the brownie nurse, whom I liked, what she thought of my doctor. She'd expressed some frustration with Dr. Ray of Sunshine for not allowing me any food when surgery wasn't imminent, so I figured she'd be honest. So I asked her what she thought of Dr. Clean and she said, "Well, he's been here forever." Okkkaay. I laughed. I mean, it was an unfair question.

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More good news: Today was the first day I felt like myself. I think I might actually get better. Yeehaw.

TMI about TBI

It's been two weeks since I slammed my head into the asphalt in front of our house. I had no idea that recovering from a concussion was so hard. I don't think I've really known anyone with a concussion since grade school when a kid hit his head on the closet ceiling and was out for months. I guess I thought one might get some headaches, and slow down for a few days but basically I assumed everything goes back to normal pretty quickly. I had no idea.

I've never been so tired. Even when I was pregnant and anemic it wasn't this bad. And I don't know if my brain isn't working the way it used to because of the fatigue or because it's bruised. I'm really, really irritable and I feel bad because I'm so impatient with A. I snap at him easily now, and I never used to do that. I'm frustrated because I don't know what to do with myself. What were my routines? How did I entertain the kids? My big goals are to make sure the kids are dressed and fed each day. Bathed once in a while, too. I don't remember what I was working on before I hit my head - I think I wanted to clear out the office so Ben would eventually sleep in his own room. Now I think about working on it and I have no idea where to start. Maybe I'll just go lie down for a while.

I wake up with headaches every day. I'm lightheaded a lot, and it's bad enough that I don't drive unless I have to. I feel like I have chronic low blood sugar.

And the worst part is that according to what I can find, these symptoms can last for weeks to months. And some people never recover fully at all.

I'm trying to stay positive and remind myself that things could be much worse. I'm trying to look at this as an opportunity to revise how I take care of myself. This is my chance to be more mindful and conscious. So I'm trying to make the best of it. But really, it pretty much sucks.

There is good news: It's Cadbury Creme and Caramel Egg season.