*Sit down. Relax. Pull out your child's Halloween candy. This may take a while.
I PROMISE as soon as Danny and I figure out exactly where on the computer the princess party pictures are saved, I'll post it with details.
Cinnamon Raisin Bread the new and improved version: Omit the melted butter underneath the cinnamon-sugar mixture. Then the whole thing sticks together better, tastes better, toasts better, and is a little healthier for you.
So, today I had an appointment to see the doctor (not my regular doctor) just to make sure I knew what kind of "sick" I was dealing with and how to recover ASAP.
He said, "You've got the flu. It's viral." And then he said, "The key is hydrate, hydrate, hydrate. You're not 'clinically dehydrated' yet, but pretty close." (And yes, he used the quotation marks sign with his hands.)
And then he prescribed Immodium AD for what Immodium AD is used for and recommended I use it, but that it's up to me, and that I should pump and dump and just give my baby a bottle for a couple days. He also prescribed a medication that's not a sulfa drug (sparing me anaphylactic shock, thankyouverymuch) and thus must be taken for 7 days, 4 times a day for a bladder infection-- instead of the 3 days the sulfa drug would've been. He said I don't have a bladder infection for sure, but the lab detected blood in the urine and it's probably the start of one and was I "possibly having a period or just about to start one?" When I told him the date of my last menstrual cycle, September 14, 2006, eyebrows were raised.
I explained, "I have a 5 1/2 month old and just had a blood pregnancy test at the lab just-in-case." Which was negative. So breathe folks.
And then he said, "How is the medication for post-partum depression?"
He said, "Are you thinking of hurting yourself or anyone else?"
"Umm . . . no. I'm just really ornery" (but I didn't say that, I just thought it and I thought it with the pronunciation awn--ree because I think awr-nuhr-ee is hard to say and sounds weird anyway. And I'm not ornery anymore. Nope. not at all.) "No I'm not. Thank you. (followed by a cheesy "I'm all cured." grin.)
But the worst part about all of it, just before running out the door to the van I looked in the bathroom mirror and noticed a speck of pepper in between my front teeth. Not the two front teeth that are in the middle, but the one in the middle and the one right next to it. On the top. (Important details, I know). And I thought, "hmm . . . that's interesting considering I have had about a gallon of Gatorade in the last 24 hours and 5 saltines and a Twix and I'm pretty sure none of them contain pepper." So I got the nifty little flosser and first used the pokey end of it to try to pull out the pepper. And then I discovered it wasn't pepper. It was in fact a nice sizeable home that a cavity creep created right in plain view of just about anybody. So, I rush downstairs and say,
"Danny, what do you see?" and flash him a toothy smile.
And of course, he's thinking, "Hmm . . . okay, I better answer this right. She's been sick, so I'm not sure how well her brain is functioning." And then he stammers and says, "wellll . . . what should I see?"
So, I say, "That speck of pepper that's not really pepper and it's a gaping hole no wonder my teeth hurt!"
And he says the most comforting thing, "Honey, you're going to be in dentures before you're 40."
But I reassure him with, "No dear. There's Lumineers now."
I'll look like a movie star. At least that one tooth will.