Evidently I have anxiety. I know this because a doctor told me. He told my I was completely healthy and therefore the pain on the left side of my chest was from my anxiety.
I was having a lot of pain in my chest. On the left side (that's the bad side to have pain). It was a stabbing pain that would come and go, and I wasn't too worried about it because I am very healthy.
But it the pain kept coming back. The stabbing pain and then just a dull achy feeling.
My husband thought I was totally fine, while my mom said I should probably go see the doctor since it been hurting for three days. My mom is a nurse, so I went with her opinion.
The doctor's office got me in right away. They do that if you have chest pain around your heart area. I had to go in early for an EKG so they could make sure my heart was still beating.
Then I had to wait to see the doctor. I had to wait because they couldn't get me in to see my doctor because she was super busy and booked all day, so I would see some other doctor who I didn't know.
Whatever, I'm really healthy, so no big deal.
And here's where it gets interesting. The doctor I saw was totally tall, dark, and hansome and I was thinking, hmmm, I don't really want him to be my doctor, because there is no way I am getting undressed for this man.
And then he went over my EKG and said it was fine. And all of my tests show I'm really healthy, and I don't have any history of heart disease. And that I have anxiety.
I said "really?"
He said, "yes, you have a history of depression and anxiety, is anything new happening right now?"
And then my mom pipes up, (yes my mother was there, she's a nurse) "well, hubby did just leave to go golfing, it could be related."
Doctor says "golfing, hmmm". Only he said it really dreamy like he would rather be golfing.
I said, "yes he went golfing and left me with his children."
Doctor said, "where did he go golfing?"
Really? Is that important?
So I said, "I think it's my thyroid."
Doctor, "You want your thyroid checked?"
Me, "Yes, I want a thyroid test. The real thyroid test."
Doctor,"Ok, I'll make sure they don't give you the fake thyroid test."
Me, "I want the Oprah thyroid test."
Doctor, "You want the OTT? Got it."
Then I said something about my thyroid being screwed up and I read all about it on WebMD.
Doctor, "You can't believe everything you read on the Internet." Then he got all smug and said, "I'm a french model. Bonjour."
And then my mom started cracking up.
And I was ready to go.
Me, "So I'm totally healthy?"
Doctor, "Yes, except for your anxiety. You can increase your meds and see if it helps."
Me, "So when my chest keeps hurting my anti-depressants are going to help?"
Doctor, "If your chest keeps hurting, then you need to come back."
So we left. And my mom was laughing and laughing and I finally asked her what was so funny.
Mom, "I just don't think that doctor knew what to do with you."
Great.
FYI- my thyroid is just fine and my chest still hurts and I'm pretty sure I have ADD.
Tuesday, March 12, 2013
Wednesday, January 9, 2013
Christmas Break, Take 1
When the kids are on school break, summer, Christmas, or spring, I do this really cute thing where I count down the days on Facebook. It's probably not that cute at all, but I do it because it keeps me focused on the now instead of the tomorrow or next week. That is one of my goals this year (2013), to stay focused on the now. But, this post is about what happened over Christmas break.
My first facebook post for break was: Christmas Break Day 1- Kids have eaten candy canes and Sprite for breakfast. Should be a good day.
Really they did. They ate candy canes for breakfast and I didn't care because everyone had slept in and I didn't have to get up early and get them out the door. If you've read previous blog posts you will remember that getting my kids out the door on time is not one of my strengths.
So, I didn't care, I thought it was funny, but I should have cared a bit more because my second post of day 1 was:
Christmas Break Day 1, part b- Assigned all the kids jobs. Boys are wrestling upstairs and girl is nowhere to be found.
I had assigned the kids jobs because they were already fighting and complaining of being bored. I also assigned them jobs so we could do something fun that evening when daddy got home. Didn't quite work.
What I did learn is the best way for my boys to play together is give them jobs to complete. It worked everytime I needed the upstairs or their bedrooms cleaned. So my house was a mess all break, but my boys made some great memories with each other, and that is what is most important.
My first facebook post for break was: Christmas Break Day 1- Kids have eaten candy canes and Sprite for breakfast. Should be a good day.
Really they did. They ate candy canes for breakfast and I didn't care because everyone had slept in and I didn't have to get up early and get them out the door. If you've read previous blog posts you will remember that getting my kids out the door on time is not one of my strengths.
So, I didn't care, I thought it was funny, but I should have cared a bit more because my second post of day 1 was:
Christmas Break Day 1, part b- Assigned all the kids jobs. Boys are wrestling upstairs and girl is nowhere to be found.
I had assigned the kids jobs because they were already fighting and complaining of being bored. I also assigned them jobs so we could do something fun that evening when daddy got home. Didn't quite work.
What I did learn is the best way for my boys to play together is give them jobs to complete. It worked everytime I needed the upstairs or their bedrooms cleaned. So my house was a mess all break, but my boys made some great memories with each other, and that is what is most important.
Christmas Break, Take 2
As most families, we have some pretty funny Christmas stories. Every year brings at least one new memory for the books.
There was the year that one child opened all the presents two weeks before Christmas. All of them. He did try to rewrap them, but he was maybe five and it didn't work out in his favor. It was very obvious that someone had gotten into the gifts and it wasn't the dog.
And, this year, when the same child drew inappropriate pictures on the gift tags. I didn't realize he had done this until he gave his sister his present and pointed out the gift tag by saying, "Look, look at the tag. It's two balls." Then I had to check all the tags on all the gifts and redo tags. So glad I caught that before all the gifts went out.
But our favorite so far, and the Christmas story that all others are measured by, was the year that the same child caught his hair on fire during the Christmas Eve candlelight service at church.
Now, as a mom, I'm reluctant to give any young child fire, but they were handing out the candles to everyone as we walked into the sanctuary. I mean everyone, toddlers were carrying candles. I wasn't too worried because I was pretty sure he would break the candle before it was lit.
You should know that said child was seven and he had a huge afro. He was very proud of his hair, he had been growing it for months and for the Christmas Eve service he had actually let me comb through his hair and it was pretty poofy. (His words.)
The candles are lit at the very end of the service and he was pretty restless, all the kids were restless. The flames was being passed row by row successfully and our children managed to light their candles while daddy and I watched intently. Everything was going fine. I was actually more worried about the wax that was dripping onto the coat that belonged to he woman sitting in front of us. I was secretly wondering if the church covered the drycleaning for the wax clean up on all of the damaged clothing. While I was comtemplating wax removal, the boy blew out his candle (because that is the best part of having a candle, extinguishing it) and sprayed wax everywhere. At least, fire was no longer an issue.
Until he tried to relight his candle with his brother's candle. Daddy told him "no" and the boys seemed fine with smelling the smoking wick. But with the candle out daddy and I stopped watching and focused on the singing. That was a mistake, because a smoking wick can be dangerous. We found this out when the lady behind us started whispering, really loud, so it may have been more of her just talking, "His hair is smoking, his hair is smoking."
And it was smoking. Right on the top of his head, right at his hairline, smoke circling around off of his forehead. Daddy was so quick. He had that smoke out before we could blink and also thanked the lady for letting us know. Whew, disaster averted.
Until we got home, and looked closely at the damage.
Burnt hair smells really bad. And there was quite a bit of singed hair. So much that someone needed a haircut. On Christmas Eve. At midnight. It didn't happen. And that Christmas we suffered with the stench of burnt hair, but rejoiced in the child.
There was the year that one child opened all the presents two weeks before Christmas. All of them. He did try to rewrap them, but he was maybe five and it didn't work out in his favor. It was very obvious that someone had gotten into the gifts and it wasn't the dog.
And, this year, when the same child drew inappropriate pictures on the gift tags. I didn't realize he had done this until he gave his sister his present and pointed out the gift tag by saying, "Look, look at the tag. It's two balls." Then I had to check all the tags on all the gifts and redo tags. So glad I caught that before all the gifts went out.
But our favorite so far, and the Christmas story that all others are measured by, was the year that the same child caught his hair on fire during the Christmas Eve candlelight service at church.
Now, as a mom, I'm reluctant to give any young child fire, but they were handing out the candles to everyone as we walked into the sanctuary. I mean everyone, toddlers were carrying candles. I wasn't too worried because I was pretty sure he would break the candle before it was lit.
You should know that said child was seven and he had a huge afro. He was very proud of his hair, he had been growing it for months and for the Christmas Eve service he had actually let me comb through his hair and it was pretty poofy. (His words.)
The candles are lit at the very end of the service and he was pretty restless, all the kids were restless. The flames was being passed row by row successfully and our children managed to light their candles while daddy and I watched intently. Everything was going fine. I was actually more worried about the wax that was dripping onto the coat that belonged to he woman sitting in front of us. I was secretly wondering if the church covered the drycleaning for the wax clean up on all of the damaged clothing. While I was comtemplating wax removal, the boy blew out his candle (because that is the best part of having a candle, extinguishing it) and sprayed wax everywhere. At least, fire was no longer an issue.
Until he tried to relight his candle with his brother's candle. Daddy told him "no" and the boys seemed fine with smelling the smoking wick. But with the candle out daddy and I stopped watching and focused on the singing. That was a mistake, because a smoking wick can be dangerous. We found this out when the lady behind us started whispering, really loud, so it may have been more of her just talking, "His hair is smoking, his hair is smoking."
And it was smoking. Right on the top of his head, right at his hairline, smoke circling around off of his forehead. Daddy was so quick. He had that smoke out before we could blink and also thanked the lady for letting us know. Whew, disaster averted.
Until we got home, and looked closely at the damage.
Burnt hair smells really bad. And there was quite a bit of singed hair. So much that someone needed a haircut. On Christmas Eve. At midnight. It didn't happen. And that Christmas we suffered with the stench of burnt hair, but rejoiced in the child.
Wednesday, November 28, 2012
It's Not All 50 Shades Over Here
I've been working really hard on making this appropriate, especially since my 13 year old daughter likes to read my blog. I've decided to give up. Here is what happened...
Last weekend we were able to get away for a night for my hubby's birthday. It was a gift from my parents. They take the kids overnight and we get to sleep, I mean have sex, in a hotel.
If you have kids then you know what I am talking about. It's super exciting to go to a hotel with your spouse because it means you don't have to worry about kids. Kids at the door, kids calling out, "mom, what are you doing?" or "I'm hungry", or "can I go to .....house?" or even worse, starting your business and realizing that there is a child asleep on your floor, next to your bed.
Dinner was fabulous. Good food and great conversation, always nice to catch up with the person you married. Back to the hotel, and oh boy, are we tired. I mean it was 11:00 PM. Way later then we usually stay up doing dishes, helping with homework, and putting kids to bed. Yes, we fell asleep. Don't make fun. It's happened to all of you. Besides, we have all morning, we don't have to check out until noon.
Except we woke up at 7:30 AM to a MARCHING BAND. They were playing for the walkers/runners who were participating in Race for the Cure. A great cause and all, but did they really need a marching band to cheer these people on? The band went through the usual playbook of songs and every few songs they would take a break and we would, wrongly, assume they were done and almost fall back asleep.
I'm not sure who gave up on sleep first, but that led into, are we or not? I mean, this is what the whole birthday weekend is about, no kids and the fancy hotel room. But the marching band outside our window is not helping set the mood at all. So, we finally decide to have breakfast and try later. Except, later doesn't happen. We eat, walk around, try to avoid the race people and finally just pack it up and head home.
Back at home we pick up the kids, order a pizza, and watch a movie. Then, we fall asleep on the couch surrounded by children. Because marriage isn't all about some crazy 50 shades. Sometimes it's just about the time together, even if it does involve children and/or a marching band.
Last weekend we were able to get away for a night for my hubby's birthday. It was a gift from my parents. They take the kids overnight and we get to sleep, I mean have sex, in a hotel.
If you have kids then you know what I am talking about. It's super exciting to go to a hotel with your spouse because it means you don't have to worry about kids. Kids at the door, kids calling out, "mom, what are you doing?" or "I'm hungry", or "can I go to .....house?" or even worse, starting your business and realizing that there is a child asleep on your floor, next to your bed.
Dinner was fabulous. Good food and great conversation, always nice to catch up with the person you married. Back to the hotel, and oh boy, are we tired. I mean it was 11:00 PM. Way later then we usually stay up doing dishes, helping with homework, and putting kids to bed. Yes, we fell asleep. Don't make fun. It's happened to all of you. Besides, we have all morning, we don't have to check out until noon.
Except we woke up at 7:30 AM to a MARCHING BAND. They were playing for the walkers/runners who were participating in Race for the Cure. A great cause and all, but did they really need a marching band to cheer these people on? The band went through the usual playbook of songs and every few songs they would take a break and we would, wrongly, assume they were done and almost fall back asleep.
I'm not sure who gave up on sleep first, but that led into, are we or not? I mean, this is what the whole birthday weekend is about, no kids and the fancy hotel room. But the marching band outside our window is not helping set the mood at all. So, we finally decide to have breakfast and try later. Except, later doesn't happen. We eat, walk around, try to avoid the race people and finally just pack it up and head home.
Back at home we pick up the kids, order a pizza, and watch a movie. Then, we fall asleep on the couch surrounded by children. Because marriage isn't all about some crazy 50 shades. Sometimes it's just about the time together, even if it does involve children and/or a marching band.
Sunday, November 25, 2012
Tardy
This last week we received a letter from the principal of our elementary school letting us know that our youngest son has been tardy to school. A lot. Like 31 of 37 days a lot.
We laughed and laughed, and enjoyed reading and rereading the letter. Ah, the joys of being a parent of a child with acronyms. I'm pretty sure we haven't been anywhere on time for years. Not school, church, doctor appointments, nothing.
The tardiness starts when we wake him up. He doesn't want to get out of bed. Then he doesn't want to eat breakfast. And, he really doesn't want to go to school. He can't find his clothes, his shoes, or his backpack. He hates his breakfast, his lunch and his snack. He doesn't want to walk or ride his bike.
We really tried for awhile. We tried anything and everything we could think of. He has slept in his clothes, walked to school in his pajamas, stood outside in underwear while getting dressed. I have put him in the car naked (he quickly got dressed) and made him change into clothes in the principal's office (this was the principal's idea). He has skipped breakfast, eaten in the car, and eaten breakfast while walking to school. We even have a supply of food at school just for him.
We have bribed him, punished him, praised him. We have put him to bed early and woken him up before everyone else. He has even been left behind when he isn't ready on time.
So, now we laugh. We laugh when aides, teachers, and even principals bring up his tardiness. We laugh and laugh and laugh. We enjoy our breakfast in peace and then we wake up the child for school.
We laughed and laughed, and enjoyed reading and rereading the letter. Ah, the joys of being a parent of a child with acronyms. I'm pretty sure we haven't been anywhere on time for years. Not school, church, doctor appointments, nothing.
The tardiness starts when we wake him up. He doesn't want to get out of bed. Then he doesn't want to eat breakfast. And, he really doesn't want to go to school. He can't find his clothes, his shoes, or his backpack. He hates his breakfast, his lunch and his snack. He doesn't want to walk or ride his bike.
We really tried for awhile. We tried anything and everything we could think of. He has slept in his clothes, walked to school in his pajamas, stood outside in underwear while getting dressed. I have put him in the car naked (he quickly got dressed) and made him change into clothes in the principal's office (this was the principal's idea). He has skipped breakfast, eaten in the car, and eaten breakfast while walking to school. We even have a supply of food at school just for him.
We have bribed him, punished him, praised him. We have put him to bed early and woken him up before everyone else. He has even been left behind when he isn't ready on time.
So, now we laugh. We laugh when aides, teachers, and even principals bring up his tardiness. We laugh and laugh and laugh. We enjoy our breakfast in peace and then we wake up the child for school.
Wednesday, November 21, 2012
How to Thaw a Turkey
Evidently, you don't leave it out for 24 hours in the garage. And, evidently, this is something I should know at my age.
In my own defense I have never had to thaw out a turkey. We always spend Thanksgiving at my parents and somehow a turkey always appears. It's like magic. I have never questioned where the turkey came from or how it was prepared.
This year, mom and dad are in the Ivory Coast working with some missionaries. Yay mom and dad! Traveling across the world at your age! You guys rock! I'm pretty sure they didn't think through the whole Thanksgiving turkey scenario or they would have left some instructions.
Since mom and dad are gone, all of us kids, and by kids I mean the adult children, were questioning the tradition of the turkey. I suggested we eat out, my sister suggested pizza, my brother is going to see his girlfriend.
Here's the clincher: I have this free turkey. It wasn't completely free, I had to spend a lot of money at the grocery store to actually make it free, but we have it. And it didn't fit in the freezer, mostly because of all the food I had to buy to get the free turkey. So, hubby decided he was going to cook it for Thanksgiving. Dinner problem solved.
So, we left it in a pan in the garage, on top of the freezer, for over 24 hours. YOU ARE NOT SUPPOSE TO DO THIS! I guess you are suppose to put it in the refrigerator and let it thaw out, or put it in cold water but you have to change the water every 30 minutes (who is around for hours to change out the turkey water?).
Anyways, guess what, the fridge is full too, because of all the food I had to buy to get the second free frozen turkey. Yes, I got two free turkeys. I really like getting things for free. And it's a good thing, because evidently we can't eat the turkey that is almost completely thawed. I have over 60 comments on facebook telling me not to, so I'm going to trust public opinion here.
But, I'm thinking that the still frozen turkey won't be thawed out in time, so I'm leaning toward pizza. That and I really don't like turkey meat anyway.
Happy Thanksgiving!
In my own defense I have never had to thaw out a turkey. We always spend Thanksgiving at my parents and somehow a turkey always appears. It's like magic. I have never questioned where the turkey came from or how it was prepared.
This year, mom and dad are in the Ivory Coast working with some missionaries. Yay mom and dad! Traveling across the world at your age! You guys rock! I'm pretty sure they didn't think through the whole Thanksgiving turkey scenario or they would have left some instructions.
Since mom and dad are gone, all of us kids, and by kids I mean the adult children, were questioning the tradition of the turkey. I suggested we eat out, my sister suggested pizza, my brother is going to see his girlfriend.
Here's the clincher: I have this free turkey. It wasn't completely free, I had to spend a lot of money at the grocery store to actually make it free, but we have it. And it didn't fit in the freezer, mostly because of all the food I had to buy to get the free turkey. So, hubby decided he was going to cook it for Thanksgiving. Dinner problem solved.
So, we left it in a pan in the garage, on top of the freezer, for over 24 hours. YOU ARE NOT SUPPOSE TO DO THIS! I guess you are suppose to put it in the refrigerator and let it thaw out, or put it in cold water but you have to change the water every 30 minutes (who is around for hours to change out the turkey water?).
Anyways, guess what, the fridge is full too, because of all the food I had to buy to get the second free frozen turkey. Yes, I got two free turkeys. I really like getting things for free. And it's a good thing, because evidently we can't eat the turkey that is almost completely thawed. I have over 60 comments on facebook telling me not to, so I'm going to trust public opinion here.
But, I'm thinking that the still frozen turkey won't be thawed out in time, so I'm leaning toward pizza. That and I really don't like turkey meat anyway.
Happy Thanksgiving!
Sunday, November 11, 2012
For D. with love
My girlfriend just asked why I haven't posted for awhile.
She said, "The kids have been out of school for 3 days, so you must have something to write."
This only reminds me of the advice that Thumper doled out in the movie Bambi, "If you can't say anything nice don't say anything at all."
This is often my problem when we have no-school days, so I try to say nothing at all.
I'm not kidding.
I have been trying for three days, yes three, to get my children to clean their bedrooms. I've been super nice and super mean. I've tried bribing them with a movie (didn't happen) and I've taken away all electronics (didn't work).
Really, how difficult is it to pick up your clothes, make your bed, put the toys away, and vacuum the floor?
The past three days have gone like this:
Me- Is your room clean?
Child- yes
Me- Are you clothes picked up and put away?
Child- I didn't know I was suppose to put them away.
Later-
M- Is your room clean?
C- Yes
M-So you cleaned up the candy wrappers all over your floor?
C-What candy wrappers?
M- Go down to your room and clean it up.
And 15 minutes later-
M- Why are you watching TV? Is your room clean?
C- I was taking a break.
M- A break from what? You haven't done anything.
C- I made my bed! (seriously, with an exclamation point)
An hour later-
M- What are you guys doing?
Children- We having a nerf gun fight.
M- Um, you are suppose to be cleaning your rooms.
Children (because now they are a united front)- But we found all the nerf gun darts and watch this mom (child proceeds to jump off the couch and over the chair while shooting his brother) and so we thought we'd have a nerf gun fight.
Now, here is my big dilemma: All three children are getting along and playing together. Do I encourage the sibling bonding or get super mad and send them to their rooms? Luckily, daddy walks through the door.
Children- Daddy! Check this out- more running and jumping over furniture while shooting.
Daddy, can we go to the movie?
Daddy takes one look at me and knows the answer, but he lets them down easy. No movie since you didn't clean your rooms, but hopefully tomorrow night we can all go.
Three days of this nonsense! Three days!
So tonight, after three days of not cleaning bedrooms, the kids went to papa's and grandma's house and daddy took me to a movie! And this is why I love daddy so.
She said, "The kids have been out of school for 3 days, so you must have something to write."
This only reminds me of the advice that Thumper doled out in the movie Bambi, "If you can't say anything nice don't say anything at all."
This is often my problem when we have no-school days, so I try to say nothing at all.
I'm not kidding.
I have been trying for three days, yes three, to get my children to clean their bedrooms. I've been super nice and super mean. I've tried bribing them with a movie (didn't happen) and I've taken away all electronics (didn't work).
Really, how difficult is it to pick up your clothes, make your bed, put the toys away, and vacuum the floor?
The past three days have gone like this:
Me- Is your room clean?
Child- yes
Me- Are you clothes picked up and put away?
Child- I didn't know I was suppose to put them away.
Later-
M- Is your room clean?
C- Yes
M-So you cleaned up the candy wrappers all over your floor?
C-What candy wrappers?
M- Go down to your room and clean it up.
And 15 minutes later-
M- Why are you watching TV? Is your room clean?
C- I was taking a break.
M- A break from what? You haven't done anything.
C- I made my bed! (seriously, with an exclamation point)
An hour later-
M- What are you guys doing?
Children- We having a nerf gun fight.
M- Um, you are suppose to be cleaning your rooms.
Children (because now they are a united front)- But we found all the nerf gun darts and watch this mom (child proceeds to jump off the couch and over the chair while shooting his brother) and so we thought we'd have a nerf gun fight.
Now, here is my big dilemma: All three children are getting along and playing together. Do I encourage the sibling bonding or get super mad and send them to their rooms? Luckily, daddy walks through the door.
Children- Daddy! Check this out- more running and jumping over furniture while shooting.
Daddy, can we go to the movie?
Daddy takes one look at me and knows the answer, but he lets them down easy. No movie since you didn't clean your rooms, but hopefully tomorrow night we can all go.
Three days of this nonsense! Three days!
So tonight, after three days of not cleaning bedrooms, the kids went to papa's and grandma's house and daddy took me to a movie! And this is why I love daddy so.
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