My Husband Is Trying To Kill Me

It might make me sound paranoid, but I am pretty sure my husband is trying to kill me.  And it’s not paranoia if it’s true, right?

I really thought it would be one of the cats who took me out. Bellatrix takes test-bites of my nose at night to see if I’m dead yet, and Ravenclaw eviscerates everything.

It started out simply enough. Husband bought one of those plug-in air fresheners. It was fine at first. And by first, I mean for about fifteen seconds. Then my eyes began to water, and my nose felt like I’d been snorting thumbtacks.*** I might be allergic. I unplugged the thing without comment and went about my day.

When I got up the next morning, I thought someone had put a pillow over my head. I kind of wish they had. I slithered out of bed and tried to sniff the thing out. I found it in the hallway, unplugged it, and hid it on a bookcase shelf. By afternoon, the whole house once again smelled like death covered in flowers. I unplugged it and put it on the window sill behind the curtain.

The next day I came home from work, and husband had clearly tried to compromise. He had replaced the hateful fragrance with pumpkin spice. At least that’s what the label said. More like cloves roasted over the flames of hell. I ripped the thing out of the wall and screamed “Why do you HATE ME? unplugged and hid it on top of the bookcase.

And so it continues. He plugs, I unplug. He plugs, I cry. Lather, rinse, repeat.

I get it. He wants to house to smell welcoming and inviting for the guests we never have. But now he has taken to hiding the things. They look just like the motion detector lights we have for when I’m stumbling out of bed in the middle of the night to pee  checking on the kids in the dark. It sometimes takes me ten minutes to find which outlet holds the little offender.

It’s bad enough that my nose and eyes burn, but I think I am losing brain cells. This is where I draw the line. Already I could hide my own Easter eggs, and I can’t remember how old I am without calling my mom. I can’t afford to lose what little I have left.

“Oh, but Heather,” you say. “He’s not trying to kill you with an air freshener.” And you’d be right. Because’s now there’s not an air freshener, there’s TWO! Twice the fragrance, twice as many brain cells withering to dust. I should never have taken out a life insurance policy. Once you’re worth more dead than you are alive, it’s time to start sleeping with one eye open.

But it’s okay. Two can play at that game. If it’s open season on bringing home something that sends our partner screaming into the streets, I’m buying him a tarantula. This is going to be good.

 

***PSA – Kids, don’t snort thumbtacks. It might be what the cool kids are doing, but you’re better than that.

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Stuff My Kids Will Never Understand

Now I really do sound like my mother. But this isn’t a rant about the good old days and how the world is headed South in a Longaberger basket. That would be my great-grandmother, and I’m not turning into her (yet). I’m learning that few things make me feel older than saying “Well, back when I was a kid…” and having them stare at me, slack-jawed, eyes glazing over like a monkey presented with a computing problem. As if the minutiae of my early years isn’t riveting. It’s just kind of a shame that all of my vast life experience is fading into oblivion. Here’s the weird stuff I remember:

  • Gum. Lots of it! In the 80s, bubblegum was a HUGE thing. Our neighborhood convenience store had a 2ftx8ft section DEVOTED to gum. And I’m not talking the stuff the old ladies enjoyed in church a half-stick at a time, either. I’m talking bubblegum. Every imaginable flavor. Strawberry and banana, sure, but also blueberry and cherry and a variety of fruit punches. Bubble Yum Fruit Punch was the best ever. Gum achieved its nadir with chocolate mint flavor. Ugh. The market never recovered.
  • Because bubblegum bandages aren’t gross at all. Photo credit: Dinosaur Dracula

  • Records were the cheapest form of recording. If you wanted the album on a more portable medium, the cassette tape cost about 30% more.
  • Having to buy an entire record for one song.
  • Requiring an elaborate set-up to convert record to cassette tape. This exercise involved special cables and moving furniture around to get all the components to connect to one another.
  • Hating DJs for talking over the song you were trying to record.
  • Song Hits Magazine – It had the LYRICS, man! THE LYRICS! To the cool songs! So we knew what Cyndi Lauper was actually saying.
  • Benetton and Swatches – and don’t forget the Swatch guard!
  • Halloween, Christmas, Valentine, Last-Day-of-School PARTIES!  Like, at school. With candy and cupcakes and stuff.
  • Film strips. And the substitute teacher who was ALWAYS one frame behind.
  • Reel-to-reel movies in the classroom. In elementary school, we watched The Cat and the Hat and The Red Balloon once a year.
  • Sticker collections– mine is quite impressive. Yes, I still have it. Shut up!
  • Seeing a movie in the theater or not seeing it at all. Because once it left the theater, it was GONE. No purchasing it a few months later. Because there would be nothing to watch it ON! No DVD player, no VCR. Not even laser disc. This tidbit blows my students’ minds.
  • The Wizard of Oz came on once a year – And every year I thought the movie was broken because it started out in black and white.
  • Three channels – and all of them signed off at midnight with the flag.
  • Garbage Candy that came in an actual tiny garbage can!

Why don’t they still make this? I liked the fish skeletons the best! I think I have to do a favorite candy edition because we had the best candy!

  • Floppy Discs – It’s funny that the “save” icon is a picture of something most kids have never even seen in real life. And remember when they were actually FLOPPY?
  • Cutting edge computers with memory measuring in the kilobytes. I didn’t say ALL the old days were good ones!
  • Pong did not involve beer.
  • Saturday morning cartoons – the ONLY time cartoons were available. No Cartoon Network,no Disney Channel. Cartoons started at 6am with the old black-and-whites and ran all the way until noon with O.G. Readmore. He’s a reading kind of cat.
  • After-school TV specials – I always learned something. Or pretended to. These came about right around the time it became apparent that television was becoming a babysitter.
  • Suntan lotion and suntan oil – but no sunscreen. I had more blistering sunburns as a child than my dermatologist would like to think about because the only thing to prevent sunburn was zinc oxide, and only the dweebs used that crap.
  • Lawrence Welk – I could never WAIT for this show to be over so I could watch Hee Haw. Hey, I never said I had great TV taste as a kid.
  • Cracker Jacks – yeah, they tasted like garbage, but they had a PRIZE! And it was sometimes a TOY!
  • Cereal – like gum, cereal had its hey day. Anybody else remember when literally EVERY box on the shelf except for the high-fiber crap had something free in the box? And remember when Cocoa Krispies was represented by Tusk the Elephant?

That’s it for this edition. Now, get off my lawn, you darned kids!

What are you sorry to see go?

Looking For the Joy

It has been a while, friends. Two months. I know this because two days after my last post, my department suffered an unspeakable tragedy. Two months. And I still can’t speak of it. Not yet. Looking at the image on Time’s website, I can barely breathe. The snake I am holding in the photo died the next day despite our best efforts. Such a stupid phrase, really.  Despite our best efforts. As if we would give an animal in our care less than our best. The snake I was training on in my last post is gone. And it’s hard.

Moving on for the moment. Because I have to. The last couple of months has been a series of tests and more tests and inspections and questions and answers we don’t even have, and if I focus on it too hard, I’ll never be able to get out of bed. So I am looking for the good. Because it’s always there if I look. When I get to feeling sorry for myself, it’s easy to get sucked into the vortex of despair. So I am choosing good today.

Here’s what’s good in my life, what brings me joy. The little things that make every day worthwhile. Click to enlarge and to read the captions.

There are other things, too, things that are not possible to capture in a photograph. The zoo guests who stop us in our work and tell us how sorry they are for our loss, the people who come each week as volunteers to help meet Al’s need for attention. My daughter, upon learning her cousin didn’t have an officiant for her upcoming wedding, takes it upon herself to become ordained online. She is now a card-carrying, ordained minister in the Church of the Flying Spaghetti Monster. That’s right. The Girl-child is now a Pastafarian. Our kids inherit our eyes, our hair, and our genetic garbage. It brings me great joy that mine has also inherited my off-beat sense of humor. And she’s available to perform weddings if you’re looking to get hitched. Who wouldn’t want to go to a wedding where the keepsake is a package of Ramen noodles?

What brings you joy today?

Good Things Thursday

I am in a low place right now. The political climate is eating me alive. Every day it feels like there is a new disaster, and I feel like one of the dogs in the learned helplessness experiments. Remember those studies from Psych 101? A dog that received an electrical shock that it couldn’t avoid eventually learned to give up and quit trying. I feel that way. I’m shocked every, single day, and I don’t know how to not just give up.

But I’m NOT giving up, and that is what today is about. The political maelstrom may scream all around me, but I will find the little things that give me peace and happiness. Stolen joys.

  • This one is the only one of political nature. It’s pretty funny. It’s a PSA about gerrymandering, and it’s great!

  • My new boots.
Bestwaterproof boots

My beautiful Muck boots

They say you can’t judge someone until after walking a mile in their shoes. This means you can never judge me because I will not let you WEAR my boots. So there. They are lovely and warm and waterproof, and I ordered them on a Tuesday, and they arrived on Wednesday. I’ve never had free shipping mean “get it in 24 hours” before!

  • This kid:
do cucumbers help puffy eyes

He decided he wanted a spa day, so he begged his dad to buy cucumbers. Best fifty cents ever spent.

Also, this kid:

Is skating still popular

He was a skater boy, a young alligator boy… I don’t know the song.

Yeah, same kid. He has anxiety issues and some irrational fears. Well, to me they are irrational; to him they make perfect sense. But this kid who is so afraid of getting hurt went to a school skating party and decided he was going to learn to skate. He spent a lot of time sitting on the floor, and he was a walking bruise, but by the end of the evening, there was this:

best songs to skate to

Look at him go! May we all have the determination of a second-grader who decides they’re gonna skate, come hell, high water, or far-too-solid floor.

  • This kid:
are snakes good pets

His eyes are kind of wild because he is my son. He can’t keep his eyes open when his picture is taken unless he opens them ALL the way.

He has turned into a Herp kid. He loves snakes and lizards, and he has taken over my snakes at home. Pictured here with Colonel Shucks.

  • Baby tortoises enjoying some mushrooms.
The little bite marks in the piece of stem makes me laugh. They're so serious about their mushrooms!

The little bite marks in the piece of stem makes me laugh. They’re so serious about their mushrooms!

  • It’s half-price candy time! I can’t share a picture because I ate it all already. Sue me.
  • It’s also Girl Scout Cookie time! All the district cookies were distributed in the zoo’s lower parking lot today. I could have staged a heist and made off with a semi loaded with the things, but I didn’t.
  • I leave for Amphibian Management School in a week-and-a-half. Yes, it’s a real thing.
  • I was invited to talk to a group of first graders about my job! Yes, please!
  • My Christmas presents for 4 people got here today! I love giving gifts.
  • Phones that can get $1000 texts for $5.
  • My new siphon at work. It sucks. Like, in the literal good way. It has revolutionized maintenance of one of my exhibits. If you have a decent-sized aquarium, don’t go with the cheap knock-offs. Go for name-brand Pythons. No, they didn’t sponsor my post (they can if they want to, though!). It’s just a product that works beautifully!
  • Sweet, sweet sick cat is hanging on. She is not eating well, but she is still here.
  • Then there’s this:
How beautiful are these books? It's a rhetorical question. Because the answer can only be SO BEAUTIFUL!

How beautiful are these books? It’s a rhetorical question. Because the answer can only be SO BEAUTIFUL!

The Bloggess held her second annual Booksgiving, which was an opportunity for people to gift one another books via Amazon wishlists. I received Spanish Harry Potter on Sunday. I am planning a trip to the Galapagos to study Giant Tortoises, and I want to increase my Spanish fluency. Reading is a great way to do that. And then today I came home and found The Bloggess’ own book in my mailbox! Someone had bought a second book for me! Is there anything better than the kindness of strangers?

What’s good in your world right now?

Lost In Translation: Parenting Edition

Though I know it is hard to believe, the occasional miscommunication happens in my house.

 

What I say: Clean your room.

What they hear: Play with your Nerf blasters.

What I say:  Dinner is ready.

What they hear: I’m serving you PopTarts. If it’s not PopTarts, demand them. Loudly.

What I say: Until you room is clean, you may not play with the cat.

What they hear: Touch the cat. Touch all five cats. Touch the neighbor’s cats. TOUCH ALL THE CATS! Right now!

What I say: This room isn’t clean.

What they hear: Your socks and dirty underwear are invisible to the naked eye.

parenting fail

What I say: It’s time to make your lunch.

What they hear: Play with your Nerf blasters.

What I say: Quit playing with your Nerf blasters. You have things to do.

What they hear: Play more. Never stop playing! It is your JOB to play! FOREVER!

What I say: Done cleaning? I’m coming in to check and make sure.

What they hear: I have the vision of an earthworm. I will never notice that you have not done the first thing.

What I say: Let’s get your homework out of the way. It won’t take long.

What they hear: It will take you the rest of your life.

What I say: If you just focus on the work, you will have it done in 10 minutes.

What they hear: Please flop in the floor like a speared fish. It makes both of us feel good about ourselves.

 

What I say: I made your favorite meal for you, now eat it.

What they hear: I dropped it on the floor, and then I spit on it.

What I say: But you LIKE this food.

What they hear: Just kidding. You hate it.

What I say: That’s a small wound. You’re fine.

What they hear: You’re probably going to die. Run around in a circle screaming. It helps everyone involved.

What I say: Go wash your hands for dinner.

What they hear: Walk to the bathroom, count to four, then turn around and come back.

What I say: Please get dressed for school.

What they hear: Make sure you wear your Darth Vader cape. Without it, you might as well be naked.

What I say: When I was a kid…

What they hear: Blah, blah, blah, hard times, blah, blah, blah.

 

 

Surviving Depression Part II, Holiday Edition

This one could be subtitled “I’m going to make it.”

My chronic condition has had a flare-up, and the psychiatric symptoms are the worst part. There’s no filter. Every sense is on edge. Everything from the keyboard touching my wrist to the stale perfume of the lady sitting next to me at the movies piles up on me until I’m ready to run screaming. But there are good things in my life, too. I’m not filtering those out, either. There is so much good.

Pandora wears a Santa hat because she loves me

Pandora wears a Santa hat because she loves me

Lucky penny I found on the sidewalk. Heads up, so all the luck is still in it!

Lucky penny I found on the sidewalk. Heads up, so all the luck is still in it! Maybe it’s a wishing penny, too. I wished on it. I’ll let you know.

This guy? This gloomy Gus? That's the Padawan. He was asked by his STEM teacher to submit his project idea to the university because he thinks it might be a lead on a cure to certain cancers.

This guy? This gloomy Gus? That’s the Padawan. He was asked by his STEM teacher to submit his project idea to the university because the teacher thinks it might be a lead on a cure to certain cancers. Like, really.

I have a job where a business trip sends me to places where I can see this.

I have a job where a business trip sends me to places where I can see stuff like this.

One of my Chinese Crocodile Lizards just birthed eleven of these tiny things. They're livebearers. I'll share more in a separate post.

One of my Chinese Crocodile Lizards just birthed eleven of these tiny things. They’re livebearers. I’ll share more in a separate post.

My darling Ravenclaw. I don't know how we got on without her. She plays fetch with that balled up pipe cleaner for hours.

My darling Ravenclaw. I don’t know how we got on without her. She plays fetch with that balled up pipe cleaner for hours.

Baby radiated tortoise hatching. Can you see her closed eye? She is sleeping and waiting to break out of the egg!

Baby radiated tortoise hatching. Can you see her closed eye? She is sleeping and waiting to break out of the egg!

Obama/Biden memes. These have made post-election life bearable.

Obama/Biden memes. These have made post-election life bearable.

Birthday doughnuts! The day after my birthday, so the magic lasted EVEN LONGER!

Surprise birthday doughnuts! The day after my birthday, so the magic lasted EVEN LONGER!

Surprise birthday Funko figures! I live in a world where Newt Scamander and Picket exist!

Surprise birthday Funko figures! I live in a world where Newt Scamander and Picket exist!

No photo for this one, but I got to take Squish to his first Star Wars movie in a theater. He watched the trilogy for his birthday a few years ago, now he reads the books, watches Rebels, and obsesses about Boba Fett. It was a privilege to take him to Rogue One. He was SO excited! Every time he saw an Easter egg or a familiar character, he hit me in the arm and looked at me with a look of shock and wonder.

And I have a husband who went out to get me a Waffleberry Brownie Blast because I asked him to. I am lucky. And Christmas is coming. I’m settling into the joy of the season.  Even if it’s hard at times, the joy of the season is still there. It gets buried, but it’s there.

What brings you joy? Here’s to the end of 2016

I just joined a blog hop, and you can, too. Here are your instructions, should you choose to accept them (please accept!).

From Dawn at Tales from the Motherland: “To join us for this project: 1) Write your post and publish it (please copy and paste the instructions from this post, into yours) 2) Click on the InLinkz tool at the very bottom of this post. 3) That will take you to another window, where you can past the URL to your post. (folks have trouble with this, but it’s not that hard. 4)Follow the prompts, and your post will be added to the Blog Party List. Please note: the InLinkz will expire on January 3, 2017. After that date, no blogs can be added.”

Inlinkz Tool Here

I can’t wait to read about the things you are grateful for.

A Candidate I Can Get Behind

 

It took 15 minutes per page, and there are four pages. He is prepared.

It took 15 minutes per page, and there are four pages. He is prepared.

I found this speech on my counter today, written by a young candidate who had been sent to his room to think about things.  Allow me to translate since some of these words haven’t made their appearance on the second grade spelling list yet.

“I here by decree I will make NO groundings, and I will make New Years Eve movie nights (Done and done!), and on the weekends movie nights, and on Christmas, you get what you want, and if you don’t get what you want on Christmas, then everybody else shoots them with Nerf guns (Nope. Vetoed, along with a brief chat about how Christmas ain’t about presents)., and on Easter we have Nerf gun battles (Because nothing says resurrection of our savior like being pelted with foam darts), and football games on Saturday (mostly if the Vols are playing, and I’m fairly certain that this administration will ensure that the Vols are ALWAYS playing),

Go, Vols! But you had better win! This administration will ensure the Vols always win by pitting them against local high school leagues. Maybe Pee Wee leagues.

Go, Vols! But you had better win! This administration will ensure the Vols always win by pitting them against local high school leagues. Maybe Pee Wee leagues.

and on Sundays we have to to go the pool, and we will have pizza and pancakes and Belgian waffles (because we’ll need to carbo-load after all that swimming. I am totally on board with this one.) And we will have Tacos for Tuesdays (Thank you, Lego Movie)

And I think I should be President because I will make the house more smooth (I choose to believe he is speaking of Congress here), and Saturday and Sunday we’ll play Nerf guns and go out to eat on Saturday and Sunday.”

Our candidate thanks you for your consideration.

And wait until you meet his running mate.

Run? I don't even want to walk! I'm his carried-in-arms-like-a-Queen mate.

Run? I don’t even want to walk! I’m his carried-in-arms-like-a-Princess-mate. Or how about benevolent dictator, except forget the benevolent part.

 

WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?!!

It’s fine if you politely decline to answer that question. If you know me in real life, you probably have an entire list. It’s cool with me if you keep it to yourself. No, I insist. Seriously, STOP TALKING!

So here’s my problem. I am home alone. Okay, that right there is not the problem. Home alone means getting stuff done. Or it should. I had a list of wanna-do kinds of things. I want to write some, do a bit of NaNo prep, work on my digital scrapbook, get some exercise, make a pizza, do some dishes. You know, nothing much.

But here I sit, bound, tied, gagged by anxiety. The worst part if it is, I don’t even know WHY. There is no single, logical thought that has become my tripping hazard. So in an effort to contain this prickly beast that feels like electricity in my chest, I blog. It’s a Sunday, it’s beautiful weather, people are busy with Halloween parties and their own NaNo prep, so I don’t even have the pressure of having people read this post. So it’s good.

If you have never experienced inexplicable anxiety, this is kind of what it looks like.

Why am I anxious? It could be because…

  • I haven’t processed the Padawan’s new diagnosis and made my peace with it
  • The Girl-Child is on a camping trip
  • The Girl-Child seemed ill-prepared for this camping trip
  • The Girl-Child may get eaten by a bear
  • If Girl-Child isn’t eaten by a bear, I have to drive her to Chattanooga when she gets home
  • The boys are on a hike without me to try to complete their 100 mile challenge
  • Their dad may poop out early and call it quits and they won’t get their 100 miles
  • I will be forced to rally the troops next Sunday and lead them to the finish line myself
  • If I am forced to lead them across the finish line, I will be missing valuable NaNo writing time
  • This is the first NaNoWriMo in which I have absolutely zero ideas speaking to me
  • What if I start NaNo and can’t finish for the first time ever?
  • What if I start NaNo and I struggle every, single night to get the words down?
  • I have not managed to stay awake past 9pm for the last 3 months. How will I complete NaNo?
  • I should be working on my mom’s scrapbook, but it means I have to upload photos
  • Once the photos are uploaded, I have to arrange them on the page
  • After the photos are arranged on the page, I have to CAPTION them
  • What if I die during the scrapbooking/NaNoWriMo/Hiking challenge?
  • Can I arrange to be eaten by a bear?
  • What if the baby kitties get fat?
  • Who you calling fat, lady? This is technically a ruff, not a double chin.

    Who you calling fat, lady? This is technically a ruff, not a double chin.

  • What if my cinnamon tree cutting dies?
  • Can I order cinnamon trees online?
  • What if it gets too cold and dies in transit and the company I bought it from refuses to refund me because I should have known better?
  • Can I grow cinnamon from seed?
  • If I grow cinnamon from seed, I’m supposed to plant them immediately because they have limited viability. But they aren’t supposed to be planted until Spring. And then it takes a month or more for them to sprout
  • What if the seeds are all dead and it’s too late to complain and leave feedback on Ebay?
  • What if I never own the Charlie Brown Funko figure where he’s dressed as a ghost?
  • Curse you, Walgreens exclusive! I missed you! And you remind me of the Padawan, and it makes me sad that I can't have you!

    Curse you, Walgreens exclusive! I missed you! And you remind me of the Padawan, and it makes me sad that I can’t have you!

  • What if I spend all day worrying and never get anything done?
  • What if I don’t get good pictures of the new Radiata hatchlings at the zoo?
  • Best egg tooth photo I have ever taken. Boss man hates the banana leaf background, though, and what if he sees this, gets mad, and burns my blog to the ground?

    Best egg tooth photo I have ever taken. Boss man hates the banana leaf background, though, and what if he sees this, gets mad, and burns my blog to the ground?

  • Speaking of new hatchlings, that reminds me I’m supposed to scrapbook for the department. I need to compile photos into a concise album to make that process easier. Easier? Suddenly it feels the very opposite of easy
  • Also speaking of new hatchlings… My new baby Neon Day Gecko – what if the parents eat it?Are there two new ones? What if they are eaten by spiders?
  • Phelsuma klemmeri, Neon Day Gecko. Extreme close-up. This kid is an inch long.

    Phelsuma klemmeri, Neon Day Gecko. Extreme close-up. This kid is an inch long.

  • What if we are ALL EATEN BY SPIDERS?
  • What if one day while I am hanging upside down to do water changes in the big exhibit, the driftwood becomes so weak that it collapses and everyone sees me fall into the water?
  • What if NO ONE sees me and I drown and my face gets eaten by the turtles?
  • What if I can’t find all the fun photos I want to add to this post?
  • What if I do find them, but my storage is all eaten up and I can’t post them?
  • What if I have to wash my hair again tonight?
  • What if I am out of shampoo and CAN’T wash my hair tonight?
  • What if my ENTIRE family is eaten by bears? It’s bear season, and maybe my whole family put on their best acorn underwear for their big hiking/camping trips?
  • What if Sonic runs out of dark chocolate/potato chip/pretzel Blasts?
  • What if I eat the Blast and it goes straight to my bum and none of my pants fit me anymore?
  • What if it never gets cold again?
  • What if it gets cold and I am very, very sorry that it is cold because I wear shorts all winter and end up with chilblains?
  • What if I never learn what chilblains are? But spellcheck does, so I know it’s a thing
  • What if my headache/anxiety/neuropathy/memory loss never go away?
  • What if I never get an idea for NaNo and the muse has left me and I never got to write again and my new computer sits on my writing table sad and dejected?
  • What if I go outside to go for a walk and a walnut falls out of the tree, hits me on the head, and renders me unconscious in the middle of the road?
  • What if I go to the gym to work out because walnuts typically don’t fall in the gym, but the bean burrito I ate last night makes its presence known and all the other members die of methane poisoning and I go to jail for premeditated foofing?
  • What if I don’t make it to Target in time for the post-Halloween 90% off sale and all the pet costumes are gone and Ravenclaw and Pandora are stuck being naked for the rest of their lives?
  • Okay, so maybe they won't be TOTALLY naked, but bat costumes have limited use.

    Okay, so maybe they won’t be TOTALLY naked, but bat costumes have limited use.

    pandora_the_bat

  • What if I can’t figure out a super-cool Halloween costume?
  • What if we go trick-or-treating and kids come by our house and no one is home, so they egg the place?
  • What if we buy a million bags of candy and we have no trick-or-treaters, so I am forced to eat the candy myself because I take one for the team, and then I get fat?
  • What if the MRI costs $10,000 and insurance doesn’t cover it and we are stuck in debt again?
  • What if my chest actually bursts apart with the electricity that is building in it?

Is it too late to sign up to get eaten by a bear? Then I wouldn’t have to worry about a costume because I would be Winnie’s Poo. Also, now I want a hermit crab.

 

 

Hallmark Really Dropped the Ball Here.

Why doesn’t Hallmark have a “Dear Son, I’m Sorry For Peeing In The Gene Pool” card? They’ve missed the boat here. I owe the Padawan a greeting card at the very least.

So I got up last Friday to discover that the Padawan was already up. I should have seen a red flag waving right then. This is the kid who hasn’t willingly seen a sunrise since he became aware the earth actually revolves around the sun. But he was up.

When he asked his dad for “mutton chops supreme,” we made an appointment with the doctor. When he began hallucinating that his dad was light saber dueling with Squish, we went on the the Emergency Room. When he told us that Iron Man was abandoned by his parents at the age of one because they were billionaires and couldn’t be bothered to put him up for adoption, we were certain he was going to die. Kid knows his super heroes. Usually.

A billionaire says "Huh?" My parents didn't give me up for adoption, dude.

A billionaire says “Huh My parents didn’t give me up for adoption, dude. And also, where did your mother learn to draw?”

They ran a few tests. The first was an EEG. We sat in on it, eyes glued to the screen, pretending we knew exactly what we were looking at as the computer scribbled out patterns like the world’s most expensive etch-a-sketch. The computer drew graceful lines here, a few frantic scribbles there, every once in a while the cursor backing up the screen and marking places of interest. Sometimes the parallel lines intersected. Was that bad? Sometimes they were slow and sleepy, sometimes they bounced around like an itch his brain was trying to scratch.

I tried not to look at the socks on his feet, the ones I had had to put on for him that morning because he was unable to follow simple directions well enough to dress himself. They were his brother’s socks,the only ones I could find in a hurry, too small for him, grey heel and toe not quite lining up, rather like the child whose brainwaves we studied with such intensity.

The boy in the bed was a stranger to me, like someone had been called on to impersonate our son but didn’t have the act down pat yet, words a little too sharp, expression guarded, as if he didn’t quite know who we were, either.v The lights were on, but no one was home. And at that moment, my biggest concern wasn’t whether he would survive, but whether or not I would ever get back the son that I knew.

God is good. All the stars were in alignment that day. Not only did they have openings for MRI and EEG (usually it takes a week or more to schedule each because they only have one machine), the neurologist himself just happened to be present for the whole test. He was the one responsible for the screen backing up at seemingly random points, and he saw what he needed to see. He came and got us in the middle of the test.

A seizure, he said, judging by the irritability of the brainwaves. Really? How is he different? Aren’t all teenagers irritable? Now we had an answer that begged another question. A seizure, but why?

We went back to the ER to wait for the MRI to tell us whether the Padawan’s rare blood disorder could have caused an intercranial tumor. I had to stop him from messing with the IV in his arm. He rolled his eyes and complained that I was fussing over him. For the first time in hours, he sounded like himself.

I smiled, the terrifying episode over.

“Awww,” he cooed suddenly. “Look at the leopard geckos on that guy’s shoulders!”

Okay, so not QUITE over. But mostly. The MRI was clear. No tumor. The ER doctor was patient and encouraging as he gave us our parting instructions.

Fast forward to today and our follow-up appointment. Epilepsy. Genetic. What? No one in this family has crappy genes. Oh, wait…

This smile is supposed to be ingratiating, not supremely creepy. Looks like I missed the mark here, too.

This smile is supposed to be ingratiating, not supremely creepy. Looks like I missed the mark here, too.

Will the real genetic train wreck please stand up?

The Padawan (in orange) is my not-so-mini-me.

The Padawan (in orange) is my not-so-mini-me.

Ummm. Let’s see. Things known to be inherited…

Who has asthma?

That’s me.

Poor vision? Worn glasses since kindergarten AND had an eye patch?

Right-o!

Depression?

Here.

What about severe allergies?

Yep, me, too.

Liver disorder with 50% rate of inheritability most people have never heard of that could cause… what is the word I’m looking for…seizures?

Me again. Can we stop now?

Thinning hair?

That’s – hey, wait. That might be his dad.

Looks like the Padawan got cursed with more than just my stunning good looks. ***

We ran a few errands today after the doctor’s appointment, then we got treats at McDonalds. I gave him my Happy Meal, though. If he’s going to get something deadly from me, it might as well be a cheeseburger.

 

***true story. He saw a photo of me as a little girl and said “Aww, a picture of little me! Wait. Why I am wearing a dress?” That’s how much he looks like me. Even he can see it.

On the Trail, a Play in Three Acts

Act 1: The Pre-Game Show

8:00am – I knock on the Padawan’s door to wake him up. I hear a grunt, so I know he is, at least, alive.

8:15 – A second knock, accompanied by a mild threat encouragement.

8:20 – The Padawan emerges, coughing, groaning, and sneezing pitifully. “I think I caught something yesterday,” he moans. His paroxysms would garner more sympathy if he didn’t fake his own death before every, single hike.

8:25 The Padawan flops into a chair with a dramatic sigh.

8:30 The Padawan reads “Penguins With People Problems.” Under normal circumstances, I would applaud his choice. It’s hilarious. But we’re going to rack up some miles! Times a-wastin’!

8:35 The Padawan pets a baby kitty. It’s about to get real all up in here.

8:45 After vaguely veiled threats to take him on the trail in his ever-lovin’ jim-jams, he is finally dressed and ready to go. Squish is easier. It’s the one time I’m grateful he sleeps in his clothes. All I have to do is put on his boots and point him in the right direction.

Act 2: On the Trail

11:42am – It took us a while because we got lost. More than once. went exploring, but we’re finally ready to step off at the trail head. Armed with four Clif bars and a bag of apples plenty of food and water, we are ready to get this done!

11:45am – Threaten to sell the Padawan to the circus.

12:30 – Threaten to sell BOTH boys to the circus.

12:45 – Wonder why I ever thought it was a good idea to go hiking on my own. I’m not sad that my Saloman boots are being repaired. I have these Timberlands. I love them so much that I have three identical pairs.

1:00 – Like a muscle that simply needs time to warm up, the Padawan’s attitude improves dramatically. We talk school and books and politics.  We keep our eyes peeled for good places to hunt salamanders.

1:10 – I get a terrific idea! The boys are skeptical. Kids have hiked with me before sure turn cynical quickly these days, don’t they? The little scamps! Hey, fellas, what say we add a few miles to this trail? Let’s make the turn and head up Goshen’s Prong for a couple of miles? Wouldn’t that be fun? Wouldn’t it?!! After a promise of Sonic Blasts or Yu-gi-oh cards, they agree. Fantastic idea, Mom!

Act 3: The Reckoning

2:30 – I’m not tired! Man, these boots are small. Wow, how did I forget how small these boots are? If it weren’t for that deformed long toe of mine.

2:45 – This was a good idea, right? Yes, it was. We’re going to get extra miles to help us to our 100 mile goal! Just think how close we will be! Did I ever mention that I am allergic to wool socks? Yeah, I forgot, too. That’s an interesting rash.

2:50 – Attempt to saw off my two deformed toes with a rock and a sharp stick.

3:00 – Not much further now, kids! We’re down and back! Down and back! Let’s catch us some salamanders! Or you boys catch them. My hands are swollen like two chunks of wood. I might squish the hapless amphibians. And my boots are feeling a wee bit snug. Isn’t that funny? Ha-ha?

Probably a species of Dusky Salamander. These things are EVERYWHERE up here. It's one place where there are more amphibians than tourists.

Probably a species of Dusky Salamander. These things are EVERYWHERE up here. It’s one place where there are more amphibians than tourists.

3:05 – Enough with the salamanders, boys. We’ve caught enough. We’ve each found one. Or we found one. I don’t know. Can we just go?

3:15 – My feet. At least the rapid swelling has replaced itchy with numbness. So there’s that.

3:30 – See that patch of sunlight up a ways? That’s the trail head! We’re almost there!

3:35 – Wrong #$%$ patch of sunlight, kids. Just stop talking and keep walking. Just. Keep. Walking. To the nearest boot store, if possible.

3:50 – That patch of sunlight was the wrong one, too. Keep frickin’ walking. Whose idea was this, anyway?

3:55 – My. Feet. Hurl boots into nearest stream and wonder if I can convince one of the boys to carry me.

I don't sit down with them. Mostly because I'm afraid I won't get up again.

I don’t sit down with them. Mostly because I’m afraid I won’t get up again.

4:00 – Oh, thank you, sweet baby Jesus, for leading us out of the woods! You are our light in the darkness! What do you MEAN, the car is another half-mile from here? I know the closest parking lot was full when we got here, but doesn’t the park service offer valet? How many Yu-gi-oh cards will I have to give for a helicopter rescue?

That makes 90 miles for me. Only 10 more to go. Let’s go again TOMORROW!