Momo Fali's

Draw Your Own Conclusion

2009-12-04T15:36:00.005-05:00

Last week, during a family game of Pictionary, my son drew this...

He claims he was trying to draw a man with big ears. But, it looks to me like he drew something else entirely. I mean, we all see it...right? It's pretty clear to me that this is a unicorn.

Things That Drove Me Crazy Yesterday

2009-12-02T07:09:00.000-05:00

1. Art Garfunkel.

2. Seeing dog hair on my floor.

3. My son's aim in the bathroom.

4. The fact that the laundry never stops.

5. Holiday shopping on December 1st and seeing the store has been ransacked and stock is depleted.

6. Heartburn.

7. Dry hands.

8. Bills.

9. Cold weather.

10. Thinking it was Wednesday and it was only Tuesday.

11. Realizing that even though I'm halfway through, this is going to be a very long week.

Gravy

2009-11-29T21:40:00.007-05:00

Sometimes, in the middle of doing something completely mundane, I will think to myself that there are so many things that I have not yet taught my children. Most recently, while preparing Thanksgiving dinner, I thought about how my daughter should know that you only use Wondra flour to make gravy. No lumps, baby.

These are the things I forget to mention during the hustle and bustle of everyday life. They may not be as important as reading and writing, but you know...people will judge you on your gravy. Trust me.

It's other things too. Little things. Like the fact that vinegar is the one and only thing you should use to clean glass, or that at least once in your life you should watch a sunrise.

My daughter should know that you can put toothpaste on your zits before you go to bed and you'll wake up with clearer skin. I need to tell her that she should always wear cotton underwear and never a thong, which I have also heard referred to as a bacterial superhighway. Go ahead, use your imagination.

My son needs to be taught to always let women through a door first and be seated first, and that the gender and age of the other passengers plays a part in when he should exit an elevator.

They need to know that hard work builds character, that nothing is free and that there are a whole lot of people in the world who don't believe either of those things. Oh, and if you put feminine hygiene powder in your shoes, it will take the feet smell away and if you wait until your spouse goes to bed, he or she will never know that you put Vagisil in their boots.

I want them to understand that there are certain things on which you don't skimp, such as toilet paper, paper towels and car tires. Their first tool should be a hammer, followed closely by an electric screwdriver, their first car should be a very large piece of junk and their first kiss should be with someone who really likes them and respects them.

They need to know that nothing will hurt as much as their first broken heart, that All in the Family is a great TV show and that they must always floss their teeth.

More than anything, I want them to know that it's okay to take risks, but they should never, ever be reckless.

Especially with gravy.

Thanks

2009-11-25T09:55:00.004-05:00

I had planned on writing a lovely, little Thanksgiving post today. Something to say that, despite the constant drama in my life, I am very thankful for a wonderful family, a good husband, (mostly) happy kids, (fairly) good health and for you. For the readers who support me and leave me witty and insightful comments when I need them most.

But, just now, I went to make my crust for the pumpkin pie and after I added all the ingredients to my food processor the motor blew up.

So instead of writing that lovely, little post...I'm going straight for the wine bottle.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone. Here's hoping your appliances don't bust.

Make Me Smile, 2009

2009-11-22T17:50:00.027-05:00

Things have been a little glum around here lately. Flu, pneumonia, blog-friends having massive strokes and perfectly wonderful children dying will do that to you.

But, that doesn't mean I walk around with my head hanging low all the time. No! There are still some things that make me smile when life isn't throwing wrenches in my direction.

Last year I wrote a post of my favorite things for my female readers to get a glimpse at what makes me happy. And, I know for a fact that one male reader used the list for gift ideas for his wife. Hi sweetie! Thanks for the Dyson!

Given the state of the blogosphere (Look everyone, it's the Federal Trade Commission!), I feel the need to say that no one is paying me for these product endorsements. I really like this stuff, and if something is listed it was paid for with my own hard-earned, lunch lady paycheck. Just sayin'.

1. So, speaking of that Dyson. Best. Gift. Ever. The two dogs we have are great pets, but their fur is the bane of my existence. I sweep the floors with this vacuum cleaner every other day and the canister fills up TWICE. It's disgusting. And, totally awesome.

2. The Wii Fit Plus has given our family hours of entertainment and, instead of playing standard video games, my kids are working out. So am I. I dare you to play the flying chicken game and tell me your shoulders didn't burn. Seriously. I dare you.

3. My Yes to Carrots lip tint in Chocolate Kiss. I got a free sample of this at the BlogHer conference I attended in July and have been addicted to it ever since. My lips are dry all year round and I apply Vaseline at bedtime and this during the day. It moisturizes wonderfully, looks good and tastes yummy. Bonus! Next, I want to try their body butter. Though it's possible I may slather it on my toast.

4. I used to make fun of my Aunt Shirley, because when she found an item of clothing she liked, she would buy it in every color. Which is exactly what I have done with Old Navy's Perfect Crew-Neck tee. You can wear it with lounge pants, you can wear it with jeans, or you can throw a belt around it and wear it with a skirt. Also, they're as soft as peach fuzz and you can't beat the price. Aunt Shirley is making me eat my words. Momo throws fist in the air and yells, "Dang you, Aunt Shirley!"

5. This classic Chuck Taylor shoe, by Converse. I don't own a pair. Yet. I totally dig that they're back in style though. They remind me of old photographs of my dad playing basketball. Dude could crossover dribble like nobodies business.

6. When I was at the BlogHer conference, I lost my little point-and-click camera (but, I did get that free lip tint...so it was totally worth it). I came home, decided it was time to be a grown up and purchased a Nikon D-40. It takes beautiful pictures. Though it does have so many bells and whistles that I plan to take a class on how to really use it. But, it is mostly idiot-proof, which makes it the right camera for me.

7. Lands End jeans. I'm 5'10". You can choose your inseam length. Enough said.

8. As for stocking stuffers, the OPI nail color I chose last year is so...well, last year. My new favorite? This lovely shade named, Significant Other. Mostly, I like it because my mom says nail polish should only be red or pink and deep inside I'm still 12 and want to get under her skin. Also, because I can introduce my husband to people, then hold out my hands and say, "And, this is my significant other." Then people think I'm crazy and I can avoid all that small talk stuff.

9. Have you ever taken a balloon and rubbed it on your head a few times, only to have your hair go all crazy-static on you? Yeah, that's my hair from October to May. Pantene Breakage Defense shampoo and conditioner help. A lot. When the weather gets really dry, I keep the conditioner on during my entire shower. My hair combs out easily and feels soft and silky. If I may say so myself.
10. I have said before that I hate winter, but there are a few delightful things about the season. Crackling fires, holiday lights and these socks from Bath and Body Works. They're not called the Sweetest, Softest Socks Ever for no reason. Plus, they have those little non-skid things on the bottom for the nights when you've put too much rum in your egg nog or mornings when you've put too much Bailey's in your coffee. Or, if you're like me and you're just a complete klutz.

Lucky

2009-11-18T07:05:00.008-05:00

I couldn't sleep last night.

This is nothing new, but the circumstances behind my insomnia were. I was thinking about cheeseburgers.

I was thinking about cheeseburgers, because that's what we're having for lunch today and my boss won't be there which leaves me in charge of making sure 200 kids get fed. On time.

So this pressing matter kept me awake, but after a while my mind began to wander.

It wandered to a fellow blogger, Anissa, who had a stroke yesterday and is in ICU. Anissa started blogging after her daughter was diagnosed with Leukemia.

Which led me to think about the little girl I know who is dying of a brain tumor.

And that sent my thoughts to some of the underprivileged kids we met last night at an event at the Boys and Girls Club of Columbus.

Thinking of underprivileged people, led me to think about the soup kitchen my daughter visited with her Girl Scout troop yesterday. The soup kitchen where they serve lunch to 1500 people a day.

Which brought me back to cheeseburgers.

And I realized that lunch is really nothing to worry about.

Random Realizations: Moving Edition

2009-11-16T07:30:00.000-05:00

1. If your 75 year old mother is preparing to move and keeps telling you how hard it is because she "has so much stuff", you won't believe her until you see it for yourself.

2. Because apparently you can't have too many vases.

3. Or soap dishes.

4. Or canister sets.

5. And, clearly, everyone needs a set of everyday dishes and three separate sets of fine china.

6. Your sister, who lives with your mother part-time, and who was home ALL summer, may suddenly disappear to northern Ohio for "grad school" and "trade shows" and won't come home from the time your mother decides to move, until one week after the move is completed.

7. Which leaves you to pack her stuff up.

8. And, when I say "pack" I mean put her things into hodge-podge boxes, cart them across town, lug them into the new house and up a flight of steps, then throw them in a corner.

9. Your sister is lucky you love her.

10. Because she's a pack-rat.

11. You may be really excited to have this Friday off work, only to realize your mom really wants you to paint her new living room and dining room.

12. Your mom is lucky you love her too.

13. And when your mom lives just two minutes away instead of 25 minutes away, all of this will be worth it.

Not So Yummy in the Tummy

2009-11-11T07:09:00.001-05:00

When my daughter was two years old, I was making the bed one day when she came out of our bathroom chugging a glass of water.

I said, "Boy, you sure are thirsty!" Then I realized that I hadn't heard any water running. I walked over to find a liquid trail from the doorway to where she had dunked her cup into the toilet. But, at least it was clean water. You know, with that bleach tablet in the tank and all.

Other than that, and my son once taking a sip of dishwasher rinse aid, I haven't had to call poison control. However, if there was an emergency service to ask whether the dogs were going to die because of something they ate, I would have it on speed-dial.

Our 11 year old Labrador has been the worst culprit. There was the time she ate an enormous, solid, chocolate bunny, the time a chicken bone slipped out of my fingers and she caught it in mid-air and swallowed it whole, and my personal favorite...when she ate a breast pad when I was pumping for my daughter. By the way, there is something infinitely wonderful about a man who will go through the dog's poop to make sure your breast pad hasn't entangled itself in the mutt's intestines. Hi honey!

As for the new puppy...she has a penchant for dead squirrels, dead birds and my son's vomit.

And, that bleach-filled toilet water? It turns out the dogs like that too. I suppose I should count my blessings because my kids never ate any breast pads.

Tell me boys and girls, what's the worst thing your kids (or pets) have ever ingested?

Pain

2009-11-08T19:32:00.009-05:00

On Friday afternoon I sat down to write this post, but I couldn't come up with the right words. I tried again yesterday and here I am again, on Sunday evening, and I am still at a complete loss. It is, quite simply, too painful to trivialize with my voice.

So it has come to this. At a time when there is nothing I can say, I will simply state the facts.

* On February 17, 2004, my niece, Madison, died just shy of her first birthday. My son was too young to comprehend her passing. My daughter was five years old and understood all too well that her cousin was gone.

* On March 1, 2004, a schoolmate of my daughter was run over in our preschool parking lot. Michael was three years old. Telling my daughter that he had been killed in an accident was one of the hardest things I've ever done.

* On September 1, 2007, one of my son's preschool classmates passed away. John was five, as was my son. My son was far too young to say goodbye to a friend and his friend was far too young to die.

* On October 15, 2009, a little girl who attended school with my daughter and whose family goes to our church lost her battle with Fanconi Anemia. Samantha was 11.

* And last week we learned that a nine year old at the school has an inoperable brain tumor and isn't expected to live more than a year. A girl who used to play on my daughter's soccer team and who, until last week, seemed perfectly fine.

Another child. I can not bear it.

I have not told my children yet. My 10 year old daughter and my seven year old son shouldn't have to deal with losing their friends. Not so many of them. Not in the midst of childhood which is supposed to be carefree.

Not again.

Some Like it Hot

2009-11-04T07:13:00.004-05:00

In the school kitchen where I work, things get hot. Not hot like a humid day in Florida, but hot like a humid day on the face of the sun.

At any given moment we could have our ancient oven running, along with the convection oven and three warmers. Add in the steam from the dishwashing sinks and you have yourself your very own steam room. You know, kind of like a spa. Yesterday, I gave myself a green bean facial.

The school doesn't have central air, so to cool the area we use a window air conditioner. That's right. A window air conditioner. If you stand in one particular spot by the trash can, you can almost feel a small breeze. Almost.

But, the heat doesn't cause me to have a bad attitude. Quite the contrary. Because yesterday I told the ladies I work with that if I ever hit the lottery, I'll totally buy them a new window unit.

I'm generous like that.

Let it Go

2009-11-02T07:04:00.001-05:00

There are a lot of things you give up when you have children. You simply have to learn to let some things go. Like a good night's sleep, disposable income and liquid assets.

You also have to accept the muddy floors, juice stained school uniforms and beds that don't make themselves.

You have to understand that the bathmat will get soaked, that little children like to smudge up the television, the computer monitor and the car windows, and even though a backpack has come home without the slightest remnant of a snack for over a month, it doesn't mean you won't look in there one day and suddenly find a small container full of moldy strawberries. Hypothetically.

However, since I started my new job I've found it really hard to let those things go ignored because I just don't have the time to deal with them. It's one thing to see a load of laundry sitting on the floor in the basement and think, "I'll get to that later" and it's something else entirely to actually get it done.

It didn't used to bother me if I saw a pair of socks on the living room floor or dishes in the sink, because I knew I would have time to take care of it. Now, I simply don't get that chance. It's frustrating and I have been letting it drive me crazy.

Yesterday, in the midst of cleaning the house, my daughter asked me to stop and listen to her play a song on her electric piano. As I sat on the edge of her bed and listened to her play Pachelbel Canon, I realized that I really need to stop worrying about whether the floors need swept or if the blinds are dirty.

Because as she played that beautiful music all I could think about was how dusty her keyboard was.

Some See Double, I See Poultry

2009-10-28T07:13:00.000-04:00

I have been known to do unusual things after taking Ambien. What is remarkable about these things is that I often have no recollection of them. Luckily I don't eat, drive or call people. Shout out to my big sister! Put down the phone Trish!

Mostly, I just write. As it turns out, I did some of that last night. I vaguely remember penning notes to my two children and to my husband before I went to bed. I know they were love notes, left for them to read when they woke up. If you had asked me what those notes said this morning, however, I would have been clueless.

So sometimes there are brief remembrances about the previous evening, but not always. I logged on to Twitter today, and had absolutely no memory of leaving this update last night:

On Ambien...just saw woman seductively stick her leg around our bedroom door and it turned out to be a huge Turkey drumstick.

A hallucinating, crazy woman in the bed and a woman with legs made of turkey behind the door.

My husband is one lucky guy.

Call Me Sickly

2009-10-26T07:08:00.000-04:00

Ohmygosh, so like remember when I had swine flu and then after that I got pneumonia? And then my doctor called and sent me to the hospital because he thought I had a pulmonary embolism, but I took a test where I sucked in a bunch of radioactive stuff and the bad pain I was having was actually from pleurisy? And right after I got over the pleurisy pain, I got a cold? And then remember how I told my boss that it was TOTALLY a good thing that I had a sore throat because that meant my sinuses were draining? And then my sinuses stopped draining and I started coughing and my lungs felt like they were filled with concrete so I went to the emergency room in the middle of the night because I thought my pneumonia had come back? And remember how the doctor sent me for my third chest x-ray in the last month and then told me that all that gunk that drained out of my sinuses had gone down my throat and into my lungs?

So it turns out I don't have recurring pneumonia, but it does turn out that the sore throat I had two days ago? Was not such a good thing after all.

Things I Said Yesterday

2009-10-23T07:03:00.003-04:00

To my son:

"Maybe if you would have gone to the bathroom when I told you to, I wouldn't be standing in the shower holding your piece of cheese and trying to wash my hair one-handed!"

"Is that stain on your jacket from when you threw up phlegm at recess or is it a blood stain from yesterday's loose tooth?"

"Hurry up and go poop!"

To the puppy:

"Get your butt off my new throw pillow!"

"Get your butt off my laptop!"

"Hurry up and go poop!"

To my daughter:

"The puppy ate your soccer ball."

To a newly purchased cleaning product:

"Your bottle says 'streak-free shine'. You are not streak-free shining."

To the television:

"Wow. Rick Springfield has had some work done."

To my husband, when he asked me suggestively what was for dessert:

"Chocolate chip cookies."

A Day in the Life: Cafeteria Edition

2009-10-21T07:15:00.000-04:00

I work in a school cafeteria. Okay, I'll just say it. I'm a lunch lady. Stop laughing before I shove my mole in your face.

If you want to read why it's the best job in the world, go here. If you don't want to read that, just know. It is the best. I enjoy the work, I get to see my kids and the people I work with are fantastic. I really love my job. If it paid better I would call it downright perfection instead of referring to it as glorified volunteer work.

There are four of us permanently stationed in the cafeteria. There is my neighbor/friend/manager, who knows all the ins and outs of everything. From when to place the produce order, to the intricacies of the computer program, to which kids like to try to sneak an extra dessert.

I am Worker #1. I sometimes help with the computer work and lunch count, I do a lot of the food prep, serve the kids and help clean up.

Worker #2 arrives at 10:30 and helps with serving and clean up.

The last employee is the prefect. She controls the kids. She keeps the volume low and the mess to a minimum. She is the one who dismisses the children and keeps things orderly. She also has a different parent volunteer who comes in to help her every day.

With the exception of a couple of burns on my arms, nearly running out of taco meat and a few burned French fries, this has been a stress-free job. Until yesterday.

Yesterday, my neighbor/friend/manager went to a funeral and left me to work the computer in her absence. Because I would be doing that, a parent substitute came in to cover for me in the kitchen. Keep in mind, lunch begins being served at 11:15. Here's a recap:

* At 10:30 Worker #2 arrives and says she has a migraine. She never complains and is always reliable and would never leave me hanging out to dry, so I know it's the real deal.

* At 10:31 we determine the parent substitute can't be the only person serving, as the entree is chef salad. The server has to ask each student if they want cheese, ham, pepperoni and/or croutons and add them to the bowl of lettuce. One server = Kids not eating until sunset.

* At 10:35 I begin calling every parent I can think of who might be able to come in and sub for Worker #2 so she can go home and have throbbing head and nausea in peace.

* At 10:45 I give up on finding a substitute.

* At 10:50 I call my pharmacist and ask her this hypothetical question. "Say I have a migraine and I took one Excedrin Migraine at 5:30 AM and another one at 10:15 AM, would it be okay to now take a pleurisy pain pill left over from when I had pneumonia?"

* At 10:51 pharmacist says, "No."

* At 10:55 I run up to the office where there is a parent volunteer covering for the secretary, because the secretary is also at the funeral. I ask the parent if she can come volunteer in the cafeteria after she finishes volunteering in the office. She says, "Yes." Yay! Problem solved!

* At 11:00 I explain the situation to everyone. The permanent prefect will help my substitute in the kitchen and they will both serve the kids. The volunteer who is scheduled to come in will be joined by the volunteer who will be coming down from the office. They will control the kids. I will work on the computer as planned. Got that? No? Me either.

* At 11:07 we realize that half the chairs are being used at the church for the funeral. Three of us make a beeline for the music room and steal all the chairs.

* At 11:10 I realize the mouse on the computer isn't working.

* At 11:11 I beg a teacher to help me. She finds me a new mouse. I doesn't work either.

* At 11:12 the mouse starts working and we all come to the realization that the parent prefect who is scheduled to come in, is not going to show up.

* At 11:13 the other volunteer comes down from her office post and tells us she has never prefected in the cafeteria before.

* At 11:14 I consider taking an Excedrin Migraine. Or five.

* At 11:20 my neighbor/friend/manager stops by after the funeral to check on things and sees that all hell has broken loose.

* At 11:30 my neighbor/friend/manager returns from running home and changing her clothes. Then she jumps in and starts serving the kids. You know? While I work the computer...as planned.

And would you believe that at the end of the day she actually said that she feels comfortable taking a day off now? Clearly, she dipped into my pleurisy pills.

Head Case

2009-10-19T07:07:00.000-04:00

I have been going to the same hair salon for many years. I LOVE my hair salon. I love my stylist, the atmosphere, the service and the fact that kids aren't allowed unless they have an appointment. It has been my little oasis.

However, it's not ideal. Sometimes it's hard to get in, it's a 20 minute drive from my house and it's not cheap. And, that whole not allowing kids thing? It means that getting an appointment is even more difficult because I have to coordinate it with my husband's schedule.

So last week, I walked into the little salon at the end of my street to check it out. Not only does this place allow you to bring your kids, but they'll turn on a TV show for them. It's also $30 cheaper than my regular place. Did I mention it's at the end of my street? Exactly a two minute walk from my front door?

Convenience + Lower Price = "Who Wants to Give Momo Some Highlights?"

Because I was a new customer, the guy took care to make sure the color was right. He used three different shades, then gave me a haircut and waxed my unibrow. I was there for three hours.

When you're sitting in a stylist's chair for the better part of an afternoon, you do a lot of talking. When I got home, I realized that the poor guy probably thinks my name isn't Momo, but rather Liar McLiarson. Why? Because these are a few of the things I told him:

1. That I had just got over swine flu and pneumonia, and that my doctor thought I had a pulmonary embolism.

2. That my son almost died from a strep pneumo infection.

3. That my son almost died after one of his surgeries.

4. That my mom was born in Honolulu and used to go to school barefoot and shimmy up trees to get away from wild boars.

5. That my mom was playing marbles outside a church when Pearl Harbor was bombed and saw fighter planes flying overhead. Then one of them crashed down the street.

6. That my daughter weighed 2 1/2 pounds when she was born.

7. That I used to have a high-pressure career and now I work as a lunch lady because my son sometimes chokes when he eats and I might need to perform the Heimlich.

8. That my husband and I went to Florida for a vacation, where we were greeted with temperatures in the 40's. Then it took us four hours to drive 90 miles and we were rear-ended by a semi.

9. That I'm scared of cats because my neighbor's cat used to stand on its hind legs and swat at me while hissing. Then it would attack me.

10. That I grew seven inches in nine months and ended up with stretch marks on my thighs when I was 12 years old.

Hopefully he thinks the chemicals soaked through my scalp and just made me seem crazy.

We'd Better be Talking Bamboo Here

2009-10-15T15:44:00.004-04:00

My 10 year old daughter was recently giving her little brother a hard time when I said, "You had better leave him alone. When he's a teenager, he'll be big enough to beat you up."

She replied, "Nuh-uh! I'll be shooting up then!"

I think she was trying to tell me she'll be growing taller. I think.

The List

2009-10-13T06:46:00.005-04:00

Not too long ago my kids spent the night at my Mom's house. They call her Vo-Vo, which is supposed to be Portuguese for "Grandma", but who knows if we're getting that right. We recently found out that instead of telling the kids they have a cute "behind" we've been telling them they have a nice "ass".

When I picked up the kids after their night at Vo-Vo's, she told me that my son had been well-behaved, which is in stark contradiction to this list.

This list was compiled by my daughter, detailing all the things her brother did wrong. Let's review, shall we?

Stuck his tongue out at me 5 times

Tried to color me

Tried to murder me

Didn't listen

Banged table

Kept trying scraping Vo-Vo's car

What we can gather from this is that three of the items were him simply "trying" to do something wrong. Clearly, we need to work on his follow through.

It's a Hard Habit to Break

2009-10-08T09:29:00.003-04:00

My seven year old son, who has slight OCD tendencies, goes from one bad habit to the next. He went from constant swiping of his forehead, to scratching his arms and legs, to pulling up his pants incessantly, to eyebrow raising.

Most recently, he has regressed to the pants pulling, no matter how many times I tell him his jeans aren't falling down. With this go-round of the pants tugging habit he has decided to throw in pulling up his socks as well. You know, for good measure.

I understand that these things are hard for him to stop doing. Addictions work that way. For instance, my mom, who quit smoking for almost 10 years, started again. But I hardly have room to talk when I can't control myself if there is chocolate within 20 yards.

My daughter often chastises her brother for chewing with his mouth open, but what she doesn't realize is that when she chews gum she resembles Violet Beauregarde. She also starts talking before I've had my coffee in the morning. Oh wait. I guess that's my problem, not hers.

My husband listens to music too loud, I know a girl who over-whitens her teeth and I am friends with lots of people who drive too fast. Hi, Kim! Everyone has a bad habit.

As annoying as they may be, I suppose my son's actions aren't all that harmful. They aren't disgusting either, as was the case when I was a child and I bit my nails. Ew. Now I take care of my nails as best I can. Of course, my new habit is picking my cuticles, because I like to defeat my own purpose.

So tell me, boys and girls, what habit do you wish you could break?

Random Realizations: Illness Edition

2009-10-06T08:18:00.003-04:00

1. After three weeks, "taking it easy" becomes completely overrated.

2. Daytime television is horrible, but middle-of-the-night television is even worse. At one point, you may find yourself so desperate that you watch an episode of Three's Company. Shudder.

3. After two chest x-rays and a lung scan where you have to breathe radioactive gas through a tube, you'll realize that if the flu, pneumonia or possible pulmonary embolism won't kill you, the radiation eventually will.

4. Chicken and noodles is good.

5. Pain medicine is even better.

6. You may be so out of it that you won't realize new carpet is being installed until it's already been laid, covered with mud and cleaned up.

7. When no one will come near you, your dog's affection is absolutely wonderful.

8. Even if that dog stinks.

9. Once you feel better and tell people you're no longer contagious they will still take two steps back if you come near them.

10. You may come home from the hospital to find flowers, home-cooked food and groceries all over your kitchen.

11. And then you will realize how lucky you really are.

Cure JM

2009-10-02T08:21:00.002-04:00

Kevin of Always Home and Uncool has asked me to post this as part of his effort to raise awareness in the blogosphere of juvenile myositis, a rare autoimmune disease his daughter was diagnosed with on this day seven years ago. The day also happens to be his wife's birthday.

*
Our pediatrician admitted it early on.

The rash on our 2-year-old daughter's cheeks, joints and legs was something he'd never seen before.

The next doctor wouldn't admit to not knowing.

He rattled off the names of several skins conditions -- none of them seemingly worth his time or bedside manner -- then quickly prescribed antibiotics and showed us the door.

The third doctor admitted she didn't know much.

The biopsy of the chunk of skin she had removed from our daughter's knee showed signs of an "allergic reaction" even though we had ruled out every allergy source -- obvious and otherwise -- that we could.

The fourth doctor had barely closed the door behind her when, looking at the limp blonde cherub in my lap, she admitted she had seen this before. At least one too many times before.

She brought in a gaggle of med students. She pointed out each of the physical symptoms in our daughter:

The rash across her face and temples resembling the silhouette of a butterfly.

The purple-brown spots and smears, called heliotrope, on her eyelids.

The reddish alligator-like skin, known as Gottron papules, covering the knuckles of her hands.

The onset of crippling muscle weakness in her legs and upper body.

She then had an assistant bring in a handful of pages photocopied from an old medical textbook. She handed them to my wife, whose birthday it happened to be that day.

This was her gift -- a diagnosis for her little girl.

That was seven years ago -- Oct. 2, 2002 -- the day our daughter was found to have juvenile dermatomyositis, one of a family of rare autoimmune diseases that can have debilitating and even fatal consequences when not treated quickly and effectively.

Our daughter's first year with the disease consisted of surgical procedures, intravenous infusions, staph infections, pulmonary treatments and worry. Her muscles were too weak for her to walk or swallow solid food for several months. When not in the hospital, she sat on our living room couch, propped up by pillows so she wouldn't tip over, as medicine or nourishment dripped from a bag into her body.

Our daughter, Thing 1, Megan, now age 9, remembers little of that today when she dances or sings or plays soccer. All that remain with her are scars, six to be exact, and the array of pills she takes twice a day to help keep the disease at bay.

What would have happened if it took us more than two months and four doctors before we lucked into someone who could piece all the symptoms together? I don't know.

I do know that the fourth doctor, the one who brought in others to see our daughter's condition so they could easily recognize it if they ever had the misfortune to be presented with it again, was a step toward making sure other parents also never have to find out.

That, too, is my purpose today.

It is also my birthday gift to my wife, My Love, Rhonda, for all you have done these past seven years to make others aware of juvenile myositis diseases and help find a cure for them once and for all.

To read more about children and families affected by juvenile myositis diseases, visit Cure JM Foundation at www.curejm.com.

To make a tax-deductible donation toward JM research, go to www.firstgiving.com/rhondaandkevinmckeever or www.curejm.com/team/donations.htm.

I Feel Worse Than I Look

2009-09-29T18:53:00.004-04:00

The title says it all.

The pain I've been feeling in my lower ribs since I was diagnosed with the swine flu last week was getting to be too much to bear. What started as hurting when I took a deep breath, changed to hurting when I breathed at all. Last night it changed to just hurting...period.

A chest x-ray today showed pneumonia. Just three days after finishing my Tamiflu, I am once again medicated; this time with an antibiotic. I'm trying not to watch the news, read the paper or, for crying out loud, surf the internet.

So many of you have sent well wishes that I felt I should at least update you...and beg for more prayers.

My son was put on an anti-viral last week as a precaution, but that didn't stop him from coming down with a sinus infection (which was likely a secondary bacterial infection following a mild flu...though we don't know for sure). He has been on antibiotics since Saturday and is feeling much better.

My daughter has been fighting a sore throat and headache for about a week. She's seeing her doctor in the morning.

My husband is totally fine. Lucky sucker.

I appreciate your concern and prayers. Thanks to everyone who is wishing me well.

Pig Hater

2009-09-22T20:49:00.003-04:00

I am a pig hater. Oh, I like bacon, ham and sausage and all...but, when I'm the sickest I have been in about seven years, and it's because some pig went and mutated the flu virus, then I have every right to hate pigs.

I have H1N1, also known as swine flu. I did everything right. I got my seasonal flu shot the first week they were available and planned on getting the H1N1 vaccine. I wash my hands A LOT, I wipe off my shopping carts at the entrance to the grocery store, I use hand sanitizer as soon as I leave a place where I have touched anything and I never, ever use a drinking fountain.

I am taking Tamiflu and have been resting and drinking lots of water for the last two days, but I am still fighting a fever, aches and a cough. I have asthma, so that coughing thing scares me quite a bit. I'm pretty concerned about my kids too. My daughter went to bed with a headache (which was one of my early symptoms) and my son is high risk because of his heart. Your prayers are appreciated.

This blog is mostly light-hearted and I would like to keep it that way. I'm taking a break. I am really sick and if I wrote anything it would likely be a whole lot of complaining. Just ask my husband.

Please send good thoughts our way. This virus is so not good for my anxiety issues.

Small Town Slumber

2009-09-21T08:24:00.001-04:00

I do not sleep. Chronic insomnia has plagued me since I was pregnant with my daughter some 11 years ago.

I have tried everything short of an acupuncturist and I even have one of those lined up. St. John's Wort, Melatonin, anti-depressants and anti-anxiety meds have been ingested, relaxation techniques have been used and I have one of the most comfortable beds and pillows I have ever rested upon.

For the most part my problem exists because I worry a lot. Sometimes it's not even the worrying, but rather the constant chatter in my brain. Keeping my cell phone next to my bed helps a little because I can jot notes into it in the middle of the night (using paper and pencil was pretty tough in the dark), but even that doesn't keep the stress of everyday life at bay.

This weekend, we took a trip to my in-laws' house. They live in a small, southern Ohio town in a big, old house with gorgeous woodwork and a great front porch. One of those roomy porches, with a swing and everything. Sigh.

They live across the street from an enormous park where my husband and I walked the dogs and let the kids play until they were so filthy I barely recognized them. We drank some beer, ate homemade food, played cards with the kids and watched football.

At one point on Saturday, my body sunk into their comfortable couch and before I knew it, I woke myself up with my own snoring. Classy, right? Whatever. I don't even care. My in-laws had 11 kids, so they've learned to tune things out. I allowed myself to doze off and on the entire afternoon.

That night, as I was checking e-mail, I fell asleep at the computer desk. I stayed that way, slumped over with my head on my arm, until my husband came to check on me for fear I had died. That's how much I don't sleep. My spouse saw me with my eyes closed and thought I had passed away.

And, yesterday after church I told everyone I was going to lie down. I climbed the steps and tucked myself into bed...and I went to sleep. I napped, people! That simply doesn't happen.

At my in-laws' there is no agenda, no laundry, no meetings and no work. My kids can play freely without me looking at my watch so we can hurry off to the next thing on our schedule.

I have always said I would dislike living outside the city, because I would be too bored. There just wouldn't be enough to do.

Apparently I've been wrong all this time, because not having enough to do was exactly what I needed.

Put a Little Boogie in it

2009-09-18T17:00:00.005-04:00

My son's teacher pulled me aside this afternoon and said, "I'd like to tell you a story...in private."

I'm not going to lie. I have been pulled aside by his teachers before.

There was the time in preschool when he pretended he was at a party and the playground mulch was his confetti. And, who can forget the time he followed the principal around like a mime? Not me.

So, today was nothing new. My son's teacher sent him down the hall to put some things away, then she turned to me and said, "The other day, I looked down to see your boy's hand in the front pocket of my pants."

I put my hand on my forehead and began to shake my head from side to side.

She continued, "I told him that he couldn't do that and I thought that was the end of it."

My eyes opened wide in disbelief. "It wasn't the end of it?"

"No, it wasn't the end of it, because later that day I reached in my pocket for something and pulled out his dirty tissue."

And then she started cracking up.

Thank you, God, for making my son use a tissue in the first place and thank you even more for a first grade teacher with a sense of humor.