I’ve gotta tell you. This week won. Not like in a… “Oh YAY! What a winning week! Blue birds on my fingertips blah blah de blah!” kind of way but more like in a “whomp whomp whoooooomp…” Deputy Dog kind of way.
Wednesday morning I woke up with some random underarm vasculitis. Which has since hurled itself gleefully all the way down to my ankles. Sucko bucko. This, by the way, is totally my fault because I was all like, “Oooh look at me…vasculitis free…I’m kind of a ‘big deal’!” Point taken, universe.
Which of course gets my brain churning…what caused THAT?? I had some wine on Tuesday…could that have done it? (Sad). I woke up sick on Wednesday. Not wine sick, smartass. SICK sick. The kind where you wake up thinking, “Ruhhhh rooooh!” and you’re coughing up stuff that looks like this:
I spent Wednesday on the couch curled up under a blanket while the kids watched an absolutely disgusting amount of television. A ‘this might affect future test scores’ amount of television. It all evened out though…they took plenty of healthy physical fitness breaks to jump on my chest and yell, “WAKE UP MOMMY!! WE’RE HUNGRY MOMMY!”
For the record, that day they survived on the early 1800s diet of crackers and milk.
Scurvy for the win!
I took the non-drug approach to this junk and spent an inordinate amount of time NetiPotting (is that a word?), hot showering, downing Emergen-c and eating garlic. A whole head of roasted garlic. On the plus side not one sparkly teenaged vampire tried to kill me that night. AND I woke up sans death rattle the next day.
Anyway the point of that ramble is that I don’t KNOW what would bring on the vasculitis. Did my immune system kick into overdrive again because I was sick and that caused the vasculitis? Or as I’ve started to call it…The Sassculitis. As in, “Ooooh guuurrrl…you are working that Sassculitis! 3 snaps in a ‘Z’ formation!” I mean, if you’re going to have bursting blood vessels at least have glittery bursting blood vessels, you know?
So this is also the week that Trapezoid has decided he will arise to greet the day at 6am sharp. And THAT is because on Tuesday I said to some friends, “Oh yeah, ever since the time change both the boys have been sleeping in until 9.” I GET IT, UNIVERSE!
He’s also decided that pants are for nerds and squares…OY. He’s in the 2-year-old ‘my body is beautiful stage’. But instead of just cruising nude beaches like a normal hippie he mostly just flails his legs and screams “NO PANTS! NO PAAAAAAANTS!! ATTICA! AT-TIC-A!” while I make an ass of myself saying things like, “Ooooh look, your pants are a dinosaur and they are eating your legs! Chomp Chomp Chomp! T-Rex pants!!” Exhausting. So that kid running around in a winter jacket and no pants? Yeah, that’s mine. Move along, pants wearing people…next you’ll be telling me that your kids ‘wear seat belts’ and ‘brush their teeth’.
RELAX, I’m joshing…
I drew the line and made him wear pants to school. He did not appreciate this and stood outside in the freezing misty cold rain refusing to look at me for 10 minutes. And who’s the jackass that stood out there with him? That’s right.
The house is DEFINITELY winning. It’s very Lord of the Flies in here. I did that awful thing where I just started throwing clean clothes in a pile to ‘fold later’ (touch side of nose/knowing wink) and of course it’s now turned into a churning mass of wrinkled clothes made worse by the fact that I caught the dog sleeping on it. Somehow the dog still lives. Congratulations to you, you mongrel bastard but remember…it’s only CATS that have 9 lives.
(At this point I’d like to implore the childless to NOT call the ASPCA on me.)
And during the time I was sick and sleeping, I believe the children may have staged a prison riot.
I looked around today and had an irrational fear that for some reason a police officer would need to stop by my house to, I don’t know, pee, and upon entering he would gasp, grab his radio and call for back up to get these poor children out of this disgusting hovel they are entrapped in.
“And if the absolute filth wasn’t bad enough, Sarge…IN THE NAME OF ALL THAT IS HOLY…SHE’S MAKING THEM WATCH CAILLOU!” Which, to be fair, should technically be a jailable offense. Also, do police officers really say, ‘Sarge’?
But honestly, the house is awful. The kind of awful where you don’t even know where to start so you don’t.
I found a graham cracker in my underwear drawer.
I stress ate bacon jerky. Followed by a half pint of Haagen-Dazs Salted Caramel Truffle ice cream. One of those was absolutely disgusting. Seriously. 50 lashes to the idiot who can jack up bacon.
We spent days and days working on a budget. I’m not going to lie. It was pretty much the most fun I’ve ever had. Husband and wife…side by side…reading off numbers…Quicken! Downloadable statements! Excel spreadsheets…ooooh I’m getting all tingly just thinking about it!
Actually it was depressing. And eye-opening. How on earth does one family spend so much money on FOOD?? I’ll be interested to see how the food changes affect the food budget.
But I noticed something. On the night we worked hardest on the budget, the vasculitis spread. And spread. Almost down to my wrists. I was watching it happen. COULD THIS BE STRESS RELATED??? Sorry…shouldn’t yell…but COULD it be??
There never seemed to be a better time to start my guided meditation. Actually…there was a much better time than the time I chose…the next day…with children in the house.
Now I’m going to tell you something. And I don’t want any eye rolling. My guided meditation? I downloaded it from the Oprah and Deepak Chopra Life Class website.
“Hold on…Just…HOLD. ON!” I can hear you say. “Talk about PROCESSED FOOD!”
And yes. Maybe. Oh hell, I don’t know. I’ve never been a big Oprah fan (oh crap! do you think she heard that??) but for some reason this appealed to me. They’re short. I like the message. I find Deepak’s voice extremely calming. And also when I read ‘Eat Pray Love’ I kind of wanted to punch the author during her time of meditation in India. Which I understand is VERY unenlightened of me. But honest. So I thought maybe I’d start a little more, I don’t know…American? Also, if it counts for anything I really liked her when she was cramming her face with gelato in Italy.
Back to my fast food meditation. The whole series is about having perfect health. Deepak gently suggested that I make myself comfortable. Which to me does not involve sitting hunchy on a yoga mat but instead has me sprawled out across my unmade bed. Ahhh peaceful. I should mention that Axel was asleep and Lev was watching a movie.
“Make yourself comfortable.”
Okey Dokey Deepak…nice and comfy…ouch ouch ouch earring caught on sweater…okay nice and comfy…
“There exists in every person a place that is free from disease, that never feels pain. That is ageless and never dies. When we journey to this place, limitations we cease to accept cease to exist. They’re not even a possibility.”
That sounds pretty awesome and OMG has the DOG been sleeping on my pillow?? GROSS!
“This is the place called perfect health. Stepping into this world, no matter how brief these visits may be can bring profound transformation and healing.”
“mooooooooooooooooooom” Stage whisper one inch from my face. ‘mooooooooooooooom what’s this?”
Pause Deepak. Open one eye. “It’s a money clip.” (Ironic, right? Or is that coincidence? I always get those confused.) Close eye. Resume Deepak.
“In this state of true mind body spirit connection all previous assumptions of ordinary existence disappear and we experience…”
“moooooooooooom. moooooooooooooom. what are you doing?”
“I’m meditating.” (I clearly and simply stated this to him only mere minutes ago.)
“What’s mediating?” (All pretense of whispering gone.)
“Uhhhh…it’s ummmm…like yoga where you don’t move.” (With apologies to yogis and meditators alike.) “You can lay with me and do it too but you can’t talk or move.” At this point he wander off, clearly confused by grownups and their strangeness. Which is okay because I usually am too. Resume Deepak. Close eye.
” …our higher, truly ideal reality. Sometimes our health is less than perfect but we need to understand that is not our permanent state. It’s only a snapshot. Think for a moment about a photo you’ve taken, perhaps on the beach. In the picture there are particular elements arranged in a particular way. Waves crashing at high tide, birds gliding through the air, a couple strolling side by side along the water’s edge. If you were to go back the next day or even the next hour, the scene would be completely different. It’s the same for our…”
CRUNCH CRUNCH CRUNCH CRUNCH
‘mooooooooooooooom’ whisper spray one inch from my face.
Pause Deepak. Open eye. “Yes?”
“can i eat these crackers?”
(The crackers you’re already eating?) “Sure. If you go. away.” (Yeah I said it.)
Resume Deepak. Close eye.
” …bodies. Each moment is different from the last. So while we can believe the diagnosis, we needn’t believe the prognosis. We are the controller of our own physiology. And we can take steps to restore our health…”
Pause Deepak. Open eye. Practice deep, deep breathing.
“Uhhhh…I….errrr….ummmm…did you know I have a RescueBot fire station?”
“I do because I bought it for you.”
“WHAT?? I thought SANTA brought it for me!?”
Crap crap crap!
“Uh yeah! Santa brought it. How could I forget?? I love you. Go away.”
He doesn’t go away. And I don’t finish Deepak’s lovely message. And 10 seconds later, a pantless 2 year old does an MMA style scissor leap and lands on my chest.
So here’s what I’ve learned this week:
I’m more stressed than I let myself believe.
Pants are overrated.
Meditation is only for times when children are sleeping. Or highly medicated.
Never ever ever talk about your children sleeping in. Ever.
And hey Oprah? If you’re listening and you ever want to give me a ‘BRAAAAAAND NEW CAAAAAAAR’ I swear I will kiss you straight on the mouth. I can handle Gayle. After all…I’ve got a shiv in my toothpaste.