Ordered a Hermione costume to be delivered via eBay for my 8 year old. Found out after the fact that the seller was based in China. Now, I live in the Midwest and I see the seller shipped it to Georgia. 😒 Another reason to buy American made products. Most Americans know the difference between the Midwest and Georgia….most people, not all.
Being in the medical field, people I know often come to me with health related questions. Sometimes I can tell people are using me to gauge how crazy their symptoms are before they go to their real healthcare provider. And by “people”….I mean my husband.
First off, I’m about 2 classes and 100 clinical hours short of my PEDIATRIC nurse practitioner degree. My husband does not fall into the pediatric specially or that would be super creepy. Today he tells me, “so sometimes my left knee feels wet. Not all over, just like a 2cm square area.”
In pediatrics, if a child tells me their left knee feels wet, there’s a 99.99999% chance this child has what is called “grabaShoutWipeSTATbecausethiskidhastheREDcherryjuiceboxtheywerejustdrinkingontheirleftkneeseriouslywhoinventedjuicebox-itis”.
But my husband can usually handle his juice boxes without spilling so I needed to dig deep into my nursey nurse brain for this one! I’m relatively sure he’s going to make it through the night.
In his defense, the first time I met him I told him he had cancer. Not in those exact words. In these exact words. He had a sore on his eye and he says to me.
Him-“Don’t mind my eye, I’ve had this sty for like a year now.”
Me-“Oh really?” First date, mind you. Met on a dating website, first time seeing him in person.
Him-“Yea sometimes I think I pick it in my sleep because it will like bleed or scab over or something, but it just never heals.” And all the nurses reading this sing in harmony (B🎶C🎶C)
Me-(realizing he had asked me on this date because he knows I’m a nurse and he wants my opinion on his eye) “So have you talked to your doctor about it?”
Him-“No, do you think it’s something big? Like it’s not cancer……..is it?”
Me-He’s cute, I better use nice but strong words so he goes to the doctor and gets this taken care of. “There’s no way of knowing without a biopsy of the area, which would have to be done by your doctor. But this is a valid symptom your healthcare provider would want to see you about.”
Btw, telling a guy to get his basal cell carcinoma taken care of can earn you some brownie points cause that boy put a ring on it!
Do yourself a favor and Google sty. I like how the Internet is moving away from the basic race and gender neutral stock photo people. But this guys creator could have dialed down the stalker/hitchhiker look just a smidge.
In honor of my 2 year olds birthday today, I’m releasing a collection of photographs over the last year. These pictures are from actual events in which she has been stuck or has claimed to have been stuck. The first picture is my favorite because of the irony written on her onesie. She was “stuck” in her toy basket.
Stuck trying to rip her clothes off.
Stuck in her dolls stroller.
Stuck backwards in her dolls stroller
Stuck in the chair getting a haircut.
Somehow stuck in this position against the wall.
That pesky toy basket has a hold of her again.
Stuck while climbing on the table she’s not suppose to be climbing on.
And finally…legitimately stuck in her jumper. One leg in, one leg out. God, thank you for writing her into our world!
So I heard recently that the artist Pink had gained some weight. She responded via Twitter with a story retelling an interaction between herself and her daughter where her little girl asked her, “mommy why are you so squishy?” She responded with, “b/cuz I’m happy baby” I can relate to that statement with the every inch of my soul (minus the way she spelled because.) I don’t share this with many people but I spent a good portion of my teens and early twenties testing out bulimia and anorexia. If you could see me now, I assume you would laugh at that statement because I look like the worse eating disorder gal EVER! Those were my dark years. I cry just trying to remember the pain I felt for all those years counting bites and calories and exercising till I vomited. Hoping my heart would just stop while I was sleeping. Praying those 10 Benadryl I had left would work their magic if I took them all at once.
I fear backsliding into that, so I don’t run. Because I don’t trust myself to know where the line between healthy and unhealthy are. I don’t count calories because then I cut them until I’m down to a celery only diet. I tired Weight Watchers and I would beat myself up if I ever ate my daily allowance of point. I don’t trust how good I was at keeping those secrets.
Pregnancy was hard. I wanted to eat healthy for my babies and every bite was emotional. I’ve been pregnant twice and gained 19lbs the first time and 7lbs the second time. Which is good for a woman who is overweight. My babies were healthy sized, both were a few weeks early but they were home by one week old!
So here I am. Fat….and happy. I get it Pink! I don’t have starvation migraines! I don’t secretly run to the bathroom after meals. I don’t hate myself. I look in the mirror and tell myself, “My gosh Her et al. you’re fat! But that smile is to die for.” To be able to say my smile is to die for and not think that a stick figure is “to die for” (figuratively and literally) is my success story.
Am I healthy? Not 100% I’d guess. My fasting labs are fine. My HDL could always be higher, but it’s within range. My blood pressure is good and I am currently not depressed! I want to scream it from the mountain tops. I rejoice and thank God I don’t hurt like that anymore. Squishy feels good.
Hear ye! Hear ye! I’d like to remind everyone that even princesses have to deal with the 1st postpartum poop.
Now, why is it NO one warns of this before you have a baby? For some reason, mothers seem to think it’s their right to scare the crap out of first time pregnant mommys with horror stories. “The baby can get stuck on its way out and they have to push the baby back in, run you to surgery, cut you from hip to hip, and rip your baby out!” But that rarely happens. Now the postpartum poop, that happens to EVERYONE! Including princesses.
I assume her mesh panties are couture and hold hand woven pads larger than her newborns diapers. Probably Jenny Packham also!
Heres a link to buy your own since I’m a good blogger and that’s what we do.