boobie blues

Let me start by saying, no one is forcing you to read this. If you wish to continue on, do so with the knowledge that you had your chance, the "back" button is right up there on your screen.

Here goes:

I have mastitis. Again.

I don't know how this happens! Everything I read says that "between 1-3% of nursing mothers experience mastitis, typically within the first 2-6 weeks of their child's life."

Well, my kid is 9 months old and I've fallen into the "1-3%" three times now.

This time I actually had to go through the "flu-like symptoms" that I was warned would happen if I didn't catch it in time.
So Tuesday morning (my "crazy, jam-packed schedule" day of the week), I woke up feeling horrible. I'm pretty much never sick - I can't afford to be. But I really thought I had the flu. So, I handed Brylie off to her daddy and said, "I'm going back to sleep...indefinitely."
He obliged and whisked her away to a morning of peach puffs and sesame street.
An hour later, I rolled over onto what I realized was a rather sensitive area, and it hit me.
Nooooooo.

So, Brandon had to cancel his day to stay home and be Mr. Mommy/Mommy's nurse.
The only time I managed to drag myself out of the bed all day was to write 3 emails to my profs explaining why I wouldn't be showing up for work/school (without really explaining why - I can just imagine these people discussing my boob issues amongst themselves).
Funny thing is, it took a few hours for me to realize that I didn't HAVE to get up and go to work. Take a day off to moan, groan, and flop around in bed? Never.
But I did it. I wish I could have actually enjoyed my day off, but I guess that's the way it goes.

Two days later, I don't feel "flu-ish" anymore, but I'm still sore. So that means the issue hasn't resolved itself yet. I've read that if it doesn't, they'll have to go in and take care of it...

but I guess two good things have come of this:
when I finally emerged from the bedroom, gas had dropped 10 more cents
and
I didn't change a single diaper all day long : )

brace yourselves

The "twelve days of Christmas" lights are already set up by the river.

Dillards has exquistely decorated trees up for all to see.

Our heater is on.

These are all signs...
It's coming, people.

i've come to a conclusion...

Having a husband that does housework is way more important than making sure my clothes don't shrink in the dryer.

compliments of Dr. S

Since she's originally from India, she sometimes forgets her English words or uses the wrong one entirely.
Tonight she was telling us about counseling in a prison setting. She said, "Now when you sit down to evaluate a primate... wait, that's not right. What do you call a person in prison?"

We all had a good laugh about that, and then she told us about a time right after she moved to America. She said it had rained really hard and the pond in her backyard flooded. There were slugs everywhere.
She started yelling for her husband, "Charlie! Come here, there are sluts everywhere! Oh my goodness, there are so many sluts! Charlie, get these horrible, disgusting sluts out of my yard!"
Her husband (who is American) ran outside and said, "Sangeeta, you're using the wrong word, quiet down or the neighbors will hear you!"

: )
Hope that brightened your day.

welcome to my pity party

I am stressed out.
I don't even know how I found time for this. Maybe because it's 2 a.m. and I'm about to wrap up the homework and work for the night. Maybe this is my therapy. Either way, I'm in need of something. An intervention.

I've just about lost it twice today and I feel another bout coming on. Not over anything too serious: school, hurt feelings, and Sprint's wrongful depletion of our savings account.
I have way too much on my plate. I'm not man enough to drop any responsibilities, but at least I'm no longer in denial. The problem is, I care very much about every commitment I've made.

Being stressed makes me feel like I'm in serious need of some alone time with Him.
I know I am.

I need peace. I need refreshment. I need to have no responsibilities.
Surely the world can do without me for one day.

The Magic Shoppe

So in my Group Counseling class, we've been learning about different ways to conduct group therapy sessions. This last technique was Psychotherapy, or more specifically, Psychodrama.
(I promise this story gets better, hang with me).

One particular method within the category of Psychodrama is called "The Magic Shoppe." I don't know why it's spelled with a "pe" instead of with a "p" - maybe we're trying to class it up a bit.
Anyway, the way it works is there are 30 different positive personality traits to choose from. The group members can pick any one of those that they wish they had and trade in a negative one in exchange for it. For the next week, they use the positive trait and not the negative trait.
The theory behind it is, they will see how much better life is with the positive one and without the negative one and try to continue living that way.

Can you guess what I chose? Remember, I'm the girl who has the Nike Plus wristband, the shoes, and the desire to run, but for some reason can't get my tired booty out of bed at 6 a.m. to actually run.
I chose "will power."
And I gave up "my desire to please everyone by taking on a million and one things that I don't possibly have the time to do."
So this is yet another effort to get myself movin'.

Yikes...accountability.
If this doesn't work, I don't know what will.

pacifier drama

Nevermind the fact that Brylie has wanted nothing to do with her pacifier for the last 8 1/2 months. The teeth are hurting and now she wants it.
We went out of town for the weekend and took along 1 paci. Big mistake. 1 pacifier? What was I thinking?
Just 3 hours into the trip, we left the pacifier at Cracker Barrel. Once in Medina (middle of nowhere), we realized what had happened and stopped at a gas station. Nothing. They've got 3 kinds of formula, cereal, juice, bottles, diapers, baby shampoo, baby lotion, and baby powder...but no pacifiers.
The next morning (after an all night scream-fest), we went into Bandera to the Super S to continue our search for the ever-so-elusive pacifier. They had some Nuk paci's. Brylie's never had that kind before, but we were desperate. And of course...she wanted nothing to do with them.
Later that night in a desperate attempt to get some sleep, Brandon and I put our plastic church camp mattresses on the floor, Brylie between us, and I became the human pacifier for the night.
...and Brylie had to switch sides every hour...on the hour.

But, we made it back and are slowly, but surely, getting caught back up on sleep.

And remember that pacifier that I thought we had lost at Cracker Barrel? I found it in my purse this morning.

to sum up our lives..

What we think of that Sprint bill:





Vogue-ing:







Proof Brylie has hair:

Brylie discovers the camera...

another little gem from dr. s

This morning I had to take Brylie to school with me while I worked.
When I went into Dr. S's office, Brylie had her pacifier in her mouth and Dr. S said, (in a thick Indian accent) "Oh, you have nipple in your mouth! You take it out so I can see pretty face?"

Later...
I stopped by her class to grab something, she sees me, and says, "Come in! Come in! Let the class see pretty baby!"

As I'm walking up to the front to show everyone 'pretty baby,' I hear...
"Earlier she had her nipple in her mouth, so I couldn't see her face. But Mommy took nipple out and I see she's so beautiful!"

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Did she really just say that to 40 eighteen-year-olds?

Oh. My. Word.
Now all these kids think I just walk around the psych department with my shirt off.
Fantastic.

Well, maybe enrollment will go up...

poor, pathetic little me

The other day, I got a voicemail from an old friend who said she missed talking to me, wanted to catch up, and asked me to call her back.

When I did, she revealed her true purpose:
she just started her new Mary Kay business.

poor, pathetic little me.

I thought she wanted to be my friend...

: )

why is it...?

Why is it, that when you have so much to do that you don't even know where to start, you just don't?

I am so on the ball.