In CategoryNavel Gazing

Remember how I said I was trying some new stuff to help with the Menopausey-ness of it all? Well, the gyno listened to my stories and said that we should try some hormone therapy, aka low dose birth control pills. So I took them for three months and then went back to the doc to talk about how we thought it was going. I said it seemed fine, that some days I thought it was helping with my mood swings and some days I didn’t –

well, actually, I put Jim in charge of paying attention to my emotional state because I feel like I have lost all sense of perception. Like, am I cranky? Or does everyone just need to stop pissing me off? Jim said sometimes I still seemed grouchy, and I was like they aren’t Stepford Wife Pills, JIM. I’m not SEDATED. Jeez.

– but that I had been having a lot more migraines lately and wondered if the pills had anything to do with it. She perked up at that and asked me a few more questions about the headaches and then said, “okay, you’re done. you can’t take them anymore, you could have a stroke.”  I blinked. “What? We aren’t even going to talk about it? Just no?” Right. Just no. And then she said stroke a few more times until finally I burst out, “STOP SAYING STROKE FOR SHIT’S SAKE I AM ONLY FORTY THREE!” and clapped my hand over my mouth in surprise. The doctor laughed and went on to tell me about the next step, which is basically antidepressants.

I have lots of mixed feelings about antidepressants. For one thing, I am not depressed. I am cranky. I don’t have any of the symptoms of depression, except being tired a lot, which I think is more about staying up late watching The Real Housewives. If antidepressants help the Terminally Crabby, why don’t they say that? Why don’t they call them AntiGrouchants? How come you never hear about celebrities with anger management issues being prescribed antidepressants and then never having another outburst? (coughAlecBaldwincough) Are they just throwing antidepressants at grouchy 40-somethings and hoping we go away? Or do they really help? I don’t see how being annoyed and being depressed are related, therefore I don’t see how antidepressants would help. Does that make sense? Plus also, being annoyed is surely sometimes NORMAL. I mean, other people are annoying! Is taking antidepressants for crankiness the old lady equivalent to drugging 6 year old boys because they don’t want to sit still for 8 hours a day? By which I mean, trying to drug away the normal? Do I really want to muck around in my brain? That’s scary. What if I turn into a zombie? What if I have some terrible reaction? What if I decide to go off them and have those horrible suicidal withdrawels you hear so much about? What if this is the beginning of some stupid endless roller coaster of doctor’s appointments and trying various medications that creates more problems than it solves? We have some new insurance that is impossible to deal with and makes me want to stab someone (in a normal way, obv).

ANYWAY. I have a lot of thoughts, as you can see. You guys have any thoughts?



Random Monday

In CategoryNavel Gazing


• I thought this article was SO interesting – My Great-Great-Aunt Discovered Francium and it Killed Her.

• If Jim had a beard, I would totally make him do this

Hipster Beards!

• This is an interesting post – Let’s Stop Giving Our Crap to the Poor –  very thought provoking. It inspired lots of conversation in the comments as well.

I have mixed feelings about this, although I think I know what she’s getting at. I personally love donating stuff, and I also shop at thrift stores regularly. Practically everything my kids wear comes from a fantastic little thrift store run by a Christian group that cares for the children of incarcerated mothers with their proceeds. I love finding clothes for my kids there, and love the idea that someone else can be just as overjoyed to find our old things. I do not donate items that are broken or stained – if I wouldn’t buy it at the thrift store, I don’t donate it. Someone told me once that I should cut all the cute buttons off Little’s clothes before donating them so I could start a button collection. I was a little nonplussed at this suggestion, because cutting off the buttons would render the garment useless and it seemed just plain mean to donate something I had already gutted for parts. I did recently wonder if I should have donated Little’s outgrown underpants. They were perfectly good – just too small. Still….used underpants seem icky so I just tossed them. But in doing so, did I deny some other mother what she needed?

• This one really got to me – The Day My Son Gave Up On Me. We’ve all been there, right?

Motherhood is a choice you make everyday

to put someone else’s happiness and well being ahead of your own

to teach the hard lessons

to do the right thing

even when you’re not sure what the right thing is

and to forgive yourself

over and over again

for doing everything wrong

-Donna Ball, novelist

Stupid Nature Shows

In CategoryNavel Gazing

A (slightly disturbing?) Story – 

The other day, the kids are I were driving to the Big City to grocery shop and hit Walmarts.

Little: Mommy! If you were an ocean creature, what creature would you be?

(she often asks these kinds of questions. it is an ongoing conversation around here)

Me: Mmm, I don’t know. I want to be at the top of the food chain. Maybe an Orca?

Little: Yeah! An orca! And I will be your baby orca!

Little, enthusiastically: Mommy! Pretend we are swimming! We are swimming and swimming as fast as we can, except I am just a baby and get tired, but you go ahead and see a Great White Shark and you kill it and bring it back to me and we eat it up! And she had babies in there and we gobble up all her babies too!




I told Jim this story later, and he was all, “looks like we need to put another dollar in the therapy jar.”

Now with No Solar Flares!

In CategoryAdventure

From my pal Eddie

I’m assuming that the solar flares have come back and stopped you from adding new posts. Ahem. 🙂

I know, I’ve been horrible about writing lately, wherein lately means the last 18 months. I keep reading all these posts about how blogging is dead. I’m very suggestible, you know.

Okay, so, here’s what’s happening: We are back in Oregon for a couple months! Remember how I said that our goal when we bought our very tiny house in a very cheap town was so we could afford to travel a little? Well, I’ve been saving all year, and here we are! Are you mentally bracing yourself for endless nature blathering and obnoxious beach pictures? If not, you should be.


The kids have celebrated three out of the last four birthdays in Oregon, and last year we were all sad that we skipped a year and spent it in boring ol’ Colorado. So we decided to come back. The difference being that we are not homeless this time, so I am actually feeling a little homesick. Mixed Feelings: the Hallmark Of Adulthood.

I keep seeing all kinds of Christmas decorating posts everywhere, and am practically faint from the desire to make a tree skirt out of faux fur (Faux fur has to be good for SOMEthing, Mel).

Instead, we bought a teeeeenny tiny tree from the local hardware store and a strand of multicolored Christmas lights. Total cost: $19.95. The kids made candy cane decorations from sculpey and puffy ornaments from pom-poms and pipe cleaners. I still have not wrapped one single thing, but I did buy some paper at the Walmarts (grumbling the whole time – might as well throw a twenty dollar bill directly in the trash, that’s how I feel about wrapping paper) and also remembered tape, so I’m practically finished.

We are having a Very Scaled Back Christmas this year, because Hello! I brought you people to the beach! Hopefully this is the first step on the road to less materialistic Christmases, primarily because materialistic entitled children are icky and also because I think we can cap the Personal Lego Collection at around 4 million bricks, give or take a few that might have gotten sucked up in the vacuum on days when mom didn’t feel like bending over to rescue them.

Bending over is for the birds. I’m 40, you know. I even bought new shoes the other day, with the only criteria being comfortable and slip on. Shoe Laces: Ain’t Nobody Got Time For That. I am coveting some Uggs I saw at the mall a while back, but can’t quite shake the image of Pamela Anderson wearing nothing but Uggs and a red bikini in the 90s. Well, Pam Anderson and the $200 price tag, that’s also standing in my way. I’ll have to wait for Tightwad Deb to get distracted, then I can pounce.