Mom came up.
I made ice cream (Root beer flavored).
Michael's birthday was yesterday.
And I had a child sent home from school.
Where to start?
So, Mom came up and we were going to have a little Mary Kay party.
But Bri's BabyBug wasn't feeling good. So it's postponed.
(And Bri? You're NOT a bad friend. You're a good friend and a wonderful mom. It's all cool. ^_^)
Mom and I (and Michael, who was home by this time from his EQ meeting) watched Thor.
(Mom hadn't seen it before.)
Oh ... I should mention that I took Bruise to the doctor's on Monday. His Molluscum went CRAZY. So he has all these little bumps (and scabs from the ones that we popped) all over his arms, chest, back, and thighs. Poor boy.
We saw another doctor in the practice, since their pediatrician was busy ... but he ended up coming for a look.
Bruise's case is the worst that he's ever seen in his 20+ years of medicine. But, as he reminded us, Molluscum ALWAYS goes away.
We were told to
- Leave it alone (No scratching or popping any more bumps)
- Keep it covered
- Review the CDC handout
We were also told to have him eat healthier, since his immune system SHOULD have kicked in by now.
So he's drinking some fruits and vegetables ... and THIS SUMMER is the summer of getting him to enjoy vegetables. And SOUPS. Since it's EASY to get one's veggies by eating soups.
So he's drinking some fruits and vegetables ... and THIS SUMMER is the summer of getting him to enjoy vegetables. And SOUPS. Since it's EASY to get one's veggies by eating soups.
Bucket has a few (like 5-7 TOTAL) Molluscum warts on her. But they're not in spots that she can itch. And they will stay covered.
BUT, while Bruise was at school yesterday, he was scratching at a scab. And it started to bleed. And, with all the scabs from some, I'm pretty sure that the school thought that he had Chicken Pox (He was immunized, so that chance is slim) ... and their teacher is pregnant ... so I got a call.
But since he was scratching and had an open wound, they had me pick him up.
(I really kinda wanted to say, "What? Does the school not have ANY Band-Aids? I can swing by Costco. Get y'all a big box." ... But I didn't.)
Yes, Molluscum is contagious. IF YOU TOUCH IT. And if you don't wash your hands. But, really ... I don't wash my hands as well as I probably should. I wash, but not always for a full one-two minutes. STILL, I haven't gotten ANY. And I'm in contact with Bruise a LOT.
The reason why Bucket's gotten them, I'm pretty sure, is because they've taken baths together. And, despite my requests, they end up wrestling around and goofing off in the tub. (Now? It's TIME for them to have separate baths. I get it. My babies are growing up. *sigh*) That's the only way she could get them on her back.
Bruise is always kissing on and trying to hold Bubbles. She doesn't have ANY.
And, according to the CDC, there's no reason to keep a child out of school or daycare due to Molluscum.
The school did seem to feel a little better when they knew that he'd been to the doctor, so they knew it was NOT Chicken Pox. But it was the whole open sore issue ... *sigh* I just don't know.
I did ask Mom, since she's a retired teacher, if I had been in any way irresponsible by not telling the school/their teacher about Bruise's Molluscum. And she assured me that, no, it wasn't an issue ... until he was rolling up his sleeves and scratching. Which he wasn't supposed to do.
If their doctor had even mentioned letting their teacher/school be aware of it, I'd have definitely let them know. But ... it never even crossed my mind.
So, I picked him up and we went to Target and got some Ace bandages to wrap his arms in while he's at school so he can't scratch. Good thing school's getting out next week.
The whole thing exhausts me.
Of course, what's even funnier, is that as Michael and I looked at his arms ... it already looks WAAAAAAY better than it had even last week. So it's really a huge mountain out of a molehill, for the most part.
Michael's pretty sure that they called me without asking Bruise about what's on his arms.
If they'd asked, he'd have told them that it's warts. Which is what it is. He knows. Bucket knows.
Mom is pretty sure that they're just being a little paranoid. What with Chicken Pox and then the huge fears of blood-borne pathogens.
But we're working REALLY, REALLY HARD to get his immune system kicked up a notch with healthier eating and LOADS of prayer.
Especially since I'm not getting the kids into swim lessons until they're Molluscum free. (Or there are only the healing ones. No new ones.)
I really wish that I knew where he caught it. Just like I really wish that I knew how Bucket got head lice.
Oh well.
So, besides that, Mom and I went to Farmers' Market yesterday. We got goat cheese (feta AND chevre), fresh basil (which makes me house smell AMAZING), apple sauce and apple butter, fresh cherries, some beef (Michael had a delicious birthday steak for dinner. And I got to feel rather virtuous for having locally-grown/raised beef in the house for once. ^_^), sugar snap peas, and a cucumber. I think that's it. ... Yes. That was my haul.
Mom got two cucumbers ... and no steak.
But that's because the steak was Michael's present. Well, one of them. ^_^
BUT, while Bruise was at school yesterday, he was scratching at a scab. And it started to bleed. And, with all the scabs from some, I'm pretty sure that the school thought that he had Chicken Pox (He was immunized, so that chance is slim) ... and their teacher is pregnant ... so I got a call.
But since he was scratching and had an open wound, they had me pick him up.
(I really kinda wanted to say, "What? Does the school not have ANY Band-Aids? I can swing by Costco. Get y'all a big box." ... But I didn't.)
Yes, Molluscum is contagious. IF YOU TOUCH IT. And if you don't wash your hands. But, really ... I don't wash my hands as well as I probably should. I wash, but not always for a full one-two minutes. STILL, I haven't gotten ANY. And I'm in contact with Bruise a LOT.
The reason why Bucket's gotten them, I'm pretty sure, is because they've taken baths together. And, despite my requests, they end up wrestling around and goofing off in the tub. (Now? It's TIME for them to have separate baths. I get it. My babies are growing up. *sigh*) That's the only way she could get them on her back.
Bruise is always kissing on and trying to hold Bubbles. She doesn't have ANY.
And, according to the CDC, there's no reason to keep a child out of school or daycare due to Molluscum.
The school did seem to feel a little better when they knew that he'd been to the doctor, so they knew it was NOT Chicken Pox. But it was the whole open sore issue ... *sigh* I just don't know.
I did ask Mom, since she's a retired teacher, if I had been in any way irresponsible by not telling the school/their teacher about Bruise's Molluscum. And she assured me that, no, it wasn't an issue ... until he was rolling up his sleeves and scratching. Which he wasn't supposed to do.
If their doctor had even mentioned letting their teacher/school be aware of it, I'd have definitely let them know. But ... it never even crossed my mind.
So, I picked him up and we went to Target and got some Ace bandages to wrap his arms in while he's at school so he can't scratch. Good thing school's getting out next week.
The whole thing exhausts me.
Of course, what's even funnier, is that as Michael and I looked at his arms ... it already looks WAAAAAAY better than it had even last week. So it's really a huge mountain out of a molehill, for the most part.
Michael's pretty sure that they called me without asking Bruise about what's on his arms.
If they'd asked, he'd have told them that it's warts. Which is what it is. He knows. Bucket knows.
Mom is pretty sure that they're just being a little paranoid. What with Chicken Pox and then the huge fears of blood-borne pathogens.
But we're working REALLY, REALLY HARD to get his immune system kicked up a notch with healthier eating and LOADS of prayer.
Especially since I'm not getting the kids into swim lessons until they're Molluscum free. (Or there are only the healing ones. No new ones.)
I really wish that I knew where he caught it. Just like I really wish that I knew how Bucket got head lice.
Oh well.
So, besides that, Mom and I went to Farmers' Market yesterday. We got goat cheese (feta AND chevre), fresh basil (which makes me house smell AMAZING), apple sauce and apple butter, fresh cherries, some beef (Michael had a delicious birthday steak for dinner. And I got to feel rather virtuous for having locally-grown/raised beef in the house for once. ^_^), sugar snap peas, and a cucumber. I think that's it. ... Yes. That was my haul.
Mom got two cucumbers ... and no steak.
But that's because the steak was Michael's present. Well, one of them. ^_^
Mom and Dad C (and Grandma C) came by as we were grilling up the steak and some burgers for the kiddos.
(Did I mention that we FINALLY got the grill?? We did! It came in on Sunday. Michael picked it up and put it together Monday night. It took TWO HOURS for him to put it together ... so that tells you how NOT-CLEARLY the instructions were written. But it's a good grill ... and it's ours.
Also, with the gift card that it came with, he bought himself some LEGOs. ^_^
He put his Tie-Fighter together while Mom and I were watching Thor.
Bruise is rather jealous. :P)
(Did I mention that we FINALLY got the grill?? We did! It came in on Sunday. Michael picked it up and put it together Monday night. It took TWO HOURS for him to put it together ... so that tells you how NOT-CLEARLY the instructions were written. But it's a good grill ... and it's ours.
Also, with the gift card that it came with, he bought himself some LEGOs. ^_^
He put his Tie-Fighter together while Mom and I were watching Thor.
Bruise is rather jealous. :P)
What was really cute was that they kept saying that Michael got the grill for his birthday.
No, we bought that for Memorial Day (not that it arrived in time. *sigh*) ...
We got him a DRILL for his birthday.
They got him some very nice shirts and a gift card for the movie theater. Always a great present. ^_^
And Michael was cute as he was almost as excited as I've ever seen him about something.
The drill and driver (came as a set) will be put to good use.
(FYI: The most excited that I've EVER seen him was when he learned that he passed his test to be a real engineer -- as opposed to an EIT.
Srsly, he swung me around. And that takes something. I'm nowhere near being one of those sweet, little things that weigh 90 lbs, soaking wet. ... And, really, with my bone structure, I'd look skeletal if I were that small. But I'm not happy about my BMI. Ugh. Let's not go there. Let's concentrate on how adorable it is when Michael's excited. Because it's ADORABLE.)
In other news, Jem! is on Netflix streaming.
I've watched about three episodes ... and, since I'm hormonal (nursing AND having the painters in) I almost started sobbing at one part.
One of the foster girls runs back into Starlight House to rescue the jar of money the girls are saving (which she had attempted to steal from earlier). When she comes out, Jerrica tells her that it was a crazy thing to do and that ... *sniff, sniff* ... no amount of money could ever replace you.
And, oh gosh, I'm misting up ... This is so stupid.
These are CARTOON CHARACTERS ...
Yeah ... this is what Michael gets to put up with (and, strangely enough, he seems HAPPY about it. Probably because insane people are pretty entertaining. That must be it).
Lucky boy.
Oh, and ... well, this is the year that I start messing up Michael's age. I KNOW, really, how old he is.
But then I say, "Well, you're only 34."
No. No, he's not. I'm off.
By more than one year.
He just looks younger. That's it. It must be.
Or else I'm in denial that I'm as old as I am.
No ... because I'm starting to think of myself as older.
Even though, mentally, I still FEEL as clueless as I was at 16.
But, since I've passed 30, I just assume that I'm automatically 35. Not 31.
I'll chalk that up to having found my first grey hair.
In my EYEBROW.
A few months ago.
Yes. That's so, so special.
Also special?
While Michael and I were talking in bed last night, we were talking about NOT refusing to use big words.
Call Mathematics by their real names: ADDITION, SUBTRACTION, etc.
Michael's main beef is that when people refuse to use the big words, it makes awesome classes like Chemistry SCARY for a lot of people.
Whereas, if we're all used to using big words ... it's not such a big deal to lean about hydroxides and other things that use big words.
I have taught our kids that they have penises and vaginas (and I'm working on the term vulva, since that's the actual correct term for the part that you see ... and it'd be good to use the CORRECT-CORRECT term).
As I said that "they have penises and vaginas," last night, Michael was tired.
"No, they shouldn't. At least not both at once."
"Yes, honey," I sardonically drawled. "Because we only give birth to hermaphrodites in this family."
Yeah. We're special.
But, besides it being a matter of importance to use the correct terms for things, I also read that, according to some research (citation needed, I'm sure, since it was a while ago that I read it), children who use the correct technical terms for their private parts are less likely to be sexually abused. ... Something about the (potential-)abuser realizing that they'd give stronger testimony and are more aware of what is and isn't appropriate.
And, well, in a case like this, I'd rather be overly safe than sorry.
I do try not to be a helicopter-mom. I do try to foster independence in my children.
I want them to feel loved and secure ... but I also want them to KNOW that they have the ability to protect themselves. To be capable of making their own (hopefully GOOD) choices.
I want them to know that I respect their decisions ... I might not always agree with them ... but that they have the right and the ability to make their own choices.
I want them to know what they NEED to do ... and that, after that, they have freedom to choose and prioritize their wants.
I want them to be responsible citizens who help others around them to feel valued and appreciated. I want for my children to be strong. I want them to be healthy. I want them to be content in their place in life, to not regret many things. I want them to be educated, to have a love of learning. I want them to never stagnate in life. I want them to develop a good work ethic, to be able to support their families -- to have marketable skills (since life WILL throw challenges in one's way. It's not an IF. It's a WHEN) that they can take confidence and security in possessing. I want them to love the Lord, to have a love for the scriptures, prayer, and following the commandments because they WANT to (not just because it's something they are supposed to do) entrenched in their character. I want them to aim for Celestial marriage ... and, regardless, to live life in preparation of those covenants that they'll make in the temple. And, after their wedding, to show love and respect for their spouse. I also hope they'll marry people that we'll get along with, too. ^_^
I want them to be aware that they can ALWAYS come to Michael and me for love, support, advice, a listening ear/sounding board. I want them to never fear that we won't love them or that we'd shun or shame them. (I will admit that I am, at times, disappointed in my kiddos' choices. Sometimes I may not love them as fully as they deserve ... but I will always love them. It's my JOB. And I gladly accept that responsibility.)
I also want them to eat their friggin' vegetables. And pick up their crap. And not give me any sass. And not to psyche themselves out of things they need to do -- I want them to be able to acknowledge that they are afraid ... AND DO IT ANYWAYS. To PROVE to THEMSELVES that they CAN do it. Even if it's scary.
And ... well ... I, as a mother ... as THEIR mother, need to learn how to best model this for them. How to best support and encourage them. To give them a safe haven from anything else out there. To foster a love of learning and of loving those around them. To show them that, even if you don't LOVE it, eating healthily and exercising will not KILL you. ... Things like that.
I need to be better at it.
No, we bought that for Memorial Day (not that it arrived in time. *sigh*) ...
We got him a DRILL for his birthday.
They got him some very nice shirts and a gift card for the movie theater. Always a great present. ^_^
And Michael was cute as he was almost as excited as I've ever seen him about something.
The drill and driver (came as a set) will be put to good use.
(FYI: The most excited that I've EVER seen him was when he learned that he passed his test to be a real engineer -- as opposed to an EIT.
Srsly, he swung me around. And that takes something. I'm nowhere near being one of those sweet, little things that weigh 90 lbs, soaking wet. ... And, really, with my bone structure, I'd look skeletal if I were that small. But I'm not happy about my BMI. Ugh. Let's not go there. Let's concentrate on how adorable it is when Michael's excited. Because it's ADORABLE.)
In other news, Jem! is on Netflix streaming.
I've watched about three episodes ... and, since I'm hormonal (nursing AND having the painters in) I almost started sobbing at one part.
One of the foster girls runs back into Starlight House to rescue the jar of money the girls are saving (which she had attempted to steal from earlier). When she comes out, Jerrica tells her that it was a crazy thing to do and that ... *sniff, sniff* ... no amount of money could ever replace you.
And, oh gosh, I'm misting up ... This is so stupid.
These are CARTOON CHARACTERS ...
Yeah ... this is what Michael gets to put up with (and, strangely enough, he seems HAPPY about it. Probably because insane people are pretty entertaining. That must be it).
Lucky boy.
Oh, and ... well, this is the year that I start messing up Michael's age. I KNOW, really, how old he is.
But then I say, "Well, you're only 34."
No. No, he's not. I'm off.
By more than one year.
He just looks younger. That's it. It must be.
Or else I'm in denial that I'm as old as I am.
No ... because I'm starting to think of myself as older.
Even though, mentally, I still FEEL as clueless as I was at 16.
But, since I've passed 30, I just assume that I'm automatically 35. Not 31.
I'll chalk that up to having found my first grey hair.
In my EYEBROW.
A few months ago.
Yes. That's so, so special.
Also special?
While Michael and I were talking in bed last night, we were talking about NOT refusing to use big words.
Call Mathematics by their real names: ADDITION, SUBTRACTION, etc.
Michael's main beef is that when people refuse to use the big words, it makes awesome classes like Chemistry SCARY for a lot of people.
Whereas, if we're all used to using big words ... it's not such a big deal to lean about hydroxides and other things that use big words.
I have taught our kids that they have penises and vaginas (and I'm working on the term vulva, since that's the actual correct term for the part that you see ... and it'd be good to use the CORRECT-CORRECT term).
As I said that "they have penises and vaginas," last night, Michael was tired.
"No, they shouldn't. At least not both at once."
"Yes, honey," I sardonically drawled. "Because we only give birth to hermaphrodites in this family."
Yeah. We're special.
But, besides it being a matter of importance to use the correct terms for things, I also read that, according to some research (citation needed, I'm sure, since it was a while ago that I read it), children who use the correct technical terms for their private parts are less likely to be sexually abused. ... Something about the (potential-)abuser realizing that they'd give stronger testimony and are more aware of what is and isn't appropriate.
And, well, in a case like this, I'd rather be overly safe than sorry.
I do try not to be a helicopter-mom. I do try to foster independence in my children.
I want them to feel loved and secure ... but I also want them to KNOW that they have the ability to protect themselves. To be capable of making their own (hopefully GOOD) choices.
I want them to know that I respect their decisions ... I might not always agree with them ... but that they have the right and the ability to make their own choices.
I want them to know what they NEED to do ... and that, after that, they have freedom to choose and prioritize their wants.
I want them to be responsible citizens who help others around them to feel valued and appreciated. I want for my children to be strong. I want them to be healthy. I want them to be content in their place in life, to not regret many things. I want them to be educated, to have a love of learning. I want them to never stagnate in life. I want them to develop a good work ethic, to be able to support their families -- to have marketable skills (since life WILL throw challenges in one's way. It's not an IF. It's a WHEN) that they can take confidence and security in possessing. I want them to love the Lord, to have a love for the scriptures, prayer, and following the commandments because they WANT to (not just because it's something they are supposed to do) entrenched in their character. I want them to aim for Celestial marriage ... and, regardless, to live life in preparation of those covenants that they'll make in the temple. And, after their wedding, to show love and respect for their spouse. I also hope they'll marry people that we'll get along with, too. ^_^
I want them to be aware that they can ALWAYS come to Michael and me for love, support, advice, a listening ear/sounding board. I want them to never fear that we won't love them or that we'd shun or shame them. (I will admit that I am, at times, disappointed in my kiddos' choices. Sometimes I may not love them as fully as they deserve ... but I will always love them. It's my JOB. And I gladly accept that responsibility.)
I also want them to eat their friggin' vegetables. And pick up their crap. And not give me any sass. And not to psyche themselves out of things they need to do -- I want them to be able to acknowledge that they are afraid ... AND DO IT ANYWAYS. To PROVE to THEMSELVES that they CAN do it. Even if it's scary.
And ... well ... I, as a mother ... as THEIR mother, need to learn how to best model this for them. How to best support and encourage them. To give them a safe haven from anything else out there. To foster a love of learning and of loving those around them. To show them that, even if you don't LOVE it, eating healthily and exercising will not KILL you. ... Things like that.
I need to be better at it.
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