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4 kittens

Minor, minor hostile edge

Posted on 2015.07.12 at 22:15
I'm really starting to get the hang of this Hawaii character. All week long we were on the same wavelength, laughing at the same things, talking frankly. It's nice!

The red button (counter-intuitively) opens the page, the green button shuts it again. Inside:

A fragile farm model, and a quite nice one at that.

I had an epiphany following one of her (daily) 'dont-yell-at-me' grumps and crying jags. I'm generally baffled-to-irritated, because she says it when I truly have not been yelling. A little edge in my voice, perhaps, but quiet volume. It finally dawned on me that she feels like I'm yelling at her. She feels yelled at. Okay. (My sin is really a minor, minor hostile edge - like a flat delivery or mild eye roll.) I can't necessarily rein it in but I can sigh and apologize and we can get on with things faster now.

At dinner one night, Hawaii and I were trying to teach Pokey and Ace how to roll their eyes. With maximum disgust-face. Pokey mostly rolled his whole head dramatically, which was kind of hilarious.

Bookshelves that my identity-swapping grandfather made.

Ace says, "I bwoke my arm! It bwoke off!" holding her arm the way Pokey had held his broken arm. "We need to go to the hospital!" And then also, "This is serious, guys. It's not funny."

Apparently while I was in the ER with Pokey, that was Ace's tagline: "This is serious, guys. It's not funny." Which is very funny.


I saw the surgeon-jerk for my six week follow-up. "How are your menopausal symptoms?" he asked.
"I...don't have any?" I answered, confused.
"None?" he pressed.
"Am I supposed to?" I asked.
"Yes, at least a little. Are you on hormones?" he asked.
"Yes," I said, "You put me on premarin."
He consulted his chart and then admonished the nurse for not having written it down. "What dose are you on?"
I shrugged, "0.75?" I guessed.
"What! 0.75 mg?" he said.
"You said you were putting me on the medium dose, not the lowest dose," I said.
"Oh, probably 0.65 mg," he said.
"I don't know!" I said.

That is the conversation, transcribed to the best of my ability.  Then there was a silly bit where he asked me about my UTI, and I said I hadn't had one, and he asked what I'd had, and I said "An internal infection."
"Same thing," he said.
NO IT ISN'T. I've had urinary tract infections, and now I've had a post-op infection, and they're really different. Maybe you're using some hyper-doc-ese, Doc, but to us lay people those are very different things.

Anyway, he's my forever-gynecologist, it turns out. One can still get ovarian-style cancers in their peritoneal cavity, and so I need him to root around up there once a year, plus to update me on any BRCA news.

Also: premarin. My friend told me that they are horsey-torture pills. To make the estrogen, they keep horses perpetually pregnant and sap the estrogen out of them like a legit wicked witch to keep me youthful.

It is not something I'm yet ready to go read all about. I'm sure the generic version just tortures generic horses instead of official ones. Bleagh.

Lalala, documenting the good parts, misrepresenting their life. It would appear that they play really well together. Lalalalalala. (We do not own that purple car.)

I'm in danger of inadvertently weaning Rascal. Sometimes I realize that he hasn't nursed in a full day or more.  He doesn't seem to get much out when he does nurse.  This would be slightly earlier than the rest: Hawaii and Ace weaned at the beginning of January, when they were almost 9 months old. Pokey weaned in October, when he was 11 months old.

My mom serves chocolate chip poundcake cupcakes for dessert every night, with either vanilla or chocolate icing. (Do I naturally say 'frosting' or 'icing'? No idea. They both seem right.) Pokey asked for chocolate. He spat out his first bite and exclaimed, "It tastes like COFFEE!" I was impressed, because technically, yes, my mom makes mocha icing, but it's such a subtle bit that most people do not taste it at all.

Other bits from Pokey:
"Some long-necked dinosaurs can hoot."
"The iguana-na can walk in two languages - on his hind legs and on all fours."

Pokey is a mastermind at blending animal nonsense with absolutely true facts. "Did you know a sperm whale can eat a giant squid?" he asked me.  I told him it wasn't true - whales eat krill or something - but we googled, and I'll be damned:

There is video footage too. Sperm whales can eat giant squids. The eyes of giant squids are the size of basketballs, in case you didn't know.

Jammies came home Friday night. It was a long and tiring week, even though the kids were great. The house slowly deteriorated. At best, I try to stall and delay the deterioration of the house, when Jammies is out of town. That part is the absolute worst.


(Anonymous) at 2015-07-14 00:00 (UTC) (Link)

How is it that you have never read Moby Dick?

How is it that you have never read Moby Dick? Squid-eating is covered.
heebie_geebie at 2015-07-20 01:53 (UTC) (Link)

Re: How is it that you have never read Moby Dick?

I know! I don't know! Everyone seems to like it but somehow I never formally sat down with it.
(Anonymous) at 2015-07-14 15:02 (UTC) (Link)
Something that is weird about kids is how inside your head they can get. Like, you've been the biggest thing in their world for their entire lives, so if they're paying attention at all, they know what you're thinking (or maybe not what you're thinking, because they don't have all the information, but what you're feeling). I ran into exactly that kind of thing, where I thought I had negative reactions completely buttoned down, because an adult would never have picked up how I was feeling, but my kids busted me effortlessly, pretty early on.

Doesn't mean you can't have negative emotions, of course, but there's sort of no hope of keeping them from your kids.

(Anonymous) at 2015-07-14 15:03 (UTC) (Link)
Also, find a different doctor for maintenance and hire someone to have this one killed.

heebie_geebie at 2015-07-20 01:55 (UTC) (Link)
And ugh, the doctor. Right now I don't have to see him for a full year, so I just want to stick my head in the sand about the whole thing.
heebie_geebie at 2015-07-20 01:55 (UTC) (Link)
That is absolutely true. It's spooky. The other half of what's going on, though, is Jammies-sensitivity to conflict, which is much more sensitive than my level. Because often I'm not feeling shouty on the inside and reigning it in, I genuinely felt just a mild eyeroll, both inside and out. (Jammies will absolutely not engage in a fight, and if anything approaches that, it takes him a long, long time to cool down afterwards.)
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