Category: Family

The Dork at THIS keyboard

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With apologies to Oh The Joys, this post is in honor of Tanis, and in a few years, for my kids.

Me in 6th Grade
Me Circa 6th Grade

There was a time when I wanted to be “cool”. I wanted to look like the other kids and wear what the cool kids wore (In sixth grade I had to have moccasins, in 7th grade, a pair of dark blue Nikes with the light blue swish). In high school I settled into the band crowd and that mostly worked for me. I still wasn’t a cool kid, but I had “people”. In college, I realized that my different looks were an advantage. People remembered me (in a good way) and I started to use that to my advantage. It my mid-20’s, I hit my stride and never looked back. Like it or lump it baby, I yam-what-i-yam, ya know?

In honor of Tanis’s post about marching to her own drummer, I share with you what makes me, me.

I was a Mac user long before Apple was cool and during the years when Steve Jobs wasn’t CEO and everyone said they were done for. I tell people my blood runs in six colors and most people don’t get it.

My first car was a brand new mini-van, by choice. I miss the functionality and would get another one in a heartbeat if it was practical where we live.

I wore sneakers under my wedding dress and proudly showed them off. I live in Danskos in the winter and Crocs sandals in the summer. I think high heels are painful and high fashion is stupid. There are days when I dress to impress, but I refuse to be uncomfortable.

I loved Star Trek the Next Generation. I thought the Wesley Crusher was cool.

I love to dance, but am hopelessly uncoordinated. There has been at least one trip to the ER tied to my dancing.

Solid, three part harmonies bring tears to my eyes. Blue grass fiddles cut right to my soul.

I didn’t start listening to FM radio until high school. As a result, I know the words to way to many cheesy 70’s songs. This includes (but is NOT limited too), Daddy Please Don’t, Convoy, The Night The Lights Went Out In Georgia Any Barry Manilow song from the 70’s, Dead Skunk and several Tony Orlando and Dawn Songs. Those are just the songs in my iTunes library. I spent the first two years of college listening to the classic rock station just trying to catch up. I never made it to the “cutting edge” stuff.

I like Nickleback too. I like, 38 Special Styx, Poison, Quiet Riot, Ratt, Twisted Sister and Night Ranger. Today, my tastes, are more country. Garth Brooks, Trisha Yearwood, Miranda Lambert, but don’t leave out Anna Nalick, Norah Jones, and Jason Mraz. In short, my tastes are all over the map.

I like Dolly for her voice (no, really!) and yes, she has awesome business sense.

I bought The Climb by Miley Cyrus because I liked it.

I danced to Celine Dion with my Dad Dennis at my wedding (Because You Loved Me). I can belt out a mean “Its All Coming Back to Me Now”. No apologies Tanis.

I recently discovered romance novels. I can respect literature, but can rarely read it. I like good stories, and symbolism can frustrate me.

I go to the movies to be entertained. Make me laugh, and please don’t make me think too hard. I do that in other areas of my life.

My actor crush growing up? Andrew Stevens How’s THAT for out of the main stream. Anyone else remember Code Red?

I get very wrapped up in TV shows like ER and 24, to the point where I don’t watch them because they stress me out.

I hate most sit coms and reality TV because I hate to see people make fools of themselves.

I love Big Bang Theory because while not nearly as smart, I identify with the geeks.

I like old George Carlin and think that Dennis Blair is one of the funniest men walking the planet.

I drink tea, not coffee and while I have been exposed to a variety of fine teas, many of which I have enjoyed, I can be equally happy with a cup of Tetley.

I love acapella music.

My 3x Bioptic Telescope from Designs for Vision

My vision sucks, but I will not miss out on all that is to be experienced in this world. I hold things close to my face to read them and my bioptic allows me to see things clearly that are at a distance. Yes, it looks odd and if I catch you staring at me for a long time, I will turn my scope on you. If you are curious how it works, just ask me nicely. I’m happy to explain and if you’re nice, I might even let you try it.

These days, I embrace my inner dork on a regular basis. If Oh The Joys hadn’t used it first, I would have used “The Dork at the Keyboard” in my blogging description.

My daughter is approaching the precipice of her teenage years with impatience, mixed with fear and anticipation. Thanks to this book we regularly have discussions about menstrual cycles and their, uh, accouterments. I dread the teenage years because like Tanis, mine SUCKED and I want better for my kids. Yet, I know that it is just something that every kid had to get through. Right now, my daughter seems to follow her inner spirit and I can only hope she hangs on to that guide as time passes.

In the mean time, I save this link to show her it could be worse, she could be her for a mother 🙂 And, I’ll gather more photos of me to prove to my daughter, no one survives unscathed, but we all muddle through one way or the other.

My display o'dorkiness

Steak Miraculous

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The master at work

I was a picky eater as a kid.  In those days, if it wasn’t hot dogs, plain spaghetti with butter, bread or a sugared cereal, I wasn’t interested. Dennis, usually made it home from work before my mom so dinner duty usually fell to him. In an effort to defuse dinner time tensions between my mom and I, he would endeavor to make a big deal about dinner preparation.  When he was trying to get me to try something new, he’d call it Gourmet by Dennis.  The man couldn’t wield a screwdriver to save his life, but he was master of all things grilled. Usually.

On this occasion, Dennis’ cousin Paul would be joining us for dinner. The meat selection for the evening was a round steak. Dennis prepared the marinade, and allowed the steak to bathe in some wine, garlic and spices.  He wrapped the beef in heavy duty aluminum foil  and slathered it with onions, mushrooms and the marinade and put the “Steak Miraculous” on the Webber charcoal grill to cook.
Throughout the preparation, he hyped this meal as THE most amazing ever.  He assured me my taste buds were in for a treat.  My picky eater, tween self was more than skeptical, but I had learned by then to keep my food opinions to myself, lest another tussel break out about my preference to live on bread and Coco Puffs.
The table was set, the salad made and the potatoes baked (in the coals of course). The hype continued to build. Steak Miraculous would astound and amaze.  It would change the way I thought about dinner in general and steak specifically. It would be THE gold standard of dinners.
There was much pomp and ceremony surrounding the foil packet’s delicate removal from the grill.  Glory Glory Hallelujah may even have been hummed.  My mom, Paul, and I were told to be seated while the delicacy was plated and prepared for it’s debut.
It was presented, and we diners offered up the appropriate amount of oohs and ahhs for such a momentous occasion. The steak was cut, er hacked, and served.  I delicately picked away the offensive mushrooms and onions (I know, I know, remember I was a picky eater.  I’ve since become a devoted worshiper of the sacred triad that is mushrooms, onions and garlic). Carefully, I cut a small bite.  It took some effort, but I managed to break away a minute morsel and get it into my mouth. I chewed and I chewed, and I chewed.
It was what I imagined it would be like to eat corrugated cardboard. Corrugated cardboard that was marrinated in red wine and garlic. I kept chewing.  Like I said, I was a picky eater and had already engaged in my share of dinnertime tiffs over what I would and would not eat.  There was no way I was going to be the first to offer my less than stellar opinion of Steak Miraculous.  Slowly, I lifted my head to gauge the opinions of my fellow diners.  They too were still chewing.  I looked from my mom, to Paul to Dennis unable to read their expressions.  My mother broke first with a snort of laughter as she continued to chew, and chew.  Paul was next and finally Dennis.  I eventually joined the gales of laughter.   We laughed so hard we cried.
Steak Miraculous was awful.
It wasn’t just awful, Steak Miraculous was quite possibly THE most miraculous disaster in the history of Gourmet by Dennis.  It was 100% completely inedible.  It was tough and tasteless and flat out gross.  It was a meal that would live in infamy because I didn’t have to eat it.
I’ve since learned that round steak is best suited for slow cooking and thin slicing.  To this day when I see it on sale in a grocery circular, I chuckle. I also came to learn that the more Dennis hyped a dish, the less confident he was in its success.  Still, he kept trying and eventually I learned that there was more to life than bread and Coco Puffs.
Thanksgiving Perfection
Monday would have been Dennis’ sixty first birthday.  By the time he died, we’d shared many more successful Gourmet by Dennis dishes including, Potatos Anna, Bowman’s Tower Chicken and even a grilled Thanksgiving turkey. He however, was never able to convince me that turnips were a food, but that didn’t stop him from trying.
This post was inspiried by Busy Dad. Go watch his tribute to beef and learn how you could win $100 Omaha Steak gift card courtesy of the American Cattleman’s Association and The Motherhood.
I am not being compensated for my words, I’m married to a serious carnivore and I really want to win the gift card 🙂
It is worth noting that I grew up to appreciate all the glory that is a good cut of beef.  I refuse to buy beef in the super market.  Instead, we get ours from a local butcher.  The cost is a bit more per pound, but I have him package our order in appropriate portion sizes, so there is very little waste and the taste is worth it!

Daisy Dog

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Daisy Dog

June 14, 1998 – February 17, 2010

We didn’t pick her, she picked us.
My husband always had dogs growing up.  I always wanted a dog. We got a cat not long after we were married and finally in 1998, we owned a house and had the space and schedule for a dog.  I would have taken a mutt from the pound, but A-Man had always had collies, so we located a breeder and went to see the puppies she had one fall weekend. The outside kennel was chaos.  There were dogs every where.  All very excited to see people.  We met many dogs that day, but one, a butterscotch colored female came over, and sniffed A-Man and then basically tried to sit on his head.  She was loving and affectionate from the get go.  She was ours, and we named her Daisy.
As I recall, her puppyhood was marked by ups and downs.  House breaking her wasn’t fun, but it wasn’t brutal either.  She was four months old by the time we brought her home, so I think that made it easier.  She chewed a pair of my sunglasses and I thought she ate a pack of my sewing needles. Turns out she had just nibbled the plastic. She took to a crate easily.  One night, my husband and I were watching TV and heard the door to the crate close.  She’d put herself to bed.
The cat had long since claimed the role of Queen and Daisy fell in line with the pecking order.  Even when the kids came, she adjusted fairly easily.  She learned to give toddlers a wide berth and later she would learn about the unwavering affection of older kids.
Daisy loved to go on long walks through the neighborhood.  She was friendly, gentle and loved people.  We had to abandon teaching her to give us a paw because when she raised her paw, she’d knock over the little kids trying to show off. Most of our neighbors loved her.  Danny the mailman brought her a little biscuit everyday and would stop to talk with her and pet her. Neighborhood kids would stop by to chat and pet her regularly.
She didn’t like riding in the car (she’d get sick) and she developed a passionate dislike for anything with a gasoline engine. Our lot was triangle shaped and she spent much of her day outside in a kennel that had road on either side.  She would have a fit every time a school bus or garbage truck drove past. She had that long collie nose that would sometimes get her into trouble and she had an uncanny knack for lying right where I needed to walk.
She wasn’t crazy about being outside at night.  She’d howl. We did our best to keep her in after dark, but by then we had our daughter and sometimes it couldn’t be helped.  One night, we came home and she was gone, her kennel door wide open.  She was located the next day, two towns away.  We could never prove it, but we’re pretty sure a neighbor took her for a ride and let her go.  After that, we locked her kennel and had her microchipped.  Now that I think about it, that was the about the time we started talking about moving North.
Daisy was thrilled when we moved to New Hampshire.  She had the run of two four plus acre lots and by then, my mother-in-law had adopted one of her distant cousins. Daisy was in her glories.
She was pretty good about staying close to home, but a few times, the wind blew something across that nose and she just had to follow it. It was thanks to Daisy that we met some of our new neighbors.  She once spent an entire day at a neighbors house playing with her dog and 3 kids.
The was never a doubt, Daisy was A-man’s dog.  As a puppy, she’d join him on the couch when he watched TV.  Later, she claimed her spot on the floor in front of the couch. She was right there when A-man sat down and took his shoes off.  She knew her loves were coming next.
In the new house, her dog bed (an oversized stuffed dog), was at the end of our bed and in her younger years, she’d come upstairs after us and lay down.  She’d let out a big sigh like she was deflating and if A-Man and I talked too long or laughed too loud, she’d groan like we were disturbing her.
Eventually, her hips and knees started to give her trouble and she slept on the first floor. Age was taking its toll, but she was still her loving, easy going self.
Last night, she woke my husband up whining from the first floor.  He let her out and she didn’t come right back. When he found her, she was clearly having a hard time breathing and in distress.  We called the local emergency clinic and made arrangements to bring her in.  We debated waking the kids.  Poor Daisy was in rough shape and we knew what measures we were willing to take. Things weren’t looking good.  Ultimately we woke Fish and had her say her goodbyes.
The initial exam showed a tumor on her spleen and the possibility of bloat (when the stomach turns upside down). Regardless poor Daisy was facing major surgery.  There were doubts as to whether she would even make it through the surgery, so we made the difficult decision to euthanize her.
You know when you bring a dog into your life, chances are good you will out live her, but still it is sad when they go.
Singer/Songwriter Scott Kirby says four good dogs are all you can count on in life.  Daisy was one of our four.
Rest in Peace Daisy Dog thanks for all the loves and the groans. We’ll be sure to look out for trucks!

Nine

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She’s nine.My nine year old sporting her snazzy new glasses.
Almost ten she reminds me frequently.  Soon to be double digits. Dear God, how did that happen?  A decade?  Really?
There is the constant physical growth.  She’s long and lean and it seems 2 minutes after I buy her new pants or shirts, she’s sporting floods and complaining because her belly button is hanging out.
She’s most definitely a ‘Tween.  I usually hate pop-culture descriptors, but this one is dead on.  She’s not a little girl anymore and she most definitely (and thankfully) is not a teenager.  Yet.
In recent weeks, she has informed me that she no longers wishes to eat from a kids plate, the character dishes kept in the lowest drawer for easy access.  No, she’s ready for the glass plates, that the grown ups use, and no more plastic cups or utensils either.  I am corrected, if forget. She is gentle, but she corrects, none-the-less.
Her room, she informed me, is just a little babyish for her, but she’s personalizing it to meet her needs, so it will be ok for now,  She says this as if to warn me that a redecoration will be necessary in the not too distant future.  I’m not ready to part with the light lavender walls or the border of large pastel flowers.
Last week was perhaps the the coup-de-grais of recent growth and development. An angst ridden conversation about why she can’t stay home alone. She IS nine after all.  Don’t we trust her? Sweet Jesus, her Dad and I are in for a long ride through the teenage years.
The thing is, at nine, she is responsible and the factors that prevent me from even considering the idea of letting her stay by herself for any length of time are external, and completely beyond her control.
First, SHE’S NINE!!!! Responsible or not, she is nine years old and dammit, that is just too young to stay home alone.  I mean there’s DSS to consider.  I don’t know anyone in Social Services, and frankly, I’d like to keep it that way.
Next on my list of reasons why Fish can’t stay home alone is location.  I grew up in suburban Philadelphia the houses were maybe 50 feet apart.  Many in the neighborhood worked, but by the time I was staying home alone, I knew lots of our neighbors (from my days peddling Girl Scout cookies door-to-door) and could have gone to many of them for help if I needed it.
If she’s at home alone and something goes awry, she could run to her grandparents, but there have been and will continue to be large chunks of time when they will be enjoying their retirement in locations nowhere near our home. If they aren’t home, we’re talking a quarter of a mile walk to a neighbors house that we know.  (Why yes, our zip code is EIEIO, thank you very much).
Aside from the foolishly practical reasons, there is the is the sentimental and emotional reason.  I’M not ready for her to stay home alone.  She’s my first and will always be my baby.  I know that I have to let her go.  I know she has to grow up and that she will do so MUCH faster than I am ready for her to do so, but still, SHE’S NINE!!!!
Despite warning me earlier in the evening, that she wanted to be talk to me about staying home alone, I was still unprepared when the conversation occurred.  I tried to reassure her that this wasn’t about trust, that her Dad and I did trust her and that she had been demonstrating tremendous amounts of responsibility, but my statements sounded weak even to me.  I tried to explain that is just wasn’t GAH “appropriate“ for a nine year old to be staying by herself.  I explained that her Dad and I could get in trouble for leaving her home alone. I could see in her eyes, that her innocence and age appropriate naivete didn’t believe me.  I’m secretly glad that she hasn’t had the life experience that will teach her that the world can be cruel, but still I don’t like being at odds with her.  Yes, I know on a logical level that if I’m doing my job right, I’ll be at odds with her frequently during her teens years.
I suggested we talk with her Dad about this.  He’s just better at explaining things that I am.  I’m much more the ”because I said so“ type and I know that doesn’t fly anymore.
At some level I’ve known this was coming.  I’m trying to prepare myself.  I’m reading Queen Bees and Wanna Bees to familiarize myself with Girl World as it exists now, but it is slow going because I just am not ready to go there yet.
The Red Cross offers a class that teaches teens and tweens about staying home safely.  The Recreation Committee has sponsored this class in the past.  I’m optimistic they’ll do it again. She also has the AmerIcan Girl Book about staying home alone.  I think I need to read it so that I can continue this discussion on her terms.
I don’t think I’ll ever really be ready, so I guess it is time to suck it up and plunge in, but, did I mention, SHE’S NINE!!!!

Winnie Kitty

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I never wanted a cat.

I grew up with various small creatures, gold fish, hamsters and guinea pigs who all gave their lives in the name of my learning to be responsible. To their spirits, I say thank you for your sacrifice, as I grew into an adult who has managed to sustain the lives for which I am now responsible.

If I wanted for a larger animal, it would have been a dog, but my mother argued that we just weren’t home enough to consistently care for an animal. My husband’s family on the otherhand had lots of pets growing up fish, gerbils (who committed unthinkable acts of cannibalism, but that is for another blog post 🙂 cats and dogs.

Early in our lives together we lived in apartments, most of which did not allow pets. If we were going to get a pet, I wanted a dog, but even I recognized that our lives were not suitable for a dog. So, I caved and agreed to a cat. It was fairly easy to convince the landlord to let us have a one given that the tenants upstairs (his daughter Lisa and her husband Jim) had a cat.

We resigned the lease just before our wedding and Lisa and Jim offered to get us a cat as a wedding gift. We joked that while the majority of the wedding gifts are of interest to the bride (China, small appliances etc.), this one was definitely for the groom.


They took us to Angel memorial, the SPCA in Boston and we waited with the other hopeful adoptive parents. It was a busy Saturday, but fortunately, they had some kittens. A-man’s original pick was a male tiger kitten, he was alert and feisty and spoken for. There were others in the litter, that A-man was considering. Then there, way in the back under the newspaper was a pair of bright green eyes. They were attached to a tiger and white kitten. Her nose was mostly white with a spot of tiger stripe. The coat on the top of her body was mostly tiger stripe with a small sploch of white. It sort of looked like she hadn’t waited for the paint to dry before she stuck her nose in it. She was skiddish and definitely the runt of the litter, but she was ours.

They dipped her and cleaned her up for us. We provided proof we had permission from the landlord to keep her and off we went. She yowled the whole way home and I was not optimistic about this endeavor.

We did as instructed and allowed her to explore her surroundings. We waited for her curiosity to bring her to us rather than chasing her. For her part, she whined and yowled A LOT. We named her Winnie. The thinking was that if she didn’t tone down the MmmrrOOWWWWs, we could just call her Whiney.

She did eventually adjust to her surroundings, and it wasn’t too long before she had me wrapped around her little paw. Through the years, she has provided us with lots of love and some great laughs many of which will make excellent blog entries on their own.

She is 13 and a half years old and even though she is the smallest occupant of the house, she rules the roost. That said, most people don’t even know we have a cat as she is not fond of strangers.

I didn’t want a cat, but then again how can anyone resist this face?

A tour of the town.

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The Mayor of Christmastown agreed to give my loyal readers, er reader, a tour of his fine town. It’s a little long (almost 4 minutes) and the Mayor does not have the steadiest hand, but it amusing none-the-less.

http://www.blogger.com/img/videoplayer.swf?videoUrl=http%3A%2F%2Fv15.nonxt5.googlevideo.com%2Fvideoplayback%3Fid%3D3d4efb043090036b%26itag%3D5%26begin%3D0%26len%3D86400000%26app%3Dblogger%26et%3Dplay%26el%3DEMBEDDED%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1264024819%26sparams%3Did%252Citag%252Cip%252Cipbits%252Cexpire%26signature%3D6B2ACFB6630C4C4C3E5138E77D2996A3A915969.67AF4B21CFCC8C2084EDE56747A483A3A7A5C4AE%26key%3Dck1&nogvlm=1&thumbnailUrl=http%3A%2F%2Fvideo.google.com%2FThumbnailServer2%3Fapp%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D3d4efb043090036b%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw320%26sigh%3DdExfYAFRnW1-YtJBqAoUAmJTYU4&messagesUrl=video.google.com%2FFlashUiStrings.xlb%3Fframe%3Dflashstrings%26hl%3Den

The next week promises to be filled with lots of Christmas cheer, so I’m not sure how much I’ll get to post. Thanks for reading. I wish you all a healthy, happy and safe Holiday Season.

Reesie,
The Impatient Perfectionist

‘Tis the Season!

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As I type this, it is snowing out. Yay the first snow of the season! There are Christmas Carols on the radio and my kids are setting up their Fischer-Price Little People® Christmas village. We started the collection when my daughter was little. It was purely in our own interests, but it has developed into one of my favorite Christmas traditions.

When we first got together, my soon to be Mother-In-Law started a collection of Christmas in The City from Department 56® for A-Man and I. The buildings are made of porcelain, beautifully detailed and very breakable. The thinking was, if Fish had her own village, she’d leave ours alone and for the most part this was true. Mim was a different story. As a toddler, he had an almost magnetic attraction to all that was breakable, so we left the grown up village in the attic and focused instead on the Little People®

the years, we’ve added new pieces as they have become available, to the point that we now need an 8 foot table to hold everything. For a few years, Fischer-Price didn’t add any new pieces, so I was pleased and surprised to see the addition of “A Visit From Santa” this year.

Each piece has one electronic piece, that chimes a tinny Christmas jingle and flashes lights when provoked. That part I could do without, but it is so far outweighed by the benefits. I live with it.
We install the batteries (reluctantly) and leave it to the kids to set up. Through out its annual appearance, it will get deconstructed and reconstructed many many times.

I love listening to the kids make up stories about what is happening in Christmas at any given moment. It really brings out their imaginations and at times give me insight into what is going through their minds.

As time passes, I’m sure they’ll outgrow it, and we’ll once again set up Christmas in the City, but I plan on hanging on to these pieces in the hopes that someday my grand kids will enjoy them just as much (yeah, I do plan a head).

In the mean time, I’ll try and get you a tour of the Christmastown before the season ends.

Fischer-Price also offers a nativity themed set and a Hanukkah celebration set. Firemom wrote a great post chronicling her boys playing with the nativity set.

The Waffle Crisis

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Trouble, oh we got trouble in River City folks.

Due to problems at two different bakeries, Kellogg is fighting a waffle shortage. This could have dire repercussions in our house. My kids are horrible creatures of habit. *looking askance* I have NO idea where they get this from */end looking askance*.

Breakfast in our house for the kids is Quaker Instant Oatmeal, Maple and Brown Sugar Flavor, 2 Eggo Waffles and a beverage. (milk for my son and orange juice for my daughter). EVERY DAY.

On rare occasions, my son will substitute Life Cereal for oatmeal, but Eggo Waffles are a constant. Eggo, no other brand of store bought waffle will do. For that matter no other flavor of Quaker Instant Oatmeal will do either. I can’t event MAKE homemade maple and brown sugar oatmeal. Trust me, I’ve tried (I thought it tasted the same).

On occasion, we have pancakes for dinner. In this case we make a lot of extras and the kids eat them for breakfast, but there is no way I could make pancakes for breakfast on school mornings. For one thing it would screw up the routine and for another, it would, well it would screw up the routine!

To date, I have not personally experienced any shortages with the waffles. We buy our waffles in bulk from Sam’s Club. There are 60 waffles in a box and we go through a box on average every 10 to 14 days. I have had trouble finding the box of ONLY Maple and Brown Sugar Instant Oatmeal at Sam’s recently, but my fall back has been to buy the smaller boxes at the grocery store (with coupons when I can find them). I don’t know what I’ll do if we start having trouble finding the Eggos too. I mean, we might have to do something radical like CHANGE THE ROUTINE and cook things in a frying pan over an open flame when I haven’t even had my tea yet. Oh, the HUMANITY!!!

I sincerely hope we can avoid such drastic actions. My husband is under strict instructions to stock up the next time he goes to Sam’s. Thank goodness for our extra freezer. I’m not taking ANY chances.

Cold Medicines and Babbling Pinballs

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Have you read Malcolm Gladwell’s Tipping Point? No? You should, it is really fascinating. In it he talks about different types of people. I fall into the connector category. If I come across information I think is useful, I feel compelled to share it. Sometimes this is a good thing and sometimes I should probably MYOB. I hope this is one of those times when the info I have is helpful.

You’ve heard of Sudaphed right? The ubiquitous little red tables that dry out your runny nose. The main ingredient in the original Sudaphed was psuedophedrine. Sadly, it is also one of the key ingredients in crystal meth. So, awhile back the FDA, ordered retailers to remove products with pseudophedrine from publicly accessible shelves.

Big Pharma knew that we, the American consumer, were not a particularly motivated group and that standing in lines was not one of our favorite pastimes, so they reformulated many of their cold products eliminating psuedophedrine and in my rarely humble opinion, rendered them as useful as sugar pills.

What most people don’t know is that you can still get many of the original formulations, but you have to ask a pharmacist for them AND provide a photo ID and signature for tracking purposes. Thank you thank you almighty pharmacist (or more likely a pharmacy technician) for providing me the one thing that actually provides me relief from my common cold symptoms.

Now, about the same time the FDA pulled psuedophedrine products from the shelves, the powers that be (I believe it was the FDA and the American Academy of Pediatrics), also instituted new regulations banning most multi-symptom cold formulas for children. The AAP said they didn’t work anyway. Really? How many of them have hung on to their sanity by a thread with a congested and miserable 1 year old only to be saved by Pedicare? I have friends who SWORE by Triaminic. Hey, they worked for us!

I spoke at length about this change with my children’s pediatrician and she said the biggest problem was that most parents were overdosing their children. Once again, a few dorks who can’t read labels ruin it for the rest of us. Grrrr. We talked about psudophedrine. She said that yes, it was safe for my kids (who were 8 and almost 4 at the time) and she gave me the doses. She did warn me that some people don’t react well to psudophedrine. This is a fact of which I was well aware. My husband cannot take decongestants as they increase is heartbeat and give him the shakes.

This is all leading somewhere I promise.

We are fortunate. Truly, the kids don’t get sick much, and I’m not one to offer medicine at the drop of hat. However, by the time my son had his 4th cold settled into is ears and developed into raging ear infection I was ready for something, ANYTHING to stop the insanity. I talked to my pharmacist (not the tech) and she agreed to order me a bottle of liquid psuedophedrine. Whoo Hooo! Yay! Amen, Hallelujah and Praise Be . . . aaaaaannnnnnnndddddd then the colds and ear infections stopped.

This is the first cold either of them have had in a long time. I was determined that this time I was going to keep the goop out of his ears. Yes he’s older and he’s grown significantly, but I wasn’t taking ANY chances. That said, I was a little wary of what his reaction to psuedophedrine might be, so I held out the first few days. I gave him Benadryl (also doctor recommended), and that dried up his nose some, plus had the added benefit of making him a tad drowsy. Today we tried the psuedophedrine. The first dose was effective and he seemed fine. About 5 hours later we gave him a second dose. ZING, PING, POP, ohmygawdhaveyouMETmysonthebabblingpinball??????????? He’s an energetic kid to begin with, but now he was just off the charts. At dinner, my husband said “you could never give him this and send him to school.” Well, I could, but I really LIKE his kindergarten teacher. The directions say every 4-6 hours. I supposed if I’m desperate, I might try it again, and spread the doses out even farther, but I’m thinking we’ll stick with Benadryl.

My daughter on the other had as been find on psuedophedrine (she can take the tablets). It has worked well for her. Just another way that they are COMPLETE opposites. So, if your family is suffering with runny noses, consider standing in line and getting some psuedophedrine, just keep an eye out for babbling pinballs.

Please note, I’m not a doctor, nor do I play one of TV (10 points to anyone who gets THAT reference), I am simply sharing my experiences with a product that I like and have purchased with my own money. You should talk to your doctor and pharmacist before starting any new medications.

Don’t Gimmie No Lines and Keep Your Germs to Yourself

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The stories are everywhere; you can’t open a paper (for those of us that still read them) or turn on the radio without hearing the words flu or H1N1 mentioned. The topic is all over Facebook and Twitter as people lament their illness, or that of their kids and spouses.

The flu is serious business, it can be deadly for some populations, but arguably, for most people, it is just uncomfortable and inconvenient. Yet as Americans, we take any kind of illness personally, it is like some sign of weakness to admit that you weren’t able to fight off a stupid little virus. So, rather than doing the smart thing and staying home and keeping the germs to ourselves, we put on our superhero capes (or martyr robes depending on your perspective) and soldier on, runny noses, scratchy throats, hacky coughs and all.

Sick days to the working person are like those plastic decorations on a cake. They look good in an employment offer, but you aren’t really supposed to consume them. Some companies even reward employees who DON’T use sick days. This means that super Joe or Jane comes to work spewing germs thus infecting poor Mary or Marty who doesn’t have the strongest immune system and ends up taking sick time. Joe or Jane gets a reward at Mary or Marty’s expense.

The age-old argument is “I don’t have TIME to be sick”. Really? Why is it that doctors say the best remedy for colds is rest and fluids? If you’d stay home when you are first sick, I bet you’d find you feel better faster than if you barrel on like a locomotive infecting everyone for miles.

Don’t even get me started on parents who send sick kids to school. In most cases, I don’t blame the parent as much as I do the parent’s employer. When I was volunteering in my daughter’s second grade classroom, I overheard J, an obviously sick child tell the teacher she couldn’t go to the nurse because her mom would lose her job if she left work to care for J. What is a teacher supposed to do with that?????

My kids inspired this post. Both are home today. I kept the younger one home yesterday because he was a veritable faucet of mucus and is not good at blowing his nose, remembering to cover his mouth when he sneezes or coughs, or washing his hands. Germs are the only things he is good at sharing. He’s 5, I am optimistic this will change. He didn’t have a fever and spent most of the day be-bopping around the house.

The older one also had a runny nose yesterday and the beginnings of a cough, but since she is better at containing her germs and she BEGGED (really!) to go to school. I sent her. I send decongestant with her and when she visited the nurse yesterday, for a regular dose, she complained of a scratchy throat, so the nurse took her temperature it was 100.3. So, home she came. Both kids are still spewing liquid today, but both are better. Still, they are home. Don’t misunderstand me; I’m no saint in this game. I’ve sent my kids into the fray plenty of times when they weren’t 100%, but never when I knowingly thought they were seriously ill.

I’m not really sure what the answer is. Employers complain, that sick time costs money and lost productivity, but I think they are being incredibly short sighted. If they’d allow employees the time to stay home and get well, I think they’d find that that productivity would increase because when employees ARE on the job, they would be well and focused on their work rather than ill and jonesing for that next cold medicine fix.

I work for myself, so I have fairly liberal sick time policies. How about you? What kind of sick time policies does your company have? Can you work from home when you are sick? Are you at risk of losing your job if your kids get sick?