Unboxing Citrus Lane #favoritethings

So one little indulgence I decided to sign up for when my husband got his job back and I was feeling flush for the first time in months is a membership to Citrus Lane for my Sunshine who is two and a half. We get a box every week of fruits and vegetables from Door to Door Organics and he is always super-excited to open it up. So I thought he'd love a box that was just or him full of age-appropriate mystery stuff.

The box arrived with the mail. It didn't fit in the box so our mail carrier had to come up our drive and ring our bell. This was very exciting. Nobody ever rings our bell. The package was smaller than I expected but the perfect size for a two year old to carry into the living room all by himself. I had to cut a piece of packing tape that was holding it shut, and then he was able to open the box by himself as well. This was very exciting.


Please excuse the stains on my carpet. Kids live here.

Inside we found a little tea set, some flash cards, a cute little ice pack and a coupon for a free language video download and a note from Citrus Lane explaining what everything was.

This is the Tea for Two set from Green Toys. The little tag says that it is 100% recycled plastic, made in the USA and free of BPA, phthalates and PVC. Good thing because the first thing he wanted to do was make tea and drink it. I made him special blueberry "tea" by tossing a few blueberries in the blender with some water and putting it in his new tea pot. His day was made. Especially when I put some graham crackers on a plate. It's just the two cups, two saucers and a tea pot with a lid. I love that it's gender neutral. It's also nice and sturdy, it has a wide lid that fits snugly (doesn't fall off while pouring) but is easy to remove and it says it's dishwasher safe. Not that I own a dishwasher. Anyway, he played with this thing all day, then took it in the tub, and then insisted on used it to serve his daddy some milk before bed (don't worry, I washed it. Super easy to clean.). I'd say this one is definitely a win.

I know most people associate flash cards with unpleasant things like cramming for finals and math drills but Sunshine loves flashcards. He loves anything with a picture and a word to go with it. So the Alphabet Art animals A-Z flashcards from PetitCollage were a good, age-appropriate call (even though the package says ages 3 and up because kiddos who chew on them could bite off bits). I love these flashcards. I admit, I love them more than he does. They are gorgeous. They are also nice and simple. I hate flashcards with a lot of busy imagery. They lose the point. We're not learning Tarot here. But look at those beautiful pictures! I think I am going to use these to decorate his room when I finally get around to doing it. In fact, they are inspiring me to get around to doing it. The cards are about the size of a standard greeting card and they are good, thick card stock. I think Sunshine thought they were greeting cards, he kept asking me to "Ope it" for him. Sturdy, gorgeous and packaged in a nice, sturdy box you can put them back into when they're not in use. What more is there to want? Oh yes, they're made from recycled materials and vegetable based inks. My one complaint: V is for Viper. Really? My kid knows that's a snake. There is no convincing him otherwise!

The little ice pack is Cool it Buddy by Me4Kidz. It is cute, flexible and soft so that you don't have to wrap it up in something else and dilute the cold before you apply it. It's also just the right size for a bump. Sunshine wasn't impressed at first and didn't want to model it, but once it was frozen it became very interesting and he enjoyed putting it on his head, and my head and the head of anyone else who would hold still for him. I have no idea where it is right now. The search continues. I'm going to be annoyed if I can't find it when he has a bump.

The fourth and final surprise was a free language video download from LittlePim.com. I could choose from 11 languages and I chose Spanish because I figure it's the one he's most likely to run into in life and MrRabbit and I both took Spanish so we know a little. Latin wasn't an option. The video was cute and he liked it okay. He kept laughing at them saying names of food in Spanish and "correcting" them with the English word. I'm not sure that's how it's supposed to go. But I was a little irritated that I had to download it onto my computer. I don't want him using my computer. I feel like there are videos that are just as good available for free on Youtube (which he can watch on all sorts of devices that aren't my computer). I went ahead and downloaded the app for Kindle and it was just okay.

Finally, the box. It's a good box. It's a nice, sturdy reusable box. So I stuffed it with shoes and a coat that no longer fit my Sunshine to send off to my husband's friend, who I am told has a 1 year old. I am excited to use future boxes for craft projects. We shall see.

The final verdict on the Citrus Lane Box? I signed up for the 6 month subscription which is $21 a box and I had a coupon so it was a little less. Did I get $21 worth of merchandise that I liked in this box? Yes, I believe I did. The tea set and flash cards are probably worth somewhere around $20 each on their own. So, I'd say I got my money's worth and then some. Plus the fun we had just opening the box! This box seriously gave me an entire day when I didn't have to figure out what to do next to entertain my two year old. And I love that they give you information about the manufacturers so I can discover lots of cool new stuff to drool over on their websites. I think we'll do this again next month.

Doing the Laundry

If you haven't been following along, I am following the system at Flylady.net to get my house organized and beautiful as my annual Hearth Day Resolution. This month's habit is laundry and I am pleased to say I am starting strong here.

I had to get into the habit of doing laundry daily when I started using cloth diapers. Otherwise, the whole house stank of pee and poo. But Flylady says we must do this in order to avoid CHAOS (can't have anyone over) which is also nice. She has a specific system for doing laundry which works well for her, but I do it my own way.

My Laundry Routine

Every night after dinner, I gather up laundry. This is triggered by the wash cloths and towels I have at the end of the day from keeping the kitchen area clean. I have a  two year old and don't use paper towels, so it can be a lot. It's not a full load of laundry though; even last Tuesday when he was sick and vomiting all over everything, (carrot juice on my carpet!) it wasn't a full load. So I toss those in the wash machine and grab what's in the dryer and take it upstairs, toss it on my bed and fold it and put it away. Then I peek in the bathroom, around the various bedroom floors, etc. and gather up enough laundry to make a full load, toss it into my recently empty laundry basket and take it downstairs to the laundry room. No, I don't generally sort (I know, this is a crime). At this point we're mostly looking at towels anyway. I start that load and proceed with my evening. Just before bed I transfer that load into the dryer.

In the morning I am usually looking for towels and washcloths to do what needs to be done. Granted, there's often some in the kitchen drawer or on the bathroom shelf, but it's easier just to go downstairs and grab what's out of the dryer. I take those clothes, toss them in a basket and put them at the bottom of the stairs, take the washcloth and dishtowel I need off the top and return to my day. The reason I don't fold them and put them away immediately is because my husband sleeps about two hours longer than me in the morning and I like to fold my laundry on my bed.

When my husband gets up, he wanders in the kitchen and begins puttering around doing I don't know what and generally being in the way. In order to preserve our domestic tranquility, I go back upstairs. I make the bed, bring in the laundry basket and fold and put away my load of towels. Then I gather up the clothes my various family members discarded the night before (often but not always found in their laundry baskets, in their rooms, which I did not previously invade because they were sleeping) and take them downstairs to be washed. Assuming I have a full load, I'll wash them. If not, I just toss them in the washing machine and turn it on later when it's full. By this time, my husband has finished whatever he was doing and wandered back upstairs, so I go back downstairs to finish putting breakfast on. He will return shortly with the little one. Then we can enjoy a nice sit down at the table. This is important, since my husband is rarely home for dinner.

Breakfast is another morning routine that I feel I've got down nicely, but I will share that another day.

Sometimes there is a third load. If I'm washing bedding that day or if there was some extra messy situation or someone just got back from a trip and dumped their suitcase on the laundry room floor. But usually, two loads a day is plenty and sometimes I don't even need to do two.

Clothesline Dreams

I am also considering putting in a clothesline. But you see, my dream clothesline is a big circular rotating thing that I can easily reach off my back deck. My back deck is in desperate need of replacing and it's not in our budget. The clothesline of my fantasy would have to be sunk into a big hole and fixed with cement. I'm not sure if its a good idea to do that sort of permanent installation right next to a structure right next to a future major construction project. Not to mention the fact that there's a certain tree that will need to go away in order to create the perfect sunshine/ventilation situation for the drying of laundry. It's size and nearness to the house means we will have to hire professionals; also not in the budget. The result of all of this thinking: Not only do I not have my perfect outdoor clothesline solution, I have NO outdoor clothes drying solution.

As soon as he wakes up, I am going to give my elder son (who will hereafter be referred to by his super hero name: The Iron Panda) one end of a string and I am going to take the other and we are going to string a clothesline between some trees.

One thing I'm learning from the Flylady is that perfectionism is the enemy of actually getting things done.
Seriously, check her website out if you haven't, she's so cool. And no, I'm not getting paid to say that. I should look into that though.

Magic in the Laundry Room

As a kitchen witch, I take great pleasure in finding little ways to insert more magic into my everyday activities, especially my housekeeping. So of course I'm going to whip up some laundry magic.

One thing I like to do (and I'm not sure you'd call it magic exactly) is to take old nylon socks and pantyhose and fill them with dried herbs, tie a knot in the open end and toss it into the dryer. Lavender is a favorite for this, especially for bedding. It scents the clothes beautifully and naturally and the ugly little sachet can be used about a dozen times before I ultimately toss it. It's a good way to reuse old pantyhose. Other nice options might include cinnamon chips, orange peel, lemon peel, or southern wood. Go with what moves you.

Another kitchen witch I know prefers to put a few drops of essential oil onto a washcloth and toss that into the dryer. This also works well and gives you more choices of fragrances to choose from as many herbs lose their fragrance when dried. It's just a matter of preference and budget. Essential oil costs a bit more, but it is also easier to manage and stores more neatly and compactly. But if you grow herbs, you may want to use what you can pick out of your garden at no extra costs. You can also use leftover citrus peels after you eat the fruit.

Here are a few ideas of herbs or oils to use for their magical properties:
Lavender - Soothing, relaxing, pleasant dreams and good sleep. Try it on your bedding. Ahhh.
Cinnamon - Gently increase the libido, draw love and friendship and money and for protection against general negativity. Try it when you go to a new place and are looking to meet new people.
Cloves- Draws money and luck, protects against gossip and jealousy. Your lucky gambling shirt. Or whatever.
Rosemary - When you have to stay sharp and want to be memorable. A job interview, taking a test at school, etc.
Allspice- Maximum manly sexiness. Also for self-confidence.
Citrus- Including orange, lemon, lime or grapefruit peel for energy and clarity
Southernwood- To stay alert and to repel insects. Your ritual garb perhaps?




PS I am in the market for a new laundry soap recipe. I will be experimenting with them over the next few months and will get back to you when I find one I love. If you've got a recommendation, please feel free to share it.

Letting the Genie Out of the Bottle

When my husband came home from work Monday night he told me Robin Williams was dead. I didn't believe it. He told me he commit suicide. I felt a profound sense of not surprise and then I knew it was true. Robin Williams suffered from mental illness. He fought it bravely. He eventually lost the battle.

I cried. I cried a lot. I am not sure why. Obviously I loved his work. Obviously I grew up watching his movies. Ferngully was my daughter's favorite at one point and we watched it all day everyday for a two month stretch. But this man was not my kin. I have lost others who were kin and did not cry as much. But they were old and visibly ill. But they died of natural causes. I don't know...

A light has truly gone out of the world.

When I hear Robin Williams called "selfish" and "cowardly" for his final act, I am angered. I am angered because he was neither. Robin Williams spoke openly about his mental illness and his addictions. He discussed his struggles with anyone who would listen and he helped others. Most people hide these conditions, pretend they do not exist, try to go on as normal. Robin Williams functioned. He went to work and his work was pretending he was someone he wasn't, but he didn't pretend he wasn't suffering. He never pretended that. He was very brave.

Mental illness will never be conquered until we can recognize it for what it is- a disease- and call it out without shame of social stigma, of being considered "weak" or "cowardly" because owning your disease takes strength and bravery and it is the only way to conquer it. And if it still wins after that, then at least you went down fighting.

Today in the car I heard a story on NPR about a picture going around of Aladdin and the Genie and the caption "Genie, you're free" and they had an interview with a psychologist who was saying how much she hated this image and this idea and how it promoted the idea that suicide is a good answer, a way to freedom and it made her job so much harder.

But here is what she was forgetting.

Mental illness is illness. It is disease. It is chemical as research is beginning to show. It makes you suffer; unspeakable suffering, mostly in silence. Even if the disease doesn't cause you to become isolated you are still isolated because of the nature of the disease - you can't talk about it. You shouldn't. It's a faux pas. If you have Cancer, you can talk about it. If you have Diabetes, you can talk about it. AIDS, okay, maybe not to just anyone, but you can talk about it. We can talk about heart disease. In my family, the hot topic is Parkinson's disease, which conquered my paternal grandfather 3 years ago and is currently working on my maternal grandmother. And when someone dies from complications from these diseases we say "At least he is free from his pain." "Well, he is at peace now." And it is okay to say that.

But when someone dies of complications from mental illness - suicide or maybe even an accidental death related to the illness - we can't say that. It's wrong. It's bad. It "glorifies" suicide and drug use. Even the mental health professionals who want mental illness to be recognized as a real and true disease and not a social defect, consider it a faux pas to acknowledge that now this person who has suffered is now free from his suffering.

People can't understand how someone so loved could feel so alone, so worthless, so done as to want to take his own life and that is the point. It does not matter how well you are loved. It does not matter what you have or what you accomplished. At a certain point you are simply done. It is simply over. There is simply no more to do and the rest of that does not matter. And then you attempt suicide. And you die or you don't. Or there is an intervention and it doesn't happen. But that person who is mentally ill is no more capable of preventing the suicide attempt on his own than a person having a heart attack is capable of saving his own life. Either he has to call out for help before it reaches a tipping point or someone close to him has to recognize the symptoms and intervene.

We don't know if Robin Williams called out for help that night. We don't know if anyone heard him or knew what he was saying. Unfortunately, if there were symptoms they were too subtle or the people around them didn't recognize them. I am sure his family and staff are asking themselves what they missed, how they could have missed it. But we can't blame him or anybody for what this disease did. We can only mourn him and never forget and work harder to understand mental illness so that it can stop killing people.

Suicide is not the only death by mental illness out there. Do not assume that because some deaths are "accidental" that they are not also suicide. Mentally ill people play with their lives all the time. Do you think people don't know that if they drive drunk they might die? Or that if they take a lot of heroine or whatever or engage in other risky behavior that there's a chance it will kill them? Of course they do. When I was in the deepest depths of my own depression and self medication I remember saying "I do it because I don't have the balls to kill myself outright." I am pretty sure that wasn't an original statement. I am no that creative.

There are people in my life that I pray for every day. Some day my phone will ring and I will get the news that mental illness has killed another person so young and so full of promise. Mental illness loves a genius. It is greedy for the greatest among us and it will take many many more before it is conquered.

Enough with the Fat Shaming

As a fat person with a rather healthy lifestyle, I am tired of the assumptions made about fat people. People look at a fat person and assume that that person is fat because he or she lives a lazy, gluttonous lifestyle and therefore has earned her fat and thus has no right to be respected. That he or she should just take it when they are ridiculed for dressing comfortably at the beach, or going to the beach at all. Or openly laughed at when her butt or stomach jiggles when she's jogging down the street. This is okay. Because obviously it is within everyone's reach to be thin. Obviously fat people are just slovenly and so deserve our disrespect. Right?

Making assumptions about fat girls (and boys) is just as wrong as making assumptions about skinny girls (and boys). You know, like that they're anorexic or bulimic. Or that they've had "work done". The fact is, most skinny people I know are very fond of cake and beer and all of those other things that fat people are assumed to indulge in. And most skinny people I know have sedentary lifestyles, or get a good portion of their exercise at the nightclub rather than the gym.

Personally, I believe that I live a pretty healthy lifestyle. I cook from scratch, garden, take regular walks in the woods and downtown (pushing a stroller) and I am a huge fan of Yoga. I also meditate daily. I drink green tea. I do not drink soda, diet or otherwise, except for medicinal purposes (it's great for nausea and that scratchy allergy season throat) and then, I wouldn't be able to finish a can if I wanted to. Gross. I despise most junk food and the texture of white bread, white rice and cake makes me gag.

Why am I fat? I don't know exactly. I've been to the doctor and had some tests, but the migraines and the fibromyalgia kept distracting her and finally everything got too expensive and I had to stop. I know have a wonky thyroid that is sometimes high and sometimes low. You'd think it would balance itself out. But it doesn't. The cure? To KILL my thyroid with RADIATION and take synthetic thyroid hormones orally for the rest of my life. That is something I'm going to have to think long and hard about and discuss with another doctor after my shiny new Obamacare kicks in. (Yea, I signed up since my husband got called back to work. Starts in September. Costs about the same with a lower deductible and more things are covered.)

But my mother is fat, my grandmother, grandfather and great-grandmother, all fat. I do have one skinny uncle. And a skinny sister. (She isn't even fat when she's pregnant!!!) I also have a chubby sister and a couple of chubby uncles. My husband who works 10 hours a day in a cubical farm is skinny. He usually takes leftovers from home for lunch, but he eats out or orders in with his coworkers very often. He also spends most of his weekends at the bar, eating bar food and drinking beer. (He's a professional musician.) Yet he weighs 50 pounds less than I do. His parents and siblings are also skinny.

Judging from these completely unscientific observations, diet and activity don't have shit to do with weight. (<- That's sarcasm, by the way. I know it's hard to tell in print.)

When Dear Abby tells a woman who asks her how to deal with her mom's fat shaming to stop being so comfortable in her own fat and lose it, I'm a little pissed at Dear Abbey. How does Dear Abby know why this girl is fat or at what stage of fat she's in? Is she on her way up, is she on her way down? Has she struggled with it for years before finally being able to accept that this is just the way her body falls? She obviously enjoys swimming so she's more physically active than the majority of America. I'm sorry, some people are just naturally bigger than others. Some have bigger boobs ( Boobs are made of fat, you know), some have bigger hips, some have bigger thighs. Me, I have a big belly.

Those healthy weight charts the doctors have in their offices also make no sense. They don't take into account how much muscle someone has and I'm convinced some people have heavier bones than others too. Once upon a time got really sick for awhile and my weight dropped to 130 pounds. I was well within my "ideal" weight and my doctor would have probably been thrilled had I been able to see her (I was uninsured and lacking an advocate at the time). But I looked like hell. Everyone commented on it. People thought I was on drugs. You could count my ribs at a distance and my shoulder bones looked really weird. I looked like a walking corpse. But I was well within my healthy weight zone. I think my "ideal" weight is probably closer to 150-160, but my doctor would call that obese. (it's still about 30 pounds out for me though)

I am going to end this ramble now because it's late and I should be asleep and I am having trouble organizing my thoughts at this point. I leave you with a picture of a fat girl pole dancing. I don't know if you've ever tried pole dancing, but that is something that needs some serious core strength and muscle control. This woman works out and she works hard and she is my hero of the day.

Post by Follow GhettoVines.

My Hearth Day Resolution - Learning to Fly

Last year's Hearth Day Resolution was something of a wash. It was "be prepared" and I was not. I was not prepared for my husband to lose his job three months after buying the house we moved to so that he could be near his job. Seriously. You'd think someone could have put a bug in his ear. And so instead of preparing, we spent most of the year in emergency mode and living hand to mouth. I did okay stocking up on foodstuffs and keeping the batteries in the flashlights charged but as for the rest, no. We do not have the emergency stuff in place we'd hoped for. I would like to revisit this resolution in the future, but right now I am tired of it and ready for a new, more immediate resolution that won't cost me any money. Something I can do, even in emergency mode.

I don't know if any of you have ever heard of Flylady.net. It's a homemaker's community aimed at teaching people how to be homemakers while retaining their sanity and dignity. The Flylady has a program of creating new habits to help homemakers get their act together without getting overwhelmed and she makes it kind of fun. So, my Hearth Day resolution for 2014 will be to follow her program and finally get my house organized.

Next year, I will revisit the be prepared resolution. Once I've gotten organized.

My monthly check-ins will be particularly challenging because I will be working on someone else's program. I need to be careful not to cross the plagiarism line while I do so. So... yea, I'm not sure how that's going to go but I will do my best. My goal is not to take her program, but to follow it and make it work for me and encourage you all to follow along if you can benefit from it.

That being said, Happy Hearth Day! I would love to hear about your resolutions too!

Taking Care of Business. And Myself.

I haven't been as retired as I may seem. I've been working a lot on the websites. I'm sort of auditing everything at the moment. It's got to be done. I am feeling better.

My husband's job is back. His real job. The one we moved all the way out here away from all my people for that laid him off three months later. He has now had two proper paychecks and it's such a relief to just pay the damn bills instead of sorting out which ones would cause the least damage to the household by not paying them. And it's blissful to be able to drive him 15 minutes to work and keep the car and actually do stuff instead of being cooped up in a sweltering house all day. But there's still alot of work to do to get back on an even keel. Our credit cards are maxed. Our five year plan has become a six year plan and I've recently come to the conclusion that our deck is really unsafe and replacing it isn't as low priority as I had hoped. It seems whoever built it used 2 inch nails. Yes, in the 2x4s. 2 inch nails. So not only are they lacking in any kind of tread to keep them in the wood, they're only biting in about 1/4 inch and we've got boards falling off and nails popping out and it's just a terrible accident waiting to happen. Why the inspector didn't notice this, I don't know. He said the deck was in great shape and solid, just needed a clean and seal. Hah.

My husband insisted that I put the baby in preschool two days a week for the sake of my sanity and insisted that we could afford it now, so I did. It's really not something I can continue doing because it's really expensive and I am not getting that many clients these days. Living in the middle of nowhere with only one car kind of hinders one's flexibility for other peoples' schedules. But having two days a week to just focus on me and doing what I felt needed doing was did me good. It gave me a chance to regroup and pamper myself a little. I even started shaving my legs again (gasp). And each day after I picked him up I felt energetic enough to take him to the park for an hour or two before it was time to pick up my husband from work. So I got some exercise.

We're going to down  to one day a week of preschool next week and I have signed us up for a Yoga in the park class and a mommy and me swimming class and the cost of both of these combined in less than half the cost of one day of preschool. I won't be able to get anything done, but I will be entertaining my little man and getting much needed gentle exercise in the process. And wearing him out. And I still get one day a week to myself to work on the websites or me or whatever.

I have also been doing a 20 minute guided meditation each day. I am not allowing myself to nap. I find the meditation is actually more helpful than the nap. The nap just eats up the day and I wake up all groggy. After the meditation I feel refreshed. I use meditations at https://www.youtube.com/user/TheHonestGuys they are awesome.
Oh and my little man and I have been doing these Yoga videos together several mornings a week: https://www.youtube.com/user/CosmicKidsYoga

So that's what I've been up to. Just in case you were worried about me after the last dramatic post that took place TWO MONTHS AGO.

And now back to our regularly scheduled blogging.

Pain

Women/mothers/ladies do not complain. Ladies have responsibilities to others. Ladies do not eat/bathe/dress/rest until everyone else is fed/clean/clothed/resting. Ladies do not let a little thing like pain slow them down. Women who came before us suffered long and hard to overcome a reputation as the "weaker" sex. Any sign of weakness discredits their efforts. Everyone suffers. Everyone deals. Complaining is rude. This is how I was raised.

But today, for now, after a long, tough weekend of smiling through pain; working on household projects, visiting, entertaining (cleaning and cooking in preparation for entertaining) I am going to take a moment and I am going to complain. About pain.

Everyone has it. People just deal. If other people can do it, you can. Quit sniveling. Or maybe your threshold is just way lower than the average person? Or maybe you're weak. Or maybe you just like to whine. For attention maybe?

I have two chronic pain conditions. Chronic migraine and Fibromyalgia. I cannot always afford treatment. Right now my pre-Obamacare medical bills are so crippling that I can't afford the co-pay to visit a doctor with my current insurance, so this is one of those times. This weekend I did not suffer migraine. I did suffer Fibromyalgia pain. All weekend. And I tried, I really tried, not to be a crabby bitch and I hope for my family's sake that I succeeded.

Let me tell you about Fibromyalgia pain: It is like no other pain. It is kind of like the pain you feel in all your joints when you are wracked with fever and chills. Or that ache in your joints as you thaw out after you've been benumbed with cold. (This is perhaps why I sometimes feel cold when it is in me, even though I'm not cold at all.) But it's not in the joints. It's near the joints. But not in them, really. And unlike these pains, it doesn't feel better when you apply heat or cold or massage. It feels worse.

It is something like the pain of a bruise, but not entirely. It's more like what you think a bruise would feel like if you didn't actually have one to compare it too. I dropped a 2x4 on my food the other day and have a nice black bruise with which to perform this experiment. Both spots hurt. They hurt more when you poke them, but not quite the same.

For one, the bruise is just one spot. Fibromyalgia is in a bunch of spots. Like an ugly invisible pain rash. 

Fibromyalgia pain is something like a sunburn. Sometimes there is even a bit of skin sting, the sort that makes even putting on a shirt excruciating, but mostly it's like that under the skin sting you have when you have a bad sunburn. It's usually in a sunburn spot too. My back and and my shoulders and even my scalp (My hair hurts! It feels so heavy on my aching scalp. I want to shave it off. I wish I could go to the barber and get it cut properly but I can't afford it. Maybe I will just take the clippers the boys use and shave it right off.)

And also in my neck, but in a very different way. Like the tendons there are straining. Like my head is too heavy to hold up and move around. Like it's too much of a burden for my neck. (When I have a migraine too this is especially fun and I think how nice it would be if I could figure out how to remove the damn thing.)

But also my legs. They feel so tired. I can't carry my kicking/screaming/doesn't-want-to-go-to-bed child all the way from the firepit to the bedroom without stopping to rest three times and finally asking my husband to take over. My legs were screaming. Like the muscles were overworked, fatigued, abused. 

It's not that I'm out of shape. Well, maybe a little. But I carry this kid around all the time. Just a few weeks ago, on a good day, I spent a whole day turning sod with a shovel and barely broke a sweat. Last weekend, when it wasn't a holiday and nobody expected anything from me, we spent the weekend exploring our nearest town. Window shopping, chatting up locals. And just last Thursday my 2 year old and I went on a 2 mile hike at Kensington Metropark (and saw the herons nesting, very cool). 

It's not that I'm weak. I regularly help a 200+ pound stroke victim in and out of bed/chair/shower/etc. I regularly move furniture around, lift boxes and lumber, etc.

It's not that I'm impatient. My clients remark upon my patience. I garden. I bake bread. I parent. I train animals. You can't do those things without patience.

But this weekend, today even. All those lovely fibro days, I am impatient. Apathetic. Weak. Out of shape. Grumpy. Irritable. Depressed. Short fused. Whiney. All those things.

Those things that ladies are not.

The house is not clean. I feel as if it never will be again. The baby gets to eat cereal for breakfast and run around in nothing but a diaper (it's hot. why not). The husband eats peanut butter and jelly of his own making for lunch. The cat is out of the fence and pestering the neighbor's dog and I don't care. When my son comes home and gripes at me for letting his cat out, I will probably snap at him and say something rude doubting the necessity of the cat in our household anyway. We're out of bread. I guess I'll just tell the husband to pick some up because it's not baking itself. I don't even think I want to shower or get dressed. I'd have to corral the baby first. 

Sometimes I give him the Kindle and let him watch Youtube videos in my bed while I snuggle next to him and doze. 

For hours.

So much guilt.

Sometimes I have this fantasy, and it's martyrish so it's relatively guilt-free. In it, I don't have migraine or fibromyalgia but some sort of brain cancer and I die. And this is a GOOD THING because I have life insurance. Enough to pay off all of my medical bills and other debts (except for the mortgage and student loans, the latter would go away and the former isn't such a big deal) and with the money my husband doesn't have to pay for my medical bills, he could pay for a nanny AND put money away for retirement. I can afford to die. I just can't afford to be sick.

I have learned to prevent migraines. I wear these huge obnoxious full spectrum sunglasses that cost me almost $30 every time I leave the house during the day. They are terribly scratched up so that I can barely see out of them but I can't afford to replace them and I can't afford to let the sun hit my retinas and put me down for two days, so I still wear them. I never eat more than 5 almonds at a sitting or half a grapefruit and no kiwi at all because I know these things will trigger a migraine. Sometimes I still get them, even when I did everything right, but I still feel like I have some measure of control there.

Fibromyalgia though is a mystery to me. I can't figure out how to prevent attacks. I can't correlate them with anything else except an overwhelming sense of misery and dread. It controls my life. I squeeze what I can into good days and lay around miserable on bad days, promising myself I'll get to whatever it is on a better day. 

It has come to mirror a sort of bipolar disorder.

On a good day I go manic, with the desperation of someone who knows her time is short. I will scrub the house from top to bottom. It will reek of lavender oil and vinegar mingled with the scent of baking. The garden will be weeded. The websites will be full of new posts, updates, etc. I will even write posts that will go out in the future. Because I know that soon there will be no time for posts. No time for anything but self-pity. And I will be happy they are there. I will make huge meals and freeze them, for the same reason. I am delighted with emails, posts on forums, whatever they are. I answer them cheerfully. Even if they're critical because I know that all feedback is good feedback and I am striving to improve. Yes, I can do that for you. Is there anything else you need? I am available to you. I want to help you. I like to help you. My time is yours. If I had money, you could have that too.

On a bad day, I just lay here. Everyone eats cereal. I don't care. I am pain. I can't understand you, you're talking too fast. You want something from me, don't you? Well forget it. Just go away. You're too loud.

I hate those websites. I dread checking my emails because they will make me feel shitty. I know some ungrateful idiot is going to be asking me questions he could have answered himself just by doing a quick search of the site I worked so hard on. Or they want to complain that I got something wrong at the Witchipedia or put too much personal information on PaganMichigan. Screw them. They can edit those pages their damn selves. It's open friggin source. It was never supposed to be just me. I ask for help monthly and nobody wants to help. They just want to complain. Screw them. Screw the whole damn community. Someone wants me to give them a Pagan name, but can't be bothered to fill out the whole questionnaire: well screw them then. Nobody. not one person. Not once has ever Paypal-ed me a tip, and only one has ever emailed me back to say "thank you" so why should I bother. Obviously, nobody likes the names I send them. I suck. They suck. The whole damn Pagan world wants everyone to give them everything for free. I hurt. I am pain. I can't afford a doctor and I don't have the right medicine. I hate everyone who doesn't hurt. I hate everyone who can go to the doctor. I hate everyone and their ridiculous first world problems. I hate everyone who can think clearly enough to ask a stupid question.  Whey are they bothering me after all I give them. For free. Without ever asking anything in return. Not that they'd give anything. 

Ugh. Who is this! This isn't me!!!

This is Pain. It has made me less of a Lady. It has made me less of a person. I don't like who I am when I am Pain.

My life is rain and making hay while the sun shines. The worse the rainstorm, the more desperate the haymaking...

I am two different people. So vastly vastly different. I am pain and I am joy. I am apathy and I am generosity. I am graciousness and I am resentment. I am friendly and I am suspicious. I am the one who gets things done and the one who doesn't do shit. I am a giver. I am a hater. Sometimes I do not know me. Sometimes I do not like me. Sometimes I wonder how other people could stand to be around me, how anyone could love me. Sometimes I am sure no one does because they don't care enough when I am hurting. They don't offer to help.  (But I am not supposed to think this last bit. That is not how I was raised. And now I have guilt.)