Love your Liver

I had no idea the liver did so much. Everything that our body comes in contact with must go through the liver. When we put something on our skin, it ends up being absorbed and processed by the liver. When we inhale air or fumes, it ends up being processed by the liver. When we eat food, it ends up being processed by the liver. It literally does hundreds of things for our bodies.
When I think about the implications of what that means it is almost staggering. Does my liver appreciate the lotion or perfume that I occasionally use? Does my liver appreciate the strong cleaning supplies that I use to clean the bathroom? Is it appreciative of the fact that I am paranoid about washing my hands to keep them clean? Can the liver really function at its prime without the gall bladder to help him out?
We should be much more appreciative of our livers...they even have the capability to regenerate themselves. There have been instances where a family member donated part of their liver to a relative. The person donating takes months to heal and recuperate but their liver will slowly regenerate itself.
At least I won't be completely ignorant when I speak to the doctor about my liver today.
Love your livers.

How long will it last?

The Christmas tree is still up. This is the first year that I didn't take it down the day after Christmas. My son wants to leave it up until winter is over. I think I'm going to leave it up until at least Valentine's Day. We are going to decorate our white tree with hearts. My mother-in-law gave us the new tree as a gift and I absolutely love it...I don't want to put it away. I'm contemplating leaving it out the entire year. We could decorate for Spring, 4th of July, Back to School, Harvest time...I wonder how long my husband will be able to stand it. It might be fun to try and find out.

A Good Mystery

The women on my dad's side of the family seem to outlive the men. My great Aunt Theda just turned 90. Aunt Theda has one sibling...a sister named Wanda. Wanda is my grandmother and is right around 88 now. There has always been an air of mystery around around Aunt Theda. As a young child we saw her once a year. She was married to 'Uncle Bud' who suddenly wasn't around anymore during our yearly visits. We were never taken to the funeral but I felt bad for Aunt Theda. You can imagine my surprise when 'Uncle Bud' stopped by to visit my grandmother several years back. He hadn't died...he had gotten a divorce. No one bothered explaining why he disappeared all those many years ago so I came to my own conclusion as a young child.
Aunt Theda eventually remarried and moved to Florida with her husband who was a cop. We saw even less of her but the older I got the more rumors I began to hear and take notice of. My grandmother claimed to love her sister but always spoke with disdain over the fact that she 'chose' to never have children. Wanda had given birth to 4 children who would take of her when she was old and gray, while Theda was up a creek....Theda could forget about coming to her family for help when she was all alone.
I sit here now, as an adult, and wonder if Aunt Theda wasn't seriously misunderstood. Why did she wear wigs from as long as I can remember? Why did she 'choose' to not have children? How could she be brave enough to get a divorce back when it was not a common thing to do? Where did she find full cups in a size F all those many years ago? And did she really bury her still born child in the backyard?
I'm in my 30's and have been dealing with fertility troubles for 10 years now. Something that was not talked about much when my great Aunt was young. My diagnosis did not even have a name 20 years ago but I inherited it from someone....it wasn't from my mother or even my grandmother. I think it was from Aunt Theda. My first symptom was hair loss. I don't think my Aunt Theda enjoyed wearing scratchy wigs all day long. I think she was misunderstood. I've often thought about looking into one myself.
In my heart of hearts I don't think Aunt Theda purposed to never have children. I don't think she was able to conceive. When you realize that you haven't had success in the area of pregancy, you develop a self preservation attitude. Instead of giving everyone a sob story about how you haven't been able to get pregnant, you just pretend like you didn't want them in the first place...been there and done that.
My first clue that we were so much alike should have been back in high school when she sent a bag of clothes over to me. I found the largest full cups I had ever seen. Size F's. I had never even heard of such a thing at the time...I was young and innocent.....and still skinny.
I have tried to have this conversation with other relatives in the family but it is still a rather taboo topic. I can't quite figure it all out. As to whether or not she actually had a still born child and buried it in the backyard...that will always remain a mystery I suppose.
Aunt Theda is on my mind today because she loves to sing! She turned 90 and didn't want any presents...she wanted to have Christmas carol sing along at her assisted living facility...which is where she lives now. Her niece and nephews graciously stepped in to help take care of her when her second husband passed away (for real). Wanda raised some good kids...for the most part...(for people who know my father and uncles would understand).
Aunt Theda might make a good topic for a novel...hmmm....a good mystery.

Is it globby yet?

The green stuff has been started...it's sitting in the fridge while I wait if for it to hit the 'slightly globby' stage. Those were mother-in-laws exact words. The cheese ball is done...that's a new tradition recently added to our Christmas day dinner thanks to Glenda.
I just got done reading the Caprine Princess blog. I'm trying to remember what it was like to be at that stage of my life...13 years ago...sigh.
okay..enough of that....have to check the globbiness factor....

I did something I'm not supposed to do....

'Aunt Tiff...I did something that I'm not supposed to do'. Fantastic. That was exactly what I needed to hear from my nephew to make the day complete. lol.
I had the craziness of my sister's 3 children for the day, while their mom went Christmas shopping. I love them like crazy but they each come with their own 'distinct' personality traits that don't always mesh well with my own. The oldest is great but he has a few health related problems when it comes to bodily functions. When he says, 'Uh...I did something I'm not supposed to do', it usually involves spending 20 minutes with him in the bathroom. He needs a shower, clothing has to be washed, etc. And it happens more than once a day.
The middle sibling has a personality to match the sound of finger nails scraping across the chalkboard. I love her but I finally had to tell her, 'I'm sorry things aren't going your way, but you will have to find a way to be happy while you are here...just find a way to be happy'.
To add to all of that, the youngest just turned 2. Every time I turned around she had a marker in her hand. I found her hovering over a couch cushion, at the table, near a wall. She left a path of destruction everywhere she went...but it was easily overlooked when she decided to pour on the charm. 'FEENY...I luh you'...She can't say my full name yet.
My son doesn't seem to be affected by any of it. He plays with them all. When one is in the bathroom dealing with personal issues he plays with the other. When one is having a pouting fit he ignores her and plays with another one. When one is trying to color on my couch or throwing Grandma's gold jewelry around the room he hollers for me.
As if my day wasn't busy enough, a friend wanted help with a sewing project. She came over and added two more children to mix to make 6. It was already crazy...a few more people really didn't make that much of a difference.
The two oldest spent the night. I suppose they will be here for a couple of days since we are under a winter storm weather advisory. That was their mother's plan all along (I'm sure of it). I suppose I should make use of my Full Cup purchase once again so that I can get breakfast ready. I can hear the fingernails on the chalkboard even now as my niece is protesting something that is 'not fair'....it still sounds better than....'Uh...I did something I'm not supposed to do, AGAIN'.

Is it just my kid....?

I avoided telling my son about his dental appointment until the night before. I was surprised that it didn't bother him nearly as much as I thought it would. All that worry, on my part, for nothing. I don't want him to grow up dreading the dentist so I work at keeping him positive about the whole experience. I keep waiting for him to cry hysterically or throw a fit and refuse to go...but he never does. He walks right in, listens for his name and follows the dentist right back to his room. He remembers every room he has ever been in, he remembers the 'cool' tooth mirror on the wall, and he remembers that he gets a poster when it's over.
I sat anxiously in the 'mom' chair while the dentist explained what he would have to do in order to get the cavity taken care of. I waited for the tears or even the tiniest bit of uncertainty so that I could offer comfort and assurance that all would be well. Nothing. Just a smile and an, 'o.k.' from my son. The doctor said that we would use the nitrous oxide again to keep him calm. At that point I realized that I could relax. My little guy wasn't worried. Everything would be fine. The nurse slipped the gas mask over my son's nose and then started up a pleasant conversation with me.
It only took about 3 minutes for the nitrous oxide to hit my son's system. He then transformed into a stranger. He opened his mouth and began to speak. My quiet child began to babble about anything that came to mind. 'I never get to go trick-or-treating ever and ever because my daddy said so...my fish died because Grandma got a really big fish that was too big and the big one died first and then my little one.....we are starting to get a puppy but not yet because daddy is allergic but we will get one someday because my mommy said so....why does my lip feel funny...I have about 100 animals on my bed but not really a 100 but I don't know how many but it seems like 100'. I smiled politely at the nurse and commented on the fact that he had suddenly turned into quite a chatter box.
Within a few more minutes time the chattering had turned quite animated. He was now making monster faces at himself in the mirror above his chair. He was growling and making bug eyes. His hands were flying all over the place. I was starting to get a little embarrassed and just casually asked, 'So, is that what happens to a lot of kids when they are given the gas?' I should have know better. I should have kept my mouth shut. She looked at me, laughed, and said, 'uh...no.'
I just wanted a little reassurance that I wasn't alone...that other parents experienced the kind of embarrassment I was experiencing as my son bared his soul for all to hear and turned into wild man.
We survived.