Wednesday, August 29, 2012

Shamed into a 'lifestyle change'

It appears I may have some galbladder issues.

Saw a doctor last week as I'd been feeling some tenderness on the right-hand side of my rib cage. Additionally, I'm feeling organs (or something) moving around in there. It's odd. Don't ask me to articulate it further, because I can't.

When I mentioned the issue, the first question the doctor asked was about my fatty food intake. Tail between my legs, I replied with someting like, "That could very well be part of the issue". Then mumbled through my April + May + June = Stress! speech.

Fast-foward a few days, a signifigant amount of tax-payer dollars already used up on blood tests, and I'm just about to use more for an ultrasound. Hop onto the table and the technician asks me what the issue is. Mentioned galbladder. Her first (judgy) question, "Could this be due to a high intake of fatty food?"

My 'inner-voice' reply: YES, I'M A CLEARLY A FAT PIG WITH NO WILL POWER AND AM SLOWLY EATING MYSELF TO DEATH.

My actual reply: That could very well be part of the issue. *mumble mumble* Stress... *mumble mumble* April, May, June.... *mumble* *sigh*

I get it, I'm the master of my own fate. I've made my saturated-fat bed and now I have to lie in it.

I walked out of there feeling nothing but shame and embarassment. (And truly wasteful for spending tax-payer dollars for something that could've, maybe, been avoided.) It's bad enough that I feel guilt with every bite of food I eat, but now my health is affected by it (I know, I know... duh).

What's going to be more embarassing is when I tell the doctor that, right now, it would be easier for me if he just opened me up and took out the offending organ vs. trying to make a lifestyle change.

Could I be shamed into making a lifestyle change? No doubt I need it. Perhaps this is catalyst. I should have the results in a week or so.


* For those in the know, a 'lifestyle change' is how Weight Watcher's refers to their eating plan. Who are we kidding... restricting calories to lose weight is the truest definition of 'diet'.

Friday, August 17, 2012

Eavesdroppings...

OK... this post may eventually be funnier than the Melinda Pudding & Dut-Wah post.

Eventually.

Now that Gaby and Colsen are communicating with each other, the stuff coming out of their mouths is priceless. Most of it is Gaby answering or guiding Colsen, who - let's be honest - is only truly understood by those who live with him and the cat.

The list will grow, but here's a start.

Gaby and Colsen are reading a 'search & find' book.
Colsen (pointing at something): "Dora, Dora!"
Gaby: "That's not Dora, Colsen. That's a cement truck."
(Because, of course you'd mistake a cement truck for Dora.)

We have a Peanut's Christmas book, with sound. Gaby enjoys singing the closing Christmas carol.
"Hark the herald angels sing
Glory to the new born king
Peace on earth and mercy mild
God and sinners franken-styled"

Not so much an eavesdrop as a funny conversation. Gaby and I walk into the kids' bathroom.
Mommy: "Ooh, it's stinky in this bathroom."
Gaby: "Oh, maybe Daddy used it."
*howls*

Thursday, August 9, 2012

Power of Branding

Having been in the marketing profession for most of my working life, I have a decent working & academic knowledge of how powerful branding can be.

I was never more convinced of it, however, until my daughter (at 3 years of age) made a connection. And, I'm not talking about stuff she see's everyday... the Treehouse logo, the Disney castle, etc. I'm talking about making a connection between two things that she sees very rarely.

Sitting on our kitchen table was a napkin from Subway. The Subway logo is all over the napkin. So much so that the ink actually comes off when you use it. Gaby doesn't eat at Subway and has never been in a Subway. Her Daddy does, periodically... and had the night before, after she had gone to bed.

The next day, Gaby took one look at the napkin, pointed to it, and said, "Did Daddy eat there?"

May not mean much to the lay person, but she can't read. Her only recognition is colours and shapes. And, she made the connection between the colours/shapes on the napkin to a place where Daddy eats.

The realization of what had just occured literally stopped me dead in my tracks.

Now, I need a sub.

Thursday, August 2, 2012

Melinda Pudding & Dut-Wahs

*Warning: Post likely contains content only I will find humourous*

Naturally, there's going to be a kid-speak post on a Mom blog. I'm surprised I haven't done it sooner. I think about it a lot, especially when I hear something precious come from the mouth of babes. I think, "I should write this down!" And then it's gone. Well, I'm going to start documenting it here. One post only, but I will update.

Melinda pudding. Gaby wasn't able to get her mouth around "vanilla" as a toddler, but she was very capable of saying "melinda", who was my midwife for both Gaby and Colsen. One of her favourite desserts is vanilla pudding, which was affectionately called "Melinda pudding" for at least a year. The other day she asked for "vanilla pudding", which was promptly corrected by Mom and Dad. It will forever be "Melinda pudding".

Dut-wah. Colsen's vocab is slowly progressing. There's a whole lot of talking going on, but not a lot of sense being made. His future as a politician is solid. His interests right now lie with all motorized and non-motorized vehicles, cat tails, kitchen utensils and not saying 'sorry'. Construction vehicles are of particular interest, but his little mouth just can't quite get it. Dump trucks (dut-wahs) are his first love, and just about any and every construction vehicle is identified as a 'dut-wah'. They're doing construction along the route to daycare, so it's a chorus of 'dut-wahs' all the way to and from school each morning. I will cry the day he starts properly saying 'dump truck'.

Roo / Ah-roo / Ah-doo: Colsen is fluent in Whoville speak. This is how he says thank-you.

Baschmoom: Vacuum, of course. :)

Rebib: Robot

Bao: Bottle

Hanta comin: Santa's coming. (He's my boy!)

Soupie: Smoothie

Piscies: Rice Krispies!

Downdairs: Down stairs