Sometimes the lemonade just makes itself

I've been going through a small rough patch. As one of my favorites would say, "They weren't the kind of thing you would run home to mother about. But I cried into my pillow now and again."

Then things started to fall into place. Everyone recovered from the stomach flu (even though it took Penelope more than a week before she was back to herself). My dead phone was not only replaced; it was upgraded. We finally got a new dishwasher. (That's right, boys and girls, my phone and dishwasher were both MIA for more than a week. I now know how pioneers lived.)

And even though things really were getting lighter -- though not necessarily better (life is generally good to me, you see) -- I couldn't shake the one big downer in my life lately: My little girl turns one this week.

One year old.

I've been planning her birthday party, which has changed at least a dozen times, for weeks in an attempt to get excited about it. But mostly, I can't help but feel like she's not my baby any more. And I'm incredibly sad about that. One of the most profound and breathtaking experiences of my life has been watching Penelope grow and learn and really become herself. And I love that, don't get me wrong. It's just amazing how quickly I have begun to feel unnecessary in the process.

A little less than a year ago, I was craving the day that the baby wouldn't need me for just long enough that I could go to the bathroom. Now she gets into anything she wants and is totally capable of entertaining herself. If she could open a baby food jar and figure out how to put a diaper back on, she'd be good to go. (I might be slightly exaggerating here, but only just.)

Today as I was getting her up and ready after her nap, she gave me a wonderful hug. (seriously, Penelope is probably the best hugger I have ever met. If you don't believe me, come over to our house with a pillow pet, squishy ball, or bean bag and just see what happens.) Then, out of the blue -- brace yourselves -- she gave me a kiss. A real life kiss on my shoulder. It was perfect. Slightly awkward. Totally sincere. And I hope she always proudly tells people that she gave her first kiss to her mommy.

Don't worry. I won't be letting her forget any time soon. Because, you see, it made my week. It was even better than finally getting a dishwasher.

Or an iPhone. But that was also really nice.

the social education of sick boo

so, by now it's no mystery to my large readership that i have, of late, been afflicted with the nastiness of the headcold. in the middle of july. i must admit that it has likely been the worst cold i can recall ever having, but i was in denial. big time.

not only was i unemployed, living in my parents' condo, and dreaming of the day i will have legitimate reason to leave the couch, i now found myself lacking the physical prowess to actually get off the couch. daytime tv became my constant companion (seriously, ask me about any commercial currently on tv, and i'm sure i've seen it. my new favorites: the stride gum commercial where the goat rams the guy walking down the street and one of bitty's old favorites, the "there is such a thing as being a little pregnant." i saw it, and it was everything bitty had promised).

jesse had, however, planned a social outing far in advance: the opening midnight screening of the dark knight. i was eager to go, and despite my inability to keep my mouth closed for more than three seconds, complicating that whole "eating" thing, i convinced everyone i was feeling better.

after all, i wasn't new to the whole going to the movies sick thing. one time when i was dating he-who-shall-not-be-named in college, i had to take a box of tissues with me to the theater. i was told i was an embarrassment blowing my nose every five minutes. undeterred by the social embarrassment of being sick in the movies, jesse and brandon watched as i packed my purse full of alka seltzer, a plastic cup (to make said alka seltzer), cough drops, a box of tissues, the hobbit--for down time, and my slippers (aka my booties). finding myself justified to say, "fashion be damned," i put on my comfiest boise state jacket and confidently left the house.

ten minutes later jesse and i walked into the theater. i panicked. i suppose that my weeks of being alone in the condo and my recent acclimation to the comfort of the couch had not prepared me for the mass number of people swarming around to watch heath ledger's final work. i started to feel dizzy, but i persevered. because we arrived over an hour early for our showing, we had great seats in the theater--the kind of seats where no one can sit in front of you, so you can keep your feet perched selfishly in front of you the entire time.

within minutes i started to feel nauceous. jesse insisted that it was just the chinese food, but i found myself flashing back to another terrible movie instance with he-who-shall-not-be-named that ended with me throwing up in the garbage can in the movie theater lobby. let's just say it was my most attractive moment. i started panicking. what if i threw up in heath ledger's final work? would that be offensive? disgusting? i started crying. i couldn't help myself.

jesse offered to drive me home, but i knew he wanted to see the film, so i convinced him i could drive myself. he walked me out to the car, with me crying the entire way. people stared. i got even more embarrassed so i cried more. to shorten this tragic tale, i made it home safely and immediately fell asleep, only to wake when jesse came home three hours later, raving about the greatness of the movie.

although i'm sad to have missed the movie (i'm promised we can go together in the near future), i feel that i have finally learned that it is socially inappropriate to go to the movies sick. just another great life lesson.

pretty sure being sick in july should be illegal

yet, i still find myself cozying up in front of the tv all day with a wicked sore throat, congestion, and killer headache.

awesome.

the final nail in the coffin

alright, so all things considered, i have been blessed with really great health.

sure, i have the diabetes (to be pronounced dī-ǝ-bē-dǝs), but considering the amount of crap i eat, i think i have been pretty lucky thus far with all of that. i haven't complained about making myself bleed 4-5 times a day or giving myself injections, so i feel i'm entitled to one small rant.

with that in mind, allow me to complain for just a moment about my miniscule trial and tribulation this week. in addition to digging deep for motivation to finish the semester (one more week! surely i can do this?), i have been dealing with an infected fingernail since november--i suppose i should have started this blog as a cautionary tale of home manicures. however, my doctors assure me that as a diabetic i am particularly prone to infections, so you are all likely fine. my run-of-the-mill infection caused a fungal infection (grossed out yet?), and 85% of my fingernail has since fallen off.

it's hideous, but it is my cross to bear.

i have gone to the student health center four times for my stupid right-hand ring finger, and over spring break i finally got some meds (of course, i had to pay full price for the meds because insurance companies hate me). so, not only are these pills potent in my mouth and cause all items coming out of my body to take on a distinctly musty smell (alright, now you're hitting the grossed out point), this past week i have lost the sense of taste!

TASTE.


i taste nothing. for a few days i could slightly taste salt and vinegar potato chips, but i can't even taste that any more. i have been trying all kinds of different things, supposing that perhaps my palate was simply limited. nothing. no spice. no sweetness. i couldn't even taste the doritos i bought out of the vending machine in a moment of desperation.

Exhibit A: Happy Boo after enjoying a tasty meal (and some wonderful company). This joy may never manifest itself again; I just wanted to give everyone a chance to say goodbye.

supposedly it's temporary. in the long run it's inconsequential, but i am going crazy. if i am still running on four senses for the remainder of my treatment (at least another two months), i may need to be institutionalized.

what boo did for her christmas vacation

you may have been wondering where i've been, and i can't say i blame you. well, like many of you, my life as of late has been filled with the wonderful hustle and bustle that is Christmas. it was wonderful on so many levels, and i had a really great blog planned out to talk about how much i love having an entire season dedicated to celebrating the birth and life of Jesus Christ (trust me, it was really touching).

however, since arriving back in scenic boise, i have recently been down with a wonderful case of the stomach flu. i don't recommend it.

i have to say that i blame it entirely on my friend andrea johnson, who astutely observed my body's psychosomatic connection to breaks from school. this semester, i had three breaks from school: labor day, thanksgiving, and now christmas. allow me to break it down:

labor day: severe chest cold.
thanksgiving: serious issues with my insulin pump led to poor sleep and severe headaches that had me down for a couple of days.
christmas: worst stomach flu ever (we don't need to get into the details, but you would concur if i were to tell you about it).

interstingly enough, these are the ONLY three times i have been sick this semster. why is my body so averse toward being on BREAK from school? i believe this may be one of the worst cases of nerdery in the history of nerddom.

don't cry for me, though. in the past few days i have been able to watch a marathon of what not to wear along with the fine films the karate kid, hook, and ET on television. hopefully in a couple days i'll be up on my feet again (without that whole nausea thing).

carry on, friends.

parasite jones

i am sad to announce that jonesy has been preoccupied with another closely clinging group of individuals: cryptospiridium. although the past nine months have been filled with my efforts to continually reassure myself that i am jesse's one and only, others infilitrated his heart--well, his small intestine.

allow me to start from the beginning.

it was a calm, temperate tuesday afternoon during the first week of school. my husband was complaining of stomach ... discomfort, so i volunteered to go to his class for him in order to pick up his syllabus. i arrived home to find my wonderful in-laws perched on our couch (they stopped by boise on some travels in order to take jesse out to dinner for his birthday), anxiously looking toward the bathroom. my interest piqued by their positioning, i rounded the corner to find little jonesy camped out on the bathroom floor with a blanket and pillow, shivering and hyperventilating.

debbie (mother-in-law) and i swiftly set off to the nearest pharmacy to find something to make him feel better. it wasn't long before i received a phone call from larry (father-in-law). jesse was freaking out, and i needed to get home. thanks to the inept traffic skills of many boise residents, i didn't make it home before larry called again. this time he informed me that the paramedics were on their way.

i returned home swiftly to find that jesse was in no good state. all the muscles in jesse's body had contracted. he couldn't move. he couldn't talk. he was hyperventilating significantly more. he was white as a sheet. however, in true jesse fashion, he was keenly aware of his situation and making what i'm sure was very intelligent commentary. however, because all his mouth muscles were contracted, we only received a muffled version of his comments. the entire situation was, in a word, terrifying.

the firemen showed up first, and they were great at getting in there and helping jesse. then the paramedics showed up and helped jesse roll to his side (he couldn't really move). jesse began to tell them all about his medical history (still in his strange, muffled voice), including all of his latest blood test results from his latest physical (i'm fairly certain he remembered the exact number of his white blood cell count...). the paramedics told jesse that he probably couldn't move because he was dehydrated, had lost his electrolytes, and was losing his carbon dioxide because he was hyperventilating. they needed to take him in. the paramedics and firemen worked together to transport jesse down the stairs of our apartment building, and we emerged to see our parking lot filled with firetrucks and ambulances. in retrospect, i realize that this moment was the closest we will ever come to being rockstars. jesse was harnessed in the back of the ambulance, and i got to ride shotgun over to the ER.

as soon as the paramedics got an IV into him, jesse's muscles started to loosen up. a few hours later, when he could start using his hands again, we both knew that he had made it over the rough part of the mountain.

after a few hours of humiliating tests and gilmore girls reruns on hospital tv (i wasn't complaining), we soon found out the root of jonesy's suffering: parasites. apparently they are going around ada county. i also found a newspaper article that says they're going around utah (be careful, utah friends!). the doctor asked where we had been swimming. luckily, losers like us don't even get parasites swimming (because we don't actually have time to go swimming). jesse most likely got the parasites from someone else who was lucky enough to go swimming, unlucky enough to pick up a few microscopic friends, and unhygienic enough to pass it on. awesome.

i think that this may go down as jesse's favorite birthday celebration of all time.

i must admit, i'm glad the ordeal is over and hope that i never have to see my jonesy in such a state again. however, don't think that the experience has not had its funny moments. two conversations i had at work yesterday:

me: jesse has a parasite

co-worker: other than you? how much can one man take?!?

me: jesse has a parasite

different co-worker: what? does that happen in america?

bottom line: wash your hands. and avoid public restrooms. just don't leave your house again. ever.