I know I’m tired when I find myself staring at shiny things for long periods of time. Tuesday afternoon was one of those moments. I’m fried. I just uploaded my budget report, four days overdue, couldn’t log in to my own site, turns out I’ve either broken something or I have an unwelcomed squatter again (see Aug 2013) really site you want to break days before I leave for vacation? Of course you do. And what about that rash on the older child, that doesn’t look good either. You may want to get that looked at BEFORE you send him to Hawaii for a week. Later that afternoon I sent this text to my husband:
me: done at dermy, its not a flesh eating bacteria its phytophotodermatitis or Limes disease.
him: YOU MEAN LYMES DISEASE !?!?
me: no …. LIMES as in margaritas, nevermind. calling u.
Seems that when you get the juice of a lemon (or lime as in this case) and you expose yourself to the sun you can get 2nd to 3rd degree burns. Turns out my son was having batting practice with limes from a neighbors tree. That afternoon my son came down with a terrible case of itching we tried everything and nothing worked except Claritin. The next day he had huge welts, it look like someone had thrown a vat of boiling water on his torso, his friend had spots too. We had no idea what it was, no creams or anti itch medication worked in fact they usually made things worse. The dermatologist asked me about margaritas, was anyone making any outside, by a pool perhaps? Ummmm no. I’m thinking why would a teen be making margaritas? As I walked down the hall of the offices I recalled picking up pulverized citrus off the lawn. That’s it! It was limes! My son had taken his shirt off and was getting doused with lime juice under clear skies! I was so proud of myself, my son just rolled his eyes. Mystery solved, let’s go on vacation.
I’m sure you feel it too when you read some of these weeks where it must seem like I am mainlining caffeine just to keep all the balls in the air. Believe me I drop them on occasion, super woman is not a cape I claim to wear. Yes I drop balls, dishes and even dinner on occasion (see week 30). Stress makes my arrhythmia worse so I have to be gentle with myself. I haven’t talked much about it since it began a week before Lily’s accident. I think I have may shared photos of me hooked up to monitors and stress tests but there really hasn’t been much to report on other than I still have it. No one has been able to give me any answer as to why I have it, what causes it (other than its electrical and has to do with a misfire) and more importantly when will it go away, if at all. I am mindful of my stressors for the most part, but just acknowledging them is not enough. I either have to alter my perception, put on the perspectacles, great article on that >> all kitchens don’t like a page out of Elle Decor. I feel better knowing that I can change the visceral reaction by overriding the control center. I try hard ro will that grey matter into submission with an effective combo of meditation, breathing and Liquid Mind. There’s also Xanax but I’ve hid them so well I can’t find them. So let me share something with you.
STOP right NOW and CLICK HERE … take 5 minutes to just relax. Have your earphones on or speakers up and just sit back. Only 5 minutes I swear.
Ahhhhh better? Maybe I should have you do that AFTER you read my crazy stream-of-conscious posts. 😀 Didn’t that feel like 30 seconds? Tell me your blood pressure did not just drop a notch.
I know. And now you know one of my “tools.” Pass it on. Oh and when you hit turbulence (in air and otherwise) play their music. It’s like a tonic for your nerves.
My daughter and I leave for Massachusetts in 3 days, more on why it was just the two of us later (part drama part miscommunication, all good stuff really.) I have a lot to get done and in the back of my mind there is a looping track reminding me, you havent packed… you haven’t packed … you havent packed. But packing a week ahead seems so unnecessary, as my daughter reminds me, you can’t pack anytime sooner than the day before because you’ll need your underwear. That’s what she told me. I fired back with go count up your pairs, I’m pretty sure you have enough for a 30 day rotation. But what about my favorites I have to wear those this week. I feel the OCD noose tighten so I deflect with the suggestion she pack the back up pairs only. (imagine my surprise when she unzipped her little case to reveal the two shoe pockets overfilled with no less than 20 pair of kiddie unders.) I’m kidding I compete expected back up pairs for her back ups, that’s Super A in a nutshell. I have a heightened awareness of my propensity to be a raving bitch on the days leading up to two things: travelling and Christmas. I don’t know what it is about both of them that makes me lose my sh*t. I’m so self aware because every chance I get I want to prove to my family (and myself) that I can go on holiday without a complete meltdown and the flinging of suitcases. It’s not the flying part, I love that. Its the make a list twice as long as your arm because God forbid you forget to pack something as benign as anti itch cream and your child inadvertently rolls in the grass somewhere where the ext Rite Aid is a million miles away. I am a slave to my fears in that way. It isn’t until I step foot on that curbside check in that I release all fears and just give it all up. Although Lord knows I have made some rather expensive panic purchases at those airport stores (mainly for flying children who require Benadryl.) This time the only thing I bought was a blue bag of pretzel MnM’s to break a twenty for the sky cap.
Disposable camera and pillow in hand we walk around waiting to board our red eye. I love the new indoor/outdoor terminals at Long Beach (if you have never flown in and out of here you are missing out) don’t tell everyone, no crowds easy in and out, its like the old John Wayne before they build a real terminal complete with jetways. You board planes on ramps that wheel up to the planes.
We board and I try to explain the concept of a red eye to Super A but she has other plans, 50 channels of DirectTV to be exact (we heart Jet Blue.) I told her she better bank some TV time because there was no TV at the cottage. She wailed on takeoff because she has sensitive ears, then surfed for an hour before secumming to the droning of the engines. I on the other hand remained sandwiched between a pair of little feet digging in my ribs and a jetting elbow firmly planted on what should be a neutral zone armrest. I gave up and watched Eight Below (remake of one of my all time favorite movies, Antarctica and when I fell under the spell of Vangelis’ music) based on a true story about abandoned sled dogs. Paul Walker is perfect in this. Also? You will cry. This is what it looks like when I take my glasses off.
We land get our rental car and I think to myself hey I got this. Sent a photo to mom letting her know we are there and awaiting her arrival later that day. We make it out of the airport and through our first tunnel which dumps us out only a few blocks from our hotel. By this time the lack of sleep is catching up with is and little one is having stomach pains, which probably worked to our advantage getting a room at 7am. My request for an upgrade to club level was accepted and by 7:30 we were horizontal with a room service menu in hand. (can I just tell you that their Club Level rooms are the best deal in town, $60 a day, food, even lattes and cocktails available three times a day, that was cheaper than our room service breakfast of eggs and waffles!)
We ordered, ate, pulled the curtains shut and went to sleep until 11 am. I only had to sprint out of bed twice with leg cramps, par for the course on red eye flights. This was our view from our 12th story room. We absolutely loved watching this group of workers, they would roll out a ping pong table, break out what looked like a case of beer in a meeting and had communal lunches. It looked like fun to us.
Fort Point Channel, once an industrial area now an open air waterfront where you can watch hourly reenactments of the Boston Tea Party and watch brazen gulls try to snatch a guy’s leftovers right out of his hand. When we stayed in Boston in 2011 we also stayed a night at the IC, kids loved taking the water taxi to and from the airport, the hotel has a dock you can see the ramp at the base of the red building on the left. Walked over to Quincy Market, lots of stuffed lobstahs and performers. Some things never change.
The weekend is here and it’s time to say good bye to marble floors and television and hello to creaky floors, ocean breeze, stubborn windows and chicka-de-de-dees.
Our week at garden cottage begins now.
PS Happy Super Moon (Sunday night)