It’s a love/hate thing

These two are in the business of torturing one another.

They may look sweet and cuddly in this picture, but what you can’t see is Buddy gnawing on her ponytail. Charlotte’s only laughing because she asked for it; she chased him around all morning with a push toy while declaring, “I’m gonna get you, Buddy!” Poor Buddy did not think this was fun.

This isn’t the only example of how Charlotte’s been asserting herself more lately. As of the last couple of weeks, she’s started to pull some antics at bedtime. These include her telling us I can’t sleep! as we are laying her down in her crib and asking us to fetch one more pony/dinosaur/blankie/book to add to the already large stash that she has cozied up next to her. Or sing one more song or simply say no no no as we’re closing the door. It’s still a far cry from difficult behavior to handle, but it’s certainly a change from the nights of laying her down, kissing her goodnight, and closing the door.

But I have enjoyed her recent “goodnight” addendum: Happy Halloween! She’s said this two nights now, and I find it ridiculously cute.

And now, here is a picture of Charlotte with a little basketball in front of her face. Amy and Bob were here yesterday, which got Charlotte thinking about that fun basketball hoop they have at their house. Since we don’t have one, we had to play “Mama Hoop,” which is where I stand with my arms in a circle out in front of me. Luckily, Charlotte finds Mama Hoop to be equally as fun as the real thing.

Thud

Back when I was still nursing Charlotte, I used to have a reoccurring nightmare that would wake me up in the night. I would dream that I fell asleep while nursing and that Charlotte had fallen off the bed onto the wood floor. I’d wake up with a start, jolting up from my pillow and sputtering where’s the baby? – my heart pounding and breathless. A moment later I’d realize that it was just that darned dream again, and that Charlotte was tucked safely into her crib or bassinet (depending on her age). Phew. Those dreams are one reason I don’t think I’m cut out for co-sleeping.

Last week, Chris put Charlotte to bed, and I listened from the guest room nearby.

“I sleep with Mama,” Charlotte pleaded. “I sleep in the big girl bed.”

The big girl bed would be our bed, if you didn’t guess. Up until that point, Charlotte had only spent one entire night in our bed ever. It was months ago and I can’t remember why. She never asked to sleep with us, and we never invited her. We have a good thing going for us.

For some reason, that night Chris decided to say yes. So he tucked her into our bed, kissed her goodnight and left the door open a crack. Moments later, something made me look up toward the door into the hallway. There was Charlotte smiling at me with her fingers in her mouth through the cracked open doorway. She looked so cute I just had to giggle, and then she came running in wide awake.

Chris likes evening naps, so he decided to fall asleep with her in our bed this time. It worked, and an hour or two later I woke him up and took his place. I kissed her cheek, stroked her soft arm, and listened to her adorable little snore. I fell asleep snuggling my precious little munchkin, and I loved every second of it.

But remember that part I said about not being cut out for co-sleeping? Remember that nightmare I used to have? People, it came true. Only an hour or two later I awoke to the sound of a sudden thud – the sound of something hard hitting wood floor. Before I was even fully awake, I was leaning over the side of the bed and lifting my poor baby off the floor. Chris had come rushing in, and he wouldn’t stop saying oh my god oh my god oh my god. She was crying at this point, and I was rocking her like a newborn. I could feel my heart speeding against her body. Finally, she settled down, and we did, too, and then Chris slept with us so that she couldn’t roll across half a bed and fall out all over again.

The rest of the night was miserable – she kicked and swatted us every five minutes. I had elbows in my mouth and feet in my stomach, but we couldn’t put her back in her crib after she just fell out of our bed, ya know? So we suffered through and woke up the next morning a little extra groggy and a lot more secure in our choice to keep children out of our bed.

Charlotte woke up with this bad boy, but luckily, it doesn’t seem to bother her.

Ouch!

I go to zoo!

The weekend after my birthday we went to Glen Ellyn. My mom had an April-birthdays party on Saturday (there are five April birthdays in my family), and on Sunday we went to Brookfield zoo. Chris and I accidentally left our camera at home, so we had to use my brother’s iphone if we wanted any pictures from the zoo. Feel free to blame Apple if you don’t think these pictures are very good.

There was a additional dinosaur exhibit that we just had to take Charlotte through. The dinosaurs were supposed to be life-sized, and they moved and had sound effects. We were a little worried that Charlotte might be scared before we walked through, but once we saw her reaction to it all, we knew she’d be just fine.

It’s okay, Baby T-rex. I promise I won’t bite.

Unckie John and the triceratops.

Charlotte got a closer look at the monkeys in the primate house.

You don’t mind that I hold on to your hair, do you?

Cute Mom!

We passed by the carousel on the way in and out, and Charlotte is still talking about it even though we didn’t ride. But she’s also still talking about the dinosaurs, zebra, rhino, monkeys, leopard, lion, and bears, so I know she isn’t too disappointed about skipping the merry-go-round this time.

You would never know from our pictures, but we went with a pretty large group. My family minus Joe was there, along with Aunt Beth, Alistair, Mary, Amanda, Steve, Sadie, and a bunch of Amanda’s college friends. I still can’t believe I didn’t get a single picture of the little cousins! Mommy fail!

Well, this post sucks. Here’s a picture of Charlotte not really smiling.

Seriously, Mom? You’re going to put this picture on the blog? Get a life.

TSW Fashion

I have a closet full of clothes I don’t wear. I won’t wear. I can, of course, but I won’t because I don’t want to ruin them with my greasy, overly moisturized skin (which quickly returns to the dry dead zone). For the past year, I’ve been rotating the same ten or so outfits: jeans on the bottom and t-shirt/zip-up/cardigan on top. And I’m really picky about that t-shirt. It can’t be one I like even remotely. I have to hate it, which is why you’ll usually find me in one of Chris’s white Hanes tees (size large). You know, the ones that come in packs of six at Walmart. Chris bought them for himself ages ago to wear under sweaters in the winter, and I’ve adopted single every one of them to wear every single day. It only took me about six months to decide that I should do something about the fact that size large is way too big on me. So what did I do? I cut off the bottom of the shirts with some kitchen scissors. Now I really look awesome. The one I wore today was cut too short to tuck into my jeans, so it hung out the bottom of my City High zip-up sweatshirt (casual Friday!). I guess the kids at school are used to my “fashion” because no one even said anything. I was planning on telling them that I was just doing my part to bring back the eighties if they did ask.

So, I’m having fashion issues lately. It’s a good thing I don’t.care.at.all. Is that bad? Probably.

Here’s what I’m wearing on my arms tonight:

It’s the double sock look. Cut the toes out of a pair of knee socks and a pair of ankle socks, and you can have this look, too! Frankly, I’m pretty proud of this idea because it means I don’t have to have Chris wrap my arms in gauze and ace bandages every morning. That was the pits. Toeless socks = way easier! And washable. Big bonus.

So, that’s my little Friday night update. I’m about to watch a movie with my man dressed in my cute little wife pajamas. Wait, did I say cute little wife pajamas? What I really meant was white tee, sock arms…- Yes, that’s exactly what I meant.

 

 

*Kind people have actually bought me comfy clothes to wear through all this. Clothes that I am supposed to not care about ruining, or whatever. But so far all those clothes are too cute! I keep telling myself that I’ll want to wear this or that when I’m better, which means I certainly can’t wear them now. Chris thinks I’m completely insane for this, and I’d have to say I’m beginning to agree with him. Ah well.

New Lengths

You can see how long Charlotte’s hair is getting when it’s wet and combed straight.

It wasn’t part of any plan to let it grow and grow out. In fact, my favorite little girl hair cut is a short bob with bangs. So cute. Long hair has to be clipped back and gets tangly and it has to get clipped back again (times ten).

But I just haven’t been able to cut off her precious curls. She was lucky that her hair happened to grow in so nice and evenly. It didn’t come in short in one area and long in another (hello mullet!), so she just hasn’t needed me to cut it to make it look nice.  Perhaps her secret was going bald at six months before re-growing all her hair. She did that, you know. And here’s proof:

Well, close enough to bald.

But back to the present…

There was a perfect little block of sunlight coming in through her bedroom window so we ran and grabbed the camera.

Who is this child? Because she doesn’t look one bit like my baby.

And I really don’t mind clipping her hair back ten (thousand) times a day.

I can’t get anything past her now.

It’s been too long since I shared pictures of this awesome little girly-cue!

Today Charlotte was looking at her dinosaur stickers and choosing the ones she wanted me to pull off the paper for her. She pointed to and identified the brachiosaurus, the t-rex, the pteranodon, and the triceratops. But those are the easy dinosaurs. When she pointed to a “less popular” ostrich-shaped  dinosaur and called it an ornithomimus, I had to google it for fact-checking….

Fast-thinking Google put me in my place:

https://www.google.com/search?q=ornithomimus+dinosaur

Always trust the two year-old.

A couple of Sundays ago, Charlotte and I went over to the Pudwills’ for some fun while Chris worked. It was a nice sunny day, so Carla and I walked with the little girls through their neighborhood and around a pond. As we were walking, Charlotte suddenly asked me about trick-or-treating.

“I go trick-or-treat?”

“Not until Halloween,” I told her. “Today we’re going for a walk.” I thought it was funny that she brought this up on this random April day, but I figured she must have been thinking of one of her Halloween books we have at home.

But then she kept asking about it. “Trick-or-treat, Mama?”

When do long-term memories start forming? She couldn’t possibly remember trick-or-treating in this neighborhood six months ago (when she was still ONE!), could she?

I decided to talk to her about it…see if she really was remembering something… test her, if you will.

“Do you remember trick-or-treating here with Madeline and all the kids? You dressed up like a cowgirl and wore your pink boots, and we knocked on people’s doors and said trick-or-treat!”

She got all excited in her usual shaky way, and then added, “And Carla a ghost!”

What?! She remembered that?

Yes, Carla dressed up in a ghost costume for a full ten minutes during our trick-or-treat excursion. She knocked on one door pretending to be a kid, and the homeowner didn’t even bat an eye. Then the costume came off because Madeline much preferred her mother to a ghost, and that was the end of it. We haven’t even talked about it at all since.

So I guess the answer is Yes; Charlotte’s long-term memory is going strong already! Atta girl!

Extra, extra! (Blogs to share)

I’ve mentioned recently that I’m struggling with my skin again. Really, really struggling. I look and feel like I did many months ago, which I thought wouldn’t or even couldn’t happen again at this point. Pfft. Silly me. Of course it can happen again. This is the most unpredictable thing in the world that isn’t over til it’s over. And I knew it wasn’t over.

Anyway, even though it may not seem like it to some of you, I really don’t talk or write about all this very often. After thinking about it and experiencing it all day every day, I find that I just don’t have the energy or desire to spend much time writing about it.

But, luckily, others do a much better job documenting their experiences going through topical steroid withdrawal online.  There are so many other blogs out there right now written all about this by people going through it now, parents of children going through withdrawal, and people already healed (the best!).  Along with the forum, these blogs have been a great resource for me, mainly to keep reassuring me that I’m normal, I’m not alone in this, and that it will end. I have read so many incredible posts that pinpoint exactly what I’m going through, as well as how I think and feel about it. In some ways, even though we don’t know each other personally, we are the only people who really understand one another. I’m grateful for the internet. 

I read this post tonight by Leslie from pinklikeabeacon, and I wanted to share it because I decided it’s exactly what I’d write, too. I think you should read it. 

This is another good one by Brittany from A Little Itchy. She wrote this a couple of months ago, but I just re-read it and think it’s perfect.

And there are so many others, really. I’m just sharing a couple I came across tonight.

If you want to check out some other TSA/W blogs, here is a big ole list.

• Topical Steroid Withdrawal

• Eczema Excellence

• Miss Kitty Fantastico Beats Eczema

• Kline’s Topical Steroid Hell

• The Boy, The Greek Fire, and Me

• Scratchy Monster

• Healing Red Skin Syndrome and Steroid-induced Eczema

• Eczema or Not

• Healing Eczema and Cortisone Withdrawal Symptoms

• Laleizel

• Tomato Skinned Girl

• My Topical Steroid Addiction and Withdrawal Story

• Eczemancipated

 

And many more! More and more blogs and ITSAN members are popping up every day, too, which means the word is getting out. Yay!

 

Wooden Iowa Plaque

I’m a little bit obsessed with the birthday gift I got for Chris a couple weeks ago.

(I feel a little bit like Homer Simpson giving Marge a bowling ball with his name on it for her birthday….but at least Chris really likes this, too. )

I ordered our wooden Iowa plaque from the Etsy shop, Sy Wood Ink, and I couldn’t be happier with how it turned out. The artists are Iowans, too, who also have pretty cool blog.

The little heart is over our home town, and lately I’ve been feeling really nostalgic for it even though we’re still a little more than a year away from moving (to who knows where). It will be hard to leave the town where we moved in to our first apartment, adopted two dogs, got married, started and finished grad school, bought our first home, and had our adorable little Sprout. A big part of me would love to stay here forever. Who knows, though? Perhaps that will work out. I did get the job across the street from our house, so it seems like small odds tend to work out in our favor.  hehe

Anyway, check out Sy Wood Ink. We choose the all-stained look for our plaque, but others get the edges painted fun colors and do cute things with the cities (like painted a star or anchor). Everything is totally customizable.  I wasn’t paid to write any of this; I just really like their stuff!

Goat Cheese Pasta Deliciousness

Do you like goat cheese?

Of course you do. Everyone likes goat cheese. (Unless you’re a weirdo.) It’s soooo good.

I was browsing pbs.com yesterday afternoon because I was looking for another show to get addicted to (I started this one, by the way. I think I like it so far, though I’m only one episode in so I’ll keep ya posted.) when I spotted this recipe for Quick and Delicious Roasted Broccoli and Goat Cheese Pasta. Quick? Delicious? Goat cheese? Yes, yes, and yes: I’ll take it!

So we had it that very night for dinner, and it was divine.

(Check out PBS’s picture. It’s much prettier.)

It really is a simple, tasty recipe, which is why I’m sharing it with you here. We made a few minor adaptations. Here’s what you’ll need:

• whole wheat penne
• five ounces of goat cheese (we used the herbed variety for a little something extra)
• a head or two of fresh broccoli
• olive oil
• a few cloves of fresh garlic
• pine nuts

Cook your pasta, and save a little bit of water for your sauce.

Coat the cut-up broccoli with a bit of olive oil before sticking in a 400 degree oven for about 20 to 30 minutes. About mid-way through, toss in some pine nuts (unless you purchased them roasted already).

After the pasta has been cooked, drained, and set aside, saute your garlic in olive oil before adding in your goat cheese. Depending upon how thick you like your sauce, stir in some of your pasta water until you get the consistency you’re looking for.

Mix in the pasta, broccoli, and pine nuts, and voila! Dinner is served.

The three of us happily gobbled it all down.

*I don’t know how many calories this meal has. I don’t care either. Because: Goat Cheese.

Ouch

Month 13 off the ‘roids (ha) hasn’t been too kind. My skin took a few steps back in recent weeks.

See my arms:

Much worse than my last update, right? I KNOW.

These pictures show my arms recently “greased up” with all my moisturizers. Otherwise my skin is dry dry dry, even more so than usual (which hardly seems possible to me) . I don’t have pictures of the rest of my body, but you can get the idea.

Some people I’ve met on facebook and the ITSAN forum describe the withdrawal like a roller coaster, and I’ve heard others say that healing “takes us one step forward and two steps back.” Others are a bit more forthright: this itchy bastard fucking sucks. I’d agree with all those people.

When I regress like this, the first couple of weeks are the most difficult. This is because every single time I get even a tiny bit better I become used to it instantly. After the initial shock and discomfort, I start to grow accustomed to my new normal until it all clears up a little more again.

Despite how long this is taking and how frustrating the unpredictability of it is, I feel more and more confident that all this will end for me. Sometimes I think about the if onlys and feel mad at myself. For example: if only I’d started my withdrawal when all this started 4.5 years ago I’d be long done with this by now. Or if only I hadn’t taken x, y, and z drugs along the way, because who knows how messed up my body’s going to be when I’m fifty.

Oh well. Hindsight is always 20/20. At least I can say that I really didn’t know. I really, really had no idea.