Sunday, March 2, 2014

The Final March

Me: "Do you ever want to rip your own brain out and just stare at it?" [and ask it what the hell is wrong with it]
My Mom: "No. Goodnight!"
Me: "Goodnight! Sleep well."

1. It's been two years since we stopped eating wheat and corn.  It's been two years since we thought we stopped eating wheat and corn.  And stuff.  And after Sasha puked yesterday and had a shower (and I mopped up the hallway and hosed off the hall carpet on the front lawn) she put on some clothes.  Interestingly she put on the same shirt the Emily had on two years ago when we took Grandma some birthday stuff and discovered that Sasha was reactive to wheat.  For photographic evidence, see here.
http://wheatcornandmigraines.blogspot.com/2013/03/1-year-of-wingin-it.html

And here.
So, that was something.  Sasha is neurologically "sound", aside from the two weeks of migraine so far she's just had, culminating thus far with playing slip-n-slide in the hallway in her own revisit of lunch.  It's not as fun as it sounds.  Order number one is to get asses to the neurologist and let's fix this shall we?  Apparently Imitrex is corn-lite, and while not approved for minors, Emily sure takes it.

2. Speaking of asses to the neurologist, I have a potential future appointment with my once and future neurologist [Lord Willing, assuming the appropriate hoops have been jumped through] once my new insurance kicks in on APRIL FOOLS DAY!!!  I'm pretty sure that no other comment is useful, appropriate, or necessary and all I can think of is more expletives anyway.  Oh, except that I assume that puts Botox aka ACTUAL help somewhere between May or Maybe never?  Haha! I kid...O.o

3. The girls' dad will be here tomorrow and we have 12 shit tons of paperwork to do.  And then FECB arrives! And then Aunty comes to visit!  And that all takes us to the end of the month.  So maybe the final March won't be a death March after all? FECB<3 FECB<3 I love you too Aunty but you're not a cute boy. (;

4.  If you adjust for number of calendar days, February actually had more over all migraine days than December, when I had a raging infection that I am just finally recovering the last of my hearing from.  I am genuinely surprised by this.  And it's hard to surprise me with crap news.

So to recap what I expect from this final March before April Fool's day when I can MAYbe start writing a book about the year I went without botox for no good reason at all because I had insurance and then stopped paying rent so I could have two insurances to help fix my broken brain and my broken kids:
I will be home. Juicing leafy greens, apples, carrots and celery, doing yoga, meditating on and worshiping Jesus, and not feeding Sasha corn out of plastic containers.  I will probably have a migraine.  If you would like to fold my laundry while I alternately weep, meditate, research, and go all Gallagher on fruits and veggies, I'm sure it will make you a better person somehow and I will praise you highly in the footnotes of my upcoming bestseller The Final March.*

{Deep breaths} See, it's times like this that I love the imaginary tattoo on my arm.  For those of you who don't know, it says "I Lack Nothing" in pretty letters.  This is the Final March because it's the final big awful push before this horrible grind is over.  I fully expect help and rescue and healing for all of us.  Maybe not exactly on April fool's day, although how hilarious would that be? (:  Maybe sooner, maybe tomorrow? {deeep breath} That would friggin' rule.  But whatever yo.  What I really want is for Sasha to get better and if she has to eat weird shit the rest of her life then fine but can she at least go back to effing pre-k?  We missed chapel AND the block party last week and that is epic amounts of suck right there.  Oh but let it be known, I trust God with my babies.  I will take all of our asses to as many neurologists and allergists as it takes and juice and smoothie and yogacise through as many hoops as I can manage but this world wearies me and I want another home.  I refuse to believe that we were made for this.  And if we weren't made for this then clearly we were made for something else, and I trust that God will not leave us hanging.  Plus we really do enjoy each others company.  And the juice is actually pretty good and so is the yoga.  And so is the weeping and meditating for that matter.  In fact the only part of this that sucks is the migraines.  

Let's do this.  Let's March.

*I might forget to do that. If you do come fold laundry, please be sure to make a note of it in the comment section.  But only if you also put it away.  If you don't put it away, don't bother folding it bc the kids and the dog will just knock it over and step on it and make it back into a pile but thanks anyway. <3