Back in November, I started a diet. My Dr pretty much tricked me into it. Bastard. But I love him. Some weeks have been better than others but I end the year with 25 pounds lost. Not bad at all. My only goal for last and this coming week is to maintain. You'd think with the stomach flu for Christmas, I would have lost something over the weekend but humbug! I guess not. (Did the 3 pounds of cheese I ate on Christmas Eve have anything to do with #1 not losing weight and #2 puking my guts out on Christmas? Who knows....??)
Bianca has ADD. It's now confirmed. I vented and sounded off at all my frustrations in trying to figure out what was going on with her. But I never did write about what happened next. We see a naturopathic doctor. It's more in line with my beliefs about medicine. And it has helped me like western medicine never could. Frankly the "tests" for ADD are not tests. They are subjective checklists. So before I allow a doctor to check off all the appropriate little boxes and then start drugging my baby with an addictive, dangerous stimulant, I wanted to be a little more scientific. Through our Dr, we ran a test that checked things that could be affecting her neurotransmitters. We learned that her dopamine level is severely out of balance which causes impulse control issues. Basically, all the technical gobbelty-gook confirmed what I have been observing for years. She is incapable of following a task through. Her little brain is jetting in 20 directions at once. There are herbal supplements that should bring her levels back into balance. That, along with some dietary changes and some behavior modification (probably more on MY part than hers) should bring about improvements. I am looking forward to starting this regimen, probably later this week.
Bianca was very excited when she got her Elf of the Shelf. Excited, that is, until we got home with it that evening. She was clutching the box in her hot little hands, carried him upstairs and then.....I could see her little mind at work. Magic. Elf. Comes. To. Life..... She deliberately hands me the box, eyes narrowed into suspicious little slits and with a slow motion wagging index finger she whispers "I don't want that thing in my room."
"Okay," I reply "I'll leave him in the hallway."
The finger wags again like a pink polished little metronome. The eyes widen in fear. "I don't want that thing upstairs."
"Okay...I'll bring him downstairs with me."
"I don't want him to leave his box or to come in my room or to come upstairs. And I don't want him to hide, especially not under the table. That would be bad."
"Alrightee, you know what.....he will just stay in his box on the table, in plain sight, until you tell him you're ready for him to do anything else other than that, okaaaay?"
That finally satisfied her. She eventually named him Elfris and stared at him in his box. She liked him a little more when he brought her letters and gifts from Santa. By the week before Christmas, she was crying that he had to leave with Santa on Christmas Eve. I mean...C.R.Y.I.N.G. Like sobbing. I had to write a special M*F*ing letter from Santa explaining why the elf needs to leave on Christmas. Which is, of course, because
As for more recent posts, the health of everyone in our household (you know, all both of us) is presently maintaining. There has been no more throwing up, projectile or otherwise. My brochitis has passed though I feel suspiciously like another cold is coming on it's heels (expletive, expletive). It's back to the grind for a few days before New Year's and another long weekend. Looking forward to some time with my BFF, taking down the Christmas decorations and some (hopeful) downtime. Then it's January and time to reassess my life. Fun!
