3-year-old wisdom

From the mouths of (relative) babes:

My friend has determined that she needs to trim her daughter's diet of NPR after hearing her declare one day:

"Russia and Georgia need a time-out."

Yes, indeed.

pokey pokey update

I got a call from the nurse @ my midwife clinic. She was laughing. I asked her why. She says "You're TOO GOOD!" Again, I asked her why. Apparently no one else who has ever done this week-long finger-poking stint has ever kept a food journal. I told her, "it didn't make much sense for me to tell you my blood glucose levels without telling you what I ate, now, really...". Even while she was laughing at how anal-retentive thorough I was, she proved me right in that she said I had only one bad number, the 158, and she was able to easily pinpoint that it was the maple syrup and lack of protein with the meal. Nothing to worry about, just keep up the protein. Done.

My fingertips are mostly healed. Oh, she also laughed and said I was the only person she'd ever met who would rather poke themselves with a pointy lancet than a spring-loaded one with a hidden point. And she was still laughing even after my sensible explanation (you only need a tiny drop of blood to check your glucose in the monitor, and with the non-spring-loaded ones, your fingertips don't take over a week to heal, they're actually fine the next day). I guess we patients with a minor interest in medicine or a lack of squeamishness about our own bodies are actually really freaking hilarious. I'm glad I made her day.

On the low-glycemic tip, I made agave nectar brownies last night, but I'm not going to share the recipe because they are rather cakey and lackluster. Even my nearly-4-year-old didn't like them. Quite unsatisfying but at least I got to have some guilt-free chocolate.

youtube to the rescue, yet again

A lesbian I know just got pregnant on the first try. Again. Two for two. Pretty good, really beating the odds, there! Lotsa straight couples can't even manage that. She sheepishly admitted that maybe it's good that she's queer, because she seems to be awfully fertile.

Which made Jo sing a song that she swore was a real song. Heard that line before? They do say that you marry people like your dad...

Thank you, YouTube:



Now, those of you married to men or in love with 'em, don't go get your undies in a bunch, please. I know you have good men in your lives and that you *can* love a man without loving booze, and even I find the line about 'abortions from sperm gone awry' rather crass. But I also know that you're not a closed-minded bunch, either, so maybe you can have a chuckle at the 'hetero honky-tonk' as a whole, as the song puts it.

The song is by the group Two Nice Girls.

you do the pokey pokey

At my 24 week midwife appointment I was informed that I would be taking the gestational diabetes fasting glucose test at my next visit. One, I don't appreciate, as an adult, being informed that I am going to be doing anything. Two, with the way carbs and I have been getting along this pregnancy, the idea of chugging 12 ounces of super-sugary beverage first thing in the morning makes me want to barf just thinking about it. The idea is that you fast (overnight) and then you slam this syrupy drink and then an hour later they see how your glucose level is, whether your body dealt well with that (insane) amount of glucose. I told the nurse of my genuine concern that drinking that stuff would make me sick - honestly, I fear that if I drank it, I would throw it all right back up, and then where would that have gotten me? - I'd have to drink it AGAIN. The nurse reassured me that I could lay down for the whole hour between drinking it and having my blood drawn, which felt a bit like "you have no choice, but we'll do our best to make you comfortable doing something you know is going to be bad for your body". That of course made me bristle internally again (not externally, because I actually do really like the nurse at the clinic I go to), and I know that the test is not always the most accurate. I told her again that I really, REALLY don't want to do this test.

Lo and behold, there was another option available to me. Why she didn't come right out and say it is beyond me, because I think most women would opt to just come in and drink the vile nectar and get it over with anyway. You could, she said, test your blood sugar at home for a week. I could! Really! She whips out a little pocket-sized blood glucose monitor and shows me how to use it. We test my blood sugar right then and there. She shows me how to use the little lancets to poke my finger and how the machine works, and gave me a prescription for a new vial of test strips.

Easy-peasy, kids. The machine is so simple and it takes exactly 5 seconds to calculate the amount of glucose in your blood. My orders were to test my blood first thing in the morning and then an hour after every meal for a week and then send my form in.

My first step was to get that scrip for the new test strips filled. Surprise (or not): my insurance plan does not cover the brand of strips that go with the monitor the clinic lent me, so I ended up paying $30 out of pocket (not eligible for FLEX reimbursement because it was for me and not my partner, thanks IRS) for new test strips, but all I had to do was think of the nasty orange drink and suddenly I didn't feel so bad about $30.

I've since learned a few things: one, the spring-loaded lancets seem kinder and gentler because you aren't faced with jabbing yourself with a vicious looking point - all you have to do is push it down gently on your finger, and it jabs you automatically - but they stick you much harder than the little points do - and they hurt more! Two, I've found that any amount of sugar or refined carb (a white bun for a turkey sub, for instance) makes my blood sugar go up if there is not enough protein involved in the meal. Oatmeal with butter, milk and 1 tsp of maple syrup sent my glucose through the roof. Lastly, drawing blood from your own finger, on purpose, four times a day, is an incredible freak-show for a nearly four-year-old, who insists on standing and watching the whole ordeal every chance he gets. (Usually four times a day.)

I'm curious what the end results of this test will be - recommendations for a different diet? Anything that I don't know myself already? And will the results be more conclusive than having quaffed the nasty orange liquid? As much as I don't love that my fingertips look like they've been attacked by vampires (I poke one finger a day: two pokes a day with the little lancets, and then two with the spring-loaded ones, on opposite sides of my fingertips... hence the vampire bite look - but at least after that, that finger is done, and I won't be poking it again), I'm already halfway through the week and I feel like I'm gaining valuable knowledge about my metabolism.

Anyway, it's time for another poking.

randomness

• My son has now played rugby and declares that he likes it. Fine, as long as he can be a fly half or something instead of a forward or a prop. And wear your scrum cap, kiddo.
  
• Never waste your money on a hot dog for someone when you know he's just going to eat your fish and chips anyway.
  
• Baby brother rarely stops moving, and you'd think that with all of the stretch marks I gained with #1, I'd be spared new ones this time around? Ha ha.
  
• So. Tired. Of. Summer. (or: So. Ready. For. Fall.)
  
• Weleda Pregnancy Oil is luscious. If you are pregnant, you should try this. If you are not pregnant, I think you should try it anyway!
  
• Name for #2 is almost decided on but we really feel like we should meet him first.

grr... GRR

she did it again. 3:30. But this time there is NOTHING WRONG. I fed them before bed. Both of the water bowls are full. She must just think it's ok to hide all day in a closet and then come out for social time in the middle of the *#$!ing night.

NOTE TO KITTEH: STOP OR I WILL LOCK YOU IN THE PORCH OVERNIGHT.

Maybe I should try earplugs?