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Health
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  • Do People Really Change?

    I would not describe myself as an emotional person. I’m what you call even-tempered, non-reactionary, or dead inside. I rarely pick fights with people, and the only time you will see me angry is when you’re angry with me – so I mirror that “anger emotion” like a robot from Westworld to make it all stop.

    That isn’t to say I don’t feel feelings. I do. At least I think I do. But I mostly keep them to myself. I tend to internalize my emotions rather than externalize them. That’s not to imply they embarrass me, or I’m afraid someone will judge me for not being happy. Who is happy anyway? I don’t trust anyone who is happy all the time – unless they’re my ecstasy dealer. I will easily admit to my feelings and say that I’m depressed, sad, disappointed, hurt… but I’m not really going to ACT that way around other people. It’s more a descriptor of my energy rather than my behavior.

    I never thought of myself as repressed, but I have to admit the harsh reality that every 4 months my body completely breaks down. I will have crazy back spasms, break out in shingles, hurt myself sneezing – whatever. There will be about a 2- week window where my body will be in complete rebellion and I will have to spend the days healing, reflecting, and “nurturing” myself. BORING!

    My most recent experience was hurting my left butt. I know. Who hurts their left butt? But my left butt was sore all the time, and it made it really hard to move. I had a big dance performance coming up for my belly dance company, and was starting to freak the fuck out. We had been rehearsing and preparing for a YEAR! A year of work!! I really wanted to dance.

    I went to see my healer and she went to town on my butt, but to no avail. It was still gripping. Holding onto something – a real and literal pain in the ass. I went back the day of my performance and again the healer went hard on me until finally – BAM! It was over! She had released my ass!

    I was elated. I went to my studio to help set up, my heart filled with joy. I was so grateful my ass was better and I would be able to dance. Then, as I was sweeping the floor, my knee gave out.

    I WAS SWEEPING THE FLOOR mind you. Not doing a back flip. Just walking slowly pushing a broom.

    I could not accept that I was hurt. I tried to knock my knee back in place. Push my shinbone where I thought it needed to go. Massage the tendons. Loosen the ligaments. But it was not happening. A year of rehearsals, dedication, effort, and I couldn’t perform. My butt felt amazing though.

    I went back to see my healer and asked what she thought the emotional aspect of my pain was. I do believe that our bodies manifest emotional pain that our spirit isn’t processing, so I was curious what she thought was going on with me. My healer said she thought it had to do with childhood issues, the current stress I’m under, my over-critical inner dialogue, blah blah blah why aren’t I a robot from Westworld again?

    I went to my friend’s house and decided to pick a tarot card. I asked the tarot what was the message of my knee and the card I picked was… you guessed it… Childhood.

    Fine tarot. I get it. But what about childhood?! What does that mean? I could be anything!!!!?? Can’t you be a little more specific tarot!?

    Here is where shit gets weird. As I was lying there unable to walk, I check my email. My friend from high school, out of nowhere, sends me pictures of a letter I wrote to her when I was 17.

    As you would have it, the secrets of my pain and the message of me knee were written out for me in plain English… just 20 years ago.

    (FYI The context of the time of this letter was that I was fighting with my parents and staying at my grandmother’s house).

    Here are some excerpts.

    letter-page-1

    “I just finished the ‘Great Gatsby’ and it greatly depressed me. I mean here is a guy whom everyone is using for something, and no one completely understands him. And it’s sad because that’s all he truly wanted, and he never got it.”

    First of all… nice usage of the word “whom” 17-year old Toni. Second of all, I find it both hilarious and tragic that the “Great Gatsby” depressed me. How bourgeoisie! It’s clear that I identified with him, and also felt used and misunderstood. Even though I probably wouldn’t qualify these feelings as my current problems – I also relate to them in a deep way.

    letter-page-2

    “I feel like everyone wants something from us and we never really get anything in return. I mean, it seems all guys really want from us is sex (however that’s all we want too) but still, wouldn’t it be nice to have someone love you even if you didn’t have a hole they could empty themselves into?”

    Wow… okay Teen-Toni. That’s kind of a bleak view, but also one I don’t totally disagree with. I think for many women, we question the motivations of men. Do you they really like me as a friend/ co-worker? Or are they waiting for me to get drunk enough to fuck them one day? But at the same time… “THAT’S ALL WE WANT TOO!” Touché Teen-Toni… tou-motherfucking-ché.

    The male-female dynamic (for heterosexuals) is often fraught with confused sexual emotions. It is hard to cultivate dynamics that are tainted with an underpinning of desire. It’s a challenging context of which to find purity of intention. Yet even if women feel they are also using men for sex, there is something still inherently shitty about feeling used for sex when you’re a woman. Probably because anatomically speaking as a woman you have a hole in your body and are inviting someone else inside. That’s a vulnerable place to be. I mean, how many people would you put your finger in their mouth? Probably a lot. You wouldn’t even have to think too much about it. But how many people would you let but THEIR finger in YOUR mouth? NOT AS MANY!! It would take wayyy more trust no? Hence the sexual double standards we all struggle with.

    letter-page-2-copy

    “The more I think about it the more I know that all I really want is for someone to understand me and wants me to be happy. That’s kind of why I left home for a while because I figured if I wanted that, I should figure out what it is I want myself.”

    Okay… again, I wouldn’t say I felt this way out loud, but I also deep down totally get it. Probably why my life’s work is creating content in a desperate attempt to express myself and be understood. And “I should figure out what it is I want myself” – ummmm why didn’t I have a teen self-help advice column??

    letter-page-3

    “Sometimes I feel there are too many people in my life, and sometimes I feel there are not enough. But through it all, I always seem to feel alone.”

    Okay, these are some amazing lyrics for an angsty 90’s rock ballade, and holy shit I was deep. I totally agree with you Teen-Toni!!! Who doesn’t feel this way!!?

    “I crave to be with someone, although I don’t know who it is. I can’t really deal with my parents anymore because I think they are having problems with each other. At this point I don’t really care because I can’t relate to either of them because they can’t relate to me.”

    Oooooo snap! I was pissed!!! But I find it interesting that I couldn’t relate to them, because I felt they couldn’t relate to me. Being a teenager is a such an isolating time, and it feels as if parents are fundamentally unable to get you. Is that because of the generational divide? Or is there an inevitable cultural clash that comes with the search to find one’s own identity? Does any teen feel like their parents relate to them?

    “Sometimes I feel like I am being selfish, and other times I don’t. I can’t tell anymore.”

    Totally Teen-Toni. Still can’t.

    “I am not in love with any boy anymore and I don’t know what to think about that either because it will probably change. My grandmother says pimply teenage boys are a waste of time and all they want to do is empty themselves inside of you…”

    Hmmmm I guess I was kind of a romantic… but my CATHOLIC GRANDMOTHER was none too impressed by my sexing up teen boys. Maybe she had some influence on my cynicism…. Both then and now!!!

    letter-page-4

    “It is kind of a harsh outlook, but it seems pretty accurate. Every where you go people want something from you, and I know there is no avoiding that.”

    Damn Teen-Toni… that is so fatalistic, and yet… yes. I hear you. I grapple with the concept of unconditional love. I want to believe in it, but it feels that much like communism, it’s impossible in practice.

    After reading all this – it’s kind of shocking how little I’ve changed in 20 years.

    I’m also so taken aback with how deeply I seemed to have felt my feelings. They were so raw then. Even though I essentially feel the same ways as Teen-Toni, for Adult-Toni these feelings are no longer on the surface. I’ve come to accept so much of this as part of life, or at least part of my life. I don’t let it get to me anymore – at least not on a conscious level. It’s as if at 17 I was walking around like a giant open wound, and now, almost 37, I’m just a big scab.

    So get this!

    I went home that night, still unable to walk because my knee was so enflamed. Sad and frustrated, I sat down at the kitchen table while the Munch had her dinner. Then, out of nowhere, The Munch grabs a pad of paper and asks me to write down all that I was feeling. I complied, and then she asked me to write down all my needs.

    CAN YOU FUCKING BELIEVE THAT??

    She then drew pictures representing my feelings and my needs and gave it to me to remember.

    Now that is some profound ass shit. What an amazing exorcise to do when trying to heal. DON’T YOU THINK YOU SHOULD DO THAT YOURSELF RIGHT GODDAMN NOW!? I don’t know where The Munch came up with that … but the next day I could walk again.

    I can’t wait to read what kind of letters that kid will be writing to her friends bitching about me when she’s 17.

    Below is the picture Munch drew for me. Notice the “emotional ambulance” between our names. Then you see the faces of my feelings… frustrated, anxious, and later loved (with my nose looking surprisingly like a set of cock and balls). Then below the faces are my needs, which seemingly include meds, a tower of penises surrounding a bong, more meds, a happy heart, and back to the meds.

    toni-feelings

    December 15, 2016 • Family Drama, Health, Mommyhood, Musings, Old School Stories • Views: 760

  • Let’s Get Real Intimate about Intimacy

    The other day I was in the shower debating whether or not to shave my legs, and then remembering… Who cares? No one eats out my legs! I was listening to music, and the song” Elenor Rigby” by the Beatles came on my Pandora radio station. After it was done, my brain immediately started singing, “When I wake up early in the morning…” because “I’m Only Sleeping” is the next song on the Revolver album. Then it dawned on me… HOLY SHIT I AM THE LAST GENERATION OF HUMANS TO HAVE LISTENED TO ENTIRE RECORDS!

    I grew up in the 80’s, and sit right on the cusp of Gen X’ers and the Millennials. I may be one of the fastest texters this side of the Mississippi, but I also had a Walkman and know what the fuck a fax machine is. I have a relationship to technology that is of course foreign to my grandparent’s generation, but my connection to machines and the services they provide was very intimate.

    When I was growing up we didn’t have the access to variety that there is today. There was still an element of sacredness to technology and the media it provided. Entertainment was something I had to patient for. I had to wait until Saturday morning to watch cartoons – then hold my pee until a commercial came on so I didn’t miss a second of “He-Man.” If I liked a movie, I watched it again, and again, and again, and again because it was all I had – a VHS cassette. I didn’t have streaming or downloading. I saw “Annie” over 60 times, “Wayne’s World” well over a hundred, and I could recite “Dumb and Dumber” and “Pee Wee Herman’s Big Adventure” word for word right now!

    When I got a tape – like Billy Joel, Paul Abdul, Public Enemy, The Police, Led Zeppelin, Michael Jackson – I would listen to it thousands of times. I knew the lyrics to every song, which song came next, and what songs were on which side of the tape. The music and movies I loved implanted into my soul. To this day I quote “Zoolander” at least 8 times a week. The cultural references I share with those of my generation runs profoundly deep. There are so many inside jokes we have because most of us were so limited in what media we had contact with. We all saw “Dazed and Confused” at least 10 times, and will say “Alright, alright,” to perfectly express ourselves in a moment. We didn’t just consume media; we embedded it into our psyches and personalities.

    Our attention spans were more focused because we had less to pay attention to. I had access to similar distractions we battle with today, but it was less distracting because I had less variety. I was forced to be focused within my escapism. I played computer games, but I had two to choose from. You bet your sweet ass I killed at “Frogger,” because I spent 10,000 hours playing it. I still know what every single level looks like in “Super Mario Brothers.” If I could have built my career around saving a Princess by jumping on the head’s of turtles, I would be a goddamn millionaire.

    Yet now, with our immense and immediate access to media, it passes through us like dysentery. Nobody listens to entire records or obsessively watches the same film over and over. There are too many options. We live in a disposable culture where nothing is meant to last. We swipe through humans like we do videos to watch.

    Our relationship to technology doesn’t exist in a vacuum. It is a direct reflection of our psychology. In the 50’s we had the expectation of our appliances to last for decades – much like our marriages, and our careers. Now in modern times we expect all of those to break down. It’s no more shocking to replace your dishwasher than it is to trade in your husband. There are no more lifetime guarantees and we don’t even really care anymore.

    The manifestation of what technology has turned into is in direct relationship to how we view each other. We are so over stimulated that actual stimulation feels boring. The result is a rampant lack of intimacy that is spreading through society. We feel connected through our social media, but we are physically connecting less and less. We hang out less, have dinner together less, leave our houses less, and look for sex less.

    Millenials are having less sex than any generation in the past 60 years!!!! I know!! We all thought they were fucking their way through their hook up culture but no! They are in front their screens because their virtual world is safer, more predictable, and easier to control than the real one.

    There is no turning back from what we have created, and we know this. The momentum is propelling us forward at lightening speed, and there aren’t enough scientists to study the impact all this will all have on our brains and psyches until the damage is done. We don’t know what we are evolving into, but it’s happening rapidly.

    So why does intimacy matter when we can Skype across the world and connect on those terms? What does sharing physical space provide when we can transcend space and time through our keyboards? Why fuck when we can watch other people do it and spare ourselves the emotional and actual mess?

    BECAUSE IT DOES MATTER!!!

    When we let go of our intimate connections to each other we are easier to control. When you see more people on screens than you do in real life – then what differentiates them from the characters of fiction? They become vague representations of people, so why care about them? If we had to look Syrian refugees in the eyes we would be WAYYYY more prone to take them into our country and actually do something to help them. But a suffering face on a screen is more abstract, so essentially easier to ignore.

    The reason it matters that people are having less sex is because sexually frustrated humans don’t think straight!! Why do you think religion is always trying to control sexuality? The religions with the MOST restrictions around sex are the ones that are also the MOST prone to war. Men who are not getting laid excess testosterone running through their veins so they’re easier to manipulate into violence. Keeping us away from sex doesn’t make us more loving – it makes us more volatile.

    When people honor intimacy and sexuality they are more likely to value humanity as a whole. When you are touching, biting, and kissing another human on the regular, than you are reminding yourself that people matter more than material objects. BLACK LIVES MATTER YOU GUYS and if you were having more intimate connected sex you wouldn’t even question that!

    Sexuality in our current culture is being broken open, examined, and redefined. We have a major opportunity here to awaken a new understanding, but we have to do so with intentionality and care. Systems are raping the earth much like the rampant raping women, and its all a symptom of a similar lack of respect. Rape culture isn’t about sex, but more about power and the dehumanizing of women. If we took a step back and looked at society, our lack of intimacy with everything is at the core of so many of our issues.

    We are facing political, social, and environmental crisis… these are scary times, but withdrawing from humanity isn’t going to save us. Diving in will. We need to get dirty together, and be dirty with each other. We have to remember that human connections are not simple algorithms and even though they leave you vulnerable, they can’t be replaced with microchips. I don’t want to live in a transhumanist nightmare, and they only way to avoid that is by prioritizing intimate connections in every facet of our lives.

    bc3

    October 12, 2016 • Current Events, Health, Musings, Sex Stuff • Views: 1442

  • This Will Probably Traumatize You For Life

    I’m going to tell you a story that may or may not scar you for life. If you are attracted to me at all, get ready for that to end. Today. There is no way you are going to come out of this feeling the same way about me.

    To provide some context:

    My health has always been something I am always pretty experimental about. I do everything I can to avoid western medicine, and often have the strategy of ignoring any ailment that appears because that’s what’s being a grown is all about!

    One example is one day a random growth appeared on my chest. If you were to look at it, you would have said to me “hey Toni, go get that checked out why don’t you?” But I don’t have a dermatologist, so I didn’t. Eventually I went to a hippy doctor and asked her “what the hell is this on my chest,” and she said “I don’t know, I’ll refer you to a dermatologist.” So me and my seemingly skin cancer went home, unsure of what was going on… until a few days later when I just ripped it off my body. AND NOW I AM CURED RIGHT?

    Or how a few months ago I woke up with an unexplainable rash all over my body. I looked at my new itchy, red, infested, torso and thought, “huh, that’s new.” Then I just kept living my life… assuming that the rest of it would include red spots covering my abdomen.

    But eventually it just went away, as mysteriously as it came.

    AGAIN CURED!

    Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night soaking wet, with cold sweats. What do I do about that? Change my clothes and go back to bed.

    My policy is “I think I’m just going to act like this isn’t happening at all.”

    Recently, I’ve been really sick. My stomach has been in a dismal state of disarray for 13 days now. At first I just thought my organs were failing… or that I was melting from the inside. NBD.

    The pain was like nothing I have ever experienced. I didn’t have to puke, shit, burp, or fart, so there was no clear solution to my problem. I had this intense feeling of pressure that would intensify if I tried to eat. There was no obvious relief to this discomfort, and eating was incredibly painful.

    So I did what any normal person would do who felt like their digestive system was failing. I meditated. I thought about, “what is it that I can’t stomach?” Or if I needed to “trust my gut instinct more?” I got my Chinese herbs, “maxa,” and tried to smoke the evil out of my stomach. Unfortunately however, I ended up dropping one of the burning sticks of herbs – and subsequently burnt the shit out of my tummy.

    Yet I still felt awful.

    Then I thought that maybe one of my healers had left an energetic dust bunny in my gall bladder… so I called her and asked. She wasn’t so sure about my hypothesis, and suggested I massage my iliac sacral valve.

    Nothing was helping. It was only getting more uncomfortable and tortuous. Especially because I WAS SUPER HUNGRY!!!!

    I then brought Munch to one of her hippy doctors to get her eye checked, and for whatever voodoo to happen. This woman took one look at me, poked my body, waved her arms around, and closed her eyes to ask my body what was wrong.

    Hippy Doctor: You have a virus.

    Toni: Oh. I just thought that maybe an alien was trying to eat its way out of me.

    She put me on her table and shimmied this then prodded that. She tapped my body and reminded it to heal, and suggested that if I danced my original face I would probably get better quicker.

    But the next day I was still in agony. I saw another hippy doctor, but had to bring the Munch with me because she didn’t have school. The doctor asked me to pee in a cup… so Munch helped me to the bathroom

    Munch: Mama your pee is so brown and dirty looking. Mine is yellow like a bright sun.

    I gave the homeopathic doctor my rancid pee, and she tested it for bad intentions or psychic clotting. It all came back negative, so she thought maybe it was a virus after all.

    She sent my home with peppermint pills.

    I was like okay lady sure… peppermint pills. Like that will do anything for me. Might as well chew a stick of gum.

    I doubled down on the peppermint pills and took twice the recommended dosage. It made me feel a little better, or at least, it let me get to sleep.

    The next morning I woke up and went to bathroom. As I was performing my morning bowel ritual I started to feel a burning sensation! At first I was like “this is it Toni… this is the moment you shit out your colon,” but then I realized that the burning was actually minty. It was a distinct pepperminty feeling in fact. I then had to ask myself the one question I never thought I would have to ask… “Does my asshole have better breath than my mouth!?”

    This was my lunch yesterday 🙁

    toni hand and stick crackers

    April 13, 2016 • Health • Views: 2292

  • Chemical Candy Chaos!

    I am the type of person that would rather go hungry than to eat food that I don’t like, or is bad quality. Eating is such a pleasurable experience for me, and goes way beyond the basic need to fill my stomach. I want to have a tantric experience with my meals. I don’t want to eat just because I am hungry – I want my wet mouth to orgasm while I fill it with delicious sausages.

    Local and organic of course.

    Maybe this can be annoying for others – especially for those who want to just eat and move on with the day but have to instead wait for me to find the perfect artisanal pizza place specializing in hand foraged pixy farts.

    For example: There was this one time when I went hiking in the Swiss Alps with my boyfriend and friend, and we got really lost. We finally came across a sign that read “Wanderweg” and decided we would go there, and take the train home. We followed the path for a few miles, then came across another sign that said “Wanderweg.” This sign, however, pointed in another direction. We were confused, but followed that path for another few miles. We then came across two signs, that pointed in opposite directions, and they BOTH read “Wanderweg.”

    Toni: Where the fuck is Wanderweg!!!??

    Finally we passed some other hikers who explained that “wanderweg” means “path.”

    We didn’t get off the mountain until 10 at night, and had been hiking for 12 hours with no food or water. When we finally got to the small town, everything was closed except for one restaurant. Inside there was an old man smoking cigarettes and chewing on his hands. He showed us the menu, which consisted of a variety of canned meat.

    Toni: Ummm I don’t think I’m gonna eat here.
    My Boyfriend: What??! DUDE I am starving! Lets just eat! There is nowhere else?
    Toni: It just doesn’t look very good. And the smoke is bothering me. I won’t even be able to taste anything. Maybe we can take the train to the next town? Or walk there?

    And that was the day my boyfriend strangled me.

    And here is a story where my 5-year old almost choked the fuck out of me. The Munch and I were coming back from a road trip, and had been in the car for a few hours. She told me she needed to go to the bathroom, so I pulled over at a gas station. Once we were inside, she wanted a treat.

    The Munch: I want a treat.
    Toni: No. Not here. I can’t.
    The Munch: But MOM I AM REALLY HUNGRY! YOU DIDN’T GIVE ME DINNER AND I WANT A TREAT.
    Toni: I can’t buy you chemical candy.
    The Munch: PLEASE!? What about these?
    Toni: Sour Patch kids? No way dude! Those are chemical kids coated with sugar flavored chemicals.
    The Munch: What about these??
    Toni: Reece’s? Those are just partially hydrogenated oil patties. I can’t. I can’t support those companies. I can’t get you these natural nuts? Or GMO free chips if you are hungry.
    The Munch: BUT I WANT A TREAT!
    Toni: It’s not going to happen.
    The Munch: FINE!!!

    The Munch STORMED back into the car. She was PISSED! When we finally got home a few hours later, she was STILL mad! She went to bed furious at me.

    The Munch: I REALLY WANTED A TREAT!

    The next morning when she woke up, she still had the idea of treats on her mind.

    The Munch: Can I have a treat?
    Toni: Yes you can… but we have to go to the Green Grocer to buy one, because we have nothing here.
    The Munch: That’s too far! I don’t want to get back in the car!
    Toni: Neither do I!
    The Munch: Let’s go to the General Store.
    Toni: I can’t do that. All they have is chemical treats. If you want a treat we have to go to the Green Grocer.
    The Munch: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!

    It’s not like she doesn’t KNOW I only buy organic food. The Munch is FULLY AWARE that I am never happy when someone gives her chemical candy to eat. Halloween was a big challenge for me! We had agreed that was the only chemical candy she would eat. But for whatever reason, she was NOT feeling my commitment to quality food this day.

    Toni: Dude I am not saying you can’t have a treat. I am saying you can’t have a chemical treat. The Green Grocer is five minutes farther than the General Store. Let’s just go there.
    The Munch: BUT I DON’T WANT TO WAIT THAT LONG!
    Toni: Can I tell you why I don’t want you to eat chemical candy?
    The Munch: FINE!
    Toni: Do you remember what war is?
    The Munch: When people kill each other for power?
    Toni: Yes… and back during World War 2, the Americans developed a chemical called “agent orange” to kill people. But when the war was over, they started using those chemicals on the food as pesticides – to kill the bugs. But pesticides kill all life – including butterflies, bees, and even birds!
    The Munch: BIRDS TOO?
    Toni: YES! And then we eat those pesticides! And these same companies have also have genetically modified plants, created a monopoly on seeds, and are arguably destroying the farming community. Plus… we don’t know the long-term impact of eating GMO tomatoes with fish genes in them.
    The Munch: I don’t want fishy tomatoes!
    Toni: And you know cancer? Since we have been doing this to our food, more and more people have been getting cancer. It’s hard to say it’s not related. So I don’t want to support these companies, because when I give them my money, I am saying that it’s okay to poison food, poison people, and poison the land.
    The Munch: Fine we can go to the Green Grocer. But I am getting TWO treats.

    “Seriously Mom, can you just shut your mouth hole?”

    munch shutting up toni

  • Health and Healing Hypocrisy

    I see all physical ailments as metaphysical messages. I believe our souls communicate to our egos through the language of the body. Every time I am sick, hurt, or in pain – I see it as an opportunity to dig deep in the bowels of my inner being, and extract a warm brown piece of who I really am.

    Because of this belief system, I never take western medicine. The medical establishment may lesson your symptoms, but it drives your sickness deeper inside. When you take pills for momentary relief, you are denying yourself the opportunity of self-reflection. Rather than trying to mask my pain, I will willingly sit in it so as to discover what it is I need to learn.

    Yet when my kid is suffering, I just want her to stop complaining – I mean I just want her to get better fast.

    The Munch was really miserable the other day. Usually when she is sick, she takes it as an opportunity to watch TV all day. Yet this time, she was in such a state of distress, that she wouldn’t even watch “My Little Pony!” She said that her eyes hurt too much to open them, and was writhing around in my bed in a state of physical crisis. The only thing I could do was to tickle her back to relax her.

    I felt so helpless. It’s traumatizing to see your child in anguish. But she was also being really dramatic and annoying about it. Sorry that was my auto correct. I meant to write; she was being SUPER dramatic and annoying about it.

    At first I tried to examine the mystical meaning of what was going on with her.

    Munch: MOMMY! It hurts! Wahhhahhhhaaa!
    Toni: I know it does sweetie. Can you tell me what it feels like?
    Munch: My eyes are pushing into my mouth.
    Toni: What do you think that means? What is it you don’t want to see? Or don’t want to say?
    Munch: WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT? My eyes and mouth just hurt! Wahhhaaahha!
    Toni: I hear you – but what do you think is the significance of your eyes hurting? Do you feel like there is some hidden question you could be asking yourself? What are your eyes and mouth trying to teach you?
    Munch: MY FACE HURTS! WAHAHHHHAHH
    Toni: Is there something about yourself that you have to face, and that’s why your face hurts?
    Munch: I DON’T KNOW! I JUST KNOW IT HURTS!!!

    My philosophical inquiry wasn’t exactly getting to the bottom of things. The Munch didn’t seem too interested interested in delving into the spiritual significance of what was going on with her health.

    Then my mom called.

    My Mom: I think she has allergies.
    Toni: How do you know?
    My Mom: Because she is experiencing the same symptoms I used to have. Stuffy nose, itchy eyes, irritability… That’s why I take Benadryl every day.
    Toni: But what do you think that your runny nose and itchy eyes are trying to tell you mom? Is your nose running perhaps a metaphor for something else you are running from?
    My Mom: Jesus Toni, it’s just seasonal allergies from pollen. Stop being such a hippy freak and go get your daughter some over the counter allergy medicine like Zyrtec.

    So I did.

    The Munch ended up sleeping the entire day, and I kind of felt like I drugged my kid. Which I guess I did. But then she woke up the next day, and was perfectly fine.

    hiding under the pillow munch

    munch sick sleeping

  • My 5-Year Old Does Not Support the Rockefeller Drug Laws

    Every parent has a nighttime ritual with their child to put them to bed. Sometimes that includes a bath, a warm glass of milk, and reading a story. Other times putting your child to sleep involves a discussion about the Police state and Rockefeller drug laws – but to each his own.

    There is a heroin epidemic where I live in New Hampshire, and it is basically impossible not to know someone who is personally effected by this crisis. The Munch and I were talking about someone we love, and how they are dealing with a family member in jail because of heroine. The Munch had a lot of questions about what all this meant, and the complexity of trying to clarify the details to her made something very clear to me.

    The way we treat drug addicts in this country is criminal.

    I think the best way to tell if a system is flawed, is if it’s hard to explain it to a child. If you can’t easily articulate an issue, then something is wrong.

    When the Munch asks about what laws were, I didn’t find it challenging to express why we needed laws. When she asked me some examples of laws, it was perfectly logical to her why it was illegal to steal, or kill someone. There wasn’t a lot of confusion. But when trying to unpack why drugs were illegal and why people go to prison for drugs – that was actually really hard.

    The Munch: What do drugs do to people?
    Toni: They make you feel different – inside your body and your mind.
    The Munch: What do you mean feel different?
    Toni: You know how if you eat a bunch of sugar, and your body feels kind of funny after? Like it’s buzzing?
    The Munch: Yeah… and you have all this energy and want to run around?
    Toni: Well drugs make you feel different sensations in your body and in your brain.
    The Munch: Is sugar a drug?
    Toni: Well it affects your brain like drugs, but it’s not considered a drug.
    The Munch: Is wine drugs? Like how grow-ups drink wine and stuff?
    Toni: Kind of – but wine beer is considered alcohol. Not a drug.
    The Munch: Do people go to prison for wine?
    Toni: No… only drugs.
    The Munch: Why are drugs bad?
    Toni: Because you can get addicted to them.
    The Munch: Like how you say I can get addicted to sugar, or watching too much “My Little Pony.”
    Toni: Yes. Addiction is when you make a decision to do something you know is bad for you, but it’s too hard to make the decision to stay away.
    The Munch: And you go to prison because you have addiction and it’s too hard to stay away?
    Toni: Sort of. But also when you take drugs, you probably aren’t making the best decisions in general because you’re also on drugs. So you aren’t thinking clearly.
    The Munch: But don’t you take drugs when you are sick? Or have surgery? Like how you gave me drugs when I had my eye surgery so the pain would go away?
    Toni: Yes. Doctors give drugs when people are in pain, but those drugs don’t put you in jail.
    The Munch: What are the drugs that put you in jail?
    Toni: Illegal drugs.
    The Munch: But do people take illegal drugs because they are in pain?
    Toni: Yes. Emotional pain. And sometimes physical pain too.
    The Munch: So shouldn’t those people see a doctor for their pain and not go to jail?
    Toni: Yes they should.

    Since the Rockefeller drug laws were introduced, the prison population in the US has skyrocketed! We now hold the honor of being the number 1 country in the world with the most people incarcerated. Maybe the original intention was to make our neighborhoods safer, but sending millions of non-violent offenders to jail for exorbitant sentences has had a detrimental impact on communities. The Rockefeller drug laws are the most significant legal foundation of the war on drugs over the last 40 years. And despite the draconian mandatory minimums being removed 7 years ago, 48% of the people in our federal prisons are there for non-violent drug related crimes. But what if we started regarding drug abuse as a social issue to contend with and not a criminal one?

    These mandatory sentences haven’t addressed why people turn to drugs, but only built the foundation of our current penal system. These drug laws paved the path for the prison industrial complex that we see today – ironically with prisoners as the ones laying the concrete. When prisons become profitable businesses, then filling them up with people is simply free labor for Wall Street.

    So I agree with The Munch – maybe we should be sending addicts to hospitals and not prisons.

  • Whatever Doesn’t Kill You… Puts You in a Really Bad Mood

    You can’t avoid pain. It’s an inevitable part of life. The only thing you can do when you experience pain is to wallow in it dramatically and complain incessantly to anyone within a 10 -mile radius. Or you can try to learn from it. Whatever, who cares?

    Last Monday I got home from dance and had a bad feeling about my back. I woke up in the middle of the night, and it had gone into spasm. My entire lower back had seized up, and even sitting up was incredibly challenging.

    This isn’t the first time this has happened to me. If I were to trace my lower back pain, it started when I was in the 5th grade. Maybe it was the super intense stress I was under at school making dioramas, or maybe it was the trampoline I spent 10 hours a day on. Who knows?

    But this particular back spasm episode was the worst it has ever been. I called my acupuncturist and made an appointment. She couldn’t see me until 3:30, which was a REALLY LONG TIME TO WAIT! I called my friend Grace hoping that she would have some maxa, which are Chinese herbs you light on fire to smoke your hurt body as it draws out the bad chi. I needed her help because I couldn’t reach my back or butt, which was where all the tightness was.

    Toni: Can you come over smoke my ass?
    Grace: I sure can.

    Even after a good ass smoking I was still a wreck. I laid on the floor helpless.

    Grace: Do you want a blanket?
    Toni: No I hate blankets?
    Grace: How can you hate blankets?
    Toni: I hate seeing people under blankets. I hate being under blankets. It’s too vulnerable.
    Grace: You look cold.
    Toni: Just grab some of the sweaters over there, and throw them on top of me.
    Grace: Oooookayyyyy.

    I lay under sweaters, WHICH ARE NOTE THE SAME AS BLANETS, until it was finally 3pm. I then pathetically got in my car, in hopes that some needles would help. Now my acupuncturist isn’t just any acupuncturist. She’s a 5th generation acupuncturist / Chinese herbalist, and she’s a goddamn sorceress. But she’s also not fucking around. She doesn’t just put needles in, but she turns them in farther the entire time – tuning me like an instrument. She is about as large as Thumbelina, and as strong a linebacker. She seriously scares me.

    She jammed a bunch of needles in me, pressed my pressure points, gave me some herbs, and sent me on my way. The next morning I woke up, and I was worse. I knew this would be a possibility because sometimes acupuncture draws the pain to the surface. I couldn’t move so I asked if she could come to my house. She said she could be there at 3:30… which is A GODDAMN LONG TIME TO WAIT!

    My mom called so I complained to her.

    My Mom: Why don’t you come here and I will put castor oil on your back. You can sit in the sauna so you don’t get castor oil everywhere and make a huge mess. I will sit with you. It will be cute.

    I hobbled over and my mom greeted my in her Anne of Green Gables nightgown.

    My Mom: I wore this so I wouldn’t worry if I got castor oil on my nightgown.

    It took me about 10 minutes to take off my clothes and lay down in her sauna. I couldn’t fit because my stupid body is too tall, so I squeezed myself in so my feet and head were pressing up against the walls. My mom put the castor oil on me, added a heat pack, took off her nightgown, and sat her naked bum inches from my face as she chatted away.

    My Mom: This is fun!
    Toni: Uh huh….
    My Mom: Good thing you are too weak to get your camera and write about this.
    Toni: There’s still time mom….

    After an hour I extricated myself from the sauna and still felt terrible.

    My Mom: Why don’t you get in the shower?
    Toni: I really can’t. I wanna die.
    My Mom: Well, you are going to get castor oil everywhere if you don’t so….
    Toni: Okay… okay.

    MY MOM OBVIOUSLY HAS A REAL FEAR OF CASTOR OIL MESS!

    I leaned against the shower wall, and let the castor oil spread all over my legs. Not really sure if that’s what my mom had in mind, I took my slicked body and got dressed. I staggered home and waited for the acupuncturist. When she arrived she had a bag full of different healing remedies. She pulled out a giant brown stick.

    My acupuncturist: Do you have this?
    Toni: Tree branches?
    My acupuncturist: Cinnamon.
    Toni: I don’t know anyone who has this.

    She gave me the massive cinnamon stick and showed my how to make tea. Then she heated up some herbs to maxa me. She worked on me for a few hours, but still the spasm persisted.

    That night I did something I never thought I would.

    I took the white man’s medicine.

    For the first time in 15 years, Toni Nagy took an “Aleve.”

    I woke up the next morning and the spasm was over. (uhhh thanks Western medicine)? The tightness had remained however, and it was still really hard to move.

    I will spare you the details of the rest of my week, but it was pretty dismal. I had to have my back smoked every day – a half hour process that is NOT exciting for the other person I was dependent on. I’m pretty sure that I’m the only human who has ever has been maxad by someone watching the Patriots game. Although I have to say, having burning hot coals over your body as someone is swearing at the TV isn’t as relaxing as you would think. I also took over 90 Chinese pills a day, and forced anyone who was kind enough to visit me to also massage my back/ass. By the time it was Sunday, I must have the loosest ass this side of the Mississippi.

    Yet the pain persisted.

    I went through the usual psychological journey of trying to understand why I did this to myself. Even if we don’t want to admit it, we are the architects of our own suffering. No one else came up to me and hit me with a tire iron on the back. I hurt my back, me, for whatever reason.

    I journeyed deep into a philosophical questioning of self. I tried to deconstruct and reconstruct every part of my being. I meditated on my 3rd chakra, and chanted a variety of primal sounds to bring my inner core strength. I connected to my ancestors on the astral plane, and visited my original self on the quantum shelf. I repeated the mantra “life is wasted if we don’t appreciate every part of it,” and bowed my 3rd eye the eternal oneness of all beings.

    Yet the pain persisted.

    I was useless, cranky, and sad. I went to Munch’s best friend’s birthday party, and was so antisocial I spent the entire time making endless grilled cheese sandwiches and washing dishes. I think I have a pretty good career as a dishwasher if nothing else works out – or at least that’s what I was told.

    I left the party early in total despair. Then I did what any reasonable person would do who had been dealing with debilitating pain for 6 days. I smoked some pot and went for a walk. I thought about movies I want to make, and characters I want to create. Then I got home, smoked some more, and stretched while The Munch took her bath. While I was stoned stretching, it was almost as if I was accessing my spasms. I could feel the tremors, and I just breathed into it. I let the shivers and the intensity of the stretch feel like a massage. Then I got up, and felt almost fine.

    I guess in truth I did think a lot during this week. I realized I’m becoming sort of cynical and jaded. Taking a step back to look at my existence is never a bad thing. Maybe I will do it more often. Before my body goes into total mutiny. Or maybe I should just smoke pot and stretch more often.

    Do you guys have this kind of cinnamon at home???

    cinnamon

    January 18, 2016 • Health • Views: 606

  • I Don’t Love You Anymore!

    The Munch is still in a state of healing from her eye surgery. It is for sure WAAAYYY more complex than I imagined, and as it stands right now the doctor is thinking that we may have to do another operation. I of course REALY don’t want to put Munch through that, so have been going hard on the holistic healing front.

    In these past few weeks I’ve taken her to a variety hippy doctors, and they all say her body is still processing the trauma of the experience. Because I want to be as proactive as possible, there are a bunch of things I am trying in order to address both the emotional and physical distress. This is the short list:

    1) Eye patch glasses: Munch didn’t want to wear an eye patch because she didn’t think patches were “fashionable,” and the adhesive gave her cheek a rash. So I made her some super sweet Hello Kitty glasses with a ballerina patch over the good eye. Now she looks like a punk rock pirate, and will wear them around her friends.
    2) Pills for her blood/liver: My acupuncture lady said we needed to support her liver/blood to keep tendons and eyes healthy. I brewed Chinese herbs for 2 days in hopes that Munch would drink it, but she refused because it tasted like “monkey poop and pee.” But she did learn to swallow pills so at least that is happening – but she is also now irrationally excited about swallowing pills… which makes me somewhat concerned for her future and doing ecstasy. PS I am also now drinking the “monkey poo and pee” drink because I don’t want it to go to waste, and it tastes more like giraffe semen.
    3) Eye Games: We play games with flash cards where I make her move her eye around. This game has now evolved to me also playing, and working out my eye, which can now bench press 250 lbs.
    4) Massages: I massage her leg to stimulate blood production, her feet to lower stress, her head to relax the brain, and her eye to bring awareness of healing. This is a 30 min process where I have to keep her relaxed and entertained so she doesn’t squirm around. This means I tell stories the entire time, which I make up from the top of my head. I now have carpel tunnel syndrome in my hands from all these damn massages, and probably should enter an improv group for my amazing off the cuff story telling abilities – although many of them end with someone farting really loud.
    5) Singing: Now I have to make her sing as much as possible because the vibration in her head is healing, but she HATES it when I sing because The Munch is a musical snob… sooooo this one isn’t going so well.

    I have also been taking her to healers who do cranial sacral work and trauma release. I have noticed that when we get home from these visits, she has total meltdowns that night. The Munch isn’t really one to have tantrums, so I figure she is getting out these buried emotions that she kept in while trying to be cooperative during the surgery. She was excessively stoic, and maybe needs to get some of the fear and rage out?

    I have been trying to give The Munch space to have these outrageous moments of outburst, and not take them personally or get angry with her for acting out. I know her well enough to know this isn’t her normal behavior, so there is no point in punishing her for needing to release. But this is what it looked like last night.

    The Munch: Mamma, can I have a candy cane?
    Toni: There is no way! It is bedtime, and you can’t eat a candy cane right before bed.
    The Munch: But I WANT ONE!
    Toni: That is understandable because candy canes are delicious. But you have to wait until tomorrow. You can have one then.
    The Munch: Well I can eat it anyway, and you can’t stop me.
    Toni: Of course I can. I am way bigger than you and can take it from you. I would rather you just put it away and have it tomorrow.
    The Munch: Try and take it from me.
    Toni: I am not going to do that.
    The Munch: Just try and take it from me.

    Okay fine… I am the grown up and could have refused. But she was TAUNTING ME OKAY!

    I grabbed the candy cane and it she held onto the hook, and now the other half was in my hand.

    The Munch: AHHHHHHHHHHHHH YOU BROKE IT!!!! WAAAAHHHHHHAAA
    Toni: Dude I am sorry. I didn’t mean to break it. It was an accident!
    The Munch: WELL YOU DID BREAK IT!! WAHHHHHAAAA
    Toni: You told me to try and take it!
    The Munch: WAAAAAHHHHHHHHAAAAAHHHHHAAA!!! YOU BROKE IT!
    Toni: I didn’t mean to break it, but you did tell me to try and take it. Besides, you can have the pieces in the tomorrow. It gets all broken up in your tummy anyway. I will save them for you.
    The Munch: I DON’T WANT IT TO BE BROKEN! I DON’T LOVE YOU ANYMORE! AND I AM TAKING MOLLY FROM YOU AND YOU WILL NEVER SEE MOLLY AGAIN. EVEN THOUGH SHE IS YOUR FAVORITE STUFFY.

    The Munch then went into my room, and got my stuffed animal dog named Molly, and hid her. Okay fine a grown up isn’t supposed to sleep with stuffed animals. But I have had molly for 25 years! I always sleep with Molly!

    The Munch: There! Now Molly is hidden and you will never find her!
    Toni: Munch I hear that you are angry, but I think you maybe need some time to think and calm down and then we can talk.
    The Munch: NO! I am locking you in my room and YOU CAN NEVER LEAVE!
    Toni: Never? What if I get hungry?
    The Munch: You will get nothing to eat!!!
    Toni: So I would just starve to death in your room?
    The Munch: YES!!!
    Toni: So when people ask you “what happened to your mom?” you would just say “oh I got super mad because she broke my candy cane so I locked her in my room. She eventually starved to death and died.”
    The Munch: Yes!
    Toni: Don’t you think you would maybe miss me?
    The Munch: YES I WOULD!
    Toni: Okay well can we think of a solution for you to feel better so you are not yelling or trying to starve me to death?
    The Munch: NOTHING WILL MAKE ME FEEL BETTER EXCEPT FOR WATCHING MY LITTLE PONY OR EATING A NON BROKEN CANDY CANE.
    Toni: Well, neither of those things are going to happen.
    The Munch: WELL THEN YOU CAN’T MAKE ME HAPPY!
    Toni: Of course I can’t make you happy! You have to make your elf happy! Can you think of something that might make you happy? Like maybe you could jump on the bed and then into my arms.
    The Munch: Ummm okay.

    Then she was totally fine and we did our 45-minute healing routine and I got early onset arthritis. This morning we talked about it…

    The Munch: I love you. You’re the best mommy in the whole universe.
    Toni: Remember when you told me last night that you didn’t me any more? Did you mean that?
    The Munch: No… I was just angry.
    Toni: I know. But when you say harsh things, even when you are angry, it can really hurt someone’s feelings. You have to always be careful with your words, because you can never take them back.
    The Munch: Well you didn’t seem like your feelings were hurt last night.
    Toni: That is because I’m your mom, and moms are always more forgiving towards their children. Not everyone will be that way. I knew you didn’t mean those words, but I also know you have been going through a lot, so have a lot of emotions you are working through.
    The Munch: Maybe you also knew you shouldn’t have broken my candy cane.

    She does look pretty bad ass right?

    don't-love-you-(i)

  • The Worst Day of My Life! (Munch’s Eye Surgery Saga)

    The night before Munch’s wandering eye surgery I couldn’t sleep. Not only because The Munch was getting her eyeball cut open the next day, but also because The Munch was getting HER FUCKING EYE BALL CUT OPEN THE NEXT DAY! I guess the thing I was most nervous about was the anesthesia. It would be a real bummer if that shit killed my kid.

    We had to wake up at 5:45 in the morning to get to the hospital on time. The Munch was in good spirits, and there was a beautiful sunrise on the way. Seemed like a good day to stay alive. When we got there we were waiting in the waiting room and a mother came out from the back where the surgeries were taking place. She was hysterical, and collapsed in her husband’s arms to weep. Munch’s dad and I looked at each other and were like “holy shit.”

    The woman was crying because she had just watched her kid go under, which was obviously pretty traumatic. I looked at Munch who was peacefully coloring, and knew I was in for a fucking experience. Yet because I am a good New England woman who was raised by WASPs, I also knew I would probably just keep all my feelings deep inside and have mental breakdown later when it was appropriate.

    When we were called in, we went to the back room to get prepared. They gave The Munch hospital pajama’s to put on – which was probably the most traumatic part of the story from her perspective. The Munch did NOT want to wear these tiger pajamas. She is SUPER compulsive about her clothes, and seriously wears the same outfit for 3 months in a row. Getting her to change her clothes is like trying to change the mind of a religious fundamentalist.

    But you know what? Because The Munch is a good New England child raised by WASPs, she kept all her feelings inside and put on the outfit. There were a pair of yellow sox she didn’t want to wear, because she NEVER wears socks inside, but when the nurse asked her to put them on, she complied.

    The Munch was then poked, prodded, examined, and check out. She did everything she was asked, and was extremely cooperative. The nurses and doctor kept saying “what a good listener she is,” and “she is so composed and brave!” Which she was! She knows how to be stoic in times of stress, but I also knew that she wasn’t expressing what she was actually feeling – because she learned from the BEST!

    The Munch was then asked what flavor she wanted her anesthesia mask to smell like, and she chose watermelon. When it was time to take her back, I had to put on MY blue hospital gown and doctor’s hair net. And holy shit I did not like that… especially since I and been wearing the same thing all week.

    I held Munch’s hand, and we walked to the operation room – both in outfits we did NOT like. The room was filled with nurses with their blue masks. Munch was told to lie on the bed, and when she did, her little body looked so small. The nurses started strapping her down, and put the anesthesia mask on her face.

    Toni: Does it smell like watermelon?

    Munch nodded her head, and looked around. I put my hand on her heart, and started doing reiki on her. (I of course am a certified reiki practitioner which is a type of healing touch – I mean you can’t be a new age mom and NOT practice reiki. It’s in the handbook). The Munch looked into my eyes and I smiled at her. You can’t act scared in situations like that! Even though in my mind I was thinking “ummmmm this is so mother fucking scary, maybe this was a bad idea.” I was trying remain calm as Munch’s tiny body convulsed as the anesthesia took over.

    Nurse: This is totally normal… nothing to worry about. She is already asleep.

    Munch’s eyes rolled in the back of her head as she thrashed around. Then suddenly, she was still. It kind of looked like she died.

    Nurse: Give her a kiss on her cheek.

    I kissed Munch on her cheek and everyone looked at me.

    Nurse: Are you okay?

    Toni: Of course.

    I went back out the waiting room and immediately sat down to meditate. So yeah, maybe it is kinda weird to be sitting on a waiting room floor meditating, but that is the kind of person I am. I then did some distance reiki on Munch to support the surgery. Which also included whispering and weird gestures. Again, because that is how I roll.

    The TV was on, and I could hear Curious George. It was the same episode Munch was watching on the drive to the hospital. It made me think of her, and wonder if the sound of Curious George would forever mock me if something terrible happened.

    After two hours the doctor came, told us everything had gone well, and that she was sleeping. The doctor explained that she was going to go do another surgery, then come back and check on Munch because if she had over-corrected/under-corrected the eye, she was going to have to do another surgery that day.

    Now part of me thinks that if Ben Carson is a skilled surgeon, then surgery can’t be THAT hard. But isn’t it also kind of insane that a doctor operates on MULTIPLE people a day. If I had just cut open a kid’s face, I think I would need the rest of the morning to recover.

    When The Munch finally woke up, she was in a lot of pain and really disoriented.

    Munch: Can I put my clothes back on?

    The Nurse: We have to wait for the doctor to see you first.

    We sat with Munch as she tried to make sense of the world, and I held an ice pack to her face. The doctor came and put all these eye drops in her eyes, which really stung and hurt her. But The Munch didn’t complain, and just let it happen.

    Doctor: She is probably the easiest patient I have ever had.

    I started to FREAK THE FUCK OUT that the doctor was going to say she had to go back in and do another surgery. I watched as she did all her doctor texts, and noticed she was surprisingly peppy considering she had just done 3 operations and it wasn’t even 10:30 am. Usually by 10:30 I have accomplished eating breakfast and not peeing on my hands.

    Thank Mother Gaia the doctor was happy with her job, and said we could leave.

    Munch: Can I put my clothes back on now?

    We brought The Munch home, and she was pretty fucking miserable.

    Munch: This was the worst day of my life! Almost as bad as if I had Becca over for a playdate!

    Toni: Whoa really? And is Becca really that bad that she is worse than surgery?

    Munch: She is just so annoying and asks too many questions.

    Toni: Well, I hope you are nice to her anyway.

    Munch: I am. I just never wanna have her over for a playdate!

    The doctor had given us eye drops and eye gel to put in Munch’s eye for the healing process. But you know what you really don’t want to happen to your eye after people have been cutting it open it all day? Putting eye drops or eye-jelly in it! I knew she didn’t want to do it, but Munch’s eye also looked like a cyborg! The whites were completely red, and I felt like I should probably do what I was told.

    Toni: Listen Munch, Mama will do the eye drops first, and you will see it doesn’t hurt. It’s not the stingy kind the doctor had. That kind had steroids in it. This is just plain moisturizing eye drops!

    Munch: NO I DON’T WANT ANY MORE EYE DROPS!

    The Munch then started to cry… but these weren’t normal tears. These were tears of blood. Seriously, my child was CRYING BLOOD! Part of me wanted to take a picture of it for Instagram. It was just so poetic, and disturbing. But even I knew that wasn’t a good idea. (Please note that was me being SUPER mature and putting someone’s feelings above my own artistic social media expressions).

    Toni: Watch Munch, I will do it to myself and show you it doesn’t hurt!

    I put the eye drops in my eye, and you know what? It fucking hurt.

    Toni: Uhhh let’s try the jelly instead.

    After an hour of negotiations and 4 cookies later I finally got the jelly in her eye.

    That night I slept in the bed with Munch because I wanted to make sure she was okay. It was a bit like sleeping next to a rabid octopus who was on meth. She did not sleep the whole night. She kept thrashing, pulling at the covers, sitting up, and wiggling around. By the time morning came around I was delirious.

    Toni: Munch are you okay? You didn’t sleep all night.

    Munch: How do you know that?

    Toni: Because you were moving around and I was right next to you! Was your eye hurting?

    Munch: Yes but I didn’t want to complain. I was trying not to wake you up so you could sleep.

    Ummmmm that is so fucking sweet, and obviously indicative of how many times in my life I tell her not to wake me up!!!

    The Munch wanted to play with her toys, but she also was seeing double out of the eye she got surgery on. The first thing she wanted to do was make a necklace out of beads. You know what is really hard to do? String beads onto a necklace when you fucking can’t see. It was so heartbreaking to watch her attempts, and a really ironic activity choice on her end. She would eventually get the bead on after about, oh I don’t know… 45 tries or so. Then she wanted to play with her “play mobile toys,” which are literally the size of molecules. All her toys are so goddamn tiny!!!!!!!!! Why can’t they make a princess crown that is bigger than a ladybug wing?!

    At this point Munch’s eye really hurt, but she didn’t wanna take the medicine.

    Munch: I don’t want that grape medicine because it is too sweet, and so was the watermelon they made me breathe in! IT IS TOO SWEET AND I WON’T TAKE IT!

    Okay, so I guess that serves me right for being an organic eating hippy who gives Munch dirt flavored gum as a treat.

    I tried putting the medicine in ice-cream, but she wouldn’t eat it. I tried crushing up the pills, hiding it in Nutella, and spreading on toast – but after a few bites she noticed.

    Munch: Why does this Nutella taste like grape?

    Toni: It doesn’t.

    Munch: Then what is this purple powder right here? YOU ARE TRICKING ME!!!!! WHY ARE YOU TRICKING ME!!?

    Toni: I’m sorry! I just want you to fell better! I don’t know how else to make you take the medicine.

    Munch: I AM NEVER EATING GRAPE MEDICINE ON NUTELA AGAIN!

    My mom then went to the store to get “baby aspirin,” which according to my mom tasted delicious. She gave it to Munch who immediately spit it out.

    Toni: Come on Munch, just eat it.

    Munch: IT TASTES DISGUSTING!

    Toni: No it doesn’t Here, lemme try it. I will show you.

    I took one of the “baby aspirin” and chewed it to show Munch she was being ridiculous.

    Toni: Jesus H. Christ that is fucking disgusting!!!!!!!!! Give me that bottle mom.

    So it turns out it was just regular aspirin. Not children’s chewable aspirin. Just adult aspirin you swallow. Now not only had I taken an aspirin for the first time in 15 years for no goddamn reason, but I also couldn’t get the taste of aspirin out of my mouth for the next three days.

    Toni: MOM WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU!?

    My mom went BACK to the store and got another painkiller that tasted like cherry. Thank god Munch would take that one.

    That night I was really on the brink of sanity. I was trying for an hour to get Munch to do the eye jelly, and she wouldn’t. Every time I got close, she would get super upset and run away. I couldn’t hold her down, because it is her eye I am dealing with, and you can’t force someone’s eye open.

    Munch: I don’t want you to see the redness!

    Toni: Munch I don’t care about that!? Would you care if I had a red eye?

    Munch: No. But I don’t want my eye to be red. I don’t want jelly in my eye! I shouldn’t have chosen the surgery. I should have just seen double forever!

    Toni: Dude this is the worst it’s gonna be. You’re gonna feel so much better tomorrow I promise! And then you won’t see double any more.

    Munch: I don’t care if I see double… I wish I never had surgery.

    Toni: You are gonna be all better soon. We just have to put the jelly in your eye to help you.

    Munch: BUT I DON’T WANT ANY MORE JELLY IN MY EYE!

    My Mom: Why don’ t you leave, go get some dinner – I will do the eye jelly, give her a bath, and put her to bed.

    Toni: No. I am not leaving. I’m just going to put her to bed.

    My Mom: I can put her to bed. You have to take care of yourself too. Just get out of the house, eat, and take a break.

    Toni: No I wanna be there for her.

    My mom: But she is resisting you to resist you right now. Just go. I can do it once she has settled down and in a better mood.

    Toni: I’m just gonna put her to bed, then I will go.

    My Mom: Let me put her to bed, you are being really annoying!!!

    Whatever Mom, you are annoying!!

    I put Munch to bed, went downstairs, and got dressed to go get food. As I was leaving I could hear the bath running, and Munch chatting away happily to my mom. I ran upstairs and there she was, out of bed, and in the bath.

    Toni: What the dick Mom? She was just in bed!

    My Mom: I got the jelly in her eye, and now she is having a bath before going back to bed.

    Toni: Oh. Thanks.

    All and all, Munch was really fucking impressive. It was not a great experience, but I am hoping it works for the long term,and this is the only time she has to go through it. Not to mention how fucking nice, supportive, loving, and caring all our friends were. SO THANK YOU for going through this journey with us! Especially her little friend who was so worried about what Munch went through, she watched videos of eye surgeries for over an hour to understand the experience. I am dead serious about that…

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    November 23, 2015 • Adventures, Family Drama, Health • Views: 1001