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Health
Category

  • Stupid Priorities

    How well do you treat yourself? If your underwear is dirty do you change it immediately, or figure it can wait until tomorrow morning’s shower. Do you make sure everyone washes their hands before they shake yours, or hold you? Do you eat the moment you feel hungry, or feel like if starvation is a good enough diet for Hollywood, it is good enough for you?

    I used to take really good care of myself. I would get massages and acupuncture, sleep 8 hours a night, see energy workers be really intentional about the food I ate. You could call me picky… healthy…anorexic… but now I don’t give a care what I put in my mouth because I am so busy worrying about what to feed The Munch. The more I care about her, the less room I have in my brain to care about me. I over-prioritize her while I under-prioritize myself. I stress about if she is going to like what I am making her, if she is served enough vegetables, what her protein to carb ratio is, all while I eat a peanut butter and jelly sandwich over the sink.

    So I got this idea in my head to make The Munch quinoa cakes. Simple enough right? Just follow a stupid recipe…

    Why quinoa you may ask? Well, because the box said it was this super ancient grain the Aztecs ate while reading minds and predicting the future.

    So I literally spent 4 hours chopping and grating vegetables, making the stupid quinoa, going out to the chickens and plucking eggs from under their butts, all to make these pancakes. But of course by the time everything was made, the pancakes didn’t stick together for shit. I would have had an easier time constructing a pancake out of a limp penis then this stupid batter I just slaved away making.

    So at this point I am furious. Furious at the world. Furious at the guy who posted this stupid recipe. Furious at the Aztecs for being so prolific.

    I decided that what was needed was flour, which actually worked, and I made the stupid patties.

    “You better like these goddamn quinoa pancakes Munch so help me God….”

    Of course she didn’t… so I gave her a peanut butter and jelly sandwich instead.

    September 22, 2011 • 1 year old, Adventures, Eating, Health • Views: 1623

  • Maybe You Don’t Know What You Are Doing

    I operate under the fundamental belief that The Munch wants to stay alive and her human instinct will protect her from doing dumb things. I don’t know why I keep convincing myself of this considering I have seen some pretty idiotic actions from eating a penny to touching the tire of my car and then licking her hand. But still my natural inclination is still to trust her.

    The other day I took her to the beach to play around and watch the sunset. Seems pretty harmless right? But this is where things get complicated.

    So all summer The Munch hated the lake and acted really scared of it. Okay fine, maybe she was actually scared, or maybe she just wanted to steal my thunder and be the center of attention. Every time I would go underwater she would cry like I was diving into the 5th dimension. It kind of broke my heart because I LOVE swimming and had all these fantasies of us swimming together wearing bathing caps and drinking champagne, but she was just never into it. She is such a square!

    Needless to say, this fateful evening I didn’t anticipate her going right to the water and walking in with all her clothes on.

    I am not going to lie… I live in a high elevation and it is cooler here, but it was still a sunny evening and I figured she knew what she was doing. Plus, I was so happy that she was curious and interested in the water that I just let it happen.

    As she got further and further into the water, I thought maybe I should take her clothes off because after all she was wearing a cashmere sweater. I mean is there anything cuter than a naked baby on the beach? Okay, fine, maybe a sea lion kissing a kitten in front of a naked baby on the beach is, but it was still pretty cute.

    Just as the sun set I bundled her in my sweater and cranked the heat in the car, but you know what is weird about this story…today she has the sniffles. I wonder how that happened?

    But at least I got some pretty sweet pictures right?

    September 20, 2011 • 1 year old, Adventures, baby body, Health • Views: 1282

  • Why Do You Want To Give My Baby Cancer?

    I know this might sound overbearing, but I really want to keep my baby alive. I don’t know, call it mammalian maternal instinct or the fact that I think eating her would be too many empty calories, but my plan is for The Munch to keep living.

    So when my friend sent me this article about toxic car seats that cause neurodevelopmental toxicity, learning disabilities, liver damage and cancer, I thought to myself… WTF????!!!!! Why are they putting arsenic, lead, cadmium, and mercury in car seats for babies??? Babies sit in those things???!! Babies that we are trying to protect from car accidents!! Who thought it would be a good idea to coat a car seat in cancer causing chemicals???? It makes me feel like I should be like Brittany Spears and just drive with The Munch on my lap!

    What is wrong with the world?

    Part of me is totally resigned at times and thinks “Well, everything causes cancer Munch, here, play with my cell phone if it means you will shut your pie hole for a minute…” but the other part of me says that this is totally wack! Why do we put known poisonous chemicals in products and then expose them to our children?

    Do we really need crayons that say “non toxic” on them? What is that supposed to mean? That there are toxic crayons I could buy instead? Sign me up! Think of all the BPA free plastics for kids now too. If BPA causes deathly diseases keep it in that bottle for sure! My baby is only going to be sucking on it. In fact, why don’t you give her a skin transplant of pure parabens and then scrub her till she bleeds with sodium laurel phosphate. Yes!!!!!!!

    This is like a baby Thelma and Louise in car seats!

    August 25, 2011 • 1 year old, baby gear, Environmental Impact, Health • Views: 1605

  • Swagger

    I am insanely sick and I want to cry… like a big baby… a big mommy baby…

    But The Munch has some serious swagger to her walk…. and this video brings me so much joy in this time of feeling super sorry for myself…
    munch swagger

    August 12, 2011 • 1 year old, Health, Mommy Mind • Views: 2262

  • The Olden Days

    Are you still a hypocrite if you know what you are saying is hypocritical? If I acknowledge the irony of complaining about the over technological materialism of modern times while blogging on my Mac Book Pro because I can’t reach my Ipad, is it still ironic? Or am I just a douche?

    I tend to romanticize the olden days, and what I think it might have been like to live in an era when we were more connected to nature. For some reason, everything shrouded in history seems somewhat magical. Of course there were fairies, elves, and dragons in the middle ages… I mean there were public beheadings and burning people at the stake. Anything was possible.

    Whether I fantasize about Western culture, the Eastern Empire or indigenous communities, something about the past has always seemed superior to me. They weren’t watching crap television on the E channel, but making potions with alchemy or flying on the backs of ravens with shamans. People were wild. They lived off the land and knew how to bake bread, kill beasts, and ride horses through the woods. How did they know where they were going? Everything looks the same and there were no paths. People were raw, independent, and connected to their homeland. They went to war and killed each other face to face. Not with bombs and chemical warfare, but with swords, knives, arrows, and their hands, while the women made fires and soup and prayed there wouldn’t be any pillaging… because you know what usually comes along with that.

    But after dealing with The Munch and her fever, I am so grateful to be living amongst Star Magazine and 4,000,000 types of hair conditioner. Could you imagine your baby getting sick and the best option was to stick some leaches on them? Or just assuming that at least two of your kids were going to die, if you didn’t die first in childbirth, so you had six to make sure there were four left to plow the fields?

    “Wait… I don’t get it. Why do I have to churn better when there is some right behind me in this machine that runs on electricity?”

    July 28, 2011 • 9-12 months, Health, Musings • Views: 2643

  • The White Man’s Medicine

    I am one of those people who hasn’t taken an Advil for 15 years. I have a personal dedication to holistic and alternative healing… to the point where I had a yeast infection for 2 months using twigs and berries as a remedy because I refused the white man’s medicine Monistat. That, and I had already committed to healing holistically from this pesky brain tumor so I felt I had to stay consistent. I couldn’t expect to heal my brain if I couldn’t heal my vagina, and as any one knows the vagina is just as important as the silly brain.

    The reason I am thinking of all this is because The Munch got so sick I felt truly terrified. She had been miserable since last Wednesday, but I just figured she was teething. Looking back, I feel pretty dumb because her body felt super warm, but it was also super hot outside. You know… one of those weeks where you kept hearing unique statements like “hot enough for ya’?” and “staying cool?” What are people thinking when they say stuff like that? Why not just call it like it is. “Damn, it is as hot and moist as a turned on vagina right now!”

    I digress

    Luckily my friend Forrest came over to help me get my head out of my ass. What is that you say?? Oh, I do a lot of yoga so I am pretty flexible… that is how.

    “Umm Toni, The Munch is really is hot… I think you should take her temp.”

    “I tried to get the thermometer under her armpit earlier but she kept moving around so I gave up.” (Note to reader… I fully admit that is lame).

    “Ummmm, yeah, you got to go up the ass.” Lucky for me, Forrest knew what she was doing and when she stuck that metal stick up my daughters butt I knew she was a real friend.

    “102…”

    “Crap Forrest, what should we do?”

    “This is where I go to Google… Google will know.”

    So the magical world of the internet told us to give her some baby Advil/Tylenol to bring the fever down. Despite my dogmatic approach to myself, I just couldn’t fuck around with The Munch. Part of me wanted to say “Hey girl… mind over matter. Just will your temperature down like a Tibetan Buddhist monk…” but I was scared. I felt so vulnerable, and I just wanted her to feel better.

    An hour later, the Tylenol brought her fever down, so we went to bed. I thought we were okay, until she woke up at 3:00am vomiting, and shaking. Despite my normal aversion to hospitals and doctors, I was in the ER faster than… faster than…. a car… driving really fast.

    Her temp had risen to 105. They did blood work, shoved Tylenol up her butt, and tried twice to give her a catheter but couldn’t find her tiny baby pee hole. I had to stop them and say that is enough trying because I couldn’t stand it anymore. I personally didn’t even know you could put something up your pee hole, and they kept fumbling. So the nurse gave her a shot of antibiotics and sent us home. It was horrible. I know they were doing the best they could, but they didn’t really know what was wrong. I didn’t want to give her antibiotics because of how it effects your body’s natural immune system, but I felt so desperate. I wanted my breast milk to have the healing power of crystals in it and make everything okay, but I also want to have purple eyes and I guess we can’t control everything.

    The next day she was miserable. I couldn’t put her down, she cried the entire time she was awake, and would just say “mama mama mama mama” over and over and over again. We went back to the doctor where they put her on antibiotics for 10 days.
    Of course, everything has a consequence, so the antibiotics hurt her tummy and not only give her diarrhea, but painful gas and nice juicy wet farts. Now that is something to look forward to! So I am giving her probiotics to help her stomach handle the antibiotics, and I am sitting here wondering what the hell a biotic is?

    But today she is feeling better…. Is it the white mans’ medicine? Or would she have felt better anyway?? It is so hard to know for sure.

    So this is what I think about all this, because I am highly conflicted.

    I believe in the power of positive thinking. I believe that there are many natural remedies and cures out there. I believe that as a conscious person, you have a choice about your health and how best to heal. For my own health, I will always choose the dandelion powder and quail egg extract over anything I could get at CVS.

    But a baby is different. I don’t really know what is wrong with her. She can’t tell me what hurts, and I don’t think she gets it when I tell her “Think about what is going on in your life… what is the universe trying to tell you by this illness? Is there something in your life that you cannot stomach? That you need to purge? Is someone making you angry and that is why you are hot and have a fever? Is it repressed rage? Sickness is the true-self trying to communicate to the ego through the language of the body… what is your true-self saying?” Yeah… she just kind of gives me a blank stare.

    I think the homeopathic path is the best when you don’t feel totally frantic. But when you feel like you are dealing with an emergency, it is nice that we have the white man’s medicine even if it does make you shard* your pants.

    *Shard: When you shit your pants when you fart

    When she was sleeping all I could do was stare at the video monitor to make sure she was okay and still breathing ☹

    July 27, 2011 • 9-12 months, Adventures, baby body, Health, Parenting • Views: 1713

  • Mama Knows Best

    Have you ever gotten stung by a bee, wasp, or a yuppie? Doesn’t it suck? I always thought I had an allergy to bee stings. Partly because the sting would get swollen, puffy, and hurt for days and days… and partly because I thought it would get me attention.

    So the other day I was texting and walking through the grass, when out of nowhere stepped on a bee. Sure… the bee had to sacrifice its life because of me, but I misspelled my text because of this! Not to mention it hurt like crazy. I got so mad at my phone, the person I was texting, the world. Suddenly, life didn’t make any sense. Why was I being punished? I am good person right? What did I do to deserve this?

    As I dropped to my knees to curse God, my mom came outside.

    “What happened? You step on a bee?”

    “Yes! Yes! Why? Why God Why!?”

    My mom went inside, I figured to leave me in peace for my last few moments on planet earth, but then she came out with vinegar and an ice cube wrapped in a paper towel. She poured the vinegar on my foot.

    “This will get the stinger out.”

    “No Mom it won’t… it is in there forever… I will never walk again.”

    “Here, put some ice on it.”

    “Nothing is going to help me. Why even bother? I might as well just die.”

    I took the ice, smelled my foot, and strangely enough started craving a salad. I got on the phone to say my final goodbyes and noticed my foot didn’t really hurt anymore. After 10 minutes of icing it, it was actually fine. As if nothing had ever happened.

    “Huh… I guess my mom was right about that vinegar trick.”

    This whole fiasco made me realize I have a lot to learn about home remedies for when The Munch gets hurt. That way I can just swoop in wearing flowing white clothes and fix her burn with ladybug saliva and strawberry seeds.

    A wasp sting of my past… pre knowledge from my mama

    July 25, 2011 • 9-12 months, Adventures, Health, Parenting • Views: 2870