I have a dozen other things to do (reviewing several documents in both original and commented form, writing a report, and counting some really old oncologists), but right now, I owe us some blogging. Let’s be honest, however, that you’re not really here and that I only owe myself some blogging, as it’s been a while since I wrote anything over sixty words that I wasn’t paid to write.
Things I eventually want to cover:
1. My trip to the rheumatologist last month
a. My health
b. Perfectionism and mommy guilt
2. Behavioral bullshit
3. Our first vacation as a couple since our honeymoon
There’s probably something else, but when I sit down to do this blogging thing I rarely remember any of the hilarious things that happened recently. However, one I do remember:
I’ve been wearing my iPod Nano on my waistband lately because I’ve been using the pedometer and also doing some jogging lately (see 1a), and Sanna noticed the little apple/Apple logo on the back of it and asked what it was. I mentioned that the company that makes iPods being called Apple and she was uncertain if she should believe me. Karl proclaimed it silly. I carried on explaining that when parents who work for that company go to work, they say, “Bye! I’m going to Apple!” Karl rolled over on the floor howling in laughter. Sanna became more skeptical. “Really?” Yes, kid, really. We settled on the parents telling their kids that they’re going to work, but I may have convinced her in the end that the company is really called Apple.
I’ve started Couch to 5K using the podcasts here. I have a strong preference for the alternatives she offers to her standard hip hop choices, but that’s a NTM thing. I’m on week 3, carefully timing these around methotrexate dosing and our other activities like the kids’ swimming lessons and Brooke’s pilates, but it’s working okay. It’s that time of year where I’m going to have to think about an indoor track or deciding that I’m going to run around in the cold. So far, it’s all outdoors, but it’s never been under 40F on any of my runs.
Upon the recommendation of people who know these things, I went to the local running store to get a proper fitting. I don’t know if I’ve ever discussed here how I have freak feet. They are theoretically a reasonable and normal size, but I am at a point where I buy all of my casual and dress shoes via Zappos. I purchase literally 8-16 pairs of shoes in an assortment of sizes (all narrow) to my doorstep and then try them on in the comfort of my own home. Due to the size of my orders, I’m in their next day shipping club and can place an order at 5:30PM and have them at my house before I get home from work the next day. I then return all but one or two pairs and only pay the retail value for those shoes, no shipping. It’s amazing. So I was only a little surprised that the specialty running store didn’t have anything that would fit me. They were able to order exactly three pairs that might fit, only to find out that one was discontinued and another was being redesigned and wouldn’t be out for two months. The third pair fit, thank goodness.
It was while I was waiting for that third pair to come into the store that I saw the fabulous Dr. R2 last month. Brooke and I agreed that I could fly solo, that we’d have no new information, nothing new to discuss in terms of options, so I went alone. I know why people prefer small private practices: the personal service, the familiar relationship with the physician and staff, and the access to everything when you need it. I’m thrilled with (most of) my experiences at the big giant research and teaching hospital, and I’ve had a great experience with very familiar relationships with several of my physicians, starting with the GP who called me at home on a Sunday to tell me my MRI of the brain was normal. Dr. R2 is no different. She asked after Brooke and the kids, told me she thinks of B when driving past B’s workplace. R2 is as thrilled with the improvement in my well being as I am. I like her. If I had had time to deliver it to her office, I’d have given her my beer when I started methotrexate.
My appointment was much conversation, a few updates, and a regular joint check. I reported hitting the local running store for a proper pair of running shoes, and she approved, impressed I found time (I used my lunch hour). We talked about finding time to do everything with two working parents, and she sounded overwhelmed. “I was buying Chinese for dinner at Whole Foods, and I’m in line behind this woman talking about putting kale into smoothies, and I’m like, how am I going to do that?”
Maybe it’s my laid back nature (no, honestly) or my unwillingness to get into mommy competition and mommy guilt or even my recent bout with inflammatory autoimmune crap, but seriously, it’s not worth it. Don’t compare. Don’t feel like you have to do everything. Do what you can. Do what’s fun. If everyone is fed and clean enough to avoid an infection AND LOVED, you’ve done enough. Order takeout and read together on the couch for ten minutes. Pack sandwiches and go canoeing. Give everyone a graham cracker while you wait for the macaroni and cheese to finish boiling. Sorting out last season’s clothes is just gravy; sit down with a glass of wine and calm the fuck down.
But what I said was, “Kale is really good on its own. Olive oil, garlic, and salt. It’s wonderful.” And what she said was, “If you can start running, I can eat kale.”