Last night was Brandon's turn to take home Curious the Crocodile, which is their pet mascot in class. He had rules, Curious could not take a bath, because if he got wet he would "grow bigger then your house and get mean," and he could not eat people food. We were given a binder that was Curious' journal and told to fill it out with what we did. We took tons of pictures of Curious, glued them on all cute wrote some funny stuff and then Brandon wrote his name and drew some pictures. Two of the photos were of Curious helping bake cookies. I figured, since he helped make them we should take them to school today. When Rob picked up Brandon the teacher told him that she was thrilled with our page in the book. That it was exactly what she hoped parents would do (other pages just had some scribbles and a short entry that wasn't very exciting but we had pictures and cookies.) She then proceeded to tell Rob that in her opinion we were parents of the year for how involved we were and for bringing the cookies as an interaction for Brandons share time with Curious.


I would be lying if I said that I didn't immediately think "I TOTALLY WIN AT THIS DAYCARE SHIT!!!"

Wam Bam Thank you Ma'am

I went to my annual girl appointment today. I'm going to warn you in advance this post is going to get a little..."ooogy" if you're a boy.

The first thing we talked about was how my period started on the 2nd of January and continued heavily for about 8 days, followed by 11 days of spotting. This is normal for me lately. Heavy periods are normal for me due to my stage four endometriosis. When I say heavy I mean, the kinda heavy where I got overwhelmingly excited to learn that Always had come out with a new super duper ultra mega bad mamajama absorbent pad. Not just heavy, but heavy with a side of golf ball size blood clots and cramps that make you think it might be more fun to stab a knife in your boobs repeatedly then deal with that shit. I've actually had three surgeries for the endometriosis. Each time the scar tissue is worse, my uterus is worse and well, generally everything is worse. After the problems with my last pregnancy I obviously knew things were going to go from bad to worse. Along with the spotting and cramping, I've been having another type of cramping, a "something bads going on down there" cramping. I explained to my midwife about this and her response was, "Shannon you were bleeding for 19 days and you didn't think to call us?" I replied with, "well I just figured this was normal for all of my problems."

Next she did my exam and declared my uterus, "rock hard." Before I knew it I was being set up for a consult with my doctor to have my uterus removed. Not the whole shebang, I'm too young to deal with hormones, just the uterus. I'm actually fine with this. My tubes are tied, and there is only so many yearly abdominal surgeries a person can take, and hey no more periods forever SIGN ME RIGHT UP HUH?

Next up we chatted about Codi and his whole NOT EVER GOING TO WEEN THING. She told me that my best bet with him is going to be going cold turkey on the nursing. She also advised me that after a year breast milk alone with no food is not enough to sustain him so to hurry my ass up with the weening.

Finally we rolled around to discussing ME! She asked how I was, and I gave her honest answers. I'm a short fuse, a fire cracker, a ball of anger, or tears, or sadness, but mostly anger. We talked about how easily I snap and over react, or yell or....grab a couple of Tylenol PM's to get away from it all. She asked me if I would be willing to try Zoloft. She said it is the most researched as far as breastfeeding plus as a bonus it usually helps with vertigo. Oh and IT MIGHT DECREASE MY APPETITE. Shit, if this pill was covered in chocolate I might marry it. Long story short my husband is picking up my prescription right now.

I'm happy getting the prescription from her. I have appointments with three psychiatrists, but what makes me the most comfortable is that Mary (the midwife) has known me for over 12 years now and she knows me so well. She was the first person to suggest drugs to me, and through the years has always given me other remedies be it herbal or mental to help with my anxiety and general craziness. In the end I'd rather get medicine from someone I trust as much as her then from some person I just met.

So. Here is to hoping things get better. Hopefully I'm still funny on the drugs (I'm funny right?) But most of all I just hope I'm happy, and, less of a jerk. Because seriously you should ask my husband about the fight I started over fish sauce...The fact that he hasn't run away screaming yet speaks volumes because....I be a lunatic y'all!

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