It is Never a Good Time for Snow in March

Me last year

Me this year

February was so long that it lasted into March (-Dar Williams)

Snow in March is never not bullshit.

The kids’ birthday party is in a few weeks and I have so much stuff I need to do in the yard. I had to reschedule an appointment that was supposed to be tomorrow morning. And did I mention IT IS MARCH?!

I can’t even deal. I’m going to open a beer, BRB.

Maybe my relatively new love for stouts and porters is to blame? If I start drinking wheat beers again will it become warm?

It did inspire my first piece of Ruby Grace satire in probably close to a year.

My new sleeping bag arrived today and it’s super awesome, without any zippers or velcro or other sleeping bag bullshit. I used money I earned writing for Pregnant Chicken to buy it, so there’s very little guilt involved. I’m going to sleep in it tonight and pretend like it’s actually meteorological Spring and I’m camping, rather than repeatedly telling a two-year-old to get his hands out of my shirt while he screams for things I can’t understand. Or maybe I’ll just hibernate until it actually warms up.

Seriously, it was spring, like, two weeks ago.

During the spring between the winters, I survived my first trip to Ikea. I got out of there only spending $100, though I did drop a picture frame on my ankle bone and it still hurts. I imagine if I’d had to buy lots of furniture it would have been more overwhelming, but overall it reminded of a huge Bed Bath and Beyond.

While we were on that trip Lorelei tried chicken tenders. “So what?” you might say. This is a kid who never voluntarily tries things, and on the very rare occasion that she can be convinced to let something new touch her lips she makes faces and says she hates it. She tried chicken tenders and she liked them. That day. Next time she may declare them disgusting.

Basically, it was a magical trip full of inexpensive Swedish furniture and expanding food horizons.

Girl Scouts had its annual Me and My Guy dance. I love that they call it that, rather than “Daddy and Me.” She insisted she needed “high heels” and we spent a stupid amount of time in Burlington Coat Factory trying to find something that I approved of, that fit, and that she also liked. Sorry kid, it’s chunky heel or nothing.

Rowan has outgrown his Coccoro car seat. Or, very nearly, at least. Getting to three years old rear facing in that seat may be some sort of tiny kid record. I bought him a new seat for my car and put Lorelei’s old Britax in Zach’s car for him.

I guess I never followed up with the results of my endoscopy. The diagnosis was esophageal eosinophilia, which is exactly what we suspected.

Eosinophilic esophagitis (EoE) is a chronic, allergic inflammatory disease of the esophagus (the tube connecting the mouth to the stomach). It occurs when a type of white blood cell, the eosinophil, accumulates in the esophagus and persists despite acid-blocking medicine. The elevated number of eosinophils cause injury and inflammation to the esophagus. This damage may make eating difficult or uncomfortable, potentially resulting in poor growth, chronic pain, and/or difficulty swallowing.

For some people, it is a huge deal that involves major food restrictions. Some folks have to drink special formulas or even have feeding tubes. One page I read suggested people seek out therapy to deal with the diagnosis. I had to laugh a little at that… it’s pretty low down my list of therapeutic needs.

I have a fairly mild case, luckily. And my gastroenterologist said he doesn’t like doing huge elimination diets because they are miserable. At this point in my life I was going to decline that route anyhow, because I am not in a place where I would be able to stick to it.

Instead, he had me quadruple my dose of Zantac (300mg twice per day). Inhaled steroids are used to help with inflammation, except instead of inhaling them you spray them into your mouth and swallow. Since my Advair inhaler for asthma already has a steroid in it, he gave me a second inhaler with a different steroid to use in that manner. I can’t quite figure out if I’m doing it right.

I’ve definitely noticed a huge difference in the reflux feelings (though he says it isn’t true reflux). And I can eat with many fewer episodes of painful swallowing.

So here’s hoping for it to not get any worse.

And here’s hoping for spring.

Goodnight from the pretend camping trip in my bedroom. Wake me up when it’s sunny and the temperature hits 65.