The UnderToad

The Triple Whammy Cure, Week 2

Assignments for the week:

STRESS: Learn to “use your body to calm down your mind” and do one stress-reducing technique daily.
SEROTONIN: Start taking B vitamins and fish oil.
HORMONES: Start taking St. John’s Wort and 5HTP (if needed).

Progress:

Using my body to calm down my mind: My first question here was, “Can’t I just have a drink at 5 o’clock?” Basically, this assignment was about as effective as my stress journal was last week. Not that I didn’t attempt some stress relieving activities each day, but come on, when you hear the suggestions in the book, you’ll be on my side. The stress reducing activities include: yoga, t’ai chi, massage, guided imagery, meditation, or acupuncture. It helps that we joined the YMCA today, and I can actually go somewhere and take yoga classes. But so far this week, I’m counting my time spent on the inversion table as my purposeful stress-reducing technique. (More about this, with photos, soon.)

As for “overcoming worry,” my favorite suggestion was to “create a worry time.” This is time scheduled into each day in which I am supposed to unleash all my worry for the next 24 hours. Nevermind leaving the grocery store and realizing I forgot milk, my child hanging from the top of her tree house by three and a half fingertips, the green snot still coming from Carter’s nose, the two weddings (one on the West coast) my children and I are all in this summer and must find appropriate bridal party dresses for, Wait-Law and our finances, John looking for a new office building, the possibility of cracking the screen on my iPhone, the two high school graduations I feel compelled to attend but secretly fear offending someone who I might see there, the broken heater/air conditioner part in our attic, the fact that we still haven’t found a church we love, the fact that we still haven’t sold our condo, and of course, making it through yet another summer as a stay-at-home-mom with two children under the age of 5. I’m supposed to consciously not think about any of these things until my scheduled time. He suggests between 8 and 8:30pm. I suggest at the very minute I crack open my first Corona this evening.

Truth be told, a few major worries were actually dispelled of this week. My first big point of anxiety (as I mentioned a little while ago) was the fact that pre-school is over and what the heck am I going to do all summer to maintain my sanity with two children. Solution number one comes in the form of Eliott’s teacher at school, with whom I have scheduled a mandatory weekly pool date. She has a pool and two older daughters who come with the promise that “they will LOVE your children.” And then there was mention of margaritas. Solution number two comes in the form of biting the bullet and joining the YMCA. I’ve been a little hesitant to write about the financial assistance we are receiving for this, but the bottom line is that about a week ago I told Eliott to start praying for “a gym we can afford.” She actually suggested an exact price, which I agreed, would be fine, as it was about the price we were paying for Gold’s Gym in Burlington.

But it was during that conversation (in the car) that I finally decided I didn’t really a membership at the YMCA. It seems to me, like cable, to be a luxury that we could live without. (Funny, we once justified the gym membership based on the fact that it was cheaper than cable.) So I told God, “It’s okay. If you don’t want to give us the gym. We don’t need it. I could figure out other free methods of entertainment for the girls all summer, and I could sacrifice some morning me-time and actually get down on the floor and play with my children, and in the end, I could just change my attitude about the whole thing and be fine. And, to be honest God, I’m feeling very strongly that we’re not going to get this scholarship and that you are going to take care of my sanity this summer anyway.” No lie. I had a rare moment of genuine humility. Just me and God and Eliott in the backseat praying. But as it turns out, my daughter prophetically predicted the exact price we would be approved for. We got an email that evening and she was only off by $1.40 a month. A price I can not only live with, but one that was and will continue to be celebrated. Lesson learned: if I really want something from God, I need to tell Eliott to ask Him. (*Side note: though my personal problems are being mostly answered through my 4 year old right now, I happen to be on a role with conception prayer requests. If you or anyone you know is or has been trying to get pregnant and you are about to give up hope, let me know. I’ve put two through in the last 8 weeks that have not returned void, if you know what I’m saying.)

B-Vitamins, Fish Oil, and St. John’s Wort: I’m starting with my trip to CVS to purchase all these new vitamins. Of course I came fully prepared with coupons, and as my luck would have it, Fish Oil was buy one get one free at almost every drugstore this week. Sparing you the annoying “how to coupon” details, I’m going to make a long story short by saying I had enough coupons to make two bottles of fish oil completely free, and then some leftover that actually had the potential to make me money. All I had to do was find something by NatureMade that cost $3 or less, which I found on a clearance rack, and grabbed as many as I had coupons for. I’m not generally a proponent of this kind of shopping for things I don’t need, just because they are free or a good deal. But understand here that in this case, I was going to make about $1.50 on each bottle, thereby reducing the cost of the St. John’s Wort which was not even on sale. At the end of the day I think I walked out paying $7 for over $30 worth of vitamins (none of which, by the way, was that 5HTP stuff, which is like $40 for a bottle of 30). So I was feeling pretty excited by my savvy shopping for mood enhancers and went home to Google exactly what all those bottles of money-making vitamins were good for. According to WebMD, they are used for the natural treatment and maintenance of herpes. Awesome.

As for the results of the pills so far, the effects aren’t necessarily immediate. I’ll tell you what is though: constipation and sardine burps. To solve this I increased my fiber and froze the fish oil pills. I was already taking Vitamin B with regularity and if I feel any happier or calmer this week (which I definitely do) I can’t say with certainty whether it is the new pills, the cheap gym membership, or hanging upside down for 15 minutes a day.

Self-Help

TWC Week 2: Midweek Review

Assignments for the week:

Progress:

Health and Wellness

The Triple Whammy Cure, Week 1

Assignments for the week:

STRESS: Begin recording a stress journal. (This came with very specific instructions, including folding pages and making columns and what to write down and when.)
SEROTONIN: Take a brisk walk in the sunshine (without sunglasses) for 20 minutes every day.
HORMONES: Focus on a healthy diet. Key words: reduce, increase, replace.

Progress:

The Stress Journal: I have to admit, I’m not actually doing this with any sort of regularity. For one thing, with the amount of self-surveying and writing I currently do, I should be fairly well aware of my “stress triggers” and responses. Rather than keeping a list of the things that stress me out, it would probably be more healthy to make note of the exact times of day I am short tempered, tired, or generally grumpy. As John has been saying all along, my moods have far more to do with my sugar levels than anything else.

20-minute Brisk Walk in the Sunshine: You know it is amazing how actually good this is making me feel. I’m not sure if I can credit just the walking and the sunshine, however. I like to think that Madonna and Michael Jackson on my iPod are playing key roles in boosting my mood. It isn’t as if I was ignorant to the fact that exercise is a mood booster. Need I remind you I’ve run two marathons and spent three successive summers in college basically living on my bike? The thing is, since having Carter, I simply haven’t taken working-out all that seriously. In large part, this is due to a steadily growing back pain that I finally broke down and saw a chiropractor about when I was still teaching. John had back surgery on some ruptured discs in his lower back the summer before taking the bar exam. Describing the kind of pain I’m in, he’s all too familiar with what is probably going on. The chiropractor confirmed that I have terrible posture, some bulging discs, and moderate to severe scoliosis. Awesome! Unfortunately, at $40 a pop (literally), I just couldn’t justify a potential life-time investment in something that was likely helping, but possibly not curing my problem. When I stopped going, I also stopped working out. Training for and running the Mud Run was the first real physical challenge I’ve put my body through in almost 2 years, and my back has been screaming at me ever since. Even these easy little sunshine walks aggravate it. My solution is arriving with my parents this Friday. (You think I’m joking. Get excited.)

Eating: Originally, this seemed even sillier to me than the stress-journal. Honestly, I think my family is above average in how healthy we eat. I’ve always been of the mindset that a meal isn’t complete without at least one fresh fruit or vegetable. Certainly, once the girls were done with daycare food, there was a noticeable difference in their attitudes, sleep, and overall health. It also has helped that I recently discovered how much I like Brussels sprouts. We probably eat them twice a week. I’ve also begun adding Kale to our meals once or twice a week, in things like enchiladas, soup, and hot salads. (I read somewhere that it’s a “Super Food” and decided I needed to be a part of that club.) John has always been a big fan of red beans and rice, and last winter it seemed like Bon Apetite published a “meatless Monday” recipe every month that included slow cooked beans of some sort. So we’ve been somewhat hooked on variations of this poor man’s meal. All in all, I’ve been telling myself I eat healthy. And getting on the scale every so often has been (wrongly) confirming that.

This was until John pointed out how many of the chocolates on top of the fridge had been eaten in three days, and announced that he hadn’t had any yet. Uhhh… *On a side note, I’d like to say that if I were choosing my religion based on holidays and chocolate, I’d still be a Christian. We probably had four times the amount of chocolate in this house following Easter than we did after Halloween. This is where the stress-journal should probably be converted to a sugar-journal. Every single day, at about 10:30 in the morning (with my first uninterrupted cup of coffee), again at about 2 o’clock (when the girls are down for naps), and finally, at 8pm, I like to celebrate my alone time with something sweet. I think this is what Oprah calls “Emotional Eating.” I’m actually pretty embarrassed to admit that I suffer from it. There was one week where the Valentine’s Day candy had finally run out and it wasn’t yet time to crack open the Easter baskets. You would think in my frantic search for something sweet that when I finally dipped a spoon in peanut butter, honey, and chocolate syrup, it might have been a red flag into my sugar addiction. You would be wrong.

So I’ve done my best to cut back on and cut out sugar. I’m not doing very well. The morning after the day I indulged in absolutely no refined sugar was the first morning in a long time I can remember waking up headache free. However, in just three days I’m supposed to replace coffee with something like green tea, and this has me very wound up. One thing at a time people.

Self-Help

TWC Week 1: Midweek Review

Assignments for the week:

Progress:

Carter, Confessions

Those Were the Good Old Days

I think many of my childless friends would look back fondly on pre-school as one of those on-the-whole really good times in life. I also think that before I put my own children in pre-school, I too assumed everything about it was as innocent and gleeful as play-doh and rice tables. And mostly, it is. In the last five months, I’ve been invited to relive pre-school through Eliott (and soon Carter, when she can string more than 3-word sentences together and talk about anything besides what she’s currently looking at). Thankfully, our brains have this fabulous filter which, barring any major childhood trauma, causes us to remember mostly good things. But in these past five months, I’ve not only been reacquainted with carpet squares and the coveted Line Leader title, I’ve been newly introduced to a little something my adult self is going to call Pre-School Politics. Deep sigh. If you thought junior high was hard, and then were disappointed to find out that the “real world” and junior high are surprisingly similar, then let me burst yet one more of your idealistic ‘when-I-grow-up’ bubbles: junior high :: high-school :: the work place :: pre-school. All of them. Socially synonymous. Biggest difference? Relative height.

Some of you may remember my St. Patrick’s Day story in which a girl I called so-and-so punched (pinched, whatever) Eliott. Today, let’s give so-and-so an easier name to type. To make things personal yet keep them anonymous, we’ll call her Kelsey. (I never knew a Kelsey I actually liked.) I usually talk to Eliott about school on the drive home and continue at lunch. For about the first four or five weeks, it was all I could do to keep up with the other ten names of the kids in her class. One name, however, came up with such regularity, that I knew relatively quickly I didn’t like the kid. Kelsey.

Kelsey was naughty today, Mommy. Ms. Tiffany had to put her in time-out…

Kelsey is not my friend. I do not like her.
Well, you should be nice to her, Eliott. You should be nice to everyone.
Kelsey is not nice, Mommy. She told me, “No Eliott. You can’t sit here. You are not my friend.”

Kelsey took the purple scooter from me today in the Life Center.
Well, Eliott, you -always- get the purple scooter. Sometimes, it is nice if you let someone else have the purple scooter. Just because purple is your favorite color doesn’t mean you are the only one allowed to have the purple scooter. You need to share and let others have a turn.
No, Mommy, there are lots of purple scooters. She didn’t want a turn. She took it away and brought it to Ms. Tiffany and said, “Here Ms. Tiffany. Put this away so that Eliott can’t have it.”

Oh no. Mommy does not like Kelsey. Imagine how difficult it is for me to filter my eyes of experience back down to a 4-year-old’s level. Of course I want to say, “Listen Eliott, bitches like Kelsey are going to pick on you for your entire life unless you do something about it. You have my permission to do and say whatever you want to make Kelsey leave you alone. And if you have to move your owl at the end of the day, keep this in mind: it was worth it.”

I actually don’t even know what I’m supposed to say. “All that matters is that Mommy and Daddy love you, and Jesus loves you.” (I was a kid once. I heard this. It didn’t make me feel any better, even when I knew it was true.) Or, “Kelsey is jealous of you and feels threatened by you. The best thing you can do is take her attitude and meanness as a compliment, and move on. Be nice to her. Even though you don’t know it, being nice to her is exactly what she needs.” (Right. I heard this one too. ALL THE TIME. Though I fully understand it now and believe it is also the root of Eliott’s problem, I also know that she doesn’t know the word “jealous” yet, and even when she knows what it means one day, she’ll still never fully understand this phenomenon of women.)

Fast forward to just after Spring Break. (Don’t even get me started on why pre-school needs Spring Break…) Eliott comes home that first Monday and says, “Hey Mommy, Kelsey’s coming over to my house next week.” This is news to me.

“Really?” I say, “Because you didn’t ask me if that was okay.”

“No. Her mommy says it’s okay. She’s coming over to my house.”

Initially, I just ignored this. First of all, “next week,” for Eliott’s grasp of time, currently translates to “anytime in the future.” Second, I was pretty sure Kelsey was just employing some sort of manipulation tactic that would die out as soon as her 4-year-old memory kicked in.

I was wrong.

I have to go inside to drop-off and pick the girls up every day, because Carter is too young for the car-line. Kelsey, on the other hand, is a car-line kid. And though I’ve -seen- I’ve never actually -met- her mother. For the next several days in a row, when I came in to pick up the girls, Kelsey also got off the bench and announced she was “coming over to Eliott’s house.” The first time I just kept walking down the hall and let the teachers chase Kelsey and get her back on the bench. But when this tactic ceased to work, I had to have a heart-to-heart with Eliott and an eye-to-eye with Kelsey. In the car I instructed Eliott as follows:

Listen to me Eliott. Are you listening? Kelsey is not coming over to our house to play. Not today. Not next week. Okay? Do you want to know why? It is because I do not know Kelsey’s mommy. You can play with Kelsey at school. But she can’t come to our house. So when she tells you she’s coming over, you need to say, “No, Kelsey, my mommy says you can’t come over.” Okay? Let’s practice. Pretend like I’m Kelsey. “Hey Eliott, I’m coming over to your house today.” What do you say, Eliott?

No, you can’t come over to my house.

Why?

Because your mommy is not friends with my mommy.

Perfect. As for the eye-to-eye, I squatted down one day (to a full head shorter than Eliott’s height, go figure) and looked Kelsey directly in the eyes. I put on a serious face, but added that nice mom-ish smile and said sweetly, “Kelsey. You are not coming over to Eliott’s house today. I’m sorry. If you want to come over, you tell your mommy to come ask ME if it is okay. Alright?”

So I thought the Kelsey thing was over. Little did I know just exactly how correct I was with my original assessment of jealousy and manipulation. It is very obvious that Eliott does not have to work very hard for kids to like her. In fact, it isn’t just the kids in her class. It is kids all over the tiny school. We walk into the building every morning and kids I do not recognize are beating on their windows and waving. We leave at noon and kids from other classes are waving and yelling, “Bye Eliott!” Once I even heard a little boy turn to his teacher as we passed and whisper excitedly, “Eliott waved at me!” I thought, WHAT? Who is this child, and where did she come from?

I asked her at lunch one day, “Hey Eliott, how do all the kids in other classes know you?”

“I don’t know, Mommy. Everybody likes me.” (No chance of teenage suicidal thoughts in our future.)

“Yes, but how do they know you? Do they say hi to all the kids in your class?”

“I don’t know.”

“How do they know your name?”

“Because, when I see other kids I just yell (demonstration with her hands cupped around her mouth), ‘Hey kids! Hey kids who are not in my class! My name is Eliott!’ And so they just know me.”

It (unfortunately) came as absolutely no surprise then, when Eliott crawled into my bed one morning and started crying. “Mommy. Kelsey doesn’t like me anymore. She said, ‘You are not my friend anymore, Eliott.'”

I hugged her to my chest and said, “It’s okay, Sweetie. The most important thing is that Mommy loves you, and Daddy loves you, and Jesus loves you. And don’t worry. You will always be taller than Kelsey.”

Health and Wellness

The Triple Whammy Cure, Quiz Results

Maybe the best thing about reading this book is that it turns out I’m not nuts, not alone, and not too far off on my self-diagnosis. According to this guy, the so-called “Triple Whammy” is the three-fold life-attack of stress, low serotonin, and hormonal imbalance. According to the “Just How Messed Up Are You Quiz” at the beginning of the book, I’m moderately to severely screwy. I actually received some serious comfort when reading the list of possible symptoms and finding most of mine on there.

To name a few:

Do you feel like you’ve lost control of something recently in your life? Hm. How about my sudden non-contribution to the family finances after having a full time job for the past 5 years? And every once in a while, my inability to speak (and/or interpret) 4-year old.
Have you ever experienced periods of depression? Not until I got married (hah) and then again just after having children. Could it be the birth control, pregnancy, ~~post-pardum~~ postpartum roller coaster, Doc? (Yes, Claire. Yes it could.) Actually I take that back. I had exactly two full blown panic attacks the summer before moving to North Carolina, and one more when I was in the woods. At the time, I blamed Satan. Now that I know he and estrogen are BFF, I’m not recanting my first finger point.
Do you crave carbohydrates, sugar, or chocolate, especially in the days just before your period? What woman on Earth does not, I ask you. Especially always. In fact, just reading the word “chocolate” has me digging through the fridge in search of those leftover brownies from John’s meeting last weekend. No particular monthly cravings, but certainly cravings within 30 minutes of eating a meal. All meals. Always right before bed.
Is the week after your period the week when you feel best during a month? Is that the last time I was happy? Yes. I do seem to remember a day several weeks ago when John came home from work that I was actually happy to see him. It seems so long ago…
If you’ve ever given birth, did you experience depression after delivery? Yes. Both times. But the first time I didn’t know that’s what it was until I called my mother at 2 in the morning one week and confessed that the thought of dying in my sleep actually provided me some emotional relief. She advised me to call my doctor, I got some drugs, and for the next several months even the most unruly classes of high school freshman couldn’t faze me or stimulate a reaction whatsoever. It was when I realized certain favorite foods no longer tasted good, however, that I decided wean myself back off.
Do you experience any of the following and with how much regularity? Fatigue (daily), poor memory (come on, I have kids), unrefreshing sleep (M-F when I have to wake up before 9), overwhelmed (weekly), depressed/anxious (bi-weekly), widespread muscle aches (lower back: I no longer sit down for extended periods of time), brain fog (starts at exactly 4:15 every afternoon), feeling drained (daily), headaches (I wake up with one most mornings), jaw grinding (nightly)...

It wasn’t like I needed a questionnaire to tell me that I’m in a season of physical and emotional unhealthiness, but it has been pretty easy for me to be in denial because my face is not breaking out and I’m not gaining any weight. In the past, these have been the first two reasons for any desire to alter my eating and activity habits. With my face in the pillow last night I said to John, “In three weeks, I’m going to like you again. And I think you’re going to like me. I just wanted to tell you that I’m doing this for you.” His response was, “Are you sure you’re depressed? Depressed people don’t think like that. Depressed people like hating their lives and everything in them because it feels good. I think you’re just saying that.”

Sad. Because, it is sort of true. But lately, I’ve been picturing myself as a tiny version of me, sitting at a set of controls, deep in my brain, looking out of my eyes like two gigantic spaceship windows. It is almost as if I cannot actually feel my fingertips, feet, lips, because I’m controlling all my movements from a cockpit way inside my head. And that miniature little pilot-sized me, is still normal. And sometimes nice. “Don’t you want me to like you again? I mean, not just sometimes. All the time?”

“Yes,” he said, wearily. “That would be nice.”

Self-Help

I Was Right All Along

Maybe the best thing about reading this book is that it turns out I’m not nuts, not alone, and not too far off on my self-diagnosis. According to this guy, the so-called “Triple Whammy” is the three fold life attack of stress, low serotonin, and hormonal imbalance. According to the “Just How Messed Up Are You Quiz” at the beginning of the book, I’m moderately to severely screwed. I actually received some serious comfort when reading the list of possible symptoms and finding most of mine on there.

To name a few:

Do you feel like you’ve lost control of something recently in your life? Hm. How about my sudden non-contribution to the family finances after having a full time job for the past 5 years? And every once in a while, my inability to speak (and/or interpret) 4-year old.
Have you ever experienced periods of depression? Not until I got married (hah) and then again just after having children. Could it be the birth control, pregnancy, ~~post-pardum~~ postpartum roller coaster, Doc? (Yes, Claire. Yes it could.) Actually I take that back. I had exactly two full blown panic attacks the summer before moving to North Carolina, and one more when I was in the woods. At the time, I blamed Satan. Now that I know he and estrogen are BFF, I’m not recanting my first finger point.
Do you crave carbohydrates, sugar, or chocolate, especially in the days just before your period? What woman on Earth does not, I ask you. Especially always. In fact, just reading the word “chocolate” has me digging through the fridge in search of those leftover brownies from John’s meeting last weekend. No particular monthly cravings, but certainly cravings within 30 minutes of eating a meal. All meals. Always right before bed.
Is the week after your period the week when you feel best during a month? Is that the last time I was happy? Yes. I do seem to remember a day several weeks ago when John came home from work that I was actually happy to see him. It seems so long ago…
If you’ve ever given birth, did you experience depression after delivery? Yes. Both times. But the first time I didn’t know that’s what it was until I called my mother at 2 in the morning one week and confessed that the thought of dying in my sleep actually provided me some emotional relief. She advised me to call my doctor, I got some drugs, and for the next several months even the most unruly classes of high school freshman couldn’t faze me or stimulate a reaction whatsoever. It was when I realized certain favorite foods no longer tasted good, however, that I decided wean myself back off.
Do you experience any of the following and with how much regularity? Fatigue (daily), poor memory (come on, I have kids), unrefreshing sleep (M-F when I have to wake up before 9), overwhelmed (weekly), depressed/anxious (bi-weekly), widespread muscle aches (lower back: I no longer sit down for extended periods of time), brain fog (starts at exactly 4:15 every afternoon), feeling drained (daily), headaches (I wake up with one most mornings), jaw grinding (nightly)...

“Yes,” he said, wearily. “That would be nice.”

Health and Wellness

The Triple Whammy Cure

As a life-long journaler, I would consider myself to be above average in my pursuit of mental stability and self-awareness. Weirdly (or not), in the amount of time I’ve been writing this blog, I’ve done little to no personal journaling. I’ve also desperately attempted to avoid posting any overly emotional and seemingly pointless updates on the status of my ever fluctuating moods (on which I’ve been blaming hormones) unless it made for a particularly entertaining story that was likely to produce a laugh, if nothing else. There are a couple of reasons for my avoidance of journalistic, introspective, emotional blogging. First, I’ve re-read many of my journals, too many of them fraught with such entries. For the most part, I’m amazed at (1.) how many of my feelings haven’t changed, just transferred to new life circumstances, (2.) how pitiful these journals make me sound and (3.) how beyond boring they are to read, even for me, who wrote them.

About a month ago, an old friend emailed to say he’s been reading my blog. At some point in the email he mentioned that I’ve become one of those “Mommy Bloggers” he’s heard about and despite the fact that absolutely nothing in his life parallels mine, he was enjoying reading anyway. This guy is not married, has no children, and currently lives and works in Africa on a long-term sustainable living project. How does he know the term Mommy Blogger, and I don’t? (My first reaction was, “Wait a minute. There’s a name for this? Oh that’s it, I’m shutting her down.”) Instead, I did what any self-respecting Wi-Fi savvy individual would do. I Googled it. To my astonishment, it seems everyone in the world is a writer, which brings me to reason numbers two and three. If everyone else is doing it, then what makes me and my emotions so special? And, apparently not only is this Mommy Blogger thing real, but the majority of the women doing it (and many of them making money at it, or so I’m told) consistently write about, you guessed it, depression.

That. In itself. Is depressing.

And, you know me. I hate trends, unless I’m so late to join them they are already out of style again.

But if there is one thing I love (and rarely admit to other humans) it is a good self-help book. This fact, and my secret desire to own every Oprah episode (post 1998) on DVD when she finally ends her show, are two things on which I’d rather not be personally judged. As for the depression thing, well, I’m beginning to believe it is far less of a trend (especially among women) and more of an epidemic. And so, against my better judgment, I’m embarking on a seasonal focus. Pre-school ends in a week and a half. This means my summer officially begins on May 27th, and I am determined to get a few things under control without the use of drugs, cigarettes, excessive alcohol, and/or domestic violence.

What I’m reading is The Triple Whammy Cure (David Edelberg, MD), a recommendation by a particularly nutty natural friend of mine, who speaks from a few more years of life experience and several more years of utilizing alternatives to Western medicine. In short, if something in this book was going to kill or otherwise seriously harm me, this woman would already be dead. I’m taking this as my green light, and inching forward today.

So this serves as your one, only, and final written warning. Though I do not plan to publish my every thought during next few weeks or months, I’ll likely be updating in the form of something a little more serious than the original direction of The UnderToad. Rather than coming to me (or worse, emailing) and saying my blog has taken a particularly boring turn, just stop reading for a little while. I can’t promise that there won’t be some Eliott/Carter gems intermixed that you’re likely to miss, but if you are of the “I’m already on the verge of annoyed with this thing,” variety, then take the summer off and come back when my serotonin levels are high and I’m sure to be on a roll of nothing but laughter-fest. Joke after joke. Labor Day. Until then…

Confessions, Eliott

Eliott’s First Lesson In Irony (to be reviewed in 10 years)

Eliott, why did you get a spanking?

Because I wasn’t listening.

No. (But apparently also yes.)

Because I wasn’t following directions?

No.

Because I was being rough in the bathtub.

No. Eliott. It has to do with the gum.

Because I ate four pieces of gum.

No. Because you LIED TO ME about the gum. When I asked how much you ate, you didn’t tell the truth. Do you know what happens when you don’t tell the truth?

I get a spanking.

Well, yes, that, but do you know what else happens?

No.

Santa doesn’t come. He knows every time you lie. And then he doesn’t come.

(And, just in case you actually stop lying and he was thinking about coming, he’s now going to change his mind because Mommy used him in this very lesson. About lying.)