The in-between

It seems I have reached it.

That in-between stage.

Where my normal pants no longer really fit, so I have to make the decision to live the next month or so in sweat pants and a sign around my neck that says "no, I have NOT given up, I am pregnant and my real pants no longer FIT me."

Or do I make the transition to maternity pants, knowing full well that they will not fit and I run the risk of some jerkward coming up to me and singing "pants on the ground"?

My third option is to go the elastic band route (because I'm way too cheap to pay money for whatever those things are called), but that particular choice was cut off when a certain mischievous two year old absconded with the one and only elastic band in our house (the one I took off the celery in our fridge), and will not tell me where she put it.

I think I shall proudly opt for the sweat pants.

Here we go again...

A little video for your enjoyment...

With Glowing Hearts

I am, without a doubt, a winter Olympics kind of girl. Could be because of where I grew up. Could be because skiing, skating and hockey were the types of sports I was exposed to as a little girl. Whatever the reason, the summer games don't even hold a candle to the winter ones in my book.

Let's just take a look at the athletes involved in each, shall we? In the winter games, the athletes slap two planks on their feet and proceed to race down a steep and foreboding mountain, complete with crazy turns and jumps; doing nothing to slow themselves down.

In the summer games, they run in a straight line for 100 meters.

In the winter games, athletes lay themselves on a sled, headfirst, and hurl themselves down an icy track. Reaching speeds upwards of 140 km/h, wearing nothing for protection but a helmet (or as Seinfeld likes to put it, the helmet is wearing THEM as protection), and maybe a cup for the guys.

In the summer games, they jump in the pool and swim a few laps.

Don't get me wrong, I think athletes in both games are phenomenal. To have the ability, passion and drive to do what they do, is admirable. It's just the winter guys have a little something extra. I love their fearlessness. And that wee bit o' crazy you see dancing in their eyes.

This was the first time I have ever watched an opening ceremony, and I was astounded by the wonderful artistry of it all. Some of the images left me breathless and wondering, "how did they do that?" (the whales? Anyone remember the whales?)

From there I was hooked, watching proudly as Canada won its first gold medal on home soil (Alexandre Bilodeau - men's mogul skiing), and then went on to set the record for most gold medals won by a country in a winter Olympics. I was inspired by the courage of Joannie Rochette; winning a bronze medal in the wake of her personal tragedy.

And of course, I watched every gut-wrenching, heart-attack inducing moment of the Canada/U.S.A. gold medal hockey game; leaping from my sofa and screaming as Sid the Kid deposited the winning goal for the gold into the net. Does it get any better than that?

I know there were many critics of the games, but I am proud of how my home city was put on display for everyone to see. It's about time that the world found out how truly amazing Vancouver is.

But now that the games are over, I'm going through quite a withdrawal. I turn on my TV and there is no snow. No mountains. No crazy athletes.

What am I going to do for four years?

She likes to talk

Like any proud parent, the things my kid says tickle me to no end. So I'm going to share them with you. Because it's my blog and I can.

I make a farty in my diaper - Said with a smile.

When Poppa wakes up in the morning he makes a farty - Yes. Yes he does.

I snuggle my beek... awwwwww - A "beek" is her blanket.

I need big-girl help - Sigh... me too.

I wake-up a nap! - Translation, "I'm awake... come and get me!"

Naked baby, naked baby! - What can I say, the girl loves to take her clothes off and run around yelling this.

I love Seven, she my friend - Seven is our dog.

My hair is crazy - Tru dat, I have no clue where she gets her wild mane from.

We take avião to Costco! - Avião means airplane in Portuguese. Costco is what she would call San Francisco when she got excited.

I am freaking out! - She didn't really use it in the right context, but it was cute, nonetheless.

It's freaking cold out! - I have no idea who would teach her such language...

Seven so stinking cute! - What can I say, she loves that dog.

I love you too - Not so weird, except that she says it to you first, before you say I love you to her.

I can't find my Poppa - She says this to me pretty much every morning when I get her up. She's basically saying she's sad that Poppa isn't there too.

I almost tired - I still don't know what she means by this, but she uses the word "almost" in front of a verb. As in "I almost hungry", or "I almost scared".

Those girls hungry... need food - I had to include this one, even at the risk of embarrassing myself. Apparently, sometimes I feel the need to watch completely trashy TV. And sometimes, that comes in the form of America's Next Top Model. Although, seriously... it's more about the head-shaking, are-these-people-for-real, comic-relief of it all. Elise happened to wander into the room one night, and before I could change the channel, spied a gaggle of skeletor-like girls wearing bathing suits. And that was her comment. I have one freaking astute kid, don't I?

Nitwit Broadcasting Company

Dear NBC,

I wanted to say a most sarcastic thank you for your decision to not air Sunday's Canada vs. USA hockey game on the broadcast network; instead relegating it to the lesser, cable network, MSNBC.

But why were you not able to watch it, you ask? Because I am one of the minority 11% in this country that doesn't have cable. I have seen what is offered on cable, and I refuse to pay good money for pure crap in its highest form. And yes, I consider shows like Keith Olbermann, Mad Money with Jim Kramer, The Real Housewives of [insert county/city here] and the like, pure crap.

Apparently, your programming department is made up of 8-year old girls, because in place of showing the clash between two hockey giants, you decided to show ice dancing instead. Really NBC? Ice dancing? It hardly qualifies as a sport. More like a hobby. Or a reality TV show.

Let's also not forget that one of the pairs competing in the ice dancing competition are brother and sister. That's a little icky if you ask me. I'm just sayin'.

And yes, I've read your reasons for why the game did not air on NBC... blah, blah, blah. I still think you're a bunch of weenies.

Although I do owe you some thanks, I suppose. Apparently, my team forgot to show up and play, so by not airing the game on a channel I could watch, you spared me three hours of pain and suffering.

In closing, I would like to recommend you pull your heads out of your bums, and perhaps you need to send your programming department to their rooms.

Oh, and no dessert for one week.

Most sincerely,
Joanne

Snoring me to death

I love my husband. I do. Really. He is all sorts of awesome and then some. But I'm afraid I might have kill him* one of these nights. Soon.

My husband is a snorer. And unless you are married to a snorer, you cannot understand the pain and suffering that I'm going through right now.

It used to be that if I poked him enough, he would eventually find the perfect position to lay in so he wouldn't snore. Lately, the position is becoming harder and harder to find.

Last night I laid awake for over two hours, listening to him saw logs, and at one point I envisioned smothering him* with a pillow. And as usual, he woke me up about 10 times when his snoring reached such a cacophony that he was drowning out even the neighbour's dog.

Unfortunately, I can't use earplugs, because I need to be able to hear Elise over the monitor if she cries. Plus the idea of something stuffed in my ears like that is a little creepy to me. Short of duct-taping his mouth closed*, I don't know what to do anymore.

Does anybody have any anti-snoring tips that work? Please? I really have grown quite attached to Fred and don't really want to off him*.

*100% joking about the killing stuff. Blame it on my strange sense of humour.

Sno' body cuter!

Okay, I might be a tiny bit obsessed with taking Elise's picture in the snow, but come on... how often do I get to do this?

Here she is sporting a toque knit by my Grandma, circa the late 1970's to early 1980's.

Hey Vancouver, need some snow?

I saw a story on the news the other day how Vancouver has to truck snow to some of the Olympic sites. It sort of tickles me considering we have about 8 inches on the ground right now and it's STILL falling. Did I mention I live in Texas?

I am having so much fun right now!

So, so pretty

Okay, so we don't have all the proper snow gear, but it's something!

Our snow man!

Hey Elise, do you like the snow?

Finishing off our time with a wee bit o' hot chocolate... the first time she's ever had any. I think she's a fan!

Joanne's Thyroid: The back story...

Upon re-reading my last post, I discovered that I had neglected to mention that I have been dealing with Thyroid disease for almost 20 years. I blame it on the constant fog my terribly-low thyroid has me in.

It all started when I was about 14. I had become a major pain-in-the-ass, and my Mom kept hauling me off to the doctor trying to get an explanation as to why I had turned into a ranging jerk all of a sudden. His diagnosis? Puberty.

Except what I was going through was like puberty on crack. I was irritable, anxious, slept about 2 hours a night, my hands constantly shook, and I couldn't sit still. I remember feeling angry at the world, and like a was on the edge of losing control. This went on for about 6 months, until a colleague of my Dad's suggested I get my thyroid tested.

To every body's surprise my T4 level came back at over three times the normal level. I had something called Grave's Disease, which is a form of hyperthyroidism.

The first thing they did was refer me to an endocrinologist (which is what Elise sees for her diabetes) who put me on medication to suppress my thyroid function. I think I took about 6 pills a day and they were roughly the size of (but much thicker than) a dime.

The doctor decided to use radioactive iodine as a treatment. I'll never forget that day. I was sitting in a lab-like room in the hospital when a man wearing a spacesuit and holding the beaker containing the radioactive iodine with some tongs. I remember thinking, "seriously? You want me to drink that when you won't even touch it?"

But of course I did. The first dose wasn't enough, so I had to go back in for round two. The best part was I got my own bathroom for three days after each dose because I had to be "quarantined".

Since my thyroid ceased to function, my doc put me on Synthroid and that was that. At least until about 5 years ago, when I realized that I didn't feel as great as I should. Nothing I could put my finger on, but the symptoms were hypothyroid in nature. So I went to my doc, but all my levels came back okay. I kept going back about every 6 months, because I still felt off, and it wasn't until someone told my about a Physicians Assistant in the office that might be able to help me.

He introduced me to Armour Thyroid, and the effect was amazing! My body does not convert the T4 hormone into T3, so that is what my body was lacking. Synthroid is a T4 drug, so it didn't properly address the problem. Armour Thyroid has both T4 and T3, and has helped me to feel better than I ever did on Synthroid.

(I just want to interject that this isn't the same for ALL hypothyroid patients and of course you should see your doc to discuss any change in medication).

So that's my (probably very boring) thyroid story. I'm sorry I stuck your brain cells with all that unnecessary information!

As for my levels now, they are sloooowly coming down. They're still not why my thyroid decided to "freak out" like it did. I had missed a few doses of my medication about a month ago because life was a wee bit crazy, but they don't think that would have caused levels like the ones I had. My blood test last week showed my TSH at 42. My doc said it could take a month for me to start feeling okay again.

Thank you for all your comments and support, they've really meant a lot to me during all of this!

Honey, I'm home!

I think this may have been my longest absence from the world of blogging since I started almost two years ago. Didya, miss me?

I must admit I really missed writing, but due to many reasons, could not summon up the energy to write about anything. Here is a brief update:

As you know, my Mom was sick while she was visiting us. What you might not have known is that I was (and am still) pretty sick myself. I went to the doctor and had some blood drawn and we discovered that not only is my white blood cell count in low (second test in about 10 months to come back with that result), but my TSH (thyroid stimulating hormone) came back at 75. Normal range is from about .3 to 5.

Well, crap-on-a-stick... no wonder I was feeling so supremely lousy. If you don't know much about hypothyroidism, here are a list of symptoms:

* Fatigue
* Weakness
* Weight gain or increased difficulty losing weight
* Coarse, dry hair
* Dry, rough pale skin
* Hair loss
* Cold intolerance (you can't tolerate cold temperatures like those around you)
* Muscle cramps and frequent muscle aches
* Constipation
* Depression
* Irritability
* Memory loss
* Abnormal menstrual cycles
* Decreased libido

I was so tired I could barely move, my whole body felt like I had been hit by a truck, my hair was falling out at a rate where I could have supplied someone with a wig every three days (lucky I have a tonne of hair), and I was taking about 5 showers a day because I couldn't warm up. Since I am irritable about 95% of the time, it was hard to determine a change in that.

We discovered the issue about 10 days ago, but I can't tell if I'm feeling better yet. I had a follow up blood test today and should know more in a few days. Maybe I am on the rebound since this is the first time I've actually felt like writing anything.

Hopefully I am getting better and will be able to catch up with everybody else soon. Thank you to those who checked up on me to make sure I hadn't decided to join some reality show or something.