Did I say 'end game?' why do I ever say things like 'end game?' It's like the idiot in the horror movies who says, 'I'll be right back.' Oy.
Woke up this morning. Tried to ignore the chaos downstairs and go back to sleep. Failed. Sat up. Tried to fall asleep again (note to self: teach the Toddles to sleep. My bed, his bed, I really don't care at this point). Failed. Pried eyes open, stretched *pop* reached for a tissue and held pressure on the bloody (yes, I intend that pun) nose. Same spot, same side that the ENT cauterized.
Bloody, bloody hell.
An hour and a half later, it stopped. This time, I attached my phone number to the irritated email to the hematologist. She called back and told me not to worry about the platelets and advised Amicar, a secondary medicine that we give the Eldest to control bleeds in the mouth and nose. It is justly famous in the bleeding disorders community for tasting foul, foul, foul. It even has a finish, to borrow the term from the wine snobs, that is equally foul if not worse. Aaaaagh. But it's working. Whaddaya know?
I spent the day feeling vaguely out of place in my own skin. Why are the doctors talking to me about me? Why am I being dosed for bleeding? And - yes, I know there's no segue here, but I'm in a hurry - why oh why am I not surprised that the Eldest is too freaked out by the idea of gymnastics to even want to go? He made it into the room, but sat on the side with the director, too overwhelmed by the running, bouncing little people to participate. I'll take it - my crowd-shy, visually overloading kid made it into the room. Not bad for the boy who won't go to his own birthday party. Next time, maybe he'll join his group of kids on the mat. Maybe.
And on the subject of nothing especially relevant: a refua shlaima (complete recovery) for the MIL! Hoping you are right back to yourself tonight...
Note to self: vegan mayo tastes foul. Should've seen that coming, it's like the difference between butter and margarine, to the nth power. When n is higher than 67. No recipe posting tonight, sorry! But we're still enjoying the By George bread, which is apparently good the next day - a rarity in the vegan, gluten-free world.
Huzzah! The half-cloth diapering is working beautifully. For the past two days, I've collected wet cloth inserts in a nice little bag, hung discreetly in the pantry. Oddly enough, the poop was caught entirely by the flushable inserts, making tonight a real test of our system.
new to the blog? We're cloth/flushable diapering because many standard disposable diapers contain corn. My children are wholly responsible for my ecological virtue, thansk to their allergies. Daily, the Man flees the house for the office, where he eats a PB&J sandwich on wheat bread, and breathes a sigh of relief. It's a wonder that he ever comes home to our gluten/dairy/nut/peanut/sesame/egg/gourd/legume-free home at all.
I had just washed all the cloth and stuffed a diaper cover with fresh cloth inserts - which were promptly pooped on. Now, the point of the little waterproof bag is that one does not have to endure the smell of an unwashed poopy dipe, nor do I have the mental icks from it sitting in the rest of my laundry. No, indeedy, one tosses the poopy object into the little bag, to be joined by other, similarly soiled objects.
but how does it smell, over the pair of days between entry into the bag and removal for washing? To stack the deck in my favor, I dripped a little tea tree oil onto a rag and dropped it in. Tea tree has some antibacterial properties, but mostly is a nice, pleasing (and strong!) scent. Let the poop and the tea tree battle it out - I'm curious as to the results.
Three days later: no stink, and I have enough diapers wet/dirty to wash. Hurrah! The system works. I could use about six more cloth inserts so as to be able to go longer between loads of laundry, but all in all, we have a functioning system.