Hey everybody, let's spin the Wheel of Random Maladies and see what we land on this time! Come on, it'll be fun! I've already done facial abscess and dyshidrotic eczema and am currently greatly suffering from multiple canker sores that hurt more than childbirth and will not heal for any bribe, coercion or pleading. But lets just see what the wheel lands on this time, shall we?
Ta Da! Looks like it's my lucky day! I have...wait for it...Thrush, yes, thrush; yeast infection of the mouth. Disgusting to say the least. No wonder that my mouth is a war zone of constant pain and a haven for canker sores. I have thrush from being on antibiotics for over a month because of the facial abscess. This is awesome!
I went to the doc this morning and just picked up four prescriptions from the pharmacy. Now I am now trying to time them all correctly. Oral thrush meds, liquid thrush meds, lidocaine mouthwash for the pain and a steroid paste for the canker sores. Complication: the steroid paste will exacerbate the thrush so I really have to be careful not to get any of it anywhere but on the canker sores. That requires yoga moves that I simply don't have as the biggest sore is on the upper right gumline as far back in my mouth as you can get. Can't reach the little fucker(ha little, it's huge)! Also, looking at the two canker sores I can see, the big one in the center of my tongue, yes tongue, and the little one on the lower right gumline, I think they look like they have thrush hanging out in them. So I don't want to encourage the thrush to hang out any longer. So I guess I will hold off on the healing steroid goodness until the nasty white thrushies have had a chance to die a miserable death like the devils they are. In the meantime I have the lidocaine numbing gel.
(I will get better, right? I am not going to continue to be a magnet for all random crap infections for the rest of my life, right? Right?)
The weekend trip to Santa Anna was fun, if pain-filled. My mouth hurt so bad pretty much every minute that there were times I simply had to keep my mouth shut. It hurt to talk and eating has been a luxury I don't have. Food equals pain. Mary and I trucked it into Brownwood to the CVS pharmacy for canker sore meds. There is a whole wall of them. I had a hard time choosing which ineffective over-the-counter drug to waste my money on. So I chose two. And they provided distraction and a sense of 'doing something' if not any measurable relief. And the time spent talking with Mary was nice. (What a gal. I like her so much!)
But the Store Christmas Party was fun. I like to see all Dad's employees and I just think it is so awesome in this economy and culture to see hard working average joes get generous Christmas bonuses. My Dad believes, as I do, that as a business rises, so should the employees that made them rise. Not just the CEOs and other executives, but the workers. That makes him somewhat of a relic, but I admire him for sharing the good fortune with his employees and I love to be there to see it happen.
In addition to bonuses for the employees, he has presents for every kid and spouse there. He does pass the buck on the actual shopping for these gifts, he sent an employee with the money and list of kids/spouses and she bought everything and wrapped it all and brought it to the party.
Jackson got a present too. But there was an incident. An unfortunate, heart-breaking, probably-gonna-scar-him-for-life incident. Do you remember when I blogged a few days ago about my son asking to go to Target for a blue truck? Weeeelllll, another kid at the party opened his gift and it was the blue truck. Not a blue truck, THE Blue Truck, Tow-Mater from the Cars Movie. I didn't realize it, but he had seen and wanted this exact blue truck and this is what he wanted Mommy to take him to Target to get for him.
The poor child saw the truck being opened by the 3 year-old who got it and Jackson simply lost it. It took me a few minutes to realize the major catastrophic event that had occurred. Took me a minute to realize that he was crying because he wanted that truck, not because he was one of the last to be handed a present to open. By the time we found the present with his name on it, he was too broken to have any interest in opening it. David and I removed him and his present from the living room and took them to the bedroom. I thought the chaos was the problem. I helped him open his present, which was a great big yellow dump truck, something he would normally adore. But it only made him cry harder. "Don't want the yellow truck, want the blue truck! Bluuueee Truuuck!"
David and I were beside ourselves, trying to balance the terrible raging need to take the emotional pain away from our son and the need for the boy to understand that you sometimes don't get exactly what you want. And let me tell you, this is a damned difficult lesson for a two-year-old to learn when a kid in the next room possesses the exact toy he has been dreaming about as long as his little mind can remember, which is probably a week or two. And there was no way I was going to try to wrest the truck from the oblivious three-year-old or try to Tom Sawyer him into a trade for "the cool yellow dump truck for that crappy blue truck they gave you. You don't really want that truck, do ya kid? No, you deserve this rad new Tonka Dump Truck, you are too much of a big boy for little blue trucks, aren't you...."
(excuse me for a second while I rescue the boy from the slinky wrapped around his leg - how the crap did he do that?)
Back to the story: So as it was after 9:00 p.m., well past Jackson's bedtime, and he was clearly inconsolable and screaming, David and I made the command decision that we just needed to put him in the crib and let him yell. Which he did. But I stayed close by the door listening and after a few agonizing minutes his scream changed from "Bluueee Truuuuccck!" To "Yeeellloow Truuucck!"
I kinda figured that would happen. Jackson is a smart boy and he quickly catches on to things like 'my stupid parents are not going to get that blue truck away from that kid and give it too me, so I may as well play with the grudgingly cool yellow truck that they will let me have.' When I heard him yell for the new truck, I went back in and gave it to him in his bed, he layed down and asked to be covered with his blanket and said 'night night'.
Dad and Mary got a kick out of the incident, Mary said had she knows it was transpiring she would definitely have gotten the blue truck from the poor kid who got it. She says rescuing Jackson is more important than property rights. And we argued the rest of the visit about who exactly would get to the store first to buy the blue truck for the boy for Christmas. Cause you know he has to have one. Can you imagine how happy he will be to finally get the coveted blue truck? I can't wait to see it!
Heh, on the drive home we passed a SuperTarget in Cedar Park and my super-smart son started talking softly in the back seat, in an almost defeatist whisper, "Go to Target, get a blue truck." David and I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. My poor abused darling. Santa will bring you a blue Tow-Mater truck, I promise.