There's a First Time for Everything

I've never done a meme before. (Meem? Mem-may? Mee-mee?) I saw this one at Cecily's and at Frances', and I thought, eh, why not. Nothing proves what a boring goody-goody I am like a good survey.

Feel free to laugh. All answers are true. Sadly, enough.

***

Have you ever...

Taken a picture naked? Nope.

Made out with a member of the same sex? Nope.

Danced in front of your mirror? Yes.

Told a lie? Yup. Although I usually get caught. The whole "entire face turning bright red" thing gives me away every time.

Gotten in a car with people you just met? Nope. (Other than cabs of course.)

Been in a fist fight? No!

Had feelings for someone who didn’t have them back? Constantly.

Been arrested? No.

Left your house without telling your parents? No.

Ditched school to do something more fun? Of course not.

Slept in a bed with a member of the same sex? Just my sister when I was little, or my cousin, at sleepovers.

Seen someone die? No.

Kissed a picture? Not real pictures - that would TOTALLY ruin them. But posters of celebrities? Quite possibly.

Slept in until 3? I doubt it was that late, but in my high school/college days, definitely early afternoon.

Laid on your back and watched cloud shapes go by? Yeah.

Played dress up? What does that mean? Is it supposed to be dirty? I don't put on costumes or anything if that's what you mean.

Fallen asleep at work/school? No.

Felt an earthquake? No.

Touched a snake? Okay, I have a joke here but I don't want to disgust my sister. So I'll just say NO.

Ran a red light? Yes. Not on purpose.. but yes.

Had detention? Nope.

Been in a car accident? Yes, but never my fault and never serious.

Pole danced? Um, NO.

Been lost? All. the. time.

Sang karaoke? See, the whole "I don't drink alcohol" thing kind of answers this for me. No.

Done something you told yourself you wouldn’t? Sure.

Laughed until something you were drinking came out your nose? Yes. Specifically I remember doing this in about the 4th grade - I was drinking fruit punch and it went all over the girl in front of me - covering the white button down shirt part of her Catholic school uniform.

Caught a snowflake on your tongue? Yeah. I saw this in the Charlie Brown Christmas or something and had to try it.

Kissed in the rain? Not that I recall.

Sang in the shower? Yes, in the past. Now I'm usually trying to be as quiet as possible to avoid the kids waking up.

Got your tongue stuck to a pole? No way.

Ever gone to school partially naked? NO.

Sat on a roof top? I'm afraid of heights. So, um. No.

Played chicken? Never.

Been pushed into a pool with all your clothes on? No.

Been told you’re hot by a complete stranger? I wish.

Broken a bone? Nope.

Mooned/flashed someone? No.

Forgotten someone’s name? Yes. I rarely use first names for that very reason.

Blacked out from drinking? Since I don't drink, ever? No.

Played a prank on someone? No. I hate pranks. April fools day should be banished.

Felt like killing someone? I don't think I've ever felt that much hate. Yet.

Made a parent cry? Probably my mom when I announced I was "living in sin".

Cried over someone? Since I cry constantly, definitely. Hell, say something right now, I'll start crying on the spot.

Had sex more than 10 times in a weekend? I'm gonna have to go with no. Wait. Does Friday count too? Then... NO.

Had/Have a dog? Totally afraid of dogs. However, we did have Nico for approximately one month when I was pregnant with Ethan. But he was always Jete's dog, and I wanted nothing to do with the care of him. He was cute and all, it's just not my thing. (Jete's aunt took him and later changed his name to Sparky. He was stripped of all dignity at that point.)

Been in a band? HA HA HA HA HA HA. Oh, wait. Were you serious?

Drank 25 sodas in a day? No. Don't really drink soda.

Shot a gun? Rarely a squirt gun. Otherwise, never.

***

So there you go. More proof that I'm a DORK. As if you had any doubts.

Communication is key to a good relationship

M: (through a stuffy nose) I feel just like Kramer in that Macanaw peach episode of Seinfeld.

J: (puts down what he is reading) What episode?

M: You know, the episode where Kramer loves those peaches, but can't taste them?

J: (stares blankly at me)

M: You remember! He raves and raves about eating these peaches. But then Jerry's apartment gets bug-bombed, and Kramer sits in there for a few hours, and then he loses his sense of taste!

J: (more blank staring)

M: YOU REMEMBER. Kramer freaks out, because these peaches are the best peaches in the world, and they're only ripe for a few weeks a year, and now he can't taste them.

J: That must be one of the only episodes of Seinfeld that I didn't see.

M: You saw it. I know you saw it.

J: I don't think so.

M: Sure you did. Remember, the reason Jerry had to get bug-bombed is because he had fleas? And then he found a Chunky wrapper in his couch. And that's how he knew Newman gave him fleas.

J: (more blank staring)

M: Yeah. And Elaine had to read some manuscript, but she left it in Jerry's locked up apartment. She runs in holding her breath, and she can't find it anywhere. But Kramer had read it while he was sitting in the poison gas. So he has to tell her what it was all about.

J: (blinks a few times)

M: And he gives her some ridiculous explanation, something about "unbridled enthusiasm", and she actually ends up getting the job because of what he told her!

J: Yeah. I don't think I saw that.

M: I'm pretty sure you did.

J: Either way, what does that have to do with you?

M: Well, I know exactly how Kramer felt with his peaches. That's just like me right now.

J: What?

M: Girl Scout cookie season is only once a year, and now I have a cold right in the middle of the season and I can't taste them!

J: Yeah, but Girl Scout cookies don't spoil like peaches do. Just wait until your cold is gone and then eat them.

M: But I want one NOW. (stuffs delicious peanut-buttery Tagalong into mouth)

J: But if you can't taste it, what's the point?

M: I can almost taste it. I just have a cold, it's not like I sat in poison gas or anything.

J: Okay then. (goes back to his reading)

M: (sigh) Boys just don't understand.

Mommy Math

Math-haters around the world are constantly asking the question, "When am I going to use this stuff in Real Life?"

Today, I realized my calling. I am going to develop a program that proves once and for all that those years of math do come in handy. Especially when dealing with two-year-olds.

Lessons will include:

Conversions and Units of Measurement

(1) 2 in² saltine cracker = 200 ft² of crumbs when crushed into carpet

(1) 30 minute DVD = 3 minutes of distracted toddler time

Pre-Algebra

Where T = Toddler:

• T + 1 toy = 3.17 seconds of undivided attention
• T - 1 toy = 317 minute temper tantrum
• T * 2 = 317 toys on the floor
• 2T / 2 = 317 toys on the floor and no one to play with

Algebra

Q: A child, CG, has a cold. He sneezes, drools, and licks objects at a rate of 7 objects per second. His parents must stay no less than one (1) foot away from him at all times to prevent him from infecting his brother. How long will it be before his parents have contracted the cold?

A: Distance = Rate * Time. Therefore his parents will be infected almost instantaneously.

Geometry

Q: What is the shortest distance between two points: CG and B?

A: A straight line. Even if a table, couch, or locked door is in the way. The only exception to this rule is when point B stands for either a Bath or Bedtime. In that case, CG and B actually represent parallel lines, as they will never converge.

Probability and Statistics

Q: Room (R) has 24 electrical outlets. 23 of these outlets have child safety covers, while 1 outlet (O) is missing its cover. Outlet (O) is located behind a heavy piece of furniture and only 2% of it is visible.

What is the probability (p) that child (CG) will find outlet (O) and try to stick a foreign object in it?

A: p(CG -> O) = 100%

Sums of Infinite Series

Σ (Parent₁ + Parent₂ + Child₁ + Child₂) = ∞ Love

Party of Jive

As I was reading a recent entry over at the Small Bus, I couldn't help but think of that old matching game they used to do on Sesame Street. The song is now stuck in my head:

One of these things is not like the others,
One of these things just doesn't belong,
Can you tell which thing is not like the others
By the time I finish my song?

I love E, and all of my friends, and I think they usually tolerate me. But more often than not, I am in the "not like the others" category. M's story of how she & E went out last night reinforced that. They had plans that fell through, and instead ended up having a wild night of drinks and laughter. The end of M's story asks, "How did you spend your Thursday?"

Ooh! Ooh! Pick me!

I went to a Tupperware party! It was fun!

No. Seriously.

You can laugh all you want. Truth is, I don't really go out much. I don't drink or smoke. I get bored at concerts and have no interest in sporting events. But when it comes to plastic containers, candles and cookware, I am a party girl.

People think that marriage and kids turn some women into this domestic stereotype. That they sign on the dotted line and suddenly they're DULL. Mindless. They entertain themselves by buying stuff on the Home Shopping Network, talking about their children's bowel movements, and swapping tips on how to remove grass stains from rayon. As a result, they're easily brainwashed into buying useless crap from the other Stepford Wives.

Must. Buy. Fake. Plants.

But I know the truth: women like this aren't made. They are born. I know because I'm one of them.

Marriage, kids, they didn't do this to me. I may be boring, but I've always been this way. I did the Going Out thing in my youth because it was a rite of passage. I love my friends, and I love hanging out with them, but usually, by 10:30 when my friends were just starting to have a good time, I was getting tired. I was ready to go home, heat up some popcorn and watch reruns of Little House on the Prairie.

No. Seriously. Ask Sete.

So I'm not ashamed to admit it. I enjoy these little gatherings. I get to flip through catalogs (how much do I love catalogs?), eat snacks, and catch up with my family and friends. What's better than that?

That's not to say that I don't see right through the sales pitch to the reality underneath. I've pretty much hosted them all - Home Interior, Pampered Chef, Partylite - and they're all the same story. An overdressed woman brings pretty stuff to your house. She talks about her products and her job really! enthusiastically! She tries to get you pumped up about "no more soot on your candles!" or "a practically indestructible spatula!". She continues to talk over the mini-conversations in the room so she can tell you exactly why this product is different than the others. Why you NEED this one.

But her real job isn't to sell you something. Her real job is to RECRUIT you. While your little votive purchase puts a few dollars in her pocket, she knows the big bucks will come when she gets you to work for her. At least, that's what her boss told her when she recruited her. And so on up the food chain. That's when she heard about the cars and the trips and the ability someday to quit your Real Job. She's gonna get that car someday. If she just works a little harder.

I have a soft spot in my heart for these women. They take their job very seriously, and I feel sorry for them when other people in the room don't stop to listen to their pitch. I find myself nodding my head as they pour their heart into selling me wooden spoons. I'm fascinated with their stories, how they needed some extra money to save up for a house renovation, or how they stay home with their kids but wanted to earn money on their own schedule. They are tied by a common thread: the belief that they've found that magic formula, and it's going to change their lives forever.

My cousin Dee is one of these women. She held the Tupperware party at her house, and is the only person in my family who has hosted more parties than I have. I constantly book a party off of her party so that she can get extra Free Crap. On top of that, she sells Mary Kay on the side. She's been trying to get me to host a pedicure party next month. I'm still thinking about it.

Unfortunately, my family and friends don't share my interest in these parties. They groan when they get the invitation and only come when I lay the guilt on THICK. So to them I say: this is your warning. Watch the mail for a very! special! party invitation coming soon to a mailbox near you. You can rediscover that magic burp all over again.

And keep your toes clean. Just in case.

Identity Crisis

You may notice things look a little different around here.

Remember the move I mentioned a while back? I'm still considering it. Unfortunately, I haven't been able to find EVERYTHING I wanted in a new home for the price I'm willing to pay. (Which, in case you were wondering, is "free".)

In the meantime, I continue to grow and change. Baby steps. Step #1: shed the name I'm so bored with. Nothing removes the label of indecision like giving yourself a new name.

Names and titles are critical to their owners. When I started blogging over a year ago, I couldn't think of a good title, so I just chose Indecisive Girl. I think part of my problem was that I wasn't really clear on my purpose yet.

As the months went on, I thought more and more about this site. What is my purpose? What is this blog about, really?

A big chunk of it is about Ethan. His first few years were so life-changing that I was driven to write about them. I have a lot to share about his early years, and my experiences raising a child with special needs.

Part of it is about CG. Lately I've been learning to deal with a two-year-old, and all that comes with the needy toddler years.

Some of it is about Jete. About how special our marriage is, despite all the obstacles we've had in the way of medical issues, full-time jobs and loads of dishes.

But really, when you get right down to it, it's not about them. It's about Me.

I write because it makes me feel good. I write because I want to believe I have something to say, something people want to read. I'm longing to be someone who can contribute to the world. Maybe, someone who can make a difference. I want to be Special.

And that? Makes me pretty damn Needy.

And so I give you, "Special and Needy". A little about them, and a whole lot more about Me.

Well? What do you think? Don't be shy. Needy people love feedback.

Recapping the Day-O-Fun

Thanks for your kind words about the dentist. I probably should consider switching at some point. The thing is, I've been going to this office since I was two. (That's 28 years for you math-haters.) That's a really long relationship, and I hate to end it so abruptly. I feel like we should get counseling first or something.

I loved my original dentist. At some point, he got old and, well, died, but I do like his replacement. Things really went downhill when my favorite hygentist retired a few years ago. She was sweet and gentle and remembered every detail of my personal life, even if I hadn't seen her in a year. The Archeologist and I just don't click like that. Not to mention the fact that she seems to believe it is her duty to find a cavity at every visit. And if she can't, well then damnit, she should just take her metal poker and MAKE ONE. (shudder)

Okay, enough about that. On to the Day-O-Fun.

Despite my fears, our half-day turned out to be not so bad. The cramps were kind enough to be delayed until today (thank you screwed up menstrual cycle!) and Jete and I actually got along the entire. day. Honest! But just to be safe, we made a rule that there were to be no discussions about dishes or breakfast cereals.

We had a very vague agenda - lunch, maybe a movie - but as always, we were flexible in our plans. Which worked out well, because a movie was not in the cards. Did you know that there are absolutely NO interesting movies out right now? Seriously. There was nothing even remotely worth wasting two hours and twenty bucks on.

(Random side note: Hollywood, I must ask: The Shaggy Dog? REALLY? Was there a need to make this movie the first time around? Never mind twice? ON PURPOSE?)

We quickly ruled out a film. Instead, Jete had a brainstorm - we gathered up every gift card we could find in the house. We got a bunch for Christmas and haven't had a chance to actually leave the house and use them. I stuck the stack in my purse and off we went. We had a few other chores to do, and in between, we were going to spend other people's money. What could be more exciting?

Without further ado, I give you the Day-O-Fun recap:

1. Lunch at 99s - FREE with gift card.
2. Trip to Blockbuster - Bought 6 previously viewed movies. 7 dollars with gift card.
3. Trip to CVS - Refilled one of Ethan's prescriptions.
4. Trip to JCPenney - Bought Ethan new sneakers to wear in his stander. Bought each of the boys a new t-shirt. FREE with Gift Card
5. Trip to Toys-R-Us - Bought CG new sneakers (BIG sale - only five bucks) and a new DVD about trucks. FREE with Gift Card
6. Trip to gas station - Filled the gas tank and got a coupon for the car wash. My car breathed a sigh of relief when the inch-thick coating of salt was finally gone. I breathed a sigh of relief when I realized I could finally see out the passenger window again.
7. Trip to the bank - No gift cards to use here, unfortunately.

After the bank, we drove around looking at other people's houses for about a half hour. We used to do this a lot before the kids; dream about what kind of house we would want if we had more money, compare our ideas about what looks nice and what doesn't. Finally, we headed home.

For once, the weather forecast was right. It was gorgeous out. We opened all the windows and turned off the heat for the first time in months. Both kids were napping, so we hung out and chatted for a little while until CG woke up and the game started all over again.

It was a small break, but it made a huge difference. After only four hours, we were both relaxed, refreshed and liking each other again (mostly). We both agreed it was a really nice day.

So tell me: Are we the two most boring people on the face of the earth or what?

20 Ways NOT to Start a Rockin' Weekend

1. Arrive ten minutes late to dentist.
2. Have receptionist announce, so that hygentist, dentist, waiting room folks and people across the street can hear: "YOU ARE LATE."
3. Have receptionist tell hygentist, "This is Mete. SHE IS LATE. You don't have to take her at all if you don't want to. BECAUSE SHE'S LATE."
4. Have hygentist decide to take you despite your loserness. Realize as you sit in the chair that you've had her before - she's the one who missed her calling as an archeologist.
5. Mention to hygentist that you still have that sensitive spot on your tooth. Have her almost immediately jam a sharp metal object into it and ask, "Does that hurt?"
6. Sit through 30 gut-wrenching minutes of scraping. Have her find another sensitive spot and proceed to poke it with a metal instrument until you are on the ceiling, then "tsk" at you and say, "Hmph. Probably another cavity." (YOU THINK?)
7. Leave dentist with an appointment for two fillings. Skip the much-desired Friendly's sundae out of guilt.
8. Tune in to country station on the way home and realize they are conducting a telethon for St. Jude's. Hear a mother describe losing her first-born to cancer.
9. Cry.
10. Arrive home after enduring enemy-secrets-level torture and have husband say, "So. You were late to the dentist, hmm?" in a disapproving tone.
11. Find out dentist's office called the house asking for you at 6:04. Your appointment was at 6:00.
12. Have fight with husband. Over the DISHES.
13. Cry.
14. Try to wash dishes and accidentally spill massive amounts of water all over the kitchen floor.
15. Listen to husband complain that he's hungry. Offer him some of that cereal that he liked that you bought for him. Have him tell you that, actually, he hates that cereal now.
16. Cry.
17. Go on internet to avoid talking to cranky husband. Read story of woman's recent miscarriage.
18. Cry.
19. Scrounge around for desparately needed chocolate. Settle for a giant Hershey Kiss left over from Valentine's Day. Get frustrated trying to cut it with a butter knife and give up.
20. Realize that tomorrow's half-day will probably be spent much like today. Except with CRAMPS.

A Long Week Gets a Little Shorter

Thanks for being so nice about my whining the other day. I hate to whine. Don't get me wrong. I'm good at it. But I don't feel like I have any right to complain. Especially lately, when other people have it so much worse than I do.

It probably goes back to my childhood. Anytime you complained, my mother would name fourteen other people who had it worse than you did.

Me: "I hate wearing Kmart clothes."
My mom: "You're lucky you have clothes. Some kids walk around in rags all the time."

Me: "I hate walking home from the bus stop."
My mom: "You're lucky you can walk. Some people don't have any feet."

You get the point.

She was right, of course. Although, as a kid, you don't really care that there are homeless people living on the street. You only care that the girl who sits next to you at school has a TV in her bedroom, and you don't.

Naturally, my mother passed her Guilty Jeans on to me, and I feel like the most selfish person in the world complaining. Especially since, as I am well aware, I have been lucky enough to get everything I ever wanted in life. Seriously. What's my gripe?

But I'm a girl, and I do get down from time to time. And when I do, I leave no doubts that I? am MOPEY.

Luckily, Jete figured this out the other night when I came home. He could tell that I was shuffling around, uninterested in anything, not really talking too much because I just felt blah.

(Him figuring this out all. by. himself. was a first. Amazingly enough, it only took nine years for him to start figuring out when I need a break.)

J: "We need to go out and spend some time together."

M: "Yeah right. When? There IS no time."

J: "How about Thursday night?"

M: "(sigh) I've got a dentist appointment."

J: "Friday night's always too busy..."

M: "AND we'll never get a sitter."

J: "What about Saturday afternoon?"

M: "The whole day is shot. CG and I are going to D's birthday party. Then you're going to that St. Patrick's day thing at your uncle's."

J: "I totally forgot."

M: "And of course Sunday is the usual - brunch and dinner with the parents. (big sigh) And then it's Monday all over again. Don't worry. I'm sure we'll catch up in a few weeks."

J: "What about Friday afternoon?"

M: "Huh?"

J: "What if we both take a half-day off from work. Go to lunch, a movie or something. The kids already have a sitter, and there won't be all those teenagers clogging up the movies and restaurants."

M: (trying to play it cool) "Hmm. Maybe. I'll have to check my calendar and get back to you."

So there you have it. Tomorrow we're both leaving work early and playing hooky. Even better, it's supposed to be gorgeous out. They're predicting - maybe - we'll make it up to 60 degrees!

Take that, you Southerners!

And since you inspired me with your Friendly's love, I think I might just stop there on the way home tonight and pick us up some sundaes. Start off the slightly-longer-weekend on a sweet foot.

But before that, I'm off to get my teeth cleaned. I've got to earn that ice cream. Besides, nothing says "I've just been to the dentist" like a Reeses sundae.

It's Been a Long Week Today

This morning, I was driving through the Wealthy Suburb when I saw what looked like a Great Dane about 200 feet ahead of me. It was bounding across the road at a rapid pace. Behind it was another, then another. As I got a little closer, I realized they weren't dogs but deer. At least 10 in a row ran past me in a sprint for the woods on the other side of the street. I sat, stopped in the road watching them cross only feet away. It seemed like a long time, but they were probably gone in less than a minute.

I wanted to call someone after they passed, but felt silly. Who would really care? Would I interupt someone at work or on their commute just to tell them that?

"A herd of deer just ran in front of my car!"

"Ok. Well. Thanks for sharing. Talk to you later."

So instead, I'm telling all of you. There. Now I've gotten it off my chest.

Of course, in the face of nature at it's purest, I took the practical approach. My second thought (after, "I should call someone!") was, "You know, if I hadn't gotten stuck at that red light back there, they TOTALLY would have wrecked my car."

***
After the herd passed, I switched radio stations and heard the news that Dana Reeve had passed away. This really saddened me. She spent the majority of her adult life dealing with so much, caring for her disabled husband. Less than a year after he passed away, she was diagnosed with cancer. I can't help but think of their poor son. Only 13, and he's had to suffer so many tragedies.

I like to believe that life balances the good with the bad. That, if you've had horrible luck for a while, eventually it turns and you get a good spell. And that the bad is sprinkled around, so that no one person has to bear too much of it.

That's a crock. Life is crappy. And then sometimes, it gets a little crappier. There's no logic in it. I wish I could find some. I'm a logic girl at heart. I hate the unexplained.

***
When I got to work this morning, I hadn't even put my purse down when I was told there was a problem with one of our applications. Someone decided to change something without warning us, and now it wasn't working. We spent a good hour playing defense, trying to get everything fixed without too much interuption for the Important Folks. Always a nice way to start your day.

After things settled a bit, I got back to my desk and the phone rang. My friend was shouting frantically:

"HOW DO YOU RECALL AN EMAIL???"

"What?"

"An email... I shouldn't ... I sent it ... HELP ME! HOW DO I RETRIEVE IT?!"

I walked her through the steps. "The problem is, it isn't usually successful. What happened?"

"I can't talk ... have to go." She hung up on me.

A few minutes later, she called me back.

"IT DIDN'T WORK. I am in so much trouble."

Apparantly she sent an off color joke to a friend. Except she didn't exactly choose her friend correctly in her address book... and she accidentally sent it to hundreds of people on a mailing list. A list of Very Important People, not the type to appreciate that kind of humor.

I couldn't help but laugh at the situation. Obviously, it wasn't very funny to her.

"You know, you send an email about WORK and they don't read it for a month. But send something like this by accident and suddenly they're all workaholics!"

***
I've got PMS like crazy. I've been scrounging around looking for chocolate in any form I can find it. At my most desparate, I resorted to a pack of Sixlets and a lowfat Chocolate Chunk granola bar.

In my typical fashion, it's got me down in the dumps. Lately, I just really really want to go OUT. Nothing crazy, just dinner. Maybe a movie. Something normal people do all the time. But that requires pulling strings and begging for help and practically getting the Secret Service involved.

A big part of the problem is that Jete could care less if we ever leave the house. When it's just me who wants to do something, it hardly seems worth it. It's so much of an effort that I just give up.

I was cleaning up the other day and found a few expired Friendly's coupons someone had given us. Throwing them away depressed the hell out of me. It just reminded me, yet again, that we will never be that typical family. The one you see in the commercials. The one pictured on the website. We'll never be a family who can just pack up the kids and go out to dinner.

I mean, yeah, we could. But we won't. It would be such a hassle to organize Ethan's schedule and moods, and bundle him up and pack up his chair and pack a bag for CG and make sure the place is handicapped accessible and that they have a table with room for us and blah blah blah blah BLAH.

Besides all that, Jete wouldn't enjoy himself. If anyone stared at Ethan, or if CG threw a temper tantrum, or we had to wait for more than 2.7 minutes, he would be miserable. Which would, in turn, make ME miserable.

And really, if I'm going to be miserable, I may as well be at home.

I know Friendly's is junky fast food. And it's way overpriced. And the wait staff is usually anything BUT friendly. And yeah, I can always take CG on my own if I really wanted to go.

But still. It's not the same. And I'm in the mood to feel sorry for myself right now. Wah wah wah. Don't worry. I'll get over it soon enough.

In about 5 to 7 days.

High-jinx

So in case you haven't noticed, I haven't posted a lot about Ethan lately. A friend actually pointed this out. And yes, there is a reason. A very good reason, if you ask me: we've been having a strange string of good luck. And I don't want to jinx things.

The last news I posted was about Ethan's kidney ultrasound. And yes, we had a novice tech who was D-U-M dumb, but it still went well. We got the official results a week or so later, and everything was perfect.

And before that, our last major appointment was with his Boston posse. And everything there was great. They said he was healing incredibly. They even postponed his second surgery.

Since then, things have been going - don't quote me on this - pretty well.

Ethan got to his maximum dose of Lamictal about a month ago. I noticed that he seemed to be going longer and longer without having a seizure. But I couldn't be sure if he really was or if I was just imagining it. Counting them is a pain and always inaccurate since his seizures start and end very quickly. If you blink, you may miss five.

I know that the only way to measure progress (or regress) is to do a seizure chart. So one Saturday, I wrote down every seizure we saw. By the end of the day, we had only written down twelve.

TWELVE. For those of you who don't live in the LGS world, that is a big improvement. The last time we charted seizures, I wrote down at least thirty. By lunchtime. By then, I was so depressed that I just stopped writing them down. We saw another twenty or so, and estimated that he was having anywhere between 50 and 70 on a typical day. Short, but very frequent.

Now, we're sure we missed some this recent Saturday, so he's probably having 15 to 20 a day. But still. Seeing twelve in a day versus thirty in a morning? That's a big difference.

I called Dr. AJ and let him know where we stood. The nurse called back with instructions to increase a few more milligrams, to see if it would help any more. Then she said, "Oh, and the doctor said to tell you that this is great news."

Yeah. Tell me about it.

I've written before about the highs and lows you go through when dealing with LGS. We've definitely had our share of lows, but when you're on a high, the lows seem a million miles away. Other than CG's terrible-twos-tantrums, things in our house have been calm. Peaceful. We're coasting high on this wave.

It's amazing how your outlook changes. A "high" is having fifteen to twenty seizures a day? Two years ago, I would have never considered that a good thing. But I also know that, two years from now, I may be thinking fondly of the days when he had "only" 50 short seizures. LGS is known for drug resistance and worsening seizures. So I know those days are coming.

It will take a few weeks to get to the next level that Dr. AJ prescribed, but I'm pretty sure that it won't help. In fact, I'm not completely convinced that the medicine is what caused this good stretch in the first place. We've been here before. He always has fluctuating good days and bad days, even without a change in medication. But if the good days correspond with a dose increase, who am I to say it isn't the medicine?

Every day, I watch him like a hawk. I'm constantly asking Jete, "Do you think he had more seizures than usual today?" He doesn't think so, but I know he doesn't pay attention to them like I do. I see the subtle eye movements, the familiar quick twitch that tells me his brain has just skipped a beat. And I'm pretty sure I'm seeing more seizures now than I did that Saturday.

I'm not jumping to any conclusions yet. I do have one shred of hope that the medication is working. I notice that he tends to have more seizures during the weeks that you tweak the dose. Once you get to a steady dose and his body adjusts, they tend to level off.

At least, that's what I'm hoping will happen. Only time will tell.

Thanks to a snowy New England winter, our appointment with the Ketogenic diet expert got postponed for a second time, now to late April. That Saturday that I charted, I briefly thought "Maybe we won't need her at all!" But the truth is, with Ethan's situation, two months is a really long time. His situation rarely stays the same for more than a few weeks. Things will be completely different by April.

Especially now that I jinxed us.

Although, to be honest, things haven't been completely perfect lately. We did have an interesting time at the pediatrician's office a few weeks ago. The missing testicles? Yeah. Still missing. They're remaining too high in the abdomen. They'd like us to see the surgeons. Apparantly, they have "magic hands" and may be able to flush them down once and for all. If not, he'll need minor surgery. No big deal.

So there's the update. In short: everything in our house is on a high. Including Ethan's testicles.