Actually, make that unhappy and fat. But only temporarily. 2009 will be much better, thanks to my pal the endocrinologist.

Happy New Year, everyone!

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Excuse me, but can you tell me how on earth Christmas managed to come and go so quickly? And how, even though I’m sad it’s all over and done with for another year, I can’t freaking wait to get my tree down and return my house to normal?

So, here’s the obligatory post-Christmas rundown…

Christmas Eve was spent at my parents house where we had a dinner which included an obscene amount of mashed potatoes:

Mmmm. Pillowy mounds of mashed potatoes… (5 points if you can guess the TV show that quote came from)

(Boxing Day at the in-laws blew my parents mashed potatoes out of the proverbial water, though. They had enough to fill a small pool.)

But I digress.

My mom, who is admittedly not at all crafty, designed and made a Christmas decoration which served to keep me out of her kitchen occupied for several minutes:

And speaking of my parents, here they are now, cooking away like busy little beavers. Dad’s contribution to the dinner was coleslaw. He was very proud…

After dinner, we went home so the kids could put out milk and cookies for Santa, as well as put their stockings up on the mantel.

At around 11:30pm or so, Santa pulled his sleigh onto our roof, slid down the chimney and filled our stockings.

My parents and brother came by on Christmas morning for breakfast (the best part of the day – who doesn’t love waffles, bacon, waffles, eggs, waffles, fruit salad and waffles for breakfast, I ask you?). Then we opened gifts, an event which can really only be described as a Wii extravaganza.

My in-laws came over for dinner, which was supposed to be an elegant meal catered by Good Taste Chinese Restaurant but because they neglected to tell me that they weren’t going to actually be open that day, ended up being sweet and sour chicken and rice, catered by me.

Boxing Day was spent at my in-laws house, eating Christmas dinner #2 as well as a lightening-speed gift opening.

She really, really likes pajamas. And Polly Pockets.

Of the gifts my son received that day, two are particularly noteworthy:

#1 – Nerf Dart Guns (from auntie and uncle)

#2 – Storm Trooper Helmet (from grandma and grandpa)

Anyone who’s ever had (or known) a little boy will know exactly where I’m going with this one. When he wasn’t running around with his sister and cousin, shooting up everything in sight, he was wearing his helmet and shooting himself in the head with his Nerf gun. Whap. Giggle. Whap. Giggle. Each time he managed to get a dart suctioned onto the helmet (usually right between the eyes), uproarious laughter ensued. That’s my boy.

In a nutshell, I’d have to say that Chrismtas this year was certainly merry and bright! How was your holiday?

ps – a very special welcome home to my friend flying_monkey and her family, who just returned home after a whopping three month trip to Greece! (The lucky bums).

Filed under: Happy Happy, Me, Offspring, Random by WWS (Lynn) - 2 Comments →

‘Twas the day before Christmas when all through the house…
we were cleaning like crazy because nobody likes a dirty bathroom.

Merry Christmas everyone! This year, I plan to bestow my family with actual names. You won’t want to miss the unveiling in a few days…

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I went back to the doctor last Monday to follow up on my low progesterone and high testosterone levels. Finally, finally, he’s listening to my concerns and when I asked him if he would put me on some sort of hormone supplement, I was told that he was referring me to an Endocrinologist so that I can be properly taken care of. I believe, “there’s definitely something wrong here,” were his exact words.

I’ve had many different emotional reactions to this revelation, the main ones being:

• Happiness – thank goodness I can’t blame my rounded figure entirely on myself! There’s a reason for the weight gain and subsequent inability to lose it!
• Anticipation - I can’t wait to get on some sort of medication to regulate my hormones. It’ll make everything so much better! (the distinct possibility of regaining my girlish figure topping the list of things I’m eager for)
• Anger – I can’t believe it took nine months and forty pounds to get me to this place. What a waste!
• Fear - what is at the root of this problem, anyway? Why would the hormones go all wonky in the first place?
• Impatience – how long will it take before I get a call about an appointment, anyway? It’s been a week! Did my doctor forget to fax the referral? Should I call? Maybe the specialist didn’t get the memo. Hello? I’m waiting, over here!

I am planning on documenting my journey from average-waisted to apple-waisted and back again. To that end, here are some pictures illustrating my problem.

This is how I looked when my firstborn was about ten or eleven months old. I’m not as thin as I was in high school, but it was good enough. I miss that single chin. The semblance of a waistline. *sigh*

Here’s my little family when my son was a year old. That body, and fitting back into those jeans, are my goal for the future. Again, I’m not going for supermodel skinny, but a trimmer, healthier me.

Here’s me, five years and forty pounds later. My hormones are going bananas inside of me, wreaking havoc both inside and out. It sucks. I hate this me. The one who works out to no avail. Who feels trapped inside an alien body. Who is constantly tired, emotional and sore. I feel weighed down in more ways than just the obvious.

I’m not a hypochondriac. I wasn’t just fabricating excuses for why my life seems to be unravelling around me. I have an explanation. And, hopefully soon (although with this health care system, it’ll likely be six months before I even get an appointment) I’ll have a plan of action. I can’t wait.

Filed under: Happy Happy, Keepin' it Real, Me, PCOS, Random by WWS (Lynn) - 2 Comments →

It’s below thirty
My pinkie toes will freeze off
If I go outside

The air is so dry
My knuckles are cracked and sore
I’m bleeding, damn it!

I hate shovelling
I wish the damn snow would fall
Only on the grass

Only three more days
Til Santa brings gifts
Think I’ll get my wish?

Filed under: Me, Pity Party, Random by WWS (Lynn) - 2 Comments →

If there’s one thing I hate about my house, it’s the damn toilets. Use more than half a square of toilet paper and they go on strike. Upon complaining to my builder about the craptastic quality of the commodes, I was told that there’s nothing wrong with them, they’re just “low-flow.” To the untrained ear, it sounds reasonable, but I know the truth. In this particular situation, ”low-flow” is code for, “we’re a cheap and morally-gray company who buys only bargain-basement junk so deal with it and quit bugging us.” Hey, I love the environment as much as the next girl and if I could have a functioning low-flow toilet, I’d say, “sign me up!” Alas, that isn’t what I’ve been saddled with.

I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking, if you hate the toilets so damn much, why don’t you just replace them and spare us the nitty gritty details of your time in the can?

Well, I’ll tell you why. It’s because I’m cheap. And I like to complain. So “you will listen to every damn word that I have to say!”

(bonus points if you can name the movie that quote comes from.)

(And I’m just kidding, by the way. I’d never presume to tell you what to do.)

(Promise.)

Anyway… after living in this house for only two years, I will be damned if I’ll replace the toilets. Instead, I begrudgingly fix them each and every time they go on a flush strike. But I’m not happy about it.

After repeatedly trudging down to the basement to retrieve the plunger (and having a little piece of my soul die each time), I’ve discovered a new way to whip them back into shape. I insult and belittle them. It’s considerably more gratifying. I frequently find myself giving them a piece of my mind:

“Listen up, you stupid, useless piece of garbage. Do your damn job or, so help me, I’m going to rip you right out of the floor and smash you into a thousand little porcelain pieces. Just flush already!”

Then, just to drive the point home, I’ll turn my back on the offending toilet and huff over to the sink, where I make a big show out of washing and drying my hands. I’ve found that, about half of the time, the toilet figures that I’m serious and a few moments later I’ll hear a gurgle and a delayed flush.

“Uh huh. You better flush. Stupid thing,” I’ll mutter on the way out. You just gotta show it who’s boss.

So, yeah. Making my toilet feel really, really bad about itself is my go-to method for getting it to flush. The perversely intense satisfaction I get from bending it to my will is the reason I shared this technique with the internet.  Feel free to use it anytime your toilet starts acting up.

Well, either that or a defeatist attitude and a plunger. Your choice.

Oh, but a word to the wise? Don’t let your anger and frustration take you to a place where you want to abuse the toilet physically. It’s just not a line you want to cross. While you may think that giving your rebellious toilet a good kick to the bowl will make you feel better, it won’t. Trust me. I’ve discovered that hopping around on one foot while clutching the other and crying, “Mother F*%^!!” serves only to undermine your self-proclaimed position of power. In the end, you’re only letting the toilet win. Never let the toilet see you cry, people. Never let the toilet see you cry.

Filed under: Confessions, Keepin' it Real, Me, Random by WWS (Lynn) - No Comments →

What my husband does when he could be helping with dinner, helping to clean the house, helping with the kids, helping with laundry, helping with dishes, helping with Christmas-related stuff, or, oh, I don’t know, helping at all?*

But I’m not bitter. Or tired. At all. Really.

* Okay, okay. So he’s been insanely, crazily busy at work and he’s tired. So he deserves to have some fun. (See? I can be a good wife. Occasionally.) After yet another 60 hour work week, if I was presented with the option of cleaning the kitchen floor or knocking out B.Y.O.B on the drums, I guess I’d pick World Tour, too. Only not B.Y.O.B. Because, frankly, that dude from System of a Down just plain weirds me out…

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If you guessed that this is The Girl’s first attempt at drawing a Christmas tree, you’d be absolutely correct!

What’re you lookin’ at?

The Boy came running when my husband and I started laughing in shock and amusement at the picture before us and proceeded to give his sister an art lesson:

You just draw a tree like this…

Add some decorations like this, and…

Ta da! A Christmas tree!

The Girl is nothing if not studious. She is quick to pick things up and immediately went about attempt number two at tree drawing:

Hey, this is pretty easy!

And, because to The Girl, the Christmas tree means nothing without the beautiful angel on top:

And now for the crowning glory!

Ta da!

So, to recap:

Christmas tree Attempt #1:

Christmas tree Attempt #2:

She’s a fast learner, wouldn’t you say?

Filed under: Keepin' it Real, Offspring, What The Heck is THAT? by WWS (Lynn) - 5 Comments →

When my doctor called me the other day with the results of my blood tests (“You have very low progesterone levels”) I can’t say I was surprised. I knew that something was off with my hormones – a girl doesn’t get her period only once every eight months for no reason. Yet, for some reason, I didn’t worry about it. Probably because I felt stupid about complaining that I don’t ever get a period (because what woman in her right mind would complain about such a thing, right?) I didn’t stop to think that my messed up hormones could be the cause of all of the other strange things going on in my body. Like the unexplained – and extremely unwelcome – weight gain around my middle.

Maybe it took hearing the words out loud for the little switch in my brain to flip to the “on” position. The instant I got off the phone, I ran to the computer and Googled low progesterone. What I came up with just about made my jaw hit the floor. This thing, this one little thing, is the root of all of my problems. Why did it take me so long to put two and two together?

The list of symptoms reads like my autobiography:

• Depression  check!
• Decreased libido  yep
• Food and sugar cravings  oh honey, you have no idea… 
• Uterine fibroids   maybe this is the cause of that pesky pelvic pain?
• Irregular or excessive uterine bleeding   excessive, no. Irregular? You could say that…
• Endometriosis  Not likely, but maybe I’ll google it later, just to be sure
• PMS  Ask my husband. Go ahead. I dare you.
• Infertility   Well, we’re not trying (blame my husband for that one), but if we were, I’d say this is likely 
• Weight gain   Um, yeah. I’m starting to look like a pregnant woman, which would be fine if it were true
• Constant fatigue  Yes, and it’s making me crazy
• Inability to handle stress   Stressed out and unable to handle it? Moi? Oh, who am I kidding. That would be a big, fat yes

See what I mean? That checklist might as well be called “Weird Symptoms WWS Has”. I knew that there was a reason my weight has been creeping up. Why I am becoming rounder by the day. Why, even with daily exercise and a good diet, I am unable to lose the weight. I was beginning to fear that I would become an apple with legs. The stress levels, the irritability, the lack of a period, the pelvic pain, the freaking sugar cravings. The puzzle pieces are finally coming together. There appears to be a light at the end of my tunnel. 

I haven’t gotten the rest of my test results back but I am almost giddy with the anticipation of going back to see my doctor, armed with this new information, and setting up a hormone replacement schedule. Even if it means purposely inviting that pesky Aunt Flo over every month, it’ll be worth it to get my life back.

Wouldn’t it be crazy if something as simple as the birth control pill could solve all of my problems?

Filed under: Happy Happy, Keepin' it Real, Me, PCOS by WWS (Lynn) - 4 Comments →

My four year old daughter drew a picture this afternoon. Anyone want to hazard a guess as to what it could be?

Answer will be revealed tomorrow.

Filed under: Keepin' it Real, Offspring, What The Heck is THAT? by WWS (Lynn) - 1 Comment →