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i have had hives for 36 hours now and it is fucking agony and they are only getting worse.
also Tiny Child is adorable but I cannot have my computer visible anywhere she is or she will go into an obsessive fixation about watching Mickey Mouse cartoons on YouTube. (Sometimes she’ll do that anyway.) So I am not getting any writing done, or Tumblring, or anything. She was Full Of It today, and it’s great that she’s such a little individual etc., but Jesus fucking Christ she had to be contrary about literally every thing. To change her diaper on the several occasions I had to do so today, I used the following techniques:
wrestle her into submission (twice)
deceive her
convince her that it was absolutely impossible for me to operate the television unless I could confirm that her diaper was dry
It wasn’t just me, she also wise-assed the hell out of her mother, and at bedtime so incensed her father that he, having been gone an hour and a half, suddenly appeared in the kitchen doorway holding her at arm’s length and said, to her mother, “I need you to take over,” and forthwith vanished out the door into the night for about twenty minutes. (She said to him as he left, sweetly, “I hope you are happy tomorrow!” and he said, “I honestly don’t remember what happiness is, kid.”)
I’m getting a lot of other things done, which is great, but my skin is agony, there’s a four-inch collar of angry raised red welts all around my neck, and another patch on the outside of each of my biceps, and my forearms are bumpy and itchy. I just. Am tired.
It was winter, winter, winter, then we had some hints of spring, and now suddenly it’s fucking midsummer. It’ll be 90 tomorrow. I’m so sunburnt and so sticky and so gross. Even my sister, who spends all day every day outdoors, got sunburnt today doing exactly the same things she normally does; it’s like someone turned the sun up.
So. There’s my little gripe. I’m over it. I hope. Maybe I’ll wake up and these fucking hives will have subsided. I won’t hold my breath though. Christ it just– it’s not quite itchy because it’s actively pricklingly painful all the time. UGHHHHH.
I’ve Googled a lot and there’s basically– I mean, a doctor could put me on steroids to ease the current symptoms but by the time I #1 got an appointment and #2 got a prescription filled, the symptoms would go away on their own anyway. As far as preventing recurrences, all they can do is do a battery of allergy tests that in about 80% of cases wind up inconclusive, and I just. Why. Why would I do that. I do not want that.
Anyway. Sometimes people are like, “that kid is so cute, doesn’t she make you want one of your own?” and I say, “that kid is just about the most adorable it’s possible for a child to be, and she has thoroughly reaffirmed my decision not to have kids!” with total sincerity. Because, yeah, probably 20 hours a week I’m having the time of my life, but the rest of the time, yikes, I’m gonna tap out and let someone else handle this. Someone whose nursing home she’s gonna choose someday. Peace y’all.
i have had hives for 36 hours now and it is fucking agony and they are only getting worse.
also Tiny Child is adorable but I cannot have my computer visible anywhere she is or she will go into an obsessive fixation about watching Mickey Mouse cartoons on YouTube. (Sometimes she’ll do that anyway.) So I am not getting any writing done, or Tumblring, or anything. She was Full Of It today, and it’s great that she’s such a little individual etc., but Jesus fucking Christ she had to be contrary about literally every thing. To change her diaper on the several occasions I had to do so today, I used the following techniques:
wrestle her into submission (twice)
deceive her
convince her that it was absolutely impossible for me to operate the television unless I could confirm that her diaper was dry
It wasn’t just me, she also wise-assed the hell out of her mother, and at bedtime so incensed her father that he, having been gone an hour and a half, suddenly appeared in the kitchen doorway holding her at arm’s length and said, to her mother, “I need you to take over,” and forthwith vanished out the door into the night for about twenty minutes. (She said to him as he left, sweetly, “I hope you are happy tomorrow!” and he said, “I honestly don’t remember what happiness is, kid.”)
I’m getting a lot of other things done, which is great, but my skin is agony, there’s a four-inch collar of angry raised red welts all around my neck, and another patch on the outside of each of my biceps, and my forearms are bumpy and itchy. I just. Am tired.
It was winter, winter, winter, then we had some hints of spring, and now suddenly it’s fucking midsummer. It’ll be 90 tomorrow. I’m so sunburnt and so sticky and so gross. Even my sister, who spends all day every day outdoors, got sunburnt today doing exactly the same things she normally does; it’s like someone turned the sun up.
So. There’s my little gripe. I’m over it. I hope. Maybe I’ll wake up and these fucking hives will have subsided. I won’t hold my breath though. Christ it just– it’s not quite itchy because it’s actively pricklingly painful all the time. UGHHHHH.
I’ve Googled a lot and there’s basically– I mean, a doctor could put me on steroids to ease the current symptoms but by the time I #1 got an appointment and #2 got a prescription filled, the symptoms would go away on their own anyway. As far as preventing recurrences, all they can do is do a battery of allergy tests that in about 80% of cases wind up inconclusive, and I just. Why. Why would I do that. I do not want that.
Anyway. Sometimes people are like, “that kid is so cute, doesn’t she make you want one of your own?” and I say, “that kid is just about the most adorable it’s possible for a child to be, and she has thoroughly reaffirmed my decision not to have kids!” with total sincerity. Because, yeah, probably 20 hours a week I’m having the time of my life, but the rest of the time, yikes, I’m gonna tap out and let someone else handle this. Someone whose nursing home she’s gonna choose someday. Peace y’all.
