Tag Archives: Education

When bugs grow muscles

Remember back in the day when a cold was a cold?  Or when the flu was the flu? Or when pink eye was pink eye?  And you toughed it out until AND only until an antibiotic was absolutely necessary.

But somewhere along the way we decided to eat antibiotics like chocolate covered pretzels (my personal favorite) and now we have birthed little demon superbugs.

Yes, today we have these things called superbugs and they flex their resistant genetic coding at our feeble dwindling antibiotic supply and laugh as we cough and swell.

Why am I so bitter you ask?  Well a superbug decided to take up residence in my darling son’s eye and has now spread to the entire family in spite of our neurotic hand washing techniques.  See that’s the evil in all of this…you don’t have to be an antibiotic abuser to get a superbug.  Once created, you can pick these demons up just by having a having a heart beat.

Yeah, pink eye is no longer the simple red colored eye with gooey drainage.  This baby has morphed into something fierce and requires a nuclear strength antibiotic because the usually prescribed Ofloxacin doesn’t even tickle it.  But I didn’t know this valuable piece of info and just went with the Ofloxacin (because I hate to use the big guns until I try the first line).  Why go nuclear when a machine-gun is likely to do the job?  But I really needed nuclear and knew this when the fun began and my eye swelled shut.  To make things more fun, the other one became infected too.   A Family Practice colleague informed me of the superbug and prescribed me something much stronger.  Thanks to her I can now open my eye!

Take a look…

And this is looking good!!!

Those aren't bags under my eyes but pockets of swelling. It was swollen shut but at least here I can open it!

I am on the mend and thankful that these things can still be killed but I must admit I am a little concerned about what will happen when we run out of antibiotics to kill these bacterial critters.  So people please use antibiotics sparingly…like when your eye swells shut or something!  And if your health care provider wants you to wait to see if what you have could be viral before prescribing antibiotics agree to wait.  And take the entire prescription until it is GONE.  Do Not save half for “later” because this action breeds resistance.

I’d like nothing better than to emasculate these bugs and take their muscles away.

Of course they are male.  Don’t ask.  I just know.


Absoult pertinent facts

My darling husband came home a few days ago and informed me he had just learned of a treatment that would, without a doubt, cure and prevent strep.  Now this piece of info comes about, ohhhh, 16 days and a complete course of antibiotics for myself and three kids too late!  But hey, I was game for new-found knowledge so I replied “Oh yeah, what?”  Smiling, he unveiled a bottle of Absolut Vodka for me to “gargle and swallow” if any future cases of strep present.  My facial grimace must have spoken volumes because he immediately began with his facts.

Facts including valuable information and I think a few statistics concerning how alcoholics never contract strep.  When I asked him how he came upon this information and cure he replied,

A friend who knows an ENT Doctor and the ENT Doctor said not one of the alcoholic patients ever gets strep.” 

It appears the key is to gargle and swallow the alcohol rather than the gargle and spit method we use with salt or other home remedies.  Mr. Pavlov is known to have a glass of vodka mixed with cranberry juice or a glass of wine before bedtime.  He is the only one in the house to escape the strep invasion and he clearly recalls that we did in fact exchange some saliva before I knew that I was throat breeding strep.  He thought this fact was pertinent.

I really hope that the horrid, awful, nasty bacteria stays away from our abode however, should the need arise I will gargle and swallow a large glass little Absolut or Belvedere. Straight.

Just don’t ask me to walk a straight line or recall pertinent facts.


Got antibodies?

The 6 train that kept us on our NYC schedule

I am a tad off schedule lately.  Wow, that really sounds funny coming from let’s take each day as it rolls me, but it is true.  Actually I have been playing catch up since we missed our 6:55am departing bus out of NYC. I set my alarm for the correct time however it was that little AM/PM thing that messed me up.  The night owl that I am subconsciously related more with the PM side of things and subsequently that is where my alarm clock remained (4:30PM) while my body remained comfortably in bed stockpiling on some REM.  By the time I, the sole alarm setter, awoke it was too late.  We were bus toast. Thankfully we were able to get on the next bus, a 4:20pm bus, out of the city.  The late arrival home and 3AM bedtime was rough even for this veteran night dweller. We have been schedule constipated ever since. 

I do have cool photos a comin’ but I wanted to post something Mr. Pavlov said that was an eye opener. We set off for NYC with our easy-going, fresh faces smiling.  When we were bumped, shoved, or pushed we flowed with it.  When we were tackled for the last seat on the subway we didn’t fight back.  When our hands were forcefully booted from the subway pole (the pole that keeps your human parts from sprawling all over someone else) we scurried to find another. When our kids were roughly jostled by rushed NY’ers we caught them.  When our taxi was stolen taken we hailed another.  We exhibited Saint-like patience and kindness.

But then something happened the longer we stewed in this environment.  Our easy-going faces became distressfully determined. When bumped, shoved, or pushed we returned physical fire and threw in a warning hip check.  When we were tackled for the last seat on the subway we fought back.  When our hands were forcefully booted from the subway pole (the pole that keeps your human parts from sprawling all over someone else) we clenched them tighter and made the other rider scurry to find another. When our kids were roughly jostled by rushed NY’ers we glared and made cutting comments. When our taxi was stolen taken we angrily told the young taxi hijackers to find another.

 Patience and kindness who?

We could feel our attitude changing and our ugly coming on and before we knew it we almost mirrored the very behavior we disliked.  It was then that Mr. Pavlov shook his head and simply said “Man, this behavior is contagious!

Those powerful words woke us up from the contagious bad behavior spell and we stopped hip checking the elderly and gave them our subway seats once again.  While not fully immunized against behavioral diseases, our experience gave us the antibodies we require to recognize future invasion one contagious exposure at a time!

How have you dealt with ugly?  Got antibodies to share?

Only a boy…..

…would put a suction cup on his forehead AFTER it made a similar mark on his chest! No doubt this branding will last for several days.  I just couldn’t resist this posting and I apologize to my Facebook and Twitter friends who have already viewed the physical work of art.

The boy who branded


A close-up of the suction cup hickey

Some may say that girls have engaged in suction cup play as well.  This is true.  My daughter created the exact same masterpiece, unbelievably in the exact same spot, when she was this age.  The key difference is after leaving that one mark on her face she never repeated the creative act. 

The third eye is the second mark that my boy, Dos here created.  The first was on his chest.  WHY would you repeat the act? And of all places ON YOUR FACE?

In addition to the child now having a self-created target smack in the middle of his forehead for all of his classmate to slap, hit, or poke, we are going to conduct a little experiment.  We are going to see what it may be like for an individual who has a permanent facial birth mark (thank-you Lynn for the idea).  Thus, I am parading him and his third eye in the most populated areas I can find…and of course Wal-Mart, the location where all of mother earth gathers.  I will post updates but I suspect that other than learning  it’s not wise to place a suction cup on your face, my boy will receive valuable insight and empathy for those with permanent markings during his temporary time of branding. 

Don’t worry – I won’t emotionally ruin him.  I actually prevented emotional ruin by stopping my daughter, who was in route to his forehead with her entire cosmetic ensemble.  I had images of foundation running down his face as he sweated profusely during PE class.  Somehow I believe that running foundation would damage his social life more than the suction cup hickey.  

True to the testosterone surging through his veins, he is owning the mark and wearing it proudly. Yet, I highly doubt that this boy will permit a suction cup (and if I have my way, all future females) to give him a hickey again!

Connect the dots: What your parents didn’t want you to know!


I grew up in the seventies and eighties.  The seventies were the era of my childhood and the eighties took me through the teen years.  Have you ever experienced something as a child that you always wondered about….something that didn’t really make sense even though the adults tried to give a feeble explanation?  And it wasn’t until much later when you were much older that connecting the dots became possible.

Yes?   No?  Not sure?  Let me give you an example.

I remember the seventies as a fun era.  The air was cleaner, the sun brighter, and the outdoors was our playground.  My family and I lived beside other family members.  This area has since been labeled as “the compound” and consisted of grandparents, an uncle, an aunt and two cousins.  We spent hours upon hours outside.  We made mud-pies, played hide-n-go-seek, walked in the woods, caught lightning bugs, ran through the sprinkler, and generally did not come inside unless forced against our will.  Those were the days of the seventies, the days of my youth.

During one of these days my cousin and brother discovered a rare find.   Along the side of the road they discovered a box of individually wrapped balloons.  These balloons were like no other.  Each packet was flat.  The latex inside was  rolled up but when unwrapped, it magically became elongated and contained a white powder substance.

The boys excitedly began to unwrap their treasure and blow up these cool new finds.  These unique balloons proved difficult to blow-up and tie off.  Thus, the boys asked for help from my Mom and Aunt.  When the adults saw these balloons they giggled nervously, immediately confiscated the box and remarked that they were special balloons for adults and not for kids to play with.  My brother and cousin stood confused and dejected with a still visible white powered ring imprinted around  their mouths.

I had always wondered about that incident and those “special adult balloons.”  The adults gave no further information and the balloons were never seen again.  It was not until much later when I came across one of those “special adult balloons” that I realized the treasure box my brother and cousin had discovered in the days of our youth was  a box of condoms!

And that’s how you connect the dots!

Leave and cleave

Allowed to grow

The art of letting go.  Hmmm, haven’t quite mastered that one yet.  But c’mon my kids are still all under the age of 15!  Thinking about leaving and cleaving is downright puke provoking. 

Or is it?

You see I’ve had one of my mother “Ahh-Haa” moments.  It is simple really.  Everything we do from the time they POP out of us wailing their screams of protest is to prepare them for adulthood. 

At first we change diapers.  Then progress to wiping little rears. Eventually these little bodies develop motor skills and coordination and begin to self-wipe their own little rears.  Now, maybe the job is extremely messy and not the best at first [as evident by the skid marks discovered while doing laundry] but in time every child becomes a proficient butt wiper IF they are given the opportunity to try. 

I have met so many families of late who, out of presumed fear, attempt to shelter and smother [totally suck the life out of] their kids from learning and growing in our world. Yes, we live in a crazy world.  Yes, there are freaks.  Yes, there are real dangers.  But it is our responsibility to help navigate our children through these times and teach them how to make wise decisions and choices.  Because in a blink they will be out there…leaving and choosing someone to do the cleaving with (I’m gonna hurl).  If they haven’t been allowed to spread their wings in the safety of their supervised home nest then they will crash and burn upon the first freedom take off and many others after that.  AND the crashing and burning part…it just doesn’t effect them.  It effects the entire family no matter what age they are.

Truly people, we need to let our kids wipe their own butts and get a little messy while we’re still around to do the laundry.  It is much easier to wash a little skid mark than an entire PILE of crap!!

According to Sam

Sam has been on a word defining kick lately so I thought I’d write a couple of them down before I forget.

Here are the definitions according to Sam:

Psychomaniac (he pronounces pyscho-mean-ee-act) – A person who is psycho, and mean, and acts out.

Hillbilly – A person who lives on a hill and is in love with billy goats so they have a lot of them.

Killer  (he pronounces kill-her)- A person who kills mostly girls.

Makeup – when a girl puts stuff on her face and says “I’m sorry.”

These were just too cute to forget.  I’ll add more as he continues to define his world.