Detox - Day 3

Oh My Gooooooooooooooooooooooooooooood!

6:30 - Dog. Why can't you figure out how to use a toilet? Little Girl is only two and she gets it.

8:30 - No energy to make something substantial for breakfast so I have a bowl of Cheerios. How thoroughly unsatisfying. Bah.

9:12 - Everyone truly needs to look out. I'm sorry in advance for the horrible things I'm likely to say. I don't mean them. Well, right now I do. Because your socks are pissing me off.

10:00 - Dog - I hate you.

10:11 - We do our Pollock Palooza on the kitchen floor. (Paint splatters on canvas.) While I feel like a great mom for doing this, I can't seem to stand up quickly without feeling like I've been shot in the face.

11:26 - I actually have the shakes. Good thing I'm not scheduled to perform microsurgery right now. This is freaky.

11:29 - Just a nibble? No? Bugger.

12:00 - Finally! LUNCH! Iamsohungry! Soup slurp slurp....fajita with refried beans...munch munch...ACK! It's a white flour tortilla! Curses.

1:00 - Slip into nap. Nice to have Husband around to help me build my Fortress of Solitude and keep the munchkins out for an hour. Feeling human again.

2:45 - Dog and I do our walk. Still feel crappy.

4:20 - Iamsohungry. Not supposed to eat between meals so as to 'maintain blood sugar level' but, let's be reasonable. I eat a pickle. Surely that's harmless. It's a pickle. One measly pickle. Oy. Drink water. I can do this! I can!

5:30 - I will die.

6:24 - Finally dinner is ready. Oh joy. Oh bliss. I will not die after all.

7:30 - I don't hate you, Dog. You're rather sweet.

Phew! This was not an easy day. Tomorrow is not necessarily going to be easy either. We have guests coming for dinner. Husband will insist that we provide dessert. I will lightly wave it away and glide gracefully into the kitchen where I brace myself against the counter and howl at the ceiling.

Night night.

Detox - Day 2

You know, today was easy. Is Day 2 always easy? You think, "Man, this is a breeze! I don't know what I was so worried about!" So that, on Day 4, you find yourself weeping on the floor while gnawing at a wicker basket and swearing.

Could be.

I am about to find out. Mind you, in my house, that's so common that someone would simply step over me and ask if I know what happened to the remote control.

P.S. I left out all my hourly pith because...well, who the hell cares what I ate for lunch (turkey sandwich). Cheese pizza for dinner was not a wise decision. And how thrilling is this information? Damned thrilling. I can only guess how riveted you must be.

Now. Where's the remote?

Detox - Day 1

7:00 I woke up cranky when I discovered that Husband's version of "Don't worry, I'll clean up after dinner" involved stacking everything in the sink. For me.


The Small Girl's caterwauling nearly drove me to walk out the door. Such histrionics over what dress is "appropriate" for picture day. Her bleeding nose didn't help.

8:30 I finally sit down to a breakfast of last night's rice and beans. There. Entirely fiber-full, protein-rich and nary a trace of sugar. I feel better now that I've eaten.

9:00 I'm already feeling the pull of the White Demon. Is that because it's a frustrating morning? Because I'm in a bad mood? Because I know I can't have it? RESIST! You just ate!

9:10 Walking back from school - it's freezing. The sidewalks are slippery. Stupid sidewalks. My hands are cold. Stupid hands.

9:25 It is quiet in the house now. I should be looking for a job and not writing about my detox. Ah, but perhaps I should cut myself some slack. After all, this isn't necessarily easy. So I think I'll just read my book for a while. Hopefully everything will settle soon and I'll feel more human, less beast. WHY WON'T MY CELL PHONE WORK?! I'm tired.

12:30 - When a recipe calls for peanuts, substituting it with peanut butter doesn't work. My lunch was disgusting. It was whole wheat penne with soy sauce PEANUTS (ahem, peanut butter - at least it was natural), carrots, water chestnuts and rice vinegar. After I filled my tummy, I filled the garbage.

2:00 - I do like having a personal trainer. Dog is very effective. His mandate is: "Exercise every day with me or I'll shit on your rug." It's motivating.

3:30- Tea time with the girls. I have tea. They have tea and granola bars. Mmmm. Granola Bars. I resist.

4:00 - Big Girl has a fit over going to dance class. I volley back with a fit of my own. We both arrive at the community centre disheveled and sour. However, I do get to do the Sudoku puzzle while she dances.

5:30 - So hungry. My in-laws are here and offer to take us out to dinner. Oh, the potential minefield of choices. We opt for sushi. I handle beef teriyaki and only a little white rice. Everyone else drinks. I have green tea. Can I be sainted for this?

7:30 - The children melt down because we're still at the restaurant.

8:00 - While getting the girls into their jammies, Big Girl asks me about the parts of her body. I when I go into a lengthy explanation that babies come out of certain parts. I turn to see Little Girl's face dissolve into tears. We try to understand her distress until she finally chokes, "A baby is gonna come out my bum!" Oh God. I'm an idiot. WHY did I decide to be honest and straightforward with my children? Why couldn't I have stuck with the stork thing LIKE EVERYONE ELSE!? Pfft! Babies don't come out of your body - they come in the mail. Everyone knows that.

8: 10 - The headache is here. Is it withdrawal or just life in general?

Well, I've done Day 1. I'm grateful for a gripping mystery novel to take my mind off things.

Night night.

Addict

Have you ever wondered why former alcoholics NEVER drink? They don't just take a sip here and there or have the occasional glass of wine. They just don't touch it. At all.

There's a scientifically-backed reason for this: some people have the kind of body chemistry that makes them respond differently to certain substances. This makes them more vulnerable to the effects of that substance, and actually primes them to crave it more and more. So if your body responds in a volatile (i.e. one is never enough) way, then you are sensitive to that substance.

Makes sense. And as any recovering alcoholic would probably tell you - their addiction nearly ruined their life and they simply won't go there again. Good for them. Now onto another substance that people just don't take as seriously as alcohol. And you can see why, really. Nobody has ever been arrested for driving under the influence of M&Ms.

But...no really...BUT the sugar addiction is real. And if you're physiologically addicted to sugar (because it affects the same neurological pathways as 'drugs') then you get yourself into a whole host of health problems.

I'm saying all this now because I was given sugar in the hospital and have been fighting my insatiable desire for it ever since. That's nearly two months. I have GOT to stop. Last time, I did it 'cold turkey' and it was hard. But worth it. It's simple, just not easy. What I did was this: if the food had sugar in the first three ingredients, I wouldn't eat it. That meant no cookies, cakes, muffins or pastries of any kind. No white bread, no white rice and no crackers unless they were whole wheat. It also meant no juice, certainly no eight-dollar crapaccinos and absolutely no alcohol.

People thought I was really weird.

The side effects of this way of eating were:

1. Weight loss.
2. Increased energy.
3. Better sleep.
4. Inability to drink coffee. Very bizarre. I love coffee. Now I hate it.

I wrote about the process on this site before, but I don't write for them anymore and ...yeah, I'll stop there.

Anyway, I'm determined to get back into this.

According to Dr. Kathleen Desmaisons, sugar detox typically takes about five days. That doesn't sound too long! But...she warns, they can seem like forever. Days 3 and 4 tend to be when your body starts complaining. She even cautions against eating fruit during that time because of the high sugar level (it's not refined sugar, but it IS sugar and when you're that sensitive you need all the help you can get).

Wish me luck. I'm going to drink copious amounts of water, so I'll be writing my next post from the bathroom. If you're interested, check out this blog for some reading recommendations. This blog is so lovely, check it out for other reasons too.

Every Wednesday is Tip Day!

People...you're not asking questions. How am I supposed to maintain my delusion of "Tip Lady" if nobody sends me any questions?! I don't know what you're dying to know! How to get rid of wet dog smell? (Rub him down with a sheet of Bounce.) How to cure a headache without drugs? (Drink some ice-cold Gatorade.) Or how to make the ultimate chimichanga ( I don't know, but if you do...please tell me because they're amazing.)

Okay. Then I'll just tell you what I learned the other day by random experimentation - which led to hours of pointless internet trolling:

Are you ready?

The single greatest thing for everything is, so they say: Apple Cider Vinegar.

Apparently it's good for everything from acne to weight loss. Caveat: I've only been personally researching this since yesterday, so I offer zero credibility. Like all my tips, I do try them myself, and in the last 24 hours, I'm happy to report that I've not sprouted horns. Neither have I sprouted wings and started to leap tall buildings, though. I was kind of hoping for that given the hype. But my poor, tortured tummy seems to be quite happy with a glass of ACV-laced ice water. (Which, unlike my current anti-nausea meds, doesn't cause me to slip into a coma or be totally incapable of operating a stapler.)

Try it. Let me know if you sprout horns or wings. Or nothing at all.

And...remember, sending me questions is proof that you love me.

One Friend

While waiting outside for the bell to ring, I was standing at school with Charlie. A new little puppy had arrived with his six-year-old owner. All the children were swarming and cooing over the new addition to the morning crowd.

One little boy came up to me and Charlie though and patted him. He squatted down and talked sweetly to Charlie, who was straining at his leash to go and see the new dog.

"Why is he whining like that," asked the boy.

"Well, he's a bit sad because that dog over there has all those friends, and he's only got one. But he's lucky to have you being his friend today,"

"That's okay. I only have one friend too."

He roughed up Charlie's fur then ran to his back-pack when the bell rang.

My nose still runs a little thinking of that...

Dining Room CSI

The victim's body was discovered this morning under the dining room table.

It was a shocking scene of violence, akin only to the great Lego massacre of 2008.

I think we all know who the perp is.

Green Eggs/Stools and Ham

Oh the joys of medicine.

According to my blood test, I have the hemo count of an anemic tomato. I also have the blood pressure of a wet Kleenex. Were I to be horribly axe-murdered, it would be very anti-climatic. I mean, special-effects wise. I'd still scream well.

So I have to take a Bunch-o-Pills. One of them is iron, which is great, because I'm like ALWAYS in the mood for a good stomach ache and some constipation, so it works well. I've just been prescribed a new type of "iron therapy", which really sounds like hard-core counselling that involves yelling and beating. This new one, which isn't supposed to hurt my delicate wee tummy, comes with a package insert that bears sharing:

This medicine is should be taken at bedtime, but may be taken with food if it upsets your stomach.

I'm taking this so that it doesn't upset my stomach. Right?

Do not take it within one hour before or two hours after antacids, eggs, whole grains, cereal, milk, milk products, coffee or tea.

Woah! That's pretty much - ANYTHING. Oh, I suppose I could take it with an entire bag of Twizzlers. It says nothing about Twizzlers.

Do not lie down for 30 minutes after taking this medicine.

What - wait! I can't LIE DOWN! Isn't that what people normally do "at bedtime".

A: Why are you standing beside the bed?
K: I just took my iron so I can't lie down. Do you think I should stand on my head too?
A: Yes. You want to get the most out of it.

Side effects include nausea, constipation, diarrhea, green stools, and stomach discomfort. If they continue or are bothersome, check with your doctor.

Oh, I'm thinking that GREEN #$%^&* STOOLS would be "bothersome".

Let the games begin!

Every Wednesday is Tip Day!

Q: Hey Tip Lady! How can I keep my family organized/teach my kid to read/not overbook myself and create art all at the same time?

A: It's funny, you know. I get this question ALL THE TIME! I totally stole this idea from Martha. Yes, that Martha. The one I hate to love, but admit that I am secretly in awe of...or her staff. Yeah, it's probably not even her idea...but regardless, there is a funkadelic way to do this.

And there it is! In the photo. That's my desk - yes, it's where the magic happens. (It's where I sit and go..."Man, writing is really hard," then eat another scone.)

Okay. So you can paint a chalkboard calendar on your wall. I consider it art because "art" is a loose term and I think it looks better than something on your fridge. And it's freaking huge, so you can write all kinds of stuff in the squares. This way, when your kid wants to know when so-and-so's birthday party is - you can tell her to look for it on the calendar - which, because it's four feet high, is kind of hard to miss. (The gigantic nature of this project comes in handy when your husband accuses you of not telling him that you are hosting a dinner party...it was on the FOUR FOOT calendar! Then you can say, "What can't you read?" and he'll get all snarky and you'll be all smug. It works out really well. )

Here's how you do it:

1. Get some chalkboard paint and some white latex paint. You probably have the latter lying around anyway.

2. Figure out a grid - I did a slightly wonky checkerboard pattern. Use pencil to write in A, B, or C.

3. Tape it off and paint the A's pure black. Let it dry. Eat a muffin.

4. Cut the pure black paint with a touch of white for a dark grey and paint the Bs. Let it dry. Have some tea.

5. Cut the dark grey with more white for a lighter grey. Repeat until your grid is painted.

By now you should be bloated and caffeinated.

I used stickers for the days of the week. But you could write those in too if you want.

Avoiding the Ice Cream Headache

When he was seven, my brother saw his teacher at the grocery store. He stopped in his tracks and with jaw agape, asked, "You eat FOOD!?" We still bug him about that.

He maintains that when you're seven, you don't realize that teachers are normal people. What scares me is that there are people a lot older than seven who don't realize it either. And that's what everyone's been pointing out here. Thankfully. This has been a learning experience.

Teaching reports are all fine, but the only real evaluator is the kid whose sat in your class for five months. When I was about to move from Ontario, one of my students said, "I just hope your new kids in B.C. know how lucky they are,". After I adjusted his marks accordingly (KIDDING! NEVER DONE IT! NEVER WOULD! CHILL-AX!), I felt pretty damn (sorry...'darn') good. Okay, so not all my students have felt that way, but all it takes is a few to say you've made a difference to keep doing it. Especially at the last school I was at- the one that caused me to leave teaching altogether.

There, it was too intense because I couldn't save them all. I saw the coping strategies of many teachers, and it was to stop caring so much. I swore that as soon I had to stop caring, I simply had to stop teaching.

Do I regret it? Not. At. All. I needed to do that, and I totally understand why I did. I stopped teaching because I love kids. They deserve my best, and if I can't give it, I won't rip them off with a shadow of what I could do. They get too much of that already. Look, I do a lot of things half-assed. A lot. But teaching's not one of them. It's what I'm most passionate about. And every passionate person is a little crazy.

So, I know that this is what I'm meant to do. I tried the corporate world and it nearly killed my soul. I tried something else and it was only when they asked me to teach a workshop that I came alive again.

When I was teaching Canadian history, I found a manual from the late 1800's on how female teachers were expected to conduct themselves. One rule was that she was not to frequent ice cream parlours. So I asked the class, "Why do you think that was?" and one boy said, "Because she could get, like, a really bad ice cream headache,"?

In my own way, I frequent ice cream parlours. I love to write. Sometimes what I write is a little...risque. I love to act. Sometimes the script calls for me to do things that are a bit risque. I don't want to give up my ice cream in order to be considered 'appropriate' as a teacher. Moreover, I believe that I shouldn't have to. Sharon's right - you gotta get the job in order to make the difference. But Natasha is also right - do you want to work for a school board that will only hire you under the pretense of perfection? (I've worked with perfect teachers. Their skeletons are scary. Really scary.)

I realize that, when I'm in front of a class of malleable minds, I've got to be careful what I say. They always want to know your position on gay marriage, abortion, capital punishment, and so on. I never tell them because it's not my place. What IS my place is showing them they are capable of making their own opinions; not their parents', and not their teachers'. Have I gotten in trouble for that? Yes. Do I regret teaching a kid to find his own thoughts? Never. So, I stand behind that having my own thoughts is a good thing. Publishing them...well, that's the question.

This has been a real self-discovery and I'm grateful for everyone's thoughtful input. I will consider what I write from a different perspective and I'll tone down the language (just remember I learned it all from my students).

I just really hope the school boards know that "actress" doesn't mean "prostitute" any more.

Today's lesson: Being comfortable enough with your flaws makes you unfit to teach.

Yesterday, a "Random Passerby" left a comment on this blog. This is it:

As you go out looking for work, keep in mind that (after looking at your resume) many potential employers will type your name into Google to see what comes up. Like this blog, for instance.

So put yourself in the mindset of a prospective employer, especially a school. Are there things on this blog that would present you in a less-than-flattering light -- or that students or parents could use against you?

If so, you may find it to your advantage to disguise your identity on this site....


Maybe I need to up the dose, but I'm going to make a big deal out of this.

What this blog reveals about me is "less-than-flattering". Sometimes I'm snarky and small-minded and most of the time, I don't believe my own bullshit. I question myself. I question others. Getting into trouble for speaking up is kind of a reflex for me. I tried to control it, but I just went insane and starting typing.

The only decent writing is honest writing. That's what I do here; reveal the shocking truth that I am, in fact, human and flawed.

Random Passerby, I get your point. I really do. And I appreciate where you're coming from on this. But if a prospective employer is interested enough to Google me, the worst thing he'd find is evidence of all my years on Degrassi. (To which the only appropriate answer is: I WAS YOUNG! I NEEDED THE MONEY!)

Teachers have a privileged role in society, and the way they conduct themselves at work has to be exemplary. A teacher whose hobby is streaking or making pipe bombs could be in for some rough times. But a teacher who writes a tongue-in-cheek blog is pretty harmless. My students would be totally bored by this, and their parents would probably relate to the moments of post-partem dementia.

Random Passerby, telling me to conceal my identity in order to be considered fit to teach made me throw up a little.

Just being honest.

I Smell a Rat

Even before Nic was born I pored over Kids Are Worth It because Barbara Coloroso is the closest thing to parenting divinity that I know of.

When a child is 'telling on' her sibling, Coloroso's advice is to ask the child if she is telling you in order to help the other person or to get the other person in trouble. Invariably, the mere question is enough to shame the tattle-teller into improving her ways.

I tried it today.

ROO: Nicola spilled!

ME: Are you telling me to help her or to get her in trouble?

ROO: To get her in trouble.

ME: Ah.

What do you do when they apparently have no conscience?

Virtual Pets

Nic comes home from school with the latest Scholastic order form of books galore. She cracked it immediately to page 4 announcing that she was desperate for the new Rainbow Magic books by Daisy Meadows. Okay, if Daisy Meadows is her real name, then I apologize, but to me, it smacks of porn star.

The latest books are about pet fairies.

ME: Why would you want a virtual pet when you have a real one?

NIC: Because it's a fairy one.

ME: We'll put some wings on Charlie, then you can take care of him. Like you're supposed to!

That ended the discussion rather quickly.

Every Wednesday is Tip Day!

Q: Hey Tip Lady,
I've got this box of baking soda in my fridge because they say it'll get rid of bad smells. Are they lying?

A: Yes. They're lying.

Baking soda doesn't do anything about bad refrigerator smells. It does, however, do a lot of other nifty things. Baking soda is one of the greatest inventions.

Before I had kids I didn't care what I used to clean the tub. Actually, I didn't clean the tub. At all. But once I was about to put my precious babies into it - it had to be disinfected. But wait! What if there are trace chemicals of the disinfectant that get on baby's delicate skin? Gah! So, for the past few years, I've only used baking soda to clean it. It's abrasive enough to de-grime it, but gentle enough that adding a little to the water will actually soften your skin. You can clean your tub while you're in it! Ooh multitasking!

Honestly - can you imagine using something on your face that you use to clean your tub? But you CAN! Make a paste of B.S. and water and you have a gentle exfoliant. Or mix it with your cleanser for ridiculously squeaky-clean skin.

Mix some with hydrogen peroxide and you have the only toothpaste that will de-fuzz your teeth.

If you want to see something totally radical, and if you are as hurting for entertainment as I am, put some in a baggie with some white vinegar, tie the bag onto your shower head and watch it de-gunk it. It bubbles. Get excited.

But wait! There's more! The water/B.S. paste will soothe sunburns and bug bites and may even calm a crazed maniac. If you can get him to stay still long enough to rub paste on him.