totally unrelated to actually being in the same vicinity as my children.
As long-time readers know, I am deep into that weird world of academia where babies -ought- to be entirely compatible with flexible work schedules and a career which is generally short on the 9 to 5, firm deadlines genre. However, my department and university have not exactly been thrilled about my "willful choice" to have children. And since I am in a heavily male-dominated subfield where any mention of home life/children/non-academic life is seen as an indication of weakness, I tend not to mention my babies unless directly asked. I, after all, managed to teach a class starting at 3 weeks post-partum without once mentioning that I had a baby.
Which is all background to the rather odd experience I had today when a student mentioned something about the challenge of having kids (in the context of what we were discussing, which was something rather technical) and out popped: Oh, I have 2. It was actually quite delightful to watch the 3 female undergrads in the class look up surprised, and not so shockingly all 3 stayed after to carry on the conversation and ask about life with babies and a soon-to-be-written PhD. In a weird way on the spot I felt the need to tell these little girls (18-22 is so young) that real life goes on, that it is possible (albeit hardly elegantly) to have babies and discuss X. Just an odd little moment in my life.
Medical update: Apparently ringwo.rm is itchy, not painful. So make that rin.gworm AND staph. And no, there are no oral meds to treat it that our ok for breastfeeding. Oh well. Will be making do with lotions and potions and lots of patience. And an imaginary washing machine to keep my baby from catching it.
Friday, October 7, 2011
Getting used to
the fact that my body seems to be rather confused as to its age. There have been the rather unexpected spate of illnesses usually found in people about twice my age (can we say intestinal blo.ckage and sh.ingles) but also recently those found in the set half my age (first round of strep throat in over 20 years) so I guess it shouldn't be all that big a surprise that it's happening again. See, I've had a small itchy spot on my scalp for months. Going back to at least August, maybe longer. A small, scaly itchy spot which flakes every couple of days and has a nice contained "ring" formation. Easy to ignore until some lab results indicated my lymph nodes are going crazy at the moment.
Bueller? Bueller? Gonna be a fun consultation between LC and doctor tomorrow as we figure out how to treat rin.gworm in the breastfeeding mama. Oh my.
And nice thought to wash sheets frequently in hot water when we have no laundry at all. Oh yeah, and then there's the whole co-sleeping thing. I just hope that somehow the dumpling manages to avoid this delightful little endeavor ...
Bueller? Bueller? Gonna be a fun consultation between LC and doctor tomorrow as we figure out how to treat rin.gworm in the breastfeeding mama. Oh my.
And nice thought to wash sheets frequently in hot water when we have no laundry at all. Oh yeah, and then there's the whole co-sleeping thing. I just hope that somehow the dumpling manages to avoid this delightful little endeavor ...
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
To my new officemate:
This may not be the most polite thing to say, but I cannot tell you how glad I am that you are foreign. See, you may not know that the desk you are currently occupying is officially assigned to a colleague of mine. A very nice colleague, the type of woman who spotted my breastpump immediately and gushed about the joys of feeding her children (now grown and almost my age).
So, you see, when you barged in unannounced while I had my shirt completely off and a rather nifty plastic contraption squeezing my breasts every 4-6 seconds I was a bit mortified, but I appreciate how much you took it all in stride and immediately extended your arm to shake hands before I could even reach for a blanket to throw over me (see, the woman who is supposed to be here shows up about once a month and always knocks). I guess I just presumed that you were as much of a pro-breastfeeding activist as my former officemate.
So yes, I am thankful that you waited 3 full days before rather politely inquiring "what exactly I was doing to my breasts" and "why." You foreigness makes me feel better that we did full introductions while my shirt was off and my nipples fully exposed. I mean, you come from a country where topless beaches are the norm, so hopefully you took it all in the stride, although our submarine office is hardly a beach ... and at the very least you've seen what real tired and worn breasts look like (yes, organic food and extended nursing aside, plastic surgery will be scheduled for the next decade, folks).
And I guess all of that will compensate for the fact that you still don't knock.
So, you see, when you barged in unannounced while I had my shirt completely off and a rather nifty plastic contraption squeezing my breasts every 4-6 seconds I was a bit mortified, but I appreciate how much you took it all in stride and immediately extended your arm to shake hands before I could even reach for a blanket to throw over me (see, the woman who is supposed to be here shows up about once a month and always knocks). I guess I just presumed that you were as much of a pro-breastfeeding activist as my former officemate.
So yes, I am thankful that you waited 3 full days before rather politely inquiring "what exactly I was doing to my breasts" and "why." You foreigness makes me feel better that we did full introductions while my shirt was off and my nipples fully exposed. I mean, you come from a country where topless beaches are the norm, so hopefully you took it all in the stride, although our submarine office is hardly a beach ... and at the very least you've seen what real tired and worn breasts look like (yes, organic food and extended nursing aside, plastic surgery will be scheduled for the next decade, folks).
And I guess all of that will compensate for the fact that you still don't knock.
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
Ordinary problems, magnified
Life in the big city ...
The fusspot has developed rather a complex about strangers touching her. It's fine and normal and not a big deal. Except, see, we live in a rather densely populated neighborhood and we take a lot of transportation. So today we took 3 buses and 1 subway car and while I truly am able to carry both my children and a stroller and a big bag onto a bus or down a flight of stairs into the subway, I am well aware that it all looks rather awkward. So people often very kindly try to help. By doing things like picking up the fusspot and setting her on a bus seat (this morning) or trying to hold her hand as she climbs off the bus (this afternoon) or trying to lift her out of a super-duper-crowded bus at rush hour as I tried to keep people from banging the dumpling's head (rush hour today, obviously) and her reaction is mostly to scream bloody murder, attempt to lie down on the floor, kick, scream. Basically everything except bite which is what I finally shrieked in exasperation at the sweet grandmother who tried to help her off the bus at 6:30 pm today (Sorry, dear, sweet old lady. She doesn't actually bite and I'm sorry that I startled you so by yelling "She bites! Don't touch") but the truth is that I couldn't think of anything else to say by that point in the day.
Suggestions? I always thank people and remind the fusspot repeatedly how very nice our friends in the neighborhood are (yes, we are saccharine sometimes) and we have never even mentioned stranger danger.
Oh, and the day started at a lovely preschool "meet and greet" (necessary to apply). And the preschool was quite adorable and I would very happily send the fusspot off there every day if it weren't for the absurd price tag. So we're exploring cheaper options (which in our neighborhood means the miracle of the public pre-K lottery or Catholic schools. Poor Mandarin-speaking-Jewish-girl sent off to learn her catechism although I was in Christian schools until college and never had a problem). I hope that we are not in the city by next fall and our daycare is always a reasonable back-up, but there is a significant part of me which will be quite sad if the fusspot never gets to spend time in a classrooms with a sandbox and dress-up clothes and blocks and my impression is that even outside of NYC most public kindergartens today are not so "play-based" and "non-academic." Still, not so sad that I am willing to spend $14,000 to fix it.
The fusspot has developed rather a complex about strangers touching her. It's fine and normal and not a big deal. Except, see, we live in a rather densely populated neighborhood and we take a lot of transportation. So today we took 3 buses and 1 subway car and while I truly am able to carry both my children and a stroller and a big bag onto a bus or down a flight of stairs into the subway, I am well aware that it all looks rather awkward. So people often very kindly try to help. By doing things like picking up the fusspot and setting her on a bus seat (this morning) or trying to hold her hand as she climbs off the bus (this afternoon) or trying to lift her out of a super-duper-crowded bus at rush hour as I tried to keep people from banging the dumpling's head (rush hour today, obviously) and her reaction is mostly to scream bloody murder, attempt to lie down on the floor, kick, scream. Basically everything except bite which is what I finally shrieked in exasperation at the sweet grandmother who tried to help her off the bus at 6:30 pm today (Sorry, dear, sweet old lady. She doesn't actually bite and I'm sorry that I startled you so by yelling "She bites! Don't touch") but the truth is that I couldn't think of anything else to say by that point in the day.
Suggestions? I always thank people and remind the fusspot repeatedly how very nice our friends in the neighborhood are (yes, we are saccharine sometimes) and we have never even mentioned stranger danger.
Oh, and the day started at a lovely preschool "meet and greet" (necessary to apply). And the preschool was quite adorable and I would very happily send the fusspot off there every day if it weren't for the absurd price tag. So we're exploring cheaper options (which in our neighborhood means the miracle of the public pre-K lottery or Catholic schools. Poor Mandarin-speaking-Jewish-girl sent off to learn her catechism although I was in Christian schools until college and never had a problem). I hope that we are not in the city by next fall and our daycare is always a reasonable back-up, but there is a significant part of me which will be quite sad if the fusspot never gets to spend time in a classrooms with a sandbox and dress-up clothes and blocks and my impression is that even outside of NYC most public kindergartens today are not so "play-based" and "non-academic." Still, not so sad that I am willing to spend $14,000 to fix it.
Monday, September 26, 2011
Food, Round 2
Subtitled: And now for some lighter fare.
And a disclaimer: When we had the fusspot many people remarked on how we were such relaxed parents (really, I save most of my obsessing for the internets). And when we added the dumpling people suggested that we might even be a bit too far over the edge towards hands-off parenting. So this is not to suggest that our food choices are best, or that you should consider them. We have no history of food allergies in our family and ... well ... it's been fine thus far.
Long-time readers may recall that we are a bit of food purists when it comes to babies. Or perhaps the more accurate descriptor is were, although we certainly still are obsessive in our own way. My guess is that it stems from all of the anxiety about my tiny, non-eating baby (that would be #1) and the joy of finally having my body doing one thing well (that would be breastfeeding, with work). The fusspot had her first solids at 7 months and no regular meals until 9 months. We strictly followed the "baby lead weaning approach" (no purees, all finger foods, weaning in the British sense of introducing solids, big focus on mealtime being fun which also means very messy). She ate everything until age 2. Spicy Indian food? Olive pate? Aged spoiled Chinese eggs? Sure!
And here we are with Project 2.0. Breastfeeding is fine now, he's small but not underweight, and he's a boy in a world where I have read way too many pesticides-destruction-pollution-disease-doom books. His first meal was self-fed avocado at a few days past 6 months. Then some banana and a few jars of organic baby food (at daycare). Then I found an article suggesting that early introduction of potential allergens is fine (see, you really can find anything on google) and despite the sketch source it certainly confirms with what we were looking for (and there is after all a very good study of early introduction of peanuts in my genetic peoples and low allergy rates). So this weekend our dumpling ate:
- black beans covered in spicy enchilada sauce (lovingly picked out of his sister's dinner and offered to him. We've discovered that she's verbal enough that it really matters what you call things. No way my daughter was going to try enchiladas, but hot cheesy sandwich? Sure)
- hummus offered free from a vendor downtown. Lovingly dished up with the soft metal lid to the horror of the first-time parents sitting next to us at the playground
- pancakes (eggs! milk! butter! wheat! and he's still alive), also sweetly rejected from the fusspot's plate and transferred to the dumpling
So there you have it: we have resolved that baby can eat absolutely anything except for nuts and honey. We'll try nuts this weekend and skip honey until his birthday.
And a disclaimer: When we had the fusspot many people remarked on how we were such relaxed parents (really, I save most of my obsessing for the internets). And when we added the dumpling people suggested that we might even be a bit too far over the edge towards hands-off parenting. So this is not to suggest that our food choices are best, or that you should consider them. We have no history of food allergies in our family and ... well ... it's been fine thus far.
Long-time readers may recall that we are a bit of food purists when it comes to babies. Or perhaps the more accurate descriptor is were, although we certainly still are obsessive in our own way. My guess is that it stems from all of the anxiety about my tiny, non-eating baby (that would be #1) and the joy of finally having my body doing one thing well (that would be breastfeeding, with work). The fusspot had her first solids at 7 months and no regular meals until 9 months. We strictly followed the "baby lead weaning approach" (no purees, all finger foods, weaning in the British sense of introducing solids, big focus on mealtime being fun which also means very messy). She ate everything until age 2. Spicy Indian food? Olive pate? Aged spoiled Chinese eggs? Sure!
And here we are with Project 2.0. Breastfeeding is fine now, he's small but not underweight, and he's a boy in a world where I have read way too many pesticides-destruction-pollution-disease-doom books. His first meal was self-fed avocado at a few days past 6 months. Then some banana and a few jars of organic baby food (at daycare). Then I found an article suggesting that early introduction of potential allergens is fine (see, you really can find anything on google) and despite the sketch source it certainly confirms with what we were looking for (and there is after all a very good study of early introduction of peanuts in my genetic peoples and low allergy rates). So this weekend our dumpling ate:
- black beans covered in spicy enchilada sauce (lovingly picked out of his sister's dinner and offered to him. We've discovered that she's verbal enough that it really matters what you call things. No way my daughter was going to try enchiladas, but hot cheesy sandwich? Sure)
- hummus offered free from a vendor downtown. Lovingly dished up with the soft metal lid to the horror of the first-time parents sitting next to us at the playground
- pancakes (eggs! milk! butter! wheat! and he's still alive), also sweetly rejected from the fusspot's plate and transferred to the dumpling
So there you have it: we have resolved that baby can eat absolutely anything except for nuts and honey. We'll try nuts this weekend and skip honey until his birthday.
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
This stuff is hard
subtitled: stating the obvious. Again.
It's a very contemporary question, but I am always intrigued by discussions of how women "do it all." How they raise kids/work/have a loving relationship with their partner/act as good friends/serve their religious community/etc. And there's plenty of decent advice out, and an equally large pile of people who sweetly explain that they don't quite do it all ("Oh my! I missed sending an anniversary card last year!"). And it has come to my attention that lots of women struggle, and probably those who have it the worst are the ones who drop off of e-mail/blogging/relationships for months or years at a time, but it's just hard.
The solutions that seem so popular are
1. Increase your daycare. We can't and don't really want to.
2. Delegate to your partner/parents. No go when I haven't even seen my husband before midnight on a weekday evening in weeks (I read a blog of a woman who writes lovingly of her children and all the things they do together. But she also happens to work the same job as my husband, albeit with significantly less hours. And it wasn't until she posted her everyday routine that it became apparent that she spends no more than 45 minutes every day with her children when they are awake. That's combined morning and evening and she is committed enough to leave work for dinner and go back, an option my husband is not yet comfortable with. This is not a critique of her - her husband seems to do a lovely job parenting, but not exactly a model I can adopt given JD's schedule ...)
3. Skip the "extras." I wish we could do this more but now that the dumpling is mobile I really do need to clean every couple of days because he will find any smudgeon of dirt on the floor and eat it, and while I'd love to order take-out every night it's both expensive and unhealthy and I have to at least save pizza or mac and cheese for the nights I have work commitments and we have a babysitter. I don't really feel that there are that many more extras to cut.
4. Phone it in to work. I'd love to but I'm not really in a career where that is possible, especially right now. I am in an overworked, underpaid, way-too-competitive career where everyone is on e-mail at midnight (and 2 am as I learned this morning when I got 3 responses to an e-mail before 3 am). And obviously the most likely thing to give is my career, but right now JD has given me his full support to stick with it for another year or two and see what happens.
So I guess what I want to write is that I am doing it all and I haven't found any shortcuts. Here's an ordinary day:
7:30 am fusspot wakes up - push my husband out of bed to offer her breakfast while I nurse the dumpling
7:50 am in the shower, out the door by 8:20/8:30 with pump parts/lunch/supplies for the kids/my laptop/work stuff. The stroller weighs about 75-80 lbs when loaded and takes 3-4 trips to load and unload when we get home. Oh, and our building has 6 steps and our daycare has 2
8:30-8:45 jog/power walk the mile to work
8:45-9/9:15 drop the kids at daycare
9:30 at my desk. Pump
12 Pump
4 pm Pump
4:45/5 collect kids. This usually takes a half hour. I need to nurse the baby and I like to hang around so that I can spend some time with our daycare provider. However, it also makes dinner perpetually late
5-6 Walk leisurely home (1 mile) pushing 80 lb stroller. Along the way we either stop at the playground for a few minutes or pick up groceries or drop by the laundromat/drug store/coffee place (JD likes to have freshly ground coffee in the apartment. It is one of the few little sweet things that I squeeze into my week for him)
6 pm Panic about dinner, 6:30 serve some pitiful mixture of baked pasta or frozen meat or yogurt
7 pm nurse baby, start getting fusspot ready for bed
7:30/7:45 fusspot in bed, play with dumpling
8:30 put dumpling down to bed. I would put him down a bit earlier but he is woken almost every night by the fusspot as she loudly asks for water or to use the bathroom or for her light on/off or a new CD or whatever her 2-year-old mind can find to stall. I would rank this as the #1 downside of living in 600 square feet
9:15 pm BABIES ASLEEP! Do dishes, cook dinner for next night if I'm feeling responsible, wash pump parts, clean up apartment, sort and put away laundry
10 pm Pump. Relax. Send e-mails
10:30 Time to start work
12 am/1 am JD walks in the door (he often stops at the grocery store on the way home, but sometimes I run out when he gets home to do the shopping. NYC is incredible for real 24 hour stores). Talk to my husband.
1:30 Bedtime
4 am nurse baby and get ready to do it all over again
And on Thursdays and the weekends I do all of the above minus the trip in to daycare/work. Meaning that I spend all day with the kids and then try to sit down by 10 pm to put in a few hours of work. And what is most disappointing is that I am so tired that my work is floundering pitifully at the moment. But I guess it does make me feel a bit better to just put it out there: what I am doing is hard, and there are no short-cuts. My husband who is intellectually committed to co-parenting equally just isn't around right now to help. And when he does have time off on the weekends he wants to spend his evenings either out alone or with friends. And I always say yes because honestly it is worth it to have a happy husband rather than a gloomy one angrily mopping my floors on a Saturday night. Believe me, I've tried it both ways and I would take happy absentee husband over dutiful depressed co-parent any day.
My family is a total no go for help, and my in-laws have been surprisingly absent in recent months (although visiting them is always a real break for me in that they very deliberately take care of early mornings/cooking/laundry/baths). We do squeeze in 3 social activities for the fusspot beyond daycare every week - 3 different local classes - and they are all a good break for me, but the hassle of getting there can sometimes defeat the purpose (more on that in another post, but the fusspot has developed a complex about strangers touching her and it is making public transport a rather never-wracking endeavor in our neighborhood. I feel bad for her but I also feel bad for the nice old ladies who are trying to help out).
So ... when I found out very a rather obtuse e-mail this morning that I had been fired from my part-time job which is currently paying for my health insurance and childcare, well, I probably was not as tactful as I should have been in my response. It's partially the sleep deprivation, largely the headache (sexy librarian glasses coming soon!), and mostly just the frustration at this whole mess and being the unlucky one yet again, but there's a tiny part of me which says, I really don't care. I'm doing the best I can and I will fight as hard as possible to keep that job (I mean, I did sign a contract ...) but if I can't, I can't.
It's a very contemporary question, but I am always intrigued by discussions of how women "do it all." How they raise kids/work/have a loving relationship with their partner/act as good friends/serve their religious community/etc. And there's plenty of decent advice out, and an equally large pile of people who sweetly explain that they don't quite do it all ("Oh my! I missed sending an anniversary card last year!"). And it has come to my attention that lots of women struggle, and probably those who have it the worst are the ones who drop off of e-mail/blogging/relationships for months or years at a time, but it's just hard.
The solutions that seem so popular are
1. Increase your daycare. We can't and don't really want to.
2. Delegate to your partner/parents. No go when I haven't even seen my husband before midnight on a weekday evening in weeks (I read a blog of a woman who writes lovingly of her children and all the things they do together. But she also happens to work the same job as my husband, albeit with significantly less hours. And it wasn't until she posted her everyday routine that it became apparent that she spends no more than 45 minutes every day with her children when they are awake. That's combined morning and evening and she is committed enough to leave work for dinner and go back, an option my husband is not yet comfortable with. This is not a critique of her - her husband seems to do a lovely job parenting, but not exactly a model I can adopt given JD's schedule ...)
3. Skip the "extras." I wish we could do this more but now that the dumpling is mobile I really do need to clean every couple of days because he will find any smudgeon of dirt on the floor and eat it, and while I'd love to order take-out every night it's both expensive and unhealthy and I have to at least save pizza or mac and cheese for the nights I have work commitments and we have a babysitter. I don't really feel that there are that many more extras to cut.
4. Phone it in to work. I'd love to but I'm not really in a career where that is possible, especially right now. I am in an overworked, underpaid, way-too-competitive career where everyone is on e-mail at midnight (and 2 am as I learned this morning when I got 3 responses to an e-mail before 3 am). And obviously the most likely thing to give is my career, but right now JD has given me his full support to stick with it for another year or two and see what happens.
So I guess what I want to write is that I am doing it all and I haven't found any shortcuts. Here's an ordinary day:
7:30 am fusspot wakes up - push my husband out of bed to offer her breakfast while I nurse the dumpling
7:50 am in the shower, out the door by 8:20/8:30 with pump parts/lunch/supplies for the kids/my laptop/work stuff. The stroller weighs about 75-80 lbs when loaded and takes 3-4 trips to load and unload when we get home. Oh, and our building has 6 steps and our daycare has 2
8:30-8:45 jog/power walk the mile to work
8:45-9/9:15 drop the kids at daycare
9:30 at my desk. Pump
12 Pump
4 pm Pump
4:45/5 collect kids. This usually takes a half hour. I need to nurse the baby and I like to hang around so that I can spend some time with our daycare provider. However, it also makes dinner perpetually late
5-6 Walk leisurely home (1 mile) pushing 80 lb stroller. Along the way we either stop at the playground for a few minutes or pick up groceries or drop by the laundromat/drug store/coffee place (JD likes to have freshly ground coffee in the apartment. It is one of the few little sweet things that I squeeze into my week for him)
6 pm Panic about dinner, 6:30 serve some pitiful mixture of baked pasta or frozen meat or yogurt
7 pm nurse baby, start getting fusspot ready for bed
7:30/7:45 fusspot in bed, play with dumpling
8:30 put dumpling down to bed. I would put him down a bit earlier but he is woken almost every night by the fusspot as she loudly asks for water or to use the bathroom or for her light on/off or a new CD or whatever her 2-year-old mind can find to stall. I would rank this as the #1 downside of living in 600 square feet
9:15 pm BABIES ASLEEP! Do dishes, cook dinner for next night if I'm feeling responsible, wash pump parts, clean up apartment, sort and put away laundry
10 pm Pump. Relax. Send e-mails
10:30 Time to start work
12 am/1 am JD walks in the door (he often stops at the grocery store on the way home, but sometimes I run out when he gets home to do the shopping. NYC is incredible for real 24 hour stores). Talk to my husband.
1:30 Bedtime
4 am nurse baby and get ready to do it all over again
And on Thursdays and the weekends I do all of the above minus the trip in to daycare/work. Meaning that I spend all day with the kids and then try to sit down by 10 pm to put in a few hours of work. And what is most disappointing is that I am so tired that my work is floundering pitifully at the moment. But I guess it does make me feel a bit better to just put it out there: what I am doing is hard, and there are no short-cuts. My husband who is intellectually committed to co-parenting equally just isn't around right now to help. And when he does have time off on the weekends he wants to spend his evenings either out alone or with friends. And I always say yes because honestly it is worth it to have a happy husband rather than a gloomy one angrily mopping my floors on a Saturday night. Believe me, I've tried it both ways and I would take happy absentee husband over dutiful depressed co-parent any day.
My family is a total no go for help, and my in-laws have been surprisingly absent in recent months (although visiting them is always a real break for me in that they very deliberately take care of early mornings/cooking/laundry/baths). We do squeeze in 3 social activities for the fusspot beyond daycare every week - 3 different local classes - and they are all a good break for me, but the hassle of getting there can sometimes defeat the purpose (more on that in another post, but the fusspot has developed a complex about strangers touching her and it is making public transport a rather never-wracking endeavor in our neighborhood. I feel bad for her but I also feel bad for the nice old ladies who are trying to help out).
So ... when I found out very a rather obtuse e-mail this morning that I had been fired from my part-time job which is currently paying for my health insurance and childcare, well, I probably was not as tactful as I should have been in my response. It's partially the sleep deprivation, largely the headache (sexy librarian glasses coming soon!), and mostly just the frustration at this whole mess and being the unlucky one yet again, but there's a tiny part of me which says, I really don't care. I'm doing the best I can and I will fight as hard as possible to keep that job (I mean, I did sign a contract ...) but if I can't, I can't.
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
Headache explained
And it's not even all that bad.
I need glasses. Apparently, rather seriously need glasses. In my right eye, left eye is fine. Which also explains why the headaches were always slightly lopsided.
And now that I know I want to run out and buy glasses, but I think that the best plan is to wait until Sunday and hope that JD can come along with me.
Sigh. Not only has graduate school swallowed up my 20s but now it's stolen my vision too. At least it wasn't anything serious and I can stop chugging water every day.
I need glasses. Apparently, rather seriously need glasses. In my right eye, left eye is fine. Which also explains why the headaches were always slightly lopsided.
And now that I know I want to run out and buy glasses, but I think that the best plan is to wait until Sunday and hope that JD can come along with me.
Sigh. Not only has graduate school swallowed up my 20s but now it's stolen my vision too. At least it wasn't anything serious and I can stop chugging water every day.
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