So what else is new?

Dovi went to the orthotist last night. Who ever makes a 7 pm appointment to get their 11 year old's orthotics looked at? Evidently me.

So the very lovely guy checked out Dovi's orthotics that have been giving him so many blister issues. After we had a whole discussion about Jewish Genetic Diseases and how he and his fiance really should get tested. Which they hopefully will do.

It turns out that Dovi's having orthotic issues NOT from the orthotics not fitting correctly (wow that was a double negative if I've ever heard one). Rather, the orthotic are giving him blisters because they are not the correct orthotics for him.

Dovi has multiple things wrong with his feet. He pronates, he has tightish heel cords, and he keeps his feet in this odd flexion position. Since he keeps his feet in this position, and he does not feel any pain, the orthotist who will get genetic tested explained to me that he will have ongoing blistering issues. What he really needs are not the SMOs he has, that my insurance company just paid over $1,000 for, but he actually needs AFOs. Which my insurance company will assumadly pay $1,500 for. Because I certainly aint. But I foresee a large fight in my future. The SMOs? Umm made 7/31/08. It's etched into the plastic. J. P 7/31/08.

This is what he has-SMOs. They go about 2 inches above his ankle.

This is that he's getting. Hinged AFOs. Up to his knees. Which is not a problem in the winter, but in the summer, I will cry. He will look even more freaking disabled than he does already. I mean, everyone at his camps knows him and loves him already. But boo hoo....they look so disabled. I guess it can go with my handicapped tag in my van and his wheelchair. Boo freaking hoo.

But on the upside he chose Bulls and Blackhawks designs. They're pretty snazzy, in a sad pathetic kind of way.

Oh and gals with a child who has had a cranial band? Want a hoot? This place does them too. And they are currently remodeling their office. And they made the casting room for bands all the way in the back, and added extra insulation so as to make it soundproof. You know why. heehee.

Tank You, Waffi!

I can't believe I forgot to post this!

Dovi's wonderful counselor from this past summer, Raphi, sent Dovi a birthday present. He loves it, of course.

So as Dovi would say...

Tank You, Waffi!

Hmmmm....what is this?

Ooh ooh! It's baseball cards!

Thank you, Raphi!

My you all felt strongly about that.

If I had known that you all would feel so strongly about my fashion choices, I would've posted my Ugg quandary earlier. My word! 14 comments! That's almost my world record-my highest comment count in the past was 20 for Dovi's Birthday and 29 for my Magnum Opus-and then 14 for the Uggs???

Hee hee. I love you guys!

Sooo....the end result of the Ugg question.
Happy Birthday Sara. Love, Mommy.

My ever enabling, ever generous mother allowed me to avoid my insane issue of spending on myself by reading my post and buying me an early birthday gift.

Yes, I am very spoiled. Yes, my mother still buys me birthday gifts and I am 31 years old. Deal with it. You know you wish you were me.

My tootsies are warm and cozy this freezing cold (It was 18 freaking degrees!) Chicago morning.


And in case you all were wondering, my "open the Sienna" trick worked like a charm this morning. And as I was zipping down the street with a van full of kids and saw one of my happy readers, who shall remain nameless trying to get her van open, I showed her the correct way to implement the "Sara P patented frozen Sienna opening procedure"

And I was warm like a snowman.

EDITED: My sister has pointed out that "warm like a snowman" is an oxymoron and frankly makes no sense.

I was warm like an Eskimo.

Better now?

No Ugg or Not to Ugg....Ugh!!

So you all will have to indulge my insanity...

I'm in a quandary. I need new boots. I live here in snowy Chicago, and it's cold. And wintry. And generally icky. I'd like to sit home in my pajamas lounge wear all day. But sometimes, you've gotta get dressed and leave. As in every day you need to do that. And I am cold. I'm sitting at my desk at work with my heater running full blast. I like being cozy. Benjie and I constantly need to turn the ceiling fan in our bedroom (yes,I'm a nice wife who gave in to the darn need for an ugly ceiling fan in our otherwise pretty bedroom) on and off.

So back to the boots.

I need new ones. I want ones that are

• warm
• cozy
• waterproof to some degree
• stylish
• warm
• warm
• warm
• warm

Because, remember? I'm cold.

So basically, I want a pair of Uggs. So I'm trying to justify the gasp-worthy price tag. Preface this by saying that my six year old daughter has a pair of Uggs. Real, chestnut Uggs from Nordy's. Not fake Target ones. But let me explain that I had a boatload of Nordstroms Notes that I saved up just for that occasion. Why must my daughter have Uggs? I was the child who had the Flower Patch Kid. Not the Cabbage Patch Kid. The Flower Patch Kid. And it scarred me, it really did. Mommy, I understand your disdain for all things material. I get that you refused, on principle, to stand in line for like 15 hours to get me a doll, a doll that was just like every other doll. But kids, they want to fit in. And every. single. girl. at. Shana's. school. has Uggs. I kid you not. I didn't buy her school shoes. I bought her Uggs. So that's that with her.

But I don't spend money on myself. Despite rumors amongst my siblings to the contrary, I do not. I get a few new Shabbos outfits per season thanks to a lovely shopping trip with my mom to Fox's, but that's it. I really don't feel the need to buy for myself. I'm not a fashionista.

A few years back I was shopping with a friend, and we were at Banana Republic, and I tried on a black wrap dress-simple, elegant, I can wear it for years. I agonized over the price tag. It was $120. I told her that I haven't spent that much on myself in I don't remember how long. She marched me up to that counter and FORCED me to buy the dress. That was about two years ago, and let me tell you, that dress has served me well. But it's so hard to spend on myself. The skirt I'm wearing right now? Bought it 8 years ago while I was still in college.

Lest you all think I walk around looking like a shmatta, I really do not. I'm groomed. I'm clean. I'm reasonably fashionable. Not amazingly so, but I think I'm passable.

The last pair of winter boots I bought, Benjie's sister was a sophomore in high school. She is now married with 4 kids. I think I'm due. I even went so far as to throw out said boots at the end of last winter because they were so dated and heinous.

So I went to Target a few days ago and picked up a pair of their tall black fake Uggs. Price tag? $27.99. But let's be honest, peeps. Those suckers are made out of fake suede and polyester pile. They will last me, tops, 1 year. Maybe if I baby them, 2. And, frankly, they are the Flower Patch Kid of Uggs. They don't have that sneaky little brag tag on the back. So they are sitting in my bedroom. I have not worn them yet.

Because I am undecided. Should I just bite the bullet, say, "I'm going to wear those darned boots for at least 5 or 6 years, knowing my history, and just invest in the real shearling (or whatever the heck they are) Uggs?" Or say, "Screw the fad! I'm being thrifty"?

Because, you know, I really like being thrifty. Heck, I've been back to the meanies at KMart twice in the past two days to take advantage of their double coupon days and buy multiple boxes of Rice Crispies for $.50 each. Yes. $.50 each. Yesterday I walked out of there having spent $1.60 on three boxes of cereal.

So I'm kind of torn, as you can tell by the ridiculous length of this post.

So...to Ugg or not to Ugg...that is the question.

Anyone have any answers?

Ooh Ooh! A Bonus Post!

So because that post was just so utterly pathetic I thought you all might enjoy a brief synopsis of the conversation I just had with a nurse.

You see, Dovi is seen every year in New York by the lovely folks at the Dysautonomia Treatment and Evaluation Center. They coordinate his care. You know, something about "world wide expert on FD" just kinda gets people like me all twitchy and excited.

His appointment this year is in February.

Remember how Dovi has Medicaid through that lovely waiver program that I had the insane fight with the insane doctor at the insane hearing? Well, it seems that they offer some level of transportation funding to travel to and from doctor appointments. The idea of it is more like a medicar picking us up and driving us to Children's here in Lincoln Park, but we were told to apply for them to pay for our tickets to New York. And if he doesn't get that, we might get funding from another program we get services from DSCC, but first we need to get denied by Medicaid for transport, then maybe DSCC will pay.

Frankly, I don't care who pays, as long as it's not me.

So I've been chatting on and off for a week or so with this lovely nurse, Judy, at the transport company. She has to collect all this random information, why Dr. Axelrod is the best doctor, etc etc etc. So I've told her repeatedly that, y'know, there are only like 350 living people with FD now (correct me if I'm wrong, my loyal FD readers, as in Michelle). Dovi is number 512 of the total people diagnosed at the Center since its inception some 40 years ago. And, y'know, Dr. Axelrod. has. treated. every. single. one. of. them. So, she's kinda the expert? More like, she, and her associates, are really the only show in town, or in North America (and don't get me going with the politics. She's the only MD out there) available to guide us in the treatment of our son's rare, fatal genetic disease?

So we're going. Now please pay.

Back to my conversation.

So she says to me: "Have you ever gone to see Dr. XXX at Children's?" Now in Dr. XXX's defense, I'm sure he's a lovely doctor. A lovely GENETICIST. Yes, Geneticists see kids with FD. They are the ones who diagnose them and then send them on their merry way to Dr. Axelrod (noticing a pattern here?) Geneticists don't manage the day to day care of a kids with a genetic disease.

"Hi, Dr. XXX. Dovi's retching, y'know, it's really bad now. He's in crisis really bad. His BP's nuts and the valium isn't working. How much can I give him before we need to go in?"

Do you think he'd know what to do about that?

Neither do I.

So when lovely Judy asked me that question, "Do I know Dr. XXX, he has seen kids with FD before?"

My response?

"No. I have not. And I will not"

But I said it nicely. Sort of.

Now pay, sillies.

Have no fear, my faithful followers

I would not leave you a day without a post. But it's kinda random.

• Does anyone else have problems with their Sienna's power door freezing shut? It's possibly the most annoying thing ever on a cold snowy winter morning, although I've finally figured out the secret to get it open.
• I believe that there should be a two hour limit on all dinners that one needs to go to. After two hours one tends to get a little punchy.
• thank you those of you who have so far sponsored me for the rapidly-approaching-marathon. Anyone else who'd like to contribute, click here!
• When I am cheery and happy to the kids, they are cheery and happy to me. This happened last night. Conversely, when I am grouchy and crabby to them, they are grouchy and crabby back to me. This happened this morning.
• Anyone want to come to my house and de-crappify? I need to get rid of some stuff. I'm drowning.
• Anyone else want to come and cook with me for my lunch of 20 this Shabbos?
• And I must congratulate myself for having 20 people for this Shabbos lunch, following a week of a dinner last night, parent teacher conferences on Wednesday night, Dovi having an orthotic appointment at 7 pm on Thursday night, and a orthodontist appointment on Friday morning. Ummm great planning.

And that's all I can come up with for now.

Not Me! Monday

Hi everyone...

It was certainly not me! who during a bout with the most wicked stomach bug I've ever had was thinking about how much weight I must have lost...

And who has NOT been checking out her decidedly flatter tummy in the mirror every time I walk by one...

I would never be laying on the couch on Sunday morning writing these Not Me!s while my 11 year old happily watches the Doodlebops. I only allow Dovi to watch age appropriate material.

Which the Doodlebops most certainly are NOT.

I did not just look at my hubby and say "Who are you and where did you take my husband?" when he informed me that he is taking Elisha and Jakie to the birthday party, and taking Shana with him so they can go out for some Abba-Shana chocolate milk/coffee, and btw, the dark load is in the washer and the rest of the weekend's laundry is sorted on the laundry room floor.

I am definitely NOT wondering what really bad thing he did that he is buttering me up for...(although in all honesty, I know that Benjie really is an awesome guy who is just trying to be nice to me since I get sick about once every two years)

While suffering from my stomach bug this weekend, I did not still manage to read three books, and am well through my 4th.

I am not about to cry from the ear splitting awful racket Doodlebops. Yikes.

It is NOT ME! who has a love/hate relationship with stuff.

I do not sometimes have the desire to throw away all the crap in my house and live a clutter free austere existence.

I am not continually cleaning up and throwing away.

I do not understand why it's never enough.

It was not me! who just got an email from Benjie entitled "Roofie at Starbucks" and thought it was some spam email about date rape drugs in Starbucks drinks, only to open it and realize it was a picture of our very adorable daughter who we often call Roofie who is at Starbucks with my darling husband now (note to self: maybe Roofie isn't the best nickname?)

It is not me who is looking at another Sunday spent in pajamas lounge clothes and feels pretty darn glad about that.

It was NOT ME! who whenever Dovi fell over (two times today-once down half the stairs and once across the den. He's talented that way) ran and examined all his extremities for breaks. He seems to be fine.

I most certainly DID NOT blow dry Shana's hair in preparation for school picture day. What kind of vain woman blows dry her 6 year old's hair???

I would NEVER have forgotten to buy my kids snow pants and new boots, thus necessitating them wearing last years too small boots and NO snowpants on today, the first snowfall, and also school picture day.

I am NOT hoping that the teachers DO NOT take the children outside to play.

I am NOT expecting a note home asking me to please dress my children appropriately (this is the midwest, after all, and they play outside all year round)

And that's all. Have a great week my dears!