I WANT A PICKLE NOW.
Isa started shouting at me as soon as she got up. Last night around 1:30 am, I made a grave mistake.
I do need to preface this story just a bit. During a recent conversation, my Aunt Wanda, who is one of the VERY few people that can actually point out my foibles, mentioned that I am such a hard-ass where Isa was concerned. She referenced a blog entry where I was making Isa stand by her bed. HELLO…. it was for like 40 seconds, which stretched into a minute. It was time for her to stand so I could more easily take her to the bathroom. Whatever. So, I like most people try to change and include some new behaviors.
With this psuedo-hard-ass behavior in mind, I greeted my darling short-haired pixie with loving arms and an open mind. As I sat chatting with crazy moms online, (who knew women stayed up late to get their computer time?) she came stumbling out of her bedroom.
Mama, I’m hungry
Then Wanda’s voice played in my mind—damn near like a digital voice recorder and I decided to play nice. So, I asked her what she wanted to eat. Because her response was Pasta!, I told her we didn’t have any and tried to steer her toward applesauce. At this point she promptly corrected me and told me that she’d show me. Even though she is walking, the medication and the bone pain have her walking oddly. She sort of slaps her feet down and twists her whole body rather than move her legs from the hips.
I watched as she waddled over to the refrigerator, opened the door, pulled out a container and while holding it aloft shouted, PASTA!, See mommy I told you. I told you mommy, that we had pasta.
Again, I am going with the flow. I heated up pasta at 2 am for a little roid-raging toddler with a scream to rival Sam Kinison. Okay, Wanda, I am trying to be lenient, to let it all hang out. The pasta disappeared as quickly as it had appeared, and I was left with a blank stare and the mantra….”I’m still hungry.” If we do not respond to this tersely stated phrase the volume level increases until only shrieking can be heard. Painful shrieks. Shrieks that without complete and total control will snap even the most loving parents’ minds. The kind of shrieking that give you an inkling how Susan Smith might have felt.
Now, for my grave mistake:
Would you like a pickle, darling?
Thanks Wanda, that was the last time I listen to your soft-hearted, and good natured advice. Yes, of course she’d like a pickle. She loved pickles before, so what would change that now. Nothing. EXCEPT….
Before pickles could be eaten or not eaten. NOW, they MUST be eaten.
- Dr. Fallon warned us that she might have cravings for salty things. Papa noticed that she pointed out every restaurant that could possibly resemble a pizza parlor. Neither one of us can remember which medicine causes this, but because of this salt craving, we are required to limit the intake of sodium.
- A primary issue for anyone taking chemotherapy is to drink plenty of water. From my understanding, the kidneys, which filter the urine, can be damaged if a scarcity of fluid flows through them.
As an inpatient, the IV fluid drips continuously—thus leading to frequent bathroom trips. Hmm… does this sound familiar? Isn’t the frequent bathroom trips what got me into this mess with Wanda in the first place?
She ate two pickles. On top of the pasta, this topped her off nicely. BUT, did nothing to sate her craving for, yes, you guessed it. Pickles.
No other food would satisfy her. We tried to distract her with all sorts of other things. See the aforementioned shrieking. Luckily, I married an extremely manipulative man. He knows how to distract women from what they truly want, while getting something he wants as well. He promptly suggested that if she drank a full sippy cup of water then she could have half a pickle.
Tonight she drank three cups full of water, and enjoyed every bit of her pickles.
Last night while sleeping, I heard the fridge open and a little tinkle, like a metal lid on a glass jar. With my keen detective skills I deduced that my youngest salt craver was in the kitchen sneaking pickles. No, I did not get up. Needless to say, we will not be buying pickles until a later, undisclosed time.