Two years ago, I was fighting to lose the weight needed to get me back to my "pre-pregnancy" size. It wasn't until I stumbled upon a hunger suppressant / body cleansing agent that I was finally able to lose those few stubborn pounds. It really worked!
Which brings me to my next.....
Cryptosporidiumparvumis a very small protozoa (simple single-celled organism) that is transmitted by the fecal-oral route (GROSSSSS!!! I KNOW!!!). Once ingested (YUM!!!), the organism multiplies in two different ways (asexual and sexual reproduction) within your GI tract, and infects the inner lining of your intestines. The problem with this parasite is that it is resistant to normal water purification methods (chlorination and ozone). Also, the host won't show symptoms until 1-2 weeks after infection (or "ingestion"), and will remain contagious for up to one month. Symptoms include watery diarrhea, anorexia, nausea/vomiting, abdominal pain, and fatigue.
But, that didn't stop some people around here from going swimming!!!
So, in our case, some infected kid (or adult, or mammal, reptile, or fish of some sort--it really could have been any of those) "moved" their "bowels" in the public pool, contaminating it for everyone else to enjoy. After splurging on ounces of pool water (or approximately 130 Cryptosporidiumparvum cysts), kids and parents alike were losing vanity pounds left and right.
One fun fact is, that in order to diagnose the severity of the disease, you will need to give at least three (3) "stool samples."
Who would want to collect that three times???
Do you want to know what my favorite part is?
To "prevent" the outbreak from happening again, it is now required that kids under 4 years old wear swimming diapers while in public pools.
A swimming diaper is considered a reliable barrier between a kid's parasitic bowel explosion and public pool water?
Let's just all agree that if our kids don't eat, seem lethargic, and are pooping liquid, we won't take them to the pool!
Ivan Pavlov was the first man to describe the "classic conditioning" phenomenon. You may remember learning about him, or not. He observed that when a dog saw food, he began to salivate before even eating the food. Pavlov began to add extra stimuli (i.e. the sounding of a metronome) as food is introduced to the dog. After a few repetitions of this type of conditioning, he tested the subject's salivation response after adding the extra stimulus only (sounding the metronome without the food). Sure enough, the dog began to salivate, even without the presence of food.
After months of exposure, I have found that I also have been classically conditioned. You see, I have an iPhone. Whenever I have a new e-mail, or a missed call, or a text message, a little red circle will pop up with a number in it. I will read every text message, listen to every voicemail, and view every e-mail, because the dot told me to. I'll even download app updates just to get rid of those red dots.
Now, if I see anything resembling this numbered red dot, I give it my undivided attention, and I do whatever I need to do to make that red dot go away. If my husband knew the power of "classic conditioning" and the hold that it has on my psyche, he could probably get me to do a lot more of the chores around the house.
You are probably asking yourself, "But, now that you've told the entire universe via the world wide web about your iPhoneiphilic weakness, won't he find out?"
Therein lies the power of conditioning. After many months of babbling and rambling on and on and on about blogging, I have conditioned him to tune me out as soon as I say, "Guess what I blogged about today..."
White: The peacemaker. You choose to park far away from others, pulling all the way through to avoid backing out. Cars clustered together give you anxiety, so you would rather park in an entirely different parking area than search for a spot. If there is one available spot, and you see another car coming toward it, you would rather give up than deal with potential controversy. Your dream is to one day never need to leave your house.
Red: Parking stalls are a status symbol. You will pay extra money for better parking. You are a stall-hunter, waiting behind a potential opening, and marking your prey by using your blinker. You strive for employee of the month just for the parking spot. Your dream is to one day be successful enough to have your own reserved parking stall.
Yellow: Parking stall lines are merely suggestions to you. You often find yourself taking up multiple stalls, but only because you are unaccustomed to rigidity and find that the lines restrict your parking creativity. Your signature move is to park 5 feet in front of the door with your hazards on, as an act of courtesy toward those maneuvering around you. Your dream is to one day be able to park inside buildings.
Blue: Parking is relative. Whether there be 8 stalls, or 1000 stalls, your mood of the day is dependent on where, in relation to others, you parked. You feel it a personal offense when others park closer to the building than you. You arrive to work early, sometimes hours early, just to score the best spot. You will sometimes move your car closer during lunch hour, and it will be the highlight of your day. Your dream is to one day park in a parking lot in which every stall is equidistant from the entrance.
After the nurse took my vitals and asked me a slew of medical history questions, I was left alone to change in the examination room. It was my first appointment for my first pregnancy, which, as most of you know, is "THE check-up."
Soon, the nurse returned with the doctor, who said, "Well, let's begin the exam. I have a student doctor with me. Is it okay if he comes in to observe?"
"Sure," I said.
As the student doctor walked into the room, a series of flashbacks played in my mind within a matter of seconds...
1) There are very few people I admire because of the jobs that they do. I admire police officers, firefighters, nurses, and some doctors (I can't say that I admire ALL doctors because I've dated too many pre-doctors...).
This guy merits my admiration.
2)An egg hit my brother's car.
A deer hit my husband's car.
Multiple bicyclists hit my dad's car.
A horse hit my neighbor's car.
A garage hit my car. That's my story, and I'm sticking to it.
3) Proof that I am Asian American:
4) My house is not a crime scene, but there is definitely signs of a struggle.
5) My baby's diet:
50% dust bunnies.
6) We finally found a good use for the shot glass my husband received at a business convention.