My Husband Says Candida Would Be a Lovely Girl's Name

I must get curtains up in my kitchen, ASAP. My neighbors are the type that likes to go outside occasionally (and they should, since they have a beautiful, fenced-in back yard with a glorious garden, lush grass, and a volleyball net). Mr. and Mrs. Neighbor can see directly into my kitchen while jumping during a game or standing idly on the raised deck.

Normally, that’s not a problem. There really aren’t a lot of interesting things going on in my kitchen, except lately. Let me explain:

I have the yeast infection from Hell. It has been passed from my baby’s mouth to my nipples (and back) several times over the past five months. He is currently smilingly thrush-free. I, however, have run out of the uber-expensive compounded antifungal ointment, given up on the heavy-duty Nystatin cream, scoffed, (purple-ly) at the Gentian Violet, and I still feel a stabby burning whenever my milk lets down.

The last bit of advice the midwife gave me, after hearing how dismally the prescriptions and useless folk remedies performed, was to switch to cotton nursing pads (I need better air circulation) and use the blow dryer regularly. Since I am well-gifted in the lactating department, I will often leak a whole ounce of milk from the side not in active use during feedings. I can’t use cotton pads. I soak through them and have to sit in milk until I can change my icky pad, bra, undershirt, and shirt.

So I recently decided to try one last trick. I have no other options. This is it. And thankfully, it’s been working as well as my $60 tub of Newman’s Ointment! I go topless around the house. It gets a little chilly, but the yeast is making a slow retreat. If I were more religious about my crusade, the yeast might have already reached its (final) death throes.

So today I resolved to get on that curtain thing sooner, rather than later. Neighbor Girl (a teenager) has sporty friends over all the time talking and texting on the deck and bouncing the volleyball back and forth. They seem like nice girls (not that I’ve ever met them), and I don’t want to be The Neighbor That Never Has a Shirt On.

No pictures will accompany this post.

How to Be Happy

The thing about feeling down is that is goes away when you work at it. I'm not talking about actual depression. That stuff takes actual counseling, sometimes medication. But doldrums? Work. Work for someone else, preferably. But you've got to be able to overcome the down to make yourself get back up again. Very tricky!

My darling son is sometimes a trigger for unhappy thoughts (will you please, please just stop wiggling, stop needing to be rocked,stop wanting attention and let me sleep?!) but more often he is a big source of joy and laughter. Mr. Distractable has recently become enamored of me (more than he already was, if that's possible) and has taken to staring lovingly at me while he eats instead of eating. He latches on, sucks enough to get the milk really strongly flowing, then looks up at me suddenly, making sure I'm still there. Those big, black eyes peer up, all innocent-like. And milk sprays all over his cheek, his eye, his ear, and my front. Thank you.

I would like to explain to him, "Kid, your food and I? We're well attached. As long as you're eating, I'm not going anywhere." But still he stares.

Then goes down to latch on agai--PSYCH! Hi, Mommy!

Now it's time to tuck in--Gotcha! You still there?

...Until I give up and hand him over to the less-mammarily-gifted adult to deal with, because I am done.

But you can only stay mad at this face for so long.