So last week I posted that I was pretty sure the soap in my mouth was going to kill me, and I didn't post all weekend, and NO ONE wrote to make sure I'm still alive. Slackers.
My doctor ordered a Chem 7, which I guess checks various (seven?) different things in your blood. None of those things are fluoride, though, so I'm not sure what he thinks we're going to accomplish. I think he just likes to punish me for calling up with random problems by making me go get stuck with a needle. "What, it's Amy again? Seriously? She thinks she has prostate cancer? Well, send her for another blood test - that'll make her stop calling."
I was finally able to go get the blood drawn this morning. He ordered the test on Thursday. I knew that the kids wouldn't do well in the lab, so I didn't bother trying with them.
Yes, the soap taste is still there. It's gone from Palmolive to a lighter bouquet, somewhere in the Dove family, but it's still there, driving me nuts.
I've tried to kill it with ice cream, but that didn't work.
The thing is, if I weren't a mom, I wouldn't care. But if suddenly there's too much sodium fluoride in our water for me, there's certainly too much for the pretty babies, so I'd better take it seriously. (Sodium fluoride poisoning is the only explanation I've been able to find via Google).
Anyway, after BJ got home (finally!) last night, I went and saw The Time Traveler's Wife. The movie was very good, but I was a little annoyed that it deviated from the book at the end. If you haven't read the book, you really should - it's fantastic.
The kids and I went up to see my sister in Valpo. I had KILLER PMS, which explains all the screaming last week (the kids were behaving less well than normal, but my reaction was influenced by my hormones, and BJ's absence created a perfect storm of suck). I'm feeling much better now, after the liberal application of wine and Mexican food.
Mary Grace's teacher is coming in 1 hour and 45 minutes to meet her, and my house is a disaster, and the kids aren't dressed.