Tuesday, 7 September 2010

I'm the only one they bite.

I have been bitten a lot lately, in many different ways.

Firstly, the darn mosquitos. I live in the Fens. the Fens are full of water. Dank, standing water. Mosquitos love this. It is their very Heaven. It is no surprise to discover that hereabouts the airbourne devils were the cause of a high death rate from Malaria, then often referred to as "ague" or "shivering ague", in the 17th and 18th centuries, the rather well known Oliver Cromwell being a malarial sufferer and local Ely boy. They love the ditches and culverts, and they love me. This is a relatively recent occurance. Until 3 years ago, mosquitos eschewed me in favour of the then-fiancee. I could lay naked and laughing as they went for him, not me. Then, my thyroid packed up post baby. And then post baby 2, with the thyroid still packed up, I started the menopause, way, way early (IMO) at 38. What has this to do with mosquitos bites? Well, the little blighters love the scent of a high Thyroid Stimulating Hormone (TSH) and they alos love the way cholesterol sits in the skin (a lovely side effect of autoimmune thyroid disease). and then, they really, really love the smell of estrogen. For me, as with many early menopause ladies, the perimenopause is NOT a slow decline of estrogen as the GP's would have you believe. It is often a massive "last blast" of estrogen, leaving you with weeks of sky high levels and rapid cycling cycles. So, I am REALLY tasty. Plus, I am blood group O, the most popular mozzie snack. Research shows they land more frequently on O's, and stay longer. Oh, and if you have a drink....but i'm saying nothing there.

So, dealing with the mozzie bites today, I spent a good twenty minutes in the bathroom applying ungents. Naturally, this is out of order as far as DD and DS are concerned. They have strict rules. If I am out of the room for longer than 5 minutes, they will turn into Fight Club. Or, courtesy of DD, 2, Bite Club. Naughty DD. We have a biter in the house. Cue much consoling of DS. "She BIT me!"(wail, wail). No skin broken. Sooth DS. Search out culprit. Culprit is hiding under her bed because she knew she done bad. Automatically blames DS. "He hit my head which is my BRAIN". As I was out of the room, I cannot deal with it as well as I would like. but I know, like a dog, she has tasted the scent of victory in that bite, and she knows it works. I'll be watching her.

And the final bite? Me, biting the bullet. Potty traing dd. She was 2 in June. She's so articulate, but lazy, and I want to do it now, while i've got an outside chance of still drying pants on the line. I tried earlier, but she wasn't ready. Now, she's taking her nappy off and wanting the "princess pants". I was blessed with ds, dry day and night after only 2 accidents, at 26 months. She, however, is a different case. I've bitten, there's no going back. 3 wees on the carpet, 1 on the chair, 3 on the loo. It starts here. Grit teeth, prep washing machine.

1 comment:

Roy said...

One can only imagine which part of the then fiancee's body they went for, as you lay naked.{:)