Fibronaut At Home

Fibro Fog Is…

…playing a game on your phone for hours because you’re too tired to do anything else.  Then, you remember that you texted someone and they haven’t texted you back.  You holler for your kids to find your phone.  They can’t find it anywhere.  You’re still playing your game.  You tell them to look on the kitchen counter, look back at your game and realize, you’ve had your phone in your hand the entire time.  You say never mind, realize the someone you texted hasn’t called you either.  You keep playing your game.  Two hours later, you remember that person did text you back, and you even replied several times, earlier that day.


Fibro-Fog Public Service Announcement

Do not buy the Resolve pre-wash stain-treater, especially if you also have the Resolve carpet stain-lifter.  Why?  Because when you have Fibro-Fog and you’re doing laundry, you may just grab the wrong one.  The bottles are identical, except for the label.  The carpet stain-lifter is not color fast and I sprayed it on my one of my favorite Broncos shirts.  I am now washing a shirt with two towels so that the carpet crap doesn’t ruin any of my other clothes.  GRRRRR!!!!!  Stupid brain!


We Got This Wednesday

It is that day again.  We got this.

  • I cleaned all day Monday.  I cleaned the entire bathroom, did all the dishes and swept and mopped the floors.  I also finished laundry.  In true we-got-this fashion, I’m not going to tell you how badly I hurt after that, or how poorly I slept.
  • Looking at the camel, thinking about hump day, reminded me that the hubby and I had some adult time.

Ummm…crap.  I am seriously drawing a blank on anything else I may have done.  I probably fried brain cells with that much cleaning on Monday.  My brain hasn’t been worth anything this week.  Here’s a fun meme, since I can’t think.

Since I am on auto-pilot, I need extra help with We Got This Wednesday.  Comment with your accomplishments please?  I need some helping getting my fibro mojo back.

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At Least We’re Still Laughing

Today, my husband told me, “Your brain is so entertaining.”  He made this comment after I asked him, “Is there still traffic ahead?”  What I meant was, “Is there still construction ahead?”  I knew I wasn’t using the correct word, but my mouth just spits out whatever, like it’s too impatient for my brain to catch up.

I just had a wrong number phone call.  I told her, “You have the incorrect number.”  I kind of said it slowly, because I knew that wasn’t what I’d usually say and I knew it would sound funny, but I couldn’t come up with the word “wrong”.  Come on brain!  Wake up and use the correct words, please.


I Promised

I promised (sort of) you a flare post and I don’t want to disappoint you.  There’s dishes to be done, laundry from two days ago to finish, recycling piled up that needs dropping off and my house resembles the aftermath of a tornado.  But I am so tired, I can barely keep my eyes open.  I just almost typed “I” instead of “eyes”.  That is how tired I am.  I couldn’t squander any remaining energy yesterday on taking a shower.  That means that I badly need a shower today.  I have even less energy and more pain than yesterday, though.  Tuesdays and Thursdays are my days from hell because I have Emma all day, I pick up Katie from school at 3, Aden from practice at 4:15 and then Katie has volleyball practice at 5.  It is also my Brother-in-law’s Birthday, so I assume we’re going out to dinner.  If I can ignore all the housework, drink another large coffee and avoid washing my hair and shaving, I might be able to at least accomplish one goal today.  I’m going to need a trip to McDonald’s for a large iced tea and probably need someone to pick me and the kids up on the way to dinner.  I’ll also probably blast some rock in the van so I don’t fall asleep.  Good thing my kids like the music loud.  Well, it depends for Emma.  If she like the music, she dances and sings along.  If she doesn’t like the music, she yells, “It’s too loud!” and covers her ears.  Can I just yell, “It’s too much!” and go back to bed?


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Fibro Fog Theory

I have a theory that the term fibro fog is really just a fibromyalgia-specific way of saying brain fart.  Fibro fog is just one brain fart after another.


A Note For My Loved Ones

My brain doesn’t work anymore.  I say one thing but mean another.  You know this.  When you’re telling me something, please be as specific as possible.  Don’t assume I know what you’re talking about or that I understand the words that are coming out of your mouth.  I realize that it is very frustrating when I get that blank, confused look on my face.  Imagine how it is for me.  I can’t read between the lines.  The connections that your brain makes automatically take my brain longer and end up in totally different places than yours.  So please be patient.  When you are explaining something to me, be kind.  Don’t talk down to me and don’t use that tone of voice that says you think I’m an idiot.  I hear enough negativity from the voices in my head.


Chronic Fatigue Sucks

I slept last night.  Yay me.  I’m still tired today.  Booooooo!  It is 1 in the afternoon and the only things I’ve managed beyond eating, drinking and taking my meds is taking a shower and straightening the bed.  Today is a beautiful day but the storm coming in tomorrow is already making me ache.  I forced myself to shave so I could wear capri’s and a tank top but I’m not sure it was worth it.  I figured I’d be okay because I wasn’t washing my hair today forgetting that I try not to shave in the shower because it is dangerous for me to balance and wield a sharp object at the same time.  Yesterday I stabbed myself with a razor blade and I was sitting down.  Last week I cut myself with a rotary cutter when I tried to use my finger as a stopping point.  What was I talking about again?  Hang on a sec while I scroll back up.  Oh yeah.  Now my arms are shaking from the effort to type this because simply grooming myself is too much for me today.  Looks like I’m conserving the energy I don’t have today for picking the kids up from school.


Fibro-Fog Much?

What you are about to read are real-life accounts of Fibro-Fog in action (minus the F-Bombs to protect the innocent).

Conversation with the hubby:

Me:  Oh man!  After I got done mixing the meatloaf I was so mad!

Hubby:  (Looking confused)  Mad?

Me:  Uh.  I meant to say I was in a lot of pain.  My arm is still spasming.  I’m going to stop talking now.

Side note: “I’m going to stop talking now” is my new catch phrase.

How I know there will be no multi-tasking for me today:

I picked up an empty soap box that the hubby left on the floor to throw away.  I only remember picking it up, but not what I did with it.  I went to brush my teeth but put soft-soap on my toothbrush instead.  Rolling my eyes at the full squirt of soft-soap that I got on there before I realized what I was doing, I start rinsing off my toothbrush.  While rinsing my toothbrush, I realized the washcloth I thought I rinsed out and threw in the hamper was still in the sink.  I went to throw the washcloth in the hamper and saw the empty soap box in the hamper instead of the trashcan.  So that’s where I put it.  Sigh.

There have been many more the last couple days months, but I forget what they are.

Wait!!!  I know I posted this yesterday, but I just remembered one and had to post it.

I can’t remember exactly what the hubby and I were talking about but I told him that someone’s middle name was May just like me.  He looked at me like I was crazy and for the life of me I couldn’t figure out why.  Until I remembered that my middle name is Marie.  I was born in May.  Then I’m pretty sure I said my new catch phrase and left it at that.


Confessions (gasp!) of a Mommy with Fibromyalgia

My house is a disaster area and the next person who comments on it can clean it for me if it bothers them that much (hint, hint).

My 10-year-old and 8-year-old get themselves ready in the morning.

My 10-year-old and 8-year-old get their three-year-old sister ready in the morning too.  I do sometimes lift my head from my pillow to offer groggy, bleary-eyed and often unnecessary advice.  They are pros.

My husband gets himself ready in the morning (GASP!!!).

My husband gets himself out of bed in the morning (DOUBLE-GASP!!!)

I don’t do ironing.  Seriously.  Eventually the wrinkles smooth themselves out and that is what the “wrinkle-release” cycle on the dryer is for.

I always have laundry piled up, waiting to wash or dry or fold or put away.  Have I mentioned I really love the “wrinkle-release” cycle on the dryer?

My children (with the exception of the three-year-old and my husband) fold their own laundry and put their own laundry away.  Sometimes, they wash their own laundry.

I’ve made it one of my goals to do dishes every day.  I said it’s a goal, not a sure-thing.

Although my daughters and I require zero aim when using the toilet, the two who do have to “shoot for the target” and are therefore the most likely ones to cause the curious yellow stains around (and I mean AROUND) the toilet have NEVER (that I can recall) cleaned the toilet.  This isn’t really a confession, but a strongly worded hint.  I mean, really.  I only have so many “spoons” a day and to spend even a quarter of one of my spoons on the toilet is not only unfair, but cruel and unusual punishment.

My three-year-old gave me the nickname of “Sleepy-head-Mommy, wake-up!”

I don’t like to wash my hair every day and so I’ve gone poo-free so that my hair produces less oil and is less dry, requiring less maintenance.  I wash my hair with a baking soda and water solution and only put conditioner on the ends.  Don’t go “EWWW!”  I watched several videos on YouTube and read several blogs before starting this.  Google it.

I don’t clean the kitty litter until I either can’t stand it anymore or my husband complains about it.  I would now tell my husband to refer to the first confession on this blog but Alice The Cat is my cat and he’d probably let her outside for the fox to eat if I started asking him to clean the litter.

Sometimes, when I’m feeling particularly bad (pain, fatigue, PMS, depressed) and my children start whining, I let them do whatever they want.  Third bubble bath of the day?  Sure!  Play XBOX even though your room isn’t clean?  Why not?  Eat every junk-food item in the house in rapid succession?  Your Dad will be home soon so don’t let him catch you eating that.

My husband is moving my three-year-old’s toys to behind the couch to try to contain her mess to that area.  This isn’t a confession either, but I wanted someone else to laugh at him on that one with me.

“God made dirt and dirt don’t hurt” is my new motto.

Any and all word problems in my kids homework are saved for when Daddy gets home.

My three-year-old is potty trained but refuses to wipe herself after going #2.  She instead hollers “Mom!  I pooped!”  It sometimes takes me so long to get there to help that she has started singing to herself while she waits.  It’s almost like I’m on “Jeopardy”.

My kids have learned to read my lips.  Especially when I’m mouthing “Ask your Dad.”

If what I wore to bed the night before is sweat pants and a t-shirt, I’m probably picking up my kids from school in it.

Actually, I should clarify.  That was the old me.  The new me has a new goal of taking a shower every day and so I usually do have clean clothes on by 2:30 pm when I pick up the kids from school.  If I’m not going anywhere else, however, I immediately change back into my comfy clothes.  Also, showering is another goal, not certainty.

The only reason, besides company coming over, that I clean my living room, is so I can do my yoga or my “Deepak Chopra’s: Leela” on the XBOX Kinect.

I don’t procrastinate.  I just forget.  Until it is too late.  Then I remember.

How long does it take three kids, one husband and one fibro-fighter to clean a house?  I’ll let you know if it ever happens.

Wait!  I had a Celebrating Home party in March and my house was clean then.  Unfortunately, that is the last time my house was clean.

My daughter once took a moldy sandwich to lunch for school.  I swear that I checked that bread while making that sandwich.  I’m also pretty sure that this happened before my diagnosis but I’m still using fibro-fog as an excuse.

I’m pretty sure I’ll think of more of these gems after I post this, but if I’m going to meet any of my “goals” today, I better get my butt off the couch.  Besides, my daughter has a friend coming over after school today and I can’t see my living room floor.  I jest.  I can see my living room floor, it’s just covered with crap at the moment.

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