Tuesday, August 5, 2008

Distracting the Itch

Heather thought it would be oh-so-amusing to go for a walk, climb a tree and take a picture of the view from the treetops with her cell phone, thus scaring the happy crappy out of her acrophobic mommy dearest. I was totally freaking out seeing how high up in the tree she had climbed. I shrieked at her to get down. She laughed and laughed.

A week later, she scratched and scratched.

Yep, there was a nasty little bugger of a vine climbing that tree along with my daughter. The first few spots showed up right before Heather's boyfriend came for a visit. He's one of those outdoorsy types (working on his Eagle Scout project right now), and he took one look at her arm and said, "ummm, yeah. That's like totally poison ivy, dude." (I wonder if they have Boy Scout merit badges for being a hippy?)

PoisonIvy (3)b PoisonIvy (2)b

Every day, the rash seemed to get worse.

It's been a challenge finding something to distract her to keep her from clawing her skin right off of her body.

Finally, she remembered how much fun it was to whack the mobsters while playing The Godfather on Wii. Yeah, go ahead, nominate me for Mother of the Year for letting my teenager learn the ultimate skills of extorting racketeers and using her Tommy Gun on innocent bystanders.

Still, it worked. I was thrilled that every time I looked at her, she had both hands on the Wii remotes rather than digging at her skin.

Then, she came to talk to me and I realized what happens when you become so engrossed in a video game that you forget to blink.


So, yeah. Red, itchy skin versus red, itchy eyes. Blink, dammit!


  1. Im just going to find a different tree, WHEN YOU LET ME OUT OF THE HOUSE!!!!

  2. Forgot to blink? forgot to blink? How can you forget to blink?
    Poison Ivy is just one of life's little inconvieneinces. You have lots more in store for you. I truly am sorry that you got it so bad though. At least you aren't in school.

  3. Well, for God's peachy GRASS!

    Next time, chain her to the bed with Stephanie Meyer's BREAKING DAWN. Or some other book that has eyes looking like fried eggs (which means her brain's being scrambled, too).

    Then? Then hightail it for Ben Stone.

    Don't EVEN tell me you don't know who he is. I'll consider you a traitor of our kick-ass-and-leave-em-panting age group.


  4. I am NOT going to do that chain mail thing until you post a worthy post.

    Ain't gonna.

    Ain't gonna.

    Ain't gonna.