Don't Do That Tuesday 12/4/12

Don't do that Tuesday comin' at ya! Alrighty, today I have a short guest post from my sister Gracie (yes, she of tall-ass wall painting fame). Again, not so much a guest post as I'm stealing material from her life...but at least this time I'm not making fun of her. Then, I have what will probably be a long tale of minor woe from my own life. Enjoy my idiocy, y'all!

Don't do that #1: I'll preface this by saying that a. my sister works at a public library and b. people are gross. Here is a recent Facebook status from Grace that tells us all what not to do with our library books: "Just a couple thoughts...a q-tip is not a book mark...a tissue is not a book mark... a crayon is not a book mark...neither are toothpicks, napkins, personal mail or leaves. Paper-clipping every couple pages together is irritating... as are post-it notes everywhere, and if the books smell like any type of urine (man or beast) please just don't bring them back. Also one last thought the book drop is not a carnival game, one does not receive a prize for hitting the person who kindly checks your books in so you don't incur fines... Just saying."

Nicholas Sparks should not be used as an assault weapon (take note, Hollywood producers)

Oky doky, so, don't use disgusting personal items as bookmarks and don't play bean-the-library-page-with-Dickens. Got it? Good.

Don't do that #2: So this one is a bit TMI, but it's a definite "don't do that" so if you're squeamish, just stop reading now and go remove the tampon bookmarks from your library books, mmkay? Okay, so, Pippa is allergic to/intolerant of dairy and when she eats it, she's basically running a faucet of foul, green water out her tookus for 24-36 hours. This gives her a horrible, blistering diaper rash that then pops open and scabs over and disappears within a couple of days (getting the TMI factor yet?).

Anyway, so 5ish weeks ago, she stole some of S's cheese crackers and had aforementioned nasty reaction. The thing is, this time the rash did not go away but morphed into some sort of red, angry super-powered rash that started eating puppies and small children. I tried every remedy I knew of and nothing worked so last week I took her to the doctor. We saw one of my favorite doctors at the group practice. She's kind of old school, slightly hippyish, and loath to over-prescibe, which I find very comforting and kind of awesome in this day and age of "Got the sniffles? We've got a drug for you! It'll only give you three kinds of cancer as a side effect!" She looked at the rash and said, "Looks like some yeast got in there. I could prescribe you an anti-fungal cream but that stuff is so awful and can cause disease resistance and all. How about I just write you a script for gentian violet instead? That'll clear it up in 2-3 days tops."

Tried and true remedy that works fast? Sounded good to me! Here's where things started to go wrong...

I went to pick up the gentian violet at the pharmacy only discover that 1. my insurance doesn't cover Wiccan spell components 2. Walgreen's doesn't carry hippy herbs. The redneck behind the counter didn't even know what it was, but said she could special order it for me for the low low price of $27.99 (just to clarify that's not a low low price when you make peanuts for a livin'). I reluctantly agreed and we waited until the next day to pick up the stuff. Meanwhile Pippa's rash took over a small, impoverished Eastern European country overnight.

Now, the doc had warned me this stuff could stain and to put a towel down and make sure to apply it with a cotton ball. This was the understatement of the year. Within minutes of Pippa's first treatment, everything in the friggin' house was purple, and I mean PURPLE. I'm sure if you applied this junk to an adult who could, you know, sit patiently while it dried and make sure s/he kept him/herself away from porous surfaces, it wouldn't be so bad. Applying it to a wriggly 18 month old who is 100% convinced that you are TRYING TO KILL HER OMG, is another matter entirely.

Also, not only are half my towels, half her clothes, the floor, the bathtub, the door, the sink, the toilet lid, and a few stuffed animals permanently purpled, so are Dylan's and my fingers.

I look like I've been cleaning up Barney's nosebleeds...

Here's the thing I've noticed about having purple fingers: everyone from your mom to the garbage man wants to know why your fingers are purple. So, basically, I've got two options. I can lie and say I've been dipping Becky Thatcher's braids in my purple inkwell or I can say something along these lines: "Well, you see, my daughter has this horrible yeasty diaper rash that's basically eating her little girl parts, and my old school doctor told us to put gentian violet on it, which is this antiseptic sorta dye, ya know? Funny story. It's not actually made from the gentian plant but got that name because of the purple color. I guess that's not that funny...Anyway, so it makes things really purple and even though I keep writing gloves on my shopping lists, I get to the store and I can't read what I've written and I spend the whole trip wandering up and down aisles wondering what a purple-smudged "gmurve" is and I get so distracted I forget the eggs, too, and you'd think I'd look down at my fingers and remember, right? But one of the kids is grabbing men's hygiene products off the shelf and sucking on them and another is pulling down some woman's skirt because he thinks she's his mama and he wants to be picked up and the third is laughing maniacally and running full-tilt for the super-secret-and-mysterious employee's only door, which, of course, has been left ajar and...well you know how it is. Or maybe you don't, if you don't have kids, which is totally fine. Not everyone has to have kids. The world is over-populated, you know, and it's a totally legitimate decision not to. Dylan and I wrestled with that one for quite awhile. Plus, then you get to like sleep in on the weekends and go on vacation and stuff. Or, I mean, some people aren't able to, I have friends who aren't and it's really, really tough...and I'm really sorry I brought this up now. I hope I didn't hurt your feelings. Please say I didn't offend you. I'm really sorry. What was I saying?"

In my experience, neither response is met with much enthusiasm. Oh, and the best part? This stuff hasn't healed the rash one bit so I get to drag 3 kids back to the pediatrician this afternoon. Gentian violet, at least for this particular world-dominating rash, is a definite don't do that.

Alrighty then, class, what have we learned today? Used tissues as bookmarks in library books? Don't do that! Gentian violet on the world's angriest rash on the world's squirmiest toddler? Don't do that, either (unless you really like purple, that is)! Class dismissed!