You Think Cancer but You are Just Constipated

Today will be a long day for me. This is not because I have to do anything special. It's because I'm staring at my son's blood test results and they are not right.

I have a love/hate relationship with the Brazilian method of patients bringing blood test results to the doctors. The results stare you in the face for days before someone translates them. You think you have cancer and it turns out you are just constipated.

Do they really need to do that to you?!

So my youngest's blood test is a bit off. A very sweet friend of mine on Twitter took a general look at them and said its probably anemia and a cold/infection. I figured that too. It is rational and most likely the reason.

Then comes in Google. Freaking google and it's extensive searching mechanisms. Now my irrational brain is convinced that he has acute lymphoblastic leukemia. No his platelet count is not low, but I also found out that  they can be in the normal range in 17.8% of the cases.

Damn kick ass researching skills!  I think they should add disclaimers when handing over results with some variation from the norm. Something like: "No one is dying. Nothing here is really that serious. And no you do not need to call your doctor at 7am. Office hours will be fine!"

I forgot to mention the blood in his urine. What 2 year old boy has blood in his urine?!

And while my double personality disorder continues to develop as my mind jumps from rational to crazy hypochondriac, my 2 yr old is playing like normal.

I'm positive that I'm going to bring the results in to the doctor this afternoon, slightly freaking out over what he may say, only to get a prescription for iron and vitamin C.

Then I'll feel like an ass. That goes double because I'm sharing my craziness with all of you.

Then again, assness is the far lesser evil!

Tiger Mother vs Monkey Mother

Tiger Mother is currently the talk of the town.  People can not get enough of her hardcore nature. It's kind of like a car accident, you can't look away. Only, it would have to be a highly organized and educated car accident. Violins must be involved!

It got me thinking about myself as a Mother and how my culture has inspired me. My children are obese, watch a lot of TV, and can't tell you where the United States of America is.  Whoa Rachel, low blow. I know. I just couldn't help myself.

Anyway, you all know this blog is a bit Rio/Brazil centric. What better than to compare Tiger Mother to Middle Class Brazilian Mothers?

For the sake of this post, I will be referring to Brazilian Mothers as Monkey Mothers.

So the Monkey Mother is just as playful as she sounds. She doesn't have what Tiger Mother would consider control over her children, but her children do laugh.  There's a lot of dancing around and fun to be had.  Monkey Mother's children throw fits but not too often.  That may be because the children usually get what they want in the first place.  Don't misunderstand me now, I'm not saying the Monkey Mother is a push over, although she is a little bit.

Monkeys are clever by nature, and Monkey Mother knows how to happily co-exist with her children. Sure, she may be drinking her cold beer with a baby biting her ankle at 10pm but to each their own.  You see, the Monkey Mother uses a little bit more finesse than the whole I'm the boss thing.  Personally, I think the monkeys live in a bit more of a democracy than a communist nation.

Of course, a democracy with pre-school aged monkeys gets as loud and messy as you would imagine.  But the kids go to school and take classes. Many of these little monkeys dance, play instruments, and speak a foreign language.  They may have never heard of a time out and no is almost as foreign as the Chinese Language itself, but that's just a cultural thing. It works like organized chaos and never ceases to be fascinating.

I find myself somewhere in the middle of this crazy jungle we call Motherhood.  But if I had to choose one of the two, I do believe I'd have to stick with my opposable thumb friend, the monkey.  I mean, if you've ever seen me groom, I kind of look like one.