24
Bring In The (Night)Guards!: My Fight Against Bruxism and TMJ Disorder
Grinding. It's not just a dance.
Before the Dude and I go to sleep, there is something we can never forget to do before we turn out the lights.
Pop in our nightguards.
We’re major teeth-grinders in our house, otherwise known as Bruxism. For me, this problem is not just at night. I find myself clenching and grinding my teeth when I’m stressed or anxious which, ever since I became a mama, is more often than not.
Unfortunately, Bruxism is not my only issue. I also deal with TMJ Disorder. It’s fairly common to suffer from both.
I remember waking up one morning around the age of 16 with a splitting headache and my jaw in a painful locked position. I couldn’t move it at all and I was terrified. I happened to be visiting with my dad at the time who managed to calm me down and massage my jaw enough for me to move it again. From that day forward, my jaw started to click or pop every time I opened my mouth. It was also occasionally very tender and painful. My dentist at the time shrugged at my complaint and said it was quite common. He also mentioned that there wasn’t much that could be done. When I asked him why this happened, he blamed the problem on the two years of braces (with rubber-bands) I wore from the ages of 13-15. I remember thinking, geesh, had I known the consequences I would’ve lived with snaggle-teeth! Whether or not the braces are to blame can’t be proven. There are many theories as to why 5-15% of the population is affected with a TMJ disorder.
At this point, nearly 18 years later, I still cannot fully open my mouth without having to actually move my jaw in a way that makes an annoying popping sound. The pain and tenderness is something that comes and goes, but I’ve lived with it long enough to know what to do about it. From my own personal experience and based on all the information I’ve gathered over the years, there’s not a whole lot that can be done. There are a number of remedies out there, from pain meds and Botox (hell no!) to yoga and CBT therapy. Being that I am trained and educated in CBT methods, I can easily incorporate what I know into my life. Admittedly, the relaxation methods I use can work very well for me during the day…but when I’m grinding my teeth at night, not so much. I also use massage exercises, acupuncture, and chiropractic methods. Now, if you’ve been reading my blog, you know I’m a huge fan of acupuncture and chiropractors. Acupuncture and chiropractic treatments can work very well for my TMJ /Bruxism issues but, I have to admit, just like almost everything else I’ve tried they can only offer temporary respite. (continues…)
22
GUEST POST:
Hello…Hello…Yip-Yip-Yip
OK…folks…I have a bone to pick. Although this isn’t my soapbox per se, since I did most of the custom programming, I think I deserve a few linear inches of venting space.
About what, you ask? You, AYMB’s supposedly loyal readers.
See, while you noodle your way through Mental Mondays, feast your eyes on Foodie Fridays, and indulge all things in between, there is one thing you seem to have overlooked: The Yip Yips petition. What gives?
I grew up on Sesame Street, but cannot for the life of me remember the Yip Yips. It seems that Sesame Street ran Yip Yips segments only intermittently and only for a couple select years. Thanks to the intersection of YouTube and copyright infringement, however, I discovered the Yip Yips belatedly in between train-crossing segments on YouTube (search for “five engine train,” “SP4999” or “Minto Brown” to find clips whose conclusions will cause violent tantrums in most male toddlers).
These little alien dudes rock.
Toddlers eat up the Yip Yips because they make funny sounds; parents love them because they’re super clever and, at bottom, educational. Leave it to Sesame Street to bridge that generation gap better than almost any other show. But, alas, the Yip Yips went the way of Dynasty, only without any of the “Who shot JR?” fanfare.
At launch, Aimee took it upon herself to draw readers’ attention back to the daily Yip Yips deprivation that Sesame Street works on kids today. She wrote this article embedding the above fun video clip, started this petition, commissioned me to hack-up a sidebar button encouraging folks to read/watch the former and sign their name to the latter, and even reached out to this Facebook user and this Facebook group, which, together, boast almost 8,000 members.
Only 27 33 people have signed the petition so far. What gives? While AYMB ain’t TMZ, it certainly has magnitudes more readers than that single score of signatories.
So, for the love of God, people. For the children. For the future. For all things holy. Sign the petition, would you?
Please forward, retweet, beg, borrow, steal, cajole…whatever it takes. Future generations will thank you.
P.S. What do you think of the new Mental Monday and Foodie Friday header “buttons”?
19
Foodie Friday: Chicken Soup Ain’t Just For The Soul
Homemade chicken soup for the common cold
During the winter months, my family tends to get slammed with one cold after another. As we all know, there are no cures for the common cold, but there are non-medicinal remedies that can work wonders. As moms and grandmas have known for centuries, one of the best ways to deal with a cold is a steaming hot bowl of chicken soup. Or, in the case of serving soup to a toddler, a lukewarm sippy cup of chicken soup broth. When I’m sick, as I am this week, I would still much rather spend a few minutes prepping my own soup than pull out the canned stuff. There is something so healing about homemade soup, even when you’re the sick one who has to make it!
According to the Mayo Clinic, chicken soup for the common cold it’s not just an old wives’ tale. Scientists have verified the medical benefits to slurping down chicken soup during cold and flu season. The ingredients in chicken soup can serve two really beneficial purposes for combating a cold; it can act as an anti-inflammatory which can help sooth sore throats and it can speed up the movement of mucus which can help relieve congestion.
Some people are intimated by the thought of making homemade chicken soup or may believe that it takes too long to prepare. Not true! I have found a very quick and easy recipe from Martha Stewart that I love because it’s so easy and quick. The original recipe is very good, but lacking a bit in flavor. Here is the original version of the recipe along with some of my minor tweaking: (continues…)
11
The Games Couples Play
How do you spell T-O-G-E-T-H-E-R-N-E-S-S?
The Dude and I love to play games with one another.
Chess, Scrabble, Backgammon, Spit, Poker, Rummi-Q, DJ Hero, and Guitar Hero….once our little guy is the down for the night, we let the games begin.
Once the Monkey came into our lives, the Dude and I needed to find fun activities that we could do at home that were both fun and stimulating [insert requisite sex jokes here]. Yeah, sure, that can be fun…but I’m talking about something we can do every night [insert more requisite sex jokes here]. No, that just ain’t gonna happen.
On the nights when we need a break from our regular TV viewing, we settle in for an evening of challenge and competition. It’s all in good fun though since we tend to laugh ourselves through most games. Unless it’s Scrabble. Because then things can get ugly. But that’s just what happens when you marry an Ivy-league lawyer who majored in Rhetoric. He knows more words in other languages than I know in English. Sad, but true.
Before the little guy came into our lives, our definition of fun was going out to dinner multiple times a week, cooking together, spending time with friends, going to shows, and traveling at a moment’s notice. Those are still fun things for us, but we just don’t have the opportunities to do them as much as we have in the past. When the majority of our nights are at home with a two year-old, the definition of fun has to broaden a bit. Spending alone time together was never considered the luxury it has now become since the Monkey was born, but we try and make sure every minute counts.
It wasn’t easy to get to this point. (continues…)
01
Mental Monday: A Lifetime Sentence to Worry
Now that I’m a parent, I often look back at all the crazy/dangerous antics that I put my own parents through. I was not alone. My sister and brother were often as reckless and carefree as me.
From speeding tickets (all of us) to falling out of a 2nd story window (my sister) to getting hit by a car while riding a bike (my brother) to splitting a forehead wide open by falling on a step (my sister) to skydiving in our late teens (me, my brother), to getting into a bad moped accident in Ibiza (me) to traveling to scary foreign lands (all of us) my mom and dad became accustomed to the anxiety-induced adrenaline rush generated by the wild and accident-prone behavior of their children.
I had never really thought too much about this until I became a parent. I’ve worried about my baby boy before I even knew he was a boy. I’ve been worrying before, during, and every minute after he breathed his first breath. I think about how much I worry over him now and what it will be like in the future, when he’s driving for the first time, when he’s off to school, when he goes off into the world. I had assumed that the feelings of anxiety will only get easier.
My parents have informed me otherwise.
It’s been 30+ years since they have brought three children into the world and they still don’t have it much easier.
My brother is a psychologist in the military, a position he opted to take during this time of war. He does not currently work in a war zone, but that could change any time. My sister, a civilian lawyer, works in Afghanistan. My parents are besides themselves with worry. They scour the news everyday. Their heart skips a beat before every phone call, especially those from an international number. My sister has learned to check in with e-mails, even just to say nothing more than “hi.” She has learned to send an “I’m OK” mass e-mail to her immediate family before we hear about attacks in her area. Those e-mails bring most of her loved ones temporary solace during a constant state of turmoil. But, for my parents, the e-mails only validate their anxiety and fears.
I suppose it doesn’t matter if your child is 2 days, 2 months, 2 years, 22 years, or 32 years old. It doesn’t matter if your child is always with you at home, away at college, works in a “safe” city, or works in a war zone. As a parent, you will worry. A lot. It doesn’t always get easier. And, for some parents, it only gets harder.
