Pinterexia Nervosa: A Diagnostic Guide.

Pinterexia Nervosa, A Diagnostic Guide


Pinterexia Nervosa
is a body/home image disorder in which people have an intense anxiety over ensuring that their life is completely pinnable at any moment. This disease is most often diagnosed in women and most prevalent post-childbirth, as the quantity of contractible symptoms grow when children are involved.

What are the Symptoms of Pinterexia Nervosa?

  • An inability to pass a home improvement store without peeking around back to forage for used pallets to knock one more item off of that “50+ Wooden Pallet Projects” to-do list.
  • Rainbow-Color-Order Ombre hair. Especially when matched with an ombre dress, shoes, or purse.
  • Having different yet detailed scenes or patterns painted on each fingernail, and changing out said scenes more than two times per week.
    (Toenail or fingernail monograms are a sign of Advanced Pinterexia. Seek medical help immediately.)
  • Housing more than five burlap and/or chevron projects per room.
  • The inability to eat a meal, a sweet, or a saltine cracker without taking a picture of it, then adding three filters in at least two different apps.
    (Note: This may also be a sign of Instagrammia – talk to your doctor to understand the differences.)
  • A canvas-mounted photograph larger than two feet wide of your four children all wearing white linen and lying on top of each other in a “sleeping” heap.
  • More than five different homemade concoctions for washing your hair, your laundry, your colon, or your Shih Tzu.
  • Getting a tattoo just so that you can photograph and pin it.
    (Note: Stage Two Pinterexia can create the need to photograph and pin said tattoo before the redness and swelling subside. Stage Three Pinterexia may compel you to photograph and pin your tattoo before even wiping the the blood away. Although rare, Stage Three Pinterexia is documented, but the images are too violent to share even in a medical setting.)
  • Spending over $5,000 on your child’s first birthday party, and/or spending over 72 (wo)man-hours making Pinterest-Ready party favors, cakes, petit fours, kiddie cocktails, and bunting.
  • Narrating your morning makeup routine as if you were making a how-to video. Daily.
  • Divorcing and marrying the same man again just so that you can create a Post-Pinterest-Age wedding.
    (The early stages of Pinterexia can be detected in the creation of a “If I Were to Get Married Again” Pinterest Board.)
  • Addressing your utility bill payments in silver-inked horizontal calligraphy.
  • Pinning this post without even reading it.

What causes Pinterexia Nervosa?

  • Clearly, the main cause of Pinterexia is prolonged exposure to Pinterest itself. But, like many carcinogens, it is still legal in most states. Petitions are being sent daily to the Surgeon General requesting he review the hazards.
  • Pinterest apps, especially when placed on the first page of one’s phone, can greatly enhance the risk of Pinterexia.
  • Other people in your family or timeline having a Pinterest Disorder, such as Pinaholism or PCD (Pinterest-Compulsive Disorder.)
  • Having a job that requires the gathering of ideas from Pinterest. Contraction of Pinterexia in these cases is nearly 100%. If this sounds like your occupation, make sure that your employee has comprehensive worker’s compensation with a psychiatric umbrella clause.

How is Pinterexia Nervosa Diagnosed?

If your doctor thinks that you may have a Pinterest Disorder, he or she may compare your outfit, hairstyle, house décor, and closet organization to that of a normal person of your age and Natural DIY Tendency. Your doctor may also investigate your children to ensure that no more than 30% of their wardrobe is upcycled from your old clothing and no less than 60% of the items in their bedroom are actually toys and not untouchable art pieces. They may also quiz them to make sure they are aware that fruit does not have to be eaten only in rainbow-order kabob form, that clothing doesn’t grow on trees already monogrammed and smocked, and that crayons are for coloring, not melting.

How is Pinterexia Nervosa Treated?

All people suffering from Pinterexia need treatment. Even if you, your friend, or (heaven forbid) your husband have only a couple of the signs of a Pinterest Disorder, seek professional help immdiately. Early treatment offers the best chance of overcoming Pinterexia.

Treatment will most likely include a deleting of the Pinterest app on all of your devices and contacting your ISP provider to block any attempts at visiting Pinterest’s website. For advanced stages of the disease, blocking of Facebook and Twitter may also be necessary, as certain enabling people tend to double-post their pins to these social networks. In extreme cases, your house may also have to be treated, de-organized, and sanitized from all Pinnable Projects.

One experimental therapy (only available in Mexico) is Normal Life Reentry Therapy (NLRT), where you are forced to wear only solid beiges, blacks and whites, only served ugly foods (goulash and curry are generally recommended with Monkey Bread for dessert), are required to have your kid’s birthday parties at Chuck E. Cheese, and are not allowed to be anywhere near mod podge, stencils, balloons, edible paints, scrapbook paper, or the letters D, I, and Y.

What is the prognosis for Pinterexia?

Long-Term recovery from the disease is rare, and when achieved, is typically promptly followed by a relapse when the patient feels the need to pin an infographic on the steps they took to overcome their Pinterexia.

Remember: early detection is crucial. Know the signs. Perform self-checks regularly. And talk to your doctor about any symptoms or concerns.

Sifteo Cubes {Gaming System Giveaway}

In December, I introduced you guys to Sifteo Cubes. They’re a fun gaming system for kids, and Ali still adores them.

(And I really like them, too.)

They’ve recently released a few new games, including one that Ali is wild about, Sandwich Kingdom: Ice Palace. It reminds me of the text-based choose-your-own-adventure games that I loved as a kid – on our very first DOS computer.

(Did you ever play those games? I think we had one called Bavaria that I was obsessed with. You had to type which direction you wanted to walk with “N”, “S”, “E”, or “W”, then you would find dead ends, run into monsters, or discover great treasures. The fun in it was that you couldn’t “see” where you were going, and had to visualize it in your head.)

In Ice Palace, you place two or more Sifteo blocks next to each other to reveal the pathways:

Sifteo Cubes

Then you can touch them to tell your guy which way to go.

Sifteo

Another great thing about this game is the written narration. It encourages Ali to read, imagine, and enter into the game instead of just playing something mindless without a plot.

Sifteo 2

She also has to read clues and figure out what they mean, but they are simple enough that she can figure them out. They also test her memory by sending her back to a prior location, so she has to remember which order to put the blocks in to get back there.

These cubes are great for summertime boredom or rainy afternoons, and also good to keep her brain sharp throughout the summer, since so many of the games are “sneaking” in learning.

Sifteo Cubes are available through their website, where they are offering free shipping through June 21. Also, Sifteo has given me a set to give away to one of you! The gaming system will be pre-loaded with a set of games, including Sandwich Kingdom: Ice Palace.

If you would like to enter to win a Sifteo Cube Gaming System (worth $129.95), simply leave a comment on this post telling me your favorite summertime boredom-beater for kids. For a couple extra entries, feel free to use this Rafflecopter Widget to follow Sifteo and me around:

a Rafflecopter giveaway

 

This giveaway will be open until Monday, June 24.  I will announce the winner Tuesday, June 25 on my Giveaway Winners Page.

Good Luck!


Disclosure: I was not compensated for this post, but was given a download code to review the new game.  My opinions are always my own.

Swimming Onset Insanity.

A week ago from tonight, I found myself losing my mind in the shallow end of a pool. Questioning my ability to be a parent, and doubting my purpose in life.

What had led to this travesty? How could my life be so complicated when standing in a swimming pool?

Let’s go in reverse order.

Thirty minutes before, my daughter began having a complete panic attack at even the thought of getting her face in the water. Or even her chin.

One hour before, I had done the treacherous work of getting my two children ready for the pool, driving to said pool, and taking off my two-year-old’s diaper and putting him in a swim diaper. Only to then find out that the pool was closed for a swim meet. This was followed by calling a family friend and begging them to let us use their pool.

Four hours before, at the first of three pools for the day, Ali’s swimming teacher told me the grave news that my daughter was not willing to get past the whole “water” part of swimming, and so I needed to work with her before the next day, or she would be fired.

(Okay. He actually recommended that I pull her out because he didn’t want me to waste my money. But still – only my kid could get fired from private swimming lessons.)

But four and a half hours before, halfway through that swimming lesson. That’s where the true root of my meltdown originated.

It was the second day of lessons with Mister Ray. Perfect for my intensely fearful daughter, he was calm, laid-back, and gentle. (Let me know if you need his number.) He didn’t try to trick her, and he never let her get scared.

(Unlike myself. Who is apparently horribly scary in the pool setting.)

Despite her six and a half years of built-up water/face contact fears, Ali adored Mister Ray. The day before, she had giddily giggled at everything he’d said, and was oddly not at all nervous about the pending confrontation between h2o and her facial orifices.

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Noah and I had tried to stay far away from the lessons so as to not impede the happiness that was occurring. I thought he would be happy scooping and dumping, since it’s all he ever wants to do.

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But he was not.

Thanks to teething, heat, and general crossness (I’ve taught him to explain to people, “I’m a little storm cloud”), he made it known how unhappy the arrangements found him.

So on Day Two (the fateful Tuesday in question,) Mister Ray, being the kind and merciful guy that he was, suggested that I let Noah hang out on the stairs of the pool. After all, our lessons were in the middle of the day, it’s June, and have I mentioned that we live in Alabama?

I happened to have Noah’s swimsuit and a swim diaper on my person, so I quickly took him up on it and plopped the kid in the pool.

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Noah was happy, Ali was happy. Mister Ray was happy to explain how water doesn’t hurt our face for the four-hundred-and-sixty-seventh time.

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I sat on the side of the pool, soaking up the rays of sunshine and of happiness exuding from my children.

Until a few minutes before the lesson was over. When I looked next to me and saw a dinner-plate sized pile of puke directly adjacent to my hand and creeping closer at an alarming rate.

My mind started racing.

“How did PUKE get next to the pool? We’re the first lesson of the day…and Ali didn’t throw up. I’ve been watching Noah. And Mister Ray seems healthy…so that’s strange.”

I looked at it and I looked at it, and then I looked at Noah, who was standing in the pool. Which is how I noticed the unhealthy yellow-brown tinge on the top of his swim diaper.

Nonononono NO NO NOOOOOO!!!!

In denial, I stretched the backside of his diaper open and peered inside…then yanked my finger back out with a new, thick coating.

That pile of puke was not puke. And if he had left that on the side of the pool…how far and wide had he spread his love?

I grabbed him out of the water and ran over to the sidewalk, where I had zero wet wipes. Or shop towels. Or a HAZMAT suit.

I told him to NOT MOVE AN INCH and ran to the car. When I came back, he was lying on the sidewalk with his feet sticking straight up in the air.

“Change me, Mommy!!”

As carefully as one can (which isn’t very), I shimmied Noah’s sopping wet and unpleasantly squishy swimsuit down his wet legs, while things that must not be named dripped out.

Then came the door to the underworld.

The ripping of the sides of the Swim Diaper of Hell.

Nothing can make poo nastier than being marinated in water. Especially when that water has had a really good chance to mingle, thereby creating a Lake of Darkness.

Let’s just say that I, who prides myself in never gagging at my kid’s various productions, totally gagged.

I managed to get the Bog of Eternal Stench into a bag without spilling it everywhere, wiped him up, scrubbed the sidewalk with a wet wipe, then went to attend to that gigantic pile next to the pool.

At which point I realized: Mister Ray and Ali were still practicing blowing bubbles in the pool. That pool.

“Hey Mister Ray…um…you might need to shock the pool and then some with a treatment. Noah just…had an issue.”

About twelve wet wipes later, I got the pool deck clean…ish.

Then I looked into the pool and saw a sinker.

(As opposed to a floater.)

I leaned over and dipped it out with my bare hand – it was a poo cashew.

Like, literally. Left over from the previous day’s granola consumption.

All the while, Noah was screaming because I wouldn’t let him back in the pool.

It was time for the lesson to be over anyway, so Mr. Ray had tactfully hopped out of the poo(l). While Noah continued to scream, Mister Ray broke the news about Ali’s inability to get over the whole water thing.

I apologized profusely for my son and my daughter, promised to work on her swimming in the next 24 hours, then collected my children, their shoes, their towels, and their poo and loaded it all in the car.

It was one of those car rides where Mommy needed a time out.

“No one talk. I need silence.”

I processed my mortification with regards to my child’s murder of the pool.

I processed my kid’s inability to conquer her fears.

Then, when my voice returned, I began teaching Noah a new No-No-Poop Catechism.

“We No-No Poop in the pool.”

“No-No Poop in the pool.”

“What do we no-no do in the pool?”

“We no-no poop in the pool.”


Epilogue:

Noah repeats his catechism at the mention of the pool, and has not pooped in any more of them. In fact, he actually didn’t poop for several days, since he met of that need so thoroughly in that nuclear waste site of a pool.

I recovered from the day with the help of a lot of artisan chocolate consumption.

Ali did indeed take an early retirement from swimming lessons. Although she could never make herself voluntarily put her face fully in the water, she did adore Mister Ray so much that on the last day, she allowed him to do this – twice – without any tears.

Ali Dunk

I was amazed, stunned, and otherwise speechless.

If only she loved me as much as she loved him, I might be able to help her conquer her fears before she’s twenty-one.

Mr Ray

But I don’t see that happening.