Look! New towel ring installed! Matches the new faucet! Pretty! Shiny! Useful!
Am feeling much better. Like a human, actually. Although I spent my weekend cleaning my house, which had totally gone to shit while I was sick, as Daddy held the fort down as best he could, and also for some reason I have the one dog on the face of the planet who does not eat crumbs off the floor. Who knew.
Yesterday Will came running into my room while I was folding laundry and said "Mom! Max is playing with two tennis balls at once! He has two balls!"
I said, "Hey, that's two more than he had this morning."
My husband groaned and said, "Glad to see you're back in action."
"I do what I can."
cadykansas: dude is starting to look like the taliban
T: he needs to change the blade on his razor- i think it's broken
cadykansas: little bit
cadykansas: i am starting to get bored
T: that means u are feeling better
cadykansas: but still dont have any energy to do anything about it
cadykansas: i had some cereal
cadykansas: i watched all season one of buffy
T: holy shit
cadykansas: except the episode that was about clown demons
cadykansas: i think maybe i take a nap now
cadykansas: later I write a blog post for dfb
T: i didnt get my usual mental health break away from here at mid day. I think I may snap.
cadykansas: you b fine
cadykansas: hows your foot
T: it fuckin hurts
cadykansas: we are a mess
T: friggin turning purple and shit
cadykansas: and it always starts to hurt after youve been working out i noticed
T: not like this
cadykansas: maybe you need to do ellipticals instead of walking or soemthing
cadykansas: no pressure on the foot
T: maybe i should just call it in and get a fuckin walker
T: im 36 not 86
cadykansas: its probly covered
T: stair chair
cadykansas: maybe u need a specialist
cadykansas: instead of a gen pract
T: oh, you mean a pill whore?
cadykansas: whatever works
cadykansas: thats pill pimp, you're the pill whore, technically
T: no im the john
cadykansas: im going to sleep
T: the pimp is the pharmcy companies
cadykansas: oh here we go
T: me= john doctor=whore cvs=crack dealer Pfizer=Pimp Daddy
cadykansas: aren't you the republican here? you're supposed to be for big biz
T: just becuz i don't read fascist rags like NY Times doesn't make me a card-carrying, bible-thumping, starchy republican
T: i'm a nice republican
T: and i can think for myself, thank u very much
cadykansas: a dying breed, no doubt
T: enjoy your nap
Oh wow, that vomit post stayed up way too long, didn't it? I'm so sorry. I've been busy, being sick.
But! Not vomiting, thank the little baby Jesus. This morning, at the crack of dawn in the five degree temperature, I dragged my sorry ass into the walk-in clinic, thinking I had the flu since suddenly feeling like I'd been hit by a firetruck yesterday afternoon. Seriously, one minute I was fine, with just a little tickle in the back of my throat, and all of a sudden at about four o'clock, I felt as if someone had used my head to break concrete blocks in a Kung Fu tournament. It debilitated me so badly I sat down on the couch and let the kids play the Wii until bedtime, because I couldn't really think of any other way to cope. (My husband was at a meeting for soccer coaches - its almost that season again...)
So, the walk-in clinic for me, after listening to my husband gripe about "OH MY GOD you go to the doctor more than anyone else I know." Yes, I probably do, this is true. Because I generally feel that when you first realize you are sick is a good time to go to the doctor and find out why. That's their JOB. Unlike most men, who feel that along with asking for directions, going to the doctor is for sissies who can't hack it, I prefer to get the help I need to get better.
And help I got, although I do not have the flu. I have strep. And a raging sinus infection, and even a little bit of an ear infection. Good Lord. When the PA rubbed the glands in my neck I nearly passed out right there. She was rather impressed with the extent of the infection, considering most of yesterday I was fine. Antibiotics for me, although she said I probably won't feel human for 48 hours. Great.
So I have been in bed all day, mostly sleeping, but sometimes sitting up with the laptop across my legs offering extra warmth from its wee motor. Also there is a large black poodle strewn precariously across my feet, not realizing that if he stretches just a leeeeetle more to the right he is going to tumble right off the edge and I am not going to reach out and stop him from falling. Because its funny. Although it hurts my ears to laugh.
We have some friends who are in town visiting this weekend, and not knowing what we were getting ourselves into, we suggested we take them out to the T-Rex restaurant for an early dinner. They are here in KC because the mommy is seeking medical treatment from a specialist based here, so we loaded the dad and their two kids into the van about 4 o'clock and headed out toward the speedway.
So I am in the back of the van in the middle seat, with Will to my right and a very sweet four year old girl to my left. And as we neared the highway exit, she says to me, "I'm gonna throw up."
I didn't really understand her, so I said "what?" And right about then she started spewing like Linda Blair in The Exorcist.
All over me, all over her, all over my car. It was like a plumbing incident where you can't find the shutoff valve under the sink. Finally we made it to where we could pull over and I ordered everyone out of the car so I could start cleaning the two of us up. Which was no easy feat. It was everywhere. When you are strapped into a carseat, there is nowhere for vomit to go. It was in her hair, in her ears, down her chest, allovee the seatbelt and the carseat, on the floor, in MY hair, my lap, my coat. So on. Everywhere. Her poor father was so mortified I thought he was going to have a stroke right there. I wouldn't let him hold her or clean her up, because why should he get all nasty and slimy, too? I was already covered in it, no reason to spread it around. (Also my mommy instincts had kicked in, children who are vomiting need a mommy, period.)
Anyway, finally we got to T-rex, I took her to the ladies room and got us cleaned up a bit. Then we waited an hour and a half for a table, ate dinner, drank multiple glasses of wine, and went home. A night we will never forget.
Sunday morning update:
(PS - I originally posted this through Typepad Mobile on my phone, where editing is not so much an option. Have fixed most typos now, I think.)
(PPS - Also? After we returned home and I showered the stink off, I went back out to a friend's birthday celebration, a friend who lives a mere six houses away so I could walk there and back, and proceeded to drink enough wine to keep a camel alive in the desert for a week. I knew it was time for me to leave when I realized I'd been referring to the birthday girl's sister as Ginger for a while, which is not actually her name.)
(And then I woke up this morning to four inches of snow. Its still going. I'm going to strangle that fucking groundhog.)
(Did I mention I only woke up because I heard the sound of the dog heaving near me? At least I've gotten him trained to go into the bathroom so he can puke on the tile floor and not the carpet. Geez.)
(photo and description of the artist's play courtesy of UCSD Open Studio. Wine, tater tots and the Russian Mafia have long interested Glenna Jennings. Guns really haven't. As a would-be pacifist, this wavering apathy/disdain toward weapons was put to the test when she inherited 15 hunting rifles and a few pistols after her father passed away in 2006. )
I found the picture above after tooling around on google image search looking for pictures of guns and wine. I was hoping to find a wine label with a gun on it, as an appropriate seque from my Friday Wine Goodness theme, but I found this, and its totally awesome.
So, its been a difficult day, for a couple of reasons. One, I read this morning on the local news that another child in the Kansas City area has been diagnosed with advanced stage Rhabdomyosarcoma, the same cancer which took our little friend Ben. It is supposed to be a rare, one in a million type of cancer. Yet we know of 5-6 children in the last two years alone, in Kansas City, to be affected with it. It is brutal and horrible and I nearly started to cry reading the article, and several times during the day just thinking about it. I cannot imagine another family going through this the way my friends have. I cannot imagine a mother with the serenity and presence of mind to say "sometimes lilies only bloom once", having already arrived at what could be the horrifying truth of this diagnosis.
Then, the shooting at NIU yesterday, has left me angry and raw, and I don't even know anyone involved. Add that to:
You know what? Here. Just go check out the chart for yourself. And this isn't even complete. I can't stand it anymore.
I continue to want to rage against a self-righteous government who wants to spend $43 billion dollars on an un-winable war yet refuses, absolutely refuses to acknowledge we have an arms control problem in our own country.
Of course he went off his meds. Of course he bought at least two of the weapons legally, IN THE LAST WEEK. I would expect nothing less, in a country that holds the right to bear our precious guns ABOVE ensuring a minimum standard of healthcare insurance for children. This doesn't shock me anymore. It just makes me angry. It makes me glad we have a decent Democratic candidate or two, who can inspire real change.
But It makes me sad. Because deep down in my gut, where I don't want to talk about it, I don't know that I believe what the Democrats are saying, as much as I want to, way up here in the top of my heart.
And now I'm going to go have a glass of wine.
By the way, I've been meaning to mention something. The fabulous Sheila over at And All the Jones Men bestowed upon me a lovely honor: A Bloggers with Integrity award for social conscience. I really appreciate that she noticed and spread the word. Its funny, as I have noticed over the years, and I do mean years as I've been blogging now since September of 2004, that my socially conscious rants tend to be the most ignored by the masses. I am a mommy blogger, and I know it, I'm not ashamed of that, its what I do and what I know. My husband and I don't agree on a lot of political and social topics, which is interesting since he's my best friend and all. But since we argue enough over the typical married couple topics, we generally stay out of political discussions. So I love having this soapbox all of my own, to vent about what drives me crazy about society.
I have been remiss in not posting about it. Assuming that I personally stay puke and strep free in the next few days, I will foward it on.
I will admit that I was lucky enough not to have postpartum depression, with either child. I have had plenty of depressive episodes in my life, before and after children, but somehow I didn't have it when caring for a newborn, I will never understand why. Probably because I had a lot of support, living a mere few miles from my mother and my brother, and also having a fabulous, amazingly supportive neighborhood who brought me dinners for weeks and dropped in to check on us regularly. I may have had a much more difficult time had I had my babies while we were out in California and I was alone.
So anyway, you have to read Penelope Trunk's post today. Its so courageous, and so terrifying at the same time. I cannot imagine this much stress induced on a woman with a newborn, and yet everyone has lived to tell the tale. So many aren't so lucky.
As promised, I posted pictures of the playroom in its current state of almost done-ness. The light fixtures are up, the ceiling fan is up, the built-in daybed frame is in. Really all we have left to do is put in the baseboard molding and have the carpet installed, which hopefully will take place right after our tax return comes in. Yeeha! I love spending money before I even get it! Just kidding, actually that kind of blows, but whatever.
I still have some throw pillows to sew, and then I think I'm going to make slipcover for the twin mattress that will sit on the frame instead of just putting sheets on it. I still have plenty of side projects associated with this room to keep me busy until winter fades away into landscaping season.
By the way, its really hard to tell how bright that green is with my camera phone, but trust me, its bright. The color is called melange green. Think Shrek.
So, where were we? Ah yes, Will was recovering from Strep, and Drew was making rocket shooting penis attachments for his Lego soldiers. Actually, he was not aware of the appendage placement issue on his soldier, its just my gutter mind that went "wha?" when he brought it to me proudly, to show off.
Anyway, that was a great day, Saturday. We worked in the playroom, touching up paint and wiring lights and outlets, and buying lumber for the built-in daybed frame, and the weather was nice enough for the kids to play outside quite a bit. Then we went back to Home Depot, our shopping habit of choice lately thanks to this project, and then had a nice dinner with the kids at Mimi's Cafe. Movie, bedtime, a glass of wine. A good day.
Unfortunately, about 1:30 am Drew started vomiting. So I got up and moved to his bed, so I could be there to help him. He had a fever, too, and sometimes its hard to tell with him which begat the other - he tends to start vomiting when he runs a fever, no matter what the virus. But by daylight it was pretty clear we were dealing with a stomach flu. Sunday he laid on the couch or on his bed all day long after the puking stopped, while we worked in the playroom more and got almost finished. We maybe have one more weekend before we're done.
(I will post pictures soon, I promise, at flickr. I'm not on the right computer for that right now.)
This morning Drew was in much better shape, but still weak. When you only weigh 42 lbs. and you lose 2 lbs. because you can't take in calories for 18 hours, you tends to be pretty weak. So I didn't send him to school, but took him to work with me (aka my mom's house) so he could rest there. He hung out with Grandma, who's been staying with my parents since her fall last week where she did indeed dislocate her shoulder. The two of them, both fragile and maybe needing a little extra attention, played board games together all day long.
So, we're okay. We're better. I'm sort of waiting for the other shoe to drop, personally. To see who wakes up next in the middle of the night with the fever sweats and a grumbly tummy. It seems that everytime things seem to be going smoothly and everyone is getting along, someone starts vomiting or the dog shits on the carpet or some other type of insanity comes along to interrupt the bliss. Like tonight for example.
Tonight I went to yoga while my husband fed the boys dinner and put them into their pj's. Then when I got back, he left to run to Costco and get groceries. I didn't have to do it, which is nice, sometimes. I sat at the bar in the kitchen, feeling soft and warm and stretched, decompressed from my day, and ate a quiet dinner and read my new magazine while the boys played the Wii in the other room. Bliss. Maybe even, dare I say, Nirvana, for the mom of Chaos and Mayhem.
And then my seven year old called his little brother a dumbass.