The job and the babysitter

The job is great. I enjoy it. I like my co-workers. I like my boss. It's awesome to be working again.

I do miss the children, but not in the way I did when I returned to work before. I think about them often during the day, but I no longer feel like running out the office door to the day care centre and scooping them up at 11 in the morning.

I'm glad to be away from them for awhile each day. I'm even happier to see them when I get home.

There is one enormous wrinkle though, so enormous it qualifies as a fold. I am having massive problems with my child care.

Our live-in nanny is coming sometime in late April through May. She is currently working in Hong Kong, and that's just how long it takes to get the immigration paperwork done through the Live-in Caregiver Program.

I had one week to find temporary child care. I thought I found it another military mom here in the PMQs.

The kids were there less than two weeks when she quit. I'm trying very hard not to take it personally, since she is pregnant and bailed because she is concerned about her health. Her baby comes first. I support that. But she's left me in a terrible situation.

She quit on Thursday. Tomorrow is her last day with the kids. I had 4 days to find child care.

Hubby and I managed to do it. Toddler N. is going to be cared for by my best PMQ friend who runs a day home. The boys are going to another day home in the Qs, at least for now. We may move them to a day care centre and the day home is cool with that.

If this doesn't work out, I will lose my job. I'm freaking.

Plus, all these changes are very hard on my kids, especially A. He has been moody and lashing out at Little I. I. is a terrible tease and A. just can't handle that this week.

There really is no winning. I stay home and go batty. I go to work and worry about the kids' child care.

There is no perfect way to mother, it seems. I'm screwing up both choices.

The story of the stomach bug

About three and a half weeks ago, Little I. started complaining his tummy hurt. He started eating less and less. Then he had the diarrhea. Then he started puking.

On the Saturday, five days before I started my new job, we took him to the ER. We were there 12 hours for IV rehydration. I took him in again on Sunday. He seemed to perk up and got over the illness.

Toddler N. had mild diarrhea this whole time.

On Wednesday night, Super A. started throwing up. He seemed better Thursday, but by Friday, my first day of work, he was very ill.

Hubby stayed home with him Friday so I could start my new job. On Friday night, N. started puking too.

By Sunday my oldest and youngest were so dehydrated the nurse who lives next door said they needed the ER right away.

It took five sticks to get an IV needle into A., his veins were so small from dehydration. He was listless, vomiting bile and passing out between vomits.

They had to put N.'s IV into her external jugular vein. She was poked six times before that. Her kidneys stopped working properly and she didn't pee in three days.

They were in the hospital four days. They were the worst four days of my life, camped out on a cot, praying their organs wouldn't shut down.

The kids were released a week ago. They looked terribly thin. Hubby has been feeding them up ever since.

I've been watching them sleep at night this week, looking at the bloom of health on their cheeks again and thanking God I didn't lose them.

And I've been thinking about the mothers who do. Mothers in the Third World who lose children to vomiting and diarrhea.

There are millions of them every year, dead for the want of IV fluids and simple medications.

Even in my children's illness and suffering, I am blessed and fortunate. It's not fair and I am not deserving.

Hospital horror

We just got home from the pediatrics ward today. A. and N. were both admitted for severe dehydration. The baby is still having the odd vomit, but A. is back to normal.

I'll post a longer story and some pics on the weekend. Need to catch up on work and life.