If you do, you're more than free to help yourself to mine.
I had what was probably a gall stones attack two nights ago. Except for labour and miscarriage, it was the most painful experience of my life.
So now I am on an extreme low-fat diet. Nothing can enter my mouth with more than three grams of fat. Do you know how little fat that is? Two slices of bread have about a gram to two grams of fat. Half a chicken breast has about two grams. Bananas have about 4 grams.
I am seriously ticked off.
Bright side: this should help me lose weight
Showing posts with label Illness. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Illness. Show all posts
Thursday, October 08, 2009
Monday, June 16, 2008
On crises and desert times
When the Hubby and I planned our escape from the Great White North, we expected life to change, and change a great deal. What we didn't expect from our first year of southern living was a year full of illness, intense stress, disillusionment and crises of faith. But that's what we got.
The kids were hospitalized twice.
I couldn't get a job in journalism to save my life, despite eight years with the Mother Corp. and the statue in the living room.
My grandmother almost died, and I had to take a trip home I couldn't afford, at Christmastime, paid for by my mother-in-law (bless you, N.) so I could say good-bye. Thank God she lived.
I took a job doing something I always said I'd never do, simply to pay our student loans. We went through three sitters in five months. We are still waiting for our permanent nanny, five months later. (For new readers: a live-in nanny is a lot cheaper than day care when you have three kids.)
I had the worst Valentines Day, birthday, Easter and Mother's Day of my life.
As a family, we have struggled to attend Mass, and I have struggled with my prayer life and my faith. I feel very far from God lately, and I know I'm the one who put the distance there.
As a consequence of all this, my marriage has suffered. Nothing terribly serious, but something we need to work on.
There are many bright spots in all this.
A. has learned to ride a bike with no training wheels. His four front teeth have all fallen out, and his adult teeth are coming in nicely. He can read, which forever amazes me.
Big I. is no longer Little. He is a brown, sturdy, upright little man who has an incredible imagination and a lively wit.
Toddler N. is almost two, has about 150 words and is the most stubborn child on the planet. Her head is a mass of strawberry blonde curls. She loves to sing.
The Hubby 's training is going well and he is enjoying life in the military. He still has that zany sense of humour, and is well-liked at his latest assignment.
I like my co-workers very much and can live with the work I'm doing, but I know I am not doing what I am meant to do in life. To quote Stevie Cameron: "All I have ever been, all I have ever wanted to be, is a reporter." So I continue with this work because it pays the bills, and dream of a time when I might steal a few hours here and there to sell the odd article, to build my reputation here and get away from the Dark Side.
I have also been thinking about my other passion, health, and wondering if I have a future there, wondering how old is too old for medical school. I can't even think of going until the kids are all in high school or beyond, so perhaps it will never be anything more than a dream. But I know I could do it; I was always a straight-A student, and nothing can gross me out too much anymore, not after all the IV needles and vomit I've endured. I might puke, but I wouldn't pass out.
My parents are coming to visit this week. My dad hasn't seen the boys since Isaac was a baby. He and the kids have been plotting days filled with ice cream and beaches and parks.
So I sit, halfway through 2008, and ask myself to consider my blessings rather than dwelling on all these hard times. This is what I come up with:
1. The kids are healthy and whole.
2. My husband loves me and I love him.
3. My parents, in-laws and grandparents are well.
4. My friend E. had her first son (yaaaayyy) and my friend S. is expecting her first daughter any day.
5. I've only gained back 10 pounds of the 30 I'd lost since I switched from stroller-pushing to a desk job, and I've maintained that weight for five very hard months. (Hey, you can't know how incredibly happy I am to still be in single digit sizes!)
6. My faith is based on logic rather than feelings (or I don't think I'd have any left!)
7. A house, food, clothing and beer in the fridge.
The kids were hospitalized twice.
I couldn't get a job in journalism to save my life, despite eight years with the Mother Corp. and the statue in the living room.
My grandmother almost died, and I had to take a trip home I couldn't afford, at Christmastime, paid for by my mother-in-law (bless you, N.) so I could say good-bye. Thank God she lived.
I took a job doing something I always said I'd never do, simply to pay our student loans. We went through three sitters in five months. We are still waiting for our permanent nanny, five months later. (For new readers: a live-in nanny is a lot cheaper than day care when you have three kids.)
I had the worst Valentines Day, birthday, Easter and Mother's Day of my life.
As a family, we have struggled to attend Mass, and I have struggled with my prayer life and my faith. I feel very far from God lately, and I know I'm the one who put the distance there.
As a consequence of all this, my marriage has suffered. Nothing terribly serious, but something we need to work on.
There are many bright spots in all this.
A. has learned to ride a bike with no training wheels. His four front teeth have all fallen out, and his adult teeth are coming in nicely. He can read, which forever amazes me.
Big I. is no longer Little. He is a brown, sturdy, upright little man who has an incredible imagination and a lively wit.
Toddler N. is almost two, has about 150 words and is the most stubborn child on the planet. Her head is a mass of strawberry blonde curls. She loves to sing.
The Hubby 's training is going well and he is enjoying life in the military. He still has that zany sense of humour, and is well-liked at his latest assignment.
I like my co-workers very much and can live with the work I'm doing, but I know I am not doing what I am meant to do in life. To quote Stevie Cameron: "All I have ever been, all I have ever wanted to be, is a reporter." So I continue with this work because it pays the bills, and dream of a time when I might steal a few hours here and there to sell the odd article, to build my reputation here and get away from the Dark Side.
I have also been thinking about my other passion, health, and wondering if I have a future there, wondering how old is too old for medical school. I can't even think of going until the kids are all in high school or beyond, so perhaps it will never be anything more than a dream. But I know I could do it; I was always a straight-A student, and nothing can gross me out too much anymore, not after all the IV needles and vomit I've endured. I might puke, but I wouldn't pass out.
My parents are coming to visit this week. My dad hasn't seen the boys since Isaac was a baby. He and the kids have been plotting days filled with ice cream and beaches and parks.
So I sit, halfway through 2008, and ask myself to consider my blessings rather than dwelling on all these hard times. This is what I come up with:
1. The kids are healthy and whole.
2. My husband loves me and I love him.
3. My parents, in-laws and grandparents are well.
4. My friend E. had her first son (yaaaayyy) and my friend S. is expecting her first daughter any day.
5. I've only gained back 10 pounds of the 30 I'd lost since I switched from stroller-pushing to a desk job, and I've maintained that weight for five very hard months. (Hey, you can't know how incredibly happy I am to still be in single digit sizes!)
6. My faith is based on logic rather than feelings (or I don't think I'd have any left!)
7. A house, food, clothing and beer in the fridge.
Friday, March 21, 2008
Agony in the Garden
I share last year's post with you all, and a happy update: My friend gave birth to her second son, and now is the happy mother of a healthy and growing baby. Please remember all mothers suffering hyperemesis gravidarum (HG) in your Easter prayers, especially those who are considering abortion or who have aborted due to this terrible disease.
I love Easter, and that love has very little to do with all the chocolate (yes, I adore the chocolate, too -- especially the Lindt bunnies Mom sends. Thanks, Mom!)
Easter is the time of year when I get to take the time to really, really think about my faith, the central core of what I believe about Jesus and why I believe it. I believe He died for our sins. I believe He rose from the dead. I believe He was and is God, never created and always begotten.
Most of all, though, I believe in Gethsemane. What he did in Gethsemane.
Jesus went to the gardens of Gethsemane the night before the Crucifixion. He wept and prayed and begged the Father to change his mind, to stop the Crucifixion, to protect His Son. He was frightened. He was weak. He was trembling.Then He got up and faced his captors and accusers calmly and peacefully, accepting what was going to happen.
I spent months in Gethsemane. And the only reason I came out of the Garden was that Jesus was there, and He walked out with me.
My illness during my last pregnancy started in my second trimester. It was at its very worst during weeks 16 to 18. No eating or drinking without violent vomiting. Vomiting bile and blood. Dehydration. Drugs and IV fluids and more drugs.
I used to drag myself into the bathroom, lie on the floor with my head on the toilet seat, and beg God to let me die. Or to take the baby. Or both of us. Just take this cup. Take it, take it.
There was one day when I thought about aborting my baby all day and night, incessantly. My 16-week old baby who was kicking me so hard The Hubby could feel it when he touched my belly.
I was thinking of this time during Mass on Palm Sunday, holding Baby N. in my arms, my reward for enduring The Agony in the Garden. And all I could do was thank Jesus for having gone to Gethsemane first, for truly understanding.
Jesus in the Garden tells us pain and fear and suffering are real. They are terrible. But they are temporary and surmountable.
I have a good, in real life friend who is enduring the Agony in the Garden right now. She is a private person, so all I will say is please pray for her and her baby, as well as the rest of her family.
"There can be no greater love, than to lay down your life for a friend." -- John 15:13
May you soon pick it back up again, my friend, with your child in your arms.
Have a blessed Holy Week, everyone.
I love Easter, and that love has very little to do with all the chocolate (yes, I adore the chocolate, too -- especially the Lindt bunnies Mom sends. Thanks, Mom!)
Easter is the time of year when I get to take the time to really, really think about my faith, the central core of what I believe about Jesus and why I believe it. I believe He died for our sins. I believe He rose from the dead. I believe He was and is God, never created and always begotten.
Most of all, though, I believe in Gethsemane. What he did in Gethsemane.
Jesus went to the gardens of Gethsemane the night before the Crucifixion. He wept and prayed and begged the Father to change his mind, to stop the Crucifixion, to protect His Son. He was frightened. He was weak. He was trembling.Then He got up and faced his captors and accusers calmly and peacefully, accepting what was going to happen.
I spent months in Gethsemane. And the only reason I came out of the Garden was that Jesus was there, and He walked out with me.
My illness during my last pregnancy started in my second trimester. It was at its very worst during weeks 16 to 18. No eating or drinking without violent vomiting. Vomiting bile and blood. Dehydration. Drugs and IV fluids and more drugs.
I used to drag myself into the bathroom, lie on the floor with my head on the toilet seat, and beg God to let me die. Or to take the baby. Or both of us. Just take this cup. Take it, take it.
There was one day when I thought about aborting my baby all day and night, incessantly. My 16-week old baby who was kicking me so hard The Hubby could feel it when he touched my belly.
I was thinking of this time during Mass on Palm Sunday, holding Baby N. in my arms, my reward for enduring The Agony in the Garden. And all I could do was thank Jesus for having gone to Gethsemane first, for truly understanding.
Jesus in the Garden tells us pain and fear and suffering are real. They are terrible. But they are temporary and surmountable.
I have a good, in real life friend who is enduring the Agony in the Garden right now. She is a private person, so all I will say is please pray for her and her baby, as well as the rest of her family.
"There can be no greater love, than to lay down your life for a friend." -- John 15:13
May you soon pick it back up again, my friend, with your child in your arms.
Have a blessed Holy Week, everyone.
Quick recap
The children were hospitalized again last week. The boys this time. They were in the hospital at night, Hubby was at sea and I was at home with Toddler N.
I looked into their empty room with its empty beds. I thought about my brave little men, alone except for each other. I couldn't enter that empty room.
I sobbed for hours. I wanted my boys safe at home.
I raced into the hospital the next day, running through the halls to get to their room.
My boys were sitting up in their beds, groggy from sleep but looking much better than the night before.
"Wook, Mommy!" I. said. "There's bunnies out the window!"
Sure enough, two black bunnies were hopping about.
I never expected their first night outside the family would be in hospital beds.
They are fully recovered, but I just keep waiting for the next illness to hit. What a winter.
I looked into their empty room with its empty beds. I thought about my brave little men, alone except for each other. I couldn't enter that empty room.
I sobbed for hours. I wanted my boys safe at home.
I raced into the hospital the next day, running through the halls to get to their room.
My boys were sitting up in their beds, groggy from sleep but looking much better than the night before.
"Wook, Mommy!" I. said. "There's bunnies out the window!"
Sure enough, two black bunnies were hopping about.
I never expected their first night outside the family would be in hospital beds.
They are fully recovered, but I just keep waiting for the next illness to hit. What a winter.
Monday, March 10, 2008
Day One: A new solo adventure
The Hubby left this morning for his first sail, a ten-day trip around Vancouver Island. He packed yesterday afternoon, alternately excited and worried, while I desperately tried to get the house in some kind of order. I won't have his help for the next two weeks, so I can't just leave supper and clean up to him in the late afternoons.
The fact he'll be gone for awhile made me think about how far we've come in a month on the whole division of labour in the home front. My husband is not a sexist, but he does hate housework, and he will take whatever action necessary to only do what absolutely must be done around here. What ends up happening is I pick up the slack, so he has had a false impression of how much must be done to keep a place borderline clean.
But now I am working, and he is the first adult in the door most evenings. He is learning dishes left in the sink or crumbs left on the floor in the morning metastasize into a full-out disaster in the eight hours we're away from the house each day.
"Can you believe the mess on the floor?" he'll grumble, fetching the broom. "That was never there before!"
No, honey, it wasn't. That's because I was here cleaning it up.
He cleaned the bathroom this weekend without reminding (i.e. nagging.) He just did it!
I am appreciative to him learning to haul his own weight. But now I am hauling it myself for a little while, plus working full-time.
I know I can handle the time with the kids, no sweat. Ten days is nothing compared to five months. But can I handle the housework and the job? We'll see.
As for the rest of life, things are still a bit insane here. A. is struggling with day care. He is angry a lot of the time, has developed a saucy mouth and has hit other children from time to time. All of this leads to time-outs and groundings, of course, but also lots of time with my big boy just sitting in my lap. He often says he wishes I wasn't working. It breaks my heart, but I need to work, both for the money and for my sanity.
Little I. is a bit clingy but is adjusting well to the new sitter. Toddler N. is very happy at K.'s place. That's great, but the child should have been named Typhoid Mary, because this is the third time she's been sick this month. First the hospitalization, then a head cold, then she got food poisoning this weekend from a supper out. At the hospital, the doctor discovered she also has an ear infection. We two are home today so she can start recovering.
The boys also caught that cold, and Little I. just finished a round of antibiotics for an ear infection. Since I started my new job six weeks ago, I have missed 4.5 days due to child illness. I'm starting to understand why some bosses are reluctant to hire mothers of young children. My boss has been great, but I still worry about the impression I'm making.
Off to catch a quick nap with the girlie.
The fact he'll be gone for awhile made me think about how far we've come in a month on the whole division of labour in the home front. My husband is not a sexist, but he does hate housework, and he will take whatever action necessary to only do what absolutely must be done around here. What ends up happening is I pick up the slack, so he has had a false impression of how much must be done to keep a place borderline clean.
But now I am working, and he is the first adult in the door most evenings. He is learning dishes left in the sink or crumbs left on the floor in the morning metastasize into a full-out disaster in the eight hours we're away from the house each day.
"Can you believe the mess on the floor?" he'll grumble, fetching the broom. "That was never there before!"
No, honey, it wasn't. That's because I was here cleaning it up.
He cleaned the bathroom this weekend without reminding (i.e. nagging.) He just did it!
I am appreciative to him learning to haul his own weight. But now I am hauling it myself for a little while, plus working full-time.
I know I can handle the time with the kids, no sweat. Ten days is nothing compared to five months. But can I handle the housework and the job? We'll see.
As for the rest of life, things are still a bit insane here. A. is struggling with day care. He is angry a lot of the time, has developed a saucy mouth and has hit other children from time to time. All of this leads to time-outs and groundings, of course, but also lots of time with my big boy just sitting in my lap. He often says he wishes I wasn't working. It breaks my heart, but I need to work, both for the money and for my sanity.
Little I. is a bit clingy but is adjusting well to the new sitter. Toddler N. is very happy at K.'s place. That's great, but the child should have been named Typhoid Mary, because this is the third time she's been sick this month. First the hospitalization, then a head cold, then she got food poisoning this weekend from a supper out. At the hospital, the doctor discovered she also has an ear infection. We two are home today so she can start recovering.
The boys also caught that cold, and Little I. just finished a round of antibiotics for an ear infection. Since I started my new job six weeks ago, I have missed 4.5 days due to child illness. I'm starting to understand why some bosses are reluctant to hire mothers of young children. My boss has been great, but I still worry about the impression I'm making.
Off to catch a quick nap with the girlie.
Thursday, February 14, 2008
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.
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.
Wednesday, February 06, 2008
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.
I'll post a longer story and some pics on the weekend. Need to catch up on work and life.
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
For C.
Almighty and Eternal God, You are the everlasting health of those who believe in You. Hear us for Your sick servant C. for whom we implore the aid of Your tender mercy,that being restored to bodily health, she may give thanks to You in Your Church. Through Christ our Lord, Amen.
Remember, O most gracious Virgin Mary, that never was it known that anyone who fled to thy protection, implored thy help, or sought thine intercession was left unaided.
Inspired by this confidence, I fly unto thee, O Virgin of virgins, my mother; to thee do I come, before thee I stand, sinful and sorrowful. O Mother of the Word Incarnate, despise not my petitions, but in thy mercy hear and answer me. Amen.
Saint Gianna, patron of mothers, pray for C.
Saint Michael Argemir, patron of cancer patients, pray for C.
All Holy men and women, pray for C.
Please, please, please pray for her, whether you believe in prayer or not. Her children are still in elementary school.
I love you, C. We're praying our rosaries off.
Remember, O most gracious Virgin Mary, that never was it known that anyone who fled to thy protection, implored thy help, or sought thine intercession was left unaided.
Inspired by this confidence, I fly unto thee, O Virgin of virgins, my mother; to thee do I come, before thee I stand, sinful and sorrowful. O Mother of the Word Incarnate, despise not my petitions, but in thy mercy hear and answer me. Amen.
Saint Gianna, patron of mothers, pray for C.
Saint Michael Argemir, patron of cancer patients, pray for C.
All Holy men and women, pray for C.
Please, please, please pray for her, whether you believe in prayer or not. Her children are still in elementary school.
I love you, C. We're praying our rosaries off.
Friday, March 23, 2007
M3 W2 D7: Emerging
Sorry about the radio silence here. It took FOREVER and a trip to the hospital to get Little I. more or less back to normal. He had a "para-influenza" with delusions of grandeur, and got a bit dehydrated for awhile. He's fine, although he sounds like a barking seal. (Yum, muktuk.)
Anyway, things are settling in here. Still have a week of March Break, though.
Caribou Carnival started today; the fireworks are popping outside as I type, but I'm also nursing a cranky baby, so I'm stuck. I'm taking the boys to the ice tomorrow, so I'll post pics then. Yum, tire d'erable!
As for housework, the kitchen, floor, fridge, bathroom and laundry are done; still trying to get the polishing, Windexing, dusting, vacuuming and fish tanks done.
By the way, if you're the praying type, please remember my friend Brooke in yours. She is 22 weeks pregnant, has HG, and is in the ICU with a blood infection (sepsis). Her baby's name is Gabbey. St. Gianna and St. Gerard, pray for Brooke and Gabbey. Lord Jesus, give Brooke strength and please bring them through this. Amen.
Anyway, things are settling in here. Still have a week of March Break, though.
Caribou Carnival started today; the fireworks are popping outside as I type, but I'm also nursing a cranky baby, so I'm stuck. I'm taking the boys to the ice tomorrow, so I'll post pics then. Yum, tire d'erable!
As for housework, the kitchen, floor, fridge, bathroom and laundry are done; still trying to get the polishing, Windexing, dusting, vacuuming and fish tanks done.
By the way, if you're the praying type, please remember my friend Brooke in yours. She is 22 weeks pregnant, has HG, and is in the ICU with a blood infection (sepsis). Her baby's name is Gabbey. St. Gianna and St. Gerard, pray for Brooke and Gabbey. Lord Jesus, give Brooke strength and please bring them through this. Amen.
Monday, March 19, 2007
M3 W2 D3: Welcome to puke city
Little I. is sick with a fever, vomiting and the most tenacious case of the whines I have ever encountered.
"Buuuuuttttttt it'sssss miinnnnnneeeeee! I want iiiiiiiit!"
"Nooooooo, I want to put on my snowsuiiiiiiit!" (followed by laying on the floor and refusing to do anything, then screams of rage when Mom puts on the suit.)
Multiply this by oh, 50 million times, and that was my day.
The baby is also feeling unwell and clingy, so by the end of the evening I was so fed up I was cursing under my breath and wishing to high heaven I had never given birth to any of them. I had two crying jags today; I haven't cried from exhaustion and frustration in a long time.
A. was a trooper, though. He distracted his siblings as much as he could, making them laugh every once in a while, and helping me in countless little ways. That boy really does have a compassionate heart. He put his arms around me at one point, looked in my eyes and said, "Tomorrow will be better, Mom."
Well, maybe I'm just wishing I'd stopped after A.
One of the reasons I'm feeling this way, of course, is the housework. I have a hard time keeping up on the best of days; add two sick children to the mix and it's darn near impossible. (Warning to HGers: GROSSMENT) My fridge smells like something is rotting, although I can't find it. My kitchen floor is sticky and grimy. My living room is full of clean, unfolded laundry. And my bathroom WAS a toothpasty, smelly mess until an hour ago. I scrubbed it out as soon as I got all the kids to bed. END GROSSMENT
I also managed to start the washer and dryer, wash the dishes and start the dishwasher tonight. Tomorrow night I'll scrub the fridge, the kitchen floor and clean the little appliances in the kitchen. Wednesday night is dusting and polishing. Day times will be laundry folding and vacuuming. By Friday the place should be clean enough to allow visitors.
A. spent yesterday afternoon and this afternoon at friends' houses (it's March break here, so no playschool for TWO. ENDLESS. WEEKS!) I'm hoping he can go out and have fun tomorrow, too, while the siblings recover.
Five weeks and 5 days to go.
"Buuuuuttttttt it'sssss miinnnnnneeeeee! I want iiiiiiiit!"
"Nooooooo, I want to put on my snowsuiiiiiiit!" (followed by laying on the floor and refusing to do anything, then screams of rage when Mom puts on the suit.)
Multiply this by oh, 50 million times, and that was my day.
The baby is also feeling unwell and clingy, so by the end of the evening I was so fed up I was cursing under my breath and wishing to high heaven I had never given birth to any of them. I had two crying jags today; I haven't cried from exhaustion and frustration in a long time.
A. was a trooper, though. He distracted his siblings as much as he could, making them laugh every once in a while, and helping me in countless little ways. That boy really does have a compassionate heart. He put his arms around me at one point, looked in my eyes and said, "Tomorrow will be better, Mom."
Well, maybe I'm just wishing I'd stopped after A.
One of the reasons I'm feeling this way, of course, is the housework. I have a hard time keeping up on the best of days; add two sick children to the mix and it's darn near impossible. (Warning to HGers: GROSSMENT) My fridge smells like something is rotting, although I can't find it. My kitchen floor is sticky and grimy. My living room is full of clean, unfolded laundry. And my bathroom WAS a toothpasty, smelly mess until an hour ago. I scrubbed it out as soon as I got all the kids to bed. END GROSSMENT
I also managed to start the washer and dryer, wash the dishes and start the dishwasher tonight. Tomorrow night I'll scrub the fridge, the kitchen floor and clean the little appliances in the kitchen. Wednesday night is dusting and polishing. Day times will be laundry folding and vacuuming. By Friday the place should be clean enough to allow visitors.
A. spent yesterday afternoon and this afternoon at friends' houses (it's March break here, so no playschool for TWO. ENDLESS. WEEKS!) I'm hoping he can go out and have fun tomorrow, too, while the siblings recover.
Five weeks and 5 days to go.
Friday, February 23, 2007
M2 W2 D7: Feel rotten
My kidney infection is getting worse, so expect light blogging for awhile. Prayers appreciated!
Thursday, February 22, 2007
M2 W2 D6: Treats and tricks
I have noticed a pattern. A. punishes me every time he gets a special food treat.
I'm sick today. I have a kidney infection and needed to see the doctor and go on antibiotics (I hate antibiotics, and if you breastfeed and have ever had thrush, you know why.) The children spent the doctor's appointment at the MFRC (have I mentioned lately how much I love the MFRC staff? These women are my rock.) Afterwards, I realized I had zero groceries and was too sick to go shopping, and the boys were snackish. We picked up some Timbits.
I ordered pizza for supper tonight; I was just too sore and tired to stand at the stove and cook.
After supper, A. was acting up. I corrected him. He proceeded to tell me he hates me and I never do anything nice!!!!
I sent him to his room because I was this close to hitting him.
After I calmed down, I went to him and calmly informed him that I have noticed a pattern; all of his major tantrums and general treating-mommy-like-garbage moments have happened after he has had a treat (usually a food treat, but sometimes an adventure.)
So I am not buying any food treats for a week. Nor am I baking.
He was extremely upset, but c'mon. In what world are you rewarded for walking all over someone? Not in this world. If he is going to treat me like garbage after a treat, there won't be any treats for awhile.
I'm done. The parenting experts may be shocked, but he's got to learn he is not some prince and I am not the cook, maid, butler and nanny. He treats me like sh*t, he loses a privilege.
I did tell him I loved him and always will, treats or no treats.
I'm sick today. I have a kidney infection and needed to see the doctor and go on antibiotics (I hate antibiotics, and if you breastfeed and have ever had thrush, you know why.) The children spent the doctor's appointment at the MFRC (have I mentioned lately how much I love the MFRC staff? These women are my rock.) Afterwards, I realized I had zero groceries and was too sick to go shopping, and the boys were snackish. We picked up some Timbits.
I ordered pizza for supper tonight; I was just too sore and tired to stand at the stove and cook.
After supper, A. was acting up. I corrected him. He proceeded to tell me he hates me and I never do anything nice!!!!
I sent him to his room because I was this close to hitting him.
After I calmed down, I went to him and calmly informed him that I have noticed a pattern; all of his major tantrums and general treating-mommy-like-garbage moments have happened after he has had a treat (usually a food treat, but sometimes an adventure.)
So I am not buying any food treats for a week. Nor am I baking.
He was extremely upset, but c'mon. In what world are you rewarded for walking all over someone? Not in this world. If he is going to treat me like garbage after a treat, there won't be any treats for awhile.
I'm done. The parenting experts may be shocked, but he's got to learn he is not some prince and I am not the cook, maid, butler and nanny. He treats me like sh*t, he loses a privilege.
I did tell him I loved him and always will, treats or no treats.
Tuesday, January 30, 2007
Week three, day three: Recovery mode
Baby N. is well on the mend now, although still not completely back to normal. What started as a tummy bug has turned into a cold. Her nose is running like a sieve, and she still has the occasional case of diarrhea. But she is smiling and laughing again, and her fever is gone. Thank God.
I have to be thankful she got sick over a weekend. We had lots of help from people who work during the week. My friend C. came over with fresh supplies of diapers and diet Coke (life-preserving products!) She watched the boys while I showered, too.
Grandma G. took the boys to her house twice that weekend, allowing me to get a bit of sleep.
Thank you so much, and bless you both!
The Hubby called Saturday night. He sounded really down, but said he was NOT going to quit. He got two warnings in two days, and the head games were getting to him. He knows they're supposed to get to him, but knowing and feeling are two different things.
I told him I love him very much, but I didn't want to see him home until the end of April.
I need to vacuum and keep a look-out for the snowplow. My next-door neighbour has a guy coming to plow out both our driveways and take the snowbank away. We're going to split the cost.
I have to be thankful she got sick over a weekend. We had lots of help from people who work during the week. My friend C. came over with fresh supplies of diapers and diet Coke (life-preserving products!) She watched the boys while I showered, too.
Grandma G. took the boys to her house twice that weekend, allowing me to get a bit of sleep.
Thank you so much, and bless you both!
The Hubby called Saturday night. He sounded really down, but said he was NOT going to quit. He got two warnings in two days, and the head games were getting to him. He knows they're supposed to get to him, but knowing and feeling are two different things.
I told him I love him very much, but I didn't want to see him home until the end of April.
I need to vacuum and keep a look-out for the snowplow. My next-door neighbour has a guy coming to plow out both our driveways and take the snowbank away. We're going to split the cost.
Saturday, January 27, 2007
Day 14 & 15: Sick baby
Posting will be sporadic for awhile: Baby N. is sick with a vomiting/diarrhea/fever bug. Poor baby!
Thanks to Gail and Carey for your help so far.
Thanks to Gail and Carey for your help so far.
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