What a week or two

On 8/15, DH was hospitalized for viral meningitis. That was a Monday. I got to bring him home Saturday afternoon (8/20). He's still recovering. He can see N or H for only a few minutes before he's exhausted. My parents were out of town the whole week he was in the hospital. They got back Wednesday night. I am so relieved.

My ILs came down yesterday to "help." Two things got done. The lawn got mowed (by FIL), and Brandon got the BLT he wanted (MIL made it for him). I had been cleaning the bathroom when they arrived.

Today, I survey the damage.

I am left with three of my freshly-laundered dish towels soaking and dirty (how I don't know, as they didn't do any dishes), a once-freshly laundered bath towel dirty and soaking, the bathroom I had almost finished cleaning is now dirty again, and there's a pan of bacon fat on my stove.

I have also come to the conclusion that my MIL's anxieties and desire to avoid stepping on toes are little more than a cleverly disguised plan to avoid doing anything actually helpful.

I was cleaning the bathroom, and she was playing with the boys, or rather, trying unsuccessfully to get Henry to smile at her, and Ian to pay attention to anything other than his cars or Thomas. She yells from the other room, "I think Henry has a dirty diaper." I say, "Great--I've been using disposables since Brandon's been in the hospital, I haven't had much time for laundry, so there's a bag of diapers and wipes and stuff sitting on the chair in the living room." She replies, "Oh, I'll just wait for you to come do it."
I'm sure I probably compare the ILs to my parents too much, but I couldn't help it in this case. My mom wouldn't have even told me the kid's diaper was dirty. The most I would have heard from her about it is, "Is there a diaper cream you want me to use and do you want him in cloth or disposable?" Heck, she might not even tell me she had changed him.

B says she just doesn't want to step on any toes. The hell she doesn't. We left N with them for 4 hours (at their place) to go to a wedding. Before we left, I showed her the diapers and explained very carefully how to use them (we'd run out of sposies, so they were in cloth--easy cloth, considering she'd cloth diapered three boys herself). We came back to a soaking wet child. I'd asked her earlier in that trip when she informed me both boys needed to be changed if she would please help me change one of them so I wouldn't be late to the rehearsal dinner. She said, "No, I'll just watch you do it." I mean seriously. It's a gosh-darn diaper. B said, "Well maybe she can't to it with her hand." MIL is missing her index, middle, and ring fingers on her left hand. I said, "Considering she has no arthritis or other joing problems and she managed to cloth diaper the three of you back in the days of pins and plastic pants, I somehow doubt that." B didn't have an answer.

My theory is that she thinks I'm lazy and just wants to see me actually do something (you'd think the fact that both of her grandkids are alive and healthy would mean I'm doing something, but hey), or that she's scared of an intact penis. Itold her when we left Ian for the wedding there's nothing to do with it.

Either way, @@ is all I can come up with.

To her credit, she did make B the BLT he wanted, but in the process, she somehow managed to dirty my entire kitchen. No less than 6 dishes used and spread all over the counter, and there's a pan of congealed bacon fat on the stove I now need to go take care of. She said, "I just left the grease in the pan, 'cause I don't know what you do with it." I said, "There are paper cups on top of the fridge. I stack two or three of those and then pour the grease into it." She didn't respond. I'd have gotten up and done it myself right then, but H was in the middle of lunch, and he HATES to have his lunch interrupted, and I haven't yet gotten the hang of pouring hot bacon grease into a cup with one hand while nursing a 19lb baby with the other.

FIL did mow the lawn, but B said he should shower afterward for no other reason than that clean feeling. They were headed directly home afterward and they have a shower there. I wouldn't ordinarily mind, but a) they would have had to use our towels--I've had limited time for laundry as it is, MUST they use the towels I worked so hard on? and b) MIL and FIL spend 20 minutes dithering back and forth over whether he should shower and dirty the bathroom I'd gotten almost clean before I had to go change a diaper. Argh.

So anyway, with gas the way it is, it'll be a mercifully long time before they can come down and "help" again.

:::::off to Lysol my shower and bathroom again:::::

Bittersweet.

Holy crap! I mean, I know they grow in leaps and bounds, but this is nuts.

Before his nap today, N talked about"cahs" and "goggies." He called Strong Bad (of Homestarrunner fame) "Badbad."

He got up from his nap and snuck up behind me in the den. After I recovered from the near-heart attack, he said, "Doggies?" Then he pointed to the car book I'm making for him and said, "Car?" Then, I pulled Homestarrunner.com up for his post-nap amusement and he said, "Strong Bad email?" The email just finished, and he has just said, "Strong Bad all gone." clear as day. Wow. I thought I heard him say, "Those are Nissans" to a commercial the other day.

My baby's growing up. Waaaaaaaaah!

Erm, fun.

The boys I got back around 9 last night from St. Louis. We met up with some of the moms from one of my boards. My hostess got sick the second night, so we had to get a hotel room, but that turned out okay because N really needed a break. I asked a lot of him this weekend, and he held up beautifully. The trip home was a lot easier than the trip out there.

On the way there, I had to stop every hour or two for at least 10 minutes to nurse H and attempt to get N out and give him his danged nuggets. The kid asked for chicken nuggets at least every hour. I took the wrong highway headed out of town, so I suppose I deserved it. LOL What should have been a 6 hour and 41 minute trip according to MapQuest took 10 hours.

On the trip home, I had to stop exactly 4 times. Once for gas, once to retrieve a dropped car, book, and train (I swear, if that kid had dropped Thomas the Tank Engine's friend Henry one more time, I would have super glued it to his hand), once for about 15 minutes to nurse H while N stayed in his car seat, and once for all of us to get out, get nuggets and a burger for me, have my snazzy new stroller admired, and stop by my good friend Starbucks to obtain the iced cafe mocha that got me home. I buy from the local coffee shop when in town, but when in a strange place, Starbucks will do.

Sighing again

First, a moment of appreciation for H's mom, Momma Sue. My prayers are with H and her family. I love my mother so much, even though we don't always see eye to eye. I'd be heartbroken if anything happened to her.

Last, I'm pretty sure N has multiple food allergies. He's had eczema since he was 5 months old. We had him allergy tested at 17 months by a pediatric allergist. I was not impressed. Not only did his tests come back clear, but I was scolded for having not vaccinated him yet. Family Doc agrees with my logic. If he's reacting to stuff and we don't know what it is, why should we inject him with substances he could also very probably react to? It doesn't make sense. After the Potato Incident (in which N ate heavily spiced potatoes and got bumps all over his cheeks and had Benadryl), he's not had any break outs, but he still looks not okay.

More later.