Instead, it's either the flu or a nasty virus that's been going around. And now, for your Gerard Butler Reference of the Day (drumroll, please): I wonder if he's had it.
There. You may all now stop holding your breath.
My fever went up tonight to 100.7, which is "I feel like ass" territory. It's come down with some ibuprofen and adequate hydration. Hmph. These bodies of ours are so dang picky. Always needing food, water, and sleep. Demanding, demanding, demanding. I've been too tired to eat the last few days, and I've had zero appetite. Hence, a brand new, 10-pound weightloss. Not exactly how I wanted to get my weight down, but I'll take it for now.
I promised Eeny he could do Pilates with me tomorrow, if I feel up to it. He's very excited about it.
The Rooster has decided that since he has now figure out how to manipulate all of his limbs, save his legs (without using the furniture for balance, that is), he is now big enough to start doing his own stunts. Seriously. DarthHusband bought him a tshirt that reads, "I do my own stunts." Today, the child picks up a pillow, throws it (over his head) in front of him, and flings himself down on it, arms up, face first. Then, when the pillow got old, he went to the carpet in Eeny's room and did the same thing, sans pillow, on the carpet.
He also stuck Mr. Potato Head's eyes into the ear socket all by himself.
Eeny danced around today singing about how he's playing his guitar with Murray. That's child's adorable. A run to the doctor's office for a urine sample today meant we missed this morning's episode of The Wiggles. Good thing we have two on DVD-R. No. Really.
In planning for this year's Halloween costume, I think I shall send him as a Wiggle. Perhaps even the revered Murray.
In other news, according to the nurse at the doc's office, if I'm not feeling "a whole lot better" tomorrow, I'm to come in and be seen. Then they'll want to see something besides my urine.
DarthHusband's going back to work tomorrow...here's to "feeling a whole lot better."
Tuesday, February 28, 2006
Monday, February 27, 2006
My Happy Bunny and more of the day's adventures
it's all about me. deal with it.
Who's Your Happy Bunny?
brought to you by Quizilla
It's my Happy Bunny!
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The Rooster has made the dive into solid foods with gusto. I was eating chicken soup today (I have a possible kidney infection and I feel like crap), and he pulled up on the couch next to me and smacked his lips three times. I made TheHusband feed him. Heh.
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Eeny, at 3am, sounding alert, bright, and cheerful:
Hey Mom!
Me: Mmrff?
E: I want bread!
Me: Mmm..bread?
E: Mommy feels yucky? Mommy feels hot. Hot. Hm, I'm hot. Hot bread. Toast is hot.
Me (the height of grogginess): Uh-huh.
E: I want toast!
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In my feverish haze, I spent the 8 o'clock hour flipping back and forth between a DVD-R'd 7th Heaven and Cinemax's showing of The Phantom of the Opera.
Gerry Butler is a handsome, handsome man. Even with half of his face distorted, I like. Having his shirt open halfway down his chest more than made up for the make up job.
I've decided I shall try and include one Gerard Butler reference in every post. I think I'll do this to see how long it takes other Gerry fans to find it. Maybe I can hook them into reading the details of my oh so fascinating life.
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Possible kidney infection fun: Doc doesn't call back after I've called the office at two complaining of a fever (if you must know, it's 99.5, but since my normal temperature's 96.3, that translates my 99.5 into something closer to 102.7 for the average mere mortal), lower back pain, and general crap for crappiness, and it's after five. I feel like total crap, and since I hate feeling like crap, and furthermore, the wellbeing of two small urchins depends on my not feeling like crap, I call the office again at 10 to 6. They page the doc, who calls me back 40 minutes later to tell me to bring in a urine sample in the morning. If he runs a pregnancy test on it, I shall be most displeased. The peed-on stick of two days ago indicated that is an impossibility.
The fatigue from this stupid illness is very similar to first trimester of pregnancy tiredness, but there's no fever with that.
Medical websites should not post things like, "The result of an untreated kidney infection is blood poisoning and death," without clarifying some sort of time frame. "Yes, if you let this go for a week and a half, you'll turn septic, but two days isn't going to send you over the edge." I think that would do quite nicely, don't you?
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I'm sleeping on the couch tonight, but I'm avoiding going to sleep. Sleeping with a fever is a guaranteed wake up feeling hot and oogie deal. Of all the things I hate, I hate feeling hot and oogie. Eeny's sleeping with DarthHusband in the bed which is too hard for my feverish self, and I'm about to go bring Rooster out to the couch with me, although I think I'll put him on his floor cushion (foam, flat, and kid friend) until he wakes up for the first time. I don't want to be touched. I want to feel better. ::::whine::::
Saturday, February 25, 2006
I’m tired. And cranky. Very cranky. AF #2 since Rooster’s birth, and it hasn’t been very kind to me in the hormonal department. I hate it when I’m a bitch, but at this time, I don’t really have the energy to be anything but.
Rooster has started shaking his head “no.” He does it for fun, and it’s freaking adorable. Usually when someone’s talking about how Eeny is going to do something, he starts the shaking, with a big grin, as if he knows exactly what he’s doing. He calls me Mama. Eeny didn’t use Mama to mean me until well after a year old. This is nice. :) He’s such a snuggly little monkey. He’s getting closer to walking, but he still has this thing about moving that foot forward. Since he was crawling at 5 months, I’d held out hope for an early walker. No dice. I can almost guarantee this kid won’t walk before he turns one (April 5th).
Eeny is a crack up. TheHusband was putting him down for a nap today, and from his bedroom I hear, “No, Daddy! No, no, no, no, no! No take a nap! I need to play with my belly button!” Kinda hard to argue with that logic. Then tonight, while getting ready for bed (and this is a big cognitive thing), he was speaking in a very muffled tone, and DH asked, “Why does your voice sound like that?” Eeny answered, “I’ve got muffin in my mouth.” I’m so impressed. He’s 31 months old. Three is just around the corner. I can’t believe it. Three just seems so…well…big.
Rooster has started shaking his head “no.” He does it for fun, and it’s freaking adorable. Usually when someone’s talking about how Eeny is going to do something, he starts the shaking, with a big grin, as if he knows exactly what he’s doing. He calls me Mama. Eeny didn’t use Mama to mean me until well after a year old. This is nice. :) He’s such a snuggly little monkey. He’s getting closer to walking, but he still has this thing about moving that foot forward. Since he was crawling at 5 months, I’d held out hope for an early walker. No dice. I can almost guarantee this kid won’t walk before he turns one (April 5th).
Eeny is a crack up. TheHusband was putting him down for a nap today, and from his bedroom I hear, “No, Daddy! No, no, no, no, no! No take a nap! I need to play with my belly button!” Kinda hard to argue with that logic. Then tonight, while getting ready for bed (and this is a big cognitive thing), he was speaking in a very muffled tone, and DH asked, “Why does your voice sound like that?” Eeny answered, “I’ve got muffin in my mouth.” I’m so impressed. He’s 31 months old. Three is just around the corner. I can’t believe it. Three just seems so…well…big.
Friday, February 24, 2006
Of Masks, Milla Jovovich, and Gerard Butler
The Rooster is walking a dinosaur up my leg. In the opening words of every “Charlie and Lola” show, “he is small, and very funny.” He is, too.
Eeny’s arranged his dinosaurs very neatly around the tv. There are three easily accessible flat surfaces in the living room, and he picks the most complicated of the three. My child is a genius. LOL
DH is neither small, nor particularly funny. On purpose, that is. He was diagnosed with severe sleep apnea two weeks ago. His CPAP (it’s a breathing machine) arrived the night before last. Thanks to our insurance company’s fondness for red tape and paperwork, the medical supply company had to wait until they got approval from the insurance company before they could ship it. Said approval took a week. I’m sorry, how hard is it for someone to look at the information (28 year old male with sats consistently in the 70s during an apnea episode, with well over 800 of these episodes a night), and say yes. I’m cranky from a week longer than necessary of snoring, tossing and turning, and a husband who has finally discovered that there’s a reason for his exhaustion, and it’s not his schedule. It’s been a looooong few months.
So anyway, the machine has arrived. It fits well, he sleeps well with it, and the only complication we’ve had with it is that Eeny won’t stay in his usual spot, right next to TheHusband’s arm, in the middle of the night. The kids sleep with us. As long as at least one of them sleeps well, it works for us. We have a king sized bed, and there’s room for everybody. The addition of the mask to our sleep routine has temporarily (I hope) disrupted that. We discussed the option of giving it a name. Something that appeals to a two year old, that might make it less scary. We’re also weird people who occasionally name personal possessions. Case in point: I update this blog on a Dell Inspiron christened Lappy, after Strong Bad’s latest model.
Anyway, TheHusband shot down Masky (never really on the table to begin with) and Dylan. Why Dylan? I don’t know. I probably had some crazy association due to watching an SNL rerun with Jason Priestley as host. Of course, I was several years too young to fully appreciate the glories of 90210, but I could identify all of the main cast members. Anyway, Dylan has been vetoed. Then, TheHusband said if anything’s going to be on his face all night, it’s going to have a woman’s name. He suggested Milla (as in Jovovich). I told him if he did that, I’d get myself a “toy” and name it Gerard (Butler). Not so funny when the shoe’s on the other foot now, is it, Husband, eh?
He does have a thing for Milla Jovovich. It doesn’t really bug me, unless I stop to consider that I am sooo not her type. He’s a Milla in “The Fifth Element” fan. The tall, rail thin, bright blue eyes, and meh sized rack just get to him. It amuses me to no end that he ended up with me. I’m tall, but not overly so. I used to be pretty thin, but I’ve had two babies. I’m not fat, I’m just bigger than I used to be. He’s soooo not a boob guy. I have a set designed to impress. I’ll consider a reduction someday after we’re done having kids. The H-cup plus the 34 band size makes for a sometimes uncomfortable combination. On the other hand, it looks pretty darn good on me. I’ll keep them for now.
The worst drawback to the mask as apnea treatment I can think of is that it puts an end to the surprise middle of the night sex sessions. They’re how we got the Rooster, and I’ll be sad to see them go. Not like there’s been too much of that around here anyway. Please mentally add a heavy sigh after reading that sentence. That’s also been the worst side effect of the apnea in general. How many men are legitimately “too tired” for sex? I mean really, how annoying. I thought I was supposed to be the one fending off advances several times a week. No, instead, our evenings go with me making some sort of advance, and him shooting me down in about 5 seconds flat. I sincerely hope that once he gets used to the mask, and is actually getting some good sleep, he’ll have a sex drive again. I’ve reached consensus with Ani and Beej. I’m tall, nice, have a great chest and the ass isn’t half bad either, an extremely reasonable sex drive, and I put up with waaaaay more shit than I should. Which of these qualities is not to like in one's spouse?
Eeny’s arranged his dinosaurs very neatly around the tv. There are three easily accessible flat surfaces in the living room, and he picks the most complicated of the three. My child is a genius. LOL
DH is neither small, nor particularly funny. On purpose, that is. He was diagnosed with severe sleep apnea two weeks ago. His CPAP (it’s a breathing machine) arrived the night before last. Thanks to our insurance company’s fondness for red tape and paperwork, the medical supply company had to wait until they got approval from the insurance company before they could ship it. Said approval took a week. I’m sorry, how hard is it for someone to look at the information (28 year old male with sats consistently in the 70s during an apnea episode, with well over 800 of these episodes a night), and say yes. I’m cranky from a week longer than necessary of snoring, tossing and turning, and a husband who has finally discovered that there’s a reason for his exhaustion, and it’s not his schedule. It’s been a looooong few months.
So anyway, the machine has arrived. It fits well, he sleeps well with it, and the only complication we’ve had with it is that Eeny won’t stay in his usual spot, right next to TheHusband’s arm, in the middle of the night. The kids sleep with us. As long as at least one of them sleeps well, it works for us. We have a king sized bed, and there’s room for everybody. The addition of the mask to our sleep routine has temporarily (I hope) disrupted that. We discussed the option of giving it a name. Something that appeals to a two year old, that might make it less scary. We’re also weird people who occasionally name personal possessions. Case in point: I update this blog on a Dell Inspiron christened Lappy, after Strong Bad’s latest model.
Anyway, TheHusband shot down Masky (never really on the table to begin with) and Dylan. Why Dylan? I don’t know. I probably had some crazy association due to watching an SNL rerun with Jason Priestley as host. Of course, I was several years too young to fully appreciate the glories of 90210, but I could identify all of the main cast members. Anyway, Dylan has been vetoed. Then, TheHusband said if anything’s going to be on his face all night, it’s going to have a woman’s name. He suggested Milla (as in Jovovich). I told him if he did that, I’d get myself a “toy” and name it Gerard (Butler). Not so funny when the shoe’s on the other foot now, is it, Husband, eh?
He does have a thing for Milla Jovovich. It doesn’t really bug me, unless I stop to consider that I am sooo not her type. He’s a Milla in “The Fifth Element” fan. The tall, rail thin, bright blue eyes, and meh sized rack just get to him. It amuses me to no end that he ended up with me. I’m tall, but not overly so. I used to be pretty thin, but I’ve had two babies. I’m not fat, I’m just bigger than I used to be. He’s soooo not a boob guy. I have a set designed to impress. I’ll consider a reduction someday after we’re done having kids. The H-cup plus the 34 band size makes for a sometimes uncomfortable combination. On the other hand, it looks pretty darn good on me. I’ll keep them for now.
The worst drawback to the mask as apnea treatment I can think of is that it puts an end to the surprise middle of the night sex sessions. They’re how we got the Rooster, and I’ll be sad to see them go. Not like there’s been too much of that around here anyway. Please mentally add a heavy sigh after reading that sentence. That’s also been the worst side effect of the apnea in general. How many men are legitimately “too tired” for sex? I mean really, how annoying. I thought I was supposed to be the one fending off advances several times a week. No, instead, our evenings go with me making some sort of advance, and him shooting me down in about 5 seconds flat. I sincerely hope that once he gets used to the mask, and is actually getting some good sleep, he’ll have a sex drive again. I’ve reached consensus with Ani and Beej. I’m tall, nice, have a great chest and the ass isn’t half bad either, an extremely reasonable sex drive, and I put up with waaaaay more shit than I should. Which of these qualities is not to like in one's spouse?
Sunday, February 19, 2006
I'm back
It's been a while. Things have been busy. TheHusband has Obstructive Sleep Apnea. I'm listening to him choke and struggle to breathe over the baby monitor now. He's very excited about getting his CPAP machine. He's looking forward to being able to breathe and actually get beyond stage one sleep for once.
The Gerard Butler fascination continues. Dang, he's hot.
I went to the Women's Fair today, with C (business partner and friend). We've nicely networked ourselves into some free advertising. :D Yay us! We had to park at the local baseball stadium, and a shuttle service was provided. The shuttle service was intelligent enough to provide us with eye candy drivers. C and I hopped on the bus and had the lovely opportunity to swoon. Shuttle Driver number one was vurra vurra nice. Shuttle Driver Number Two was also very nice, and it turns out I knew him from college. If I'd married him, I could have had redheaded children. C seemed impressed by my knowing the eye candy.
TheHusband and I have just been released from our last free session of marriage counseling. It's been a very positive thing. Now, if he'll just get some sleep so his sex drive can return, I'll be a happy woman.....
The Gerard Butler fascination continues. Dang, he's hot.
I went to the Women's Fair today, with C (business partner and friend). We've nicely networked ourselves into some free advertising. :D Yay us! We had to park at the local baseball stadium, and a shuttle service was provided. The shuttle service was intelligent enough to provide us with eye candy drivers. C and I hopped on the bus and had the lovely opportunity to swoon. Shuttle Driver number one was vurra vurra nice. Shuttle Driver Number Two was also very nice, and it turns out I knew him from college. If I'd married him, I could have had redheaded children. C seemed impressed by my knowing the eye candy.
TheHusband and I have just been released from our last free session of marriage counseling. It's been a very positive thing. Now, if he'll just get some sleep so his sex drive can return, I'll be a happy woman.....
Sunday, January 01, 2006
A Day in the Life of...
Our house. My New Year's Resolution--update this thing more often.
The Rooster has an ear infection. Eeny hasn't ever had one, so we're on new turf. Rooster's on amoxicillin for it. He did really well the first few days, but today has given me zero cooperation.
Our Adventure in Infant Medication:
Step 1: Attempt to squirt medication via syringe into Squirming Hollering Infant's cheek.
Step 2: Wipe bright pink staining medication off of Infant's mouth, head, and outfit, then off of self, the couch, and brand new shirt.
Step 3: Since the syringe obviously isn't working, try putting a little bit in a baby spoon and see if he'll bite.
Step 4: Oh, he bites all right. No really. I'd like the spoon back, please. Stop waggling it at me and giggling. You're getting pink stuff everywhere.
Step 5: Wipe bright pink staining medication off of Infant's mouth, head, and outfit, then off of self, the high chair, and brand new shirt.
Step 6: Out of desperation, think to mix meds with prunes. Cautiously edge spoon to infant's mouth.
Step 7: After prying spoon from Infant's teeth, wipe Prun-icillin from self, brand new shirt, jeans, table, and hair.
Step 8: Put mixture in the fridge for an hour or so later, and acknowledge that an 8 month old has beaten me.
Step 9: Deposit amoxi-prune-covered Infant in bathtub, and watch him expend large amounts of energy crawling back and forth and splashing. Attempt to scrub mixture from Infant's face and end up realizing that the brand new shirt will never be the same again, and the bathroom floor really needs a good mopping.
Step 10: Convince Infant that the bathtub is worth leaving by surreptitiously pulling the plug. Realize the towel has been forgotten and rush dripping Infant through the house to the room, where it is realized that the only clean dry thing resembling a towel is a flannel receiving blanket.
Step 11: Dry Infant with receiving blanket amid gales of baby laughter that is almost certainly at Mommy and not with Mommy. Diaper.
Step 12: Take cute pictures of Infant with Flock of Seagulls 'do, then another of Infant with a mohawk, then another of the Infant attacking Mommy with kisses.
Step 13: Stuff protesting infant into sleeper.
Step 14: Nurse infant to sleep and hope he'll stay that way long enough for his clothes to be thrown in the washer, then despair of him ever getting to wear cute little "Born at Home" t-shirt in public again.
Now that that's done, some Eenyisms:
Eeny: Where's Jeff?
(Jeff's the Purple Wiggle, for those unaware of the details of children's television)
Me: I don't know.
Eeny (knowingly): Sleepin da countryside.
Me: He is? Oh good.
Eeny (emphatically): Sleepin da countryside.
Me: Where's Jeff?
Eeny: Sleepin da countryside. Sleepin da backseat. Oh, big red car.
My pint-sized Wiggles fan has also decided that no one may sleep if he's awake. Someone sleeping results in:
Eeny: Rooster sleeping.
Me: Yes, Rooster's sleeping. Please use your quiet voice.
Eeny: Rooster sleeping. Let's wake 'im up.
Me (hoarse whisper): Ack! No! Shhhhhhh!!!!
Eeny (waaaay too enthusiastically): Ooooooone! Twooooooooooo! THREE! WAKE UP
ROOSTER!!!!!
Rooster: ::::cracking one eye::::
Me: Whew! Eeny, you must be quiet. Rooster is taking a nap.
Eeny: No, Rooster wake up. WAKE UP ROOSTER!
Rooster: :::baby grumbling, progressing to a full-fledged yell::::
Me: Why couldn't you sing "Rock a Bye Your Bear?" Argh.
The Rooster has an ear infection. Eeny hasn't ever had one, so we're on new turf. Rooster's on amoxicillin for it. He did really well the first few days, but today has given me zero cooperation.
Our Adventure in Infant Medication:
Step 1: Attempt to squirt medication via syringe into Squirming Hollering Infant's cheek.
Step 2: Wipe bright pink staining medication off of Infant's mouth, head, and outfit, then off of self, the couch, and brand new shirt.
Step 3: Since the syringe obviously isn't working, try putting a little bit in a baby spoon and see if he'll bite.
Step 4: Oh, he bites all right. No really. I'd like the spoon back, please. Stop waggling it at me and giggling. You're getting pink stuff everywhere.
Step 5: Wipe bright pink staining medication off of Infant's mouth, head, and outfit, then off of self, the high chair, and brand new shirt.
Step 6: Out of desperation, think to mix meds with prunes. Cautiously edge spoon to infant's mouth.
Step 7: After prying spoon from Infant's teeth, wipe Prun-icillin from self, brand new shirt, jeans, table, and hair.
Step 8: Put mixture in the fridge for an hour or so later, and acknowledge that an 8 month old has beaten me.
Step 9: Deposit amoxi-prune-covered Infant in bathtub, and watch him expend large amounts of energy crawling back and forth and splashing. Attempt to scrub mixture from Infant's face and end up realizing that the brand new shirt will never be the same again, and the bathroom floor really needs a good mopping.
Step 10: Convince Infant that the bathtub is worth leaving by surreptitiously pulling the plug. Realize the towel has been forgotten and rush dripping Infant through the house to the room, where it is realized that the only clean dry thing resembling a towel is a flannel receiving blanket.
Step 11: Dry Infant with receiving blanket amid gales of baby laughter that is almost certainly at Mommy and not with Mommy. Diaper.
Step 12: Take cute pictures of Infant with Flock of Seagulls 'do, then another of Infant with a mohawk, then another of the Infant attacking Mommy with kisses.
Step 13: Stuff protesting infant into sleeper.
Step 14: Nurse infant to sleep and hope he'll stay that way long enough for his clothes to be thrown in the washer, then despair of him ever getting to wear cute little "Born at Home" t-shirt in public again.
Now that that's done, some Eenyisms:
Eeny: Where's Jeff?
(Jeff's the Purple Wiggle, for those unaware of the details of children's television)
Me: I don't know.
Eeny (knowingly): Sleepin da countryside.
Me: He is? Oh good.
Eeny (emphatically): Sleepin da countryside.
Me: Where's Jeff?
Eeny: Sleepin da countryside. Sleepin da backseat. Oh, big red car.
My pint-sized Wiggles fan has also decided that no one may sleep if he's awake. Someone sleeping results in:
Eeny: Rooster sleeping.
Me: Yes, Rooster's sleeping. Please use your quiet voice.
Eeny: Rooster sleeping. Let's wake 'im up.
Me (hoarse whisper): Ack! No! Shhhhhhh!!!!
Eeny (waaaay too enthusiastically): Ooooooone! Twooooooooooo! THREE! WAKE UP
ROOSTER!!!!!
Rooster: ::::cracking one eye::::
Me: Whew! Eeny, you must be quiet. Rooster is taking a nap.
Eeny: No, Rooster wake up. WAKE UP ROOSTER!
Rooster: :::baby grumbling, progressing to a full-fledged yell::::
Me: Why couldn't you sing "Rock a Bye Your Bear?" Argh.
Saturday, December 31, 2005
Happy New Year!
So in review, we've had the following happen:
The Rooster joined our family in our bathroom after three hours of hard labor.
Eeny turned two, and threw himself with gusto into the Doings and Behaviors of the Two Year Old.
TheHusband got meningitis while my parents were out of the country, and all of our baby sitters had to work, and all of our other baby sitters were pregnant or had just had babies and no way in heck did I want to let them around our family while DH was that sick.
We had to re-home the dogs. TheHusband took over a month to recover fully from his illness, and I simply was incapable of caring for two large dogs and two small children and a slowly convalescing husband. He was very sad, but he understood.
I came out of the depression I'd been dealing with for some time (situational rather than clinical).
Eeny discovered The Wiggles.
I attended my first two births as a doula, and found my other calling (Motherhood being my first).
I turned 24.
I learned my friend C is moving to the area. Yay! :)
I experienced the generosity of what TheHusband no longer calls "binary friends" in my July Moms email loop providing a wonderful Christmas for us.
I learned that it is perfectly normal at the onset of winter to have at least one person in the family sick for two months straight. ::::hack::::cough::::choke::::sniff:::
Since we have, as my dad puts it, the dreaded lurgy the dreaded lurgy (British & Australian, humorous) --
an illness that is not serious but passes easily from person to person. "My throat is sore and my head hurts. I think I've caught the dreaded lurgy." We have been prevented from participating in New Year's festivities. That's actually okay, because our other option was to go to the house of friends who have two very large dogs who have no boundaries when it comes to small children, and our dear friends don't quite seem to get that it's not terribly cute or appropriate for a large Rottie/Lab mix to stick his nose two inches from Eeny's face. They hope to have a baby this year, and hopefully they'll understand when they have a human baby of their own.
My across the street neighbors suck. It sounds like the OK Corral out there. Happy New Year. Now please stop setting fire to small explosives--we're in the middle of a burn ban.
Welcome 2006!
The Rooster joined our family in our bathroom after three hours of hard labor.
Eeny turned two, and threw himself with gusto into the Doings and Behaviors of the Two Year Old.
TheHusband got meningitis while my parents were out of the country, and all of our baby sitters had to work, and all of our other baby sitters were pregnant or had just had babies and no way in heck did I want to let them around our family while DH was that sick.
We had to re-home the dogs. TheHusband took over a month to recover fully from his illness, and I simply was incapable of caring for two large dogs and two small children and a slowly convalescing husband. He was very sad, but he understood.
I came out of the depression I'd been dealing with for some time (situational rather than clinical).
Eeny discovered The Wiggles.
I attended my first two births as a doula, and found my other calling (Motherhood being my first).
I turned 24.
I learned my friend C is moving to the area. Yay! :)
I experienced the generosity of what TheHusband no longer calls "binary friends" in my July Moms email loop providing a wonderful Christmas for us.
I learned that it is perfectly normal at the onset of winter to have at least one person in the family sick for two months straight. ::::hack::::cough::::choke::::sniff:::
Since we have, as my dad puts it, the dreaded lurgy the dreaded lurgy (British & Australian, humorous) --
an illness that is not serious but passes easily from person to person. "My throat is sore and my head hurts. I think I've caught the dreaded lurgy." We have been prevented from participating in New Year's festivities. That's actually okay, because our other option was to go to the house of friends who have two very large dogs who have no boundaries when it comes to small children, and our dear friends don't quite seem to get that it's not terribly cute or appropriate for a large Rottie/Lab mix to stick his nose two inches from Eeny's face. They hope to have a baby this year, and hopefully they'll understand when they have a human baby of their own.
My across the street neighbors suck. It sounds like the OK Corral out there. Happy New Year. Now please stop setting fire to small explosives--we're in the middle of a burn ban.
Welcome 2006!
Thursday, December 29, 2005
Laaaaaaaaaazy
I've been so bad about updating.
We've all been sick. I'm so sick of having sickness in the house. It started with the stomach bug in November. Then it was a little cold. Then it was another stomach bug, worse than the first one, but Rooster was thankfully spared the indignity of spewing every last ounce of liquid from his chunky little body. Loosely translated: Mummy was very glad to have avoided being thrown up on in the middle of the night.
Then, everyone was well for three days, and Rooster came down with The Cold From Hell. My cousin, a pediatrician, listened to us over the phone and heard my description of the night before. She said he probably had bronchiolitis. Ick. He's recovering, but we're all still phlegmy. Dang, I hate phlegm.
Christmas was good for TheHusband and the boys. They all got tons of stuff they wanted. I got the Betty Crocker Bake and Fill set I requested, and two Old Navy gift cards. I shouldn't be an ungrateful bitch, but I reeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeally wanted the toddler bag I asked for. I didn't get it. My purse is falling apart, and I do need a new bag. I'm just picky as all get out.
We've all been sick. I'm so sick of having sickness in the house. It started with the stomach bug in November. Then it was a little cold. Then it was another stomach bug, worse than the first one, but Rooster was thankfully spared the indignity of spewing every last ounce of liquid from his chunky little body. Loosely translated: Mummy was very glad to have avoided being thrown up on in the middle of the night.
Then, everyone was well for three days, and Rooster came down with The Cold From Hell. My cousin, a pediatrician, listened to us over the phone and heard my description of the night before. She said he probably had bronchiolitis. Ick. He's recovering, but we're all still phlegmy. Dang, I hate phlegm.
Christmas was good for TheHusband and the boys. They all got tons of stuff they wanted. I got the Betty Crocker Bake and Fill set I requested, and two Old Navy gift cards. I shouldn't be an ungrateful bitch, but I reeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeally wanted the toddler bag I asked for. I didn't get it. My purse is falling apart, and I do need a new bag. I'm just picky as all get out.
Thursday, December 15, 2005
You know you're a mom when
you put your morning coffee into one of your child's gazillion sippy cups because all of your travel mugs are dirty, and you know the sippy won't spill in the car.
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