Archive for the ‘this sucks’ Tag
August 31 2010
The scariest day of my life.
That’s been today.
I had some light-hearted post ready to publish this morning. But Jedi still wasn’t feeling well, his eyes sunken and his mouth dry and he was just so tired, that I put it off until after we took a visit to the doctor. I was expecting to come away with an obligatory bottle of pink antibiotics and call it a day. It’s just an ear infection, I thought, or some other kind of bug picked up from his first week of kindergarten. Instead he was sent for blood work and we were advised to stick around, we would have the results stat.
When they finally came in, we were told to drive immediately to the hospital. His blood sugar numbers, which are supposed to be around 100, were over 820. Whatever they call the number that measures dehydration, which should never be any higher than 20, was at 50. He needed fluids and insulin, stat.
I had no idea. How is it possible to not have any idea something so wrong is going on in our body? My son, my little 6 year old, spent the day getting IV’s poked in his hands and fingers pricked. In the PICU. More blood drawn. More medicine. More fluids. His sodium levels were high. His potassium numbers were off. Apparently, his system was going haywire. Or shutting down. Or, God, I don’t even want to think about it.
The light-hearted posts can wait. Until he’s back at school, with a new regimen of unfortunate but necessary injections and healthier habits. Ones that he’ll need to keep for the rest of his life. We’ll make it work, he just needs to get better. Stat.
August 09 2010
I would have gladly taken a getaway to New York City this past weekend.
But instead of a plush hotel bed all to myself, I was shoved to the edge of ours by small feet in the back after finally getting all 3 kids to sleep without assistance, which required more maneuvering and luck than I can adequately express. Instead of drinks and belly laughs past 2 a.m. with a circle of good friends that I could have so desperately used, I was hoping that no one would wake up crying or barfing. Instead of days spent taking in the sights and sounds of a bustling city, I spent those days as the only referee stuck within these walls listening to repetitive demands and high pitched screaming and nonstop bickering. Instead of feeling revitalized, I’ve just about lost my mind.
Instead of taking some well deserved time for myself away from it all like so many blog-minded women were able to enjoy this past weekend, I was stuck in the middle of it. I spent Thursday through Sunday parenting solo while J was out of town for work.
I’m used to being the main parent for the majority of the day. However, we have a routine. There are a number of tasks J helps with that I normally take for granted, such as bedtimes and teeth brushing and baths and corralling everyone for dinner. I did buckle down and ask my parents to just give me a break already, but still. 3 kids by myself for over 3 days is exhausting.
Someone got screwed in this deal.
That someone was me. Though the kids haven’t fared so well, either.
June 29 2010
I hate shopping. Not all of it, mind you. I like perusing shoes or finds for the kids and house. When it comes to clothes shopping for myself, however, I’d rather stab myself in the thigh with a fork.
It wasn’t always like this. I was actually in the best body shape I had ever been in before I gained 50 dogged pounds with my last pregnancy. I was wearing size 6 jeans. I’m not saying what size I am now, but I laugh in the face of my former size 6. The thing is, the majority of my extra weight is located across my middle. It’s not proportioned whatsoever. Finding pants that fit right is about impossible and aggravating. What slides past my knees won’t button around my waist. What does button is like a potato sack everywhere else.
My mom wanted to take me shopping for my birthday, though. That’s how horrendous my wardrobe had become, apparently. So I had to bite the bullet. Because what says happy birthday better than a day of wallowing depression.
I skimmed through racks. I fondled fabric. I looked at sizes. I felt defeated.
We spent 2 hours walking around a single store and I almost came away with nothing. I wanted to quit. I wanted to cry.
I finally found a few things, but I had to wander into the plus-size department to do it. Which leads me to think if my mom wants to take me shopping for clothes while I’m still carrying this extra weight (can I still blame the baby? no?), I’ll tell her to buy me a fork to stab myself with instead.
April 08 2010
The vast majority of Jedi’s bedroom contents are stacked in the laundry area, waiting to be washed and purified. From poop. Lots and lots of poop. That my daughter smeared around his room. After removing her bottoms and relieving herself on his pillow. There was a plop of poop here, a plop of poop there, a plop of poop everywhere except where it should have been. Her diaper, it turns out, was completely clean.
At first ghastly sight, I couldn’t think straight. I froze. My instincts said to wait for backup, but unfortunately it was just me. And a lot of poop. After a few seconds of processing the situation, I managed to get myself together. Buzz stepping in a pile and tracking a trail out of the room might have helped snap me back to reality.
First order of business, contain the craptastrophe. Then, de-poopify the kids.
But it wasn’t contained. I was covered. I managed to smear my washing machine. There was poop in the sink. I tried to get it all, but one can never be certain about these kinds of things.
There was a lot of poop.
“You’re having a bad day, aren’t you Mommy?”, Jedi asked as I’m scrubbing poop out of the carpet.
“Yes, son. Yes I am.”
February 08 2010
My roles this weekend included, but were not limited to: medicine dispenser, nose wiper, feeler of foreheads, reluctant nurse, moaner and groaner, cough drop absorber, hoarse whisperer, germ magnet.
The house is a mess. There are tissues everywhere. I haven’t washed dishes in two days. I managed to tackle the laundry pile, but I wasn’t happy about it. What started as Buzz’s benign cough last week has turned into Sick Central, population: 4, going on 5 days now. I tend to say sharing is caring, mainly in jest, but there are some things better kept to yourself. Buzz is congested and miserable. Abby isn’t faring much better. I’ve got it all, too, and I shuffle my feet and pathetically groan just to make sure my discomfort is apparent. Another way I’ve morphed into my mother. The only one seemingly unaffected is J. Clearly, we haven’t coughed hard enough in his direction.
If there’s a bright side, at least we’re all in this together. Aside from J. Bastard.
Jedi, who is probably the least sick of all of us, is also the most pitiful. He’s currently bundled in a blanket on the couch and whines for medicine at the faintest sign of a cough. He’s only 6, but I already feel sorry for his future wife. At least he has the right idea, though. As horrible as I know they feel, I don’t understand why nobody’s taking the opportunity to sleep. That’s one of the few benefits of being sick that now seem lost. Naps. And chicken noodle soup.
That’s been my weekend. It sucked. How was yours?
I'm Crystal. A 30-something mom to 3 young kids living in the Midwest USA. When I'm not chasing my children, I'm a freelance writer and web designer. I like to tell stories from our days and share what we enjoy...
