I need peanut butter

So, my sinus crap that I had two weeks ago and thought was on its way out has come back with a vengeance. East Tennessee is not kind to those people who have allergies...but the leaves sure look pretty when they change. So, again, I sound like one of Marge SImpson's sisters except with the extra added snorting slurping sound that comes with ultra attractive congestion. That along with the added feeling that my teeth are going to fall out from the sinus pain. Living the dream, cats and kittens, living the dream. I basically went through this day in a fog after having taken whatever kind of Mucinex you take where you still have to give your birthdate to buy it, but they don't make you sign for it cause you can't use it to make meth. My stomach is a bit out of sorts what with all the sinus meds, Airborne drinks and zinc lozenges. And yes, before anyone else says it first, I could stand to miss a month of meals. But in order to keep myself energized enough to get kids to and from school and soccer, etc today, I needed to have some sort of something in the tummy. I have turned myself into an anaphylaxis inducing nightmare for a big chunk of the population. Just like Winnie the Pooh with his honey pot, I wish it were socially acceptable to walk around with a jar of peanut butter. Bill Engvall did a stand up bit about flying with the Blue Angels. When he asked what he should eat before flying, they told him peanut butter because it tastes the same going down as it does coming back up. TMI, I know. But with a stomach already rumbly, peanut butter seems the right choice. But then again, doesn't it always make things better? Yes, I am a weirdo.


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Diorama ding dong

Today started as all Sundays do with me stumbling until 9am when my coffee kicks in and I get my second wind. I got to play with a little Russian child visiting this morning. His mother was fascinated with some of the other children in the nursery, especially with their thick East Tennessee accents. It was entertaining to watch. The hub stayed home with G and F who were recovering from ear infections and soccer injuries. He got the exciting task of starting school projects with them. His favorite: dioramas. Cue sad trombone sound here. He hates having to do those things. I, on the other hand, love to do them. But I have to reign it in and not get crazy. Teachers these days. They are all about "let them do their own work" and "it's their project" and all that baloney. I kid, I kid. I do love to make little shoebox models for whatever they are studying. So when I got home, G had somehow convinced the hub to let her make a paper mache' round house for her study on the Cherokee. She was covered in newspaper and goo when I walked out on the patio. I'm proud they did it outside. G was ready to let the goo dry and her daddy's back had decided it was time for him to have a rest, so I started helping the boy with his diorama: sharks in an ocean habitat. Mercifully, he did not have a desire for gooey projects, so we pulled out the Shrinky Dinks instead. I drew in pencil what he wanted and he outlined and colored them. I will be baking them tomorrow. Pictures will follow when both projects are done...if we survive it.


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Crazy day of birth day

My sweet S turned 12 today. I honestly can't believe it and do not know where the time has gone. It breaks my heart. But time marches on whether we want it to or not. So does "Soccer Saturday". S's birthday started off in the traditional way with breakfast in bed and the traditional bedhead picture. The siblings wanted her to open their presents early, so she started the day with a new compact umbrella and CD set on learning French. By the time she changed into her soccer uniform, she was prepared for rain or a chance meeting with Daft Punk or Gerard Depardieu...she can ask them for directions to the post office. Always handy. Luckily she needed none of those things for her soccer game. They won, but G's team did not. S reffed that game until her poor sister got brutalized by a psycho player who tried to break her back. They left quickly after that little stunt, both for G's well being and for the hub's legal well-being as he was going to brutalize someone. Next came showers and first aid and sad faces for the change in the tenor of the day. Then peanut butter birthday cake and presents came. G's back felt much better and who, well except for those with allergies and extreme dislike, who doesn't like peanut butter cake? The hub and the boy stayed home recuperating from earaches and back aches and the girls and I went to help with Community Meal. S helped deliver meals with her great aunt and uncle and G and I ran the dishwasher for those eating in house. I was very proud of my girls for wanting to help, especially on a birthday and on a significant injury day. Cool kids, the both of them. After we left from helping at church, G went home to eat with my brother and sister in law and S and the hub went to the Apple Store for the second time today. Always a story and always exciting. But that's a story for another day. The new 48 Hours is on for this new season and I am ready to watch. Sweet dreams, sweet S. We are so proud of the young woman you have become. But you can slow the growing down just a bit...



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Sleep talking signs

Well, friends and neighbors, it has been a really strange day that followed a pretty outrageously strange and bizarre night. The kids were out of school today, thank God for random off school days. I was able to snooze the alarm for almost a half hour. It felt good. It felt realy good. The boy came in and snuggled with us for a while, but the quiet couldn't last long. Because of the day off, we had a breakfast meeting, room setup at church, back to back dental appointents scheduled, several haircuts, birthday cake baking and soccer practices all shoved into one day. At 8am, we went our separate ways: I went to church to set up the baby room for Sunday and the hub with the kids to Panera for a meeting. After I was done, I met the family at everyone's favorite bagel bistro for breakfast and planning. As soon as I sat down, the boy came up to me saying he needed to go to the potty. I sent him on his way and went to get my first cup of dark roast. By the time I got back, he was teary and holding his tummy. We took another trip to the facilities where the truth came out. His ear hurt every time he swallowed and his head hurt so bad that it made his stomach hurt. We washed hands, obsessively used paper towels to open the door and headed down the street to the walk in clinic. As I held him for 40minutes, I watched him go downhill health wise in the course of those 40 minutes. The kid sitting across from us spent the whole 40 minutes abusing a Rubik's cube, complaining about what a waste of time it was, all the time lacking the ability to complete even one side. One side! When the NP mercifully called us into the exam room, the boy hopped on the table, told her exactly what hurt and stopped talking. She is not my favorite person as we had seen her before. When she took a little thing and jammed it into his ear to move some wax aside, my son lost his mind. He burst into tears, grabbing his his leg and squeezing it while she looked in there. As a mother, I wanted to throat punch her, scoop my baby up and flee. But I didn't. Double ear infection with a 103.5 fever. Hanging head in shame. Next came getting the prescription which ended up being handled by the hub. The poor kid was so dizzy and feverish, he couldn't stand upright so we went home. Sweet G played nurse like a champ. I went in to find her changing him into his pajamas, giving him some crackers for a snack and rubbing his feet. She held him while I put some vintage(I say that because they were on our beds back in the '70's)Star Trek sheets over the couch cushions so he wouldn't be so hot. After leaving the room for a minute, I heard him start crying about his head. Fever had spiked again and his head was killing him. I soothed him and got him comfy again. After leaving a second time, I was summoned once again by Nurse G to tell me he had spewed. I went in to find hell hath no fury on vintage Spock and Kirk sheets like ginger ale-saltine barf. Set phasers to stun, I was impressed. So we had to strip him down, strip the sheet off, strip the couch cushion. Yuck. I have learned my lesson. He is just one of those children who will always get sick with high fever and the headache that accompanies it.

The pieces all fit together once I thought about it. The past 3 or 4 times he has gotten an ear infection, the strangest thing has happened. He gets uber chatty in his sleep. Sounds crazy, but it is almost clockwork. Sleeptalking, two days later, ear infection. He just didn't show pain until this morning. I know. Add it to your file. Hopefully we will have an uneventful night, but I have the rice bag ready to microwave and put on those cute little ears if necessary.

Thanks for listening to every gory detail of a strange day. Lesson learned about vintage Star Trek sheets. My son is a great patient. My daughter is an even greater nurse. She even wiped stuff off his hands and face. And not crackers. Well...crackers in some form. Live long and prosper.


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Poor woman's cocktail needed

Thank you, God, that school is out tomorrow. Thank you that I made it through this hellish day. Thank you that my daughter got to score a goal in her game tonight. Thank you that I have a husband who is my rock. Thank you for the strength to keep my cool in a very upsetting situation. Thank you that my children are kind, caring people. Thank you for dogs and the uconditional love and forgiveness they give us when we do not deserve it. Thank you for the possibility of having another fuzzy canine heartbeat in our home one day. Thank you for G hugs and S smiles and F kisses. Thank you for friends who flash gang symbols to you while driving by. Thank you for funny coworkers who yell silly things at you across Kroger's parking lot during the height of the lunch rush. Thank you for belly laughs, for healing cries and for cathartic fights. Thank you for brothers who have your back and draw inappropriate pictures on your notebook during church meetings. Thanks for friends who listen when necessary, council when necessary and follow you as the muscle when you need backup.

Most of all, just thank you for allowing me to live this never dull, frantic, beautiful life. There are no words...


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Drained

Yet another Wacky Wednesday is drawing to an end, thank goodness. This has been a rainy day and with rainy days come dreary sleepiness. My cousin was having neck surgery today, so I had to do what every member of my family always does: I went and sat with my cousin in the waiting room. She and I kind of have a tradition of bringing trashy celebrity magazines and snacks to each other in the hospital waiting rooms. The surgery went well and we had good conversation while waiting. He may be going home tonight. Just hoping for good pain control.

Had a meeting today that I will discuss another time. Full of lots of information. To say I'm overwhelmed would be an understatement. We are truly blessed to have so many talented and caring professionals in this town.

Tomorrow brings with it preparations for S's birthday. She has given us two suggestions and just tonight told me what kind of cake she would like. This is going to be a very lackluster birthday. Hopefully after soccer season is over, she can celebrate with friends. That black and white ball messes up her social life. Oh well. Night all.


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The time has come...

Have you ever watched someone just mentally check out before your eyes? In this time of overprogrammed, overactivitied, overworked kids, I have seen more "checking out" than I care to on a weekly basis. It's all "That poor kid" and "Why do those parents do that to him/her" until you sit and watch it happen to your own. It is almost October...and my kids are done. While they love the thrill of a soccer game, the culmination of all the moves into one graceful dance and the assembling of notes into the perfect guitar piece, they still have projects and reading/math logs and crazed math teachers to deal with. Not to mention the emotional exhaustion from just trying to relate to their peers, navigate the awkward feelings of growing up and still maintain their manners and kindness at home. It's enough. But at what point do you as a parent switch from "You made a commitment and you will carry it through to the end" to "You must choose between activiies because you can't handle everything on your plate"? It is a horribly difficult call to make...or is it? What a horrible feeling to see your child with a blank look, emotionless or emotional to the point of no control; the weight of life too much for their little bodies and minds to bear. Our oldest will be 12 on Saturday, but I still feel like she is baby. They require more sleep, more food in frquent batches. They still want to have their moments to be little and snuggle with their mom and dad. In my mind, there is no decision to make. I will cut every activity out except school and church to insure that they don't burn out on life before they reach their teens. Am I saying that is what I intend to do tomorrow? Not at all. But don't ever forget that the mother bear in me will jerk them out and back into the protective womb of home if necessary. I can't do that forever, but you can be d%$# sure I will do it now without blinking an eye.

Hopefully something funny will happen tomorrow so I can work myself out of these depressing posts. Where's a good "Pizza Inn" moment when we need one?


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