I feel like one of those magazine makeovers gone horribly wrong. Instead of an All New You! I've ended up with an All New Flu! And let me tell you, even Cosmo couldn't sell this one.
BabyGirl came down with the lovely bug from the pit of Hell just under 2 weeks ago. She woke up on a Thursday with a low fever and an upset stomach. My knee jerk reaction was, "OMG! THE FLU!" but Husband, who is normally much calmer in certain situations, said to wait and see.
So I waited all night.....and I was right. It was flu. I loaded up the girls and took them to see our new NP who promptly put the entire family on Tamiflu. Well, at least she tried. The kids scripts were all fully covered (once I hunted down a pharmacy that actually had the medicine in stock- can I just say dragging a child so sick she's threatening to pass out all over town looking for medicine that while my boys are probably infecting family members 15 miles away and I've been on the run since 5:30 in the morning is not the way to spend an afternoon? I'm going to say it anyway) but Husband and I were going to cost over $200. I decided that was a bit much to spend on a preventative.
I was wrong.
It would have been so very worth it.
BabyGirl was up and going by Wednesday. I, on the other hand, have been in my bed since Tuesday night. Well, in my dreams I have been. In reality I spent about 2 days there then Husband went back to work, Bitsy came down with a 24 hour stomach bug, and I had to move my base of operations from the bed to the couch.
Things are not pretty around here.
We are on a slow decent into chaos.
Actually, it's not been that slow. It's been more like riding The American Eagle.
Husband will be here. He will make sure everyone is fed and dressed and out the door to school and life is golden, or as golden as it gets when your temperature is hovering around 101.3 and you feel like your spinal column is trying to escape from your back of it's own volition. We will happily climb to the highest heights watching the world spin away beneath us. Then something will happen. Someone will touch a sibling. Someone will get to play 7.3 seconds longer on the Wii than someone else. Someone will decide they need to sing while everyone else watches The Avengers and suddenly we've gone as high as we can go. A rapid, terrifying decent commences. There's screaming. There's crying. Hands fly up in the air. People bargain with God and a certain heavily medicated mother goes bat crap crazy on everyone in a 3 mile radius.
The CDC was right. Flu shots do save lives. The lives of FarmHands left alone with a mother too sick to deal with their normal shenanigans.
So get those flu shots people. Do it for the children.
And yes, as a matter of fact, I am suffering from a serious cold medicine hangover. Why do you ask?
Showing posts with label Tired. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Tired. Show all posts
January 26, 2013
December 16, 2012
Struggling
When 9/11 happened I was scared. I went to my grandma's and eventually I turned off the news and just played with BabyGirl who was only a few months old.
This time around things are different.
This time my heart is broken in a totally different way. This has scared me like no other incident.
I'm having a much harder time wrapping my mind around what happened on Friday than I did when those planes crashed 11 years ago. That was an attack, an act of war, of terrorism. I can grasp a militant Muslim group hating our country so much that they would attack civilians by the thousands. I cannot grasp what would drive a young man to shoot 20 small children in cold blood. I cannot grasp the loss and heart ache the parents and siblings and grandparents of those babies are feeling.
I cannot seem to step away from this. I cannot distance myself.
Is it because I work in a school building? Is it because the children are similar in ages to mine? Is it because one of the little girls looks eerily like Bitsy? Is it simply because I am a mother?
I told BabyGirl about it tonight. I didn't want her to learn about it at school and be totally unprepared. She knew there had been a shooting but didn't know any details. A few minutes later she said, "Why would people do something like that?" I hate giving her an answer that sounds like a cop-out. "I don't know, Honey. I really don't." I'd like to tell her he was sick. I don't know that. I'd like to tell her he didn't know what he was doing. The evidence seems to point elsewhere.
When I started work this year we were all given a hand book of sorts telling us the procedures for emergencies. What to do in case of a fire. What to do in case of a tornado. What to do in case of ice, earthquake, storms, etc. When I turned a page and began reading what to do in case of a terrorist incident or in case of an intruder, my stomach flipped and I went ice cold. I know we have to have such procedures in place, but the idea that they're necessary breaks my heart.
Oddly instead of being more lenient with the FarmHands in light of the tragedy, I find myself much more short tempered and out of sorts. I feel guilty when I'm angry at them. I feel guilty disciplining them. I feel guilty because I didn't hug them all tight as soon as they stormed the doors on Friday. I feel guilty because all I want to do is climb into bed and not get out any time soon.
When suicide and depression rates sky rocketed after 9/11, I didn't understand. The attack upset us all, but how many were actually affected in their every day lives? How many actually lost loved ones? How many lived through those horrors first hand? But now I understand. I understand how a tragedy that in no way figures into your daily life can break you into little pieces. I'm not saying I'm suicidal or even depressed. I'm just saying I'm struggling.
But in my struggles I'm also praying. I'm praying protection down upon our children and our schools. I'm praying for comfort for families that will never again be whole. I'm praying peace on the minds of children who've witnessed horrors no one should ever witness. I'm praying God will draw us closer to Him in the wake of the unspeakable.
This time around things are different.
This time my heart is broken in a totally different way. This has scared me like no other incident.
I'm having a much harder time wrapping my mind around what happened on Friday than I did when those planes crashed 11 years ago. That was an attack, an act of war, of terrorism. I can grasp a militant Muslim group hating our country so much that they would attack civilians by the thousands. I cannot grasp what would drive a young man to shoot 20 small children in cold blood. I cannot grasp the loss and heart ache the parents and siblings and grandparents of those babies are feeling.
I cannot seem to step away from this. I cannot distance myself.
Is it because I work in a school building? Is it because the children are similar in ages to mine? Is it because one of the little girls looks eerily like Bitsy? Is it simply because I am a mother?
I told BabyGirl about it tonight. I didn't want her to learn about it at school and be totally unprepared. She knew there had been a shooting but didn't know any details. A few minutes later she said, "Why would people do something like that?" I hate giving her an answer that sounds like a cop-out. "I don't know, Honey. I really don't." I'd like to tell her he was sick. I don't know that. I'd like to tell her he didn't know what he was doing. The evidence seems to point elsewhere.
When I started work this year we were all given a hand book of sorts telling us the procedures for emergencies. What to do in case of a fire. What to do in case of a tornado. What to do in case of ice, earthquake, storms, etc. When I turned a page and began reading what to do in case of a terrorist incident or in case of an intruder, my stomach flipped and I went ice cold. I know we have to have such procedures in place, but the idea that they're necessary breaks my heart.
Oddly instead of being more lenient with the FarmHands in light of the tragedy, I find myself much more short tempered and out of sorts. I feel guilty when I'm angry at them. I feel guilty disciplining them. I feel guilty because I didn't hug them all tight as soon as they stormed the doors on Friday. I feel guilty because all I want to do is climb into bed and not get out any time soon.
When suicide and depression rates sky rocketed after 9/11, I didn't understand. The attack upset us all, but how many were actually affected in their every day lives? How many actually lost loved ones? How many lived through those horrors first hand? But now I understand. I understand how a tragedy that in no way figures into your daily life can break you into little pieces. I'm not saying I'm suicidal or even depressed. I'm just saying I'm struggling.
But in my struggles I'm also praying. I'm praying protection down upon our children and our schools. I'm praying for comfort for families that will never again be whole. I'm praying peace on the minds of children who've witnessed horrors no one should ever witness. I'm praying God will draw us closer to Him in the wake of the unspeakable.
August 8, 2012
This Summer needs a name.
A name that denotes all manner of evil. A name that tags it every more as a summer not worth repeating. A name that leaves no doubt as to the horribleness of it. I'll open up the comments to suggestions.
We started off good. I had a new job to look forward to. We had our first 4-H fairs to attend. We had a swimming pool, heat, and sunshine. And then things started going south...and not in the I-get-to-go-south-to-visit-friends-and-family kind of way.
First Grandma M&M discovered the colon cancer she battled 36 years ago was back. Waiting and waiting and waiting finally gave way to a date for her to have surgery. May 29th she went in. Things went well. Recovery was going to take a long time, but she was going to be fine.
The next morning found me in the doctor's office in pain. That afternoon I was on the operating table. It wasn't the appendicitis nor the appendectomy that was the hard part. It was the 6 weeks of recovery after abdominal surgery that knocked me down.
In the meantime, Grandma didn't recover as quickly nor as well as we thought she would. She went to a nursing home to recover. Mama shuttled back & forth between the two of us and in the process hurt her foot.
Then I ended up in the hospital for a longer stay and still don't quite know the cause. Colitis is not something I'd wish on my worst enemy and something I hope and pray is not recurring in my case.
Just over a week ago #1 Son began complaining about his under arms itching. When I looked at them I discovered he had brown, scaly patches under his arms. He's very prone to skin issues so I told him to use the cream our doctor has prescribed many times in the past. After a few days they turned red & raw. I told him to leave the cream alone and we'd show the dermatologist when he goes on the 17th.
Monday showed we couldn't wait for the 17th. He was in so much pain he couldn't lower his arms. Thank the Lord the dermatologist had a cancellation that afternoon.
I willingly admit I didn't want to go. I hate the drive. I hate dragging all 4 kids that far to spend 3 minutes in an office with a nurse practitioner (nothing against the NP- she's really good). But I was beyond unprepared when she suggested his skin issues might be caused by diabetes.
Yesterday we went to the hospital for a fasting blood draw. The tech took an extra vial of blood in case the doctor decided to have an A1C done later. I'm glad she did. His blood sugar was 105- only slightly elevated. The doctor's office wanted to wait 3-4 weeks and do another draw. I told them to order the A1C. They did.
Today we got the call that his A1C was 5.7. Normal is below 6. Now doc wants a finger stick every morning for 30 days to see what we're looking at.
To be entirely honest, I am not handling this well. I can be sick. I can have surgery. I can spend my summer recovering from what ever. But not my son. He cannot go through this. He cannot spend time worrying and fretting. He cannot be scared and uncertain. These things are not OK with me.
I know he will be fine no matter how the test come out. I know that the changes that may be necessary will not be the end of us. I know that we can deal with this. But right now I'm done. I'm over it all. I'm sick to death of worry and fright and sickness.
I am ready for this summer to end.
We started off good. I had a new job to look forward to. We had our first 4-H fairs to attend. We had a swimming pool, heat, and sunshine. And then things started going south...and not in the I-get-to-go-south-to-visit-friends-and-family kind of way.
First Grandma M&M discovered the colon cancer she battled 36 years ago was back. Waiting and waiting and waiting finally gave way to a date for her to have surgery. May 29th she went in. Things went well. Recovery was going to take a long time, but she was going to be fine.
The next morning found me in the doctor's office in pain. That afternoon I was on the operating table. It wasn't the appendicitis nor the appendectomy that was the hard part. It was the 6 weeks of recovery after abdominal surgery that knocked me down.
In the meantime, Grandma didn't recover as quickly nor as well as we thought she would. She went to a nursing home to recover. Mama shuttled back & forth between the two of us and in the process hurt her foot.
Then I ended up in the hospital for a longer stay and still don't quite know the cause. Colitis is not something I'd wish on my worst enemy and something I hope and pray is not recurring in my case.
Just over a week ago #1 Son began complaining about his under arms itching. When I looked at them I discovered he had brown, scaly patches under his arms. He's very prone to skin issues so I told him to use the cream our doctor has prescribed many times in the past. After a few days they turned red & raw. I told him to leave the cream alone and we'd show the dermatologist when he goes on the 17th.
Monday showed we couldn't wait for the 17th. He was in so much pain he couldn't lower his arms. Thank the Lord the dermatologist had a cancellation that afternoon.
I willingly admit I didn't want to go. I hate the drive. I hate dragging all 4 kids that far to spend 3 minutes in an office with a nurse practitioner (nothing against the NP- she's really good). But I was beyond unprepared when she suggested his skin issues might be caused by diabetes.
Yesterday we went to the hospital for a fasting blood draw. The tech took an extra vial of blood in case the doctor decided to have an A1C done later. I'm glad she did. His blood sugar was 105- only slightly elevated. The doctor's office wanted to wait 3-4 weeks and do another draw. I told them to order the A1C. They did.
Today we got the call that his A1C was 5.7. Normal is below 6. Now doc wants a finger stick every morning for 30 days to see what we're looking at.
To be entirely honest, I am not handling this well. I can be sick. I can have surgery. I can spend my summer recovering from what ever. But not my son. He cannot go through this. He cannot spend time worrying and fretting. He cannot be scared and uncertain. These things are not OK with me.
I know he will be fine no matter how the test come out. I know that the changes that may be necessary will not be the end of us. I know that we can deal with this. But right now I'm done. I'm over it all. I'm sick to death of worry and fright and sickness.
I am ready for this summer to end.
August 6, 2012
Not exactly a cheerful heart here, folks.
I'm having a tough time tonight. I'm tired. I'm worn down. I've had enough of this lousy, broken world. For the first time in a long time I feel ready for this world to end and the next to begin.
For anyone who doesn't know me, please, please do not think I'm referring to death in any way. I'm talking about the coming of my Christ and King. I am so tired of the pain and suffering and anger and hurt of this world. I long for the perfection He's promised in the next.
When my Jesus comes again there will be no summers spent in and out of the hospital. There will be no children taking 70 weeks of chemo or having heart valves replaced or rods put in their backs to straighten bent spines or being tested for diabetes. The nursing homes will be empty and those vacant stares will be full of life once more. There will be no anger and broken families. There will be peace. There will be love. There will be kindness.
No one will argue about fast food chicken and presidential candidates. Athletes will be held to the same standards as the rest of us. There will be no worry of the rich getting richer and the poor getting poorer. Insurance will be a fleeting memory instead of a battle to be waged. The things we think so important now will be washed away like sandcastles at high tide.
Jesus calmed the wind and waves with a simple, "Peace! Be still." Tonight I need Him to say those words to my heart.
For anyone who doesn't know me, please, please do not think I'm referring to death in any way. I'm talking about the coming of my Christ and King. I am so tired of the pain and suffering and anger and hurt of this world. I long for the perfection He's promised in the next.
When my Jesus comes again there will be no summers spent in and out of the hospital. There will be no children taking 70 weeks of chemo or having heart valves replaced or rods put in their backs to straighten bent spines or being tested for diabetes. The nursing homes will be empty and those vacant stares will be full of life once more. There will be no anger and broken families. There will be peace. There will be love. There will be kindness.
No one will argue about fast food chicken and presidential candidates. Athletes will be held to the same standards as the rest of us. There will be no worry of the rich getting richer and the poor getting poorer. Insurance will be a fleeting memory instead of a battle to be waged. The things we think so important now will be washed away like sandcastles at high tide.
Jesus calmed the wind and waves with a simple, "Peace! Be still." Tonight I need Him to say those words to my heart.
July 27, 2012
Adventures in Colitis- Not for the Weak of Stomach
Many of you already know what has been happening on the Farm, but not the entire story....and then I'm sure there are those of you who have no clue what I'm talking about (assuming someone other than my cousin and best friend still read this).
It's been a tough week to say the very least. A week I pray I never have to relive. A week I really wish would be over & done with but unfortunately will have a few repercussions.
Monday afternoon Uncle Gick came to stay with the FarmHands while Busha took me into town to see Dr.R (the surgeon who took out my appendix). I fell asleep on and off all the way to his office. I was in more pain than I've been in since they made me get out of bed after my first c-section (on the 1-10 scale I was at a 10). When we walked into the waiting room, the receptionist asked if I'd gotten her voice mail. For the record, my voice mail message says, "I do not check this mail box. If you need to get in touch with me, keep calling." So, no, I hadn't.
She was trying to let me know that Dr.R wanted me to have blood work taken before I came into his office. Good news: the lab is 2 doors down from his office in the same building. Bad news: I have to walk half way around the building to get in the elevator, go back to the first floor, stand in line and register as a hospital patient to have the blood drawn in the first place. By the time I got back in his office, it was a full hour later and I was still in serious pain.
When the nurse came to get me, Busha and I started down the hall. A few steps in and I had to steady myself on a door frame because I was light headed. On the off chance that they would need a stool sample, I took one at home and brought it in with me (seriously unpleasant, I know, but after waking up to bloody diarrhea I thought it was a prudent step to take). I also wrote down everything that had taken place since my symptoms first began because I knew in my state of mind I would forget quite a few key points like days of the week. Dr.R looked over everything (including my sample), did a serious examination of my abdomen and torso and told me he was admitting me to the hospital. He was not a happy man.
I was seriously dehydrated. He ordered IV fluids in massive amounts and a CT scan once I'd had a full bag of fluid. Busha took me to the hospital and the real fun began. I look like I've been on a heroin bender if you go by all the track marks on my my arms. When you're dehydrated it's not easy to hit a vein and keep it from blowing out especially when you need a bigger needle to put CT contrast through. 2 nurses and 4 needle sticks later, they called in the anesthesiologist nurse to get my IV going.
Eventually a dose of Toradol and a bolus of fluid made me comfortable enough to stretch out so I could lay down for the CT. My second CT in 2 months, mind you. After I was settled and a bit more comfortable, Busha went home. Dr.R came in just after 9 to tell me I didn't have any bowl obstruction but that my entire colon lit up like a light bulb.
Sleeping in the hospital wouldn't have been bad if it hadn't been for the 800 times a night they had to come check and see if I was still alive. Toradol every 6 hours wasn't bad either. More samples were collected, more labs done, more blood drawn.
The next morning Dr.H came in to see why I was back in the hospital. I told him I had decided to spend my summer there. "If I had 37 kids, I'd spend my summer here, too!" he said. I love my doctors. He took me off all food or drink by mouth and went off to investigate what was going on with me. Dr.R said he thought Dr.H was trying to starve me to death when he discovered the NPO order a few hours later. I told him they'd have to duke it out amongst themselves. I didn't care so long as no one took my pain meds away.
I'm not sure when it happened, but eventually words like inflammation, ulcerative colitis, crohns, colonoscopy, and flexible sigmoidoscopy started getting tossed around.
Wednesday morning rolled around and Dr.R scheduled me for what is affectionately known as a flex sig (see above paragraph). He didn't want to go in for a full colonoscopy because there was a massive amount of inflammation and he didn't want to risk perforating my colon. Personally, I'd like to keep my colon un-perforated as well. That involved being put under conscious sedation (that is a bit of a misnomer). I don't remember anything before they moved me from the gurney back into my bed in my room. Ulcerative Colitis was his initial suspicion.
Wednesday they finally decided I could be put on a clear liquid diet. By that time I hadn't ingested anything since the glass of lemonade I nursed all Monday morning. Chicken broth has never tasted so good. Do you have any clue how many food commercials are on television each hour? At least 85,000.
After breakfast (my third meal of chick broth, orange jell-o, apple juice, and a Popsicle in a row) on Thursday, Dr.R came back and said all my tests had come back negative and I was feeling leaps and bounds better so he thought I should eat & possibly go home.
My pathology reports from the flex sig are negative. All my cultures, samples, blood work, and other various tests are clean. Right now it's a guessing game. Dr.R has me on medication for Ulcerative Colitis until I see him again Friday, August 3rd. He said there will eventually be a full blown colonoscopy but he wants to wait until he's sure my colon has healed from this flare up.
I'm praying this was caused by some kind of infection/bacteria that isn't going to be an on going battle (U.C. is a chronic condition and not something I'd wish on my worst enemy). Things are beginning to return to normal. QM is here taking care of all of us. I'm resting as much as I can.
Maybe next time I'll tell you about my rather entertaining neighbor from the hospital.
It's been a tough week to say the very least. A week I pray I never have to relive. A week I really wish would be over & done with but unfortunately will have a few repercussions.
Monday afternoon Uncle Gick came to stay with the FarmHands while Busha took me into town to see Dr.R (the surgeon who took out my appendix). I fell asleep on and off all the way to his office. I was in more pain than I've been in since they made me get out of bed after my first c-section (on the 1-10 scale I was at a 10). When we walked into the waiting room, the receptionist asked if I'd gotten her voice mail. For the record, my voice mail message says, "I do not check this mail box. If you need to get in touch with me, keep calling." So, no, I hadn't.
She was trying to let me know that Dr.R wanted me to have blood work taken before I came into his office. Good news: the lab is 2 doors down from his office in the same building. Bad news: I have to walk half way around the building to get in the elevator, go back to the first floor, stand in line and register as a hospital patient to have the blood drawn in the first place. By the time I got back in his office, it was a full hour later and I was still in serious pain.
When the nurse came to get me, Busha and I started down the hall. A few steps in and I had to steady myself on a door frame because I was light headed. On the off chance that they would need a stool sample, I took one at home and brought it in with me (seriously unpleasant, I know, but after waking up to bloody diarrhea I thought it was a prudent step to take). I also wrote down everything that had taken place since my symptoms first began because I knew in my state of mind I would forget quite a few key points like days of the week. Dr.R looked over everything (including my sample), did a serious examination of my abdomen and torso and told me he was admitting me to the hospital. He was not a happy man.
I was seriously dehydrated. He ordered IV fluids in massive amounts and a CT scan once I'd had a full bag of fluid. Busha took me to the hospital and the real fun began. I look like I've been on a heroin bender if you go by all the track marks on my my arms. When you're dehydrated it's not easy to hit a vein and keep it from blowing out especially when you need a bigger needle to put CT contrast through. 2 nurses and 4 needle sticks later, they called in the anesthesiologist nurse to get my IV going.
Eventually a dose of Toradol and a bolus of fluid made me comfortable enough to stretch out so I could lay down for the CT. My second CT in 2 months, mind you. After I was settled and a bit more comfortable, Busha went home. Dr.R came in just after 9 to tell me I didn't have any bowl obstruction but that my entire colon lit up like a light bulb.
Sleeping in the hospital wouldn't have been bad if it hadn't been for the 800 times a night they had to come check and see if I was still alive. Toradol every 6 hours wasn't bad either. More samples were collected, more labs done, more blood drawn.
The next morning Dr.H came in to see why I was back in the hospital. I told him I had decided to spend my summer there. "If I had 37 kids, I'd spend my summer here, too!" he said. I love my doctors. He took me off all food or drink by mouth and went off to investigate what was going on with me. Dr.R said he thought Dr.H was trying to starve me to death when he discovered the NPO order a few hours later. I told him they'd have to duke it out amongst themselves. I didn't care so long as no one took my pain meds away.
I'm not sure when it happened, but eventually words like inflammation, ulcerative colitis, crohns, colonoscopy, and flexible sigmoidoscopy started getting tossed around.
Wednesday morning rolled around and Dr.R scheduled me for what is affectionately known as a flex sig (see above paragraph). He didn't want to go in for a full colonoscopy because there was a massive amount of inflammation and he didn't want to risk perforating my colon. Personally, I'd like to keep my colon un-perforated as well. That involved being put under conscious sedation (that is a bit of a misnomer). I don't remember anything before they moved me from the gurney back into my bed in my room. Ulcerative Colitis was his initial suspicion.
Wednesday they finally decided I could be put on a clear liquid diet. By that time I hadn't ingested anything since the glass of lemonade I nursed all Monday morning. Chicken broth has never tasted so good. Do you have any clue how many food commercials are on television each hour? At least 85,000.
After breakfast (my third meal of chick broth, orange jell-o, apple juice, and a Popsicle in a row) on Thursday, Dr.R came back and said all my tests had come back negative and I was feeling leaps and bounds better so he thought I should eat & possibly go home.
My pathology reports from the flex sig are negative. All my cultures, samples, blood work, and other various tests are clean. Right now it's a guessing game. Dr.R has me on medication for Ulcerative Colitis until I see him again Friday, August 3rd. He said there will eventually be a full blown colonoscopy but he wants to wait until he's sure my colon has healed from this flare up.
I'm praying this was caused by some kind of infection/bacteria that isn't going to be an on going battle (U.C. is a chronic condition and not something I'd wish on my worst enemy). Things are beginning to return to normal. QM is here taking care of all of us. I'm resting as much as I can.
Maybe next time I'll tell you about my rather entertaining neighbor from the hospital.
July 23, 2012
The weekend of Art (and TMI)
Art came to see me this weekend. At first the trip was to be a surprise, but she gave up on that idea very early on in the game.
I was so excited to have her coming...and then Thursday hit. I ended up sick. Without going into gory details, I was having stomach issues. I figured it was no big deal. She wouldn't be here until Friday night & I'd be all better by then.
Well, I wasn't. Friday afternoon rolled around & I opted to take an Imodium AD thinking it would take care of the problem & I'd be good to go for the weekend. It took care of one problem, but seemed to lead to a whole mess of other issues.
I was in pain. A lot of pain. Like pre-appendectomy pain. Saturday, Art convinced me that I needed to go to the doctor. Unfortunately we made it to town a little late & ended up in the ER instead of the walk-in clinic.
3 hours later they sent me home saying there was no infection so my pain was probably related to my surgery (that happened a month and a half ago....that hasn't caused me pain of any kind in weeks). They gave me a shot of Torodol that wore off before we ever left the hospital.
Saturday was spent laying on the couch- hurting.
Sunday was spent laying on the couch - hurting. Sunday morning, when I found myself unable to pee, I called the hospital and made them page my surgeon. He was off on vacation and had a house full of people. But he told me he wanted me on clear liquids for the rest of the day (by this time the only thing I'd eaten in nearly 24 hours was 1/2 an order of McDonalds fries on Saturday afternoon- yes, the pinnacle of heath, but it was the only thing that sounded remotely appetizing and I was starved). He said it sounded like I either had a stomach bug and had blocked everything off taking the Imodium or I have scar tissue adhesion from my surgery that has caused a bowl blockage. Either way, he said the best way to go was clear liquids and wait to see if things being working on their own. If I was still in pain, he wanted to see me in his office this afternoon.
They're going to work me in at 3.
The QM says that when I get better I owe Art a visit in Tennessee to make up for the failed visit here. I think that's a splendid idea....or I would if I thought anything was splendid right now. It's hard to see the bright side when your stomach hurts like that chick who had an alien pop out of hers. I'm so glad Art was here. I only wish things could have been, "Way funner," to quote Elle Woods.
I was so excited to have her coming...and then Thursday hit. I ended up sick. Without going into gory details, I was having stomach issues. I figured it was no big deal. She wouldn't be here until Friday night & I'd be all better by then.
Well, I wasn't. Friday afternoon rolled around & I opted to take an Imodium AD thinking it would take care of the problem & I'd be good to go for the weekend. It took care of one problem, but seemed to lead to a whole mess of other issues.
I was in pain. A lot of pain. Like pre-appendectomy pain. Saturday, Art convinced me that I needed to go to the doctor. Unfortunately we made it to town a little late & ended up in the ER instead of the walk-in clinic.
3 hours later they sent me home saying there was no infection so my pain was probably related to my surgery (that happened a month and a half ago....that hasn't caused me pain of any kind in weeks). They gave me a shot of Torodol that wore off before we ever left the hospital.
Saturday was spent laying on the couch- hurting.
Sunday was spent laying on the couch - hurting. Sunday morning, when I found myself unable to pee, I called the hospital and made them page my surgeon. He was off on vacation and had a house full of people. But he told me he wanted me on clear liquids for the rest of the day (by this time the only thing I'd eaten in nearly 24 hours was 1/2 an order of McDonalds fries on Saturday afternoon- yes, the pinnacle of heath, but it was the only thing that sounded remotely appetizing and I was starved). He said it sounded like I either had a stomach bug and had blocked everything off taking the Imodium or I have scar tissue adhesion from my surgery that has caused a bowl blockage. Either way, he said the best way to go was clear liquids and wait to see if things being working on their own. If I was still in pain, he wanted to see me in his office this afternoon.
They're going to work me in at 3.
The QM says that when I get better I owe Art a visit in Tennessee to make up for the failed visit here. I think that's a splendid idea....or I would if I thought anything was splendid right now. It's hard to see the bright side when your stomach hurts like that chick who had an alien pop out of hers. I'm so glad Art was here. I only wish things could have been, "Way funner," to quote Elle Woods.
June 8, 2012
Proving once more that I am a mean mother.
Husband and the kids spent hours this week getting the grass pulled out of the sand patch, the tarp laid just so, the pool assembled and finally filled. The filling takes most of 2 days and all of one night....and a really long hose. I was recuperating indoors so I wasn't available to help.
Now I realize I also won't be able to enjoy the pool.
Yesterday I went to see the surgeon to have my stitches removed and my one week out check-up. After swapping stitches for steri-strips, he told me he doesn't want me bending over or lifting anything over 20 pounds until I see him again in three weeks. Much to Bitsy's chagrin, the steri-strips and scab are keeping me land locked for the time being. I need to stay out of the water until my incision is completely healed. She has spent most of the day trying to convince me I can just lounge in my papasan in the pool. "It's not swimming, Mommy. It'll be OK."
Unfortunately, Mom's unplanned abdominal opening also means the highly anticipated trip to Holiday World has been put on indefinite hold. I can hardly make it through a trip to the grocery right now. A full day spent walking around an amusement park and hurtling down water slides is entirely too much for me to imagine let alone attempt.
As we were on the way home from town today, Husband and I were discussing New Harmony, IN, where we spent our very brief honeymoon. I said I would love to take the FarmHands there sometime to go on one of their walking tours. Under his breath, Husband mumbled, "You'll have to speed up a bit first."
I said, "Are you making fun of my shuffle?"
"No. I'd be happy with a normal pace." Can't say I blame him after having to follow me through the grocery while I moved like an octogenarian. "So would I, dear."
Now if we could just convince the FarmHands that I'm not faking just to ruin their summertime plans.
May 31, 2012
How to get an unscheduled day away from home.
Just come down with appendicitis.
Simple, right?
But I really don't suggest it.
Tuesday afternoon, around 5:30, I got sick. My first thought was that I had a wicked bad case of gas & no gas-x in the house. After trying every possible position to get comfortable I decided a hot bath would help. It did, but only very temporarily. It was Bucka's birthday and I had made him Cat Head Biscuits for dinner but had to call Busha and tell her we weren't coming because my stomach hurt too bad. Then came the vomiting. Fun. After 2 extra-strength Tylenol and an hour on the couch with my hot rice bag, I was comfortable enough to sleep....but only if I didn't move at all. It was a long night.
The next morning all 4 of the FarmHands had check-ups with our family doctor. Husband went with us & planned on sitting in the car while I took the kids in to see Doc. I told him I really thought I'd need his help inside. Doc took one look at me trying to walk & he new something was wrong. 15 minutes later I was on my way to the hospital for a CAT scan. By 1:30 that afternoon I was being wheeled down to surgery.
Grandma M&M had surgery in Indy on Monday so Mama was on her way to our neck of the woods when they took me back. That was a God send because we really need her help around here right now.
Apparently the surgeon asked me if I wanted to go home the same day and I told him no. I wanted to stay in the hospital over night because I didn't want to try to recover from surgery at home with 4 kids.
He opted to do an open appendectomy in stead of the laproscopic surgery because of how close my appendix was to the surface. He said it would be faster and easier to get to it if he just opened me up. I figured one opening as opposed to 3 sounded good to me.
I'm sorry if this post is a bit disjointed. Vicodin and I are buddy-buddy right now. I think it may be nap time.
Simple, right?
But I really don't suggest it.
Tuesday afternoon, around 5:30, I got sick. My first thought was that I had a wicked bad case of gas & no gas-x in the house. After trying every possible position to get comfortable I decided a hot bath would help. It did, but only very temporarily. It was Bucka's birthday and I had made him Cat Head Biscuits for dinner but had to call Busha and tell her we weren't coming because my stomach hurt too bad. Then came the vomiting. Fun. After 2 extra-strength Tylenol and an hour on the couch with my hot rice bag, I was comfortable enough to sleep....but only if I didn't move at all. It was a long night.
The next morning all 4 of the FarmHands had check-ups with our family doctor. Husband went with us & planned on sitting in the car while I took the kids in to see Doc. I told him I really thought I'd need his help inside. Doc took one look at me trying to walk & he new something was wrong. 15 minutes later I was on my way to the hospital for a CAT scan. By 1:30 that afternoon I was being wheeled down to surgery.
Grandma M&M had surgery in Indy on Monday so Mama was on her way to our neck of the woods when they took me back. That was a God send because we really need her help around here right now.
Apparently the surgeon asked me if I wanted to go home the same day and I told him no. I wanted to stay in the hospital over night because I didn't want to try to recover from surgery at home with 4 kids.
He opted to do an open appendectomy in stead of the laproscopic surgery because of how close my appendix was to the surface. He said it would be faster and easier to get to it if he just opened me up. I figured one opening as opposed to 3 sounded good to me.
I'm sorry if this post is a bit disjointed. Vicodin and I are buddy-buddy right now. I think it may be nap time.
March 5, 2012
Dear Sinuses, Get Out.
Dear Paranasal Sinuses,
Consider this your eviction notice. You have 30 days to vacate the premises or I will be forced to involve the authorities.
I have attempted to work with you over the past 35 years but you are refusing to cooperate. I have given you free reign in my face. I have medicated you. I have flushed you. I have avoided the lovely fluffiness of the farm kittens because you do not enjoy their company. I have run air filters. I have boiled water with wonderful smelling essential oils to make you happy. I have run the humidifier 24/7 to keep you moist. And still you abuse me.
This week, it was not even your turn to be cantankerous. My throat and lungs were having their brief time in the spotlight. Just as they were beginning to calm down and let me return to the chaos that normally fills my life, you had to put your two cents in. And what a two cents it has been; pain, pressure, congestion, drainage. You've gone so far as to get my throat and lungs to rejoin the party.
I'm afraid this is no longer working out for me so I think it's about time you packed your mucus membrane and moved out. I've been breathing through my mouth so long at this point that I doubt you'll be missed.....but I do not doubt I'll notice your absence. It will no longer feel like a family of small elephants is stomping across my face.
I'll forward your mail if any comes. Otherwise, have a nice trip and don't let the door hit you in the respiratory epithelium on your way out.
Sincerely,
FarmWife
Consider this your eviction notice. You have 30 days to vacate the premises or I will be forced to involve the authorities.
I have attempted to work with you over the past 35 years but you are refusing to cooperate. I have given you free reign in my face. I have medicated you. I have flushed you. I have avoided the lovely fluffiness of the farm kittens because you do not enjoy their company. I have run air filters. I have boiled water with wonderful smelling essential oils to make you happy. I have run the humidifier 24/7 to keep you moist. And still you abuse me.
This week, it was not even your turn to be cantankerous. My throat and lungs were having their brief time in the spotlight. Just as they were beginning to calm down and let me return to the chaos that normally fills my life, you had to put your two cents in. And what a two cents it has been; pain, pressure, congestion, drainage. You've gone so far as to get my throat and lungs to rejoin the party.
I'm afraid this is no longer working out for me so I think it's about time you packed your mucus membrane and moved out. I've been breathing through my mouth so long at this point that I doubt you'll be missed.....but I do not doubt I'll notice your absence. It will no longer feel like a family of small elephants is stomping across my face.
I'll forward your mail if any comes. Otherwise, have a nice trip and don't let the door hit you in the respiratory epithelium on your way out.
Sincerely,
FarmWife
February 23, 2012
You really don't want to eat that.
In order to work full time at the cafeteria at school (something I hope and pray is in my future), I need to be certified in Food Safety and Sanitation. It's a 16 hour long class. I go 2 days a week, 4 hours a night, for 2 weeks. I'm half way through the course as I write this. All I can say is that if you're looking for a way to prevent yourself from eating out with any regularity, take one of these classes. The list of things that can kill you in a restaurant setting is longer than my arm.
We all know about Salmonella and Botulism, but have you ever hear of Hemorrhagic Colitis? How about Bacillus Cereus? And Vibrio Gastroenteritis? Yeah, it's all nasty. Most of them cause diarrhea and severe abdominal pain. Listeria can actually cause miscarriage.
It's all a bit overwhelming and more than a bit disgusting. Especially the lemons they put in your water or iced tea. But then, the good Lord made our bodies to withstand amazing amounts of abuse and microorganisms. I only hope he made my mind elastic enough to store all the information I'm going to have to recall for my certification exam on Wednesday. Any prayers offered would be more than a little appreciated.
I did have 2 days of work this week. Monday was President's Day and Tuesday, MJ, the cook I've been filling in for, decided to try out her wrist at work. I called halfway through the school day to ask her a question & she said, "By the way, do you want to work this week?" Apparently she'd come back a bit too soon. She's supposed to be off work for 3 weeks but decided it would make her stir crazy to sit home all that time.
I've worked the past 2 days on top of going to my night class. For a girl who's been a serious homebody for the past 10 years, this has been a massive change. I'm not sure I've adjusted to it just yet. Especially not being at work at 6:30 am after getting out of class at 9:50 pm the night before. I've still got a lot of catching up to do.
But the good news is, I haven't had time to miss the satellite dish being disconnected. The one day I was going to have to sit & do nothing ended up being the day Husband, Bitsy, and I had to go pick up my text book and make a run to Menards so bored was not an option.
So if you're trying in vain to get in touch with me, you'll just have to wait. I'm a career girl now. Well, at least for the rest of this week.
We all know about Salmonella and Botulism, but have you ever hear of Hemorrhagic Colitis? How about Bacillus Cereus? And Vibrio Gastroenteritis? Yeah, it's all nasty. Most of them cause diarrhea and severe abdominal pain. Listeria can actually cause miscarriage.
It's all a bit overwhelming and more than a bit disgusting. Especially the lemons they put in your water or iced tea. But then, the good Lord made our bodies to withstand amazing amounts of abuse and microorganisms. I only hope he made my mind elastic enough to store all the information I'm going to have to recall for my certification exam on Wednesday. Any prayers offered would be more than a little appreciated.
I did have 2 days of work this week. Monday was President's Day and Tuesday, MJ, the cook I've been filling in for, decided to try out her wrist at work. I called halfway through the school day to ask her a question & she said, "By the way, do you want to work this week?" Apparently she'd come back a bit too soon. She's supposed to be off work for 3 weeks but decided it would make her stir crazy to sit home all that time.
I've worked the past 2 days on top of going to my night class. For a girl who's been a serious homebody for the past 10 years, this has been a massive change. I'm not sure I've adjusted to it just yet. Especially not being at work at 6:30 am after getting out of class at 9:50 pm the night before. I've still got a lot of catching up to do.
But the good news is, I haven't had time to miss the satellite dish being disconnected. The one day I was going to have to sit & do nothing ended up being the day Husband, Bitsy, and I had to go pick up my text book and make a run to Menards so bored was not an option.
So if you're trying in vain to get in touch with me, you'll just have to wait. I'm a career girl now. Well, at least for the rest of this week.
February 9, 2012
Proving, once again, that it is possible to be asleep on one's feet.
I worked again today. That makes 2 days in a row. A first for me in over 10 years. And I get to work tomorrow & Monday as well. One of the cooks is having problems with her wrist and will be off at least until Tuesday....possibly longer depending on what the doctor says about it.
While I do not spend my days lounging on the couch watching soaps & eating bon-bons, I'm also not used to being on my feet on a concrete floor for 7 hours a day. I'm also not used to getting up & starting my day at 5:30 in the morning. I'm much more comfortable with my routine of getting the FarmHands up around 6:30/6:45, getting them fed & clothed & out the door, then crashing back on the couch for a nap before picking Bitsy up from school (there's other things that happen during that time, but the main event is my nap). Now my nap has to be postponed until 2 o'clock or later. I'm not sure I'm OK with this.
If I'm going to do this very much, I'm going to have to work on my stamina. Otherwise we'll have to hire a nanny to care for the FarmHands every night while I attempt to recover from my stint in Lunch Lady Land.
At least I learned how to make peach cobbler.
While I do not spend my days lounging on the couch watching soaps & eating bon-bons, I'm also not used to being on my feet on a concrete floor for 7 hours a day. I'm also not used to getting up & starting my day at 5:30 in the morning. I'm much more comfortable with my routine of getting the FarmHands up around 6:30/6:45, getting them fed & clothed & out the door, then crashing back on the couch for a nap before picking Bitsy up from school (there's other things that happen during that time, but the main event is my nap). Now my nap has to be postponed until 2 o'clock or later. I'm not sure I'm OK with this.
If I'm going to do this very much, I'm going to have to work on my stamina. Otherwise we'll have to hire a nanny to care for the FarmHands every night while I attempt to recover from my stint in Lunch Lady Land.
At least I learned how to make peach cobbler.
January 11, 2012
Oh, I'm sleeping my life away, looking for a better way, for me.
I'm not sure if it's the total lack of sunlight today or the constant cold drizzle of rain or the running done the past two days or simply unjustifiable laziness, but I've done nothing but sleep all day today.
Maybe I'm catching up on all the sleep I missed out getting up at 6:30 in the morning all through Christmas break to tell the FarmHands to quite down & stay in their rooms until after daylight.
But one thing I'm positive of. I need to wake the heck up!
The FarmHands just walked in the door, so I don't think I have any other options at this point. Maybe a shower, some loud music (OK Go doing the Muppet Show Theme seems like a good idea), and a few jumping jacks will do it. Guess I should really do the jumping jacks before the shower.
Or maybe I'm coming down with something horrible like Chronic Fatigue Syndrome or debilitating anemia or mononucleosis.
Or possibly I just really needed a nap........or two.......or three. Or an uninterrupted night sleep. Or a month or two of hibernation. Or one of those suspended animation chambers they put people in on science fiction movies.
January 2, 2012
On the First Day of Christmas....
Instead of song birds in fruit bearing trees, young women milking bovine, European royalty jumping around like grasshoppers, and a troupe of piccolo players, I got sick kids. And to make things super fun, they didn't all get sick at once. The spread it out over the first week of their Christmas break. #1 Son got started a day early missing the last day of school when he vomited All. Over. My. Bathroom. But I already told you about that.
BabyGirl picked it up the first day of their vacation with a sore throat & vomiting. Since Doc was about to leave the office for days on end, he gave us a script without the strep culture just to be on the safe side & save me a trip to the ER over the holidays. Too bad we still had to go...but that's for later in the post.
B.B. puked Christmas Eve morning & again Christmas morning preventing us from going to church on Christmas day. He complained of a sore throat on & off for 24 hours. By the time the weekend was over, I had worn 3 pairs of pajamas & no "real" clothing. What's the point of dressing when you're laying around for hours on end, watching House Hunters on an endless loop of HGTV, and living off Chex Mix and Poor Man's Toffee?
Bitsy rounded us out by running a fever & having a sore throat Monday & Tuesday keeping the two of us housebound while everyone else went to Little BIL & Aunt Cher's for lunch. By Wednesday, everyone was finally feeling better just in time for rain & rain & more rain.
Thursday the roofers showed up. Two high strung dogs plus half a dozen Mennonite men on the roof plus four nosy kids equals entirely too much going on for one FarmWife to deal with. So I kenneled up the dogs who were trying their hardest to coax the men off the roof so they could be summarily eaten, plopped the FarmHands down in front of the television, and proceeded to undress my Christmas tree.
By Friday, we were officially de-Christmased, it was warm enough to throw the FarmHands outside, & Bitsy had a WIC appointment, so the monotony was finally broken. The roof was finished that afternoon much to the dogs' delight.
On Saturday everyone came by to see our new lid. MIL & SIL came first followed by Uncle E, J, & Beffie. Uncle E gave Husband some drywall tips before he got started on the bathroom ceiling (I lost my skylight in getting my new roof....I am still in mourning, but fully understand the need for it's departure). Then Busha & Bucka came by very proud of Husband for, "Finally putting a roof over our Granddaughter's head." Little BIL & Aunt Cher stopped by on their way out to lunch with MIL & FIL. Everyone seems to like the new change.
Saturday afternoon Husband was putting the flashing up behind the gutters when he came in the house. "Um, come look at this, FarmWife. Do you think I need stitches?" His had slipped while sliding flashing into place & he cut his hand on the new roof. He had a 2 inch gash on his right hand across the knuckle at the base of his middle finger. One frantic hunt for a sitter, and a quick trip to the ER & he is now the proud owner of his first ever stitches. Four in total that earned him a hand full of stickers from the ER nurse & large strawberry milkshake from me. He was very brave.
Tomorrow our "normal" life resumes. I'm ready for it. Today I've battled allergies and a massive headache along with children in serious need of more structure than I'm willing to give. Husband's feeling lousy as well & I'm hoping it's just a bug & not infection in his hand. I'm keeping a close eye on it & him & if things are the same in the morning, Doc will be getting a New Year's visit from the FarmFamily Patriarch.
Happy stinking New Year.
Oh, and incidentally, I've finally joined the movement that is Pinterest. You can find me here if you like. Let me know if you pin. I'm just getting started & haven't quite got the hang of it. I'd love some ideas & input.
BabyGirl picked it up the first day of their vacation with a sore throat & vomiting. Since Doc was about to leave the office for days on end, he gave us a script without the strep culture just to be on the safe side & save me a trip to the ER over the holidays. Too bad we still had to go...but that's for later in the post.
B.B. puked Christmas Eve morning & again Christmas morning preventing us from going to church on Christmas day. He complained of a sore throat on & off for 24 hours. By the time the weekend was over, I had worn 3 pairs of pajamas & no "real" clothing. What's the point of dressing when you're laying around for hours on end, watching House Hunters on an endless loop of HGTV, and living off Chex Mix and Poor Man's Toffee?
Bitsy rounded us out by running a fever & having a sore throat Monday & Tuesday keeping the two of us housebound while everyone else went to Little BIL & Aunt Cher's for lunch. By Wednesday, everyone was finally feeling better just in time for rain & rain & more rain.
Thursday the roofers showed up. Two high strung dogs plus half a dozen Mennonite men on the roof plus four nosy kids equals entirely too much going on for one FarmWife to deal with. So I kenneled up the dogs who were trying their hardest to coax the men off the roof so they could be summarily eaten, plopped the FarmHands down in front of the television, and proceeded to undress my Christmas tree.
By Friday, we were officially de-Christmased, it was warm enough to throw the FarmHands outside, & Bitsy had a WIC appointment, so the monotony was finally broken. The roof was finished that afternoon much to the dogs' delight.
On Saturday everyone came by to see our new lid. MIL & SIL came first followed by Uncle E, J, & Beffie. Uncle E gave Husband some drywall tips before he got started on the bathroom ceiling (I lost my skylight in getting my new roof....I am still in mourning, but fully understand the need for it's departure). Then Busha & Bucka came by very proud of Husband for, "Finally putting a roof over our Granddaughter's head." Little BIL & Aunt Cher stopped by on their way out to lunch with MIL & FIL. Everyone seems to like the new change.
Saturday afternoon Husband was putting the flashing up behind the gutters when he came in the house. "Um, come look at this, FarmWife. Do you think I need stitches?" His had slipped while sliding flashing into place & he cut his hand on the new roof. He had a 2 inch gash on his right hand across the knuckle at the base of his middle finger. One frantic hunt for a sitter, and a quick trip to the ER & he is now the proud owner of his first ever stitches. Four in total that earned him a hand full of stickers from the ER nurse & large strawberry milkshake from me. He was very brave.
Tomorrow our "normal" life resumes. I'm ready for it. Today I've battled allergies and a massive headache along with children in serious need of more structure than I'm willing to give. Husband's feeling lousy as well & I'm hoping it's just a bug & not infection in his hand. I'm keeping a close eye on it & him & if things are the same in the morning, Doc will be getting a New Year's visit from the FarmFamily Patriarch.
Happy stinking New Year.
Oh, and incidentally, I've finally joined the movement that is Pinterest. You can find me here if you like. Let me know if you pin. I'm just getting started & haven't quite got the hang of it. I'd love some ideas & input.
August 24, 2011
And I thought fourth grade was bad.
Fifth grade may be the end of me. I think I've grown 7 new gray hairs in the week the FarmHands have been back in school. BabyGirl is, oddly, exceptionally resistant to homework in every form. Her teacher, unfortunately, is not.
Normally, the beginning of the school year is the one time BabyGirl & I are not going head to head over homework. She usually starts the year off on an up swing, excited to be back. This year, not so much.
And for the record I have no problem with her teacher or the amount of homework he assigns. I think most of the work is meant to be done in class, but Miss I-have-issues-with-time-management-and-don't-you-dare-suggest-that-I'm-dawdling-even-when-I've-spent-thirty-minutes-sitting-in-the-toy-box-chewing-on-a-bobby-pin doesn't seem to think she has any hand in the 40 pounds of text books she's lugging home every night. She also doesn't seem to think there's a problem with taking 45 minutes to eat a cup of yogurt before she starts on her homework making it nearly 7 o'clock before she even starts.
She was just asking me about open house at the school tomorrow. She wants to show us something in her class room. I told her it would all depend on how much time we have after she's finished her homework. Her reply was a guttural growl. "I'm sorry, dear, but our lives now revolve around when you get your homework done. It's not any fun for any of us."
This morning I was telling Husband about the past few nights of arguing & fighting. His response: Home school her. Mine: Yeah, that's a great idea. I can't even get her to do 30 minutes worth of homework. How exactly am I supposed to get through a full day of necessary education? Not to mention the fact that my daughter and I are like oil and water. I hate admitting that, but we simply do not get along. I love her with all my heart, but the kid and I, left alone for long intervals with a task to accomplish, are volatile. It's a pretty crappy situation.
Add to that, the chaos that ensues in the rest of the house when I'm trapped in a room with an irate BabyGirl and the other 3 FarmHands are left alone. Eventually she'll get frustrated, start screaming, and stomp off & I'm able to go deal with the other catastrophes that are taking place.
Yeah, I really love this part of my job. Anyone looking for work as a fifth grade tutor? It doesn't pay much (nothing, really) but the work is steady &...um....challenging.
(Note: I'm not really looking for advice here. I just really need to vent...unless of course you have some really groundbreaking advice for me other than "make her do her homework as soon as she gets home" or "give her a break when she gets home & let her unwind" or "send her work to school unfinished if she doesn't get it done to be sure she knows it's her responsibility" because I've tried all in one way or another.)
Normally, the beginning of the school year is the one time BabyGirl & I are not going head to head over homework. She usually starts the year off on an up swing, excited to be back. This year, not so much.
And for the record I have no problem with her teacher or the amount of homework he assigns. I think most of the work is meant to be done in class, but Miss I-have-issues-with-time-management-and-don't-you-dare-suggest-that-I'm-dawdling-even-when-I've-spent-thirty-minutes-sitting-in-the-toy-box-chewing-on-a-bobby-pin doesn't seem to think she has any hand in the 40 pounds of text books she's lugging home every night. She also doesn't seem to think there's a problem with taking 45 minutes to eat a cup of yogurt before she starts on her homework making it nearly 7 o'clock before she even starts.
She was just asking me about open house at the school tomorrow. She wants to show us something in her class room. I told her it would all depend on how much time we have after she's finished her homework. Her reply was a guttural growl. "I'm sorry, dear, but our lives now revolve around when you get your homework done. It's not any fun for any of us."
This morning I was telling Husband about the past few nights of arguing & fighting. His response: Home school her. Mine: Yeah, that's a great idea. I can't even get her to do 30 minutes worth of homework. How exactly am I supposed to get through a full day of necessary education? Not to mention the fact that my daughter and I are like oil and water. I hate admitting that, but we simply do not get along. I love her with all my heart, but the kid and I, left alone for long intervals with a task to accomplish, are volatile. It's a pretty crappy situation.
Add to that, the chaos that ensues in the rest of the house when I'm trapped in a room with an irate BabyGirl and the other 3 FarmHands are left alone. Eventually she'll get frustrated, start screaming, and stomp off & I'm able to go deal with the other catastrophes that are taking place.
Yeah, I really love this part of my job. Anyone looking for work as a fifth grade tutor? It doesn't pay much (nothing, really) but the work is steady &...um....challenging.
(Note: I'm not really looking for advice here. I just really need to vent...unless of course you have some really groundbreaking advice for me other than "make her do her homework as soon as she gets home" or "give her a break when she gets home & let her unwind" or "send her work to school unfinished if she doesn't get it done to be sure she knows it's her responsibility" because I've tried all in one way or another.)
February 16, 2011
Moan. Groan. Gripe.
I have a cold. It's not a horrible one, just yet, but I fear it's well on it's way to "someone please kill me" levels. Oddly enough, I think this is the first time I've really been sick this winter. I've had days when I've felt lousy, but I haven't truly been sick. For that I am extraordinarily thankful.
At midnight last night I decided I should take something so I could breath a bit and sleep a lot. So, I did what any red blooded American would do & I grabbed the Nyquil from my medicine cabinet. Why I did is beyond me because earlier that afternoon I read the following on a friend's FB page: This post brought to you by Nyquil, the nighttime sniffling sneezing oh god there are purple spiders on the wall medicine. That should have been warning/reminder enough.
My massive Nyquil hangover this morning was a pretty strong reminder of why I try to avoid the stuff. The fact that I'm nearly 20 hours away from the only dose I took & I'm still fighting medicine head should be enough incentive to keep me off the stuff for the next year or so...but I know in the end, my sinuses will get the better of me & I'll take it again. Just not anytime soon.
Right now I'd like to sleep soundly, breath without battling, and find a way to hold up the weight of my own head without pain being involved. Lord, please don't let this be early stages of the flu. Someone may have to put me out of my misery.
At midnight last night I decided I should take something so I could breath a bit and sleep a lot. So, I did what any red blooded American would do & I grabbed the Nyquil from my medicine cabinet. Why I did is beyond me because earlier that afternoon I read the following on a friend's FB page: This post brought to you by Nyquil, the nighttime sniffling sneezing oh god there are purple spiders on the wall medicine. That should have been warning/reminder enough.
My massive Nyquil hangover this morning was a pretty strong reminder of why I try to avoid the stuff. The fact that I'm nearly 20 hours away from the only dose I took & I'm still fighting medicine head should be enough incentive to keep me off the stuff for the next year or so...but I know in the end, my sinuses will get the better of me & I'll take it again. Just not anytime soon.
Right now I'd like to sleep soundly, breath without battling, and find a way to hold up the weight of my own head without pain being involved. Lord, please don't let this be early stages of the flu. Someone may have to put me out of my misery.
January 7, 2011
Deep Breaths
Bitsy just found a twenty cent piece her dad brought back from a mission trip to Mexico 10 years ago. She asked if she could have it & I said yes. "Thank you pretty much," she replied followed by shouts of, "Me keep dis forever & forever & forever & forever!"
Her favorite magic trick is hiding her hands behind her back & saying, "Hey,wheremyhandsgo?Ta-da!Magic!" all in one breath as she jerks them up in front of her face.
In spite of all the hilarity happening around me, I'm struggling to keep it together tonight. My head hurts. The FarmHands are hell bent on making me nuts. There are tasks that need tackling that I simply do not have the motivation to get to now.
It snowed last night. Just enough to make the side roads slippery & a very sleepy Husband have to crawl out of bed & drive me to town for groceries. The snow kept falling all afternoon but oddly what was on the ground continued to melt. Now it's a cold, slushy, muddy mess which means the FarmHands will be house bound all weekend. This is not a good prospect at the moment.
Maybe a session of Zumba will help. It sure can't hurt. Unless of course I pass out in the floor and the FarmHands are left to fend for themselves until their father gets home from work at odd hours of the morning.
Her favorite magic trick is hiding her hands behind her back & saying, "Hey,wheremyhandsgo?Ta-da!Magic!" all in one breath as she jerks them up in front of her face.
In spite of all the hilarity happening around me, I'm struggling to keep it together tonight. My head hurts. The FarmHands are hell bent on making me nuts. There are tasks that need tackling that I simply do not have the motivation to get to now.
It snowed last night. Just enough to make the side roads slippery & a very sleepy Husband have to crawl out of bed & drive me to town for groceries. The snow kept falling all afternoon but oddly what was on the ground continued to melt. Now it's a cold, slushy, muddy mess which means the FarmHands will be house bound all weekend. This is not a good prospect at the moment.
Maybe a session of Zumba will help. It sure can't hurt. Unless of course I pass out in the floor and the FarmHands are left to fend for themselves until their father gets home from work at odd hours of the morning.
January 1, 2011
Ringing in the New Year- FarmHands Style
Most people get dressed up, go to a party with friends, sip Champagne, and belt out Auld Lang Syne to ring in the new year. Not us. We fight over the Wii, put the kids to bed at a semi-decent hour, and veg out to Criminal Minds on the DVR. We also miss the actual change over not noticing it's 2011 until 12:25 am. Yeah, we are party animals.
Today we've spent the day playing Wii, fighting over the Wii, playing card games, fighting over card games, watching videos, and fighting over nothing. Anyone see a pattern here?
Yesterday Husband decided we should go to Wal-Mart to look for a new Wii controller (to use in my Zumba belt) and jeans for him. The trip was almost productive. In reality, he needed 3 pairs of jeans but instead we came home with one pair, a Wii controller, and Mario Kart for the kids. Oh, and did I mention the fighting all the way home?
I think the Ramones were on to something when they rocked out with I Wanna Be Sedated. I'm counting down the hours until Monday morning when I can pack 3/4 of them off to school. I know, I know, I'm a horrible mother. I should revel in the screaming, but alas, instead it just makes me want to double up my Prozac.
Actually we have had a lot of fun this week. We've laughed a lot. We've played a lot. We got to spend a lot of time with QM and Daddy and an afternoon with Uncle Gick & Unkie Di and their extended family. We visited with Uncle E and Aunt C. The kids ran around and played outside 2 days this week (60 degrees on December 31st!). I'm getting into my Zumba groove again (I LOVE this game. If you have a Wii I highly suggest it. The game will set you up on a work out calendar or you can wing it. And you can stumble about in the privacy of your own home instead of in front of 25 total strangers. So far I've worked out 20 minutes a day all but 2 days since Christmas Eve). We've watched a lot of Doctor Who. We've watched the Back to the Future movies. We've been ultra competitive playing Gamewright games (LOVE them, too).
But I am ready for Monday. I'm ready for more than 10 minutes of peace and quiet at a time. I'm ready to turn in my referee whistle. I'm ready for my house cleaning to count for something instead of being demolished immediately after I've finished.
I'm ready for 2011.
Today we've spent the day playing Wii, fighting over the Wii, playing card games, fighting over card games, watching videos, and fighting over nothing. Anyone see a pattern here?
Yesterday Husband decided we should go to Wal-Mart to look for a new Wii controller (to use in my Zumba belt) and jeans for him. The trip was almost productive. In reality, he needed 3 pairs of jeans but instead we came home with one pair, a Wii controller, and Mario Kart for the kids. Oh, and did I mention the fighting all the way home?
I think the Ramones were on to something when they rocked out with I Wanna Be Sedated. I'm counting down the hours until Monday morning when I can pack 3/4 of them off to school. I know, I know, I'm a horrible mother. I should revel in the screaming, but alas, instead it just makes me want to double up my Prozac.
Actually we have had a lot of fun this week. We've laughed a lot. We've played a lot. We got to spend a lot of time with QM and Daddy and an afternoon with Uncle Gick & Unkie Di and their extended family. We visited with Uncle E and Aunt C. The kids ran around and played outside 2 days this week (60 degrees on December 31st!). I'm getting into my Zumba groove again (I LOVE this game. If you have a Wii I highly suggest it. The game will set you up on a work out calendar or you can wing it. And you can stumble about in the privacy of your own home instead of in front of 25 total strangers. So far I've worked out 20 minutes a day all but 2 days since Christmas Eve). We've watched a lot of Doctor Who. We've watched the Back to the Future movies. We've been ultra competitive playing Gamewright games (LOVE them, too).
But I am ready for Monday. I'm ready for more than 10 minutes of peace and quiet at a time. I'm ready to turn in my referee whistle. I'm ready for my house cleaning to count for something instead of being demolished immediately after I've finished.
I'm ready for 2011.
December 19, 2010
A grown up Christmas list.
In about 45 minutes I will have been stuck on this 10 acres of land for a full week. 7 straight days. In that time I've made 2 or 3 trips to the mail box at the end of our drive, 2 trips to take out the trash, and one trip out to the sheep pen to dump table scraps. Stir Crazy would be the phrase that best suits my current frame of mind.
The FarmHands are going nearly as insane as I am. Husband decided to put all the presents under the tree today. This is the first time the FarmHands have ever seen their wrapped gifts prior to the day we celebrate Christmas. This change has caused B.B. to collapse into a bawling heap at least 3 times just this morning. He's desperate to open a gift. I really do not want to give into and therefore encourage the tantrums so I said no. I am currently public enemy #1.
Because we've been snowed and or iced in all week, Husband decided he'd do the grocery shopping Friday night after work. He's been able to make it back & forth to work with no small amount of stress. Once he's reached the high way, things have been hunky-dory...the problem is the five miles of ice between us and the highway. Since he was already out on good roads, I made him a list & sent him shopping, much to the amazement of the FarmHands. When they woke up yesterday to a pantry & fridge full of food, you'd have thought Santa himself brought it all.
While at Wal-Mart, Husband bought my Christmas present. He has a horrible time trying to keep secrets. He's already offered to tell me what it is. I declined but fear he wouldn't have been honest had I allowed him to ruin the surprise. He wrapped my gift & put it under the tree yesterday while I was baking cookies. The FarmHands are dying to know what it is, so Husband told #1 Son. #1 Son told B.B. B.B. told Bitsy. 7 seconds later, Bitsy came running out of the bedroom and yelled, "Mommy, Daddy buyed you Eclipse and...." that's when the others began screaming. "NO, Bitsy! Don't tell Mom!!" and they whisked her away to the bedroom. Husband starts laughing because he hadn't told them what he actually got for me. About a minute later Bitsy runs back out of the rooms and says, "Mommy, Daddy not get you Eclipse."
Since then they've been on a mission to wheedle the truth out of their father, who surprisingly has not cracked. This morning he told B.B. it was a banana in a box, wax fruit for the table, a board game, and other odd things.
I fear the FarmHands have run out of ways to entertain themselves. The fighting and bickering has reached epic proportions. 30 minutes ago they were in the boys room when the screaming started. I went to investigate and found Bitsy playing, "Duck, Goose, Come Chase Me!" with the boys. They're currently on their 2nd or 3rd viewing of the cartoon How the Grinch Stole Christmas for the day.
All I want for Christmas is a grown up to visit with....one that I'm not married to.
The FarmHands are going nearly as insane as I am. Husband decided to put all the presents under the tree today. This is the first time the FarmHands have ever seen their wrapped gifts prior to the day we celebrate Christmas. This change has caused B.B. to collapse into a bawling heap at least 3 times just this morning. He's desperate to open a gift. I really do not want to give into and therefore encourage the tantrums so I said no. I am currently public enemy #1.
Because we've been snowed and or iced in all week, Husband decided he'd do the grocery shopping Friday night after work. He's been able to make it back & forth to work with no small amount of stress. Once he's reached the high way, things have been hunky-dory...the problem is the five miles of ice between us and the highway. Since he was already out on good roads, I made him a list & sent him shopping, much to the amazement of the FarmHands. When they woke up yesterday to a pantry & fridge full of food, you'd have thought Santa himself brought it all.
While at Wal-Mart, Husband bought my Christmas present. He has a horrible time trying to keep secrets. He's already offered to tell me what it is. I declined but fear he wouldn't have been honest had I allowed him to ruin the surprise. He wrapped my gift & put it under the tree yesterday while I was baking cookies. The FarmHands are dying to know what it is, so Husband told #1 Son. #1 Son told B.B. B.B. told Bitsy. 7 seconds later, Bitsy came running out of the bedroom and yelled, "Mommy, Daddy buyed you Eclipse and...." that's when the others began screaming. "NO, Bitsy! Don't tell Mom!!" and they whisked her away to the bedroom. Husband starts laughing because he hadn't told them what he actually got for me. About a minute later Bitsy runs back out of the rooms and says, "Mommy, Daddy not get you Eclipse."
Since then they've been on a mission to wheedle the truth out of their father, who surprisingly has not cracked. This morning he told B.B. it was a banana in a box, wax fruit for the table, a board game, and other odd things.
I fear the FarmHands have run out of ways to entertain themselves. The fighting and bickering has reached epic proportions. 30 minutes ago they were in the boys room when the screaming started. I went to investigate and found Bitsy playing, "Duck, Goose, Come Chase Me!" with the boys. They're currently on their 2nd or 3rd viewing of the cartoon How the Grinch Stole Christmas for the day.
All I want for Christmas is a grown up to visit with....one that I'm not married to.
December 11, 2010
And We're Done.
Mostly. With the Christmas shopping. MIL came and watched the FarmHands today while Husband and I made the mother of all Wal-Mart runs for groceries and gifts. We returned much poorer but loaded down with kid swag out the wahzoo.
Our biggest problem now is that my closet floor is hidden underneath a pile of unwrapped gifts and empty Christmas tree boxes. Oh, and B.B. has decided to randomly burst into tears because we won't let him open, "Just one of my little presents." I'm not sure I can deal with 2 full weeks of his unprovoked breakdowns.
In a moment I'm going to attempt to bake my first (and second) pecan pie. I'm not terribly worried since I have Grandma M&M's recipe to work from. But I do fear I may fall asleep while rolling out my dough. Last night I went into my kitchen at shortly after four and didn't leave it until after nine. I made another batch of pfefferneuse dough, a batch of double pie crust dough, a chicken pot pie, chex mix, & cranberry salad, washed what seemed like every dish in my house, cleaned out the kids games and coloring books cabinet, and took out enough trash to fill a small closet. All while breaking up fights, chatting on the phone, and singing along to REM.
Go me.
Our biggest problem now is that my closet floor is hidden underneath a pile of unwrapped gifts and empty Christmas tree boxes. Oh, and B.B. has decided to randomly burst into tears because we won't let him open, "Just one of my little presents." I'm not sure I can deal with 2 full weeks of his unprovoked breakdowns.
In a moment I'm going to attempt to bake my first (and second) pecan pie. I'm not terribly worried since I have Grandma M&M's recipe to work from. But I do fear I may fall asleep while rolling out my dough. Last night I went into my kitchen at shortly after four and didn't leave it until after nine. I made another batch of pfefferneuse dough, a batch of double pie crust dough, a chicken pot pie, chex mix, & cranberry salad, washed what seemed like every dish in my house, cleaned out the kids games and coloring books cabinet, and took out enough trash to fill a small closet. All while breaking up fights, chatting on the phone, and singing along to REM.
Go me.
October 18, 2010
Pbth.
I'm angry.
I'm tired.
I'm getting sick.
The ugly beast has reared it's head yet again......in a big way.
I think I may need to take an extended break from blogging until I get a handle on myself & my emotions. There are certain things I don't feel like sharing on line.
I doubt I'll be "gone" long. Please bear with me.
I'm tired.
I'm getting sick.
The ugly beast has reared it's head yet again......in a big way.
I think I may need to take an extended break from blogging until I get a handle on myself & my emotions. There are certain things I don't feel like sharing on line.
I doubt I'll be "gone" long. Please bear with me.
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