I am so smart!

In the words of Homer Simpson, I am so smart! Ha! I'm so proud to have come up with this all on my own! I used sidewalk chalk to draw lines where Little Man is allowed to ride his trike. He's totally getting into it, too... he sees a line coming and says. "STOP!" and turns right around. Hope it lasts!

Distractions vs. reminiscing

Facebook. Remodeling. Migraines from oil paint used in remodeling. Facebook. End of school year craziness. Upheaval of ownership and instructors at taekwondo (for Brylea). Facebook. Illness. And did I mention, Facebook? These are the reasons I've gotten behind on this blog. That, and for some reason, each time I've tried to post pictures, something fouls up and I can't.

I truly can't believe the number of people from my past I've reconnected with. Old roomies, guys I used to date, high school band comrades (including one of my band directors), friends from previous churches attended. It really is fascinating to see where people are nowadays. Some took similar paths to mine, others hit a few detours, and still some others who headed in directions I myself would never be... yet they are all important to me in some way. They are all people who mean something to me, and I really do look fondly on all the good times we enjoyed. Most of all, they are all children of the same God as I (whether they believe it or not!) and it's good to see them happy, thriving, enjoying life.

RSVP to my pity party!

Well, I have good news and bad news. The good news is, I've been correctly diagnosed and am being treated for Interstitial Cystitis (IC), having suffered from it since the early nineties. The bad news? It totally sucks, you will probably have that TMI feeling after reading this, and there's no cure.
Long story short, IC's effects are similar to acid reflux, only in the bladder... wearing away of the mucous membrane to the point of ulcers. Lovely, no? They can be treated (but not repaired or even healed) with 'instills', flushing the bladder with a sodium bicarb/lidocaine/heparin solution with a catheter from time to time, and with an oral medication that may or may not make my hair fall out. And a diet. Now, I don't mean I stop eating one or two risky foods. I mean anything spicy, oniony, tangy (acidic), caffeinated, carbonated, or cooked with soy sauce... and my favorite, chocolate (unless it's white, which isn't even chocolate, folks). Fruit? I can have blueberries and melons (other than cantaloupes), and pretty much nothing else. Anything high in potassium aggravates it, too... bananas, tomatoes. The diet guide says to avoid Mexican, Indian, Chinese and Thai food. I am quite adventurous in matters of food, and I love sampling and cooking all sorts of ethnic cuisine. And now, I'm allowed little to no fun in my tummy. I'll be honest... when I first saw the IC diet, my reaction was something colorful that I won't repeat here. While I've gotten over the initial shock, my attitude has not changed, and neither has my diet.
Now, I know I will get through this. I know that everyone has struggles, and there are worse struggles than mine. I know I am blessed, and I know adversity makes me stronger. But right now, won't you throw a handful of confetti and wear a sparkly pointy hat for my own personal pity party?

I'd like to thank the academy...

...as I sheepishly accept my 3rd worst mom ever award. That's right, folks... I'm just above the Octomom and Joan Crawford. I took my daughter to school late for the second day in a row, and I signed her in wearing my tattered flannel jammie bottoms and a paint stained t-shirt. And as I'm typing this, my boy is watching the second Nickjr. program of what I'm sure will be several, and my youngest is screeching from the highchair. And my house, which was as close to immaculate as I've ever had it days ago, is quickly nearing the post tornado appearance yet again. And today, my husband and I have been lovingly putting up with each other for 9 years?
I have to say, this is not a moment I could foresee all those years ago. But still, I feel blessed with my life. I don't have all the things I once thought I would by now, yet I have so much more than I need. Life's pretty good.

When it rains...

What a week. And I mean that with all my heart.
First, I take Dollface to the doctor for a sinus infection. Poor kid. Which of course means there's been more whining than usual around here. That night, Sugarplum wakes up with scary coughing and wheezing; I take her to the doc the next day, and she tests positive for RSV. Within a day, we all start coughing to some degree. All this time, Little Man is super tired, whiney, and not eating much at all (no, really; less than usual). I figure he's got some of the same crud as the rest of us, and concentrate more on the girls and hubby, who's coughing his ruddy head off.
Friday, Sugarplum's birthday, Kyle picks up a cake from the grocery store, which tastes surprisingly good, but not what I wanted to do for my baby's first birthday. I had plans. Big plans. Homemade cake, fondant, sparkly pink plans. But I just was not up to it.
We figure the kids are getting better, and we're all sick of each other, so we get out of the house for a while on Saturday. We come home around 8pm, and Little Man is crashed, so we put him straight to bed before we bathe the girls. Just before 4 am, Little Man comes and asks to sleep in my bed, so I grudgingly roll over and tell him 'just for a minute'. Then I pat his arm. Wow, he's a little warm. Pat the head. Holy cow, he's burning up. Even his little feet were just on fire! I check his temp... 104. I call our 24 hour nurse line. She asks if there are any other symptoms, I mention Sugarplum's RSV, and then I remember that earlier that day, he cried when he peed. She says, "Well, sometimes kids this age say things, but with that and the fever, you could take him to the ER."
We get there, and he's running around, throwing his little car, spinning on the doctor's stool, squeezing the blood pressure thing... all sorts of cavorting typical of a normal, silly 3 year old boy. Then, just after I call my husband and say I think I jumped the gun and oh great, another ER bill... the doc comes back. Turns out he has a KIDNEY INFECTION. Scary. Really scary; but even more so because this is so uncommon in children, particularly boys. So, we have to do a follow up with his regular Ped, plus a urological exam. I'm not sure what that entails, but I'm guessing a cathether at some point, along with a road trip of some length, since I'm pretty sure there's no pediatric urologist in Midland. My poor sweet baboo!
Needless to say, we did not make it to church this morning. Kyle keeps saying, Are we bad parents? A kidney infection. I feel like we're bad parents somehow. Even though we both know there's no way we're to blame, I can't help but share his feelings.
If you got his far, thanks for reading. I really needed to whine publicly.

I love my kids!

Ok, that's kind of a 'duh' title. But I really do. Just because. I had to post these pictures.




I took this of Sugarplum yesterday. Did you ever see such a sweet smile on a baby that's sick as a dog with RSV?









And this one, well, Dollface and Little Man had such spectacular bedhead this morning, I had to document it.






I'll have to remember these moments the next time I find skidmarked Batman underwear and tiny stick-on craft jewels stuck to the carpet.

Sick chicken

When I was sick as a kid, my mom would cuddle me and say, "My poor sick chicken!"  I have no idea the significance of it, but... I have a poor sick chicken!  Dollface has woken up with what I suspect is strep throat for the third time in about 6 months, I think.  I feel so bad for her.  I also feel bad for me, because I have two other children to take care of, and I have to call a friend on her birthday and re neg on watching her little one so she could attend a funeral, and a house where laundry and dishes are competing in a how-tall-can-they-get contest, and a hubby who's out of town at the moment.  And is that a tickle in my throat, too, or is it just the power of suggestion and my own little pity party? "Debbie Downer" (a term I wish I'd coined myself, Gillian) has reared her ugly head here today.

I'm reminded of an email I've received occasionally... I'm sure you've seen it, something to the effect of, I'm grateful I'm so busy, because it means I'm needed; I'm grateful for that leaky faucet because it means I have a roof over my head; etc.  I truly am blessed.  I have 3 great kids.  I have good friends who know they can (usually!) depend on me.  I  have a roof over my head in this cold weather.  I am very much needed.  I have a wonderful husband who's working hard in a job he's less than pleased with to support us all... which also brings me to the excellent (not universal!) health care I have in case of times when one or more of us is under the weather.  I really do have it good.

I gotta go hug my sick chicken now (and then use some hand sanitizer).