Who'd have thunk it? ME on Facebook. I scoffed and laughed for so long at the sad little teenagers with their texting and their MySpace and their Facebook. And yet here I am. I've sent one text message, checked my MySpace and repeatedly checked my Facebook all in the last, oh, four hours or so. I have indeed crossed over to the dark side, my friends.
Yes, Facebook is addicting. I've had an account for all of about 20 hours now and I am forever changed. I hope my kids get fed, dressed and bathed from now on. I'm sure they'll be sorely neglected due to this new vice in my life. Well, look on the bright side. I guess I could be addicted to meth or something. At least Facebook doesn't leave you with big pock marks on your arms...or does it?
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Friday, January 23, 2009
How many bodily fluids can a human endure?
*Warning* It's another one of those posts...graphic and pretty much disgusting. Don't say I didn't warn you.
It's an age-old quandry...how much vomit, diarrhea, urine and/or snot can a mother take? Does there come a point at which said mother throws her hands up in defeat and says warily, "I can't take it anymore?" I came precariously close to that precipice, my friends. I was nearly flung from the edge of sanity (it's a recurring theme with me, I know) by the sheer magnitude of horrific liquids spewing forth from my children.
It's been a week's battle with an unnamed stomach virus which has wreaked unimaginable havoc at my house. For four nights straight, I changed pajamas, sheets, pillows, even my own clothes multiple times. It started with Isaac...simply enough, just one random throwing up episode. Then he seemed to be fine. I should have known better, though, since he's my toughest kid. He never gets sick. But sick he was for 6 days straight. Luckily, he knows how to race to the bathroom when he's gotta go. Ironically, Kalena, the weakest stomach in my house, managed to evade the tyrranical bug.
Adam was the next victim, and definitely the most challenging. He gives no warning for vomitous or diarrheal explosions, and so one must be ever watchful for signs of an impending ka-boom. Just the slightest noise from his room in the dead of night meant that he'd thrown up in his sleep again. Poor thing. So we spent one whole night sleeping with him propped up on the couch so he wouldn't run the risk of choking on his own...well, you get the idea.
Sweet little Rowan contributed to the nasties by having a strangely goopy nose that would suddenly have a gigantic green snot-ball hanging from it every time I had just emerged from a massive cleaning mission. So uplifting, let me tell you.
Finally, I, too could not escape the awfulness. One day of horrible stomach pain, fever and chills almost convinced me that it would be worth it for everyone involved if I could just end it all.
I am a veteran of a disgusting war, my friends. I've cleaned beds, floors, couches, even car seats covered in puke this week. Really, I should buy stock in Lysol. I came through the fire and I lived to tell the tale. I pray fervently that whatever this crap was doesn't visit your house any time soon.
It's an age-old quandry...how much vomit, diarrhea, urine and/or snot can a mother take? Does there come a point at which said mother throws her hands up in defeat and says warily, "I can't take it anymore?" I came precariously close to that precipice, my friends. I was nearly flung from the edge of sanity (it's a recurring theme with me, I know) by the sheer magnitude of horrific liquids spewing forth from my children.
It's been a week's battle with an unnamed stomach virus which has wreaked unimaginable havoc at my house. For four nights straight, I changed pajamas, sheets, pillows, even my own clothes multiple times. It started with Isaac...simply enough, just one random throwing up episode. Then he seemed to be fine. I should have known better, though, since he's my toughest kid. He never gets sick. But sick he was for 6 days straight. Luckily, he knows how to race to the bathroom when he's gotta go. Ironically, Kalena, the weakest stomach in my house, managed to evade the tyrranical bug.
Adam was the next victim, and definitely the most challenging. He gives no warning for vomitous or diarrheal explosions, and so one must be ever watchful for signs of an impending ka-boom. Just the slightest noise from his room in the dead of night meant that he'd thrown up in his sleep again. Poor thing. So we spent one whole night sleeping with him propped up on the couch so he wouldn't run the risk of choking on his own...well, you get the idea.
Sweet little Rowan contributed to the nasties by having a strangely goopy nose that would suddenly have a gigantic green snot-ball hanging from it every time I had just emerged from a massive cleaning mission. So uplifting, let me tell you.
Finally, I, too could not escape the awfulness. One day of horrible stomach pain, fever and chills almost convinced me that it would be worth it for everyone involved if I could just end it all.
I am a veteran of a disgusting war, my friends. I've cleaned beds, floors, couches, even car seats covered in puke this week. Really, I should buy stock in Lysol. I came through the fire and I lived to tell the tale. I pray fervently that whatever this crap was doesn't visit your house any time soon.
Monday, January 12, 2009
Stranded at the Redbox
Redbox: yesterday I finally decided to see what the hype was all about, and rented my first movie. As a Redbox virgin, I was actually quite overwhelmed. It was way too much pressure for me..people standing there, tapping their toes, waiting impatiently for me to make my selection and leave. So my first rental was a dud...some weird movie called "August" with Josh Hartnett. He is a hottie, but even his good looks couldn't save this stupid movie. I couldn't even tell ya what the plot was...it was so convoluded. So last night, I took back the dumb movie and decided to try again.
My second attempt was fraught with just as much stress, a veritable line this time waiting on me, so I was relieved to get back to the Suburban out of the frigid wind to head home. Except my beast of a vehicle wouldn't start. The ignition wouldn't even try to turn over, just a clickity-click sound and some flickering lights. Okay, this must be the battery, I think. Too bad I don't have jumper cables. Surely in this bumpin' Redbox parking lot, there is one among them with some juice. After wandering around like a sad, abandoned puppy, I realized that I am in this alone. Nobody wants to help me, I left my cell at home since I was just "running up real quick" to get a movie, and I am freezing my butt off. It really is sobering to feel totally stranded. Luckily, the manager at McDonald's was really nice (although I think she wanted to come outside just for a smoke). First she let me use the phone, then she came out to see if she could help me out. No luck. No matter how much we wiggled the battery terminals, we just couldn't get it started. Next, I resorted to begging folks in the neighboring Chipotle parking lot for a jump. Most people jumped in their cars with a "nope, sorry" and sped away so they didn't have to look at the poor, pitiful lady.
Finally, a couple of college girls with a beat-up Volvo offer their help. That was interesting...the blind leading the blind if ever a cliche were appropriate. Neither of us knew what the heck we were doing, and even after hooking up the cables, we still couldn't get the 'burban up and running. 20 minutes later, a chivalrous cowboy in a rumbling diesel asks me in his politest southern drawl, "ma'am, do you need some help?" Oh, thank you cowboy Gods. Somebody who's probably actually seen an engine battery before. But his attempt, with jumper cables on loan from a couple of goth, lip-pierced teenagers in a minivan, was also a grand failure. He's puzzled why he can't, in all his cowboy glory, save the day. "Must be the starter" he proclaims, then leaves me to wait on my husband, who by this time is on his way thanks to Courtney's aid with the kids. Did I mention that since I'm in the Suburban, I have all 4 carseats, and David is stuck at home with kids and no way to get to me? Since Courtney was kind enough to come and sit with the little heathens, David rushed to my aid in his great, glowing, yellow Mr. Electric van.
I am ready to face the news that I'm going to be without a vehicle for a few days, and good grief, how much is it going to cost to have that dead monster towed? But David steps up, gives the key a little wiggle in the ignition, and lo and behold, the FRIGGIN' THING STARTS RIGHT UP. I kid you not. An hour in the cold, begging like a hobo, and my husband just walks up and turns the key. I can't begin to describe how obnoxious this is. Some damsel in distress. It seems more like I'm a simpleton in distress.
But, I make it home, our second movie is much more watchable (it was The Bucket List in case you care), and off I went to bed, my shenanigans behind me. How is it that I always have a black cloud following me around? If something bizarre is going to happen to someone, I guarantee it will be me. I could list at least a dozen situations where I've had random and generally annoying things happen. But, we must go on. Onward to a brighter day.
As a completely unrelated postscript, the weirdest thing happened last night. At around 3 am, I woke up because I thought I heard one of the kids. I listened for a minute, and didn't hear Rowan or Adam crying, so I closed my eyes. Then I hear what sounded like the shuffle of little feet in my bedroom, so I open them again, and sit up to see who it is. I assume it's Isaac needing to use the potty, and he always walks all the way from the door through the room to get around to David's side of the bed. (David is much more coherent in the middle of the night. The kids have learned this). So I look around, but don't see anything, so I lay back down, assuming it was Cooper moving around in his dog bed. Then I hear the unmistakable whisper, "Daddy?" Two seconds later, "Momma?" Okay, so it is Isaac. I sit up again, "What is it Isaac?" Silence. "Isaac, what do you need, baby?" Silence. "Isaac, are you there? David, wake up, is Isaac over there?" We both sit up, but don't see anything. So we both get out of bed to check on the kids, and all four are SOUND ASLEEP! It was the most bizarre experience. I was wide awake when I heard that little voice. It freaked me out so bad, I could hardly go back to sleep. Weird, huh?
My second attempt was fraught with just as much stress, a veritable line this time waiting on me, so I was relieved to get back to the Suburban out of the frigid wind to head home. Except my beast of a vehicle wouldn't start. The ignition wouldn't even try to turn over, just a clickity-click sound and some flickering lights. Okay, this must be the battery, I think. Too bad I don't have jumper cables. Surely in this bumpin' Redbox parking lot, there is one among them with some juice. After wandering around like a sad, abandoned puppy, I realized that I am in this alone. Nobody wants to help me, I left my cell at home since I was just "running up real quick" to get a movie, and I am freezing my butt off. It really is sobering to feel totally stranded. Luckily, the manager at McDonald's was really nice (although I think she wanted to come outside just for a smoke). First she let me use the phone, then she came out to see if she could help me out. No luck. No matter how much we wiggled the battery terminals, we just couldn't get it started. Next, I resorted to begging folks in the neighboring Chipotle parking lot for a jump. Most people jumped in their cars with a "nope, sorry" and sped away so they didn't have to look at the poor, pitiful lady.
Finally, a couple of college girls with a beat-up Volvo offer their help. That was interesting...the blind leading the blind if ever a cliche were appropriate. Neither of us knew what the heck we were doing, and even after hooking up the cables, we still couldn't get the 'burban up and running. 20 minutes later, a chivalrous cowboy in a rumbling diesel asks me in his politest southern drawl, "ma'am, do you need some help?" Oh, thank you cowboy Gods. Somebody who's probably actually seen an engine battery before. But his attempt, with jumper cables on loan from a couple of goth, lip-pierced teenagers in a minivan, was also a grand failure. He's puzzled why he can't, in all his cowboy glory, save the day. "Must be the starter" he proclaims, then leaves me to wait on my husband, who by this time is on his way thanks to Courtney's aid with the kids. Did I mention that since I'm in the Suburban, I have all 4 carseats, and David is stuck at home with kids and no way to get to me? Since Courtney was kind enough to come and sit with the little heathens, David rushed to my aid in his great, glowing, yellow Mr. Electric van.
I am ready to face the news that I'm going to be without a vehicle for a few days, and good grief, how much is it going to cost to have that dead monster towed? But David steps up, gives the key a little wiggle in the ignition, and lo and behold, the FRIGGIN' THING STARTS RIGHT UP. I kid you not. An hour in the cold, begging like a hobo, and my husband just walks up and turns the key. I can't begin to describe how obnoxious this is. Some damsel in distress. It seems more like I'm a simpleton in distress.
But, I make it home, our second movie is much more watchable (it was The Bucket List in case you care), and off I went to bed, my shenanigans behind me. How is it that I always have a black cloud following me around? If something bizarre is going to happen to someone, I guarantee it will be me. I could list at least a dozen situations where I've had random and generally annoying things happen. But, we must go on. Onward to a brighter day.
As a completely unrelated postscript, the weirdest thing happened last night. At around 3 am, I woke up because I thought I heard one of the kids. I listened for a minute, and didn't hear Rowan or Adam crying, so I closed my eyes. Then I hear what sounded like the shuffle of little feet in my bedroom, so I open them again, and sit up to see who it is. I assume it's Isaac needing to use the potty, and he always walks all the way from the door through the room to get around to David's side of the bed. (David is much more coherent in the middle of the night. The kids have learned this). So I look around, but don't see anything, so I lay back down, assuming it was Cooper moving around in his dog bed. Then I hear the unmistakable whisper, "Daddy?" Two seconds later, "Momma?" Okay, so it is Isaac. I sit up again, "What is it Isaac?" Silence. "Isaac, what do you need, baby?" Silence. "Isaac, are you there? David, wake up, is Isaac over there?" We both sit up, but don't see anything. So we both get out of bed to check on the kids, and all four are SOUND ASLEEP! It was the most bizarre experience. I was wide awake when I heard that little voice. It freaked me out so bad, I could hardly go back to sleep. Weird, huh?
Thursday, January 1, 2009
Happy Birthday to you, You live in a zoo....
Happy birthday to David! And Happy New Year, too!
Today David turns the big 3-0. I keep teasing him about his old-man status, but really, he's not old. Our kids have just turned him prematurely grey. I guess he should yell more, like me. Then all that pent-up frustration wouldn't pop out of his head in little grey wisps.
We had Rowan's big appointment yesterday at Scottish Rite in Dallas. I have to say, it was a long, slow ordeal. But after 4 hours of paperwork, in and out of waiting rooms, and x-rays, we got absolutely the best possible news. Her curve is about 20-25 degrees, and all other factors (very specific measurements such as her RVAD, which indicates the amount of rotation to her spine) indicate that she is a good candidate for self-correction. This means that she could very well grow out of her scoliosis. Our doctor is cautious, though, and thankfully doesn't want to wait very long for this to happen. We got back in two months, and if she has progressed at all, we will begin casting at that time. If she's still the same, he's willing to wait until she's 8 months old and then begin casting at that time if she still has not improved. This is definitely the best we could have hoped for, and I know all the prayers coming our way are certainly working!
In other news, our Christmas was great, but grinch that I am..I am so glad it's over. We'll be taking our Christmas tree down this weekend, and boy am I ready to see it go! I have a bunch of pics I need to post of Christmas, so maybe I'll get around to it soon.
Today David turns the big 3-0. I keep teasing him about his old-man status, but really, he's not old. Our kids have just turned him prematurely grey. I guess he should yell more, like me. Then all that pent-up frustration wouldn't pop out of his head in little grey wisps.
We had Rowan's big appointment yesterday at Scottish Rite in Dallas. I have to say, it was a long, slow ordeal. But after 4 hours of paperwork, in and out of waiting rooms, and x-rays, we got absolutely the best possible news. Her curve is about 20-25 degrees, and all other factors (very specific measurements such as her RVAD, which indicates the amount of rotation to her spine) indicate that she is a good candidate for self-correction. This means that she could very well grow out of her scoliosis. Our doctor is cautious, though, and thankfully doesn't want to wait very long for this to happen. We got back in two months, and if she has progressed at all, we will begin casting at that time. If she's still the same, he's willing to wait until she's 8 months old and then begin casting at that time if she still has not improved. This is definitely the best we could have hoped for, and I know all the prayers coming our way are certainly working!
In other news, our Christmas was great, but grinch that I am..I am so glad it's over. We'll be taking our Christmas tree down this weekend, and boy am I ready to see it go! I have a bunch of pics I need to post of Christmas, so maybe I'll get around to it soon.
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