my pink toes

Warning: Long Whine Ahead, with a dose of TMI. Feel free to skip this entry.

I was up the first half of the night with Peter, who threw up six times (the first of which tagged the comforter, the sheets, the pillow, the bedskirt, and the wall - pooling into a giant, disgusting swamp on the floor.) Dave gave Peter a bath and I cleaned the room. I then offered to take the rest of the night, as Henry had the same thing on Friday night and the Amazing Dave got up every time, changing sheets 3 times and helping Henry.

Peter stopped barfing around 2:30am. Unfortunately, I woke up barfing at 3:15 am. I was throwing up and not sleeping until 6 am, when I finally dozed until 9am. I am also in the middle of a huge Fibromyalgia flare - my arms, fingers, wrists, hips and back hurt so much that I couldn't fall asleep even though I was exhausted. I threw up the meds I took for pain relief last night and figured they'd just come right back up this morning (good call, as I kept throwing up all the way to 3pm). And on top of everything else, I'm having my period. I am as sick as I have ever been.

I had to lay in bed all day and finally got some liquid Vic0din down around 4, and it stayed down. I finally slept, until about 6 - just in time to catch the State of the Union address.

I have not been this sick for as long as I can remember. I couldn't even check email until 6pm - you know that's sick for me! I was far too sick to even watch TV - I could only lie there and listen to podcasts. God bless Dave, for staying home and working while taking care of the kids. God bless Henry's friend, who invited him over to play in the snow for the day (I already have big guilt on snow days because I can't go sledding with my kids or play in the snow without putting myself into a big flare - I started in a flare and quite literally could not get out of bed).

Water is staying down, and I could actually follow some of the State of the Union. I hope I feel better tomorrow. It makes me envious of small children - Peter feels fine now (aside from the lack of sleep).

I'm so grateful to have a support network to get me through days like this.

Filed Under "Dave Smith: Wonder Husband, Fibromyalgia, Motherhood and Apple Pie" on January 28, 2008 | Permalink | Comments (3) | TrackBacks (0)

My friend Heidi had a plaque that read “Being a mother is like being pecked to death by chickens”. Even though it was a gift from her grandmother, we convinced her to take it down. Heidi has never described any aspect of motherhood as being like that. Heidi is the person who truly thinks it’s hilarious and charming when one of her children throws up all over her.

I am a lot more like Heidi’s grandmother than I am like Heidi. These days I feel as if I’m being pecked to death. It’s like Chinese water torture, but with “Hey Mom!, Hey Mom!, Hey Mom!” instead of “drip, drip, drip” or “peck, peck, peck”. At this point, I think I’d prefer the water. Or even the chickens. They couldn’t possibly bore a hole in my skull any bigger than the one my kids are creating. My children usually smell better than chickens, though. Usually.

I was coming down with this crud while in the car, driving up to my parents’ house. After 2 “Hey Mom!” hours, I finally had to ask for a break. “Talk to Dad”, I said. After the initial 10 minutes of STILL talking to me and Dave reminding them I couldn’t talk anymore, they then talked to each other or were silent the rest of the way. They didn’t talk to Dave at all. They didn’t ask him a hundred questions. This makes me crazy.

Dave can read a book in the middle of the house and not be bothered. I can’t even pee or brush my teeth without being constantly barraged. Hey Mom! Hey Mom! Hey Mom! “Why don’t they do this to you?” I pleaded. “Why is it never ‘Hey Dad?’” “They know I don’t listen to them”, he replied. And here I thought he just never listened to me.

I am trying to rest my voice and it is nearly impossible. Henry has to talk to me and be near me ALL. THE. TIME. I am so totally not kidding about this. He will lie on the floor, writhing around, causing me to step over him with every move I make. I cannot make dinner without his presence. I cannot blow my nose without his presence. He is always RIGHT THERE. He also used to complain the entire time he was twirling around on the floor. It was a constant diatribe about how he wants me to play with him and I’m not doing enough and I should stop making dinner and drop everything and do his exact bidding RIGHT NOW. Now – I said “NOW!”.

We got a bit of counseling recently and I have finally felt like I can establish more boundaries. I no longer let him complain, but he still lies there. ForEVER. “You have a houseful of toys!” I wail in vain. Nope, he’d rather dust the floor with his backside, staring at the wall, “Hey Mom!”ing me to death.

People say that I’ll be sad when Henry is 12 and no longer wants to play with me every minute. Occasionally I think that’s true, but usually I worry that I’m raising a Buster Bluth.

I have tried to make my children feel like I’m interested in them, want to play with them and am available for them. Has this backfired? I don’t know. I really think it’s a personality difference. Peter will chat with me for a while, will ask for “snuggle time” on the couch, and will climb all over me and my computer in his 3-year-old way. But after he’s satisfied, he’ll wander off and create his own narrative with his king costume and Playmobil pirates. Henry is never ever satisfied. I could spend every waking moment doing exactly what he wants, and it would not be enough. If he had his way, he’d sleep with me too.

Peck, peck, peck. I hate feeling so frustrated by my children. Losing my voice has been frustrating, but not as frustrating as being “Hey Mom!"ed to death.

*I wrote this a couple weeks ago when I was sick, but like so many things, I didn’t get around to posting it! It need to just publish more often. Things are much much better now, but this captured what my mind was like at the moment.*

Filed Under "Being Henry's Mom" on January 17, 2008 | Permalink | Comments (2) | TrackBacks (0)

5-year old boy:Lindsey has a curse on me!
Mom:You mean, Lindsey has a crush on you, honey.

Up until a certain age, it's about the same...

Filed Under "Overheard" on January 04, 2008 | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

No, not by any overwhelming incident, or gift (although the gifts were amazingly generous and heartfelt, and we did have a Christmas Eve ER incident…more on that later), but speechless because of laryngitis.

I felt it coming on and thought I had staved it off with a couple of days of rest and then an actual, full-on, watch-the-entire-second-season-of-
Arrested-Development-because-I’m-so-sick day. But then I woke up today, the first day of the year, with hardly any voice at all. I’m feeling mostly ok – worse than yesterday, but much better than the day before – but my voice is quite gone.

And, you've probably noticed how my voice has been gone here on the blog as well.

I’m still learning about the care and feeding of my body, my mind, my soul, and my blog. There were many things I wanted to post, but didn’t. I’m still figuring out how to do all the things that I want to in a way that feels good to me and not a chore.

Here’s to 2008. All the best to all of us, on so many levels.

Filed Under "Meta" on January 01, 2008 | Permalink | Comments (3) | TrackBacks (0)