You ordered him a lunch and he brought one

That’s the message I just got from his teacher before they leave for their field trip. (A field trip, I’m not going to lie, has me a bit freaked because of coronavirus.) Anyway, I totally forgot that A MONTH ago, I ordered what looked like a required cold lunch for the trip. It didn’t say anything about “you can order this lunch OR you can bring a lunch.” Just says “choose which lunch you want.” So I did. Silly me.

Then after that muddled information exchange, they send home a reminder yesterday that ONLY says something about BRINGING a lunch. Nothing about, “oh yeah, just a reminder, you might have picked a premade lunch 4 weeks ago. So in that case, don’t send one.” Because you know, nothing has been on anyone’s minds since then. And it’s super easy to remember everything all the time. Especially when it’s what your kid is having for lunch NEXT MONTH.

So I guess my lunch goes in the trash. Moving on to the next parental screw-up. I’m sure there will be many today.

 

 

“for Happynis, dansing is fun”

I work hard at not letting all my anxiety riddled physical and verbal turmoil bubble over into view of my kids. But it’s hard. And today, it bubbled.

Today’s major anxiety inducing attack was over…I’m not even sure what. Maybe my son’s mountain of makeup homework from being sick most of last week?? Maybe my thumb hurting while trying to make dinner? Maybe how my son’s anxiety makes him constantly bite his fingers, thus them ALWAYS being in his mouth? Maybe the field trip he is taking tomorrow to Museum of Science and Industry where he will be touching EVERYTHING and then sticking his fingers in his mouth? Maybe my chronic pain? Maybe a little worry creeping in over the coronavirus? Maybe the way the wind is blowing? Who knows. It could be all of that or none of that. Anxiety doesn’t always come with a predictable trigger. Sometimes it just swoops in and says, “I’m here. Today is going to suck.”

So after yelling at the kids too harshly more than once, I am left in the kitchen alone, guilty and emotionally fried. Meanwhile, my 6 year old daughter is drawing at the table. She walks to me and without saying a word, slides this handcrafted drawing (and apparent life mantra) in front of me, and walks away.  As I take in the family members, the music notes, the disco ball (ha!!)…and the sentence below, I am once again reminded that my very mature and empathetic 6 year old daughter’s emotional intelligence is far better than mine. She saw how frustrated I was with something she did not understand (nor do I) and wanted to ease the pain. To calm the storm.

“for Happynis, dansing is fun”

Okay, little one. Let’s dance.

Did I really just sprain my thumb by washing my hands so much?

If you haven’t seen my other posts…my house has been deluged with a viral plague…AKA Influenza A. So needless to say, we’ve been washing our hands every 2 minutes until our skin falls off.

But did…did I? Did I really just sprain my thumb by washing my hands??

My left thumb started hurting on and off a couple days ago. I get random aches and pains from my fibromyalgia, so I didn’t think too much of it. But this morning, it hurt the moment I woke up. Hurt to touch. Definitely hurt to use it in anyway. But I thought it would go away like the other days. Wrong. It’s been hurting all day.

And it turns out, thumbs are pretty important. Even that left one. You wanna know what’s hard to do when your left thumb hurts? Opening jars. Driving. Opening doors. Holding anything in your left hand. Brushing your daughters hair. Putting hers or your hair in a pony tail. And pulling up your pants. Yup. You tend to take for granted being able to pull up your pants problem free. And of course you don’t remember that it hurts, so every damn time you go to pull your pants up….%@&#!!

You know what else is hard to do when your thumb hurts? Pumping the soap dispenser one handed like you usually do. I usually hold the bottle with all of my left fingers and then pump it up and down with my thumb. Believe me, I have never thought about the details that go into getting soap out of the dispenser and on to my hands. But when I went to do it today…it hurt. A lot. And it got me thinking…

Did I really just sprain my thumb by washing my hands??

I did do that same motion over and over and OVER again over the last week. Could I seriously have hurt it with overuse from pumping that dispenser so many times? How dumb would that be?! And who has the bad luck to have something like that happen? Me. That’s who.

I guess we’ll never know why the hell my thumb hurts. Is it because my lovely fibromyalgia is having fun with me? Is it because I hit it on something I don’t remember? Is it because it’s Monday?

Or is it because I really just sprained my thumb by washing my hands.

Maybe next time

Pity party for one please?

I get so excited when I see the views rise. The excitement grows higher when, omg, someone commented! I really enjoy the writing just for writing’s sake. But someone reading it and even better, taking time to write any little something does something so positive for my mental state, my emotions. Something I can’t get anywhere else.

The opposite thing happens on a day when no one read my blog. Not one view. Subsequently, mental and emotional state are kind of low right now.

🤷‍♀️ Maybe next time.

My whole team was cheering for me!

My 9 year old son loves basketball. And he’s a great shot when he’s just shooting without defenders. Him and his dad even won 1st place in his school’s PIG tournament! That was so AWESOME. He was so happy and proud of himself.

His problem lies in a game. Shooting with defenders. How to maneuver around the basketball court. He’s never quite sure where to be and when. Not sure how to get open. And then if he does get the ball, he freezes. Afraid to dribble (even though in this league, there’s no stealing). Afraid to pivot, turn, and shoot. Just paralyzed until, finally, he passes it off.

All that being said, he has improved quite a bit throughout the season. He’s getting more rebounds, being more aggressive. It’s fun to see the growth.

So, today was the day. He has not scored a basket in his 2 seasons in this league. But today….you could feel it in the air. Something magical was going to happen. The coaches have even set up some plays that specifically get him (and one other kid) the ball now. They want him to score just as badly as my son does and me and my husband do!

The game went on. They ran the play a few times. Sometimes he just didn’t end up getting the ball. A couple times he did but passed. A couple he actually did shoot, but missed. But then…in the last 5 minute period…the stars all aligned. The play was running, he popped out to the right like he should, the point guard faked a pass to him there and then my son zips through to the middle where he is now wide open, right near the basket. Point guard passes, Ryan catches it, he shoots…I hold my breath…and…… it goes in!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I screamed as loud as a proud mama could and should when her baby makes his first basket in the big league!!!!! Everyone on his bench was up and cheering. It was such an amazing moment.

You couldn’t wipe the smile off my face the rest of the game. Or his, I think. Afterwards, his coach gave him a big pat on the back and very enthusiastically told him how awesome that was!

As we’re walking out to the car, I ask him if he heard me yelling and cheering for him. He says no, my whole team was cheering for me so loudly, that’s all I heard!!

And that just tugs at my heart. He suffers a lot socially at school. So for him to have this awesome, positive experience with these boys. It means more to me and to him than you could ever imagine. To see my son so happy that those boys were cheering for HIM.

I wish him so so many more experiences like THAT. Peers cheering him on. Peers being kind to him. Him feeling good about a social experience.

She seems angry. I’m not sure why.

MY experience:

I’m asleep. And then I hear the telltale “tap tap tap” that only means one thing. The little one is up sick again. The knocking is quickly followed by the door bursting open, “Maaaaaamaaaaa!” I am instantly ripped from my unconsciousness into a confused, chaotic haze. “What?! What is it??? Did you puke??!” is always my first question. I guess I want to know right away how bad I’m in for it. Thankfully, as unfun as this flu has been, it has not involved puke.

I spring out of bed, still not sure what’s happening, but I’m up and immediately shoo her out of the room and close the door quietly behind me. I check her temp, see that it’s up, again. So, I give her a dose of ibuprofen, which I know by heart and then tuck her back into bed. The first couple nights involved snuggling with her for a while to get her back to sleep. The last couple nights, she has eased back to sleep relatively easily. I give her a kiss and say a little prayer that I will not see her again before morning.

I creep quietly back into my room and ease into my bed. My husband stirs but doesn’t wake up.

HIS experience:

I’m asleep. I’m asleep. I’m asleep. I hear nothing. I hear nothing. I hear nothing. Wait, why is my wife whacking me?? “Huh??!! What??!! Why are you waking me up??” She says, “Can you please take this one?”

I stumble out of bed as my daughter continues to cry loudly that she doesn’t feel well. I tell her to come here, closer to the bed….where my wife is trying to sleep. Since it’s about time to wake up for work, I decide that before I tend to whatever my daughter needs, I should start looking for clothes to wear for the day. As I dig through my laundry, I only half pay attention when my daughter loudly whines something incoherently. “Whaaaat?” I ask loudly back. She repeats herself and adds in more crying. I try again, “What did you say? You feel unbalanced? What does that mean?” I continue to ask more questions, loudly. On the floor. In front of the bed…where my wife is trying to sleep. My daughter continues to cry and try to convey her message.

Suddenly, my wife snaps angrily from the bed, “Can you please get her out of here??!!”  No idea where that came from.

I take a minute to grab my clothes and then shoo my unhappy daughter out of the room. Making sure to close the door quite forcefully for good measure. I take her temperature and see she has a fever. I have no idea if she has been up with my wife earlier in the night because I never hear anything. I also have no idea how much ibuprofen to give her despite asking my wife multiple times before. There’s definitely no way that the pediatrician’s website has quick access to that information. Doesn’t matter anyway because I have no idea who her pediatrician is or what that website might be. So to my wife it is.

I burst into my room and yell from the door, “Can she have this? And how much does she get?” I get a very short and rude “10.” How am I supposed to know what that means? 10 cups? 10 ounces? 10 tablespoons? So of course, I need to clarify with my semi sleeping wife.

She seems angry. I’m not sure why.

I Surrender, March

I surrender, March. In your 5 short days:

*Both of my kids have gotten and still have Influenza A. My daughter has been out of school all week. My son since Wednesday. Neither is going tomorrow either. We’re all bored and sick of washing our hands every 2 seconds. I still fear I will be taken down by my children and their germs being given away all day, every day.

*I agreed to an orthodontic implant that was placed with only topical numbing gel. Yep, something screwed through my gum and into the bone, with glorified orajel. It actually wasn’t quite as painful as you’re probably imagining, but it did hurt. More than he said it would. Then, said implant subsequently and almost immediately became infected and put me in terrible pain every day this week. Yep, while trying to take care of my sick kiddos, my mouth and face have been in trying to kill me. Today, I finally decided to call my orthodontist office, even though I knew he was out all week. Yeah, awesome. He puts this thing in and then goes out of town. They send me to an on call orthodontist. He says it all seems not too bad. But he needs to consult an oral surgeon. I get home and oral surgeon wants to see me. So I have to go back out. Oral surgeon is like, wtf, this thing is definitely bad news, as he’s rubbing his finger around my very swollen and painful gum and cheek, and I am ready to punch him, it hurts so badly. He says he thinks it’s best to take the implant out. I about hug him because I can’t take it anymore. He then says he’ll use novacaine, so then I really did hug him (okay, I didn’t). He asks if my orthodontist used novacaine to put it in. When I say no, he raises an eyebrow, and I grow less and less confident in my orthodontist’s judgment and skills. Surgeon numbs me up, I sing a silent hallelujah for the pain temporarily ceasing. He takes it out. I get in my car and cry. I wait in line to drop off prescription for antibiotics for the infection this stupid thing has caused. I cry some more. I get home, want nothing more than to curl up in my bed. But as stated previously, kids are sick. And then husband says his neck hurts too badly to get my prescription. So back out I go. I cry some more. I swear at my husband once I get in the car alone. The rest of the night, I spend nursing painful mouth and face. Oh after I make dinner. Even though, I can barely eat. I swear at husband under my breath for not cooking.

*The tailbone pain I’ve had for years has flared up terribly. It’s getting hard to sit. And then getting up is worse. So sitting in a dentist chair and car all day was super awesome today. Please sense incredible sarcasm. It’s so bad. Intolerably bad. I cry about tailbone pain in between crying about my mouth and swearing at my husband under my breath.

*I sprained my ankle a couple weeks ago. So that’s technically not March but in the last few days, it suddenly hurts a lot more. Just what I need!

Is it April yet?

Chicken Nuggets

Me: “What do you want for lunch?”

Poor, flu sick daughter: (in the most unenthusiastic voice you can imagine) “Chicken nuggets. That’s all I’m in the mood for.”

I concur little one. That’s all I’m in the mood for too.

Chicken nuggets it is. For everyone. Maybe for dinner too.

 

Stopping the unstoppable

It is confirmed. It is here. It has invaded our home.

Influenza A 😱

I feel helpless. With every droplet that explodes from my poor daughter’s mouth and nose, I sense the impending doom. I’m afraid that that, combined with the nights I have already laid in her bed to soothe her fevering body back to sleep and the days I have spent snuggling with her on the couch have sealed my fate.

I keep hoping that mom immunity is a thing. That it will save me. That when a mom is taking care of her sick children, she is protected from the viral onslaught surrounding her. I’m not sure that’s entirely accurate though…

And for the three of us left, I feel like no matter what I do, the infection will dig its dirty claws into each one of us. I clean and wash our home and bodies, trying to rid them both of the disease inevitably dive bombing them all day long. But I feel like I’m trying to stop the unstoppable.

Save us!

Rough Day

I hate writing slices like this. They seem like throw aways. A waste of an opportunity to write something really good.

But this is all I have after a long, LOOOOOOOOOONG day.

6 year old daughter gets fever yesterday afternoon. It spikes overnight and I’m up for 2 hours because of it. So already starting on a low tank.

I’ve been running around to doctor appointment after doctor appointment for me and my son since 9:30 this morning (It is now 6:15pm). I’m so physically exhausted from being in waiting rooms, exam chairs, and my car all day.

I’m in pain. A lot of pain. Both from what was done at the appointments and because the appointments have flared up my chronic pain.

I’ve had to leave one appointment, after the wait past our appointment time was too long, to get to another appointment. Very frustrating.

Throw in some physical humiliation for good measure, and I’m just done.