At this very moment my wonderful husband is working on getting our oldest two children to bed. This is not a special occasion, he does this pretty much every night when he is not traveling for business. This allows me to nurse the 4 month old and relax in the rocking chair. This gives me time, at the moment, to post for the first time in nearly a month.. and he does this without fuss or complaint. And this is just one of the many kindnesses he shows me on a daily basis.
Watch out -- the flood gates are opening and I'm feeling incredibly grateful for everything in my life tonight. (And it's not just because of Thanksgiving. Which came and went in a pleasant, if somewhat uneventful manner this year.)
Today, every member of my little nuclear family is healthy. After a month of nasty high fever viruses, my surgery, at least 2 colds per family member, pink eye and a Partridge in a Pear Tree.. we're all (if only for a moment) healthy.
We're all safe, warm and cozy and about to go to sleep for the night - and we have no fears, concerns or major worries to trouble us. I'm almost scared at how idyllic life is for now.
I am very blessed. I have healthy, beautiful children. A loving, extremely thoughtful and talented husband who I only love more and more with each passing day. Wonderful friends. A home and no major financial problems. I live in a free country where my greatest worry is meeting our material needs, not whether or not we'll eat each day. We have excellent health insurance. We have more clothes and food than we need. Our children have plenty of toys and go to good schools.
On a more shallow note.. these are the things I am grateful for each day..the small things that make each day a bit sweeter:
-Heated leather seats in my luxurious new minivan. I thought I'd never drive a minivan, and moreover, if I was forced to that it'd suck. I LOVE this van. It's cool. And, I love it's heated leather seats.
-Paradise Tropical iced tea. Delivered to my house. I brew up a large pot and it lasts for about 2 days.
-Wonderful coworkers. I love my boss and my coworkers. Having had a terrible boss (we're talking mentally abusive and mind-warping as opposed to just annoying or demanding) in the past makes working for my current boss that much more appreciated.
-My day care provider. She loves my children genuinely and shares the same values we do. She takes care of my kids the way I would if I could stay home with them everyday..or maybe a bit better.. because it's her JOB to play with them and do art projects with them.. whereas, if I stayed home, they'd just go to grocery and dry cleaners a lot more often. I never have to worry about what my children are doing, learning or feeling-- because I know she's hugging them, holding them, feeding them well and building them up in the best possible way. I am VERY fortunate.
-Quilting. I am so fortunate I have found a lifelong hobby - and I am totally addicted. There is nothing more comforting than the feel of the fabric between my fingers.. Well, except maybe for hugs from my husband. Nice quilting cottons are a close second to hugs from my husband.
-Decent alternative radio. Thank GOD we have one alternative station in this vast wasteland of radio suburbia here in the Twin Cities. It's good, too. When I hear the new Green Day song and crank it up (when the kids are NOT in the minivan the volume goes up REALLY loud), I want to send a large cash donation to keep this radio station afloat. Thank God for good alternative radio. And, for the XM radio channels I'll be able to listen to when I get my portable XM player at Christmas.
That's enough for now. Now I think I'll go to bed.. so that tomorrow morning I can be grateful that I got almost 7 hours of sleep.
Tuesday, November 30, 2004
Tuesday, November 09, 2004
Clearly I was on crack
One of the frequent expressions we use around our house is: "You must be on crack." This is used to convey the opinion that the other person is so clearly in an altered state that what they've just said makes no sense.
Example:
Hubby: "I thought you'd WANT to take the kids on a hike. It's so sunny out today and it's going to be near 30 F by afternoon.."
Me: "Take the newborn on a hike? When there are snow flurries? You must be on crack."
Now, to be honest, if I was trying for humor I'd be better off using "Meth" as opposed to "crack" in my sentence.. as clearly, the suburban midwest has far more rampant meth use than crack use.
However, this particular phrase was coined years ago in our little family, and we'll probably be saying it when we're in the retirement home in the year 2054 when crack no longer exists and the health aides charged with our care will have no idea what we're talking about.
Perhaps we should worry about not saying this in front of the kids..in case they repeat it at school. Hmm. Hadn't crossed my mind until just now. Oh well. The things that come out of our 3 yr. old's mouth are already so colorful that her teachers would probably not be terribly surprised. I'm looking forward to a very interesting parent-teacher conference with her pre-school teachers later this month. Especially because around election day she was given to saying: "Bush is a bad guy. He likes war and killing." I'm sure any comments about that at her all-Christian pre-school went over like a lead balloon. But, I digress.
What I really intended to explain is that -- I was obviously on crack when I posted last Thursday. A vacation? Chuh! What was I THINKING?
First of all, we had a sick toddler (hence, no daycare for her), and it was a non-school day. So, hubby ended up with ALL 3 kids at the hospital. It's hard to say who was having the worse afternoon. Me, being cut up, or hubby trying to entertain and keep somewhat quiet three children (age 7, 3.5 yrs. and 3.5 months).
And, things did not go as I expected. Last time I had sedation, this time I had to be totally put under anesthesia and intubated because they didn't want my lungs to move and mess up the procedure. Those darn spastic lungs!
And, furthermore, they have done away with the Lorna Doone shortbread cookies in the effort of cost-reduction at the hospital. That was a BIG disappointment.
So, post-operatively, I had my choice of saltines ...or saltines. They made a nasty paste in my dried out mouth..because the anti-nausea medicine (or perhaps due to the intubation?) had totally shut off my saliva factory.
That dry-mouth thing lasted for almost 24 hours! I kept telling hubby that he had to touch my tongue..because it was surreal. I could drink water or suck on an ice cube and STILL have a totally dried out tongue that felt like a cat's tongue. Very strange.
However, I couldn't even really enjoy that strange sensation much because there was so much pain. I writhed. I made noises. I scared the small children in our house. I had plenty of pain drugs.. but not much could help me but the passage of time. And gas. See...they fill you up with CO2 gas when they do laprascopic surgery. I didn't know this. Oh, but did I learn. It's NOT pleasant to be inflated like a balloon. I kept visualizing the scene in Shrek where Fiona and Shrek inflate a snake and a frog - that's how I felt, like the snake that got blown up and twisted into shape like a clown's balloon trick.
About 36 hours after the surgery I was OK. Not good, but OK. Back to being able to care for the baby and fend for myself a bit. Fiesty enough to tell the home care nurse who called that the worst part of the recovery room was that there were not Lorna Doone cookies anymore. She said almost every repeat patient has commented on that. In the words of Flavor Flav: "Operation No Doubt is in effect."
When you haven't eaten in almost 24 hours, your first bit of food is important. I mean, if they really want to do it right, there should be a menu and linen table cloths. Then again, this time I couldn't have appreciated that anyways. This time, all I wanted was more anti-nausea medicine and something for the pain, please.
Now I'm just sore and weak. But otherwise ready to go back to work tomorrow.
Vacation my @ss. I must have been on crack.
Example:
Hubby: "I thought you'd WANT to take the kids on a hike. It's so sunny out today and it's going to be near 30 F by afternoon.."
Me: "Take the newborn on a hike? When there are snow flurries? You must be on crack."
Now, to be honest, if I was trying for humor I'd be better off using "Meth" as opposed to "crack" in my sentence.. as clearly, the suburban midwest has far more rampant meth use than crack use.
However, this particular phrase was coined years ago in our little family, and we'll probably be saying it when we're in the retirement home in the year 2054 when crack no longer exists and the health aides charged with our care will have no idea what we're talking about.
Perhaps we should worry about not saying this in front of the kids..in case they repeat it at school. Hmm. Hadn't crossed my mind until just now. Oh well. The things that come out of our 3 yr. old's mouth are already so colorful that her teachers would probably not be terribly surprised. I'm looking forward to a very interesting parent-teacher conference with her pre-school teachers later this month. Especially because around election day she was given to saying: "Bush is a bad guy. He likes war and killing." I'm sure any comments about that at her all-Christian pre-school went over like a lead balloon. But, I digress.
What I really intended to explain is that -- I was obviously on crack when I posted last Thursday. A vacation? Chuh! What was I THINKING?
First of all, we had a sick toddler (hence, no daycare for her), and it was a non-school day. So, hubby ended up with ALL 3 kids at the hospital. It's hard to say who was having the worse afternoon. Me, being cut up, or hubby trying to entertain and keep somewhat quiet three children (age 7, 3.5 yrs. and 3.5 months).
And, things did not go as I expected. Last time I had sedation, this time I had to be totally put under anesthesia and intubated because they didn't want my lungs to move and mess up the procedure. Those darn spastic lungs!
And, furthermore, they have done away with the Lorna Doone shortbread cookies in the effort of cost-reduction at the hospital. That was a BIG disappointment.
So, post-operatively, I had my choice of saltines ...or saltines. They made a nasty paste in my dried out mouth..because the anti-nausea medicine (or perhaps due to the intubation?) had totally shut off my saliva factory.
That dry-mouth thing lasted for almost 24 hours! I kept telling hubby that he had to touch my tongue..because it was surreal. I could drink water or suck on an ice cube and STILL have a totally dried out tongue that felt like a cat's tongue. Very strange.
However, I couldn't even really enjoy that strange sensation much because there was so much pain. I writhed. I made noises. I scared the small children in our house. I had plenty of pain drugs.. but not much could help me but the passage of time. And gas. See...they fill you up with CO2 gas when they do laprascopic surgery. I didn't know this. Oh, but did I learn. It's NOT pleasant to be inflated like a balloon. I kept visualizing the scene in Shrek where Fiona and Shrek inflate a snake and a frog - that's how I felt, like the snake that got blown up and twisted into shape like a clown's balloon trick.
About 36 hours after the surgery I was OK. Not good, but OK. Back to being able to care for the baby and fend for myself a bit. Fiesty enough to tell the home care nurse who called that the worst part of the recovery room was that there were not Lorna Doone cookies anymore. She said almost every repeat patient has commented on that. In the words of Flavor Flav: "Operation No Doubt is in effect."
When you haven't eaten in almost 24 hours, your first bit of food is important. I mean, if they really want to do it right, there should be a menu and linen table cloths. Then again, this time I couldn't have appreciated that anyways. This time, all I wanted was more anti-nausea medicine and something for the pain, please.
Now I'm just sore and weak. But otherwise ready to go back to work tomorrow.
Vacation my @ss. I must have been on crack.
Thursday, November 04, 2004
Mini Vacation Tomorrow
I am having surgery tomorrow. Nothing major. It may entail one night hospitalization, or I may manage to be discharged from day surgery just after dinner time. I'm not at all worried, and in fact, I'm looking forward to feeling better once my pesky malfunctioning gallbladder is removed. In fact, I have a very odd way of looking at day surgery - to me it's actually a bit like a short vacation.
You see, at this point in my life with 3 kids, a fulltime job and a very often absent husband, I'm very tired. I get up daily at around 4am, sometimes 5 - and literally run myself ragged until I collapse at night at the first chance possible (whenever the kids are in bed).
Tomorrow, I will lay down for several hours, be given a steady stream of pain killers, be waited on by kind nurses who will fetch me cookies and juice, and even get a nap for a few hours. It's a lot like flying first class. In fact, the second recovery area, where you sit in an oversized lounge chair and your family comes back to join you even feels like a First Class seat in an airplane.
So, the mild discomfort the surgery brings, at least for me, is totally made up for by the luxury of being able to spend the day horizontal and being cared for by others instead of having to care for others.
You see, at this point in my life with 3 kids, a fulltime job and a very often absent husband, I'm very tired. I get up daily at around 4am, sometimes 5 - and literally run myself ragged until I collapse at night at the first chance possible (whenever the kids are in bed).
Tomorrow, I will lay down for several hours, be given a steady stream of pain killers, be waited on by kind nurses who will fetch me cookies and juice, and even get a nap for a few hours. It's a lot like flying first class. In fact, the second recovery area, where you sit in an oversized lounge chair and your family comes back to join you even feels like a First Class seat in an airplane.
So, the mild discomfort the surgery brings, at least for me, is totally made up for by the luxury of being able to spend the day horizontal and being cared for by others instead of having to care for others.
Monday, November 01, 2004
Greetings from Mrs. Chesty McChesterson.
I have the rack I always daydreamed of as a teenager, but I'm certainly far from flaunting it. I wear baggy layers. Non-descript loose fitting sweaters or shirts. Anything long enough to cover my thick waistline, and certainly nothing with a plunging neckline. You'd think I (or my husband) would want to savor this last time that I'm going to have anything close to the category of "well-endowed" for a bust-line. Um, not so much.
In fact, the only comment that my husband ever makes these days about my chest is for me to cover up and not flash people. See, I'm not afraid to nurse the baby in public, and generally speaking I'm well covered up (baby's blanket, appropriate nursing top, etc.) but I'm apparently not as conscientious about it as my hubby would like. (I'm less observant - mainly because I'm more concerned about how the baby is latching on or eating and less concerned with whether anyone else is getting a glimpse of skin.) See, it's not that he's afraid of other men seeing his wife's chest. No, no -- he's worried about other diners in the Perkins being grossed out by my boobage. I might spoil their appetite. How thoughtful my husband is. Not of, me, but certainly of his fellow diners.
On a topic totally unrelated to my boobs (or poop - I'm not Dooce(TM) after all - no, I'm nowhere near as cool as Dooce).. Halloween has come and gone once again. Every holiday lately just goes to serve as a reminder that I am getting old. That my children are growing up so rapidly that I may blink and find myself wearing adult diapers rather than changing the diapers of my little nipple-muncher (oops, there goes that boob topic again).
This year, our oldest decided we weren't cool enough, or at least not "hard core" enough to go to enough houses to get the maximum possible amount of candy. Thus, she went trick or treating with her friends. (And an adult chaperone. I'm not stupid. Just uncool - ask my kids. Actually, strike that.. read on and you'll know I'm both uncool AND stupid.)
Our pre-schooler, after an exciting day of carving pumpkins, singing in church (mommy was very verklempt) and brunch with grandma and grandpa and playing at home.. Daddy let her skip her nap. Unfortunately, this meant she looked more like a Zombie frog for Halloween. Unintentionally. And, when she's overtired, like all other 3 year olds on the planet, she gets a bit prone to high-drama tearful episodes.
And so, I give you the choice lines she said yesterday:
1. "Mommy, you don't know your shapes. So just do what I tell you." (while carving pumpkins)
2. "Daddy! You just don't know about kids!" (when daddy was trying to put her gloves on before she went trick or treating)
3. "I like Claire." (out of the blue, hours after seeing her friends from pre-school)
Yes, our little moppet is full of fun sayings. More funny stories about her and her announcements (particularly in public settings) another day..
In fact, the only comment that my husband ever makes these days about my chest is for me to cover up and not flash people. See, I'm not afraid to nurse the baby in public, and generally speaking I'm well covered up (baby's blanket, appropriate nursing top, etc.) but I'm apparently not as conscientious about it as my hubby would like. (I'm less observant - mainly because I'm more concerned about how the baby is latching on or eating and less concerned with whether anyone else is getting a glimpse of skin.) See, it's not that he's afraid of other men seeing his wife's chest. No, no -- he's worried about other diners in the Perkins being grossed out by my boobage. I might spoil their appetite. How thoughtful my husband is. Not of, me, but certainly of his fellow diners.
On a topic totally unrelated to my boobs (or poop - I'm not Dooce(TM) after all - no, I'm nowhere near as cool as Dooce).. Halloween has come and gone once again. Every holiday lately just goes to serve as a reminder that I am getting old. That my children are growing up so rapidly that I may blink and find myself wearing adult diapers rather than changing the diapers of my little nipple-muncher (oops, there goes that boob topic again).
This year, our oldest decided we weren't cool enough, or at least not "hard core" enough to go to enough houses to get the maximum possible amount of candy. Thus, she went trick or treating with her friends. (And an adult chaperone. I'm not stupid. Just uncool - ask my kids. Actually, strike that.. read on and you'll know I'm both uncool AND stupid.)
Our pre-schooler, after an exciting day of carving pumpkins, singing in church (mommy was very verklempt) and brunch with grandma and grandpa and playing at home.. Daddy let her skip her nap. Unfortunately, this meant she looked more like a Zombie frog for Halloween. Unintentionally. And, when she's overtired, like all other 3 year olds on the planet, she gets a bit prone to high-drama tearful episodes.
And so, I give you the choice lines she said yesterday:
1. "Mommy, you don't know your shapes. So just do what I tell you." (while carving pumpkins)
2. "Daddy! You just don't know about kids!" (when daddy was trying to put her gloves on before she went trick or treating)
3.
Yes, our little moppet is full of fun sayings. More funny stories about her and her announcements (particularly in public settings) another day..
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