meningitis....really?

So, long story short, massive pulsating jarring headache, neck pain, hospital, admitted, poke, vein no likey likey, poke some more, new I-V site, poke some more, feeling like a guinea pig, no communication or information, you can't see your kids, no nurse comes even though light is on for 45 minutes, you can go home, you can't, we don't know what you have, you can see your kids, you can't, I-V site swells, push nurse button, no nurse comes, red lines streaking up my arm from I-V site, still no nurse, poke some more, I refuse 3rd I-V site, they dangle "you can see your kids if you let us pump you full of just one more bag of antibiotic poison", I agree, Doctor sticks head in door, you can go home, no ibuprofen, never see doctor again, get dressed I-V still in my hand, step into hall, thrust I-V apparatus into a passing nurses face who says "OMG" and pushes me back into the room, nurse starts to take it out, I wince, she says "there's no needle it shouldn't hurt", unsaid "you big faking baby", in shock ask what do I do if headache returns?, nurse shrugs shoulders says "your a mystery", smirky forced smile, thrusts paper, I sign, walks us down, See ya unsaid "wouldn't wanna be ya". Anyway after all of this lovely treatment I went to my primary care physician on Monday. He said I had viral meningitis. It was the hospitalists final diagnosis upon discharge (boy that would have been nice to know). It may take up to 4 weeks to recover fully and I'm trying to take it easy. Mark has his resectomy tomorrow and so the kids, I think are on their own. Hailey's seven. She can forage for food for her and her two younger sibs right?

After yesterday, I was exhausted. Work, play date, pick H up from school, soccer practice, grocery shopping, picked up pictures, dropped item at friends' house, = couch, which I laid on for about an hour while I ignored the children. This lovely Men kicked my ass (Isn't that what they all do). I finally hauled my butt up to check on Claire and she was on top of the BUNK BED. She can't walk but can climb a ladder? huh? The kids were starved at this point and it was all I could do to cook a meal. Mark didn't get home until 7:00 and then the water works began. Poor guy. Works his butt off and comes home to a sobbing wife. Just what every husband wants to welcome them home after a hard day of work.
Today I took Anna and Claire to Jamba Juice for a fun outing and to get out of the house. Claire tolerated me feeding her from a spoon for about 10 bites and then squealed and in one motion ripped the straw out of the top of the plastic cup sending peach paradise careening through the air in an arch of all things healthy. The lovely concoction landed in my hair and glopped down onto my sweater. Boy was it fun!! Maybe peach paradise is as beneficial to your hair as they stuff down your throat advertise that it's good for your body.

More puking...Really?

So while Mark was still gone, more puking ensued. We drove to Bend to visit some very amazing friends. Hailey and Anna had horse back riding lessons and when I arrived I was told that a horse was available for me to ride also. I checked with Grandma Lois and Kristina to see if they would mind watching Claire. They were glad to oblige. As we began our trail ride, I looked over to make sure the baby was okay. I saw two women bending over the stroller and looking up in my direction every once in a while with what I perceived to be concerned looks. As we made our way back and were close enough for me to yell if everything was okay I was shocked to hear "Claire puked". As we dismounted I found my baby and snuggled her. After putting her in her seat and leaving the horse ranch, Claire began whimpering. I thought her puking might be a fluke because Hailey's puking was 72 hours passed, but alas it wasn't. About 5 minutes from our hostesses house Claire barfed up undigested scrambled eggs and sweet sickening smelling cantaloupe. Oh my favorite...another dismantlement of a car seat. Taking apart these car seats is on par with doing a colon polyp surgery without the knowledge of a polyp or a colon. Claire then didn't sleep well until we returned home 4 days later. I greeted Mark with all the love a sleep deprived, puke exhausted, tired of kids in general mom could muster. I felt like punching him right in the face but then my rage faded to uncontrollable sobbing. He looked so bewildered as to why I was mad at him and sometimes to this day still shakes his head in disbelief at my adamant refusal to allow anymore 10 day trips...he should read my blog...Right?

watch out for those babies...

So I once heard that if you have a child under two, you are on suicide watch whenever they are awake. I thought this was a strange comment until I started to pay attention to what Claire did and how often I "saved her" from herself. This morning Claire was playing in my room with the curtains. Anna came in and said,"no, Claire". Now this baby is my tantrum kid and does not like hearing the word "no" directed at her. She flung herself on the floor, connecting with a sickening thwack, her head with the nightstand. Instantly she had a purple/blue/greenish egg on her forehead and started screaming. I comforted her and shortly after placed her in the high chair for breakfast. Her sister was feeding her blueberries and decided it might be fun to slip her an over sized grape, about 4 times bigger than the norm. It instantly lodged in her throat and I had to do the finger sweep. 30 minutes later, I was taking a shower with the baby in her bath chair. I closed my eyes to rinse my hair and heard her coughing and choking. I instantly looked down at the baby who was pouring the entire contents of the pitcher we use to rinse the kids' hair, on her face, trying to drink it. My eyes began to burn from the soap running into my eyes, which I tried to ignore to save my child. My idea of heaven?...those 5 instantly quiet seconds you get when you shut the door after buckling the kids in and you can no longer hear their bickering, whining, or crying, before getting in yourself. Ahhh heaven.

more "minus mark" mayhem

Night number 2 at grandma's went a little like this. Uncle Jordan drops girls off (Hailey and Skyla) hungry, tired, slightly sunburned, and a little grumpy. I fix them zucchini fritters while asking Uncle Jim to watch Claire, which even with the best intentions is about as helpful as asking Claire to prepare a trifle for dessert. Although Uncle can "watch" her, he can't pick her up. So he can "watch" her pull the bird cage on her head or crawl out the door into traffic, but it really is not very useful. After dinner the girls are tired so I put Claire into her crib and once she's asleep put Hailey and Skyla in Claire's room in sleeping bags on the floor. Since Skyla has no sleeping bag, she has to use Anna's and Anna sleeps with Grandma. At 6 am the fun begins. Skyla and Hailey wake up the baby and since she didn't get enough sleep is a grouchy bear. As I'm feeding her, I hear whimpering and when I look up Anna is sidling toward me with tears. I asked what was wrong and she said she accidentally peed in grandma's bed (Sweet, wonderful). After some shopping, helping clean up, packing kids up, I finally leave. I drive to Corvallis to feed the dog, get more supplies, and then drive to Grandma Bonnie's. Upon getting there and waking up the kids to unload them, I realize Anna has peed in her carseat. After cleaning her up and unloading diapers, clothes, hats, sunblock, etc. I have to dismantle her carseat and wash everything. The next day after a leisurely walk to the local park and some playing in the water, Hailey began to complain of a headache. She lay down on the couch to rest. I went in to check on her just in time to hear her puke all over Grandma Bonnie's couch. She puked once more in the car on the way home (am I having fun yet?) and fell asleep on the couch at home. I put her in bed with me and at 2am I heard Anna crying, went in to check on her and she had peed the bed. I changed the bed put her on Hailey's bed and went back to bed. The next morning at 6 am Hailey started puking again. At about 9am my parents stopped by to borrow the canoe and all lines of Hell intersected for about 15 minutes in my house. As I dug through our "O so organized storage" I heard Hailey whimpering on the couch. She asked me to snuggle with her but the baby who was woken up early was crying in her crib. At that very moment Anna started screaming Mama I'm done wipe me. I went in to get Claire and her diaper was also poopy. Poop and puke, oh my favorite. Later we went to the doc who said Hailey had a virus (I love hearing that, I know it's not their fault and their the experts here, but 98.9% of the time whatever is ailing the kids is a virus) We raced home so I could get ready for a job interview, left Papa Bill with some instructions, put the kids down for a nap, and left. I was not as shining (well maybe with sweat) as usual and when I returned home Hailey had woken up from her nap and was 100% better. Now as long as no one else pukes, pees the bed or tries to injure themselves I will be very happy...and boy is Mark gonna get an earful when he gets home. I bet he'll wish he would have been gone for 20 days instead of 10 when he sees what's in store for him.

whoa is me...

So my husband Mark, thought it would be a great idea to go backpacking for 10 days and leave me at home with three small children. Although I wasn't too thrilled with this prospect I thought it will be nice for him to get away after all he does for us and since he didn't go last year because of my pregnancy and restaurant I felt I had to support him in this endeavor. That was until he left...
Thursday he drove to his dad's house and I drove to Eugene to stay with my grandma and great uncle for 2 nights. I love spending time with them so I didn't think twice. Well the first night started out wonderfully...at least until 2 am. Uncharacteristically, Claire decided to wake up and just be awake for 2 hours. She has never been awake in the middle of the night for more than about 20 minutes even as a newborn so you can imagine my surprise and dismay. I knelt down next to her playpen and rubbed her back. As I rubbed her back I leaned my head on the edge of the crib and tried to get as comfortable as possible on an inch wide, metal pillow. The baby lay down and after about 5 minutes, hearing that her breathing was very regular, I sat back on my heels trying to decide if I should sneak out of the room or lay down on the floor. At this moment the baby popped up and began to look around. I got back up on my knees, laid her back down, and stroked her back once again. After I was sure she was asleep I stopped rubbing her back and looked down at her. She appeared to be asleep in every way. Eyes closed, steady rythmic breathing, twitching momentarily. The second I sat back on my heels up popped her head. We continued this lovely middle of the night tango until I heard my grandma's 42 clocks begin chiming (I'm not kidding, I think actually we've counted 60 clocks, but only 42 of them chime, which you can imagine can be so conducive while trying to get a baby to sleep). I heard 4 chimes and I guess 4 am is Claire's limit and she fell almost instantly asleep. Instead of risking waking her up I decided to lay down on the carpet and sleep there. It wasn't as bad as I imagined...70's shag carpet is surprisingly comfortable...

summer resolution

So I thought I had this marvelous idea that would not only get me in shape, teach my kids about the importance of exercise and environmental protection, but also get me out there interacting with my community; plants, people, places, etc. My resolution was to give up my car for the summer. It didn't take long before I had an addendum to my resolution. After contemplating the possibility of biking/hiking/walking to a friend's house who lives behind CV (which would have entailed a bike ride to Winco, where I would lock up the bike, put Claire in a backpack and drag my other two children 1 to 2 miles up and through McDonald forest, which I'm sure would include times where I would also have to carry Anna...great fun I'm sure)I decided to only give up the van within the city limits of Corvallis. This was great because berry picking, traveling, etc. were all again doable. My next alteration to my original plan came when I was planning a trip to Albany and was invited to a play date afterward. I really didn't want to go home after Albany, load the kids into strollers, scooters, bikes, or bike trailers and then meet my friend. So then I had my 2nd rule. I only had to ride/walk if my point of departure was my house and my destination was in Corvallis. So with my two defining points established, I embarked on my adventure. Everything seemed to be going along smoothly. Walking/biking downtown...no problem. I'd done that many times and it was always enjoyable. The library...piece of cake. Coop...why doesn't everyone walk? OSU...I laugh in the face of a challenge. Then a friend asked me to meet for a play date at Wildcat park. I stopped laughing. The logistics of getting 3 kids from South town to Wildcat park where quite daunting. I had seen people biking around town with the tag-a-long and Burley attached in one long ridiculous train but I didn't know if I could do it all the way to the other side of town. I checked to make sure it was in the city limits and was disappointed even though I knew it was. I thought about driving to Monmouth for some sort of errand just so I could drive and still obey my rules. Then I thought I just won't go. But I couldn't cancel. What would be the point if every time my resolution became difficult I just didn't do it. So I hooked up the tag-a-long to my bike, the Burley to the tag-a-long, wrestled Claire into the trailer, bribed Anna in, heard the bike "train" fall over as I ran in the house for the water bottles, finagled the helmets onto all the kids' heads with Claire screaming, scraped some paint off the house as our entourage squeezed through the ridiculously small opening leading out of our garden, started off down the street, realized I had forgotten diapers and wipes, flipped a u-y in the middle of the road, ran over Hailey's foot with the Burley, left Hailey in charge of the kids as I ran inside, heard Claire start screaming and shortly after Anna, came back, asked Anna what was wrong, she said the baby was crying too loud and it hurt her ears, unsnapped the Burley, hugged both kids, buckled everyone back in, re-snapped the Burley, and....we were off. As we rode I thought this isn't so bad. I can do this. The baby had stopped crying, people in cars were courteous, 10th street had hardly any traffic. I arrived quite late for the play date because it had taken me so long to get ready and after the kids played for about 45 minutes it was time to pack up and head back home for lunch. I looked at it as a great opportunity for exercise, packed everyone back up and headed home. About 5 minutes into the return trip, I realized it had become much warmer than on the ride to the park about the time the baby started screaming because she was getting blasted by the sun. I stopped, handed Anna and Claire a water bottle and a spray bottle (I instructed Anna to spritz Claire's feet periodically), and safety pinned a blanket to the netting in front of their face so they wouldn't be blasted by the sun, and continued on my way. 2 minutes later when Claire started to fuss, I yelled over my shoulder, "Anna spray her feet". Anna must have thought I said face because I hear the sound of a spray bottle 4 times in quick succession and Claire taking gasps of air in between squirts. I then yell back, "Not her face her feet", as Claire has now begun to scream her head off. Obviously Anna cannot hear me, her hearing loss aided by the blanket over the Burley, and I cannot see them because of said blanket. Anna still does not hear me and sprays Claire in the face again, which is obvious because of the constant shocked gasps in between screeches. Between Hailey and I we finally got Anna to stop spraying Claire in the face (it never dawned on me to stop pedaling and communicate directly...once you get going on a bike there's some mental block that occurs that stops you from ever getting off your bike unless it is a dire emergency or you've reached your destination). We were coming to a downhill portion of our ride where there was a steep corner at the bottom of a very steep grade. Hailey had just helped me pedal across a busy intersection and we were booking. Hailey decided now would be a great time to see how riding with no hands would be. We came barreling down the hill and I realized I was going slightly too fast for my train. I hit the brakes as we went squealing around the corner and because Hailey wasn't holding on to the handlebars she tried to use her body to help her balance, which sent the bike lurching to the side right at the imperfect time. I lost control and we ended up in the bushes next to the bike path. It could have been worse, but then it was. The girls who love Abba decided almost crashing into the river was the perfect opportunity to serenade their mother with a medley of Songs from Mama Mia. Between Anna belting out "You can dance, you can drive, having the time of your life" and Hailey's version of "Soupa Troupa" lights are gonna find you, shining like the sun" I couldn't think of a more enjoyable sound to bike to. After the 32nd round I realized something was making me cranky and started laughing hysterically in that strange maniacal fashion of a mad scientist. Claire fell asleep, bored to death by Mama Mia, on the way home and figured a 15 minute siesta was all the sleep she needed that day and so was a grouchy bear the rest of the evening. Oh the joyous benefits of not using the van. I'm not sure if I'm setting a good example for my children on how to be gentler on the environment or how to be a terrific shrieking banshee.

lesson 3

So lesson 3 involves a baby, scissors, and almost an eyeball. Yikes!! So here goes: Never try to curl ribbon when you have a baby strapped to the front of you. I was rushing around, watching an extra kid, trying to get to a birthday party on time when I remembered that I needed to get a present. We made a quick stop at the toy factory, unloaded 4 kids, herded them through the doors, picked the first thing that I saw with fairies on it, dug through my purse for the debit card, answered rapid fire questions from two 3 year old interrogators about the construction vehicles outside while paying for the present, had a conversation with a mom I knew, while trying to wrap a present and find someplace to stuff a receipt, while trying not to be rude to aforementioned mom, cut off 4 pieces of ribbon that were just a tad too short to curl, tried to curl them anyway, scissors slip poke baby Claire in what I thought was an eyeball, and then...moment of clarity. WHAT THE HELL AM I DOING? I grabbed the baby, extricated her from the Bjorn, flipped her around, and did a thorough examination of her face. Thank God, I hadn't poked her in the eye-ball. She had a small scratch across her forehead and didn't so much as whimper. At this point I slapped one of those Christmas, peel the back and stick it, ribbons on the present and was off. Another lesson learned. Now that I've had a scary experience with scissors I'll now be overly cautious around them but maybe not pay attention when I plop a kid down next to the neighbors hive full of angry bees. It's funny how we moms get super aware of some dangers when we've had a scary experience and hardly blink an eye at others.

Lesson 2

Lesson number 2 involves my ass...my ass that I keep forgetting has grown a size (or two) since having 3 kids. I was at story time in Monroe with Trevor, Anna, and Claire. At this particular story time snack was passed out (I know right? Snack at the library? Usually they don't even allow water.) The kids began happily munching on their animal crackers and honed in to the book as never before eagerly anticipating each new story introduction. As the last of the stories was being read, Anna asked for more crackers, and when I informed her that there were no more she seemed content to listen to the story until her 3 year old eagle eyes spotted her younger sister's cup o' drooled upon and soggy crackers. She could tell Claire was done and asked if she could have them. I said are you sure you want these nasty things. She said yes, took the crackers, and re-focused her attention on the librarian. Story time had come to an end and the story teller told all the children that she had a free book bag with book marks for every child. Two words: pandemonium and chaos! All the children at story time came rushing forward and since we were a foot away from the librarian, I had to snatch Claire up off the floor before she was trampled by 20 crazed kids. In the process my rather well endowed behind came in direct contact with Anna's face sending her flying as well as her newly attained (albeit soggy) crackers. Cookies exploded everywhere, trampled into the carpet, landed on mom's who exclaimed, "oh gross" and subsequently dropped them into the garbage can, and near other children who quickly gobbled them up. Devastated does not even begin to describe Anna's state of mind. Sobs that shook her to the core enveloped her body and then she began this cat like yowl that I was unsure of what orifice it was being emitted from. She repeated over and over again "my crackers, my crackers" as I drug her to the car. If you know Anna this was very odd behavior for her and I couldn't quite understand why she was so upset until I realized that that morning in a rush to get out the door she had eaten a strawberry and bite of bagel for breakfast. Do I win Mother of the Year award yet?

3 Lessons

So recently I have learned three valuable lessons about domestic life.
Lesson number one: Never get angry at your beaters when your thumb is precariously balanced on the on switch. Story: I was trying to get a million things done as usual and only had about 30 minutes to make a recipe of brownies that usually takes 45 minutes. I grabbed my lovely beaters that have a problem getting stuck in the on position and stuffed the first beater in the hole. Well it was the wrong hole and didn't have the correct ring around the end of the apparatus to make it fit into the beaters. I rammed it into the second hole, reached for the second beater and began sticking this beater into the beater hole (this doesn't sound quite right...). My thumb just happened to be on the on switch in just the spot one would hold the beaters while shoving a beater into the correct hole (some engineer is laughing deviously while tapping his fingers together in a dimly lit cubicle laughing an evil maniacal laugh). As I shoved the beater with great angst, my thumb slipped and flipped the switch to on. Since the beaters have a malfunction and will not turn off even when the switch is in the off position my fingers became entangled in the lovely, unforgiving wire of the beaters. As my eyes comprehended the tangled mess of my fingers my brain didn't comprehend the pain I was about to experience. I let go of the beaters since I couldn't turn them off and reached over and unplugged the beaters from the wall. I pried my fingers out of their unnatural maze and examined what I thought for sure was a broken finger. I was shaking and saw deep grooves where the beaters had dug into my digits but amazingly that was it...just bruises, small indentations, and an embarrassing incident that I would have to share with my husband. Oh how I felt like a fool. Hailey thought the entire thing was hysterical.
2 other lessons coming shortly....

Running

The kids ran in their first race last weekend. They were very excited and we lined up, poised to "sprint" to the finish line 1/4 of a mile away. As the MC said "ready, set, go" Hailey and Trevor, took off like white lightning and Anna and I began to not so much sprint as to jog "the most laboriously slow movement and still call it a jog" jog. We ran? for about 10 seconds and Anna looks up at me and says, "okay, that's enough". It reminds me of when I start running again after taking a week, a month, 6 months, 2 days, or whatever length of time off and I think to myself, "alright this time I'm sticking with it. No more excuses, I will work off that third ass". I start running with immaculate posture, chest out, breathing in perfect rhythm with my stride, just as my book on running says and thinking, boy don't I look spiffy. Inevitably what happens is I trip over a crack in the side walk tweeking my ankle (looking like an idiot and nonchalantly looking around to see if anyone saw me), get a cramp, can't breathe anymore, or all of the above. When this happens I start walking, gasping for air, and dripping like a sweaty hog. (I don't know what idiot said "run through the pain", I can understand drink through the pain, sit down until the pain passes, or pop pills until you don't remember the pain, but running through the pain simply does not compute). I justify my abandonment of running by thinking, "Walking is better for your joints anyway, running will destroy your knees, I'll just plan some hikes with friends and hike a really long time to get the same benefits, etc." I wonder where Anna gets it...

Cemeteries and the three year old

Last weekend being Memorial Day we decided to go to the cemetery to visit the final resting places of some loved ones. That's when the questions began and I became horrified. Remind me never to discuss the definition of a cemetery with a three year old...The conversation went a little something like this: Anna: where are we going mom, huh, where? Me: to the cemetery. Anna: what's a cemetery? Me: It's a place where we bury people's bodies when they die. Anna: In the ground? Me: Yeah. Anna: How do we get them in the ground. Me: (trying to be succinct) When someone dies, they dig a hole, put them in a box, put them in the hole, and bury them. Anna: How do they get the shovel back out. Me: Well the person that dies (I guess I should have been more specific about who THEY were) doesn't dig the hole, someone else does so the shovel is never in the hole. Anna: Do they cry when they put them in the box? Me: (I would rather do anything than finish this conversation). No their dead so they can't feel anything or be happy or sad. It's like when the guinea pig and dog died. Their bodies were there but the part of them that makes them happy or sad went to live with Jesus. Anna: Am I going to die and go in the box. Me: (AHHHHHHHHH!! what the hell do I tell her now). Not for a long long time. Anna: Mom, when I die will I go live with that guy? Me: What guy. Anna: That guy, what's his name again.... Me: Jesus? Anna: Yeah him. Me: Yep. We arrive at the first cemetery, enter into the building where they store the ashes, and I see a very grave (ha, ha) conversation about to occur and I try distraction (the ultimate kid defense mechanism). Oh look Anna, Hailey cookies and lemonade. Would you like some? Anna: What is this place. Me: It's where Daddy's grandparents are being stored? (in hindsight "stored" probably wasn't the correct word to use). Anna: Why is this box so little. A whole person can't fit in there. Me: (What do I say now.? I could make up a story about a machine that shrinks people or I could just tell it like it is...horrifying..I weighed my options and chose the truth.) Sometimes when someone dies they (wince) burn the body and (speaking so quickly and quietly that I hoped she really wouldn't hear) put the ashes in a box...Hey look over there do you want 5 more cookies (since I never let my kids have more than 1 usually, this tactic worked). We then loaded back into the minivan and proceeded to the next cemetery. At this one we visited someone's remains that were buried. After locating her plot. Anna stands on the grave and says: that's funny, I can't feel her under there, why not? At this point Anna and Hailey take off running across the hill, squealing, and playing hopscotch on the headstones, to the chagrin of many people there to enjoy an otherwise beautiful and peaceful Memorial Day. I wince, begin screeching at my wild children, and remind them that this is a place like church or the library and they need to be respectful and reverent. Anna looks up at me and says: mom, (I stupidly thought she may have something profound to say and wait with puffed chest and the thought of wonderful 3 year old utterances I'd be able to brag about to my friends)I have to pee right now in that bush...Ahhh amazing children!