You know how some days, you’re pumped up and ready to take on the world, and some days you wonder if it is possible to get any flatter after you’ve been run over by the Mack truck of life? It’s been one of those days. Flattened. Smashed. Run down.
Funding for my kind of work has been dwindling for years and we are at a point where things are looking pretty grim. Profoundly grim. Mostly I can maintain a smile and a cavalier attitude, optimistic that something will come through, some funder will open up their bill fold, some partnership will open a new door, something, something will come along. We’ve been around for 25 years. Something will come through… right? Right?
But other days are darker. On those days I spend time worrying about my family’s personal finances and whether we will ever get out of this freaking two bedroom condo and into a house with a yard for the kids and a vegetable garden for me to wiggle my toes in the dirt. I think about all the change I want to make and all the good I want to do, this searing desire to make the world, starting with my community, a better place… and weigh it against health insurance and saving up for college tuition. I wonder if I really can make a go of the nonprofit sector and how many more sacrifices I will have to make to stay here.
I don’t always feel dismal about the nonprofit sector. I am proud to work in the environmental movement, proud that I am part of something bigger that is working to protect our world, our resources for our kids and their kids and their kids. It is why most days I am pumped up and ready to take on the world, giving knuckle bumps to the sky and feeling like there is so much to do! And I want to help! Right now!
But today, my seven minutes of blogging caught me at a dark moment, worried about my organization that I care so deeply for, worried about my mortgage and health insurance and all the stuff grown ups have to care about. And I find myself wondering when the real grown up in my life will come along and fix it all. I’ll wait! I’ll just stand right here and wait. I just need a grown up.
My mind races to extremes. I think about how if we have to close our doors at my organization, I’ll never be able to find another job. Just never. We’ll have to live under a bridge and eat road kill for dinner. We’ll have to make the kid’s bedrooms out of refrigerator boxes and duct tape and our phone will be a plastic cup connected with string running between our boxes. I’ll be forced to collect cans on the side of the road for diaper money. Jay will learn to hustle people for money and Ella will head up a street gang.
To be fair, this is also me on very little sleep and we are now on day three of a 103 fever and a very unhappy, lethargic Jack. Everything seems worse when you’re tired. Maybe tomorrow will be better.
Showing posts with label Sick. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Sick. Show all posts
Wednesday, April 18, 2012
Tuesday, April 17, 2012
More Gardening!
Today we filled the raised beds with compost and top soil, mulched the space between the beds, and found the strawberries. In addition to pulling the weeds that were covering the patch, we discovered several strawberry plants had crept out into the surrounding area, so I dug them up and carted them back to the strawberry patch, where I told them they would be very happy. Very happy. Why would anyone want to leave? I did sort of feel like Kathy Bates in Misery. Only without the sledge hammer or creepy fanaticism over an injured novelist...
Anyway. We still have a lot of work to do. Across from the raised beds, where there is grass now, we will till up the ground, spread compost and plant corn, beans and squash. The raspberries need weeding, and we have to sow seeds in the raised beds. Then, we have another entire garden plot to plan, prepare and plant. The plot that adjoins our current one (I was standing in it to take this picture) is now ours (!) giving us one long plot.
I am giddy with garden possibilities. More tomatoes! Carrots! Beets! Spinach! Broccoli! Potatoes! Swiss Chard! Hooray! Also, more tilling, weeding and watering. Okay by me.
In other news, we think Jack may have Roseola and we have a condo showing tomorrow. Double shit. I’ve come to loathe showings. Granted, in theory every time we have a showing there is a possibility that we could sell the condo. But in reality, we spend hours organizing, cleaning, scrubbing, and detailing. We get stressed out, are liable to snap at the kids, and run around like chickens with our heads cut off as we try to prevent the kids from undoing all of the work we just did. We breathlessly dash out of the condo just before the scheduled showing and then… nothing. So, I have come to temper my expectations when we get a request for a showing. But we still clean and prep the condo till it shines. This time we are a bit hamstrung , though, as Jack has a fever of 103 and is only comfortable when nestled in my arms. Trust me, I’m not complaining about having to hold him, but, it does make it even harder for us to get the condo show ready. Since he has been fussy and lethargic but has no other symptoms, we suspect Roseola. Both Jay and Ella had it right about this age. We’ll watch for the tell tale rash in a few days.
Here’s hoping for an offer on the condo, fast healing for Jack and more superb gardening weather.
Anyway. We still have a lot of work to do. Across from the raised beds, where there is grass now, we will till up the ground, spread compost and plant corn, beans and squash. The raspberries need weeding, and we have to sow seeds in the raised beds. Then, we have another entire garden plot to plan, prepare and plant. The plot that adjoins our current one (I was standing in it to take this picture) is now ours (!) giving us one long plot.
I am giddy with garden possibilities. More tomatoes! Carrots! Beets! Spinach! Broccoli! Potatoes! Swiss Chard! Hooray! Also, more tilling, weeding and watering. Okay by me.
In other news, we think Jack may have Roseola and we have a condo showing tomorrow. Double shit. I’ve come to loathe showings. Granted, in theory every time we have a showing there is a possibility that we could sell the condo. But in reality, we spend hours organizing, cleaning, scrubbing, and detailing. We get stressed out, are liable to snap at the kids, and run around like chickens with our heads cut off as we try to prevent the kids from undoing all of the work we just did. We breathlessly dash out of the condo just before the scheduled showing and then… nothing. So, I have come to temper my expectations when we get a request for a showing. But we still clean and prep the condo till it shines. This time we are a bit hamstrung , though, as Jack has a fever of 103 and is only comfortable when nestled in my arms. Trust me, I’m not complaining about having to hold him, but, it does make it even harder for us to get the condo show ready. Since he has been fussy and lethargic but has no other symptoms, we suspect Roseola. Both Jay and Ella had it right about this age. We’ll watch for the tell tale rash in a few days.
Here’s hoping for an offer on the condo, fast healing for Jack and more superb gardening weather.
Friday, December 02, 2011
And Just in Time for the Holiday Season, We’re Better!
Just wanted to report that we are all better, so you can invite us to your Christmas party now. We promise not to infect you like we did my entire office suite this week, or Jay’s classroom or my family members on the East coast who somehow contracted conjunctivitis virtually and who now won’t even answer my phone calls for fear of us transmitting some other germ fest.
Kidding. I do not know why they won’t answer my calls.
Kidding again. I suspect they don’t answer my calls because I don’t actually like, call, and stuff. And this reminds of something to complain about.
Kids and phone calls. Why is it that every time, EVERY time, the phone rings, the kids seize upon that very moment to:
-Break something
-Kill each other
-Fashion a weapon
-Break something else
-Decide it is high time to try rappelling off of the third floor balcony
-Whisper forcefully to me, as if whispering somehow makes it possible to hold two different conversations simultaneously
-Jump on their beds (They have bunk beds. Think about the physics of this.)
-Spill something
-Bite the dog
-Cry because the dog bit them back, and WTF, mom?
-Need their butt wiped
-Find something gross to step in, put their fingers in, put into their mouths, or rub into their hair
-Run around the condo at top speed (we have a 1000 square foot condo. Think about the physics of this)
-Slam into a wall at top speed
-Spill something else
-Sing “Tomorrow, Tomorrow, I LOVE YA, TOMORROW!” while spinning around wildly and careening into furniture
-Try furtively to repair broken stuff with pounds of Scotch tape and the sash from my bathrobe
So, friends and family, if you’ve ever wondered why I am more accessible on Facebook than on my cell phone, there you have it. I am still trying to get the tape and bits of lampshade off of my bathrobe sash.
So, um, can we come to your Christmas party or what?
Kidding. I do not know why they won’t answer my calls.
Kidding again. I suspect they don’t answer my calls because I don’t actually like, call, and stuff. And this reminds of something to complain about.
Kids and phone calls. Why is it that every time, EVERY time, the phone rings, the kids seize upon that very moment to:
-Break something
-Kill each other
-Fashion a weapon
-Break something else
-Decide it is high time to try rappelling off of the third floor balcony
-Whisper forcefully to me, as if whispering somehow makes it possible to hold two different conversations simultaneously
-Jump on their beds (They have bunk beds. Think about the physics of this.)
-Spill something
-Bite the dog
-Cry because the dog bit them back, and WTF, mom?
-Need their butt wiped
-Find something gross to step in, put their fingers in, put into their mouths, or rub into their hair
-Run around the condo at top speed (we have a 1000 square foot condo. Think about the physics of this)
-Slam into a wall at top speed
-Spill something else
-Sing “Tomorrow, Tomorrow, I LOVE YA, TOMORROW!” while spinning around wildly and careening into furniture
-Try furtively to repair broken stuff with pounds of Scotch tape and the sash from my bathrobe
So, friends and family, if you’ve ever wondered why I am more accessible on Facebook than on my cell phone, there you have it. I am still trying to get the tape and bits of lampshade off of my bathrobe sash.
So, um, can we come to your Christmas party or what?
Monday, November 28, 2011
Sick
Does your throat feel scratchy?
I dread this question. For us, it signals the start of an unavoidable, unstoppable, week-long, sleepless, I-am-worse-than-you-so-you-have-to-take-the-baby, ear infection riddled sick fest.
First, before you read this and then hastily run off to locate a can of Lysol and a case of hand sanitizer, we are all on the mend. Mostly. Second, it’s too late, anyway. Find a box of Kleenex, a jar of honey and a good book. In my case, you won’t be able to read the book because you’ll be busy dealing with the needs of three simultaneously sick and needy small people, but it may cushion your face as your head drops from exhaustion sometime around 2 a.m. Anything in paperback is a good choice.
At this moment, we have three bottles of antibiotics lining our counter, to combat double ear infections and pink eye in all three of the kids. We have made the trip from pediatrician’s office to pharmacy and home again three separate times in less than a week, and Chris has been gone for three of these days to go deer hunting. If I am doing the math correctly, that means… let’s see, two parents, minus one who escaped to hunt all by himself for three whole days… carry the zero… I’ve got it! That leaves ME all the hell alone for three days with three sick kids all five and under. That’s some math for you.
It has meant bodily fluids coming out of eyes, noses and mouths, lots of children’s Tylenol and ibuprofen, much pacing in the middle of the night and general crabbiness throughout the day. But it hasn't been all bad. It's uh... no. It's pretty much sucked rotten eggs.
(Pausing to shush and bounce and pace with a very uncomfortable Jack)
O.k. so we are not all quite on the mend… and typing this post… is taking way longer than I planned… as I am only able to type short barrages of words… and only when I get to the end of my pacing loop… with one hand… while swaying and humming,… and trying to make it seem… like I am not typing… but just kind of pacing in place over here by the computer… and then Jack rouses… and I take off for another loop through the condo… because what? I am totally… not typing! I am the most non-typing, only pacing person I’ve ever met… maybe who has ever lived… Only pacing! Pace, pace, pace! That is me! I just… can’t get enough pacing!
No devil couch! I will not sit on you, no matter how much you try to seduce me… with your soft cushions and supportive frame... The way you call to me while I blearily stumble back and forth in the living room… You see, sick babies have a sense for these sorts of things. When they sense that their parents are feeling any level of comfort (i.e. blood flow to all limbs, a chair to perch a partial butt cheek on, etc.) they stir and proceed to wake themselves and anyone else in the house who has managed to find some sleep.
Oh! Look at me! Pacing away! Pace… pace…pace…
Does your throat feel scratchy?
I dread this question. For us, it signals the start of an unavoidable, unstoppable, week-long, sleepless, I-am-worse-than-you-so-you-have-to-take-the-baby, ear infection riddled sick fest.
First, before you read this and then hastily run off to locate a can of Lysol and a case of hand sanitizer, we are all on the mend. Mostly. Second, it’s too late, anyway. Find a box of Kleenex, a jar of honey and a good book. In my case, you won’t be able to read the book because you’ll be busy dealing with the needs of three simultaneously sick and needy small people, but it may cushion your face as your head drops from exhaustion sometime around 2 a.m. Anything in paperback is a good choice.
At this moment, we have three bottles of antibiotics lining our counter, to combat double ear infections and pink eye in all three of the kids. We have made the trip from pediatrician’s office to pharmacy and home again three separate times in less than a week, and Chris has been gone for three of these days to go deer hunting. If I am doing the math correctly, that means… let’s see, two parents, minus one who escaped to hunt all by himself for three whole days… carry the zero… I’ve got it! That leaves ME all the hell alone for three days with three sick kids all five and under. That’s some math for you.
It has meant bodily fluids coming out of eyes, noses and mouths, lots of children’s Tylenol and ibuprofen, much pacing in the middle of the night and general crabbiness throughout the day. But it hasn't been all bad. It's uh... no. It's pretty much sucked rotten eggs.
(Pausing to shush and bounce and pace with a very uncomfortable Jack)
O.k. so we are not all quite on the mend… and typing this post… is taking way longer than I planned… as I am only able to type short barrages of words… and only when I get to the end of my pacing loop… with one hand… while swaying and humming,… and trying to make it seem… like I am not typing… but just kind of pacing in place over here by the computer… and then Jack rouses… and I take off for another loop through the condo… because what? I am totally… not typing! I am the most non-typing, only pacing person I’ve ever met… maybe who has ever lived… Only pacing! Pace, pace, pace! That is me! I just… can’t get enough pacing!
No devil couch! I will not sit on you, no matter how much you try to seduce me… with your soft cushions and supportive frame... The way you call to me while I blearily stumble back and forth in the living room… You see, sick babies have a sense for these sorts of things. When they sense that their parents are feeling any level of comfort (i.e. blood flow to all limbs, a chair to perch a partial butt cheek on, etc.) they stir and proceed to wake themselves and anyone else in the house who has managed to find some sleep.
Oh! Look at me! Pacing away! Pace… pace…pace…
Does your throat feel scratchy?
Monday, June 28, 2010
Ella started coughing last night.
Actually, it was more like barking. Ella started barking last night. The night before, she had nursed almost constantly and felt warm. Now she felt hot. Her eyelids were droopy and she was lethargic, of course with the intermittent bursts of energy that sick kids always, inexplicably, have. Mostly though, she just cuddled against my chest and dozed in my arms. Occasionally she would rouse to ask for water or to nurse, always in a voice that I barely recognized, raspy and weak.
It worried me so much that I thought to wake Chris’ aunt to take a look at her. Annette, a Nurse Practioner, was asleep by the time I worked myself into a real state of worry and I decided to wait until morning. Morning came and I sheepishly asked Annette to look at Ella. Sheepish not because I doubted that Ella was very sick but because I know that medical professionals must tire of being asked for free advice from friends and family and I was wary of overstepping my bounds. Annette unhesitatingly pulled out her stethoscope and took a good look at her.
As Annette listened to Ella’s wheezy lungs, Chris shuttled our luggage out to the minivan on our way to the airport. The plane would be boarding in an hour. Is she well enough to travel? Is it pneumonia? Do we need to get her to an ER? Do we simply dose her with benydryl and hope for the best?
Sometimes you just need someone else to make the call. She advised us not travel and instead suggested we bring Ella into her office. In my quest to do the best thing for Ella, my ability to make good decisions had devolved into a myriad of half thoughts. Maybe Chris and Jay should go home and I stay in Alaska until she is strong enough to travel? …What if she stops breathing in the airport? …What if she stops breathing on the airplane? …How sick is too sick to travel? …Will insurance cover a doctor visit? …Will insurance cover the prescriptions? …How will I get my baby home? My baaaaaaaaaaaby is sick. How sick? What’s wrong? What do I do?
We skipped our flight, that's what we did. We took Ella in to Annette’s office and had her looked over more thoroughly. At this point we have mostly ruled out pneumonia and are zeroing in croup. We had to push our flight back two days and will be taking a red eye when we do fly home. Still, we get to stay in Alaska for a couple more days, see more of the family, and we do not have to haul a miserable little one through four airports in a twelve hour period.
I am extremely grateful for Annette and to the rest of the wonderful, warm, kind family that I have been lucky enough to be welcomed into. Pictures of Alaska to follow, I swear. Maybe even more to share now that we are on an extended vacation...
It worried me so much that I thought to wake Chris’ aunt to take a look at her. Annette, a Nurse Practioner, was asleep by the time I worked myself into a real state of worry and I decided to wait until morning. Morning came and I sheepishly asked Annette to look at Ella. Sheepish not because I doubted that Ella was very sick but because I know that medical professionals must tire of being asked for free advice from friends and family and I was wary of overstepping my bounds. Annette unhesitatingly pulled out her stethoscope and took a good look at her.
As Annette listened to Ella’s wheezy lungs, Chris shuttled our luggage out to the minivan on our way to the airport. The plane would be boarding in an hour. Is she well enough to travel? Is it pneumonia? Do we need to get her to an ER? Do we simply dose her with benydryl and hope for the best?
Sometimes you just need someone else to make the call. She advised us not travel and instead suggested we bring Ella into her office. In my quest to do the best thing for Ella, my ability to make good decisions had devolved into a myriad of half thoughts. Maybe Chris and Jay should go home and I stay in Alaska until she is strong enough to travel? …What if she stops breathing in the airport? …What if she stops breathing on the airplane? …How sick is too sick to travel? …Will insurance cover a doctor visit? …Will insurance cover the prescriptions? …How will I get my baby home? My baaaaaaaaaaaby is sick. How sick? What’s wrong? What do I do?
We skipped our flight, that's what we did. We took Ella in to Annette’s office and had her looked over more thoroughly. At this point we have mostly ruled out pneumonia and are zeroing in croup. We had to push our flight back two days and will be taking a red eye when we do fly home. Still, we get to stay in Alaska for a couple more days, see more of the family, and we do not have to haul a miserable little one through four airports in a twelve hour period.
I am extremely grateful for Annette and to the rest of the wonderful, warm, kind family that I have been lucky enough to be welcomed into. Pictures of Alaska to follow, I swear. Maybe even more to share now that we are on an extended vacation...
Friday, May 07, 2010
It’s Friday afternoon
And I am waiting for a program to install on my computer, so I figure it might be a good time to snap out a quick update to the blog. Hey, the LAST time I posted was on Friday. I wonder if there is a relationship there? I'll run a bivariate analysis and let you know next Friday. In the meantime, here is a bullet pointed list of what’s been happening:
• I went to see my doctor today to get tested for asthma.
• I can not spell asthma, but have been rescued by the ever diligent and well intentioned spell checker. Turns out there is no ass in asthma. It only feels like mah ass is about to collapse.
• I have finished every single one of my runs for the last several weeks in a wheezy, winded kind of a way. This is an embarrassing display of weak sauce that I do not like others to know about. But I am posting it on my blog because… hmmm. I do not know. That’s enough of that.
• Ella pooped in the potty chair yesterday. We were all, “Yay! What a big girl! Is this the beginning of potty training?” And also, “Oh, what happened to my little BAAAAAAAAAAAABY?!”
• Then she pooped on the carpet and on my Lands End tote bag. And we concluded that it was just a big day for pooping and the potty was probably just in the way.
• Jay did not break a single thing today. That I know of. Yet.
• We got into our community garden plot for the first time two days ago. We have already planted a few black raspberries and strawberry plants, broccoli, kale, and of course, the beloved brussel sprouts, which will have a cage around them this year, because, well, you know.
• Jay informed me the other day that he'd like to learn how to stop peeing, because it takes so much time. Huh. I guess that would be a time saver.
• Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand we’re done. Photoshop has finally finished installing and now I can start making fake pictures of people doing objectionable things and post them all over the internet. Or just remove some red eye.
• Tis the weekend, and I am heading out. Tomorrow is a two hour yogathon, which I figure I can get through wheezing or otherwise.• Have a good weekend!
• I went to see my doctor today to get tested for asthma.
• I can not spell asthma, but have been rescued by the ever diligent and well intentioned spell checker. Turns out there is no ass in asthma. It only feels like mah ass is about to collapse.
• I have finished every single one of my runs for the last several weeks in a wheezy, winded kind of a way. This is an embarrassing display of weak sauce that I do not like others to know about. But I am posting it on my blog because… hmmm. I do not know. That’s enough of that.
• Ella pooped in the potty chair yesterday. We were all, “Yay! What a big girl! Is this the beginning of potty training?” And also, “Oh, what happened to my little BAAAAAAAAAAAABY?!”
• Then she pooped on the carpet and on my Lands End tote bag. And we concluded that it was just a big day for pooping and the potty was probably just in the way.
• Jay did not break a single thing today. That I know of. Yet.
• We got into our community garden plot for the first time two days ago. We have already planted a few black raspberries and strawberry plants, broccoli, kale, and of course, the beloved brussel sprouts, which will have a cage around them this year, because, well, you know.
• Jay informed me the other day that he'd like to learn how to stop peeing, because it takes so much time. Huh. I guess that would be a time saver.
• Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand we’re done. Photoshop has finally finished installing and now I can start making fake pictures of people doing objectionable things and post them all over the internet. Or just remove some red eye.
• Tis the weekend, and I am heading out. Tomorrow is a two hour yogathon, which I figure I can get through wheezing or otherwise.• Have a good weekend!
Sunday, November 08, 2009
I haven't done much this week
So I haven't written much this week. I managed to rebound from the flu only to get it again (or a reasonable facsimle thereof), then recover and stumble again. Three times I have pronounced myself healthy, only to rescind the statement and pull the blankets back over my head. I've missed two and a half days of work, gone through all of my audio books, have rubbed my nose raw and all I have to show for it is this crummy t-shirt. But, I did manage to figure out how to upload photos and create a slideshow with them, which you can see to the right.
Now that I have figured out how to do this, maybe I'll upload interesting pictures instead of whatever I could find laying around my old computer before I trashed it.
Or not.
But first, I am going to blow my nose and crawl back into bed.
Now that I have figured out how to do this, maybe I'll upload interesting pictures instead of whatever I could find laying around my old computer before I trashed it.
Or not.
But first, I am going to blow my nose and crawl back into bed.
Saturday, April 04, 2009
Does my throat look swollen and patchy to you?
I used up all of my writing skills and brain cells on school work. So instead I will share pictures with you and give you a bullet pointed list of my life this past week.
• Jay has Strep throat
• Strep throat = I hate life
• Let me tell you something. A three year old with Strep throat is like the devil himself coming to live with you. And crawling into bed with you. And breathing his little devil strep throat germs directly into your face. Oh God. My throat hurts.
• No really, it hurts. Damn it.
• Hey, take a look at my throat. Does it look all swollen and patchy? Does it? Because it FEELS swollen and patchy. DAMN IT.
• Do I have a fever? Because I think I have a fever. Do I feel warm to you? I bet I feel warm.
• I think I am going to lay down now.
• Also, Chris has an ear infection and Ella’s first tooth is popping out. I found it today as she rammed my fingers into her mouth and mawed on them as if I had covered them in hollandaise sauce.
• I do not know what hollandaise sauce is.
• I think it is like a cheese sauce and you pour it over rabbit.
• I think you cook the rabbit first.
• O.k., enough with the bullet points, since obviously I don’t know how to use them.
Week in review. Sick, sick, work, work, study, study, WTF how is it the weekend already I haven’t updated my blog yet, it can’t be the weekend already, I need to update my blog and I have to do it before the weekend otherwise no one will ever come back to my blog because they will think I am dead or I hate them and, and, and, waaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhh.
• Back to bullet points because I am less prone to wild emo run-on sentences when I use them, even if I use them incorrectly, kind of like those people who put things in quotation marks arbitrarily as if they are for emphasis, but they are totally “not” and gawd, does THAT drive me nuts, oh looky. Another run on sentence.
• Whoops.
• Bullet points are “not” very helpful for preventing run-on sentences.
• Does my throat look swollen and patchy to you?
• I am going to lay down.
• Enjoy the pictures.
• They have been loaded at random, and may even include pictures of Ella’s birth. Or mine.
• But, seriously. Does my throat look swollen and patchy to you?
From Jay's Birthday Weekend...
Exploring the farm:
Sofie:
A tractor ride:
Thinking... or pooping?
Meanwhile, back in the kitchen...
Jay, Sofie and Mrs. Schultz on the farm:
I present you: Roscoe. The Smartest Dog Ever. Ever. Dude. Seriously.
Jay's birthday cake:
Sofie running away from the camera:
Sheep on the Schultz Farm:
And today we went to MapleFest. Because nothing is more than fun than taking a sick three year old to a crowded, cold, outdoor festival. Heh.
Hmmmmm...It actually could have been more fun, now that I think about it.
Anyway, we watched it go from this:
Into these:
Then turn into this:
Waiting in line for maple syrup ice cream sundaes (good for strep throat).
Ella: Mom, I told you we should have left him at home... Can I have his ice cream?
The recipe (should you have many, many sugar maple trees and also the time to watch over the process twenty four hours a day, seven days a week for about, oh... five freaking weeks):
• Jay has Strep throat
• Strep throat = I hate life
• Let me tell you something. A three year old with Strep throat is like the devil himself coming to live with you. And crawling into bed with you. And breathing his little devil strep throat germs directly into your face. Oh God. My throat hurts.
• No really, it hurts. Damn it.
• Hey, take a look at my throat. Does it look all swollen and patchy? Does it? Because it FEELS swollen and patchy. DAMN IT.
• Do I have a fever? Because I think I have a fever. Do I feel warm to you? I bet I feel warm.
• I think I am going to lay down now.
• Also, Chris has an ear infection and Ella’s first tooth is popping out. I found it today as she rammed my fingers into her mouth and mawed on them as if I had covered them in hollandaise sauce.
• I do not know what hollandaise sauce is.
• I think it is like a cheese sauce and you pour it over rabbit.
• I think you cook the rabbit first.
• O.k., enough with the bullet points, since obviously I don’t know how to use them.
Week in review. Sick, sick, work, work, study, study, WTF how is it the weekend already I haven’t updated my blog yet, it can’t be the weekend already, I need to update my blog and I have to do it before the weekend otherwise no one will ever come back to my blog because they will think I am dead or I hate them and, and, and, waaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhh.
• Back to bullet points because I am less prone to wild emo run-on sentences when I use them, even if I use them incorrectly, kind of like those people who put things in quotation marks arbitrarily as if they are for emphasis, but they are totally “not” and gawd, does THAT drive me nuts, oh looky. Another run on sentence.
• Whoops.
• Bullet points are “not” very helpful for preventing run-on sentences.
• Does my throat look swollen and patchy to you?
• I am going to lay down.
• Enjoy the pictures.
• They have been loaded at random, and may even include pictures of Ella’s birth. Or mine.
• But, seriously. Does my throat look swollen and patchy to you?
From Jay's Birthday Weekend...
Exploring the farm:
Sofie:
A tractor ride:
Thinking... or pooping?
Meanwhile, back in the kitchen...
Jay, Sofie and Mrs. Schultz on the farm:
I present you: Roscoe. The Smartest Dog Ever. Ever. Dude. Seriously.
Jay's birthday cake:
Sofie running away from the camera:
Sheep on the Schultz Farm:
Second birthday celebration...
And today we went to MapleFest. Because nothing is more than fun than taking a sick three year old to a crowded, cold, outdoor festival. Heh.
Hmmmmm...It actually could have been more fun, now that I think about it.
Anyway, we watched it go from this:
Into these:
Then turn into this:
Waiting in line for maple syrup ice cream sundaes (good for strep throat).
Ella: Mom, I told you we should have left him at home... Can I have his ice cream?
The recipe (should you have many, many sugar maple trees and also the time to watch over the process twenty four hours a day, seven days a week for about, oh... five freaking weeks):
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