Yes, We Went
Ahhhh. That sound you heard late Saturday afternoon was my sigh of contentment, up in Cook Forest.
We went. It was good. DearDR and I squabbled a little over child care vs. vacation time, but not enough to bother me.
It was a near-perfect weekend. The kids had a blast. We got to relax (I did anyway; I guess I can’t speak for DearDR). And it was wonderful to see everyone, and see how well everyone was doing.
I’m glad we decided to go after all. Now I have to get back to real life (and crappy weather — where did spring go? — and the Penguins’ playoff games). I’ll always have my memories, right? They’ll have to get me through for a while.
I am Going to Cook Forest
So, I had to take a sick day yesterday. The doctor says I probably don’t have anything serious, since I didn’t have a high fever. He advised rest and liquids, Tylenol for discomfort (I had a very sore throat), and said I could travel this weekend, “as long as you’re not flying to Italy.”
Sigh. Italy.
I’m back at work today. I feel pretty good — about 70 percent. I could use more sleep. Monkey was up at 4 a.m., stealing my covers and kicking me. She was whining, too, but it wasn’t until 6:30 a.m., when she started wailing that we really paid attention. She was crying about how her ear hurt.
DearDR and my father-in-law took her to the doctor at 8:45 a.m. She has a double ear infection. Meds are pending. My father-in-law has the prescription.
DearDR hasn’t packed anything yet. I have the girls’ clothes, shoes, and rain gear together. Plus the toys, books, and arts & crafts stuff we will be taking. Tonight is the big packing night.
I want to go. I need to go. I need to hang with my friends and drink some beer (not too much — I’ll be doped up on cold medicine as needed, too). I want to watch my kids run around in the mud.
My whole team at work has just been placed on mandatory overtime, starting yesterday. So is it understandable I need to blow off steam?
Am I being crazy or selfish, taking my just-recovered-from-coxsackie-virus kids (one with a cough, one with a double ear infection) and myself into the woods? And DearDR, too, let’s not forget. Who will sleep as much as he can. To see friends I haven’t seen in awhile? To drink beer?
We’re not contagious any longer (or, not much, I guess. Who knows what germs my darling little petrie dishes are crawling with?). What would you do?
Thank God for In-Laws and Beer
I set out this month with every intention of posting daily. Then, I dropped a day due to a day chock full of activity and accidents.
And then the girls came down with Coxsackie virus (this is the non-scary link; for the scary one, click here).
The Coxsackie virus, as some of you may be aware, is highly contagious and is the cause of foot-hand-and-mouth disease.
So far the foot/hand involvement has been minimal for my girls (knock wood). A few little pimples; Bun had a blister on her thumb. The mouth involvement, however, was brutal. Imagine how it would feel if your throat were lined with canker sores.
Now imagine being 15 months old.
On Wednesday, after I had been at the office for about 45 minutes, DearDR called.
“Bun is very clingy and whiny, and she’s still feverish,” he said.
“Do you want me to come home?” I asked.
“Yes.”
So I drove the half-hour home to hang with Bun. I just figured she as running a fever as a reaction to her MMR last week. (And if you want to read some really scary Internet stuff, just google “fever after MMR shot”, and read the non-official sites.) After she woke from a short, restless nap, I got a look down into Bun’s throat. She was screaming at the time, so it was real easy.
When the doctor saw it, he said, “Hmm. That doesn’t look like strep.”
They did a culture anyway. Negative for strep throat.
I have to admit here, that for the first time, my pediatrician’s office let me down. I don’t know if the doctor (one of our regulars) was booked or in a hurry to get out of there, but he gave no advice (except for the parting shot, “Tylenol” over his shoulder as he walked out the door) and answered no questions. A nurse answered some of my questions; my brother (a dermatologist) answered a couple more; and the Internet alternately scared me and soothed my fears (see links above).
And no one — not the doc, not the nurses, not even DCL — suggested I keep the girls at home. I mean, how dumb is that?
I think the reasoning was that they had a virus (well, to this point, Monkey didn’t have it, but she was raging with a juicy fever by the time I picked them up from daycare Thursday), and the other kids were already exposed anyway.
In short, I did end up staying home with them on Friday. And somehow or another, I actually got things done around the house over the weekend (this is where the in-laws were invaluable). I sorted through the girls’ clothes, swapping out fall/winter clothes for spring/summer, next sizes up. I got through a mountain of paperwork in the office (this due to a three-and-a-half hour nap on Bun’s part and DearDR’s occupying Monkey during that time).
Also, somehow or another, DearDR and I managed to spend some quality time as a couple. I think our mutual support and team-work fostered a sense of intimacy.
We weathered Bun clinging to me like a barnacle all day on Sunday, and the whining from both girls all weekend (this is where the beer proved invaluable). And now it’s Monday, the in-laws have the girls — we figured one more day at home would be in everyone’s best interest — and I am back at the office. I have my fingers crossed that everyone is on the mend.
Edited to add: Of course, I should have sucked it up and stayed home Thursday, too, but I felt… I don’t know, weird about it. Worried about my job and what my boss/employer would think. I was worried about the wrong, thing, I can safely admit now. I don’t know if I will lose vacation/personal time, or if it will count as sick time, and that doesn’t really matter, either. Everyone’s okay, and I’m certainly glad I stayed home on Friday, and that we’ve made it through the weekend.
My Busy Weekend
I dropped the daily blogging ball on Sunday. I hadn’t made Sunday’s post a priority, so it’s not surprising to me that it didn’t happen. We stayed over at Bella and Tadone’s house Saturday night on Nanny duty (my in-laws are out of town, and we’re all taking turns hanging out with Nanny). Earthmother and her husband and their two children were there too. It was a good time, in general, although I was severely disappointed in Spider-Man 3. Whew, yawn, what a slow movie. The “blooper reel” is very funny though.
Then Sunday I was supposed to get up and go to 8 a.m. mass. Instead of hitting snooze, I must have turned my alarm off, and didn’t get up until 7:30, with the kids. The rest of the day was a whirlwind of activity: shopping, making brunch and visiting with friends (at our place), and three near-emergency room visits. Then DearDR and I sniped at each other, and our friend and stylist came over to cut our hair.
I have to admit, I didn’t even think to myself, “I should try to get a post up today.” All the stuff that was happening required full attention.
Our three almost-visits to the emergency room:
Number One: Bun, trying to climb onto the table at Costco, slipped and fell on her head. It scared the crap out of Dan and me, but as she didn’t lose consciousness and I managed to get ice on the bump right away, we decided against going to the hospital. After she calmed down, she was fine: no seizures or twitching; she smiled and was cheerful, and helped me eat a vanilla frozen yogurt berry sundae. More than anything, it was embarrassing — drawing mostly sympathetic glances and a couple well-meaning inquiries.
Interestingly enough, I then came across this post over at Mary P’s. I didn’t feel guilty about Bun’s fall — kids tumble from time to time, and you just hope they don’t hurt themselves too badly. DearDR blamed me for Bun falling (I was getting the high chair ready for her to sit in, and was not right by her side). I think we were equally culpable because he was sitting next to her, eating pizza and feeding pizza to Monkey. Neither one of us were in position to catch her, and neither one of us stopped her from climbing. That was probably the seed of the spat we had later that day (that and some sexual frustration).
Near-visit two was much less dramatic: DearDR was wiping the stove off, and almost burned the palm of his hand when the wet cloth he was using stopped moving over a hot (very hot) burner.
Then at dinner, I sliced my finger with a very sharp knife while cutting up Bun’s pizza (yes, DearDR and Monkey had pizza twice in one day). It wasn’t a big cut, but in the first five minutes or so afterwards, I thought it was deep enough that it was going to require a stitch or two. Actually, I probably could have gone and gotten those stitches, but I didn’t want to. With enough pressure, it stopped bleeding enough to get two bandages on it, and we went from there. (To literally add insult to injury — or injury to injury, really — I slammed the same finger in the door of Bun’s room last night.)
It wasn’t until yesterday that I thought, “Ooops. Forgot my ABC post. Oh well.” I’m not that upset about it (the way I would have been upset back in November if I hadn’t “succeeded” at the original NaBloPoMo). I let myself off the hook.
I seem to be able to do that more easily more often these days. Hmm. I’ll have to think about that.
And thanks to my (2) commenters from yesterday. I was looking at my stats, and my traffic is pretty good. Just no one says anything often, so I wondered. I’m not the best a posting comments elsewhere, so I have nothing to complain about.
A Few Short Letters
a c v o w m r
Get it? (It’s not any kind of acronym.)
(Sorry.)
The Last of the Letters (for a while):
Dear April NaBloPoMo:
I blew it! Oh, well. I haven’t had comments lately, so it’s not as if anyone’s missing out. The weekend was too busy to put posting at the top of my list. Even for 15 minutes. Maybe I’ll try again in May.
Sincerely,
RPM
Dear I-79 Drivers:
Pass on the left; drive on the right. It is so easy. Please comply with this basic, simple guideline. I don’t even care if you don’t use your turn signals or if you want to slow down before you enter a tunnel. Right for driving; left for passing. Thank you.
And if you are a big truck, DO NOT pull into the passing lane ahead of me. Just don’t. Stay put until I pass you. My husband and children thank you. Because, I swear, my head is going to just explode one of these days.
Sincerely,
RPM
Dear DearDR:
Want to go to lunch this week? Thursday or Friday are best for me. I hope so. It seems the only way we can get a whole hour to ourselves.
Yer ever lovin’ wife,
rpm
Dear Reader(s):
If you stumble onto this site today, please leave a comment. I’m only asking out of a sense of masochistic curiosity. Thanks.
Sincerely,
rpm
And now, back to our regularly scheduled (if sporadically posted) programming.
Dear Olive Garden:
I truly do appreciate your restaurant. You are clearly welcoming to children, without completely catering to them; you offer good service and good food. Your wait staff is very efficient without seeming hurried.
We arrived before the crowd — a mother with very young children always plans to arrive well before the crowd. Nanny was with us, too, for which I was grateful. I had two children, a 3-year-old and a 15-month-old; a diaper bag; a Dora Backpack full of crayons, toys, and stickers; my purse; Nanny’s purse; a Toys R Us coupon book; and a bright green Backyardigans bucket with a few odds and ends that my 3-year-old decided were vital to her dining enjoyment.
Some odds and ends to which she was very attached. A plastic dinosaur, some toy binoculars, a couple of crayons, and, most importantly, the “music box” from this skirt, on the far left:
As I’ve mentioned, most of your staff are just great. I have never complained about the servers or the service when I’ve eaten at your restaurant.
Your bus boys, on the other hand… Well, let’s just hope that the one I met today was not representative of your table-clearing crew.
You see, when children are done, they are done. You’ve probably seen it countless times. So when children are done, it’s a scramble. Get the bill, pay the bill, get the kids in coats, leave a tip, remember the take-home, and so on. Most importantly, don’t forget the stuff you brought with you.
Today, we briefly forgot the bucket. We didn’t even get out the door before I realized — er, well, Nanny realized — we didn’t have it.
I popped back to the table, but it had already been cleared, cleaned and reset. So I sent one of the (slightly vapid, but still nice) teenage girls at the front counter to ask the bus boy for it.
After a few minutes, the bus boy came out with the bucket. Whew, I thought.
I peeked in it. No toys. Uh, oh.
“I rinsed it out real well,” the boy was telling me. Excuse me?
“There was a crumbled up children’s menu in it,” he explained. “So I just threw it out. But I rinsed it out with hot water real well.”
“Where are the toys that were in here?” I asked. I have to admit to being a little bewildered. He threw out the entire bucket?
“Oh.” Pause. “Well… I just saw the children’s menu. So I threw it out.”
In the meantime, Monkey was waiting patiently (read: jumping up and down, yelling “my bucket! my bucket!”) for her bucket. I handed it to her.
She eagerly looked inside.
And then looked at me, clearly as bewildered as I felt.
“Where are my toys?”
Now, Olive Garden, I don’t know if you have children of your own. You certainly are family-friendly, and you treat children very well. You seem to encourage your staff to be very child friendly. Lord knows, they have to be. In the room I was in today, there were seven children under 4 years old alone (including mine). Their tips are probably dependent on treating kids well.
How was I supposed to answer that question, asked by my child, her blue eyes clearly pleading with me not to tell her the truth.
It’s true, we did leave the bucket behind while we went potty, changed diapers, and generally got ready to get back in the car and head home. We were probably away from the table for five minutes.
It’s true, the lunch rush was well under way, and I know a quick turn-over is vital to your business.
It’s true, my 3-year-old undoubtedly threw her menu in there on top of her toys when her food came.
But, how much time (and, I’m sorry, intelligence) does it take to throw out a menu, and give the bucket, with toys, to the front of the house in case a distraught parent came back looking for it? Thirty seconds? Fifteen? Or just put the whole thing aside until the rush was over or a parent came asking for it?
I wanted to say to my very sad child, “Honey, I’m sorry. This boy was so very busy he didn’t take the time to check the bucket for toys. Actually, he probably didn’t think once before just tossing the whole thing in the trash. I’m not really sure where his mind was. But it certainly wasn’t on anything as trivial as a child’s bucket and whether or not it contained some well-loved — and soon to be sadly missed — toys.”
I had to apologize to Monkey. Your staff had already returned to work. I promised to replace the toys — we are going to the toy store tomorrow, on, until that moment, an unrelated reward errand. And it’s not as if anything was too expensive.
I think I can afford this whole set of dinosaurs:
I am sad about the hokey-pokey music, however. The skirt was a gift from her godparents. I will have to buy another skirt, and that’s okay. But now I will have two skirts and only one music box.
But that’s not really the point. The point is: I don’t think they should have been thrown out in the first place. A little extra time, a little extra effort — admittedly, on my part, too — could have prevented this whole tragedy.
Oh, well. Done is done. I certainly won’t be leaving anything behind — at any restaurant — next time. But please keep this in mind, and maybe have a little chat with your bus boys.
One person’s trash, after all, may be a child’s treasure.
Sincerely,
Red Pen Mama
Dear Mom & Dad:
Happy 38th Anniversary.
I haven’t managed to get a card in the mail, so I’m afraid this is it.
DearDR, Monkey and Bun send their warm regards, too.
We all thank you for getting married, staying married, and having (and keeping) your children. Without you two, no me; without me, no DearDR (still leading as the favorite son-in-law); without us, no Monkey and Bun. The rewards of having children is really grandchildren; I can see it in your eyes.
Thank you for the home you provided; thank you for the example of love, faith, and fidelity you still provide. Thank you for launching me into my own marriage with a clear picture of what I want it to be. This feeling was affirmed when Dad and I danced at my wedding, and he said, “I think you found someone who will love you as much as I do.” Yes, Dad, I certainly did.
Anyway, this isn’t about me, it’s about you two. I hope you have a loverly day, and continue to choose each other daily.
Happy Anniversary. Many, many, many more.
Love, your older daughter, your first-born,
rpm
Dear DearDR (#2):
Thank you for being brave yesterday.
Thank you for taking Bun to her 15-month check up. I know, logistically speaking, it wasn’t the easiest thing for you to do.
But more importantly, I know emotionally it wasn’t easy for you, either. I know that you feel that you don’t know enough about our children to answer some of the questions the pediatrician asks. But you only called once, to ask about Bun’s calcium and protein intake, so I think you must have done all right.
The biggest surprise for me was that you had Bun get the MMR vaccination.
I could not have been more surprised to see a Band-aid on Bun’s arm when I picked her up from daycare yesterday.
“What this?” I asked.
Day Care Lady said, “She had a shot.”
“Oh,” I replied. “Do you know which one?”
“The MMR.”
I thought for sure she was mistaken. “No,” I said, “it must have been another.”
“Oh, no,” DCL insisted. “I remember because my son had a bad reaction to that one, and I was watching her very closely. I was supposed to call you if she had any side effects.”
In the meantime, Bun was laughing in my arms, pointing at the dogs in the neighbors’ yards, saying, “Hi-ya” and “Da!” — her current word for “dog”. She was smiling and waving “bye-bye” to DCL. When I “woofed” into her cheek to tell her that’s what doggies said, she belly laughed. Actually, she was more pleasant yesterday than she has been for quite awhile.
I still couldn’t believe she had gotten the MMR. Vaccinations, in general, have been a bone of contention for us since Monkey was born. At first, you were 100 percent set against them. You finally agreed to have our children vaccinated after we both did some research, talked with our pediatricians, and I agreed that Monkey (and future children) would get one shot at a time. I did agree that the vaccination schedule was too aggressive, so while the “one-shot” rule meant more visits for me, I (pretty much) held to that schedule, with both our daughters.
I know that the MMR scared you. You work with a challenged population of children, and vaccinations are highly suspect among the parents of those children. Monkey still has not had her MMR. (We have to get on that if we’re starting her in school this fall.) I had agreed to wait for Bun, too.
But you decided to go ahead. You said you and the doctor had a long talk about it, and about Bun’s language development (you feel it’s not coming along well enough). You wouldn’t go into details (which makes me incredibly curious, by the way). You asked me to do some things to help Bun learn to verbally communicate, and I am more than willing.
You said, “I was making a decision based on my fear, and I can’t do that.”
Thank you, for not doing that. I know that living without fear has been a goal of yours for years now. Living without your fear has gotten you your Ph.D., your psychology license — and, probably, is a factor in our getting married. It certainly is a major factor in us being able to go forward after our loss of Gabriel, to have two bright, beautiful girls.
I’m glad you could put aside your fear in the doctor’s office yesterday. I think vaccinations are the right thing to do. I’m glad Bun got her MMR. And I will work with her to help her to speak more. I definitely need her to start communicating better!
Anyway, DearDR, it means a lot to me that Bun received her MMR. I know this subject is not laid to rest between us. The conversation will continue, and that means a lot to me, too.
Love, your wife,
rpm
Dear Monkey and Bun:
I don’t know what has gotten into you two lately. It seemed we were getting into a good groove. But suddenly our evenings together during the week have become a lot more difficult. I’m not sure why, and I’m not sure what to do.
Monkey, when I pick you up from daycare, please don’t ask me, “Where are we going to now?” or “What are we going to do now?” I would like to go home, eat some dinner with you two, and maybe — if the weather is pleasant enough — go outside to blow bubbles or draw with sidewalk chalk. Or just run around the yard for awhile, picking up sticks, grass, mud, and/or dead leaves (all of which your sister is fascinated with — just like you were at her age). Then it’s the whole bath, pajamas, books and bed routine. That’s what we’re going to do.
Well, that’s what we’ll do unless I have to run to the store (in which case, we go to a restaurant), or it’s pizza night at Bella’s. Most evenings, we are going home.
And, Monkey, please stop getting out of the car and running to Bella’s house. First of all, Bella and Tadone are in Florida for another week. Secondly, all you do at Bella’s is watch TV, and frankly, I need to go outside for awhile after spending the day sitting in front of a computer. I know you get outside time at daycare, but Mommy needs some too.
Oh, and Monkey, I know this is a phase, but could you just listen to me occasionally? So I don’t have to repeat everything I say to you (and I mean everything) three or four times? Could you, just once out of every eight times, maybe, listen to me the first time I say something? That would lighten my load considerably. And you’ll get better, eventually, maybe listen one time out of every three. Until you’re a teenager, I suppose.
Bun, I thought you had made the adjustment to daycare. But something has switched over or switched back in you. You cling to Day Care Lady (DCL) when I come to get you. You start to cry, and you won’t come to me. This hurts me more than you can ever know. Are you mad at me suddenly? And then when we get home, you cry and cry unless handed food and/or drink immediately. After you eat and seem to be sated, you are clingy and whiny. Last night, you were so miserable, I put you to bed. You fell asleep before 7 p.m., which means you were very tired. Are you that tired every night? Should I ask DCL to let you sleep an extra half-hour?
I miss you guys — girls, sorry — all day long at work. I look forward to seeing you, holding you in my arms, playing with you, bathing you. Yes, there are aspects of my evenings that are very chore-like, and I am constantly thinking in the back of my mind about getting the dishes cleaned up and laundry in the washer. But you are my treasures, the center of my universe.
Bun, when I take you up to bed, and we have finished our book, and I turn out the light, and you put your little strong arms around me as I sing your lullaby — that is my favorite moment of every day. Your head resting on my shoulder, your entire body against mine — it reminds me of when you were actually small, not the hefty toddler you are now. Monkey, when you shower me with kisses at bedtime and give me a big hug, that makes me forget the mess in the kitchen.
Let’s try to take it easy on each other, okay? Get back in our groove.
“For you are my little bunn(ies).”
Love,
Mama
Dear Muse of Blogging:
I haven’t an idea for a letter today. And I don’t have an idea for an alternative letter theme.
I could write to my other Best Friend, M. We hadn’t spoken since we saw each other in December; we managed to touch base briefly over the weekend (over the phone). She even missed my birthday! (She is not alone.) In a recent email, she said she was a horrible friend, but I don’t think so, and I told her that. She’s just busy. We all get busy, and sometimes it’s harder than others to keep in touch.
I could write to either or both of my sisters-in-law, both of whom I would like to see soon! And I would especially like our children to get together, and play, and possibly have sleep overs. I missed Earthmother and her children this past weekend due to our “spontaneous” trip to Erie. I have been trying to make plans with my other sister-in-law since my youngest nephew’s birthday in March, but it looks as if we won’t get to see each other until next month. Probably for another nephew’s birthday! See? Busy.
I could write to DearDR again. Frankly, though, I would rather see him face-to-face. Have a conversation, some wine, some kisses. That would be better than either writing a letter to him (although that might cheer him up — he’s feeling blue) or our current and literal passing-in-the-night-phase we’re going through. Doesn’t help when your 3-year-old insists on sharing your bed.
I could write to the 3-year-old. Dear Monkey: Sleep in your own bed. Please. Thank you, Mommy.
I could write to pharmaceutical companies on behalf on my 8 and 1/2 months pregnant friend whose mother is going through treatment for lung cancer. Dear Pharmaceutical Companies: Why put anti-nausea medicine in a pill? Think about it. Sincerely, Red Pen Mama
But all of these seem short, not altogether worthy of an entire post in themselves.
Hope I come up with something better tomorrow. Sigh.
Looking for inspiration,
rpm
