Red Pen Mama

I could not be happier that the weekend is over and that I can spend most of the week sitting at my desk. I seriously overdid it this weekend, especially at a Burgh Mom’s get together at the zoo, and a long day of sitting is in order.

The Pittsburgh Zoo was awesome, however. I just need to get something to attach to my stroller so it can carry two toddlers, because Monkey was seriously flagging by the time we were heading back to the car. I decided that giving her a piggy-back ride (why is it called a piggy-back ride?) part of the way would be a good plan. Not so much. The small of my back was very bad on Sunday.

Much thanks to my fellow Burgh Mom attendees who were kind enough not to lose us in the crowd out of sheer embarrassment of being seen with me and my children. You see, by the time we all met up, my children — at a perfectly dry day at the zoo — were covered in mud. I proceeded to get quite filthy myself, and I can’t remember the last time I was so happy to take a shower at 3 p.m.

How did such a thing happen?

I managed to park myself in the concession area next to the only mud puddle in the whole zoo. It wasn’t too bad when Monkey decided to step in it; true to form, Monkey was wearing her rain boots. Not because it looked rainy, of course; Saturday was a gorgeous, if hot, day to stroll the zoo. The problem was when Bun, also true to form, decided she was going to do exactly what her big sister was doing. Unfortunately, Bun was not wearing her rain boots. I thought sneakers were a much more reasonable choice.

Silly me.

I could have engaged in a public battle royale with my younger daughter regarding the puddle of mud and her desire to splash in it. Changing tables wasn’t much of an option as it was already close to noon and the place was crowded. I was already sharing my table with two other moms (not the people I was here to meet, but that was okay) and their two kids.

In the end, though, I just let Bun have her fun. First of all, the mud puddle pretty much guaranteed that my children were not going to wander off. Secondly, I was able to just sit for a period of time as I looked for the people I was meeting. Third, I figured “kids playing in mud puddle” was an easy landmark. And lastly: Dirt washes off.

So Bun and Monkey tromped and splashed in the puddle. I managed to keep them from splashing others, which was good. They got some laughs, and I got some glances of sympathy. (Monkey was already getting a lot of comments as her outfit consisted of a cute little orange, red, white and black skort with a white tank — and pink rain boots.)

After us Burgh Moms finished lunch and/or snacks, I got Bun stripped out of her wet and muddy shoes, socks and shorts. For some reason I had dry shoes and socks for Monkey but not for Bun — serious oversight there — so Bun spent the rest of the walk in her stroller, bare feet propped up on her tray. She was lounging. We saw the monkeys and gorillas; all the kids seemed to like each other and get along together, although Alexis was very shy for awhile.

We took off before this fun ensued, and it took us another hour to get to the car (the Pittsburgh Zoo is BIG). Monkey developed a little crush on Gina’s boy, who (and I’m seconding Burgh Baby’s Mom here) needs to be cloned, or at least loaned to mothers of little girls for days at the zoo or similar outings. He was very sweet, and I think Monkey would have followed him into the lion’s den if he was going, and it was quite a trick to separate her from him.

Boy, you’ve got a job if you ever want one.

At bedtime, along with all the animals that we recounted seeing at the zoo, Monkey added, “And I talked to The Boy. I was very shy at first, but then I talked to him!” She smiled to herself at the memory. Oh, dear, I’ve a 3-year-old going on teen. We are so doomed!

I left that zoo sweaty and filthy — those shorts may never be clean again — but it was totally worth it to spend that time with my girls, and meet other bloggin’ moms and their kids. What a good time. Next time I meet the Burgh Moms, though, I hope air conditioning and alcohol will be involved, the kids will be at home, and nary a mud puddle will be in sight. I think I will be able to make a little better of an impression that way.

What the girls are up to:

Bun says new words every day. Her first sentence? “I want that.” Rendered phonetically: “Eyeontdat.” Picture the little pudgy hand reaching out in a grasping motion as well.

Cute — adorable, actually — but probably spells trouble for the future.

DearDR asserts that she hasn’t actually said a sentence because she doesn’t yet understand conjugation: She wants that; you want that. I understand his point, but I’m still calling it her first sentence.

Monkey’s first sentence was a question: “What is that?” Phonetically: “Wot dat?”

Bun doesn’t seem to care, she just wants “dat”. Especially if her sister has it, of course.

Holy cow, I did not realize the “must do everything older sibling is doing” phase would start at 17 months.

And who knew girls wrestled?? I’ll try to post video. As long as I don’t have to intervene to keep someone from suffocating her sister. And that can go either way.

Monkey is dressing herself. She usually does a good job, although she occasionally puts things on backwards. She has not yet insisted on picking out her own clothing. Once in a while, she will insist on wearing her rain boots, but she seems content to leave sartorial decisions to me. For now.

We went to the pediatrician and he proclaimed all ears are clear of fluid and infection. This is a relief, but I wonder how long it will last.

We have an appointment with an ENT doctor at the end of the month.

The chiropractor suggested going dairy free. I am dubious, and my pediatrician was downright nonplussed. I give him credit for not blurting out, “What crazy person told you that??” Because I saw it flit across his face before he became composed and simply said, “I have never heard of dairy affecting ear infections.”

The chiropractic literature is full of the suggestion that dairy allergies lead to ear infections. I have doubts. The pediatric literature doesn’t mention it. So… yeah.

I would like to avoid tubes for the girls as I know they will outgrow this problem. (Thanks for the comments, everyone — online and off.) At the same time, I would like to stop treating them with antibiotics, because I think we may be creating a problem down the line. I have my doubts about going non-dairy because the girls don’t really seem to have a problem with dairy — no lactose intolerance, no runny noses, etc. Plus, they usually get organic dairy, and their exposure to cow’s milk (as a beverage) is minimal. They drink fortified soy or rice “milk”.

Also, quite frankly, going completely dairy-free is next to impossible. I am a label-reader because of the vegetarian thing anyway. I challenge you to find food without some kind of dairy (casein, whey, non-fat milk, you name it). Fresh fruits and veggies are about it. And very expensive organic cookies. But even “Veggie Slices” is loaded with dairy; it just doesn’t contain lactose, which is the most common culprit of gastric distress in those who can’t tolerate dairy.

In short: lots going on, as per usual. We probably will not go dairy-free — I just don’t think it’s a good idea. I feel pretty good that despite the ear infections Bun’s language development is moving right along. No doubt her next sentence will be, “I’m going to scream if I don’t get that.” Oh, wait. She doesn’t really need language per se for that, huh?

At least she is signing “please”.

I didn’t write a lot about what was going on with us last week for two reasons. One was I wanted to get that post about X and The Ex off my plate. It was something I really wanted to write about, and I knew if I got involved in “the daily” I wouldn’t get it done.

Two, I wasn’t having a lot of fun.

Since I have come back to work, the girls have suffered several infections and ailments (some mysterious). I don’t know that the two are connected, although it is hard to dismiss the coincidence. The most stressful part of it (aside from having sick children) is dealing with it long distance.

As a typical example, I will get a phone call from Day Care Lady:

DCL: Monkey/Bun is running a fever.
Me: How high is it?
DCL: Oh, about 100 degrees.
Me: How has she seemed?
DCL: She’s a little fussy. But she ate well. OR: She’s screaming her head off/Telling me her ear really, really hurts. She won’t play/eat/nap.
Me: Should I come get her?
DCL: It’s up to you.

So then I agonize about whether or not I should leave work, and phone the pediatrician’s office in the meantime. If I get an evening appointment, it goes: pick up kids, take Sick Kid and Well Child to doctor’s office where Sick Kid cries and cries while Well Child jumps around and is loud to get the attention that Sick Kid is getting from Mommy and The Doctor, hear Sick Kid has another ear infection (or two), get prescription for antibiotics, leave office, try to get dinner into kids, run to pharmacy to fill prescription, keep kids occupied while prescription is filled (this is why we go to the Target pharmacy), go home, wash/bathe children, get them in pajamas, get medicine into the sick one, get milk and/or cookies into children while they watch a video, read books, sing lullabies, collapse into exhausted heap on couch, drink a beer, go to bed my own self.

One or two days later: Repeat with formerly Well Child as Sick Kid.

My father-in-law has taken Sick Kid on one or two occasions; he was the one on hand the day DearDR had to get to work and we had the paperwork for the medical proxy. Then I am on the phone with him and the doctor, listening to Sick Kid crying in the background. This is stressful for all of its own reasons, including the fact that my FIL — as much as I do love the man — is kind of useless with the kids. He gets them to the pediatrician’s office, and gets them back to DCL, and that’s about it. He doesn’t ask the doctor anything — hence I am sitting at my desk 30 miles away talking on the phone; he doesn’t really listen to the doctor; he doesn’t drop off the prescription to be filled. (He thinks we should get our prescriptions filled at a different, closer, pharmacy. He is not all about the multitasking possibilities of Target.)

It would be much better if Bella were our medical proxy, but Bella has a lot on her plate already. Nanny is not doing very well. (Additionally, my grandmother, up in Erie, is not doing well either.) More details on this in another post.

The most frequent diagnosis has been ear infection. They have each had four in the past five months — on two occasions (if memory serves), both of Bun’s ear have been infected.

The upshot of all of this is that my girls have been referred to an ear-nose-throat (ENT) specialist. I have an appointment at the end of the month.

I am having a lot of regrets about my use of antibiotics. My thinking at the time was simply, “Oh, it’s just an infection. It’ll go away with this medicine.” And, true to form, the infection did go away. For awhile. But then the infection, or another infection, came back. Again, and again, and again. In Monkey’s case, she took a break from the ear infection to get a throat infection.

I wish I had taken the “wait-and-see” approach to the ear infections. As in “wait 48 hours to see if the infection clears up on its own, treating the pain and low-grade fever with ibuprophen and/or acetiminophen”. Many an ear infection will just clear up on its own, according to the literature.

There is a chance, of course, that I would be right back where I am, only having put my children through a couple more days of pain first. So there is no point in beating myself up about it.

But now I keep thinking about facing a man, an expert doctor-type man, who is going to tell me to put tubes in my children’s ears, and saying, “No thank you. They’ll outgrow it.”

I need some ammunition people. I will be doing my own research, of course.

Or, if you or someone you know thinks tubes are the way to go, some encouragement in that direction. DCL says tubes are awesome (her oldest son got them as an infant). My father advises passionately against them.

I should explain here that as an infant and a toddler I had ear infection after ear infection. The last course of treatment my pharmacist parents agreed to was one month of 1 teaspoon of amoxicillin daily. I recall having a couple ear infections as an older child, too, around 5 or 6 years old. But ultimately, I did not get tubes, and I’m fine (my ears are fine, in any case — I’m a bit of a loon, frankly).

Advice welcome; assvice will be submitted for ridicule. Thanks.

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.

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.

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

Because this is what she typed into Google tonight: b g d

And this is what came up.

Better make sure I stock up on pink, get rid of all blue and black, and hide the baseball caps.

As a condition of my new job (starting in one week!) I had to pass a drug test.

I know, I know. I laughed, too, when the interviewer told me. I haven’t done heroin in weeks, and I’ve cut out my morning beer since I re-discovered caffiene.

Because sickness is reigning supreme next door, I figured I would just take the girls with me. Besides, I figured it may help if they know the drill in case they ever have to pass a drug test. (And they better pass it, too. I’m not hanging around here being a good example for them to fail drug tests in the future.)

The girls were very good at the center for drug testing. They ate a bunch of graham crackers, “read” books and colored in other books. They charmed everyone there, of course. We also traversed the hallways a few times. There was no running and screaming (not by my children at any rate).

Considering how full my bladder was (”Just come prepared to give a urine sample,” the woman on the phone said blandly when I called to see about making an appointment. I was prepared to the eyeballs), the wait went well.

However, there were a couple notable moments.

The first was when one of the staff told me I would not be able to take my children in the room with me when I gave my urine sample. I guess they were afraid of me trying to squeeze the pee out of Bun’s diaper, or making Monkey pee in a cup.

I would have assured them on the latter point. I did just get her peeing in the potty. I wasn’t about to make her think the stakes were going up.

Another moment happened as we walking around the waiting room. The door from the outside was flanked by floor-to-ceiling windows — plain glass windows. Bun approached one of them, I thought, to put her hands and face against it and look out. No, Bun’s plan was to WALK outside.

She thunked her forehead right against that glass. Then took a sudden step backward. I rushed forward to rub her head and console her, if only I could stop laughing. Bun didn’t even cry, just got this, “What the hell?” expression on her sweet little face.

Nominate me for Mother of the Year.

Then, after the test, one of the people with whom I had been in the waiting room said, of Bun, “He’s a cute one, all right.”

This happens all the time. People almost always think Bun is a boy.

I do not dress her in blue. Her sneakers are pink and white. Her clothes, most of the time, clearly are girls’ clothes. We wear a lot of jeans, but that’s ’cause it’s cold.

Here are my theories:

1. Bun has short hair. Despite being 13-months old, she has yet to need a haircut. (She’s had hair cut, but not an official haircut.)
2. Additionally, Bun is a bruiser, not to put to fine a point on it. She is big for her age, in the upper percentiles in height and weight. She’s not HUGE or anything, but she ain’t a petite little chickie.
3. On top of her size, she is a mover. Bun does not sit still unless there is food involved.
4. (This is the weirdest one) Flora is clearly a girl — long hair, pretty face, girl clothes (not girlie; neither of my girls to this point are girlie girls). And given that, I think people just assume that Bun is a boy. Because that’s what people have, right? One boy, one girl. Then you call it quits.

That last one is a weird theory, to be sure. I know as many couples with one of each as with multiple children of one gender. Hell, my sister-in-law (bro’s wife) has three boys, God bless her. But I have heard many more people with one boy and one girl declare they are done having kids because “we have one of each”.

Maybe that’s the weird thing. The attitude seems to be, “Well, I’m just going to get another one of these two choices, so why try again?”

I don’t mean to hurt anyone’s feelings. I’m just making an observation here.

And trying to figure out how to keep Bun from being mistaken for a boy.

Yesterday’s schedule:

8:15 a.m.: Call from Bella, interrupting, um, special time with DearDR to inform me that green goo is coming out of Bun’s nose, and I need to call the doctor.

9:00 a.m.: Head next door to pick up the children and assess Bun for myself. Bun looks utterly exhausted, yet is in good spirits. Goo from nose is indeed a funny color, kind of yellowish. Bella informs me Bun has not slept for more than two hours at a stretch all weekend, which is weird because she sleeps through the night at home. Bun is not running a fever, but I call the doctor anyway. They have an opening at 12:45 p.m. I take it, thinking I can just cancel it later.

10:30 a.m.: Head across the yard with the kids. Bun is fussing a bit; Monkey seems fine, even happy, to be going home. We show Monkey her newly decorated room, and she oohs and aahs in appreciation.

11 a.m.: Try to put a very fussy and obviously tired Bun in for a bit of a nap.

11:05 a.m.: Try again.

11:15 a.m.: Give up on Bun, and make the girls some lunch instead. Neither one of them seems very interested in eating. In face of fussiness, Bun gets the binky. Goo from nose is now clear, and I think about canceling doctor’s appointment. When I tell this to Bella, she insists I take Bun.

12:30 p.m.: Head to doctor’s office. Bun, naturally, falls asleep on the ten-minute drive.

12:45 p.m.: Sign in at doctor’s office. Am informed that my insurance company is refusing to pay my bills because I have failed to fill out a questionnaire regarding other coverage. Get insurance company on phone, clear up misunderstanding about coverage; pay my copay. (I pay out the arse for COBRA benefits, which is the only reason I have decided to actually take Bun to the doctor. Can’t wait until I start my new job and new benefits kick in.)

1:05 p.m.: Doctor informs me that Bun does indeed have an ear infection. He seems just as surprised as I am; Bun has been smiling at him since he came in (hell, if I were younger and single, I’d be smiling at him too!), and playing peek-a-boo from between my legs.

1:13 p.m.: Get back in car to take Bun home for nap. Bella will come sit with her while Monkey and I run to the store to fill prescription.

1:44 p.m.: Get in car to go fill prescription.

3:15 p.m.: Finally get home with prescription. Bun has been up for 20 minutes. Give Bun medication.

4:15 p.m.: Monkey starts fussing at left ear. Informs me, “My ear hurts.” I wonder if this is a plea for attention and/or medicine (you know, medicine should taste like crap, the way it did when I was a kid; my children think medicine is a treat).

4:20 p.m.: Monkey covers her whole ear with her hand, and cries out, “Mommy, my ear really really hurts.” Starts wailing.

4:21 p.m.: I get doctor’s office on phone. I give Monkey some ibuprophen. Doctor’s office sez, “Come on down.” Monkey falls asleep on the ten-minute drive, thereby confirming that she does indeed feel like crap.

4:55 p.m.: Monkey informs everyone in waiting room that her ear hurts. From the looks of the waiting room, it seems she is not the only one.

5:05 p.m.: Doctor (different one from earlier) informs me that Monkey, too, has an ear infection.

5:30 p.m.: Get kids home and eating some dinner. They don’t have much of an appetite. Shocking.

6:30 p.m.: Get kids upstairs for baths. They haven’t had one since Friday. The in-laws can entertain and feed my children, but due to very bad backs, they are unable to bathe them.

7:06 p.m.: Everyone is bathed and dressed in jammies. We do clean up of front room and I vacuum.

7:30 p.m.: Bella comes over bearing Ratatouille, a kissy-lip cookie, and wine (for herself, I assume).

7:35 p.m.: Tuck very unconscious Bun into bed.

7:45 p.m.: Head to store to fill Monkey’s prescription.

8:30 p.m.: Head home with prescription.

8:40 p.m.: Give Monkey medicine. Say goodnight to Bella, and promise not to bother her for two days (at least). Read Monkey one book, help her brush her teeth, and sing to lullabies to her.

9 p.m.: Clean kitchen. I am not feeling so hot myself.

9:30 p.m.: Make myself hot toddy, hoping that will soothe my throat. Wonder if I need antibiotics, where I am going to go to get prescription. I don’t really have a doctor in the area.

10:30 p.m.: Call DearDR to inform him I am going to bed. He tells me his throat hurts, too. I briefly consider never leaving girls next door for two days again, then I get a grip. If it’s offered, I know I will take it. Thank God that I haven’t yet started new job, and can stay home with sick children the next day. Probably being sick myself, too.

10:31 p.m.: Pass out.

Today, we are all sick, with varying degrees of pain, achiness and energy. But seeing as we all slept until 9 a.m., I think with plenty of rest, fluids, and antibiotics for the girls, we will all recover. DearDR did go to work. Thank goodness, because I can’t see taking care of him today, too.

Ciao.

Because what one finds relaxing these days is different.

For example, only having one child as one runs errands. And I had the quiet one, at that. The Bun one, who is content with her binky and her new Uniqua doll from Barnes & Noble. The one who will walk in circles around me as I exchange clothes at Old Navy. The one who will share my spinach and feta pretzel, and talk to me. I’m not sure I understood, but I think she was saying, “Hey, mommy! It is nice to have you all to myself for a change. That other one is noisy! Always chatting, or screaming in the car when the sun gets in her eyes, or yelling, ‘Look at that!’ while you’re driving.”

It’s nice to only have one child to follow or feed or buy a treat for (thank goodness for gift cards). And also have the one child who will smile at everyone and hug legs of people who don’t belong to her. “Hey,” I know she explained at some point during that lunch, “everybody looks the same from the knees down.”

What makes us relax, what vacation days are like, they are different now.

I think I am also holding onto these things because things may be changing. Some job interviews have gone well. And these contented hours I spend now, will be hours I seek, hours we need to get, hours that will have to be scheduled. And while that kind of change makes me apprehensive, I know that it is a change we need.

(Oh, sorry about the lack o’ recipe this Monday. I haven’t tried anything new in a while, so I wanted to wait until I had a couple stored up to share.)