I was gently reminded that it's been a week since I sat down to blog. I can't believe the time has passed so quickly. Over the holidays I had all these things I wanted to share, but no time to visit my computer. My e-mail sat neglected for days at a time, something almost unheard of for me. And since I can't remember all the funny things that happened over Christmas and New Year's, I'm just gonna post what comes to mind. In other words, random.
* I unwrapped a present to find my ticket to Paradise. A cappuccino/espresso maker. And I also got a Bodum, which makes French Press coffee. Now, I have one whole length of my countertop filled with coffee paraphernalia. And those people who love me lots and know me well, also gave me books and pajamas! This is my kind of heaven!
* Our household seems to have an ongoing battle with an army of little viral invaders. We've been battling the flu off and on for about three weeks. I felt we had paid our dues and could remove the quarantine flag from our front yard when my oldest son crawled into bed with us at 4:15 a.m. I had climbed in around 2:30 and was just getting into a good REM cycle when his hot little feet scorched the hair off my legs. Yowsah, I thought, he must have been buried under mountains of blankets. He's a regular furnace most of the time, but a touch of my lips to his forehead confirmed that he was burning with fever.
I felt alarm course through me and I sat up to check him over. Hot face, hot head, hot arms and hands, hot tummy, and burning little feet. I don't worry much when he gets a fever because he's always been prone to them. In fact - and I do not lie or exaggerate - he has run fevers as high as 106.3 without convulsions. He does, however, sometimes hallucinate. This was not the case last night but I figured he was ranging around 103 - 104. I got up to give him some Tylenol and ushered him back to bed with strict instructions to come get me if he thought he was going to be sick.
Two minutes later he's in our room complaining of a stomach ache and feeling like he's gonna puke. I sat him by the toilet while I made up a bed on the floor. I got him nicely settled and spent the next hour tense and on edge, listening for that tell-tale gagging, whimpery sound that precedes the vomiting.
And I prayed. Well, 'prayed' sounds a little mild. I ranted and argued and pleaded with God to heal my son. I wasn't very eloquent. It went something like this:
"God, heal my son. This is so not fair! He's already had the flu. He shouldn't have to get sick again! Take all those yucky germs and blast them out of his body and out of this house! Heal him. Don't let him puke. I really, really don't want to have to do a mountain of laundry. And he's hurting. And it's not fair. So, please heal him....of course, Your will and all that. *sigh* Amen."
I managed to nod off sometime after 5:00.
I was ripped from my blissful slumber by an earth shattering scream. My heart jumped and I managed to pry open my eyes. There was a little body standing beside my bed.
"Mom, Connor's hurt. Can I have cereal?"
Well, duh, I thought, of course someone's hurt. At least that's what I had assumed the screaming was all about. The pounding of little feet rushing up the stairs and down the hall pulled me into a half sitting position. Connor ran into my room with tears coursing down his cheeks and muffled screams coming from behind his hands.
"What happened?"
"mshlybymyounne," he sobbed.
Huh. "What?"
"My young."
Okay. "Move your hands and let me see." I gently pulled his hands from his face. That's when I realized blood was running down his chin, hands and arms and was dripping off his elbows.
I flew out of bed, rushed him to the bathroom and made him rinse, swish, spit, rinse, swish, spit until most of the bleeding stopped. I am thankful I'm not a breakfast eater. Those Wheaties - oh who am I kidding? - that chocolate cake would have made a swift reappearance. As it was, my stomach twisted, turned and flopped, but I managed to soothe and clean him.
He had bitten right through his tongue in the same place he had bitten through it last week. He slipped while running up the stairs and hit his chin on the way down. Only now, both sides of his tongue have teeth marks.
Sidenote: All through high school I wanted to be a nurse. I had planned on going to university and becoming an RN. Then, I job shadowed for a day and learned I don't have the stomach for it. I can't handle the blood, spit, sweat, smells, sights and 'other' that go with the profession. So instead I became a mother. HA! Now I get all that and more...without the paycheck.
* Things that have made me smile:
Benen during supper - "Mom, this is deeeee-licious. Much better than yesterday."
Connor - "Mom, you're a princess."
* Yesterday I watched Bridget Jones: Edge of Reason. I LOVE the Bridget Jones movies. They're great. A little raunchy in some places, but still so hilarious. How can you not love the part where Mark Darcy (played by the incredible Colin Firth) says, "I like you, just the way you are." *sigh* Or the part in Edge of Reason where Bridget is getting dressed and she has the sheet draped over her for modesty.
Mark Darcy: What on Earth are you doing?
Bridget Jones: Getting dressed.
Mark Darcy: Why're you dancing around in that tent business?
Bridget Jones: Because I don't want you to see any of my wobbly bits.
Mark Darcy: Well now that's a bit pointless isn't it. As I happen to have a very high regard for your wobbly bits. In all circumstances.
I love that part. Makes me laugh every time. So. Funny!
* I unwrapped a present to find my ticket to Paradise. A cappuccino/espresso maker. And I also got a Bodum, which makes French Press coffee. Now, I have one whole length of my countertop filled with coffee paraphernalia. And those people who love me lots and know me well, also gave me books and pajamas! This is my kind of heaven!
* Our household seems to have an ongoing battle with an army of little viral invaders. We've been battling the flu off and on for about three weeks. I felt we had paid our dues and could remove the quarantine flag from our front yard when my oldest son crawled into bed with us at 4:15 a.m. I had climbed in around 2:30 and was just getting into a good REM cycle when his hot little feet scorched the hair off my legs. Yowsah, I thought, he must have been buried under mountains of blankets. He's a regular furnace most of the time, but a touch of my lips to his forehead confirmed that he was burning with fever.
I felt alarm course through me and I sat up to check him over. Hot face, hot head, hot arms and hands, hot tummy, and burning little feet. I don't worry much when he gets a fever because he's always been prone to them. In fact - and I do not lie or exaggerate - he has run fevers as high as 106.3 without convulsions. He does, however, sometimes hallucinate. This was not the case last night but I figured he was ranging around 103 - 104. I got up to give him some Tylenol and ushered him back to bed with strict instructions to come get me if he thought he was going to be sick.
Two minutes later he's in our room complaining of a stomach ache and feeling like he's gonna puke. I sat him by the toilet while I made up a bed on the floor. I got him nicely settled and spent the next hour tense and on edge, listening for that tell-tale gagging, whimpery sound that precedes the vomiting.
And I prayed. Well, 'prayed' sounds a little mild. I ranted and argued and pleaded with God to heal my son. I wasn't very eloquent. It went something like this:
"God, heal my son. This is so not fair! He's already had the flu. He shouldn't have to get sick again! Take all those yucky germs and blast them out of his body and out of this house! Heal him. Don't let him puke. I really, really don't want to have to do a mountain of laundry. And he's hurting. And it's not fair. So, please heal him....of course, Your will and all that. *sigh* Amen."
I managed to nod off sometime after 5:00.
I was ripped from my blissful slumber by an earth shattering scream. My heart jumped and I managed to pry open my eyes. There was a little body standing beside my bed.
"Mom, Connor's hurt. Can I have cereal?"
Well, duh, I thought, of course someone's hurt. At least that's what I had assumed the screaming was all about. The pounding of little feet rushing up the stairs and down the hall pulled me into a half sitting position. Connor ran into my room with tears coursing down his cheeks and muffled screams coming from behind his hands.
"What happened?"
"mshlybymyounne," he sobbed.
Huh. "What?"
"My young."
Okay. "Move your hands and let me see." I gently pulled his hands from his face. That's when I realized blood was running down his chin, hands and arms and was dripping off his elbows.
I flew out of bed, rushed him to the bathroom and made him rinse, swish, spit, rinse, swish, spit until most of the bleeding stopped. I am thankful I'm not a breakfast eater. Those Wheaties - oh who am I kidding? - that chocolate cake would have made a swift reappearance. As it was, my stomach twisted, turned and flopped, but I managed to soothe and clean him.
He had bitten right through his tongue in the same place he had bitten through it last week. He slipped while running up the stairs and hit his chin on the way down. Only now, both sides of his tongue have teeth marks.
Sidenote: All through high school I wanted to be a nurse. I had planned on going to university and becoming an RN. Then, I job shadowed for a day and learned I don't have the stomach for it. I can't handle the blood, spit, sweat, smells, sights and 'other' that go with the profession. So instead I became a mother. HA! Now I get all that and more...without the paycheck.
* Things that have made me smile:
Benen during supper - "Mom, this is deeeee-licious. Much better than yesterday."
Connor - "Mom, you're a princess."
* Yesterday I watched Bridget Jones: Edge of Reason. I LOVE the Bridget Jones movies. They're great. A little raunchy in some places, but still so hilarious. How can you not love the part where Mark Darcy (played by the incredible Colin Firth) says, "I like you, just the way you are." *sigh* Or the part in Edge of Reason where Bridget is getting dressed and she has the sheet draped over her for modesty.
Mark Darcy: What on Earth are you doing?
Bridget Jones: Getting dressed.
Mark Darcy: Why're you dancing around in that tent business?
Bridget Jones: Because I don't want you to see any of my wobbly bits.
Mark Darcy: Well now that's a bit pointless isn't it. As I happen to have a very high regard for your wobbly bits. In all circumstances.
I love that part. Makes me laugh every time. So. Funny!
