It Sounds A Lot Worse Than It Is

Miss A is just getting over Fifths Disease. Which is a ridiculous name because it sounds so terrible. It's other name, "Slap(ped) Cheek" sounds silly and less serious somehow.

I was somewhat familiar with it because my niece had it a couple of years ago. When A started getting it I was pretty sure what it was. At first it looked kind of like a bruise or bump but then the full on rash broke out. Other than that her symptoms were quite minor. Mostly just a slight fever and itch but WOOOOO Boy the crankiness. I have to keep taking deep breaths and reminding myself that she is unwell. Otherwise I'd be giving her away.

Her behavior has not been unlike when she was having a terrible reaction to cold medication. I'm not sure what that means exactly since I was only giving her regular Tylenol. I guess being sick just makes her crazy. It's awful for all of us.

We are finding ourselves being a little lenient in the discipline department because otherwise she'd be in time out ALL DAY. And that's not fair. Especially since it's not her fault she's sick. We make sure she realizes that her behavior is not cool but she promptly apologizes and we move on. Also, her behavior is SO uncharacteristic (she threw a fork at lunch today) that it's obvious to us it's due to illness. It puts us in a awkward position because it feels like she is 'getting away with' all kinds of crap but we are hoping things get back to normal soon. It had better. My patience is wearing very thin. Sick or not, I've had enough.

You can see the rash on her cheeks here but the picture doesn't do it justice.

Gratuitous Twilight Post

I had to do this. I had to. I've been so good. Not writing about Twilight related things on my blog that is supposed to be about my adventures as a mother and not my obsessions. But then I saw this. And more specifically, THIS. And well. I'm sure most of you understand. I mean. COME ON!!

Hormones aside though, I have to say how relieved I am! I mean, I was tremendously disappointed when his shirt was open a crack in Twilight as he was showing her how his skin looked in the sunlight and then in the meadow his shirt was buttoned up to his chin. And I was disappointed, not because I'm a perv, but because it's such a pivotal part in the book and changing it annoyed me to no end. I discovered this was because even though he worked really hard at getting into "Edward shape" it just didn't work out. He joked about it a lot during interviews and also while doing the commentary for Twilight.

I was wondering what they were going to do in the upcoming films when it would be inevitable that he be shirtless at times. I mean, if it was genetically impossible for him to attain a six pack then they'd just have to bite the bullet and not worry so much about his body. And really, who cares? Sure he'd look different than how he's described in the book but how bad could it be? Now it's clear that he just had a crap personal trainer for the first movie. Or perhaps, the powers that be just knew that they could whip one up by the second film but not the first so they just hid him. It would be pretty strange if his body changed dramatically from one film to the next, given that he's a vampire and all.

Whatever. I'm just glad. I'm glad for him actually. He's hardly in 'New Moon' and Taylor's rockin' these. Although I don't buy all the tabloid garbage that there's FEUDING! and JEALOUSY! I still think it's gotta be intimidating when your seventeen year old costar looks like this and you are just a scrawny British dude who's shirtless scenes were deleted from Twilight. I'm pretty glad for me too.

Bedtime Shinanigans

I really can't complain too much regarding Miss A's bedtime routine. I mean, she's not one of those kids who goes to bed at 7 or anything but still, she's pretty good about it. I guess I'm comparing her to my nieces and nephews who I remember used to get out of bed repeatedly asking for snacks, water, band aids, etc... Miss A rarely does that sort of thing. If she ever comes out of her room after we've said goodnight it's with the most sheepish look on her face because she knows she'll be in a lot of trouble and still isn't sure if getting out of bed was worth it.

Still, she's a kid and kids by nature seem to despise bedtime. So tonight she was kicking up a bit. Annoyed at my persistence about her getting in her bed, she tried her hand at hurling an insult my way. "You're a GENIUS!" she spat at me. I hid my smirk and asked her if she knew what a genius was. She nodded and said "It's bad." I told her a genius was a very smart person, now would she please get into bed. She did.

Later, she asked me to sing her an extra song before saying goodnight. Terry had a Little Lamb. She told me Terry was her imaginary friend, who had a lamb, and was a genius.

Trying to Put My Brave Pants On

So I'm having surgery on June 29th. Until I received the letter informing me of the date I was all "Oh yeah, I'll be having a minor day surgery to get all the metal junk out of my ankle, no biggie." I don't know if that was because it's been over a year since I busted it all to crap in the first place and I obviously blocked out all of the trauma because I was really fine until I got the date. And now I'm kind of freaking out. And I'm confused as to why.

All I can think of is that when it happened there were no choices and there wasn't much time to think about what needed to happen in order to fix it. It was like, BANG your ankle is screwed and it needs to be fixed so tough sh!t if you don't like it.

The difference seems to be that this time it's kind of my decision to go back under the knife. In fact, it's been bothering me all along but I expected a certain amount of discomfort after destroying it to that degree. I certainly never expected it to ever, ever be the way it was before I broke it. But as more time passed I kept having the nagging feeling that the stuff that was going on in there wasn't right and was being caused by the hardware. Having had my ACL reconstructed I am familiar with the process of adjusting to a repaired joint. I have experienced that feeling of "it's not the same but I'll take it because it's better than the alternative". So it was difficult for me to come to the decision to go back to my surgeon, tell him what was going on and see if it was normal. What if he thought I was a wimp? What if he said "Suck it up lady, you broke your ankle what do you expect?" But he didn't say those things, he said we needed to take the stuff (actually he used technical jargon) out and let's do it soon.

I wasn't expecting things to move along so quickly. I frantically tried to think of all the questions I needed to ask him. How long would I be off work? - a week. Could I stand on it? - I'll be on crutches for the week. I think that was all I thought to ask at the time but of course I've thought of a million more questions. Luckily I have me some connections and I am in the process of getting answers.

My concerns (fears) are, in order

-I'm not sure if I'll need an IV. I hate getting IV's. I can't see why I'd need one as long as I'm getting an epidural unless they want to give me woozy drugs through it. But I think they can do that with a needle. Damn.

-Needles.

-If I am getting an epidural, that it will hurt. When I got the one for my ankle surgery I was pleasantly surprised that it didn't hurt. But now I'm thinking that might be because my ankle was so painful that the pain of a NEEDLE IN MY SPINE seemed like a feather tickling my back. Also, that particular anesthesiologist has a reputation for being amazing. I remember when I was so relieved about it not hurting and remarking about it to the Nurses they described him as being "pretty slick".

-What if I don't get the "slick" guy this time?

-If they decide to put me completely under. I have a tendency to get really pukey afterwards. After two pregnancies I have vomited enough to last a lifetime. And they have to put that thing down your throat to help you breathe and then when you wake up it feels like someone stuck a branch down your throat while you were sleeping.

-I'm pretty sure I'll get an epidural again. I hated how long it took to regain feeling below my chest. I hate that claustrophobic feeling of being paralyzed and the effort it takes to begin simply wiggling your big toe. Frightening.

-That my ankle is really going to hurt. A lot.

-That putting my kids to bed is going to be a nightmare...

-That I'll need to take more than a week off work. Or when I go back to work it swells a lot.

-That I'm going to be in pain the entire (pathetically short) summer. That I will be stuck only being able to swim for exercise and not get to make excellent use of our new chariot. That would totally bum me out.

-That after everything my ankle doesn't really feel that much better and it wasn't really worth getting the surgery after all.

Hurricane A

We just returned home today from visiting my mother in law. Peter's brother, wife and their four kids (ages 2-12) were also visiting. A valuable lesson has been learned. Eleven people (and a dog) is entirely too many people to have living under one roof for any extended period of time. (unless perhaps, if you live in a mansion) It's not like this is the first time we've tried it. Each time we've come away shaking our heads saying "That was not a good idea." But this time my sister in law and I verbally agreed it was too crazy and too stressful and we shouldn't do it again. This won't be a problem.

In relation to the previous paragraph I had a colossal lapse in judgment. I had planned for our family to go swimming on Saturday afternoon. I thought it would be a nice break from the craziness at my mother in law's and also a treat for Miss A who ADORES swimming. What I failed to factor in was the tremendous lack of sleep which is seemingly inevitable when we are hanging with the aforementioned relatives. On these occasions I find I need to adopt a carefree attitude towards bedtime otherwise I stress myself out trying to convince A to go to bed while the house is still buzzing with children AWAKE, HAVING FUN, NOT SLEEPING, without her. Friday night was no exception and Saturday morning came too early.

It all started well enough. Miss A was predictably thrilled to go swimming. It sort of went downhill from there. The waterslide was closed for maintenance. Baby B needed a nap and was all shivery and zombie like. A was obedience challenged due to lack of sleep and that is more disconcerting while doing an activity involving water where you can drown if you are acting recklessly. It became more and more apparent the longer we were there what a terrible idea it had been to go under those circumstances. I was not however, prepared for the finale.

I knew in my bones that when it came time to leave the pool there was going to be hell to pay. I tried all of the usual tricks. The countdown. The explanation. The temptation about all the FUN TIMES TO BE HAD AFTER SWIMMING TOO!!! And yet... I was also tired. Which also translates to being tired of putting up with any more crap. So, when it was time for our 5 minutes in the hot tub before leaving and she waded off back into the pool I was not having it. I counted to 5, no dice so I then physically hauled her off to the family change rooms followed by Peter with Baby B in tow.

It was then that she unleashed the tantrum of all tantrums on us. She screamed for like, 10 minutes straight in a small tiled change room. I am certain that all four of us have suffered irreparable hearing damage. It wasn't just the screaming but the impossible task of getting her dressed while she was still damp and physically resisting with ever ounce of strength she had. Both Peter and I were trapped in some kind of purgatory where we were both incredibly furious and sympathetic at once. She kept repeating "I wanna go in the hot tub!" over and over an over. We seriously began to question her sanity. She was exactly like a very small psychotic person. When the tantrum was nearing the end she collapsed into me sobbing, hicupping and repeating in an exhausted whimper "I wanna go in the hot tub." It may sound funny reading it now but I can assure you it was not funny while it was happening. It was, in fact, terrifying. Not unlike, I imagine, surviving a hurricane.

Afterward I felt horrible wondering if there could have been any way to avoid what had happened. I blamed myself for putting her and the rest of us in that situation. I suppose I will file it under "things not to do when A is incredibly overtired". I have been schooled yet again on the severity of Miss A's temper and I will do my best to prevent exposing her to that combination of unfortunate circumstances again.

High Praise

I'm losing you guys. I can see it. Every week, fewer and fewer people have stopped in. I don't blame you. I haven't been writing much. I'd make a promise to post more often but I hate breaking promises and it's one I'm not sure I can keep. This is all I have time for right now and really I just do this for me anyway. Which is probably the reason I'm not writing much because the "me" time, it's just not happening these days. (weeks, months, year)

Anyway. I thought a couple of things were blog worthy so here I am.

On Sunday at church the kids made a picture for their Moms in honor of Mother's Day. It is a flower with four petals. Above the flower it says "My mom is..." and then there are four petals with things written on them. Mine say, "My name" "Nice" "Good Cook" and most hilariously "sometimes gives me time outs". It is the first time I have looked at anything she's made and burst out laughing. Thankfully there was enough commotion what with everyone leaving that she didn't notice so I didn't hurt her feelings. I can only imagine how entertaining it must have been for the Teacher who was writing on the petals for her. I am choosing to believe that she understands that I give her time outs out of love for her which is why she thought it was important to be on a petal and not because she couldn't think of anything else nice to say about me.





Also. I got my haircut. Thank God. I was so incredibly sick of it long. I committed to cutting it weeks ago but then it took forever for the stars to align so that it could actually happen. No folks, there aren't really perks to working in the beauty industry. We have to wait longer than the rest of you to get anything done.

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