....God hid all the buckets.
I'm happy to report that I am actually almost back to my normal self.
After a full day of work yesterday, I came home fairly convinced I was going to die, or, afraid I was going to live. Take your pick.
I was nauseous and rather afraid the whole thing was going to come back and bite me on the rump. Truthfully, I probably went back a day early but I was so tired of lying around I figured I would chance it. Bad move.
I spent the better part of the evening doing deep breathing exercises to keep everything in its place. I thought I had it somewhat under control.
We watched the Season Premiere of American Idol and I vacillated between disbelief that there were people who seriously believed they had talent, and wanting to kill Simon. It's been a few seasons since I've watched the show, and I see my dislike for this egotistical moron has not lessoned one iota. On the other hand, Paula still needs to get some backbone. I mean, come on, she is just too nice.
I finally shut off the TV, and was able to fall asleep with the hope that the rumbling deep down in my gut was just gas. Alas, that was not the case.
Well, I didn't escape the ick that hit my children on Thursday and Friday. Saturday was a really good day, and I thought I'd perhaps, missed this round of ailments. Not so. I got hit with it beginning early Sunday morning. Just now (early evening Sunday) I'm able to actually sit for longer periods of time without getting dizzy. Hopefully, I'll continue to get better enough to go into work tomorrow.
Take care everyone and stay well.
I think the title says it all.
And it's struck both kids at the same time. They were up about every half hour for most of the night. I sent Mr. Moogster into Chickie's room so he could get some sleep. He went to work today, and I'm home with both of the girls.
Chickie is still sick and can't keep anything down. To top it off, she spiked a fever, which, in and of itself is not overly alarming. I just can't give her any meds because she won't be able to keep them down. Meelie doesn't seem to have it as bad, or so I'm hoping.
UPDATE: Chickie just now got out of the bathtub (she was cold) and said it made her feel better, and the fever has dropped. Now Meelie is in the tub so I thought I'd get a little break while it's quiet.
Poor things. They were so miserable. I'm hoping they are on their way to recovery, though I suspect they will be resting all day.
It's a bit tough because neither one of them want me to get out of their site for very long. I really don't mind as long as it helps them feel better.
One of the toughest things for me to deal with when my girls are sick is that there is really nothing I can do except be there for them. They are resting now, in my bed and watching TV. Maybe I'll be able to catch up on some sleep while they do.
UPDATE #2: Woot! Nothing has come back up since about 11:30 this morning. Chickie's fever went back up but I was able to give her some medication (finally) and it seems to be going back down. Meelie is alot better though still lazing about. Right now they are working on some ice chips after drinking a bit of apple juice.
When faced with the waiting game, especially when it has to do with health issues, I become somewhat psychotic. My mother always told me that I am very good at backing the hearse up to the door, or, keeping one foot on a banana peel, and the other in the grave.
Truer words have never been spoken about me, though I was reluctant to admit it in my earlier, I am immortal stage.
I am also good at avoidance. Oh look, a shiny penny......
Can you tell we just got a puppy?
But first, I want to thank all of you who commented and/or sent me email with words of support for my father-in-law. It meant allot to all of us. I've shown Mr. Moogie all of them and he was very touched.
We got a call from my stepdaughter last night. She was visiting him (he lives in Washington State) and was getting ready to go home yesterday morning. My FIL told her he wasn't feeling all that great. Apparently, he started to breathe fast (raspy) and she was quick on her feet and called 911.
They did an angiogram (sp) and angioplasty (sp) on him yesterday to clear the blockage. It's my understanding that the pain went away as soon as they did that. They left the tubes in him as a precautionary measure and he was supposed to be released from the ICU today. We'll probably get an update tonight on how he is doing.
He MUST be feeling better though. According to my stepdaughter, he was complaining because they won't let him drink coffee or smoke. It was a little dicey for a bit because he refused any kind of treatment. He thought he was going to die and didn't want any life saving measures to be taken. Apparently, something (most likely my sister-in-law) changed his mind.
I really believe that all of your thoughts and prayers helped tremendously. I'll keep you updated when I can.
Ok..now, on to Bruiser. In all of the chaos, I forgot we were having a puppy (yes, P-U-P-P-Y) delivered to our house last night. My neighbor’s sister rescued his mother from the pound. She was pregnant with five puppies and was scheduled to be put down the next day.
We had been thinking of getting another dog as a playmate (ok, I actually really wanted one) for Tiny. Bruiser is a Miniature Pinscher and something else (we don't know what the dad was). He's 8 weeks old. I had seriously forgotten what work a puppy is.
In actuality, it was a blessing for us all (mainly Mr. Moogie) to have something to occupy our time with. He certainly is a handful. As time permits, I'll be posting some pictures of my newest child.
Tiny does really well with him. She's not quite so sure what to do with him and plays with him gently. We are careful to give her loads of attention to minimize the jealousy.
If the underwear (understand, we have children who believe it is against the law to throw dirty clothes in the hamper), Barbies and legos survive, we will be all right.
Again, thanks so much for your support. It has been a true comfort to us all.
My shift at work is known as a 9 X 80. I work four 9's, an 8, then four 9's and I get Friday off. When my kids are in school, it is a day that I can look forward to. Because I am alone. There is no noise. I can parade around the house in nothing but a pair of crotchless panties on my head if I desire (personally, I prefer Hanes, but that's for a different post).
In the summer? I lose that freedom. Yes, I could easily drop them off at my wonderful neighbor who takes care of them during the day, but I'm thinking that would look bad. Besides, have you ever looked at my children when they have puppy dog eyes? They have it down to a fine art.
This past Friday was not different, albeit we had another little friend with us. Meelie No and Miss M are fairly inseparable. It seemed a good idea. At the time.
Friday was spent at the aquactic park, complete with sun, food that screams "cardiac arrest", and of course, lots of water. When we came home, they decided they wanted to play with the hose. I mean, they of course did not have enough sunshine or water that day. They needed more.
Today we went to see Shark Boy and Lava Girl. I'd say the movie is seriously geared towards kids. I did enjoy the 3D effects. Plus I now have a pair of really cool glasses. What more could a mom ask for?
OWW was busy disassembling a recently purchased "Mosquito Deleto" because it had stopped functioning. He took it back today to get a replacement.
He then took Meelie No to the skating rink, and Chickie is off with her friends at another house. Later on, Chickie will be going to a slumber party. I'll be down to one kid. Well, two but OWW isn't prone to tantrums and dramatic behavior.
In spite of myself, I find that I really enjoyed the time with the girls. I didn't mention everything we did, just the hi-lites.
So those Fridays I lost for the summer? They just got better.
In fact, every day is better. I'm going to be alright.
Dear Readers,
I would first off like to send my heartfelt thanks to all of you who emailed and called me, concerned about my unexpected absence over the past week. Let me explain. I’ll keep it brief. Ok, maybe not.
I was captured by Cannibals, and taken to live amongst the tribes, and Gods who look remarkably like elephants in our society (did I mention they were pink and danced?). When they noticed the clippers I always carry in my purse, they decided to enslave me to a life of pedicures, removing hangnails not withstanding. One of their leaders, also known as Acidman, liked to have his toenails painted red. To be truthful, he really scared me. He has a tripple nipple (and they are pierced). Besides that, every time he walked into the hut, everyone got down on their knees and chanted “Diva, Diva, Diva,” and dayum, if that man(?) didn’t have the most interesting collection of red hats. Go figure.
I was finally able to find time to fashion a communication device from a coconut, but before I could dial out (don’t ask), my younger (though not as smart as me) sister initiated communication, found out my location, and contacted the necessary personnel to remove me from my most humbled surroundings.
Fast-forward to being removed from the mind altering drugs...oh, heh. I suppose you want the truth?
For those of you who have ever suffered from Diverticulitis (or other things related), you know that the cure can sometimes be as bad as the disease itself. Ok, not entirely true, but it’s not pleasant. Suffice to say, the antibiotics are nasty stuff, one of them (yes, I took two different ones) no smaller than a small nuclear based submarine, with an aftertaste that can remove the paint off of your neighbors Jaguar, and kill the athletes foot for the entire NFL, while simultaneously disinfecting your kitchen counters.
Simply put, I was in a state of pre-puke, puke, and after puke. EJECT! EJECT! EJECT! Oh, and blessed sleep. I will not go into how I went to work for the first three days last week. I am stupid. That is all you need to know.
Suffice to say, I’m able to sit up and take nourishment. The kind where it goes PAST my lips, and my tongue, down the throat and decides to reside in my stomach until the digestive system (such as it is) has worked its wonders.
I am alive. Can I get an AMEN?
In all seriousness, I wish to thank those of you who sent their support via email. It was overwhelming. I would also like to thank Christina for calling and checking in. Though she is younger, and looks harmless on the outside, she can be quite the little vixen when your back is turned. I noticed she thought she could take a few swipes out of me whilst I was ON.MY.LAST.LEG, but we shall see who gets the last laugh. BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. She has never liked me because I was a favorite of mothers (I always got to lick the beaters).
Besides. She is after my husband. And I have proof.
"Thank God, she married that nice guy with the oh, so smooth speaking voice (sigh).."
Needless to say, I feel good. Really good. Each day is better.
I'm back. Spread the word.
I read an interesting post over at Inblognito that has been bothering me for a couple of days. It’s not that what she says in her post is wrong. Her reaction is what I consider to be normal. To be truthful, I’ve felt exactly the same way. Survivors of loved ones that commit suicide are angry. Angry, hurt, confused. There’s a mixture of emotions that differ from person to person.
What really bothered me was her views on depression. First off, let me point out that I am not an expert, nor do I pretend to be. This is based on my experiences, as well as those of friends and relatives in my life. The way I look at it, there are three kinds of depression. The most common is the short term depression that we all suffer with from time to time. The one that is the most normal. Then, there is the depression that is brought on by a life changing event, such as the death of a loved one, the loss of a job, or divorce. This type tends to go on for a longer period of time, and may or may not respond to drugs or therapy. Lastly, and the biggest beast of all, is clinical depression. I tend to call that the bitch of many colors.
Dr. Sigmoid I presume?
He and I have been having an argument since about the middle of last week. Last time I lost, almost. This time, I've brought in the big guns again, full steam ahead (Flagyl and Cipro). Any of you famliar with those know that they can kill a heard of cattle in one breath.
We've met in the battle fields before. One of them put me in the hospital for a week.
On that note, I'll take my leave and get some rest. As McArthur said "I'll be back." Oh wait, that was Arnold. Anyway, it ain't over 'til the fat lady sings.
My Dearest Bladder,
Why hast thou forsaken me?
Once I learned to control you as a child, I sincerely believed you were my friend. When I was growing up, you could hold so much. Sure, sometimes, when I was so busy playing, I forgot to pay attention to you until it was too late. That was not a big thing though. Unless I couldn't sneak past Mom and change my, um, shorts, if you will.
In my teen years, I didn't think about you until my teeth started to float. As I entered into adulthood, I only needed to, "vacate" about once every 24 hours or so.
What I want to know is just what the heck happened to you after I had children? Do you mind explaining that one to me? You turned on me. And it hurt.