Well, faithful blog readers (all 2 of you), I do believe I'm going to make it but it was touch and go there for awhile. Of course, I realize none of us know when our number will come up, and mine could very well come up tomorrow afternoon as I venture out to the mailbox, but I can fairly safely say, I will not be dying of the flu this season. The FLU?!?! It started out as an innocent little cold. I thought I knew myself so well. Familiar tickle in my chest....mild achiness around my lymph nodes.....hoarse sexy voice....then I'm fine. NOT SO this go round. After the "hoarse sexy voice" phase came.....my 102 fever and near death experience.
All I can say is THANK GOODNESS FOR MOTHERS! Mine showed up Thursday morning to watch the kids thinking I would be heading off to work. I clutched the wall to keep myself from fainting dead away and made it downstairs to tell her I wasn't going in to work that day. She ushered me right back upstairs to bed and stayed to watch the kids all day AND even came back today to watch them so I could get even more rest.
Now that I've safely returned from my fever-induced state of delirium, I am able to recount some of the funny things that occurred.
As I lay on the couch immobilized last evening I stated to David that I was, indeed, dying. I just knew it. (Remember my post about being a pessimist? Well, add exaggerationist to that list as well.) My sweet supportive soul mate turned to me and said, "Well, dear, now would be a good time to tell me if you have any secret stashes of money lying around anywhere."
Later that same evening as he got up he asked, "Is there anything I can get you, sweetheart?".
"My casket," I responded weakly, surely thinking he would pull me close and stroke my unwashed hair out of my face and reassure me that everything would be alright. "What?!?!", he almost half-shouted. "I thought you wanted to be cremated. We were going to scatter you out front in the rose bushes."*
As I was upstairs reading in bed a little while ago, Reese came in and sat beside me eating a bowl of chips. I held my hand out to her. "What?", she innocently asked. "Don't you want to share your chips with me?", I asked. She thought about it for a minute then reluctantly plucked one out of the bowl and handed it to me saying, "Well....I guess. Just one. I don't think sick people should eat chips."
(*Just to clarify for those of you thinking, Wow, what a supermom she is to be taking care of 3 small kids and have time left over to tend a rose garden.... The lady who lived here previously was a horticulturist so we have all kinds of beautiful flowers and bushes that bloom every year. I am always surprised to see what comes up. And when people say, "What beautiful peonies you have in the backyard," I just smile and nod and say "Thank you...they are lovely aren't they", and then go google peonies later to see what the heck they're talking about. In fact, I think I yelled at David the first time I came home to discover he had snipped off all my pretty roses for no good reason. He patiently explained to me that is what must be done if you want them to come back again. Hmmmm....there's probably a really neat life illustration there but I am still a tad weak from my ordeal so I'll have to leave that for another day.)
Friday, January 12, 2007
Wednesday, January 10, 2007
Bittersweet Exchange
Sick Mommy.
Messy House.
Kids who have caught on to the fact that "Hey, we sure can get away with a lot more when Mommy doesn't feel good and doesn't have a yelling voice."
Thoughts of crawling into a hole in the backyard and the only thing keeping me from doing so is not having any energy to dig one to begin with.
Conversation between Reese and I a few minutes ago when I plopped down on the living room floor and pulled her into my lap:
Me: "I love you even when you act naughty."
Reese: "And I love you even when you scream at me."
(Doesn't that sound like something straight out of a Hallmark Hall of Fame Movie?)
Messy House.
Kids who have caught on to the fact that "Hey, we sure can get away with a lot more when Mommy doesn't feel good and doesn't have a yelling voice."
Thoughts of crawling into a hole in the backyard and the only thing keeping me from doing so is not having any energy to dig one to begin with.
Conversation between Reese and I a few minutes ago when I plopped down on the living room floor and pulled her into my lap:
Me: "I love you even when you act naughty."
Reese: "And I love you even when you scream at me."
(Doesn't that sound like something straight out of a Hallmark Hall of Fame Movie?)
Monday, January 08, 2007
Take Me Out to the Ballgame.....(but bring some kleenex)
Either I'm just getting older and more frail, or these cold bugs today are getting more brutal! This is the second one I've had in a matter of months, and they wreak havoc on my poor, beat up, little immune system. Once again, David stepped up to the plate, however, this time in addition to getting some hits, he also had a few strikes....
HIT: He volunteered to take the kids to church while I stayed home to rest on Sunday morning.
STRIKE: When I asked if he was taking Tate also, he replied, "Well, no. It would really be easier on me if I didn't have to take him."
HIT: He stopped at the grocery store on the way home from church and got some provisions for my sickly self on his own accord.
STRIKE: The "provisions" he brought home were Chicken & Stars soup, Sprite, and Gatorade! What the heck? After he caught me looking through the bags, bewildered there wasn't anything of substance in them, he said, "Isn't this the type of stuff you ate when you were sick growing up?". "Yes", I replied. "When I had the stomach flu and could only tolerate a clear liquid diet!! I'm HUNGRY!". "Your stomach isn't bothering you?", he inquired, clearly confused. "Then what's wrong with you?".
HIT: He came home early from work to supervise the troops so I could crawl under the safe haven of my covers.
STRIKE: This was after I called him at lunchtime and left him a pleading gravelly sounding voicemail at work that went something like this....."Silly me. Why did I think my husband might call and check up on his sicker than sick wife who is at home taking care of his children? Silly, silly me....thinking he might actually care to know how she's feeling....".
All in all, he was a wonderful team player so I'll choose to overlook his strikes. (Even if he did offer to make me some dry toast for supper this evening......FOR THE 12th TIME I DON'T HAVE THE STOMACH FLU!!!)
I parked myself on the couch much of the day and Drue kept climbing up kissing me and saying, "Feel better now Mommy?". I apologized to Reese a couple times saying how sorry I was that this was such a stinky day and Mommy didn't feel like playing and didn't even have a voice to read to them. "It's not a stinky day Mommy. We just want you to feel better."
And I am feeling much better already......I better be....so I'll have the energy to take care of the rest of the family when the bug inevitably gets passed to them......
HIT: He volunteered to take the kids to church while I stayed home to rest on Sunday morning.
STRIKE: When I asked if he was taking Tate also, he replied, "Well, no. It would really be easier on me if I didn't have to take him."
HIT: He stopped at the grocery store on the way home from church and got some provisions for my sickly self on his own accord.
STRIKE: The "provisions" he brought home were Chicken & Stars soup, Sprite, and Gatorade! What the heck? After he caught me looking through the bags, bewildered there wasn't anything of substance in them, he said, "Isn't this the type of stuff you ate when you were sick growing up?". "Yes", I replied. "When I had the stomach flu and could only tolerate a clear liquid diet!! I'm HUNGRY!". "Your stomach isn't bothering you?", he inquired, clearly confused. "Then what's wrong with you?".
HIT: He came home early from work to supervise the troops so I could crawl under the safe haven of my covers.
STRIKE: This was after I called him at lunchtime and left him a pleading gravelly sounding voicemail at work that went something like this....."Silly me. Why did I think my husband might call and check up on his sicker than sick wife who is at home taking care of his children? Silly, silly me....thinking he might actually care to know how she's feeling....".
All in all, he was a wonderful team player so I'll choose to overlook his strikes. (Even if he did offer to make me some dry toast for supper this evening......FOR THE 12th TIME I DON'T HAVE THE STOMACH FLU!!!)
I parked myself on the couch much of the day and Drue kept climbing up kissing me and saying, "Feel better now Mommy?". I apologized to Reese a couple times saying how sorry I was that this was such a stinky day and Mommy didn't feel like playing and didn't even have a voice to read to them. "It's not a stinky day Mommy. We just want you to feel better."
And I am feeling much better already......I better be....so I'll have the energy to take care of the rest of the family when the bug inevitably gets passed to them......
Friday, January 05, 2007
Innocent Thoughts about the Birds & the Bees
Reese was coloring one day and said, "Look Mommy. I made a wedding card for when you and daddy got married. There's you. There's Daddy. And there's (pointing at a line between our faces) you and Daddy kissing."
Because I'm oh-so-curious about how her little mind works, I asked her why people kissed at weddings.
"Because if you don't kiss....you don't get a baby", she informed me.
Today after their bath I pulled Tate out first and was bundling him up in his towel when I heard Reese end her sentence with, ".....because Buddy's not a virgent yet."
"He's not a virgent?", I repeated.
"Nope. He doesn't have a wife yet, so he's not a virgent."
(I was wondering how long it would take her to key into the word virgin after hearing the Christmas story this season. Someday I'll have to set her straight that she's got the concept a wee bit backwards....)
Because I'm oh-so-curious about how her little mind works, I asked her why people kissed at weddings.
"Because if you don't kiss....you don't get a baby", she informed me.
Today after their bath I pulled Tate out first and was bundling him up in his towel when I heard Reese end her sentence with, ".....because Buddy's not a virgent yet."
"He's not a virgent?", I repeated.
"Nope. He doesn't have a wife yet, so he's not a virgent."
(I was wondering how long it would take her to key into the word virgin after hearing the Christmas story this season. Someday I'll have to set her straight that she's got the concept a wee bit backwards....)
Wednesday, January 03, 2007
I love these little people....
This is how the girls wear their hair much of the time, (minus the roses), so I wanted to be sure and get some pictures of these.
The cutest part of the girls' outfits were their tights, which never even made it into the pictures!
My little man.
They were all getting a little tired at this point. (Correction: We were all getting tired at this point).
More poses.....
I actually laughed out loud when I saw how innocent Drue looked in this picture, I had to buy it. The gal helping me said, "I have a feeling she's not as innocent as she looks there". BINGO!
Hard to believe our firstborn baby girl has grown into this little lady.
Uncle Joel says Tate looks like a little Irish immigrant in this outfit!
Too sweet! All that was missing was Tate's pipe.
Tuesday, January 02, 2007
Picture Perfect
So this is what I've been agonizing over for the past 2 days.....not world hunger....not global warming.....not the dissention in the Middle East.....I've actually lost sleep trying to figure out what I'm going to dress the kids in for their portraits tomorrow!!!
Talk about pressure! When you have one kid, it's easy....you see a cute outfit, you buy it, you have yourself an adorable picture of the little tyke. It continued to be an effortless chore for me even with two kids. Two little girls, two adorable matching dresses, viola...double the cuteness. Then this little boy came along and I was SO excited to shop for little boy clothes. I actually knew exactly what I wanted him to wear for his pictures....the tough part was trying to match the girls to him.
To make matters more stressful, the portrait studio we use lets you bring a change of clothing for the little dears. Thus forcing me to come up with not one cute matching ensemble for 3....but two cute matching ensembles for 3!! I was trying to vent my frustrations out on David last night about the dynamics of it all but he just wasn't getting it. He said, "Just have them wear what they have on today." (Which happened to be mismatched tops, skirts....general pint sized frumpiness). I went on to explain, to a selectively deaf ear, that not only did I have to make sure the outfits coordinated well with each other, they also had to do well as separate outfits during their individual shots.
I am already feeling totally guilty because this will be Tate's first portrait studio debut....and he's almost 8 months old! I always planned on getting my kids' pictures taken at 3, 6, 9, and 12 months, then yearly after that. But I flubbed up with Reese because I was just a total basket case after she was born. I missed her 3 month shot altogether and ended up getting 5, 9, and 12 months. With Drue I did 6 months, 10 months, and....oops, that's it. Her last picture was at 10 months and she is now 27 months! So much for my dream of hanging all my kids pictures up side by side down the hallway because there would be a big BARE spot where Drue's 1 year picture should go. (Seriously, I get a knot in my stomach every time I think about this).
I instructed David not to rough house with, tickle, wrestle, or even look in the general direction of the children until after tomorrow, hoping to prevent any red marks or bruising as a result of their playful interactions. Nevermind that Tate tumbled down a flight of stairs on my watch this past weekend. He was fine. I quickly scooped him up, made sure he could still move all his appendages, then thoroughly checked his little face for any incurred blemishes, ready to dash out to the drugstore for make-up for very fair baby skin.
The dryer is almost finished with the last of their outfits, the rest of them lay neatly on the dining room table awaiting our big day tomorrow, and I am just exhausted from the whole pre-portrait planning. I started trying to prepare Drue that she would, indeed, have to wear the dreaded black shrug over her dress tomorrow for her picture. The very same shrug that elicited squeals of protest all the way to our Christmas Eve service. I enlisted the help of my mom to come along for the big "outfit change" and to make sure the kids don't shove all the legos up their nose in the waiting area while I am deep in thought picking which poses I want to buy. (Last time I went by myself and ended up spending way more money than I planned because the girls were climbing the walls and I was so anxious to get out of there I just flew through the selection process without realizing how many poses I picked).
Each child has specific instructions from me on preferred portrait behavior: Reese--no kooky smiles. Drue--Do not cry in every single picture. Tate--no dousing your freshly laundered shirts with regurgitated cheerios during the shoot.
"CHEESE!"
Talk about pressure! When you have one kid, it's easy....you see a cute outfit, you buy it, you have yourself an adorable picture of the little tyke. It continued to be an effortless chore for me even with two kids. Two little girls, two adorable matching dresses, viola...double the cuteness. Then this little boy came along and I was SO excited to shop for little boy clothes. I actually knew exactly what I wanted him to wear for his pictures....the tough part was trying to match the girls to him.
To make matters more stressful, the portrait studio we use lets you bring a change of clothing for the little dears. Thus forcing me to come up with not one cute matching ensemble for 3....but two cute matching ensembles for 3!! I was trying to vent my frustrations out on David last night about the dynamics of it all but he just wasn't getting it. He said, "Just have them wear what they have on today." (Which happened to be mismatched tops, skirts....general pint sized frumpiness). I went on to explain, to a selectively deaf ear, that not only did I have to make sure the outfits coordinated well with each other, they also had to do well as separate outfits during their individual shots.
I am already feeling totally guilty because this will be Tate's first portrait studio debut....and he's almost 8 months old! I always planned on getting my kids' pictures taken at 3, 6, 9, and 12 months, then yearly after that. But I flubbed up with Reese because I was just a total basket case after she was born. I missed her 3 month shot altogether and ended up getting 5, 9, and 12 months. With Drue I did 6 months, 10 months, and....oops, that's it. Her last picture was at 10 months and she is now 27 months! So much for my dream of hanging all my kids pictures up side by side down the hallway because there would be a big BARE spot where Drue's 1 year picture should go. (Seriously, I get a knot in my stomach every time I think about this).
I instructed David not to rough house with, tickle, wrestle, or even look in the general direction of the children until after tomorrow, hoping to prevent any red marks or bruising as a result of their playful interactions. Nevermind that Tate tumbled down a flight of stairs on my watch this past weekend. He was fine. I quickly scooped him up, made sure he could still move all his appendages, then thoroughly checked his little face for any incurred blemishes, ready to dash out to the drugstore for make-up for very fair baby skin.
The dryer is almost finished with the last of their outfits, the rest of them lay neatly on the dining room table awaiting our big day tomorrow, and I am just exhausted from the whole pre-portrait planning. I started trying to prepare Drue that she would, indeed, have to wear the dreaded black shrug over her dress tomorrow for her picture. The very same shrug that elicited squeals of protest all the way to our Christmas Eve service. I enlisted the help of my mom to come along for the big "outfit change" and to make sure the kids don't shove all the legos up their nose in the waiting area while I am deep in thought picking which poses I want to buy. (Last time I went by myself and ended up spending way more money than I planned because the girls were climbing the walls and I was so anxious to get out of there I just flew through the selection process without realizing how many poses I picked).
Each child has specific instructions from me on preferred portrait behavior: Reese--no kooky smiles. Drue--Do not cry in every single picture. Tate--no dousing your freshly laundered shirts with regurgitated cheerios during the shoot.
"CHEESE!"
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