Conversation Snapshots

Here are some sample conversations from this week:

The first day

4:30pm - Me: Mama doesn't feel like cooking. How about Happy Meals?

PDG and MDG: Yeah!

5:00-5:05pm - silent stuffing of faces. Nuggets. Fries. Sauce. Gogurt. Apple Juice.

5:08pm - PDG:  Mommy, my tummy hurts.

5:09pm - PDG: Bleggghhhh (is that how you type the sound of massive projectile vomiting?)

5:11pm - PDG: Mommy, I'm hungry. Can I have some dinner?

The Next Day - via text

Mama H: I can't put your book down!

Me: Really?! (book and smiley emojis)

Mama H: Yes. Dad called for me to help him and I made him wait! I can't believe she [spoiler]! Gotta go. Can't wait to see how this goes.


The Next Day in a last minute faculty meeting

Assistant Principal: We need each of you to use one of your planning periods to make continuous laps of the school checking every stall in every student bathroom and noting the time and what you find.

My inner monologue: I can tell you what I'll find in girls' bathrooms, and it will be disgusting, smelly, and likely bloody. Also, I miss New York and its union, where no one could make me do this crap without extra pay. Yes, a bathroom pun. Let's see how many of these I can work in until this temporary duty is over. Doo-ty. Score, another one.


The Next Day in a lesson on formal commands and giving directions around town

Student who mostly communicates through grunts: Sra G, you're the best Spanish teacher.
Me: We're all good. We just have different styles.
SWMCTG: No, you're the best.
Me: Well, then, gracias. Now back to work.

So yeah, a week of ups and downs.

About July...

So I woke up before 6am this morning and thought to myself, I miss blogging.

Really, I miss writing. That's half the reason I blog anyway. It's fun to write, and I'm a little less insane when I do it consistently - hence the overloaded handwritten journals of the early 2000s stuffed in random places around my childhood home.

Speaking of which, I discovered my journals from 3rd and 4th grade a month ago. Amazing.

So for the few minutes until the rest of the family awakens, let me begin a three month summary of life with the G's.

July
The babies and I flew to see Big Sis and celebrate our sweet new Baby C. She was tiny and precious and made me have all those feelings about how newborns are such miracles which naturally made my latent hormones say MAKE ANOTHER ONE OF THESE STAT!!! Then it would be time for a feeding or I'd see my sister's eyes after a rough night and my brain would scream back SHOP STILL CLOSED!!!

Big Sis had a rough go of July, so I was glad to get to see her and know that she was recovering from all the craziness. I got jealous of her beautiful big house that made living with your parents and sister's family for a week right after having a newborn somehow not the worst thing in the world. I tried to convince her that I didn't need to see any sights in town this visit, I just wanted to hang out with her and her growing family, and also not die of heat exhaustion. So there were sprinklers, and bubble baths, and a weird board game with a name I forget and lots of HGTV to pass the time. The week was fantastic, but far too short.

Back in our own house, we beat the heat with Camp Nicole some more, and bought a little kiddie pool that our little kiddies loved. Ok, that's a lie. PDG loved it. MDG thought about loving it, decided he hated it, and then after enough coercion decided sure, why not, I guess I could kinda love it.

The weekend before Grandma S came to town, the check engine light came on our beloved Pathfinder. Yes, the one I learned to drive on back in the late '90s. More on that saga another post.

We drove our new vehicle (you're in suspense, aren't you? I knew it! Ha!) to Ocean City where this family of non-water people did the best we could creating beach memories for the future. And it was all well and good until a stupid bug bite on my arm started turning puffy and red with streaks going all over the place. J-Man was sure it was nothing. Grandma S was certain I was dying. I was in the middle thinking it looked weird, but surely it could wait until vacation was over.

We arrived at Grandma S's friend's house in Annapolis on the last day of our vacation where, within 30 seconds of seeing my arm, she was telling me I had an infection trying to get into my bloodstream and needed to be on antibiotics within hours or else I'd be hooked up to IVs in a hospital like someone else I know had to be once before. Even though she's a nurse, it still sounded a little cuckoo, but I listened and sent J-Man straight to the pharmacy as she called it in.

If you're thinking all this still sounds pretty normal, throw in Grandma S having debilitating back spasms and her friend disappearing for four hours right after this moment because her dog was hemorrhaging and all of us hanging out at her house with her three dogs, praying my toddlers don't destroy anything. And, oh yeah, the dog got put to sleep before she got back so she called to insist we cook her food and eat dinner at her house without her. It wasn't the antibiotics making me feel a little dizzy...

In the end, there was swimming in the pool and smores in the fire pit and the swollen red streaks never hit my lymph nodes. July ended as fast as it always does and we moved onward into the final weeks of summer.

Valentine Surprise

I'm not really a surprise person.

J-Man doesn't believe me when I say this, and I think it's because I do love gifts. I mean, giving and receiving Christmas gifts is a thrill. I'm careful not to open trunks or closets or his email account starting at Thanksgiving just to be sure any sweet purchase he's planning isn't ruined before the big day.

Gifts are great.

It's the pre-announced, suspense-addled surprises that do me in.  If we're going somewhere, I want to know where, when, for how long, what to pack etc. Will it be just us? Who already knows what I don't know? Do they think I'll like the surprise? Am I expected to have a specific reaction? Are the kids involved? If not, who's going to take care of them?

Even when it was our honeymoon, a portion of wedding-planning I was fully willing to pass along to J-Man, I set some non-surprise parameters. I didn't need the resort name, but I did need the general location and departure/arrival dates and times. Once it was clear - Punta Cana/7days/fly out morning after wedding - I could continue in blissful ignorance. And I didn't even need to make the decisions for the big part. The DR was J-Man's choice, he just told me what it would be. And like any sun-loving fiancee, I was happy to indulge his Caribbean island goals.

So when I found out a few weeks ago that J-Man was planning something for Valentine's day, I got nervous. To his credit, he did offer to tell me what our activity would be at various points, but I kept feeling like that would somehow spoil his fun. He wanted to surprise me, was sure I would like it, and wanted me to trust his gift-giving success rate.

I tried to imagine what it could be. The last big surprise like this was when he and his friend O planned a trip for KB and me to go to Annapolis. It ended up a lovely weekend, but we were not into the anticipation leading up to the departure.

I figured this time it wouldn't be a trip. Maybe a show? Something kid-firendly? Especially since it didn't sound like he'd asked my family to babysit, and we'd been away from the kids all week. Perhaps we'd go to an indoor water park? After all, Great Wolf Lodge was a blast over the summer.

A few days prior to the big reveal, it did come out that it was a two-day activity. I almost told him to just tell me, but I didn't want to give in. Yes, my stubbornness shares some of the blame for this frustration, I know. Nobody's perfect.

Anyway, Saturday came and after five quiet mornings in a kid-free home, we awoke to coos and giggles and "I don't wanna get dressed. I don't wanna go potty. I want jelly beans" and so forth. J-Man left to gather the H Family and I dealt with a seemingly sick MDG and an off-his-routine PDG and headed to brunch. It was a nice brunch with Mama and Papa H, Big Sis and Uncle J, KB and her family and us G's. Well, except for MDG being so sick and clingy that he didn't eat a bite and clutched on to me the entire time.

When we left the restaurant we headed home to pack (turns out we were going out of town) and I finally broke down and demanded to know the plan. I wish I could say I was sweet and immediately appreciative. I wasn't. I was frustrated and my arms ached from MDG, and my head ached from worrying about him, and I just wanted to know what shows J-Man had in store for us for the weekend.

No shows.

We were heading back to.... Annnnn-apolis.

And, because I demanded no more surprises, I was told that once again O and KB would be there too.

Like last time, it was super cold, only this time both MDG and J-Man were sick, so it was J-Man with the naps in the hotel, me watching MDG run around destroying the hotel room, and sweet KB who offered to take PDG to play with Lil O by seeing boats, eating ice cream, and running laps in the lobby.

We went to Annapolis Smokehouse for a meat-lover's dream of a barbecue dinner, then both families put on pajama's at seven, watched some Nat Geo tuna-fishing til 8, and then all curled up for hotel snuggles like the family folks we are now.

Times have changed, especially bedtimes, but it was a perfect getaway. I don't think we'll double in size again over the next four years, but I do think we should do this again sometime. And maybe not as a surprise. Probably not in February either. But it's fun to realize what a gift your family is, big or small, when you're cuddled in comfy hotel beds you don't have to make or wash or fold.

Happy Valentine's Day J-Man. Thanks for helping me with these guys. Who knew a heart could love so much?

The Surgery Story

This post gets another *Uterus Talk Disclaimer*

So, I left a few of you hanging with my post last month about my possibly missing IUD. I've tried to fill many of you in, but in case we haven't gotten to chat about my insides, let me share a story full of Christmas Magic.

The day after I wrote last I received a call from my doctor's office saying they needed to see me that day because they had located the IUD but couldn't discuss it over the phone. I guess legal reasons? I don't know. That's a pretty crappy phone call to receive.

Once in the office, with both boys at my side, my doctor (Dr S, the one who did all but the last hour of PDG's delivery and whom I trust most in the practice) informed me that my Mirena really had escaped my uterus and was just chillin' in my pelvis. He told me it happens very rarely, but that the fix was pretty simple - a laparascopy. (If you're unfamiliar, which I was, it's a procedure where they do two small incisions, one for a tiny camera with a light, and the other for the instrument, in my case forceps, to do whatever small work needs to be done in your lower abdomen) He also offered to insert a new IUD while he was in there, and do it with the camera so there could be no question about its placement like the other method allows. No pressure though. He was just presenting options.

For some reason, I agreed.  Had I known the rest of the story, maybe I wouldn't have.  But what happened to me is rare, and I just couldn't fathom this craziness happens twice.  Plus, for however long it was in there, I had no bad side effects. Well, except its escape. Which maybe should trump any others?  Who knows...  I thought about it and decided I really didn't want a pill or patch so like a semi-crazy person, I said yeah, let's try again and hope for the best. 

Oh, and somewhere in there Dr S playfully told me how lucky I am to not have given my (thankfully well-behaved) boys a sister for Christmas since who knows how long the IUD had been out of commission. For the first time ever I was a little grateful for my PCOS and infertility struggles since they'd been more protective than my actual birth control. 

We scheduled the procedure for two weeks later (I felt better knowing it wasn't an emergency) and I tried not to be my typical anxiety-ridden self in the meantime.

The morning of the surgery came and Mama H drove me in while Papa H kept the boys. I had a great team of nurses and assistants get me ready for the OR, and even moments before going back Dr. S was being jovial with me and telling me he anticipated we should be in and out in ten minutes. All they'd need to do was quickly blow up my tummy, make the incisions, pluck out the old and insert the new. They might not even need to do the breathing tube.

According to the text updates from Mama H to Big Sis, ten minutes was actually one hour. Turns out that sneaky IUD wasn't in my pelvis anymore. Nope. It was up in my ribcage. Thankfully not poking anything important, but just a little below my heart/lungs. 

Yeah, let that soak in.  

So, already bothered by the fact it had escaped, Dr S wanted to be sure I didn't have any tears in my uterus, or any scar tissue to be dealt with if it truly had escaped many months ago. Turns out I had neither.  That's right. No proof whatsoever that this thing had ever escaped at all.

If you're wondering, well was it ever even in there? - it was. A month after insertion they had me come in for a checkup, and when he realized the strings weren't there, we did a quick ultrasound and it was snug as a bug where it should be. Not where we found it 10 months later like a birth control ninja.

I only vaguely remember talking to Dr S in Recovery, though Mama H tells me he said he has only ever had to do a removal like this twice, and the other time it had not gotten far like it had for me. Overall, I was an anomaly in his career and he still couldn't understand how it physically happened.

As for me, I guess I've grown ok with it all. I have the new IUD and have a checkup this week.  I took a bunch of percosets those first days and was definitely grumpy mcgrumperson when I went back to work (admittedly a day earlier than I probably should have). As for the future, assuming this lil guy doesn't also magically run off, I'll keep it in for the five years.  But then, that'll be it. Unless they can surgically insert it again so I have the peace of mind that it's in ideal position, I'm not doing this again. Maybe it'll be time to tie my tubes?  Or J-Man's? Or maybe we'll go for number 3? Only time will tell I guess.

On Sick Babies

MDG with his 103F fever

There's so much not to love about your kids being sick.


The sleepless nights

How mad they get when they can't breathe with the pacifier in. Or calm down with it out.

The struggle to aspirate without missing a nostril and accidentally puncturing an eye

The forcing of medicine while they act like they're victims of torture

The unpredictability of everything that once used to follow a natural schedule

The disinfecting

The laundry

The arms sore from rocking, back sore from swaying, legs sore from bouncing

The heart sore from wishing you could just make them feel better by taking it away yourself

But, there are a few up-sides if you are a silver linings seeker like myself

There are almost always unexpected naps

And sweet cuddles

And when you're really lucky, cuddles that turn into naps.

Just enough to remind you they won't be this tiny forever. It's ok to be needed now and again. This virus, too, shall pass.

Baby Stomach Bug Times Two - and Jerky

The Scene:
3pm on a Wednesday.  MDG and PDG have both recently awoken from naps.  PDG is on the couch strangely disinterested in goldfish crackers, a typical favorite. I am changing MDG's diaper in the nursery and checking to be sure he doesn't have a fever to accompany the morning's vomiting (the reason we're home in the first place on a Wednesday at 3pm)

Me: Ok, MDG, no fever. Let's grab a diaper.

PDG (arriving at the top of the stairs): Belly hurts

Me: Thats right, MDG's belly does hurt. That's why...

(I look down to see MDG pooping all over the changing table, his outfit, the clean diaper I just grabbed and my hand)

Me: Yuck!

PDG: Mommy, belly hurt!

Me: Just a second sweetie, MDG is going poop-poop everywhere.  Oh, and it just keeps coming!

PDG: Mommy! (insert intense vomiting noises here) (now insert terrified toddler crying) (some more vomit noises as toddler is quickly shuffled to the toilet that he manages to miss) (more confused crying)(a mother's exasperated when-will-it-end sigh)(a little more vomit)(a shoulder shrug from a confused toddler before much more crying)

Me: Ok, everybody, clothes off.  Let's take a bubble bath.

PDG: Bath?

MDG: (adorable baby giggles before one last runny mustard poop)

End Scene

Been there?  If you have 2+ kids or 2+ siblings then quite likely.  Grrr-oss!!

As for the backstory, here goes.  Tuesday night is J-Man's night to feed MDG.  It gives me a break once a week to get slightly less interrupted sleep.  It's been going great, but with our new allowance of some crying (with hopes of self-soothing), it was more disjointed than usual this week.  MDG woke more than he has been and even PDG woke once at 1am, an extreme rarity.  He usually embraces sleep even better than I do.

After MDG's 5am wake up feed he threw up a good bit on me.  It was a little alarming, but I figured he just was a little piggy and ate too much since I was engorged from having taken the night off.  I still got him dressed for daycare, finished dressing myself, got PDG dressed and headed out.  I told Miss S that he'd thrown up more than usual but also gave my diagnosis.  She said to keep my phone handy but he was probably fine.

Clearly, he wasn't.  He threw up his whole 8:30 bottle.  Everywhere. So by 9:30 I was finding coverage for my classes, plopping in The Lion King in Spanish and rushing to pick up my boys.

The doctor wasn't too concerned since there was no fever and another daycare toddler was out that day having thrown up the night before.  Probably just a bug.  I was told to nurse often and watch for signs of dehydration.

Not that any of that stopped my crazy-anxious brain from diagnosing my son with a rare banana allergy that manifested itself in delayed and incomplete symptoms.  Then, oh the guilt I felt for starting him on solids at the beginning end of the recommended 4-6 month range.   Was I a terrible mom?  Did MDG have something scary and complicated wrong with him?

After spending the afternoon nursing nearly every 30 minutes and taking mini catnaps during PDG's nap we arrived at the scene above.  A projectile stomach flu explosion. A cleanup nightmare.

So how did we solve it?

Frozen.

For me as much as for them.

Luckily, there was a little more silver lining to the day.  Thanks to my good friend M, back from her honeymoon, we were able to send J-Man a special Jerky delivery that looked like this.

And the best news of all, knock on wood, is that both J-Man and I managed to avoid this particular illness.  So far.

Worst Month Ever?

I know we're only halfway through, but I'm ready to label January 2014 as the worst month of J-Man's and my time together.

Is that a little dramatic?  Perhaps.  But that doesn't make it less true.

Yeah, January, I'm lookin' at you

Also, I should clarify, this isn't to say that it's the worst our relationship has been.  Granted, throw enough stress inducers in the pot and any marriage will hit a bump or two, but that isn't really it.  It's just, um, everything?

There's the obvious one.  We have a newborn.  And he cries.  A lot.  Similarly to PDG, it isn't the kind of cry that requires any diagnosis like reflux or colic or what have you.  Just general fussiness until he figures out what life out of the womb is all about.  So, yeah, there's that.  It makes us feel a little nutty sometimes......

Then there's work.  My fears about returning so soon.  I go back next week at only 7 weeks - a far cry from the 5 months I had with PDG (though only 12 of those were expected if you remember).  And there's J-Man's work.  Where they're doing restructuring and being generally jerkish to him.  Which he would never want me to elaborate on so I won't.  But I think we can agree that when work feels miserable, it's easy for everything else to be miserable, no?

Plus, PDG threw up at daycare last week.  We thought it was just one of those random things that happens to little boys who eat as much as he does.  But, again, worst month ever.  Seems he had some kind of bug.  Bad enough that he didn't even want to play at the park with his grandma that afternoon.  Bad enough that he'd keep throwing up all evening.  And then bad enough that he'd pass it along to his exhausted and already dehydrated mama, who would lovingly share it with her annoyed-with-work husband.  Fingers crossed the baby doesn't get some form too.  I'm hoping the incessant nursing at least is passing along my antibodies to protect him.

I seem to recall there being something else craptastic these past 15 days, but you're getting the point, right?

On the upside (did you think I'd be negative ALL post?) a few great things have happened.  J-Man's mom is in town from Washington state.  She's been super helpful - especially during the stomach madness.

And, fans could argue even better, the Seahawks won.  We donned our tattoos and duct tape and jerseys, bibs, and hats to cheer them on.  Go Hawks.  Ca-Caw

November Thanks but No Thanks

Oh friends, what a trying first week of November this has been.  Rather than lament what feels like one disaster after another, I'm going to try to channel some of that Facebook what-I'm-grateful-for November attitude and reframe it all.

So with that said I'm grateful that....

1) PDG's doctor's office is open late.  Much better than a $200 emergency room visit when his random 102.5 fever joined up with crazy huge welts all over his body.  fyi - hives.

2) amoxicillin tastes like bubble gum.  Makes 10 days of antibiotics for strep for a 19 month old actually possible to administer.  Benadryl - work on that, would you? (did you know strep can cause hives? weird)

3) PDG is old enough for, and loves going to, nursery at church.  I do feel guilty sometimes at wanting to spend any more time away from him than I already do, but since he turned 18 months and started getting to attend Nursery, I've gotten to feel like I'm getting more out of Sunday School and Relief Society again.  Plus, it's helped him learn to fold his arms to pray - super duper adorable.

4) My nesting carried over into having my 1st quarter grades entered well before the deadline on Tuesday.  Otherwise I would've joined the ranks of teachers flipping out that our electronic gradebook shut down the three school days before all grades/comments were due.  Instead I got to spend all day making copies of worksheets for the next six weeks and weekly outlines of lesson plans for whenever this baby MDG decides to show up.

5) NPR keeps me calm when a tractor trailer full of fuel crashes on I-95 south, shutting down the entire interstate, and turning my 30 minute commute into a 90 minute one.  No longer can I say I've never been late to work.

6) Mama H answers the phone as early as 5:30am.  (Sorry Mama H for all the calls this week!)

7) Papa H insists I keep AAA coverage.  When stranded on the side of the road with a dead car and a very active toddler, knowing help is on the way is one of few positive thoughts

8) My coworkers are as excited about this baby as I am.  So when I thought my water might have broken during 1st period (I'll end details there for TMI reasons) I had an army of women getting a sub to cover, walking me to the bathroom, and getting me a ride to L&D to get checked out.  Of course, as you probably guessed, it wasn't my water.  And not enough contractions to move things along.  But a good practice run I guess.

9) PDG can cheer up just about anyone.  After this long week, and particularly long day, I told PDG it was time to go "night night." Because he's a strange little boy who loves bedtime - don't hate me, ok? - he immediately put down his toy, started waving his arms to say bye, and then looked at J-Man.  He stopped, smiled, said "kiss" and then walked over and gave his daddy a kiss.  Then he began climbing the stairs waving at us both again and repeating "night night."  I don't think I could love that boy more.  And I don't think J-Man's smile could have been bigger.  What a perfect way to end a far from perfect week.

So, November, what are you gonna throw at us G's this week to keep us focused on gratitude?

Birthday Blossom Recap

Recently I experienced my first pregnant birthday.  (Ok, you caught me, it was like a month ago.  Cut a gal some slack).

I turned 29 for the first time, and plan to remain 29 indefinitely.

As you may imagine from my recent blogging absences, I didn't feel so hot.

One of my friends asked me recently how this pregnancy is different than the last.  I struggled to answer in any coherent sentences.  It's just.... hard?  Because I know what's coming?  Even though I know the first trimester does end. It ended this week I guess. But I'm teaching full time and chasing a nearly-toddling 1 year old and doubting myself and all sorts of emotionally upside down.  So I'm tired.  Which is normal.  Yet overwhelming.  And I throw up less but I cry more and I just but then somehow it could seems........

See, even there - incoherent.

At any rate, the nausea and exhaustion that is starting to subside now, was up and in full force back during Apple Blossom Birthday time.  That, and some serious sinus/headcold misery.  I was insistent that my hometown not find out I was pregnant just yet, so I strapped on my happy smile and made the most of it.

That picture was from the Fireman's Parade.  Isn't he darling?  I think so at least.  He hardly smiled, but I think that's mostly because he'd been in the car for two hours only to end up at an overstimulating parade without a normal dinner meal.

The next day we buddied up with M and her girlfriend N.  We spread our blankets in the former state senator's yard and we avoided everyone.  Sadly, I realized later that meant I had missed an opportunity to see someone I actually had really wanted to see.  On the up side, I missed all the fake hugs and how are you's that come with returning home on one of three yearly occasions that anyone goes back.  I'll see them at Thanksgiving.  Or I won't because I'll be in labor.  We'll see.

The highlight of the parade, aside from watching PDG clap, giggle, crawl, and cheer with us, was Papa H and Mama H riding in the Grand Feature itself.  As president of a local charitable organization, my dad got a convertible and a sign.  He says people shouted and yelled for him, screaming that the sign should've said "best math teacher ever" and other things to that effect.  I'll admit, it's pretty cool having parents who have taught half the town, and did a pretty superbly amazing job at that, such that they are practically celebrities.

By the time the parade ended we were all pretty pooped.  We packed up, drove home, threw up, and had some dinner.  Step number three was just me.  Everyone else managed to transition from the drive to dinner far more smoothly.

So the next morning, when Mama and Papa H offered to take PDG to church and let me and J-Man stay home and rest I said YES!  Best birthday present I could've asked for.  Me and my J-Man, cuddled on the couch, snotty and sick and getting older and proclaiming we will not have any more children and happily in love.

And here I am, writing about this all with a smile.  How does pregnancy make you so quickly nostalgic in such a happy way for days when you are in pain and/or miserable?

A mess

Ok, friends, I'm a mess.

I'll be the first to admit it.  I'm a tired, pregnant, hormonal, self-doubting mess.

If I remember correctly, these feelings start to settle in the second trimester.  At least, that's what I'm choosing to remember.  Just this week I fell asleep watching The Daily Show.  And no, I don't mean the new one that comes on at 11pm, I mean the night before's episode that comes on at 7:30pm that we often watch just after putting PDG to bed and finishing up a little dinner together. At some point J-Man convinced me to relocate from the couch to the bed, but otherwise I was out until 5am! Clearly I'm exhausted.

Plus, my ears have decided to do the thing where they don't pop again.  But rather than starting in the 3rd trimester, here I am, 9 weeks along, with 31 to go, and I have to tell my kiddos to speak up when they read their homework aloud because I feel half deaf.

AND, my adorable, sweet, PDG just won't walk.  Which makes me feel like the world's worst mama, even though I know he's still in the normal range and he stands by himself all the time and shows every competency of being able to.  But when other ladies at the park are like "oh he's 13 months?  and not walking? hmmm..." my usual confidence is shot by doubts of maternal capacity and oh-my-goodness-if-I'm-screwing-up-with-PDG-how-can-I-have-a-second????

A mess, right?

Here, right now, after having napped when he napped this morning, and having had a good long cry with J-Man this week, I feel good.  Together even.  I can type about this nutty catastrophe that is my inner monologue and know everything is gonna be just fine.

But goodness gracious, I can be one crazy and insecure mess after a half-deaf day with teenagers, not enough sleep, and too many googled non-verified medical facts in the back of my brain.

Here's hoping these next three weeks pass quickly and that 2nd trimester brings some assurance with it.

Fleeting Fevers and Such

Today was a weird one for us G's.  Examples?  Here you go..

1) PDG woke up with a fever of 102 degrees.  No other symptoms.  Just a fever. That kid.

2) After making the decision to leave PDG home with J-Man, I found myself at school 20 minutes early, having forgotten that not having to buckle PDG into the carseat, unbuckle him at Miss S's house, chat cordially with her for a minute, and then continue on to school all take up a good portion of my morning commute.  (Did I use this extra time to lesson plan?  Of course not.  I circled the building saying hello to friends)

3) PDG woke up at 7 feeling fabulous (says J-Man) and fever free, followed by eight hours of eating/playing/napping with his pops (not in that babywise way, we had to give up on any sort of eat/play/sleep anything long ago when it was clear PDG needed to eat every two hours max, regardless of awake capability or nap length)

4) J-Man watched Titanic with me.  Ok, not the whole thing, but the part he did watch he was actively interested in for a while.  Obviously it was the first half (it gets way too depressing/boring after the iceberg hits and they've started to fall in love). Gotta love when I can rope J-Man into cliche romantic entertainment instead of artistic film-making.

5) (My Favorite) PDG decided to share his graham cracker with me.  I don't know if it's a milestone he could've/should've done months ago, but I decided to pretend to eat his food today, and he offered it with a smile.  Then, when I got all happy and clapping and saying "yay," (to encourage that other recent milestone), he kept taking little bites, then offering me more.  Enough to melt a mama's heart.

Thankfully, with the mystery fever gone, good spirits all around, and no new oddities to report, we'll be off to another day tomorrow.

My Priorities

Yesterday, among a whole slew of administrative annoyances, another teacher had the nerve to tell me to "get my priorities straight."

Who says that?

And how did I not say the string of profanities I wanted to sling at her immediately afterward?

She had overheard me checking in with Mama H about how PDG was doing.  See, he'd had a fever but no other real symptoms, so I'd called in for back-up in the form of the grandparents to come cuddle him while I went ahead and went to school yesterday morning.

Why?  Apparently my screwed up priorities.

As a teacher I get ten total days of leave. Now this sounds like a lot when you consider we get summers off, but I also know it to be very few when you consider that those include both my own sick days, and those PDG will need.  Plus, I may have mentioned that J-Man and I wouldn't mind being in a situation requiring monthly doctor's appointments for check-ups sometime in the near future.  Even more, who knows what else life throws your way.  Funerals, weddings, car trouble.  Ten days can go fast.

Oh, and why did I go to work, you ask?  Well it's midterms week.  This being my first year back teaching I'm not as super organized as I could/should be, and to be honest, I felt like I'd like to give my students the opportunity to stay on schedule with their speaking midterms, get their study packets with enough time to complete them, and be available for after school studying.  Yeah, my kid comes first, obviously, but I do happen to care about my students too, in a different way.

But perhaps most importantly, Mama and Papa H hadn't seen PDG yet in 2013 and when I mentioned the mere possibility I might need their help, they jumped at the chance.  Mama H confessed that if PDG hadn't had a fever and hadn't needed her after all, she still would've driven down to bring dinner and see how much he's grown these past weeks since Christmas.

So, mujer que no sabe nada, don't tell me to get my priorities straight.  My little PDG spent the day being adored and loved and spoiled and held by his grandparents.  His mama got to leave briefly to spend time doing something else she happens to really enjoy (way more than she did at her old school). His grandparents got to love on their only grandkid in this time zone.  Everyone got to have an amazingly delicious dinner.

And today, when things got more serious and he needed a trip to the doctor and a prescription for antibiotics, I knew exactly where I wanted and needed to be.

Priorities.  Mind your business.  No person, let alone a new mother, needs someone who embodies everything-annoying-about-teachers to tell her about her priorities.

Sheesh.

oh, and while I'm venting, can someone tell the gods of all things mom guilt related that having PDG get a double-ear-infection, one of which described as "whopping" and "massive" within three weeks of starting to wean breastfeeding is so not right.  Cut a girl a break, would ya?

Now, to go cuddle this sweet, little droopy-eyed guy some more.

PDG's First Cold

Ok, so yeah, we got through the 6 month doctor's appointment on exactly PDG's 6 month birthday.  J-Man was the one who was there to hug and hold little guy after his shots.  I was there to pick him up from daycare and snuggle him.  The next day when he started running a fever like he often does, I rushed right after 7th period to give him even more snuggles.

So when the next day he woke up with a little congestion, I figured it was still just the shots messing things up.

Nope.

Hello cold season.

According to Ms. S. at daycare, congestion and teething often go hand in hand.  Since by Monday he wasn't contagious and he was still laughing and playing, we went ahead and kept taking him all week long.

Of course, no one was sleeping.

Not PDG, because he'd get so snot-filled that we'd have to hold him upright, which would just tease him, or we'd have to do the saline-and-suction one-two punch which made him scream bloody murder.  Nursing was unpleasant because he'd have to stop to breathe better.  The usual 10 minute tummy refill became multiple struggles lasting sometimes an hour or more at a time.

Not J-Man either because he hates being sick and has particularly fickle sinuses.  Add those to stressful commission-job days and he was wide awake.

And not mama because for the very few moments between a hacking husband and crying, sniffling son, I had my own sore throat and stuffiness to handle.

It was a doozy of a week.  We are finally breathing well again and, would you believe it, Ms. S was totally right. If you feel along PDG's bottom gum, there's a rough little patch poking through that just so happens to be his very first tooth!

Midnight Meanie

It's been a pretty blah week here folks.  Pretty blah indeed. Just me and my sinuses and the occasional theraflu, mucinex and coughing spell.

You're jealous, I know.

The most exciting thing to take place this week was probably when I supposedly got mean.

(Supposedly, because J-Man and I remember things differently)

What I remember is being awake for a second time in one night, unable to breathe through both notstrils, and unable to fall back asleep.

What he remembers is me waking of my own volition, sighing, complaining, passive aggressively making theraflu for us to share, and then stomping off because his breathing was too loud in order to sleep under the mexiblanket on the couch.

To be fair, some of that is true.  There may have been some unnecessary sighing.  And perhaps a little annoyance that the theraflu I wanted for myself had to be shared with He Who Got Me Sick, but come on, passive aggressive?  Me?  Riiight...  :)

In eighth grade only one person I knew believed that "Nicole and 'mean' can go in the same sentence."  Now J-Man agrees.

But no apologies.  Not from this girl.  Not until my respiratory system is back on track Mister.  I can be midnight mean all I want!

One Flu Over Our Nest

J-Man was on his death bed last night.  For clarification, he wasn't actually dying, he just believed he was dying.  And he was so, so sure.

I opened the door to find him face down in a pillow, half-covered by the big mexiblanket and he groaned some version of hello.  When I kissed his forehead I knew he must be sick because for the first time maybe since we've been together he had a fever.  Serious stuff.

Since I'm into temping nowadays I happily took his temperature, which thankfully wasn't too high, just enough to make him crazy.

As we finished up the final episode of the Civil War series he believed he might be dying of something awful like Lee or Stonewall, who both muttered war-related commands moments before their last breath.  His version included quotes like "Ernesto sit down" and "No one did their homework? Really?" remnants of our 'battles' in the bronx not all that long ago.  I laughed at his sillinesss.

Soon after he changed from hallucinations to important statements.  "Spend the life insurance well.  Save some for Lil Bro.  Use the rest to live and write.  There should be enough."

I called Mama H for some nurturing advice (apparently it's not one of my natural talents) and J-Man called out to her to say how he appreciates everything she's done for him in this short life.  She made me tell him that she plans to continue to do so for many years to come.

Eventually, after lots of tv watching, a little toast, water, alka seltzer and hugs, J-Man fell asleep.  What he called E-boli and H1N2 Return of the Swine has started to pass, and just in time for spring weather.

Next step - full disinfecting of the apartment!