Okay, this is a typical day for me: I get up at 7:30 to wake the kids up for school. After getting them ready, feeding them breakfast and sending them out the door, I have about a half hour to have coffee and my own breakfast. Then I clean up the kitchen and get ready to go for a run (at least four days a week I do- usually not Thursdays though). Right now I am at 6 miles a day- I'm training for a half-marathon that happens at the end of the month and I am a little worried that I may not have been training hard enough. I was up to 9 miles on my long day, but life has been a little crazy the last couple months and 9 was the farthest I have attempted.... but I digress. After my run, I usually have about 45 minutes to shower, get ready and drive to work. I struggle with being on time!!! I HATE being late, but it is SO hard not to with everything I try to jam into the morning. I get out of work at 3 most days, drive home and meet the kids just as they are getting off the bus. Then I try to do some house cleaning and laundry type business until it's time to make dinner around five. Usually dinner is all wrapped up around 5:30 or 6, I do dishes, and I guess that would be the time I should do some writing, working on pictures, painting, studying... constructive business. Which is all fine and dandy unless Derrick is home, and then what usually happens is we make some tea and snuggle up on the couch until it's time to put the kids to bed at 8. After they are tucked in, we snuggle down into the couch again until around 10, and then it's lights out... Yep, that pretty much covers all the days except for Thursday, which is a no-run and meeting at the kingdom hall day. And Wednesday night is family worship night...
I guess I want to start writing more because I feel like I'm starting to miss a lot of the details in the routine of life. I want to start soaking up the little moments again, and being able to recognise a funny moment when it happens. Writing helps in this, because everything becomes a story in the making. So I guess that is the mission of this blog. Here we go...
June 7, 2010
The Perfect Moment?
So, I keep thinking that I will have an actual couple minutes to "legally" start writing a blog- as in, this five minutes really belongs to me to do whatever I really want to do with it... Doesn't really happen that much any more. My days usually follow this pattern:
*This Blog has been interrupted... and therefore delayed. I'll get back to it tomorrow?*
*This Blog has been interrupted... and therefore delayed. I'll get back to it tomorrow?*
April 24, 2010
Light's Journey
Light's Journey will guide me forward
Though I've often fell from sight
I've fought to be upsidedown and blind
I've fought with all my might
But it's strong and irresistable
Like gravity, this light
'Til my eyes are opened up again
To squint against the bright
And my head is lifted upward
A blossom to the light.
Though I've often fell from sight
I've fought to be upsidedown and blind
I've fought with all my might
But it's strong and irresistable
Like gravity, this light
'Til my eyes are opened up again
To squint against the bright
And my head is lifted upward
A blossom to the light.
December 11, 2009
Squirrels vs. ME and a cat
.Every time we are about to leave town for any amount of time, something always seems to happen to make the going a little more interesting and difficult. This has previously shown up in the form of crayons in the dryer while trying to finish laundry before a trip. This has shown up in the form of pickles and sick little girl before a trip. This time it involved squirrels and a cat... before a trip.
About a week ago we added a couple new members to our family (given to us by our friends Alta and Kevin)- a couple of degus squirrels (http://www.erodent.co.uk/DeguInfo.htm) by the name of Mike and ChiChi. The are cute little critters, although Mike is the only one the kids really want to hold as ChiChi has a reputation for being a biter. We all like them, but one of our family has gone beyond "liking" them. Anikan, our cat, has REALLY taken to them. He watches them like the food network. He lays there for hours- it's really a little disturbing to see him transform into such a heavy breathing stalker. Thankfully their cage (aquarium style) has a screen on the top, so any ideas of squirrel kitty snacks have not been attainable up to this point.
I noticed yesterday that the side of the screen had a small hole in it. This did not surprise me at all since Anikan has taken to laying on their cage to peer down at them and salivate at any opportunity (which is whenever we aren't around to scold him). Very naughty kitty. Most of the time my first indication he was laying on the cage would be Mike squeaking indignantly at him. Anikan has gotten extra fat this winter, so that also probably added some extra strain to the screen. The final straw happened last night. I missed the whole drama- for once I was the heavy sleeper, and Derrick was the one being annoyed by the cat. He said he heard crashing around in the kitchen, and Anikan making crazy noises. When he went into the kitchen, Ani had broken through the screen finally and was looking for his midnight snack. Derrick foiled his plot at the last second, I'm sure much to Anikan's chagrin.
This morning I found Mike and ChiChi safe in my bathroom with a large book and my bathroom scale on top of their cage to keep them in. The screen is pretty much toast. I figured they were pretty safe in the bathroom, so I left them in there. I got the kids up and ready for school, and then did my hour on the treadmill. When I walked through my bedroom to my bathroom, I noticed a little movement out from the corner of my eye. It was Mike, creeping into my closet.
I freaked out a little- Alta and Kevin had warned us about the Degus skill at chewing through pretty much anything. I had visions of returning from Maui to a closet of chewed up clothes and dead squirrels. To add to the stress of the situation, I was already running late for work and this was sure to put me over the time limit. I checked the cage in the bathroom- sure enough, ChiChi was also missing. Mike was actually pretty easy to catch, but ChiChi was IMPOSSIBLE. She was under the bed, then behind my shelf, the behind the dresser. I chased her around and around. I found a longish stick, so I started poking it at her, trying to herd her towards a corner. It was me versus squirrel, and the squirrel was winning. Then she disappeared. I continued poking around with my stick, under the bed, behind the dresser for another five minutes or so before deciding to try to take a quick shower and also her to feel safe again before another game of pursuit. When I went into the bathroom, there she was waiting by her cage. I am hoping that when I get home from work they haven't escaped again and found there was into our heating duct or crawl space.
OK. So, before we leave tomorrow, add trying to find a cage strong enough to keep our massive cat away from our escape artist squirrels. We'll figure out something- one way or the other we are OUTTA HERE (To Maui!!!)!!!
About a week ago we added a couple new members to our family (given to us by our friends Alta and Kevin)- a couple of degus squirrels (http://www.erodent.co.uk/DeguInfo.htm) by the name of Mike and ChiChi. The are cute little critters, although Mike is the only one the kids really want to hold as ChiChi has a reputation for being a biter. We all like them, but one of our family has gone beyond "liking" them. Anikan, our cat, has REALLY taken to them. He watches them like the food network. He lays there for hours- it's really a little disturbing to see him transform into such a heavy breathing stalker. Thankfully their cage (aquarium style) has a screen on the top, so any ideas of squirrel kitty snacks have not been attainable up to this point.
I noticed yesterday that the side of the screen had a small hole in it. This did not surprise me at all since Anikan has taken to laying on their cage to peer down at them and salivate at any opportunity (which is whenever we aren't around to scold him). Very naughty kitty. Most of the time my first indication he was laying on the cage would be Mike squeaking indignantly at him. Anikan has gotten extra fat this winter, so that also probably added some extra strain to the screen. The final straw happened last night. I missed the whole drama- for once I was the heavy sleeper, and Derrick was the one being annoyed by the cat. He said he heard crashing around in the kitchen, and Anikan making crazy noises. When he went into the kitchen, Ani had broken through the screen finally and was looking for his midnight snack. Derrick foiled his plot at the last second, I'm sure much to Anikan's chagrin.
This morning I found Mike and ChiChi safe in my bathroom with a large book and my bathroom scale on top of their cage to keep them in. The screen is pretty much toast. I figured they were pretty safe in the bathroom, so I left them in there. I got the kids up and ready for school, and then did my hour on the treadmill. When I walked through my bedroom to my bathroom, I noticed a little movement out from the corner of my eye. It was Mike, creeping into my closet.
I freaked out a little- Alta and Kevin had warned us about the Degus skill at chewing through pretty much anything. I had visions of returning from Maui to a closet of chewed up clothes and dead squirrels. To add to the stress of the situation, I was already running late for work and this was sure to put me over the time limit. I checked the cage in the bathroom- sure enough, ChiChi was also missing. Mike was actually pretty easy to catch, but ChiChi was IMPOSSIBLE. She was under the bed, then behind my shelf, the behind the dresser. I chased her around and around. I found a longish stick, so I started poking it at her, trying to herd her towards a corner. It was me versus squirrel, and the squirrel was winning. Then she disappeared. I continued poking around with my stick, under the bed, behind the dresser for another five minutes or so before deciding to try to take a quick shower and also her to feel safe again before another game of pursuit. When I went into the bathroom, there she was waiting by her cage. I am hoping that when I get home from work they haven't escaped again and found there was into our heating duct or crawl space.
OK. So, before we leave tomorrow, add trying to find a cage strong enough to keep our massive cat away from our escape artist squirrels. We'll figure out something- one way or the other we are OUTTA HERE (To Maui!!!)!!!
August 11, 2009
Things My Daughter Has Taught Me
My daughter, who is in kindergarden, has been bringing home little books lately. They are little books that she has authored especially for me. They cover various subjects such as our cat Anikan, our family, rainbows, flowers, fish, lizards and horses. She gives them to me as gifts, and they are precious.
After I get to look at them, she takes them from me and puts them on my bookshelf. They are books, after all, so they go on the shelf with all of my favorite books. She didn't ask me, she didn't wonder if her books belonged there. She KNEW. And guess what. She was RIGHT. They happen to be my new most favorite books.
My little beautiful 6 year old daughter is on to some lessons that I may have lost along the the way. Here are few that I have observed:
1. Creativity starts at step 1, not step 100. Go with it. If you want to be a writer, who cares if you don't know how to spell. Use the letters you know.
2. Give your art and poems away with love and gusto. Even when you know it's not perfect. It is perfect in it's imperfection.
3. Make sure you have lots of crayons and markers and paper. You can't create your art if you don't have the materials.
4. When you give your art or writings to the recipient, always let them know you were thinking of them during the creative process. It really does mean a lot.
5. Make sure you surround yourself with people who believe in you. Start with Mom.
After I get to look at them, she takes them from me and puts them on my bookshelf. They are books, after all, so they go on the shelf with all of my favorite books. She didn't ask me, she didn't wonder if her books belonged there. She KNEW. And guess what. She was RIGHT. They happen to be my new most favorite books.
My little beautiful 6 year old daughter is on to some lessons that I may have lost along the the way. Here are few that I have observed:
1. Creativity starts at step 1, not step 100. Go with it. If you want to be a writer, who cares if you don't know how to spell. Use the letters you know.
2. Give your art and poems away with love and gusto. Even when you know it's not perfect. It is perfect in it's imperfection.
3. Make sure you have lots of crayons and markers and paper. You can't create your art if you don't have the materials.
4. When you give your art or writings to the recipient, always let them know you were thinking of them during the creative process. It really does mean a lot.
5. Make sure you surround yourself with people who believe in you. Start with Mom.
July 8, 2009
Disgruntled on a Wednesday
On the way to work today, I realized I was in a far worse mood than usual. So, as I crept along on 39th Street traffic, I jotted down the top three things that had managed to aggravate me this morning the most:
1. The magazines displayed for everyone to see as they walk through the line at Safeway (or any other food store). Especially the ones shouting out "THE BEST AND WORST BODIES OF THE SUMMER", in which they show a perky, tanned and toned 16 year old girl in a bikini right next to a much older woman who may or may not have the best body ever. It makes me SO angry that they display this trash right where everyone in the world passes by (assuming you need to buy food to eat), trying to brainwash us all about what feminine beauty should look like. I don't need that!!! I don't think ANY woman needs to be force fed this absolute garbage. Most of us struggle with some level of body image as it is. It especially hurts me when I have my children in line with me. I don't want my daughter OR son to look at these magazines. My beautiful little daughter is only 6 years old, and already she has expressed worry over whether a certain pair of pants makes her look "fat". She already feels the pressure of this world's commercial monster, trying to make girls and women feel like we have to be perfect to be acceptable. And why do they want to make us feel that way? The next natural step is to spend money on the products that will make us feel pretty. *sigh*
2. The media in general. I hate how they make gods out of regular people. I hate how they set people up high and then gather around to feast on the very same people during hard times. I hate their "hard hitting reports" where they expose whatever and demonize people to the public, only to make the same people seem like absolute angels when they die.
We haven't had satellite for almost two months now- we pretty much only watch PBS- and STILL we had to hear about Michael Jackson every time we turned on the television. He was a great musician and artist and it is sad that he died, but I DON'T KNOW HIM or any other celebrity who dies. Why should his death receive so much more attention from all of us than any other mortal? *sigh*
3. Traffic on 39th Street. I have to drive this road every day to work, and inevitably I get stuck behind someone who wants to play it "safe" by driving 15 miles per hour in a 35 per hour speed limit. Last week it was this guy on a cute little motorcycle. I really had to resist the urge to push him along faster with my car. *sigh*
Anyways, thanks for reading my list. I feel a little better now.
1. The magazines displayed for everyone to see as they walk through the line at Safeway (or any other food store). Especially the ones shouting out "THE BEST AND WORST BODIES OF THE SUMMER", in which they show a perky, tanned and toned 16 year old girl in a bikini right next to a much older woman who may or may not have the best body ever. It makes me SO angry that they display this trash right where everyone in the world passes by (assuming you need to buy food to eat), trying to brainwash us all about what feminine beauty should look like. I don't need that!!! I don't think ANY woman needs to be force fed this absolute garbage. Most of us struggle with some level of body image as it is. It especially hurts me when I have my children in line with me. I don't want my daughter OR son to look at these magazines. My beautiful little daughter is only 6 years old, and already she has expressed worry over whether a certain pair of pants makes her look "fat". She already feels the pressure of this world's commercial monster, trying to make girls and women feel like we have to be perfect to be acceptable. And why do they want to make us feel that way? The next natural step is to spend money on the products that will make us feel pretty. *sigh*
2. The media in general. I hate how they make gods out of regular people. I hate how they set people up high and then gather around to feast on the very same people during hard times. I hate their "hard hitting reports" where they expose whatever and demonize people to the public, only to make the same people seem like absolute angels when they die.
We haven't had satellite for almost two months now- we pretty much only watch PBS- and STILL we had to hear about Michael Jackson every time we turned on the television. He was a great musician and artist and it is sad that he died, but I DON'T KNOW HIM or any other celebrity who dies. Why should his death receive so much more attention from all of us than any other mortal? *sigh*
3. Traffic on 39th Street. I have to drive this road every day to work, and inevitably I get stuck behind someone who wants to play it "safe" by driving 15 miles per hour in a 35 per hour speed limit. Last week it was this guy on a cute little motorcycle. I really had to resist the urge to push him along faster with my car. *sigh*
Anyways, thanks for reading my list. I feel a little better now.
25 random things
1. My favorite books gowing up were the Chronicles of Narnia.
2. I have three diaries going at any given time (AND they are pretty ones....)
3. I believe with all my heart that if you focus on ANYTHING for long enough, it will come true, so you better be careful about what you focus on!!
4. I find people incredibly interesting. If you are someone I am in touch with (like we actually see eachother face to face sometimes), dang it, I MISS you! What is UP?:)
5. I want to go to Europe someday, somehow.
6. I love to write, whether it's my diary, a list, or a short story. I'm trying to blog regularly again.
7. I am really REALLY hard on myself about anything that matters to me.
7.5. I am an obsessive editor of anything I write.
8. My dream is to live in Zihuatanejo Mexico during the winter and Montana during the summer.
9. I still want to learn Spanish.
10. I love my little nephew and my great neice with all my heart, and I wish I could be part of both their daily existance.
11. I hope to live forever .
12. I worry a lot about my parents.
13. I wish I was more of a thinker and less of a feeler.
14. I regret filling this thing out at three in the morning when my brain's not so good.
15. I love to be around happy, positive people, because it helps to fight the darker side of myself.
16. I wish I could be have close relationships with all my siblings. I am SO grateful and fortunate to have my sister.
17. One of the reasons that I love wedding photography so much is that I am able to capture the ideal version of love and romance that I have tucked away in my mind.
18. My goal is always; has always been: moderation and inner peace.
19. I am always amazed I have the privledge of being MOM to such beautiful and smart people.
20. If I love something, like a shirt or a restaurant, I will suck every bit of pleasure and joy out of that shirt or restaurant that I can, until I can never wear it or eat that food again. the end. Not moderate at all about ANY thing.
21. Sometimes my husband's moderation can frustrate me. I can never tell if he is frustating my dreams or making them real until the end results. Usually he is making them real. (note: I knew I would be editing in here:) When I wrote this I was irritated because we were in such a moment of him "helping" me rein in my enthusiasm about something. BUT, I have to say it, one of the main reasons I married him is that he is such a smart realist, and I totally respect and love that about him. And mostly he loves my enthusiasm about things because it helps him to lighten up a bit... )
22. I am not a great artist, but I like to paint. I am as excited about painting a picture nowadays as I was when I was in 2nd grade.
23. I LOVE jewel tones.
24. My kitchen ended up golden rod yellow one day.
25. My living room is going to be dark blue and green, starting next week...
.
2. I have three diaries going at any given time (AND they are pretty ones....)
3. I believe with all my heart that if you focus on ANYTHING for long enough, it will come true, so you better be careful about what you focus on!!
4. I find people incredibly interesting. If you are someone I am in touch with (like we actually see eachother face to face sometimes), dang it, I MISS you! What is UP?:)
5. I want to go to Europe someday, somehow.
6. I love to write, whether it's my diary, a list, or a short story. I'm trying to blog regularly again.
7. I am really REALLY hard on myself about anything that matters to me.
7.5. I am an obsessive editor of anything I write.
8. My dream is to live in Zihuatanejo Mexico during the winter and Montana during the summer.
9. I still want to learn Spanish.
10. I love my little nephew and my great neice with all my heart, and I wish I could be part of both their daily existance.
11. I hope to live forever .
12. I worry a lot about my parents.
13. I wish I was more of a thinker and less of a feeler.
14. I regret filling this thing out at three in the morning when my brain's not so good.
15. I love to be around happy, positive people, because it helps to fight the darker side of myself.
16. I wish I could be have close relationships with all my siblings. I am SO grateful and fortunate to have my sister.
17. One of the reasons that I love wedding photography so much is that I am able to capture the ideal version of love and romance that I have tucked away in my mind.
18. My goal is always; has always been: moderation and inner peace.
19. I am always amazed I have the privledge of being MOM to such beautiful and smart people.
20. If I love something, like a shirt or a restaurant, I will suck every bit of pleasure and joy out of that shirt or restaurant that I can, until I can never wear it or eat that food again. the end. Not moderate at all about ANY thing.
21. Sometimes my husband's moderation can frustrate me. I can never tell if he is frustating my dreams or making them real until the end results. Usually he is making them real. (note: I knew I would be editing in here:) When I wrote this I was irritated because we were in such a moment of him "helping" me rein in my enthusiasm about something. BUT, I have to say it, one of the main reasons I married him is that he is such a smart realist, and I totally respect and love that about him. And mostly he loves my enthusiasm about things because it helps him to lighten up a bit... )
22. I am not a great artist, but I like to paint. I am as excited about painting a picture nowadays as I was when I was in 2nd grade.
23. I LOVE jewel tones.
24. My kitchen ended up golden rod yellow one day.
25. My living room is going to be dark blue and green, starting next week...
.
April 13, 2009
Blogging from the Sick One
So this is a blog coming from a still sick mind, and therefore is going to be long and drawn out. My brain and equilibrium (as well as my lungs), seem to have resisted my non-stop good wishes towards wellness. My own wellness, that is. My body is reminding me that in this last year I have abandoned all of my efforts to really take care of it. Vitamins, while living cozily in my cupboards, have not been participating in my body’s health. The gym, while being paid for automatically for months, has not been a participant in making my body have the will to live. I discovered the double stack cheeseburger at Wendy’s a couple months ago, and have indulged (with a guilty side salad) at least two or three times a week for lunch ever since. I started drinking soda again after literally YEARS of abstinence. My attitude about my own health was an unconcerned one.
I’m not really a big bragger. Things I do brag about include: My kids (isn’t that allowed though?), My awesome thrift shopping abilities (I am almost superhuman in this department. No Jokes.), AND, My awesome immune system. Every year when Derrick and the kids get sick, guess who is always the last woman standing? Year after year of this tends to build the old confidence. I admit it, I was smug in my seeming immunity. I have never even had the chicken pox! HELLO! Kloe just had them a couple months ago, and guess who walked away unscathed yet again?
Enter ten days ago (TEN!), it is a Sunday morning, and I am waking up with a pounding headache that is not helped by the fact that I am shivering uncontrollably. I am in denial that anything serious is going on. I even manage to eventually shower and pull myself together to go to the hospital later when my friend’s have an accident (everything turned out okay there), but I am careful not to breathe on anyone just in case. The next day Derrick leaves for an out of town job- he’s not going to be back until FRIDAY. I wake with a fever, a body that is aching and chilled, but I am confident the ol’ immune system is gonna kick in any second. Enter day three. Actually go back a couple hours to the middle of the night as I lay there seeing red spots, having crazy fever dreams while sweating so much that I finally convince my body that it has to get up and change. Twice. It turns out my body’s strength of will is quite a lot stronger than my mind’s when it is sick. It didn’t want to do ANYTHING I told it too. Even if it was the one that wanted something! The next couple days included: Somehow getting the kids off to school (mostly they just got themselves dressed and fed and then patted me on the head as they walked out the door), and then I would lay on the couch curled into a sweaty little ball. My body would tell my mind it was thirsty. My mind would tell my body to get something to drink. My body would say NO WAY because it knew the sheer hell of hurti-freeziness that it would have to pay up front for the drink. But it wouldn’t leave my mind alone about the thirstiness. To quiet the mind and body, I watched hours of House. I watched the same episode over and over because I couldn’t follow the story. I still don’t really know what that episode was about. The kids finally came home from school and Derrin got me something to drink, which I was eternally grateful for. They made sandwiches for dinner.
The next day I hilariously thought I should try to go to work. Kathrine drove me there and picked me back up exactly twenty minutes later. As soon as I hit the couch, it was a repeat of the day before. Thursday was the same. Friday I got super clever and decided to go to work full of Tylenol and Robuttison. Answering phones that day, and trying to inform people about our programs was interesting to say the least. I somehow got disconnected several times… whether I hung up on them or they hung up on me I can’t say.
When I got home I called my sister to cry on her shoulder about how sick I was and about what a horrible day I had just had at work. She stopped me and asked why I was talking so funny. Turns out I was talking much slower than normal. Well, that was just great! I had just spent an entire day at work, answering phones in crazy slow motion voice! I called up my supervisor to tell her how upset I was about working under the influence of cold medicine, but then I hung up on her too. That was it. I gave up at that point.
Derrick came home that night, but he had to leave the very next day to see his brother. He took Derrin with him. Shannon and Phil came and took Kloe home with them (THANK YOU!) so she could actually go outside and play instead of staying inside with nearly dead mommy(sounds like an inaction figure). I lay on the couch in my sweaty little ball, shivering and being thirsty. When it was time to eat, I would take Robuttison and in awhile I could get something (in slow motion). Anyways, you get the picture. Sunday came and went, and I still had a fever. Monday a new symptom arrived in the form of the inability to breathe. By that time Derrick was home, and he made an appointment with the doctor. Even though she really helped, and it was the turning point for the good, her breathing treatment nearly knocked me off the rest of the way. On the way home I lay in the passenger side gasping for breath, and not being able to get any air at ALL. It was seriously scary! He took me home to his mom, who made sure I took my medicine all day long (every half hour), PLUS she gave me all the juice and water I could drink. This was the healing day.
That whole night I heard the death rattle in my lungs, and I knew it would only get worse and worse until I gave into the need to cough. I would fight as long as possible, but it was inevitable. I have to say my abs feel firmer than they have in years.
Yesterday I called in sick again, and laid on the couch, but it was getting better. By night I was able to take Derrin to his guitar lesson, although he told me that I looked sick and he wanted Gramma to take him. Ah, little boys don’t know the magic of make-up (to hide the dead skin look), cute hats (to hide the flat, haven’t fixed in a week hair), and big sweaters (to hide the shivering). The point is, I was TIRED of being sick, and enough was enough.
I went to work today. Even though I am not 100% (I still am on this darned couch, not quite up to cleaning the house, or doing the stacks of laundry), it is definitely getting better. I even lost about five pounds, although it could be the bad kind of weight loss that comes from not moving for days at a time. Maybe my appetite will stay minimal for awhile.
Anyways, that is my story about being sick. Take is as a cautionary one. It is telling you to TAKE CARE of yourself and also DON’T BRAG or being overconfident in your body’s ability to stay healthy. If I can leave you (and myself) with any lesson, let it be those.
I’m not really a big bragger. Things I do brag about include: My kids (isn’t that allowed though?), My awesome thrift shopping abilities (I am almost superhuman in this department. No Jokes.), AND, My awesome immune system. Every year when Derrick and the kids get sick, guess who is always the last woman standing? Year after year of this tends to build the old confidence. I admit it, I was smug in my seeming immunity. I have never even had the chicken pox! HELLO! Kloe just had them a couple months ago, and guess who walked away unscathed yet again?
Enter ten days ago (TEN!), it is a Sunday morning, and I am waking up with a pounding headache that is not helped by the fact that I am shivering uncontrollably. I am in denial that anything serious is going on. I even manage to eventually shower and pull myself together to go to the hospital later when my friend’s have an accident (everything turned out okay there), but I am careful not to breathe on anyone just in case. The next day Derrick leaves for an out of town job- he’s not going to be back until FRIDAY. I wake with a fever, a body that is aching and chilled, but I am confident the ol’ immune system is gonna kick in any second. Enter day three. Actually go back a couple hours to the middle of the night as I lay there seeing red spots, having crazy fever dreams while sweating so much that I finally convince my body that it has to get up and change. Twice. It turns out my body’s strength of will is quite a lot stronger than my mind’s when it is sick. It didn’t want to do ANYTHING I told it too. Even if it was the one that wanted something! The next couple days included: Somehow getting the kids off to school (mostly they just got themselves dressed and fed and then patted me on the head as they walked out the door), and then I would lay on the couch curled into a sweaty little ball. My body would tell my mind it was thirsty. My mind would tell my body to get something to drink. My body would say NO WAY because it knew the sheer hell of hurti-freeziness that it would have to pay up front for the drink. But it wouldn’t leave my mind alone about the thirstiness. To quiet the mind and body, I watched hours of House. I watched the same episode over and over because I couldn’t follow the story. I still don’t really know what that episode was about. The kids finally came home from school and Derrin got me something to drink, which I was eternally grateful for. They made sandwiches for dinner.
The next day I hilariously thought I should try to go to work. Kathrine drove me there and picked me back up exactly twenty minutes later. As soon as I hit the couch, it was a repeat of the day before. Thursday was the same. Friday I got super clever and decided to go to work full of Tylenol and Robuttison. Answering phones that day, and trying to inform people about our programs was interesting to say the least. I somehow got disconnected several times… whether I hung up on them or they hung up on me I can’t say.
When I got home I called my sister to cry on her shoulder about how sick I was and about what a horrible day I had just had at work. She stopped me and asked why I was talking so funny. Turns out I was talking much slower than normal. Well, that was just great! I had just spent an entire day at work, answering phones in crazy slow motion voice! I called up my supervisor to tell her how upset I was about working under the influence of cold medicine, but then I hung up on her too. That was it. I gave up at that point.
Derrick came home that night, but he had to leave the very next day to see his brother. He took Derrin with him. Shannon and Phil came and took Kloe home with them (THANK YOU!) so she could actually go outside and play instead of staying inside with nearly dead mommy(sounds like an inaction figure). I lay on the couch in my sweaty little ball, shivering and being thirsty. When it was time to eat, I would take Robuttison and in awhile I could get something (in slow motion). Anyways, you get the picture. Sunday came and went, and I still had a fever. Monday a new symptom arrived in the form of the inability to breathe. By that time Derrick was home, and he made an appointment with the doctor. Even though she really helped, and it was the turning point for the good, her breathing treatment nearly knocked me off the rest of the way. On the way home I lay in the passenger side gasping for breath, and not being able to get any air at ALL. It was seriously scary! He took me home to his mom, who made sure I took my medicine all day long (every half hour), PLUS she gave me all the juice and water I could drink. This was the healing day.
That whole night I heard the death rattle in my lungs, and I knew it would only get worse and worse until I gave into the need to cough. I would fight as long as possible, but it was inevitable. I have to say my abs feel firmer than they have in years.
Yesterday I called in sick again, and laid on the couch, but it was getting better. By night I was able to take Derrin to his guitar lesson, although he told me that I looked sick and he wanted Gramma to take him. Ah, little boys don’t know the magic of make-up (to hide the dead skin look), cute hats (to hide the flat, haven’t fixed in a week hair), and big sweaters (to hide the shivering). The point is, I was TIRED of being sick, and enough was enough.
I went to work today. Even though I am not 100% (I still am on this darned couch, not quite up to cleaning the house, or doing the stacks of laundry), it is definitely getting better. I even lost about five pounds, although it could be the bad kind of weight loss that comes from not moving for days at a time. Maybe my appetite will stay minimal for awhile.
Anyways, that is my story about being sick. Take is as a cautionary one. It is telling you to TAKE CARE of yourself and also DON’T BRAG or being overconfident in your body’s ability to stay healthy. If I can leave you (and myself) with any lesson, let it be those.
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