Category Archives: Random Stuff

Short and Sweet.

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10

… and totally adorable.

I wont write much in this post either!

Hah.  Ronan is sitting next to me, entirely naked and still wet from a mid-afternoon bath he requested.  Of course, he’s playing with his wiener.  No diaper? That’s okay, there’s a toy between your legs!  Boys.

Let me say, quickly, that one should never expect the best case scenario when planning for a difficult situation.  I worked last night, and assumed Ronan would sleep in late today as he did yesterday.  Nope.  Up at seven.  I thought, “Maybe he’ll take a four hour nap today, like he did yesterday!”  Nope.  Two teeny hours.  My sweet sitter is sick, and I figured staying awake with Ronan wouldn’t be that difficult.  Um.

If you’ve had any dealings with me today, I apologize.  I am showing more crazy than normal.  I blame the lack of sleep.

Also?  The poor kid got my vomit bug on Saturday night.  And poor Brock was up with him until nearly midnight, catching him and holding him every time he threw up, cleaning up after him, brushing his teeth, and trying to get him to drink something.  It has not been a good month for us.

On the up side, we’re both feeling better.  I’d love for that to stick around for a while.

Also again! I went to a friend’s Mother’s Blessing-style baby shower on Saturday… and I brought my camera.  Turns out, I was the only one who brought a camera, so I spent a lot of time trying to capture the afternoon.  We had SO much fun.   Never underestimate the value of having a kid free afternoon with a bunch of other moms.

Anyhow… when it came time to send her the pictures I had taken… man, it was nervewracking!  I’ve never had that feeling before.  Will she like them?  Did I do a good job?  Will she pretend to like them?  HA!  It must be more stressful than I imagined to be a professional photographer.

And.  That’s all I’ve got for today.

Except… if you read my blog… Thank you.  I love you, and appreciate your support.  I don’t know if I’ve ever said that before, and decided I should.

So thanks.

Sick to Death.

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9

Ok.

I know my blog has been a bit of a downer lately… and we haven’t really been having the best MONTH.

Between me and Ronan, someone has been sick for ages.  He finally seems to be on the mend.  But I warn you now… this entry will be very graphic, and use words like “vomit” and “diarrhea”.  Discontinue reading if you have a problem with that.

I felt fine yesterday.  All of the day.  I ordered a pizza for dinner, because I hadn’t planned ahead enough for dinner, and I was starving.  Ronan and I ate pizza together, I bathed him and put him to bed just after Brock got home.  Brock and I sat on the couch and watched our favorite show (Modern Family) and I started to feel a little off.

I told him I thought maybe my pizza was bad, and took some Rolaids.  No improvement.

Fast forward to an hour later.  We are in the bathroom, and he’s trying to convince me to just puke it up, because I will feel SO much better.  I kept telling him, “I feel like I need to vomit and have diarrhea at the exact same moment.”  If you know me and my anti-puking ways, you know there is NO chance that I will be able to convince myself to stick a finger down my throat… even at the promise of ‘feeling better’.

I told Brock I was just going to try to go to bed and sleep it off, and he went out into the living room.  About 20 minutes later, feeling VERY ill, I walked through the living room, into the kitchen, grabbed the biggest bowl I could find, and went back to bed.  I didn’t answer Brock when he asked what I was doing.  I was on a mission.

I laid in bed, curled into a little ball around my bowl, and thought in my head over and over, “Just puke and you’ll feel better.  Just puke and you’ll feel better.  Just puke and you’ll feel better,” but I couldn’t actually convince myself to make any move.  I just laid there.

Suddenly, I sat up and there was no stopping.  I threw up over and over.  I had NO idea there was so much in my stomach.  I hate the feeling of throwing up so badly… being doubled over like you’ve been kicked in the stomach, the pulling, tearing feeling as something is ripped out of you against your will.   I hate feeling that out of control.  Not knowing when it will finally be over, and feeling like it lasts for ages.  When I finally stopped,  I sat there and cried and cried.  Brock came in to see if I was okay (evidently I’m not a quiet puker) and I said no.  I couldn’t stop crying.  He tried to get me to calm down, and go sit by the toilet in case I got sick again.  I made him sit with me until I was sure I wasn’t going to be sick anymore, and then decided to try to go back to bed.  Maybe the worst of this was over?

Fat freaking chance.

I immediately had the urge to GO.  And it was bad.  I took my pillow to the toilet with me, a trick I learned long ago when feeling unwell, and I sat on the toilet for over an hour.  I have never, in my life, been so sick.  I don’t know if it was the vomiting, diarrhea, combination of both, or the dehydration that started the contractions, but they started STRONG.  I had a hard time breathing through them.  They were reminiscent of Pitocin contractions, just as painful and only about 2 minutes apart.

I decided to go up and get into the bath, hoping the worst of the sickness was past (figured I’d gotten all of the pizza out) and that I could calm the contractions down.  After nearly an hour, crying with discomfort and fear, (and after I had finally called my midwife where she told me under NO UNCERTAIN TERMS to go to the hospital) I woke Brock up and made him bring me some water.  I told him, “If I can just keep some water down, I wont have to to go to the hospital.”  Somewhat in denial,  I chugged about 10oz of cold water, and sat back in the tub, hoping it would stick.  Smart, no?

Less than a minute later, I forcefully ejected all of the water I had slammed back into the toilet next to the tub, and then some.  As a side note, having someone there to hold your hair back for you is actually really nice.  At this point, I started crying again because I didn’t want to have to go to the hospital, I didn’t want to have to go ALONE (someone would have to stay home with Ronan) and I didn’t want to be admitted.  I’m pretty sure I was fully into denial about the seriousness of the situation, and it didn’t help that Brock kept encouraging me to “just try some more water.”

I laid down in bed after getting out of the bath with some warm water beside me, and I took a sip every 2 or 3 minutes.  I felt the whole time like I was going to throw it up again, but it managed to stay down.  After some adjusting, I finally got in a semi-comfortable position, and began to drift off to sleep.  “I’ll feel better in the morning,” was what I kept telling myself.  Only… every fifteen minutes or so, I had to run to the toilet.  Diarrhea was taking the water out of me faster than I could drink it.

At 7:30 this morning, Ronan woke screaming.  I went to get him immediately, despite feeling sick, weak, tired and horrible.  When I got up to his room, he had peed through his diaper (for the second time in two days) and was freezing cold.  Got him up, changed, fed and happy.  I then sat down on the couch with a big cup of water and some dry toast.  I felt just as terrible as I had the night before.  Brock got up, showered, and ready for work.  As he was on his way out the door, I broke down sobbing.  There was NO way I was going to be able to handle Ronan by myself today.  I hadn’t gotten any sleep, I was still feeling sick as a dog, and Ronan wants you to get up every 5 minutes to ‘do!’ something with him.  I begged Brock to stay home.  I needed him to take care of Ronan, and of me.  I guess I must have looked pretty pitiful, because he gave in easier than I had expected and called into work.

My midwife called to check on me, and see how things went.  I told her I had managed to keep some water down so I didn’t go to the hospital, and my contractions had stopped not long after I got in bed.  Thankfully she wasn’t mad at me.  She told me to rest and take it easy, and since Brock was home, I went and got back in bed.

I slept until nearly 1pm, and when I woke, I felt like a million bucks.  Not better, mind you, but SO much better than the night before, I suddenly felt like I was alive again.  I had a bowl of chicken noodle soup for lunch, and it was the best tasting thing I’d ever eaten in my life.

It is now nearly 11:30pm, and I just woke up from another nap.  This evening, Brock started saying that he felt like something awful was going on in his belly, and Ronan has been acting funny.  I went to bed early so I could have a little sleep in the event that my boys get sick and need someone to take care of them.

I really hope they didn’t catch this bug.  I really hope we are sick free for a while.  I really hope this is the last post like this that I ever have to write.

A Whole Lot Of Random.

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5

It’s been quite a few days since I’ve written, and that leaves me where it usually does… a whole lot of stuff to say, and no idea what to actually SAY.

I got 9.5 hours of sleep last night, and I feel like a million bucks.

I had some contractions…okay, lots of contractions the last couple of days that started behaving a little scary.  I tried not to get into my head about it, but I couldn’t get them to calm down.  Hot baths, epsom salts, lots of water and a ton of rest seemed to be the trick – chasing after a busy 20 month old proved to be a little too much this week.

I had a wonderful/amazing visit with Laura, the sweet friend that keeps Ronan for me while I’m working.  Sometimes it’s easy to forget how nice it is to have simple adult conversation with another human being, even when our kids are in the room being rowdy.

We appear to FINALLY be on the mend.  Ronan had a sinus infection, and he’s been on antibiotics for 5 days now.  YESTERDAY was the first day that we started to see some improvement.  Less coughing, no more green snot, and a little bit of an improvement in attitude.  I’m not gonna lie to ya, I’ve loved the last few days of sitting on the couch, snuggled together, watching movies… but I’m ready to get out of this place and DO STUFF.  Visit friends, play at the park before the good weather is gone, anything to get us out of this house!

Things are so up in the air right now, I don’t know for sure when they are going to settle down.  Next week is Thanksgiving(!) already, and I feel like I have a ton of time to get stuff done.  But really, I don’t.  I want to take a Christmas picture and send out cards, so I’m giving myself until December 1st to get that done.  We’ll see how it turns out.

In other news, I’m getting huge… and I’m okay with it.  I have to be honest with myself when I look in the mirror – 130lbs looks a whole lot better on me than 103.  I feel like I look younger, prettier, and less haggard.  I’m trying not to be too worried about how much weight I gain this time around (trying being the operative word there) because I know how much weight I lost nursing Ronan.  I don’t want to get that low again.

I am 27 weeks pregnant.  More than 2/3rds of the way to a new baby girl.  I’m excited.  I talk to her every day.  I have been doing a lot of visualization and mental planning for the labor/delivery, and I’m excited for that too.  Sometimes I feel like things are trying to wear me down, like I’m being drowned in the day to day… but life is good.

I am 27 weeks pregnant, and Ronan is in his final week of 20 months old.

Christmas is Coming.

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8

I have a desire to write today, without simply saying the same things I’ve been saying for two weeks.

Ronan is still sick.  I am now sick.  If his poor little throat hurts even a fraction of what mine hurts, he is in some serious pain.

He woke us all up with his coughing all night last night.  How can anyone get better without sleep?

There.

I’m done with that.

Christmas is coming up.  I know you know it.  I bought our first Christmas tree for our family this year, and it actually had me excited for Christmas for a few days!  I’ve done a little Christmas shopping, we have Ronan mostly bought for, but I can’t help but start to feel the pressure again.  Who do we buy for?  Do we do Christmas cards?  Should we take a Christmas picture?  I don’t know when to start decorating.  I have an urge to do it now, but I feel like it’s a bit premature.  I hope I still have the energy to do it in a few weeks time.  I might have to ask for some help!

I always start out with the greatest of intentions, and somehow it all gets lost in the jumble.  Last year, my mom and dad were here for a few days so we did some Christmas baking.  It was really wonderful, and I find myself aspiring to do it again this year… only this time it will be solo.  Mom kept up with the baking while Dad and I ran out for a few things we needed, and she kept Ronan on the floor by her the whole time.  It didn’t even begin to phase her.  The ease and comfort with which she handles everything makes me envious.  I want to be able to do things like she does.

Brock and I have also talked about what kind of Christmas traditions we want for our family.  This year may be the first year we stay at home for Christmas morning, rather than spending the night at Grandmom and Granddad’s.  Ronan is getting old enough to understand a little about what is going on, and we want him to remember Christmas mornings at home, and Christmas evenings with family.

I wish I had unlimited funds, and didn’t stress out about buying for everyone I care about.  I wish I had the time and energy to be crafty and give home-made gifts.  I wish I lived a little closer to my family.  I hope the Christmas bug bites me hard this year… it’s been a while.

Sick!

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2

Ronan has been sick for almost a week.

He’s got a really heavy cough that leaves him gurgling, and he’s stuffed up.  My little mouth breather.  Poor guy.

His temp stays right around 101, but he’s active and happy.  He’s eating and drinking, and sleeping a TON.

Today, he slept in until 9:55am.  I couldn’t even stay in bed that long.  I got up and did dishes, cleaned fruit, and made breakfast.  It was kind of awesome.  It was actually all SORTS of awesome.

Brock and I have both been feeling under the weather, which may be a slightly less robust version of the bug that Ronan has.  But I’m tired of being cooped up in the house.  I miss going to the pool.  Or to the mall.  Or for playdates.

I don’t mind the sleeping, but I’d love to go out and have some fun.  Hurry up and get better, son!

Choke.

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3

Woo.

Need to write a blog today.  Had nothing to write about.  Until about 5 minutes ago.

I was sitting on the couch with Ronan, sharing my hummus and pita chips.  Ronan will eat just about anything we’re eating, and he LOVES hummus.  He was taking his own pita chips and ‘dipping’ them in the hummus on his own.  He really wasn’t even making that big of a mess!  I was careful to only let him have half a chip at a time, as he’s notorious for sticking the whole thing in his mouth, or as much as he could possibly fit.

Now, Ronan has all four of his one year molars, so he has no trouble chewing food.  I could hear him crunch, crunch, crunching away at his chip, and gladly going for more hummus any chance he could get.  We’d been snacking for a while, and I figured he’d be slowing down soon… he usually leaves out of boredom rather than being full.

All of a sudden, I looked at his face as he started to yell angrily in pain.  His eyes, nose and mouth were all bright red, and he started crying.  It looked like he had maybe swallowed a piece of chip that hadn’t been fully chewed yet, and it HURT going down.  I watched as he sucked in, and then started choking – the rest of the food that was in his mouth went somewhere it shouldn’t have.  He was coughing, and wheezing, then coughing again.  I left him, let him cough, until I realized he didn’t seem to be able to get his airway cleared.

Trying NOT to panic, I picked him up and dug some of the food out of his mouth – positive for TOO MUCH in there.  Once I did that, he started spitting out the rest, and began to cough more normally.  It took just a few more seconds for him to start crying, really crying and only THEN did I feel like everything was going to be okay.

He cried a sad, pitiful cry while I held him.  He put his head on my shoulder, and wrapped his arms around me.  It was scary for both of us, really scary.

I put him down on the ground, and he immediately went for another pita chip.

Sigh.  Kids.

Something In The Air.

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It feels like everywhere I look, everyone I talk to is going through the same soggy crap right now.

Tons of Facebook statuses like, “My kids are driving me nuts!” and “I can’t take all the whining.”

So many tweets about babies that aren’t themselves, and wishing things would get back to normal.  Complaints of kids that gripe and annoying spouses.

Blogs about how everything feels off, and down, and in a rut.

Is there something in the air?  Is it the pollen driving us all insane?  The gradual change from indoor life to outdoor?  Are we upsetting our miserable routines?

I mean, It’s SPRING time!  It’s supposed to be brightness, and sunshine, and everything new again.  It’s supposed to be wonderous and light.

So far, it’s been pretty crummy.

I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m ready for things to level out again.  Let’s get rid of colds, and spend more time outside.  Let’s have play dates.  Let’s do summer baking, and try new recipes.  Let’s play games we forgot we played as kids.  Let’s teach our babies how to enjoy running, and swimming and playing.  Let’s share ideas of things to do.  Let’s take LOTS of pictures, because there’s never too many.

Let’s enjoy the spring, because it turns into summer, and then fall, and winter.  Then, before you know it, another year is gone, and you wonder what you did.  Let’s make memories that are worth keeping.

I HATE This Truck.

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4

Yes, this one.

You might wonder how one can develop a hatred for something so cute and innocent.  It’s just a truck, you say.

This truck makes an innocent little sound when you jam the nose.  ”Chug chug chug chug…” it sounds like a truck running.  And it runs for about 10-15 seconds.  Ronan LOVES it.

Only, he can’t press the nose hard enough to make it work.

So, he picks it up, brings it to me so I can mash the nose, and then walks happily off.

For 10-15 seconds.

And then he starts whining.  He can’t make it work.

Then he starts yelling.

And screaming.

He throws it down, and hits it.

He can’t make it work.

We can have this fit several times in a row, until I take the truck away and set it up out of his line of sight.

Mark.  Dana.  I love you more than you can imagine.

But

I

hate.

Hate.

HATE.

this.

truck.

An Angel At The Park

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5

Ronan and I went to the park yesterday with some neighbors. We brought a picnic lunch and a blanket, and planned to hang around outside for a couple of hours. With Ronan routinely missing his morning nap lately, I wasn’t very optimistic of a great trip, but I had my fingers crossed and hoped for the best.

We got to the park and set up. Ronan immediately set off, exploring. He has absolutely no fear, and will pick one direction and walk until he can go no farther. He never even looks back. I spend most of the time at the park following him until he gets too far away, and then bringing him back to the playground area.

He also has no fear of people. He will walk up to a large group of parents watching their kids, and ingratiate himself without a second thought; he starts playing with toys, talking to kids, and picking up sippy cups. It’s a little awkward for me, when I can’t quite as easily slip into the group unnoticed, and remove him before he sets of the alarms off some other child.

At one point yesterday, Ronan walked up to a picnic table where a father and his sweet little girl sat. He placed himself between them, and started climbing up on the bench. The little girl laughed and said, “He wants to sit with us, daddy!” Ronan was about the same size as she was, and I couldn’t believe how well she could speak! I had seen her running around, and was impressed with her ability to climb, and go down slides by herself.

I walked up and introduced myself, telling them both that the little interloper was Ronan. The little girl got VERY shy at that point, and wouldn’t even look at me. Her father introduced himself as Curtis and told me her name was Isabelle. “Hi Isabelle! It’s really great to meet you,” I said. She didn’t look up.

I looked at her father. “How old is she?” He smiled, knowing that his answer was going to be hard to believe. “She’s four,” he told me.

I couldn’t believe it. Four years old? She was absolutely TINY, and I told him so. He sort of grinned, expecting my reaction, and told me she’d had some difficulty at birth. Her story was – and IS – absolutely incredible.

Isabelle was born 5 weeks early, and with leukemia. She was started on her first round of chemotherapy when she was only 4 weeks old – but being 5 weeks premature, she was on chemo even before her due date. The medicine was very strong for her tiny body, and she went into remission after the first round. However, despite the remission, she had to finish the chemo protocol, and was continued her regimen of medicine. One of the medicines she was on proved to be too powerful for her little body to handle, and it damaged her heart. Over the next three years, frequent echocardiograms followed her heart function as it declined – first from 60% to 30% and then down below 10%.

At that time, just before her 4th birthday, she was put on a transplant list. It took over 6 months for a heart to become available, all the while she was surviving with her cardiac output at 10% of normal. Her energy declined, and then her body started to do so. Finally, they were called – a heart was available, and it was hers.

One day after her transplant, she was a different girl, he told me. She was able to sit up on her own ONE DAY after her massive heart surgery. She started laughing again. She wanted to run again. I suddenly understood why he watched with such amazement and adoration as she ran around the playground. Her surgery was January 10th – 3 short months ago, and she had improved by leaps and bounds. With no sign of rejection, the possibilities now in front of her are limitless.

I can’t imagine the rollercoaster of emotions her parents have been on. To be told your child has cancer, and then to beat it. To be told her heart is failing, and then to fix it. To watch her blossom into a gorgeous, sweet, intelligent girl with a little spunk… I can’t imagine.

When I rose and took Ronan up with me, I told Isabelle we had to go, it was time for our nap. Until that point, she still hadn’t had the courage to look at me. But I guess any friend of her daddy’s was a friend of hers, because she flashed me a huge, gorgeous grin and said, “Bye Mandy! Bye Ronan!” and I saw all of her sparkle shine through. I could tell, in that moment, that Isabelle is a very special girl.

*names have been changed to protect identities.