Boondock Ramblings

I'm tired. . . too tired

I'm tired. I'm wiped out.

I've been hit with just about everything (physically, I mean) since the summer and I'm about to give up.

It started with panic attacks, moved on to a diagnosis of hypothyroidism and continued with months of trying to adjust my medicine. Then there was the bronchitis, the ear infection, going deaf, and losing my voice.

Now I'm apparently having a more severe reaction to corn than ever before and this weekend I had a severe asthma attack. It freaked me completely out. After a dose of an antihistamine I started to breathe better, but that took a half and hour or more and during that time I worried I might die. The thought of dying cued my panic attacks again and then I thought I might pass out.

Reading all of this in print makes it sound more crazy than it really was. Or maybe it makes me sound crazy.

All I know is that I'm exhausted...mentally, physically, emotionally, you name it.

Today is a bit of a better day with some the sun being out and the temps up a bit, but I'm afraid to go to my parents, who are 20 minutes from a hospital (versus our three minutes or less) because I'm afraid I'll have another asthma attack. So I'm in the house with a tired husband and a hyper toddler and all my worries and fears.

More than anything, I'm scared.

And I don't like being scared.

It's one of the worst feelings in the world.

P.S. I also can't get my header to upload for this new theme I added to my blog. That one is less of a concern to me right now, however. :-)

 

 

A little pink eye for Christmas . . .

 

The goo in Jonathan's eye Christmas morning, along with expected freezing rain, signified our family wouldn't be going anywhere for Christmas except to the ER (the only medical facility open) and then back home again.

After a quick Christmas breakfast at Hubby's grandfather's we headed to the ER, expecting to find our wait long with men holding sliced fingers from missing the turkey, or others with odd ailments. Instead we found an empty waiting room and were ushered into an examine room almost immediately. Jonathan was disappointed that he didn't even get to play with the waiting room toys, but with the way his right eye was starting to swell shut, I was glad for the quick service.

Besides, he seemed to think the examine room was his own personal playground as he climbed on the bed and tried to touch everything else in the room. Mommy wouldn't allow him to touch anything, quite sure that the condition she had originally thought was caused by a foreign object in her son's eye was indeed pink eye.

The doctor confirmed it was pink eye. We were given antibiotic drops, an antibiotic for an additional sinus infection (which the kid had not exhibited any symptoms of other than a small amount of clear snot from his nose), and sent on our way.

I only wish the doctor or nurse had told us how we are supposed to convince a 3-year old to open his eyes so the eye drops can be put in. And then how, after some has hit his eye and apparently it burned, we are supposed to accomplish such a task three times a day while the child is flailing, screaming and shaking his head back and forth.

Fortunately, with his refusal to have the eye drops placed in his eye, there is more for mommy, who started to feel the goo coming from her eye Christmas night into Saturday morning.

It sounds like a depressing Christmas, and I was a little sad not to see my family, but spending much of the day cuddling Jonathan and hugging Hubby made up for the disappointments. It took me almost all day to realize what a nice Christmas it truly was, but when I did I held on to the feeling and it was as warm inside me as my son's sleeping form was next to me.

I hope your Christmas Day/Weekend was special and "uneventful" but yet "eventful."

Was it?

So, how was your night?

I think fried chicken will be good. I'll cut it up small and maybe Jonathan will eat some.

"Macncheeeeze! Where my macncheeeeze!?"

Oh right. He wanted Mac-n-cheese. OK. Put that in the microwave with the frozen peas.

Oh great. Vegetable oil is already bubbling. Throw chicken in the grease. Turn water on for fake mashed potatoes.

"Macncheeeze reatty now? Macncheeze reatty now?"

Check macncheeeeze. Noodles still hard. Put them back in.

Vegetable oil really bubbling. Turn the stove down a bit.

Water boiling. Pour fake potatoes in bowl, water, mix. Not enough water. More water, mix. Powder on the counter; wipe with paper towel. Microwave beeping, oil bubbling. Turn down burner more.

"Macncheeze reatty now?"

Check noodles. Pour in cheese powder and think about what a horrible mother I mom I am feeding my child packaged macaroni and cheese.

"Careful. It's hot. Blow it off."

Chicken is barely bubbling and has stopped cooking. Turn up heat.

Dog is scratching at the door. Let him in. Tell the cat to get off the porch. It's cold, you moron. Oh forget it. You're fat and covered in fur. Close door.

"Macncheeze till hot?"

Test macncheeeze. It's fine.

"It's fine. You can eat it now."

Take the cat off the table. Take chicken out of oil, put butter on peas, grab plate for food, glob potatoes on plate, make face at testing bite.

"I rodot now."

Finish making "rodot" outfit from cardboard box a friend sent in the mail. (Friend sent us a charcoal portrait of Jonathan he drew. You should check out his work at his BLOG. RIGHT HERE).

Clean up mess made while trying to fry chicken.

Give dog the macaroni and cheese the child didn't eat.

Throw out raw egg (amazingly still intact) that Jonathan decided Sunday was his "baby." (More on that another day).

Try to sit and relax for five minutes and watch Mary Poppins on ABC Family (did not get paid for that mention, but wish I had).

"I eat sketeos now?"

No. They're for your lunch tomorrow.

"I want sketeos now."

No. They're for your lunch tomorrow.

"I eat them now?"

No. They're for your lunch tomorrow.

Chimchimneychimchimcharoo......

Where's the kid?

CRASH!

"Uht-to-mama! Mess!"

Sketeos all over the white kitchen floor. Toddler holding a bag with a turkey leg in it.

"Go into the living room NOW!"

Drag all the paper towels off the roll and clean up sketeos. Take toddler up to bed. Clock reads 10:30 p.m.

"I make tent?"

Take netted laundry basket away from toddler, listen to him scream. Give netted laundry basket thingee back. Clock reads 11:05 p.m.

He climbs in laundry basket thingee, falls off bed, hits head, bends like a pretzel. Comfort and hold him, check for bleeding, begin to cry myself. Cuddle him, turn light off and say "go to sleep."

Sniffling and whimpering.

Silence. Blessed silence.

Door down stairs opens. Keys on the table.

"Daddy home. I go see daddy?"

Clock reads 11:30 p.m.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrgh!

We played in the snow . . . because nothing else would do

Remember that this weekend was just awful because it was bent around the will of three-year olds, mainly my three year old?

On Sunday I had hoped to salvage some of our day by taking Jonathan to a small childrens' Christmas party at a local church.

Yeah, "small" turned out to be an understatement. There were four kids there besides Jonathan. All of them, except one, were huge whiners. Sorry, but they were.

My kid must have picked up on the whining vibe because he didn't want to do anything we were supposed to be doing -- making ornaments, listening to the Christmas story. He did, however, want to eat pizza. And cookies. Of course cookies. Tuesday my sitter told me my kid had three cookies in his mouth at once. Then he grabbed two more later on. We don't have cookies at home, so he must have been storing up some for later.

On Sunday all he wanted to do was get out of that church and into the snow to play on the church's playground.

I finally gave up and took the kid home before the movie and the last of the ornaments were made. Oh well, at least we got pizza and cookies out of the deal.

I eventually took Jonathan  to a local playground, only after I had a major breakdown because this just seemed to be something else that had gone wrong during a long weekend of things that could not go right!

But, then things did go right, because Jonathan was laughing and excited to see his favorite playground blanketed in snow. We only stayed about 10 minutes, since it was cold, as I had warned him it would be.

I asked him at one point if he'd like to go home and have some cocoa and watch a movie. He told me 'no' and headed to the swings. I followed him and found him standing in front of the swings, looking a bit dejected.

"I cold," he told me. "Home. Hot cocoa."

And that's where we went because there is nothing like a good cup of hot cocoa on a really cold Sunday afternoon.

Somedays are for being cranky

I'm cranky today. More than that, I'm still sick and pissed about it. This cough won't go away. It holds on and refuses to let go and that makes me mad. I'm missing out on quality time with my 3-year old because all I can do is sit, stare and scowl.

I'm missing out on time with my husband because everything he does drives me nuts and I don't know why.

I want to feel better. I want this junk in my chest to clear out.

I'm grateful my son clung to me most of the day and is feeling better, but I want to feel better too. I know, I sound like a toddler throwing a tantrum and I feel like one too. I want to throw myself on the floor, kick and scream and yell: "It's not fair! I want to feel better!"

I feel like I'm getting a panic attack from it all and that would be piss me off even more.

The only thing making me smile today? The fact my toddler no longer believes it is necessary to wear clothes. He pulls off his diaper, underwear, jeans, shirt and roams the house naked. Today he agreed to wear underwear, but not to sit on the potty. It was a fight to get him to do that and he ended up peeing all over the floor. No, he's not yet fully potty trained -- if you hadn't guessed.

After the drama of the potty he has since remained naked. I'm sure before long he'll be chanting what he was last night, "naked butt! naked butt!" while slapping his naked bottom and giggling.

*Updated: Removed the photo of Jonathan's bum. Did not think it was appropriate for my blog. Plus, when he gets older and sees that, he's going to flip out on me.