March 2005 Archives

My older younger sister (I have two little sisters, and I'm talking about the older one) turns twenty three today.  She just pulled a 4.0 at UC Santa Cruz, because she's really smart.  Further proving her intelligence, she also just got engaged to her kick-ass boyfriend.  He got her the prettiest ring, picked it out himself.  My mom says that after seeing me in action, she has vowed to not have kids until she's over 30.  Heh.  (Doesn't she know how much more tired she'll feel after 30 though???)  They're going to get married in the fall of 2006, after she graduates.  I'm really happy for them.

So, Nathan's test was positive for strep, and I took Sophie in for a test yesterday.  Haven't heard back yet on hers.  She's the only child around here not on antibiotics.  Yikes.

We are listening to the audio tape of Little House on the Prairie, read by Cherry Jones.  I love snuggling with the kids and hearing about Pa and Ma building the house and about the wolves that circled it, howling.  It would be fun, when Willow is older, to travel out to that part of the country and see where they lived. 

Sophie topped her own disgusting insult: she called me, "butt hair salad."  I only encourage her by laughing, but, man, that girl is creative. 

On Sunday, after a fabulous brunch at my mom's (one of the appetizers was cashews with rosemary, butter, brown sugar and cayenne. oh. my. so. good.), I took apart the washer with John's help.  We got the water pump off, and sure enough, it's the problem.  I ordered a new one, which should arrive tomorrow.  The part, plus another part they recommend you replace if you're replacing the pump (I figure I'll do as they say) plus the manual came to only eighty bucks, shipping included.  I know that we saved a bunch of money on that repair.  But, it isn't working yet, so I'm not counting my chickens. 

I have to go get everyone ready to drop Nate off at school.  He's been on his medicine long enough to be non contagious, so back he goes. 

Heh.  Sophie is mad and came back here stamping her foot.  She said, "What is that sound!?"  And I said, "Hmmm, what is that sound?"  She said, "IT'S ME STAMPING MY FOOT ON YOUR BUTT!"  Any suggestions?  Please.

I'm driving on the highway and Nate says this to me:

mom mom hey mom     mom let me ask you no let me TELL you something  mom hey mom mom mom hey mom remember when    remember  remember when    remember when we went to that stain tation? HAHAHA I mean hey mom mom hey mom    remember when we went to the train  remember the   remember when we went  hey mom   mom   hey remember when we went to the train station and took the train to the museum       remember that?

The farking washing machine will fill and it will agitate.  I encourage and even reward those behaviors, but I'm about to get super authoritarian about the not draining and the not spinning.  I bailed out the tub, and pulled it away from the wall (back is already feeling that one) and vacuumed some of the dust balls that were hiding from the congressional steroid investigations and unplugged it.  I need to get the drain hose off first, too see if there's a pair of ninja turtle underwear in there or something.  If that's clear, then I'll have to take the outer part off and get to the pump.  If the pump is busted, I'll order a new one.  If I get stuck, I can call my brother.  And, if I royally screw things up beyond repair. . . maybe I could get a floor model of something like this for a discount.  The not calm washing machine works harder than all of us put together. 

I've got easter eggs boiling on the stove, so I ought to go pay attention.  Tomorrow we'll go to my mom and dad's for brunch.  I was going to bring a little something, but my mom let me off the hook because of my washer and because Nate is complaining of a sore throat and I had to take him in to get a culture this afternoon.  Fingers crossed. 

I'm considering whether or not it would be worthwhile to join the geeeehova witnesses.  At least one, usually more, of the kids has a party to attend every single weekend lately.  I've bought a lot of bion  ic  les. 

Happy Easter!

Sophie called me a "butt hair hat."  Sort of made me queasy, while at the same time confirming my belief that she'll be fine growing up with two older brothers.  She's also called me "pig fart," "donut butt," "grown-up toes," and "mayonnaise head," along with a bunch I have thankfully blocked out.  It's partly my fault, since I play a game with the kids where we try and think of silly creative things to call each other.  We go back and forth with harmless insults like chicken knees, monkey legs, butter lips, and two of my favorites made up by Nate: jelly eye and belt jelly.

Belt jelly.  That's gross no matter how you define it.

Today was long.  Today being friday, which now that it's after midnight, is technically saturday.  But it seems like longer ago than this morning that I took Willow to see the cardiologist.  She woke up friday at 4 am and turned purple again.  That was the fifth time since tuesday that it happened, and each time it was within 15 to 40 minutes of waking up from either a full night's sleep or a nap.  Hmmmmm.  So, I explained this to the doctor.  He had a diagnosis for me!  I called 911 because my baby was

Today I made my third ever call to 911.  The first time was to report the downstairs neighbors who sounded like they were throwing cinder blocks at each other.  I said I NEED FOR THIS TO BE ANONYMOUS and the police came and said, your neighbors up there called because they were worried about you.  So, that didn't go so well.  They moved soon after and so did I, thankfully.  The second time was when I learned that if you push down ANY BUTTON on a cell phone for over ten seconds (like, say if the phone is in the back pocket of your jeans and you've had too many cheese and avocado sandwiches, perhaps with a little mayo, and the pocket is a bit tight, theoretically), you will be connected with emergency dispatchers.  You will then apologize so profusely that you waste even more of their time.

Dear Google,

This site is not a relevant match for "hot naked wives."  Putting this site in the list to choose from will probably lose you some clients.  Lame clients, yes, but clients all the same.

If I ever start working out, I'll email you.

Jenijen 

Today when I was driving home from getting Willow's medicine (my mom is right, I am running a hospital here) I saw a bumper sticker that made me laugh.  I'm sure I've seen it before, and it's not even that funny.  It said:

I miss my ex a lot. . .

but my aim is improving!

It did make me realize that I'm grateful to not have to spend energy actively hating my former husband.  So poisonous.  On that front (one which I usually skip), the kids are going to start spending a LOT more time with their dad.  I am so relieved by the thought of it, I can almost feel my muscles relaxing a little.  Of course at the same time I want to cry at how much they'll be gone.  I don't want them away so much.  And, I do need a break.  Guess what I do to myself?  Feel guilty for feeling relieved, and then think I'm overly-attached and stupid to feel guilty for wanting to take care of myself for awhile, and then sad that so much more of their life will be so unknown to me, and WHY can't I just think about other things like how I'd like to get another digital camera so I don't have to share, or my burning desire to redo the front yard?

Sophie is still sick.  She puked from 2 am on Tuesday until 4 am on Wednesday, beginning and ending all over me.  I don't mind the barf as much as the poop, though.  She's moved to poop.  (heh)  I took her to the doctor on Tuesday and again on Wednesday, as she was getting dehydrated and couldn't even keep down ice chips.  She narrowly missed a stay in the hospital for IV fluids (thanks to the power of breastfeeding, though I'm still past ready for her to wean).  Now she doesn't want to eat much and sleeps a lot and is not at all herself.  Her feet are like ice cubes but she's too hot to wear clothes.  No fever.  Her heart rate on Tuesday night was 138 beats per minute.  If you've had a newborn, that might sound familiar since it's normal for a newborn, not an almost four year old. 

Willow is a little better.  I finally got her to the doctor Thursday evening.  When the doc came in and asked why we were there I told her that Wil had been seen about two weeks earlier for an ear infection and that she'd taken meds, but only her left ear had cleared up.  I said that the right was still infected, and that I'd done all the home care I knew how to do and that I was ready to try another round of antibiotics.  She looked at me like she wanted to spit and said, How do you know it's infected?  Yeah, with that tone.  I told her I have an otoscope and that it looked very red.  She looked in the left ear and said it looked fine and then in the right and seemed surprised that I was right.  I almost asked if she preferred dumb patients, but then she was nicer about the purple lips, though she did repeat a few times that neither she nor her colleagues had heard of a case where someones lips turned purple without other symptoms.  She said she'd put in a cardiology referral, just to check it out.  I'm 95% sure that her heart is fine, but that 5% is stubborn.  She was cleared when she was a few months old for the holes that were there when she was born, and the doc at the visit couldn't hear anything.  But, she's not had any scans and something is causing the purple lips.  The doctor said she didn't think anemia would do that and that Willow didn't seem at all anemic. 

The medicine she's now taking may give her an allergic reaction, since she's allergic to penicillin, so I will spend the next 15 or so days obsessively checking her for rashes and breathing difficulty, which means even less sleep than usual.  I will also be carrying the benedryll that I had John pick up with me wherever I go.  But, at the end of those 15 or so days my older three children will, in theory, be spending the weekend (weekend=friday night to monday morning) with their dad and I will sleep as much as I can.  Or do some crazy housecleaning.  Or sew.  Or refinish a bookshelf and night table for the girls room.  Or rip out the front lawn.  Or purge all the closets.  Or reorganize my kitchen.  Maybe I should stick with sleep the first weekend, though.  Sleep and books and movies and playing with Willow. 

The case of Terri S. in Florida is really awful.  I know that she didn't want to be kept alive artificially, but why does her husband have say over her parents?  She didn't write down what she wanted, and frankly, I don't think it really matters at this point.  I mean, it would seem that she doesn't know she's being kept alive by machinery anyway, and if the parents feel like she has some chance at recovery, however slight and rejected by doctors, they should get to keep her.  If that were one of my kids, and I thought there was some hope. . . Ick.  I don't even want to imagine that.  Does the guy get some insurance pay out?  And if he's moved on and has children with another woman, why doesn't he divorce her?  Would that be illegal?  I don't know.  The whole thing just doesn't sit right with me.  And, by the way, if it's me in the hospital, feel free to use all the gadgets you want (unless I'm really old and have lived my life).  I recently ran into a girl who had been comatose and not expected to recover much if at all.  Her story was in all the news for a few months last year.  She was doing really really well.  What the hell do doctors know anyway; except for my grandfather, who is one and taught me about the little hooks in the corners of your eyes.  You know, the ones that make them stick when you look cross eyed?  But all the rest of them.  Quacks.  How do I know it's infected?  Sheesh.   

Friday was hot.  The thermometer in the van said 88, and it's pretty accurate.  Saturday was foggy until after 3 or so.  Today, monday, was really windy and I sneezed all. day. long.  Even the sudafed on top of the homeopathic allergy tabs didn't help much.  But, Sunday, Sunday was perfect.  We took Willow for a hike up to Quicksilver Park, an old mercury mining spot in the hills.  She had a great time and did lots and lots of walking, peppered with moments of sitting and playing with rocks on the trail.  She was thrilled to see that there was a ton of really thick squishy mud and bunches of puddles.  She was less thrilled when we steered her around most of them.  I normally let her go for it, but we didn't pack extra shoes, and I knew she'd be quite uncomfortable before we got home.  Enough of my babbling; here are the photos.

And I'm making these two big, cause I like them a lot.

Tonight I tried to take Willow to the doctor to recheck her still infected ear (it's been over 2 weeks, and it's still red inside) and to ask the doctor why her lips might be sporadically turning purple.  She acts fine when it happens, but it worries me.  A lot.  We had to leave the clinic though, because just before we arrived for our 7:30 appointment someone noticed smoke coming from the air vents.  There were four fire engines, a couple of the SUV things, and a fire car or two.  Also, the short, boxy rescue vehicle.  I figured we would get rescheduled anyway, so after checking with a doctor and a nurse, who said I could go home rather than taking her to the dreaded emergency room, I decided to try for a Tuesday appointment. 

Please let me NOT go look up what purple lips mean on the internet.  I know I'll only scare myself to death.  Let me read blogs instead. 

Updated to add:

From what I can tell, googling with my SLOW SLOW computer, it may be that Willow is anemic again.  Last time she was checked, earlier this year, her iron stores were low, but she wasn't anemic.  She doesn't seem to be too tired; some days she doesn't even nap.

and updated again a few minutes later:

Sophie just came in, sat in my lap and barfed.  Everywhere.  I've gotten her and me and the bathroom clean.  Time to go start the washer and check the carpet for ick.  Goodnight.

I owe one of our neighbors a poppy when mine start blooming.  We were walking home from school the other day when Nathan picked this one for me.  He picked it and gave it to me with a huge grin, saying, this is for you mom, in one motion.  At the same time, I cringed and said, oh, we can't pick other people's flowers, honey.  I still feel bad thinking about watching his face fall.  He looked down at his feet and said he was sorry.  I told him that I thought it was so nice of him to think of me like that, but asked him if he'd mind other people picking flowers that he'd planted.  We smoothed things over, and put the flower in water when we got home. 

It's HOT here.  The kids aren't acclimated and their faces are bright red from running around in the sunshine.  Willow really skinned her knee badly this morning; I need to keep her in little capri pants or something till she gets a little surer on her feet. 

I don't have to worry about my knees because my shorts no longer make it up over my thighs.  Sigh.  I cut off a pair of 501s to wear today.  Now they're capri-length.  I hope to edge the bottom with the antique kimono fabric I bought months ago for this very project.  Everyone is just fascinated with the sewing machine, though, which makes it hard for me to use.  If I can pull it off, I have two or three more pairs of jeans in the drawer, more kimono fabric and some funky silk belts that I can make more with.  The jeans I got at a friend's clothes trading party.  They're all miles too long on me, but I can button them.  Would it be totally out of line for me to stop a short stout woman on the street and demand to know where she gets her clothes?  I'm only five feet tall, and when I'm carrying extra weight I seriously cannot find ANYTHING to fit me.  I have to hem or cuff or wear skirts way longer than they were intended to be. 

Say it with me now:  self absorbed   

The kindergartners turned in their Leprechaun traps today.  I'll have to get a picture of Nate's; it's really cute.  One was covered in wilted clover.  That cracked me up.  I think that Nate will be disappointed when he doesn't catch anything.  I wonder if I can find a Leprechaun doll before the 17th, then I could put it in the trap and tell him that they freeze when you catch them.  Maybe not, though, that might be a little upsetting.

I don't know about this dollhouse dad. . . he seemed nice when we got him, but recently he's been coming in late and I think he may have quit his job.  I found him like this at 10 am.  Not good.

I think that this is a big part of why my kids love me:

Here's Miss Willow on her birthday, in one of her Textile Fetish shirts:

And, here's the girl hummingbird.  Sophie says that the girls drink from the yellow feeder, because yellow is Sophie's favorite color. 

One of the things I dislike about myself is this tendency to be a fence-sitter.  I can see both sides of things too often, when sometimes I wish I just had a strong opinion.  I think that I'm going to most likely get a part time job soon.  Somewhere between 20-30 hours a week.  For five minutes I think how great it will be.  The girls will love going to a daycare/preschool type place where they can be outside more and play with other kids rather than sit home watching tv while I try for the fifth time that day to get the kitchen clean.  The boys will be, for the most part I think, in school.  I'll get some outside contact with people over the age of 12.  I will have real insurance and maybe even, don't jinx it now, chiropractic coverage.  It's all in the early planning stages, but none of it is too far fetched. 

Then, for the next five minutes, I think that I would hate to have a job right now, that while Sophie would like daycare, Willow would be miserable.  The only times I leave her, she's with her dad, and this would be a huge thing for her.  Or so I would like to think, perhaps.  And since the job I'm thinking of is not a high paying one, I would lose money when childcare costs are figured in.  But, I really need the benefits, and can only get insured through a group plan.

I can't seem to decide if I would feel really relieved or heartbroken to drop my kids off and go work for a few hours.  Maybe it would be both.

My friend D came to visit from Mass. in February with her girls.  We didn't get to see her older daughter, who played with my kids when they lived nearby, but we got to meet baby M, who is stunning.  Her cheeks alone gave me severe baby lust.  If I get that job with the benefits, I need to get a tubal.  I always swore I'd NEVER have one, but I find myself thinking it would be a good idea.  The thought of another baby makes me frozen with terror.  Until five minutes go by, and I imagine how cute a little boy who looked like John would be and then I know that I need to do something soon.  I know, slap me.  Anyway,  D is very happy with her new life on the east coast.  It was great to see her, and hard to believe that it's been a year since she left.  She was one of the friends I loved being with, as opposed to the mothers of my children's friends that I feel awkward around.  There's one mom at the school who is always telling me what I should do.  Perhaps it should bother me, but I sort of make a game out of trying to guess what she'll lecture me on before she does it.  I just want more Ds in my life and less lecturers.

Guess what?  I'm the #2 match on google for "what is a pirate's favorite letter?"

Today we got up and went to Hidden Villa.  We only stayed a couple of hours because Nate had a 12:00 birthday party to go to, but it was amazing.  First we visited the chickens and their babies.

Then we saw the mama pig and the ten piglets.

I love the old buildings at the farm; especially the greenhouse.  I call it beach glass architecture because it is worn in all the right ways.

The farm cat (I think one of a few) sauntered by, and I got Willow's bounce.  Can you see it? 

Our old friend the turtle still lives in the pond John put him in two years ago.  Some kids found him in the creek, and since he's not native, John found him a home in the pond.  The green stuff is duckweed.

The garden was breathtaking.  The kids ate flowers (with grown up approval) and made some gourd music.  We saw a red tailed hawk, too, but the picture the kids begged for didn't come out too well.  It was just a little smudge.

The path that goes from the parking lot to the farm (and lots of the farm, too) was really muddy from all the rain.  The girls did lots of splashing, and Willow thoroughly enjoyed herself.  Be happy you did not hear her shrieks as we took her out of the mud and carried her to the car. 

I'm so glad we went, even though on paper it seemed we didn't have the time.

The latest audio book for the boys bedtime has been an 8 hour history of Lewis and Clark.  The fact that they are so interested in history makes it okay that Lexy learned a little about venereal disease, and that Lewis, as Lexy puts it, "either committed suicide, or else he was sleeping with a woman who was married and the husband caught them in bed together and shot him and she helped him cover it up."  He thought it was strange that the native men sometimes offered their wives to other men.  "Naked!!  Naked wives!!  With no clothes on!!"  Thankfully, he also learned that snyfullus is a really bad cold.  And that he'd better not ever ever catch it.

Heh.  That reminds me of a funny thing.  When Lex was first learning to talk, I got laryngitis.  Shortly after that, Lexy came down with a cold or something, and he said, "Mom, I have the gitis."  Of course, whenever we get sick now, we call it 'the gitis.'  Totally unrelated, but soon to intersect, we teach the kids proper names for their body parts, but let them use whatever words (within reason, you know) they're comfortable with.  The boys pronounce the word vagina with a b sound, and say it, "ba gitits."  Rhymes with the other gitis, which, due to it's origin, rhymes with laryngitis.  Sophie, being younger, also says 'bagitis,' but when she's referring to that part of herself, it's her 'bottom.'  SO when John got sick he told Sophie that he had the gitis.  She looked at him and asked, "Papa, you got the penis or the gitis??"  Maybe you had to be there. 

Good news!  Willow's insurance has been extended.  My health coverage situation may be really cruddy, but I'll call to check on the one little glimmer of hope I saw after reading the letter four times.  It's enough to give you a headache.   

I am really feeling this (choose one):

a) depression

b) mid life crisis

c) hormonal funkiness

d) existential angst

e) all of it

Oh, e.  E to the nth.  Ick.  I have nothing to be depressed about, really, so I chide myself for that and feel even worse.  Today, instead of staying inside and dividing my time between waiting on the small people and cleaning up the house, I got out and pulled some weeds.  For three hours.  I got only part of what needed to be done done, but it does look way better.  If there's no rain tomorrow, I'll try and finish up.  It was wonderful to be out.  I wore a sweatshirt and jeans and wasn't hot or cold.  There was a great breeze, the girls played near me but let me do my thing.  Willow probably got giardia from sipping rainwater that had been sitting in a little plastic dish used for the bubble wand, but at least she'd be able to poop then.   

It's beautiful outside.  The sky is a little cloudy, there's a strongish cool breeze and lots of green from all the rain.  I picked up the Spongebob movie for the kids today, because Sophie saw it on the shelf and I knew it was better not to delay the inevitable.  Maybe after I pick up the boys I can work in the yard while they watch it. 

Speaking of which, I need to go pick them up.  Willow is asleep and Sophie just asked to nap.  I wish that same scenario would happen after school, instead of right when we have to go.  Oh, well.  I'm off.