House of Estrogen

Mother's Day

It is nearly midnight. As Mother's Day comes to a close, I find myself sitting here watching "Doc McStuffins" with my four year old as she does a nebulizer treatment for asthma. As much as Mother's Day is supposed to day of pampering, relaxation, and a "day off" for moms, there's just no such thing. Don't get me wrong, I had a great Mother's Day. There was a fancy breakfast, lovely gifts, some time to myself, and a nice dinner as well. In the big picture though, there is just no break, no time off, no vacation from being a mother. It is a hard 24/7 job, period. A day at the spa, a weekend at the beach, or a week in Hawaii may be a little time off from the day-to-day chores of wiping snotty noses, packing lunch boxes, and muddling through confusing second grade math homework, but there is no break from the overwhelming responsibility of raising these little people. Is another nebulizer treatment at home the right answer? Or is it time to head to the ER?  She's in respiratory distress, but how bad is the respiratory distress?  Sometimes the questions feel so big. Moms have been doing this mothering gig for centuries. I know I can do it. Sometimes it just hits me what an awesome responsibility it is. I have to keep these little people safe. I'm responsible for their health. I have to do all I can to insure that they grow up to be hard-working, honest, responsible, independent adults.

You'd think I'd have adjusted to this by now. I've been a mom for ten years. Some days seem harder than others though, and those are the days I'm reminded how huge the job really is.

The nebulizer is done, and I'm off to bed to lie there waiting to see who needs it next. Will I be watching Handy Manny with the four year old or iCarly with the ten year old? I'm tired... not physically, just mentally. Tired, and desperate for a wheeze and cough free night.

Good night. Sweet dreams.

And Then the Fourth Child's Head Spun Around (alternate title: Why We Stopped at Three)

What a night.... First, I tried to put my dearest third child to bed. She screamed at me at the top of her lungs and threw a book at me. Nice. I love this age. Then, J.C. poured Listerine all over my head to treat the lice that I contracted from loving second child.  In all the online instructions about using Listerine to kill lice, they neglect to mention that it not only kills the lice, but it also kills every nerve ending on your entire head. I thought my scalp was going to burst into flame. Then J.C. wrapped my head in saran wrap. Yes, I looked as ridiculous as you are imagining. While I sat watching TV with Listerine running into my eyes, burning away my flesh, and dribbling down my ears, I heard my darling first child vomiting. Sweet. The night gets even better. Not a drop of vomit hit the easily washable bed linens or trashcan. No, she managed to spew all over the wall, the carpet, a jewelry box, photographs, a deck of cards, a ball of yarn, and electrical cords.  So, wearing my saran wrap do-rag, with Listerine searing through my brain, I cleaned up gallons of vomit. 

If it wasn't my life, it might be comical. There is nothing comical though about hair soaked in Listerine with a saran wrap turban and puke on carpet. Nothing at all.

Children... they are such blessings.

Really.

Most of the time.

Not tonight, but other nights.

Usually.

At least when they aren't vomiting and don't have lice.

Lice, Round Two

I had written up a long post with all my true feelings about lice; however, when I tried to bleep out the curse words, it ended up only containing four readable words. That didn't seem worth posting. Suffice it to say that the lice and I are in head to head combat (pun intended). You know how people say that cockroaches are the only species that could survive a nuclear attack? That can't be true. It has got to be both cockroaches and lice. Anybody know where I can score some napalm? I think that is my next course of action.

Nina's Knees

Two weeks of ice skating camp, skating all day, every day has its consequences. Nina still claims she wants to spend the entire month of December at skating camp though. Come December, we'll be quoting Sam Beauregarde,"Violet! You're turning violet, Violet!"

 

Don't You Wish You Were Me?

 

Come over to help me nit pick, and I'll let you borrow the groovy headlamp. Enticing, eh?

The Invasion

No time to blog. No time to sleep. I'm too busy picking nits, combing through hair, boiling hair brushes, washing sheets and towels on hot, combing through hair, braiding hair, vacuuming, combing through hair, spraying hair with lice repellant, washing hair with lice shampoo, combing through hair, spraying furniture with lice repellant, bagging up stuffed animals, and combing through hair. You'll hear from me again when the lice have been defeated.

Flattened

I'm stealing my post title today from Jen over at ::Meditatio::. She did a series of posts recently titled "Flattened" when her son was in the hospital. I couldn't think of a better word to describe how I'm feeling right now, so this is my take on "Flattened."

This has been my week in the shortened, condensed version:

Sunday: My parents arrived from Texas around midnight for the beginning of their cross-country move. The entire move has been stressful and overwhelming in many respects. We thought we were over the worst of it.

Monday: uneventful day. I should have appreciated it more.

Tuesday: We rushed my dad to the ER with labored breathing. He was having a heart attack, was in congestive heart failure, was extremely anemic, and his kidneys were failing.

Wednesday: He moved from the ER to the Cardiac Care Unit where his kidneys continued to decline, the enzymes associated with heart damage continued to go up, blood pressure dropped, and all news was generally bad.

Thursday: After two blood transfusions and extensive medical management, he stabilized.

Friday: We talked to the cardiologist who explained how he is stuck between a rock and a hard place. The treatment he would like to do for dad's heart would destroy his weak kidneys. Another treatment he is doing for his heart can't be done at the dose he would like because it lowers his blood pressure too much. The blood transfusions that help his anemia add more fluid to his body which is accumulating in his lungs. The treatment choices are limited because most of them cause bigger problems. He is still stable though and beginning to feel a little better. Mom got a call from the movers that their belongings that were supposed to arrive mid-week will not be here until Sunday. My cousin's memorial service is on Sunday.  We were supposed to leave for a Girl Scout family camping trip in Virginia on Friday but we cancelled those plans and sent Elise with a friend's family instead.

Saturday (Today): Dad is stable and should move from the CCU to a regular room tomorrow. The cardiologist felt we could safely be gone for a day. Dad wants my mom to go to the memorial service, and it is important to her to be there. My ankle pain has flared up (maybe from walking hospital corridors? Dunno).

Sunday: Mom and I will leave at 5 a.m. for a quick trip to Chicago for my cousin's memorial service. We are flying out and back in one day. It should be a very emotional day. I'm not entirely sure either my mom or I are prepared for it. Also, I'm a little worried about my ankle with all the airport walking. My wonderfully supportive husband will be hanging out at my parents' new house to greet the movers and get them moved in. Hopefully dad will remain stable.

Flattened.

Yes. Flattened is the best word. I can see why Jen used it. Right now, I don't have any other words to describe how I'm feeling. I think my brain is a bit numb.

If you are the praying type, could you please send a few prayers our way? If you aren't the praying type, could you send a few groovy vibes, healing brainwaves, or positive thoughts? We could really use some right now. Thanks.

A Good-Bye

When someone you love becomes a memory, the memory becomes a treasure.

                                                                                        ~ author unknown

My cousin Lisa passed away this weekend. I'm glad she is out of pain, but it is a big loss for our family. Lisa was the oldest of all the grandchildren on my mom's side of the family. She was the one who gave our grandmother her funky grandmother name, "Moonie". She was creative, well-spoken, talented, and a wonderful mother. I remember visiting her several years ago when her kids were teenagers. I was in awe of the open communication she had with them. She was just that kind of mom - guided her children through life, but still "cool" enough that they could talk to her about anything. Cancer took her from them too early, but they have a great foundation from her. I know they will go on to do great things in life with memories of their mother as inspiration.

Lisa, we miss you!

 
Lisa with her daughter Natalie at our wedding. Natalie was one of our flower girls.

 
Lisa (on the far right) with her mom, sister, and brothers at her mom's big birthday bash in Williamsburg.

Hoping Good Friday is Better than Not-So-Good Thursday

Today was a tough day. I woke up to learn of the death of Tim Hetherington. Hetherington and Sebastian Junger were the journalists who reported from the Korengal Valley in Afghanistan while my cousin was stationed there.  I think it is important for people to understand what our young people in the armed forces are up against when they are sent to war. My cousin wasn't even old enough to legally drink alcohol when he was deployed to the place considered the most dangerous and deadly for the U.S. military. I don't think people really grasp what our troops sacrifice for us. Hetherington and Junger risked their own lives to bring us the stories of these soldiers. Their in-depth article for Vanity Fair is well worth the time it takes to read it. J.C. and I also recently watched their Oscar-nominated movie, Restrepo, a documentary filmed at the Restrepo Outpost in the Korengal Valley. It is raw. It is war. It is hard to watch, but it is excellent. It is exactly how my cousin had described his experiences there. It is on Netflix streaming right now. Watch it. Tim Hetherington was killed yesterday while he and several photographers came under fire in Misurata, Libya.  His death is a loss for all of us.

In the afternoon, my cousin Lisa's son posted to her blog. Things aren't good. Matthew quoted his mom as saying that she doesn't want to be alive if she can't live.  Based on that, for her sake, I hope her life doesn't go on much longer. We will all miss her, but none of us want her having to endure life the way it is now. Lisa has worked with friends to plan her own memorial service. As unnatural as that must feel, I have to say that the two most wonderful, moving memorial services I have attended have been for friends who died of cancer and participated in planning their own services. One was for a friend with melanoma. He wanted the ten songs that he had declared, "the top ten rock and roll songs of all time" played at his service. That's what they did, and it was the perfect tribute to him. Another was for a friend with breast cancer whose service included a Harley Davidson ride on the way to the church. Seeing all her friends in the church in their leather jackets and pants was just what she wanted. I'm glad to hear that Lisa has found some peace in planning her own service. I just hate that her life has come to this. I will miss her.

By late afternoon, my allergies that seem to be morphing into a sinus infection left me feeling miserable. About the time I decided to leave work early to go home for a nap, J.C. called to say that the elementary school had called. Nina was throwing up, so he was on his way to pick her up.

What a day... too much sadness, too much illness. I hope Good Friday is "more good" than today.

For Lisa

My cousin Lisa is creative, passionate, strong, talented, fun, brave, helpful, artistic, and warm.

She is a mother, wife, sister, daughter, cousin, and niece.

Thirteen years ago, she spent a weekend with my mother helping her shop for her mother-of-the-bride dress before my wedding. Thanks to Lisa's amazing design and fashion sense, my mother looked positively beautiful that day.

Lisa's La Leche League experience, advice and support got me through some of my darkest hours of breastfeeding Elise. I could always trust her for solid, no-nonsense advice when my post-partum brain was only half-functioning.

Years ago, she painted a quirky little table for me. It is now Elise's bedside table, and looks so cute in her room.

She is the closest thing my mom has to a second daughter.

 

Lisa got tough news a couple weeks ago. "Tough"... probably not the right adjective for learning that she likely has just months left to live. Devastating? Painful? Awful? Honestly, I don't even know what word to use. It just doesn't seem fair. It is hard to know what to do for her or what to say besides, "I love you."

 

She loves flowers though.

 

Flowers make her smile and make her feel alive.

 

So while I may not know what to say, what to do, what to write, or how best to support her during this time, I can share our lovely spring flowers with her. I walked around the neighborhood taking pictures in hopes of giving Lisa a smile.

 

Lisa, we love you. We are thinking about you always. My prayers for you are for good pain meds, lots of time spent with loved ones, endless hugs from Marc and your children, peace, and lots of flowers. I wish there was more I could do.