Today I Am Grateful

for

1. antibiotics
2. naptime
3. leftovers
4. pillow-top mattresses
5. hot water
6. soap
7. Baby Signing Time
8. mini miracles/immediate answers to prayers
9. my home
10. my husband's income

What are you thankful for today?

Say Uncle!

So I have bronchitis due to a bacterial infection.

It's been one of the worst weeks of my life.

When my best friend died was worse.

The first week postpartum after each of my kids was born (and I had cracked/bleeding nipples and a torn perineum) perhaps ties.

A week ago it was just a sore throat, funky voice, and lots of coughing. But the fun had only begun.

Then I got a fever. I was racked with chills. I could not get warm. Shivering uncontrollably in a hot bath. Then came the sweats. I could feel the heat emanating off my face and neck. Sometimes I would have the chills and the sweats at the same time. How is that even possible?

Then came the body aches.

The coughing intensified, which led to a headache. This headache would increase in intensity every time I coughed so that it felt like I had an ice pick jammed through my skull. That's been fun.

Next appeared a migrating rash on my legs. Incessant itching. Now we're just adding insult to injury. Speaking of insult to injury, the bottom of my tongue is bloody and sore from banging on my uneven bottom teeth every time I cough, and I think I have a cavity. I've got a toothache. I know it's not related, but I don't think I should have to suffer anything additional.

Then the hacking began. Not just coughing, but gagging on large amounts of mucus. I'm constantly spitting it out, but I can never get enough up to feel comfortable.

The mucus just won't come up to my satisfaction, no matter how many fluids I drink and how much I cough. As a result, whenever I lie down the mucus shifts around in my throat, blocking off my trachea, so I jerk awake choking.

So I didn't sleep the last two nights. At all. (A silver lining: now I can better have empathy for my suffering mother who lives with really bad apnea.)

I'm a freaking zombie.

Oh, so dramatic, Maren. Come on. People get sick all the time. Buck up.

Normally, I would think so too. But now I'm a mother of a toddler and an infant. Today when I went to the doctor and he asked if I was getting plenty of rest, I just laughed. No Doc, I'm not.

All day I have to care for two very small kids who have lots of needs. This results in no resting, which results in my sickness getting worse. Luckily my family hasn't gotten sick (yet). My daughter is undressed, unwashed, totally disheveled and gross. My baby is wearing the same thing he has worn for many days. The house is a complete and utter disaster zone. It makes me want to vomit, it's so bad.

I wish I had a wife. She could take care me when I get sick and "go to work" for me too. If Brent was this sick, he wouldn't go to work. Plus he'd have me home all day to entertain kids and bring him food. I get sick, and I just have to wait the hours out until he can come home and give me a reprieve.

I have needed backup so badly this week. I'm not usually one to cry uncle, but

UNCLE!!!

The funny thing is I have lots of friends and family around to support me that could normally give me help. I haven't asked for any because I don't want to run the risk of spreading this to anyone else. I feel like I can't ask anyone to put their health at risk just to let me rest a little.

After this long and miserable week, today is Saturday. Finally. I took myself to the doctor and he asked me if my husband was home for the weekend. When I answered affirmatively he said "Good. It is my prescription that you do nothing but rest and breastfeed. Make your husband do everything else."

Thankfully I have the kind of husband that will.

So I have 48 hours to rest and heal. Praise to God above.

Now that I'm resting and finally feeling some peace for the first time in many days, I'm craving the company of my family. All my brothers and sisters (except one) and their kids and spouses are having dinner at my parents' house. We do this every Saturday.

Saturday Night Dinners at the Homestead are one of the best things in my life. It makes me so happy to be there, surrounded by all the people in the world that I love best. I look forward to it every week.

I need the balm of sisterhood to soothe my cracked and raw soul tonight. I need the delicious dinner that couldn't be improved upon because nobody and I mean NO BODY - not even your mother - can cook like my mother (except for maybe Ina Garten). I need that hug from my Pa that tells me I'm still his girlie, even though I'm a mama now.

But I can't go. I'm in exile. Don't want to expose my dear ones unnecessarily. So I am sad.

Now I know how Emma (the one who isn't here) must feel on Saturday nights.

We miss you, Emma.

Speaking of crying uncle, for your viewing pleasure and because I could really use a laugh, I give you one of the best scenes of of one of the best movies ever made. When Tim Tebow cries and squeals as Scut Farkus pulls back his arm, just imagine me whimpering there. :)

I Was Unaware . . .

that I said certain phrases with regularity, until I heard them come out of my toddler.

Some examples:

1. Holy crap.
2. Does that sound like a plan?
3. Okay, Love.
4. No, that's not one of the options.
5. You okay, honey?
6. I gotcha.

Now that she's copying me so much, I'm going to have to start checking my phraseology. So far number 1 is as bad as it gets. I have yet heard her say "suck", which I say all the time. And I just really don't want to hear that word coming out of a two-year-old.

P.S. As I write my infant is lying on the floor playing. I just looked over and saw that he has rolled far enough to grab one of my Crocs and is sucking on it. Gross! Man, I'm going to have to start cleaning up my floors.

Tender Mercies

I am grateful . . .

1. that the bludgeoning sensation in my skull only lasts as long as the coughing does.
2. that the sweats and chills are subdued somewhat during the daytime
3. for Baby Signing Time dvds and for PBS kids for entertaining my children so I can supervise them with minimal effort and feel like at least they're learning something while I rot their brains out.
4. for a husband who will come home, feed the toddler, clean the kitchen, and bounce the baby while I lay down.
5. for a baby who delightfully decides to be content today.
6. for a toddler throwing fewer tantrums and being more helpful than usual today.
7. that an entire week of this nasty flu is behind me, so that I am closer to the end than the beginning of my suffering. Supposedly.
8. that I slept the better part of 13 hours last night.
9. for frozen dinners.
10. For the capacity to have multiple windows open at once so Jenny can watch home videos and I can blog simultaneously.

While you may think my tone is sarcastic, let me clarify (since the written word can be confusing on tone sometimes.) I am absolutely sincere. When feeling like you want to die, you count your blessings where you can. I am truly grateful my suffering is not worse. It could be, so easily.

My Pride and Joy

So I just have to gloat a minute about how brilliant my daughter is and share her latest significant milestone.

For Christmas Jenny wanted an easel. Granny obliged.

Jenny has LOVED it. Today as soon as James went down for his nap Jenny rushed up to me (knowing that his naptime is the only time she gets to use her easel) and demanded "I want do paint my art."

"What color do you want."

"Red. No, yellow."

"Okay, yellow." I left to get the yellow paint.

"No, BLUE!!!!!" Jenny screamed in typical fashion, thus completing her usual waffling whenever faced with a decision.

I set her up.

She made a couple typical paintings of nothing but big globs of paint smeared around in an unrecognizable abstract.

She requested a fresh canvas.

Next time I looked up it was because she had pronounced "I made a smiley face!"

Surely not I thought, but wanted to see what in her mind was a smiley face. I saw this.

Well, not quite that. I just saw the head, the eyes, and the mouth. She hadn't completed her masterpiece yet.

Then she said "And a nose."

She painted a nose.

I cheered and high-fived and hugged.

She wiggled out of my hug protesting "AND LEGS!"

She proceeded to paint legs. One and two.

Let's take a closer look.

I'm keeping it forever.

James - 6 Months

My baby is six months old. How the time flies!

Here is a list of his accomplishments, habits, and tastes.

1. He is an accomplished roller (just back to front. He can't get back yet.)
2. He is an accomplished grasper. I must always have a toy handy and try to keep them out of Jenny's ever snatching hands.
3. He loves milkies.
4. He loves his swing.
5. He loves to lie on his back and wiggle around, trying to reach whatever is lying nearby.
6. He likes to use his toys as a hammer. He frequently hits himself on the head.
7. He loves his big sister. He will watch her endlessly.
8. He prefers his lion rattle to his elephant rattle.
9. He makes gutteral moans when he's tired.
10. His smiles continue to have the power to melt the hardest man's heart.

Thanks to Shelley for the beautiful photos of my boy.

What's Inside

Jenny saw this in a toy catalog.

I tried to explain what it was, saying something like "if you could take off your skin and look inside your body, you would see that stuff."

Then she said "And I take off my body and there's candy in my body."

Yes, Jenny. Most certainly there is candy in your body. Usually is.