Supermom Chronicles
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
Gurgle, gurgle...and some random pics
Gurgle, gurgle...bloop, gurgle...Yes that's the serenade my GI tract is singing to me today:) Medically minded ones would call this borborygmas; today I call it miserable. Sometimes I think everything that happens to us in life really is to teach us something. My current experience reminds me to be emphathetic with my patients. I hospitalized a dog on Monday that had "vomited 10-15 times since 5pm Sunday" according to his owner. In front of me I saw a bright, alert but dehydrated dog. I put him on IV fluids, watched him vomit foam about 10 minutes after admission, then gave him some anti-nausea medication. A few hours later he had watery diarrhea, poor guy. For the remainder of the day he stood in his cage like he just wasn't terribly comfortable. I felt sorry for him, mostly because he looked sad in the cage. Little did I know that would be MY medical history a few short hours later. I started feeling nauseous around noon. One of my coworkers joked, "If it's a girl this time, can I have her?" Ha ha. By 1pm I was curled around the clinic toilet finding out how well it really gets cleaned. From 1 to 3:30pm I vomited every 15 minutes or so, totaling somewhere between 10 and 15 times. I felt like my body truly was trying to turn inside out. Eventually I ended up curled up on a pallet on the floor of our office at work hugging our surgery bucket. Not the most professional image:) I realized this is probably exactly what my aforementioned canine patient had been going through. We see "gastroenteritis" on such a routine basis that it's easy to become somewhat complacent about it at work. Well, my empathy has been renewed! Yesterday I felt exhausted (and about 3 lbs lighter), but no more vomiting. So I thought I'd be returning to a day of surgery at work today. Wrong! At 5am today, round 2 started with a vengeance. But the good news is, it looks like I can fit into all of my pre-pregnancy clothes again, at least for a day or so!
I have to give props to my friend and coworker, Leah. She got off work on Monday around 2pm but graciously hung around for over an hour waiting for me to stop vomiting long enough to drive me home. Halfway home things got quiet in the car...I was sure I was going to have to use the trash can we had swiped from work for the trip. But, alas, we made it! Thank you, Leah!
On a lighter note, now that James has officially turned 5 months old, we introduced him to rice cereal this week. It's been hit or miss so far. He likes to watch us eat, but isn't quite sure what to do with it himself.
On the spur of the moment this past Saturday, I decided to take Faith and Cole to the beauty salon (ok, Cost Cutters). This was the first time anyone but me has cut Faith's hair. She was so excited. I let her look at the book with kids' hairstyles and pick the one she wanted. This is it. She looks so much older to me! Good grief. I do like her taste, though.
I think she cut off about 5 inches.
Here's a creepy photo. A few weeks ago Cole "accidentally" slammed Faith's fingers in a closet door. Her fingertips swelled up pretty badly and the nails turned dark purple. We figured it was just a matter of time before the nails sloughed off. Well that momentous occasion came this week. I thought Faith would be terrified of the whole situation, but thanks to John, she thinks it's really "cool". Smart daddy.
I have to give props to my friend and coworker, Leah. She got off work on Monday around 2pm but graciously hung around for over an hour waiting for me to stop vomiting long enough to drive me home. Halfway home things got quiet in the car...I was sure I was going to have to use the trash can we had swiped from work for the trip. But, alas, we made it! Thank you, Leah!
On a lighter note, now that James has officially turned 5 months old, we introduced him to rice cereal this week. It's been hit or miss so far. He likes to watch us eat, but isn't quite sure what to do with it himself.
On the spur of the moment this past Saturday, I decided to take Faith and Cole to the beauty salon (ok, Cost Cutters). This was the first time anyone but me has cut Faith's hair. She was so excited. I let her look at the book with kids' hairstyles and pick the one she wanted. This is it. She looks so much older to me! Good grief. I do like her taste, though.
I think she cut off about 5 inches.Here's a creepy photo. A few weeks ago Cole "accidentally" slammed Faith's fingers in a closet door. Her fingertips swelled up pretty badly and the nails turned dark purple. We figured it was just a matter of time before the nails sloughed off. Well that momentous occasion came this week. I thought Faith would be terrified of the whole situation, but thanks to John, she thinks it's really "cool". Smart daddy.
Sunday, March 11, 2007
In Sickness and in sickness
The first 6 years of our marriage (1996-2002 B.C. - Before Children) were healthy. "In sickness and in health" was an easy vow to keep. We've definitely transitioned into the "sickness" phase of the vows thanks to the lovely youngsters in our house.
Last week, Faith woke up with 105 - 106 degree fever, turned out to be the flu. James burst an eardrum after 3 days of upper respiratory congestion and ear infection. I had a mild flu but a raging sore throat for a little over a week. John had the same. Cole, thankfully, was feeling ok.
Yesterday (Saturday), I called John at work to ask if he was sure it was his Saturday to work and not mine. You see, with our work schedules, we take turns working Saturdays. The person not at work gets the joy of staying home with the kids. Normally, this really is nice. There's no sleeping in anymore - the last time I slept past 7:30am was almost 5 years ago. But at least when I'm off from work, the morning is a little more leisurely. The kids are demanding of breakfast and activities, but at least there's no timeline to our morning. Yesterday, however, going to work would have been MUCH more fun than staying home.
At 4:55am, I was awoken by an ear-piercing scream from Cole's room. I jumped up to see what was the matter, assuming some type of "night terror", and found Cole lying in bed screaming at the top of his lungs. He looked half-asleep. I touched him and tried to calm him but he just kept screaming. So I picked him up and rocked him for awhile. Naturally, as soon as I started rocking him, James woke up screaming in our bedroom. John had already left for work, so I was on my own. I had to just let James scream; "one kid at a time" is my motto. So when I went to lay Cole back in his bed, he screamed, "I don't want my bed!" When I asked why, he never would give me a coherent answer. Finally as I layed him down again, he said, "There's throw-up!" Great. I turned the lights on and sure enough, there was vomit all over his bed. I didn't smell it or feel it on him. Oh well. I got to the task of cleaning him off, changing his clothes and the bed sheets, then put him back to bed. He said he felt ok. Then I went off to nurse James. Ten minutes later, another blood-curdling scream from Cole's room. You guessed it, Round Two. After another change, I was back to feeding James. Then I rolled back into my bed around 6am.
Around 7am, Cole lets himself into our bathroom (never a good thing) and starts banging around. I decide it's pointless to try to get anymore sleep, so I got up. Cole announced he had "poo poo", so I told him to go to his room and I would meet him there for a diaper change. The next 30-60 seconds cost us $300. He had EXPLOSIVE diarrhea from our bedroom door, all the way across the loft, into his bedroom, a large wet pile in the middle of his bedroom floor, then a trail to his bathroom. This was not just any poo, this was the poo from H*LL. After bathing him, I spent the next 1.5 hours on my hands and knees with a Bissell spot lifter (not the tool for this task) in a vain attempt to remove the dark brown stains from our light beige carpet.
So here's how a married couple with 3 small children spend an average Saturday night: Play in the backyard with the kids in the last of the daylight, load everybody up in the minivan and pay a visit to Sears, plunk down $300 for a good quality Hoover SteamVac, plunk down another $48 at Chili's because it's late and we're all hungry (I fully deserved the 2 margaritas I treated myself to), then come home to clean up poop stains from the carpet. We all retired around 10:30 (11:30 once we set our clocks ahead), only to wake a couple hours later for James' middle of the night feeding.
I love my family - in sickness and in health.
Last week, Faith woke up with 105 - 106 degree fever, turned out to be the flu. James burst an eardrum after 3 days of upper respiratory congestion and ear infection. I had a mild flu but a raging sore throat for a little over a week. John had the same. Cole, thankfully, was feeling ok.
Yesterday (Saturday), I called John at work to ask if he was sure it was his Saturday to work and not mine. You see, with our work schedules, we take turns working Saturdays. The person not at work gets the joy of staying home with the kids. Normally, this really is nice. There's no sleeping in anymore - the last time I slept past 7:30am was almost 5 years ago. But at least when I'm off from work, the morning is a little more leisurely. The kids are demanding of breakfast and activities, but at least there's no timeline to our morning. Yesterday, however, going to work would have been MUCH more fun than staying home.
At 4:55am, I was awoken by an ear-piercing scream from Cole's room. I jumped up to see what was the matter, assuming some type of "night terror", and found Cole lying in bed screaming at the top of his lungs. He looked half-asleep. I touched him and tried to calm him but he just kept screaming. So I picked him up and rocked him for awhile. Naturally, as soon as I started rocking him, James woke up screaming in our bedroom. John had already left for work, so I was on my own. I had to just let James scream; "one kid at a time" is my motto. So when I went to lay Cole back in his bed, he screamed, "I don't want my bed!" When I asked why, he never would give me a coherent answer. Finally as I layed him down again, he said, "There's throw-up!" Great. I turned the lights on and sure enough, there was vomit all over his bed. I didn't smell it or feel it on him. Oh well. I got to the task of cleaning him off, changing his clothes and the bed sheets, then put him back to bed. He said he felt ok. Then I went off to nurse James. Ten minutes later, another blood-curdling scream from Cole's room. You guessed it, Round Two. After another change, I was back to feeding James. Then I rolled back into my bed around 6am.
Around 7am, Cole lets himself into our bathroom (never a good thing) and starts banging around. I decide it's pointless to try to get anymore sleep, so I got up. Cole announced he had "poo poo", so I told him to go to his room and I would meet him there for a diaper change. The next 30-60 seconds cost us $300. He had EXPLOSIVE diarrhea from our bedroom door, all the way across the loft, into his bedroom, a large wet pile in the middle of his bedroom floor, then a trail to his bathroom. This was not just any poo, this was the poo from H*LL. After bathing him, I spent the next 1.5 hours on my hands and knees with a Bissell spot lifter (not the tool for this task) in a vain attempt to remove the dark brown stains from our light beige carpet.
So here's how a married couple with 3 small children spend an average Saturday night: Play in the backyard with the kids in the last of the daylight, load everybody up in the minivan and pay a visit to Sears, plunk down $300 for a good quality Hoover SteamVac, plunk down another $48 at Chili's because it's late and we're all hungry (I fully deserved the 2 margaritas I treated myself to), then come home to clean up poop stains from the carpet. We all retired around 10:30 (11:30 once we set our clocks ahead), only to wake a couple hours later for James' middle of the night feeding.
I love my family - in sickness and in health.
