Entries from October 2009 ↓

The past two weeks have been crazy, to say the least. I woke up two weeks ago today with unexplained neuropathy. Since then, I have been to the hospital, to specialists, had multiple different (and uncomfortable) tests. Through it all, I keep hoping that I will wake up and my nightmare will be over. So far, it hasn’t happened.

Every day I feel like I begin to learn a new lesson. At first I decided that I probably haven’t been focusing enough on my family, that I was taking my health for granted, that I wasn’t sympathetic enough for my Mother (who is experiencing severe neuropathy due to Chemotherapy and the plethora of drugs they give during that), that I wasn’t as healthy of an eater, that I needed to just trust God…. and the list went on and on. Every day I would think “Well, tomorrow I should be better because I will have learned this lesson and surely that is what God wanted for me through this experience…..”.

It’s crazy how our minds race during times like these, while we stare at the ceiling tiles. The most bizarre things come to mind. The guilt, the self-condemnation, the roller coaster of emotions that change from one minute to the next, including high faith and giant doubt.

This afternoon I realized that my only symptoms were my eyes burning and my my face tingling. I could walk without pain. I can type without pain. And yet I feel sick in the pit of my stomach. It was so wonderful to be me again. To feel life without the constant pain and discomfort. But now that I have a taste of it… what if I wake up tomorrow and the pain is back? Will I grieve that much more again? At the same time, I feel hopeful and am asking God that this would be the beginning of my healing. Please God… let it be!

If you ask mothers what their favorite or most used baby product is, you will probably get quite a variety of answers in response. For me, hands down, it is my stroller.

At Forest’s baby shower, I received the standard Graco single stroller. We used that thing to death. When Warrior came along, and Forest was just 22 months old, I knew I needed a double stroller. No way was I going along without a double.

I checked out some different strollers at the store and tried pushing them around. They are definitely not created equal. Depending on what you use your stroller for more frequently, you would want a stroller to fit that activity. Now we’re not mall people. Not that I wouldn’t like to be but we don’t live near a mall. (For real. I have to drive at least 2 hrs. to find a real mall. No joke.) Which means I don’t need to squeeze through tight spots.  I use the stroller most often outdoors. Often on rough terrian (a.k.a. uneven sidewalks.) I walk often during the seasons that don’t include blizzards. So I definitely wanted a double jogger because I was looking for ease of pushing. Problem is, double joggers cost a lot and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to invest that much.

Luckily, I found an ad for one on the bulliten board at the grocery store. $75 for a double jogger by Schwinn. I went and tried it fell in love. Instantly, I tell you.

That thing is now 4 years old and I can’t bear to part with it. It probably has more road miles than half the cars at the used car lot. That thing was worth $700 more than I paid for it. I can literally push the thing with one finger. Not that I do, but I could you know. Like if I broke all my fingers or something.

In fact, now the boys don’t really want to ride in the stroller (nor do I want them to — exercise is good for expelling energy) but I still take the jogger because I love it so much than our single stroller (that is new).

What I really want is a single jogger now. Because our Schwinn has been so good to us, I’d love another one by Schwinn. I found this one on buy.com on sale. And it’s pink! (Be still my heart.) And it’s pink because it supports breast cancer research. (Hooray! Did you know that breast cancer will hit one in seven women? Skeery! We should all do our part to support our fellow chickies. And dudes too.)

Hey, a girl can dream, right?

I’ve been MIA and I actually have a very good excuse this time.

Not this past Friday but the Friday before, I got my seasonal and h1n1 vaccinations. Saturday I woke up with nueropathy. From that moment on, my life hasn’t been the same. ER visits, doctors’ visits, specialists visits, observation, CT scans, MRI’s, CO2 level checks, nerve study, muscle function study, nerve pain, odd sensations, numbness temporary paralysis of the legs… you name it, I had it.

The specialist I saw yesterday was very optimistic that this adverse reaction would eventually heal it’s self. No promises that it wouldn’t get worse before it got better though. I do feel like we might be on the upswing though. Please pray that the Ultimate Physican would heal me and soon. I hate being the ’sick person’.

  I don’t miss cable very often but there are times when it would be really nice to have. Mostly, I’m talking about those times that the kids are running crazy, wreaking havoc everywhere, and every fiber of my being is begging for a break. Those are the moments that I wish we could just stick the TV on The Disney Channel or Noggin. So sue me, ‘commitee members’, it’s true. I occasionally use TV as a baby-sitter.

   Usually we use DVD’s or VHS tapes. Our VCR broke a few weeks ago though, and I can’t bring myself to spend money on another. Really, they have become so obsolete. Our DVD collection isn’t the grandest though. And children’s shows aren’t on 24/7 on PBS.

  My husband had a brilliant idea; an HDMI cable. Call me stupid but I had no idea how they worked. We got one on saleand he hooked one end up to the laptop and the other end to the television and the laptop screen then showed up on the TV. I can go to Netflix and flip on an instant play movie or go to any number of websites and play them online episodes.

  That little cable is more than it’s weight in gold, I tell you!

So this is the post that should just be titled “Carrie is a Whiny Brat”. So you can read it or not read it, that’s totally up to you. But you were warned.

People ask us how school is going for my husband. I smile and say “It’s going well, thank you for asking.” Truth be told, it really is going well. We are living on half our income and miraculously still alive and well, my husband’s grades are still perfect, he’s excited about what he’s learning and will be teaching someday, he is doing better at budgeting his time this year so that the kids see him more…. So see, it really is going well.

Except (and you knew this was coming, didn’t you?!) that this ’sometimes almost single parent’ gig sucks. Sometimes more than others. And I’ll be honest with you, perhaps as much as I hate to  admit it, there are times that I get bitter and jealous and even act all girly about it.

Like Thursday. We’re down to one vehicle. My husband’s car died and being the poor college students that we are, we haven’t been able to replace it. So he takes our van three days a week and I get it the other two. Which sounds perfect in theory except sometimes I need to go out on days that I don’t have the van. And we usually walk, which is usually OK. Except (and perhaps I should title this post “except”) sometimes it isn’t. Like if I need lots of heavy things at the grocery store. It makes my stroller really, really heavy and then the baby gets angry because I’m crowding her out of the stroller with a gallon of milk and then I have to carry her because she starts screaming and trying to jump out of the stroller and the stroller is so heavy that I can barely push it (with Warrior still in it — we use a double) and all of the groceries as I carry her. Oh, and of course remember that Forest is beside me with his hand on the stroller desperately trying to push my load towards the street. Okay, really that isn’t his goal but he is obsessed with holding the side of the stroller as we walk and somehow he just pushes it that way without realizing it. All of this is probably really good for my arm muscles. Seriously by now,  I should be able to box Mike Tyson or something. Except I’m too tired to. So anyway, this is was all well and good and I even did it cheerful. Except until it started snowing. In October. And it was all beautiful and magical for the first two minutes as we walked through the Winter Wonderland to the bank. But then the baby started screaming at the wet snow and her hands were red because she kept pitching her mittens on the ground. So I had to carry her with her hands inside of my coat. And the boys didn’t want to ride in the wagon,t hey wanted to make tracks in the snow. Which made them want to run which made me have to run. Pulling a wagon. Holding a MAD baby. IN THE SNOW. So we stopped at a rummage sale we saw at the Methodist Church. Because retail therapy makes anyone happy. Or at least Forest. Really, I just wanted to get out of the snow. But he wanted to buy stuff because he always wants to buy stuff. Except I didn’t actually realize that he would find a marble roller. “I’ve alllllways wanted a marble roller!”. And it’s true, he has always wanted a marble roller. For the last month. Which is forever when you’re 5, I guess. And it was 50 cents. So in a moment of temporary amnesia, I said yes, because I forgot we were walking. IN THE SNOW. And yes, we had to put in the marble roller with the children. IN THE SNOW. And now they were happy and gleeful. Except the baby who hates the snow. And so I drag them to the bank and then we stop at playgroup on the way back. And that part was really quite lovely. My children were well behaved. Nothing to make me cringe. So we walk home quickly and we’re wet. And we come inside and they take off their boots at the door, their socks in the kitchen, their pants in the dining room, their coats in the living room. And then they start asking for lunch, and the baby is all “NUR! NUR MOMMA! NUR! NUR! NUR!” (That is Baby-ese for “Nurse” in case you are wondering!) And I do nurse her and make her all snuggly as a bug and she falls asleep. Except it’s for ten minutes. And that’s it. And then I feed the boys lunch and that’s nice. Except they smack their heads together as they are wrestling on the ground and there is a tiny, tiny abrasion (but you wouldn’t know it by the loud, loud screaming) that calls for a band-aid (you know how comforting the mere sight of a band-aid is to a 4 year old. It really could cure all life’s problems for them) and the container the band-aids are in spills everywhere. Everywhere and everything. And the baby is on top of the table throwing napkins everywhere. And then I clean up the napkins to find her calling from the playroom on the table where she has found a marker that Forest must have had and has written all over herself with. And I could go on and on but I’m pretty sure you get the picture.

So my husband walks in the door, handsome as ever in nice khaki pants and a sweater, with his black wool dress coat. He looks wonderful. Refreshed. Happy. His school books and laptop tucked neatly under his arm. “Hello honey!” he says. Pretending not to notice that I’m wearing old sweat pants (because my jeans got all soggy on the walk) and my hair is sticking up (thanks again, SNOW!).

And he goes to the bathroom. Because men CAN go to the bathroom whenever they want and a baby isn’t even sitting on their lap while they do it!

And he comes out and says “I got a 99 on my test today. I was the only one that did well the professor says.” “Mmm hmmm” I mumble. As if that didn’t impress me enough he says “The professor told me I should go to grad school when I’m done. I have what it takes.” The young 30 year old professor that he told me another guy talks about how hot she is all of the time.

And there I am. In my grungy sweat pants with my wet socks on my feet and I want to scream. No specific words, really. Just a big loud YAWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW. Because seriously, I am so glad that you are smart and you have what it takes. And I know that you are grateful that I support you and are aware that I sacrifice a lot so you can do this but do you really, really, really know how much I do? Because it’s a lot. A darn lot. A darn, darn, darn lot. Except there’s no glory in it. None.

No one congratulates me on my beautifully written essays or my wonderful mid-term grades. No one slaps me on the back and says that I have what it takes. Instead they say “Can you make a cake for this dinner” (thinking to themselves “since she is home all day….).  There are  no grades you when you do things like  pay the bills, shovel the sidewalk, mow the lawn, wash the dishes, play pretend, cook the dinner, school the children, vacuum the carpet, mop the floors, pay the bills, read children’s books in silly voices, schedule the well visits, drag all the children to the well visits and hold them down as they get their vaccinations, grocery shop at 6 different stores WITH THREE CHILDREN to get the best deals because money is tight and you have to stretch your dollar.

So sure, I am going to admit that there are moments, and to be fair, they are brief, when I struggle with jealousy. I can’t dress cute. I don’t even know if I own any really cute clothes anymore. That fit me that is. I dont’ get adult conversation. I can’t go to the bathroom when I want to. I can’t escape with an interesting looking book that is required reading. My brain feels like mush at moments and I feel like I’m so far removed from that world that I can’t even imagine it.

And I get pissy. And I a throw a stupid jealous-wife fit. Not obviously. Or maybe it is obvious. Where I make little snide remarks for a day. To be fair to myself, it’s only once a month or less. But I do it. And today is one of those days that I feel like that. I feel jealous. I feel annoyed. And to be perfectly honest, I feel a tad inferior. I hope I’m as attractive and intelligent as the women from that world. (Not that I’d ever think he was looking elsewhere; I know where his heart was. But would I be more attractive to him if I were?)

And then I remember the joys of my day. The boys excited giggles as we put together their marble roller. Fancy clapping her hands with glee as the marbles rolled down the chutes. Her cuddly little body all warm against mine as she ‘nur-ed”, my being able to deliver the band-aid and hugs that cured the broken heart of a 4 year old, being able to hear my son read aloud sentences to me because I taught him to read.

Seriously. Seriously. I want to just smack myself back into sense. I was going to let cuter clothes and intelligent conversation make me feel like I was missing out on life? Life is what I have in my every day. Not that intelligent life is not important, but that will come in time. In time. Right now, if someone were to come and offer me a life swap with my husband I’d tell them to take a hike. Even on an annoyed and cranky day I wouldn’t take it. My life is exactly the way I want it. I forget that although my husband gets to pee without kids on his lap and sit there and listen to intelligent men (and hot women) produce words of insight, he isn’t holding his kids while he pees and he isn’t learning with them.  I am. And that, my friends, is exactly where I want to be.

And tomorrow when someone at church says “How is school going?” and I say my regular “It’s going well, thank you for asking.” Like every other time, I really will mean it. It is going well.

PS Except I would still like another car.

PPS Also, I would still like more sleep.

PPPS And, I would still like to pee alone more often.