Family Archives - Page 46 of 113

Oct 5, 2010

Down but Not Out

There are times when everything is going great in my life, and I can’t wait to write out all of the good here on my blog.

Then there are times when I’m frustrated, or something isn’t going the way I’d like, and I turn to this blog to vent or get advice.

And then there are times like the last two weeks, when life hands me a body blow – body blow – uppercut TKO and I’m left sprawled out on the mat faster than you can say Mike Tyson’s Punchout.

Right after Cordy’s birthday, my job went from your normal 8 hour job to a crazy mess. Overtime was strongly encouraged and soon I was only working – sometimes sleeping and sometimes eating – with the rest of my life simply put on hold. I was happy to help out in the situation, because we really needed everyone to give everything they had, but it quickly wore me down.

At the same time, Mira was also in the middle of a strange stomach virus. She had vomited the week before, then went a few days without eating much, then vomited three times in one night. Lather, rinse, and repeat the entire pattern two more times, and we’re left wondering what kind of virus can skip a few days and come back again. It also took away my chances at more sleep, meaning I’ve been extremely underslept for the past two weeks. One night was bad enough that I was sure I was hearing voices and hallucinating.

Then, just because a work crisis and a sick child weren’t enough, I developed the stomach virus as well, although mine was more of the single 48-hour variety. But in that 48 hours I purged everything from my digestive system and developed a strong aversion to food. It took several days for me to gain the ability to eat more than a few bites of food at a time, which was a shame considering my work was provided gorgeous meals for everyone working overtime that I couldn’t enjoy.

Add in a broken water heater, a three year old who cut her own hair on one side only, a headlight out on the car, and one aggressive school nurse threatening to pull Cordy out of school if we didn’t get her vaccinations updated ASAP, and I was starting to think it would be easier to stop trying to get up every time the karma bus ran me over and just lay there instead.

Everything else was in stasis for the week. We used any clothing we could find for the girls because I didn’t have time for laundry, other than laundry that involved puke. Pizza and fast food were regular meals for the family. I would often turn the TV on and nap on the couch when the girls got home from school. And I haven’t ran or exercised in any way since the March of Dimes 5K. Internet? Ha. I barely knew what was going on in the world.

There has been some good in the past two weeks, though. Seeing everyone at work pull together to get the job done has been inspiring. Aaron has a temp job – where I work, actually – helping out with all of the little extras that need done during this crisis. Cordy read every one of her birthday cards this year, impressing everyone with her previously hidden reading talents. And Mira…well…Mira only cut ONE side of her hair. You could call it a fashionable asymmetrical look.

What energy or personality I possessed was ruthlessly drained from me in the past two weeks, and I’m now desperately trying to pull myself back together and refuel my life force with small servings of Facebook, Twitter, cuddling on the couch with my family, and phone calls with friends and family.

Things are slowly going back to normal. Slowly. There is still a lot of overtime expected at work, but I got to sleep 8 hours this weekend. And do a couple loads of laundry. I got to spend more than a couple of hours with my husband and children, when we were all awake and no one was sick. It was short-lived, and I’m back to only sleeping and working, but I know those peaceful moments will be back again soon.

And I’m slowly inching my way back out into being social again.

Hope you haven’t forgotten about me. I’ve been here the entire time, missing my blog, my friends, and my leisure time. Life should get back to normal soon (whatever normal might be), and as it does nothing will get in my way of getting back to what I love.

Filed Under: clearly insane, fate laughing at me, me me me, plague, the J-O-B · Tagged: sick child

Sep 21, 2010

Six

By Christina ·

How did time go by so fast?

How did my baby girl:

…become my six year old?

(Photo courtesy of Heather Durdil Photography)

Happy birthday to the girl who made me a mother. You made sure that my first experience with motherhood was anything but typical, just like everything else in my life up to that point. You turned my world upside down, you showed me new depths of love, and you taught me new heights of tolerance. Because of you, I discovered an inner strength I never knew I had.

You’re brilliant, even if you don’t want to show it. You light up a room with your warm, cheery personality, and it’s hard to find anyone who isn’t immediately charmed upon meeting you.

I’m convinced the reason you rarely sleep is because there is too much of the world left for you to discover. Perhaps sleep will come when you’re older. In the meantime, how can we say no to letting you bring book after book to bed with you?

I can’t predict what the future holds for you, Cordelia, but I know you’ll continue to surprise us.

Happy sixth birthday to my Amazon warrior princess.

Filed Under: Cordy, growing up, love ·

Sep 16, 2010

You Know Your Kid Likes Her New Preschool When…

By Christina ·

…she is comfortable enough with her surroundings to settle in on one of the couches for a quick nap:

(photo – and sweatshirt/blanket, I’d guess – courtesy of her teacher)

Mira started her new preschool last week. Her teacher, the much loved teacher that Cordy had for special-needs preschool, has won over the second born as much as she did the first. Mira is absolutely thrilled to go to her afternoon preschool class and comes home each day with stories of all of the cool new things she did that we don’t let her do. (Like use scissors.)

But having a full day of school – with morning preschool at one location and afternoon preschool at another location – is affecting her nap schedule. She doesn’t have the ability to nap in the afternoons now, leaving her a grumpy mess by dinnertime. The situation above hopefully won’t be a trend, and she’ll either adjust or learn to sleep when being transported between schools.

Ask Mira if she’d rather nap or go to school, though, and she’ll quickly tell you she’d rather be at school. My little one insists on growing up as fast as possible despite my efforts to stop her.

Yet when I come home in the mornings, she still makes me “I missed you” cards (even though she slept while I was at work) and sometimes cries when it’s time for daddy to take her to school. It breaks my heart, but it also confirms for me that no matter how fast she tries to grow up, she still can’t avoid being my baby.

Filed Under: growing up, Mira, school ·

Sep 13, 2010

Sickness, Dollars and Sense

By Christina ·

Saturday night was a long night. I trudged up to bed around midnight, my body and brain fighting to figure out if it was really nearly lunchtime or bedtime. (Third shift work schedules really screw with your biorhythms.) No sooner had my eyes closed and I was on the verge of sleep, I heard crying coming from Mira’s room. I went in and she was clutching her belly, crying “My bewwy huwts!!!”

Figuring it was probably just gas, I rubbed her belly and back, but she then asked if she could come into my room. Aaron had fallen asleep on the couch, so I agreed and brought her in. She lay in bed with me for about ten minutes before deciding she felt better and went back to her room. I again tried to focus on the inside of my eyelids and aimed for sleep.

An hour later, a repeat performance. This time I got her up and had her try using the potty. (Did I mention we’re potty training? No? Well, we’re POTTY TRAINING! A whole year and a half earlier than Cordy, thank goodness!) Again it didn’t seem to help much, and she eventually went back to bed.

Two hours later, the crying startled me awake. This time it sounded more urgent. I went into her room to see her sitting in a corner of her bed, pointing to the center and saying, “I made a mess! I sowwy! I soooo sowwy!” As my eyes adjusted to the light, and my nose adjusted to the assault on it, I realized she had vomited and was covered in it herself. Poor kid – she’s sick and all she can do is think I’m mad at her for making a mess. You’d think I was a clean freak.

I carefully lifted her out of bed, making sure to avoid her stuffed pink polar bear (which she made sure to tell me that she was careful to NOT get vomit on her prized stuffed animal!), stripped her down and put her in the bath. While she soaked, I cleaned up the mess, remade her bed, and got the washer started. Then I cleaned her up, got her dressed and put her to bed. Mira seemed to feel better after that, and I hoped it was over.

Sunday was a typical day for her. She ate just fine, even though we were cautious at first, she played, and she continued to say, “My bewwy doesn’t huwt now!” Sure, I was exhausted from barely sleeping all night, but she seemed better, so I couldn’t complain too much. It was probably just a virus passing through quickly.

Then Sunday night, right at bedtime, it started again: “My bewwy reawwy hurwts!” At this point, I thought Mira was faking it, having figured out yet another way to stall at bedtime and get some extra attention. Aaron – being better slept than me and therefore in a more generous mood – let her rest on the couch and she promptly fell asleep. Faker, I decided.

Aaron carried her back to bed, and I relaxed in my chair to enjoy a little guilty pleasure I call the MTV VMA’s before I had to go to work. But no sooner than Justin Bieber jumped up on stage, the wailing voice of a little girl could be heard from upstairs. (Yeah, Mira, I’m more of a Lady Gaga fan, too.) Aaron went to check on her and soon came downstairs with a pathetic little barnacle clinging to him. She was again crying that her belly hurt.

Aaron tried to put her on the couch again, but this time she didn’t fall asleep. She tossed and turned and wiggled, occasionally wailing in pain. At this point, I was starting to think it wasn’t an act. But it made no sense – how could she be so sick the night before, then perfect all day long, and now very sick again? That little voice of motherly worry started to build in my mind.

I barely saw Taylor Swift’s performance, because by that point the wailing had reached a fever pitch. Aaron tried to pull Mira into his lap on the floor, but she pushed him away and stumbled over to where I was sitting in the recliner. No longer the stoic doubter, I accepted her into my lap and let her curl herself into me, even knowing I only had five minutes or so until I had to leave for work. She continued to cry, and I asked her to show me where her belly hurt. She placed a chubby hand over her entire belly-button area.

I gently pushed on her belly, trying to remember what to feel for in a three year old, but my nursing skills were falling short. She wailed as I touched her abdomen, constantly shifting around in an attempt to find some relief from whatever was hurting her.

In those moments, as I tried to distract her by pointing out Lady Gaga was on stage accepting an award, real worry invaded my mind. What if this wasn’t just a bug? What if she was really sick?

We don’t have health insurance at the moment. My job is a contractor position and Aaron was laid off in May. My agency’s health plan was nearly half of my salary for a $4000 deductible, and COBRA cost even more. I make too much to be covered on any state insurance plan for children, and the private market? Yeah, well, let’s just say they don’t want to cover our family. I don’t even have paid sick time. If I need to miss a day, I don’t get paid for it. We are the ones “stuck in the middle” making too much to qualify for any help and too little to not worry about the costs.

So in that moment, as I became my own personal WebMD and pondered if Mira had a blockage or if her appendix might burst at any moment, I was also forced to calculate in my head if it was worth taking her to the hospital if she didn’t get better. At what point would the risks outweigh the hefty financial hit we’d face? Just the ER charge alone would be crippling, without even considering costs of any tests or x-rays.

At that point, Mira’s wails took on a new pitch, drowning out the TV entirely, and as I clutched her tight, with Aaron kneeling next to the chair and rubbing her back, I felt the tears in my eyes. Her health was coming down to money. I felt like I was being forced to decide how sick she had to be before we could risk going broke. And I wanted to scream right along with her, wail at how idiotic and unfair our health insurance system is, and sob that any parent should be forced to think like this, to feel this helpless in the shadow of illness and dollar bills balancing on an enormous scale.

And right then Mira vomited all over me. Twice. The silence was shocking to us all.

That sweet little girl then took one look at me, completely covered in more vomit than I thought possible to come out of such a small person, and said, “Mommy, I so sowwy I got you messy. You still wuv me?”

For the moment all of my fears and worries were gone as I stroked her hair and assured her that of course I still loved her and everything was OK. She still didn’t feel well, but the crying had stopped as she was suddenly more concerned about me. (And seriously, I’m really not obsessed with being neat. Sure, I don’t like being covered in vomit, but I doubt anyone does.)

Mira still isn’t well, but I’m less worried about appendicitis now and back to my original theory that it’s a virus. And so we continue to wait it out, hoping she gets better soon and we can avoid a costly trip to the doctor or the ER. I’m still mad at the system, though. Angry that we can’t have affordable health insurance because I chose to take a job I love over something I wouldn’t enjoy as much, because Aaron is unemployed, because we have a host of pre-existing conditions that would deny us private insurance.

We’re average Americans. We have a house, we make a middle-class income, we pay our taxes, and we’re trying to get ahead to provide for our daughters. But we’re also forced to worry that the next stomachache that comes along might be more serious. That stomachache could bankrupt us, could take away that house we call home, and that chance at getting ahead we so desperately want and work hard towards. I know we’re not the only ones in this situation, either.

I’m not an economist (nor do I play one on TV), and I didn’t start this post with the intention of going all ranty, but as a mother I can’t understand why anyone would think that basic universal health care is wrong. At this point I’d even be willing to settle for universal children’s health care. No mother wants a price to be placed on her child’s health – so why would you then choose to put a price on the health of someone else’s child?

Maybe the world would be a better place if mothers were running it.

Filed Under: being a mom, big issues, Mira, money · Tagged: sick child

Sep 8, 2010

Please Forgive The Bragging

By Christina ·

I know it’s generally considered bad form to brag. And bragging about how your kid is a genius is probably near the top of the bragging no-no list, right up there with “I can lift way more weight than anyone in my gym” and “I had my baby in 45 minutes with no epidural and it didn’t hurt at all.”

So if you don’t want to read about how smart my kid is, I understand. But you’ll miss out on some Cordy art and a great story from her at the end of the post.

We received a call from Cordy’s teacher today. When she started the call with, “I wanted to see how things are going with Cordelia at home,” I immediately braced myself for the bad news of how she was misbehaving at school or some other unwelcome announcement. Calls home from school never end well.

Instead, she went on to tell me that they have completed all of the screening assessments on Cordy to know just where to begin with her, and she wanted us to know the full results.

According to the standardized test, Cordy reads at a second grade level. Second grade! Not only can she read at that level, but her comprehension of what she reads is equally impressive. I confessed that I had no idea she could read that well, but I credited a lot of it to the Columbus Metropolitan Library’s Summer Reading Club this summer, where she really took to the idea of reading every day.

Before that, she often treated reading like it was a forbidden activity, doing it quietly in a corner or in her room. When you asked her to read something to you, she protested and acted like she couldn’t read at all. She still refuses to read out loud, but her teacher has reached a compromise where Cordy reads at a whisper so she can still be evaluated.

Beyond reading and comprehension, she also knows most of her numbers and can handle basic addition and subtraction. Money is the one area she still fumbles with, but that will come with time. Still – addition AND subtraction!

(Have I mentioned that we’ve never really taught her much of this? She hates being taught and prefers to pick it up on her own.)

The teacher told us they were all so impressed with her abilities, remarking that she and the aides often forget that Cordy is only five years old and in kindergarten. She expects that if Cordy’s social skills can improve, she’ll be in a mainstream classroom full time next year, and also said it’s probable that Cordy will be given the educational label “twice exceptional” – special needs and gifted – which will also give her access to the gifted ed programs.

I wasn’t expecting so much praise over the phone. It’s obvious Cordy has charmed her new teacher and staff just like she charms everyone she meets. The kid has a talent for making everyone love her.

So yeah, I’m a wee bit proud of her today. My warrior princess continues to amaze me every day. So often I feel like I’m never doing enough for her, and there are many times when I feel like I just don’t know what to do with her. But she’s seemingly oblivious to my worries and shortcomings, learning and growing and doing it all her own unique way.

Speaking of her unique way, I promised some art and a story, didn’t I? To go along with today’s phone call, Cordy’s teacher sent home a few of the assignments Cordy has been working on in the past week. I had no idea she was writing full sentences now.

The cats are real pets. The bunny is Sammy, aka the GIANT stuffed Miffy doll that has been her best friend for over two years now.

(Translation: The boy is going down the slide. He is happy.)

And finally, the story. Cordy spends nearly every evening in the kitchen by herself (and she INSISTS on being ALONE!) “making up stories.” We hear her mumbling to herself as she paces and hops and flaps back and forth along the kitchen floor. When she goes to bed at night, too, she often stays up for hours making up more stories.

The few times I’ve convinced her to tell me one of her stories, I’ve been treated to an amazingly wild stream-of-consciousness story that usually involves characters from several different TV shows all together in one psychedelic Nick Jr. mash-up.

I begged her to let me record one of her stories today, and she grudgingly approved. It isn’t nearly as long or as detailed because she was nervous about the camera being on her (and I was trying to make it as inconspicuous as possible, hence the brilliant shaky-cam cinematography), but it’s a small glimpse of what goes on in that brilliant little mind of hers.

Our next blogger, perhaps?

Wonderpets Save the Train (from the Vampire) from Christina M on Vimeo.