Boy it's been a crappy day (literally). Kelan and Lauren are sick again. What we thought was the stomach virus may be giardia (that means parasite). Let me back up.
Kelan first threw up on July 31st (see Heirloom Tomatoes posting). No panic. Vomit happens. A 24 hour thing at best. He got better. Then the vomit and diarrhea started again. He got better - again. The doctor even gave Kelan the "go ahead" to be around folks. Then last night (note: Kelan sleeps with me) at midnight I heard the rumblings that can only mean 2 things. Vomit or diarrhea. Soon explosive sounds were coming from Kelan's bottom (thank goodness for night night diapers, lots of towels already under Kelan, and my poor sleep habits that make me alert enough to be prepared for what is about to happen). We have a winner. Diarrhea. During a pause in intestinal expulsion, I managed to get Kelan on the toliet. Good thing too. Kelan let loose a fury I did not know was possible. I cleaned him up, put him in a new diaper and we went back to sleep.
3am. I heard more rumblings. I shot out of bed and got Kelan into the bathroom only to have him throw up all over the floor, violently I might add. I called for Dan (who's upstairs asleep in Kelan's bed) - I needed reinforcements. Kelan is now pale and shaking. I strip him down, clean him off, get him in a new diaper and clothes before I tuck him back into bed. Dan is cleaning up the mess in the bathroom...reluctantly (hell, I would be too if I had just been startled from sleep and been told to clean up vomit. Have I mentioned that I have the best husband? He also went into work late this morning to let me sleep till 8am). I take all the bath towels used to clean up the mess and start a load of laundry while Dan is disinfecting the bathroom. It's 4am. We're exhausted. We head back to sleep.
I have to say that Lauren was NOT asleep through all of this. We heard sporadic cries coming from her room. But then she would quiet down - so we figured it was just her teeth and she went back to sleep. This morning we found out that she had diarrhea in her diaper and had thrown up on herself sometime during the night. I am such a bad mom.
I decided to take the kids to the doctor this morning. We learned that the stomach virus that is going around does not behave like this and that we need to get tests. This means: stool sample. I am instructed to get some Saran Wrap to line the kids' diapers to collect samples. However, Saran Wrap is not absorbent, so it is very messy. Additionally, to get both kids to poop at the same time seems an impossible task.
Early this afternoon I smell something from Lauren (success!). I do not want to just drop off one sample at a time (and it needs to get to the lab in short order once collected), so I ask Kelan if he can poop. "No, I'm fine," he says. I look at him again and say, "I will give you a cookie if you can poop in your diaper right now". I'm such a bad mom. But you know what? It worked and he got a cookie.
I collect the samples, the kids and head out to the lab to drop off the poop. Lauren's turns out to be not enough to test. I'll have to redo hers. Lovely. We go home. Around 4:15pm I collect her sample - again, the kids - again, and head back to the lab to drop off her poop - again.
It has been a day. I am worn out. The kids have watched a lot of Thomas, Sesame Street and Clifford today. I am such a bad mom. But there are not a lot of options for sick kids (with a tired mom) who need to be quiet and have something to do. Hopefully tonight will better, but just in case, all bedding and towels are clean for round two should we need them.
Friday, August 17, 2007
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
"Ode" to Sara
Today I bought two new bras. It was time, I have lost my pregnancy weight (for the second time) and have finished nursing my daughter (breasts are considerably smaller). What does bra shopping have to do with being a mom? Everything. My breasts have nursed two children and have fluctuated in size for the past several years due to pregnancies (gaining and losing weight)..
I went to Nordstrom to get fitted - and thank goodness I did. I was wearing a 38C and went to a 34DD (and as I explained to Dan who got excited "no, I did not get bigger breasts, the extra cup size offsets the number a little bit", but I think I lost him at DD). Apparently 8 out of 10 women are wearing the wrong bra size. For those who know me, you would not look at me and say "Double D", but that was what fit perfectly.
Let me just say that I love my Nordstrom lingerie salesperson - Sara. She spent at least a half hour finding the perfect bra for me (after measuring and double checking size) and she brought in bra after bra until we were satisfied. If you have never been fitted for a bra - YOU MUST GO! Please note that you cannot be embarrassed to have another person examine and contemplate your breasts (that you know about) and actually help you put on a bra. The way I figured it, this is nothing compared to the embarrassing moments associated with childbirth.
Once Sara's search was over, and I was happy, I realized that I didn't wear the right shirt to see if the bra passed the ultimate test - the fitted white t-shirt. No problem. Sara had the perfect shirt for this test. I put the shirt on, and OH MY GOODNESS - I looked great (if I do say so myself). It was like the Miracle Suit - lose 10 pounds in 10 seconds (a correct fitting bra can do that for you) and the t-shirt was so great that I bought that too. I was so pleased with the bra that I asked if I could wear it out of the store (like a little kid with new shoes). Sara said she got a lot of that and yes, I could. I wore the white t-shirt out too.
When I returned home I was still so happy about my purchase (I am embarrassed to say that each bra was about the cost of a good pair of shoes - but they will last) that I told my cousin Laura (who was babysitting) all about them. "Ooh, are they pretty?!" she asked. Uh no. They are that "nude" color without lace. But they were exactly what I wanted and needed: comfortable, wearable under t-shirts (including white) and durable with the added bonus of making me look better. I was not saddened by any means when Laura brought up aesthetics, of course she would want them to be pretty. She's 19. All bras are pretty at 19 (why would you wear one that isn't pretty at 19?). At 19, your breasts have lift all on their own.
I thanked Sara profusely after our time together. She was so helpful and kind. Then she informed me that the t-shirt I was wearing was a SMALL. I reached for her, hugged her tight and said, "I love you."
I went to Nordstrom to get fitted - and thank goodness I did. I was wearing a 38C and went to a 34DD (and as I explained to Dan who got excited "no, I did not get bigger breasts, the extra cup size offsets the number a little bit", but I think I lost him at DD). Apparently 8 out of 10 women are wearing the wrong bra size. For those who know me, you would not look at me and say "Double D", but that was what fit perfectly.
Let me just say that I love my Nordstrom lingerie salesperson - Sara. She spent at least a half hour finding the perfect bra for me (after measuring and double checking size) and she brought in bra after bra until we were satisfied. If you have never been fitted for a bra - YOU MUST GO! Please note that you cannot be embarrassed to have another person examine and contemplate your breasts (that you know about) and actually help you put on a bra. The way I figured it, this is nothing compared to the embarrassing moments associated with childbirth.
Once Sara's search was over, and I was happy, I realized that I didn't wear the right shirt to see if the bra passed the ultimate test - the fitted white t-shirt. No problem. Sara had the perfect shirt for this test. I put the shirt on, and OH MY GOODNESS - I looked great (if I do say so myself). It was like the Miracle Suit - lose 10 pounds in 10 seconds (a correct fitting bra can do that for you) and the t-shirt was so great that I bought that too. I was so pleased with the bra that I asked if I could wear it out of the store (like a little kid with new shoes). Sara said she got a lot of that and yes, I could. I wore the white t-shirt out too.
When I returned home I was still so happy about my purchase (I am embarrassed to say that each bra was about the cost of a good pair of shoes - but they will last) that I told my cousin Laura (who was babysitting) all about them. "Ooh, are they pretty?!" she asked. Uh no. They are that "nude" color without lace. But they were exactly what I wanted and needed: comfortable, wearable under t-shirts (including white) and durable with the added bonus of making me look better. I was not saddened by any means when Laura brought up aesthetics, of course she would want them to be pretty. She's 19. All bras are pretty at 19 (why would you wear one that isn't pretty at 19?). At 19, your breasts have lift all on their own.
I thanked Sara profusely after our time together. She was so helpful and kind. Then she informed me that the t-shirt I was wearing was a SMALL. I reached for her, hugged her tight and said, "I love you."
Sunday, August 12, 2007
You Should Be Proud of Me
Kelan is back in underwear after a week of diarrhea (some stomach thing going around). This is only important because he has been in Pull Ups for a week, which has gotten "us" a bit behind (read: regression) in making it to the potty on time. Tonight was no exception. Kelan was upstairs playing with his new train table (which is maybe why he did not say a word when he let loose a big poop in his underwear). After the load was released, he started asking for help - with his train table - NOT the poop situation. Dan went upstairs and realized the REAL problem (which was NOT the train table). Kelan was quickly escorted downstairs and turned over to me.
Where to begin. We start with the shirt - it can be used as a clean surface to place all poop clothing. Next the shorts - which are wet, hopefully from pee. Then the underwear......S L O W L Y. Kelan is directed to stand - without moving - on the shirt and the dry part of the shorts because he has poop ALL OVER his bottom, thighs and legs. Maybe I have become a cheapskate and do not want to buy more underwear, maybe I don't want to create more landfill or maybe I'm just too tired to think about it. But I start cleaning his underwear by holding it in the toilet while flushing it and swirling the underwear itself. It takes two flushes before I can even bring it out of the toilet to place on the pile of clothes Kelan has now been given permission to leave. I now start to baby wipe Kelan's lower half.
It has been a long day after a long couple of sleepless nights (Lauren is teething) but I seem to be managing this very gross clean up when Dan finally makes an appearance in the bathroom to start running the water for bath time. "You should be proud of me," he says, "I no longer have to use a tissue to get the hair out of the drain. I can just use my fingers." Excuse me? Hair in a drain? Can you not see what I am doing? How about poop.... everywhere. Please, I could lick the hair out of the drain at this point. I'm so tired that my only response is to start laughing so hard I cry. I point out his faux-pas and he begins to laugh too.
It's these moments that I cherish. Seriously. I love laughing so hard that you cry and it's even better with the person you love. I am proud of Dan, although it is not because he can now remove hair from a drain without a buffer, it is because he is a great father and husband. I know he is proud of me too - or at least grateful - that I did a super job on poop duty tonight.
Where to begin. We start with the shirt - it can be used as a clean surface to place all poop clothing. Next the shorts - which are wet, hopefully from pee. Then the underwear......S L O W L Y. Kelan is directed to stand - without moving - on the shirt and the dry part of the shorts because he has poop ALL OVER his bottom, thighs and legs. Maybe I have become a cheapskate and do not want to buy more underwear, maybe I don't want to create more landfill or maybe I'm just too tired to think about it. But I start cleaning his underwear by holding it in the toilet while flushing it and swirling the underwear itself. It takes two flushes before I can even bring it out of the toilet to place on the pile of clothes Kelan has now been given permission to leave. I now start to baby wipe Kelan's lower half.
It has been a long day after a long couple of sleepless nights (Lauren is teething) but I seem to be managing this very gross clean up when Dan finally makes an appearance in the bathroom to start running the water for bath time. "You should be proud of me," he says, "I no longer have to use a tissue to get the hair out of the drain. I can just use my fingers." Excuse me? Hair in a drain? Can you not see what I am doing? How about poop.... everywhere. Please, I could lick the hair out of the drain at this point. I'm so tired that my only response is to start laughing so hard I cry. I point out his faux-pas and he begins to laugh too.
It's these moments that I cherish. Seriously. I love laughing so hard that you cry and it's even better with the person you love. I am proud of Dan, although it is not because he can now remove hair from a drain without a buffer, it is because he is a great father and husband. I know he is proud of me too - or at least grateful - that I did a super job on poop duty tonight.
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