Dear God, how did I survive that week??

Last week was one of the hardest I have faced as a mommy to date. Let me just make this one point perfectly clear..there is nothing more distressing, more heart-breaking than staring into the face of your sick baby. I count my lucky stars that the sickness that plagued the Bunker house was treatable and manageable. It always makes me think of those poor parents whose babies may not be alright after a quick course of antibiotics, or a little Tylenol. Dear God...I cannot even imagine.

Let me also admit, I don't handle it well when my kids are sick. Yes I know I am a nurse. I have medical training. I take care of patients. But those patients aren't my kids. There is a little part of me that (irrationally) panics whenever my kids are sick. I think it is the overwhelming desire to take their pain away. I would take on every illness they will ever encounter just to spare them the common cold...

I didn't say it was logical! Just another of my neurotic attributes I suppose.

Alright...so let me fill you in on this fun filled week we had here in our house.

I had worked a double shift on Sunday (7am-11pm). Towards the end of said shift I was starting to feel a little crappy. Sore throat, achy.

"Shit...I am getting sick!" was all I could think. It totally sucks being sick when you are a mom. There are no such thing as sick days. Those kids could give a shit that you feel like you got hit by a truck..they want their goddamn waffles...and make it snappy, woman! But you know what is worse than feeling like shit and being a mother?

Feeling like shit and simultaneously having KIDS that feel like shit. Because let's face it: your well being doesn't matter that much on a GOOD day. But on a sick day...pffft

So I drag my sorry ass home after my sixteen hour shift and crawl into my bed. Only to be awoken in the wee hours of the morning by a feverish little P man. I give him some Tylenol, feed him a bottle, rock him  until we both fall asleep in the rocking chair.

The next morning, he is still slightly feverish, but the Tylenol seems to be keeping him comfortable. I make a pediatrician appointment for later in the day and we all hang out in our pajamas all day. Not too bad.

I bring my little man into the pediatrician's office and we proceed to see the only pedaitrician in the entire practice that I can't stand!!! They were running on holiday hours, so you get what you get (and you don't get upset...as I tell Grace). She looks in his ears..."Oh there is some fluid, but no infection." She looks in his throat..."It's red, but highly unlikely to be strep". She looks at his poor little crusty eyes..."I think it is just allergies". Then Dr. Dumbass proceeds to send us on our merry way with the brilliant diagnosis of "VIRUS".

We go home, get back into our pajamas and hunker down. Patrick and Grace go to bed. I head out to Target to buy Easter basket stuff...because you know what is a barrel of laughs? Going to Target on very little sleep, feeling like ass and fighting crowds at 10 o'clock at night after taking care of sick kids all day. I was still wandering through aisles at closing. They turned the lights off on me. I remember when I used to close down bars and they turned the lights ON to tell you to hit the road. Let me assure you, both are equally upsetting. Happy frickin' Easter.

I get home. I decide I want to check on Patrick before going to sleep. I walk into his dark room, he is snoring like a little bulldog. I put my hand on his little face. He is absolutely burning!!! I pick him up. He is bright red, with eyes crusted shut and looks like a wet noodle. I take his temperature...104.5. ONE HUNDRED AND FOUR POINT FIVE. Every rational nurse thought that I had once had in my head went flying out and I turned into a hysterical mother. I page Dr. Dumbass who proceeds to be (surprise, surprise) useless. I strip him down to his diaper, give him medicine, a cold bottle and held my poor sick baby. We, again, fell asleep in the rocking chair and I knew he was safe.

I must have made it back to my bed at some point that night. It is all a little hazy. But the next morning I awoke to Gracie gently tapping me and saying "Mama, my eyes feel funny". Nothing like a raging case of pink eye to start your morning. What's that you say, Dr. Dumbass? Allergies, huh? I ought to sneak into your house and have my kids rub their faces all over your pillow. What? It's just allergies, so it can't be contagious.

Stupid.

Anyway, after the night from hell and a full day of ridiculously high fevers, we are back in the pediatricians office. Thankfully, we did NOT see Dr. Dumbass, but  a lovely doctor who apparently actually passed medical school and could easily diagnose in a mere 2 minutes what was a very obvious double ear infection ("raging" was the way he described it, I believe) and pink eye (for both kids). We walked out with drugs and lollipops and stickers. I was now armed against the plague.

So we headed back to our petri dish to do some more marinating and begin the healing process. And then I had a little bit of a psychotic break...

So I sent the hubster out to pick up the kids drugs. Amoxicillin for P and eye drops for both. It takes FOREVER (or in my head what seems like forever as I am carrying around a very sick and miserable boy who is waiting for his meds so he can just go to bed and sleep this all off). I am up in Patrick's room, rocking him in the rocking chair. Pat comes back from CVS, hands me the bags of drugs. I open them...there are only eye drops. Where are the antibiotics...where are the %@#ing DRUGS???

You guys...I spazz out. I basically throw the baby at my mother (who was there to help...poor thing). Throw on sneakers and walk out of the house, braless, in a t-shirt and puke stained sweat pants. I raced to the pharmacy and I was out for blood. I cut the line. I so totally had crazy eyes and I am pretty sure they pushed a panic button or something. "MY HUSBAND WAS JUST HERE AND YOU DIDN'T GIVE US WHAT WE NEEDED AND MY BABY IS SICK AND..."

And then a petite little pharmacist in a feeble voice says "Ma'am...your husband is on the phone."

In my rage I had forgotten my cell phone. My husband called the pharmacy to get in touch with me. I can only imagine how the opening of that conversation went. "Hello. I am looking for my wife...yes, that crazy screaming woman who is threatening violence over Amoxicillin." Through the receiver I hear "Jill, the medicine is here in a separate bag in the counter". I close my eyes, hand the girl the phone, and slink out of CVS.

Yeah. Not a shining moment.

Anyway, the fever raged on for another 12 hours or so (we actually hit 105.4). But when we woke up that next morning, everyone seemed to be on the upswing. I finally took my own self to the doctors. While listening to my lungs, she asks "what took you so long to get yourself here?"

Because I am a mother...I don't have time to be sick.

Did I ever mention....

that my husband is awesome?

True Confessions

I realize it has been a while since I have thrown some of my mommy ideas out there. Well, for those of us here in the Northeast, it was a brutal winter. Frankly, I think my brain is just now thawing out and I am actually able to have cohesive thoughts. We were literally buried in 10 feet of snow, with blistering cold weather. I had an active toddler and a clingy baby. Let's just say we did a lot of movie watching. I think my brain is permanently damaged from the amount of Wiggles I was forced to watch. And I will start twitching at the opening notes of "Fruit Salad...yummy yummy".

In better news, we have had a few 60 degree days, the sun is out, the snow is gone and my winter fog is clearing. Being able to get outside and breath some fresh air has done wonders for my outlook on life. So, onto the blogging.

As Spring arrives, I feel the need to do a little mental spring cleaning. A little spiritual purging, if you will. I am ready to get some stuff off my chest and share it with all of you. Here are some Mommy Confessions from me to you...


1. My kids watch TV...I won't go into specifics about how much TV, but it is a decent amount. In fact, now that Grace has given up her afternoon nap, I actually encourage TV watching in the afternoon for a break.

2. Grace eats sugar. Candy and ice cream and cookies. She is a lollipop addict. Oh...and she eats McDonalds...probably once a week. Sometimes she eats McDonalds, immediately followed by candy and all while sitting in front of the TV. 

3. I do things with Patrick that I would never have even dreamed of doing with Grace. Case in point - I let him sleep on his belly as an infant. Come on...he freakin' loved it! It was a move of sheer deperation one night. After listening to him scream every time I lay him in his crib, I finally flipped him on his belly, rubbed his back and we all slept like babies. I also propped his bottle on pillows/blankets or whatever else I deemed appopriate when he was in his car seat to keep him quiet. Because of this he learned to hold his bottle for himself at 6 months. Poor guy realized at an early age he was going to have to just do some things for himself.

4. I feel as though I don't read to Patrick enough. I try to make the effort. Really, I do. But usually, me trying to read to him, turns into him clawing at and chewing on the book, and, frankly, I just don't have the time.

5. I love Grace. I love that she is so smart and well spoken. But sometimes I just want to look at her and politely ask her to SHUT THE *#$% UP!!!! I didn't realize it was possible for a human being to speak so much. She talks from the minute she wakes up to the minute she falls asleep. And she basically begins every sentence with "Mama..." Have you any idea how many times I hear the word "Mama" on a daily basis??? Let me break it down for you. Last week on our way to the mall, I counted how many times she said the word "Mama" in the car. It was 29 times. 29. And that was in a 20 minute car ride. You do the math.

6. I am very lucky that my job allows me the flexibility to be home with my kids and take care of them. And I do love being with them. But there are some days I literally skip out the door to work. My twelve hour shift, on my feet, taking care of people is a welcome BREAK.

7. I hate playing make believe. More specifically, I hate playing Barbies (which just happens to bne Grace's favorite game). I fantasize about burning those goddamn Barbie dolls.
8. As hectic as my life is, and as much as having kids is really hard work, I still feel like I want more babies (eventually).

So there you have it.

Now accepting nominations for Mother of the Year.