Showing posts with label Sleepless. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Sleepless. Show all posts
Thursday, April 02, 2009
Roll 'Em Up
I can’t sleep so I come downstairs to read the news online that I missed today. This leads me to horrifying stories of the latest missing children which then prompts me to do a search of my neighborhood registered sex offenders (City of Austin has a handy database complete with easy access to the addresses and latest creepy pics of your neighborhood pedophiles…there a couple a little too close by my casa, btw) and then I think…”Hey, what are the latest crime stats around here, too?” Yeah, I’m ready for some good sleep now.
Monday, May 14, 2007
Weekend Rewind
Friday I was feeling like H-E double L so after work, I faked happy, healthy mommyland with W and as soon as his tush was in the crib, I was curled up in bed reading this. Now earlier in the day, I had read about this book on this blog. Amazon.com had awesome reviews about it so I had to get the darn thing stat. As luck would have it, I found it on the shelf at Half Price Books that same day for $9 bones. Score! Now, like I had mentioned I was feeling pretty effing sick at the end of the day and had grand notions of getting some major Zs but when I cracked the spine of this little gem and launched into the first few pages, I was hooked. I am not a reader of the thriller or horror genre but this one had me by the gonads right off. I barreled through the first 15 chapters and, with tired eyes and midnight posted on the clock, I finally decided to turn out the light but was actually too spooked to fall asleep. Remember, the Hubs is still out of town. I clicked the light back on and read another 5. I finished it in broad daylight the next morning. Whew! What a ride! I can’t wait for the movie!
Saturday night, I took myself out for dinner and drinks. I told myself I looked great, picked myself up at 8 p.m. and told myself I was going to have a good time. Me, myself and I ate here where a dear old girlfriend of mine works. When she’s on the floor, I put myself on autopilot and let her do the wine choosing and plate ordering. She delivered wild greens, rabbit and duck to my little spot at the bar and paired them with varied grapes from around the globe. We were chatting away, talking about all sorts of personal things within earshot of everyone in the cozy space. During that time another girlfriend came in with her husband and another gentleman, both of them Brits. We all hunkered down together for some lovely conversation, or should I say, I struggled to understand what they were saying and did a lot of nodding. Turned out, the guy to my left was the road manager/sound dude for Joseph Arthur who was playing later that night. Yeay! After dinner, we all hiked on down to the venue and totally enjoyed the show. It’s been ages since I have flown by the seat of my pants like that and doing it solo was quite refreshing. Needless to say, I awoke in a little fog the next morning but when you've got a kiddo in your orbit, it’s always show time so I got my arse up and took him to school. That’s right, the Growing Spore had childcare on Mother’s Day. I had 5 glorious hours to do whatever the hell I wanted. Days prior I had designs on getting a manicure/pedicure, a massage, my truck cleaned and maybe even squeeze in a movie but instead went back home, took a 2-hour nap, had a crappy lunch at a non-descript Mexican joint and got some shopping therapy at my favorite store, Last Call. When I returned to get W, he was still napping, in the land of nod, 3 whole hours of nap. $35 worth of nap.
The Hubs returns tonight and he’ll be home for 3 whole days! After that he’ll be home for a week and a half. ‘Tis the life of the musical and parental.
Saturday night, I took myself out for dinner and drinks. I told myself I looked great, picked myself up at 8 p.m. and told myself I was going to have a good time. Me, myself and I ate here where a dear old girlfriend of mine works. When she’s on the floor, I put myself on autopilot and let her do the wine choosing and plate ordering. She delivered wild greens, rabbit and duck to my little spot at the bar and paired them with varied grapes from around the globe. We were chatting away, talking about all sorts of personal things within earshot of everyone in the cozy space. During that time another girlfriend came in with her husband and another gentleman, both of them Brits. We all hunkered down together for some lovely conversation, or should I say, I struggled to understand what they were saying and did a lot of nodding. Turned out, the guy to my left was the road manager/sound dude for Joseph Arthur who was playing later that night. Yeay! After dinner, we all hiked on down to the venue and totally enjoyed the show. It’s been ages since I have flown by the seat of my pants like that and doing it solo was quite refreshing. Needless to say, I awoke in a little fog the next morning but when you've got a kiddo in your orbit, it’s always show time so I got my arse up and took him to school. That’s right, the Growing Spore had childcare on Mother’s Day. I had 5 glorious hours to do whatever the hell I wanted. Days prior I had designs on getting a manicure/pedicure, a massage, my truck cleaned and maybe even squeeze in a movie but instead went back home, took a 2-hour nap, had a crappy lunch at a non-descript Mexican joint and got some shopping therapy at my favorite store, Last Call. When I returned to get W, he was still napping, in the land of nod, 3 whole hours of nap. $35 worth of nap.
The Hubs returns tonight and he’ll be home for 3 whole days! After that he’ll be home for a week and a half. ‘Tis the life of the musical and parental.
Wednesday, April 18, 2007
Muy Enfermo
It’s been a rollercoaster ride the last two days, folks. Remember that supremely undesirable disease that W picked up that made everyone run in the opposite direction? The one that should’ve been treated by the neighborhood veternarian? Well, he took it to the next level Monday evening and not just any level, my friends, but the level of pneumonia. Tis’ true.
On Monday after returning from a rather bland day at the office, I found a calmer, quieter version of my normally active W chillin’ on the couch. I didn’t expect any significant changes since he was already under viral attack but I thought he was on the mend. What I found was his small chest cavity straining for breath, each contraction a push for air. To look at his face, you wouldn’t have been able to tell anything was going on but his tiny frame moved with effort in a dramatic way. I called the after hours nurse and she said to medicate his fever (which was taking hold yet again) and to watch him. If he didn’t improve then the ER needed to check him out. Now I’m the kind of person who waits a bit to make sure a trip to the ER is absolutely necessary. The wait is long, the tests painful and the place totally scary. The Hubs, on the other hand, would go to the ER if he had a hangnail.
W and I snuggled up in the guest bedroom and we drifted in and out of sleep for a couple of hours before I decided that the situation was too much to bear. At 3:30 a.m., I startled the Hubs out of a deep sleep and off we went. Four hours we spent in the ER. Four hours of very kind nurses holding my frightened child down to insert an IV, to give him shots, to take pictures of his chest. The whole time W looked at me wild eyed, pleaded with tears to make it stop. After the IV had been removed and I sat him up, he immediately began signing “All done” and saying the words simultaneously in a hopeful, eager tone. Totally heartbreaking. The x-ray revealed pneumonia in his left lung so we did a round with the nebulizer which helped enormously. We were given a script to be filled and told to see his pediatrician so he could determine if W needed to be admitted to Children’s Hospital. Gasp! The next morning (we had all slept an hour and a half), W was almost entirely his regular, happy self and put on a very friendly but misleading show for Dr. G. He was chatty and charming and a little gentleman. Thankfully Dr. G knew the smoke and mirrors were a result of the meds and said to keep an eye on him for changes. Thank goodness we weren't bound for the Children's Hospital!
Last night was better except for the fact that I had given W a dose of some medication for his cough that according to the pharmacist “might make him a little hyper.” A little? He was practically break dancing off the walls when Miss Jo came over. Freak out. I won’t be administering that med anymore. Too dangerous for all of us.
W and I almost got a full night’s sleep last night so that’s a good sign. Fingers crossed that all will be well and back to normal very soon.
On Monday after returning from a rather bland day at the office, I found a calmer, quieter version of my normally active W chillin’ on the couch. I didn’t expect any significant changes since he was already under viral attack but I thought he was on the mend. What I found was his small chest cavity straining for breath, each contraction a push for air. To look at his face, you wouldn’t have been able to tell anything was going on but his tiny frame moved with effort in a dramatic way. I called the after hours nurse and she said to medicate his fever (which was taking hold yet again) and to watch him. If he didn’t improve then the ER needed to check him out. Now I’m the kind of person who waits a bit to make sure a trip to the ER is absolutely necessary. The wait is long, the tests painful and the place totally scary. The Hubs, on the other hand, would go to the ER if he had a hangnail.
W and I snuggled up in the guest bedroom and we drifted in and out of sleep for a couple of hours before I decided that the situation was too much to bear. At 3:30 a.m., I startled the Hubs out of a deep sleep and off we went. Four hours we spent in the ER. Four hours of very kind nurses holding my frightened child down to insert an IV, to give him shots, to take pictures of his chest. The whole time W looked at me wild eyed, pleaded with tears to make it stop. After the IV had been removed and I sat him up, he immediately began signing “All done” and saying the words simultaneously in a hopeful, eager tone. Totally heartbreaking. The x-ray revealed pneumonia in his left lung so we did a round with the nebulizer which helped enormously. We were given a script to be filled and told to see his pediatrician so he could determine if W needed to be admitted to Children’s Hospital. Gasp! The next morning (we had all slept an hour and a half), W was almost entirely his regular, happy self and put on a very friendly but misleading show for Dr. G. He was chatty and charming and a little gentleman. Thankfully Dr. G knew the smoke and mirrors were a result of the meds and said to keep an eye on him for changes. Thank goodness we weren't bound for the Children's Hospital!
Last night was better except for the fact that I had given W a dose of some medication for his cough that according to the pharmacist “might make him a little hyper.” A little? He was practically break dancing off the walls when Miss Jo came over. Freak out. I won’t be administering that med anymore. Too dangerous for all of us.
W and I almost got a full night’s sleep last night so that’s a good sign. Fingers crossed that all will be well and back to normal very soon.
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
Whoa.
I sit here and think of all that has happened since I last posted and realize I need to take a serious vacation. 83 parties we produced, people, 83 in 9 days. After several 14 to 17 hour slogs in a row, I wasn't sure I was going to make it to the end. At a certain point, everything became an act of smoke and mirrors, an exercise in digging deep within to muster what was needed to keep the momentum moving forward and clients happy. Freakin’ challenging but we all made it (except for my poor boss who is down and out with the flu). I remember briefly taking a load off in my hotel room, just a mere 10 minutes to rest my bones, and being jolted awake from an upright position by my cell phone. I had just flat out passed out sitting up. I’m still feeling the sting of fatigue as I write this. I never once had a hangover, never had a chance to let it all hang out, but my body is hungover and will be until I can get indefinitely horizontal.
There were many days in a row that I didn’t get to see W and on the days I did, it was only in the morning. I returned home at the end of this conference to find him taller, hair longer, with more teeth, and full of new words. He is also covered in a horrible (but non-contagious) rash caused by a bout of rotavirus (exploding landmines of rocket-like poop with a force that boggles the mind and blasts through clothing) he suffered a few weeks back. He looks like he’s covered in Braille. He has also claimed a level of independence that surprises me. The Hubs tells a funny story of going to pick up W from school one afternoon and trying his best to get W to follow him out the door. His “I’m leaving now,” and “Daddy’s going to go,” had no impact on the boy. After many gentle threats, the Hubs made his way to the classroom patio, just a few steps away from the exit gate. He said he breathed a sigh of relief when W marched in his direction as if his only intention was to vacate the building with him but instead he grabbed the classroom door and closed it in the Hubs’ face leaving him alone on the stoop as W hiked his way back to whatever it was he was doing. What a little fink.
Many props go to Miss Jo who became other mother and not only took care of W but kept the house in order. Gogo came in for the weekend and took up some of the slack as well. The Hubs really stepped up to the plate and I am so thrilled, grateful and happy knowing he didn’t maim W and W didn’t drive him around the bend. I think the two even had some serious fun together.
Now, let’s get back to our regularly scheduled programming, shall we?
There were many days in a row that I didn’t get to see W and on the days I did, it was only in the morning. I returned home at the end of this conference to find him taller, hair longer, with more teeth, and full of new words. He is also covered in a horrible (but non-contagious) rash caused by a bout of rotavirus (exploding landmines of rocket-like poop with a force that boggles the mind and blasts through clothing) he suffered a few weeks back. He looks like he’s covered in Braille. He has also claimed a level of independence that surprises me. The Hubs tells a funny story of going to pick up W from school one afternoon and trying his best to get W to follow him out the door. His “I’m leaving now,” and “Daddy’s going to go,” had no impact on the boy. After many gentle threats, the Hubs made his way to the classroom patio, just a few steps away from the exit gate. He said he breathed a sigh of relief when W marched in his direction as if his only intention was to vacate the building with him but instead he grabbed the classroom door and closed it in the Hubs’ face leaving him alone on the stoop as W hiked his way back to whatever it was he was doing. What a little fink.
Many props go to Miss Jo who became other mother and not only took care of W but kept the house in order. Gogo came in for the weekend and took up some of the slack as well. The Hubs really stepped up to the plate and I am so thrilled, grateful and happy knowing he didn’t maim W and W didn’t drive him around the bend. I think the two even had some serious fun together.
Now, let’s get back to our regularly scheduled programming, shall we?
Friday, November 17, 2006
Bitty
We’re back to the CSS (cough, snot, sneeze) circle of unhealthiness in the Fantasy household. After pumping the baby with sweet pink antibiotic juice we were illness free for about a week and a half but I guess the force field of germ killer has worn off. Such a bummer. The kid wakes up looking like he’s been rooting around in rubber cement all night. He cries out in his attempts to keep breathing until ‘morn.
I have been trying to wean him but my efforts have been thwarted. A nighttime rescue from the crib means a boob cocktail for Shorty. With his eyes closed in the dark living room, he yanks out his pacifier with the POP! sound of a champagne cork unleashed. He hurls it into the night and positions himself expectantly, his mouth shaped like an “O”. It’s amusing but I’m wondering where it will end. Sure, I could get the Hubs to help out by having him be the recipient of the child-in-need but he’s kept nighttime working hours since the Rolling Stones show and that was like 3 weeks ago. My biggest fear is that we end up being something like this…
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4XGonnqcU-U
I have been trying to wean him but my efforts have been thwarted. A nighttime rescue from the crib means a boob cocktail for Shorty. With his eyes closed in the dark living room, he yanks out his pacifier with the POP! sound of a champagne cork unleashed. He hurls it into the night and positions himself expectantly, his mouth shaped like an “O”. It’s amusing but I’m wondering where it will end. Sure, I could get the Hubs to help out by having him be the recipient of the child-in-need but he’s kept nighttime working hours since the Rolling Stones show and that was like 3 weeks ago. My biggest fear is that we end up being something like this…
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4XGonnqcU-U
Friday, October 13, 2006
He Who Wears Me Out
I pissed off my little drama king this morning by changing his clothes again before we left for school. He was already in an emotional state and the switching of his mismatched outfit was the straw that broke his baby camel’s back but I had to. It was cold out. C-O-L-D. So I dressed him in a warmer mismatched version and dropped his fussy self at school. The past two mornings (the Hubs has been out of town since Wed.), W has awoken at 5:22 a.m. (Thursday a.m.) and 2:27 a.m. (today). I have tried to thwart his ribcage rattling cough with meds but the situation persists. It’s hard on the little guy and, consequently, hard on momma. This restlessness has been going on a week now. We roam the house in the dark as I try to console his spirit and encourage sleep again. Memories of his early days on this planet come tumbling back. Oh, how I don’t miss those sleepless nights but here we are again. Two nights ago, I ended up on the couch and W finished the night on his miniature sofa. Last night, after much rocking and back patting, we collapsed on the couch together. It’s amazing how such a small person can take up so much space. Add to that the mutual fatigue, the perpetual crankiness, the “I will cry like you are beating me if you put me down” mood, and the “the water feels like acid on my skin” at bath time spectacle and it makes for some exhausting mornings and evenings during the work week. TGIF. When the Hubs returns tomorrow, I’m making the baby hand off and checking in to a hotel…or an asylum. Wherever I can get some uninterrupted sleep.
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