I have in my hot little hands a momentary respite from all things annoying and decided to spend that time with y'all! That, of course, was just a fancy way of saying I have one kid gone to baseball practice (with Mr. Clean), one outside riding his caster board, no puppies to babysit for the moment, and no TV on in the background. Pure, simple silence. Yay me. And you! Because y'all are special.
This past week has been a bit of a whirlwind. Seriously.
Last Tuesday, Doodlebug had to be picked up from school because his face suddenly began to resemble something Ron Weasley waved up out of his broken wand. I swear the first thing I thought of when he walked through the door was: OMG, my child looks like a duck-billed platypus! He really did. His upper lip was soooo swollen, it just sort of sat out there like a little shelf on which to rest his pencil.
A quick trip to the doctor revealed an allergic reaction to.... Exactly. We have no idea what. Luckily, though this is the 2nd time he's had some sort of reaction to a mystery element at school, there were no hives. A quick steroid shot in the hind parts and he was sent home with a prescription and instructions not to use the soap at school (the nearest they could figure to what it might have been).
7pm - Enter the hives. Obviously, it was not soap or something he touched but something he ingested instead.
11pm - The hives have now covered his entire body and are joining up with each other like ants in a flood. Also? He looks like Goldie Hawn after a lip injection.
11:30pm - Doodlebug comes out of bed and coughs a little, then reports that it feels like his throat is closing up.
12:00pm - We're sitting in the ER waiting room.
12:30pm - He starts hurling. Also? There is a very STRANGE woman in there now. She's like an ER groupie or something. She calls the Constable there her "boyfriend" (he looked SO thrilled to hear this every time she said it... <--- sarcasm). She asks the nurse for "her blanket" and informs one of the doctors that her "tumor" is back so she needs her "meds". I'm pretty sure she's some sort of homeless drug addict. She kept turning the TV to Freddy vs. Jason (as in the horror flick). Umm, hellooooo.... TEN YEAR OLD here who does not feel good and really doesn't want to watch blood & guts spilling all over the TV screen!!
1:00am - I'm sitting beneath the TV -- having moved because honestly? I was sure now that the freaky woman was some sort of crackhead and didn't want to go 'round with her over her viewing choices. You know, because she might have gone batshit crazy or something. Doodlebug puts his feet on my lap. After just a few seconds I realize he has... at some point... stepped in DOG POO. I try very hard not to retch because, you know, the sound might set him off again. I think about taking his shoes off and placing them on the floor (away from nose) but am scared that his socks/feet might contain an even worse odor. Folks, this is motherhood, up close and personal. The day you decide that having dog poo smelling shoes on your lap is not THE WORST THAT COULD HAPPEN... well I don't know what kind of day that is, but it's significant. Or maybe it was just the bone-deep weariness setting in.
1:30am - We get to leave the waiting room and go back into our own little room to wait for a doctor. Crackhead Lady finds us maybe 30 minutes later and proceeds to walk up and down the hall outside our room, peeking in at every pass. I'd have closed the door but the room was stifling hot when we tried to do so. She's really creeping me out now so I get the cute guy nurse and explain that she's freaking my kid out (I was not totally lying, she was... when he was lucid enough to notice). She disappears ten minutes later.
5:00am - We finally get back home with the following assurances: His throat is not closing up, it's fine. It's definitely something he ingested... and how weird is it that he's not allergic to any foods?! Also? He's probably hurling from whatever his body is reacting to. Lovely.
5:30am - 6:30am the NEXT morning - He's still hurling, every 15 minutes. Doctor says: Sounds like a stomach virus. He also now appears to be suffering from either Small Pox or German Measles. Ring Around The Rosy starts playing in my head like the ultimate earworm. I have not yet slept for more than 2 hours. Upon contacting the after-hours doctor earlier that evening (10-ish), they call in a prescription for.... get this... PILLS to stop the hurling! Because, yeah! Pills will stay in his stomach longer than the water he can't keep down, right?! Another prescription for what Mr. Clean lovingly refers to as "the silver bullet" comes in at 1am and he drives thirty minutes (one way) to get it. I have never loved him so much in my life.
6:45am - I finally get to bed for 4 hrs and when I wake up, he's still a little patchy with red measley looking "marks" all over his body but he is no longer running to the bathroom every 15 minutes. Yay!
Then I start feeling a little queasy but am not sure if it's sympathy illness, if I've caught The Plague, or if I'm just so exhausted my body is rebelling against all stimuli. To be safe, I eat only wheat crackers and drink water and Sprite for the entire day. I even skipped my coffee!! Nothing happens. I say many prayers because I really didn't want to be up close and personal with my toilet bowl. Really. Really. Did. Not.
This week I've been catching up on sleep. And working. And sleeping some more. No major writing, though I have four pages of dialog to type into my laptop, fleshing out the details as I go. I also have two pages of notes for the next three scenes. Yay, me!
I would have gotten it all typed in over the weekend, except I met someone and after we ooh'd and ahh'd over each other with lesbionic fervor (heh, not really but you would have thought were were circling for a date)... we met up for drinks. I had a "make a new friend" date. At a bar. It was a BLAST!!! And the alcohol? Totally OVERDUE. Mr. Clean picked me up at the bar and teased me about being a little schnockered. It was worth it.
Sunday, I wasn't feeling the worth quite so much. The sad part is that I really didn't have all that much to drink! I'm such a flippin' lightweight now. Sad. Then again... what a way to save money on the bar tab. Am I right or am I right??
So now I'm just trying to get back into the swing of things. Both spawnlings had TAKS testing today. Shaggy has his driver's permit test on Friday. Then the world is going to come to an end and I'll be the only one left alive because Friday? I am going to hole myself up in a cave.
Not really. But a little part of me wants to. I'm not sure if it's because OMG, I have a teenager about to be DRIVING?? Or if it's OMG, I am getting OLD!!
Deb R, over at Red Shoe Ramblings has a neat looking MeMe going on that I'll post soon. Just not tonight. I'm still TIRED.
This past week has been a bit of a whirlwind. Seriously.
Last Tuesday, Doodlebug had to be picked up from school because his face suddenly began to resemble something Ron Weasley waved up out of his broken wand. I swear the first thing I thought of when he walked through the door was: OMG, my child looks like a duck-billed platypus! He really did. His upper lip was soooo swollen, it just sort of sat out there like a little shelf on which to rest his pencil.
A quick trip to the doctor revealed an allergic reaction to.... Exactly. We have no idea what. Luckily, though this is the 2nd time he's had some sort of reaction to a mystery element at school, there were no hives. A quick steroid shot in the hind parts and he was sent home with a prescription and instructions not to use the soap at school (the nearest they could figure to what it might have been).
7pm - Enter the hives. Obviously, it was not soap or something he touched but something he ingested instead.
11pm - The hives have now covered his entire body and are joining up with each other like ants in a flood. Also? He looks like Goldie Hawn after a lip injection.
11:30pm - Doodlebug comes out of bed and coughs a little, then reports that it feels like his throat is closing up.
12:00pm - We're sitting in the ER waiting room.
12:30pm - He starts hurling. Also? There is a very STRANGE woman in there now. She's like an ER groupie or something. She calls the Constable there her "boyfriend" (he looked SO thrilled to hear this every time she said it... <--- sarcasm). She asks the nurse for "her blanket" and informs one of the doctors that her "tumor" is back so she needs her "meds". I'm pretty sure she's some sort of homeless drug addict. She kept turning the TV to Freddy vs. Jason (as in the horror flick). Umm, hellooooo.... TEN YEAR OLD here who does not feel good and really doesn't want to watch blood & guts spilling all over the TV screen!!
1:00am - I'm sitting beneath the TV -- having moved because honestly? I was sure now that the freaky woman was some sort of crackhead and didn't want to go 'round with her over her viewing choices. You know, because she might have gone batshit crazy or something. Doodlebug puts his feet on my lap. After just a few seconds I realize he has... at some point... stepped in DOG POO. I try very hard not to retch because, you know, the sound might set him off again. I think about taking his shoes off and placing them on the floor (away from nose) but am scared that his socks/feet might contain an even worse odor. Folks, this is motherhood, up close and personal. The day you decide that having dog poo smelling shoes on your lap is not THE WORST THAT COULD HAPPEN... well I don't know what kind of day that is, but it's significant. Or maybe it was just the bone-deep weariness setting in.
1:30am - We get to leave the waiting room and go back into our own little room to wait for a doctor. Crackhead Lady finds us maybe 30 minutes later and proceeds to walk up and down the hall outside our room, peeking in at every pass. I'd have closed the door but the room was stifling hot when we tried to do so. She's really creeping me out now so I get the cute guy nurse and explain that she's freaking my kid out (I was not totally lying, she was... when he was lucid enough to notice). She disappears ten minutes later.
5:00am - We finally get back home with the following assurances: His throat is not closing up, it's fine. It's definitely something he ingested... and how weird is it that he's not allergic to any foods?! Also? He's probably hurling from whatever his body is reacting to. Lovely.
5:30am - 6:30am the NEXT morning - He's still hurling, every 15 minutes. Doctor says: Sounds like a stomach virus. He also now appears to be suffering from either Small Pox or German Measles. Ring Around The Rosy starts playing in my head like the ultimate earworm. I have not yet slept for more than 2 hours. Upon contacting the after-hours doctor earlier that evening (10-ish), they call in a prescription for.... get this... PILLS to stop the hurling! Because, yeah! Pills will stay in his stomach longer than the water he can't keep down, right?! Another prescription for what Mr. Clean lovingly refers to as "the silver bullet" comes in at 1am and he drives thirty minutes (one way) to get it. I have never loved him so much in my life.
6:45am - I finally get to bed for 4 hrs and when I wake up, he's still a little patchy with red measley looking "marks" all over his body but he is no longer running to the bathroom every 15 minutes. Yay!
Then I start feeling a little queasy but am not sure if it's sympathy illness, if I've caught The Plague, or if I'm just so exhausted my body is rebelling against all stimuli. To be safe, I eat only wheat crackers and drink water and Sprite for the entire day. I even skipped my coffee!! Nothing happens. I say many prayers because I really didn't want to be up close and personal with my toilet bowl. Really. Really. Did. Not.
This week I've been catching up on sleep. And working. And sleeping some more. No major writing, though I have four pages of dialog to type into my laptop, fleshing out the details as I go. I also have two pages of notes for the next three scenes. Yay, me!
I would have gotten it all typed in over the weekend, except I met someone and after we ooh'd and ahh'd over each other with lesbionic fervor (heh, not really but you would have thought were were circling for a date)... we met up for drinks. I had a "make a new friend" date. At a bar. It was a BLAST!!! And the alcohol? Totally OVERDUE. Mr. Clean picked me up at the bar and teased me about being a little schnockered. It was worth it.
Sunday, I wasn't feeling the worth quite so much. The sad part is that I really didn't have all that much to drink! I'm such a flippin' lightweight now. Sad. Then again... what a way to save money on the bar tab. Am I right or am I right??
So now I'm just trying to get back into the swing of things. Both spawnlings had TAKS testing today. Shaggy has his driver's permit test on Friday. Then the world is going to come to an end and I'll be the only one left alive because Friday? I am going to hole myself up in a cave.
Not really. But a little part of me wants to. I'm not sure if it's because OMG, I have a teenager about to be DRIVING?? Or if it's OMG, I am getting OLD!!
Deb R, over at Red Shoe Ramblings has a neat looking MeMe going on that I'll post soon. Just not tonight. I'm still TIRED.
Wow, this really has been a long week already for you. Its even worse that you cannot determine what caused the reaction. Glad everything is better.
Hey glad lil' one there is better.. I will see you on the 20th after I get out of work... Shaggy wants me to take photos, but I am not sure how good the light is going to be since I will be coming after work. We will figure something out. BTW I am back in the habit with my journal.. yea.