March 26, 2008

you don’t understand

I don’t even know where to start.

This morning we did our usual: get up, eat breakfast, get dressed. I made the beds and congratulated the kids on getting themselves ready with time to spare. Henry and I talked about what he was taking in the car and how he had his book right there by the door and was ready to go.

I was a little preoccupied with some work things, but the kids seemed to be moving through the morning just fine.

Or not.

When it was time to actually LEAVE the house, after Wade had driven away, everything fell apart. Henry decided that he needed to buy something from the school store but he couldn’t get his safe open to get his money out and he started to cry and yell because he was frustrated. Then he couldn’t find his book, the one that had been right next to the door ten minutes earlier, and so he cried MORE and yelled louder.

I was trying not to yell or threaten; I was trying to be rational and calm. I don’t think I was succeeding.

When Henry has a tantrum (do you still call it that when you’re talking about a kid who is nearly eight years old?) he is completely irrational. He will fixate on one small thing and scream and yell and fight, like toddlers do when you tell them that no, they cannot play with that steak knife. But because he is not a toddler, he rants and raves about how we are all going to DIE if he does not get his way and he is DOOMED and I am MEAN and do not CARE.

I’m not mean, but usually in these moments I am angry and frustrated. And very sad.

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March 2, 2008

in other news, I’ve been cooking

I was going to write a nice post about all the COOKING I’ve been doing and about how Danielle has totally inspired me to to do more, but the tornado sirens are going off which always freaks me out.  I need to go wipe  up the bathroom, in case we have to take shelter, and find some shoes that are not flip flops, in case we have to scramble out of the wreckage of our house.

And also have one more drink because the tornado sirens scare the holy living hell out of me.

Chris has been waiting for me to liveblog a tornado; tonight may be her lucky night.

(25 more minutes of tornado warning to go; wind, rain, and sirens here, but all the “gustnadoes” are south of us.)

February 7, 2008

the one thing that came after the other

Thank you all for your kind comments and e-mails about this post; I cannot tell you how much it helps to know that other parents are walking this same road. You are all the best. Really.

I would love to tell you that I have spent the last few days doing fun! things! but really it has just been one thing after another here, and it is wearing me out. I am still (STILL!) sick, which is just such a gigantic bummer I can’t even begin to think about it. From everything I am hearing, this is a badass virus that can hold on for three (THREE!) weeks, and I will just have to ride it out. Of course, I am past the two week mark now, so I should (SHOULD!) be on the upswing.

But still.

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February 4, 2008

what it’s like

This morning, as I was making the boys’ lunches in the very early morning quiet, I was thinking about a conversation that Wade and I have every so often, about how we feel like we are walking a fine line between wanting to help our kids, particularly Henry, fit in socially and not wanting to encourage them to grow up too fast. Wade always points out that one of his favorite things about Henry is that even now, at seven and a half, he still takes his stuffed buddies to bed with him every night, arranging them carefully in his bed. When Henry was sick, last week and the week before, he dragged his Elmo around with him for days, and would hug it lovingly and announce, “Elmo is my favorite stuffed friend.” We both find that deeply charming at the same time that we know he would certainly be mocked endlessly at school if his friends knew.

After I took the boys to school, I went to start some laundry, and wrapped up in Henry’s sheets was one of the stuffed friends, his bear Smash. The sheets have been in the laundry room for days, and the poor bear has just been there, waiting to be freed or washed. I put him on the table near my laptop.

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January 30, 2008

Wednesday

Henry woke up at four am screaming because he has an ear infection. I still find it difficult to believe, even though we’ve been to the doctor and she looked in his head and confirmed that yes indeed, he has a TERRIBLE infection in his right ear.

I just cannot believe that someone in this house is STILL SICK.

I am exhausted from all this sickness. It’s not really the virus that has worn me out, it’s the constant drain of needy sick people. Henry started screaming at four and screamed pretty continuously until nearly 7:30; he dozed off long enough for me to take a speedy shower and started up again as soon as I stepped foot on the bathmat. Most of the screaming was directed at me, in the form of a long incoherent rant about how I could CURE his ear infection if I would just TRY. There was also a complicated story about how the first time he had an ear infection, as a baby, I put my hands over his ear and a big ball of light appeared and he floated away in it and the ear infection was cured. And then there was a lot of screaming that I hated him because I wouldn’t do that again.

I have no idea what that was about.

Henry is a terrible sick kid; he gets anxious and overwrought and irrational. He is convinced that he is going to die from whatever ailment he has — stomach flu, fever, ear infection. And it both breaks my heart and infuriates me, at the exact same moment, because it is impossible to comfort him and also impossible not to be aggravated by the screaming.

The doctor gave him some drops to numb his ear, and he came home and fell asleep. But I’m having a hard time bouncing back from that first few hours this morning, and from the entire last week.

And the real irony is that today is the FIRST day that I’m feeling all better.

January 22, 2008

I will probably not live long enough to care about the dining room paint

Henry woke up at 5:20 yesterday morning, apparently yelling about how he was going to THROW UP. I missed this because I was already up and dressed and downstairs working.

Good morning!

He did not throw up, but by lunch time he was running a 101 degree fever and was listless and quiet, which is a clear sign that he’s sick. We loaded him up with Tylenol and called the pediatrician to check in, only to find that the office was closed for the holiday. So we assumed that he didn’t have the flu and got on with our lives, which mostly consisted of plopping the kids in front of the TV so that I could work and Wade could nap.

By bedtime Henry was feeling a little better, but still not back to himself; instead of strapping on his headlamp and crawling under the covers with a book, he begged me to snuggle with him and then curled up in my lap, where he proceeded to rub his germy, Vaseline-covered face all over my cashmere sweater, and use my arm to cover his mouth when he sneezed or coughed.

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