The inner workings of a toddler

I am tired today.  So tired that I find it hard to concentrate on those things I should be concentrating on.  On the way in this morning, my husband told me he thinks it's bogus that when I'm tired I suck at thinking critically.  But that's how my head works.  And so you get a blog post.

A blog post about me wondering why my child won't sleep.  It's been a rough month.  We travelled out west, and the time change and festivities messed with MJ's sleep schedule.  So be it.  Then we returned, and she started back at daycare, and did really well.  Not waking up much at all, sleeping until 7 in the morning.

And then she got sick.  Puking.  Lots of puking.  Puking in my hair.  Puking in our bed.  Poor thing, I felt bad for her.  She still slept pretty good, considering.  Then husband went away for a week.  As soon as she got over the puking she picked up some sort of cough-hack-virus.  Husband says to me "But she just got sick!"  as though that should insulate her from getting sick again.  So I said to the virus "Virus, she just got sick, give her a break."  Funny how Mr. Virus didn't listen.  And she coughed, and my Mama-Brain feared she would stop breathing in the night.  So if she cried, I brought her into our bed. 

And she barely slept. 

Go to sleep late.  *cough*  Wake up.  Move to Mama's bed.  *cough*  Wake Up Early.  *cough* Wake Mama Up Early.  *cough*  Refuse to nap.  *cough*  She is now over the virus.  And she is still up all the time.  She wants to play!  We get her to sleep, put her in her crib, and an hour later she is awake again.  *cough*  *Play!*

So I am tired.  I would like to blame this on a cognitive change.  The number of times I have googled "cognitive develoment of a ___ month old" is somewhat embarrassing.  I fear this is the beginnings of a fussy toddler.  There is much shrieking and flailing happening, day and night alike.  We tried a bit of cry it out last night.  But we have a very determined little child, and I don't think I have a night of screaming in me.  How do you reason with a toddler? 

Sanity, oh how I've missed you

I was in kind of a bad place a few weeks back. There was one morning where I said to DH "I feel like I'm going crazy and nobody cares." I did not mean this in a haha sort of way. Not to demean those who are actually going crazy; I've had a front row seat for that performance before, and I knew I was in a different place.  But at the same time, I was going crazy inside.  DH was working all the time.  MJ was adjusting her napping routine (no thanks to daycare, who has mandated one nap a day) and was cranky every time I saw her.  I felt like everything was falling on my shoulders.  I didn't just feel this way, I knew that it was true.

But then my mom came to visit.  We had an initial rough patch.  Then I came down with some sort of 6 day stomach flu, complete with the worst pain I've had since labor, and it was such a relief to have her here.  To be the one being mothered rather than doing the mothering.  We worked through our differences and really had a wonderful visit.  She stayed for 3 weeks, a long time to have any house guest, but I was still sad to see her go.

We have started to get back into our old routine.  The first day after my mom's departure we both came thudding back to reality, remembering what it's like to come home and never be able to relax.  But some things have changed.  DH is picking up fewer shifts, meaning I am not doing as much solo parenting.  We have started to pay someone to come clean for us, and they are absolutely superb.  It's expensive, but the amount of sanity and peace it brings me has so far been worth every penny.  And I signed up for an art class, the first thing I've done just-for-me since MJ was born.  Yes, I've had beers with friends and had some me-time afternoons.  But this feels different, and I'm psyched about it.  I'll post pics when I have something to show.

I've talked to a few women whose blogs petered out after their little one's first birthday.  I will try my darnedest not to let that happen here.  But feel free to call me out if you haven't heard from me in a while....

We have all survived.

It was one of those weekends, preceded by one of those weeks, which was also preceded by one of those weekends.  It was a relentless string of difficult moments, and we have all come through it unscathed. 

Last weekend DH worked, leaving me to solo childcare.  He recently finished his residency, meaning he recently entered the realm of people with more normal, less hellish work hours.  Meaning I have recently discovered how much easier it is to have a child when you have the help of a spouse.  I'm certain being a single mother is more difficult than this past year has been for us, but much of the time I've come close.  The combination of having a spouse who works all the time and having no family nearby makes for exhausting weeks.

Since June, DH has had a more normal schedule.  And I have been soaking in the luxury of a 2-parent household.  Last weekend was a brief return to having him gone all the time, and a reminder of how much easier our life has become. 

On Monday, after DH had been up for 15 hours, MJ had a fever, forcing us to keep her home.  Since last week was my last week of teaching, and I had gotten nothing done all weekend, he had to stay with her.  This was followed by the week of sick.  MJ was in and out of daycare, after we thought she was better and it turns out she was not.  Tuesday evening took me to the ER, for fear of appendicitis that turned out to be an unfortunate combination of unrelated symptoms.  I didn't get admitted, but I did get Dilaudid.  Can't say I understand the appeal. 

Thursday brought a 104 degree fever to MJ and a concerned visit to the pediatrician.  She had an ear infection.  We started her on antibiotics.  We joined our neighbors at their cabin, somewhat regretting the decision when MJ spent two-thirds of the weekend screaming and I continued to recover from the stomach pains that landed me in the ER in the first place.

But on Saturday night, the calm returned.  Or the beginning of the calm.  Not really calm, exactly, since that hasn't existed in 10+ months.  But joy.  I finally felt better.  Yesterday, MJ returned.  We remembered what it's like to have a happy kid.  We really did have a glorious weekend, if you discount the screaming.  We feel so lucky to have met such fun people, who live so close, whose children are so close in age to MJ.  Who will not be leaving in the near future to follow a string of post-docs, as so many of our friends are going to soon start doing. But the return of our joyous, happy, rambunctious child was really the best part.  And the fact that DH and I got through this hellish week with few arguments and even some fond memories. 

Diagnosis.

It's official.  I have asthma.  The diagnosis wasn't even subtle; after running my pulmonary function test, the nurse turned to me and said "You've NEVER done a test like this before?  Are you sure?", practically screaming "Even I can tell you have asthma!" with her tone of voice.  After coughing for 4 months (that brief respite I wrote about a few weeks ago was just that: brief.  MJ brought home another cold and ::BAM:: cough was back.)  It is such a relief to officially have asthma.  I'm not sure one is supposed to feel happy that they have a disease, but that's exactly how I feel. 

So I'm on Symbicort.  You know that ad they show?  With the puppies running through the field and the feet dangling off a dock into the water?  That's exactly how I feel.  Puppies and rainbows, oh my.  Because it's advertised ::ALL THE TIME:: and I hate direct marketing of pharmaceuticals to consumers I want to hate the product.  But no, it's great.  I'm not coughing.  I don't have people moving away from me on the bus for fear of tuburculosis or alien impregnation via sputum.  My slightly increased risk of death seems totally worth it (don't worry, Mom, there's always a slightly increased risk of death.)

The other reason for the puppies and rainbows is that our household has made it through the jungle of sick that has been this week.  ::BAM:: Sunday night Dad starts puking.  ::BAM:: Monday Mom (that's me) starts puking.  ::BAM:: Tuesday night baby starts puking.  Thankfully (for me and MJ, not so much for Dad) with each successive knockout the degree of puking diminished.  I think Dad puked for about 12 hours, Mom ~4 hours, and baby just once!  But we have survived.

And you know what else is great about being sick?  PRE-PREGNANCY WEIGHT Y'ALL!!  I celebrated by going to McDonalds (I must be a bad American, because I apparently don't know proper McDonald's etiquette.  You know when you order and they put the tray down with your receipt?  YOU'RE NOT SUPPOSED TO TAKE THE TRAY.  You're supposed to leave it there.  So they can put your food on it.  Who knew that when they hand you a tray you're supposed to leave it there?  Obviously not me; McDonald's guy seemed appalled by my ignorance in the ways of fast food.)  Anyway.  Let me just say that again.  PRE-PREGNANCY WEIGHT.  Maybe stomache viruses aren't all that bad.  You know how else I'm going to celebrate?  In honor of impending Mother's day, pre-pregnancy weight, no more coughing, no more puking, and the fact that all my pants have holes in the crotch and all my shirts have pit stains, I'm going to buy me some new clothes.

That is all.

Oh yeah.  And Genevieve, I have drawn again.  I'm not going through the rigamarole of posting another little chart to show that I drew the winner impartially (though I did).  I will just tell you: the winner is #5.  That happens to be Ryan, Christy, Landen, and Jackson.  Congrats!

Dropping like flies.

So, I lost a follower yesterday. To the best of my knowledge that's the first one I've lost. Was it the laundry basket? I promise, I don't leave her in it. It's not like I go take a nap while she chills in the laundry basket and plays with matches. Was it prostelytizing about cloth diapers, telling you you're an evil person if you use disposables?  Maybe I went a little too far there... Was it my messy house? Or am I just boring you? I guess I'll have to try harder.
I've been on a little bit of a crack-high lately. After a week of antibiotics my cough was NOT going away. I was still waking up 2 to 3 times a night with a fit of coughing that made me fear I would stop breathing altogether. This, on top of coughing all night long intermittently and keeping DH awake, it was a bad scene. So I started a serious dose of steroids a week ago, and it's wonderful. I still have some minor coughing fits, but I've been getting full night's of rest (this is partially attributable to my mother-in-law being in town and taking some of the night wakings.) So not only do I have the added energy from all those steroids, I have the added energy from multiple good nights of rest. Thus, the crack high.
You know that feeling you get after you've been sickity-sick and all of a sudden you feel better? The bird's sing. Your food tastes better. Even just walking down the sidewalk is a beautiful thing. I go off the steroids tomorrow, let's hope the bird's continue to sing.

*I'm fully aware how riddled with misplaced apostrophes this post is. Is it okay to pull the "chemist" card as an excuse for not going back to fix them?