Angry Music

Over the last couple of years, I’ve started listening to contemporary Christian music. Which is surprising since I had always rolled my eyes and made gagging faces at it previously but hey, the Lord works in mysterious ways, right? What used to make me uncomfortable now helps put me in the right frame of mind to face the day.

Most mornings, the girls and I listen to Kids Pandora in the car on the way to school. I don’t really mind as I can rock out to some Disney. The girls know by now that you don’t interrupt Mommy while she is singing Disney songs. It can wait.

But on days that I have a particularly frustrating morning trying to herd everyone out the door on time, I like to listen to God songs, at least until we get to daycare and drop IBB off, as that seems to be just enough to get me back in a better state of mind. Once equanimity is restored, back to Caspar Babypants and Veggietales and Disney we go.

The other morning, we had had a reasonably good morning (meaning I hadn’t yelled at anyone yet) but I still felt like listening to God songs in the car. We’re about two songs in when BIT says in her most apologetic, sad, tiny little girl voice, “Mommy, I’m sorry we were bad.”

Surprised, I said, “You weren’t bad, buddy! I thought we had a good morning!”

To which BIT replies, “Then why are you listening to your angry music?”

The Wine Glass

Last year, like 2016 last year, Dad and Grandma Kathy forgot my birthday. Like totally forgot. If I remember correctly, we even spoke on the way to work that morning like we do every day and they still didn’t remember.

I was, understandably, a little sad about this. And I was at work and taking care of one of my favorite patients and his wife, whom I also loved dearly, and I told them that Dad and Grandma Kathy forgot my birthday. And that my coworkers had also forgotten. (Though does it really count as “forgetting” if I didn’t remind them ahead of time?) And that I was kind of sad.

And Tammy, the wife, went out and got me a really amazing birthday present that showed just how well they had gotten to know me over the year I had been caring for them. She got me this beautiful stemless wine glass that said “Instant Happy Woman: Just Add Wine.”

And I loved it.

I loved that silly wine glass. It was one of the best presents I had ever gotten and I used it with a frequency that would probably alarm my primary care provider if I ever planned on telling her about it.

And last night Lula was being Lula, which means being a puppy, and she jumped up and knocked it off the arm of the futon with her tail and it shattered.

And I was so, so sad. Because that wine glass wasn’t just a beautiful object to me. It was a physical representation of the lives I touch and the friendships I make and the people who love me. Every single time I used it, I remembered Doug and Tammy and wondered if I had ever let them know I loved them as much as they loved me. Every time, I thought about that birthday and how something beautiful had come out of a day that started with anger and sadness. And yes, I know that sounds melodramatic, but it’s true. I like objects that remind me of people and places and days that I love.

But this morning, the Littlest Brewster gave me a present that certainly matches, if not exceeds, my wine glass for being special and precious.

Seeing how sad I was, she had made me a new wine glass.

She even colored it red so that it looked like the old one. (Obviously, I’m a big fan of cabernet…)

And I think that this is quite possibly the best present I have ever gotten.

Especially since Lula can’t break this one.

It’s actually kind of funny, when you think about it

So, super embarrassing confession here –

I spent quite a bit of time getting myself all mentally prepped and ready to have all 3 girls home yesterday for MLK day, and a decent amount of money equipping myself with snacks and crafts and a ton of herbal tea meant to take the place of beer. I even lined up our neighbor to come sit on the couch during nap time so I could go for a sanity-saving run midday.

And I made it. I survived.

The girls and I actually had a reasonably good day, with minimal yelling and only a few epic melt downs (none of which were mine, I might add).

I was feeling pretty good about myself for having rocked the Mom thing so well when I was catching up on some emails today and read one about collecting canned goods at school. With a general collection cut off of Monday morning at 9:30.

Wait, what?

Monday at 9:30? Weren’t they closed for MLK day like daycare? I know I wrote that down in my calendar.

So I go back and check the school website and sure enough, there was school yesterday. 

What. The. Heck.

At first I almost didn’t tell anyone because I was so embarrassed but then I figured that this was funny enough that I had to share it. Because what do we live for if not to poke fun at ourselves for general amusement?

On the bright side, total mommy win – I lasted all the way until 4:46 before I had a beer. Where’s my gold medal for that? 😉

Sometimes, there just are no words

I wanted to try and come up with a funny post that accurately depicted the utter chaos of my life over the last week. And I got about 150 words in and it was going pretty well and then I hit a wall.

And I realized that I had nothing. I didn’t have it in me to write a funny post telling you guys about the all the crap that has been going on recently (literally and figuratively). And I wasn’t going to put anything out here at all about it anyway but a patient of mine (and a friend too, actually) was talking with me about how much it helps people to know they’re not alone when going through their own crap, that other people have been through similar crap and survived.

Because – lets be honest, here – lots of times I don’t blog because I don’t have time.  But sometimes I don’t blog because I don’t think I have anything worthwhile to say that anyone really needs or wants to hear. As the wise man says, “Let me speak because I have something to say, not because I have to say something.”

But talking to her got me thinking about it and I realized that it’s true, I do feel better after reading or hearing or talking about other people’s experiences similar to mine, whether it concerns children, husbands, jobs, or anything else.

So, for anyone interested, here’s what went down in the last 10 days or so. Be prepared for an epically long post that contains multiple references to bodily fluids.

Monday, 1/1, we realize our oven has bit the dust. Thankfully, my sister stopped us before we bought a whole new oven and steered us in the direction of “Maybe it was just the element?” $60 for a new burner is a lot easier to swallow than $425 for new range.  But it takes time to get the part, seriously hampering our food making efforts for the week (even more of an inconvenience than usual, as this was smack in the middle of “School’s closed, enjoy all the enforced family time!” time.) Not to be defeated, the DreadBrewer and I decided to make a delicious slow-cooker habanero beef taco recipe the next day. (Side note: We never make easy recipes. Ever. So not having an oven was a huge issue. Tamale Pie? Out.  Smoky braised chicken and gnocchi? Out. 99% of our go-to recipes? Out. I’m not bragging, I’m just trying to explain why having no oven was super extra obnoxious.) I got the taco recipe ready before leaving for work, a process that involved food processors and cutting boards and about 10 ingredients, and left Buppa and Grandma Kathy to watch the kids for the day. Well, Kathy texted in the afternoon to ask if I wanted our food turned on to heat up for dinner.

WTH? Our food turned on? What had I done in the morning when I turned it to Low?!? Apparently nothing since the crockpot never got plugged in. Chalk that one up to a colossal waste of time and money as we decided to err on the side of caution in the face of food poisoning and throw out the whole recipe.

Then the snow came. And by “the snow” I mean the dusting that we got that shut down the city and the schools. (Granted other areas did get significantly more than a dusting.) Being a nurse, I still had to work but DB got to spend Thursday home with all 3 girls.

Thursday evening, a few minutes after I get home to rescue DB from the tiny tyrants, the Itty Bitty Brewster started vomiting. Woot woot, because kids who are old enough to walk around and throw up but still too young to understand the “get it in the bucket concept” are amazing. So I stay home from work with her Friday, and literally 5 minutes after we pick the big girls up from school, BIT starts vomiting. Repeatedly. Mostly making it in the bucket. Hooray for some common sense. And of course, middle of the night, the Littlest Brewster calls out “Mommy!” and proceeds to throw up all over her bed. (Luckily she didn’t go through the slats onto the bottom bunk like last time. She managed to keep it all in her bed. Score.) BIT and LB alternated vomiting every hour or so through the night, resulting in massive piles of laundry and some very tired parents. And of course, neither DB nor I felt all that well ourselves by the time morning rolled around, though we were luckily spared any actual throwing up. Which was a good thing, since DB had to drive to multiple stores to find space heaters, since our downstairs heat had decided that it may or may not feel like working at any given moment on a day when the high was 20º.

Bright side to kids getting older – at least they are old enough to sit in front of the TV and watch Disney movies all damn day if they’re sick. Sick and entirely dependent is much harder than sick and ever so slightly independent.

Saturday evening around 6, after having heard multiple times that I must not feel as bad as he did, I tucked DB into bed. Itty Bitty had a poop downstairs 10 minutes before bed and not feeling like putting her in a pull-up only to have to change her into a nighttime diaper 10 minutes later, I made a rookie mistake. I left her with a bare bottom while I ran upstairs for the 15 seconds it took to grab a nighttime diaper. When I came back downstairs, she was standing there, poop all down her leg and onto the floor, very upset about the whole situation. (As was I.) I managed to get her and the floor cleaned up, tucked all three girls in, and collapsed into bed, nursing my own tummy ache.

At least by Sunday, all vomiting had ceased. Everyone was still kind of puny and, since we were still having a record cold snap, no one wanted to go outside and do much of anything. Super fun having 3 kids, 2 adults, 3 cats, and a puppy hanging out together inside the small downstairs area of a small-in-general house. I did run away to the beer store for an hour, just to try and regain some equanimity, but I’ve found those gains are always short lived.

Another Side Note: Has anyone else found that, the older they get, the  faster their emotional tank is emptied and the longer it takes to refill it? It used to be that a quick trip to the coffee shop or the Beerded Lady for a brief journal session and I was good as new. Not so much anymore. 

And on Monday, it started with daycare. I picked Itty Bitty up and the teacher tells me, “She had 3 diarrheas today.” Well, I gave this the side eye. Because they have sent Itty Bitty home with “diarrhea” multiple times for what is clearly not diarrhea. God made Itty Bitty to have squidgy poo. That’s it. Doesn’t matter what we feed the kid, she’s got squidgy poo. So I asked if she was trying to tell me Itty Bitty couldn’t come back Tuesday and was told that had to come from administration. Administration says that no, IBB could still come, they just wanted us to be aware of the poop situation since they knew we had complained before about the handling of a “diarrhea.”

“Send me pictures,” I said. Now that got the side eye but seriously, I’m a nurse. Not much fazes me and I want proof if you’re going to send my child home with “diarrhea.”

And what happens? Tuesday she had ONE poop. And yes, they sent me a picture. And called me about it. Of course, as luck would have it, that poo was indeed looser than usual for IBB. But still. ONE.

Wednesday, there is again ONE poop. No picture that time but the director calls me at 3:15 pm to say that they have discussed it and Itty Bitty is more than welcome to come to daycare the next day, provided we get a note from the pediatrician stating she’s not contagious. WTH. It’s 3:15. I am at work, way across town from daycare. If I wanted to take IBB to the doc that day, I would still have to pick up the big girls from school, drive roughly 20 miles in afternoon traffic back to daycare and get the littlest one, and then drive another roughly 12 miles in even worse afternoon traffic to get to the pediatrician, hopefully before they closed for the day. So not happening.

I cleared it with my boss to come in late the next morning, after we did the whole “not contagious” thing. Unfortunately, DB had a work thing in the morning, so he couldn’t take the big girls to school for me. Meaning that everyone got schlepped everywhere. I got up early in an attempt to start the day off on the right foot and did my new God journal and made muffins for breakfast. But as soon as the kids came down, I knew the morning was going to go down south.

All the kids were grumpy. LB and BIT just kept nitpicking at each other, over and over and over until they’re both upset and I’m shouting at them to just leave each other alone. They all inhaled 2 muffins (they were really good muffins, if I do say so myself) and then the big girls also had a yogurt each, as they were still hungry after the muffins. (This is important. I didn’t just put it in for filler.)

When we got close to the doctor’s office, we had a little time to spare and the big girl were whining about how they were starving.  I had packed granola bars, anticipating this exact situation, but I was out of coffee. So we popped in to Whole Foods to get some coffee and some eggs and fruit and a biscuit off the breakfast bar. They also each got to pick out a piece of fruit from the little kids basket and off we went to the doctor.

The big girls ate second breakfast while Dr. McB examined Itty Bitty and agreed that yes, while she did have a stomach bug last week, she was clearly on the mend and no longer contagious. Everyone was herded back to the car to begin the long drive to various child drop offs.

As soon as we get in the car, BIT and LB ask if they can have a snack. And I admit, I was worn down so I didn’t flat out say no. I said, “You just ate a ton of food. If you eat anything else, you are going to give yourselves a stomach ache.” Which apparently meant to them, “Sure, go ahead and eat something.” BIT made it through 3/4 of her granola bar before she said her tummy hurt (no shit, Sherlock) and she passed the rest up to me. LB was making good progress on her apple when we got to daycare.

And this really burned my ass. The daycare directors, after I gave them the note, said that they would like us to buy those rubber diaper covers to put over Itty Bitty’s diapers to make sure her squidgy poo does not leak out and contaminate the classroom. Again, WTH. She doesn’t have blow outs at home. She doesn’t leak poo. If your teacher had a clue, this wouldn’t be an issue. (I feel like I must put in here that we have been at this daycare a long, long time and we usually love them. We have just been having issues lately with the definition of diarrhea and proper diapering procedure…) I was so irritated that I don’t even really remember what I said, but boy was I pissed off when I got back in the car to take the big girls to school.

And literally, 2 seconds after we get in the car again, BIT goes, “I’m hungry. Can I eat my banana?” What?!? No. Just no. I explained (code for “said in a really angry tone of voice”) that she had already eaten a ton of food and given herself a stomach ache, so no. She could not have her banana. At which point I hear a rustle. And I look back and the Littlest Brewster is trying to surreptitiously unwrap her granola bar. And I may have progressed from “explaining” to flat out yelling at this point, when I pointed out that a) she had already had a ton of food today as well and b) she still hadn’t finished her apple and if she was really hungry she had better eat that first. It was just like the last straw at that point. I was just a ball of angry frustration. It had been the world’s crappiest week and I was just fed up with everything.

After I dropped the kids off at school, I went to work and drank multiple cups of tea out of my new mug with its inspirational quote on the side, hoping the zen would rub off on me but I really just made myself pee a lot.

So there you have it. The incredibly long, more detailed than I’m sure you wanted, story of the last ten days. And I even left some bits out because, let’s face it, I’m tired. I’m always tired, but I’m really tired today.

For anyone going through crappy times like this, I hope this helps, to know that you’re not alone. For anyone thinking of saying “I’m so sorry! That sounds terrible!” – please don’t. Yes, it did suck. It still semi-sucks. (Long weekend ahead with everyone up in each other’s stuff? A million errands? Needing new tires for the van and dentist visits for the kids and rain on the agenda? Yep. Semi-sucks.) BUT, when I look back at it, it’s so comically bad that I honestly can’t help but laugh about it.

I will try to be, not better, because that’s not the right word, but at least less anxious about blogging. Because honestly, even if it doesn’t help anybody other than myself to get these emotions out and words written, that’s one in the plus column. And some days that’s all I can hope for.

Big weekend for the Littlest Brewster

It’s been a big couple of days for the Littlest Brewster and her mouth! When I picked her up from school on Friday, the poor thing had gotten into a fight with the monkey bars and definitely come out on the losing side.

She was pretty tough about the whole thing after the fact, though I wasn’t there to see how much she cried when it happened. This is the second or third fat lip she’s gotten at school, which isn’t surprising given how hard the Littlest Brewster plays. We usually just take a close up of the area and text my dad (a retired dentist) to see whether a trip to the girls’ dentist is warranted. So far we’ve managed to avoid any stitches or anything more invasive than an extra x-ray. Fingers crossed the trend continues…

And then, on Saturday, the Littlest Brewster lost her first tooth!!!! 😀

I was actually surprised at how long it took for her tooth to get loose enough to pull – nearly 3 weeks! (It probably could have come out sooner but I was kind of chicken when it came to pulling it. I didn’t want her first loose tooth experience to be totally traumatic and scar everyone for life, myself included.) So last night, she let me wiggle it a little bit more aggressively and I could feel the root sort of crack. We stopped but LB assured me it didn’t hurt, just startled her. So we did it again. And again. And finally on, like, the 4th wiggle, I managed to get her tooth out.

And she is so excited, even today. She’s insisting we call her “One Tooth” and keeps coming up and baring her teeth at me in what looks like a rictus of pain but I assume is meant to be a smile.

On a super cool note, DB asked her what the Tooth Fairy did with her tooth and all the other kids’ teeth and LB told us that she turns them into stars. I thought that was the coolest theory I’ve heard and certainly beats any ideas I may have had.

I’m a lot less nervous about the next 59 teeth we have to get through for all 3 girls now that we’ve had one successful, non-traumatic tooth pulling. Hopefully they all go this smoothly.

And the night sky will be that much brighter. 🙂