Last week I got knocked down. Big time. I found that it is possible to break under pressure.
Nealy has been sick with an ear infection for weeks now. After a few sleepless nights last weekend, Joe stayed home with her on Monday and took her to the doctor. I was preparing for a discussion about tubes, and I was concentrating on scheduling that during spring break. But no, her ears were clear as a bell. Yay! But she had RSV. Boo. The good news on that was no fever, not contagious anymore, already on the way out. The bad news was more sleepless nights with no relief for little Nealy Bug other than Tylenol, Ibuprofin, and a hope and a prayer. Joe generally takes the brunt of midnight wakings because he's such a light sleeper and such a wonderful husband. But this week, we were both on Nealy duty.
And with a screaming infant in the night comes a waking boy, who wakes up with nightmares and nonsense and he doesn't know why.
One night when I was trying to console Nealy, who was screaming and sweating and screaming and screaming, Joe fussed at me, "Just put her down and roll over and go to sleep!" Then we both immediately started laughing at his ridiculous demand. Sleep? With this racket going on? With our little one in misery? That's high-larious. So, awake we both remained. And frustrated and upset.
Although Joe and I had been reduced to walking zombies, life tends to go on. Work days come and go, with all the excitement and agony and joy and pain that teaching school can bring all at the same time. There was a light at the end of our tunnel: Spring Break.
Well, long story short, I didn't make it. After having a series of near break downs throughout the day on Thursday in the most embarrassing and hurtful way (by unloading on my teaching team), I discovered that I was getting sick. Like really sick. And when I didn't sleep through the night on Thursday night, not because anyone was screaming or upset, but because my throat was rapidly closing, I knew I had to take action.
I was up on Friday morning before 5 am carefully crafting my morning plan. After taking care of the kids and getting myself dressed, I would be waiting at the doc in the box 10 minutes before they opened to insure that I would be the first patient of the morning. I would get in there and demand a throat culture, because I knew that I had strep throat, and when they verified what I already knew, I would tell the doctor to NOT mess with a prescription and to promptly give me a penicillin shot in my butt. After which I would be on my way, and hopefully no later than 3o minutes late to work. It was a good plan. A solid plan. A very easily screwed with plan.
And it got screwed with immediately upon Jacks waking up demanding to be taken to the doughnut store, loudly and repeatedly. I managed to ignore him for a while, but when he refused to get out of bed and get dressed because he was so singularly focused on his doughnut demand, I swore. Straight to his face. I pointed my famous finger at him and said, "Nobody is going to the DAMN doughnut store if you don't get out of that bed and put on your stinking clothes. So GET UP!" Man, did that kid start moving.
Somehow getting myself put together that morning took no time at all. I think it had something to do with the fact that I didn't look in the mirror. Not once. And it was jeans day at work. Jeans, tee shirt, cardigan, blow dry, lip gloss, let's go to the doughnut store. It was about 6:45 when Jacks and I left the house. Joe and Nealy were on their own to get themselves to school and work as long as Joe made sure Jacks's backpack got to day care, we'd be solid.
Doughnut store. In, out, no problem. With every passing moment, I wondered how I was going to manage my next voluntary swallow with a closed throat, and I kept thinking the smell of the doughnuts was going to make me puke. Which I didn't know how that was going to happen with a closed throat. Would it just stop mid-gullet? Would I choke to death in the Daylight Donuts in front of my son who was picking the icing off of his vanilla doughnut? I wasn't sure. At this point, if you know me, you know I was sick, sick, sick. That would be the ONLY explanation for me passing on a doughnut.
I got Jacks to school with a few minutes to spare, so I talked to his teacher for a minute. He had come home the day before without underwear on, and there was a really great story there. Here's the part where I digress.....
Jacks came home totally commando, and he announced proudly, "I took off my underwear all by myself, and I throw them away!" Big smile. Hmmmmmm.....after much probing, I was still no closer to any answers. I was starting to think that he had an accident and was hoping to hide the evidence from those of us who might be upset about said accident. Well, here's what really happened. He very carefully and methodically unraveled the entire waistband of his underwear during movie time at school (it was a rainy day). His teacher noticed him fidgeting, and she kept telling him to sit still during the movie. This happened several times until she went over to him to see what the heck, upon which she discovered he had a handful of green string. He claimed he didn't know where it came from, but that his underwear would NOT stay up. She yanked off his drawers and stuck him back in front of the movie, and putting on another pair was soon forgotten. It really is a pretty good story. I don't think I did it justice.
Back to topic.....the doc in the box. During my sleepless night, I had checked their web site for their hours. Open at 7:30. Cool, I'd totally be there. I was running a little later than I wanted, but I got to the parking lot at 7:27. There was another girl waiting outside, so I would be the second patient of the day. Not good, but still not bad. I also noticed that the office was completely dark - no office staff getting ready for the day, no custodian flipping on lights and wiping down windows, no nothing. It was then that I started to read the hours printed on the door. Only one location of this particular doc in the box opens at 7:30, and I was not at that office. Here are my options....go on to work and continue to pretend that I'm not sick, then freak out on someone else like I did the day before? Wait at this office until they opened at 8, then be seen promptly? Or race across town to the other office and get in line? I chose the last choice. There were 8 people in front of me, and I wasn't seen until 8:20. In the painfully passing minutes prior to being called back I was tearing up my Blackberry. I texted my team, my boss, my husband, called the substitute placement service, frantically making sure everyone was okay in my absence and assuring everyone I was going as fast as I could. I could still do this, right? I'd be okay.
So, my turn. Finally. The nurse weighs me (I've lost 3 pounds - yay - no time to celebrate), then asks why I'm there. I respond, "Because I have strep throat. Give me a culture, please." Her eyebrows raise, but she complies. I wasn't mean about it, just mildly demanding. I was sent back to the waiting room to wait on an empty exam room. I'm honestly wishing we could stop with the formalities, here. Check the test, give me a shot, I'm outta here. Why do I have to see a doctor? Good grief. In the meantime, my assistant principal texts me that I cannot come to work with strep throat and to give it up now. Wow. Talk about taking the wind out of my sails. Don't come? At all? It was the last day before Spring Break - celebration day - I had things to do, plans to follow through on - I couldn't be out. That be crazy talk.
No, I could. not. come. Stay away, they don't want my super gross germs.
The doctor came in and I was in tears. I don't even know why I was crying at this point. I was pissed that my plan didn't come to fruition, but I also felt TERRIBLE. Like, really bad. It hadn't occurred to me to actually realize how sick I felt, just to come to terms with the fact that I was sick and to get it treated. The doctor gladly complied with my demand for a shot of penicillin, then told me to get a new toothbrush in a few days and to stop kissing my babies for a while.
I can feel my story deteriorating, because this was the point in my very short day that I deteriorated. I did, indeed, give it up. I went home with my tail between my legs, and I called my mother on the way to cry and fuss. She made her standard threat, "Do I need to come up there?" I made it home in the pouring rain - oh, I didn't mention that it was raining buckets? Well, it was. It seemed to add insult to injury.
I dragged myself through the door and tore open the Netflix movie that had been sitting on the kitchen table for over a week. Up in the Air - you know, that George Cloony movie? I made it through about 20 minutes of it - while laying in bed, in all my clothes - before it occurred to me that I was A. starving and B. needed to put on pajamas to fully commit to the sick day. As I stood in the kitchen dissolving orange jello in boiling water I found myself staring out the kitchen window. It was at that moment that I noticed that my 20 foot tall, amazingly gorgeous camellia bush in my front yard was literally covered in beautiful, deep scarlet blooms. They couldn't have just appeared there overnight. They had to have had an opportunity to bud and bloom, but I hadn't noticed. There was my one tiny glimmer of hope for my hopeless day - I had stopped to notice my flowers. I hadn't realized that I was that stressed/sick/crazy/exhausted/running on fumes. But I guess I was. Thank you strep throat for stopping me dead in my tracks. Thank you Spring Break for giving me the time I need to enjoy my family and my house and my yard and my life. I think I needed that.
Oh, and since I'm sure you're irritated that you had to do all that reading without enjoying a single picture, here's one just for kicks.
Jacks took it with his dad's SLR camera. Yes, we let our 3 year old operate a really expensive camera. It's the little things, you know?
I'll try to blog more soon. I'm really busy watching Joe paint the trim in our house, plus we're keeping out Netflix streaming pretty busy since we've discovered Dexter. You know - important stuff.
Nealy has been sick with an ear infection for weeks now. After a few sleepless nights last weekend, Joe stayed home with her on Monday and took her to the doctor. I was preparing for a discussion about tubes, and I was concentrating on scheduling that during spring break. But no, her ears were clear as a bell. Yay! But she had RSV. Boo. The good news on that was no fever, not contagious anymore, already on the way out. The bad news was more sleepless nights with no relief for little Nealy Bug other than Tylenol, Ibuprofin, and a hope and a prayer. Joe generally takes the brunt of midnight wakings because he's such a light sleeper and such a wonderful husband. But this week, we were both on Nealy duty.
And with a screaming infant in the night comes a waking boy, who wakes up with nightmares and nonsense and he doesn't know why.
One night when I was trying to console Nealy, who was screaming and sweating and screaming and screaming, Joe fussed at me, "Just put her down and roll over and go to sleep!" Then we both immediately started laughing at his ridiculous demand. Sleep? With this racket going on? With our little one in misery? That's high-larious. So, awake we both remained. And frustrated and upset.
Although Joe and I had been reduced to walking zombies, life tends to go on. Work days come and go, with all the excitement and agony and joy and pain that teaching school can bring all at the same time. There was a light at the end of our tunnel: Spring Break.
Well, long story short, I didn't make it. After having a series of near break downs throughout the day on Thursday in the most embarrassing and hurtful way (by unloading on my teaching team), I discovered that I was getting sick. Like really sick. And when I didn't sleep through the night on Thursday night, not because anyone was screaming or upset, but because my throat was rapidly closing, I knew I had to take action.
I was up on Friday morning before 5 am carefully crafting my morning plan. After taking care of the kids and getting myself dressed, I would be waiting at the doc in the box 10 minutes before they opened to insure that I would be the first patient of the morning. I would get in there and demand a throat culture, because I knew that I had strep throat, and when they verified what I already knew, I would tell the doctor to NOT mess with a prescription and to promptly give me a penicillin shot in my butt. After which I would be on my way, and hopefully no later than 3o minutes late to work. It was a good plan. A solid plan. A very easily screwed with plan.
And it got screwed with immediately upon Jacks waking up demanding to be taken to the doughnut store, loudly and repeatedly. I managed to ignore him for a while, but when he refused to get out of bed and get dressed because he was so singularly focused on his doughnut demand, I swore. Straight to his face. I pointed my famous finger at him and said, "Nobody is going to the DAMN doughnut store if you don't get out of that bed and put on your stinking clothes. So GET UP!" Man, did that kid start moving.
Somehow getting myself put together that morning took no time at all. I think it had something to do with the fact that I didn't look in the mirror. Not once. And it was jeans day at work. Jeans, tee shirt, cardigan, blow dry, lip gloss, let's go to the doughnut store. It was about 6:45 when Jacks and I left the house. Joe and Nealy were on their own to get themselves to school and work as long as Joe made sure Jacks's backpack got to day care, we'd be solid.
Doughnut store. In, out, no problem. With every passing moment, I wondered how I was going to manage my next voluntary swallow with a closed throat, and I kept thinking the smell of the doughnuts was going to make me puke. Which I didn't know how that was going to happen with a closed throat. Would it just stop mid-gullet? Would I choke to death in the Daylight Donuts in front of my son who was picking the icing off of his vanilla doughnut? I wasn't sure. At this point, if you know me, you know I was sick, sick, sick. That would be the ONLY explanation for me passing on a doughnut.
I got Jacks to school with a few minutes to spare, so I talked to his teacher for a minute. He had come home the day before without underwear on, and there was a really great story there. Here's the part where I digress.....
Jacks came home totally commando, and he announced proudly, "I took off my underwear all by myself, and I throw them away!" Big smile. Hmmmmmm.....after much probing, I was still no closer to any answers. I was starting to think that he had an accident and was hoping to hide the evidence from those of us who might be upset about said accident. Well, here's what really happened. He very carefully and methodically unraveled the entire waistband of his underwear during movie time at school (it was a rainy day). His teacher noticed him fidgeting, and she kept telling him to sit still during the movie. This happened several times until she went over to him to see what the heck, upon which she discovered he had a handful of green string. He claimed he didn't know where it came from, but that his underwear would NOT stay up. She yanked off his drawers and stuck him back in front of the movie, and putting on another pair was soon forgotten. It really is a pretty good story. I don't think I did it justice.
Back to topic.....the doc in the box. During my sleepless night, I had checked their web site for their hours. Open at 7:30. Cool, I'd totally be there. I was running a little later than I wanted, but I got to the parking lot at 7:27. There was another girl waiting outside, so I would be the second patient of the day. Not good, but still not bad. I also noticed that the office was completely dark - no office staff getting ready for the day, no custodian flipping on lights and wiping down windows, no nothing. It was then that I started to read the hours printed on the door. Only one location of this particular doc in the box opens at 7:30, and I was not at that office. Here are my options....go on to work and continue to pretend that I'm not sick, then freak out on someone else like I did the day before? Wait at this office until they opened at 8, then be seen promptly? Or race across town to the other office and get in line? I chose the last choice. There were 8 people in front of me, and I wasn't seen until 8:20. In the painfully passing minutes prior to being called back I was tearing up my Blackberry. I texted my team, my boss, my husband, called the substitute placement service, frantically making sure everyone was okay in my absence and assuring everyone I was going as fast as I could. I could still do this, right? I'd be okay.
So, my turn. Finally. The nurse weighs me (I've lost 3 pounds - yay - no time to celebrate), then asks why I'm there. I respond, "Because I have strep throat. Give me a culture, please." Her eyebrows raise, but she complies. I wasn't mean about it, just mildly demanding. I was sent back to the waiting room to wait on an empty exam room. I'm honestly wishing we could stop with the formalities, here. Check the test, give me a shot, I'm outta here. Why do I have to see a doctor? Good grief. In the meantime, my assistant principal texts me that I cannot come to work with strep throat and to give it up now. Wow. Talk about taking the wind out of my sails. Don't come? At all? It was the last day before Spring Break - celebration day - I had things to do, plans to follow through on - I couldn't be out. That be crazy talk.
No, I could. not. come. Stay away, they don't want my super gross germs.
The doctor came in and I was in tears. I don't even know why I was crying at this point. I was pissed that my plan didn't come to fruition, but I also felt TERRIBLE. Like, really bad. It hadn't occurred to me to actually realize how sick I felt, just to come to terms with the fact that I was sick and to get it treated. The doctor gladly complied with my demand for a shot of penicillin, then told me to get a new toothbrush in a few days and to stop kissing my babies for a while.
I can feel my story deteriorating, because this was the point in my very short day that I deteriorated. I did, indeed, give it up. I went home with my tail between my legs, and I called my mother on the way to cry and fuss. She made her standard threat, "Do I need to come up there?" I made it home in the pouring rain - oh, I didn't mention that it was raining buckets? Well, it was. It seemed to add insult to injury.
I dragged myself through the door and tore open the Netflix movie that had been sitting on the kitchen table for over a week. Up in the Air - you know, that George Cloony movie? I made it through about 20 minutes of it - while laying in bed, in all my clothes - before it occurred to me that I was A. starving and B. needed to put on pajamas to fully commit to the sick day. As I stood in the kitchen dissolving orange jello in boiling water I found myself staring out the kitchen window. It was at that moment that I noticed that my 20 foot tall, amazingly gorgeous camellia bush in my front yard was literally covered in beautiful, deep scarlet blooms. They couldn't have just appeared there overnight. They had to have had an opportunity to bud and bloom, but I hadn't noticed. There was my one tiny glimmer of hope for my hopeless day - I had stopped to notice my flowers. I hadn't realized that I was that stressed/sick/crazy/exhausted/running on fumes. But I guess I was. Thank you strep throat for stopping me dead in my tracks. Thank you Spring Break for giving me the time I need to enjoy my family and my house and my yard and my life. I think I needed that.
Oh, and since I'm sure you're irritated that you had to do all that reading without enjoying a single picture, here's one just for kicks.
Jacks took it with his dad's SLR camera. Yes, we let our 3 year old operate a really expensive camera. It's the little things, you know?
I'll try to blog more soon. I'm really busy watching Joe paint the trim in our house, plus we're keeping out Netflix streaming pretty busy since we've discovered Dexter. You know - important stuff.
4 comments:
We love Dexter- we hope you are feeling better and it could be worse- Last time I went to the doc in the box with a sore throat I came out pregnant- with our sweet baby girl:)
Hope you are feeling better. Your body will let you know when it is time to rest. The Lord will remind you when it is time to see the good. The rest of the time we are just getting in our own way.
Oh babe. I can so relate to every word in your post... the sleepless night, the strep throat, even the commando 3-year old. Why?! Why are our kids coming home with no undies on??! Oh well. I get it. Too well. Please feel free to call me next time when you need to gripe, and when and if I can - I Will come over there. Much love from another stressed, crazed, exhausted mommy!
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