Hello, dear Internet peeps! What plans do you have for today?
Can you guess what ours are?
If you guessed that we’re headed out of town for a family getaway, you guessed wrong. If you think we’re gonna clean house again like we did last week, you’re out of your ever lovin’ mind (Beth Moore used that phrase in a chapter I just read in So Long, Insecurity, and I wanted to use it <grin>). If you guessed we’re packing boxes to move to Colorado like I’d mentioned a few posts back. Well…you’re wrong. <grin> Running a marathon? Hardly. Seeing a movie? We’d need a babysitter. Any volunteers?
Have you guessed it yet?
We’re staying home and doing nothin’! Nothin’! It may or may not include us staying in our PJs all day. It probably will. It may mean getting outside to work in the yard a bit. Only if the sun comes out, which is unlikely. It definitely includes watching some Olympics. And it may or may not include me indulging in some breakfast burritos from Chick-fil-A. It will. It most certainly will, since my hubby and Brennan just left on a “man run” to bless their girl with her most favorite treat on the planet right now!
All three of us have been down-and-out with sickness this week. We sound pathetic, ya’ll. We look pathetic. We are pathetic. I’ve never seen so much nose goobers in all my life. And I’ve never had to touch someone else’s nose goobers until Brennan; I’ve wiped away more of his goobers than I’d like to admit, using my own hands so my boy didn’t look quite as pathetic as he would with nose goobers dripping down from his nostrils. My clothes had spots on them where I could point out to you the places where Brennan left his mark with either nose goobers or drool, or where I simply took the nose goobers from Brennan and wiped them on my pants. Pathetic, I tell ya! I won’t even go into telling you about the time that I was too lazy to get a Kleenex and had to be creative with my own goobers. Brennan seriously looked at me with disgust and confusion. Why is Momma doing that with her hands? No, Momma, no! That’s just wrong, Momma! Please, no!
I’m trying to be super good with our budget this year. Cleaning and supplies is one category I always get in trouble with (figuratively, not literally). I’d reached our max for the month a couple of weeks ago and I’ve been dead-set on not going over, even if it meant telling Matt we’re rationing out toilet paper and Kleenex for the duration of February. I think we’re gonna be ok on the TP, but Matt drew the line with the Kleenex after spending a day blowing his nose with paper towel that felt like sand paper. While we’ve probably used a whole tree’s worth of tissue this week, our noses are ever grateful.
My friend Jill was brave enough to send her Haddie-belle over here for a few hours to play on Thursday, more out of necessity than anything else that particular day. Bless little Haddie’s heart. That’s when, in a span of 7 minutes, Haddie was witness to Brennan slipping and sliding in the greasy oil pan for the car in the garage; and as I was stripping him down to his diaper before going inside, I noticed he had a nasty dirty diaper that needed immediate changing because the nastiness was in places it shouldn’t have been; and while changing said diaper, Molly proceeded to throw up--twice. It was a beeeautiful day, peeps. I’m tellin’ ya. Haddie was the bright spot of the day, that precious one was.
Yesterday, Brennan went to play with Harrison and Haddie while I took Molly to the vet. The vet that is 45 minutes from our house. The vet that we’ve used since we were given Molly when she was two (she’s now 8.5). The vet that I can’t bring myself to stop going to because she knows Molly and her history so well. The vet that I call to have them mail more of Moos’ meds to us because it’s easier than making the 1.5 hour drive. The vet that seemingly prefers animals over children, hence one of the reasons I left Brennan at Jill’s. The vet who thinks, “Yeah, right this lady watches her dog like a hawk to make sure she doesn’t get any people food dropped by the baby.” I do, lady, I do! It’s exasperating, but I do! The vet who has such an effect on me as to draw out my chronic self-consciousness (aka insecurity) that I’m quaking in my tennies wondering if she thinks I still love and take good care of Molly, since I now have a human baby. Ya’ll, it’s pathetic.
After the vet, Molly and I scurried across town to pick up Brennan and then take him to his doctor’s appointment. I wanted to be sure he didn’t have an ear infection or somethin’ before heading into the weekend, because that would make us more pathetic. More miserable than anything else, I guess. We pulled into the parking lot where I almost ran over a UPS driver coming around the front of his big ol’ truck. He told me in so many words that it was a job hazard. I left Molly in the car since it was cool enough, and Brennan and I made our way into the doctor’s office. No ear infection for the boy, but I had my first dreadful introduction to the nebulizer to treat Brennan’s wheezing.
I know this is nothing new and no big deal, but for a first-time Momma going through it, having no idea what to expect, it was not fun. Brennan didn’t think it was fun either. My momma and another friend of mine are so good at being patient advocates and discerning if and when a medical treatment, and how they administer the treatment, is best for the patient. I have no clue. And it sends my blood pressure rising. So when my boy is screaming his head off while I’m trying to hold an oxygen mask to his face, the only thing going through my mind is: Does he have to do this? Should I tell them we’re not continuing with this treatment? Of course, they tell me, “Yes, he does need this.” But I had no clue what we were getting into. I finally had the forethought to start singing and that calmed him down, thankfully. The treatment didn’t help his wheezing, however. So we’re keeping a close eye on him this weekend to make sure it doesn’t get worse. And nurse Meghan knows exactly how to tell he’s wheezing when the doctor could only tell by using a stethoscope. Yeah, right.
By that time it was nearly 3 p.m. and I hadn’t eaten since breakfast. Wanna guess what place I hit? Yep, Chick-fil-A. I was starving. And well, I’m Meghan. And I look to food for comfort. I need to tell my South Beach Mama friends that this week was a bad week for me to start up a new plan. The rest of the afternoon, we hunkered down, snuggled, and read books. And I fed my hubby cereal for dinner. I’m such a prize, folks.
And that, dear friends, is why we’re gonna do absolutely nothin’ today. Not that we need a reason. But plenty are oozing around here.
