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*mopes*
This violence was a fact of life in our home, and is interwoven from my earliest memories as a child. Already facing the responsibilities of a wife and 13 children, my father made the decision to go to law school. The physical and mental demands led him to take prescription amphetamines to keep him going. Barbiturates were soon added to the mix to help him sleep at night. The combination of stress and this chemical cocktail fueling his system meant that his temper was quick, violent, and indiscriminate.
This has to be one of the saddest stories of the day - tell a friend.
Staying home yesterday was probably one of the smartest things I've done in four weeks - after taking kiddo to daycare, I went home and slept for four hours (after taking care of work stuff remotely), getting up and checking work stuffs again, then having some absolutely quiet time for more than an hour straight (which included my initiation into the Neti Pot Club)...then taking a hot shower, laying down and so on.
I feel somewhat more human today, but being upright without being able to take those breaks is telling me I'm not really All Okay Yet. Far from it.
And I have a huge night ahead of me. I got a day. I need more days like it, and I won't get them.
I'm using an inhaler morning and evening, antibiotics four times a day - add to that the lovely nasal irrigation method (What's a Neti Pot? A douche for your nose. Seriously. If I call someone a douche pot, is that bad?) and doing nothing but sleeping as soon as everything that *must* be taken care of is taken care of for the day.
That includes being a nag. See, I can't ask Jim to take over any of it - he's sick and maxed out as well. Maybe we can trade tasks. That's about all. But I'm always going pillar to post looking at this needs to be cleaned off, what's this and why is it still here, is the laundry done, who has the dishes and what's for dinner? Don't know? Riight. How about - I am just delightful to be around.
It's entirely possible I'll be without Jim too - his grandfather is now under hospice care, and when he goes, he needs to back east. We've said two days. We'll Priceline. It'll be managed, somehow.
I just hope I'm not this sick still when it happens.
Expensive is having a kid. Just the health insurance alone is going to swallow a grand a month. In addition to the daycare grand a month. It'll be grand trying to figure out how that is going to happen.
And lemme tellya, knowing the kid is going to get more out of a day at daycare than with you is NOT happy making. (To the good, the English is finally beginning to pick up - this morning, he was able to make it understood to me that he thought I had been syringe-feeding the kitty...ice cream. Well, it is light brown and the right consistency...and he does have a cold, so maybe he can't smell it all that well. But oh dear ghads, child - NO. This is definitely NOT ice cream. Yesterday, there was a package of cookies at issue that were very clearly Delicious and Wonderful and you're going to get them after dinner...and I got a clouded but certain 'butiwantthemnaooow' whine - all in one sound, like rote. Wonder if that was language or just music? Closer and closer. Poor kid. I get offers almost daily from my Families with Children from China group for Mandarin classes and all I can think of trying to explain to them why I want English up front right now, and please keep the Chinese language to a minimum - or not at all. He knows I go away, and always come back - because that's what has always happened. But when Dad leaves for two days, how the heck am I going to explain that? I won't be able to, that's what. Gee, thanks. And that's for starters.) I'm glad I have the option - because it is clear this is good for him, and it's doing everything I'd hoped it would.
I'm giving room for feeling like warmed over leftovers, warmed over more than three times and served up for dinner. I'm so tired I'm not even hungry.
Yeah, this is great. Perfectly normal. All that.
This has to be one of the saddest stories of the day - tell a friend.
Staying home yesterday was probably one of the smartest things I've done in four weeks - after taking kiddo to daycare, I went home and slept for four hours (after taking care of work stuff remotely), getting up and checking work stuffs again, then having some absolutely quiet time for more than an hour straight (which included my initiation into the Neti Pot Club)...then taking a hot shower, laying down and so on.
I feel somewhat more human today, but being upright without being able to take those breaks is telling me I'm not really All Okay Yet. Far from it.
And I have a huge night ahead of me. I got a day. I need more days like it, and I won't get them.
I'm using an inhaler morning and evening, antibiotics four times a day - add to that the lovely nasal irrigation method (What's a Neti Pot? A douche for your nose. Seriously. If I call someone a douche pot, is that bad?) and doing nothing but sleeping as soon as everything that *must* be taken care of is taken care of for the day.
That includes being a nag. See, I can't ask Jim to take over any of it - he's sick and maxed out as well. Maybe we can trade tasks. That's about all. But I'm always going pillar to post looking at this needs to be cleaned off, what's this and why is it still here, is the laundry done, who has the dishes and what's for dinner? Don't know? Riight. How about - I am just delightful to be around.
It's entirely possible I'll be without Jim too - his grandfather is now under hospice care, and when he goes, he needs to back east. We've said two days. We'll Priceline. It'll be managed, somehow.
I just hope I'm not this sick still when it happens.
Expensive is having a kid. Just the health insurance alone is going to swallow a grand a month. In addition to the daycare grand a month. It'll be grand trying to figure out how that is going to happen.
And lemme tellya, knowing the kid is going to get more out of a day at daycare than with you is NOT happy making. (To the good, the English is finally beginning to pick up - this morning, he was able to make it understood to me that he thought I had been syringe-feeding the kitty...ice cream. Well, it is light brown and the right consistency...and he does have a cold, so maybe he can't smell it all that well. But oh dear ghads, child - NO. This is definitely NOT ice cream. Yesterday, there was a package of cookies at issue that were very clearly Delicious and Wonderful and you're going to get them after dinner...and I got a clouded but certain 'butiwantthemnaooow' whine - all in one sound, like rote. Wonder if that was language or just music? Closer and closer. Poor kid. I get offers almost daily from my Families with Children from China group for Mandarin classes and all I can think of trying to explain to them why I want English up front right now, and please keep the Chinese language to a minimum - or not at all. He knows I go away, and always come back - because that's what has always happened. But when Dad leaves for two days, how the heck am I going to explain that? I won't be able to, that's what. Gee, thanks. And that's for starters.) I'm glad I have the option - because it is clear this is good for him, and it's doing everything I'd hoped it would.
I'm giving room for feeling like warmed over leftovers, warmed over more than three times and served up for dinner. I'm so tired I'm not even hungry.
Yeah, this is great. Perfectly normal. All that.
no subject
Fred Phelps is mentally ill in some way, and that was traumatic for his family...I probably would have guessed that without having to know the full story.
And, Europeans are slloooowwwwwwlyyyyy starting to realize that there is not, actually a skyfather. As a Christian, I never believed in a skyfather. And then they announce this lack of a skyfather as if it is a RADICAL IDEA.
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I was really hesitant about the neti pot and it took me several tries before I was finally sort of okay with it, but now I am a staunch supporter of neti usage.
Yeah, being a parent when sick is tricky because you don't get to call in sick to motherhood. Taking that day for yourself was probably very wise.
And off topic on this entry, but related to a previous one where I was probably commenting too much, my agency had its annual big meeting this week that all us contract social workers absolutely must attend and the topic this year was transracial adoption. When we left, we got a packet of articles, including one about that girl Katie you were mentioning.
But also earlier in the week, we took my daughter to the doctor's and while we were waiting around, we flipped through a magazine to try to entertain her. The magazine was Wondertime, which I had not previously heard of, and there was a great article in there about transracial parenting. One story was from the point of view of an African American mom with a biracial biological son who looked very white, and all the looks and questions and offers for nanny jobs she got because people assumed he wasn't hers. The other story was from the point of view of a white father who adopted a bi-racial child. It was good enough that I stole the magazine so I could really read it more closely without a two-year-old turning the pages on me.
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I hope you feel better soon.
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Neti Pot: We have a saline thingy too, but it's a cold but powerful mister thing; agh, what a description. I'd choke on a Neti Pot, but the 'snorter' (Mere's name, I think, originally) works very well.
"I got a day. I need more days like it, and I won't get them.": Too true. One of the parts of parenthood that goes beyond the glow is that damn, it's hard work and a lot of attention to details for the kid - and anticipation that the kid will do Stupid and you have to watch for Stupid and prevent it the best way that you can. Foolish and Hazardous also play in that game with Stupid, and your best bet is always to work on how the kid will look out for themselves.
This migrates. It starts with making sure they get to sleep on time, and once they learn the basics, then you go on to Remembering Homework, Doing Chores, and Coming Home When They're Supposed To. Bigger and better, right up to Don't Buy That Car.
The point of there being two parents is to spell each other - ah, the art of tag-team parenting.
Good daycare people know more than thee or me as to how to handle and work with Small Critters. They do it all the time, we just freelance for a couple of years. Ditto teachers. I don't have quite the skill set to be the perfect kid teacher.
The Chinese takes work, and I dunno - how much of a Taiwanese dialect does he have? *That* part would daunt me. I looked over Cantonese in regard to Mere, and decided, nope, I'll try for straight Beijinger Mandarin, no chaser, because if she's going to deal (or me either) with Chinese, that's the 'standard' used, and everything else is looked at as Hooterville Speak.
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He's been ordering everyone (including us) in language reserved for ordering criminals to 'drop it' (LOUDLY...and I do mean everyone - daycare workers, other kids...everyone) and shooting people he's not pleased with. I'm sure I'd find it cute on many other days, today I'm mortified (and LIVID). In the car this morning, it was made abundantly clear in the strongest language I have (use your imagination) that shooting ME is unacceptable at any time. Shooting PEOPLE is never okay, even as a joke.
*facepalms* I am so angry and frustrated that I can't explain. I. Can't. Tell. Him. WHY. He just knows I hate it and it's clear it baffles him as well.
For him, it's less than two months. For me, it seems like forever.
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