Grocery Shopping (aka - To Hell and Back!)

Do you know what is most exhausting about being a parent?  Nope, it's not the sleepless nights when babies are first born.  Nope, it's not dealing with the teething of an incredibly cranky infant.  Nope, it's not even working a full-time job and then coming home to care for your two children (and a husband).  It's grocery shopping.

Grocery shopping used to be a pleasure in my life.  Danny and I used to go and roam the aisles, imagining all sorts of delicious dishes we could make.  Now, by the end of our grocery shopping trips, it feels like someone has dragged us over the coals and we leave the store whimpering, and limping, and envisioning a tall, tall, tall, glass of some sort of alcoholic beverage... or if we're really desperate, anti-freeze would do.

Here's what an average trip to the grocery store looks like for us:

"Sammy, got the list?" 

"Yup, got it right here!"

"Ready to go?"

"Hold on, I have to pack up half the kitchen-full of snacks, because the bottomless pits we call children will think they are little, unfed, orphan children after being without food for any longer than 10 minutes."

So we load the kids into the car, and Gracie cries "Mommy, turn on my song!  No, not that one, the one about the duckies going quack, quack, quack.  Now sing Mommy.  SING!!"

We arrive at the grocery store after eight rounds of "Five Little Ducks."  I grab one child, Danny grabs the other and into the store we go.  So far, so good.  We put Ella in the cart, and Gracie, in her ever-growing independent way, says "Mommy, I will walk."  Fruits and veggies are first.  Fruits and veggies are also my girls' favourite snacks.  Which means they realize it's been a whole 10 minutes since they've eaten.  Gracie is getting old enough to understand that the grocery store is not a sampling plate, and we cannot just eat whatever we want.  Ella does not understand this.  In fact, even if Ella did understand it, I'm pretty sure she wouldn't give a shit.  That's just the way her personality is developing (oh yes, she's going to be fun!).  So Ella starts pointing and screeching "Dat!!  Dat!!! Daaaaaaaat!  DAAAAAAAAAAATT"   I pull out her snack (cause I'm always prepared!) and hand her a bag of cheerios.  She's happy, and quiet.  All is well. 

Meanwhile, Gracie is talking a mile a minute.  "What's that Mommy?  A turnip?  In my book the piggies eat the turnips and they're a special treat.  What's that Mommy?  Mommy?  Mommy!!!!  What's that?  I like plums.  Mommy.  Mommy!!!   I like plums. I like plums.  Mommy?  MOMMY!  One time at Nancy's, I had a plum.  And I shared it.  Cause we share.  That's good, right Mommy?  Mommy?  Daddy!  Mommy's not listening to me."

I'm probably standing over the bananas by now, trying to pick the perfect bunch, and I hear a screeching coming from the cart.  Ella has dumped her bag of cheerios all over the floor.  I feed my children lots of food off the floor, but not the grocery store floors.  That's dirty.  So now she's pissed.  But it's okay, cause I have backup.  I search the bag for the granola bar I brought... it's not there.  Where is the granola bar?  Oh, for the love of God, where is the granola bar?!?!  I forgot the granola bar.  Ella is pisssssssed! 

What is that I hear? "Mommy, mommy, mommy, mommy, mommy, mommy!!!"  "Yes, Gracie!  What do you want?" "Can we go see the lobsters, I want to say hi!"  So off to the lobsters we go.  Gracie can't see them from the ground, so now she wants up in the cart.  She gets in, and sees the raspberries I've hidden beneath the lettuce.  "Raspberries! Mommy, I love raspberries!  Can I have some?"  She's waving them in the air, and now Ella sees them.  Ella loves raspberries too.  And now she wants them!  Quick, distraction!  "Look at the lobsters!!"

We're finally out of the fruits and veggies section, and onto the meats.  We pick up what we need, and Gracie keeps on talking.  "What's that mommy?  Ribs?  What's ribs?  That's ribs?  But what is it?  What's that?  Why is it red?  I like red.  At home in my bedroom I have a red cat.  And there's red on Ella's shirt.  What colour is this mommy?  Green?  I don't like green.  I do like green.  No, I don't like green.  I like pink.  And purple.  Purple is my favourite.  Mommy?  Daddy!  Mommy's not listening to me! I want out of the cart." 

So she gets out.  She stands in the middle of the aisle, and I have to tell her 400 times to move out of the way before she gets run over by a cart.  She also touches things.  Every thing.  We have a discusion about how we keep our hands to ourselves or we have to get in the cart.  When I stand up Ella is going "Mmmm, mmmm, mmmm."  Oh fantastic, she's discovered that when nobody is watching her, she can slip grapes through the holes in the bag and eat them without being discovered.  Except that Ella is the loudest, most appreciative eater ever, and her ever-loud "Mmmm, mmmmm, mmmmm"s give her away.  I take away the grapes.  Ella is pisssssssed!  Gracie comes over with two boxes of cookies.  "I'll get these mommy, they're a special treat."  I take away the cookies.  Gracie is pissssssed!

We're only half-way through the aisles, but all I can think about is checking out.  Forget the rest of the food, we'll make it by on tuna fish and grapes!

We check out, get the groceries to the car, get the girls loaded in, and head for home.  Once we get there, Danny and I each put a child under one arm, and stack 10 bags on the other.  We make it into the house.  Finally. 

"What's for supper?" Danny asks.  "Mommy, I'm hungry!" Gracie says.  "Daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat!!!"  Ella screams. 

We just spent $200.00 on groceries.  But I'm exhausted and ready to just lay on the kitchen floor and let the kids chew on my legs for their dinner.  So, I use the obvious response.  "Let's go out for supper."

The Loneliness of Motherhood

When it comes to meeting new people, being a mother has the ability to open many new doors!  Even before baby is born, there's pre-natal group, where you are introduced to many other mommies and daddies who are at the same point in their lives as you are... near parenthood.  Afterwards, if you have the pleasure of enjoying your maternity leave, there are baby groups, library groups, swim groups, tumble tots, and lots of other places to run into the same people again and again.  You can form a bond with these people, since you have kids the same age, doing the same things, and growing up at the same time.  If you're lucky enough, your current friends are having babies at the same time you are... and then you have a constant partner in the parenting world.

Here's the problem with the above scenarios:  1) You may not have current friends with babies, which leads me to 2) If you don't have a friend to tag along with you, you have to be outgoing enough to tackle those baby groups all on your own and actually *shudder* talk to strangers.  Something many people may not be comfortable with.  Then there's 3) If you're a working mom, once you go back to work, none of these groups are an option for you because they take place during the day.

For the most part, I fall into categories 1, 2, and 3 above.  I do have a friend who has a baby the same age as Ella.  You know how many times we went to Baby Group together?  Zero.  Because my baby was on a different sleep schedule than hers was, and when babies are young, you don't wake those buggers up for nothing... not even for the possibility that mama might make some adult friends!!

Also, although I can be fairly outgoing, I can be very socially awkward when it comes to meeting new people... especially if those people already know other people.  It's one thing to pick out the other loner in a group and introduce myself.  But I just can't seem to insert myself into a group of people who are already chitter chattering away with each other.  These people are the ones who obviously already have other mothering friends, and they all came together.  Damn them.

And of course, I am a working mother.  I leave my house at 6:55 a.m., and return after 5 p.m.  And since the average age of the ladies I work with is 50+, work is not an ideal environment for me to make new parenting friends.

So you see, being a mother can be a very lonely thing.  The thing about parenthood is that it's not an ideal environment for either making, or maintaining friendships.  If you are lucky enough to be blessed with lots of friends before entering parenthood, I seriously doubt you will come out of it with as many friends.  You start to realize that you and some of your friends don't have as much in common as you originally thought.  You end up gravitating towards the ones who you have more things in common with.  With the same parenting values.  Of course, being a parent also means you are very, very busy.  And your parent friends are very, very busy.  Which means getting together can take weeks of planning and rescheduling.  Danny and I have 2 or 3 very close friends (and friend-couples), and we don't see them nearly as much as we would like to. 

I remember once going to the park when Gracie was about 6 months old.  There was another couple there with their daughter, about 3 weeks older than Gracie.  We chatted around the swingset, and they seemed awesome!  At the time, I was so desperate for a connection with people "like us" that I told Danny I wanted to come back to the swing set at the same time the next day, and the day after that, and the day after that, just to see if they were there.  Maybe they felt the same conncetion, and were thinking the same thing!  Then we'd be bestest best friends forever.  It was pathetic, and I sounded a little like a stalker!

Making new friends is hard... it's like dating.  You have to make a good first impression, hint around that you're interested, see if they feel the same way, and hopefully, exchange numbers or agree to run into each other again.  Because when you become parents, you want to start socializing with some of your own kind.  The ones who truly understand the *ahem* joys of infants and child rearing.  Of course, we still have our truest oldest friends (some of whom who are childless), who stick with us through everything and anything, and I wouldn't trade them for anything in the world!

So if you're a mommy struggling to make new connections, I feel your pain!  If you're a confident mama, and you notice one of my kind, standing off to the side, staring at you intently, making akward conversation, or looking like maybe we're a little desperate for a friend, then please... say hello!  We mamas need to stick together!!

Unexpected Craziness... and return of The Grunt!

Wow!  It's been over two weeks since I've been able to sit down and write.  Who woulda thunk it, my life is crazy sometimes I guess!

All of the craziness started about two weeks ago when I unexpectedly got ill.  I woke up a couple of Saturdays ago with a sore throat.  By Sunday, I had hardly any voice (yay, for everybody around me).  Monday morning I woke up feeling like garbage.  Not just regular garbage, but smelly, dirty, old garbage that's been left at the side of the road for 2 weeks that the crows have picked through.  I went to work, of course.  I'm stupid like that sometimes!  However, I knew I wasn't going to make it through the day, and called ahead to tell my boss to consider me out sick.  I had some stuff to get off my desk, and then I was heading home.  I arrived at work at 7:40, and was on my way home by 10:30.  That was the last I saw of work that week!

I called my doctor before I left the office to see about getting an appointment.  Not for the massive cold and cough that had suddenly appeared out of nowhere, but because my ribs were still hurting so badly that I hadn't slept through the night in about 5 weeks.  And of course, the cough was only making it worse.  I got an appointment to see a nurse practioner the next afternoon.  When I got home from work, I went to bed.  And I pretty much stayed there for 3 days.

I went to my doctor's appointment on Tuesday, where the nurse was concerned about pneumonia and a stress fracture of my ribs.  I had some chest x-rays done that afternoon, was given an inhaler to stop the cough, and went back home to bed, with a prescription for pain killers and muscle relaxers.  Danny's family arrived that afternoon and although I would come out of the room for meals, I didn't really see them until Thursday.  I stayed fairly well medicated, and by Thursday morning, I felt like a different person.  I could breathe again, the cough was gone, and the ribs finally started to feel better.  On Friday, I actually ventured to Digby with everyone, and we took Gracie along for the ride.  She had a fantastic day with her nan and pop, and loved that all the attention was on her! 

After Nan and Pop headed home, we tried to get back into a routine.  We hadn't really settled in since Danny had arrived home, and it was taking some getting used to.  The weather was also fantastic, so we tried to get outdoors with the girls.  I ventured back onto a bicycle, after not having been on one for a very, very long time.  I have to say, it was kinda terrifying!  But I'm now an old pro, and we hope to get out with the girls (who enjoy the view from the seats on the backs of our bikes!) qutie frequently.  We made it to the zoo a couple of times, and we even had supper at Halls Harbour... a favourite of mine, but a place we hadn't been to in years!

The girls are growing up super fast these days.  Gracie often tells me how she's "all growed up" and occassionaly asks when we're going to put another baby in my belly (the answer to that, by the way, is not anytime soon!).  She has started showing her first signs of jealousy toward Ella, but I think it's because Ella is also starting to show her own little personality.  That personality is bad, bad, bad.  She's going to be a trouble maker, I can tell.  She's got a little bugger of an attitude, different than Gracie's.  Gracie's was just rebellion, Ella's resembles the devil's.  The grunt has returned (in case you don't remember my hate for the grunt, read about it here) in Ella, and she also likes to express her displeasure for anything by screaming.  The screaming is a new thing, since we didn't experience it with Gracie, and I think I would take the grunt any day!  Also, the grunt in Ella has started about 4 months earlier than Gracie. Lord help us!!

Danny and I went out Saturday night on a "date."  We ended up wandering around Walmart for close to an hour.  We're cool like that!  We had a nice chat about the things we want to accomplish in the near future, and we're very determined to tame the chaos that has been our lives the last few weeks.  Of course, I'm sure the girls have different plans for that, because it never fails to amaze me how quickly things change when kids are involved!  Here's hoping the craziness of our lives has died down for a while, and I can get back to writing about how amazing and completely insane my little family is!  And with Ella developing her own little attitude, with Gracie learning new things every day, and with Mama and Daddy trying to manage it all, I'm sure the focus will be on the insanity! :)

When the Husband Comes Home...

We made it through the seven weeks!  It wasn't easy at times, but we made it!  The girls are still alive and in one piece, the house is still standing (and is actually in better condition... more on that in another blog later on), nobody starved to death, and I have yet to check myself into the nut house for people gone crazy!

Danny arrived home last Friday around suppertime.  While he was gone, we had an every-other-Friday-pizza-night tradition, so when I told Gracie the pizza man was coming soon, she wanted to wait outside for him.  It was a beautiful evening so out we went.  Gracie picked flowers and made rock piles and Ella played in the dirt and tried to eat stones.  Danny called to tell me he had just picked up the pizza and would be pulling in shortly.  When I saw the car turn onto our road, I said "here comes the pizza man, Gracie!"  She got all excited until she saw the car... then she just stared at it, and sort of whimpered. I don't think she quite knew what to think since it was supposed to be the pizza man.  She started saying something (which I couldn't make out) and when Danny got out of the car, she didn't know what to do.  She thought about crying, but then I said "Who's that?!?" and Danny took off his sunglasses and hat. 

Here's a video of the homecoming... I had to link to my Facebook page, since Blogger wouldn't let me upload the darn thing!  As you can see, Gracie was quite excited to see her daddy, and even Ella threw a smile his way for the occasion.  And obviously, Gracie was terribly impressed with Daddy's new shoes!

Things got back to normal pretty quickly at our house.  Gracie had lots of hugs and kisses for her dad, and he had to be the one to read her stories at bedtime for a few nights.  She talked a mile a minute, telling him all the things he had missed, and pointing out all the new things in our house:  "Daddy, come here.  Look at this ladybug on the window!" "Daddy, come  here.  Look at my new trump-a-leen.  Nanny and Grampy bought it for me."  "Daddy, look! Darrell painted my walls.  Not Mommy!" (Thanks for ratting me out, kid!)

The next morning we went to the grocery store, and then the zoo.  We went to the park that evening, and Gracie thought she was in heaven.  It was a spectacular weekend for the girls with their daddy home!  And the best part... the girls had a bath that first night, and Mommy sat on the floor while Daddy did alllll the work!!  Of course, it took a while for Gracie to realize that Daddy was home, since the whole weekend I heard "Mom? Mommy!? Mommy? Mommy!  Mom?? Mommy!?"  And when I would point out that Daddy was home, she would smile, give him kisses, then proceed to finish her demand of me.  Danny just laughed.  I said "You could take the reins here, you know!" but I think he was quite enjoying being the centre of attention without having to deal with toddler requests and demands!

Danny's been home a week now, and I must say it's nice to have him home again!  Instead of going to bed at 8:00, I stay up and talk to a real-life person!  When I realize at 7:30 p.m. that we're out of milk, I don't have to call my sister to save the day!  When the kids are acting particularly heinous, I can just laugh and say "it's sooooooo your turn to deal with it!"  Bathtimes are done with a partner, meal times are tackled together, and we're all just plain old happier!

Danny found out on his drive home from Ontario that he's been switched to a day job.  Although it wasn't a position he expected (or even wanted, to be truthful) the benefits of having him home every evening and on weekends with us makes me smile.  He'll be working during the day, which means he can sometimes pick the girls up from daycare and I don't have to drive like a bat out of hell to get home by 4:30 every day.  He'll be there to entertain the girls through witching hour, so I can get supper made without too many tantrums and dramatics.  He'll be home on the weekends, which means more zoo time, park time, and family time.  It also means he gets holidays with us.  The other thing it means is that the girls don't have to go four days in a row without seeing him!  It also means that on weekends, he can get up with us since he doesn't have to sleep off his 11-11 shift from the night before!  Yes!!!!

So here we are, back to our normal, crazy, lives.  Hopefully the sheer exhaustion of the past 7 weeks will fade shortly, and I can get back to posting about the craziness that is the Ford Family!!

Accepting the Happy...

This is a post I've been struggling to write for a while.  It's been one that I've questioned sharing, and have started and erased numerous occasions.  I don't have legions of fans reading my blog, but I still feel as though, to not write this one would be dishonest to those of you who do follow along with my crazy little life.  I said I would share the ups and the downs... so here it goes.

During the last few months I've found myself fighting a battle within myself... it's very difficult to explain.  In pretty much all respects, I have a perfect life.  I have two beautiful girls, a loving husband, a fulfilling career.  And yet, I found myself not really enjoying any of it.  I was happy... and then again, I wasn't.  I felt kind of... empty.  Here I had two beautiful girls, doing amazing things every day and I would smile at them, and laugh, and cheer them on, but it was only because I knew that's what I was supposed to do.  My smile didn't quite reach my insides.

Sometimes I would find myself just staring out the window, not thinking of anything at all... just staring.  Other times I would find myself feeling so "blah."  I didn't have any energy, any get-up-and-go.  I couldn't bring myself to do anything more than the necessities.  I would get through the day, but as soon as the girls were in bed, I would go to bed too, or collapse on the couch and not do anything.  If Danny was working, I didn't bother to eat in the evenings.  If I did tackle things, like laundry or housework, it was all so mechanical.  I knew it had to be done, so I would do it.

I found myself getting angry and frustrated over nothing.  And then just as quickly, those emotions would change back to "oh, who cares."  I felt like something was wrong, but I couldn't pinpoint it.  For a while, I questioned whether I was depressed.  But I wasn't sad.   I just wasn't... happy.

I was really frustrated about feeling this way.  Sometimes I would just collapse against Danny and ask him, "what's wrong with me?" while he hugged me.  How could I feel like this when I had so much going right in my life?  I had so much to be happy about... and yet, for reasons I couldn't explain, I just wasn't.  

And then one day, during my lunch break at work, I came across this article in Women's Health magazine.  It was about apathy.  I had heard the word apathy before, but didn't really know what it means.  It's defined as "a state of indifference, or the suppression of emotions such as concern, excitement, motivation, and passion."

The article talked about how apathy is becoming more and more common, especially in the lives of women. It talked about apathy being a coping mechanism for when women are overwhelmed.  "Any woman can be become apathetic provided the right set of circumstances.  And those circumstances are piling up as women strive to look sharp and nurture others while juggling challenging careers, difficult relationships, and hectic households." It talked about using apathy as a way to protect one's self from failure.  If you don't care, then it wont matter.

Reading the article was like a wake-up for me... it was the answer that I was looking for.  There wasn't anything wrong with me.  I had just lost my passion, my excitement.  I was stressed about things that were beyond my control.  I had just gone back to work, I was juggling a hectic household, I was involved with volunteer projects that were totally draining, and I was just dealing with it the only way I knew how... by deciding I didn't care.  The problem with deciding not to care, apparently, is that it also ended up affecting things I wanted to care about.  My family, my husband.

Once I realized what was going on in my poor, overworked brain, I felt like a completely different person.  I started making a conscious effort to stop and enjoy things.  To not just see the girls playing together, but to watch them.  Once I started enjoying my family again, I found the stress about the other things just wasn't as stressful any longer.  I was still just as busy, but when I was frustrated about being busy then I said that, out loud.  I started taking care of myself, making sure to eat and work out when I could.  At work, I would do what I could during a day, and then forget about when I left the office.  I couldn't do anymore than I could do, and that's all there was to it.

It's amazing what the mind can do without us realizing it.  And it's even more amazing what the mind can do once you "put your mind to it."  I know it sounds cheesy, but once I decided to just "be happy" I found that I was.  Being happy can be a conscious decision.  We often rely on the things around us to make us happy, when really, it's as simple as just being happy.  Making that decision.  

These days, I'm feeling much better.  I feel that passion again for my kids.  I want to get down on the floor and play with them again.  I want to make their lunches, and pack their bags.  I want to hear Ella screeching and Gracie whining.   I watch the girls and I smile... not because I should, but because I want to!

My pre-Mama Life

Has anybody ever told you that being a mother is the most rewarding thing there is?  It's 100% true.  There is nothing more rewarding than seeing your baby take her first steps, or say her first words, or help her baby sister find the toy she wants.  But does that make me immune to nostalgia about the yester-years?  Before the days of poopy diapers, breastfeeding, and toddler tantrums?  Aw hell no!

There are certain benefits to being a non-mommy.  Clean shirts for instance.  I miss the days when I could walk out of the house without having to check for boogers or barf.  I really miss the days when my ultra-conservative boss would just say "Good morning, Samantha."  Since our last awkward "Uhh, you've got something on your shirt there." "Yeah, it's snot" conversation, my boss just says "Good morning" and stares at my shoulder.  At least he's polite enough not to point it out every time.  Although I'm sure he's thinking, "Boogers again?  Why can't she wear a clean shirt?  Who comes to work every morning with snot on their shirt?"  Believe me, I leave the house every morning with a clean shirt.  Somewhere between my house and the sitter's house, Ella manages to land a snot rocket on me.  She's crafty like that.

Another pre-motherhood phenomenon is going to the bathroom alone.  When they are babies, you take them with you to make sure they don't roll down the stairs when you're not there, when they are older, they demand that they join you.  I find myself sneaking off to the bathroom when Gracie is distracted just so I can go pee alone!  Sometimes she notices me and runs to cut me off.  She may be tiny, but that girl got speed!  When I first went back to work, I would find myself announcing to my coworkers "I'm going to the bathroom now" just to see if anybody wanted to join me.  Okay, that's not totally true, but it felt so wrong (and yet, so right) to go pee alllll by myself!

Poop.  Sure, everybody poops.  We all know it!  But until you're a parent, you live in this lovely world where you can pretend poop doesn't happen.  Once you're a parent, that's all out the window.  Now, I'm a butt-sniffer.  Ella was grunting... did she poop?  *sniff**sniff* Yup!  Time to change her!  The other day after a sniff check, I took her in to change her, was happy to see there was nothing up her back, and proceeded to pull her pants off.  Next thing I knew, there was poop smeared down her legs, and onto her socks.  And since Ella immediately pulls off her socks when being changed, it was now on her hands.  And my hands.  And an elbow.  And down the wall, since I threw a poopy sock at the laundry basket and it hit the wall, slid down, and landed on the floor.  Yeah, 2 years ago that experience would never have happened.  Now, I am an expert at pinning Ella's hands with my non-poopy hand, getting her cleaned up before she can touch anything else, and get her into a clean diaper, all without throwing up at the thought that I still have poop on one elbow and some knuckles.  It gets better after they're potty trained, but not by much.  Now I get "Mooooooom!  I pooped, come wipe my bum!" and then once I enter the washroom, I have to comment on how big, green, pretty, long, or smelly it is.  No comment at all just isn't acceptable to a two-year old.  I mean, come on.  She just pooped after all!!

A clean house.  Damn, don't I miss that!  Not that my house was ever really spotless.  But the most I usually had to do was the dishes, and scrub the floors every now and then.  Then I had kids.  Now, no matter how clean my house is, it never looks clean.  It's hard for it to look clean when I have diaper bags stacked on the floor, a jolly jumper hanging from the doorframe, an exersaucer in the hallway, 2.5 million children's books stacked in the corner, and toys all over the freaking place.  We don't have that many toys for the girls because we spend a lot of time on the go, or playing outside.  But the few that we do have, inevitably, are in the middle of the floor.  Even though I just put them away two minutes ago.  Gracie has to clean her toys up before she goes to bed.  So between 7:30 p.m. and 7:30 a.m., the toys are usually put away.  Not to mention the cheerios.  Oh my God, the cheerios.  Now that Ella is eating the snack food choice of all infants, they are freaking everywhere!  They stick to her pants and her shirt and her hands, so they get transferred from room to room where they drop onto the floor.  Or she throws them off the exersaucer and they land on the couch cushions, under the diaper bags, or behind the toys.  They are everywhere!!  Not to mention that Gracie now gets her own snacks.  The other day I found a bowl with some banana pieces (I think) under a couch cushion.   They had been there awhile.  I have also found milk glasses behind the bookcase, and in the cupboard under the sink.  No house is truly clean with a child in it.  And most of the time, we don't realize how disgusting things are until we find a month-old piece of peanut butter toast behind a chair.

One of the things I miss the most (and the least) about my pre-mama life is the conversations.  It used to be about dreams for the future, where we see ourselves in 5 years, love, and all sorts of uplifting and hopeful stuff.  Well, we're here, five years later and the conversations have changed dramatically.  Sure, we still talk about our dreams ("Danny, my parents are coming down in 13.25 days, I can't wait to let somebody else cook and clean for a while") but mostly, our conversations are about poop, bodily functions, what the girls have gotten into, and how not to totally fuck up their lives.

If you're a parent, you've probably said most of these.  If you're not a parent, you're probably wondering why in the world Gracie thinks there are batteries in my bum.  I can't explain that one... have a couple of kids for yourself, and you'll understand!

Oh my God Danny, come look at this poop!

Please stop trying to wipe my bum while I'm sitting on the toilet.

No, Gracie, Ella is not a little shithead like you.

Gracie, you drink out of a cup now, nipples are for Ella.

Gracie, we don't say "fuck."  Or "shit."

Don't worry, I wont flush it until you see it!

Danny, come quick I need backup!  She has poop behind her ears!

Gracie, it's "Oh my goodness," not "holy shit."

Thank you, you're very sweet, but I don't need you to hold my hand while I'm pooping.

Yes, Mom, you were right.

Yes that's the cat's bum, no you cannot poke it.

Please remember, when we're out in public, you have to keep your pants on!

Gracie there are no batteries in my bum, please get your hands out of my pants!

Sure Danny, let's have another baby!

Pain, Pain, Go Away...

Until a few days ago, I had never heard of intercostal muscles.  And now I am very familiar with them. I've been fighting off this really annoying cold for weeks now.  Nothing too terribly serious... a head cold one day, a sinus cold the next, a stomach bug, then back to a head cold.  But consistent with this weeks-long illness has been a nagging, hacking cough.

On Friday when I coughed, my ribs hurt.  Not too terribly.  In fact, when I was at work coughing, I would hold on to my ribs, and then sort of laugh through my cough... "tee hee hee, wow, that hurts."  By the afternoon, I wasn't giggling anymore and by the evening I had myself at outpatients.  By that time, coughing was extremely painful and I couldn't take a deep breath.  In order to cough, I had to double myself over and brace my rib cage.  I got triaged by a nurse who ordered chest x-rays and asked me to rate the pain out of 10.  When I was coughing, it was a 7.  When I wasn't, it was around a 3.  Three hours later, when I finally got in to see the doctor, it was a  9 when coughing and a 6 the rest of the time.  I couldn't move without cringing! I couldn't lift my right arm, I couldn't blow my nose or sniffle, I couldn't sit still, and I sure as hell didn't want to cough!

The chest x-rays were clear.  No pneumonia, no bronchitis.  But I was diagnosed with a chronic cough, which caused "severe intercostal muscle sprain."  Basically, the muscles that surrounded my rib cage were either strained, sprained, or torn, from the prolonged coughing.  She prescribed me narcotic pain medication which I was to take two of, every four hours.  She also told me that the only way I was going to heal the muscles was to rest.  She said to take the next 3-4 days and just stay in bed or find a comfortable position on the couch and stay there.  Perfect!  Without a husband to watch the germ magnets who gave me the original cold in the first place, I couldn't (a) take the painkillers every 4 hours as needed, or (b) stay in bed.  She also warned me that the cough would probably linger for another 6-9 weeks, and if I didn't get healed up and rest, my ribs were only going to feel worse.  I headed home, and although she said to me "Here's your prescription, you'll be able to have some relief tonight" I don't think she realized it was 9:30 and the pharmacy was closed.  

Friday night was not a good night.  I tossed and turned (very slowly, cause it hurt!) all night.  When morning finally came, my little angels actually slept in (till 7:15 and 7:30) so I got to stay in bed a little longer than normal.  Then it was business as usual.  The girls had to be fed and dressed, and then I had to get to the pharmacy and the grocery store.   Throughout the day, the pain got worse and worse.  If I was in public when I had to cough, I had to crouch down in the middle of the aisle and hold my ribs as still as possible or else I would be in agony.  I had one nice gentleman hear me screech in pain while I was reaching for something on a top shelf, and ask me if I needed some help.  Thanks guy, Gracie has crackers to eat because of you! :)

That afternoon Gracie had swim lessons.  Her final class, so I couldn't miss it.  Off we went, and I got into the pool.  For some reason, I was thinking, "Aww, pool.  Therapeutic."  Nope!  What I should have been thinking was "Awww, pool.  Crushing pressure on my ribcage."  It's a good thing it was "play day" and I could stay out of the chest-deep water.

Somehow, I made it through the afternoon, supper, and the girls' bedtime.  I'm not going to lie.  Around 4:00, I was in so much pain, I had a good idea what drug addicts feel like.  I was literally counting down the minutes until the girls went to bed and I could take my pills.  I would stare at the bottle, then the clock, then the bottle, then the clock.  The girls were both in bed by 7:00 and at 7:01 I took two of the pills, as directed.  I decided to settle in for the evening, so I set up the TV to watch a Gilmore Girls marathon, and got into my comfiest pajamas.  I waited, and waited, and waited for the pain to start easing.  7:30, nothing.  8:30, nothing.  9:00, nothing!  Apparently the pain was too far gone to be helped by two measly little pain pills.  So I cried.  I had waited all day for "sweet relief" of this pain, and it wasn't going to happen.  I stopped crying pretty quickly, cause that hurt like a bugger!  At 10:00, I couldn't wait any longer and took two more.  By about midnight I started to get sleepy, and around 1:00 a.m., the pain was gone enough to get some sleep.  I had the worst sleep I have ever had in my life, and I've gone through two pregnancies and two newborn stages.  Every time I moved, or breathed for that matter, I had a searing, stabbing, burning pain through my side.

I woke up this morning and decided to take a friend's advice.  I was going to stay on top of the pain today, gosh darn it.  Although a drugged parent is no good to anybody, neither is a parent who cannot function due to pain.  So I took one pill every 4-6 hours and managed to get through the day much better.  I still hurt like hell when I had to cough, sneeze, blow my nose, pick up a child, or reach for something.  But it was definitely more tolerable.  We had supper at friends' place tonight and they waited on us hand and foot, God love em!  

I've already called work and told them I wont be in tomorrow, or possibly the next day.  I fully intend to take the doctor's original advice tomorrow.  I'll be dropping the girls off at daycare first thing in the morning, setting up camp in front of the TV downstairs, and doing nothing but resting all day long.  I'm hoping that'll be the break my body needs to heal up a little so I can get back to my normal life.

Of course Murphy's Law says that I, who never gets sick, was doomed to be ill the entire time Danny was away and wasn't able to help out.  He's home in three weeks, so I fully expect to be back to top-notch in 2 weeks and 6 days!  :)