Well, my 11 year old's class had a field trip to San Francisco and stayed on the Balculutha Thursday night. I took two days off of work to drive down and stay in a hotel room with some friends, while C worked on the ship and other parents were "tall sailors". I did not volunteer to be a tall sailor, I don't like being cold that much.
Thursday we were to be at school at 8 am. My children couldn't remember any of their stuff, so we were late! My truck was the hauling vehicle for all of the kids' stuff. We loaded it up and were out of the parking lot by 8:30. It was raining and miserable all the way down to SF. We made it in about 3 hours, the directions were wrong, they said to stay to the left, but then you had to take the right hand exit...fortunately, I know SF well enough, that we took the scenic route, and it only took us about 10 extra minutes.
We got the kids unloaded and onto the Eureka to get ready for their big day/night on the boat, and we headed off to park our cars and check into the hotel. My truck wouldn't fit into the parking garage. So, I parked on the street to wait for the others to park then we were going to check into our hotel, and begin our fun afternoon. The red battery light turned on in the truck. I called Erich and asked him about it. He said bad words, then said that the alternator was going out and I had to turn it off right now! I was parked in a passenger loading zone waiting for my friend to park her car. I tore off to the hotel and parked there, checked into the hotel, and headed back to the parking garage to meet my friends. I was stressed out beyond words, Erich was going to take a half day off and drive to SF to replace the alternator in the truck then drive back home. I made arrangements for the kids back in Chico, and tried to not stress out too badly.
Let me take you on a side road for a minute. EVERY CAR WE HAVE EVER OWNED HAS BROKEN DOWN ON ME!!! I was feeling a bit sorry for myself and very concerned that Erich would be majorly pissed off about having to come fix the truck.
He made it to SF by 5:30 that evening. Replaced the alternator in 1/2 hour, and headed back to Chico at 6 pm. He was the hero. He does have his good qualities (I'm trying). Then the fun began.
We walked all over the Wharf and went to a cute Irish pub for dinner and some beer. We drank too much and had a lot of fun. We walked back to the hotel, and met some Australian men, who were rather funny, and tried to follow us to our room, we got in trouble from security for making too much noise. All in all, we had a really good time.
Friday, we picked the sleepy, wet, starving sailors up and headed to In -n- Out and then back to home sweet home. C and I got home at about 4:15. He wanted a bath, so I stuck him in the tub, left T with him, and ran out to pick up M. When I got home at about 4:45, C was sitting on the chair, practically drooling on his own lap, exhausted. I took him to bed.
Erich and I had tickets to a benefit dinner for Larry Juanarena, a local restraunt owner who is terminally ill, so I had to hurry up and get ready, Erich came home and we rushed out for that.
Long story short, C slept for 15 hours! I don't think I have ever seen that child sleep that many hours consecutively ever! He woke up and seemed quite refreshed.
This goes to show, that my life can never be all that easy. It always has to have a monkey wrench thrown in.
Sunday, February 24, 2008
Saturday, February 9, 2008
Hit me With Another Round of Antibiotics!
Mid January the flu hit my house. Our 7 year old was hit first and hard. He was throwing up and had a fever of 103.7. He was sick sick sick for four days. Finally, the fever broke and he seemed to feel better. He went back to school Monday, kicking, fighting and screaming all of the way. He sat in the office for thirty minutes, until one of the aides convinced him to go to class. Then Tuesday, he sat in the office (after throwing fits) for 1 hour until the principal got there. Then, Wednesday, he refused to leave the parking lot. I decided to walk him to class, after he landed a couple good swift kicks to my left shin, my good friend Trish grabbed him, and I took the babies and the two Funny Frogs and went to my office. After she held onto him for about a half an hour he went to class. Repeat performance on Thursday. We tried bribes, threats the works. Nothing seemed to work. Finally, Thursday he told us that a boy he sits next to was calling him stupid. We took care of that. Friday, he went reluctantly but without any major fights.
Begin the week again on Monday, again tears and screaming and kicking, I dragged him to class not once, not twice, not three times, but four times. He kept saying he had to go to the bathroom, and refusing to go back to class.
He was coughing almost uncontrollably, every time he moved. I decided to take him to the dr. Monday night. Sure enough, he had an ear infection and bronchitis again. Tuesday he was home from school, and started a round of antibiotics. Wednesday we had another hard day. But, then Thursday, exactly 48 hours after beginning antibiotics, he miraculously was cured of his tantrum throwing ways.
So, in case any body else wanted it, I got bad mom of the year award for the weeks of Jan 28 through Feb 7. I know I really wasn't being a bad mom, but it kinda makes ya feel bad when your baby has been feeling sick (even though he wasn't expressing those feelings with words) for about two weeks and I've been dragging a sick child to school. He wasn't feverish, just coughing. Sigh. I guess he needs something to talk about in therapy.
I don't know what I would have done without Trish though! She was a lifesaver. Becasue, she could step in and be calm, and not angry, no power struggles, just relief for me.
I came down with "The Cold" over this last weekend. I felt awful and spent the better part of two days in my bed. But, I am feeling much better now. Moms aren't supposed to be sick for too terribly long, ya know. Besides, who would drag me to work kicking and screaming? Trish?
Begin the week again on Monday, again tears and screaming and kicking, I dragged him to class not once, not twice, not three times, but four times. He kept saying he had to go to the bathroom, and refusing to go back to class.
He was coughing almost uncontrollably, every time he moved. I decided to take him to the dr. Monday night. Sure enough, he had an ear infection and bronchitis again. Tuesday he was home from school, and started a round of antibiotics. Wednesday we had another hard day. But, then Thursday, exactly 48 hours after beginning antibiotics, he miraculously was cured of his tantrum throwing ways.
So, in case any body else wanted it, I got bad mom of the year award for the weeks of Jan 28 through Feb 7. I know I really wasn't being a bad mom, but it kinda makes ya feel bad when your baby has been feeling sick (even though he wasn't expressing those feelings with words) for about two weeks and I've been dragging a sick child to school. He wasn't feverish, just coughing. Sigh. I guess he needs something to talk about in therapy.
I don't know what I would have done without Trish though! She was a lifesaver. Becasue, she could step in and be calm, and not angry, no power struggles, just relief for me.
I came down with "The Cold" over this last weekend. I felt awful and spent the better part of two days in my bed. But, I am feeling much better now. Moms aren't supposed to be sick for too terribly long, ya know. Besides, who would drag me to work kicking and screaming? Trish?
Tuesday, January 8, 2008
My Pants Don't Fit and Other Random Thoughts
After 3 months of a desk job, I can't seem to button my jeans. Well, I guess I can button them, they just don't button easily. I vowed to eat better, and walk everyday, and try to get healthier...but it started to rain...and wind...and storm...so, I decided to wait to walk, and I might as well eat...
This is the heartbreaker. My son T. Sunday night, he was trying to find what he was going to wear to school. He went into his room, and didn't come out for awhile, so I walked in to check on him. He was sitting dejectedly in the middle of the floor of his room. I asked him what was wrong, and he said, "Mom, I'm tired of being fat. I'm tired of being reminded by other people every day that I am fat. I know I'm overweight, why do people have to remind me?" Talk about breaking a mother's heart. I didn't really know what to say. I know (as most other mothers do) that he will grow into his bulk as he hits puberty. That's what his uncles did, he takes after them. But, I also know that those are empty meaningless words to a 13year old boy who feels fat. I told him that we could start to walk and eat right and that would help, but, he just had to wait until he started to grow. We went for a walk early Monday morning and had some really nice mom & son time. He told me about a day during break, when he went to the skate park with a friend and his dad. T was getting ready to drop into the bowl to skate, and some lady that was there, told him that he was too fat to skate it. I think I felt a little homicidal. I can't believe anyone would feel it's OK to say that to any other person. That takes guts.
I tend to be a bit of a Mama Bear. I get fiercely protective of my babies. I try to remain somewhat objective, in most cases. But, something like that just boils my blood.
On a different tangent, my daughter's friend is still without power. I talked to her dad, who is mightily ticked I might add, and he said that PG&E told him that they don't know when his power will be restored. They have lost all of the food in their refrigerator. All of it. A is staying with a friend for the night, so that she can dry her hair after she takes her shower. S & J are showering at the gym! This is insane. To say the least.
Well, homework is beckoning. Three boys with homework homework homework.
This is the heartbreaker. My son T. Sunday night, he was trying to find what he was going to wear to school. He went into his room, and didn't come out for awhile, so I walked in to check on him. He was sitting dejectedly in the middle of the floor of his room. I asked him what was wrong, and he said, "Mom, I'm tired of being fat. I'm tired of being reminded by other people every day that I am fat. I know I'm overweight, why do people have to remind me?" Talk about breaking a mother's heart. I didn't really know what to say. I know (as most other mothers do) that he will grow into his bulk as he hits puberty. That's what his uncles did, he takes after them. But, I also know that those are empty meaningless words to a 13year old boy who feels fat. I told him that we could start to walk and eat right and that would help, but, he just had to wait until he started to grow. We went for a walk early Monday morning and had some really nice mom & son time. He told me about a day during break, when he went to the skate park with a friend and his dad. T was getting ready to drop into the bowl to skate, and some lady that was there, told him that he was too fat to skate it. I think I felt a little homicidal. I can't believe anyone would feel it's OK to say that to any other person. That takes guts.
I tend to be a bit of a Mama Bear. I get fiercely protective of my babies. I try to remain somewhat objective, in most cases. But, something like that just boils my blood.
On a different tangent, my daughter's friend is still without power. I talked to her dad, who is mightily ticked I might add, and he said that PG&E told him that they don't know when his power will be restored. They have lost all of the food in their refrigerator. All of it. A is staying with a friend for the night, so that she can dry her hair after she takes her shower. S & J are showering at the gym! This is insane. To say the least.
Well, homework is beckoning. Three boys with homework homework homework.
Monday, December 31, 2007
Fifteen
My baby girl is 15 years old. I really can't believe that 15 years ago, I had a new baby girl in my arms. I reguarly brag about her and all of her accomplishments. So I won't go into all of the ways I think she's wonderful...too much...I really can't believe that I have a 15 year old. I really can't possibly be old enough to have a 15 year old.
The years have flown. I really can't believe that I thought she would be a baby forever and that I would never sleep again. She was a horrible sleeper. I was exhausted, sick and overwhelmed when I brought her home from the hospital on January 3, 1992. I didn't really know what I was going to do with her. I had babysat before, but, to be ultimately responsible for her! Wow.
Let me tell you her story...
I was 21 years old. I lived with my parents and worked for my parents, and I felt trapped and like I would live at home forever. Enter Erich. He rescued me. But, my parents hated him. I got pregnant. I hid my pregnancy for as long as I could. I was in denial. Erich and I decided to get married. We planned our wedding in 10 or 12 days. We got married, I was 7 months pregnant (and just starting to show...). I had not gone to the doctor throughout my pregnancy, because I was denying to myself even that I was pregnant. I went to my first appointment, and was promptly put on bedrest. I was dilated to 1 and 80% effaced. We made it through all of that.
December 28, 1992, I went to the doctor for my regular appointment, I was due January 11, and had a little bit longer to go. The dr. checked me and seemed rather concerned. Fourtunately Erich was with me at this particular appointment. The dr. told me that the baby was in a transverse breech position and due to the fact that I was small and didn't seem to have a whole lot of amniotic fluid, he was not willing to try to turn "him". I was dilated to 3 cm, and having relatively regular (though unfelt) contractions. I needed to schedule a C section ASAP, and go home, go to bed and not do anything until I could get into the hospital. If I had any felt contractions, or if my water broke, I was to go directly to the hospital. The C section was scheduled for December 30. We went home in shock. I did everything I was told.
December 30 I went to the hospital and started getting prepped for surgery. This included a sonogram. The sonogram gave us some very bad news. The sonogram showed that the baby was about 4 pounds. That it was probably a boy. It also indicated that my dates were wrong and I was not actually 38 weeks pregnant, I was about 28-32 weeks pregnant. I was dilated to 5 by now, and having very regular (though still unfelt) contractions, so there was no choice but to deliver the baby, fly him to Sacramento, and hope for the best.
We were terrified. We were young and overwhelmed.
At 12:34 pm, December 30, 1992, our "premature boy" was pulled from my belly, screaming HER head off and 6 lbs. 11 oz. She was absolutely beautiful. Her APGARs were outstanding, and she didn't need to be flown anywhere or have any treatments whatsoever due to being early. She had jaundice but that isn't uncommon. Erich named her (on his own, I might add) after his great grandmother and my mom. I didn't know what her name was or that she even had a name, until I was brought into recovery. Honestly, I didn't like it at first, but after a few days, I realized her name fit her perfectly.
We ended up in the hospital for a total of 5 days due to her jaundice and I got a strep B infection.
She was unplanned. But, oh, my she definitely was the highlight of my life. I never knew I could love anyone like I love her. She is amazing, and has been from the day she was born.
The years have flown. I really can't believe that I thought she would be a baby forever and that I would never sleep again. She was a horrible sleeper. I was exhausted, sick and overwhelmed when I brought her home from the hospital on January 3, 1992. I didn't really know what I was going to do with her. I had babysat before, but, to be ultimately responsible for her! Wow.
Let me tell you her story...
I was 21 years old. I lived with my parents and worked for my parents, and I felt trapped and like I would live at home forever. Enter Erich. He rescued me. But, my parents hated him. I got pregnant. I hid my pregnancy for as long as I could. I was in denial. Erich and I decided to get married. We planned our wedding in 10 or 12 days. We got married, I was 7 months pregnant (and just starting to show...). I had not gone to the doctor throughout my pregnancy, because I was denying to myself even that I was pregnant. I went to my first appointment, and was promptly put on bedrest. I was dilated to 1 and 80% effaced. We made it through all of that.
December 28, 1992, I went to the doctor for my regular appointment, I was due January 11, and had a little bit longer to go. The dr. checked me and seemed rather concerned. Fourtunately Erich was with me at this particular appointment. The dr. told me that the baby was in a transverse breech position and due to the fact that I was small and didn't seem to have a whole lot of amniotic fluid, he was not willing to try to turn "him". I was dilated to 3 cm, and having relatively regular (though unfelt) contractions. I needed to schedule a C section ASAP, and go home, go to bed and not do anything until I could get into the hospital. If I had any felt contractions, or if my water broke, I was to go directly to the hospital. The C section was scheduled for December 30. We went home in shock. I did everything I was told.
December 30 I went to the hospital and started getting prepped for surgery. This included a sonogram. The sonogram gave us some very bad news. The sonogram showed that the baby was about 4 pounds. That it was probably a boy. It also indicated that my dates were wrong and I was not actually 38 weeks pregnant, I was about 28-32 weeks pregnant. I was dilated to 5 by now, and having very regular (though still unfelt) contractions, so there was no choice but to deliver the baby, fly him to Sacramento, and hope for the best.
We were terrified. We were young and overwhelmed.
At 12:34 pm, December 30, 1992, our "premature boy" was pulled from my belly, screaming HER head off and 6 lbs. 11 oz. She was absolutely beautiful. Her APGARs were outstanding, and she didn't need to be flown anywhere or have any treatments whatsoever due to being early. She had jaundice but that isn't uncommon. Erich named her (on his own, I might add) after his great grandmother and my mom. I didn't know what her name was or that she even had a name, until I was brought into recovery. Honestly, I didn't like it at first, but after a few days, I realized her name fit her perfectly.
We ended up in the hospital for a total of 5 days due to her jaundice and I got a strep B infection.
She was unplanned. But, oh, my she definitely was the highlight of my life. I never knew I could love anyone like I love her. She is amazing, and has been from the day she was born.
Tuesday, December 25, 2007
Merry Christmas to all,
and to all an augmentin, amoxcycillin, hydromet cocktail. These are the drugs of choice in my household this Holly Jolly Season. My Christmas holiday began on Friday, December 21. I ran out to do the food shopping, which went surprisingly well. When I got home, the plan was to clean and make cookies, and spend an enjoyable afternoon home with my four lovely children. At around 2 pm, M started screaming hysterically, running around the room, holding his head and crying uncontrollably. After trying to calm him somewhat, I discovered that he had an earache. Which meant he probably had an ear infection, because he had been sick all week with "the cough" and a bit of a fever. I rushed him over to Prompt Care for some help. Really all I wanted was the magic ear drops that take away the pain. A prescription for amoxcycillin, albuterol, a breathing treatment, and two hours later, we were on our way home. He had a double ear infection and bronchitis. We were due to leave for my parents house the next day. They live in the mountains at about 4,000 feet elevation. So, that looked like it was out. I picked up C from his friend's house, and he appeared to have "the cough". He wasn't running a temperature or anything, yet, just had "the cough". Saturday, he woke up with a fever and "the cough" which caused him to throw up three times before 10 am. So, back to Prompt Care. This time we left with a prescription for Prednisone (C has asthma), no antibiotics, and a pat on the back. We spent the next afternoon, and the following day in misery. C was so incredibly sick. He wasn't eating anything. He was coughing constantly, and throwing up from the coughing. The inhaler wasn't working, the prednisone wasn't helping. So, Christmas Eve day, I called Prompt Care and asked if I should bring him back in, his fever was higher, and he was not getting any better. They told me to wait three more days! I decided to visit Immediate Care with him. Get a second opinion. I knew my boy was very sick. There, we got a prescription for Augmentin, another albuterol inhaler, and hydromet which is a vicodin based cough syrup (as my little brood are all allergic to codeine). The doctor we saw actually listened to me and looked at C for more than 2 seconds, and told me that I was right, I had a very sick little boy, who definitely had bronchitis and was not getting any better.
Christmas Eve was spent at my in laws home with my sick boys. I had to bring along the drugs. C has to take his with food, and M has to take his three times a day. C and I left immediately after opening gifts to come home to some peace and quiet, and he needed to take the cough syrup so that hopefully, the poor guy could get a little bit of rest.
Fortunately, due to prevailing illness, the kids didn't get up at the crack of dawn. They slept in until 7 am. Actually, C and M would have slept longer but T couldn't contain his excitement, and woke us all.
Santa was good to all. R said she didn't expect to get everything she wanted and she did. I'm so very happy. I have the most amazing daughter. She collected pictures of her and her brothers, and she made a DVD for me with music and a photo montage. She is so wonderful. I cried those happy/sad tears. Happy, because I felt so loved, sad, because the years have so flown.
My boys all put thought into their gifts for me. I was touched beyond words. I am a lucky woman to have children who love me so.
Well, another dose of amoxcycillin is due. So, I have to go bribe M into taking it yet again. I think we promised him a dollar for each time he swallowed the nasty stuff, and he's up to $11 now. (I know bribery is bad, but he needed to take the medicine and I was willing to offer him just about anything if he'd just take it without a fight).
Merry Christmas.
Christmas Eve was spent at my in laws home with my sick boys. I had to bring along the drugs. C has to take his with food, and M has to take his three times a day. C and I left immediately after opening gifts to come home to some peace and quiet, and he needed to take the cough syrup so that hopefully, the poor guy could get a little bit of rest.
Fortunately, due to prevailing illness, the kids didn't get up at the crack of dawn. They slept in until 7 am. Actually, C and M would have slept longer but T couldn't contain his excitement, and woke us all.
Santa was good to all. R said she didn't expect to get everything she wanted and she did. I'm so very happy. I have the most amazing daughter. She collected pictures of her and her brothers, and she made a DVD for me with music and a photo montage. She is so wonderful. I cried those happy/sad tears. Happy, because I felt so loved, sad, because the years have so flown.
My boys all put thought into their gifts for me. I was touched beyond words. I am a lucky woman to have children who love me so.
Well, another dose of amoxcycillin is due. So, I have to go bribe M into taking it yet again. I think we promised him a dollar for each time he swallowed the nasty stuff, and he's up to $11 now. (I know bribery is bad, but he needed to take the medicine and I was willing to offer him just about anything if he'd just take it without a fight).
Merry Christmas.
Saturday, December 8, 2007
The Tru Family Gift Giving Profile
My mother in law emailed me a couple of weeks ago with a suggestion that we should each (her, my father in law, 2 brothers in law and my sister in law) fill out a gift giving profile which includes the following items, Name, age, shirt size, pants size, shoe size, color preference, interests, and wish list.
OK. Our family isn't so large that it's easy to forget everyone. There are only three sons, 2 daughters in law, and 4 grandchildren. It isn't like we are incredible spread out either. My brother and sister in law live in LA. But, their interests don't really change. We know them.
My in laws live literally 2/3 of a mile away from us. Before Thanksgiving, they hadn't seen my younger boys since the beginning of the school year. Not, because I have denied them their grandchildren either. They don't ask. I could begin a rampage about these grandparents that would last pages and pages. I choose not to do that right now. Suffice it to say that they are less than desirable in the grandparent arena. Which, I am fine with, generally. I get irritated when stupid things like gift giving profiles are entered into my life. I got no less than 5 emails (that is how my Mother in law communicates with me) reminding me to fill out the damn profile. I finally did. But as sparingly as possible. My feeling is if they don't know Erich after 36 years, and me after 15 years, and our children well enough to creatively purchase presents, I would rather them not.
Let me tell you, my brothers in law and sister in law's profiles were filled out much the same as ours. Sparingly. But, my mother and father in laws profiles were very precisely filled out. Too bad I already got my mother in law a gift, and it's not on her damn profile.
Can you tell I'm a bit bitter about this? I just feel as though it takes away from the joy of choosing and purchasing gifts for your family. It seriously annoys me, and on some level, I believe, offends me.
I enjoy Christmas, with my children. I don't enjoy all of the hooplah around it. Including visiting the in laws and pretending that we are one big happy healthy family. That family is sick sick sick. I don't particularly enjoy even going to my parents home for the holidays, because it's really kind of boring and the pressure is amazing, but it's much more enjoyable by far than the in laws.
This year, I am trying to not let myself dread the upcoming festivities. I am trying to keep a positive attitude.
On another note...Last night, the family and I went to the Stansbury House Christmas. It was so fun. I am a huge lover of history. I have wanted to visit the Stansbury House since I moved to Chico, I just have been unable to make it to visit during their unpredictable hours. We heard the ad for the annual Christmas tour and jumped on it. I am ready to volunteer there. If you live in the Chico area, you HAVE to make it a point to visit this home at some time. It was donated to the city when the last living child of Dr. Stansbury died. She left all of the original furnishings, carpet and wallpaper. It is really amazing! She was born in the house in 1883 and died there in 1974. after living in the house her entire life. She graduated from Chico High, and was an art teacher there as her career. I can't wait to go back someday and hear more stories, and ask more questions. I was truly amazed and thoroughly enjoyed it. And, the kids had their picture taken with Ol' St. Nick. What a fun evening.
Well, tonight it Erich's work holiday party. I have a little shopping to do, to find some accessories to wear with my dress. It's totally windy and freezing today, of course, so I will probably freeze my tootsies off tonight. Oh, well, free dinner...
OK. Our family isn't so large that it's easy to forget everyone. There are only three sons, 2 daughters in law, and 4 grandchildren. It isn't like we are incredible spread out either. My brother and sister in law live in LA. But, their interests don't really change. We know them.
My in laws live literally 2/3 of a mile away from us. Before Thanksgiving, they hadn't seen my younger boys since the beginning of the school year. Not, because I have denied them their grandchildren either. They don't ask. I could begin a rampage about these grandparents that would last pages and pages. I choose not to do that right now. Suffice it to say that they are less than desirable in the grandparent arena. Which, I am fine with, generally. I get irritated when stupid things like gift giving profiles are entered into my life. I got no less than 5 emails (that is how my Mother in law communicates with me) reminding me to fill out the damn profile. I finally did. But as sparingly as possible. My feeling is if they don't know Erich after 36 years, and me after 15 years, and our children well enough to creatively purchase presents, I would rather them not.
Let me tell you, my brothers in law and sister in law's profiles were filled out much the same as ours. Sparingly. But, my mother and father in laws profiles were very precisely filled out. Too bad I already got my mother in law a gift, and it's not on her damn profile.
Can you tell I'm a bit bitter about this? I just feel as though it takes away from the joy of choosing and purchasing gifts for your family. It seriously annoys me, and on some level, I believe, offends me.
I enjoy Christmas, with my children. I don't enjoy all of the hooplah around it. Including visiting the in laws and pretending that we are one big happy healthy family. That family is sick sick sick. I don't particularly enjoy even going to my parents home for the holidays, because it's really kind of boring and the pressure is amazing, but it's much more enjoyable by far than the in laws.
This year, I am trying to not let myself dread the upcoming festivities. I am trying to keep a positive attitude.
On another note...Last night, the family and I went to the Stansbury House Christmas. It was so fun. I am a huge lover of history. I have wanted to visit the Stansbury House since I moved to Chico, I just have been unable to make it to visit during their unpredictable hours. We heard the ad for the annual Christmas tour and jumped on it. I am ready to volunteer there. If you live in the Chico area, you HAVE to make it a point to visit this home at some time. It was donated to the city when the last living child of Dr. Stansbury died. She left all of the original furnishings, carpet and wallpaper. It is really amazing! She was born in the house in 1883 and died there in 1974. after living in the house her entire life. She graduated from Chico High, and was an art teacher there as her career. I can't wait to go back someday and hear more stories, and ask more questions. I was truly amazed and thoroughly enjoyed it. And, the kids had their picture taken with Ol' St. Nick. What a fun evening.
Well, tonight it Erich's work holiday party. I have a little shopping to do, to find some accessories to wear with my dress. It's totally windy and freezing today, of course, so I will probably freeze my tootsies off tonight. Oh, well, free dinner...
Thursday, December 6, 2007
I Don't Have Time!
This is what I mumble, yell, say at least 300 times a day. It has become distressing to me that the thing I say most frequently is that I don't have time. I don't have time to come into the house after school and sit down with my kids and watch TV or read them a book or help with homework. Because, after working at a job all day, I have to go grocery shopping, run errands, go to DMV...and I just don't have time.
I really don't enjoy that aspect of myself. I begin my morning knowing that I don't have time. I don't have time to lovingly wake my boys and make them breakfast. I rush in and turn on the light and tell them to get up...NOW! Then I run out, then as I dash by their bedroom 15 times in 20 minutes, I holler in the door, "Get up now! I don't have time!" How sad is that?
Over the last week I have noticed how often I say that. Too many times. I am feeling a bit guilty. I feel so rushed and overwhelmed. I know that I should enlist the older kids to help out, but, then I am flooded with guilt for making them pick up the loose ends because I work...I know that is completely irrational. But, I have been a stay at home mom for the last 12 years. I only came into the workforce part time(20 hrs. a week)last year, before that, I only worked about 10 hours a week. Which was great when I had a little one at home, and in Kindergarten.
I'm not complaining, I am not lamenting my job. I love it. I love that I am at the school, and C can pop in and tell me "Hi" off and on. I love that when I forget to put a bandaid on that nasty staph infected bump on his arm, all I have to do is call his teacher and have him sent to ME. I love that I get paid for what I do. I love that I have benefits. I guess what is bothering me is that I have spoiled my family having been a stay at home mom for so long, and they don't know how to take care of themselves or help me out. Thus, the house is a disaster, I am overwhelmed, and contemplating the benefits of too much alcohol.
I don't know how to voice my needs. I don't know how to accept help from anyone. I am a caretaker. I am a MOM. I have learned so much about myself and my weaknesses through having children. They kind of bring you to a point of self realization. But, one of the things I haven't learned is how not to spoil them rotten. I run myself ragged for them. I love them desperately. I can't even put it into words. But, I can't help but think that I do them a disservice by not teaching them to step up and help out. To recognize someone in need and just help, not because of the pay, not because there is anything in it for them, just because it's the right thing to do. I know that they are great kids and would help out a perfect stranger, or friends, but when they watch me running from one end of the house to the other, doing at least 3 things at once, it would be nice to hear one of them take the initiative to take one of the things off of my to do list. I think I have fallen into whining, so I will stop...
There are only 18 more shopping days until Christmas, no, I am not nearly done. Not even close. There is alot to do next pay day. I'm trying to keep a good attitude as I fight the Christmas crowds. We have all but one of the BIG presents, it's all of the piddly stuff that's left.
Next post...my experience with my Mother in Law's Gift Giving Profile....
I really don't enjoy that aspect of myself. I begin my morning knowing that I don't have time. I don't have time to lovingly wake my boys and make them breakfast. I rush in and turn on the light and tell them to get up...NOW! Then I run out, then as I dash by their bedroom 15 times in 20 minutes, I holler in the door, "Get up now! I don't have time!" How sad is that?
Over the last week I have noticed how often I say that. Too many times. I am feeling a bit guilty. I feel so rushed and overwhelmed. I know that I should enlist the older kids to help out, but, then I am flooded with guilt for making them pick up the loose ends because I work...I know that is completely irrational. But, I have been a stay at home mom for the last 12 years. I only came into the workforce part time(20 hrs. a week)last year, before that, I only worked about 10 hours a week. Which was great when I had a little one at home, and in Kindergarten.
I'm not complaining, I am not lamenting my job. I love it. I love that I am at the school, and C can pop in and tell me "Hi" off and on. I love that when I forget to put a bandaid on that nasty staph infected bump on his arm, all I have to do is call his teacher and have him sent to ME. I love that I get paid for what I do. I love that I have benefits. I guess what is bothering me is that I have spoiled my family having been a stay at home mom for so long, and they don't know how to take care of themselves or help me out. Thus, the house is a disaster, I am overwhelmed, and contemplating the benefits of too much alcohol.
I don't know how to voice my needs. I don't know how to accept help from anyone. I am a caretaker. I am a MOM. I have learned so much about myself and my weaknesses through having children. They kind of bring you to a point of self realization. But, one of the things I haven't learned is how not to spoil them rotten. I run myself ragged for them. I love them desperately. I can't even put it into words. But, I can't help but think that I do them a disservice by not teaching them to step up and help out. To recognize someone in need and just help, not because of the pay, not because there is anything in it for them, just because it's the right thing to do. I know that they are great kids and would help out a perfect stranger, or friends, but when they watch me running from one end of the house to the other, doing at least 3 things at once, it would be nice to hear one of them take the initiative to take one of the things off of my to do list. I think I have fallen into whining, so I will stop...
There are only 18 more shopping days until Christmas, no, I am not nearly done. Not even close. There is alot to do next pay day. I'm trying to keep a good attitude as I fight the Christmas crowds. We have all but one of the BIG presents, it's all of the piddly stuff that's left.
Next post...my experience with my Mother in Law's Gift Giving Profile....
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