This evening I had to leave my house shortly after dinner, and I did not return for a few hours. When I came home, Matthew had done a load of dishes, changed the laundry, and put the children in bed. This might sound like an ideal situation to you, but to me it just felt like yet another confirmation that I am a lousy mother and wife.
I am not a natural multi-tasker. Something I have said frequently to Matthew is, "I can do housework OR I can take care of the children. I can't do both." Truthfully, I do a bit of both, but I can't do them at the same time. I simply can't.
Multiple sclerosis complicates things. Remember that it's Matthew who has it, not me. This is something I have to keep in mind every moment of every day, because it affects every moment, both physically and emotionally. What does this mean? It means that in everything Matthew does--watering the garden, doing laundry, doing dishes, taking kids to the park--he is in horrible pain. He takes three painkillers multiple times every day, just to bring the pain down to a level where he can walk and function. Even then he still hurts with every step, and fatigue hits him like a freight train after thirty minutes to an hour.
So apart from the obvious, what does this mean for me? It means that every task I do counts for less in my mind, and every break is less excusable. I load the dishwasher? That's part of my expected duties; nothing special. Matthew loads it? I know that every moment on his feet was filled with pain and exhaustion, and my gratitude to him is through the roof. At the same time, I then feel completely inadequate, because if I were doing my duty, Matthew wouldn't have to lift a finger. (FYI that's in my head, not his. I think.)
Every tiny little thing I do feels like not enough. If I were really dutiful, the house would be spotless and sparkling every moment of every day, and I would have the kids in the park for at least four hours every day. If I sit down to take a break while Matthew is working, I feel like a dreadful person, because I know he's much more exhausted than I am. If I take a break while he's taking a break, I still feel dreadful, because he's collapsing because he has to. I just want to sit down and not work for a moment. If Matthew sits down and plays a game, it's because he can no longer stand. If I sit down and play a game, I'm a lazy, slothful person who's neglecting her work. That's what it feels like, anyway.
Back to multi-tasking. One of the biggest things for me is that my children L-O-V-E physical attention. It often feels like they need to be attached to my person every moment of the day. Henry in particular was very clingy today. I sat with him and watched a 50-minute episode of Mickey Mouse Clubhouse, twice in a row. During that time, Matthew walked through carrying a laundry basket. My immediate reaction was guilt--I should have been up doing that, instead of lounging on the couch with my baby! And yet, don't my children need my attention, too? Where do I find the balance between giving attention to my children (very necessary) and giving appropriate attention to household duties (also very necessary)? And where do I fit in time for my husband, and time for myself? Do such things exist?
I haven't found the answer yet. If I ever do, I'll be sure to let you know. In the meantime, I'll go on doing the best I can, because here's the thing: I am enough. God put me here, and when I am not sufficient, I can draw on His sufficiency. Together we are enough. I just need to remind myself of this every hour.
An extra load of laundry probably wouldn't hurt, too.
Sunday, July 12, 2015
Sunday, July 5, 2015
Hospital Fun
To celebrate his 71st birthday, my dad went to an exclusive getaway where he was waited on hand and foot, getting not only breakfast in bed, but lunch, dinner, and snacks as well. It's called the hospital.
Well, technically he went in on Thursday. For a week he'd been having terrible pain from his hip to his foot, and he was having a lot of trouble walking--when he could walk at all. My sister spent a lot of time Thursday trying to persuade him to go, but neither he nor my mom wanted to face the looooooong emergency room times. Also, his leg was hurting so bad that he couldn't ride in a car for more than five minutes at a time without having to stop and stretch his legs out. So--they called an ambulance.
The doctors initially were looking for a potential fracture or blood clot, but after numerous tests, those were ruled out. They haven't found an official cause yet, but it's suspected that there's a nerve problem.
Today I got to go in and spend all day there with my dad and one of my sisters. We've been trying to keep one of us there at all times so we can better advocate for my dad to the doctors. The physical therapist and occupational therapist this morning said that in their opinion, Dad is not safe to come home at this time. They want him to go into a skilled nursing facility. Since we couldn't reach a care facility, due to the holiday weekend. The therapists then suggested that he stay at the hospital at least until Monday.
This evening Rowan and I went to go see the fireworks show at the park. He had an absolute blast!
I would write more, but I keep falling asleep over my keyboard. I can't write more tonight, and that's a fact. See you all later!
Well, technically he went in on Thursday. For a week he'd been having terrible pain from his hip to his foot, and he was having a lot of trouble walking--when he could walk at all. My sister spent a lot of time Thursday trying to persuade him to go, but neither he nor my mom wanted to face the looooooong emergency room times. Also, his leg was hurting so bad that he couldn't ride in a car for more than five minutes at a time without having to stop and stretch his legs out. So--they called an ambulance.
The doctors initially were looking for a potential fracture or blood clot, but after numerous tests, those were ruled out. They haven't found an official cause yet, but it's suspected that there's a nerve problem.
Today I got to go in and spend all day there with my dad and one of my sisters. We've been trying to keep one of us there at all times so we can better advocate for my dad to the doctors. The physical therapist and occupational therapist this morning said that in their opinion, Dad is not safe to come home at this time. They want him to go into a skilled nursing facility. Since we couldn't reach a care facility, due to the holiday weekend. The therapists then suggested that he stay at the hospital at least until Monday.
This evening Rowan and I went to go see the fireworks show at the park. He had an absolute blast!
I would write more, but I keep falling asleep over my keyboard. I can't write more tonight, and that's a fact. See you all later!
Wednesday, July 1, 2015
Why I Am Neither For Nor Against Legalized Same-Sex Marriage
On Friday, the Supreme Court's decision regarding same-sex marriage sent my Facebook newsfeed into overdrive. I saw a lot of extremely polarized views, mostly either, "OMG this is the best thing ever!!!! #lovewins," or else, "OMG this country is on a downward spiral now!!!! #fallennation." I don't agree with either of those views, but don't mistake me for being neutral, because I'm not. I did see a few "neutral" posts that basically said, "I don't agree with it, but as long as it doesn't affect me, what do I care?" That's not my viewpoint, either.
Brace yourselves. I might be making every group angry.
I firmly believe that homosexuality is wrong. I also believe that sex between a man and a woman, outside of the context of marriage, is wrong. I believe that greed, indifference, lust, and covetousness are wrong. I hold these beliefs because I am Christian, and I believe God's Word.
The thing is, God didn't put me here to legislate my beliefs onto others. Yes, I believe what God said to be true, but nowhere did He say that I should enforce His Laws onto the country where I reside. Or, to quote 1 Timothy 4:16, "Take heed to yourself and to the doctrine [emphasis added]." Take heed to myself--pay attention to the way that I am living my life; to my standing with God; to how my life lines up with the Bible. That doesn't mean I shouldn't care about my neighbors. We need to pray, always pray. But prayer is not the same as forcing someone to live in what you perceive is the correct manner.
This country where God has placed me was founded on the principle of personal liberty--that is, the liberty for each individual to live his or her life in the manner that he or she chooses, so long as it does not harm anyone else. That means I have the right to seek employment where I choose, vacation where I choose, and marry whom I choose. My neighbors also have those rights, even when I disagree personally with their choices. And really, if you believe in God-given free will, you must recognize that God allows us to choose. He allows us to choose wrongly. He allows us to make mistakes. He allows us to do things that will hurt us, because He loves us so much that He wants us to freely choose Him. There wouldn't be the same joy in us choosing to follow God, if we were forced to do so.
At the same time, I believe that officially recognizing same-sex marriage is a mistake, because when "love" is the only listed requirement, that opens the door to all different kinds of love. Incest? Sure. Pedophilia? No problem. After all, why shouldn't two brothers be allowed to marry? It's not like we'd have to worry about their genetics when it comes to children. And with so much push to allow young girls access to birth control without parental consent, isn't that basically saying that they already know their sexuality better than their parents? So why shouldn't a 10-year-old girl marry a 35-year-old man? Studies have already been done to determine if pedophilia is really just another sexual orientation.
The problem we have here is having the government involved in marriage at all. It wasn't always, you know. For many years marriage was a social institution, recognized by priests and villages but not regulated by the state. The state has its claws in now, and it won't retract them easily. Being in charge of marriage--something most adults crave--gives the state too much power. If government were to remove itself from marriage, including all tax benefits, etc., marriages could once again be performed by priests, rabbis, shamans, or what-have-you, without needless coercive redefining. Those who want to marry someone of the same gender can easily, in this day and age, find someone to perform that ceremony. Those who want male-female only relationships can find places that line up with their beliefs. And when government is removed from defining marriage, it can better protect children, which is one of its intended functions. Of course children should not be allowed to marry, but when "love" is officially recognized as all that's needed to marry, that line can become blurred.
The point in all of this is personal liberty. God gives us liberty. Our Constitution is supposed to affirm that liberty. It is not just to force an entire nation to abide by your personal beliefs, whether they be heterosexual-only marriages or love-makes-a-marriage marriages. Get government out of marriage. It should never have been in it to begin with.
So yes, I believe same-sex marriage is wrong, but not any more so than homosexuality itself, or sexual relationships outside of marriage. The Church, however, is not the State, nor should it be. They each have their separate functions. Carey Nieuwhof wrote an excellent piece about this.
Live your life. Live it the best way you know how. Don't force others to fall in line with what you believe, whatever side of the issue you're on. Be kind, be generous, be thoughtful. Be the kind of person you want to meet. You're much less likely to be frustrated with others' perceived idiocy that way. And for heaven's sake, if someone around you is loudly spouting a different viewpoint, don't engage in an argument. Maybe you could offer coffee, and a chance to discuss differences in a civil manner.
Another good read: Why Christians Should Oppose a Government Definition of Marriage
Brace yourselves. I might be making every group angry.
I firmly believe that homosexuality is wrong. I also believe that sex between a man and a woman, outside of the context of marriage, is wrong. I believe that greed, indifference, lust, and covetousness are wrong. I hold these beliefs because I am Christian, and I believe God's Word.
The thing is, God didn't put me here to legislate my beliefs onto others. Yes, I believe what God said to be true, but nowhere did He say that I should enforce His Laws onto the country where I reside. Or, to quote 1 Timothy 4:16, "Take heed to yourself and to the doctrine [emphasis added]." Take heed to myself--pay attention to the way that I am living my life; to my standing with God; to how my life lines up with the Bible. That doesn't mean I shouldn't care about my neighbors. We need to pray, always pray. But prayer is not the same as forcing someone to live in what you perceive is the correct manner.
This country where God has placed me was founded on the principle of personal liberty--that is, the liberty for each individual to live his or her life in the manner that he or she chooses, so long as it does not harm anyone else. That means I have the right to seek employment where I choose, vacation where I choose, and marry whom I choose. My neighbors also have those rights, even when I disagree personally with their choices. And really, if you believe in God-given free will, you must recognize that God allows us to choose. He allows us to choose wrongly. He allows us to make mistakes. He allows us to do things that will hurt us, because He loves us so much that He wants us to freely choose Him. There wouldn't be the same joy in us choosing to follow God, if we were forced to do so.
At the same time, I believe that officially recognizing same-sex marriage is a mistake, because when "love" is the only listed requirement, that opens the door to all different kinds of love. Incest? Sure. Pedophilia? No problem. After all, why shouldn't two brothers be allowed to marry? It's not like we'd have to worry about their genetics when it comes to children. And with so much push to allow young girls access to birth control without parental consent, isn't that basically saying that they already know their sexuality better than their parents? So why shouldn't a 10-year-old girl marry a 35-year-old man? Studies have already been done to determine if pedophilia is really just another sexual orientation.
The problem we have here is having the government involved in marriage at all. It wasn't always, you know. For many years marriage was a social institution, recognized by priests and villages but not regulated by the state. The state has its claws in now, and it won't retract them easily. Being in charge of marriage--something most adults crave--gives the state too much power. If government were to remove itself from marriage, including all tax benefits, etc., marriages could once again be performed by priests, rabbis, shamans, or what-have-you, without needless coercive redefining. Those who want to marry someone of the same gender can easily, in this day and age, find someone to perform that ceremony. Those who want male-female only relationships can find places that line up with their beliefs. And when government is removed from defining marriage, it can better protect children, which is one of its intended functions. Of course children should not be allowed to marry, but when "love" is officially recognized as all that's needed to marry, that line can become blurred.
The point in all of this is personal liberty. God gives us liberty. Our Constitution is supposed to affirm that liberty. It is not just to force an entire nation to abide by your personal beliefs, whether they be heterosexual-only marriages or love-makes-a-marriage marriages. Get government out of marriage. It should never have been in it to begin with.
So yes, I believe same-sex marriage is wrong, but not any more so than homosexuality itself, or sexual relationships outside of marriage. The Church, however, is not the State, nor should it be. They each have their separate functions. Carey Nieuwhof wrote an excellent piece about this.
Live your life. Live it the best way you know how. Don't force others to fall in line with what you believe, whatever side of the issue you're on. Be kind, be generous, be thoughtful. Be the kind of person you want to meet. You're much less likely to be frustrated with others' perceived idiocy that way. And for heaven's sake, if someone around you is loudly spouting a different viewpoint, don't engage in an argument. Maybe you could offer coffee, and a chance to discuss differences in a civil manner.
Another good read: Why Christians Should Oppose a Government Definition of Marriage
Wednesday, June 24, 2015
32
Today is my birthday.
My birthday.
I don't usually do a lot to celebrate, because it's my stepson's birthday also, and because as the years pass, I really don't feel the need for a huge celebration. A bit of peace and quiet is what I like the most.
This year, though, I was kept busy all day. By 9:00 a.m. my sister and I, along with Rowan and my sister's two children, were busy taste-testing cake, frosting, and fillings. Okay, it was for a cake for my parents' 50th wedding anniversary, which will be celebrated this weekend, but I see no better way to start off my birthday than with tasting frosting! I hadn't even had breakfast yet!
...Which leads to, after the taste-testing, we dropped off Rowan and my sister's eldest at my parents' house, and she took me out for brunch. I can highly recommend Oregon Crepes in the Pringle Plaza!
I came home and a good friend, Neil, had stopped by to visit. He brought me a lovely card and two boxes of Earl Grey tea. Hurray! Unfortunately I was very, very tired by this point, so I went up for a birthday nap while Matthew and Neil chatted. Birthdays are exhausting!
I woke up when my lovely friend Julie showed up to babysit my kids, while Matthew and I escaped to Dairy Queen (paid for with birthday cash from Carol). It's so nice to get out with him without children! And then Julie bought delectable margherita pizza for dinner. <3
And to top it all off, Wednesdays are VariTechnical Artistry days (VTA for short), which is what we've renamed our writer's group. VTA days are my favorite days! How wonderful and fitting that my birthday should land on a VTA day! So Savanna, Richie, and Fletcher came over to join us. Savanna brought me an absolutely gorgeous copy of Peter Pan. I am so excited to read it with Rowan! And I got to see artwork from Richie, and I had time to write, and Henry is asleep now, and Matthew is taking care of Rowan, and even though three people have gone home now, Savanna and I are still sitting and writing.
All in all, this has been one of the best birthdays ever. I loved every minute. And now I'm off to read Charlie and the Great Glass Elevator with Rowan, which is even better. I am so very blessed! Thank you all for giving me such a wonderful, fabulous, splendiferous, absolutely magnificent day! I love you all!
My birthday.
I don't usually do a lot to celebrate, because it's my stepson's birthday also, and because as the years pass, I really don't feel the need for a huge celebration. A bit of peace and quiet is what I like the most.
This year, though, I was kept busy all day. By 9:00 a.m. my sister and I, along with Rowan and my sister's two children, were busy taste-testing cake, frosting, and fillings. Okay, it was for a cake for my parents' 50th wedding anniversary, which will be celebrated this weekend, but I see no better way to start off my birthday than with tasting frosting! I hadn't even had breakfast yet!
...Which leads to, after the taste-testing, we dropped off Rowan and my sister's eldest at my parents' house, and she took me out for brunch. I can highly recommend Oregon Crepes in the Pringle Plaza!
I came home and a good friend, Neil, had stopped by to visit. He brought me a lovely card and two boxes of Earl Grey tea. Hurray! Unfortunately I was very, very tired by this point, so I went up for a birthday nap while Matthew and Neil chatted. Birthdays are exhausting!
I woke up when my lovely friend Julie showed up to babysit my kids, while Matthew and I escaped to Dairy Queen (paid for with birthday cash from Carol). It's so nice to get out with him without children! And then Julie bought delectable margherita pizza for dinner. <3
And to top it all off, Wednesdays are VariTechnical Artistry days (VTA for short), which is what we've renamed our writer's group. VTA days are my favorite days! How wonderful and fitting that my birthday should land on a VTA day! So Savanna, Richie, and Fletcher came over to join us. Savanna brought me an absolutely gorgeous copy of Peter Pan. I am so excited to read it with Rowan! And I got to see artwork from Richie, and I had time to write, and Henry is asleep now, and Matthew is taking care of Rowan, and even though three people have gone home now, Savanna and I are still sitting and writing.
All in all, this has been one of the best birthdays ever. I loved every minute. And now I'm off to read Charlie and the Great Glass Elevator with Rowan, which is even better. I am so very blessed! Thank you all for giving me such a wonderful, fabulous, splendiferous, absolutely magnificent day! I love you all!
Father's Day, and Other Happenings
Life has been busy. It's been hectic. It's been crazy and exciting and rushed and insane. The house we live in officially went on the market a few weeks ago, which means we've been attempting, with mixed success, to keep our house at the height of realtor perfection. I have never been particularly neat (although I would love to be), and with two small children in the house, it's been challenging.
So. Last week another realtor contacted our realtor and said he'd like to show the house Saturday evening. Naturally, we have to be out of the house while it's shown. We elected to just sit in the park across the street while it happened. We waited and waited and waited and waited....
At last Paul called our realtor and he said he'd been trying to reach the other realtor, with no success. Extremely annoying, to be sure!
Then yesterday, Father's Day, our realtor had an open house planned for our house. Paul told us it was from 1 - 4 p.m. Our house was still mostly neat from Saturday, but a few things needed to be touched up. We all felt the pressure of time. Tempers were short, and sometimes got lost. Matthew watered the garden with Henry, and then, bless his soul eternally, took the small ones and Noah out of the house and to the park, so that Paul, Carol, and I could clean in peace. And wow, we made it look dazzling. I even finally managed to get the study cleaned up.
We were out of the house before 1:00, and we made our way to Minto Brown Island Park in Salem. We figured it would be a good place to hang out for a few hours. I had to make a run to the store for a few necessities, so Matthew again took the children (he amazes me!) and Noah took Lili to the dog park. That's right; we had our dog with us, too. Around 2:15 I got a text from Paul: It turns out the open house was actually scheduled for 2:30 - 5:30. We'd been out with the children for an hour and a half, and THE OPEN HOUSE HADN'T EVEN STARTED YET.
To make things more difficult, the kidlings were tired of the park. I thought of my parents; I had really wanted to go see my dad on Father's Day, but I thought they might still be in Seattle. My mom's brother is in the hospital there. I figured I should call anyway and find out. And...they were home! I asked if we could crash their house with five people and a dog, and my mom said, sure! Bearing in mind that they live in a single-wide trailer with a very small (but thankfully fenced) yard. And two of my sisters (one with her husband and two children) and one of my brothers were already there! Haha!
So there we went. The children were charmed by Lili. She is very sweet and playful.
My brother-in-law grilled steaks, one of my sisters made a delicious Asian salad, my mom made fabulous baked potatoes, and we had a fabulous time. Hurray! And Happy Father's Day, Dad!
So. Last week another realtor contacted our realtor and said he'd like to show the house Saturday evening. Naturally, we have to be out of the house while it's shown. We elected to just sit in the park across the street while it happened. We waited and waited and waited and waited....
At last Paul called our realtor and he said he'd been trying to reach the other realtor, with no success. Extremely annoying, to be sure!
Then yesterday, Father's Day, our realtor had an open house planned for our house. Paul told us it was from 1 - 4 p.m. Our house was still mostly neat from Saturday, but a few things needed to be touched up. We all felt the pressure of time. Tempers were short, and sometimes got lost. Matthew watered the garden with Henry, and then, bless his soul eternally, took the small ones and Noah out of the house and to the park, so that Paul, Carol, and I could clean in peace. And wow, we made it look dazzling. I even finally managed to get the study cleaned up.
We were out of the house before 1:00, and we made our way to Minto Brown Island Park in Salem. We figured it would be a good place to hang out for a few hours. I had to make a run to the store for a few necessities, so Matthew again took the children (he amazes me!) and Noah took Lili to the dog park. That's right; we had our dog with us, too. Around 2:15 I got a text from Paul: It turns out the open house was actually scheduled for 2:30 - 5:30. We'd been out with the children for an hour and a half, and THE OPEN HOUSE HADN'T EVEN STARTED YET.
To make things more difficult, the kidlings were tired of the park. I thought of my parents; I had really wanted to go see my dad on Father's Day, but I thought they might still be in Seattle. My mom's brother is in the hospital there. I figured I should call anyway and find out. And...they were home! I asked if we could crash their house with five people and a dog, and my mom said, sure! Bearing in mind that they live in a single-wide trailer with a very small (but thankfully fenced) yard. And two of my sisters (one with her husband and two children) and one of my brothers were already there! Haha!
So there we went. The children were charmed by Lili. She is very sweet and playful.
My brother-in-law grilled steaks, one of my sisters made a delicious Asian salad, my mom made fabulous baked potatoes, and we had a fabulous time. Hurray! And Happy Father's Day, Dad!
Wednesday, June 17, 2015
Henry and the Broken Bone
Monday last week, Henry (3 years old) fell off a ladder. Twice. At least, I'm assuming it was twice; we didn't actually see it happen the first time, and since Henry is mostly nonverbal, he couldn't tell us.
Anyway, the realtor who's listing our house was over to take pictures, so I had put up the ladder to the loft in Henry's bedroom. I left it up because, well, since he learned to climb he's been very careful about it and has never had a problem with it. I was downstairs talking with a friend when Henry started howling. I zoomed up the stairs and got there at the same time as Matthew. We found Henry lying on the floor, crying. I picked him up and snuggled him until he felt better, and Matthew took the ladder down. I went back downstairs.
About five minutes later the howling began again. I raced back up the stairs to find Henry on the floor again, and the ladder up. Rowan, our 6-year-old, had put it up. (I must admit that I am somewhat impressed, as the ladder is very heavy.) He reported that Henry had fallen from the second or third rung--not very high. We didn't worry much about it then; I snuggled Henry for a long while, but he still was upset. I gave him ibuprofen and he went to sleep for an hour.
When he woke up, the crying began again. This can't be right, I thought to myself. He shouldn't still be in pain from it. Matthew agreed, and we took him to the ER. It's a small one, and usually not very busy. That night, although it was busier than usual, we got in to a room within 30 minutes. When the doctor came in to examine Henry, he did a very quick exam. "No contusions on the head.. standing straight.. can't feel anything wrong with his spine.. Okay, take him home and bring him back if he starts vomiting." He explained that they don't like to do scans on small children unless they see something obviously wrong; and he said that it was perfectly normal for Henry to still be crying four hours after the accident. I thought the first part sounded logical, but I knew it wasn't normal for Henry to still be crying. Maybe I should have pushed more. But the doctor was already moving on to the next patient, so we packed up and went home. (The fact that we were hearing phrases from the patient next to us like "abscess" and "groin" and "scrotal sac" might have had something to do with it.)
Henry cried Tuesday. We gave him more ibuprofen, and then he was happy for a few hours until it wore off. He cried again. He cried Wednesday, and I noticed that he wasn't using his left arm. He also wasn't sliding down the stair railing, like he usually does. I decided to call his doctor. His regular doctor. We went in that afternoon and his doctor said he most likely had fractured his arm. He put Henry's arm in a splint and gave us orders to go to the hospital (a different one) and get x-rays.
It turns out he had fractured his arm. It was what the doctor called a "buckle fracture." He said to leave it in the splint until Monday, then bring him in to the clinic for a cast. Poor Henry! To be trapped in a cast for the summer! I told my family about the situation, and they were all very indignant. My brother-in-law, a volunteer firefighter, said he was going to "raise Hell" with the ER about not doing scans that first day. I am torn between being angry and being understanding. When you have a patient like the one next to us, it can be easy to dismiss a small boy showing no outward signs of injury. On the other hand, my boy deserves thorough treatment.
Well, we went in Monday to get Henry's cast. The doctor asked if he'd been trying to take the splint off, and we said no. He said he would recommend just leaving it in a splint then, since it was mostly stable, and then we'd also be able to take it off for bathing. We decided to go with that option, and he made a molded splint for Henry.
Henry is much happier now that his arm is stabilized. I think it must really have been hurting him. The doctor said he just has to wear it for three weeks. He's already begun sliding down the banister again. Lord help us in the next few weeks!
Anyway, the realtor who's listing our house was over to take pictures, so I had put up the ladder to the loft in Henry's bedroom. I left it up because, well, since he learned to climb he's been very careful about it and has never had a problem with it. I was downstairs talking with a friend when Henry started howling. I zoomed up the stairs and got there at the same time as Matthew. We found Henry lying on the floor, crying. I picked him up and snuggled him until he felt better, and Matthew took the ladder down. I went back downstairs.
About five minutes later the howling began again. I raced back up the stairs to find Henry on the floor again, and the ladder up. Rowan, our 6-year-old, had put it up. (I must admit that I am somewhat impressed, as the ladder is very heavy.) He reported that Henry had fallen from the second or third rung--not very high. We didn't worry much about it then; I snuggled Henry for a long while, but he still was upset. I gave him ibuprofen and he went to sleep for an hour.
When he woke up, the crying began again. This can't be right, I thought to myself. He shouldn't still be in pain from it. Matthew agreed, and we took him to the ER. It's a small one, and usually not very busy. That night, although it was busier than usual, we got in to a room within 30 minutes. When the doctor came in to examine Henry, he did a very quick exam. "No contusions on the head.. standing straight.. can't feel anything wrong with his spine.. Okay, take him home and bring him back if he starts vomiting." He explained that they don't like to do scans on small children unless they see something obviously wrong; and he said that it was perfectly normal for Henry to still be crying four hours after the accident. I thought the first part sounded logical, but I knew it wasn't normal for Henry to still be crying. Maybe I should have pushed more. But the doctor was already moving on to the next patient, so we packed up and went home. (The fact that we were hearing phrases from the patient next to us like "abscess" and "groin" and "scrotal sac" might have had something to do with it.)
Henry cried Tuesday. We gave him more ibuprofen, and then he was happy for a few hours until it wore off. He cried again. He cried Wednesday, and I noticed that he wasn't using his left arm. He also wasn't sliding down the stair railing, like he usually does. I decided to call his doctor. His regular doctor. We went in that afternoon and his doctor said he most likely had fractured his arm. He put Henry's arm in a splint and gave us orders to go to the hospital (a different one) and get x-rays.
 |
| I know his seat belt is wrong. I fixed it. |
It turns out he had fractured his arm. It was what the doctor called a "buckle fracture." He said to leave it in the splint until Monday, then bring him in to the clinic for a cast. Poor Henry! To be trapped in a cast for the summer! I told my family about the situation, and they were all very indignant. My brother-in-law, a volunteer firefighter, said he was going to "raise Hell" with the ER about not doing scans that first day. I am torn between being angry and being understanding. When you have a patient like the one next to us, it can be easy to dismiss a small boy showing no outward signs of injury. On the other hand, my boy deserves thorough treatment.
Well, we went in Monday to get Henry's cast. The doctor asked if he'd been trying to take the splint off, and we said no. He said he would recommend just leaving it in a splint then, since it was mostly stable, and then we'd also be able to take it off for bathing. We decided to go with that option, and he made a molded splint for Henry.
Henry is much happier now that his arm is stabilized. I think it must really have been hurting him. The doctor said he just has to wear it for three weeks. He's already begun sliding down the banister again. Lord help us in the next few weeks!
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| At the doctor's recommendation, we put a sock over the splint to keep it clean. Henry is fascinated. |
Wednesday, June 10, 2015
Children
I'm nearly at the end of a long day, and I am just so done. Drained. Exhausted. Finished. It's not that the kids were horrible (they weren't) or that bad things happened (they didn't). Being a mother is just so darn tiring.
Before anyone jumps on my case and says that fatherhood is tough, too, let me just state that I am already aware. It's tiring. It's exhausting. Okay. But this post is about me, and I am not, and will never be, a father.
And in this household, at least, while Matt works at least as hard as I do, he just doesn't get swarmed by the children like I do. That's what really gets me -- having small beings fling themselves at me and on me All Day Long. They pet my legs. They caress and mangle my hair. They sit on my head. They butt their heads into my stomach. They are completely without mental boundaries in their attack on me, touching me in places I don't want to be touched, then flitting away before I can reprimand them. That's just in fifteen minutes, but they can keep it going all day.
When I am done preparing their food and sit down to eat my own, Henry in particular will climb on my lap, purposely putting his beaming face between me and my fork. If I try to duck around him, he moves his head to maintain the blockade. This morning he kept trying to put his feet in my cup of tea, I guess because I was giving it too much attention (drinking it).
And the bra snapping. I don't know why Henry is so fascinated by it, but any time I pick him up or sit next to him, he tries to reach in my shirt and snap my straps. This is strictly Not Allowed -- I always remove his hands, and then he sobs in anguish, making me feel like a heartless mommy.
I love my kids. Really, I do. But by midmorning I am ready to hop on a plane to Hawaii and not look back for a month. I keep telling myself I'll sit down and write after they're asleep, but half the time I fall asleep with them, and the other half I'd usually rather do something mindless, like play Candy Crush.
...To prove a point, it's 2:58 a.m. now, and I've just woken up again next to my peacefully slumbering children. I obviously I didn't get done whatever I was planning to do after the kids passed out. Eat ice cream, maybe?
I should add that I love my children very much, and on the extremely rare occasions I've been away from them for the night (maybe 5 nights in 6.5 years), I've missed them like crazy. They are sunshine bursting through the walls and windows, flooding my soul with the joy of summer. They are high-pitched shrieks and laughter, endless giggles as they chase each other through the house. They are sweet little arms wrapping around my neck, little heads nestling on my shoulder, little voices whispering, "I love you, Mama."
They are the pinnacle of my life thus far, my trembling heart walking around in reckless little bodies. They are my everything, and I love them so very much.
I bet I would love them even more after Hawaii.
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