Best Mama Award

I thought I'd update the ear story here quickly. We all remember Family Doc telling us the ears looked great...maybe a little bit of fluid behind the right ear? What I didn't mention was that he gave me the option of starting #2 on some antibiotics, 'just in case'. I also failed to mention that I, being somewhat of a minimalist mom, turned down the offer graciously.
One of the bad things about being a nurse and mother is that we see so many people wanting a quick cure where there is none and jumping on every opportunity to use antibiotics in their quest for that said cure. And because of that, we 'nurse moms' tend to go to the other extreme with a whole bunch of Tylenol and "You'll be fine."
This time, I blew it. All four kiddos spent the weekend at Granny's down south so that I could work and Hubby could hit the State Football game. I got a call from Granny on Saturday saying #2 had a fever and complained of his ears hurting...again. I told her to try some Motrin and decided we'd get back to see Family Doc Monday. Short story long, I snuck #2 in the ER Monday morning where Family Doc was on call and lo and behold:
One ruptured ear drum (not the one he complained about, by the way) with bookoo drainage and...
One nicely infected ear (this one he did complain about).
So, here's my award to myself.
We're now on antibiotics, decongestants, prescription cough syrup, and pain relieving ear drops. You name it, he's on it. And he feels great.
And as much as I'd like to say I learned my lesson, I'm pretty sure I haven't. Just give me a couple of weeks and I'll be dishing out the Tylenol "Buck Up!"s all over again!

Tagged

I've been tagged. Apparently what this means is now I have to post 6 facts/habits about myself and then tag others to do the same. Here it goes...

1. I'm obsessed with my bath tub. I have been known to take 2 bubble baths in one day (and that's after a shower). I get the water as hot as I can stand it and stay in until the very last drop of sweat trickles down my face. I usually take a book, a diet coke and some kind of goodie in with me as I'm in so long I really need nourishment (yes, diet coke is nourishment). Once, I got in right after I put #3 and #4 down for a nap and I was still in an hour and a half later when #3 came downstairs and said, "Wow. You've been in da baf a wong time mom."

2. I drink more Diet Coke than water. I don't know how my kidneys haven't crystalized by now. I drink it any time, day or night and I have to make myself drink a glass of water before bed, just for good measure. Last night at work some of the nurses thought they'd get a little funny and hide my last ice cold coke of the night. I got mad. Really mad. I thought someone had stolen it and started accusing one of the nursing students till the other nurses laughed and pulled in out of their hiding place. Ha Ha...NOT funny.

3. I love the Indigo Girls. Those who know me best know this already but I'm discovering more and more people out there who have never even heard of them. Are you serious? Who's never heard of "The Girls"? (Besides my dad) I've loved them since I was in 9th grade and own every album ever made. If you call my phone, it's my ring back and everyone comments about it...I mean EVERYONE. My girls are still singing along when I answer and everyone else is appalled or disgusted or just plain confused. Get with the program people!! Indigo Girls Rock!

4. I used to be famous for my chicken dance. This is something Hubby wishes I would keep quiet. Very few people in my present life even know what the chicken dance is, but those of you who do can honestly say you've laughed until tears came out your ears. My kids have never even seen the chicken dance. I plan to save it until they have their first boy/girl party in junior high. (insert evil laugh here)

5. I've never had a ticket. Ever. I've run into a parked car (twice), driven up a curb and popped a tire, backed into a pole that apparently was stationary at the time. I even ran a red light once and broad-sided a car in downtown Oakland and never got a ticket. The cop felt so bad for me after the irate black woman that I hit jumped out of her car and ran up to me screaming things I've never heard in my life from .25 of an inch away from my face that he took my insurance info and let me go. Knock on wood, I know, but it's true. Perfect record.

6. I was in a REALLY bad "made-for-late-night-cable" television show called "Miracles and Other Wonders" when I was a junior in high school. I was the lead role in a 15-20 minute segment. I had to fake cry. It was really bad. I keep a copy of it hidden somewhere, just for proof, but have never busted it out except once to show Hubby (who laughed so hard he snorted). Sadly, it actually aired at least once that I know of, about 5 years after the fact. I was visiting my parents and ran into an old family friend who couldn't wait to tell me they'd seen me on TV. I can only pray that was the last time.

OK...that wasn't so bad. Now, Cami, the Other Amy and Tamber...Tag! You're it!

Need a Laugh?

Put your drink down first. It's a good one.
The Top 10 Album Covers of All Time.

http://www.mentalfloss.com/blogs/archives/9374

Rock Star

Last year when #1 turned nine, the only thing he wanted was a guitar and lessons. My brother is a genius on the thing and I think #1 just figured with a few lessons he would be, too. Well he got the guitar and I made him commit to one year of lessons before he could change his mind and quit. At first he practiced faithfully until the newness wore off and then it became a bit of a battle. I think the only thing that kept him going was that he really was pretty good and Guitar Teacher pumped him up quite a bit.
Because he was only nine, Guitar Teacher and I agreed to let him have the summer off and start up again in the fall. #1 was thrilled and to be honest, I was too. I was tired of hounding him.
School started and - being the great mom that I am - I forgot to call Guitar Teacher until the first of October. Guitar Teacher wasn't all too impressed and informed me that he was now full. Oops. By this time, #1's had a long enough break that he's actually missing it and is now thoroughly disgusted with me.

But alas! Guitar Teacher has another option. He teaches a "School of Rock" group session to kids interested in learning to play in a band and really thinks #1 would do well. He says he'll get back to me as soon as he has enough kids interested to form a band.
Short story long (as usual for me...) the first jam session was Tuesday night. #1 was so excited he couldn't relax his smile enough to hide his two huge front teeth all day. I dropped him off like all "cool" moms know to do and went home to make dinner for the rest of the tribe. About an hour into the jam session, Hubby starts making little comments about how the other kids in the band are probably wanna-be stoners with long hair and cigarette packs rolled in their sleeves and I start freaking out. I mean, how could I just agree to a ROCK BAND for my 10 year old without even screening the other members? What kind of music was he going to be playing? What kind of language would he hear? What kind of GROUPIES will start following him around??? AHHH!
On the verge of an all out panic attack, I jump in the car and race down to the studio to try and catch the last 15 minutes of the drug fest I'd just dropped my child off at. I sneak in the back and take a seat, carefully eyeing all of his bandmates... and... phew... deep breath. I know these kids. They're high school kids, but I know who they are. They're good kids. A girl even - and she's not a groupie. They're playing a Maroon 5 song that I love and to my amazement, #1 is keeping up with them all. My 10 year old is jamming right along with a couple of 17-year-olds. My eyes well up with pride and I try really hard not to smile an "uncool" mom smile that would embarrass the snot out of him in front of all these teenagers. And that's when it hits me. POOR #1! He's probably so intimidated playing with these older kids. He's probably sitting there cursing me for making him join. I want to cry as I think of how uncomfortable the last two hours must have been and I fight the urge to run up and grab him and take him home where he can feel like a big fish again.

As the session wraps up, Guitar Teacher comes over to talk to me. He tells me that #1 was a little rusty after his summer off (thank you for twisting the "bad mom knife" a little more) but that after the first hour or so, he kept right up. I glance over at #1 and catch him trying to suppress a smile and I decide I'll wait until we're alone to let him off the hook and tell him he can quit if he wants. "We'll just tell Guitar Teacher that you were uncomfortable with all those older kids," I think to myself.
As soon as we get to the car I ask #1 what he thought.
"IT WAS AWESOME!" he yells.
Huh? I SO do not know my own child very well.
"Really?" I ask.
He tells me all about the session and how they're learning songs to play at a New Year's Eve show with another young band and how he's even going to sing backup. SING??? My child? I dig a little deeper and ask him about the other kids being so much older and he tells me how cool they are and that they were really great to him. I push even harder and come right out and ask him if he's sure he wants to keep it up.

"Oh yeah. It was awesome."
And then the enthusiasm starts catching on and my eyes start welling up with pride again as I realize that #1's becoming his own little man. And a stud at that. Rock on kid!!

Treadmills and Ear Aches

I'm going to be 31 in less than 2 months. My birthday is at the end of the year which means I literally kiss another year goodbye everytime that stupid apple in NYC drops. And while 30 was somewhat painful for me, 31 is even worse. You would think I would have used this year to adjust to this new position but as 31 draws closer, I'm realizing I didn't. All year I was able to say, "Oh, I JUST turned 30" with a wink and smile. But now...NOW...I'm knee deep in it and I guess it's time I accept it.
Which is why I decided to hit the dreadmill (no typo there) this morning. I worked 2 days shifts on Sat. and Sun. which each started at 5:30 a.m. and ended a little after 6 p.m. which meant that by Sunday night, I was beat. I crawled into bed at the unheard of bedtime hour of 9:30 p.m. and set my alarm for 6:20 a.m. (I'd decided the only way I was going to stick with this exercise thing once and for all was if I got it done before #3 and #4 got up for the day.) I figured if I couldn't pull my sorry arse outta bed after 9 hours of sleep then there would never be any hope for me at all.
Stupid, stupid, stupid. I forgot that #4 has a sixth sense and can tell when I've set my alarm for any time earlier than the sun comes up. We started playing musical beds at midnight and didn't wrap it up till after 3 a.m. First she wanted her sippy filled, then she wanted mommy to lay with her. Then she wanted to lay with mommy and daddy. Mommy gave up on any hope of sleep around 2 a.m. and snuck out of her bed and into #4's bed. #4's sixth sense kicked in again, woke her up and made her daddy bring her back to her own bed so he could sleep. Mommy snuck BACK down to her own bed, finally alone and exhausted, cursing the alarm clock that had less than 3 hours to go.
That all being said...I still got up with the alarm and hit the dreadmill for 49 minutes. (And no, I could not have gone another second to make it an even 50. Believe me, I tried.) I took my laptop with me and watched Brothers and Sisters on abc.com. I need to write a letter to the suits at ABC and thank them for the brilliant decision to put full episodes on line. Who really has time to drop everything at 8:00 p.m. and watch an HOUR LONG program? Not me. So this is my new motivation. I can only catch up with all my shows if I do it on the dreadmill. One episode is about 43-44 minutes which means after the "limited commercial interuptions" I get 46-47 minutes of viewing time. Perfect.
Anyhoo, after catching up with the Walkers online, I rushed around trying to get myself and #3 and 4 ready for the day so we could pick #2 up from school and get him to the doctor by 9:30 a.m.
I've never been one to pull my kids out of school for doctors appointments, but my doctor has become incredibly busy and he was booked 3 weeks out as it was taking the morning appointment. Of course they leave spots open daily for the sick and dying but #2 didn't qualify.
You see, #2 recently failed two differnt routine hearing screenings the district audiologist does at the first of each school year. Never mind that #2 passed in Kindergarten and 1st grade. This year he failed the first one and the follow up 6 weeks later. I find out about this at parent-teacher conference about a week after the 2nd test and FREAK out. I call the doctor's office the minute I get home to follow-up (just like the audiologist told me) and REALLY start panicking when they tell me the closest available appointment is 3 weeks away. I politely accept the appointment and then nearly start bawling when I hang up and start thinking that #2 is going deaf. Well, being a nurse has it's perks, especially when you work at a small hospital with only a handful of doctors, one of which is my family doc. I got to work that night and called him on his cell the first free minute I got. He laughed, told me he sees this kind of thing all the time (would have been nice if the audiologist had meantioned that in his WARNING letter) and told me waiting 3 weeks would be just fine.
And guess what? It was. #2's ears are fine. He probably had an minor ear infection at the time, which may have affected the screening process. But Family Doc had a good point today: Why do we take perfectly healthy children, screen them for disease processes they are asymptomatic for and then scare the you-know-what out of their parents? #2's never complained of not being able to hear well. He has no speech impediments and is right on track in the 2nd grade. I never would have bothered with the hearing screen in the first place - had I been asked about it - and I could have done without the added stress!
That being said, of course, I'm grateful he's fine and I'm lucky Family Doc is down to earth enough to just say it like it is. And the appointment wasn't a total bust. #2 and #3 woke up with some nasty coughs this morning so at least I was able to get some presciptions for phenergan and codeine syrup while I was there (best dang cough medicine there is, in case you're wondering!)
After running a few more errands while we were in town (I asked #2 if he minded, which of course, he didn't), we ran through the drive-thru at MickieD's to grab lunch (my errands had taken so long that #2 missed school lunch...oops), made #2 scarf it down on the way back (another example of prime parenting), dropped him off and school and got home just in time to get #3 and 4 down for their afternoon naps. And Voila! Here I am, pecking away at this keyboard. WHEWWW! I tell ya, days like these make work feel like an afternoon at the spa!
(Wish me luck on the dreadmill in the morning. Two mornings in a row will be a new record!!)

10 Minutes of Freedom

I know I should probably feel guilty for saying this but..."WAHOO!!" My kids are gone. Dad took them up to Grandma tonight because there are State Playoff Games tomorrow that he wants to go to and I'm working a day shift here. His only option was Grandma (thank you, Grandma!) and thankfully, he decided to leave tonight instead of early tomorrow morning. Again..."WAHOO!!"
I've been working on this stupid blog all day so I decided to take this opportunity to add to my postings! Lucky for all of you.
I always feel guilty when I know I'm going to be leaving my kids for a couple of days. But when the kids are leaving me, the guilt seems to go with it. Explain that! I'm not sure why, but I don't want to dig too deep because I want to be able to enjoy it. They will only be gone until tomorrow, therefore tonight will be my only opportunity at freedom.
What have I got planned? Couple of chick-flicks and a tub of ice cream? Gourmet dinner for one? Sappy love story novel while I'm curled up next to the fire?
No, NO and HECK NO! You would think that with this freedom I would do something I enjoy. But, alas...there is laundry to finish, floors to sweep, a dishwasher to unload, a shower to take (yep, probably ought to get at least one of those in today!). And sadly, doing any of these things "kidless" is almost as great a luxury as anything else would be. Even eating my "gourmet" dinner of Easy Mac with hotdogs is bliss when I can do it ALONE!
And as nice as it is to be able to post on this blog alone, I really ought to get busy! Duty calls!

The Blog Craze

So I've gotten like 30 different invites this last month from friends who have started their own blogs about their families, etc., and I remembered I'd started one myself earlier this year. Granted, it's not full of updates about my fam so much as just ramblings of an adult-conversation-starved mom. So, to make a short story long, I've decided to update my blog and invite all my cronies to view it. I will occasionally update on the family, of course, but it will mostly be whatever tickles my fanny at the time.
As many of you know, I'm working on my first book (Scary!) and I don't always get the time to sit down and write like I'd like, therefore, I will post things here from time to time to keep my little fingers nimble and my mind quick. (Watching Dora the Explorer all day tends to dull my senses a bit!)
Feel free to post comments, stories, etc. I'd like this to sort of turn into a community thing where everyone in my world can meld together in one place that is incredibly convenient for me!!
I will also post fun little surveys/questions, funny videos, whatever, so I hope to make it fun for all.
If you want any links posted to your own blogs, let me know and I'll be happy to oblige. The more the merrier.
Lastly, thanks for visiting. I know we're all extremely busy and stopping off at one more website is probably the last thing you had time for today. But thanks...
Happy November!

I'm Scared of Teenagers!

My oldest child is only nine so I know I have some time before I need to worry about raising a teenager. (Although he's 9 1/2 which makes teenagedom only about 3 years away...yikes!) And he is a boy and not subject to some of the skanky role models that seem to be plastered all over my television. In fact, my only daughter is not quite two yet so I know I shouldn't worry about it too much yet.
That being said, I can't help but worry. Britney Spears just shaved her head, added two new tattoos and then promptly checked herself into rehab. Personally, I have never been a fan but know there are millions of teeny-boppers out there that idolize her and someday my daughter might be one of them. Hopefully Ms. Spears will be totally out of the limelight by the time my little one is old enough to idolize anyone but me, but I'm certainly not naive enough to think there won't be ten more just like her by then.
Lindsay Lohan, Paris Hilton, Tara Reid - the list goes on and on. No, these girls aren't teenagers anymore but they are the role models for such and I can't help but wonder how many 17 year olds stopped wearing underwear once some of these girls made it headline news?
I live in a small town where everybody knows everybody and thankfully, it's just not "cool" to be skanky. The teenagers around here are good kids with good values and good heads on their shoulders. My boys worship Drake and Josh and The Naked Brothers Band from Nickelodeon but they also worship the starting five on our high school basketball team and I'm grateful for that - they are role models I want my kids watching. They are good-looking kids that work hard at school, (most of them Academic All-Staters) at sports and at their church and community service. This weekend we are going to the 2A State Basketball Championship where our boys and girls teams are #1 seeds in the tournament. Once we return, I know my boys will pick one of our high school starters to mimick when they're outside shooting hoops on our home court. There's not one of them that would make me cringe. On the other hand, I have to carefully monitor which NBA stars my boys want to become most like.
Why is it that the more trouble a celebrity gets into, the more their stock goes up? Why do we hear so little about the people that just try to live a good life? This is why teenagers scare me. It is going to be up to me to isolate the good stories and bring them to the forefront of my kids' minds when the worldwide media is working against me. The responsibility I have as a parent is so overwhelming to me and I know the world is only going to get worse as my children get closer to caring about what goes on outside of their little circles.
I know I can't keep all of the negative influences away from my kids and I know they aren't sheltered from the outside world just because we live where we do. But I wonder - if I blow up pictures of some of our high school basketball stars and turn them into posters to plaster around my kids' rooms, maybe the outside influences won't seem so important as the superstars they see everyday around town.

Didn't your mother teach you not to play with matches?

This is my newest hobby...blogging. At first it seemed like a mundane thing to do, a royal waste of time. But as my days alone with my young children seem to get longer and longer, I began to think of this as sort of a venting place; a way to really express myself and unleash some of my frustrations. Of course, I can always share these thoughts with Hubby, who is my number one supporter, but I usually don't get the opportunity to really lay it out there for him. The details of my day are usually shared in quick three word sentences as we pass in the kitchen.
And I'm not complaining...don't get me wrong. I work three 12-hour shifts a week as an RN so I really value my time at home. Only problem is, after working three 12-hour shifts a week, I'm usually borderline worthless to my family. Somewhere along the line I need time to recoup!
Which brings me to my first ever blog (confession). About a week ago after a long day at work and an even longer night up with my 22 month old daughter, I was laying in bed an extra minute (or ten) after Hubby, #1 and #2 left for school. (Hubby's a teacher and, bless his heart, shuffles the boys to school in the mornings so I can stay in bed!!)
So anyway, I'm laying in bed, not really asleep but not ready to get out of bed when I hear a blood-curdling scream from #3. My feet don't hit the floor until I'm out of my bedroom and I see my little guy holding a match that has burned down to his fingers and he won't let it go!
I scream at him to "DROP IT!" and kneel beside him to examine the damage. His thumb, middle finger and index fingers all have white blisters appearing at the finger tips and he's sobbing from the burns.
I stick his little hand in a glass of ice water and hold him while we both cry. Like any mother knows, if I could take the pain away, I would. But even more than that, my guilt is consuming me! How stupid can I be to leave matches within a three year old's reach?
I was spoiled with my older two boys, and I know it. I never had to baby-proof a house. Never had walls drawn on with Magic Marker, never had forks plugged into outlets, never had toy cars flushed down toilets; all of which have occurred since the arrival of my younger two.
It's been a good lesson to me...now I get out of bed as soon as I hear one of my kids scurrying about, although I still grab a quilt and lay on the couch until I'm fully awake.
My matches are above my fridge (even out of reach with a stool), buying outlet covers is on my list of things to do (I can't be perfect overnight!), and I have enough Magic Erasers under my kitchen sink to clean the White House.
I'm sitting at work right now at two a.m., helping deliver babies, knowing full well that even after this confession, tomorrow I'll wake up exhausted and worthless to my family once again, wondering if I'll ever amount to the kind of mom my own kids deserve.