Did I mention that Mr. Squab has been out of town for business since the wee hours of Friday morning? Not getting back until late tonight?
And that the Hatchling came down with a really bad cold this morning, and just barfed all over my bed after an extremely abbreviated nap?
And that I’ve run out of my nausea medicine because my clinic didn’t call in the renewal soon enough?
Yah. AWESOME weekend.
(I swear, I will try to post something positive tomorrow.)
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Posted in parenting highlights, trials and tribulations, updates
This week has been a somewhat taxing one – partly from starting up with classes again, but MOSTLY because the Hatchling has kicked in with the terrible twos in deadly earnest this week, and IT IS WEARING ME OUT. Oh, as long as she’s free to do whatever she wants, she’s her usual happy, sunny self. But god forbid you should try to in any way guide or curtail her activities: the girl can go from zero to ballistic in .0001 seconds. We were running errands on Wednesday and made MAYBE a twenty minute stop at Kinkos so I could copy some course materials. The entire trip was a disaster. I was THAT PARENT – the one with the terror of a kid who’s completely out of control and you kind of think “she must not discipline that kid at all!” God, I hate being that parent. If I hadn’t had my damn credit card stuck in the self-serve machine with copies furiously spewing out, I’d just have marched the Hatchling right out of the store, but as it was, we were stuck. All I could do was glare furiously at my daughter, hold on to her flailing body so she couldn’t run screaming through the store, and keep up a steady stream of profuse apologies to anyone who would listen. Oof. So that night, recounting it to Mr. Squab, we concluded that perhaps right now is just not a good time to take the Hatchling along on errands. (Which would be just peachy if I had either a personal assistant or a full-time nanny. Ahem.)
But THEN, the next morning I made plans to go to the Children’s Museum with some friends, thinking, this should be no problem! It’s a whole building expressly designed for the Hatchling’s entertainment! HA. It is to laugh. Sure, she was happy as could be exploring the Habitot area and the various activity rooms. But any time I tried to steer her in a particular direction, or make her stay at the table for snacks, or ask her to remove herself from the gift shop, or wait for the elevator – in fact, pretty much any time I tried to impose my clearly fascist, anti-Hatchling, mommy agenda on her, it was tantrum time.
The Hatchling prefers a classic tantrum style: going limp, falling to the floor, screaming and kicking, and then trying to furtively crawl in the direction of the forbidden room/activity. There were about ten of these tantrums during our ninety minute visit to the museum. (We had carpooled with our friends, so again, there was no option of just picking up and leaving.)
I find this behavior completely exhausting, y’all. I do not know how to cope with it. Once she’s in tantrum mode, there’s almost no way to break her out of it. And she’s getting goddamn big to haul around, especially as I grow increasingly pregs. I hope to HELL this is a phase she grows out of – even temporarily – by the time the baby comes. But I have to say, I am increasingly dreading the next year. Between her tantrums and a newborn’s sleep irregularities, I honestly do not know how I am going to stay functional. Erk. Anyone have any advice?
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Posted in trials and tribulations
Tagged 2 years
If there’s a more depressing way to come home from vacation than having to put your cat to sleep, I do not want to know what it is. We got home from the cabin at around 11:30 yesterday morning, looking forward to having a couple of days to settle in and get the Hatchling back on something approaching a normal sleep schedule. Oscar, our healthy cat, pranced right up to us meowing “where the hell have you been?” and other feline remonstrations. I could hear Max (the unhealthy one) meowing, too, but I couldn’t see him. I checked under his favorite chair, and there he was, looking just god-awful terrible. In addition to the thyroid medication we’ve had him on, he’s also been taking antibiotics for the past two weeks, to try and rid him of a mysterious infection that’s been plaguing him. The antibiotics helped some, but not enough, and I was feeling very uneasy about leaving him for a week. But we had people looking in on him, and Mr. Squab drove back to the house mid-week to make sure everything was OK, and he seemed to be, if not getting better, then at least staying about the same. But as soon as I got him out from under the chair yesterday, I could see what we were going to have to do. He looked terrible, like a cat skeleton covered in fur. He could hardly lift his head up and was having trouble walking. Most telling of all, he wasn’t purring anymore – and this is a cat who purrs at any and all times, like even when the vet is sticking a needle into his leg. Up to this point, with the feline diabetes a few years ago and even the initial thyroid treatments, he’d retained his personality and really didn’t seem to mind the pills and shots. I know some people would have put him down years ago, but I couldn’t see doing that just to save myself the trouble of administering twice-daily doses of medicine. He’s never been the healthiest of cats, but he always seemed happy to be alive, not in pain or anything. But yesterday was different. He’d been declining, and now he was clearly at the point of no return. He didn’t want to be held, he wasn’t eating or drinking, all he had the energy to do was find a quiet spot and lie down. I told Mr. Squab to call the vet and tell them we needed to schedule an appointment to put him down. And then I sat on the sofa and bawled my brains out. The vet is only open until 1:00 on Saturdays, so we quickly called BFF to see if she could come over and watch the Hatchling, put the Hatchling down for her nap, and got Max into his carrier. I could not stop crying. It’s not like I hadn’t been prepared for this eventuality; I could see that he was declining and I knew this was the likely outcome, sooner or later. But it still felt just terrible. Max was meowing in the carrier – he hates it in there – and I kept saying, “It’s OK, Maxer, we’re going to make you feel all better” and then dissolving in tears all over again. We got to the vet’s and they couldn’t have been nicer, telling us they were so sorry, and bringing us tissues. They put a catheter in Max’s leg and let me hold him for a little while before they administered the overdose of sedatives. The vet was one we’d seen before, and she said there must have been some other underlying condition that they hadn’t caught, he’d gone downhill so rapidly. She was sorry, too, and told Max to say hi to her cat and two dogs that were on the other side. She administered the dose and in only about 10 or 15 seconds Max was gone. He was so weak it took hardly any time at all. They let us sit with him until we were ready to go, bringing us more tissues. It was maybe the saddest thing I’ve ever done. My eyes were still swollen this morning, and I’m crying now as I write this. I know it was the right thing to do. Funny how that doesn’t make me feel any better.
I’ve decided to look at this as the end of a pretty crap summer rather than an inauspicious beginning to autumn. Because I really, really, really need this coming season to be better than the last one, you know?
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Posted in trials and tribulations
Someone was just shot in the alley across the street; we heard the shots, then two men’s voices yelling, and just as we were thinking we should call 911 three squad cars roared up and started taping off the area. I mean, they were FAST. I guess that’s good … I mean, it’s definitely good that they came so fast, but could we please quit with the shootings on my block? Please?
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Posted in current events, trials and tribulations
Yesterday, Mr. Squab, the Hatchling and I went to the State Fair with some friends. I ate:
cheese curds
fresh lemonade
grilled corn on the cob
a cone of chocolate chip cookies
a caramel apple
… it was delicious.
The Hatchling also totally enjoyed herself, mostly just looking at the sights from the comfort of her stroller, but also going on:
Aquatic bumper cars
a Dinosaur-go-round
a Whale ride
She went all by herself – or at least, with no adults – and totally had a blast, as these photos show:
The weather was perfect, the kids were well-behaved, and we were in and out before the crowds got too crazy. It was great.
TODAY, on the other hand, I had an appointment at the diabetes clinic this morning, then had to haul the cat to the vet with two kids in tow (nephew is hanging with us this week), then get lunch, then clean up the chocolate milk the Hatchling spilled all over the place, then fend the cat off from my own food, then put the Hatchling down for a nap, then try to do something productive and totally fail, then take the kids to the park and around the block, all while feeling so tired I want to lay down and die, partly just because, and partly due to the fact that two of the medications I’m on have fatigue as a side effect.
Can I just go back to yesterday, please?
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Posted in good times, outings and trips, trials and tribulations
Man, I hate days like today. Today’s badness actually started last night, when I realized that not only would I have to renege on my offer to watch J’s daughter this morning, but I’d have to ask J to watch the Hatchling so I could attend an orientation meeting for my new job (that they told me about 36 hours in advance, because, you know, why would you need more notice than that?). So I started off the day feeling like a schmuck, which is nice, and then I had to drag the Hatchling to an appointment with my OB so I could get a prescription for a different nausea medicine that will maybe work better than the current one. I don’t love taking the Hatchling with me to the doctor, but she was extremely well-behaved once she realized that we weren’t going to HER doctor, and no one was going to try and give her a shot. Only then they took my blood pressure, as they’re wont to do, and it was 218/96. No, you didn’t read that wrong. TWO HUNDRED EIGHTEEN. I just … I kind of didn’t even think your blood pressure could even GO that high. I had some high BP readings while I was pregnant with the Hatchling, which they monitored pretty carefully, but never THAT high, and as the pregnancy progressed my readings got back down into the normal range and it ended up not being a problem. 218/96, however, is a problem. So my Nurse Practitioner kind of freaked out, in her very low-key and supportive way, and retook the BP, and it was 178/110. WHICH IS NOT REALLY BETTER. And I just feel like: FUCK! You know? Why can’t my body just DO this? Why does pregnancy have to throw me for such a goddamn loop? I really, really, really hate this. It doesn’t help that I feel like this should have been preventable, and if I were just better about exercising or had lost some weight (yes, that demon is quick to rear its ugly head) then I wouldn’t have to be dealing with this. Which may or may not be true, but either way is water under the bridge and no help at all. And of course I spent the whole day stressing out about my BP, and trying to calm myself down from stressing out about it, because hello! stress just MAKES IT WORSE, and then I had a total breakdown when Mr. Squab got home, which he just LOVES, as you can imagine.
Yah. Good times. So tonight we went to the pharmacy to fill my new, expensive, oddly prohibited nausea scrip (the insurance co. only lets you get 12 pills at a time, for some unknown reason). And then we got me a home BP monitor, so I can keep track of it, and tomorrow I have to make an appointment with my internist so they can decide if I need to go on medication. (Since tonight’s reading was 206/120, I’m gonna guess that chances are good that I’ll be filling another scrip shortly.) ALL OF WHICH SUCKS.
I was really, really hoping that this time around would be easier. Guess that’s not how my fetuses (fetii?) roll. All I can say is, they better be the EASIEST TEENAGERS EVER, or we are going to have WORDS.
Look, howsabout I just repost this? It’s pretty much exactly what I’d write today, anyway. Only moreso.
Comments Off on Same shit, different pregnancy
Posted in trials and tribulations
Tagged first trimester
Today I am 37 years old. THIRTY-SEVEN, BITCHES. Sadly, my maturity level still hovers around 21. In celebration, Bubba has decided to make me extra nauseated today. Drugs, accupressure band, Preggie Pop drops – Bubba laughs in their faces. Personally, I’m not laughing so much. But hopefully I’ll feel better in time for the family cookout we’re having this afternoon. Because it’s my flipping BIRTHDAY, and I should be able to enjoy a fricking hamburger and some corn on the cob without my stupid fetus wrecking it for me!
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Posted in announcements, trials and tribulations
Nausea medicine is a Good Thing. The stuff I’m on, Reclan, while it doesn’t make me feel *completely* normal, still has gotten me back to functionality, which is wonderful. I was talking to my sister about this (she has a new blog! Go read! Maybe then she will post more!) and we were trying to figure out why the hell I didn’t get on medicine the last time around, and equally, why the hell it took her several months to get on the meds herself. Some of it, no doubt, is due to the diffidence on the part of OBs everywhere towards prescribing unnecessary meds in the first trimester. Which, OK. I get that. But let me be the first to tell you: this shit is NECESSARY for some of us. I think last time I wasn’t clear enough about just how sick I was, because this time I basically went in and said: I’m so nauseated I can’t function. Give me some meds. And I got some, easy as that. But ALSO, I Blame the Patriarchy. By which I mean, the whole screwed up culture around pregnancy and childbirth and what’s “normal” and “natural” etc., etc. Both sis and I agreed that if we heard ONE MORE person tell us “oh, the sicker you are the healthier the baby is!” we were going to SPEW ALL OVER THEIR FEET. I mean, that may be true and everything, but WTF? Is that supposed to make me feel better? Like, oh, well, if it means that the baby is healthy then I don’t even MIND not being able to care for my 2 year old – in fact I’d do a little dance of joy if I could, you know, get up off the couch and/or stop feeling like crawling into a corner and dying. I mean, come the hell on. And all those books and websites that wax lyrical about how “natural” all these hellish symptoms are. Again, like that’s going to make you feel better. Well, let me be the first to say FUCK THAT. Lots of things are “natural” – stomach flu, the bubonic plague, and ebola come to mind – but you’re not going to frown on someone for treating THOSE symptoms. As my sister said, the baby is still getting the benefit of all those hormones, but with the medicine they can have those benefits without making me feel like life is overrated. Ergo: Good Thing. Q.E.D.
However, that being said, I do have to take issue with the universe for one thing about these anti-nausea meds: almost all of them have constipation as their main side-effect. Which is funny (really, can’t you hear me laughing?) because pregnancy also has that as a main side-effect, and even MORE hilariously, you know what, besides pregnancy, makes you feel nauseated? CONSTIPATION. Christ. So I’ve started taking a fiber pill every time I take an anti-nausea pill, and eating cereals so crammed with bran that I may start neighing and jumping fences any minute now. I’m also wearing my fancy acupressure bracelet at night instead of taking pills, just to give my system a break. This probably sounds like a lot of hassle, and indeed it is, but it’s so much better being less sick, I’m willing to do whatever it takes.
However, this baby better be a damn good one.
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Posted in trials and tribulations
Tagged first trimester
Today, we:
– confirmed that the brakes on my car are practically gone and it will cost $800+ to fix them
– decided that this means we need to get me a “new” car a little earlier than intended
– found out that our formerly diabetic cat is now suffering from thyroid disease
– which means more expensive treatments … for a 13 year old, never-really-been-healthy kitty
So: we’ve dropped a load of cash and are about to drop a whole lot more; I’m currently car-less, and the cat is looking pathetic.
Oh, and raccoons or squirrels have stolen all our gorgeous, ripening tomatoes, taken one bite out of them, and left them in our yard. Little bastards.
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Posted in trials and tribulations
