Today I am sick but recovering. I think I've been sick for over a week but maybe I've been in denial or maybe I've been like a buffalo that's been shot by an arrow, trudging along till you fall over.
I fell over yesterday. (Not literally. Stay with me.)
I left work even though I only had to do the phones (which means no one could see my face and I could cuddle up in a chair), came home and couldn't sleep or relax even though my folks were here (which means that I got to take three baths (the only thing that makes me feel better when I'm sick) (other than strong prescription medications.) and lay in my bed to my heart's content.)
So I went to the ER, despite not having health insurance. (Can't wait to get that multi-thousand dollar bill in the mail.) (If you thought that this was just a blog about parenthood, boy were you wrong. It's also about being super poor. And the overuse of parentheses.)
I've had recurrent kidney infections and the thing about those is that if you don't get the medicine quick then you can't keep it down and it has to be given through IV. And if you don't get there quick enough for the IV, you have to stay for a few days soaking up the IV. Plus, I was in crazy pain, my fever wouldn't break and I didn't even care that my mom walked in on me moaning in the bath and saw my boobs.
Six hours later, I was sent on my way with a couple of prescriptions and a diagnosis of "a virus". My stepdad went with me and confirmed that the nurse had actually told me my diagnosis was "Malaysia" which I remember thinking at the time was a place but then I decided that I'd had a high fever for over 12 hours and was probably delirious. (We are seriously questioning whether or not that was a real hospital or not. There didn't appear to be any patients outside of the "ER" which consisted of 4 recliners in a row with curtains around them.)
I feel a lot better today. Like, I'm not writhing in pain or delirious but I'm shuffling around like an elderly person and could use several long naps.
But, when you're a single mom, that's not happening. My mom looked sympathetic when she left last night. But there it is. I told the kids today to go easy on me and they really have been great. They've straightened up and looked after eachother. Right now New Baby is napping with her feet propped up on my leg. Abbey and Lola are watching Sword in the Stone in the next room and Sam's making lunch. In fact, it was the discussion over who would make lunch that brings you today's quote of the day.
Abbey: "Aw, you sick mom?"
Me: "Yeah."
Abbey: "You need to go to sleep?"
Me: "No, not right now. If I go to sleep, who will take care of you?"
Abbey: "Me. I can make lunch."
Me: "Oh, really? What are you going to make for lunch?"
Abbey: "Uh...Candy!"
Abbey's three.
This is Sam.
He's 9. I should probably mention up front that he has Asperger's (because that will probably put some of the other info about him in perspective) but that's rarely the first thing people think when they meet him. Or ever think. Maybe that's because not a lot of people know what Asperger's is?
People who meet Sam are usually pretty amused by him. He's always thought of himself as an adult and has tried to establish himself as such since he was able to communicate enough to let me know he considers himself my equal.
He's a glass-half-empty person. He's grouchy and notoriously lazy. (If I have him, for instance, put clean silverware away, he'll stuff it all into the drawer haphazardly. Even when he has to make his own lunch that he has to eat for school, if he's feeling particularly lazy, he'll put one applesauce cup in it and a ziploc bag of potato chip crumbs.) He's also quite forgetful. This winter, (and I guess it still isn't over yet, so this number has not yet been finalized) he has lost 4 coats. He uses his clothes as a napkin. When I do laundry, every piece of clothing from him has five dabs of SOMETHING on the shirt and pants. He sighs a lot about having a bad life because he has to do things like chores and homework.
I'm working diligently on his temper, sense of entitlement and work ethic. It is tough. Sam's been a difficult child from the get go. And there's really never going to be that payoff where all my hard work comes to fruition. It'll be what doesn't happen that lets me know I (I initially wrote "did things right" but there isn't a "did things right". No one ever gets it all right.) made a difference...that he doesn't go to jail, that he doesn't alienate himself from meaningful relationships.
But there's more to him than this. He has an awesome sense of humor and love of the absurd. He loves music and creating art. He has a keen sense of truth. I guess he's full of contradictions because the same kid who is afraid of the noise the vacuum cleaner makes, shrewdly told me at age 5 that he knew Santa wasn't real because there wouldn't be price stickers on the stuff in his stockings. He loves the water and although he's afraid of so many other things, he's never been afraid of going far out into the ocean, where he can't touch, and bobbing on the waves. The waves seem like they're good for him, like they reset his inner metronome or something. I've always felt the same way after a trip to the beach.
Sam also has a good sense of right and wrong and justice. He will still do stuff that he knows is wrong and will lie in an attempt to get away with it, but he knows start to finish that it is wrong and why.
There's almost six years between Sam and Abbey. Which is probably a good thing because he was a high maintenance kid. And I know every parent of multiple kids marvels about how different kids can be from each other. He and Abbey were night and day. (I'm sure I had something to do with that, because of the kid that Sam was.) Where Sam would push me away, Abbey pulls me to her and tries to keep me there, clinging to my leg if I try to go anywhere. As soon as Sam could move on his own, he'd crawl into his room and shut his door. I peel Abbey off of me to put her in her bed every night (using a combination of threats and bribes to keep her there) and wake up every morning with her practically laying on my face.
This is Abbey.
This girl is chock full of personality. This is a girl who, with her face coated with a thick layer of chocolate, can look at you wide eyed and claim "Mommy, I not know who ate your candy." Abbey only says "I love you too." (Even if she's saying it first.)
She would live on my lap if I let her. This made her a rough baby. She wanted to be so close to me that it seemed like she wanted to inhale me. She took forever to sleep through the night, because she didn't want to be away from me. Abbey had difficulty with transitions, new situations (starting preschool) and would cling to me. She didn't walk until she was 15 months old and nursed until I pried her off of me and refused to do it anymore. (Around the same time.) She's a Mama's Girl. I probably caused some of that because I was delighted to have a kid who didn't push me away! (I didn't know kids could be like that! I thought Sam just didn't like me.)
Abbey is a sassy thing. She will absolutely stand up for herself and isn't afraid to throw down if needed. She's also a girly girl and loves dressing up and all things sparkly, pink and purple. One of her first sentences was "I'm a pwincess!" which she would say every time I put her in a dress. Now that she's outgrown using me as a security blanket, she has no fear and will climb to the top of the highest anything, talk to any person anywhere (we were once in the supermarket check out line and she demanded that the man in front of us purchasing a bouquet of flowers give her some), go anywhere...she would try to drive my car if she thought she could get away with it. Make no mistake.
She has strabismus amblyopia which is like a lazy eye. The reason is that her optic nerve is malformed in one of her eyes. The doctors want to do surgery on it, which I've agreed to and set a date...but it bothers me a lot. The surgery isn't going to help her see better. It's just going to make her eye look more "normal". She doesn't know her eye doesn't look normal. The doctors insist that in a year or two, the other kids will notice and make fun of her and then she will feel sad. They say that to do it now is best because she won't remember and she will never be made fun of for it. They said "Doesn't it just break your heart when you look at her?" but it doesn't, I hardly notice it and I think she's beautiful. I have a difficult time imagining Abbey allowing anyone to put her down. I think it's kind of crazy to make her go have surgery for something that the only benefit to her is that kids won't make fun of her. For that. But all kids make fun of all other kids for something. Will I surgically correct all of those things too? Everyone I've talked to about it says they'd do the surgery for their kid (or their hypothetical kid, if they don't have a real one) and that makes me feel weird that I have an actual kid and am so torn about it.
This is Lola:
Lola is a very funny kid. She wasn't a clingy baby in the least. After the first two, she was an absolute breeze. She doesn't show off, doesn't ham it up, doesn't smother, doesn't demand. Maybe all third kids are like this. Maybe all kids who aren't incredibly needy like the first two are like this. I'm not sure. She's a lot of fun but is already quite set in her ways. I sometimes wonder if she'll end up with an autism diagnosis as well. There are a few quirks of her behavior that are reminiscent of Sam.
Lola is quite a talker. Sam didn't talk well till he was way past the age of 4. Abbey came into her own talking-wise at the age of two and a half or so. Lola can nearly keep up her end of the conversation and she won't be two for a couple of months. She will lean over and give me a delicate smack on the lips. She loves to sit on my lap and be read to. She will thrust books into my hands. Lola likes to eat. Although she's over a year younger than Abbey and a head shorter, they were the same size clothes. (Abbey and Sam are so small, though, they're in the 3rd percentile. Lola's actually right in the middle of the growth chart. She's average but compared to the other two, she's huge.) Lola loves Elmo ("Ay-mo!") and Dora ("Doh-wa!") She can slide to unlock my iPhone and scroll through apps to choose the one she wants to play. When she wants my attention, she runs over and shouts "HELLO!" breathlessly like a reporter beginning their segment at the scene of a fast breaking news story. My day is full of "HELLO! I want juice." "HELLO! Up!" or "HELLO! Doh-waaaaaaah!"
This is Emma Joan:
The youngest of the four. Emma Joan is such an easy baby, and so happy, that she makes Lola look like a tight-fisted tyrant in comparison. I sometimes worry that she might become clingy like Abbey because she does like to sleep next to me and she can only take so much of the other kids before she's warily scanning the room for me. She just likes being with me. But she makes it really easy to be around her, because she's not clinging to me desperately sobbing and wailing at the thought of having to release me from her grasp long enough to cook her dinner, she just smiles even more when she's with me, she sleeps better when she's next to me, she eats better and is more satisfied when I nurse her, she burps better when it's me doing it. Sometimes I think she gets along with me so well because she really is my baby. I mean, she has a dad. They all do. (Same guy!) I'm married to him right now. But we've been separated for awhile and will soon be divorced. We were separated before I found out I was pregnant with Emma Joan. I went through my pregnancy, labor and childbirth without her dad. I drove myself 35 miles to the hospital when I was in labor. My mom was at my side when she was delivered. I feel like we have a special bond because it was just the two of us for so long.
Emma Joan is named for two of her great grandmothers, one on my side and one on her dad's side.
So that's them, the Fab Four. I need this blog for many reasons...to keep track of what they're up to, because I'm so in the thick of it that we're just surviving and I know that one day...it'll seem like a week from now, they'll have all moved out of the house and I won't remember a thing about the past 25 years or so. I also need a place to vent. Some days, I can literally make it through the entire day without speaking to another adult. And hopefully, also, this blog will make me a millionaire. Very, very soon.
Everybody's sleeping now. It is peaceful. It's time for me to join them. Good night and nice to meet you.
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