Tuesday, April 28, 2009

Just Keep Swimming... Just Keep Swimming


Woke up. Neck was feeling marginally better, I could at least function on a low level. Upon retrieving Baby Girl from her crib discovered that she had vomited sometime in the night--and slept in it for hours. Poor little thing, didn't even cry out, just slept in the most disgusting conditions you've ever seen or smelled. Hurt my neck further removing tainted crib bumper. Exhausted a can of Lysol in her room to decontaminate. Prayed she wouldn't vomit again (thankfully she didn't). Wrenched in pain all day.


Woke up. Neck still hurts. Lila's nose is running like a sieve. Theorize she vomited from gagging on phlegm. Stayed home all day and wondered to self why she gets so many colds. Attempted to remove stains from bumper. Failed at that. Thanked God several times for pain killers. Wrenched in pain a bit less.


Lila wakes up sicker. Huge bubbles of snot come out of her nose that she gets cross-eyed trying to look at. See seems okay-ish though. Think to self that she should be much improved the next morning. Further attempts are made to clean bumper as I'm desperate to return it to the crib to help contain binkies that are dropping like flies and therefore interrupting sleep. Plus her crib looks so sad, like a little Baby Prison. Fail again at stain removal, actually make situation worse. Discover that Cole hijacked my DSLR and somehow managed to dent the outer rim on the lens. Curse and swear. Give thanks that he didn't do worse destruction to my precious camera. Try to conjure up a punishment equal to damaging such a valuable item that he knows is off limits. Bright side to Monday- Wrenched in pain very little.


Morning, 5am. Woke up to Rey (leaving for the gym) beep-beep-beeping on the alarm pad. Realize Baby Girl is screaming in her crib as well. Curse and swear to self, blaming the old man for waking her up two hours early when really it's probably not his fault and I'm just angry and jealous that he gets to go to the gym when I haven't been in 5 days. The gym is my happy place. Realize that my throat hurts and conjecture that I have been infected by Baby Girl. Quickly count that this will be my sixth cold in five months. Climb out of bed to tend to baby. Trip on dog and hurt neck badly trying not to fall on face. Curse and swear at dog. Threaten to send him to pound because I know he trips me on purpose. Wrench in pain. Go to the baby, wipe her face clean of snot and chisel her face free from that which has dried in the night. A little diaper, feeding, and rescue mission of fallen binkies and she is asleep again. Praise the Lord and give thanks for this. Take pain killers for neck. Thank God again for those. Head back to bed. Wrench in pain over dog-inflicted neck reinjury. Sleep four seconds before the gym man's return and beep-beep-beep of the alarm pad wakens me. Contemplate running away to a hotel. Decide it's not worth the effort as I would probably be quickly apprehended.

Afternoon. Lila has been a hot mess all day. Note to self: perhaps she is sicker than I originally diagnosed. My throat is on fire and knowing I am getting sick makes me feel like I am facing a death sentence. Officially declare that I am sick of being sick and sick of my kids being sick. Throw in that I'm sick of being in pain, just for good measure. We are homebound because of aforementioned wrenching in pain, and also because Baby Girl's nose looks like a Geyser and she must be quarantined. Stress out for a moment about this "Swine Flu" and contemplate stockpiling masks, just in case. Relegated to a day of board (bored) games like Candyland to occupy the boys. Curse and swear the inventor of Candyland, and especially curse and swear whoever decided to put on the box that it was age appropriate for a 3 year old. It is not. Become convinced that the boys unionized to revolt, because if they go one moment without organized playtime they turn into Castro and Kadafi. Attempt outside play to avert the revolt. Choke on smoke from brush fires, retreat inside. Admit defeat and turn on the TV until nap time. Decide that whoever invented the show Yo Gabba Gabba was probably tripping on acid. Battled the kids down for naps, breathed huge sigh of relief for the reprieve.

Currently: Channeling my girl Dory, the friendly, forgetful, free-spirited, fish from Finding Nemo (cause everything in my life can be traced back to a Disney movie):

"You know what you gotta do when life gets you down? Just keep swimming, Just keep swimming, Just keep swimming swimming swimming."

Wise words for a fish, I say.

Dory is my hero. And so I swim.

Even though I feel like crying.


Lucinda said...

Oh, Ashley I'm so sorry. It sounds like you're having a pretty rough time.

Have you tried a 6-pack, or maybe a bottle of wine. I'm just sayin', could be worth a try :)

Lucinda said...

P.S. I LOVE Dory!!

"Oh Look, Es-Cah-Pehhh! That's funny, it looks just like escape"

"We're looking for his son, Fabio"