I know nothing about motorcycles.
Strep, though? Strep I know. It's not incredibly zen. More tired-and-cranky making. And we're deep in the heart of it.
My Aspie has it. Strep gives him a foul temper, a foul mouth, and outrageously foul breath. And no other symptoms. Kid can't feel a sore throat, so he just gets foul. Lovable - totally lovable. And totally foul.
My little guy has it too. It kept him up all night for two nights in a row. Gave him a scary high fever and a "hurty neck." That all makes him tired, and the tireds make him cranky.
And I have it. I have it, and I'm cranky because I can't sleep when the kids are always awake, and because I have work to do and little people to take care of and groceries to shop for and my throat hurts and I have an (admittedly small) fever. I also have an awesome au pair (seriously, she's awesome - she says things like, "you shouldn't do those dishes, you're sick," and "of course you're not talking too much") ... but she's sick too. It's not strep, thankfully. But she's sick nevertheless.
The diva is not streppy. Nor is she sick. She's just surrounded by cranky. Lots and lots of cranky, from everyone but the awesome au pair. So the diva's cranky, too.
All that cranky makes for a fun, fun time.
Oh, and we seem to have infected a few friends, including one of my wine and pie buddies who was gracious enough to watch my kids for me for a few hours on Sunday. The strep was our way of saying thank you.
You know how she said you're welcome? She made a complete right turn in the middle of a phone call this evening to tell me what a great mom I am. And how great my kids are. And how much fun she had with them (while they were giving her strep). And how wonderful they are together.
I gave her strep. She gave me happy mushy mommy tears.
It may not be zen, but it's close.
Showing posts with label illness. Show all posts
Showing posts with label illness. Show all posts
March 25, 2010
November 3, 2009
Don't Eat the Pork, Reprise
Three weeks ago tomorrow, my oldest came home with a random fever. Three days and done. My doctor tells me this is what the swine flu looks like in a kid with a kick-ass immune system.
By Monday afternoon, my diva had spiked a raging fever, hovered there for days and days, and finally recovered the following Monday.
On Friday, the little guy got it. But because by then we had confirmation that we were dealing with H1N1, we had Tamiflu at the ready.
My au pair got sick on Saturday. I got sick on Monday.
All swine flu, right?
Nope.
Turns out, mine was some other virus doing a damn fine impression of the swine flu, most likely because it was the similar but much less scary seasonal flu. How do I know? Because today, after 24 hours in bed shivering, feverish, and too weak to lift my own damn head, I was diagnosed, at last, with the swine flu.
The good news? It's not pneumonia.
I think that's about it.
What sucks about this? Oh, so many things ...
I can't hug my kids.
-----
P.S. If you, too, are caught with your Tamiflu down and want a more natural approach to immunity boosting, try my friend's Stinky Soup (known to Yoga Journal as the Immune Booster Soup, which they published in December 2006).
I'll admit, I do make some changes so that it's not quite so stinky and I'll actually want to eat it.
Immune Booster Soup
4 c. mushroom or chicken broth
1 small yellow onion, chopped
4 to 10 cloves garlic (to taste), crushed and chopped
1 carrot, chopped
4 to 8 shitake mushrooms, sliced
1 to 3 T. grated ginger root (to taste)
3 T. chopped fresh parsley
Bring the broth, onion, garlic, carrot, mushrooms, and ginger root to a slow boil. Reduce heat and simmer on low, covered, for 15 minutes or until the vegetables are soft.
Remove from heat. Add fresh lemon juice, parsley, and any remaining garlic.
Cover and steep for 5 minutes.
My version
Yesterday, I sauteed all the stinky bits in olive oil, thereby destroying most of their immune properties. I used an enormous amount of shiitake mushrooms. I forgot the carrot and had no parsley or fresh lemon, all of which would have been lovely. I added a package of Japanese noodles, a splash of lime juice, a little sesame oil and some soy sauce.
So in other words, I totally cheated.
By Monday afternoon, my diva had spiked a raging fever, hovered there for days and days, and finally recovered the following Monday.
On Friday, the little guy got it. But because by then we had confirmation that we were dealing with H1N1, we had Tamiflu at the ready.
My au pair got sick on Saturday. I got sick on Monday.
All swine flu, right?
Nope.
Turns out, mine was some other virus doing a damn fine impression of the swine flu, most likely because it was the similar but much less scary seasonal flu. How do I know? Because today, after 24 hours in bed shivering, feverish, and too weak to lift my own damn head, I was diagnosed, at last, with the swine flu.
The good news? It's not pneumonia.
I think that's about it.
What sucks about this? Oh, so many things ...
- I don't qualify for Tamiflu. My kids have all had the damn flu, so I'm no longer considered high risk. I get to suffer through this the hard way.
- I can't concentrate enough to knit. Or read. Or write (which means this will need a lot of editing). Though I can type lying down, so the computer seems to be my new happy place. Hello, Facebook. ('Cause, you know, I don't spend enough time there as it is.)
- I'm coughing. A lot. Anyone reading this who has also given birth to three children will know exactly why that's so awful.
- I'm a single mom. A single mom with a phenomenal au pair and an unusually helpful nearly-ex-husband. But there are many times when it's still only me on call, and you don't get to turn that off just 'cause you're sick.
- Two weeks battling two different flus mean I'm missing enormous amounts of work. All of which I'll have to make up. Can you say "relapse"? I can.
- I'm likely going to have to cancel all my weekend plans. Remember that me time I keep talking about? Gone. But hey, at least now I'll have time to disinfect the house. Yay.
I can't hug my kids.
-----
P.S. If you, too, are caught with your Tamiflu down and want a more natural approach to immunity boosting, try my friend's Stinky Soup (known to Yoga Journal as the Immune Booster Soup, which they published in December 2006).
I'll admit, I do make some changes so that it's not quite so stinky and I'll actually want to eat it.
Immune Booster Soup
4 c. mushroom or chicken broth
1 small yellow onion, chopped
4 to 10 cloves garlic (to taste), crushed and chopped
1 carrot, chopped
4 to 8 shitake mushrooms, sliced
1 to 3 T. grated ginger root (to taste)
3 T. chopped fresh parsley
Bring the broth, onion, garlic, carrot, mushrooms, and ginger root to a slow boil. Reduce heat and simmer on low, covered, for 15 minutes or until the vegetables are soft.
Remove from heat. Add fresh lemon juice, parsley, and any remaining garlic.
Cover and steep for 5 minutes.
My version
Yesterday, I sauteed all the stinky bits in olive oil, thereby destroying most of their immune properties. I used an enormous amount of shiitake mushrooms. I forgot the carrot and had no parsley or fresh lemon, all of which would have been lovely. I added a package of Japanese noodles, a splash of lime juice, a little sesame oil and some soy sauce.
So in other words, I totally cheated.
October 28, 2009
Don't Eat the Pork
It's flu season.
Scratch that. It's swine flu season. And we got hit.
For those who've been living in a dungeon for the past six or seven months, swine flu is a virulent, highly contagious virus that has laid low entire countries and closed schools across the U.S. Or it did, back in early summer, when people were truly terrified of it. Now, everyone has it, so it's only mildly terrifying and the kids all get to go to school.
It hit my kids last week. Well, my diva and my redhead, anyway. My Aspie apparently has the constitution of a horse and has escaped the scary germs unscathed.
My diva was worst off. She had fevers of 103.5 for three straight days before they dropped. She was sick and out of school for a full week. The little guy got tamiflu from the first sign of fever, barely broke 100, and was better in four days. I love tamiflu.
This is a yucky bug, though. Exhausting. And both formerly sick kids are now totally fried. Crying at the end of the day kind of fried. Crawling into bed with their mom every night kind of fried.
And both little petri dishes decided to pass it along. Or pass something along, anyway. Not sure it's the flu, but both my new au pair and I have been sick, sick, sick. Chills, coughs, the weak and wobblies. Not fun.
What lesson can you take from this?
Don't eat the pork. It's swine flu, right? It must come from pork. Bacon. Sausage. Ham. It's like mad cow disease. Only for pigs.
What's scary is that some people believe that. Not me, though. I've got half a brain and some lovely pork chops in the fridge.
Dinner, anyone?
Scratch that. It's swine flu season. And we got hit.
For those who've been living in a dungeon for the past six or seven months, swine flu is a virulent, highly contagious virus that has laid low entire countries and closed schools across the U.S. Or it did, back in early summer, when people were truly terrified of it. Now, everyone has it, so it's only mildly terrifying and the kids all get to go to school.
It hit my kids last week. Well, my diva and my redhead, anyway. My Aspie apparently has the constitution of a horse and has escaped the scary germs unscathed.
My diva was worst off. She had fevers of 103.5 for three straight days before they dropped. She was sick and out of school for a full week. The little guy got tamiflu from the first sign of fever, barely broke 100, and was better in four days. I love tamiflu.
This is a yucky bug, though. Exhausting. And both formerly sick kids are now totally fried. Crying at the end of the day kind of fried. Crawling into bed with their mom every night kind of fried.
And both little petri dishes decided to pass it along. Or pass something along, anyway. Not sure it's the flu, but both my new au pair and I have been sick, sick, sick. Chills, coughs, the weak and wobblies. Not fun.
What lesson can you take from this?
Don't eat the pork. It's swine flu, right? It must come from pork. Bacon. Sausage. Ham. It's like mad cow disease. Only for pigs.
What's scary is that some people believe that. Not me, though. I've got half a brain and some lovely pork chops in the fridge.
Dinner, anyone?
September 17, 2009
Where's the Food, Reprise
Tonight I talked to my dad. My dad reads my blog. He is a FAN, and I do mean that in all caps. It's a good thing. It's what dads are supposed to be.
He did have one criticism though. "Where's the food?" he asked. "Don't forget you're writing about food."
I reminded him that this is meant to be about family. Food's just a filter. I am not a foodie; I'm a mom. What's more, I'm a nearly single, working mom of three, one of whom has Asperger's Syndrome, and I'm feeling my way through the mandatory period between separation and divorce more commonly known as Limbo. That means stress, joy, lessons learned, lots of time with the kids, time spent without them, finding new friends, finding myself ... and a whole host of other things.
It also means food. For me anyway. Because, well, it's one of the few things you really can't live without. And also because I used to have time to cook.
Yeah, I so don't do that anymore.
Anyway, I checked, and yes, indeed, there is food in each of my last three posts.
My most recent post was about - forgive me - vomit. And it was about toaster waffles, chicken quesadillas and ice cream. It was also about blueberries - at least it was for me. Be grateful I did not share that part.
That was, by the way, my second post about vomit. I hope not to write too many more.
The one before that was about learning to ask for help. This is a valuable life lesson, and one you learn the hard way in Limbo because if you don't ask for help, generally, you don't get any, and trust me there is little to no chance you'll manage Limbo without it. This, too, was about food - namely chicken, potatoes, wheatberries and cabbage. Oh, and brownies. I am all about the chocolate.
And the one before that? It was about my thrilling yogurt-and-Oreos dinner and the Petri dishes school makes out of our kids.
See? Food everywhere.
Tonight, one day after the anniversary of my first (and I hope only) year in Limbo, my not-yet-ex and I signed our separation agreement. Not much food in that. Just a feeling that the tunnel is nearing its light, and that you don't much want to cook. So I warmed up a can of refried beans, doused it in salsa and tomatoes, then melted low-fat cheddar over the top. I ate in front of the TV.
Ah, freedom.
He did have one criticism though. "Where's the food?" he asked. "Don't forget you're writing about food."
I reminded him that this is meant to be about family. Food's just a filter. I am not a foodie; I'm a mom. What's more, I'm a nearly single, working mom of three, one of whom has Asperger's Syndrome, and I'm feeling my way through the mandatory period between separation and divorce more commonly known as Limbo. That means stress, joy, lessons learned, lots of time with the kids, time spent without them, finding new friends, finding myself ... and a whole host of other things.
It also means food. For me anyway. Because, well, it's one of the few things you really can't live without. And also because I used to have time to cook.
Yeah, I so don't do that anymore.
Anyway, I checked, and yes, indeed, there is food in each of my last three posts.
My most recent post was about - forgive me - vomit. And it was about toaster waffles, chicken quesadillas and ice cream. It was also about blueberries - at least it was for me. Be grateful I did not share that part.
That was, by the way, my second post about vomit. I hope not to write too many more.
The one before that was about learning to ask for help. This is a valuable life lesson, and one you learn the hard way in Limbo because if you don't ask for help, generally, you don't get any, and trust me there is little to no chance you'll manage Limbo without it. This, too, was about food - namely chicken, potatoes, wheatberries and cabbage. Oh, and brownies. I am all about the chocolate.
And the one before that? It was about my thrilling yogurt-and-Oreos dinner and the Petri dishes school makes out of our kids.
See? Food everywhere.
Tonight, one day after the anniversary of my first (and I hope only) year in Limbo, my not-yet-ex and I signed our separation agreement. Not much food in that. Just a feeling that the tunnel is nearing its light, and that you don't much want to cook. So I warmed up a can of refried beans, doused it in salsa and tomatoes, then melted low-fat cheddar over the top. I ate in front of the TV.
Ah, freedom.
September 8, 2009
The Top Bunk
My beloved Aspie skipped his breakfast this morning. Unusual, because breakfast was toaster waffles, and he loves toaster waffles.
Did alarm bells go off? Nope.
He called from school with a headache. He sometimes does that to get out of a stressful class, and the nurse said he was chipper and chatty. Still, no alarm bells.
He skipped his dinner too. This time it was chicken quesadillas, which have been his favorite food since he was, oh, two. See, they make them at Friendly's, which is also home to ice cream. Quesadillas and ice cream: that's his dream team of dinners. It ranks right up there with hot dogs and mac & cheese.
He was a little green around the gills, too. Alarm bells? Not a one. He'd been playing soccer, and sometimes his meds make him a bit heat strokey. So I gave him a big ol' cup of water and sent him off to read the comics.
Took everyone upstairs for a bath before bed. My Aspie was pale as a ghost. His head hurt. His tummy hurt. Hmmm, I thought. Poor kid is exhausted. So I sent him to bed. In the top bunk.
And that's when he started throwing up. Hey, look, alarm bells! A little late though.
So there I was in the middle of a big huge gross mess made infinitely worse by the fact that it all started on the top bunk. I've got a shaky kid. I've got two freaked out siblings. And then the phone rings. It's my not-yet-ex, calling with some changes to our separation agreement. Not a good time, I say, and hey, betcha wanna come help. Ha ha.
He dropped everything and did just that.
Fifteen minutes later, he was there. He read and sang with our younger two while I mopped vomit off the walls and disinfected the carpet. He tucked them in and saw them off to sleep. He cuddled with our Aspie until he stopped shaking and was ready at last for bed.
And then he went home.
It's easy to complain about the soon-to-be-ex. If you didn't have ammunition - both of you - you wouldn't be headed for divorce, right?
It's the being there that's hard.
And the being there? Well, I think my Aspie put it best. When his dad walked in the door he said, "Mom, this means he likes me!"
Yes, it does.
Did alarm bells go off? Nope.
He called from school with a headache. He sometimes does that to get out of a stressful class, and the nurse said he was chipper and chatty. Still, no alarm bells.
He skipped his dinner too. This time it was chicken quesadillas, which have been his favorite food since he was, oh, two. See, they make them at Friendly's, which is also home to ice cream. Quesadillas and ice cream: that's his dream team of dinners. It ranks right up there with hot dogs and mac & cheese.
He was a little green around the gills, too. Alarm bells? Not a one. He'd been playing soccer, and sometimes his meds make him a bit heat strokey. So I gave him a big ol' cup of water and sent him off to read the comics.
Took everyone upstairs for a bath before bed. My Aspie was pale as a ghost. His head hurt. His tummy hurt. Hmmm, I thought. Poor kid is exhausted. So I sent him to bed. In the top bunk.
And that's when he started throwing up. Hey, look, alarm bells! A little late though.
So there I was in the middle of a big huge gross mess made infinitely worse by the fact that it all started on the top bunk. I've got a shaky kid. I've got two freaked out siblings. And then the phone rings. It's my not-yet-ex, calling with some changes to our separation agreement. Not a good time, I say, and hey, betcha wanna come help. Ha ha.
He dropped everything and did just that.
Fifteen minutes later, he was there. He read and sang with our younger two while I mopped vomit off the walls and disinfected the carpet. He tucked them in and saw them off to sleep. He cuddled with our Aspie until he stopped shaking and was ready at last for bed.
And then he went home.
It's easy to complain about the soon-to-be-ex. If you didn't have ammunition - both of you - you wouldn't be headed for divorce, right?
It's the being there that's hard.
And the being there? Well, I think my Aspie put it best. When his dad walked in the door he said, "Mom, this means he likes me!"
Yes, it does.
September 2, 2009
Conspiracy Theory
Last night, I had three Oreos and a cup of low-fat blueberry yogurt for dinner.
That's because they found me. The back-to-school germs, that is. They found me, and now I'm sick as a dog.
Two of my three kids started back to school last week. That's the only reason we have Oreos in the house in the first place: for lunchboxes. Usually I buy the icky green mint ones. The kids love 'em, I don't, so they stay safely in the pantry where they belong.
But for the first week of school I wanted special. I wanted the golden double-stuff Oreos.
I like those.
I don't think the Oreos brought the germs, though. I think the kids did that, even though not a single one of them has this bug. Oh, my redhead ran a fever for a whole 36 hours last week. But that was it. And it's not what I've got.
They're carriers, these kids. Human petri dishes. I think it's all part of an insidious conspiracy. The germs attack me, the kids stay healthy, and then when I'm at my weakest the kids strike. Seems a lot of work for a few extra hours in front of the TV, but I suppose to them it's worth it.
So here I am. It's barely the second week of school, and I'm coughing so hard I can't sleep, unable to take a deep breath, and so hoarse no one can hear me.
I'm also too weak to stand up and make myself food. Hence the yogurt and Oreos.
Gotta love it when the kids head back to school ...
That's because they found me. The back-to-school germs, that is. They found me, and now I'm sick as a dog.
Two of my three kids started back to school last week. That's the only reason we have Oreos in the house in the first place: for lunchboxes. Usually I buy the icky green mint ones. The kids love 'em, I don't, so they stay safely in the pantry where they belong.
But for the first week of school I wanted special. I wanted the golden double-stuff Oreos.
I like those.
I don't think the Oreos brought the germs, though. I think the kids did that, even though not a single one of them has this bug. Oh, my redhead ran a fever for a whole 36 hours last week. But that was it. And it's not what I've got.
They're carriers, these kids. Human petri dishes. I think it's all part of an insidious conspiracy. The germs attack me, the kids stay healthy, and then when I'm at my weakest the kids strike. Seems a lot of work for a few extra hours in front of the TV, but I suppose to them it's worth it.
So here I am. It's barely the second week of school, and I'm coughing so hard I can't sleep, unable to take a deep breath, and so hoarse no one can hear me.
I'm also too weak to stand up and make myself food. Hence the yogurt and Oreos.
Gotta love it when the kids head back to school ...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)