The doctor will see you now

The doctor will see you now
Originally uploaded by littlepinksocks.

So .... did Sherman give me his illness? We'll never know. One thing I DO know is that I woke up this morning feeling like poop and then spent the rest of the day.... never mind. The previous post was disgusting enough. Suffice it to say that I called in sick, sent the tot to daycare, and then crawled into bed for the next 6 hours. Was roused by a phone call from sis informing me that Nana had passed away this morning (she had been ill, and in fact had just been moved to hospice last night).

This evening's highlight was curling up in the fetal position on the bathroom floor and having the good doctor pat me on the back and cover my face with a towel. AND she had mercy on me and went right to sleep by 8.

On the bright side, Sherm is feeling MUCH better. Hasn't pooped in 48 hours, but given how bad he was doing on Tuesday, that's probably not such a terrible thing.

More an Nana later... maybe. I honestly haven't processed that yet. Good lord. I will be SO glad when this week is over.

Shari - thanks for the well wishes for Sherm - they seem to have worked! Husband is in SLC for a boring business convention type thingy... nothing even remotely as interesting as geneology or stalking Dooce (gad, I love that woman!) - doubt he even knows who she is (gasp!)

Katie - thanks for the call. Really. You're awesome.

Yo is OY backwards.

yo
Originally uploaded by littlepinksocks.

And I'm not editing. so there.


Tonight I'm needing some good vibes - WArren is gone until Friday, which has thrown me into my usual anxiety-ridden 'woe is me' state (I'm seriously considering meds these days, there is no reason a 4 day business trip should paralyze me the way it does... especially when I get the email from my friend in CA who, along with her 4 gorgeous children, just said goodbye to her husband for his SECOND 8-month deployment to Iraq... but I digress).

Skip the next paragraph if you're squeamish or about to eat lunch:

So, warren is gone, and I come home to find a big puddle of barf under the coffee table in the family room. Sherman is sick. Very sick, apparently, because it's coming out both ends and (it gets worse) he's BLEEDING with his diarrhea. Ok, take a moment to get rid of that mental image ...think of daisies and rainbows and fairies tra la tra la...

Anyway, the dog is sick and the vet says bring him in at 7 (pm). Call baby minder on the off chance she can sit while I run to the vet with Sherm, but no dice and I really am into feeling sorry for myself so I don't call anyone else but just resolve to manage because you know, people survive single parenthood all the time and he's only gone for a few days, for cripe's sake and honestly, even if he WEREN'T in Salt Lake F-ing City I'd still need to take sherman to the vet, right? Sarah and I take Sherm to the vet. Sarah is great until she discovers how LOUDLY she can scream (happy screaming, but screaming nonetheless) in the exam room while we're waiting for the doc. Piercing screams that make the sick dog jump and try to get away from her. Sarah thinks this is hilarious and there's nothing I can do to stop her. I begin to understand why some animals eat their young.

We try to get out of the vet in one piece, which is something of a challenge because there are 3 people and 4 dogs checking in at the reception area and one cat with a cone on its head checking out, so I can't put Sarah down for fear of her running amok. So I've got a squirming 18 month old on one arm, an 85 pound dog attached to the other and I somehow need to sprout an extra arm to fish out my credit card and take the bottle of pills from the vet tech. All the while wondering if these pills will ever actually be digested because Sherman hasn't shown any evidence of keeping anything DOWN.

Get home and consider skipping Sarah's bath because it's already past her bedtime and I've still got to clean up the remnants of the barf puddle (I only did minor damage control when I first saw it) as well as get everyone ready for tomorrow morning. BUt then I realize that Sarah is covered in dog hair - not necessarily Sherman's - from the exam room we were in for about 3 quarters of an hour. And she's sneezing. So, into the tub she goes.

The bright side to that is when she gets out it's WAY past her bedtime and she goes to sleep with only about a third of the usual drama. The down side is that because we were in the bathroom with the water running in the tub, I didn't hear Sherman pacing outside the bathroom door. If I HAD heard that, I could have let him outside and he would have puked in the yard. Instead he puked on the living room carpet. That's when I realized just how much of Sarah's dinner he managed to eat while I was trying to put the family room back together. Seems his appetite is fine. It's just holding on to the goods that's the problem.

Wondering now if I should just call in sick tomorrow or what. What on earth will I come home to if Sherman is alone all day?!?! *mental note to take up all remaining carpets.

And lest you think I'm heartless and unfeeling, I am absolutely sick with worry over my furry Sherma Lerma.

I should be cleaning the kitchen

...which is completely trashed from a serious frosting frenzy (chocolate and peanut butter, to frost cupcakes that I did not take time to photograph) .....but instead I'm reading blogs and just goofing around.

Sherman is just about back to normal - we had a real scare with bloat that resulted in a trip to the emergency vet and a night in the hospital for Sherman. House felt so empty that night. *shudder* Luckily we caught it before his stomach twisted - they had to put a tube down his throat to let the gas out.... I'm just thankful I had read up on the symptoms just a few weeks prior! (why? I don't know. It just seemed like something I needed to know 'just in case, someday.' Weird that 'someday' was about 3 weeks later. Cue Twilight Zone theme.)
Doggies that bloat can die within hours, so when I say we were lucky to know the symptoms and even luckier to have access to an emergency vet hospital.... I don't even want to think of what would have happened otherwise.

Have lots of pictures (course 2 cake! Course 3 cake(s)! Little fun cake for no special reason!)
I need to get off my camera and on to the computer - and then backed up. I've learned my lesson. I DID find someone who was able to recover our pictures. Have I purchased an external hard drive yet? No. I swear, I'm going to. I just... don't have time these days to sleep, clean, or breathe... much less do things like set up my computer the way I want it, reconfigure my email (i finally got to that yesterday. feel much better now.)

Ok, it's now 11:05. Have to clean the kitchen. I was going to go to bed early tonight. *sigh* Oh, well.

crash and burn

Big month. Back to work after a year off, the Sprout goes to daycare, the computer crashes and almost takes with it over 1000 baby pictures that haven't been backed up anywhere, Sherman almost dies.... and I've been cut off from the internet the whole time.

More details later, but for now, just know that I'm back, my email is working, and I've got a lot of catching up to do!

And email me if you're wondering why I haven't been in touch. I lost all my email addresses in the Incident.

Talk to you soon....

Not much on this here blog except cakes lately, eh?

Only, there isn't very much in the way of news. Can't believe we made it through a whole year of parenthood. Crazy. I still don't feel 'old enough' to be someone's mom. Or have a mortgage, for that matter. And it's been over ten years since graduating from COLLEGE. How on earth did that happen?

Lately I've been feeling very introspective and have been spending quite a bit of time 'looking back' - wistfully, some real regrets here and there, lots of smiles and fond memories, warm fuzzies and all that. Some days the wish to turn back the clock and do it over (not much differently, but a few choices definitely could use some tweaking) is quite strong. Not sure where that is all coming from, honestly. Could be the fact that looking FORWARD is just too confusing.

Feeling I'm at a crossroads but not able to read any of the street signs, you know? That sounds a little melodramatic. Life is great for me - great husband, totally incredible kid, cute little house in suburbia (walking distance to the bakery! 2 coffee shops! Pizza place! Library!), cool dog.... And yet. And yet. Feels like something is missing. I'm sure it's got something to do with the job situation, but I never come up with anything new on that front.

I ended up taking the whole school year off (YAY!) to stay home with Sarah, and it was wonderful. Monday, however, I have to go back (BOO!). Not looking forward to it AT ALL. I'm grateful I got to witness Sarah's entire first year - and doubly grateful that she took her first steps the other night while I was playing with her (and not at daycare!!!). Sarah starts daycare after Labor Day - and I'm guessing it will be tougher on me than on her... I think she'll enjoy hanging with the other kids and being able to play in a huge, totally kid-proof environment. (I feel like I spend far too much time chasing her around the house saying "no, put that down," "No, you can't climb that," "what did you just put in your mouth?" and "that's Sherman's bone. Give it back to the doggie.")

Went back to the office for a few hours this week before the official 'first day of school' and just felt dead inside. Everyone was running around stressed out and crazy because of schedules, new computer programs that a)suck and b)did I say suck?, new enrollments, construction madness.... And I came in, did some stuff, and left. Just couldn't muster the energy to care. Ran into a few students and it was nice to see them, but that's it. I didn't *miss* anyone while I was home with Sarah. Not by a long shot. Didn't give the office one thought and suffered not a bit of guilt over it. Didn't check my email (I deleted 1500 of them this week without reading them.) Didn't bother checking my voice mail, either. I know I need a real attitude adjustment and fast, because I'll end up in heaps of trouble otherwise. So, that's that for now. I'm always going in circles on this one, I'm starting to bore even myself.

Miracles

Brain cake
Originally uploaded by littlepinksocks.

So... I made this for Warren to mark the second anniversary of his brain aneurysm. That he survived is a miracle. That he made a complete recovery with no discernable brain damage is even MORE of a miracle (is there such a thing?).

Below is the email I sent out to let people know what had happened. I don't wish the experience of wondering if your best friend is going to make it through the night on anyone. Not even my worst enemy.

*****
Well, I hate mass emails but i just felt the need to reach out to folks that I haven't talked to in a while.... some of you may already have heard this already, some of you are hearing it for the first time.

Yesterday, Tuesday, warren came back from a run and basically told me he had to go to the emergency room. He had unbearable pain in his head. We went to the emergency room, had a CAT scan and then blah blah blah... basically he had something called a subarachnoid hemorrhage (not sure if I'm spelling that right) - a ruptured aneurysm (again, forgive me for not spellchecking) in his brain.

This is bad. Really really bad. HOWEVER, he was in a doctor's care within an hour of the rupture, he is in otherwise excellent health (yay, running), and he's strong. These are all excellent and definitely in his favor. He had surgery this morning - his neurosurgeon is a runner, which for some odd reason is very comforting to all of us - we've already snagged the man with the magic hands some new running shoes....

anyway, the surgery went as well as we could have hoped, and now we have to wait a few days or so for something called vasospasm - basically, stroke. It's more likely than not that he will have vasospasm, but they are doing everything they can to prevent/minimize them.

When he's not sleeping, he's completely lucid (a little groggy from the meds), knows exactly what is going on, is cracking jokes with the nurses, giving me messages to send to his office to 'take care of business', etc.

What caused it? He was probably born with the weakness. The docs say it was going to happen, nothing would have prevented it. I'm just glad he was close to home and not in Utah (where he was last week) or Spain (where he was a few months ago) or running some trail in the middle of the night in Oregon (which was where he planned to be next week...)

So, I'm just sharing because you all a)would want to know and b) we could use your prayers and thoughts.

Warren's parents are here, as are mine. My friend Katie is bossing me around and generally taking care of just about everything.

It's been therapeutic for me to just type this and hit "send."
Thanks for understanding. I'm not really all that accessible. If you email me, try to email me at xxxxx. I'll keep you posted. Thanks in advance for your prayers and support.

*****

School starts in two weeks.

Generally, the 'back to school' blues hits every year and is to be expected. I mean, who really relishes going back to work after 7 weeks off? Try facing the prospect of going back after having fifty-two weeks off. And having spent those 52 weeks at home with a very cool, very funny, very challenging little person who changes every day? *sigh*

I'm extremely fortunate to have had this year, I consider it an amazing gift and I think about that every day. Even on the days that aren't so great. But there's this growing knot of dread and ....deadness inside that won't quiet down. I suppose it points to the fact that I really never figured out "what I'm supposed to be when I grow up." I know, not many people ever do... but I just can't seem to find something that will keep me engaged, happy, involved, interested, etc. for very long.

I've been navel-gazing for quite some time, trying to figure it out, and I'm afraid that I'm realizing some not-so-admirable things about myself. I mean, I guess I don't mind working hard on things that truly interest me. Like - baking, playing around with fun online things like mixbook, and Flickr. But these are merely escapist time-wasters. Surely they aren't meant to be important. Like a job.

Ok, so maybe a job doesn't have to be important. I mean, I know it doesn't. Letting go of that whole "I need a career" thing has been easy on the one hand, yet difficult on the other. I just don't get any satisfaction out of saying "I'm a high school guidance counselor." When it comes down to it, that matters to me. I once thought that once I 'allowed' myself to 'just have a job, not a career' I could just clock in and clock out and it wouldn't bother me, life would be simple, and my 'free time' could be spent doing the things I like. And yet.

Doesn't matter if it's "just a job." If you spend most of your waking hours at your "career" or "just a job" then you better damn well make sure it's something you can hold your head up and smile about, because otherwise, the days are long and miserable and nothing seems worth it. I used to have a job where the money was great and the job was mindless. It was ok for a while, but then I found myself half-wishing I'd get hit by a taxi on the way to work so I wouldn't have to go there. Half-wishing is kind of strong. Quarter-wishing. But not REALLY get hurt. You know, just something that would give me a real good excuse to not show up for a little while but have no lasting damage and maybe a cool story to tell.

That told me I needed to find something else.

And now I find myself wishing for snow days. In September. And freak construction accidents that don't hurt anyone, of course, but cause the school to close (like that one time a squirrel fried itself in the electrical system and we had no power so they sent everyone home. Poor little squirrel. But - we got to leave!) So, I suppose it's that time again.

This seems to be a pattern - about every 3ish years I get that itch. Needing something new. Last time, newly married, I quit my job (thanks for adding me to your benefits, honey!) and went back to school, think that a master's degree and a career change would fix everything. It worked... for a year.

NOW WHAT?!

Time for pros and cons:

Pros:

Defined end and start of workday

Summers off

Snowdays

Supposedly a great pension - (if it's still there and I stick around for 30 years to collect it, see cons!)

workday hours will coincide perfectly with daughter's school day, eventually.

benefits (health insurance, prescription plan) are admittedly excellent.


Cons:

can't take a vacation during the school year (thus can't take advantage of cheap travel deals)

soul-sucking "clients"

everything about public education

soul-sucking politics

being at work at 7 am with a 45 minute commute

have to stick around 30 years to get said pension


Note that 'helping kids and families' didn't make it to the 'pros' list. Telling, isn't it? My first reaction is that we don't really help - we enable, we 'fix' things that kids messed up because they were lazy, didn't pay attention, or were irresponsible. I guess the kids we really do help aren't going to come back and say 'thanks' - but I doubt it would change the way I feel if they did. Oof. That sounds awfully bitter and burned out. (burnt?) And you know what, even if I really was helping in a meaningful way? I don't think I'd like my job any better. Well, maybe a little. But not much.


Another realization about myself (remember I said somewhere above that I had realized things in the plural?) is that I just might be too selfish to care enough about helping others. Oh, my, that makes me sound nasty. And not in the Janet Jackson sense. I don't like admitting it, but I think deep down inside I may not be a very nice person. Or am I just really in touch with my basic survival instinct? Sure, blame it on nature. I just don't feel like I have 'enough' left over to give, honestly.

I'm not so naive to think that not wanting to be a good guidance counselor means I'm a bad person, but....I'm embarrassed that I don't have the 'want to save all the troubled kids' mentality that seems to drive my colleagues (even though the reality is you can't possibly save them all.) Or the good ones, at any rate. And I'm getting to it - being a guidance counselor makes me feel GUILTY. Guilty that I'm not doing a better job. That maybeI COULD do a better job if I cared more. Now don't get me wrong - I think I do a decent job. My students seem to like me, my administrators give me good (even better than good) reviews. My coworkers like me (or at least they did until I told them I was taking the rest of the school year off, 3 weeks before I was supposed to come back and then they didn't have a sub for me for over a month... or more).

And I haven't even touched the issue of sending my daughter to daycare so I can collect a paycheck doing something that doesn't satisfy me.

Why do I feel so entitled to be satisfied? Where did that come from? No one really ever promised me satisfaction, did they? Are my expectations too high? WHY CAN'T I FIGURE THIS OUT?!?!?!