I woke up this morning to see the thermometer reading -4 degrees.
C'mon, Weather--can't you cut me even a little slack? I'm pretty sure this winter was written by Kafka.
Ok. I'll stop whining for now.
Showing posts with label whining. Show all posts
Showing posts with label whining. Show all posts
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Hospital: Redux
Ok, so I'm getting really sick of the hospital. If our Children's Hospital gave frequent flier miles for every visit, I'm pretty sure I could take my whole family some place warm for the rest of the winter.
We've been a bit under the weather these days. Anna had a slight fever one day; Thomas had a fever a day later. I thought we might get lucky and that Henry would escape with just a passing cold or fever, but sadly that was not the case. Saturday we started to see a little congestion with Henry. Nothing serious, just a dry cough now and then. Sunday he was doing a little more dry coughing, but it was still nothing that even hit my radar. By Monday, however, I was hauling him into the clinic to see if that weird wheezing noise was anything I should be concerned about or whether is was a result of a harmless cold--you know the type--a snotty nose draining in the back of the throat or something like that. He'd thrown up a fair bit of phlegm the night before, so I didn't think it was outside the realm of possibility. The doctor listened to his lungs and declared them clear.
To make a long, long story short, by that evening Henry had stopped breathing properly and was restless and wheezing hard. He would try to cry and end with a dry, barking cough which only made him cry harder. I tried all the usual things and then spent a couple of hours dithering about on the advisability of bringing him to the ER. I was reluctant to spend several middle-of-the-night hours in an ER, subjecting Henry to all manner of unpleasantness, only to be told that he was 'fine' and to 'keep an eye on him'. Finally, I decided that I wasn't going to sleep anyway and Henry certainly wasn't getting any rest, so I might as well bring him in and be told that it was 'nothing'.
Nothing, indeed.
I've found that there is something worse than sitting for hours in an ER waiting to be seen by the doctor on call. What's worse is going up to register your baby and getting a whole lot of attention all at once by everyone who's available.
It turns out that croup causes a lot of excitement when small babies have it.
The doctor told me her diagnosis and all I could think was, "Croup? Seriously? Didn't Anne Shirley fix it with some humidity and ipecac?" I thought it was sort of like whooping cough--one of those antique illnesses that no one got anymore. Apparently they do.
We were finally able to come home after 13 hours and a LOT of medical intervention. He was given two doses of a steroid, among other more dramatic things, which is making him a little restless. He still has a wheezy cough, but he is able to breath without too much effort. They predicted that he will be right as rain in about five days, give or take. Despite my own bone-crushing cold and fever, I am still awake, listening to him breath and fuss a bit in his sleep. I am tense, though relieved, that the worst of this illness has passed.
I'm sure there are those of you who know all about this sort of thing and would have handled the whole incident with poise and aplomb. I envy you. This was likely the second most frightening thing that has ever happened in my life and I hope to never, ever have to repeat it. I'm an optimistic person, in general, but this time I am seriously out of sunshine. O.U.T. If Pollyanna were here, I'd push her to the ground and maybe take her lunch money.
Sometimes it seems like I have a long, long life left to live. Sometimes I wish I were already 90 years old. I think that by the time I'm 90 I'll finally be able to catch my breath and relax.
We've been a bit under the weather these days. Anna had a slight fever one day; Thomas had a fever a day later. I thought we might get lucky and that Henry would escape with just a passing cold or fever, but sadly that was not the case. Saturday we started to see a little congestion with Henry. Nothing serious, just a dry cough now and then. Sunday he was doing a little more dry coughing, but it was still nothing that even hit my radar. By Monday, however, I was hauling him into the clinic to see if that weird wheezing noise was anything I should be concerned about or whether is was a result of a harmless cold--you know the type--a snotty nose draining in the back of the throat or something like that. He'd thrown up a fair bit of phlegm the night before, so I didn't think it was outside the realm of possibility. The doctor listened to his lungs and declared them clear.
To make a long, long story short, by that evening Henry had stopped breathing properly and was restless and wheezing hard. He would try to cry and end with a dry, barking cough which only made him cry harder. I tried all the usual things and then spent a couple of hours dithering about on the advisability of bringing him to the ER. I was reluctant to spend several middle-of-the-night hours in an ER, subjecting Henry to all manner of unpleasantness, only to be told that he was 'fine' and to 'keep an eye on him'. Finally, I decided that I wasn't going to sleep anyway and Henry certainly wasn't getting any rest, so I might as well bring him in and be told that it was 'nothing'.
Nothing, indeed.
I've found that there is something worse than sitting for hours in an ER waiting to be seen by the doctor on call. What's worse is going up to register your baby and getting a whole lot of attention all at once by everyone who's available.
It turns out that croup causes a lot of excitement when small babies have it.
The doctor told me her diagnosis and all I could think was, "Croup? Seriously? Didn't Anne Shirley fix it with some humidity and ipecac?" I thought it was sort of like whooping cough--one of those antique illnesses that no one got anymore. Apparently they do.
We were finally able to come home after 13 hours and a LOT of medical intervention. He was given two doses of a steroid, among other more dramatic things, which is making him a little restless. He still has a wheezy cough, but he is able to breath without too much effort. They predicted that he will be right as rain in about five days, give or take. Despite my own bone-crushing cold and fever, I am still awake, listening to him breath and fuss a bit in his sleep. I am tense, though relieved, that the worst of this illness has passed.
I'm sure there are those of you who know all about this sort of thing and would have handled the whole incident with poise and aplomb. I envy you. This was likely the second most frightening thing that has ever happened in my life and I hope to never, ever have to repeat it. I'm an optimistic person, in general, but this time I am seriously out of sunshine. O.U.T. If Pollyanna were here, I'd push her to the ground and maybe take her lunch money.
Sometimes it seems like I have a long, long life left to live. Sometimes I wish I were already 90 years old. I think that by the time I'm 90 I'll finally be able to catch my breath and relax.
Thursday, March 5, 2009
Looking For Spring: Random Thursday
We've been quiet here at Chez Sarah these days. Mostly we're hanging on, waiting for winter to finally end. We've had some days that looked promising, but I have a feeling we're going to get whipped back into winter in another week.
It was 40 degrees today and I was in my garage, spray painting a headboard for Anna's Big Girl Bed. Anna was dressed in her hat, coat, mittens, and rain pants. I was chilly in a long sleeve shirt and some bib overalls that I swear used to fit me when I was in college. She was running up and down our driveway, describing to me in detail everything she was doing and everything she saw. She came up the driveway and went around the corner of the garage where the rain gutters leak onto the walkway to the house. I heard a muffled cry and I put the spray can down to see what had happened. Anna was sitting on the wet ice with her legs bent every which way. I asked her if she was hurt and she sighed and said no. As I was helping her up and over the thick ice she said, "I'm tired of the Slippery Season, Mommy."
I know, Honey. I know.
The headboard isn't going to work out, by the way. I had it all painted and put up in Anna's room when I came upstairs to make up the bed. I guess it had been too wet or too cold when I painted it because the paint was coming off in big flakes. The paint can says that it should be warmer than 50 degrees with lower-than-raining humidity for the paint to work best. I guess that means I have to wait until JUNE before I'm allowed to spray paint anything. I love living in Minnesota, but LORD the weather is discouraging.
Another random Bit of Nothing: A week ago or so we were having another one of these strange half-thaw sorts of days and I sent the kids out to play. A day later the Twin Cities was hit with a heavy snowstorm that landed inches and inches of snow within a few hours. I was so glad I had kicked their butts outside when the weather was nice until I heard Peter getting them dressed up to go play in the fresh snow.
"Where are your yarn mittens?"
"Outside."
"Outside? Where did you leave them outside?"
"I don't know. By the tree?"
We look helplessly out the window at the SEVEN INCHES of fresh snow that lay on the ground where only mud and ice had been the day before.
Some days I'm not sure God really meant for people to live here, but that doesn't stop us from trying.
It was 40 degrees today and I was in my garage, spray painting a headboard for Anna's Big Girl Bed. Anna was dressed in her hat, coat, mittens, and rain pants. I was chilly in a long sleeve shirt and some bib overalls that I swear used to fit me when I was in college. She was running up and down our driveway, describing to me in detail everything she was doing and everything she saw. She came up the driveway and went around the corner of the garage where the rain gutters leak onto the walkway to the house. I heard a muffled cry and I put the spray can down to see what had happened. Anna was sitting on the wet ice with her legs bent every which way. I asked her if she was hurt and she sighed and said no. As I was helping her up and over the thick ice she said, "I'm tired of the Slippery Season, Mommy."
I know, Honey. I know.
The headboard isn't going to work out, by the way. I had it all painted and put up in Anna's room when I came upstairs to make up the bed. I guess it had been too wet or too cold when I painted it because the paint was coming off in big flakes. The paint can says that it should be warmer than 50 degrees with lower-than-raining humidity for the paint to work best. I guess that means I have to wait until JUNE before I'm allowed to spray paint anything. I love living in Minnesota, but LORD the weather is discouraging.
Another random Bit of Nothing: A week ago or so we were having another one of these strange half-thaw sorts of days and I sent the kids out to play. A day later the Twin Cities was hit with a heavy snowstorm that landed inches and inches of snow within a few hours. I was so glad I had kicked their butts outside when the weather was nice until I heard Peter getting them dressed up to go play in the fresh snow.
"Where are your yarn mittens?"
"Outside."
"Outside? Where did you leave them outside?"
"I don't know. By the tree?"
We look helplessly out the window at the SEVEN INCHES of fresh snow that lay on the ground where only mud and ice had been the day before.
Some days I'm not sure God really meant for people to live here, but that doesn't stop us from trying.
Thursday, February 5, 2009
Is It Wrong. . .
. . . That at 11 o'clock in the morning I'm thinking that a scotch might be just the thing to take the edge off?
I'm just kidding. Really, I am.
I'm just kidding. Really, I am.
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
Eureka!
We have an older house with older windows. It's not usually a warm place in the winter with the leaks and drafts that usually accompany an older home. This winter has been feeling a little chillier than usual though.
I finally figured out why our house has been feeling so cold this winter.
Henry and I were sitting in the nursery, rocking and nursing (yea!). I'd been noticing that the baby's room was cold these days. Odd, since it's usually the toastiest room in the house. I could hear the wind bowing outside and I noticed that with each gust the shade and blinds on the window would sway back and forth a little. You don't suppose. . .
Yup. While I was away this summer someone opened the storm window in the nursery, which I don't usually do since the sound of the whistle at the train crossing can be a little loud for a nappy baby. I've been so distracted that it didn't even occur to me to go around shutting the storm windows like I usually do which would have caused me to give the nursery windows a cursory glance at least.
A quick tour of the upstairs revealed an open storm window in our room and the bathroom. I didn't check the windows in Anna's room yet (I'll bet at least one of them is open) since Henry was sleeping by that time. Now I'm going to go around and check the windows downstairs. I'm just hoping that the storm window in Thomas's room are closed since we already put plastic up. The storm windows in his room hardly count anyway, though. Often in the winter you can see tiny drifts of snow blowing in around the edges of them and the wind will blow the curtains inside the room.
Minnesota. God, I love it here.
I finally figured out why our house has been feeling so cold this winter.
Henry and I were sitting in the nursery, rocking and nursing (yea!). I'd been noticing that the baby's room was cold these days. Odd, since it's usually the toastiest room in the house. I could hear the wind bowing outside and I noticed that with each gust the shade and blinds on the window would sway back and forth a little. You don't suppose. . .
Yup. While I was away this summer someone opened the storm window in the nursery, which I don't usually do since the sound of the whistle at the train crossing can be a little loud for a nappy baby. I've been so distracted that it didn't even occur to me to go around shutting the storm windows like I usually do which would have caused me to give the nursery windows a cursory glance at least.
A quick tour of the upstairs revealed an open storm window in our room and the bathroom. I didn't check the windows in Anna's room yet (I'll bet at least one of them is open) since Henry was sleeping by that time. Now I'm going to go around and check the windows downstairs. I'm just hoping that the storm window in Thomas's room are closed since we already put plastic up. The storm windows in his room hardly count anyway, though. Often in the winter you can see tiny drifts of snow blowing in around the edges of them and the wind will blow the curtains inside the room.
Minnesota. God, I love it here.
Thursday, June 5, 2008
Wanted: Drive-Thru Knitting Shop
I wish I could turn one of the coffee shops in town into a knitting store. Better yet, we could use one less manicure salon. How many manicurists does it take to service one moderately sized suburb?
My life would be so much easier if I could get my little hands on set of size 6 dpns at a moment's notice. There have been so many times when I find myself mid-project, nearing the final lap when I'm brought up short by a distinct lack of knitting needles. I have no other explanation than an apparent Black Hole of knitting equipment that has manifested itself in my knitting cupboard.
I've been knitting for years now and a size 6 needle is by FAR my most utilized size, but time and again I find myself scrounging the bottom of my needle bag trying in vain to locate a size 6 needle. If I were one to have a lot of UFOs lying around occupying sets of needles I could understand it. But even taking that into consideration I still can never find a size 6 when I need it! I have a set of dpns that I just bought sitting in an unfinished pair of Fetching right now, but I bought those needles a month ago. Where have all the other sets gone? I'm sure there must be more around here.
I could live with this Knitting Impairment just fine if getting yet another set of size 6 dpns would be as simple as making a trip to Target. It's not like I have to hook up the sled dogs and cross the Yukon, but it involves a small drive to another town or a trip into the city to get to the nearest yarn shop.
I never get my cat groomed. I really don't need more than one coffee shop at a time. I don't know how our town can keep so many mortgage places in business. We have a tattoo parlor and no less than three Subway shops. There are two or three manicure places within a block of each other. I have no idea why our little town can't keep one yarn shop in business. How frustrating.
Now, if our town had a yarn shop with a drive-through window, curb-side yarn winding, and also sold bread and milk--I'm sure that THEN we'd have a boom business on our hand. I'm sure they'd do well enough just selling me size 6 double pointed needles every week.
And, P--honey?, I have a birthday coming up, as you know, and I think that a couple of sets of Clover's lovely bamboo double pointed knitting needles would be just the thing. I could use them in a size 6.
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