Friday, March 18, 2011

S for effort, F for execution-

I've commandeered my mothers machine whilst she be out of town (insert evil laugh). And there are so many meaningful things going through my head.

How will I use these allotted 9 minutes? 

Will I finish posts on "What's in a name?" considering the change name or keep name debate? No.

Will I continue my atttachment post? Or, write confessions that have been brought to the surface after deeply considering the Gold's attachment piece? No.

Will I expound on my still single stay at home status and how it is efffecting me in ways I'd never considered? No.

Will I tell you how humbled i was and then felt incredibly blessed and outright privileged at the medical care we not only have access to but that cost me less then the gas it took to drive to 4 different medical stops? No. Another day perhaps.

Will I use this time to finally purge out of me, a manifesto of rantings on so called "Ethics debates", NGO's, marginalized peoples, culture differences that are vastly deeper than music, food, education and women's rights? Will I go on to alienate people with my thoughts on the effects of generations of governmental leadership leading and marginalizing it's people and the piousness of thinking that 'we' can make it "better" so quickly? Will I kick my self for using the word "better" as it is clearly defined solely in my own privileged mind? Will I go on to further alienate and outright piss people off by typing what I really think about the wrongfulness of the gov't governing my heart and yet at the same time point to the obviousness that they too, are governing on their own self regarded notion of necessary as part of ownership/leadership--- and as i sit on my couch, in my house on land that was procured some 200+ years ago in a very similar fashion? No. Not today. Mostly because I'm still uncomfortable how the argument turns out in my head...   Not today.

Those are headier- thought necessary rantings that will take effort and meaning. Today- as I'm ready for bed and have used up most of the allotted time frame- i write something that is easy. Today I give you yet another example of my valiant efforts at Mommy failure. (Bridget is cringing. So am I. Yet, it is well deserved. Sad. True. )

Today I will tell you that I kept my son home from school this week. That is saying something. (Listen- you'll hear the single momma's witness!) He doesn't stay home for sniffles and coughs. First- he doesn't want to, my kid doesn't act sick. Period. (ok- comma... ) Second- he's getting that viral load FROM SCHOOL! So I'll be dangummed if they get to skip the snot they're dealing out. All this to bring home the point of- I kept him home from school- all week- cause he was sick- and I should have paid more attention, as he was right here under my nose. I started out on the ball...

Tuesday, I get him into Doc's office- His primary not in- see a PAC we've never seen before with a LPN we've never seen before. He's feeling sick (i can see it- no one else can). He's been physically assaulted in this room (really bad VAX experience). And 2 people he doesn't know.  This all equals- survival mechanisms kick in.

Charming. Smiles. Acrobats. Bouncing off walls. Overtly compliant with extra charms. Flirty. Loud. Distracting. etc etc etc

"This is not a sick kid."
"Yes. He really is. Please ignore the behavior. You will never see him act sick."
"If he was really sick, he couldn't do this."
"Ummmm- yes. Yes he could."
"Well- he's got a little fluid in his ears. Snuffy nose and a little cough- its a virus that all the other kids have right now. Nothing we can do. Wait it out. Steam baths, Vicks... blah dee blah blah... How does that sound?"
"Not. Good. I know him on 'regular virus'. This isn't it. Something's wrong."
"Nope. Nothings wrong."

So I advocated. I did Good Momma stuff. ... And then- i forgot everything I told him somehow.

Each day, I woke up, expecting to send him to school "No matter what!" (cause I get worn o.u.t.). Each morning, he isn't better, but worse. So I keep him home. With me. Inside. All. Day. Long. sigh..

Let me pause and say how much I loooove loooove loooove my kid. I looooove loooove loooove being with him. Being with him nonstop is INTENSE. And.... I'm not, naturally. I'm getting better at responding to this need he has, but adjustment takes time for me too! I need down time. I need time when someone isn't physically stuck to me, picking at me or climbing me as if attempting a tricky bouldering maneuver. Not forever. Just some. time. A break now and again. And honest to goodness- he needs time from me too. He really does. Trust me.

So 4 days of him no more than 2.5 feet from my hip. I'm getting increasingly irritated because he is not responding or listening or obeying ANYTHING!! Repeating myself is my biggest pet peeve and only shortens my patience to the point of being obnoxiously demanding and quick tempered. By Wednesday afternoon I'm hollering (yup) "Why are you not doing what I ask?!??!!?" while almost simultaneously txt'ing a message joking about how he even "sounds sick" cause he isn't even talking properly.

Still. I don't get it. Still. I've completely erased from my memory bank that 2 days ago I was completely convinced something was 'really off'.  Nope. I simply stay in my world of "pissed off irritated parent to the kid who won't listen". Which is somewhat par for the course for 3-4 year olds...

Thursday he wakes. 4am. Survival mechs kick in again. Insists he's ready to get up. Makes it to next room. curls up on trampoline and lays there for 2 hours. I take advantage and curl up next to him and doze. Awaken 2 hours later to a kid whose eyes are definitely sick and he's REEEEAAAALLLY lethargic. (review a few paragraphs ago to remember... he NEVER ACTS SICK... (make that almost never now)) He's outright really sick.

He refuses to drink. I realize, only now, that he's barely eaten in 2 days and hasn't drank hardly anything for 24 hours. Just. Realize. Now.

Hmmm. He hasn't been speaking clearly. Perhaps he hasn't been hearing me. Oh. Crap. I'm yelling at him, all worked up - and he couldn't hear a darn thing to begin with. I suck. Little bit of fluid my butt.

(As it turned out, he has raging puss in both ears, lungs full, likely flu and strep on top of that... oy)

Mommy. Fail.

Yes. he's on the upswing now.  I on the other hand........... not feeling so great about either my health, nor my parenting skills. Ugh. I feel like such a crappy parent that cleaning up the vomit from the car, carseat, foam mattress, carpets etc- feels somehow, cathartic.

I've got to get better at this.


Sunday Koffron Taylor said...


I've had the, "no you don't understand my kid doesn't EVER act sick." Conversation. I have been so on top of it that I took them in the day before the little bit of fluid turned into a raging infection. I have convinced myself that maybe the dr/pa/np know better than I do. I have kicked myself when I found out the hard way, that they didn't. You're a mom now, welcome to the club.

(((Hugs))) I hope it is all back to normal soon and that you both are feeling better, in short order.

Liz said...

Oh, I hope he is feeling better now! And I hope you can go back and give the clueless doctor a piece of your mind - listen to the mommy when she says her kid is sick!

scooping it up said...

i hate that.

it's along the same lines as "you are so tired i don't care if you cry in that crib for forty five gosh darnit minutes, i need you to leave me alone, i need you to take this naaaaaaaap!"

only to find later, they were crying because they had a poopy, burning bum, or an arm stuck in the crib.

it's like "oh. you had a reason for all the crap you were pulling. i am so sorry."

i am sorry he was so sick. i hate when it takes me a while to figure it out too.

grace. grace. grace. right?

hugs to you, dearest.

Tammy said...

Don't beat yourself up over this. You have not failed.

Continue to believe your motherly instincts because mothers really do know their child better than anyone. Finding a doc who believes this is not easy. But I've also learned that symptoms can worsen over night. Glad to know your little guy in on the mends.

The Lost Planetista said...

I blame the doctor (or nurse practitioner- whoever it was you saw) for not listening to you. That's their job. You don't just go to the doctor's office for run. Grrrrrrrrr.