So, I again am sick. I blame my allergies for the chronic sinusitis that I get about 4 times a year, And it is a BITCH!
a) my head feels like a big balloon (so Pink Floyd)
b) can't sleep unless I'm sitting at a 90 degree angle
c) random bouts of hot flashes and chills
d) shortness of breath due to the fat kid asthma
e) I could go on, but you clearly get the picture.
It is ugly. I am inconsolable. And? I still have to go to work, because missing a day of work results in an approx $230 loss on my paycheck, and that? That is groceries right there. So cannot miss work.
Yesterday after toughing it out for 12 hours at work I came home and tried to sleep at 7 pm. It was nice until I woke up feeling like a 350lb man was sitting on my chest, at midnight. Well this wasn't too much of a problem, I thought I would just take a breathing treatment and be back off the the land of snooze in about an hour. Then I would feel somewhat ok when the alarm went off at 4 am. ( I know, waking up at 4 is tragic enough)
But alas, my illness had other plans.
Pretty soon, it's 1 am...still feeling crappy and uncomfortable.
2am...tried sleeping a variety of different positions, including standing up, no fun kids...and then took some cold medicine
3am, well, I may still get that last hour in...
3:30...finally I fall into the most pleasant sleep that one can while sitting straight up in bed...
at 4 am, that dammned alarm goes off...
"Must go to work....Must feed family..."
Like the night of the living dead I manage to fumble my way through getting ready, surprised that I actually got to work with a bra on, and brushed teeth, as it was quite difficult to function properly with a sickness induced fog hovering around my brain.
I had at one point in the night debated about calling in sick, as it is never a good idea to work with needles and blood when one isn't in the proper state of mind, but I had left a project half finished and I was terribly worried about not completing it.
"I'll just try to work a half day." I decided.
When I got to work, my coworkers took one look at me and asked "why are you here you look like crap!"
"I was worried about the path room, I didn't finish it, I think I'm just going to work a half day."
"That's probably a good idea. Please don't breath near me." Everyone kept their distance and no on argued over me leaving early
At some point I went into the bathroom and gasped as I saw what I looked like. I'm not joking it was quite similar to this:
I"m still not certain how I didn't frighten the hell out of everyone in that hospital, but I toughed it out, and went home at noon to rest. I am now stepping outside my sick chamber to tell you all my tales of woe. Pray for my wellness, and for more sleep tonight as I do have to try to work and entire day tomorrow!
I'm awake late for some unknown reason. At my normal bed time of 10 'o clock I simply could not fall asleep.
Husband came home from work right around midnight. We stayed up and chatted, I tried very hard after that to get to sleep around 1 am.
I here my son start screaming.
My husband is in his room trying to console him.
"What's wrong?" I ask him.
"I don't know, he was screaming 'wait, wait' when I came in."
"Why does it smell like vanilla in here?" (I hate and am very sensitive to vanilla smells and have NOTHING in my house that smells like that) "do you smell that?" I ask.
"Yes," my husband replies. "Do you...think something was in here with him?"
"Give him to me... Maybe, I don't know." I say. "Oh my goodness, his head! His head smells like vanilla! What the fuck SMELLS LIKE VANILLA? I mean you smell it too right? I'm not imagining this right? Whatever it was it was TOUCHING HIM!!"
"No, I do, I smell it too, but right now not as much as when I first came in here."
We all retreat back into the master bedroom, me clutching E with all my might, my husband looking suspiciously around the room. We are both on high alert.
"There has to be some logical explanation to this. There has to be!" I say
"Do you think I should sleep in there, see if anything happends to m..."
"No! I need you here!" I yell.
Ethan has fallen back asleep, me clutching him tightly to my chest. Chris is sitting on the bed highly alert. My brain is wracking all the possibilities of what really happened. Chris slumps a bit and turns to me...
"It's my lotion." He says.
"Holy shit you're right, it has coco butter in it right?" I reply.
We both erupt in laughter.
Go us for changing our lotion brand and thoroughly freaking us both way the fuck out. We watch WAY to much tv. (we haven't had cable for 5 months.)
True story.
We are truly blessed by how well our little man sleeps. Well, in the past that is. You see, we were the cocky parents who got plenty of sleep when he was first born. Only to be woken up every three or four hours to feed. He was sleeping through the night by three months old (mostly thanks to a progressive doctor and forward thinking, new age-y parenting by me) And the kid sleeps, like the dead all night long. Well, again, he did. You see making the move from California to Nevada the first time should have thrown off his perfect sleeping ritual. Or even the fact that we lived in a direct flight path of our airport, but after our normal routine of dinner, bath, and story time, E and I would sit in the rocking chair and he would fall asleep. Those were some of the best times I had with him. I would sit there and hold him long passed the time he fell asleep and just hold onto my little boy with all my might. Truly blessed by his great sleep habits.
When the time came to make the transition between crib and toddler bed we thought it would be more difficult. Would he stay in his bed all night? Would he be up at ungodly hours staring us down in our sleep like a serial killer stalking his pray? We put up a gate on his door the first few weeks to *aid* the transition along some, but soon found he didn't need it. He stayed in his own bed until he awoke in the morning. Life was great. We had a kid who slept so perfectly!
Then we decided to move. And things got ugly, real quick.
First, Eth kept falling out of his toddler bed on a regular basis, prompting him to wake up in a rude fashion, and accordingly, come cry it out with mom and dad. So to solve this problem we used our twin sized air mattress in lieu of his tiny toddler mattress. (anyone who has seen my kid knows he's huge for his age)
When we first laid it out he was stoked....all this bed for ME? I'm sure that was what he thought by the look on his face. But we still had a toddler in our bed just about every night.
Then we were gone for the Christmas holiday. And instead of sleeping in his usual play yard at his auntie's house, he was just too damned big, so in bed with mom and dad he slept. When we got home, the house was in such disarray that his normal sleep habits were not enforced. It became easy to just bring him to bed with me on nights when my husband was away. Eventually, we cleaned out his room and it was probably just too lonely for him to sleep in there by himself. Then we moved.
Now we decided to get him a grown up bed once we had moved, since he has become accustom to this new way of sleeping. Good money spent on a great twin sized mattress for a not-quite-then-two-year-old. Now don't get me wrong here, that kid loves his bed. He jumps on it, rolls around on it, plays on it, reads, ect...but trying to get him to sleep the whole night through on it? Slim chance.
At some point, we just started laying with him in his bed to ease him to sleep. Yes, I know here most of you are shaking your heads thinking, well there is part of your mistake love! I already knew that, but pick your battles right? And when it's 11 pm and you have to be up at 4 am the next morning, you get pretty desperate! MMMkay? So this is where we are now. Almost 7 months into our bad habits and starting to try our hand at sleep training, a thing many of you went through at 6 to 9 months old. And our first night? EPIC fail. Epic. I just ended up caving in and sleeping at the foot of his bed for half of the night, not very comfy kids!
It's not awful, him waking me up at 4 or 5 am, wanting to curl up with us in our bed. Nor is it really bad falling asleep with him in his bed, and then slinking off into our own bed later on. But he was such a good sleeper that I am trying very hard to reclaim my bed, and sleeping through the night un-interrupted. I really want him to regain that independence. And yet at the same time, I cherish him wanting me, needing me to comfort him and cuddle him to sleep. He will not be my baby for much longer. I know this kid, he will be shoving me off him at 5! I want my baby to stay just that, my baby, for a little while longer. To have him come snuggle up to me, shoving me into awkward, tiny spaces in my bed, so tight that an astronaut would be uncomfortable. And, I love those mornings when I wake up in the middle of my man sandwich.
Tonight I'm lucky. He fell asleep, all 3'2" of him curled up on my chest, (at two he knows how great boobs are) fast asleep. I let him stay put for almost an hour after he passed out, just relishing that moment, feeling him breath and twitch. Then I put him in his bed, and if I'm lucky he may just stay put all night long, but I won't mind much if he doesn't! Maybe sleep training can wait a while...
*I'd really love to hear anyone's thoughts, suggestions, critiques on this subject. I'm truly torn by the whole thing! Thanks ;)
I'm actually that bored at work today that I'm *attempting* to write a blog on my iPhone. Let's see how this goes ladies and gents!
I know it's a shock to see me posting again after such a long hiatus. But lately folks, I just haven't been feeling very chatty lately. Things at chez West have been pretty crappy on the financial front and that hits me pretty hard as I am the bread winner for my family. If you haven't experienced it already ad so many have in this economy I can tell you there is no worse feeling than the feeling that you cannot provide for your family. Imagine now, if you will, what my poor husband is going through! So needless to say, it's been difficult to find joy at our home lately.
I try very hard to be optimistic at all costs when things like this get us down. I truely look on the bright side, make lemonaide when life throws those dammned lemons and focus on what we do have, which, if you looked at my pantry you would see not much at all! But I lost all my cheery optimism this time. I let my troubles defeat me.
After a miscommunication with a family member I was feeling really low Monday morning, my hubby sensed my crappy mood and decided to come cuddle with me as my bitter ass laid in bed moping. To me, nothing is better than cuddling with that big ass gizzly bear. Not long after he and I started spooning did the little bear come in, also wanting to cuddle with mom. Even at two that kid is so smart! So I sat in the middle if my man-sandwhich as content and happy as Bill Gates is counting his billions. Nothing could touch me in that moment. I could have been dying some horrible disease and it wouldn't have mattered. Because what it all boils down to is we have each other. We may have nothing else, but those boys are all I need. And things started looking up from that moment on.
Sometimes we are given a crappy situation that will ultimately bring us to our knees. But it's in those moments where we discover who we really are. Discover what we are made of. When the night is at it's darkest we can see how brilliant the stars are!
Today, at around 5 pm, I had made up my mind that I DID NOT want to run. No way. I was still sore from the 3 mile vertical death hike the Hubs and I went on Saturday afternoon.(Moderate my ass) At 5pm, I was convinced that I would just do it tomorrow, even though after busting my ass for 12 hours at work I knew I wouldn't go then either. 5:15, I told my husband I didn't want to go. He didn't push me to go, just said, yes, don't run...jog. (As if there were a difference when you're this fat, smart ass.) So I thought about it, conflict erupting in my head, struggling back and forth like a game of tug-of-war.
bad me: just don't go, you will go tomorrow. I mean, sure, you will have to.
good me: No! We both know for a fact that you will NOT go tomorrow! If you don't go today, you will stop going, just like every other time you have "started and stopped" How about you break the cycle! bad me: No, no, no! You will go tomorrow, I *promise*. And then you will go Saturday, ya on your vacation! Ya, ya! I like that plan!
good me: Just go and get it over with fat ass! You'll thank me when you look at the scale Sunday!
*sigh*
I'm going. Good me is right, as always.
And I am proud that I did go to day. I pushed myself harder than last week. Added a half a mile, I could have done the whole mile but my knee was screaming at me. So I can't quit. Because it would be just like every other time I told myself, I'll just do it tomorrow. That phrase is a death sentence. Destroying all the progress I've made in the previous weeks. Keeping me here at my current HUGE weight. Holding me back, and smiling as I fail just one more time.
Well dammit! I am done failing! And I'm done feeling like crap. The only reason my knee hurts is because I'm fat. It's not made to bear this much weight! Duh! The only way to change something permanently is to break the cycle you are currently in. If you want to write more, you make the time to sit down and write. If you want to eat better, you have to stop eating the crap you are eating now. If you want to run 13 miles and not die, you start small and work your way up! If you want to lose weight, you CHANGE your life!
So, here I am feeling all awesomesauce, just like my co-worker Henry said I would feel after my run. And I am so fucking proud that I broke the cycle. And I hope to keep on breaking it. Yesterday I was bummed because I "only" lost 2 pounds last week. But today? That's a huge deal, because I worked hard, and I earned those 2 pounds, completely legit. No crash diets, no pills, no eating 1000 calories a day. Maybe this week I'll lose 2 more. Who knows, as long as I break the cycle I amwas in, I may be unstoppable this time!
So I knew this was going to happen. I would be so busy my 3 days at work I wouldn't miss my kiddo. (who is at grandma and grandpa's for 2 weeks.) Here it is my first day of 4 off and I'm completely bored out of my fucking mind. I finished a book, (that I pretty much started yesterday), finished 3 pages in E's scrapbook and now feel like I may go nuts. My hubby had work this morning and is at his class right now so I am left to entertain myself. He has the same schedule tomorrow as well. It's too damned hot outside to do pretty much anything (fuck summers in Vegas). So here I am blogging, with a case of serious writers block.
You know when I am at work I have all these brilliant thoughts about great blog subject matter, but as soon as I get a free moment to sit down and write these brilliant ideas disappear. Just like that. My ass hits the chair, my head goes blank. This leads me to believe that I will never be able to write a book. Which is a silly dream of mine. Oh well. I also dreamed of being skinny and rich! Ha!
Shit, I'm so bored even this blog is coming out boring.
author's note: Sappy, yes. Gooshy, feely-good-y? A Bit. Bitter? Somewhat.
November 2001:
This new dude was transferred to my restaurant (Olive Garden, Victorville, Ca.)
He was wicked hot, buff, dark hair with blond spikes, blue eyes....My dream boy for sure! I was 20 (lust controlled most of my decisions at that point in my life) young, stupid, single.
Every other girl in the restaurant was all giggly, introducing themselves. " Hi my name is Emily." Blech...I hate when women fall all over themselves for a new piece of meat. All I said to him that day was something to the effect of "All the girls are after you already." He said "I'm fresh meat!" Ironic, as I was just thinking the same thing...I never once introduced myself. I always preferred to be pursued, not the other way around.
Dec 4th:
After feigning interest for weeks, he comes over to my house for a "party." Parents were out of town. (Don't act surprised dad, we were young. It was mostly David's friends anyway, yell at him.) He was one of two people I invited. We made out in my room all night. (Sorry again dad.)
Dec 12th:
Had a weird dream. It was just a flash, but it was him and me, just standing there, smiling at each other, him in a tux, me in a wedding dress. Only days after our first official date.
March 2002:
Leave Olive garden to get my first "real" job as a phlebotomist. And because he was dating a skanky hostess, and making my life miserable. Didn't hear from him for months at a time, then out of the blue, he would call.
Nov 2002:
Best friend and I are talking about moving to L.A. together. I keep having that feeling like I should stay in this God-forsaken desert.
Dec 2002:
Decide to stay, for a guy, that I only see every once and a while. I'm so dumb, oh well, I'm only 21. What do I know?
We see each other off and on for the next two years.
October 2004:
I tell him I'm looking at two different collages, one out of state, one close to home. I ask him which he thinks I should go to . Bad decision on my part. Guess what he tells me. I'm heart broken, by him, for the millionth time.
Jan 2005:
Move to Las Vegas. Hate life.
Feb 2006:
He wants to get married. Not to me exactly, just ready to get married. I think It's because his younger brother is getting married in the summer.
June 2006:
We go on our first date in years, he is still in California, I in Las Vegas. It goes soooo badly, I tell my other best friend "there's NO WAY I'd marry him"
July 4th 2006:
He comes to my sister's house and meets my ENTIRE family. We have the greatest time. He acts like he has never acted before, like he loves me. We decide to get married.
July 31 2006:
He comes to visit me in Vegas, as soon as he walks in the door he asks my best friend if she wants to see the ring he bought me, I was right there. That night we go to several different romantic casinos, The Wynn, Bellagio, Paris. Nothing. At night as we are getting ready for bed, he asks me to marry him, right there in my room.
Dec 2006:
My last day at my job before I move back to California and in with him. I get a text message half way through my shift : I think I broke my leg, hit by forklift at work. In hysterics I leave work early, full "goodbye"cake in hand, rush to pack the rest of my belongings and trek out to Rancho Cucamonga. He didn't end up with a broken leg, but he almost had a broken nose compliments of me!
July 7th, 2007:
We get married after all. Even though I told him the day before that I hated him and wouldn't ever marry him. It wasn't the first time I told him that.
July 8th 2007:
Most amazing honeymoon ever in Hawaii, started feeling sicky and gross the last few days we were there. Wasn't I supposed to get my period while I was there????
July 20th 2007:
Took the ol fashioned pee test. That thing had two lines within seconds. Terrified I tell him. Planned parenthood confirms it later that day. We are going to be parents!
March 18th 2008:
Nine months later, after a traumatic delivery via emergency c-section our baby boy is born. He is the joy of our lives.
Oct 2008:
Husband loses his really great paying government job. I was a stay at home mommy.
Dec 2008:
We pack up our things and move back to Las Vegas, so I can get my great job back at the hospital out there. Our hearts break as we leave our families.I become the supporter of our family. Our marriage crumbles under the stress.
We try so hard to work things out. We never see each other as we work opposite shifts to keep the baby out of day care. I leave him a couple of times. We seriously think about divorce. But I never can go through with it.
March 2010:
After years of him looking for a decent job, we're still stuck. We start to ponder what if he joins the military? But it gets put on the back burner.
May 2010: We decide after losing our health insurance that he will join the Army. We have a few things to take care of before it's official, but we get the process started. We tell our families and they are supportive. Our marriage becomes so much stronger than before. We communicate like we never have before, we talk and dream and plan. We want to have another baby.
Last night:
The baby (who is now two) is crashed out when I come home from work. My hubby has dinner made. We sit and watch "Walk the Line" snuggling on the couch. Our love is kind of twisted and deep like June and Johnny. I wouldn't be able to live without him, and he without me. We will be like them, we are like them. We will probably end up dying with in months of each other because we are lost with out the other. All these years, all we have seen and lived through. We never could live with out the other. Once I met him, I was never a whole person again, and the same for him. We love each other passionately, we fight with each other passionately. We have traveled so many peaks and valleys out there and we are still here. Together. Three years married tomorrow.
The not so distant future:
Some day I will bawl my eyes out as he gets on a plane for his BT. I will cry every night he is away for nine weeks. But we can do it. We've done it before. And whatever this unseen life has for us we will take it head on. Together. (I must say thank the good Lord above that we didn't end up enlisting him! I can't stand to be away from him for 1 day vs 9 weeks! God works small wonders I tell ya...)
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