Stomach Bug vs. Amanda.... Stomach Bug wins!

The stomach bug that afflicted Atticus on Friday finally hit me yesterday.  The day started okay, we all did weekly cleaning.  Sam said he felt "bleh" but I disregarded it because he says that every morning (he is not a morning person).  That afternoon Hope left for grandma's and Sam went to work at the tattoo shop.  I was tired and fell asleep on the couch while Atticus was napping.  at 2:40pm.  I woke with a lurch.  The horrible clammy, dank, gross, crampy feeling of a stomach virus. 

I spent the afternoon on the couch nursing Atticus and trying to amuse him and then hovering over the toilet bowl.  Atticus was trying to be helpful while mama was being "yuck."  There I was crouched over the toilet waiting to retch (or the horrible moment when I couldn't figure out which end it would hit) and I could hear Atticus running through the living room to the bathroom "MMMMMMAAAAAAAMMMMMMMAAAA!" as he proudly brought me my bottle of ginger ale, my phone, and a collection of Elizabeth Bowen stories.  "Thank you, Atticus" I said in between dry heaves.  I sent Sam a text begging him to come home.

Sam felt awful and gassy, but he never did actually throw-up so he was the grownup in charge.  He played with Atticus and brought me ice cubes.  The worst part was when Atticus kept asking to nurse.  There was a point when I simply couldn't do it anymore.  I felt so drained and weak.  I told him no and he cried.  Then I explained that I was very sick and my tummy hurt.  The sweet boy kept kissing my arms and stomach and patting my head.  He took good care of mama.

Actually the worst part was when I thought I was going to miscarry.  My stomach was hurting and cramping so badly and I threw-up hard enough to bust the capillaries in my face.  I haven't bled, so I think I'm okay, but I was quite scared.

My mom brought Hope home around 10:30 because she was throwing up as well.  My dad has complications from bleeding ulcers and can't afford to get sick, so she had to come home.  I was up with Hope during the night and she threw-up at least three times. 

Sam took Atticus to school this morning and I slept hard until 11.  I've had some applesauce, crackers, and ginger ale and I think I'm ready for bed again.  I still feel weak and shaky.

But of course I will bring this all around to books.  Every time I have a stomach bug I think of Esther Greenwood's food poisoning in The Bell Jar.  I just need someone to spoon feed me broth with floating pats of butter and send me a short story collection and I'll be alright. 

Operation Momcation

This may be hyperbolic.  Maybe.

www.toothpastefordinner.com

Friday was my last day of work until March 5th.  It was an incredibly stressful day.  Next week is the University's Spring Break meaning that the campus will be closed Wednesday - Friday.  The library is closed as well and I decided to take Monday and Tuesday off and use up some vacation time.

Ever since the Unpleasantness at work back in December I have had a pretty crummy time working.  I've been consistently ill and it seems like there is some sort of insane personal drama going on with a coworker or it is simply piles and piles of work.  I am the university library ILL department and that isn't even my entire job.  I'm worn out, frustrated, and wondering when things will look up.

Strep in December.  Two bouts of sinusitis.  One round of bronchitis.  Three separate antibiotic treatments.  Pinkeye.  Antibiotic drops.  A horrid yeast infection from so many antibiotics.  I'm sleeping more, taking a multi-vitamin, exercising for an hour 4-5 times a week, taking probiotics, eating healthy, and I'm drinking water and green tea.  I've cut down on sugar, coffee, carbs, and fatty foods.  I've lost 11 pounds.  I should be healthy.  But I'm not.

You know what this means -- stress.  I'm sick from the stress.  Say what you will about that being a crutch.  Stress makes me sick.  It isn't the short blips of daily or weekly stress, no, it is that long continual drain.  I thought back to when things first got so bad at work I went to my library director.  January of 2009.  The drama has changed faces and sometimes it isn't even a person (i.e. the roof caving in, tar stench seeping in during re-roofing, SACS visits, an increased work load) but there is a great deal of coworker drama.  With a staff of 5 librarians and 2 paraprofessionals for nearly 3,000 students that is a very significant load and everyone is feeling the stress.  Of course work isn't the only issue.  I need to get car and money is tight.  Atticus is working on getting some molars and he is clingy ( I nursed him from 5:19am until 8am today), Hope is dealing with mean girls at school, Sam is working two jobs and I don't get to see him as often as I like. I'm trying to be a good mom, an excellent wife, a stellar employee and it is making me tired. 

I'm worried about stress because usually my physical health is attacked and then comes Depression and Anxiety problems.  The semester I was hospitalized I had strep, bronchitis, and the flu before the depression got bad.  I had a bout of depression when Sam and I were recently engaged and prior to that I had staph infections in both ears for several months.  It really didn't hit me until the other day, but my physical body gives before my mental health and I should really listen to that. Then I thought about Sylvia Plath just before her suicide (no, I'm not suicidal, just making connections).  She was doing the single mom thing, writing, issues with Ted, money problems, AND SHE HAD THE FLU.  Things always seem worse when your body is ill.  Yup.  Listen to your body.

I'm obviously doing all the physical self-care, and now I feel like it is time for some Mental Health Rejuvenation.  Sam is at work for this week (he may get one weekday off) and the kids are going to school.  Hope has school and I'm taking Atticus to daycare.  Do you know how guilty I feel knowing that Sam is working and my baby is in daycare while I relax?  Horrid guilt.  But I know it is silly, I should be allowed a break and Atticus LOVES daycare.

So what is on my plate for my momcation?  Solitude.  I'd like to say that I'll catch up with friends, but honestly I just need some alone time.  I'm an introvert and I'm feeling drained.  I haven't made too many plans.  Loads of reading.  Long walks.  Naps.  Pots of Tea.  Puttering. I will not check my work email.  Or succumb to mom-guilt and spend my time reorganizing the basement or cooking freezer meals.  Just the prospect of some down time makes my shoulders relax.

I'm already feeling a bit better since this weekend.  Sam and I had a date:  coffee, lunch, thrifting, a movie.  I even got roses!  Today was bright and sunny.  I spent the morning cleaning and then this afternoon Sam went to work and Hope was at the aquarium with my parents.  Atticus and I napped, went for a walk, played outside, and I even managed to squeeze in a little reading.

I'll check in periodically and let you all know how my momcation is coming along.   I am planning on doing a bit of blogging when the fancy strikes, I have booksale treasures and thrifted trinkets to share. I think I may also do a wee readathon on Wednesday.  I'll be twittering with a #momcation hashtag.  Hopefully next Monday will see me bright, chipper, and eager to get back to shit-filled canals. 

Snot Induced Idleness Leads to Super Creativity Powers (sorta)

I've been home ill with a sinus infection since Wednesday.  I finally went to the doctor on Thursday and I didn't go into work Friday and I'm out today.  You should know that I am the worst sick patient ever.  I love being busy; I hate seeing the house a mess and lying in a heap of blankets for days and staring at the ceiling or television is a literal hell.  During my snot-induced loafing I thought about why I hate being leisurely while ill.  It comes down to two things:  

1. I am going to die:  As in, Life is only here for a bit and we are quickly hurdling towards demise.  Therefore I should spend my time doing worthwhile things in order to eek the most I can out of my wee slice of time on Earth.  Of course, "doing worthwhile things" translates into making lists, buying books, and knitting most of the time.  I'm an Existentialist with embroidery patterns and cookie recipes. 
2. I have Mom Guilt:  When Sam -- who is hardly ever ill -- is sick or the kiddos aren't feeling well I send them all to bed, make pots of tea and stockpots of homemade soup, and dispense as many cuddles as tolerated.  When I am sick, I feel like I'm slacking on my "mom-duties".  I don't want to clean, or go to the grocery store, or -- the most guilt-inducing of all -- play with the kids.  Then when Sam is at work and the kiddos are at school (like right now) I feel like I should "do" something.  Laundry? Re-organizing the freezer?  Dusting?  On Friday, I decided to heave myself out of bed and tidy the house.  I spent 20 minutes loading the dishwasher, folding clothes, and making beds.  Then I had a huge coughing fit, felt utterly drained, and slept for another hour.  In other words, it is okay for Sam and this kiddos to be ill and rest, but I feel like the ultimate slacker-mom when I am ill and rest.  

My Not-So-Inner Feminist and my Inner-Reasonable-Person (she is buried deep) surfaced on Friday after I overdid it and decided to Take It Easy.  I finished the last 400 pages of Our Mutual Friend.  I did a little bit of embroidery.  I watched Downton Abbey.  I napped extensively.  I let Sam handle dinner, and Atticus's bath, and playing with the kids.  In fact, Sam took Atticus to the doctor (he has a little ear infection, but we caught it early on) morning and I stayed home and played Bejeweled on my phone.  

By Saturday night I was going insane.  I had to do something.  So I knifed and buried my Inner-Reasonable-Person and decided to organize my Craft Lair.  You can see the awfulness of my Craft Lair here.  Atticus helped.  He had great fun putting skeins of yarn in a laundry basket and then dragging them out again.  I diagnosed the problem with my craft lair.  I didn't have places to put things.  Well, I have places, but none of them good when there is a curious toddler afoot.  I let Atticus get into things as long as they aren't dangerous or impossibly messy to clean.  Therefore yarn and embroidery hoops are forever scattered around the house.  I needed a place out of the grasp of Atticus the Future Fiber Artist.... hummmmm......

Bingo....

Diaper boxes on top of the Craft Lair dresser!

Well, that worked, but was completely unattractive.  Then Creativity slapped me silly and I had an idea.

1 Diaper box + rolls of faux wood-paneling (rescued from the library trash) + thrifted pillowcases =  ATTRACTIVE YARN STORAGE.

I whipped these up in the space of 10 minutes and had all my yarn tidied away neatly.  I spent the rest of the evening working for 10 minutes and then resting for 50 minutes.  I got it done and when Sam came home from the tattoo shop sometime after-midnight the Craft Lair was a-sparkling.

Ohhhh.... ahhhhh....

They aren't perfect, but they look a heck of a lot better than undecorated diaper boxes.

Organization for the win!

A place for everything!

Accomplishing this really raised my spirits and it really didn't take too long or too much effort once I had a place for all my supplies.  Huzzah!

A Room of One's Own, Kiddie Lit, and Soap

Hi all! I still feel shitty. In fact, I feel so shitty I don't even feel like READING. Here are some linkies for you to peruse this morning until I get my health and nerdiness back:

• The Guardian lets us drool over 50 writer's rooms.
• Writers on strike are creating children's books to feed the creativity bug.
• Fight Club the musical?!

nataliedee.com

Hacks and Tatts

Sorry for the Sunday Salon crap-out. I did read The Bell Jar for a bit and then fell asleep. I had been feeling pretty shitty and I woke up feeling worse. Surprise, surprise, I have my first confirmed case of bronchitis for 2008. I went to the doctor this morning and the gave me some gnarly drugs and a shot on the rumpus; hopefully I will get well quick. He said that I will start a-hacking soon due to the steroid shot. I can't wait (sarcasm alert). Hopefully, I will get well soon; I actually kinda miss work after the long break (slap me someone!).

I was perusing the net this morning and found this interesting article about authors with tattoos; check it out. I have three tattoos: a crappy gecko lizard on my upper right thigh that I got when I was 18, a swallow on my right inner forearm, and a black Pegasus on the side of my left calf. Each tattoo does have a story and significance.

My gecko doesn't have a story, but I think I will keep it and not cover it up because it represents my personality at 18 -- stupid and impulsive.

The bird was done by my friend Sam when he worked at New Vision Tattoo. That bird is a Panic Bird, like the bird Plath wrote about in her journals, "...it makes me feel good as hell to express my hostility for my mother, frees me from the Panic Bird on my heart and my typewriter (why?)...[December 12, 1958]." Not that I feel any hostility for my mother -- my mom is kick-ass -- but I can understand the Panic Bird being anxiety and anxiety that affects one's ability to write. The Panic Bird will eventually be part of a sleeve of all Sylvia Plath inspired tattoos.

The black Pegasus was done by my friend David at New Vision Tattoo. There is a reason for the black Pegasus and a very deep meaning and a very tight bond of friendship with a group of amazing women. Alas, if I told you the entire significance of Peggy I would have to kill you. So, enough about that.