Landslide...
I am so totally overwhelmed.
Here is one reason why...
The Impossible Son has bronchitis, and is really congested (sound familiar), so he's on a course of antibiotics, a mucus thinner, and albuterol breathing treatments every six hours.
*sigh*
Nope, no asthma, just trying to clear his tubes out so it doesn't become a future possibility.
Then, the Impertinent Daughter finally confessed to me that her "moon-time" has been fairly constant for the last three weeks.
O_O!!!!
And I said, "Okay, I'll call the gyno tomorrow and make an appointment." And it suddenly all came crashing in on me.
Gods, we have been to the doctor almost constantly for the last three months!! A neurologist for Miss Priss' migraines (we still have to do the MRI for that), a dermatologist for the funny moles on her shoulder, forehead, and neck, and now... this! Then there's me with my breathing issues, and the doc is making noises about sending me to a pulmonologist, and now the Mr. Manzie...
I sort of staggered out of her room, saying something vague about making her some hot tea for her sore throat with plenty of honey, and I went in my bedroom and bawled for about five minutes. All the useless guilt that tends to sweep over me (why didn't she tell me? Oh, that's right, she's embarrassed, it's all new to her, and she's not sure how I'll react, and now I've literally run away from her in tears, great, how the hell do I fix this??), the frustration, and it's just... too much.
It certainly didn't help that at this point, I had Lindsey Buckingham's "Holiday Road" running through my head on an endless loop. Man, talk about a song with NO CONTENT!!
It's stuff like this that make moms run away to join the circus.
And then my Mom calls, wanting to know how everyone is, and if the Impossible Son is okay, did I take him to the doctor, and I'm trying to be cheerful and reassuring and not start bawling again, or wailing, "Mommy!!!"
Did I mention the Husbandly One has a stomach bug right now, too?
*sigh*
Oh, and the doctor told me to make sure Mr. Manzie rested. Y'all know what albuterol is? It's like... adrenaline. It opens up the airways, makes it easier to breathe, and move oxygen through the system. When I use it in the nebulizer, it makes me dopey and sleepy, mainly because it exhausts me. You know, it's got me all hyper, and then, immediately after CRASH!!
Not my son.
"Oooo, let's play a game, wanna play a game? Or we can watch tv, are you sure I can't go outside, because I would like to go outside, but maybe not, because I'm not supposed to be playing, am I, Mama, hey, sis, can we play Pokemon together or will you show me how to play Cooking Mama I really like CookingMamaitsareallyfungameexceptitssortofhardandI'm hungrybutIdon'twannaeatandMamawhyareyousoredcanIhavesomewatermelonplease?"
I just wanna go hide or something. Curl up in acorner and hide and not come out for like... six days.
Yes. I'll go curl up in a corner with a paper bag over my head. I should feel ever so much better then.
*sigh*
Here is one reason why...
The Impossible Son has bronchitis, and is really congested (sound familiar), so he's on a course of antibiotics, a mucus thinner, and albuterol breathing treatments every six hours.
*sigh*
Nope, no asthma, just trying to clear his tubes out so it doesn't become a future possibility.
Then, the Impertinent Daughter finally confessed to me that her "moon-time" has been fairly constant for the last three weeks.
O_O!!!!
And I said, "Okay, I'll call the gyno tomorrow and make an appointment." And it suddenly all came crashing in on me.
Gods, we have been to the doctor almost constantly for the last three months!! A neurologist for Miss Priss' migraines (we still have to do the MRI for that), a dermatologist for the funny moles on her shoulder, forehead, and neck, and now... this! Then there's me with my breathing issues, and the doc is making noises about sending me to a pulmonologist, and now the Mr. Manzie...
I sort of staggered out of her room, saying something vague about making her some hot tea for her sore throat with plenty of honey, and I went in my bedroom and bawled for about five minutes. All the useless guilt that tends to sweep over me (why didn't she tell me? Oh, that's right, she's embarrassed, it's all new to her, and she's not sure how I'll react, and now I've literally run away from her in tears, great, how the hell do I fix this??), the frustration, and it's just... too much.
It certainly didn't help that at this point, I had Lindsey Buckingham's "Holiday Road" running through my head on an endless loop. Man, talk about a song with NO CONTENT!!
It's stuff like this that make moms run away to join the circus.
And then my Mom calls, wanting to know how everyone is, and if the Impossible Son is okay, did I take him to the doctor, and I'm trying to be cheerful and reassuring and not start bawling again, or wailing, "Mommy!!!"
Did I mention the Husbandly One has a stomach bug right now, too?
*sigh*
Oh, and the doctor told me to make sure Mr. Manzie rested. Y'all know what albuterol is? It's like... adrenaline. It opens up the airways, makes it easier to breathe, and move oxygen through the system. When I use it in the nebulizer, it makes me dopey and sleepy, mainly because it exhausts me. You know, it's got me all hyper, and then, immediately after CRASH!!
Not my son.
"Oooo, let's play a game, wanna play a game? Or we can watch tv, are you sure I can't go outside, because I would like to go outside, but maybe not, because I'm not supposed to be playing, am I, Mama, hey, sis, can we play Pokemon together or will you show me how to play Cooking Mama I really like CookingMamaitsareallyfungameexceptitssortofhardandI'm hungrybutIdon'twannaeatandMamawhyareyousoredcanIhavesomewatermelonplease?"
I just wanna go hide or something. Curl up in acorner and hide and not come out for like... six days.
Yes. I'll go curl up in a corner with a paper bag over my head. I should feel ever so much better then.
*sigh*