Worst Christmas Ever

All evidence of the 2009 Christmas has been removed from the house. No pictures were taken. There is no video documentation. For all intensive purposes, this Christmas never happened.

It all began with a snowstorm. Forecasted as the biggest storm since the Great Halloween Blizzard of 1991, the flakes began falling on Wednesday and didn't stop until Saturday morning. For obvious reasons, the family members that lived out of town didn't come down so, rather than having a houseful of guests on Christmas Eve, we were alone. Henry and I met up with some friends and went sledding that afternoon at St. Anthony Golf Course. This was the highlight of the weekend. That night, I started to feel sick and woke up the next morning in a full-blown asthma attack. Hit my inhaler and made it through the day, but wound up in the ER Christmas night. Watched the Elf marathon on USA a couple of times before they sent me home with a strong nebulizer med, antibiotics and steroids.

We headed up to my parents on Saturday morning since we felt the roads were safe. Chaos ensued once my crew intermingled with my brother's brood. As we were opening gifts in the late afternoon, I suddenly spiked a fever. I crawled into bed and wondered if this was the beginning of pneumonia. Then, the smell of prime rib wafted under the door and rumors of watching The Hangover were circulating so I got up. (For those of you who have asthma - do not watch The Hangover with a tight chest. There were a couple of times I thought I was going to literally die laughing.) My fever broke about 3 hours later and never came back. The next day, we packed up and left for home, Henry staying behind to spend the week with his cousins.

Monday, I got home from work and crashed in bed. Woke up around 8:30 and decided to go to the urgent care. Typically, once I'm on steroids, the cough and tightness are gone within a couple of days. I was getting worse and my lungs were now filled with crap. The doc listened to my lungs, looked at the cocktail of medications I was put on previously and decided that, because I wasn't responding, there was a hospital bed with my name on it. I said no (see previous posts regarding how my work feels about me being sick). So he wrote me a note and, as he wrote, he said, "Ms. Ince needs to be hospitalized for her asthma so fuck off." I really liked this guy. I went home with a different antibiotic and more steroids.

I'm not sure how I made it through the week. I still feel like shit. I think I'm slowly getting better, but it is taking far longer than it should. I got winded just putting away the ornaments. Dave met my parents halfway yesterday and then all the boys headed straight up to the other Grandparent's house for the "make-up Christmas". I'm staying put. Me and my new iMac are hanging out and getting to know each other. I make out with my nebulizer every 4 hours. I keep looking outside at the ice sheet in the park and wonder if I'm ever going to get well enough to skate this year. Ok, so maybe that's a depressing stretch of pessimism, but that's my current state of mind.

Yes, there were good parts (like when Henry came into our room Christmas morning and asked if either of us had wished for a bicycle because there was one in the living room without a name on it), but, compared to a typical fun and family filled holiday, it was lonely and depressing. I've been mourning the loss of my (not backed up) MacBook hard drive and all the pictures of Johnny's first year along with it. No holiday card went out. I didn't even make the cookies. I honestly just want to wipe the memory of the whole past month out of my head.

Bah humbug.

There are Christmas decorations up and carols playing downtown.

Yesterday morning, Dave and I welcomed the season in very different ways. Both of us were up before dawn, making preparations for the morning's events. While he was donning bright orange clothes, I was trying to get a pair of breezers on a mite already wearing knee pads. As he climbed up a tree, I poured a bowl of Rice Krispies, opened some yogurt and prepped a bowl of baby cereal and fruit. As he silently watched and listened to the woods wake up around him, I woke a sleeping baby who still managed to be Happy Morning Guy while gobbling down his breakfast much earlier than usual. As he sat patiently waiting for the sun to announce the dawn, I was trying to get an impatient baby into the mei tai in a parking lot. As Dave was realizing that the buck in the distance wasn't going to get close enough, I watched The Boy skate out onto the ice for the first team practice of the hockey season.

Welcome to winter in Minnesota.

Hi again!

I'm sitting here, fulfilling a stereotype once again: typing away on my Mac at the VW dealership. The time is long overdue for an oil change and 10,000 mile maintenance. I made the mistake of scheduling an eye appointment before coming here. My eyes are dilated, I look like I'm tripping my ass off and it's hard to read the computer screen. There's a blurry aura around everything within 2 1/2 feet of my head. I was going to pick out a new pair of frames but am thoroughly disappointed with the selection - I told the woman I didn't want anything with "all that crap" on the sides. Good luck with that - she showed me a pair with the Coach C's all over them. At that point, I asked if I could look elsewhere and, if I found anything, could they order them. No sense wasting any more time - hers or mine. And what's up with shuffling you off to spend that kind of money on frames and, because you need glasses to begin with, you can't even properly see what they look like?! I did find out that I'm 1-4 years away from bifocals. That's just super.

Henry's been up at my parents place for the last several days. Grandma and Grandpa wanted him for an extended stay one last time before school started. Dad's on his way to meet them halfway and make the Boy swap. I missed the big turd.

Apparently, people actually read this blog, so I'm going to make an effort to keep up with it. We'll see what happens. I mean, really - I'm not that exciting. I get up late, go to work, come home, feed the dog, hang with the boys, play stupid games on my computer and listen to Wilco. That's about it. Ask my neighbors - I hardly even mow!

My boob hurts.

I had a long post written the other day about how I got into a fight with my brother and sister-in-law over the "Mom on Facebook" issue, but the feeling is gone and I deleted the long and exhausting rant.  And that's a good thing.  The gist?  My aunt got on FB and they both became her friend and I threw a fit.  My argument of how can you give every family member that's on FB access to pictures of your cute kids but not let grandma in on the adorableness (which, although she wouldn't admit it, obviously made her feel sad by the way she brought it up - see earlier post) and my need to come to her defense fell on deaf and feisty ears.  Apparently, the sister-in-law felt that the FB etiquette of the "newbie" requesting friendship took precedence over just being a nice person.  Oh, and she didn't have time to "stalk" people on FB - even though she knew Mom was out there and she seems to have time to let us all know what they are having for dinner each night (I just checked and it's pepper cream penne tonight).  The dear brother is so popular that he doesn't request anyone's friendship - he just waits for the masses to flock to him.  Then, the 24 year old (13 years younger than me) SAHM who has only held a job in high school began to lecture ME about life lessons, such as how she never defends anyone because they might not want you to do so.  I said that it was nice to know who in my family has my back.  She thinks very highly of herself for raising a family of 4 kids and likes to let me know about all the things I should be doing because Oprah and Dr. Phil and the internet say so.  I'm not saying that being a SAHM is not hard work, especially when there are 4 little animals running around (and sometimes coloring in their testicles with blue marker), but working and raising kids is not a walk in the park either and I really don't need her to tell me how to raise my family or teach me life lessons.  But that will be another argument some other day when she catches me in a not so willing to ignore her mood.

We had parent-teacher conferences last night and, I must say, I left a very happy mommy.  I've been working closely with Henry's teacher on how to best make him successful and we seem to have found the right way to do it.  During those times of day when he seems to have the most problems (typically transitions), he earns blocks for expected behavior (not being disruptive during the morning meeting, being quiet in the halls).  His goal is to earn 5 blocks and, if he does, he gets to pick first during choice time.  Ever since, he's been sitting much more still and has had only one day where he earned 3 - the rest have been 4 or 5 block days.  His teacher is very pleased with how a little positive, rather than negative, reinforcement has modified his behavior.  Even better, academically, he's already beyond what is expected of him by the end of the year, in reading, writing and math.  He's pulling random books off the shelves and reading them to his teacher and has been given the 1st grade list of sight words, which he already knows half of.  She loves having him in her class and doesn't foresee any more problems with his behavior now that she's got it figured out.  YAY FOR HENRY!!!!  I'm going to bite the bullet and let him get a Jonas Brothers cd with his Christmas money.

I've managed to develop mastitis in my left boob.  After spending a few days trying to massage the blockage out, the throbbing extended into my armpit.  John slept an astounding 6 hours last night - good for Mom and Dad's sleep, but it left me with a very angry breast.  I started him on the sore side and, between my milk let down and John's need to push on it while he eats, I was in agony.  I wound up heading to the doctor this morning - antibiotics are now on the menu every 6 hours.  The challenge will be my other instructions: warm compresses for 15 minutes followed by 15 minutes of massage BEFORE I nurse Johnny.  I wonder if I'll be able to get him to give me a half hour warning?  "Mom, I'll be waking up at 4:30 this morning so if you could get up at 4:00 and start your thing, that would be great."

We have a weekend full of hockey ahead of us.  Practice tonight.  Practice tomorrow morning.  Rematch of last weekend's game against the evil Red A Mites Sunday morning.  The red team is the oldest group of A mites, ours being the youngest.  These kids should have been moved up to one of the B mite teams judging by the way they were skating circles around our little guys (and our guys aren't bad skaters, mind you).  Not only that, but they are rougher than they are supposed to be at this level, to the point that our coach was going to have a talk with the other coaches about it.  They were pushing our kids around and there were even a couple skirmishes, which, although sort of funny and cute, have no place in mite hockey.  One of our smallest players wound up pummeling one of their players after he got knocked down.  Usually, the games go back and forth - we score, the other team scores and everybody feels good and has fun.  We only got two goals last week and I know our kids were frustrated.  Come on - it was preschool and kindergartners against the first graders - not fair at all!  Coach Phil said there was no way he was going to let them get away with such physical play next time, so we'll see how it goes.     

Struggling in the deep freeze

It's still incredibly cold out.  If I were to do it again (and believe me, I'm not), I'd definitely plan a pregnancy to end in the spring or summer.  At least with Henry, we could go outside for a walk and I didn't have to bundle the poor kid up like Randy from A Christmas Story to run to Target.  The one good thing is that Willie the Dog doesn't mess around outside - he's perfectly fine with not barking at the neighbor dogs or giving me that challenging look that says, "I don't give a shit that you have to go somewhere or go to bed - there's a squirrel in this here tree and I need to keep an eye on it for the next hour or so just in case it accidently falls off the branch.  Come on - it could happen!" 

I've been perusing the website of a local Shambala meditation center this morning.  I've been looking at this place for some time now, wondering if I have the time.  I think I need to just make the time.  I used to go to a different place occasionally and I really liked the practice and the environment, but it was a little too far away and there is another person that attends that, due to my business relationship with them, makes it a bit uncomfortable for both of us to be there at the same time.  This other center has a monthly kids meeting that incorporates a little meditation, stories, art and music.  I think Henry would benefit from learning to sit quietly for a few minutes and I know he would dig the rest of it, as well.  I need to learn to relax and quiet my mind, especially with all that is going on in my life right now - the stress of my job, the school issues with Henry, being an overly tired mother of an infant, etc...

We've been working with the school on The Boy's behavior and have initiated the process for having him evaluated for ADHD with his doc.  I'm not convinced he has it, but there definitely are issues we need to deal with.  I worry so much about him and his future.  It hurts to see my little guy so sad about himself and his ability to follow the rules at school.  He's so bright and does well academically, but he struggles with just being able to settle into the routines, especially when he's bored.  Maybe this isn't the right school for him.  Maybe he needs to be somewhere where the classes are smaller and his mind is kept busy.  My guess is that would involve tuition...

Johnny and I are off to have lunch with the Aunties today.  I'm hoping one of them doesn't go off about how immature her daughter is.  The daughter that graduated from college in 3 1/2 years, is going into the Peace Corps and is just getting back from building a school for AIDS orphans in Uganda.  How horrible for her to have to deal with such a child.  Considering I'm fearing my son will be held back from 1st grade, I may not be able to listen to it without putting in my two cents.  Man, it would feel good, though.    

Week #4, Day 2

Three weeks postpartum and I catch a cold.  Nine months and not a single bug or asthma attack and now I get sick.  I suppose it was only fair since I was sick as hell with pregnancy related issues - a virus on top of that would have been the straw that broke the camel's back.  I took some Tylenol last night to fight off the sore throat and Googled "maternal illness and newborns".  I'm not supposed to touch John's hands or kiss him.  Yeah, right.  At least I breastfeed, so he's still getting all those good antibodies and, fingers crossed, he won't get much more than the snotty nose he's already appeared to develop.  He's very co-operative with letting me shoot saline up his nose and then come at him with the nasal aspirator.  I keep telling him Mommy knows best and he seems to be buying it.  Now if he'd just listen to me when I tell him that burping would help his tummy, we'd be all set.

He officially got kicked out of our room on Saturday night.  Of course, this was the day after the leg extensions for the co-sleeper arrived (to the tune of $9 shipping).  He lasted about as long as Henry did.  Dave and I couldn't deal with the grunting and groaning or the middle of the night or the over-tired snapping at each other any longer.  He'd nurse, we'd swaddle him up, put him down and then listen to him make noise for a hour before he'd fall into a quite sleep.  I can't sleep if my boys make any noises.  Thunder storms, yes, but I wake up at the slightest cough from Henry behind two oak bedroom doors.  I guess it's one of those mother things.  We're all much happier this way.  Mom and Dad are sleeping longer and Johnny the Noisy Sleeper isn't getting poked with a Nuk or picked up in an effort to quiet him down.  We can hear him if he cries but not when he grunts.  Again - sleep like a baby?  Really?  Puh-leeze!

After complaining about why schools squelch diversity rather than celebrate it, we find out just yesterday that Henry has a sort of holiday program at school today.  Technically, it's an "all-school sing-a-long" and parents are invited.  Dave is on his way home so we can all go.  During the month of December, we saw via the weekly kindergarten schedule that he has been learning about winter holidays.  Henry points out candles in windows and announces that they must be celebrating Kwanzaa.  We also learned that Baby Cheese-us was born in a stable.  Of course, the heathens that Dave and I are, we are now referring to Cheddar Cheese-us, Swiss Cheese-us and Monetary Jack Cheese-us.

I'm having mixed emotions about where Facebook has taken me.  I've found a few old friends from high school but I've also found myself hooked up with the folks that are organizing the 20 year reunion.  I bitched about not being invited to the 10 year reunion even though there was no way in hell I would have gone.  I wasn't married yet, lived in the same metro area many of us wound up in and my parents lived in the same house they did when I graduated.  To be honest, I figured the cliques had kept the party to themselves - that's just the way my high school was.  Now I'm on the radar and I'm not sure what to think of it.  I might consider it now if only because I'm more of what would be considered successful.  Happily married with children and a job that would make many of them do a double-take rather than a full-time stoner who was angry at the world (I'm only part-time now and, even though I'm still full of angst, it's more productive at this point).  That and the fact that, after looking at pictures of my fellow grads, I look way younger and far cuter than most of them (especially now that I've lost a ton of weight).  Seriously, people - big bangs were so 1989.  Put the ultra-hold away!!!

I had a conference call regarding my end of year bonus yesterday and I'm a pretty happy camper.  After telling me I really turned things around the second half of the year, they gave me more than I got last December.  I bit my tongue after that comment and said thank you.  I got screwed on my mid-year bonus because of my hyperemesis with Johnny.  The fact that I was at home, hooked up to IV's with daily nurse visits was considered poor job performance.  The world of stock markets is still a stupid fucking boys club.  Johnny was the first baby born to a female employee in over 10 years at my firm and they are pretty insensitive to complications.  At least they gave him a gift - a Vermont Teddy Bear with his name and birthday on the bib.  Part of me wishes they would have just given him a $70 gift card to Target with which we could have bought diapers.  It is really cute, though.  I'm sure Waylon the Cat will enjoy making love to it.

Heaven forbid...

The conversation with my 27 year old brother this morning:

Him: "Sorry - did I wake you up?"

Me: "Mmmm...yeah" 

Him: "You can call me back when you can talk."

Me: "No.  That's ok.  I need to wake up."

Him: "Ok.  Um, why is mom on Facebook?  Did you put her up to it?"

Me: "Oh my god.  Why?  Don't you want her on there?  She was going to do it anyway."

Him: "Not really.  I thought she was kidding."

Me: "Then don't be her friend.  It's not like you have anything to hide.  Besides, she's bored.  She'll have fun with it."

Him: "I suppose."

Now I'm curious.  Why do you suppose my brother the financial planner who lives in a small town with his wife and 4 children would be up in arms about our retired (and bored stiff) mother who lives 4 hours away from him being on Facebook?  He's never posted anything that someone wouldn't want their mother to see.  This way, she can keep up with what her grandbabies are doing without having to call or drive 2 to 4 hours to see them.  Ohhhhh, wait.  Maybe it's the controlling wife that doesn't want her mother-in-law to see what they are up to.  Like how she bailed out on Thanksgiving using the excuse that her parents were going to be alone (which was bull shit because her brother was going to be there), but really it was just so she could go shopping with her friend the next morning.  Never mind that I was days away from my due date, lost my plug, was having lots of contractions and couldn't commit to driving 2 hours to eat turkey...which would mean that MY parents would be alone.  

My brother and his wife are the only two that haven't accepted her as a friend.  Nice.