Sunday, October 25, 2009

the wiener mom and that moment

It finally came, that moment that makes all this worth every weary night and every snot stained sleeve. Every poopy diaper and every 'oops, I spilled again'. Every I want to do playdoh (AGAIN). Tonight I was sitting in the living room chair watching the evening wrestling match (WWF-Wiener Wrestling Federation)-Daddy wiener v. The little wieners. It was mayhem! Chaos! There was trickery and an obnoxious amount of grunting. Little wiener, face flushed with glee ran over to me and buried his head in my lap. He looked up into my eyes and whispered, "love you mama," gave me another squeeze and ran back to the pile-up squealing.
Love you mama.
Love you too wieners.

Saturday, October 17, 2009

wiener mom, meet the swine flu

yes. You read that right. We have met. We have battled. We are victorious.

Sunday was a bad day for little wiener. He was grumpy and downright out of sorts. We took him to church (whoops); he was unhappy. We brought him home; he was unhappy. Just really generally unhappy, but no "symptoms".

Monday morning we wake up at 5:24 to his cries. He has thrown up in his crib (Elmo took the brunt of it). He is literally burning up (okay not literally) with a temp of 103.4. he has the chills and is unable to stay awake sitting up. I make the call, since he is after all in the high risk group, being 19 months. They want to see him and pronto. Luckily Grandma and Grandpa were in town and middle wiener was able to hang with them until preschool. I had to undress my limp little wiener, remove his pukey clothes and redress in fresh jammies. During this whole process, which when well he HATES, he just laid motionless on the rug. Not good.

We rush ourselves over to the pediatrician's office, trying our best to navigate our way through the clinic with minimal contact with others. They suggest he wear a mask. That is a funny joke, he is 1 and half years old. You put it on him, he takes it off. So, we had to wait in the hall. Little wiener's name is called and we are taken back to the examining room . The nurse takes his temp and gets 99.4. Sorry, I think your thermometer's broken. She takes down his symptoms and gives me her preemptive diagnosis. "Just the flu". Reeeeally... "Just" the flu. Tell that to the Dr. who upon seeing him, exits the room and returns in a Hazmat suit. I am only slightly exaggerating. He is wearing a paper coat to the knees, a breathing mask and best of all, to prevent "spray contamination" I guess, some type of a plexi-glass welder's mask.

His diagnosis: H1N1. "Just the flu" she says. In her defense, I think they're getting a lot of panicked parents crying "swine flu" and maybe most cases aren't. I don't know, but I do know that mine is. So the Dr. prescribes Tamiflu and rest, etc.
However, that's not it. It seems Little Wiener is breathing rapidly, a sign that he could be "hiding pneumonia". My directions: get the fever down (thermometer was broken, actually now 101.2). If he's still breathing rapidly, come back for a chest x-ray.
So, brought the fever down and he's still breathing rapidly. Back to the clinic. Once again wait in the hall. Now, chest x-ray. Chest x-ray for a toddler is pure torture. You do not get to hold the child down, they have a machine for that. See photo at left. That is not my little wiener in the photo, it is someone else's poor little wiener who apparently doesn't feel so strongly about getting a chest x-ray. My little wiener screamed his head off while I was relegated to the hall. I cried. A nice nurse stopped and treated me kindly. When it was over we went back down to the clinic to await our results. Of course radiologist not available, wait and wait and wait. Finally Dr. sticks his head in and speaks to us from the door (not wearing his Hazmat suit, so he can't come in). He'll call if there's anything on the x-ray. Back home.

Side note: On the way to the car, we see a crane. I point out the crane and as I am saying, "Look, a crane. Big crane, oooooo." or something to that effect; little wiener coughs (with spittle) directly into my mouth. This will certainly come back to haunt me.

Being that it's the H1N1, which isn't all that uncommon in Madison, we are stuck inside. We could venture outside, to our own yard, but ta-da IT'S RAINING. Every single expletive day. A wise woman who had her own battle with the swine flu said about being trapped inside, "Day three is the worst. After Day three you go numb."
She was right. While Day 3 was quite possibly hell on earth, Day 4 brought a sense of renewed hope, which I think was just actually the numbness she described.

Now, he is just about 100% better. His nose is a faucet, but that's it. Daddy wiener has decided it is now socially acceptable to return him to the public arena. I'm a little unsure about that, but given that I too have been struck down by the beast, he's in charge.

Yes, I got it, but a much truncated and weakened version. Had to sleep all day yesterday, but feeling much much better today. May still nap today though, just to be safe. :)

Sunday, October 11, 2009

the wiener mom is SO glad that she amuses you so

An open letter to the chucklers/smirkers/et. al:

When you see me struggling through Target with my small, but powerful wiener patrol and you chuckle to yourself, I can see that.

When I am carrying an upside down wiener who is screaming to "Walk, walk, walk" straight into traffic and you smirk to yourself, I can actually see that too.

When I am superivsing a collection of very bored, over-tired wieners at the Home Depot while we wait for Daddy Wiener for a very, very, very looooong time and they are amusing themselves by turning on every single tacky Christmas knick-knack at the same time, and you elbow your companion and share a chuckle, I can see that too.

When you see me forcibly loading my coalition into the wienermobile (no not that one) as they swing at me and hurl insults at the disgrace of abiding by the martial law of the carseat and you chuckle and shake your head, guess what...
Yeah. I did.

When you see us racing turtles down the sidewalk and losing, and you say "ahhh, those were the days, that's not so bad- at least you aren't laughing.

I guess what I am trying to say is I am glad that my life is so g. damn amusing to you. I'm so glad that my sometime misery can provide you with a brief moment of entertainment. I only wish that I could share with you the perpetual joy that comes from these daily experiences.
No, really, I actually do. Any takers?