Silent Mommie

Tuesday past, my voice completely left me all day, and has only returned in patches 3 days later.  The First Born really misses her bedtime story from me.  I gave a valiant effort last night, but she was so disturbed by my coughing fits at every page turn she allowed me to give up and call in a replacement.  But then there was a tantrum and as it turned out she didn't get a story what with poor behavior.  Too sad to be unable to read to her, even sadder for me to be unable to sing lullaby to the baby.  F expressed some fear that I wasn't going to get my voice back---well, Bear expressed that fear, "Well, tell Bear that I've got medicine now, and I'll be okay soon."  I've been ill for a week now, having not shown much improvement, I burst into tears last night 'cause I'm so tired, tired of this illness, tired of inability to be Best Mommy, and really frightened that it mightn't end, that it'll pass on to the girls.  The nurse practitioner decided on two antibiotics to treat what may have started as flu but ended up as a combination of infections ear/nose/throat---superfun.

What I noticed while I was struck dumb.

• My baby missed my voice.  Signing with her a little so far helped the situation I think, but I notice that she was less vocal around me, and it was heart-wrenching to interpret her questioning looks upon my whispers.
• Facial expressions and body language are amazing communicators with out voice.  I never considered that my facial expressions could be more expressive, but they had to be considering I didn't have my normal voice inflections.  A smile isn't simply a smile, and a look directly into the eye counts for so, so much.
• I had so much more time to listen, and nothing at all to say.  My whispered responses weren't going to be heard, and it felt like a luxury to not respond to every little thing said.  It's easier to hear when I'm not thinking about what I'm going to say, and I heard more than I normally do.
• Thought about what it must be like to be a hearing/speaking child growing up in a deaf/dumb household.  I once knew a young man whose parents were both deaf, yet his faculties were intact, he had interesting child hood stories.

I look forward to regaining my ability to communicate in normal voice rather than honks and squeaks,---and the occasional alarming lowing moan reserved for that persistent throbbing headache.

Not but healing thoughts from here on out, and may I permanently retain that expanded listening ability.

IT CAME FROM....

the baby?  the 4 year old?  one can't be too sure with familial epidemiology.  But I got it, and if Baby E had it before me it must have morphed into something bigger and uglier special for me.

My harrowing Halloween tale of fever dreams and delirium started Friday afternoon, mild fall day, Miss Monkey in her costume walking her baby, Leia, and I wearing the infant exploring our small new community.  Then the goosebumps started, flashes of chills, my skin began to hurt, I finally said, "I think I need to go back inside and lie down."  By the time The Man arrived home from work I had given up on being vertical at all, called in Dr. Sparkle (who by the way is very good if you've need of a pint-sized pretend physician), and was lying on the bed covered head to toe with jammie-pants, hoodie, and blanket.  He said he could feel me baking underneath it all...I was just soooo coooold.  103.7 F read the thermometer, and as Dr. Sparkle took notes, The Man decided he'd head to the grocery to get additional supplies.

Saturday was spent feeling as if I'd been run over several times, then was being pulled in multiple directions by the other members of the family, I was eventually ordered (and partly retreated) to the bed where Baby E chewed on a toy while I dozed.  After an afternoon nap whilst The Man whisked Miss Purple Princess Monkey away to Boo at the Zoo, I felt somewhat better popped more pain reliever and allowed myself to be talked into going to the family Halloween costume party we had planned on attending.  He aided me tying a green blanket toga 'round myself, I called myself a stem wearing a flower-baby.  I was warm at least, and somewhat coherent for a couple of hours.  We carved pumpkins Sunday, 4 now, and mostly hung around...again I'm dozing in and out of feverish sleep.  BUT is that ALL? is that then END? You say, surely you must feel better now, right? At least according to my schedule I should've shaken this by Sunday evening. 

No, instead I'm sitting right now, ridiculous early, sans voice, with a terrible cough, and ears I swear if I'd an icepick I'd relieve the pressure horror movie style.  Voiceless, I went to bed super early to awaken at midnight or so with my head so filled with gook I thought I'd gotten water trapped in my ears somehow, and so engorged I had to come downstairs to pump.  Every turn of the head was painful, and the fever was back up again, took another Tylenol and waited for it to work.  Few hours later, somehow Baby E has slept all the way through the night, I'm awake again with sweats and painfully engorged breasts.  I bided my time 'til 4am, and decided I'd just get up.  Too uncomfortable to sleep, the Tylenol helps a lot, but doesn't make it go away.  And what are the friggin' odds that The Baby sleeps all the way through the night? sheesh.  Breastfeeding while ill is hard on me 'cause I feel as if I'm being drained of more than milk.

So, here I am, praying for it to be over already, and praying that the little ones don't get it from me--at least not the version I'm fighting.  Pictures of our Halloween soon to follow (minus the illin' mama).

Resurrection of the Sock Monkey

When I was really small, probably same age Miss Monkey is now, I remember cutting foam up to re-stuff a sock monkey.  I'm actually not sure if Mom made it for me from scratch, but it's possible considering the era.  I have recollection of the way the foam felt under the shears, clipping it io workable pieces.  I remember his mirror button nose being too floppy for my discerning four year old taste, staring at my reflection for eons.  When Sock Monkey wasn't turning out exactly how I imagined, he was a bit lumpy and misshapen, I also remember being afraid to ask for something more or different,  fearing the answer, guilty of asking at all.  I'm working on this new gig, asking for what I want, being specific, and realizing that I needn't feel bad or be afraid of the answer.  I'm here just like everyone else, neither above nor below.  It's challenging.  Better to be a healthy example than to listen to my daughter say things like, "oh, well, I'm so thirsty....I guess I can't get anything to drink though..." like a little martyr-in-training, rather than ask for help.

There are moving tubs everywhere full of oddities, and F came up with Sock Monkey that probably hadn't seen the light of day in almost 10 years (I recall my college boyfriend thought it creepy).  The foam was shot and he was dirrrrty.  After an overnight spa-soak in vinegar/borax/bit-o-bleach, he washed and dried just fine.  But with further inspection, the first born decided she might like to have him re-stuffed, and I happen to have some lovely stuffing on hand from a quilt shop going-out-of-business. She also asked that his mirror nose be tacked down somehow---funny coincidence that.  Then, newly firmly fluffed, with buttons reinforced and non-noddy nose, he went to bed with Little Girl and has been under her arm practically all day.  I'm proud, Sock Monkey turned out just how I wanted him to, he's the embodiment of heirloom.

Porter in the Klink

Our Porter kitty spent the last few days at Miss M's in his kennel.  Evidence pointed to a territorial outburst between Pan and Himself.  There was fair warning of this when it was discovered he was searching out Pan to pick fights, then he was found bullying her in Miss M's closet.  When he was discovered pseudo-spraying the sewing room, Miss M's inner sanctum, he had to be kennel-ized.  For the last 4 days or so while we were with her, Porter was allowed 2 "walks" in the "yard"(a.k.a. the mudroom) where he was fed & watered and used the box.  In general he handled it well, I think he understood he had done wrong.

Now we are a week into the townhouse.  While certain of the arrangements were rather disappointing---we felt a little taken advantage of---that aside, we are making ourselves comfortable and think we will enjoy it here.  Porter has spent the first week tormenting my loving husband, sending him into fits of frustration, clawing his way into the access panels of the master bath tub.  My mate was all a tizzy with day dreams of deceased kitty, bio-hazards, and death-rot par fume.  Finally, The Man simply liquid-nailed the panels shut, and Porter looked bored yesterday having his fun cut short.

The kitchen is unpacked, the laundry is cycling, we're slowly getting it up and running.  About moving: it's expensive to set up household over and over, the workload tends to triple.  In addition, to all the regular cooking, errands, tidying, there's unpacking to do in every spare moment.  And Halloween is coming, I've got to get costumes together for the offspring, get some activities planned with friends, begin planning for pumpkins!  My it's a beautiful life!

Here comes the Sun

The magical Sun.  It's fantastic.  Baby E had a pretty persistent rash even though I cloth diaper.  I sat with her naked self in full sun for several minutes watching the rash disappear and next day it was completely gone.

I've been thoroughly enjoying hanging diapers on the line here at Miss M's.  Sun has done wonders with some greasier bright orange stains on the dipes.  Want to keep whites whiter? keep diapers stain free? sans chemicals?  Hang'em on the line!  Nothing compares to warm crispness of sheets fresh from the line.

And here in the Mile High City the sun is especially intense on cloudless, breeze-less days.  We were fortunate to be at the Broncos home opener this past Sunday.  Sitting in upper level seats facing West, we almost baked to death!  Toward the end of the game I was feeling an urge to move to any seat just to see if the sun would be less intense even a few yards away.  I didn't want a brat or a beer it was so hot, I just wanted shade and an array of Popsicles.  Thank goodness for forethought of sunscreen and 1L waters!