Why I Hate Mondays

A tough little broad.  That's my Maddie (sorry, Madison as she now prefers...she's 4...really?).  This is a little girl who's been a puker since day one.  Quite literally, my daughter has tossed her cookies more in her 4 short years than I have in 34.  It's gotten to the point where she's completely comfortable with it, moves on like almost nothing has happened until the next round.  So have I.  I've got catching vomit in my hands, closest waste bin and getting it out of sheets at 2a.m. down to a science.

However, when my daughter threw up 9 times between 7:45a.m. and 9:45a.m. on Monday morning, once including blood (sorry, gross I know, but as I said, I'm used to this) I was more than a little worried.  My little girl came stumbling out of her room in the morning, so dizzy she couldn't see straight, walking into walls and collapsing repeatedly in the 30 steps it took to make it to my room, where I sat watching in shock.  The first stumble I figured was just Madison getting up too quickly from her slumber.  The second I thought she was being a typical 4 year old goofing around saying "I'm dizzy Mommy".  That's when the vomiting began and didn't end.

After a quick call to her Dad (a Paramedic who was at work at the time) I decided to pack her into the car, Boo Bear and puke bucket in hand, and head to the Children's ER.  Thankfully, we have an incredible children's hospital and ER here.  

Madison lays with Boo Bear in my lap as we sit in the waiting room of the ER.

 

 

We waited a short while before being assigned a bed and getting assessed by the nurses, then a doctor shortly after.  After a white grape popsicle and a few sips of blue Gatorade, which promptly saw the light of day in reverse, they wanted to see her walking.  That didn't go very well.  Laying down, Madison was the picture of health.  Laughing, playing, smiling.  

Madison happily displaying the surgical glove balloon animal provided by Ollie, the resident clown of the children's ward.

Any sort of elevation of her head and she spiraled downward immediately.  She (to quote the doctor) "walked like a drunken sailor".  Her stomach rejecting absolutely everything, coupled with the intense dizziness when upright concerned her.  So, in went an IV.  Dear Lord I never, ever want to watch my child go through that again.

The absolute terror in her eyes, watching the nurses (who asked me before the procedure began if I was ok to stay with her or if I thought I might need to leave...seriously???  Who the HELL would LEAVE their 4 year old to suffer through that alone????) poke into her tiny vein...wait no, they missed it...wiggle, ah...got it.  That was horrible.  I swear that I almost saw the needle poke straight through the back of her hand.  But, it didn't and the nurses (2 of them) secured a line in and made a "bed" for her hand.

Tiny hand, lots of tape.  The little sticker said "You did it!".  I don't think that made her feel better about it.

She was on an IV drip for a couple of hours which helped, but didn't completely work.  After needing to get a urine sample (let me tell you how much fun that was) and her collapsing into my arms again, even after being re-hydrated, the doctor suggested (reluctantly) that we do a CAT scan to rule out any sign on brain injury or the like.  Oh, ok, sure.  No problem.  I'm sorry, WHAT???  My 4 year old, who was running around the Home Show dipping her fingers into the hot tubs on display, playing on the giant playground and jumping on the trampoline just the day before, has to be strapped onto a slab, moved into a giant rotating camera that is loud and fast and scary to any grown up.  Yep, sign her up.

She was amazing.  Scared at first, but sang songs with the nurse by her side (even corrected her on some of the lyrics) while I had to wait on the other side of the door that felt like it had to be 600 feet away (though it was only about 10).  I've never had one done, but my 4 year old is now a pro.  Something is wrong with that.  

Thankfully everything looked just fine.  Ok, I can breathe now.  Can we go?  Not quite.  Madison still hadn't eaten or walked normally and it was now about 4:30.  After the CAT scan, they filled her full of popsicles and had me do laps with her around the floor (IV pole in tow).  Diagnosis?  Possible inner ear infection which is a viral thing so there's nothing that can be done about it.

So, after a day filled with drama, laughter, terror, relief and an unheard of number of earned stickers for bravery, we were allowed to leave.  WE WERE ALLOWED TO LEAVE!!!  I can't say the same for other families nearby.  One had a son who's left lung was almost completely filled with fluid, another was a regular renal patient, yet another was an Amish boy of 3 who somehow came into contact with kerosene.  

We pulled into the driveway around 7:00p.m. to find my husband and 2 year old son waiting for us and waving.  Madison didn't know it as she'd finally fallen asleep (and stayed asleep until 7:30 the next morning).  It was so sweet to open the car door to see Brayden RIGHT at his big sister's side saying hi repeatedly and watching every move Daddy made while getting her out of the car and up to her bed.

(Did I mention that my son had such a major panic attack...a 2.5 hour attack...that his grandfather had to call my husband home from work so he would start to breathe in a regular pattern again?)

So, that was my Monday.  How was yours?

By the way, she was about 98% better by 3:00p.m. on Tuesday and back to school on Wednesday.  I've always said kids are like Tigger, they bounce.

 

Creature of the Night

It's a good thing I'm basically nocturnal.  

Throughout school (all 3 versions of post secondary) I was always a night owl.  Feeling a mattress beneath me and pulling a sheet up to my chin (summer or winter, it's always at chin height) rarely happened before 3am.  I was the one writing 10 page papers all night and walking into class to flop them on the desk of the unsuspecting professor.  Oh, they had no idea of the genius they were about to encounter.  Not just anyone could come up with brilliance like that in only 12 hours. And if my children are ever to read this, that of course means 12 hours spread out over 2 months spent scouring library shelves and archives.  And microfiche.

For work (yes, even in the dreaded retail portion of my working history I was out until half past ridiculous), for play (though let's be honest, I wasn't much of a playah), during pregnancies and now throughout motherhood...I'm up.  Always up.  Soothing ear aches, cleaning vomit out of carpets and beloved Boo Bears, cuddling after a bad dream, comforting Brayden as he cries because he thinks he's just fallen out of bed, when in fact he fell asleep on the floor in his sleeping bag and is just confused. 


Other mommies collapse into bed by 10pm.  I can't even fathom that.  Partly because my kids don't actually pass out until roughly 9:30 most nights.  That's when I can finally just sit and BE.  I generally come down the stairs (expertly avoiding the aforementioned cat hurdles and moving target that is otherwise known as the family dog), stare at the counter full of dishes for a few minutes, then promptly plop myself on the 7 year old Ikea couch that is completely in ruins, hidden under the sage couch cover.


Doesn't matter if I'm tired or wired, I'm just up.  Joining the other creatures of the night.  Hey, it worked for Sarah Michelle Gellar on Buffy right?  And I AM a monster slayer.  Just ask Madison, she'll tell you.  Monsters don't mess with Mommy.  Neither do the bad men, especially the one in the purple hat.


The problem I have you see, is that real life gets in the way of my nocturnalism.  O.k. that's not a word, but you pick up what I'm puttin' down.  I still have to get up in the morning, somehow get ready for work (some days also getting Madison ready for school, sometimes not...when Daddy's home, that's his job), get TO work (almost always 8 minutes late) and make it through the day without falling asleep at my desk.  Which I've never done.  Good thing I work in radio because my head bobbing generally goes to the beat of whatever "whatever" we're playing at the time.


Do I envy those who fall blissfully into REM before midnight?  HELLS NO!  I love the nightlife, I love to boogie.  I just wish I didn't have to be up in 5.5 hours.