Tuesday two ...

Two posts in one day! Ooohh, touch me.

Anyway, I have finally gotten a chance to do something that I've not done in - literally - months: read my fave blogs.

I haven't been able to scroll back down in any of them and catch up properly, but I've at least gotten to check in and see how everyone is doing. I really really really missed these people.

The blogs in question are listed in my sidebar. I've taken a moment to add a few that I had stupidly not had in the list (despite reading them daily, yes, I suck), and reorder the list randomly. (I just shake it up every now and then - no particular order - to give everyone a chance to be up top.) If you have a second, check them out. It's really worth it.

I have also updated my webcomic , Deceleration Trauma, if you've been following it. I know I promised to publish a new one each Monday, but, well, I suck. Make sure to hit the 'previous' button to see the past ones.

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I'll tell you who I really miss in the netiverse: my baby boards. I haven't had a second to get on either my February board on Babycenter or my June board at the Coffeehouse.

It's startling how much you come to depend on an online community. These ladies are like an extended family to me and I miss them. I have to get myself together before I go back, though. For one, I don't want to go back only to disappear again. That would suck and not be fair to them.

I also need to get square with the 'one more baby' idea. I know that there are tons of ladies on both boards who have gotten pregnant (there were a few on my June board who had conceived again before I left. Jealous, jealous, jealous!) and I don't want to risk being whiney. Again, not fair to them.

I have to wean myself from the safety net of people who have helped me through all this stuff with Dad. I have grown comfortable knowing that they're right there if I need them. Strong, dependable, helpful people are addictive!

Well, soon I'll have more time, have Dad safely settled, have the issue with my knee and the insurance company resolved. Maybe by then I'll have my head straight.

Huh. I doubt it!

There, that's better

Ahhh .... much better night last night. Evil Genius Husband and I actually went to bed at a decent hour and slept. The only flaw was the Incredible Bulk's new early waking thing (at least it was 5 am today ... yesterday it was 4:15) probably due to his teething.

Hey, guess who's finally sitting up, BTW?

Hopefully today will shape up a bit better than yesterday which, frankly, sucked arse. Here's Dad telling one of his friends so:

Here he is, finally dressed like a 'normal' person (underpants and all!):

And posed next to his fancy new ride (0 to 60 in under a minute!):

Dad's thinking of braving the Mall in Columbia this afternoon on his daily foray into civilization.
The backwater WalMart in Newberry probably wears a teensy bit thin on those used to the shoving, snapping frenzy that is Charlotte.

Personally, I prefer the small-town atmosphere. The purse-snatchers have slower reflexes.

Down doobie do down down...

Warning: I am not a happy camper today. Stay low.


I'm dieting again (&^$*#@!) and it screws with my bloodsugar and that screws with my moods. I got no sleep last night and neither did Evil Genius Husband (if he sleeps badly, I sleep badly). He's probably dragging the floor at work right now and he's got a meeting tonight. I'm still sick, the Incredible Bulk is teething, and I just got through writing out cheques for some bills (including my $300+ gas bill, thank you, CNNGA.) Sucktacular.

Dad's away again. I know he's got cabin fever. I swear I think he's as unhappy here as he was at the facility - only in a different way. The children are underfoot all day, there's nothing for him to do (no telly, no paper), his cell gets bad reception, and I know he just misses being home. It must blow being in a strange place and simultaneously bored to death.

I've been trying to at least feed him but he's extraordinarily picky and will only eat about five things cooked at home and they must be prepared exactly like he's used to and piping hot. It makes me feel really inadequate that there's so little that I can fix for him. He's living on fast food in a household that almost never eats fast food - I cook three meals a day.

He's planning on returning to his house mid-February and I have all confidence in his being able to teach summer school. That will make him feel much better - to get back to work. And, of course, being back home will be bittersweet, but much better at the finish.

I just wish I could do more for him right now.

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In the meantime there are some changes on the horizon for me.

I have to go to traffic court in Chester SC for the lone speeding ticket that I got during all of that road-time. It's made up for it by being for an obscene amount of money (hint: more than my Verizon bill). It's actually two tickets: one for speeding (I wasn't doing it purposely. I was lost and trying to find a shortcut to Newberry and had unwittingly passed from a 55 into a 35) and one for an expired tag (thanks a bunch to EGH). But it will be the final stamp on the whole driving ordeal for me. Close the book, as it were. Over. Done with. *insert rude gesture here*

I also go to another Ortho appointment since the PT just didn't do a scrap of good. I plan on putting my (good) foot down and telling them I'm ready to throw in the towel. The only thing left for me is knee replacement and I am not doing it. Can you imagine the recovery time? There is no way I can recuperate from that and take care of my family.

I want them to declare me whatever percentage disabled, and cut me loose. I am so ready to be shed of this Workers Comp stuff. I am so ready to just be free. I am sick of having to deal with this and be in pain as well.

I have accepted the pain, I have embraced the pain: let's light this candle.

And lastly, I need to decide if I'm going to try to get pregnant again. The whole issue makes me incredibly sad. I wanted to be pregnant months ago. If I were to go off the pill tomorrow and get pregnant this month (February - SO not gonna happen), my last two would be 17 months apart. Way, way more space than I wanted. And I will be 43 freakin' years old!

What am I thinking?!

I'm thinking that I'd like something small to go right, something good to happen.

Hmm, maybe I'll step on the scale tomorrow and be 5 lbs lighter ...

I should be asleep ...

Nothing much to-day.

Dad has escaped. Nipped off in the Toyota to his friend's house to watch telly. I know he's feeling great right now, able to transport himself, and I'm glad. I'm so grateful that he's reached this milestone. Seems almost strange after the nightmare of the last 2 months, doesn't it?

Now let's hope he doesn't get into an emergency situation where his just-recently-bedridden body fails him. I guess I'm being a nervous Nelly.

I, myself, am dragging. This sinus infection is kicking my behind. I've been ill since, what, before the holidays? And I inexplicably woke up in the wee hours and couldn't get back to sleep. Gah.

I did, however, use the time wisely and finished Stephen King's new book, Cell. It was fab! It's very tightly written and definitely an interesting premise. It was a little poignant, too, and as always happens when I read King, I begin regarding normal objects and places with a bit of trepidation. (to this day, lifts make me think of The Shining.)

Evil genius Husband is upstairs napping and the babies still have 30 more minutes. Perhaps I'll try for a snooze.

After I turn off my cell ...

Television weakly

I realize that in today's society it's commonplace to run out of the house at a moments notice if you need something from the store. Then, if you need something else the next day - or a few hours later - jump in the car and back out.

For me, this is incredibly disruptive (not to mention shockingly wasteful). Number one: It's a big deal getting 4 small children ready to go, out the door, in the car, back out of the car, around the store, through the checkout, back in the car. Number two: Nothing is right down the road. Everything is a 15min drive away. Everything good is a 35min drive away. And number three: I'm a homebody. I don't like being away from the Burrow. It's not like I could possibly get bored here, either; there's always something that needs doing. I have a list as long as my arm, from clean bathroom to cut down trees for next year's firewood.

So when something came in the post yesterday that needed notarizing Dad wanted to go right then, of course.

I cringed. I'd just been out the day before, sparring with purse-snatchers; and the day before that, to the WalMart with him; and the day before that ...

Sweet Mother of Stan Lee where will it end?!

... So, of course we went.

I sweet-talked the ladies at my bank into cashing a $400 check for him and notarizing his whatever-it-was urgent thing, we flashed through the Captain D's for Dad's fish fix, and ran to the store. Dad walked around the entire Bi-Lo on his new crutches, BTW. He was bloody knackered at the finish but he got round OK. We were both pleased.

Speaking of leaving the house, I'm convinced that Dad has been surreptitiously emailing everyone with a telly (which would be everyone but me and the Dalai Lama) and begging them to come get him for an afternoon. He's planning on having AG fetch him tomorrow so that they can watch the 24 hours of Daytona (presumably only a few hours of it).

I am glad that he's going to get to see some of Daytona. He's been in audio-visual hell here without his satellite, his dish network, and his big-as-my-dining-room-table television. Poor thing.

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Here's his latest thing: He's been insisting that he can drive now. A car. By himself.

He tried to get me to let him take Evil Genius Husband's Toyota - alone - to the bank yesterday. I told him: "no". I told him that I wanted to drive with him first and check out how he did. He countered by saying that he'd just get one of his friends to let him drive his car. I said that certainly people with any sense did not want Blue Hill that angry with them.

He's partly exasperated and partly amused. I told him that I'm just treating him like he treats me. It's my job to take care of him right now and I want him to be safe. I also know how he is: blessed with supreme confidence.

I'm sure he's probably OK, physically, to drive short distances, but he's going to have to prove to me - with me in the car - that he can handle it. Then he can do as he wishes, the hard-headed thing.

Just between you and me, he also has not been doing his PT excercises. He's done them like 4 times since he's been here and he's supposed to do them every day. I threatened this morning to blog about it and tell everyone to call him ... and I will. If he doesn't start doing them, I swear, I'll blog about him not doing them and all of you can ring him and fuss at him for not doing his physical therapy ...

*koff*justcallhiscell*koff*

In the meantime, I swear I'm not leaving this house all week-end!

The one that got away

Ugh.

I'd like to have a quiet, uneventful life, now, please.

I'm a pretty simple person, perfectly content to potter about the house and farm all day and only go out once a week for supplies and to run errands. I don't feel the need to interact with people face-to-face. I dispise the telephone. Email and Yahoo IM and bulletin boards are fine for me. I don't watch television or listen to the radio (except the oldies station when I'm in my shop) and I hate reading the newspaper (they're depressing).

If space aliens landed and society collapsed it'd probably take me a week to notice. Honestly.

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Dad was feeling ill yesterday. He ate dinner (yoghurt and a protein drink and some of his nuts) and immediately had bad stomach pain. He said that he didn't feel like he was going to sick up, just pain. It came and went the rest of the day. By supper he was able to eat 2 chicken breasts, some mac and cheese, and a biscuit from KFC.

He's convinced that it's a stomach virus. I think it might be related to reflux. If he's not better by this morning, I'm wrapping him up in duct tape and dragging him to the doctor.

Oh, he also got his new European style crutches (they're the ones with the hand grip and the forearm brace) and, despite stomach cramps, tore around the house on them yesterday. He likes them much better than the walker, as you can imagine. The only drawback is that he can't carry stuff.

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Oh, and check this out: some lady snatched my handbag in the WalMart yesterday. Picked it up out of my shopping trolley.

No lie. Unfortunately for her, I saw her do it and came up behind her (hobbled up behind her is more accurate - and my knee is reminding me of this this morning). She spun around, I took my handbag back, and grabbed her. But, with my one hand full, she was able to twist out of my grip and get away.

So my 'quick' shopping trip was stretched out by having to talk to the 911 dispatcher, the police, and security guards who had no hope of catching this woman. It had to have added an hour to my trip.

I mean, Jeez. I hate it when people inconvenience me by being stupid.

Another gratuitous picture post!

So what did we do today? Well the Incredible Bulk hung out:

Bitty Girl went stark staring mad and we had to wrap her up in those packing pillows-O-air and ship her off to the Bughouse For Cute Babies:

And Dad came back from the kitchen and blessed the masses:

Doesn't he look good?! For comparison, here he is the day he arrived here (notice the rigorous Cat Therapy):

And a week before he left the Skilled Nursing Facility:

Like night and day!

Speaking of Cat therapy, here's a bonus pic of the Human Crash Test Dummy getting a double dose of health-vibes from Abe and Johann our PFTs (Professional Feline Therapists) when she was recently ill:

It's clean! Quick ... take a picture!

Dad seems to have intergrated into the household well. We have a routine of sorts and Dad is no longer an object of constant open-mouthed curiosity for the four small persons.

We continue to make tiny adjustments. For example: the loo is littered with step-stools for the babies to reach the sink to brush their teeth and to to reach the toilet. These same items are an obstacle for Dad and his walker. Throw in the fact that Dad isn't quite limber enough to move them away and the babies aren't quite strong enough to move them back and you have a conundrum. But that's what I'm here for: solving conundrums (and cooking eggs).

My cats proved to be an unexpected problem. Apparently Dad sends out Cat Love Vibes, 'cause they looooooove him. If allowed in where his room is (his room is the only room off the parlour with no door) they will tear-arse around the room, knocking things over, climb his curtain (his makeshift door) and jump on his bed. We quickly learned to shut them out of that part of the house altogether at night.

Johann, who is usually the good cat, also likes using Dad's good foot at a chew-toy. Not an easy solve if you can't reach down there to pop the cat in question in the head. I told Dad to just grab his cat face with his grabby reacher thing (y'know what I'm talking about? Those long things you see folks picking up trash with?). That'll learn 'im.

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Things vastly improved today when we got the wireless router (Thank you Steelman!) going. Despite proffered help from both MG and Steelman, I actually figured it out myself (Go me!). We then had a brief battle with his laptop which wanted to look for his home wireless network - it's being in another state made that a teensy bit difficult - but eventually figured it out.

I'm sure that Dad's being able to surf and email from the comfort of his end of the couch will make him a lot happier. If he could go to the bathroom and do his physical therapy from there he'd be in heaven.

Speaking of physical therapy, KK came by on Friday for a visit and corrected all of our Wal Mart shortcomings. She also cheerfully played therapist while he did his PT exercises. It was really nice to see her (not least because she showered us with pizza) and I think it did Dad a lot of good.

She's not been the only visitor. Yesterday was actually a bit hectic. I spent the entire morning feverishly cleaning in anticipation of Dad's friends: AG and his wife (the above technogoddess) MG's arrival. About noon Dad decided to go out instead and so I only just met the Gs briefly on the doorstep. They never got more than a foot and a half inside the house. Ehh!

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The upside is that Dad got to eat Captain D's twice in one week and my house is now clean ... for a minute.

Uhh ... hot water anyone?

There are three types of people in the world:

Folks who need shoping lists,
folks who don't need shopping lists, and
folks who think that they don't need shopping lists.

I am the first one (duh). Can you guess which category Dad falls into? Anyone? Old friends, chime in anytime ...

So we went to the Wal Mart Thursday. Unfortunately Dad was feeling a bit tired before we left so I endevoured to make haste, a mind-set that generally makes me nervous and tense (I HATE being rushed). I did not, however, speed at any point. Of course this didn't keep Dad from saying - as we were inching along at 53mph in a 55 - "don't scare me to death, now!". If I remember correctly he was dramatically clutching the upholstery at the time.

So we hit the Captain D's to stuff Dad full of fish and hushpuppies (he'd been fantasizing about it); the Micky D's, for the babes ("Happy meeeeeeeal!"); the Tractor Supply, for chicken feed (see, I hadn't forgotten about the farm); and on to the Wal Mart.

I discovered immediately that getting 4 small children and a partially disabled man in and out of a vehicle is neither easy nor quick. But we managed. I chose to push the smalls in one shopping trolley and let the two bigs walk (as opposed to using two trolleys, everybody riding, and I push one and pull the other). Dad propelled himself in his wheelchair.

Now *I* had my list on paper. Dad "knew what he needed".

In an effort to be quick I sent Dad off to look for his sweatshirts while I hit the health and beauty section and the home section. We met back up after a bit and headed for the groceries, him snagging a coffeemaker on the way (I use instant, Dad wants drip).

I confess that I was already close to level orange. My knee hurt, Dad was clearly uncomfortable and tired (remember that he's pushing himself along), and I'm trying to hurry and get everything on my list.

It didn't help that having Boy and the Human Crash Test Dummy walk made Dad very anxious. He kept saying: "I would watch them. I wouldn't take my eyes off them." and, as we learned on the trip down, when Dad gets anxious I become a nervous wreck.

Now my children are extremely well behaved. They are not allowed to run in stores, scream in stores, touch merchandise, or stray more than a few feet from me. There are no exceptions to these rules and this is how they were raised, so they're really great to take shopping.

But Dad's paranoia put me on edge (yes, a short trip, I know) so by the time we got to the groceries I was screeching at my model children (who were uniformly wearing 'what the heck is wrong with mommy' expressions) pushing the trolley as fast as my knee would allow, and mentally trimming down my list to just the we-might-starve-if-we-don't-get-it essentials.

We went through the check-out like gangbusters and it wasn't until we got back out to the van, dad inside, kids installed, groceries loaded, engine cranked, that I realized that there was no way we got everything we came for.

Didn't get everything? After all that? I checked my list. No, all the essentials were crossed off.

I looked over at Dad who was blissfully digesting his battered-and-fried-in-fat fish and watching the denizens of the Newberry Wal Mart parking lot. The kids laughed and talked in the back.

The word 'coffeemaker' drifted through my brain.

Yep, you guessed it. Dad got only the sweatshirts ... everything else on his 'mental list' scampered off into the far corners of his brain after that. If it wasn't on my list it didn't get gotten. We forgot his Cokes, his excersize mat, his Advil. We're a strange pair, each scatterbrained in his own way. We could be related.

Oh and about the coffemaker? Well, Dad bought a drip coffeemaker then *I* forgot to buy drip coffee.

It's called parenting, you should try it.

So wandered over to Blogging Baby and found this.

It talks about these groups' intention to sue Nickelodeon and Kellogg; "in an attempt to stop the companies from marketing what they regard as unhealthful food to America's children."

The people enacting the lawsuit claim that they've "analyzed weekday and Saturday morning advertising and found the majority of products advertised to be crap."

So they're suing.

Horsehocky.

Number one: all advertising is crap. It's designed to make us feel bad, feel needy, and empty our pockets. It's crap. It blows. Nature of the beast.

Number two: the operative words here are "marketing", and "children".

These folks aren't coming to anyone's home, taking great wodges of cash out of wallets and leaving sugary cereal behind. They are marketing sugary cereal. They are advertising it. You don't have to freakin' buy everything that appears in an advert, people! You can resist. You have free will. You are an adult.

Speaking of adults, the second word there was "children". How many 4 year olds have you ever seen drive to the Bi-Lo and buy a box of Crunchy Frosted Sugar Bombs?

The parents are buying it, duh. And they are grown people. With minds of their own. And they're PARENTS. They need to start being parents.

You had this kid, take responsibility and raise this kid. Say: "No Kynnerleigh, you may NOT have what you saw in that advert, I don't care how much you want it." and most of all: "Because I said so!"

Are today's parents mindless consumer slaves? Are they letting Television raise their children? Or just slack-twisted care-givers? Are they so eager to curry their childs favour that they'll buy him whatever he asks for? Do I really want to know the answers to these questions?

Its YOUR responsibility to teach your children what's appropriate. It's YOUR obligation to explain that sugary cereal isn't what you should eat. Most of all it's your duty to set an example; an example of restraint, good sense, thrift, whatever ... just pick one!

I don't care if they're advertising cereal or cars or guns or sex aids during Saturday morning cartoons. I am The Mommy. I parent my children. I am a parent, not a buddy. My job is to do what's in my child's best interest - what's best for him - not to desperately try to make him like me by catering to his every whim and showering him with stuff. If I don't want my kids to eat sugary cereal, then I don't bloody well buy it for them. If I don't want my kids to watch commercials, then I have the power to just turn off the damned telly.

That is my Superpower. I am The Mommy.

In which Blue uses many italics

Wow what an exciting trip!

It was ... interesting. Really really interesting.

Imagine if you will a classic left-seater, a guy who's used to being in command, in control, and out front. A bloke who only feels truely safe if he's driving.

Now, imagine that same person recovering from a horrible auto accident, in which he was NOT driving and stuck in a car - as a passenger again - for four-and-a-half hours.

Toss in the fact that the driver of said vehicle is this bloke's only offspring who, frankly, drives just like he does: like she's Awsome Bill fum Dawsonville on a good day.

Synopsis: It was like a sit-com featuring two tense, crabby, PMS-ing women ... in a speeding car.
Dad whinged on about my speed and then we were almost run down by those lovely Charlotte commuters when I tried to drive the speed limit. He pointed out every single turn on a route that I've come to be able to drive in my sleep. We argued over how best to get to a place that served macaroni and cheese even though we didn't know where it was or if it even existed. We almost ran out of petrol while I searched, Scrooge McDuck-like, for a station that had the best prices. Dad finally got so exasperated he just ordered me into the next service station.

But the highlight of the trip came when I tried to roll my invalid father out into traffic.

Yes, you read that correctly.

We had stopped at a petrol station on the edge of Albemarle ($2.26 per gallon! I almost died), and I got out to start the pump. I leaned back in the car and got some money for drinks and a paper for Dad and then went inside (remember that the fuel hose is still connected ...)

So I'm inside standing in line, clutching our drinks, ready to get the HELL out of there, choking on the noxious fumes from this withered up old cow who's smoking right next to the register and Dad's sitting in the Explorer looking down through his Bag o' Stuff. Well, out of the corner of his eye he sees movement. He thinks it's the guy next to us pulling out.

Wrong.

It's him. He's rolling.

Yes! Blue, who no longer drives a stick because of her knee, had accidently left the freakin' car out of gear and it was slowly rolling away from the pump.

Unable to use his leg to stomp on the brake, Dad had to lean over and press the brake with his hand. By the time I got back he was sitting calmly, the Explorer about 3 feet away from the pump, and the hose was - amazingly - stretched to it's full length but not taut.

The rest of the trip after that was not nearly as interesting.

We got home safe and sound and exhausted. By the time we arrived we were both in so much leg pain that we contemplated just sleeping in the car in the driveway. But we made it inside, had something to eat, unloaded all of Dad's stuff, and passed out.

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Update: Thursday morning.

We're getting on fine here at Chez Bleu. We've shifted some furniture, made a few adjustments. Dad's had hot eggs, toast, and coffee and a loooooooong hot shower. He's been closely inspected, questioned, and followed by four curious small persons. We're doing quite well.

This is what happens when I think

One of my father's cats, Amelia, just recently (and suddenly) fell ill. She's always been healthy, subject only to hairballs. Well, K rushed her to the vet as soon as she became ill and it turns out she had peritonitis. Peritonitis is tricky at best and Amelia was an older cat so there was nothing the vet could do.

I'm so sorry that Amelia's gone and Dad is understandably sick about it. I am glad that K was there (very glad!) and I'm glad there was a good local vet to take her to.

If you're wondering why I'm sharing this with you this morning it's because I just read this and it made me think.

Why is it that almost every pet owner in America would expect - would demand - that a veterinarian be prepared and able to put his or her pet down if the animal showed any signs of untreatable pain and yet a large portion of these same people are against assisted suicide???

So you don't want Fluffy to be in agony from a terrible infection but Grandma, who lives every second of every day in pain from cancer, should not be able to take her own life of her own volition with dignity and medical assistance??

What the heck? Am I the only person who sees the screwed-upedness here?

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OK, there's Blue's Mini-Rant for this morning. Discuss.

I'll be back home tonight with Dad tucked under my arm ... lord willin' and the crick don't rise.

Are we there yet?

Apologies for taking so long to post again. There were some days in there where it was hard for me to just go about my day much less get on the computer.

The babies are all recovering, thank goodness. They only have a few days left on their antibiotics. We're still battling bad diarrhea with loads of yoghurt (I've taken to hiding it in their milk) and the Incredible Bulk has a v. bad yeast nappie rash, poor thing. He always has been thrushy so I was kind of prepared.

Speaking of yeast, I have managed to spread that to myself (and you ladies know how much fun that is!) ... on top of the flu and the sinus infection. I think the only thing left that I haven't contracted is malaria.

I've been feverishly (no pun intended) cleaning and getting everything ready for Dad's arrival.

Unfortunately, my house hasn't really been cleaned since Thanksgiving. The kitchen and the main bathroom are the only rooms I've tackled in that time. So it's a wreck. So I've been scrubbing and sweeping and hoovering.

Mum came by yesterday and helped and Evil Genius Husband actually weighed in and did a superb job with his assignments.

Still ... It's a big house.

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Dad has his final appointments tomorrow, so, again, if you planned on visiting he might very well be gone all day. Give him a ring to see if he might be there in the morning.

Wednesday is check-out day! YAY! You have no idea how anxious Dad is to leave that place. I won't be up there until 11 (at the earliest) and wish I could get there sooner. But that will give any of you wonderful local people who have been so supportive a chance to see him before he goes south to recuperate.

Can anyone think of anything I may have forgotten? Something I may not have thought of? Things to make the move smoother?

We're going by Dad's house (at his request) to see the animals and pick up some things. I know that's going to be tough, but he wants to go and I think he should.

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Jeez what a rambly post! Oh well, more later. Hope everyone enjoyed their 3 day week-end.

Fetch the smelling salts!

I just got my cell phone bill for the month of December.

*faints*

Is the rest of the year gonna go like this?

WTF?

I'm not sleeping well, so I got up this morning at 5:20. I have been obsessively checking on the sickie-babies all night as I said and I had just been up about a hour before. I figured: why lie awake until 5:45 (regular wake-up time)? I peeked in at everybody and went to let the dogs out, make my coffee, and make the Incredible Bulk's morning bottles.

When I went back in to get the younger two up (they both sleep in cribs in the nursery), I took one look at Bitty Girl and knew she was bad off. She was red and crusty-faced. Sure enough, she had a temp of 104. Bulk had one over 101. Both were lethargic and had nasty green crap draining from their noses

I threw some food at the older two, gave the Human Crash Test Dummy her meds (Motrin and Augmentin), and we were out the door right after Evil Genius Husband and on the long road to the ER ... again.

Both of them have sinus infections and the doctor today said that he suspected Bulk was teetering on the edge of pneumonia as well, judging from the nasty, congested cough he's developed.

Plague house!!

So now we have 3 identical bottles of Augmentin in the fridge, labled with each one's name, plus economy sized bottles of children's Motrin and some decongestant/antihistamine stuff for Bitty and Bulk. Will this crap please end now?

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BTW, I wanted to remind everyone that Dad has a load of appointments at the hospital tomorrow so if you were planning to visit, you may want to wait until Wednesday. He probably won't be at the facility much at all and when he does get back he'll be quite tired.

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Update: Bitty seems to feel infinitesimally better this evening; she even ate a few bites of supper. Bulk, however, is another matter. He decided to do the opposite. I was sitting at the dining room table giving him his antibiotic when he turned toward me suddenly and yarked the entire contents of his stomach down the front of my shirt (Wendy Ann, you cursed me!!). I had no idea someone that small could sick up that much. I also haven't seen anyone vomit out his nose since college.

The good news is that hurling seemed to make him more comfortable.

Didn't do much for me, though. Too bad it's not a carefully guarded secret sleep aid.

The road to sickville

Well we had a bit of excitement yesterday.

Evil Genius Husband and Boy were feeling better, Bitty and the Human Crash Test Dummy seemed to be slowly recovering. Only the Incredible Bulk and I were the real invalids.

Then, at 10:30 the HCTD refused her lunch. She kept saying she had bitten her tongue (she had made one of her dozen or so daily spectacular falls just minutes before) so I chalked it up to that but was worried. She seemed lethargic and her cough had changed from just loose sounding to v. congested and scummy. When they went in for naps at 11:00 she fell right asleep, also uncharacteristic.

Well, when I went to wake them, she refused to get up, even resisted opening her eyes and she was bright pink and burning up. I got her temp at 104.3

So we tore out the door to the emergency room.

After the obligatory interminable wait, she was seen, probed, listened to, and weighed. They took chest x-rays and she had to stand in that bare, cold room and be still for 3 films. At the end she and I were wrung out.

Diagnosis: She has pneumonia.

She had to get a shot and we came home. I went right back out, searching for a pharmacy that was open, and spent all night getting up every 15 minutes to creep downstairs and check on everybody.

So now I'm tired, sick and paranoid.

Human fly strip! Now in Bitty size.

Did I mention that I felt like crud?

Well, I do. I still do. I probably will do for a freakin' month.

I hate being sick. My asthma kicks in, I lose my voice, I usually get a sinus infection ... bleh.

Most of all I hate that my babies are ill. I really really dispise it. I can't bear the wet coughs and red-rimmed eyes. I just want to rock them in my arms all day ... which is a tad difficult with four.

I should be v. grateful: they're almost never sick. This is only the third time in four years that we've had a pandemic. Boy has only been sick seven times in his life - and that includes everything from sniffles to a particularly unpleasent intestinal virus - and the girls less so. This is Incredible Bulk's first illness in his 7 months (he's seven months today!)

At any rate, the bebies have been pretty subdued and I've been on the computer more than usual today. Dad's ETA is the 18th for coming down here. He has a final appointment on the 17th and then we're clear (I hope).

I've been searching and comparing prices on the slew of stuff that he will need when he gets here. In my head the list was about 5 items long (wheelchair, hospital bed, bedside toilet, etc) ... upon some thought it's grown to over 12 items.

Added were little things (like bedding, including a waterproof matress cover, and a donut pillow for his bum which is sore from lying on his back all the time), and saftey items that hadn't occured to me until I thought about his weakened state (saftey rails for the toilet and shower and a bath bench just to name two).

So I've been researching, sussing out the best price and wrangling with how to pay for items (I can use Dad's credit card online, but not in stores, for example) and fretting that the insurance company is going to get a hair laid accross it's arse just right and give us trouble. I've had v. bad experiences with insurance companies, which is all I can say without expletives.

At any rate everything's slowly coming together. I've ordered the majority of the items on the list and am going out today when Evil Genius Husband gets home to gather some more. I also have my Physical Torture/Therapy on my knee, so I should be in a charming mood. Crabby, ill, and in pain, yeah! If you see me you might just want to duck and walk on.

At least the babies are slowly feeling better. Boy is almost over the Crud and Human Crash Test Dummy seems to feel slightly less awful. Bitty girl is definately better. I made French Toast (Freedom Toast?) this morning and she ate hers, half of her sisters, and a piece that fell on the floor before i could stop her. She was covered in syrup by 7:15. I swear if I'd tossed her against the wall, she'd have stuck there, grinning. She was terribly pleased with herself and her syrupy coating all through breakfast and really seemed to feel a bit more perky.

Come to think on it, that huge sticky smile made me feel a bit better as well.

In which Blue uses many parentheses ...

Yay. We're six for six here: everyone is ill now.

Fortunately Evil Genius Husband and Boy seem to be recovering. The rest of us are snotting, sneezing, coughing, and generally feeling like crud.

Shockingly, I still haven't cleaned the house (/sarcasm). Perhaps it'd be easier to just move to a clean one at this point.

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Dad has his surgery tomorrow. It's outpatient, but I suspect he'll be over at the hospital most of the day. He'll also probably be groggy from the drugs once he gets back so you might want to hold off on visiting if you were planning to go tomorrow.

I'll be heading back up Thursday. I'm hoping to get everything in motion to move Dad down here after his appointments on the 10th. He wants to forgo moving into a facility and just come straight here to my house. I'll need to get the doctors to tell me exactly what he needs in the way of equipment so that we can rent it.

I spoke with dad about at least moving his dogs down here while he is here. (I have five dogs of my own, all throwaways - 2 outside and 3 inside.) I proposed that we get a large dog lot from Tractor Supply (in Newberry) and set it up inside my fence. That way his two would have a 'place of their own', plus be able to be out in my fence and, Dad willing, be thrown for, walked, etc.

But Dad (hereafter known as 'the optimist') feels that they would be happier in their own place (I agree with that) until he can return.

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On that note: Dad apparently spent some time in a wheelchair today! (yay!) He even was able to propel himself about in a limited fashion (just around his room). I am v. v. encouraged at his progress, though not at all surprised.

He is so eager to not be in that facility (or ANY facility) and I can certainly see why. No offense to Oak Summit, but, well, it's not a place my Dad needs to be.

He needs personalized care. He needs macaroni and cheese. He needs his eggs in the morning to NOT be cold. He needs four vibrant, energetic grandchildren harrassing him all day.

Wouldn't you be bent on recovery in that setting?

Stop the ride, I wanna get off

V. bad day yesterday.

Dad is almost healed physically. There's tons more physical therapy and strengthening left to do - months more - but the big things are healing nicely. That's wonderful and just short of miraculous if you consider where he was just a month ago.

Now his brain has to get better.

He's completely off the meds, just taking Tylenol when he needs it and his mind is shaking off the last few effects of all those narcotics. So now he's clear to think and he has allllllllll day and night to do it.

Mr B. put it beautifully in an email to me: Dad's emotions are raw.

Yes.

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Dad and I talked a good deal while I was there and got some stuff out. Some of it was therapeutic and some of it was just unpleasant, like standing next to a house fire where there's nothing you can do but watch it burn. We cried a bit, had an animated discussion in which our opinions differed sharply on a few things, and we cried some more.

We talked about what he wanted to do after he was mobile and no longer needed physical assistance. He talked about going back to his house.

Frankly this disturbs me deeply. I do NOT want him up there in that place all alone. Not while he's physically weak or psychologically weak.

But I can't make him do anything. He can do whatever he pleases (and say whatever he pleases, and feel whatever he pleases) and I'll go with it. I might not bloody well be quiet about it, but I'll go with it.

All we can do to help right now is listen and provide feedback. We can be sounding boards. And don't be afraid to tell him what you think. Don't be banal. Don't just try to please him or agree with him if you don't agree. He needs to talk out a LOT of stuff. Let him talk. Talk back.

We are his friends and family and colleagues. He trusts us and depends on us to not only listen, but to respond frankly.

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And now, frankly, I must go. I'm tired. All of the babies are sick now. Evil Genius Husband, who has spent his holiday watching me walk out the door and talk on the phone, has to return to work tomorrow. I have a week-full of doctor's appointments and I need to clean my house. Heck, I haven't put up my comic strips in 2 weeks.

Ugh. A lot to do.

There's puke on Batman's cape ...

Sorry for the radio silence. It's been a madhouse here.

Evil Genius Husband is ill and two of the babies seem to be emulating him. Bitty Girl has a nasty hacking cough and Boy's nose is running. I'm anxiously hovering over the other two and hoping nothing turns into the flu.

I gracefully dropped my cell phone and broke the little door on the back that holds the battery in. It's been working on and off (mostly off) ever since and I've got it jury rigged up with - yes it's true - duct tape. The one bit of advice Jerre Hill always gave his little girl was that you should never be without these two essentials: a pair of Vice-Grips and duct tape.

I've also begun my physical therapy on my knee and now the joint in question is swollen up to the size of a cantaloupe, hurts like blazing hell, and my left leg and back are aching from my limping gait. I'm slightly frustrated with all of it. PT didn't help before and I don't think that bad swelling 3 days later is a good sign.

I'm a little concerned about the drive up to see Dad today because of this. Normally, the day after a trip, my knee is swollen and painful and I'm not able to do more than hobble around. Well I'm like that now. I sure as hell don't want to have to ring up EGH and have him have to drag his sick self and the babies up to retrieve me. I plan on eating a handful of Advil and keeping my fingers crossed.

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On a good note: I've made a few feeble attempts at hacking through the clutter and grime that has consumed my house. I'm considering a front-end loader to assist: just scoop up stuff en mass and dispose of it. All the crap I donated to the thrift stores doesn't seem to have made a dent. *sigh*

The babies have had a ball wallowing in the seemingly hundreds of toys that they received for the holiday. We always ask that the family buy simple stuff (no electronic toys) and I'm amazed daily at how much fun 3 little people can have actually using their own minds. Folks oughta try it with their kids sometime.

The only hitches so far is the magnetic doodle-pad thingy that got stepped on and broken and the Incredible Bulk spitting up on the Human Crash Test Dummy's Batman cape that I made her. She was one cross young lady.

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Yes, yes, I'm gonna talk about Jerre ... *pictures bored readers scrolling down ... down ...*

Here's the gameplan for Dad again:

He has surgery on his leg on the 4th, then a load of follow-up appointments crowded into the 10th. My plan is to have him go straight from the hospital (post-recovery) down to a facility here in Columbia after the 10th.

All of this hinges on the availability of a bed down here. We cannot start the application process now: we have to wait until he is 'medically ready' for discharge. The facilities won't even consider an application until then. So there may be a brief stay back at Oak Summit after the 10th.

Several factors are at play here: male beds are v. difficult to find and Dad's physical progress will be a factor in where he goes. He's getting noticeably better each week so I have hope that he'll be strong enough after the 10th to be eligible for an assisted care place (as opposed to a skilled nursing facility like Oak Summit).

We'll just have to wait and see. I'll keep you all updated.

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Time to hit the road. I'll try to blog again tonight to let you know how Dad's doing. In the meantime I have to rinse out Batman's cape.