The holidays are here and I am FINALLY getting into the Christmas spirit! While I was drunk with Christmas spirit a week or so ago, I made a status about wanting to throw a Christmas party and forgot all about it. That was until J called me at work and asked what was up with the party on Saturday. So on Saturday, J and I are throwing our first ever Christmas party. Thoughtful man he his, the first question out of his mouth was, “Do you want me to call the house cleaning service?” Uh, does a bear shit in the woods? Continue reading
This weekend started off with an absolute bang on Friday night. Friday night my daughter had a dance program directly after school, and when I picked her up from the after school program I could tell something was a little off. I asked her what was wrong and she said, “Nothing, my throat just hurts a little bit.” I didn’t think anything of it but I made a mental note to make a salt water rinse when we got home. While she was performing I could tell something was wrong. She looked so lethargic out there and when she the show was over, I went to hug her and she was burning up. Even though I promised The Boy Frostie Moose for being patient, we headed to the Urgent Care with 5 minutes before they closed (I hate ER’s). Once we got all checked in, the nurse told us The Girl had a fever of 101 and shortly thereafter told us she had strep throat. Great. After packing up the crew, I headed over to the Walgreens near my house to pick up her prescription, I discovered something that the hair of every parent with sick children stand up. There was no drive through. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, that meant that I had to take a cranky three-year old who was LIVID that he wasn’t getting his Frostie Moose and a very sick little girl through the aisles and wait for them to mix up the amoxicillan. After picking up new tooth brushes, Junior Motrin (where did the time go?), and a years supply of Puffs Plus, her prescription was ready and I didn’t even get out of the door before I loaded her up with the antibiotic and motrin. When I got home, I fried them the fish that I promised and then we all went to bed.
The next morning, I was happy to have just survived what seemed to be a pretty easy night. The Girl’s fever was breaking, she was even up out of her bed playing her DS and I was entertaining cutting my yard and planting the rest of my mums. If you want to make God laugh, make some plans. While I was hanging clothes in my closet I noticed out of the corner of my eye The Boy was playing on my vanity. I told him a million times to get down and he would but then he would go back to what he was doing. Then it happened. I heard the sound of ice tempered steel hit the counter top. He finally got into my “boy scissors” aka my hair cutting shears. To give you an idea of how sharp these shears are, you don’t even need to apply pressure to cut yourself. Just brushing the skin across the blade with cut you long, short, deep and wide. I quickly turned around and asked him if he cut himself. He looked at me with those huge sad eyes and said, “No.” The blood on my carpet told a different story. He cut the side of his index finger and there was so much blood. I applied pressure to his hand and elevated it above his heart. While this was going on, I was screaming for my sick daughter to get dressed and grab some pants for her brother. While I am yelling like a crazy woman holding the bloody hand of a terrified three-year old I am also trying to get dressed. This was a fail, as I have not mastered being able to get dressed with one hand while adverting blood staining my clothes. We finally made it out of the house, me in my “laundry day” American Eagle sweatpants cutoffs and a Nike shirt with the slogan “Damn I’m Good” (the irony) emblazoned on the front and my children wearing apparently everything from the “donate’ bag in our house. The boy was going to live. In typical male fashion, the cut did not seem to hurt so much any more when the nurse showed up. It seemed like it was going to work out, until they said the word “stitches.” We have been on the stitches rodeo before and the last time I me and two nurses had to damn near sit on him to get him to comply. This time would be no different. He knew exactly what the lidocaine was and he went nuts. I had to put him in a bear hug and rub his head, while he yelled like we poured gas on his wound and set it on fire. Once that was over and he was placated with two grape Popsicles, I headed back to Walgreens for wound care supplies and you guessed it, we had to go inside. My son knew this was his moment to get everything he ever dreamed of and my daughter looked downright irritated. He began to throw a fit in the Halloween aisle because I would not buy him a costume. There were threats of not being my friend (ha!) and declarations of me being mean. Stitches or not I was not buying an Ironman costume for the low price of 30 dollars. Once we finally got back in the house, my motivation to do any kind of yard work was gone so I did what I do best. Read and slept.
The next morning as I was chugging along with my day watching my kids both heal up from their respective illnesses, I was walking up the stairs and then it happened. A sharp pain floated up my knee cap and knocked the wind out of me. As I continued to climb the stairs the pain got worse. Since it rained the night before, I assumed this was the transient pain I would have from time to time when it would rain. Boy, was I wrong. Over the next three hours the pain got worse. It became more of a throbbing pain and after using my rice sock and tiger balm with no relief, I went to the ER (thank God for insurance). Again, since I was in pain, we all showed up to the ER looking a hot mess. This time The Girl had perm rods in her hair as she had the beginnings of a sickening twistout developing and The Boy was wearing corduroys and flip-flops, because I had no fight in me. It turns out that I do not have bursitis (diagnosed by my baby sister back in 2010) I have pateller tendonitis. The ER was the bomb as he is a marathon runner, so he could understand where I was coming from, runner to runner. Tendonitis is an overuse injury and even though I was feeling great one week post half, my poor knee just gave up yesterday and needed me to have a seat. I am following up with an orthopedic doctor this week so I can get cleared to resume my training for my next race on November 9th.
This weekend was eventful to say the least and I am happy that The Goons and I survived it! Next week we are going to try pumpkin patch life at Cox Farms. Wish me luck!
- Sore Throat or Strep Throat? (thepulse.wyomingmedicalcenter.org)
- Post-op Day 300 – And Wondering If My Patella Tendon Will Snap! (lynlindsay.wordpress.com)
- Best Start: Fall School Sickness (5newsonline.com)
The Nike Women’s Half Marathon was this past Sunday in DC and I attended to help cheer my baby sister on. The morning of the race we left at 4:30 am to get to Downtown DC and we found the commute and finding the bag drop easy to find and they had TONS of Port-o-Johns which made it crazy easy for me to do last minute bathroom breaks with my three year old (yes….I am insane).
Once we made it to the corrals, I got a chance to wish my sister and some of the girls from my running group good luck and the kids and I headed out to Mile 10 to spectate
Getting to Mile Ten was a lesson for me in map reading. Days prior to the race, I scoured the map to find out where I wanted to spectate from, and my sister encouraged me to stand at the 10 mile mark. So according to the Nike map, the 10 mile mark was near the Jefferson Monument. I took this to mean it was the Jefferson Monument. After the race started, I left my original spot, which clearly was marked Mile 10, and started walking toward the Jefferson Monument. Fail, fail, fail! I started following other people while trying to look up the map on my phone and then I looked up and noticed we were darn near the MLK monument! I quickly turned around with my now irritated 9 year old and befuddled 3 year year old. We got back to our original spot and waited for the runners to start coming back. Little known fact about me is that I am a former cheerleader, but for whatever reason I did not have my cheer mojo working. I think it was because I was missing pom-poms or…..cowbells.
My sister arrived past the 10 mile mark first (as in the first of the people I knew), but I stayed on to cheer my fellow running Warriors. I had a blast encouraging complete strangers as well and the DJ they had out there was dope! I also heard they had a marching band and Go-Go band when the runners came through the tunnel. Thank God I wasn’t running because I would have broken into all kinds of dancing in that tunnel.
The most important lesson I learned this weekend was when you don’t believe in yourself you could end up missing a great opportunity. When my sister called and told me about Nike’s student entry policy for the half, I really did not believe I would be able to run a half or even a half of a half for that matter. I thought the best I would be able to do by this point is a really good 5k. I was wrong. I run 3.11 three times a week……I missed out because I didn’t believe in myself. That is the joy of running. It is about challenging yourself. So I won’t cry over spilled milk, but I will never let an “I Can’t” attitude keep me from signing up for a race.
- Recap: The Nike Women’s Half Marathon in DC (Slideshow) (washingtonian.com)
- Monday Morning Meet-Up: Nike Women’s Half Recap (notesfromamessykitchen.com)
- Joan Benoit Samuelson, Shalane Flanagan Join Nearly 15,000 for Nike Women Half Marathon D.C. (nikeinc.com)
- Race Report: Nike Women’s Half Marathon DC (thecurvyroadrunner.wordpress.com)