Our Move, by the numbers:
6 more days of work left
5 different good-bye lunches and 1 farewell party
12 more days here in the place that has been our home for the last 10 years
Countless friends and memories to carry in my heart
Zero tears shed as we say good-bye
One big fat lie (see above)
Tuesday, October 30, 2012
In Sickness and In Health
Two weeks ago, I did the unthinkable--I ate a cookie.
Such a simple and benign act turned into two weeks of gastrointestinal hell. But, let me start from the beginning.
One Tuesday evening, after a filling dinner, I treated Bryony and myself to our sometimes-treat of two sandwich creme cookies. My preference is for the Newman's Own brand, because their products are organic with easy-to-pronounce ingredients. Newman's Own uses plain old sugar, rather than some kind of high-processed corn syrup that will one day result in my growing another leg. But, I digress. That night, I ate a peanut butter sandwich cookie, while Bryony stuck to her usual Oreo-style vanilla creme chocolate sandwich cookies. It wasn't until she was in bed and I was working on the computer some three hours later that I started to feel uncomfortable. At first, it was just gas, which I cast off as indigestion. But, by the time I went to bed, I was in full-fledged abdominal pain, complete with cramping, bloating, gas, and chills. I rocked in bed, moaning and groaning, for the better part of the night.
By the time Wednesday morning arrived, my stomach felt mildly better, but I was extremely tired from lack of sleep, and dragged my way through the day. Eventually my coworkers sent me home from work halfway through the day because they said I was starting to turn "green." I came home and slept for several hours before I had to pick up Bryony from school. I woke up from the nap feeling refreshed and much better. I wrote off the stomach cramps as just a 24-hour bug, and proceeded to carry on with the evening. At some point, I got a phone call from the local grocery store (they have an automated computer call you) informing me that the Newman's Own Peanut Butter sandwich cookies I'd purchased had been recalled due to the salmonella outbreak. Ahhhh, I thought. Now it all made sense. But wasn't I so lucky to have only suffered from the food poisoning for one day? Then I ordered spicy tacos from the food truck at the Farmers Market. Big mistake. Big. Huge.
Wednesday night was (as my brother would say) the mad beast. If I had thought Tuesday night was awful, Wednesday night put me on a whole different playing field. I got zero sleep due to the almost unmanageable cramping, and I finally ended up behind the computer, postin gupdates about my condition to Facebook friends who happen to be up and looking at their newsreel at 6am. Then I e-mailed my supervisor to tell her I would not be in that day. I let Bryony sleep in, and after taking her to school, I came home and slept all day long, with NPR speaking soothingly to me as I napped.
And so it went. Friday I woke up feeling somewhat better so I went to work for a half day, then went home to rest. By Friday night I was a mess once more, and Saturday wasn't much better. Sunday, however, found me feeling almost back to my normal self, which was encouraging for a number of reasons, the least of which was the absence of pain. Since I'd been sick, I'd been unable to eat much beyond the BRAT (Bananas, rice, applesauce, toast) diet; in fact, I couldn't bear the smell of food, which meant that Bryony wasn't eating much beyond BRAT, either. I felt so bad for her. Even worse, however, was my general lack of energy and ability to truly be her mother. I felt like I was basically a zombie for three straight days, letting her watch movies endlessly just so I could sleep uninterrupted on the couch. Even she seemed to get cabin fever, and the dogs got so restless they ended up in two fights in one day. It was a difficult weekend.
I went back to work on Monday, and life seemed normal again. Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday...all good. Then, I woke up on Saturday feeling...not...quite...right. All I wanted to do was lie in my bed and send Bryony off to be parented by jolly elves, but alas, we had a pancake breakfast fundraiser to attend, so away we had to go. I felt miserable at the restaurant, hungry for food, but nauseous at the smell. Someone pushed coffee my way, which usually I would have chugged at 9:00am, but instead sat untouched that morning. We went home afterward, and I became Zombie Mum once more, lying sick on the couch while Bryony was allowed to watch countless movies. How could this have returned??? It felt unreal, and yet, there it was. Sunday, I cancelled plans with a friend because I felt so ill, then ended up feeling better mid-day so I rescheduled our meetup. I was sure I was on the mend, but by Sunday night I was sicker than I'd been throughout this entire ordeal--migraine so bad I couldn't open my eyes to look at my daughter, abdominal cramps, bloating, diarrhea, chills, fever. I put Adam on the phone as I crawled into bed next to Bryony, and somewhere in the recesses of my pounding brain, I had the thought that this was how I was going to die. The thought was heartbreaking because I couldn't bear the idea of Bryony waking up next to her dead mother in the morning. Somewhere in the course of belaboring this, I fell asleep.
And then, just like that, it was over. I went to the doctor because it seemed a good idea to get some tests run, just in case. They all (blood and stool analysis) came back free and clear of any problems. That was simultaneously relieving and frustrating. Surely something was wrong with me...right?
And so now I'm on the other side of it all, back to the "health" part of the vow. Adam's pretty darn lucky he wasn't around for the "in sickness" part this time. He might not have wanted to wait around for the "health" part to show up.
Such a simple and benign act turned into two weeks of gastrointestinal hell. But, let me start from the beginning.
One Tuesday evening, after a filling dinner, I treated Bryony and myself to our sometimes-treat of two sandwich creme cookies. My preference is for the Newman's Own brand, because their products are organic with easy-to-pronounce ingredients. Newman's Own uses plain old sugar, rather than some kind of high-processed corn syrup that will one day result in my growing another leg. But, I digress. That night, I ate a peanut butter sandwich cookie, while Bryony stuck to her usual Oreo-style vanilla creme chocolate sandwich cookies. It wasn't until she was in bed and I was working on the computer some three hours later that I started to feel uncomfortable. At first, it was just gas, which I cast off as indigestion. But, by the time I went to bed, I was in full-fledged abdominal pain, complete with cramping, bloating, gas, and chills. I rocked in bed, moaning and groaning, for the better part of the night.
By the time Wednesday morning arrived, my stomach felt mildly better, but I was extremely tired from lack of sleep, and dragged my way through the day. Eventually my coworkers sent me home from work halfway through the day because they said I was starting to turn "green." I came home and slept for several hours before I had to pick up Bryony from school. I woke up from the nap feeling refreshed and much better. I wrote off the stomach cramps as just a 24-hour bug, and proceeded to carry on with the evening. At some point, I got a phone call from the local grocery store (they have an automated computer call you) informing me that the Newman's Own Peanut Butter sandwich cookies I'd purchased had been recalled due to the salmonella outbreak. Ahhhh, I thought. Now it all made sense. But wasn't I so lucky to have only suffered from the food poisoning for one day? Then I ordered spicy tacos from the food truck at the Farmers Market. Big mistake. Big. Huge.
Wednesday night was (as my brother would say) the mad beast. If I had thought Tuesday night was awful, Wednesday night put me on a whole different playing field. I got zero sleep due to the almost unmanageable cramping, and I finally ended up behind the computer, postin gupdates about my condition to Facebook friends who happen to be up and looking at their newsreel at 6am. Then I e-mailed my supervisor to tell her I would not be in that day. I let Bryony sleep in, and after taking her to school, I came home and slept all day long, with NPR speaking soothingly to me as I napped.
And so it went. Friday I woke up feeling somewhat better so I went to work for a half day, then went home to rest. By Friday night I was a mess once more, and Saturday wasn't much better. Sunday, however, found me feeling almost back to my normal self, which was encouraging for a number of reasons, the least of which was the absence of pain. Since I'd been sick, I'd been unable to eat much beyond the BRAT (Bananas, rice, applesauce, toast) diet; in fact, I couldn't bear the smell of food, which meant that Bryony wasn't eating much beyond BRAT, either. I felt so bad for her. Even worse, however, was my general lack of energy and ability to truly be her mother. I felt like I was basically a zombie for three straight days, letting her watch movies endlessly just so I could sleep uninterrupted on the couch. Even she seemed to get cabin fever, and the dogs got so restless they ended up in two fights in one day. It was a difficult weekend.
I went back to work on Monday, and life seemed normal again. Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday...all good. Then, I woke up on Saturday feeling...not...quite...right. All I wanted to do was lie in my bed and send Bryony off to be parented by jolly elves, but alas, we had a pancake breakfast fundraiser to attend, so away we had to go. I felt miserable at the restaurant, hungry for food, but nauseous at the smell. Someone pushed coffee my way, which usually I would have chugged at 9:00am, but instead sat untouched that morning. We went home afterward, and I became Zombie Mum once more, lying sick on the couch while Bryony was allowed to watch countless movies. How could this have returned??? It felt unreal, and yet, there it was. Sunday, I cancelled plans with a friend because I felt so ill, then ended up feeling better mid-day so I rescheduled our meetup. I was sure I was on the mend, but by Sunday night I was sicker than I'd been throughout this entire ordeal--migraine so bad I couldn't open my eyes to look at my daughter, abdominal cramps, bloating, diarrhea, chills, fever. I put Adam on the phone as I crawled into bed next to Bryony, and somewhere in the recesses of my pounding brain, I had the thought that this was how I was going to die. The thought was heartbreaking because I couldn't bear the idea of Bryony waking up next to her dead mother in the morning. Somewhere in the course of belaboring this, I fell asleep.
And then, just like that, it was over. I went to the doctor because it seemed a good idea to get some tests run, just in case. They all (blood and stool analysis) came back free and clear of any problems. That was simultaneously relieving and frustrating. Surely something was wrong with me...right?
And so now I'm on the other side of it all, back to the "health" part of the vow. Adam's pretty darn lucky he wasn't around for the "in sickness" part this time. He might not have wanted to wait around for the "health" part to show up.
Saturday, October 6, 2012
Erie and Au Sable
We got dogs! Probably not the smartest choice in light of an upcoming move and my current "single mother, full-time employee" status, but despite the challenges and sometimes frustration, we are very happy and excited about our new family members.
"Dina" was a 2-year old yellow lab I had been checking out on the county animal control's website for several days, pitching the idea to Adam (who, from a distance, kinda sorta melted...). I took Bryony to the shelter to meet her and she captured both our hearts, so we put a reservation on her. Adam came in the following weekend to move our household goods back to the new house in Virginia. As we were driving from the airport straight to the shelter to pick up "Dina," he suggested we consider adopting a second dog to keep her company. I was caught off-guard, but thought, "Well, why not?" So once at the shelter, he noticed "Meha" a little 5-month old black lab mix. We took both dogs out of their crates for a meet-and-greet and they played well together. It was a done deal.
Bryony was thrilled when we showed up at school that afternoon, not only with Dad in the car, but with two BIG surprises. The look on her face was priceless.
Life with two dogs has been chaotic, surprising, frustrating, but even more, fulfilling. I especially enjoy having quiet time in the evenings with them, as well as the lunchtime walks when I leave work to come home and walk them. I don't enjoy the process of housebreaking, however.
We renamed the dogs a couple days after adoption. It was important to me to name them after pieces of Michigan, since we would be leaving this state that has been our home for a decade. After much trial and error, we finally landed on Erie (the yellow lab, formerly Dina) and Au Sable (the black lab mix, formerly Meha). They already come to their new names just a month after becoming part of our family.
The cats are not as happy as we are about this new normal, but we are trying to coax them into acceptance. We also have baby gates erected around the house so the cats have some room of their own, separate from the overly-curious dogs.
So, Erie and Au Sable. Welcome home.
"Dina" was a 2-year old yellow lab I had been checking out on the county animal control's website for several days, pitching the idea to Adam (who, from a distance, kinda sorta melted...). I took Bryony to the shelter to meet her and she captured both our hearts, so we put a reservation on her. Adam came in the following weekend to move our household goods back to the new house in Virginia. As we were driving from the airport straight to the shelter to pick up "Dina," he suggested we consider adopting a second dog to keep her company. I was caught off-guard, but thought, "Well, why not?" So once at the shelter, he noticed "Meha" a little 5-month old black lab mix. We took both dogs out of their crates for a meet-and-greet and they played well together. It was a done deal.
Bryony was thrilled when we showed up at school that afternoon, not only with Dad in the car, but with two BIG surprises. The look on her face was priceless.
Life with two dogs has been chaotic, surprising, frustrating, but even more, fulfilling. I especially enjoy having quiet time in the evenings with them, as well as the lunchtime walks when I leave work to come home and walk them. I don't enjoy the process of housebreaking, however.
We renamed the dogs a couple days after adoption. It was important to me to name them after pieces of Michigan, since we would be leaving this state that has been our home for a decade. After much trial and error, we finally landed on Erie (the yellow lab, formerly Dina) and Au Sable (the black lab mix, formerly Meha). They already come to their new names just a month after becoming part of our family.
The cats are not as happy as we are about this new normal, but we are trying to coax them into acceptance. We also have baby gates erected around the house so the cats have some room of their own, separate from the overly-curious dogs.
So, Erie and Au Sable. Welcome home.
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