My DH has the flu. If you read my previous post, you know that I'm torn between feeling bad for him, and being smug. Smug is winning. He's being very good about my smugness--probably because he deserves it. My ThYO and I are almost fully recovered--just an annoying lingering cough. DH should cross the hump today and the Baby...well he has a nasty runny nose and a cough, but no other noticeable symptoms.
I don't want to be housebound anymore!
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
Monday, February 26, 2007
Nothing can undermine the kinetics of a stay-at-home mom's home like the flu.
This was the week that the youth did their performance. Two dress rehearsals and three performances of Narnia. My job with costuming was done, but I was needed to help with make up--it seems I was the only person who actually had heard of Spirit gum. Anyway, I started the week with some guilty thoughts because I was going to be absent five nights. My husband would have to take on the childcare duties 100% in the evening (though now that I think about it that was only 2 hours a day)
My kiddos had been battling coughs and runny noses the previous week, so it came as no surprise when my throat started tickling on Tuesday. I felt fine, I just had a tickle. I watched the dress rehearsal, helped with costume changes and wondered why my back hurt so much. And why I was so cold. By the time I got home, I knew I was running a fever.
The next day was a blur. The kids are still alive, so I assume I fed them. I know I went to the grocery store, so they must have been dressed. No practice that night. When DH got home I had such glazed eyes he granted me his royal permission to escape to bed.
Thursday: Took ThYO to preschool. He complains of stomachache but whatever he has doesn't compare with my battle for consciousness. He goes anyway. When I pick him up at lunch, he is crying and saying he's sick. Since he hadn't even eaten the cookie I put in his lunch, I know it's bad. The heat is radiating off him. The baby is tossed in his crib and ThYO and I take a nap together, gleaning warmth off eachother and hoping for someone to knock us out until March. I have to get to the church for opening night, dragging the kids with me (DH started a new job so they have to be with me for a half hour or so). ThYO is a trooper and just huddles on the floor next to me hoping no one talks to him. I wish I could do the same.
This is when I find out that the flu has been spreading through the youth. Purex and kleenex are everywhere. Knowing I was already sick, I took extra precautions with my make-up apps, but I am lining many glazed eyes and coughing lips.
Husband picks up kids and asks if I really think ThYO is sick when he sees my drug instructions. He's lucky the pastor is in the room.
Friday: I had previously arranged to not go to the play today. It's datenight for me and my ThYO. We have tickets to a circus performance. I give them away. No possible way we will feel good enough to go. Instead we huddle on the couch together watching a Disney movie while dad cooks a meal we don't eat and whines about how tired he is because my coughing and sneezing are keeping him up at night. He offers to go to the store and asks what I need. I need Nyquil. We've had none and I haven't been able to get to the store. He tells me he always has some in his Dopp kit. The thought crosses my mind that if he's had it all this time, then why the heck didn't he offer me some. He had plenty of opportunity with my keeping him up all night.
Saturday--I'm over the hump. I can see light. I'm not quite able to reach it but I know it's there. I discover that my baby is still alive and happy, despite the extra naps "he's" been forced to take. I climb the mountain of laundry, dishes, and kleenex. I am able to go to the show with a brave face and learn that two of the leads are sick. We all push through and the show is over. When I get home, Husband tells me he took a mini road trip with the kids because he has had too much childcare this week, oh, and the baby seems warm. I ask my husband how he's feeling. He says "I'm fine. I just have a tickle in my throat, but I'm sure it will go away."
Yes Honey, I'm sure it will. Eventually. Remember to buy more Nyquil.
This was the week that the youth did their performance. Two dress rehearsals and three performances of Narnia. My job with costuming was done, but I was needed to help with make up--it seems I was the only person who actually had heard of Spirit gum. Anyway, I started the week with some guilty thoughts because I was going to be absent five nights. My husband would have to take on the childcare duties 100% in the evening (though now that I think about it that was only 2 hours a day)
My kiddos had been battling coughs and runny noses the previous week, so it came as no surprise when my throat started tickling on Tuesday. I felt fine, I just had a tickle. I watched the dress rehearsal, helped with costume changes and wondered why my back hurt so much. And why I was so cold. By the time I got home, I knew I was running a fever.
The next day was a blur. The kids are still alive, so I assume I fed them. I know I went to the grocery store, so they must have been dressed. No practice that night. When DH got home I had such glazed eyes he granted me his royal permission to escape to bed.
Thursday: Took ThYO to preschool. He complains of stomachache but whatever he has doesn't compare with my battle for consciousness. He goes anyway. When I pick him up at lunch, he is crying and saying he's sick. Since he hadn't even eaten the cookie I put in his lunch, I know it's bad. The heat is radiating off him. The baby is tossed in his crib and ThYO and I take a nap together, gleaning warmth off eachother and hoping for someone to knock us out until March. I have to get to the church for opening night, dragging the kids with me (DH started a new job so they have to be with me for a half hour or so). ThYO is a trooper and just huddles on the floor next to me hoping no one talks to him. I wish I could do the same.
This is when I find out that the flu has been spreading through the youth. Purex and kleenex are everywhere. Knowing I was already sick, I took extra precautions with my make-up apps, but I am lining many glazed eyes and coughing lips.
Husband picks up kids and asks if I really think ThYO is sick when he sees my drug instructions. He's lucky the pastor is in the room.
Friday: I had previously arranged to not go to the play today. It's datenight for me and my ThYO. We have tickets to a circus performance. I give them away. No possible way we will feel good enough to go. Instead we huddle on the couch together watching a Disney movie while dad cooks a meal we don't eat and whines about how tired he is because my coughing and sneezing are keeping him up at night. He offers to go to the store and asks what I need. I need Nyquil. We've had none and I haven't been able to get to the store. He tells me he always has some in his Dopp kit. The thought crosses my mind that if he's had it all this time, then why the heck didn't he offer me some. He had plenty of opportunity with my keeping him up all night.
Saturday--I'm over the hump. I can see light. I'm not quite able to reach it but I know it's there. I discover that my baby is still alive and happy, despite the extra naps "he's" been forced to take. I climb the mountain of laundry, dishes, and kleenex. I am able to go to the show with a brave face and learn that two of the leads are sick. We all push through and the show is over. When I get home, Husband tells me he took a mini road trip with the kids because he has had too much childcare this week, oh, and the baby seems warm. I ask my husband how he's feeling. He says "I'm fine. I just have a tickle in my throat, but I'm sure it will go away."
Yes Honey, I'm sure it will. Eventually. Remember to buy more Nyquil.
Sunday, February 11, 2007
Productivity
My needles are flying. I'm at the point where I am almost finished with a couple projects and past the halfway point with others. I'm in stash reduction mode these days. I'm finding super quick knits so I can plow through those random stash skeins that I don't love. And I am brainstorming ideas for the skeins that I do love. Shockingly, I haven't purchased yarn yet this year.
On the needles:
Completed:
On the needles:
- The VK corset-take 2
- Hot pants (everything has a story)
- The Denim sweater
- Dale of Norway cardigan
- Dale of Norway snowflake sweater
- sock monkey sock
- random halter top I may or may not submit to Knitty
- EZ Raglan sweater in boucle
- Summer Gameday sweater
Completed:
- Sweater for ThYO
- Berry blue socks
- WA to CO stole (deserving of a post in it's own right)
- A couple hats
Not a bad month.
Thursday, February 01, 2007
Knead help
I enjoy cooking. I read cookbooks like they were novels and I especially like to find a complicated recipe and spend several hours preparing it. I also love recipes that have an air of experimentation about them.
Enter breadmaking.
I would not consider myself a breadmaker. I enjoy making bread and I especially like eating good bread, but I wouldn't consider myself an expert. But I do have fun experimenting.
Yesterday I went to Whole Foods out of curiosity and while I walked past the bread racks I heard something. "Psst. Look at me. You need me. Take me home."
It was the ciabatta. Well, obviously this bread already had superpowers so it was not a surprise to me to find that this same loaf ended up in the car with me. My kids and I splurged on this spectacular, chewy creation with a wonderful crust. What was left of the loaf met my husband and even he, Wonder-White boy, enjoyed it. Oh if only I could make this at home.
Can anyone help? When I make bread the interior tends to be full of tiny air pockets of uniform size, not the large, uneven holes this bread consisted of. This bread had a chewy texture that rivaled the best crumpets. What is the secret? Sourdough starter? Have it. A different combo of flours? I'll try it. I just don't want to end up baking hundreds of unimpressive loaves in order to achieve this perfection.
Enter breadmaking.
I would not consider myself a breadmaker. I enjoy making bread and I especially like eating good bread, but I wouldn't consider myself an expert. But I do have fun experimenting.
Yesterday I went to Whole Foods out of curiosity and while I walked past the bread racks I heard something. "Psst. Look at me. You need me. Take me home."
It was the ciabatta. Well, obviously this bread already had superpowers so it was not a surprise to me to find that this same loaf ended up in the car with me. My kids and I splurged on this spectacular, chewy creation with a wonderful crust. What was left of the loaf met my husband and even he, Wonder-White boy, enjoyed it. Oh if only I could make this at home.
Can anyone help? When I make bread the interior tends to be full of tiny air pockets of uniform size, not the large, uneven holes this bread consisted of. This bread had a chewy texture that rivaled the best crumpets. What is the secret? Sourdough starter? Have it. A different combo of flours? I'll try it. I just don't want to end up baking hundreds of unimpressive loaves in order to achieve this perfection.
Common Courtesy
I went to my knitting group earlier this week and pulled out the project I had decided to work on that evening--a sleeveless pullover (from Vogue Knitting of course) worked vertically in a seed stitch pattern. I selected green, yellow and beige easy-to-clean (translation: crappy acrylic) yarn. I intend to wear it to early Fall football games.
Anyway, one of the ladies there took one look at it and said "Wow, that's really ugly!"
Is it just me or was this rude? There are several character traits about this woman I appreciate: she is a productive knitter, she has some really great hints and tips, (wooly nylon to reinforce socks? Genius.) she doesn't concern herself with society's standards...ahh...this could be the problem. While it is commendable to march to the beat of a different drummer, there are some aspects of society that should be if not obeyed, at least respected.
Anyway, one of the ladies there took one look at it and said "Wow, that's really ugly!"
Is it just me or was this rude? There are several character traits about this woman I appreciate: she is a productive knitter, she has some really great hints and tips, (wooly nylon to reinforce socks? Genius.) she doesn't concern herself with society's standards...ahh...this could be the problem. While it is commendable to march to the beat of a different drummer, there are some aspects of society that should be if not obeyed, at least respected.
- People should always be treated with dignity.
- Please and thank you should be habitual
- IF YOU CAN'T SAY SOMETHING NICE, DON'T SAY ANYTHING AT ALL. But try to find something nice to say
You can still be an individual and make room for some common courtesy. Opinions are great, but why hurt someone needlessly? (okay I wasn't exactly hurt) I'm smart enough to know that if anyone simply comments on how nice my stitches look that they really don't care for the entire effect. But that's fine. It's what makes us interesting.
***and she steps off the soapbox***
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