Month: February 2015

Just for you, Carrie. Dog agility class is kind of like obedience class, but you teach them to run through tunnels, go over jumps and weave through poles. It’s like enrolling your dog in sports camp except you have to participate right alongside them.

Josh is in Jordan, Carter was struck with strep, and the sky is a hazy, windy mess. I’m having sympathetic throat pains and can almost feel the germs creeping back in my body. Today, our first day of the week, Calvin had early practice, the dog had agility training, the kids had Bible club after school, and Camille had soccer practice this evening.

Around 2:30 pm I realized the last thing I wanted to do was be outside for another hour at the end of our day, breathing in who knows what and then rushing everyone home to quick do homework, eat something and then race to bed before it got too late. They need all the sleep they can get to fight off this strep epidemic that has wormed its way through our community.

I tried texting Josh to ask him if it was OK to not take Camille to soccer, but he was probably in a meeting so all I got was radio silence in return. I wished I could message my mom because I knew she would tell me to stay home without thinking twice about it, but she was fast asleep in the middle of California nighttime. I was having trouble with this particular decision because Camille loves going to soccer and it’s one of the few things that we do just for her. She had even pulled out her soccer cleats and uniform and was prepared to change over after club was over.

The reason I wanted permission goes back to the days when I would make excuses not to do something because I was nervous. As I got better I decided to bounce my “excuses” off of Josh or someone else to see if I had a legitimate reason to pass on something or if I needed to suck it up and go. But today I looked around, saw there was no one else, and decided we’re going to club and then going home. Sure, I could have made it all happen, but 45 minutes from now when they are all in bed instead of stumbling in the door after practice, I’ll be breathing a sigh of relief and thinking, “Thank you, wise self. I’ll be letting you make my decisions more often.”

We’ve joked about Caleb being a “ladies man” ever since he was a 4 year old in the middle of a crowd of elementary school girls, happily playing Littlest Pet Shop, letting them paint his nails, and being a willing playmate for any of their girlie games. He’s always managed to fit in well with girls and as we’ve moved from place to place has had as many friends who are girls as are boys. Last year I took him to a birthday party and it was 6 girls and Caleb. No big deal to him. Even this year, as a 5th grader, when there’s usually still a giant divide between the genders, Caleb has managed to form tight friendships on both sides of the aisle.

The other day he came home from school and went immediately to the kitchen to grab a snack. He says, “Hi” and I call back, “Hi baby! How was school?” Instead of the, “great mom. I don’t have any homework” that I expect, I hear, “I’m not talking to you.” Well who are you talking to since there is no one else in the house? “I’m on the phone. D said to call her as soon as I got home.” Excuse me?!? 


Or I get the “Mom I need you to buy me more minutes because K said I need to call her.” My baby is 10. What sort of brazen hussies are other people raising these days? (Just kidding. These girls are perfectly nice. Maybe.) I’ve explained that just because girls say that he needs to call them, I am the boss and he needs to at least acknowledge my existence before running to do their bidding.

Which brings me to last night. It was Calvin’s birthday (yay 16!) and I had boys downstairs eating junk food and shooting each other on the xbox, other kids upstairs racing cars on the wii or watching movies and I had retreated to a quiet corner of my bedroom. I think eventually the question was asked, “Where is Bob? (Caleb)” and when we finally tracked him down, he was in one of the kids’ bedrooms, Skyping (video chat) with a girl from school.

When I asked him how he logged into Skype because I couldn’t remember our user name and password he said, “Oh, I opened my own account. My username is BossBoy1234.” Oh, Lord. I’m going to need serious help with this one. And a parental controls tutorial. Stat.

I’ve logged more sleep in the last week than a newborn baby. We’re down to one car while Josh gets something fixed on his so there’s nothing for me to do in the mornings but sleep in. This morning I woke up thinking it must be around 9am and I almost put my head back down on the pillow to sleep a little longer, but curiosity made me pull out my phone to check the time. When it said 10:45, I felt like Rip VanWinkleina and dragged myself to the shower to join society.

How do I sleep all morning with a 4 year old? Josie. Camille has been waking up and going downstairs where Josie gets her breakfast, colors with her, and turns on the TV to the show of her choosing. Then Josie cleans while I sleep. It’s all very Downton Abby with sand instead of lush lawns.

I’m feeling much better, but still extra tired. I’m sure that the weeks of waking up at 5:30 to take Calvin to soccer wreaked havoc on my immune system. I was making him go to bed at 8, but then I’d be up until midnight (or later) and the catch up sleep between 7 and 8 am wasn’t enough to keep up. So I’ve determined that at least this week, while I’m still on strep meds, that I’m sleeping as much as possible so it doesn’t come back a third time.

While my mom was here and I was fighting round one of strep, she and Camille put in my garden for this year. I’ve been too busy to tackle the job, but my mom dug in and prepped the soil, planted the seeds, and got things growing. It was the perfect time to do it because ever since she left we’ve had sand and dust storms and have had to limit our time outside.

we thought he was a goner, but the strep came back, he just couldn’t stay away . . .

It was like groundhog day, only on Feb 9th instead of the 2nd. I had finished my 10 days of antibiotics, like the good patient that I am, and was perfectly healthy. Until about 48 hours later when the pain started again in my throat and I thought, “this is just how it started last time.” Dr Google confirmed that there is such a thing as strep coming back after finishing the round of antibiotics and I spent the night tossing and turning as the fire took hold of my throat and when daylight arrived I scooted myself over to the clinic for another throat swab.

I had to go home and wait for the results, even though it was clear that the alien invasion had taken place again. When the nurse says “Ew” when she looks in your mouth, that says it all. So I went home and slept. Deeply, feverishly. I didn’t take any medicine because Dr Google said that when strep is treated with antibiotics right away there is a higher chance of reoccurrence. Most likely because the body’s immune system hasn’t had a chance to kick in before the drugs go to work. It was time for my lazy immune system to get off its behind and go to work.

By the time my appointment rolled around I was so sick I called the clinic and asked them if they could just tell me the results of my test over the phone, but no. I had to go in. (probably because we can buy antibiotics over the counter here and they were afraid that I’d go buy the wrong kind of antibiotics on my own and create a powerful superbug — but really, I just wanted to sleep).

The doctor seemed puzzled that I had strep again (he clearly isn’t a student of Dr. Google), but he was very kind and offered me a new antibiotic along with a menu of other drugs he could give me — naproxen for body aches, tylenol for fever, zofran for nausea. I declined all but the antibiotic since Motrin is my drug of choice. I should have taken the Zofran though. Not for this time, but to add to my personal stash for future emergencies (like seasickness). Oh well, next time.

I hobbled home and crashed for the next I don’t know how many hours. Josh came home from Jordan at some point and the kids were excited, but I’m not even sure if I picked my head off of the pillow. I guess they left and ran errands and picked up dinner, but I was dead to the world and my immune system was in boot camp. When I came to around 8pm I decided it was time to break out the antibiotics and let them share the work.

Even though I’d slept all day I slept all night and was still sleeping at 10am when Josh called to check on me. I still feel like I have a tangerine stuck in the back of my throat, but my fever is gone and I can stand upright. Praying this is the end of it and we don’t go for round 3 in seven days when my antibiotic is finished.