Sunday, July 31, 2011

Death and dying and whining

We are finishing up a nice round of what WebMD tells me is gastroenteritis. Or shigellosis, salmonella poisoning, sickle cell disease, or drug overdose. I was set on stomach cancer, so thank goodness for WebMD. I settled on gastroenteritis because I'm extremely careful with proper food handling, and we haven't done THAT many drugs lately. Plus, we never share with the kids, and Emmy was the first to get it.

Thanks to this weekend, I am now well-versed in:
  • How to neglect your children all day but still keep them alive (I nearly failed at this one when I opened my eyes to see Emmy standing on top of the piano across the room).
  • How to clean carpet using only laundry detergent, vinegar, and tears.
  • Fending off delirium.
  • Finding things to feed your children without actually smelling any food.
  • Not killing your husband, who had the nerve to get sick while you were still sick.
It's been a wildly entertaining weekend.
The Child also chose this weekend to grow some ovaries and start climbing tall things. She has no problem climbing onto the changing table now and standing on its flimsy top in the middle of the night, but she still needs to repeat, "I'm not gonna fall you, I'm not gonna fall you," as I'm bathing her in the sink. I don't even pretend to understand the logic happening in that tiny brain.

But anyway, long story short, she decided last night was the night to climb out of her bed and onto the changing table, out of her bed and onto the chair next to Emmy's crib, and so much more. In our barely-recovering haze, we resorted to bribery: "If you stay in bed for the rest of the night, you will get a treat right away in the morning." At that point, I had no idea what we could give her, but it sounded good.

It totally worked. I was amazed. See, when we first switched her to a toddler bed, my sister suggested that tactic, and it didn't work at all. She was out of bed in about three seconds. No concept of delayed reward. But last night, she stayed in bed all night. She was wide awake when I went in to get her this morning, but she was firmly planted in her bed.

We'll see how the next few nights go.

The silver lining in this weekend? I've lost five pounds. I KNOW it's not a healthy five pounds. While I've been stuck at roughly the same weight for two months now, I can still see the flab shrinking and the muscles becoming more defined; however, the psychological kick is nice.

I'm still 15 pounds over the upper end of my recommended weight range, but it's nice to kind of enjoy looking in the mirror again. Not that I stand in the mirror and flex (much), but there's no recoiling anymore. I think if I stopped losing weight right now, I would be mostly okay with that. I'd keep working out. It makes me feel good. But these few extra pounds don't really bother me the way the other 20 did.

And a final note: if you're on the tail end of an illness, and the mere thought of all food still horrifies you, despite the nausea having vanished, and you haven't eaten in two days... Don't eat a whole bag of mango chunks just because it's the only things that sounds good.


  1. Wow. Even sick, you are still hilariously funny. Love the part about the piano. At first I was thinking Grace... but it was Emmy on top of the piano? You may have a piano-climbing prodigy! Okay, perhaps a piano-playing prodigy would be a little better, but you have to take what you get!

  2. Hah! Thanks. Sometimes I think I'm funnier when I'm all strung out and slap-happy. But yeah, it was Emmy on the piano. It's a spinet, which makes it slightly less frightening, I guess. :P