I stayed home from work today because this cold is kicking my butt. I awoke with a massive headache, barking like a seal, and began to cry. I hate being sick. Obviously, no one enjoys being sick, but when I’m ill I just want someone to take care of me.
I just want my husband to drop everything he’s doing and nurse me back to health. Instead he tells me that my illness is 10% virus and 90% “in my head”, and if I tell myself I’m going to feel better today, than of course I will feel better. Right. I’ll make sure to repeat his words verbatim when he gets this Cold of Death.
Earlier today, Doug dropped Dawson off at my mother’s work (she’s a school bus driver) so that he could “ride Nonna’s school bus like the big kids.”
Dawson loves that his grandma drives a school bus. He tells me every day, “Nonna is a great bus driver, Mumma!” and never fails to ask me when he’ll get to ride one of those big yellow things. (Speaking of the bus ride, my mother called to tell me how it went. When they got to one of the elementary schools, a teacher came out to greet the bus and asked Dawson, “Now, where did you come from? Washington School?” To which my brilliant son replied, “No, I came from my home!” I can’t stop giggling about that one.)
Doug had to work the second shift tonight, which means I had several hours of peace and quiet, with only my little dog to keep me company and he slept most of the day anyway. I spent my day blowing my nose, watching soap operas (The Young & The Restless and Days of Our Lives) and 90210 reruns while laying on the couch, praying for God to make this cold go away.
My mom was going to drop Dawson off after work, but my boy decided he wanted to spend the night at Grandma and Grandpa’s house and I couldn’t say no. So, I tried to clean the living room, or at least pick up the 500 used tissues off the floor. It took every once of energy I had just to do that. Sad but true.
This freakin’ cold suuuucks. And Vick’sVapoRub doesn’t help (no it doesn’t, Mom, I’ve been putting it on my chest all day and I still can’t breathe out of my nose — my mouth is dry and my lips are chapped and I hate that).
At about 6 p.m. I turned on the Brewer game and watched them get their butts kicked by the Cincinnati Reds. It was brutal. I can’t stand to watch them piss away their wild card slot. This sucks royally.
At about 8:30 my parents called because Dawson was crying. It seems my little boy missed his mommy and his Murphy so they were bringing him home. When they arrived twenty minutes later, Dawson ran into the house and asked, “Mumma, I’m home! Are you still sick?”
Melt my heart! My child was worried about me. Isn’t he sweet?
“Yes, buddy, I’m still sick.” I said.
“I’m sorry I got you germy, Mumma.” Dawson said. He hugged my legs and I felt my heart swell.
“It’s okay, sweetie. I’ll be okay.”
“You want me to give you med-cin?” he ran to the kitchen and pulled the bottle of grape Robitussin from the refrigerator door. “I’ll take care of you, Mumma!”
I see medical school in his future. He already has great bedside manner. Dr. Dawson Tuszke. I like the sound of that!
It seems that I’m sick. Now that Dawson is in preschool he’s been exposed to a new host of germs and has lovingly decided to share them with me. It’s my own fault because I’m one of those parents who gives her child a hug and kiss at bedtime, first thing in the morning, and all throughout the day.
Dawson and I have caught colds, or at the very least we’re sharing the same nasty one, and it sucks. Doug has decided he’s not coming home from work because he doesn’t want what we’ve got.
Meanwhile, I’m trying to manage this household, take care of a sick child and take care of myself. I don’t know if I can do it all. I’m not Super Mom. (Speaking of Super Moms, what do we think of Sarah Palin? Head over to the Imperfect Parent today and find out what I have to say.)
The past few days have been a whirlwind of going here and doing that and cleaning this and washing that. I know you know what I mean. You’ve all been there. I have so much to tell you and I finally have the time to get it all down on this here blog. Except, I feel like a Mack truck has run over me repeatedly. My head is throbbing, my throat is sore and I want to stick a coat hanger down there, just to relieve that scratchy, itchy feeling.
Alas, I’ll suffer through it, and as soon as my husband decides to grace us with his presence, I’m going straight to bed.
Last Friday my parents, Dawson and I went to the SPASH (my high school) vs. Wisconsin Rapids football game. My brother Frank is on the SPASH team, and this game was exceptionally special because the University of Wisconsin Badger Band was in town to play before the game, during half-time and after the game as part of their world renowned 5th quarter.
We had a great time, and Dawson got to shake hands with Bucky Badger. I don’t need to tell you that my son was scared silly by the costume. Here’s a video of the 5th Quarter for your viewing pleasure.
I’d show Bucky scaring Dawson, but the video is longer than 10 minutes and YouTube has a time limit. If I can figure out how to edit and shorten the length, I’ll post it another day.
Sunday we celebrated Dawson’s 4th birthday. He was born September 16th, but that was a Tuesday and weekdays are difficult for family gatherings when everyone works. My parents, brothers and sister came over and Dawson received many wonderful presents. This year we got Dawson a Spongebob themed cake. He loved it!
Monday night I spent 3 1/2 hours cleaning Dawson’s room. Once again a tornado (aka The Doodlebug) wrecked havoc and I was the one cleaning up the damages. This time I made Doug my right hand man and instructed him to toss certain items out, or put them into a donation bin. We had a huge box of toys and several smaller boxes of clothes ready for the Easter Seals pick up the next day. However, a certain little someone didn’t want to part with the box of toys, so I had to wait until he fell asleep to take it to the curb for pick-up.
I think he’s inheriting the pack-rat gene that runs in my family. It skipped a generation, I think because I definitely don’t have it. I was more than happy to toss and donate.
On Tuesday, Dawson’s actual birthday, I decided to take him and Murphy out for a walk. Dawson insisted on riding his bike and I figured it will probably be the last bike ride of the season, so why not? Boy, was I right. He’ll never get on that bike again after what happened. We had a little accident.
We took the bike path that goes right behind our house and some kid on a bike behind us yells out, “Passing on the right!” So naturally, I move to the left of the path and instruct Dawson to do the same. Turns out this kid didn’t know his directions, because he plowed right into us. Dawson fell of his bike and hit his head on the pavement. Thank God he had a helmet on. There’s a 2 inch dent in the front of the helmet, and he has a patch of road rash on his forehead. He also hit his nose hard enough to cause a nose bleed.
Do you think the other kid asked if we were okay, or even apologized? Of course not. He got back on his bike and fled the scene of the accident. It was a bike and run. However, my screaming and swearing probably didn’t help matters either. I was scared. Seeing all the blood coming out of Dawson’s nose, all while trying to hang on tightly to the leash of the Boston Terrorist, made me a little more than flustered.
Imagine me, wrangling a dog, carrying Dawson AND his bicycle back home. The walk was the equivalent of five blocks. Dawson refused to get back on that bike. I had to force him because if he didn’t ride home, I’d have dropped something and I’m thinking it would have been the bike or the dog.
When we got home, Doug was cutting the grass and he saw the blood all over my shirt and all over Dawson’s face and clothes. He freaked out but helped me get the kids in the house to clean everything up. Dawson was so sad, he said, “Daddy, this wasn’t a very good birthday…” It broke my heart. Of course, before we cleaned him up, we took a picture on the sidewalk of his injuries so that we remember never to take that bike path when the big kids are out.
Thankfully the mail man arrived with a package that I ordered from Leslie’sEtsy store. Inside was this beautiful sock monkey that Dawson fell in love with. He insisted on taking a nap with it and I couldn’t argue. Dawson named him Joey. I call him Monkey Joe.
Which brings me to today, sick with a cold and ready to curl up in bed with Dawson and Monkey Joe. What have you been up to lately? (I promise…I’ll get back to reading your blogs asap. As soon as I have a big bowl of chicken soup, a hot shower, and can breathe through my nose.)
As the mother of a preschooler I have my fair share of battles when it comes to bedtime. Dawson is four years old today, and for the last 2 1/2 years, he’s been sleeping in bed with my husband and me.
It’s my own fault, really. When he was about 18 months old, I suffered a back injury and couldn’t lift Dawson to put him to sleep in his crib. So, on the nights my husband worked late, I’d bring him in bed with me because it was easier. Big mistake. The child can’t sleep without his father or me next to him.
In an article focusing on newly appointed vice-presidential candidate Sarah Palin, prominent feminist Camille Paglia admits that, much like Gov. Palin, she also believes abortion involves the murder of an innocent life – but unlike Palin, Paglia says she is a “firm supporter” of abortion.
A liberal feminist admitting that abortion is murder was enough to cause my head to spin. And then I read this:
“Let’s take the issue of abortion rights, of which I am a firm supporter. As an atheist and libertarian, I believe that government must stay completely out of the sphere of personal choice. Every individual has an absolute right to control his or her body,” said Paglia, voicing the commonest argument put forward by feminist supporters of abortion.
Unlike her fellow pro-abortion colleagues, however, Paglia continued on to – as she termed it – “face the ethical consequences” of embracing abortion. “I have always frankly admitted that abortion is murder, the extermination of the powerless by the powerful,” she said.
Paglia then admitted that in order to rationalize and accept abortion, one would have to not only accept, but logically condone other atrocities against life – that is, one would have to accept murder for the sake of protecting a particular, more important “right”, as she does. The author criticizes those on the social left who parrot the scientifically untenable position that the fetus is just a “lump of tissue”, saying that those who do so are simply afraid to face the consequences of their pro-abortion position.
And this:
Paglia also criticized some on the social left for their logical inconsistency in condoning the killing of the innocent, but not of the guilty. “I have never understood the standard Democratic combo of support for abortion and yet opposition to the death penalty. Surely it is the guilty rather than the innocent who deserve execution?” she said.
“What I am getting at here is that not until the Democratic Party stringently reexamines its own implicit assumptions and rhetorical formulas will it be able to deal effectively with the enduring and now escalating challenge from the pro-life right wing.”
Is hell freezing over, or is this woman saying these things to keep those pesky pro-life, right-wingers on their toes? (And for the record, I am one of those pro-life, right-wingers.)
Dana began her Mom career in 2004 with the birth of her first son, Dawson, aka The Doodlebug, and little brother, Owen, was born in 2009. She spends her days putting out fires, climbing mountains and chasing monsters. More About Dana.
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