Wherein We Are Still Sick And Still Have Mice

Okay, so after another sleepless night spent with a coughing child, I staggered out of bed (out of couch, really) and showered and got dressed up. Why? Because I finally had a doctor's appointment for Rachel. Yes, the exciting day had arrived, and I wanted to be prepared.

Let's face it - when the doctors see short, slightly rotund me come in dressed in unstylish jeans, they peg me as a SAHM frump. So I pulled on my power outfit (complete with 2-inch heels, which put me just over 5 feet) and Talbot's wool coat (8 dollars at a local rummage sale) and took Rachel to her appointment. I even combed my hair. And I left all the other kids home, because if the doctor realizes that I homeschool, well, I'm a double-frump.

Wouldn't you know, this is the first pediatrician appointment I've gone to in aeons where the doctor or nurse has not called me "Mom"? Coincidence? I think not. And, the triage nurse asked me if I needed a note for work. Me - as if I were a real person. I didn't even know that adults needed notes for work. But I didn't let on. "No," I said coolly, "not necessary." I wanted to add that I was the person people had to bring notes to, but I didn't think I could pull it off.

So, the doctor was very nice and gave us the codeine syrup and warned me, "Now, you don't want to give this to her until bedtime, because it will knock her right out." Horrors. Rachel barely had her coat off at home before I got that stuff down her. She had a wonderful, 3-hour, blissfully-cough-free nap.

In the meantime I drove 45 minutes so Anna could pick up her flute from the repair shop. We live in a densely populated metropolitan area, so I have no idea why we had to drive all that way for a decent repair shop. I can't imagine what people in Nebraska or Wyoming have to do when a musical instrument needs fixing. Being sick myself, I felt like hell. I came home, went to bed, and let the house fall apart around me, as is its wont when I am not on duty.

I got up briefly later in the evening - just in time to hear Theo tell Larry that he had just seen a mouse in the family room. Larry said he'd take care of it later; but, upon hearing the hysterical noises emanating from his wife's mouth, he wisely readjusted his to-do list and put "catch mouse" at the very top. See? He loves me. Or maybe he just hates hysterical noises.

He couldn't find Theo's mouse last night, but a mouse did show up in the trap in our kitchen this morning. So, either we caught it (good), or our house is truly over-run with tiny little rodents that only look cute in nursery rhyme books (bad). Not being overly optimistic, Larry bought a whole bunch of mousetraps this morning, so we wouldn't run out while he goes away this week. It's not every husband who would think of such a caring gesture before he deserts his wife, now is it?

Someone Here Hath Murdered Sleep

Well, I had The Talk with the kids tonight. All 6 of them. I sat them down and told them, "Remember - either be a doctor or marry one." That way, they won't have to watch one of their children cough her lungs out all night long, again, because they can't get their hands on any codeine cough syrup.

The doctor did prescribe some other cough medicine over the phone, some namby-pamby crap, and I told him, "It won't work. You may have 8 years of med school, but I have 16 years of raising children. Give me the good stuff." No dice.

My lord, I am so pissed off. I really feel sorry for whichever doctor we finally see tomorrow morning.

Am I crazy, or should a sick kid be able to see a doctor the same day that the kid is ill? I do have superpowers, but I am still not able to predict a day in advance that my child is going to be up all night coughing. I'm just not that good. I admit it.

And, in case you think I'm sounding a little insane, you're right. Chronic sleep deprivation will do that to a person. Do you know how long it has been since I have had 4 hours of unbroken sleep? Have you any idea? Prisoners of war are treated better than this.

You know, friends don't let friends blog sleepless. I'm signing off.

(But, oh yes, Larry caught our little rodent friend this morning. And disposed of him. Once again, I am glad that I get to be the helpless female. While he did the dirty work, I hid in the bedroom. Of course, now Larry is suffering from what I call his Hemingway Syndrome - the way he's acting, you'd think he'd bagged a cougar.)

Knitting, The Best Medicine

The kids are still barking like seals here. I should put it on YouTube - "This is your kid on croup."

I managed to get some medicine from the doctor yesterday without having to go in to the office. Would you believe the receptionist tried to transfer my phone call to the advice nurse? I hung up and called the receptionist again and told her, "Honey, I don't need any advice. I have 6 kids, the youngest has croup, and she needs steroids. Tell the doctor." And she did. And he called in the prescription. Now that's power. (You need to have at least 4 kids in order to pull that off, though.)

And Larry did sneak off to work today. I overslept (that happens if you go to bed at 2 in the morning, you know) and earned the Bad Mother of the Year award by not getting up in time to wake Theo for his job (yes, I know he needs an alarm clock - we've bought gazillion alarm clocks and they all end up breaking). So he was late, but they didn't fire him - yet.

Now Larry is pulling apart my kitchen again (it's almost becoming a hobby for him, now isn't it?), because - get this - the tile guy is coming tomorrow. I'll believe that when I see it. The refrigerator, stove, and dishwasher are sitting in my dining room/living room, and the kitchen table and chairs are in the den. It's not really the decorating look that I like.

We're buying our Christmas tree this weekend. I had always had a hankering to do it the Norman Rockwell way, going out into the snowy woods of a tree farm and cutting down our own; but the one year we did that we froze our butts off, the tree sucked (as in, it was round and lopsided), and we paid a ridiculous amount for the privilege. So, this year, we're going to do the traditional thing: pile all the kids in the car, drive to Home Depot, tramp around in the slushy area next to the parking lot, and pick out a twenty-dollar, pre-cut tree.

Well, that's our tradition, anyway. And a darn good one it is, too.

I attended the local Stitch 'n' B*tch last night. We meet at a small restaurant and there were people getting up and coming over to stare at us, as though we were in some sort of knitting zoo. Or maybe they were just trying to see what we were drinking. We were getting a bit raucous.

But I'm telling you, nice as these knitters are, they scare me. The 2 women next to me were having a serious discussion about their spinning wheels and how to card wool, and a 3rd woman chimed in from further down the table. I was tempted to ask if they raise their own sheep, too; but I restrained myself. I'm still sort of new there.

No Anna stories tonight, folks - I'm doing my best to ignore her completely. Life's better that way. G'night!