"Raising a kid is part joy and part guerrilla warfare."
~Ed Asner

Monday, August 30, 2010

Weekend Hang Over

Severely sleep deprived Mamie, teething Beast, and separation anxiety Izzie made for a week that lasted forever but went by fast.  You know the expression, 'I feel like I've been hit by a train'?  Does anyone really knows what that feels like, I mean except for someone who has really been hit by a train.  And in most cases, the train is the only survivor.  There have been cases of people surviving.  I want to ask them, what does it feel like to be hit by a train?  I can't imagine that how we feel when use that expression comes even close to how that person felt being hit by an actual train.  I mean, we still have all our limbs, our bones intact and our headache?...probably minor in comparison to someone who got lobbed in the head by a train.  (Disclaimer:  If you or someone you know was hit by a train and survived; or you read a story about someone who was hit by a train and survived and you think I'm being insensitive, I mean no offense.  I think it's an incredible miracle to survive something like that and I would never make fun.)  Sometimes I wonder why we use certain horrific expressions (like being hit by a train) to elaborate how we're feeling.  I mean, truthfully, if you were hit by a train, you probably wouldn't feel a thing.  It would be more accurate to say, 'I feel like I was hit by a train and lived'.

We had a wedding on Saturday.  The colors were orange and purple.  The bride and company spent hours making different flavors of rock candy and put them in these cute mason jars.  I thought the wedding favors were unique and of course, Kris thought they were yummy.  There was a short ceremony outside and the reception was under a huge tent in the bride's parents backyard.  The first thing Izzie noticed when she walked inside the tent was the orange and purple sparkly balls hanging from the center of the tent.  The reception was beautiful, summery and relaxing...for the guests.  The parents of the bride made all the food...and desserts.  The mother is a baker and has made almost all of the babies birthday cakes.  Do you remember the Pink Monkey cake?  What about the giant Elmo cake or Noah's Flinstone/Bam Bam cake?  And who could forget Izzie's Pink Princess Pirate cake.  They were all made by the beautiful and talented Jill.  The husband is a grill master and made enough food to feed a small army...or Beast.  I'm kidding but, apparently, Beast ate a lot.  No, I didn't let him roam free and plunder the food tables.  Our babysitter was also watching the bride and groom's little girl Madison, soooo, I brought the babies to the party and handed them off in the very capable hands of Julie.  She chased them, watered them, and kept them out of trouble so Maime could have some peace.  There were some moments where Beast spotted Daddy or me and he went into meltdown mode.  Nothing a plate of food couldn't fix.  I adored watching Izzie and Madison walking and running hand in hand.  They are about the same height and size.  Madison is younger than Izzie but most of Izzie's friends, whether younger or older or taller than her.  And beast is very close to surpassing her in height.  He already weighs the same as her, if not a little more, especially after this month's birthday and celebration festivities.  I think he ate his weight in food.   


After munching on fruit, cheeses and other appetizers;  we gorged on shish kabob's, ribs, two different kinds of chicken, and all the fixin's to go with.  Surrounding a beautiful, fake wedding cake were hundreds of petits fours.  There were brownies rolled in nuts or covered in chocolate, cheesecake topped with fruit or chocolate,  cheesecake brownies, cakes topped with whipped cream and sprinkles,  smore brownies, white chocolate covered apricots, and many others that I don't remember.  It's not like I tried them all.  Really, I didn't.  They just kept bringing them out and the table was overflowing with toothache goodness.  I'm very happy with my dress selection for the night.  It did not allow me even the slightest bit of room for overeating.  If I had gone with my second choice, my purple velour jogging suit, I probably would have been rolling around the room by the end of the night and my son would have mistaken me for a giant ball.  That wouldn't have been pretty, especially with beast picking me up, throwing me around the room and then getting upset at the fact I didn't bounce.  I did enjoy the food I ate, even though my allergies were exploding inside of me.  I enjoyed the company as it was refreshing to have some adult conversation, even though most conversation revolved around our children.  Funny how that happens.  I also enjoyed watching Izzie and Beast dance.  I was shocked that Izzie and Beast made it as long as they did; no nap, running amok, feasting, dancing and partying it up until way past their bed time.  Still you could tell the night was wearing on them.  Beast went back and forth from wandering around in a daze to cuddling up with a familiar face to running spastic across the dance floor like he suddenly spotted something; or maybe he was just reaching for that last bit of energy to spur him on.  Izzie danced the night away feverishly until a stubbed toe slowed her down.  Even though she could barely hold her head up, she did not want to leave.  She wanted to stay with her best friend Maddy.  Fatigue kept the temper tantrums mild and the babies melted into our arms as we trekked across the field to the truck.  Before the engine was warm, they were out.  They were absolutely shattered.  They're limp, sweaty bodies laid on my bed with blackened feet while I cleaned them up and put their jammies on. 

Kris left for work and I made a cuppa tea.  I had picked up some dried peaches a couple days before to use in the some oatmeal cookies.  I dropped a piece of the dried fruit in my tea to give it a little flavor.  Before doing so, I tore off a little piece of the peach and popped in my mouth.  It was sweet and delicious.  Within minutes, I started wheezing.  I didn't really think about.  I drank my tea.  Adding the peach gave it a little something.  I didn't realize until later that 'that something' was an allergic reaction to sulfur dioxide.  My wheezing turned into hives, itchy chin (for real, have you ever itched your chin raw? not fun), and a full blown asthma attack.  What the frick!  Two breathing treatments later I was shaking off the steroid affect in my bed, feeling stupid for eating the dried peach.  The thing is, I love dried fruit.  I usually buy organic and sometimes I even make it.  But I've never had dried peaches before.  I was in a rush and I stupidly bought regular ole' dried peaches.  Not a problem for people who don't react to sulfites.  But certain dried fruits like peaches use high amounts of sulfur dioxide as a preservative.  It's what makes the dried peaches look so bright with color.  Organic dried peaches are darker and much more earthy looking.  That's because they don't use sulfur dioxide.  Wow, I'm boring.  Okay, so rather than giving you a lesson on sulfites and how many people confuse sulfites with sulfates blah blah blah, I'll just tell you this.  People who suffer from allergies and asthma should typically stay away from products containing medium to high amounts of sulfites.  Not all asthmatics will react, but some do, like me...And it sucks.  Especially when I just want to eat a piece of dried fruit and not worry about my lung function.  So, this morning when I was woken up by my darling daughter, I did kind of feel like I got hit by a train and survived. 

Silly me, I thought my sleep deprived party animals would sleep in.  Not Izzie.  She woke me up at 6:30.  Beast slept in until 10:30.  Izzie, you could take a few pointers from your 'lil bro on the importance of beauty rest.  Not that she didn't look beautiful, and cheery faced, and bright eyed.  In.  My.  Face.  She did go down for a nap before our next party that afternoon and so did Beast.  I figured if he didn't fall asleep I would sneak in and get him when Izzie fell asleep.  But 2 1/2 hours later, I was waking them up from a deep sleep so we could head over to Big Gigi and Gigi's house for some more celebrating.  The babies love to celebrate birthday's.  They love watching you light the candles.  They love singing happy birthday.  They love watching you open your presents.  And they love cake.  Okay, mostly they love frosting but the cake finds it's way in their bellies too.  Today we celebrated Uncle Tom and Aunt Mary's birthday.  Izzie and Beast had loads of fun with the family and especially enjoyed taking a bath in Gigi's bathtub.  They pretended to swim and had races.  Such imagination.  They ran around the living room mooning everyone with their bare bums.  I wrangled their jammies on and got them home all fresh and ready for bed. 

My favorite part of the evening is bed time, not because my babies drift off into dreamland while I drift off in laundry and the D.V.R.  I love this time that we have together.  We cuddle up and have story time.  We pray together.  We hug and kiss, and hug and kiss some more.  Then I sit in the rocking chair and sing them lullabies.  Sounds lovely and peaceful doesn't it?  Sometimes it's as tranquil as a beautiful sunset over a calm sea.  And sometimes it's as crazy as a stampede of elephants.  But I love every minute of it.

Whether you're tired, have a headache, in pain, suffering from an ailment (I like that word, kinda rolls off the tongue), stressed, going through a rough time, or whatever else...So. You. Had. A. Bad. Day...or week...or month.  Everyone does.  Be thankful you're alive.  Be thankful for you life.  Be thankful for something.  That doesn't mean you can't complain or express yourself.  We should always be real and honest.  That means the good, the bad, and the ugly.  And I know, sometimes it gets real ugly.  But find some balance.  Find something to be thankful for.  We can all do that right?     

Life isn't always like a bowl of lucky charms.

Peace Out Peeps


      






       

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