Wednesday, September 30, 2009

Tamiflu-Induced Ramblings

Nothing like a little late night Tamiflu-induced insomnia to motivate a mama to get her blog on! That's me. I'm coated from head to toe in Lysol, I periodically wear a face mask (no, I'm not kidding), and I live in the upstairs portion of my house only, a plentiful space that I share with my nearly 7-month-old daughter. We're in voluntary confinement while the other three family members suffer in the lower regions of our house from H1N1. With all of the coughing, the fever, the vomiting, the constant refusal to take the medicine down there, it's not the happiest place on earth for my poor sick husband. I feel sorry for him having to miss work and spend his days convalescing while simultaneously caring for and attempting to entertain two sick children but our number one priority is keeping Harper (the baby) well and we will do anything in our power to do that, even if it means severing all ties with each other until this thing is over. Plus, I seem to recall multiple incidences in which I was sick and forced to entertain well children while I semi-convalesced. That's just the way it is for the stay-at-home-mom: when she gets sick there are no days off.

Moving on, my point, and I assure you I have one, is simple: Right now my life sucks. I'm forced to cover my house in chemicals that I usually avoid completely (yes, I'm one of those annoying mamas who uses green cleaners), I'm plagued with worry about my sweet baby girl catching this nasty bug, and I obsessively run to the bedsides of my two sleeping children downstairs to feel their head as if this will provide me some type of epiphany about their condition. I do this with my mask on in my nightgown, rockin' my glasses which fog up with every breath. I'm right out of a horror film. If these poor kids have the misfortune of waking up during one of these head-feeling incidents, they may never be the same again. Must. Gain. Control. Of my compulsive need to feel their foreheads. Besides, it tells me nothing. If I think they feel excessively hot, I make my husband take their temperature so that I can obsess about the number. I'm pretty sure Pink was thinking of me when she wrote these lyrics:

"This used to be a fun house. But now it's full of evil clowns"

Kinda sucks that I'm the evil clown.


Monday, September 14, 2009

Buffy the Overscheduled Stay-At-Home Mom

You know that stereotypical stay-at-home-mom, the one we all love to hate? Her name is Buffy and she's got her paws in the PTO, the Junior League, and every bake sale known to man. Her presence is felt at her children's school on a weekly basis and she's constantly driving someone somewhere. Yeah, that's me, except for the Junior League part. I get points for that, right?

Right now I'm in the bitten-off-more-than-I-can-chew phase of my rock star stay-at-home-mom stint. I'm in charge of food at my son's school's Fall Festival and 1st grade parents just don't seem to want to volunteer, I've got assignments coming out of my ears, I've got a 6-month-old-baby, my minivan (could I be more of a cliché?) is in the shop, and the departure time for my long-awaited Disney World trip just happens to fall on the same date as my son's Fall Festival. I could list all of the other things I'm up to my knees in but I think I've played my martyr card enough today and, let's face it, nobody likes a martyr, especially the stay-at-home-mom variety. Right now I'm contemplating coping mechanisms. I'm torn between a 45 minute stint on the treadmill and some aggressive phone calls or a large glass of cabernet and a nap. Right now the latter is winning. Help!