Nightmare

Last week I went to Borders and found that the cafe had been taken over by Seattle's Best and was closed for some remodeling during the transition.

My first thought was, gosh dang it, they're closed. I can't have chai tonight.

My second thought was, oh no...what if they don't serve the chai I like anymore??

I only like Borders original chai. I don't like the chai at Starbucks, or Panera, or at Barnes and Noble, or Books-A-Million, or anywhere else I've ever tried it. They always put too much ginger in it (and this has been confirmed to me by a friend who has been to India and tasted authentic chai. She served me real, brewed chai in her house once, and it was so very much like Borders' chai I wanted to cry).

My fear is that Seattle's Best will not appreciate the distinction. I actually had a nightmare about it early this morning.

In my dream, I walked into Borders to find most of the cafe enclosed behind the counter (LESS SPACE, PEOPLE! Borders cafe has always been short on tables and space. This would only make the problem worse). I approached the counter and asked to sample their chai. There was no way I was going to pay good money for chai that could turn out to be swill. The barista handed me a cup and said "Let me know if you like it hotter."

Not only was it LUKEWARM, it had hardly any taste at all. No honey, no cardamom, no cinnamon. At least there was no ginger either, but that hardly helped matters. I said, "Yes, MUCH hotter, and MUCH stronger." I tried it again. It was crap.

I spoke to the manager and explained that my trips to Borders were how I spent my nights "off" from my kids, and that the chai formerly served was the main reason I came to the Borders coffee shop instead of somewhere else. I politely requested she contact the national office (or whatever...this was a dream, you know!) and ask them to look into the original Borders chai recipe.

Her reply? "Nobody liked that chai."

She called me a nobody. I was so indignant I promptly woke up.

In reality, the remodel should be finished by now. The new cafe opened yesterday, I think. I don't know when I'll have a chance to get up there. But I'm already feeling anxious.

Aislinn's latest words

(First, before I get to the real post, I have to let it out...comments are open at Dooce! I can hardly stand it. I wrote in the first part of my comment that I was hyperventilating, I was so excited. I am such a dork, I know!

Now, on to Aislinn's tricks...)

Word: mmmMMMmmm!
Occasion: eating anything (this is my current favorite; she says it with such enthusiasm!)

Word: HIIIIIIIiiiii!
Occasion: seeing a person, any person, whether that person is looking at her or not, smiling at her or not, knows her or not.

Word: Cat (mostly signed, but sometimes spoken)
Occasion: Anytime either of the two felines in our house enters her radar.

Word: More, please (two words, signed only, but yes, used together!)
Occasion: When her sister is feeding her Cheerios. Sometimes she thinks the sign for "more" actually means "Cheerios", as this is generally the only context she uses it in.

Word: Diaper
Occasion: Said several times on one occasion only, but so clearly (DI-puh) and while I was changing her diaper that she clearly knew it.

Word: Hot
Occasion: When I'm holding a coffee cup.

Disjointed, very non-sequiter-like

Every time I click on my Blogger Dashboard link, it makes me think of Paradise by the Dashboard Light (and yes, I have downloaded that). Who knew an LP with only seven songs on it could sell so big? (though I guess with three of the songs over 8 minutes, only seven would fit on a standard cassette tape)

I said good-bye to Hilger House this weekend. When Leo wouldn't give it a definite "no", I started thinking it might be a possibility. But our financial advisor thought it was a bit out of our reach. We knew it was a little out of our price range, but wanted to wait and see if they'd lower the price. Turns out, they'd have to lower it a lot for us to truly be able to afford it (and not have to depend on hand-me-downs for the kids the rest of their lives, and still be able to buy chai once in a while, and perhaps even be able to buy some new furniture to match the nice house). But I did see it one more time. We were out looking at other houses this weekend. My parents were with us, so we thought we'd drive by to give them a look at it. And there was an Open House! I had to go in. It was just as wonderful as the first time we saw it, maybe more so. I even saw things I hadn't noticed the first time (a laundry chute! original old-fashioned keys for some of the doors! a built-in breadbox in the kitchen!). I visited every room one last time, sighed, and said good-bye.

Today was a sucky day. We've been getting new floor laid in the public rooms (which is how I refer to the kitchen, living room, and dining room). I am generally protective of the privacy of my home, and I knew having people I barely know, if at all, come in and spend several days here installing these floors would be potentially very stressful. Yesterday we managed by going to the Children's Museum. Today, since they got the dining room done yesterday, I figured we could move the sofa and TV in there, take a few toys, and hang out there while they worked on the other rooms. That was fine for a couple of hours, and then they had to move other furniture in there, and it was not a place that felt fun to hang out in. It was getting stressful for me again, so I took the kids to Applebee's for lunch, and then we headed to the library for a couple of hours. The good part about this was that Aislinn fell asleep in the car on the way to the library and actually stayed asleep when I put her in the stroller. This kid, she's so different from her sister. So she napped while Audrey played a computer game and I browsed for a while. Then a kindergarten buddy of Audrey's showed up with her babysitter, so we hung out with them for a while before heading home. The house was still chaos. The kids and I retreated to my bed, though Audrey finally left for her bed after two minutes of me telling her to hush so Aislinn could fall asleep. When I woke up shortly before 5, Audrey was climbing back in bed with me, her jacket on. She was cold she said. Odd. She went to sleep. Aislinn woke up. I played with her, turned on the TV in our room hoping to find something, realized the antenna (we don't have cable) had been moved to another small TV, the one we'd put in the dining room this morning. I went out to try to grab that antenna and realized...furniture had been moved back into reasonable positions. I grabbed the baby gate and was about to put it up, when one of the handyman guys (a couple of Chinese guys that work for Leo's realtor boss) said to me in Chinese, wait a minute. They wanted to move the sofa back into the living room. All the better. So I wait, holding Aislinn all this time, and then I hear Audrey calling me. I thought she was afraid from some of the tool noises, but it turns out she was about to throw up. We were all the way on the other side of the house from our only bathroom (reason #1395 we need to move), and did not want to get up. Wanted me to bring her the barf bowl. So I ran, still with Aislinn on my hip, towards the kitchen.

I did not slip on the newly installed laminate. No, I did not. What I did do was trip on the flap of carpet not yet pulled up in the kitchen (carpet in the kitchen being reason #534 we need to move), Aislinn still in my arms. I pitched forward, both knees hitting (and now sporting bruises). I caught Aislinn's back with my right hand, but the back of her head still hit the floor. It was the only time in the past couple of years I have been thankful for the carpet in the kitchen. I was horrified, but she was fine, and I was still freaking out, trying to find a bowl for Audrey to puke in. The workers heard me trip and came in (I figured they would scold me for falling with the baby in the way that Chinese tend to do). I ignored them. I was frantic. One of my kids was puking, and the other was wailing because her mommy had just fallen down with her and bonked her head on the floor. I finally found a bowl, ran back to the bedroom, to find Audrey already catching chunks in her hands. It had been so forceful, it was also all over her face and in her hair. Poor baby. Poor babies! She had not finished being sick, so the bowl was not in vain.

By now, my adrenaline had been used up and I was almost crying. I called Leo and told him I needed him home as soon as possible (and he still had to get food to bring home for us, because the kitchen was unusable). Audrey had to sit with puke on her face for a full ten minutes before I was composed enough to go out and get a washcloth to clean her up. Aislinn remained in my arms for another 10 minutes before I persuaded Audrey to move to the living room where the room had finally, FINALLY been set aright. I closed the baby gates, and was going to argue with the first person who tried to tell me in Chinese to wait another minute, but I didn't need to worry. I got another bowl, and it was a good thing, because before too long, Audrey was getting sick again. Now the guys understood why I was acting like a crazy woman. But at least I could put down the baby, who by now had recovered from her bump on the head and was frantic to get down and run around.

The suckiness gets worse: last week we got a letter from the principal of Audrey's school, informing us she had missed over seven days of school (it was actually 8), which warranted a letter of warning, a copy of which would be put in her permanent record. Excuse me? The first six days she was sick, she had chickenpox. The letter was threatening us with a meeting with a truant officer if she missed two more days. It requested a written explanation of "possible medical reasons" Audrey may have missed school so far. That was the last straw. Not only had I called the school, as required, every time Audrey was sick, not only had I written her a note of excuse, as required, every time she returned, but I also put exactly how she was sick in every note. Chickenpox. Puking. Fever of 103. Already documented.

Whatever. I wrote the letter, giving the reason for her three seperate PERIODS of absence, and then expressed my frustration at receiving the letter from the school. I explained that Audrey was not particularly prone to illness, but it is flu season. Kindergartners in particular are getting exposed to lots of new bugs for the first time. I wrote that if she did get sick again, I would no doubt be worrying and debating whether she was indeed sick enough.

That was last week. Our family rule for missing school is fever and/or throwing up. Audrey had both tonight. Tomorrow I could easily justify keeping her home, but I'm probably going to have to send her if she doesn't have a fever and doesn't throw up before it's time to go.

If she throws up at school, I hope it's in the principal's office.

To my Valentine

Ten years ago today was a special Valentine's Day for us. We started our life together, choosing each other even though we did not speak the same first language, even though we come from vastly different cultures and backgrounds. My life has been so richly blessed because of all you have added to it: not just jiaozi and the Great Wall, but also humor, patience, and most of all, unconditional love for me, even with all of my baggage.

Plus, we make great-looking kids together ;)

Happy Valentine's Day, Leo, and Happy TENTH (!) Anniversary. The words in the card you gave me said it better than I could: "I wonder where the years have gone, but never how else I could have spent them."

Good news: I think I'm more or less healthy

Bad news: my sinuses and lungs have decided that since I'm more or less healthy, they will ALL AT ONCE let go of all the snot and mucous they were hoarding in my head and chest. I must have been pretty sick, because my body made lots of extra this time.

Euchhhh.

Dream a little dream

I love dreams. I even appreciate bad dreams. I love trying to figure out what they mean, what my subconscious is trying to express. When I was about to leave to live in China, I had a dream for each member of my family (including the cat) in which something bad happened to them. I realized that although I was excited to be going, I was anxious about going so far from my family for so long, and knew how helpless I would be so far away if something should happen to them. Then there's a recurring dream (really, a TYPE of dream) I have when my life is getting a bit hectic and out of control: I dream I'm back in school, sometimes college, sometimes high school, and I'm either late for a test, unprepared for a test, can't FIND where I'm supposed to take the test, or realize I have not even attended that class all semester. Oh, and another "favorite" dream: when in real life I need to pee really, REALLY bad, and I do in my dream too...but in my dream, I'm looking, looking for a toilet, and I'm always out somewhere, not at home, and when I finally find the public restrooms, they're either all full, or all FILTHY.

Yesterday after Leo brought the girls back from the doctor, he went to the store to pick up some things we needed. He really had no choice but to leave me, still sick, with two sick kids. I decided to try to put Aislinn down to sleep, as it was about her bedtime anyway (and Leo at least did feed them before heading out again). As I was nursing her, I heard Audrey cry out from her sickbed on the loveseat in the living room, "Mama!!!" I'm used to her being a bit of a drama queen sometimes, but I got up, picked up Aislinn, and made my way through the rubble of the house into the living room.

"Mama, I have to go potty, and you need to hold my popsicle so it doesn't drip!"

Grin. OK. So I grab the popsicle (one of those electrolyte thingies) and she makes a beeline for the bathroom. She REALLY has to go. And then I hear her start to cry, and I realize, she's had An Accident.

Sigh. Aislinn is whining to go back to bed. My fever is heading back up. All I want to do is lie down and nap myself. But motherhood calls. I set Aislinn down in the safety of the gated living room, and as she screams, I get in the bathroom and strip Audrey's lower half. There is a huge puddle of yellow on the floor. She is crying, upset, no matter how much I reassure her it's ok, she's sick, she's been lying down all day and not gotten up to potty much ("But MOM, I'm in KINDERGARTEN!!!"). I throw her clothes in the sink for Leo to deal with (bet me: they're still there as I write), get some cleaning supplies in the kitchen, run back to the bathroom, and rejoice at least in the fact that, YAY! I have TILE! on my bathroom floor! I am not hopelessly trying to clean up urine from carpet like I would have been a week ago! I clean it up, get clean clothes for Audrey, and carry Aislinn back to bed.

Last night I dreamed that five-year-old Audrey said to us, while her daddy was holding her, "My water broke!"

Yeah, I think I'm getting way too anxious over mrtl's impending labor.

You gotta love him...

From my sickbed on the sofa, I can see the living room strewn with toys and a few bags and boxes of bathroom stuff that has not yet been moved back into the bathroom.

(Um. Not sure I mentioned it. Leo and a couple of guys who do remodeling for his boss redid our bathroom this weekend. Drywall, paint, new tub, new sink, new floor and shower tile. The works.)

Anyway...as I was saying, the living room looks like the aftermath of the End Times. The drywall dust on the furniture (the floor, at least, has been vacuumed) additionally helps neither the room's appearance nor my general health.

My poor husband...he has been playing nursemaid to Audrey and me, cooking for us, bringing me Sprite and ice cream, keeping Aislinn entertained...ok, the last one actually needs a little work. He likes to think he can keep an ear on her from the office while he "gets a little work done", as she transforms the living room yet further into Doom and Destruction. Actually, I think he also secretly thinks that I am not so sick that I can't run after her.

Right.

So. While Leo is "listening for her" two rooms away, she has:

• Eaten one piece of Life cereal from a bowl he handed her (and left her with unsupervised), before proceeding to dump the remainder in the bowl onto the floor.
• Dumped the bowl again, in a different place in the same room, after he picked the cereal up off of the floor and gave it to her AGAIN (the man has a slow learning curve, I'm telling you)
• Brained her sister with the alarm clock I used this morning to wake up in time to call the school to call Audrey in sick (because I knew Leo would forget about this detail, and this is one detail I am unwilling to let slide. Do you think I would welcome a truant officer and/or a social worker at my door at this point?)
• Grabbed the TV tray I was eating from and nearly gave me a heart attack as she almost poured hot chicken soup all over herself.

And yet...he put a load of laundry in the washer today for the first time in...well, years, quite honestly. He is right now running an errand for bread and popsicles for Audrey. And when he comes back, he is taking both kids with him to the doctor. I need to make it clear, though: the point is HE is taking them, not he is taking BOTH of them. It's necessary to make this point because 20 minutes ago we noticed Aislinn's cheeks were flushed, and sure enough, she's running a low-grade fever. So I got her squeezed in with Audrey's appointment this afternoon.

However, he WAS going to take her anyway. And my main point is...HE IS TAKING THE KIDS TO THE DOCTOR! Never mind he doesn't know the doctor's name, never mind I made the calls. He is taking them, not me.

And I have great suspicions he will not be going to the Bible study this evening that he was planning on taking Aislinn with him. Because, she's sick, and I know he will not leave me here, sick, with two sick kids to take care of.

If he says he is, I am immediately leaving and checking into a motel until I have recovered.

blaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrrrghhhhhhhfffffff

If that looks like a puking kind of word to you, you'd be correct.

Went to my family doc today. (LOVE her. She knows my kids by name even though they see another doc and rarely go in with me. She was supportive of my decision to homebirth, was a sympathetic supporter in my early breastfeeding issues with Audrey, and helped me feel ok about being on antidepressants.) She listened to my lungs and pronounced them "crackly all over." Since my fever went as high as 103.something yesterday, she gave me a script for Zithromax, and another one for an extremely, wonderfully, narcotic cough medicine.

As a kid, I had a reaction (I barfed my guts out) to erythromycin, an antibiotic which is in the same family as Zithromax. I've always listed it as something I'm allergic to, but somehow, as an adult, I was accidentally given a prescription for Zithromax. This was a wonderful mistake, because not only did I NOT puke my guts out then, that drug made me feel 85% better within a couple of hours of the first dose. (Bonus: you only take it once a day for five days, good for me since I am always missing doses of the multiple times a day for 10 days abx). I didn't even realize until a few years later that this was in the same class of antibiotic, and assumed I'd grown out of my allergy/sensitivity/whatever.

Today when I got home, I immediately took the first dose of the Z-pac (which is now available generically, Super Bonus!), the one that is two pills (the remaining four days are one pill only). I also took the first dose of the cough medicine (THE. NASTIEST. tasting stuff I have ever had the unfortunate experience to taste). This was on an empty stomach. Big, big, BIG mistake. Within an hour, I was kneeling in the bathroom before the Great White Throne, making the sound you see depicted at the top of this post.

I was not sure what to think. Maybe I had not outgrown the allergy after all, despite having taken the Zithromax for years. Maybe the generic was slightly different, causing the unexpected reaction. Maybe I did indeed have the flu, which Dr. LOVE-Her believed I did not have. Whatever, I called her office back and left a message on the prescription line asking if I could get an alternate antibiotic. I waited a few hours, called the drugstore to see if it had been called in, called the script line again. This went on for several hours. (NOTE: I do not blame Dr. LOVE-Her for this at all; one of her nurses deals with this. She probably has no idea I even called back today.)

In the end, I learned that, indeed, it was probably taking it on an empty stomach and taking it with the cough medicine (a very VERY powerful medicine indeed) were my mistakes. Both the pharmacy and the nurse (who FINALLY called ME) also assured me that while puking was a common side effect, it usually only happened with the first, doubled dose.

While I'm still a bit annoyed with the nurse, I'm relieved I can continue taking my wonderful effective Z-pac when I need it.

Oh, and this afternoon? Audrey was looking puny. (I was also clued in by the fact that she put herself down for a nap, something I don't even usually make her do anymore). I took her temp. 102.something. I'm having LEO take her in to her doc tomorrow. I don't want to be messing with Immediate Care or the ER over the weekend.

Doncha wish your girlfriend was hot like the governor's?

I am sick, coughing up both lungs, feverish, and wiped out. I should not even be online, let alone blogging. But I was surfing my favorite blogs, and nearly coughed myself into a coma from laughing so hard when I read Susie's latest post.

And I had to blog. I meant to blog about this a couple of weeks ago when I first heard about it, but life got in the way, so, well, I'm doing it now after being reminded by Susie.

So apparently the governor of Indiana, Mitch Daniels, was having a press conference about something or other. Someone's cell phone rang, I lovely little bell-like tinkle. Governor Daniel paused to give the unfortunate person a chance to turn the phone off, and then commented, "That's really quite a nice ringtone. Very pretty. Not like my daughter's...it's something like...what is that song?

"Oh yeah...Doncha wish your girlfriend was hot like me?"

The local news used the soundbite of the lyric as the teaser for the brief story. It was really something to hear the state's governor TALK like that. Scandal.

**Actually, I voted for Gov. Daniels, and think he's a cool guy...especially since he is very interested in possibly helping with the midwifery bill next year, since it, of course, did not get heard this year.

Totally scared and pissed off

My friend was once again forced to go to court today to defend herself and continue fighting for her right to make medical decisions for her daughter. It did not go so well this time; custody was taken away, although she can visit her in the hospital and can even still breastfeed her (this has been a real point of contention). AND, unbelievably, I and one other friend have been approved for visitation as well, with or without the mother's presence. I am shocked that a nonrelative (let alone two) has been allowed this privilege, but plan on being there as much as I can without neglecting my own two.

It's really unfortunate...no, make that sad and downright scary...that being a strong advocate for your child's health can put you at risk for accusations like Munchausen's by proxy. I read an article today that made it clearer for me, though. This paragraph in particular stood out:

"In this way, the social and economic circumstances of medicine helped bring needy patients into contact with frustrated doctors; one product of this interaction was the portrait of the despised Munchausen patient. Similarly, it is no accident that the rise of the Munchausen by proxy diagnosis has run parallel with the rise of aggressive behavior in medical patients. During the past decade, people have routinely shown up at doctors’ offices armed with Internet printouts, or displayed a suspicion of “mainstream medicine” fed by alternative practitioners and by dissatisfaction with managed care. These patients, caught up in their conceptions of themselves as “empowered advocates,” can come into conflict with doctors and caseworkers. "

It's so obvious to me now: it's about power, about the power doctors have been given over the years, and now their unwillingness to share it, in the face of the power of the internet.

When it's all said and done, that's why I chose to give birth at home. Birth is powerful, and it made me feel powerful. And as a woman, I am not willing to share that power with a doctor who might try to take it all for him- or herself.

Browsing (for he-who-is-yet-to-be-named)

Senior Year Hitlists

I can't see myself paying so much for an entire playlist, but this has been great for finding more 80s music!

Help me name my mp3 player

While I know people who name their belongings, I've never done that. But now, there is a need. Saying the five syllables that comprise "my mp3 player" gets tedious. I can't call it an iPod, because it's not, but if I say "my Sansa", no one will know what the heck that is. So I need a name, especially since I'm planning on talking about it frequently.

If it helps, I think it's a boy, but it doesn't need a particularly boyish-sounding name.

I just can't stay away from courthouses

I spent the afternoon in court with a friend who was fighting CPS for custody of her daughter.

It was my first time in a courtroom. It was a bit different than what I've seen on TV. The lights were bright, and people were milling in and out the whole time. It is apparently the practice of this judge, who ruled over a circuit court, to call entire groups of interested parties in a case to stand in front of the bench while he or other lawyers questioned them. There was a big shelf of lawbooks on one side of the courtroom, and my friend's lawyers were free to roam around in front of the bench, behind the people the judge was listening to.

There were two other cases we sat through (more or less...we also did our own milling in and out), both of which also seemed to be custody cases. We got to hear one really good lawyer (who I think actually goes to our church) pound the testimony of a cop who had made a really poorly written report.

When her case finally came up, our party was the last one left in the courtroom.

My friend's daughter is sick. I'll let that suffice. She has taken her to doctors, gotten physical and speech therapy for her, visited specialists, and finally took her into the ER of a locally well-known and well-respected (though not by me anymore) children's hospital. The doctor put on her case disagreed with what other doctors had diagnosed and refused to do the treatment my friend was asking for, which had been recommended by one of her other doctors. My friend became upset and wanted to take her daughter out of the hospital. The doctor accused her of having Munchausen's syndrome by proxy, called Child Protective Services, and had my friend kicked out of the hospital. (This was a pediatrician, mind you, not a psychiatrist.) She was not allowed to see her daughter (who is still breastfeeding) for more than three days, and was finally allowed a brief supervised visit yesterday.

The prosecutor had two witnesses planned for today: the doctor who kicked her out, and the social worker assigned to my friend. The doctor, apparently too busy to be bothered, supposedly was planning on testifying via telephone. My friend's lawyers objected on the grounds she has the right to confront her accusers in person. The judge agreed, and actually sent a sheriff to the hospital to arrest her in contempt of court for ignoring a subpoena! I don't think it actually came to that, but we were all high-fiving each other for a while after we heard that.

That left the social worker, who really appeared truly incompetent. It was clear he had only skimmed the baby's case file, and was not even sure of her exact age. He seemed unsure of himself when he answered both the prosecutor's questions (which seemed very leading at times) and the defense. I think this was apparent to the judge as well. In the end, since there was no one present to give clear evidence that my friend has Munchausen's by proxy (the whole idea of which is thoroughly ridiculous), the judge ruled in favor of my friend.

I am glad justice was served, but I am chilled by the fact of how much power a single person can have. And not for the first time am I disappointed in a system that is supposed to be set up to protect children, but all too often seems to let them down. I am sure there are abused children that CPS rescues. But there are many they do not that they should, and many who are not abused that they actually harm by their interference. And the ones that they do "rescue"? So many of them end up in foster care, sometimes in worse circumstances than the ones they left.

Times like today, I'm tempted to convince Leo we need to move back to China. Isn't that ironic?