So before I start feeling sorry for myself, and have to remind myself to wash my hair and put on some clean clothes, and the bottom totally falls out and I move into a spare room at my parents’, at least I have comedic relief.
Q: Key to happiness? A: Just say, “Fuck it.” And move on. And if someone tries to get in your way or fuck you over massively, and you’re seeing it in bright, vivid Technicolor? Some may abuse the system, use the family, friends etc. All of it, it’s been done before. I’m thankful for being around some of the smartest, wisest women (ARNP’s, doctors, nurses) that were around me at such a time when I really needed it most.
This type of upheaval, it’s been a couple of months, but hey. I work, I’m in school. I’m not crouched in my closet, crying dramatically “Oh I’m so small!” while I’m getting basically shit on left and right. I’m carrying on and knowing that this is how it is. And all these hateful, outright vile things someone needs to say about me just to justify their transgressions, well that is just more reason to move on. Been here before? So what. Does it make me some kind of failure? I know what happened, I see the forest for the trees. Truth, guilt, reasoning, resilience, hope has its own way of showing itself.
Am I worried about my future? Sure. But everyday, I’m starting to realize that I’m more better off than I think. My kids and me. That is all that matters.
It’s going to be okay. My family is going to be okay. I’m going to be okay. All the bs? Well, that’s going to happen. It’s gonna happen like a huge 40’s showtunes display full of dancers and elaborate “Holy shit, is that even possible for a human? WTF” skills.
But you know what?
Feeling so nauseous for some reason. I can think of a couple reasons why. Things just got so messed up.
Within the first 30 minutes of my mom being here she looked me up and down and was all “honey, are you expecting?”
Nope mom, just squishy. Thanks for asking though!!!!
Annie: keeping it real and a tick rude since 1951.
Hazel is sick.
102.6-ish degrees sick
(I say “ish” because I have yet to get a consistent reading with this thermometer…this was the highest of our several attempts.)
She whimpered all night and had absolutely no interest in her food.
Her fever comes and goes (depending on how much baby Tylenol she has on board) and her naps today dragged on hours past their typical duration.
It was abundantly clear that she didn’t feel well, at all.
Her doctor and the nurses in our family gave us the same advice:
keep a close eye on her, call back in the morning if her fever hasn’t subsided.
I am worried, of course. “Sick kid” is uncharted territory for me
But more than that even, I have been sad all night.
Sad that Z is hurting and sad that we can’t do much to make her feel better
(the few tactics that seem to be helping include - rocking her gently in the glider, reading books in a hushed tone, kissing her flushed forehead and letting her press all the buttons on the in-ear thermometer)
There are times when this whole parenting thing is about a million times harder than I anticipated…
Times when I feel woefully unprepared for the demands (emotional and otherwise) of motherhood.
Baby’s First Fever is definitely one of those times.
#Feel better nugget.
I appreciate the fact that you made me feel so bad, (that’s an understatment) then turn around and say I don’t love myself. So you can feel better about being with someone else.
Earlier this month, I experienced a death. I turned a curious shade of gray, then jaundiced. I was sick. My body really felt the worst it ever felt before. Lymph nodes went berserk. I was shellshocked, and the fun part was the asshole had fun messing with me. Nursing instructors, other mothers understood.
And it was there. I could sense something happening and going on, and life as I knew it would be slipping away. I was there, helpless. And I was attacked and made to feel as if this was all my undoing. Staving the day to day. exhausted. But that doesn’t matter. Frankly, what does matter? To him, an atheist, “it doesn’t matter.” Liberals can say, oh, life goes on. Have fun. Who answers to anyone.
I am wondering if I have any words left to adequately tell without being bitter and off-putting.
The world is just freaking amazing. Imagine being trapped in a body with barely functioning motor control for 15 years. This woman has lived that life, after having a stroke.
Thanks to Leigh Hochberg’s team at Brown University, a tiny chip implanted in her brain now lets her control a robotic arm. She can reach out, grab, and manipulate objects with no more effort than her thoughts. The same effort that each of us make when we move our own arms.
This is such a heartwarming example of dedicated, hardcore scientific research affecting lives for the better. Just look at her face as she sips from the thermos (it’s at about 1:55, and you might get some dust in your eye).
Sure, space is an amazing frontier for inspiration. But if that doesn’t work out, we’ve got a whole lot of lives to change down here. And science is getting a great start.
Previously: A paralyzed man controls a prosthetic arm with his mind, high fives his girlfriend for the first time in years. (Additional face-water warning)
(via Wired Science)