It's been a day.
A long day at work, a long evening home, and too many coals in the fire of my life. The to do list is long and the nerves are short and I feel I'm failing at this motherhood gig every single day.
You see, I'm finally in the shower (8:30) and a sweet boy rounds the corner asking for clothes. He's currently into only underwear. I snap and mutter under my breath, as I normally do - "get them yourself. I can't do it while I'm in the shower!"
Away he goes and slowly returns holding up a shirt and asking if it's okay. I nod.
Away he goes again and I shower in peace, questioning why I have so many coals in the fire and wondering how I'm measuring up on the motherhood scale - not well I conclude. I finish up my shower and as I'm getting out --
"Mommy, just dry off and then come help me, okay? You need to help me, mommy."
Tears. My tears. That faithful little dude wasn't mad at me for snapping, but instead he sat patiently waiting on my bed because mommy puts his clothes on just right. That sweet little smile waited for me anyway, knowing I'd kiss his head before he toddled on downstairs for a bedtime snack.
"I love you, mommy"
Wordy, sure, but my point is this: we may feel we're failing at motherhood every day, but the truth is that we aren't. Our kids eyes see us differently and they don't compare us to unrealistic standards. They love us regardless. Let's stop focusing on failing and focus on fulfilling.
My new goal. I owe it to my kids. They sure put up with a lot from me.
Saturday, May 30, 2020
Sunday, May 24, 2020
Measurements
How do you measure a mother?
Is it in the quiet moments where everyone is safe or the crazy moments when the laughter is too loud, deafening?
Is it measured by contentment of a happy child, scribbling on a cardboard box, imagination running wild ~ dreams being drawn?
Do we measure mom by how her children grow up to be successful? Or because they grow up to be kind?
Should we shelter our children from the outside world or sit in the shadows, clapping, as their brains make sense of information ~ developing own opinions and identities?
Is a mother measured by the amount of veggies her kid consumes or by the chicken nuggets tossed in the back seat because it’s just too busy to slow down......
Do we measure mom by her glory, shiny moments or by her lows ~ the moments she sneaks away for solitude with a glass of wine because the day was just too much?
Do we give her a check for every family game night? Erase one when she’d rather have a moment alone instead?
Because motherhood is so much about losing and gaining and losing and gaining.......
You lose yourself so easily as your pour yourself into the tiny creatures who depend on you, look up to you, and never measure you the way you measure yourself.
You see, you can’t measure a mother at all. We are all worthy.
Is it in the quiet moments where everyone is safe or the crazy moments when the laughter is too loud, deafening?
Is it measured by contentment of a happy child, scribbling on a cardboard box, imagination running wild ~ dreams being drawn?
Do we measure mom by how her children grow up to be successful? Or because they grow up to be kind?
Should we shelter our children from the outside world or sit in the shadows, clapping, as their brains make sense of information ~ developing own opinions and identities?
Is a mother measured by the amount of veggies her kid consumes or by the chicken nuggets tossed in the back seat because it’s just too busy to slow down......
Do we measure mom by her glory, shiny moments or by her lows ~ the moments she sneaks away for solitude with a glass of wine because the day was just too much?
Do we give her a check for every family game night? Erase one when she’d rather have a moment alone instead?
Because motherhood is so much about losing and gaining and losing and gaining.......
You lose yourself so easily as your pour yourself into the tiny creatures who depend on you, look up to you, and never measure you the way you measure yourself.
You see, you can’t measure a mother at all. We are all worthy.
Monday, February 24, 2020
Wisdom
I am two beautiful children into this thing called life.
I’ve birthed and bathed and wondered and prayed - for patience, for health, for more sleep —
And for time to Just. Slow. Down.
I’ve cherished the moments- or have I truly cherished them enough?
It’s a shame that our infinite wisdom and patience comes as we get older and that we don’t have that same insight or goals in our 20s.
If I could go back and tell 26 year old first time mom me a thing or two, I’d remind that naive girl eager for a blossoming career that there are far more important things than working to the top. The years do just fly on by even when the days seem to drag and those moments spent away won’t ever come back.Those nighttime feedings are fleeting and those sweet baby snuggles end. That young girl rocking into the wee hours of the morning will one day long for baby milk breath and to wish she could start over to relive first little words and wobbly little steps.
If I could tell 29 year old me, welcoming my second child into this world, another tidbit of infinite wisdom that comes with age, I’d remind her to watch the way her daughter comforts her inconsolable son and to pay a little more attention to how her husband rocks her children while they both still fit on his lap. I’d tell her close her eyes and listen to her husband sing... “goodnight, Irene” while baby breathing becomes pattered, deep, content. I’d tell her to write more in that baby book because the 2nd kid just doesn’t get as many doodles and memories as that first. I’d remind that girl, once again, that babies really don’t keep and that the toys littering the playroom will one day break her heart as they’re packed away, never to be played with again.
It’s amazing how much perspective you gain while raising babies; how much motherhood changes and shapes you. These little people I’m supposed to be raising are changing and impacting me much more than I’m molding them and isn’t that the beauty of being a mom?
Is it okay to wish for the past? My people are growing and as much as I adore and love who they’re becoming, it surely shatters my heart.
35 year old me misses these babies.
I’ve birthed and bathed and wondered and prayed - for patience, for health, for more sleep —
And for time to Just. Slow. Down.
I’ve cherished the moments- or have I truly cherished them enough?
It’s a shame that our infinite wisdom and patience comes as we get older and that we don’t have that same insight or goals in our 20s.
If I could go back and tell 26 year old first time mom me a thing or two, I’d remind that naive girl eager for a blossoming career that there are far more important things than working to the top. The years do just fly on by even when the days seem to drag and those moments spent away won’t ever come back.Those nighttime feedings are fleeting and those sweet baby snuggles end. That young girl rocking into the wee hours of the morning will one day long for baby milk breath and to wish she could start over to relive first little words and wobbly little steps.
If I could tell 29 year old me, welcoming my second child into this world, another tidbit of infinite wisdom that comes with age, I’d remind her to watch the way her daughter comforts her inconsolable son and to pay a little more attention to how her husband rocks her children while they both still fit on his lap. I’d tell her close her eyes and listen to her husband sing... “goodnight, Irene” while baby breathing becomes pattered, deep, content. I’d tell her to write more in that baby book because the 2nd kid just doesn’t get as many doodles and memories as that first. I’d remind that girl, once again, that babies really don’t keep and that the toys littering the playroom will one day break her heart as they’re packed away, never to be played with again.
It’s amazing how much perspective you gain while raising babies; how much motherhood changes and shapes you. These little people I’m supposed to be raising are changing and impacting me much more than I’m molding them and isn’t that the beauty of being a mom?
Is it okay to wish for the past? My people are growing and as much as I adore and love who they’re becoming, it surely shatters my heart.
35 year old me misses these babies.
Wednesday, February 19, 2020
Wonky Donkey
There’s nothing like a silly book and bedtime prayers to begin a reflection and rambling... I’m good at that.
Noting like tucking in a sweet boy as he drifts to dream of basketball games, army tanks, and whatever other obsession he has in this season of his life.
Have you ever pulled so hard at pajamas because surely his head has grown since last week.... they just don’t go on.
Or shoved a tiny little foot into an even tinier shoe to simply discover it also doesn’t fit anymore. How’d it happen so fast?
They grow, don’t they? Changing daily and constantly and often before we even realize it.
Do I take it in enough? Do I truly cherish these moments enough?
So precious is that sweet little voice, “snuggle puppy, come on.”
I’m sure these days will end and I’ll never be called snuggle puppy anymore. And I can almost guarantee a tear will sneak right out of the corner of my eye when I see that board book and I look back on the greatest moments of my life - the moments I’m currently living.
Motherhood is so weird and rewarding and so much questioning. We question everything. We measure everything.
And I’d be willing to bet we hold ourselves to unattainable standards and never let ourselves measure up.
And I step back. I breathe. I count to ten. It’s too much sometimes.
But tonight, in this room, the little giggles as we read about a cranky, stinky, wonky donkey- I just know I’m doing alright.
This snuggle puppy is living.
When a time passes, my friends, its gone. The time is now.
All the mommy’s boys in the world grow up. 😢
Noting like tucking in a sweet boy as he drifts to dream of basketball games, army tanks, and whatever other obsession he has in this season of his life.
Have you ever pulled so hard at pajamas because surely his head has grown since last week.... they just don’t go on.
Or shoved a tiny little foot into an even tinier shoe to simply discover it also doesn’t fit anymore. How’d it happen so fast?
They grow, don’t they? Changing daily and constantly and often before we even realize it.
Do I take it in enough? Do I truly cherish these moments enough?
So precious is that sweet little voice, “snuggle puppy, come on.”
I’m sure these days will end and I’ll never be called snuggle puppy anymore. And I can almost guarantee a tear will sneak right out of the corner of my eye when I see that board book and I look back on the greatest moments of my life - the moments I’m currently living.
Motherhood is so weird and rewarding and so much questioning. We question everything. We measure everything.
And I’d be willing to bet we hold ourselves to unattainable standards and never let ourselves measure up.
And I step back. I breathe. I count to ten. It’s too much sometimes.
But tonight, in this room, the little giggles as we read about a cranky, stinky, wonky donkey- I just know I’m doing alright.
This snuggle puppy is living.
When a time passes, my friends, its gone. The time is now.
All the mommy’s boys in the world grow up. 😢
Monday, October 28, 2019
9.
The Halfway Birthday 😢
You’re turning 9 soon. 9. Halfway to eighteen. 2x9=18.
That’s what we’re learning at age 9.
Multiplication. Parts of speech. Who we are. Who we aren’t. Life. Love.
We’re halfway there and it hurts. It doesn’t hurt like a toothache or backache, but like a longing ache that it’s already halfway over and the hurt of wanting a time that’s already passed or reaching for a snuggly toddler that’s now a tween. A good hurt.
You’ll never not be my daughter and I’ll never not be your mom, but the older you get, the more independent you become. Eighteen is the magical age of knowing it all although I’m 100% sure you already think you do. By all accounts, your independence means I’m doing my job, right?
I’m trying, my girl. Even when you test me with your attitude or on the days you’re much too loud and I can’t think straight. I’m still trying.
That’s you learning, isn’t it? Growing. Becoming who you’re supposed to be. Pushing the limits. I want you to push and challenge yourself always, even when I don’t appreciate it in the short term.
I can’t help but feel a bit of anxiety just waiting for your first heartbreak, first missed invitation, first lost friendship. It’s coming. We’ve gotten halfway here much too quickly and it only goes faster with the passing years. Didn’t you just arrive?
I’d be failing you if I didn’t take time to prepare you for what’s in store in the second half; the challenging half. It’s been fairly easy so far. It won’t always be this way.
You won’t always be the best, the prettiest, the smartest, or the one handpicked to be at the top of the team and I want you to know that’s totally okay and to never forget that not all that glitters is gold. It’s way better to simply be you, even when being you means being different.
This too shall pass. Everything does. Breathe. Take it in. Dream.
Don’t ever feel inadequate or less than. You won’t impress everyone — You don’t have to and they’ll never realize the fabulous gift they’re missing by failing to be around you.
We’re halfway there, my girl, and I’m here for it all!
You’re turning 9 soon. 9. Halfway to eighteen. 2x9=18.
That’s what we’re learning at age 9.
Multiplication. Parts of speech. Who we are. Who we aren’t. Life. Love.
We’re halfway there and it hurts. It doesn’t hurt like a toothache or backache, but like a longing ache that it’s already halfway over and the hurt of wanting a time that’s already passed or reaching for a snuggly toddler that’s now a tween. A good hurt.
You’ll never not be my daughter and I’ll never not be your mom, but the older you get, the more independent you become. Eighteen is the magical age of knowing it all although I’m 100% sure you already think you do. By all accounts, your independence means I’m doing my job, right?
I’m trying, my girl. Even when you test me with your attitude or on the days you’re much too loud and I can’t think straight. I’m still trying.
That’s you learning, isn’t it? Growing. Becoming who you’re supposed to be. Pushing the limits. I want you to push and challenge yourself always, even when I don’t appreciate it in the short term.
I can’t help but feel a bit of anxiety just waiting for your first heartbreak, first missed invitation, first lost friendship. It’s coming. We’ve gotten halfway here much too quickly and it only goes faster with the passing years. Didn’t you just arrive?
I’d be failing you if I didn’t take time to prepare you for what’s in store in the second half; the challenging half. It’s been fairly easy so far. It won’t always be this way.
You won’t always be the best, the prettiest, the smartest, or the one handpicked to be at the top of the team and I want you to know that’s totally okay and to never forget that not all that glitters is gold. It’s way better to simply be you, even when being you means being different.
This too shall pass. Everything does. Breathe. Take it in. Dream.
Don’t ever feel inadequate or less than. You won’t impress everyone — You don’t have to and they’ll never realize the fabulous gift they’re missing by failing to be around you.
We’re halfway there, my girl, and I’m here for it all!
Tuesday, July 30, 2019
Beautiful mess
Motherhood is messy.
It’s sitting on a creek bank and watching your kids splash and argue about who is resting on which rock and who saw that butterfly first.
It’s being the peacemaker and the score keeper over silly things and crazy things and arguments about who has the better rock throw and who found the most leaves. It’s checking off that summer bucket list before school consumes our days.....
Motherhood is far from easy. And it’s never perfect.
It’s taking in that small ray of sunshine, that quiet cup of coffee, or those two silent moments they drift to sleep. It’s calming fears and anxieties and it’s brushing the hair of a too sleepy girl, knowing one day she’ll do it completely alone.
It’s cuddles and kisses and bandaids and tears. No one tells you the tears.....
I don’t think anyone can articulate what it means to be a mom — To immerse yourself in motherhood and wondering if you’re ever enough.
We are the schedule keepers, appointment makers, glue that holds it all together..... and yet we remain tucked into the shadows ready to emerge when we’re needed and trying so hard to foster independence. Balancing on a tightrope and holding too tight or not tight enough. We want our children to become independent, even when we want so much to be needed. How we LOVE being needed.
Motherhood is funny. It’s the smallest jokes and silly songs and rhymes no one else would understand. The biggest secrets and funny comments tucked so deeply inside. It’s the fear of forgetting the way they smile, the way they smell, or the teeny tiny moments that make the mundane anything but.
I don’t know what tomorrow holds and I’m not sure how I measure up as a mom, nor do I care. I’m doing the best I can, the best for my family, and the laughs and giggles and hugs tell me I’m doing okay.
Motherhood is a journey. A weird journey full of wonder and whimsy. It’s a journey we know will end some day, even though we aren’t sure we ever want it to. When we reach that destination where are children are grown and adults, I hope we sit back and take in just how much we shaped and molded them.
I hope we can be proud of ourselves.
Motherhood is messy.
Wednesday, July 3, 2019
Adult Tonsillectomy: Because I Thought I was Tough (Spoiler: I'm Not)
Let's start with the background info... I'm 34 and a momma of two. I switched jobs almost a year ago and started with our county school system. Two weeks into the school year and my throat is so store that I can hardly swallow. Tonsils are white and full of stones. Fever is out of control. Convinced I could possibly die.
New teacher illness. Totally normal.
Except it didn't go away. It progressed and when labs finally came back, I was blessed with both mono and strep.Fast forward many months and my voice is almost gone, all of my lymph nodes are enlarged in my neck, snoring is out control, and my tonsils are "massive." I literally tested positive for strep every single time I was tested.
And there comes the news that leads me to my post: My tonsils have got to go.
I visited the ENT in April. His personality was nothing to write home about. He was extremely dry and blunt in stating, " your tonsils are enlarged, your throat is very red, and this is going to hurt. Go ahead and get it scheduled."
So I did. I scheduled in summer, after vacation, but before our deductible started over:)
And begins this experience:
June 25th: The Day Before
Stress cleaning the entire house. Stress eating the entire pantry (before midnight). Anxiety at a high. I thought of cancelling several times, googled all the reviews on my doctor (a little late, I know), and cried - convinced that I was going to die.
June 26th: Surgery Day
The sweetest nurse ever inserted my IV. She assured me this would be cake compared to the mono/strep combo and I believed her. I remember being wheeled into the room and them telling me to breathe. I woke up and asked if it was over (it was) and heard a nurse tell another nurse "She looks like a teenager." THANK YOU
My husband was waiting on me with a smile. The gave me some ginger ale, coke, and ice. I was fine. Pain was minimal. I could talk. We stopped at Kroger on the way home to fill my meds and I ate a banana. This wasn't bad at all. I get two cups of Chik Fil A ice on the way home because it's the best ice ever and I'm convinced everyone exaggerated.
June 27th: Post-Op Day 1.
This is nothing. I've got this. I'm tough. I have found my voice and everyone else is a wuss. I will brag about my toughness. I can eat all the ice cream I want and binge watch every movie on Netflix and it's fine.
June 28th: Post-Op Day 2
I might have a bit of pain? It's still completely tolerable. My husband has surgery on this day for a deviated septum and is gone allllllllllllll day. He woke up very sick from anesthesia and I prepare myself to care for him because this tonsillectomy recovery is nothing.Today's diet: mashed potatoes, popsicles, pudding, and jello.
June 29th: Post-Op Day 3
My throat looks disgusting. There are two big white holes in the back of my mouth, my uvula is huge, and my tongue hurts. Yes, my tongue hurts. It's sore everytime I hit it against my teeth. It feels somewhat better when chewing gum. My father in law drives me to Wendy's for a frosty and it's amazing to get out of the house. We watch several more movies. Pretty sure we're up to 16 now. Energy is non-existent. Today's diet consists of applesauce, mashed potatoes, and a frosty. Pain level has creeped a bit, maybe 3-4/10?
June 30th: Post-Op Day 4
Holy. Hell. This is It. I am dying. My throat is on fire when I wake up and the first real tears hit. Hard. I immediately scramble to take some medicine, which hurts. I'm pretty sure there are shards of glass in there. The only saving grace is an ice pack to the neck and mashed potatoes. Again. Today's diet consisted of scrambled eggs, oatmeal, bananas, and pudding. Luke is doing okay, but we are both in sloth mode and still binging movies. Adam Sandler is still funny, I determine this after I watch every Netflix movie with him in it.... but it hurts to laugh. And cough. And Yawn. OMG. The Yawn is a special kind of hell. I have a spit cup today because I can hardly swallow and I know that really turns my husband on..... in sickness and in health.... in sickness and in health.
We cut up a watermelon and this feels like gold on my throat.
++Let me also note this is the first night I slept through a dose of medication/water drinking. I do NOT recommend this. I paid for it.
July 1st: Post-Op Day 5
Today is a better day. I woke up at 3 am to take pain medicine, did a little online shopping which is out of control since I've been laid up, and even made it to Walmart with Luke. This was stupid, but we survived. His nose only bled slightly and we both vegged on the couch for countless hours following. I weighed myself today - 5 lbs down. Luke has lost 9 and I once again rant about how unfair it is to be a woman. Whatever. Men and their weight loss. My kids come home this evening and it's awfully nice to have them snuggled with us since I'm pretty much neglected every mom thing ever in the last 6 days. Luke cooks quesadillas and I eat them very carefully and slowly.
This is why people lose weight. You can eat some foods, but it takes about 4x as long and your throat burns after. But I'm HANGRY HUNGRY at this point, even if all foods tastes like metal and blood.
July 2nd: Post-Op Day 6
HELLLLLLLLLLLLLL. This is by far the worst day I've had. Tears come full force. I am in bad shape today...…and I kick myself because this is what everyone warned me about. This is torture.The morning pain meds sent me into a coughing spell which did not ease for over an hour. I coughed and cried and peed on myself a little because my bladder is garbage and I'm shocked I haven't died from drinking too much water. I only eat mashed potatoes today and do not move from the recliner except to give the kids a bath. I nap on and off and stick to a med schedule. I have completely weened off the strong pain meds and am alternating good old Tylenol and Ibuprofen now which is working much better. I added in some throat numbing spray today and hunted the humidifier out of the attic. It goes all day. I should've done this sooner. My energy is still non-existent and I want to punch every person who is telling me this is a piece of cake. LIARRRRRRRS. I've also started eating hamburger buns. Very slowly.
July 3rd: Post-Op Day 7 ! Today
Today has been okay. My throat still looks pretty spectacular and white. It isn't quite as scabbed looking as I expected it to be at this point, but looks freshly burned (aww, the glory). My pain has been very manageable today (still alternating Tylenol/ibuprofen) and I'm still starving. I've eaten a bit more today, but I am dying for some real food. Today's diet has consisted of: jasmine rice, mashed potatoes, a breakfast essential, oatmeal, and pudding. I'd maybe give my pain a 3. I'm drinking lots of sweet icea tea, water, and coffee in the mornings (I let it cool quite a bit). I finally had a bit of energy today so I managed to actually clean the downstairs, pay a few bills, and get off my aching butt. My tongue still hurts. I don't have the ear pain I've read about aside from a very small ache...… I'm hoping it stays this way. I have gargled salt water today and it felt so much better after.
My voice is awesome. It's the best it has been in years!!!!
So that's today. I'll update, but I am surviving and hoping I am on the downhill side. The good news is that I don't have to rush back to work or anything really. Thankfully. I'm not sure I could do it.
Here's what I've found so far:
1. Take Medicine, You will need it. Don't skip pain meds. Even if you think you can, just don't do it. It's not smart. I feel better off the strong meds, so if you can survive on T/I alternation, do it.
2. Your bowels will suck. Between anesthesia, meds, and lack of nutrition, just know it's going to happen. Prepare. It hurts.
3. Drink. Even if you don't feel like it. Drink. Sip all day long.... it helps the throat. If your throat dries out, forget it. Go ahead and cry.
4. Ice packs around the neck are heaven. I have done this many times.
5. Humidifier. Run this sucker.
6. Chew gum, mints, and have chapstick. This is all essential.
7. Sleep in a recliner for a bit. It helps to be up and on your side.
8. Your energy is going to be zapped. Find childcare if you have kids because you simply won't feel like taking care of them.
9. I have slept a lot less than I thought I would. I'm almost an insomniac now. I take small cat naps, but sleep does not come easily.
#hideyourcreditcards because there's something about being down and sick that just makes you want to buy crap nobody needs. I've shopped all week. It's been bad!
…...
New teacher illness. Totally normal.
Except it didn't go away. It progressed and when labs finally came back, I was blessed with both mono and strep.Fast forward many months and my voice is almost gone, all of my lymph nodes are enlarged in my neck, snoring is out control, and my tonsils are "massive." I literally tested positive for strep every single time I was tested.
And there comes the news that leads me to my post: My tonsils have got to go.
I visited the ENT in April. His personality was nothing to write home about. He was extremely dry and blunt in stating, " your tonsils are enlarged, your throat is very red, and this is going to hurt. Go ahead and get it scheduled."
So I did. I scheduled in summer, after vacation, but before our deductible started over:)
And begins this experience:
June 25th: The Day Before
Stress cleaning the entire house. Stress eating the entire pantry (before midnight). Anxiety at a high. I thought of cancelling several times, googled all the reviews on my doctor (a little late, I know), and cried - convinced that I was going to die.
June 26th: Surgery Day
The sweetest nurse ever inserted my IV. She assured me this would be cake compared to the mono/strep combo and I believed her. I remember being wheeled into the room and them telling me to breathe. I woke up and asked if it was over (it was) and heard a nurse tell another nurse "She looks like a teenager." THANK YOU
My husband was waiting on me with a smile. The gave me some ginger ale, coke, and ice. I was fine. Pain was minimal. I could talk. We stopped at Kroger on the way home to fill my meds and I ate a banana. This wasn't bad at all. I get two cups of Chik Fil A ice on the way home because it's the best ice ever and I'm convinced everyone exaggerated.
June 27th: Post-Op Day 1.
This is nothing. I've got this. I'm tough. I have found my voice and everyone else is a wuss. I will brag about my toughness. I can eat all the ice cream I want and binge watch every movie on Netflix and it's fine.
June 28th: Post-Op Day 2
I might have a bit of pain? It's still completely tolerable. My husband has surgery on this day for a deviated septum and is gone allllllllllllll day. He woke up very sick from anesthesia and I prepare myself to care for him because this tonsillectomy recovery is nothing.Today's diet: mashed potatoes, popsicles, pudding, and jello.
June 29th: Post-Op Day 3
My throat looks disgusting. There are two big white holes in the back of my mouth, my uvula is huge, and my tongue hurts. Yes, my tongue hurts. It's sore everytime I hit it against my teeth. It feels somewhat better when chewing gum. My father in law drives me to Wendy's for a frosty and it's amazing to get out of the house. We watch several more movies. Pretty sure we're up to 16 now. Energy is non-existent. Today's diet consists of applesauce, mashed potatoes, and a frosty. Pain level has creeped a bit, maybe 3-4/10?
June 30th: Post-Op Day 4
Holy. Hell. This is It. I am dying. My throat is on fire when I wake up and the first real tears hit. Hard. I immediately scramble to take some medicine, which hurts. I'm pretty sure there are shards of glass in there. The only saving grace is an ice pack to the neck and mashed potatoes. Again. Today's diet consisted of scrambled eggs, oatmeal, bananas, and pudding. Luke is doing okay, but we are both in sloth mode and still binging movies. Adam Sandler is still funny, I determine this after I watch every Netflix movie with him in it.... but it hurts to laugh. And cough. And Yawn. OMG. The Yawn is a special kind of hell. I have a spit cup today because I can hardly swallow and I know that really turns my husband on..... in sickness and in health.... in sickness and in health.
We cut up a watermelon and this feels like gold on my throat.
++Let me also note this is the first night I slept through a dose of medication/water drinking. I do NOT recommend this. I paid for it.
July 1st: Post-Op Day 5
Today is a better day. I woke up at 3 am to take pain medicine, did a little online shopping which is out of control since I've been laid up, and even made it to Walmart with Luke. This was stupid, but we survived. His nose only bled slightly and we both vegged on the couch for countless hours following. I weighed myself today - 5 lbs down. Luke has lost 9 and I once again rant about how unfair it is to be a woman. Whatever. Men and their weight loss. My kids come home this evening and it's awfully nice to have them snuggled with us since I'm pretty much neglected every mom thing ever in the last 6 days. Luke cooks quesadillas and I eat them very carefully and slowly.
This is why people lose weight. You can eat some foods, but it takes about 4x as long and your throat burns after. But I'm HANGRY HUNGRY at this point, even if all foods tastes like metal and blood.
July 2nd: Post-Op Day 6
HELLLLLLLLLLLLLL. This is by far the worst day I've had. Tears come full force. I am in bad shape today...…and I kick myself because this is what everyone warned me about. This is torture.The morning pain meds sent me into a coughing spell which did not ease for over an hour. I coughed and cried and peed on myself a little because my bladder is garbage and I'm shocked I haven't died from drinking too much water. I only eat mashed potatoes today and do not move from the recliner except to give the kids a bath. I nap on and off and stick to a med schedule. I have completely weened off the strong pain meds and am alternating good old Tylenol and Ibuprofen now which is working much better. I added in some throat numbing spray today and hunted the humidifier out of the attic. It goes all day. I should've done this sooner. My energy is still non-existent and I want to punch every person who is telling me this is a piece of cake. LIARRRRRRRS. I've also started eating hamburger buns. Very slowly.
July 3rd: Post-Op Day 7 ! Today
Today has been okay. My throat still looks pretty spectacular and white. It isn't quite as scabbed looking as I expected it to be at this point, but looks freshly burned (aww, the glory). My pain has been very manageable today (still alternating Tylenol/ibuprofen) and I'm still starving. I've eaten a bit more today, but I am dying for some real food. Today's diet has consisted of: jasmine rice, mashed potatoes, a breakfast essential, oatmeal, and pudding. I'd maybe give my pain a 3. I'm drinking lots of sweet icea tea, water, and coffee in the mornings (I let it cool quite a bit). I finally had a bit of energy today so I managed to actually clean the downstairs, pay a few bills, and get off my aching butt. My tongue still hurts. I don't have the ear pain I've read about aside from a very small ache...… I'm hoping it stays this way. I have gargled salt water today and it felt so much better after.
My voice is awesome. It's the best it has been in years!!!!
So that's today. I'll update, but I am surviving and hoping I am on the downhill side. The good news is that I don't have to rush back to work or anything really. Thankfully. I'm not sure I could do it.
Here's what I've found so far:
1. Take Medicine, You will need it. Don't skip pain meds. Even if you think you can, just don't do it. It's not smart. I feel better off the strong meds, so if you can survive on T/I alternation, do it.
2. Your bowels will suck. Between anesthesia, meds, and lack of nutrition, just know it's going to happen. Prepare. It hurts.
3. Drink. Even if you don't feel like it. Drink. Sip all day long.... it helps the throat. If your throat dries out, forget it. Go ahead and cry.
4. Ice packs around the neck are heaven. I have done this many times.
5. Humidifier. Run this sucker.
6. Chew gum, mints, and have chapstick. This is all essential.
7. Sleep in a recliner for a bit. It helps to be up and on your side.
8. Your energy is going to be zapped. Find childcare if you have kids because you simply won't feel like taking care of them.
9. I have slept a lot less than I thought I would. I'm almost an insomniac now. I take small cat naps, but sleep does not come easily.
#hideyourcreditcards because there's something about being down and sick that just makes you want to buy crap nobody needs. I've shopped all week. It's been bad!
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