fatigue

Score: Life- 80932, Mrs Fringe-1

This is what I want to do today:

DSC_1878 (Photo credit: Lannuit)

This is what I will do today:

NYC: 8th avenue windows through a bus window (Photo credit: Susan NYC)

Not the Chinese food part, the waiting for and riding the bus in the rain part.

Husband is doing much better, still in the hospital but I expect he’ll be able to come home today. For the record, I called it. Cardiac cath done and stent placed yesterday. When I left him last night, he was feeling much better. Between massive quantities of blood thinners and the new stent, a little more rest once he’s home, he should be a supercharged Husband by Friday. Unfortunate, because I’m so tired I was seriously tempted to shove him out of his massaging hospital bed last night, and get some sleep for myself. Those beds aren’t cushy, but they’re pretty comfortable, you don’t even need any quarters to get the magic fingers to start.

I spent a good chunk of yesterday in the waiting room next to the Cath lab. Went downstairs to the cafeteria for a cup of tea and a snack, got all excited because they actually had dill pickle chips. My favorite! After the first hour, the couple sitting next to the one outlet in the room left, so I was able to settle in and charge my phone. I didn’t have my laptop with me, but I had remembered a book and my iPod, so I had something to do. What I didn’t have was what I needed–earplugs. People, hospital waiting room does not mean party room. If you’ve got company to sit and play the waiting game with you, great. But oh. my. God. There was one group of women who literally didn’t stop yakking and laughing over each other for a second. There have been times that I’ve sat in waiting rooms by myself, and times that I’ve had company. It’s nice to have company, it can be nerve wracking to sit there–especially once you’re an hour past the estimated wait time. Shut the fuck up! I thought I showed remarkable restraint when I didn’t get up and shove my now empty pickle chip bag into the open maw of the loudest one.

Description unavailable (Photo credit: the real janelle)

I’m not going to think about the laundry that’s piled up, the cleaning that needs to be done, the aortic stenosis they saw during the cath yesterday (yanno, by the valve already replaced once), or the look on Flower Child’s face just now as I told her we have to get and go again today. Still no earplugs, but my blinders are on, and I’m doing what I need to do.

Wake Up!…Your Early Morning Call

Kate Bush – Hounds Of Love (Photo credit: Piano Piano!)

A little Kate Bush playing on the iPod in an attempt to prod myself along. Not sure what today’s sin is, but it feels appropriate to have that background voice proclaiming “guilty, guilty, guilty!”

I’m about 5 hours late for my usual blogging time. On a good day, I have 1 to 1 and 1/2 hours to myself before anyone else wakes up. My most productive time of day since I had children, though I’m not a morning person by nature.

English: Alarm clock Polski: Budzik (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

It’s my time to work out, check my (non-Mrs Fringe) Facebook acct, read and answer emails, and now blog. Hmm, either I’m over-scheduled for that time slot, or there’s something very wrong with my time management skills cause I haven’t been getting half of those things done since Man Child and Nerd Child left, and Flower Child began school.

It used to be two hours of focused time, but Flower Child’s new school is further away than the old one, so we need to leave the house earlier. For those who don’t live in NY, getting kiddos off to school is different than most of the rest of the country (if you’re an at home mom, different again if you’re getting yourself off to a paying job no matter where you are). Yes, we NY mamas also get up, get the kids up and fed, make lunch, meds for the med needs kiddo (s), and all that other fun morning trauma, but we have to get ourselves dressed, no waving to the school bus driver in our pj’s. Somewhere in here I also walk the beasts.

A man and his son dancing to the band in Times Square station (Photo credit: wwward0)

Then walk to the train, down and down the subway steps, catch the train, ride a few stops, up and up the train steps, walk from the train to the school, and then get ourselves home; to be repeated at pick up time. Most days, I’m grateful my days of carrying a stroller up and down those steps are over. When Flower Child isn’t well and needs assistance, I’m wishing I still had it.

This morning I went grocery shopping after dropping her off (Trader Joe’s is my best friend). Husband even came to pick me up, so a morning that started off behind schedule picked up nicely. Started cooking the Doggie Gumbo for the week, unloading the groceries, and the phone rang. Mother in Law needed Husband to help her get Father in Law to the ER.

Just another morning in Fringe World. I really need to work on my schedule, but for now, I’m going to put Jig of Life on for the 8th time, and dance around the empty apartment.

“I put this moment…………………here.”

Steel Drowned (Photo credit: NeoGaboX)

Shall I Toss You Off of the Terrace Now?

March0806 012 (Photo credit: ShellyS)

You would think that was the question when I asked Flower Child what she wanted for breakfast this morning. In Mrs. Fringe’s little world, this is a bad sign. She almost always wants breakfast, even if she has no intention of eating it, she likes to know it’s there at her spot; her morning routine no matter what the day brings.

Today she’s sick. We had our last beach hoorah yesterday, and it was a beautiful day. The waves weren’t too strong, just enough to make it fun. The sun was strong but the breeze was constant. She was listless within 45 seconds of heading home, asleep within 5 minutes once we arrived. This morning she’s my little puddle on the couch. The joys of medical needs parenting. Neuro crud, ptosis (connected to neuro crud), fever, that faint but definitive gray tinge to her skin, holding my breath to see if this is “just” a cold or virus.

I hope so, and sometimes it is. Other times, for no known reason, it turns into strange flus, pleurisy, pneumonia.

I’m a mom, first and foremost. I’m also a (wannabe) writer, wife, friend, dog walker, reefer, chief cook and bottle washer; human being.

Some moms will say all is well with their world when their kids are doing well. I’m not one of them, sometimes my world sucks even if all is well with the kiddos. But when all isn’t well with them, there’s no question. My heart is doing triple time up around my esophagus, and life sucks.

Wilting Flower (Photo credit: theinvisiblewombat)

Huzzah!

RenFaire 2012-parade

What else would a family of nerds do for their splurge day? Celebrate with hundreds of other fringe folks at the renaissance fair, of course. Yes, it’s true, I confess, I love ye olde faire. We hope to go every year, but it’s an expensive day, so we usually get there every other year or so. There’s something about the day of fantasy; the guys hawking huge pickles making bawdy jokes, the actors walking around, staying in character as they ad lib, and the costumes, oh the grand and glorious costumes.

First stop–always–Flower Child gets her hair braided.

Cascading Crown Braid

For this fabulous crown, we waited an hour and a half. Ludicrous, sure. Just the type of thing where Mrs Fringe would keep a tight hold on the girl’s hand and say, “absolutely not.” But it’s RENFAIRE!!!! It’s also a lovely way for her to ease into the day, she can sit in the shade, watching the actors–and guests– walk past in their costumes. Because, of course, the braiding booths are just past the entrance. The women doing the braiding love Flower Child, she waits patiently and doesn’t fidget, swing her head around, or bop up and down while they’re braiding. Part of her disorder involves excessive fatigue, so this is an excellent “activity” for her. We only have the front half braided, whatever design she gets, and she does have beautiful hair that goes past her waist, she’s an excellent walking ad for them once we’re done.

For a large gathering of many people on often crowded pathways, with alcohol and weaponry being sold, it’s amazingly…friendly. Kinda like Disney World, only with peasants, elves, fairies, and wenches instead of Mickey, Cinderella, and Pooh. It feels safe, inside this dusty nerdland bubble. Heavyset women are applauded, as their generous boobage is the perfect accessory to the low cut costumes; any child or adult in a wheelchair is bowed down to, gawky teenaged boys are engaged in long conversations, often involving dungeons and dragons references, about swords and catapults, hilts and scallywags.

It is a great teaching opportunity for children, any and all rides and games are powered by hand, history and mythology lessons abound. However, purists need not bother. I had a friend who is a history buff attend with her kids one year, she was horrified. Renaissance costumes and wares are mixed with medieval, age of exploration, and Camelot. Turkey legs and mead are sold alongside lattes and quesadillas, pewter figurines and wooden staffs next to earrings made from Swarovsky crystals and belly dancing costumes.

We don’t stroll in and forget the budget, but we don’t go unless we are ready to pay for just enough to make it a stress free, special day. There are plenty of customers dropping hundreds, sometimes I think it must be thousands, on elaborate costumes, accessories, and general tomfoolery that when I say something is out of budget, we aren’t pressured by anyone, and are free to look at everything.

I’m not sure why I enjoy this so much, there’s no sand, no ocean, and if the day is hot it can be uncomfortably ripe. Actually, I’ve never been a fan of historical romance for this reason, I can’t suspend disbelief enough to stop thinking about how long it’s been since the hero bathed, the heroine had the nits removed from her hair, and the stench of manure on a forbidden moonlit ride. But it’s straight fun, pretending that one day we’ll all be outfitted in pantaloons, cloaks, and feathers, hearing the serving wenches’ voices ring out as they jump up and down to maximize and flash the aforementioned boobage, “Huzzah for the generous tipp-ah!!!”