Holden has been sick all week. I gave my best Anne of Green Gables attempt at nurturing, loving, coddling, treating and doctoring him - but nothing made my poor boy feel any better except for the ibuprofen my doctor assured me I should just keep pouring down his throat.
Tuesday he had a fever all day. He lay there languid and limp while I took a rectal temperature to find out what we were dealing with. If he were well, he would have kicked, screamed and glared at me like "woman, are you insane? Of all the dirty tricks, get that out!" Instead he shook his had slowly and said "nuh nuh nuh nuh nuh." It was so sad. The nurse said the fever wasn't bad enough to come in and to call if he stopped sleeping. He slept all day.
Wednesday his fever continued, unrelenting but still mild. I must say that I slightly enjoyed being able to actually hold him - something he never lets me do when he's well.
Thursday the fever subsided and brought out the monster that has apparently laid dormant in Holden for 9 1/2 months. He screamed all day long. All day long except for two hours when my parents came and played with us. When it was just me he would push me away, pull me close, push me away, pull me close and push me away - all while screaming at the top of his lungs.
(Consequently, he has no voice today. Anytime he tries to cry, nothing comes out. He stops, bewildered, and then forgets what he was crying about.)
Thursday was so bad that I found myself actually lying in bed, under the sheets, hiding from my son. I kept repeating the mantra I'd chanted all day "please stop screaming please stop screaming please stop screaming." Unfortunately it had no magical power to calm my miserable baby so we could both take a nap.
(Have I mentioned that his no voice today is something of a relief?)
We went to the doctor. Who was not my doctor by the way. I paid $25 to hear it was a virus and that there is nothing I can do but keep him comfortable. Which Ive learned in doctor-ease is a nice way of saying drugged. He actually had the nerve - despite my panic and my baby screaming - to interupt me describing what had been going on and what symptoms poor Holds had. Seriously, I was in mid sentence when he looked away from me to the wall across from him at some small holes in it and say "huh, are those new? I've never noticed them before." I stopped. Stared at the wall. Stared back at him with this incredulous look on my face (one might call that look "You're about to get sucker punched you toad") and continued on with my son's symptoms without acknowledging his deflection.
Friday I went to work. Sweet, glorious excuse to leave the house. Wes stayed home with Holden most of the day and we had our wonderful, fantastic nanny Kiera too. Holden was in a sorry state most of the morning, but has been doing better since.
Saturday has shown signs of continued improvement. He's taking good, long naps. But now he has a rash.
(And no voice. But I'm not complaining).
Saturday, September 13, 2008
Tuesday, September 09, 2008
Money is the Root of All
I hate when people say that money is the root of all evil without admitting that it is also the root of all good. Most charitable acts are possible because of money - because we can afford to be generous. People who can give of their share their food, house, cars, clothes, etc have those things to share because of money. While it may be true that some of the most miserable people I've ever known have a lot of money, some of the most generous people I know have a lot of money too. Obviously what one chooses to do with his/her money defines whether or not money is good or bad for them.
I hate being tight on money - I think it's terrifying and uncomfortable. I remember back in college my job as a nanny ended and I decided not to work that semester so I could concentrate on school. I remember not being able to buy toothpaste. I had to use my roommate's toothpaste and she kept hiding it from me. That only lasted for a week (thank goodness) before I went home and raided my mom's house. But not having money sucked. I'm fascinated by money. I'm fascinated how people can make money without really working very hard and others work themselves to shreds and don't get enough. I'm fascinated by the very real feeling that no matter how much money you make, it always seems like you need more. I'm fascinated by people who don't like money (that's as strange to me as a pigeon that doesn't peck). I'm fascinated by I'm fascinated by how people let their money change them.
Growing up, there was this family in Bountiful who didn't have a ton of money - and they had this son who had a lot of medical problems but he had a lot of friends who would come over the house and see him. Well all of the sudden this family got a ton of money, bought a huge house and gave this son a huge room so that people could come see him and be more comfortable. But then it was like they were ticked off that so many more people came to see him. They assumed we were all there for the nice house and the money. I don't know the situation all that well - I only when twice (once in the small house, once in the big house) but it's like having money made the parents bitter. It was so weird.
And then I wonder if I am any different. When I went to Ghana I remember feeling quite used for my things, particularly in the village of Nsaakina. From what I could tell the people were very nice and helpful.... but I was interested in making deep, lasting friendships but they were just interested in my stuff (ie my money, CD player, etc). I felt lonely and used. And of course all this was compounded by the fact that I was a pasty white freak show they just wanted to come after school to watch. :) It wasn't that bad - but it was interesting to be a minority. Anyway but I wonder if that's how that family felt and that makes it more understandable why they were irritated.
Hmm well now I've been totally sidetracked on what I'm talking about. Now I'm thinking that maybe money has nothing to do with your generosity. Like maybe the two aren't mutually inclusive or mutually exclusive. They are two totally different matters. Well if that's the case then I want both - to be generous and to have money. Just so that I never have to worry about having toothpaste.
I hate being tight on money - I think it's terrifying and uncomfortable. I remember back in college my job as a nanny ended and I decided not to work that semester so I could concentrate on school. I remember not being able to buy toothpaste. I had to use my roommate's toothpaste and she kept hiding it from me. That only lasted for a week (thank goodness) before I went home and raided my mom's house. But not having money sucked. I'm fascinated by money. I'm fascinated how people can make money without really working very hard and others work themselves to shreds and don't get enough. I'm fascinated by the very real feeling that no matter how much money you make, it always seems like you need more. I'm fascinated by people who don't like money (that's as strange to me as a pigeon that doesn't peck). I'm fascinated by I'm fascinated by how people let their money change them.
Growing up, there was this family in Bountiful who didn't have a ton of money - and they had this son who had a lot of medical problems but he had a lot of friends who would come over the house and see him. Well all of the sudden this family got a ton of money, bought a huge house and gave this son a huge room so that people could come see him and be more comfortable. But then it was like they were ticked off that so many more people came to see him. They assumed we were all there for the nice house and the money. I don't know the situation all that well - I only when twice (once in the small house, once in the big house) but it's like having money made the parents bitter. It was so weird.
And then I wonder if I am any different. When I went to Ghana I remember feeling quite used for my things, particularly in the village of Nsaakina. From what I could tell the people were very nice and helpful.... but I was interested in making deep, lasting friendships but they were just interested in my stuff (ie my money, CD player, etc). I felt lonely and used. And of course all this was compounded by the fact that I was a pasty white freak show they just wanted to come after school to watch. :) It wasn't that bad - but it was interesting to be a minority. Anyway but I wonder if that's how that family felt and that makes it more understandable why they were irritated.
Hmm well now I've been totally sidetracked on what I'm talking about. Now I'm thinking that maybe money has nothing to do with your generosity. Like maybe the two aren't mutually inclusive or mutually exclusive. They are two totally different matters. Well if that's the case then I want both - to be generous and to have money. Just so that I never have to worry about having toothpaste.
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