I live by my Google Calendar. I put each birthday in with the year the person was born with an annual repeat to *try* to remember how old they are and to text them. I have my daughter’s, son’s, and my work school calendars all imported to make planning family events easier. I meticulously plan what we will be eating next week. Every doctor appointment can be verified for date of service whenever a bill comes We even have it displayed in our living room so no one can ever say I didn’t know that was happening.
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SOL 22: dating my husband
Covid killed a whole lot of romance in relationships. People were spending WAY too much time together. They saw, hear, and maybe even smelled things that were never meant to be shared with a romantic partner. That absence makes the heart grown fonder thing stopped because there was no more absence. It happened all over the world.
Continue readingSOL 22 and FMF: heavy
Sadness is heavy on my heart these days. It seems that somehow the common decency has left people to be replaced by entitlement. This entitlement is an anchor on our communities’ necks.
Continue readingSOL 22: faker faker faker pants
I have a dirty little secret. Everyone thinks I have it all together. They think I’m organized and responsible and dependable. It’s a sham. A rouse. A flat out lie. If you know me you are thinking this can’t be true. But you don’t live with me. Or you haven’t lived with me in the past. Old roommates and family can attest to this side of me.
Continue readingSOL 22: imitation
Living with three children in a home only planned for two has its struggles. At first we thought we would put McKenna and George together in bunk beds until Theo was ready to make the transition from crib to big kid bed. The bunks were shared by Aaron and his brother when they were boys. They don’t make them like they used to. So many issues with this plan.
Continue readingSOL 22: and so he does
He didn’t always talk much but had so much to to say.Continue reading
His smile lit up every room and his infectious laugh was only known by those lucky enough to be in on the joke.
Music was his love language.
SOL 22: thankful
McKenna has matured so much in the last year. She is helpful now. She wants to learn how to cook. She treats her baby brother as if he’s the best thing since sliced bread. She even planned a project to earn money to purchase hats and gloves for those less fortunate than herself. She talks about all the things she wants to be when she grows up. The list is lengthy but includes being a mom, nurse, teacher, veterinarian, artist, doctor for babies, writer, scientist and about a million more things.
Continue readingSOL 22: hairy situation
My youngest is a pandemic baby. If you don’t know what I mean—look it up. It’s a thing…this breed of feral babes that are just built differently. They are overstimulated. They are easily occupied in the home but are scared of anything outside of their yard. The CDC even recently changed the developmental milestones for infants and toddlers. Was this change in the works or did Covid encourage the change? Who knows. All I am certain about is that my pandemic baby has shortened my life by at least 8 years. This kid is wild.
Continue readingSOL 22: Getting curried away
Today was day 1 of George’s recovery. By nature, he has always been a bit…dramatic. I was just waiting for him to start saying he was too sick to walk or scream (breaking his scabs) because McKenna looked at him. This was the part I was dreading the most. I just knew I was going to have the iPad permanently at the ready with a never ending supply of apple sauce to be spoon fed to him.
Continue readingSOL22: Breaking The Cycle
George had seventeen eighteen fevers in the last 12 months. He had 23 the year before. George was diagnosed with something called PFAPA. Periodic Fever, Aphthous Stomatitis, Pharyngitis, Adenitis Syndrome leaves our little man fevering at 105*+ for 3-5 days every 18 days. That’s 120 out of the last 730 days—16% of his last two years has been spent with a fever. Conservatively. Add in 1 day for pre-fever symptoms and another 2 days for recovery, and you are looking at 240 days or 33% of his life disrupted due to PFAPA. One third of his last two years has been spent sick, on the couch, attached to mom or dad, and feeling like shit. My poor baby.
Karyn In The Kitchen 